Threat (5 page)

“I thought you were on lock down for the rest of the week
studying?”

“Screw studying. Today has been a train wreck, I'll tell you
why later.”

“You officially have my interest piqued—I'll be there in
ten.”

LEAH

“Wait, David Banducci? That same asshole that used to torture
you?”

“Yep, that's the one.”

Mallory looks disgusted as we chomp down on a late night dinner in
her truck. I love how outraged she is on my behalf. “Why would
your dad let him move in when he knows how awful he was to you?”

“You know how my dad is.”

“This is a bit much even coming from him.”

“To be fair it’s not totally his fault. I mean, they have
different last names and he didn’t know a thing about her kid
before they got hitched.”

“So he married a woman who wouldn’t even introduce him to
her kid first? That's such a red flag.”

“Even worse, she didn’t even tell him she had a son until
after the ceremony.” I shake my head, taking another bite of my
In-N-Out burger. Just thinking about it gets me stressed all over
again.

“Wow, who is this bitch anyways? I don't ever remember hearing
a thing about his parents.”

“She was a cocktail waitress I guess? I don't know, my Dad met
her at a club.”

Mallory nearly chokes on her food. “Did you say club?”

“Yeah? What's wrong?” I ask. She's glaring at me with
wide eyes—did I miss something?

“Did he say what
kind
of club it was?”

I shrug. “I don't know, probably one of those random lounges in
the hotel he performs in.”

“And he specifically said she was a waitress?”

I think for a long moment. There's something she's trying to avoid
telling me. “What are you getting at?”

She cocks her head to the side like she's about to talk to a child.
“Oh honey. He met her at a
strip
club. She's a fuckin'
stripper
.”

I'm silent for a long moment, Mallory shooting me a pensive yet
sympathetic glance. But then I start to shake my head wildly. “No.
No! My dad would not marry a stripper!”

She starts to cringe, her features scrunching, and that's when it
dawns on me.

“Shit, he would. Wouldn't he?” My dad is a bit naive.
He's kind and goodhearted to a fault. He refuses to see the bad in
anyone. Hence the fact that a woman hiding a grown son named Threat
from him doesn't exactly set off any bells.

Mallory holds her hands up like she’s surrendering. “Please
don't shoot the messenger.”

I drop my face into my hands. It seems like I’ve been in this
position far too often over the course of the past day.

“Or, you know, I could be totally wrong,” Mallory adds.
“She could be a waitress at a strip club!”

I shoot her a sideways glance.
Nice try.

She takes another bite. “But you know,” she says as she
chews, “If she is a stripper you guys could totally pitch a
reality show to TLC or something. I mean, the stripper wife, the
tattooed high school drop out son, and the semi-famous dad. It's like
a match made in white trash hell!”

If she thinks
that's
white trash, wait until she hears about
the pseudo-incest.

“Or not?”

I sigh and turn toward the window.

“Hey I was only kidding about that,” she says. “I'm
sure she's a perfectly nice person. And everything will be fine.”

“She's not the one I'm worried about. Threat is the one I'm
worried about.”

“Threat?”

“Yeah, that's David's name now. He even has it tattooed across
his chest.”

“You can’t be serious,” she says with a laugh.
“Wait, you've already seen his chest?”

“Yeah, twice. He pulled down his t-shirt when I met him at the
tattoo shop earlier. And then again in the pool.”

Mallory mumbles something I can't quite make out.

“What? There's something you want to ask me, I can tell.”

She bites her lip coyly. “How did he...look?” Her voice
comes out in a whisper.

“Oh, God.”

“I'm just curious, I mean, every girl was in love with him in
high school for a reason.”

“Yeah, very girl except me,” I answer bitterly.

She cocks her head to the side and nudges me in the arm. “Come
on.”

I stare her down, deadpan. Please tell me she's not insinuating what
I
think
she's insinuating?

“Come on what?”

“I mean, sure he was an ass to you. But you never...you
know...fantasized about him, even just a little?” she asks, her
eyes beaming with curiosity.

I choke on my words before they even come out and that's enough to
give me away.

Mallory's eyes light up, and I'm pretty sure my face turns beet reed.
“Ha! I knew it!” she exclaims, pointing a finger at me
and lifting her chin high with proud.

“He looks totally different now than he looked then!”
Yeah, he looks
even
better now. Asshole.

Her face goes blank. “Please don't tell me he got fat. He got
fat, didn't he?”

Far from it. “No, he's not fat. He's got tattoos, like
everywhere, and this piercing right above his chin. And he's really,
really buff.” I glance up at Mallory and she's practically
salivating. “You look like a cat in heat.”

“David fucking Banducci is even hotter now than he was in high
school,” she squeals.

God, her taste in guys has always been tragic. I used to always tease
her for her love of bad boys. Now I feel like a complete hypocrite.
“I have to see him. Take me to him!”

The girl has officially lost her mind. “What? No! Hell no. He's
like, the last person I want to see, ever.”

“Why does he still get under your skin so bad? You're both
adults now. You're 18, he's got to be, what, twenty now?”

“Yeah he's twenty going on twelve. He still treats me like
shit. He purposely dropped my e-reader into the hot tub today!”

Now, Mallory looks appalled. “Oh no he didn’t!”

I nod. “But he did.” I almost cry thinking about it. Rest
in peace, little Kindle.

“You're right. He’s still an ass. Let's kill him.”

I can't help but smirk. “And this is why we're friends.”

She sticks out her pinky and says. “
Best
friends.”

I wrap mine around hers. “Biffles.”

The night carries on and we discuss every mundane topic possible,
avoiding anything concerning Threat or my father's marriage. I'm
grateful for that; my mind needed the break.

“I swear I gained five pounds tonight,” I say, holding in
a burp.

“Well yeah you just downed an entire milkshake.”

I groan. “Don't remind me.”

Mallory giggles.

I twist my lips and look at the clock. It's almost 2 AM, and I know
I've already kept Mallory out later than she needs to be.

“So are you all packed up for tomorrow?”

“I don't even want to pack,” she says with a pout.

“Wait, you're going to Orlando for the week and you're upset
about that?”

“I'm going to Orlando with my parents and little brother. And
not you, like I was supposed to. I'm not exactly excited about
celebrating graduation with the 'rents.”

Now I'm kicking myself for not taking her up on the invitation. “If
I had known what a train wreck my life was destined to become,
believe me, I'd be right there with you.”

“Yeah? Well that's what you get,” she says, sticking her
tongue out at me.

I chuckle, and slap her shoulder playfully.

We pull up to my house and I hesitate before getting out of the car.

“You know you can sleep over tonight and help me pack if you
want? We're leaving early, but Mom won't mind.”

“No, no, it's not that,” I say, chewing my thumb.

“What?” she asks. Then her eyes narrow and she folds her
arms over her chest. “There's something you're not telling me.
Spill, right now, Leah Parker.”

“How do you know these things about me?”

She wiggles her pinkie finger. “BFF's, remember?”

“David kissed me tonight,” I blurt out so fast it all
sounds like one long word. I close my eyes tight and brace myself, as
if there's going to be some sort of physical reaction for me
revealing such a dark and shameful secret. When I finally open one
eye to look at Mallory I'm pretty sure she's having a panic attack.
“Uh, you all right?”

“I....”

Shit, I broke her.

“He what?!” she hollers.

I shrug, not exactly wanting to repeat it. “What I said. That's
what happened. He
did that
.”

She looks away in shock, shaking her head, probably because it's a
total mind-fuck. Then out of nowhere her entire demeanor shifts. “I
fucking knew it!” she shouts with conviction.

“Huh? You knew what?”

“That's why he always treated you like shit! Because he was in
love with you!”

I throw my hands up, because that’s ridiculous. “All
right. Have a great trip! Good night,” I say sarcastically as I
pretend to exit her truck.

“No, wait, I'm serious! There's no way a guy is that relentless
about hating a girl unless he's into her.”

Can
she hear herself?
“Okay it's time to put the
romance novels down.”
As if I'm one to talk.
“I
mean that’s just absurd. He was on the football team for
Chrissakes. I was a nobody. Have you forgotten what I looked like in
junior high?”

She laughs. “You were cute.”

“Please. I was not cute.”

“You were! You might have been a little...”

“I was a fat ass.”

She rolls her eyes. “You were not fat. Just a little pudgy. In
a cute way.”

“God.”

“And now you're hot. No wonder he wanted to kiss you,”
she says wiggling her eyebrows.

I can't help but laugh and shake my head. “No, but really,
there's no way he was in to me.”

“He knew you were unattainable. And smart. That intimidated him
and he lashed out at you because of it. Simple as that.”

Mallory can be flippant sometimes, but other times her insight is on
point. Still, I have a really difficult time digesting this idea.

“Besides, why else would he kiss you now?” she adds.

“To torture me? To mess with my head?”

“Did it work? Did he get in your head?”

Something tells me she already knows the answer to that. We
are
BFF's, after all.

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Goodbye, Mallory.”

She smiles bright. “That sounds like a yes.”

LEAH

I wake up groggy the next morning. After Mallory dropped me off I
slept like a log—it must have been all the heavy food we
ate—but still ended up getting less sleep than I'm used to.

I make my way to the bathroom and shut the door behind me, yawning
and rubbing my eyes as I go. Everything is a blur anyways since I
left my glasses on the sink and I'm practically blind without them.
The bathroom is surprisingly steamy already—what the heck? I
didn't take a shower last night and—
oof.
I run face
first into something and go stumbling backwards.

I quickly realize it's not something, it's
someone
.

“Mornin', sis.”

Fuck no. Not again.

I squint hard enough to make out his blurry figure a couple of feet
in front of me. It’s first thing in the morning and he's
already got that wide, arrogant smile plastered across his face and
the familiar devious gleam in his eye. And once again, he's naked.
Like, completely naked this time. I start to wonder if I would ever
recognize him with clothes on at this point. I instantly shield my
eyes, thanking God that I can't see anything in detail.

“What the hell are you doing in my bathroom?!” I shriek.
“How did you even get back in the house?”

“I could ask you the same.”

“Except I actually
live
here.”

“So do I. Plus, I'm pretty sure it's
my
bathroom.”
He nods toward the other door, on the opposite side of the room.

Shit, I completely forgot this bathroom had an adjoining door. Over
the decade we've lived in this house, no one has ever had to use that
guest room that shares a bathroom with mine. How convenient that
Threat had to pick that room instead of the equally empty one
downstairs.

Wait, does this mean he spent all night sleeping next door to me?

“Get the fuck out and put some pants on, please,” I say
as I push past him, still averting my eyes away from his body. “Where
the fuck are my glasses?” I feel all over the sink—I
could have sworn I left them here.

“Even better,” Threat says. He takes my hand from behind
and places something small in it. I yank my hand out of his and hold
it close to my face—it's my contact case.

“How many times do I have to tell you to get the fuck out?”

“Temper, temper, sis!”

“Don't call me that. And what the hell did you do with my
glasses?”

“Look kid, I'm just trying to help you out here, you're
starting school in a few months, don't you think it's time for a bit
of a fresh start?”

What is he even talking about? I groan and roll my eyes. “You
know what, forget about the glasses, just get out. Get out of my
bathroom, get out of my house!”

He slips halfway through the door, wrapping a towel around his waist.
“Hmm, I think you mean
our
house,” he reminds me,
before closing the door behind him.

I don't like contacts, I like my glasses. They're part of my
identity. I only ordered a box of contacts a few months ago because
dad pressured me to “try something new”. But I have no
idea what Threat did with my glasses, that asshole. What right does
he have to mess with my personal stuff like that? In the last twelve
hours since he was thrust back into my life he's already managed to
throw it into a tizzy. Again. And it hasn’t even been a full
day yet!

I huff and puff angrily as I rip open the package, pulling out each
contact and trying to go put the god awful things into my eyes. I
expect them to feel like rocks but they go in surprisingly easily
and, well, I can't feel a thing once I get them situated right. I
blink a few times and glance around the room—everything looks
crisp and clear, perhaps even better than they do through my glasses.
The mirror in front of me is fogged and I wipe away a circle that's
just big enough to reveal my face. Is that even me in the mirror? I
barely even recognize myself. I mean, I look the same, but somehow
like a different person. Does that even make sense? I'm not
comfortable with this and I feel like a bit of a sellout.