Takedown Teague (Caged #1) (11 page)

“When are you going to stop moping?” he snapped.

“Douglass, don’t,” Mom said in a hushed tone.

“How long is he going to act like this?”  He turned abruptly to her while gesturing toward me.

“I’m not moping,” I replied.  I shoved the spoon into the crusted top of the dessert and carved out some of the custard underneath.

“Well, what else would you call it, then?” Dad asked.

“Contemplating.”

“There’s nothing to contemplate,” he said.  He picked up the glass again and pointed it toward me.  “It’s over.  Take care of it, and get away from that tramp.”

I dropped the spoon audibly onto the plate and sat back in my chair.

“No.”

There.

I said it.

I shifted my gaze to meet those of my father.  The intensity was almost too much, but I managed not to look away from his fearsome glare.

“What did you just say?” he asked slowly through a tensed jaw.

“I said no.  I’m not going to ‘take care of it.’ At least, not in the way you mean.”

“How the hell else could you mean it?”

“Douglass…”

“Shut up, Jules.  This is between the men here.”

She cringed a bit and took another sip of her wine.  She wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“I’m going to be a father,” I said quietly.

“Not if you expect to live under this roof.” Dad sneered.  “My roof, my rules.  You think you two can survive playing house together without my support?  I don’t think so.  You have no idea what it’s like out there in the world.”

He sat back and drained his glass before setting it down next to his plate and calling for Mrs. Carter to bring back the bottle.

“Your father is right, Liam,” Mom told me in her quiet, no-nonsense voice.  “You still have a year of high school, and you can’t support yourself and a family.”

“I guess I’m going to find out,” I said.  My hands trembled as they picked up the maroon linen napkin from my lap and placed it on the table.  I stood slowly, glanced once at my mother, and walked out of the dining room and out of the house.  The distinctive thump of my shoes against the stone steps echoed in my head.

“If you leave here now, you will never be welcomed back!” I heard him yell from the front porch.

Without looking behind me, I yanked open the door to my Lexus and headed down the mile-long drive to the high brick walls and gated entrance that had always shielded me from the world outside.  I drove beyond them, leaving behind everything I had ever known.

My hands tightened into fists and ended up crushing the cigarette between my fingers.  I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing the past out of the present before I opened them again and was met with the back view of the apartment building.

I saw cracked wooden shutters in need of paint and repair; crumbled bricks, litter, patchy grass, and a couple of broken beer bottles lay next to the steps of the back entrance.  All around was a high, chain-link fence, which seemed to be a common theme in every aspect of my life now.

I resisted the urge to punch the dumpster.  I knew from experience that I would only break a knuckle, and I couldn’t afford to do that.  I had to be able to work this week.  Instead, I drew in a few long breaths, pulled out another smoke, and then hot-boxed it on my way back into the building.

By the time I opened the door, the troublesome thoughts were gone from my mind.  Tria had finished up the cleaning and was shoving various toiletry items into Buckingham Billfold.  I glanced around at the empty apartment to see if we missed anything.

“I think this is it,” Tria said as she walked out of the bathroom.  “And forty minutes to spare!  I better get at least some of that deposit back.”

“You will,” I said, trying to reassure her.  I had no idea if the landlord ever gave anyone any deposit back, but I could probably stop by and offer a little persuasion.

I heaved the last of the boxes up into my arms, and Tria opened the door for me.  We split up long enough for me to take stuff upstairs and for her to return the key to the landlord.  I dropped the boxes next to the kitchen table and surveyed the stuff.

There really wasn’t much, which was good because there weren’t going to be a lot of places to put it.  Tria’s books took up as much room as anything, and I wondered where we were going to put those since I didn’t have any kind of bookcase.  I considered the plywood and cinderblock nightstand I made out of shit I found lying around, and wondered if I could use similar materials to make Tria a place for her books.

There was a soft knock at the door, and I went to open it.

“You don’t have to knock,” I said with a smile.  “You live here!”

Tria looked down at the ground, and her face flushed as she laughed through her nose.

“Well…I wasn’t sure…”

“Be sure,” I said.  I handed her the key I had made for her and stepped back to let her in.

Tria walked in for the first time, took about two steps inside, and then stopped.  She was gripping the massive purse in both hands, and I realized she was probably looking for a place to put it down, but the coffee table was covered with all kinds of crap.  Aside from that, one of my jackets was lying in front of her on the floor, and there were a couple of hand weights near her feet, too.

“Um…shit,” I muttered.  “Sorry—I’ll get it cleaned up.”

I started grabbing pizza boxes and beer bottles from the coffee table and shoving them into the kitchen trash can.  When I got back into the living room, I noticed a stack of magazines on the far side of the coffee table and quickly rushed over to shove several editions of
Playboy
and
Hustler
underneath the couch.

“I never really have anyone over here,” I told her as I scurried around to pick up whatever was all over the floor and potentially just as offensive.  “I should have thought about this before…shit…”

I kicked at the corner of the magazines to shove them further out of view and then grabbed some more dishes off the table.  With a couple of plates and cups in my hands, I headed into the kitchen.  Dirty dishes were scattered all over the place, too.

“Liam…um…”

“Yeah?” I called out as I started shoving a bunch of dishes into the sink so they at least weren’t lying all over the counters.

“You…um…”

“What?” I asked.  I poked my head around the corner and saw her slowly shaking her head.

“This place is a disaster.”

I cringed as I looked around the room, seeing it as it must look through her eyes.  I knew it was kind of a mess, but I never had company that wasn’t someone like Gary or Wade, so I never considered how bad it really looked.

Aside from the pizza boxes, dishes, wrappers, and bottles, there were free weights lying around, a couple of less offensive magazines on the floor, and a stack of junk mail piled so high it was falling over.  There were CDs outside of their cases lying around all over the floor by the portable CD player, and stacks and stacks of cases all over the place.

“Yeah,” I admitted, “it is.”

“I’m going to help you get it cleaned up,” she said, and her tone left no room for discussion, and she hadn’t even seen the bathroom yet.

The bathroom.

Shit.

Were there cum stains on the tile in the shower?  Did cum leave stains?

“Yeah, I could probably use a little help,” I agreed.  “I’ll start in the bathroom.”

I shoved past her and closed the bathroom door behind me.  I looked around apprehensively, feeling liked I’d never really looked at the condition of the room before.  I quickly gathered up a pair of dirty boxers, a spare porn magazine, and a couple burrito wrappers.  I had no idea how those had even gotten in here.  I grabbed a washcloth and wiped down the sink, shower, and toilet to get rid of pee stains, stray hairs, and nail clippings. I shoved the stuff lying around on the sink into the medicine cabinet, realized she’d need some room for her own stuff, and pulled it back out again.  I looked around for another place to stash razors, trimmers, and Q-tips so there would be a place for Tria’s things.

Leaning back against the sink, I looked around and decided there wasn’t anything worse to clean up.  I swallowed and sighed in relief.

I was never one to be overly concerned with spotlessness, but I probably needed to clean up my act.

“Well, I feel a lot less like a mooch now,” Tria said several hours later.  We had completely cleaned up the kitchen, living room, and bathroom.  The only place we hadn’t touched was the bedroom, but I had just done laundry, and there wasn’t much else in there.  All the trash had been gathered up, the CDs placed back in their respective cases, and the dishes washed.  Tria handed me the last of the plates, which I dried carefully with a towel before placing them in the cabinet where they belonged.

“I think I’m pretty much feeling like the waste of space so far,” I agreed.  “I made the mess, but you cleaned up more of it than I did.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you trashed the place just to make me feel better!”

We both laughed, and then Tria poured apple juice into two clean glasses and brought them over to the sparkling clean table.

“I’m really sorry,” I said after I took a sip.  “I guess I never really thought too much about how this place looked.  I should have cleaned it up before you got here.”

“It was all kind of rushed,” Tria said.  “Don’t worry about it.  It really did make me feel like I was contributing.”

“I don’t think this place looked this good the day I moved in,” I told her.

“How long have you been here?”

“Quite a while,” I said.  “I moved here not long after I dropped out of school.”

“Were you going to Hoffman?” Tria asked.

“No.” I shook my head.  “I never graduated from high school.”

“Oh…um…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I said.  “It was my own decision.”

“Why did you drop out?”

“That is way too long a story,” I said.  “It’s late, and I have to train tomorrow.”

“You’re right,” she said.  “I’m sorry.  I should have realized how late it was.”

“Well, we both keep pretty unconventional hours,” I said.  “I do, at least.  I try to get to bed at a decent hour when I know I’ll be training the next day.  If I don’t, Yolanda will kick my ass.”

“I try to keep it normal so I can get to my classes,” Tria told me.  “The earliest one doesn’t start until ten o’clock, at least.”

“That’s good.”  I looked up at the clock on the kitchen wall.  “We probably ought to turn in so you’re not late or tired or anything.”

We both stood, and Tria washed and dried the glasses quickly before putting them away.  I had to smile because cleaning up wouldn’t even have occurred to me.  On a good day, I might have put them in the sink.

I led the way to the hall and toward the bedroom door.  As soon as we approached, Tria reached over and opened up the door to the closet, looking a little confused.  That’s when a sinking feeling came over me.  There was a major aspect of this whole arrangement that hadn’t even come to mind.  Tria stopped and looked from one side of the hall to the other as she slowly closed the closet door.

“Ah…I…um…” Tria stumbled over her words.  “I’ll just make up the couch, then?”

My arms felt like they were made of jelly as I realized what she meant.  She had obviously thought the closet—which she hadn’t had in her apartment—was the second bedroom.  Much like the mess, I hadn’t considered sleeping arrangements either.

“Take the bed,” I told her.  I couldn’t believe how little I had actually thought about how this would all work out and was a little disgusted with myself.  “I’ll stay on the couch.”

“No, Liam, no.” Tria held her hand out in front of her as if she was one of the Supremes and shook her head vigorously.  “I am not kicking you out of your own bed.  No.”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch,” I said emphatically.  All I could think about was the stack of magazines I had hidden under there now.

“Why not?”  She placed her hands on her hips, and I knew from the look in her eye this was going to be a battle.

“Because it’s a piece of shit,” I said.  “It’s uncomfortable and nasty.”

And there’s a huge stack of porn underneath it.

“There’s no way I’m kicking you out of your bed!”  Tria was equally emphatic, but I wasn’t going to budge on this one.

“You are not sleeping on the couch.”

“Well, what other options are there?”

Of course, there was really only one.  I swallowed, glanced into the bedroom, and then back at Tria.  After a long pause, I offered the only suggestion I had.

“It’s big enough,” I said quietly.

“Liam, I…”  Her voice trailed off.  She also looked from the small bedroom, which consisted of the bed and dresser, and then back to me.  At least there wasn’t a shit-ton of dirty laundry around.  There was only a small pile at the end of the unmade bed.

“I wouldn’t…” I started to speak but wasn’t sure how to end the sentence. I wanted to reassure her of…of what?  That I wasn’t interested in getting into her panties?  Because there was no way those words could pass my lips without having dead baby angels drop out of the sky.

She wrapped her arms around herself and continued to look from the bed to the couch over and over again.  Her teeth gnawed nervously at her lip, and she rocked from one foot to the other.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” I said again.

“Neither are you.”

“That leaves the options a little slim,” I pointed out.

“True,” she whispered, “but…”

Her voice trailed off, and her fingers gripped her upper arms.

“I wouldn’t…” I started again, trying to come up with something I wouldn’t do, no matter how much I might want to.  I eventually managed to spit out something relatively meaningful.  “I wouldn’t…take advantage of you.  You know that, right?”

“Yes, I know,” she replied.  Her tone was off, and I couldn’t understand what her expression meant.  It almost seemed like she was disappointed, but that didn’t make any sense.

“We could…give it a try.”  It was lame, but it was all I had.  We were both obviously too stubborn to let go this time.

“Give it a try,” she said quietly, and I wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a question, but I swallowed past the lump in my throat and nodded.

“Okay,” I said a little louder.  “I’ll…um…just…”

I had no idea what I was going to “um just” do.

“I’ll get my things and use the bathroom,” Tria said, saving me from having to come up with any additional plan, for which I was quite grateful.

Tria grabbed her purse and some clothes from her tattered suitcase and closed the bathroom door behind her.  I went into the bedroom and shut the door partway while I tried to figure out what I was going to wear while sleeping.

Next to Tria.

Fuck, what had I gotten myself into?  The single bedroom layout of the apartment hadn’t even entered my head before we were standing in the hallway.  Tria was in the bathroom, probably changing into whatever her normal sleeping attire might be, and I usually slept either nude or just in my boxers.

Hey—it saved on laundry.

Fucking sue me.

Obviously I couldn’t sleep nude, and I didn’t own pajamas, so I dug around in the bottom dresser drawer and came up with a pair of sweatpants I usually wore jogging in the winter.  I ripped off my jeans and shirt, pulled the sweats up over my hips, and tightened the string.  Then I gathered up the majority of the dirty clothes and piled them in the corner on the far side of the dresser.  I tried to straighten out the sheet and blanket on the bed.

Thankfully, I always masturbated into a towel, and the sheets weren’t nasty.  I made sure said towel was buried under the pile of clothes.

Shit, what if I woke up with morning wood?

It was one more thing I hadn’t considered, but I knew I could not freak out now.  If I did, Tria would get the wrong idea and decide living here with me was a bad plan.  If she did that, she’d end up dropping out of school and going back to that place and those people, and it would be all my fault for not having my own shit together.

Fuck.

Back out in the living room, I sat down on the couch and wondered what else I hadn’t considered when it came to having Tria here as my roommate.  The sleeping arrangements and the mess were probably the biggest issues we’d have to face.  I rarely smoked in the apartment, so I could just take that outside all the time.

Fuck, what if she wanted to cook meat?  The smell alone made me want to vomit.  That was probably something we ought to talk about.  What if she was insistent?  I couldn’t tell her what she could or couldn’t eat, but if this place was hers as well as mine, I couldn’t force her not to eat it here.

Fuck again.

We’d definitely have to spend some time tomorrow evening talking about shit like this.  The changes were all so rushed.  I didn’t think either one of us had thought about the things that might be a problem.  It would be best to work the details out in the beginning before they became issues.

A few minutes later, Tria came out of the bathroom in a pair of sweats and a T-shirt with a picture of a puppy on the front of it.  I stood up from the couch, and we both walked into the bedroom together, stopping at the doorway as we tried to figure out who should go in first.

It felt just as fucking awkward as it sounds.

Once we were both in the room, we just kind of stared at the bed for a minute.  Or at least, I stared at the bed.  Tria was looking all around, taking in the room.  It had been the least disastrous area of the apartment but was now the messiest since we had completely cleaned the rest.  Still, it wasn’t bad.  There were clothes on the floor, but they were at least all piled up in the corner and out of the way.  I didn’t own a laundry hamper, so I had a decent excuse.  The nightstand had a little alarm clock radio on it and a small lamp.  The dresser drawers were mostly closed, and the top of it only held a couple of things.

“What are these?” Tria asked, noticing the line of trophies on the dresser.

“High school wrestling,” I told her, pointing out the largest.  “I was all-state my junior year.  The other ones are for Akido, kickboxing, and Tae Kwon Do.”

“Wow!  You were really good back then, too?”

“I guess.”

“You probably would have been able to get scholarships for that and go to school,” she said.

I just shrugged.

“Probably could have,” I agreed.  It just didn’t matter now, so I didn’t think about it.

“Why didn’t you?”

“None of that now.”  I shook my head.  “It’s late, remember?”

“Right,” Tria said.  “So, um…what side of the bed do you sleep on?”

“Um…” I muttered and scratched at the back of my head.  “I don’t know.  I never thought about it.  I get in on the far side, but that’s usually because I go out the window to smoke before I go to bed.”

“You smoke out the window?” Tria asked.  “It’s the second floor.”

“The fire escape where Krazy Katie hangs out is right there.”

“Is she always there?” Tria asked in a low voice, as if Krazy Katie could hear her through the window.

“Usually,” I told her.  “She’s supposed to go down and see her social worker or whatever on Tuesdays, but half the time she doesn’t go, and someone comes out here at the end of the week to check on her.”

“You seem to know a lot about her.”

“I’ve talked to her social worker a few times.  Krazy Katie won’t go near a telephone, so the social worker will call me sometimes to make sure she’s all right if she misses her appointment.”

“That’s nice of you,” Tria said.

I shrugged again, and we were back to silence and awkwardly standing around near the mattress on the floor.  At least I had pulled up the blankets so it didn’t look too bad, and I had washed the sheets recently during my trip to the evil land of coin-operated washers and dryers.

“I guess I’ll…um…I’ll sleep on this side?” Tria said, making it sound more like a question than a decision.  She indicated the side closest to the door and away from the window.

“Sounds good,” I replied.  My own voice felt strained as well.

We walked in tandem, moving our feet carefully on the faded, beige industrial carpet.  We sat down on opposite sides of the bed with our backs to each other, and we both slipped under the blanket without looking in each other’s direction at all.

I just lay there with my eyes wide open, but Tria must have been exhausted after cleaning both of our apartments.  I could tell by her breathing that she was asleep almost immediately.   A few minutes later, I knew she was asleep because she rolled over, took the entire top blanket with her, and seemed to latch on to it with some kind of sleep-induced death grip.

A blanket hog.

I knew there was a reason I never
slept
with women I slept with.

Keeping thoughts of my past from my head was suddenly a difficult task for me.  Though I usually had no problems in that department, having a woman so close to me as I slept felt strange and reminded me too much of the past.  I squeezed my eyes shut, focused on the tension it created all around my face, and then opened them again, free from the memories.  I sighed, pulled the thin sheet up around my shoulders, and eventually dropped off though not for long.