Very Bad Things (7 page)

“Doesn’t he slow you down with his disability?”

Leo’s entire face tightened. “He’s considered high
functioning and smarter than you think. He’s a person, just like you or me.
He’s not an idiot,” he retorted.

“Of course not, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. It’s
just not every day you see an autistic guy in a band. You obviously care about
him, and I can see why. He’s like a child,” I said quickly, wanting him to know
that I wasn’t judging Teddy. “I’m just surprised that you chose him for your
band. I’m sure he’s worth all the extra work.”

“He is. Not everyone’s perfect, you know,” he said, giving
me as assessing look, like maybe he knew something I didn’t. “And, I wanted
Sebastian to be around people who don’t have everything handed to them.”

“I’m not perfect. People think I am, but I’m not,” I
admitted, needing him to know that I wasn’t the rich, spoiled girl he’d called
me last night. In my life, things are never as they appeared.

He studied me. “Maybe I wouldn’t like you so much if you
were,” he said, staring at my mouth. I licked my lips and stared right back,
thrilled by the heat I thought I could see there. Did he feel the same
connection I did, like we’d known each other our entire lives?

I nodded. “So, about Teddy. Is that what you meant by paying
you back?” I said.

“Yeah, I remembered from the open house brochure that you
were a pianist. I want you to work with him, help him learn some new music for
the band.”

Me? Helping someone when I could barely survive myself? I
shook my head. “I don’t know. I have a lot going on with school and debate.
Wouldn’t it be easier just to let me write you a check for the damage? You’d
never have to see me again,” I added.

“That won’t work for me. Teddy needs extra help. And I know
you’re busy, but music heals. It helped me deal with my parents’ murder,” he
said. “Maybe you need this. Maybe it’s better than therapy.”

I took a step back. “You think I need
therapy
?” I
asked, not liking where this was going.

He scrubbed his jaw. “There’s something going on with you. I
see the pain you carry. In your eyes, on your face, and in your actions. And I
get it. I do. I don’t know what happened to you, but I think you’re dealing
with some shitty things in your life.”

He would never know how shitty.

“Is that a polite way of saying I’m fucked up?”

He shot me an amused smirk. “Don’t be a bitch, Nora.”

I exhaled.

“I want to help you,” he said. “I see strength in you, too,
Nora. I saw it when you talked about Paris last night. I heard the hope in your
voice. Whatever is eating at you, you have to fight back and not let it win.”

I looked away from him because he had no clue. I wasn’t
strong; I was a loser. A girl who’d stopped fighting back a long time ago. A
girl who’d given in.

I had to change the topic. “So when’s the first gig?”

“It’s the gym’s grand opening party. We’re opening in six
weeks, but I pushed the party out until Halloween,” he said. “Just watch today,
but I’d like you to start practicing with us. I know school starts this week,
so maybe after that settles down, we can put some real work in.”

“If you help him, I’ll consider us even on the Escalade,” he
said, tucking his hands in his designer jeans and leaning back against the wall
nonchalantly. “Will you do it?”

“And if I don’t?”

His lips tipped up in a sly grin. “Then I’ll call your
parents. Somehow, I get the feeling that’s the last thing you want right now.”
He shrugged. “But it won’t come to that. You fucked up my car, and you know
it,” he said, his steely eyes searching mine.

I glanced away from him and stared out the window over his
shoulder, catching sight of the yellow-splattered Escalade. I owed him. Big
time. And I deserved whatever payment he’d decided on. Truthfully, I didn’t
have the money to pay him for the damages. I’d have to ask Aunt Portia, and I
didn’t want to do that.

I tried to picture it. Me. Being part of a rock band and
helping someone who wasn’t part of my social circle, and then toss in spending
time with this hot guy who I wanted to fuck but who didn’t want me.

“I’m in.”

“Good,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, like he
didn’t know what to say next. Then, as if he’d made a decision, he pulled me
out into the quiet hallway. Once we were alone, he said, “Now, about last
night—” he stopped, appearing stuck on what to say.

“Yeah?”

He took two steps away from me and sighed heavily, like he
needed some space between us, like what he was going to say was difficult. He
ran his hand through his hair furiously, pulling on the ends a little. “Nora,
look, I think you’re a pretty girl, but there won’t be anything between us.”

My face flushed because I had acted inappropriately last
night. Like a slut, really. Yet I didn’t regret it. And then there was the bad
list. I wanted him for my meaningless sex. Still.

“Because you think I’m too young.”

“Yes, dammit,” he said gruffly. “I don’t have time for any
adolescent girl crushes.” He blew out a breath. “I’m sorry if I come across as
a prick here, but I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me. I don’t do
serious relationships
ever
, and you deserve something good, not just a
quick fuck.”

I stared at his full lips, not holding back. “I like it when
you say ‘fuck.’”

His face flushed. “You’re not listening. There will not be
anything between us. Yeah, we slept in the same bed last night, but that . . . that
was me being comforting,” he said.

Disappointment hit me, remembering how good it had felt to
just talk and lie next to him. I wanted more of that. With him.

“You held my hand for four hours to be comforting?” I asked,
arching my brows.

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

I swallowed down the bitter pill of rejection and walked
back into the music room where I sat down on the couch. So what if he didn’t
want me. I had other options. Other guys to fuck.

Leo followed me but sat as far from me as possible. You’d
think he’d not sit here at all since he wanted us to keep our distance.

Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised by Leo’s actions. It was the
story of my life. Even Drew had done the same. One fateful night I’d given him
my body, only to have him throw it back in my face when he got back with his
girlfriend, Lori. He’d told me he wanted me forever, and I believed him, but
he’d lied. I’d thought Drew and I were
perfect
together. Huh. I should
have known better.

I looked around the room to make sure no one could hear us.
I didn’t know why I wanted to tell him about my past, but I did. I said, “Truth
is I’ve never had a healthy relationship with a guy.” My hand clenched,
remembering the pain of being second choice. “This guy Drew . . . we had
something good, but it got all screwed up. Before it all fell apart, I’d
thought we’d end up together, you know, married someday.”

“They say timing is everything,” he snapped, like he was
angry.

What the hell had I said to piss him off?

I ignored him and watched Teddy take pictures of Sebastian
and Vixen as they worked on a song together, ironing out the chords. I thought
about how Sebastian had accepted me when I told him about my word problem.
Would Leo accept me, too? He seemed to appreciate Teddy for who he was.

“Sebastian’s a great person. You’ve done well with him,” I
murmured. “Out of all this, I’m glad I met him.”

“Right,” Leo said, his eyes following mine to Sebastian.
“Right,” he repeated, but he didn’t sound quite as sure. Something in the
tightness of his face didn’t quite fit his nonchalant response.

“Forget
dressing slutty for a guy; just lick an ice cream cone in front of him.”

–
Nora
Blakely

“HOW ABOUT A unicorn or— Oh, look at
this little cutie. A flying baby kitten!” Mila said, pointing to something in
one of the tattoo shop’s image books. I looked over to see a tiny purple cat
with bright yellow wings.

“A cat with wings? Seriously. That’s just freaky,” I said,
shaking my head at her.

She harrumphed and turned the page. “Tattoos are forever, my
ink-happy friend. Whatever you get, you’ll have it when you’re old and wrinkly
and rolling around the nursing home in your wheel chair. I’d rather have a cute
cat than one of those skull and cross bones you’ve been looking at.” She put
her hands on her hips. “Plus, it’s going to
hurt
. It’s a sharp needle
poking your skin like a thousand times.”

I chuckled, imagining her nose twitching in the universal
sign for
danger
in bunny language.

“And, I saw this show on True TV about this guy that got a
tattoo on his back and then died three days later from ink poisoning,” she
added, tapping her fingers against the glass case we leaned against.

I snorted. “Stop watching that crap channel. It’s turning
your brain to mush.”

Her mouth opened. “Stop? Are you insane?
Cheaters
is
on True TV! I’m addicted to seeing people screw around on their significant
others.”

“And you call me crazy.”

“Yeah, ’cause you’ve taken up drinking and breaking the law.
And now you want a tattoo? You’re like this whole other person.” she said,
waving her hands at me. “I’m afraid of what’s next.”

Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet
.

“Decided yet?” the tattoo girl asked us with a bright smile,
setting her elbows on the counter to talk to us. With her bleached out spiked
hair and the tatted roses and vines she had on her arms, she looked like an
exotic bird. I decided tattoo girl was beautiful.

Then I saw the tiny bump underneath her shirt.

“Are you licensed to do nipple piercings?” I asked as Mila
let out a loud gasp.

“Yep, do ’em every day. And we just got some new jewelry in.
Take a look,” she said, pulling a case of shiny silver jewelry from underneath
the counter. She picked up one that had two balls on the sides. “This here is
the barbell and the most common for guys. And this here,” she said picking up a
tiny ring, “is the silver ring, which the ladies seem to like.”

My eyes went to her tight blue T-shirt. “Which one do you
have?”

She picked up a tiny pair of angel wings. “This,” she said
pointing to the etched feathers on the wings. “They’re new and totally sweet,”
she said mischievously, “and my boyfriend loves to play with it.”

“I want it.”

Mila grumbled and put her head in her hands.

The shop girl smiled. “Great. I’m Shayla, and I’m the
resident female piercer around here.” She cocked her head and looked down at
the image books. “But I thought you were looking for a tat today.”

“I want the piercing first and the tat later,” I said,
thrilled at my decision to be in control of my own body. For too long, I’ve let
others dictate everything: how to eat, how to dress, how to smile, how to walk,
how to pretend.

“Okay, then, come on back here, and we’ll get set up.” She
glanced over and smiled at Mila as she led me down the hall. “Does your friend
want to come and watch?”

Mila’s face whitened, and I arched an eyebrow at her. I
loved her, but she was a weenie.

She exhaled heavily but followed me, her hair bouncing.
“Just because I’m curious, doesn’t mean I approve.”

Shayla had me take my shirt and bra off so she could study
my breasts. I reclined on a chair while she touched my nipples with gloves on.
“Your nipples are a good size. You’re not planning to breastfeed anytime soon,
right?” she asked.

Mila laughed out loud. “God, can you imagine either of us
with a baby?”

I shook my head dazedly, picturing
me
with a baby,
breastfeeding. Then I imagined Mother’s face if I came up pregnant. It would be
her proof that I really was a whore. I imagined all the nasty names she’d call
me. I pictured myself in a televised beauty pageant, wearing an evening dress
that stretched tight across my swollen belly. Knowing her, she’d turn it around
and use it to her advantage by creating a news story out of it: “A Parkie
Girl’s Story of Being a Whore.”

Shayla briefly explained about the healing process and gave
me a packet about caring for the piercing. I signed a release form.

“Is it gonna hurt?” I asked, watching as she set out her
instruments.

“God, Nora, you’re putting a needle in your boob. Of course,
it’s gonna hurt,” Mila muttered.

Shayla nodded. “Yep, it will, but the worst is only about
five seconds, then it eases up. You can do anything for five seconds, right?”

I scoffed, thinking about those measly five seconds. I’d
endured much more pain, for a lot longer. So yeah, nipple piercing, not a big
deal.

I nodded, and Shayla pulled out the forceps and needle. Mila
gave a little squeak and scurried out the door. She wouldn’t be back.

Shayla cleaned my breast with a cold cotton ball, and I
watched as she tugged and extended the nipple and then marked it half way
between the top and base with a black marker. Once she had the mark on, she
clamped it firmly with the cold forceps. I sat tense as she pushed the needle
through, quickly following with the jewelry. A stinging pain hit me, and I
clenched my teeth, trying to hold my breath until it passed. Instead, I thought
about Leo, and how he said he saw the strength in me. She wiped the blood off
my breast and gently attached the silver angel wings on either side. I let out
a deep breath, thankful it was over.

“I’m not gonna set off any metal detectors, am I?” I said,
staring down at my breast, liking how the florescent lights glinted off the
silver wings.

She patted her chest. “I haven’t yet,” she said, grinning
broadly, and I saw she had a cute little space between her two front teeth. An
imperfection like that would drive Mother insane. “You’re a happy person,” I
commented without thinking as I got up and carefully pulled my shirt on. I
stuffed my bra in my purse.

She eyed me strangely. “Just because I have a lot of
piercings and tats, doesn’t mean I’m a bad person.”

“No, no. I just meant, I watch people a lot, and ever since
we came in, you’ve seemed peaceful and—” I stopped talking and looked down
at the floor. “I’m sorry, my mouth has no filter today.”

She shuffled around, cleaning up the gauze and paper.
“That’s okay,” she said a few moments later. “I
am
happy. My boyfriend
and I just got engaged this week, so I guess, maybe you saw that.”

I laughed nervously, glad the awkwardness had faded
somewhat.

We walked out together and back to the front of the store
where I found Mila, sitting on a leather couch peering at a tattoo book.

“Is it over?” she asked, her eyes focused on my breast.

“Yep, all over. Too bad you missed it,” I said with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes. “Thank God.”

As we walked back to the shop, I got a text from Sebastian
asking if we could meet him at the park. In a strange way, meeting him and Leo
the other night felt fortuitous, like I’d caught a break for once in my life. I
texted back and said I would meet him there.

Mila had to go home, so we said our goodbyes at the shop.
After she left, I went inside and grabbed a towel from the closet and strolled
the two blocks over to White Rock Lake, a thousand-acre lake and parkland.
Although Aunt Portia’s shop wasn’t located in the premier area of Highland Park
where I lived, this part of Dallas still featured million-dollar homes and
plenty of imported cars. Even former President George W. Bush played golf
sometimes at the exclusive course within the park.

Huge oak trees and pink crepe myrtles lined the entrance I
walked through, and I inhaled deeply, taking in the scent and feel of late
summer in Texas. Only a few more days of this and I’d be in school, studying
like a maniac and getting ready for Princeton.

With BA on my mind, I headed for the center of the main
grassy area, where I saw several guys playing football. When I got closer, I
recognized Sebastian and Cuba Hudson, one of the other football players from
school. Cuba, also known as Hollywood among his friends because of his pretty
boy good looks, was the
it
boy at BA. We knew each other from growing up
in the same town and had even had several classes together, but we didn’t hang
out in the same circles. He was king of the jocks while I was queen of the
intellectual crowd. He always had a different girl with him; I had no one.

A group of giggling girls sat on a blanket nearby, their
eyes following the game as Sebastian caught a screen pass, and Cuba’s large
frame blocked for him down field. Sebastian scored, and the girls went nuts,
jumping up and clapping. When he looked their way and took a bow, I snorted.
The girls at BA were going to fall in love with him.

He and Cuba continued their game as I sat on my towel. After
a while though, my eyelids grew heavy from lack of sleep. My life had taken a
turn this week, and I didn’t yet know what it was leading to. I lay down on the
towel, worn out.

I woke up when I felt something tickle my wrist. I blinked
my eyes a few times and brushed my arm, but it kept itching. Thinking it might
be an insect, I forced my eyes to open and saw Sebastian, sitting beside me and
running a small branch up and down my arm.

“I’ve been doing this for ten minutes,” he said with a grin,
tossing the stick to the side. “You’re hard to wake up.”

I poked him in the ribs. “Why’d you wake me up?”

“I was bored and didn’t want to talk to myself. Plus, I
thought you’d want to watch the show,” he said, nudging his head over to the
left. I looked where he indicated and saw Leo with blue running shorts and a
tank on. He’d been exercising hard because, even from here, I could see the
sweat glistening on his body. Again, he reminded me of a warrior with his
height and broad shoulders. He pushed his hand through his damp hair, and I had
to smile a little because I’d figured out it was a habit of his. I turned my
eyes to the girl he was talking to, trying to suss out what was going on with
their interaction. She was petite with dark brown hair and appeared thrilled to
be with him if the animated smile on her face was anything to go by. She wore a
tiny red sports top that had to be two sizes too small because it barely
contained her big breasts. The more I looked at her, the more I wondered how
she stayed upright with those surgically enhanced boobs. She also wore a pair
of running shorts with cute matching shoes. But she didn’t look like she’d been
working out; she looked like she’d just stepped out of a Lululemon catalog. I
frowned.

“Tiffany, the date, I presume?”

“Yep.”

“Why don’t you like her?” I asked.

He rubbed his jaw. “It’s not that I dislike her, although
she is
very
annoying, it’s just I’m sick of him being a man-whore and
not dating someone who’s good for him. He likes sluts because they don’t ask
for anything more.”

“Hasn’t he ever been in love?”

“Leo, in love? Please,” he said, shaking his head
emphatically, “the man has no idea what it is.”

We sat and watched them talk. They moved over to a shade
tree closer to us, and they were standing close, as if in an intimate
conversation. Every now and then, she’d reach out her hand and touch him
somewhere; twice on his arm, once on his shoulder and one time she rested her
hand on his chest. I got peeved thinking about her touching my dragon. But what
bothered me the most was
his
body language, the way his body was
centered with hers and the way his eyes focused on her as she talked. Sharp
jealousy gnawed at my insides at the reaction she was able to get from him when
last night, he’d barely even noticed I was standing there naked.