Chapter 14
T hree hours of sitting in my Bronco later, the sun is sinking in the west, sending colors all across our East Coast skyline. My ass asleep, I get out and stretch, keeping a close eye on Ever. Her mouth hasn’t stopped moving since I left her under the gazebo but none of it for chewing. The only thing I’ve seen go near that mouth is a water bottle.
For all her yapping, at least no one’s touched her again. Well, she did do more of those stupid handshake things that go on and on and fucking on, but they were with girls, so I let them slide.
One of the few girls Ever didn’t do a handshake with heads my way, her grin visible despite the darkening haze of dusk.
I return Eighmey’s smile but don’t move toward her, instead letting her come to me. And come she does… Up to me.
Jesus, I need to jerk it already. Now that my nights are freed up thanks to those sensors I attached to Ever’s windows and door, I actually can.
Tonight.
If I don’t, I’m worried I might do something stupid like offer to rub coconut oil all over Ever’s cunt for the next two to three…years.
And that can’t happen. No pussy’s worth a million dollars, not even Ever Munreaux’s sick one.
“Hi,” Eighmey greets from a few feet away.
“Hello again.” My voice comes out an unnatural deep timbre.
“There’s lots of food left if you want to get yourself a plate.”
“I’m good, thanks. It’s probably been sitting out a little too long for me to risk it.”
“You sound like Ever. She’s scared of food poisoning, too.”
That solves that mystery.
“Isn’t everybody?”
“True.”
We both laugh.
“Can I ask you something?”
Eighmey raises both brows. “That sounds ominous.”
“It’s not. I was just wondering about the pickles.” I don’t trust Ever to tell me the truth.
Those thick eyebrows go even higher. “The pickles? Nathen’s pickles?”
“Is that who they’re for?”
“Yeah. It’s one of the rituals between Ever and Nathen.”
At my confusion, she adds, “Cheer’s really big on superstitions.”
Okay. Sure. Most sports are. But that doesn’t explain the bulk-sized jar of pickles or the affection he gave Ever regarding them.
“What’s the ritual?” I ask before questioning if I really want to know.
“Nathen ate a pickle once before we performed and we ended up hitting zero, so now the law, like, basically dictates that he has to eat one every time before stunting.”
“You guys aren’t cheerlead—” I catch myself. “You guys aren’t cheering today though, right?”
“Cheering? No. We don’t have a performance today. But anytime bases and flyers get together, they stunt. They will always stunt.”
That’s…a lot of touching. And I’m not sure what constitutes as cheering or not to know what falls within the guidelines I laid out.
Maybe I can talk to Ever’s coach and see about getting her a female base next year.
“I got another question for you.”
Eighmey chuckles but tells me, “Shoot.”
“Is the shirt a part of your superstitions, too?”
“This shirt?”
She points directly at her tits, but this time I force my eyes to stay on hers.
“Ever was wearing one just like it on Monday.”
“Honestly…” Tilting her head, she appears deep in thought. “It’s not exactly a superstition… Although, I’m sure some people consider it one.” Her head wobbles. “Okay.” She puts her hands out, palms down. “When you win at Nationals, it’s tradition for your team to run into the ocean after. But it’s bad luck to even touch the water before.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. Nobody’s allowed to touch it unless you place first.”
“Isn’t the competition in Florida?”
She grimaces. “Mm-hm.”
“So the shirt, saying ‘I got wet’ is…”
“Another tradition, yeah. Even though it’s a funny way to kinda brag about, you know, ‘getting wet,’ it’s technically a badge of honor because you can only buy the shirt if you go into the water, and you can only go into the water if you win. So it’d be bad luck to buy the shirt before. See? It can get a little complicated.”
“Just a little bit,” I joke, and we share another laugh.
I like talking to Eighmey. She’s funny. And nice.
Her eyes do keep resting on my scar but she hasn’t mentioned anything about it.
I turn my head the slightest bit to the left, giving her more of my right side, and catch a group of people moving in this direction, a few of them faster than the rest. Those go to their vehicles and turn on their headlights before rejoining the herd.
“What’s going on?”
Half-turning herself, she says, “Get your popcorn ready. The stunting’s about to start.”
Bathed in light, one of the bodies suddenly doubles in height as a man lifts a girl up above his head. She holds one leg up by her head for a second or two before she releases it, then comes right back down the way she went up. Another guy does the same with a different girl, except she never gets stationary, instead just kinda wiggles before falling backward into the hands of two other guys with their arms up. Spotters, maybe.
In the middle of it all, a barefoot Ever’s standing several feet in front of Nathen, her shoulders briefly popping up close to her ears before she does a back handspring, finishing right into Nathen’s open hands. He tosses her up into the air and she’s…airborne. She’s motherfucking airborne.
“Holy shit, she’s flying,” I mutter on an involuntary step forward.
“Yeah, she does that. Top girls always fly the highest, the prettiest, and the most.”
“What does that mean, top girl?” I ask Eighmey without looking away.
After Ever does another flip in the air, Nathen catches her feet, one in each hand, then transfers both to one palm, his wrist bent back at a ninety-degree angle. Jesus Christ, that looks like it hurts, not just the angle but him holding all of her weight in one hand.
“It means she’s the best. Freshmen almost never make top girl, but Ever did.” Eighmey’s voice lowers. “It’s not like her dad wouldn’t have bought her the position anyway.”
I understand why Eighmey said it—I’ve had similar thoughts numerous times since working for the Munreauxs—but it still irritates me that she did. Standing here, watching Ever glide through the air like a bird, landing perfectly on Nathen’s hands, then posing without a single quiver in her legs, arms, or posture, there’s no question Ever earned that spot on her own merit. Her nickname’s Zero for a reason. She has zero flaws. At least as far as cheerleading goes.
Damn it.
As far as cheer goes.
“You should’ve seen her at the party… Was it last night? Ever did this insane—”
“Ever didn’t go out last night,” I say, hoping to God that I’m right. She didn’t get past my sensors on the first night, did she?
“Oh, you’re right. She was MIA last night. Okay, then it must’ve been the night before.”
“She does this kind of stuff at parties?”
“As long as there’s someone willing to put her in the air, yeah. She flies anywhere she can.”
Nathen brings Ever down to the ground, then after a couple breaths where they both lift and drop their shoulders, Ever jumps at the same time Nathen uses his right hand to push her lower back upward, shoving her into a midair backflip before she lands both feet on his right palm.
What the fuck? This shit is cheer? It’s way more physically demanding than I thought.
All the bases and flyers continue to perform different stunts, but my eyes are all for my protectee.
Nathen’s hands grab Ever’s hips a moment before he tosses her above his head, making me think about those mysterious bruises. Is that where she’s getting them?
“You might want to close your mouth. We could be here a while and I don’t think you want bugs for dinner,” Eighmey says, reminding me she’s still here…and that my jaw is, indeed, skimming the ground.
“Why aren’t you out there with them?” I ask.
“I’m not a flyer. I’m a stumbler.”
“What? Like you stumble around?”
She chuckles. “No, it’s a tumbler and a stunter. When I’m not tumbling, I help the bases hold stunts.”
“You can’t tumble out here?”
“I can.”
“Can you show me something?”
Everyone disappears as Eighmey steps in front of me. Leaning in, she says near my ear, “You have to take your eyes off her long enough to watch me.”
“I can do that.”
“What do you want to see?”
What looks better holding your tits up, my hands or your push-up bra.
“A flip?”
“A flip?” Her lips dance with suppressed laughter.
“Yeah…of some kind. I don’t know that many. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. A flip coming right up.”
When she moves back, I instantly seek out Ever real quick. She’s in the air again, one leg in Nathen’s hold, the other stretched up behind her, her foot held up above the back of her head with both hands. She’s in a motherfucking skirt doing this shit, exposing her underwear to everyone out here. Not that anyone else seems to be looking at that exact spot but they could.
Eighmey calls my name.
Watching me with a big smile, she does a cartwheel, three back handsprings, then something that looks like a back handspring except her hands never touch the ground, instead staying up near her hips. A backflip? Damn.
As soon as she poses at the end, I clap.
Past her, Ever’s now looking directly at me. Those headlights are beaming right at her, so I don’t even think she can see me, but it feels like she can. Her gaze is heavy, very heavy.
Winded, Eighmey jogs back over to me.
I give her a double high five, but she doesn’t let go of my hands so we have a quick, flirtatious handhold.
“That looked like more than just a flip.”
“A little bit,” she says, echoing my earlier words.
“It was amazing.”
“Thanks.”
This doesn’t happen. I don’t connect like this with other people. Only once and that was…
“Did you go to Hide and Keep?” I can’t help but ask.
“Yeah. Why? Did you?”
“Kind of. I was—”
This time when my eyes scan for Ever, she’s on the ground and on the move.
Oh shit. She’s coming this way.
I pull my hands from Eighmey’s.
“Showing off for a bodyguard, Eighmey? That’s pretty low, even for an ass-eater.”
“Personal protection agent,” I correct. Now that I know the difference between the two, I do take offense. A bodyguard is a step above a bouncer. I’ve been a bouncer. This isn’t that.
“He’s—”
“The help. He’s not here for you or your basic somersaults. He’s working.”
There it is. Again. The reminder that no matter what title I use, what clothes I wear, Ever, and people like her, will only view me as “the help.”
Why’d she go through the trouble of buying me these expensive clothes anyway? Was it just to butter me up that day? Or was it so in moments like this when she decides to publicly humiliate me, that I’d feel like an even bigger jackass outfitted in labels I could never afford on my own?
For the four hundredth time since coming face to face with Ever Munreaux, I think to myself, Fuck. You.
But because I am the help, and I can’t afford the clothes currently covering my body, I stay silent. I never want to talk to this stuck-up bitch again.
“Somersaults? Please. You could never—”
Arms above her head, Ever does the exact same routine Eighmey just did, only differentiating herself by landing softer at the end. She’s not as out of breath either.
When she’s done, she meets my eyes but I drop mine between us. I don’t even wanna look at her.
“Nathen?” she calls out. “Come throw Eighmey!”
Nathen lumbers over, rubbing his collarbone as he takes stock of Eighmey, then Ever.
“Without a mat?” he asks the latter.
“Yeah, without a mat.”
“She’s not a—”
“What? A flyer?”
Eighmey sighs. “You know I’m not, Ever. You proved your point, okay? I don’t need to break my neck to prove mine.”
“The only point you just proved…” Ever steps up to Eighmey, looking between her eyes. “…is that I can replace you, but you can’t replace me. Remember that the next time you think about monopolizing my bodyguard’s time.”
I don’t know Eighmey well enough to know if she’ll try something dumb like attack Ever on my watch, so I slip between the two before I have to break up a cat fight. I like Eighmey but Ever’s safety is my literal job.
Guiding Ever to the passenger side of my Bronco, I get her seated before I remember she’s barefoot. I really don’t want to talk to her right now…
But I have to.
“Where are your shoes?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you go look for them yourself,” she snaps like I’m the problem.
I shut the door on her and pull in the deepest breath my lungs can manage.
She’s the problem. She’s the fucking problem. There was no reason for her to show Eighmey up like that. There was no reason for any of her bullshit. She’s the one who told me to watch her from afar. I watched her! From afar! It was only those last twenty seconds that I didn’t. Is she that insecure that she can’t stand to have the attention off her for twenty fucking seconds?
Yes. Yes, she is.
After a tight grin goodbye to Eighmey, I leave the park without looking for Ever’s shoes. I’m sure her spoiled ass has a hundred other pairs.