The Debt (6 page)

Our first day back in school after my mom’s funeral, I felt the eyes on me all morning. Thinly concealed whispers behind my back. Sideways glances. Sitting at my desk in English, I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists. Hadley sat beside me, an unfortunate result of our assigned seats. Eyes planted in the book in front of me, I toyed with a pencil between my fingers, afraid to glance in her direction.

“Herot is not just a setting, right?” At the front of the room, Mrs. Barnett tried to ply intelligent responses from the class on the major symbols in
Beowulf
. “It represents what?” She looked at the vacant stares of the class and then turned to write in tall blue letters across the whiteboard. “Civilization. And...”

She got no response. Behind me, girls snickered. From the corner of my eye, I saw Christina looking toward Hadley. Whispers turned to murmurs behind Mrs. Barnett’s back.

“The achievements of Hrothgar,” the teacher said, continuing to write on the board. “How is the hall described? Someone?”

Christina tapped me on the arm and nodded at Hadley. Reluctant, I looked over. Everyone looked. Hadley was shaking, trembling, her arms folded over the back of her bowed head to hide her face. Her knee bounced to an erratic rhythm.

“Hadley?” Mrs. Barnett approached her, walking through the row of desks. “Are you okay?”

“Back up, she’s gonna puke!” someone shouted.

I jumped out of my seat and knelt beside Hadley, trying to pry her arm free so I could see her face. “Hey, Punky. What’s wrong?”

Her skin was freezing. She tensed at my touch, recoiling from me.

Shit.

“What’s wrong with her?”

Ignoring the teacher and room full of gawkers, I slung both of our backpacks over my shoulder. She fought me as I tried to pull her from her seat. She made her body rigid, face covered. I wrapped one arm under her knees, the other behind her back. Cradling Hadley in my arms, I ran out of the class and away from the laughter.

After I took her home to Tom, I drove around for hours before walking into Bear’s shop for my first tattoo: the raven Hadley had drawn for me that always sat in my back pocket. I wanted to feel the pain, if only to have something to concentrate on, so I sat under Bear’s gun and bled.

Every ounce of ink carved into my skin had a meaning. Only posers and dipshits got tattoos for the fuck of it or picked a doodle out of a book. The raven with two broken wings nailed to my shoulders represented the only thing I’d ever been afraid of.

He
had a raven tattooed on his back.

After I got home from the bar, I checked my phone to see if Hadley might have left a message. At least to tell me if she would be home for dinner. Instead, I had a text from Tom asking if I wanted to meet up at the range this week.

When the decision had been made that Hadley and I would live here while we went to college, Tom had asked me to come by the house one morning. I was informed, not asked, that I would take a gun safety course, apply for my permit, and keep a pistol locked in my nightstand. Last year, Tom conveniently left a hunting rifle in the hall closet behind a stack of boxes.

Hadley hated guns. She didn’t trust them. I sort of understood that. Nothing good ever happened when you needed to use one. But it made Tom feel better to know I could handle myself.

Downstairs, the front door shut. I still smelled like stale beer and smoke from the bar, so I stripped out of my shirt. As I came out of my room, Hadley passed by with two shopping bags in her hands.

“Hey. Have fun?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes paused on the new image on my rib cage. “It healed well. Looks good.”

“You’re a good artist.”

Hadley had drawn the sketch for everything inked into my skin.

She kept walking to her room where she dropped the bags on the floor next to her bed. I followed her in and leaned against the dresser. Hadley tossed a look over her shoulder but didn’t kick me out while she slipped her shoes off and emptied her pockets on her nightstand.

“What did you do today?” I asked.

“You smell like the bar.” Hadley turned around. Her sassy eyebrow was up.

“Just shot some pool with the guys for a couple hours. After I cleaned the house.”

“You cleaned?”

She picked up her bags and dumped them out. A couple of vintage band shirts fell out, along with more art supplies—she had some kind of fetish that wouldn’t be sated no matter how many times she fed it—and a couple of vinyl records. Those caught my attention.

“I had a productive morning,” I told her, sitting on the other side of the bed to look over one of the records. Some band I’d never heard of, which was impressive. I wondered if this was Asha’s influence. “So I rewarded myself.”

“I’m impressed.”

“You’re mocking me.”

“I am.”

“Fine. So what kind of trouble did you girls get into all day?”

“Pretty scandalous stuff.” Punky yanked the tags off the shirts and folded each to place them in her dresser. “We checked out the new work at the gallery, got lunch, looked around at few shops, bought some music...”

She trailed off as she turned around to find me lying on my side while scanning the album jacket. I looked up, thinking that I’d given her the impression that I wasn’t listening. My brain could multitask.

“Bought some music…”

“And that’s it.” She came to sit on the edge of the bed and yanked the record from my fingers. “Nothing exciting, but it was fun. Asha’s cool.”

Again her eyes raked over my bare abdomen. I didn’t mind her looking. If I had the sort of artistic talent that Hadley possessed, I’d probably stare at my work all day, too. One day, when her canvas was old and flabby, she’d be on my case for fucking up her designs.

“Tell me about them.” I nodded at the album in her hand. It looked folksy.

Punky ducked her eyes as she flipped the album over. “Never heard of them. I...uh...kinda picked these out because I liked the sleeves.”

I sat up, snatching the record from her fingers. “Come on. Let’s see if they’re half as good as their cover art.”

The only record player was in my room.

“Now?”

“You got better plans?”

I owed Asha a present, something loud, shiny, and expensive. I’d have that fucker wrapped with a big black bow and a marching band to deliver it at her front door.

Despite how irritating and nosy that chick could be, Asha was my lucky charm. Whatever voodoo magic she’d worked on Hadley, it had definitely played in my favor. Punky came home in a good mood, which continued while we lay on my bed and listened to what had to be the world’s worst Kentucky bluegrass band to ever press vinyl. It was bad—really fucking painfully bad—but Hadley laughed all the way through the lyrics and even did imitations with a pretty poor country accent.

“No!” She shot across the bed and grabbed my arm as I got up to change the record. “I want to listen to it again. I liked that last song.”

I gave her a look, at which she collapsed back on the bed and laughed.

“Okay,
like
is a strong word. But it was sort of catchy.”

“Not a chance.” I pulled the record off the turntable and shoved it back in the sleeve. “This shit sucks. And you’re not allowed to do accents anymore. Stick to drawing pretty pictures.”

Punky launched a pillow at me.

“So violent. Give me the other one. We’ll try that.”

It had gotten dark outside. Thick gray clouds moved in over the tree line in the backyard. I’d always liked thunderstorms at night—the colors, the sounds, the electricity that made my hair stand up straight on my arms, and the smell of the rain getting closer. I’d been in Clearwater once when a hurricane changed course and pounded us for two days. I’d watched from the balcony of our hotel room as it moved closer to shore. That was by far my favorite kind of weather, right before all hell broke loose.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Nothing. Storm’s coming.”

“Then start it already, Mr. Music Snob.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, setting the needle to the record before climbing back on the bed. I sprawled out on my back and closed my eyes to just listen. We lay sideways across the mattress, Hadley on her stomach while she flipped through the booklet that went with the record.

For five tracks, we listened to the tragic tones of the blues album. This one was good—heartbreaking and enviably great, actually. The guitars made me feel like a complete hack. I let my mind wander inside the melodies, all but ignoring the lyrics. It was so elegant and simple to the ear but complicated to produce. Like good classical piano, the result of so much intricacy was to make it sound effortless. These guys were fucking geniuses. Well, Hadley was never getting this record back.

A flash of white light filled my room. A deafening crack shook the house. We both flinched; my breath stuck as a lump in my throat for the second it took to recognize the storm had arrived. Hadley let out a fit of relieved laughter.

“Storm’s here,” she said.

To punctuate her statement, another and impossibly closer burst of white lit up my room, followed by the shattering thunder. The music stopped. Hadley and I were left in complete darkness.

“Maybe it will come back on,” she said.

Not likely. We lived in the middle of fuck-all nowhere. The power lines were old and fickle. The slightest tremble in the weather and we’d be without power for hours—days if heavy winds downed trees across the two-lane road or too much rain caused flooding that made repairs more time-consuming.

“I’ve got a flashlight.” I sat up and reached into my nightstand, grabbing the torch that sat next to the lockbox for the Beretta.

I set the flashlight on the nightstand and let it reflect off the wall. It was enough to fill the room, and with that, I noticed her fingers worrying the hem of her jeans.

“Give it a second,” I said. “The generator will kick on.”

Without fail, I checked the generator outside the garage on the first of every month to make sure it was fueled. During a storm freshman year, we lost power for two days, which meant the house was without the security system for just as long. We got by just fine at Tom’s house, but Hadley didn’t sleep at all. She was agitated and anxious all night as Tom and I stayed up to watch movies with her as a means of distraction. Following that episode, I made the investment in a generator. It was enough to power the security alarm and floodlights on each corner of the exterior, plus connect the fridge and A/C.

Just as it was supposed to, three beeps sounded from downstairs, indicating that the keypad in the foyer had reset itself.

“See? No worries.”

Hadley looked up and nodded. She was doing her best to fake it. “Thank you. For remembering.”

“It’s my job.”

Hadley was in the unenviable position to sort of need me. The least I could do was take my responsibilities seriously.

“Right.” She looked out the window being pelted by rain.

“We should probably go ahead and lock up.”

It was too early to contemplate sleeping, but the sooner we got it over with, the sooner she’d relax.

“Yeah.”

Her mood had deteriorated. For the last hour, everything had been as close to perfect as I could hope for. I didn’t want to let this little hiccup ruin her evening, but I didn’t know what to do about it.

I held the flashlight as Hadley led the way to her room. She stopped in her bathroom to light a candle and set it in front of the mirror. Enough to brighten her bedroom while the door was open.

In precise order, Hadley performed her ritual through her room and then downstairs. I gave her a bit of space while I found candles to light and leave burning in the kitchen and living room. The orange glow bounced off the windows and shiny appliances, filling the open floor plan with soft light.

After setting the alarm, Hadley stood looking out the front windows.

“All good?” I asked.

“Yep. So...I guess I’ll get ready for bed.”

“I downloaded some new music on my laptop. We could go back upstairs and listen to that.”

I’d missed Punky’s company. We hadn’t sat and listened to music together in a long time. I wanted to get that feeling back.

“Or a movie,” I offered. “I have a few on my hard drive, but we could pick a DVD if you want.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Hadley’s expression perked up, so I assumed I’d done something right.

“I want to change clothes and stuff. You pick something,” she said, “and I’ll be there in a minute.”

I handed Hadley the flashlight to find her way up the stairs and went into the living room to look through the DVDs. Best to err on the side of levity, so I picked out a few comedies to choose from. I grabbed one of the candles from the coffee table, made sure that the others downstairs wouldn’t ruin any surfaces or burn down the house, and then went back to my room.

Hadley’s door was closed, so I set the candle down and quickly pulled off my jeans to put on a more comfortable pair of lounge pants. I sat back against the headboard and waited for the laptop to boot up. Punky appeared at the threshold of my bedroom wearing my sweatshirt, which hung midway down her slender thighs. She looked adorable.

“What?” Hadley pulled her long hair out of the neck of the sweatshirt and came toward the bed.

I shrugged. “Come take a look at your options.”

“You were supposed to pick.”

“You know how bad I am at following instructions. I narrowed the field. Lady’s choice.”

“That one.” She pointed at one of the DVDs laid out on the nightstand.

I liked that about Punky. She was decisive. And she had great fucking taste in movies.

“I haven’t watched
Four Rooms
in years.” I popped it out of the case and slid the DVD into my laptop.

Hadley crawled up on the bed next to me. She rearranged the pillows behind her until she was comfortable while I set the laptop down between our legs and turned the volume up as loud as it would go.

“Homecoming, freshman year of high school,” Hadley said, pointing out the last time we’d watched this movie together. “I didn’t want to get dressed up—”

“And you were mortified at the idea of dancing—”

“So you rented a limo, picked me up at Tom’s in a tux, and brought us back here.”

“I’ll take Tarantino over high school rites of passage any day. But you did dance.”

“And you’ve been sworn to secrecy about that,” Punky reminded me with a potent glare.

I’d taken requests at the piano at her insistence. To fit the occasion, I’d opted out of my classical repertoire in favor of Billy Joel and Elton John. Punky could get down to some “Uptown Girl” as long as no one else was watching.

“On my honor as a gentleman, your secret is safe with me.”

“Fuck off and start the movie, MacKay.”

Through the opening credits, Hadley adjusted her position against the headboard and messed with the pillows behind her.

“Can you see okay?” I tilted the screen in her direction.

She shifted again, closer to my side.

Oh, fuck it. It wouldn’t be the first time Hadley had punched me in the nuts.
Man up, MacKay.

“Come here.” I put my arm over the back of her pillows and slid her until she was leaning against my shoulder. “There. Better?”

For the viewing vantage point. That was all.

“Yeah,” Hadley answered as she dropped her head against my chest. “Better.”

Her fingers dug into my shoulder and nails lightly scratched down my back. I groaned, thrusting deeper. So fucking tight, her body clenched around my cock, pulling me inside. With my weight leaning on my forearms on either side of her head, my tongue laved at one pink nipple. She whimpered, arching her back to push her tits in my face. I bit down, tugging the erect tip between my teeth.

“Fuck, Josh.”

I moved one hand between us as I sat back on my heels, dragging her hips up with me to slide deeper, feeling her stretch around me. She moaned an almost painful sound. Watching her, I played with her clit. Her entire body convulsed as my thumb pressed harder.

Around my hips, her thighs trembled. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down. I watched, fascinated with the sight of my dick disappearing inside her. It felt too good. So tight. So warm. I grabbed on to both of her hips, thrusting up and embedding myself deeply as she climaxed. I spilled inside her a moment later, my orgasm clenching every muscle.

I couldn’t hold myself upright anymore and collapsed on top of her. Her fingers slid up and down my spine as I kissed along her collarbone and up the side of her neck, nipping at her warm flesh along the way.