Wicked Games (13 page)

Downstairs in the
rec room at Jeff’s house, Carter and the guys were flopped on the overstuffed white leather sofas waiting for Reed to show up so they could head up to Miami for their big night on the town. They had the music going—Kanye’s new album, which they all thought was his best yet—and on the TV, Jonah Hill was gesticulating and making crazy faces with the sound off.

“I still think we should stop off in Little Havana and go to that hole-in-the-wall sandwich shop,” said Carlos. He was lying upside down, his head hanging off the edge of the couch, his feet draped over the back cushion.

“Carlos! Carlos! We’ve been over this,” said Jeff, lobbing a piece of ice from his Coke at him. “It’s South
Beach or bust. If you want a Cuban sandwich, there’ll be food trucks. You can probably even get one of those Korean tacos if you want.”

“Won’t be as good.”

Jeff sighed. “Nobody wants to spend the whole night trolling around Little Havana trying to find some place your dad took you once when you were eight, Carlos. Right? Andy? Carter?”

“Not if it means less time macking on the crazy-hot chicks in South Beach,” said Andy. He jumped up from his place sunken deep in the recliner and did his Andy Mack Attack dance, which mostly meant jiggling his large, awkward body to the music until he tripped over a PlayStation controller on the floor.

Everyone cracked up, even Carlos.

“I think you’re outvoted, Carlos,” said Carter. “Democracy in action.”

“If you want we can drop you off, though,” said Jeff. “You can get your sandwich. We’ll be hanging out at Arkadia sharing LeBron and Drake’s bottle service.”

More laughs.

Carter had been dreaming of this night in Miami with the guys since February. He’d Tommy Hilfigered himself out, gone as preppy as you could get: a red-and-blue long-sleeve polo shirt with the Hilfiger shield on the breast, brand-new khakis, old-school, flash-white Puma soccer shoes.

Odds were high that they wouldn’t get into the clubs, of course, but either way, they’d be out all night long. Jeff’s dad’s Mustang would be parked in one of the big public lots and the five of them would be free to wander till dawn. They’d drink rum and Cokes from the Big Gulps they’d fashioned just for this purpose, and kick along the strip, and just see what happened. However it shook out, one thing was sure: the hilarity this evening would be nonstop.

“Jesus,” said Carter. “What’s taking Reed so long?”

“He just texted me,” said Carlos. He scrolled through his phone and read it out loud: “Spaced out in the perfect weather. There in fifteen.”

“That kid,” said Jeff. “He’s always in a daze.”

Carter’s phone rang. When he saw it was Lilah calling, he ducked through the sliding door into the pebbled garden outside.

“Hi, handsome,” she said. Her voice was saturated with forced positivity. “You know what today is?”

“I’m not sure,” said Carter. “What?”

“It’s the opening night of the Dream Bazaar at Harpoon Haven.”

“Great, Lilah,” Carter said, bracing himself for what he knew was coming next. “Sounds cool.”

“It’s going to be a special kickoff celebration. Half off on all rides and two-for-one tickets for the games.
We should go, don’t you think? Maybe you can win me another lion.”

“I can’t,” he said. “Remember? Tonight’s my trip to South Beach with the guys.”

Though Lilah didn’t say anything, Carter could hear her pouting on the other end of the line.

“We could do it tomorrow night,” he said.

“It won’t be the same tomorrow. Tonight’s the big kickoff.”

“I’m sorry. I promised the guys.”

The silence between them felt to Carter like it was laced with tiny razor blades. Each second that went by cut a little deeper. She was waiting him out, as though if she withheld her acknowledgment long enough, maybe he’d change his mind.

“I’ve been looking forward to this for three months, Lilah,” he said wearily.

She sighed. “Fine,” she said. “Go. Go have your fun with Jeff and Carlos. Whatever. I’ll sit and watch stupid PBS shows with my parents.”

“Lilah—”

“Don’t Lilah me. You’re going to do what you want, anyway. I understand. You’d rather drool over South Beach sluts than hang out with me. Okay, fine. Just, I don’t see why I should have to applaud you for it, or whatever.”

“Lilah, come on. That’s not fair.”

The silence. The razors cut to the bone.

“I really need you tonight,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’m . . . I feel like I’m sinking. I’m worried about myself.”

Carter understood what she was implying. Maybe if he’d been less afraid of the possibility of Lilah spiraling into another of her self-destructive depressions, if he hadn’t cheated on her with Jules, he would have stood his ground. Instead, he gave in. He said, “Okay. I’ll come over for a second and we can talk. All right? But then, really, I’m going to South Beach.”

Lilah’s mood turned just like that. Suddenly she was happy and affectionate again. “You’re the best,” she said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

After he hung up, Carter stepped back inside and told the guys the score. “Hey,” he said. “I’m going to have to meet up with you guys later. I’ve got to deal with something. I’ll text you when I’m on my way, cool?”

“Lilah?” Jeff said.

Carter shrugged, hoping his friends couldn’t see the frustration building up inside him.

“Dude,” Jeff said, shaking his head, “what’s happened to you? I fear for your future.”

“I’ll tell you what’s happened,” Andy said. “Mofo’s pussy whipped. P-U-S-S-Y whipped.”

“Well, see ya,” said Carlos. “Wouldn’t want to be ya.”

Carter knew how they felt. He didn’t want to be himself, either.

When Carter arrived
at Lilah’s house, she wouldn’t let him come upstairs. She was “getting dressed.” Trapped by the dating conventions he’d thought the two of them had outgrown years before, he strained to smile for her parents while he waited for her.

They were putting on their perfect-family act. They gave him iced tea. They complimented him on his Hilfiger shirt.

“You’re always so well dressed, Carter. Did you buy that shirt especially for tonight? To impress all the people at Harpoon Haven?” her mom said. She had a way of saying things that sounded like compliments but felt like condemnations.

He sipped at his tea. He murmured that no, it was just a shirt. “But I’m glad you like it. Your opinion is so important to me,” he said, and he wondered if she heard the irony in his voice.

They definitely weren’t acting like there was anything wrong. And the way they talked about his plans with Lilah—plans he hadn’t actually made, but that now looked like they were going to happen nonetheless—made him suspect that he had been tricked.

When Lilah finally came downstairs, she was all smiles and joy. She’d dressed herself up in a bright red-and-yellow halter-top sundress that showed off her breasts. She’d put on too much makeup—not so much that she looked ridiculous, but enough that it highlighted her insecurity more than it did her beauty.

She took Carter by the hand and led him toward the front door.

Resentment boiled under his skin. He’d definitely been tricked.

As soon as they were outside, Carter unleashed his hand from hers and said, “What the hell, Lilah?”

“Don’t be like that,” she said. “Don’t ruin tonight.”

They were standing directly in front of the door to the house, and knowing that Lilah’s mother had a way of lurking and listening in on their conversations, Carter stalked down the walkway to the curb where his BMW was parked. Lilah followed him, almost skipping behind
him. Her body language said that her life was beautiful, blissful. She was putting on a show. Carter wasn’t sure for whom.

“It doesn’t really look like you’re ‘sinking,’” he said.

She plumped out her lower lip and batted her eyelashes at him. “I thought after you saw me all dressed up that you’d maybe rather spend the night with me.”

“Is that what you thought? Really?”

“That’s what I
hoped
.”

“Hmm. Okay.” Carter twisted an imaginary knob above his ear and made a ticking noise, listening to his brain unwind. “Nope,” he said. “Doesn’t look like I’ve changed my mind.”

Lilah glanced back toward the house. Something broke in her. The tears were pressing under her skin. “Please, Carter,” she said. “What am I going to tell my mom?”

“Why is that my problem? Tell her whatever you want.”

“She’s been putting a lot of pressure on me lately. Haven’t you noticed how nervous I’ve been? She thinks I’m going to . . . I don’t know, hurt myself again.”

“Are you?”

“No. Not now that you’re here,” she said.

“God, Lilah. Why are you doing this to me?” he said.

“Doing what? Trying to keep us together?”

This was blackmail. And emotional terrorism. Carter
could barely contain his anger. “Jesus, Lilah,” he said. “I can’t even have one single night to myself? You know? Unlike you, I actually like having friends. I want to see them sometimes.”

Lilah slumped to the curb and held her head in her hands. Her back quivered like she was crying, and Carter knew he had gone too far. He sat down next to her.

“Look,” he said. “We can go another night. Tomorrow if you want. The rides and games will be the same either way.”

No answer. Lilah just kept shaking, burying her head deeper and deeper between her legs. Carter rubbed her back with one hand, trying to soothe her, or get her to stop crying, at least.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he said.

Suddenly sitting up straight, Lilah turned on him. Her eyes were dry—she hadn’t been crying after all. She was tight with fury. “You don’t get anything, do you, Carter? I
need
you. When you’re not around, I feel like . . . like I don’t have any reason to exist.”

“Do you think that’s fair to me?” he asked quietly.

She just stared at him. She was so volatile that she was quivering. He knew he wasn’t going to get to South Beach tonight. He knew he should be concerned about Lilah, but he was seeing red.

“Fuck it,” he said. “Fine. Lilah, you win.”

She waited until they were downtown looking for
parking to speak to him again. “Tell me you’re not going to be mad all night,” she said. “I was hoping this would be special.”

He looked at her. Did she not understand what she was doing to him? “I’m here,” he said. “What more do you want?”

“Oh, I don’t know. A little love. Some sense that you’re excited to be here with me.”

“Well,” he said, “you can’t always get what you want.”

As they wandered through the arcades of Harpoon Haven, Carter felt like he was standing outside his own body, watching himself step over crushed soda cups and half-eaten cones of cotton candy with Lilah. Eating fried dough with Lilah. Listening to Lilah gush over things they’d done years ago, how romantic it had been, how sweet and beautiful those memories were, and with every word out of her mouth, Carter was forced to compare then to now, to the strain and the agony of this prison he was in.

He could see his own future life with Lilah spooled out in front of him like a trip wire. The future she yearned for, anyway. Maybe he’d condemned himself to a life of fear, sitting around in some little house in Dream Point, watching gobs of TV because it was the only thing he could do that didn’t throw Lilah into a suicidal panic, begging her for permission just to even talk on the phone with Jeff.

And he couldn’t help thinking about the last time he’d been here, with Jules. He couldn’t help thinking about how relaxed, how alive, how simply happy he’d been that night. How magical Harpoon Haven had seemed when she was there by his side, how hard it had been to resist kissing her, how much he wished she was here with him right now. It was as though Lilah had engineered this night explicitly to make him as uncomfortable as she could.

Lilah noticed. Of course she noticed. Finally, while they waited in line to ride the Tilt-A-Whirl, she said, “You could at least pretend to be having a good time.”

He stifled the sarcastic responses that flooded his mind and waited awkwardly for the line to inch forward.

“Carter. Why’d you even come out with me tonight if all you’re going to do is brood and make me feel like shit?”

This was too much. “Are you seriously asking me that, Lilah?” he said, almost spitting the words in her face. “You gave me no choice.”

“You’ve always got a choice.”

“Not when you threaten to hurt yourself if I say no, I don’t.”

“I never threatened to hurt myself.”

The other people in line were noticing. They turned their faces away and cocked their ears. Smirks and frowns played over their faces.

“Sure, whatever, Lilah,” Carter said. He took a step forward, keeping up with the line.

Lilah kept up with him, pressed like a yappy dog at his heels. “Don’t whatever me.” When he didn’t acknowledge her, she repeated herself. “Carter. Don’t whatever me. It’s like you don’t even love me anymore.”

“Jesus Christ,” Carter muttered.

This acting like he was above it all just egged Lilah on. She stomped on his foot to force his attention.

“Hey!” He turned on her.

Maybe he was pissed, but at least he was paying attention to her now. “What’s the point of your being here if all you’re going to do is punish me the whole time?” she said.

He wasn’t sure who he pitied more, her or himself. And in that moment, while he struggled to control his rage, he realized that there was nothing he could do—nothing he’d ever be able to do—to save Lilah from herself.

“You know what,” he said, “you’re right. I’m done punishing you.” He ducked under the metal barricade and stepped off the line.

As he walked away, he heard her shouting after him, “Hey! Carter! Where are you going?!”

He turned and called back to her, “Where do you think? I’m going to South Beach.”

As he sat
in front of his meticulously organized desk, Carter watched the minutes click by on his computer screen. Finals were set to begin the next week, and though he’d already been accepted to UPenn, he still worried about bombing them. He wasn’t the kind of guy to coast through the finish line. He’d lined up his textbooks and notebooks in an order based on his testing schedule, and created a careful plan of action for himself, blocking out the time needed to study for each subject. But each time he attempted to review his notes, they seemed like they were written in a foreign language.