Chapter Seventeen
King of Games
Kennedy
Dad tried to direct me to the sofa, but I wasn’t having it. I knew if I surrendered to the idea of napping in the living room, I’d get no rest at all. He’d be in there worrying over me.
Or worse, he’d have questions about Kingston that I didn’t know how to answer.
I hid in my bedroom, studying the ceiling and examining my feelings. I’d spoken to guys here and there since school, but I never offered enough of my time to become serious.
The word relationship was a long stretch for anything I’d involved myself with. I dated Liam Evans for nearly two years before my mother’s accident. We had plans to go to the same university and start a life together.
Then I declined my scholarship and sent him off without me.
He hated me for betraying our future, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. My family needed me.
I smiled, thinking back to my conversation with Roach, the night of Roy’s welcome home party.
Was I as bad as her, living for others while my twenties wasted away?
Maybe Kingston was right. Maybe I did owe it to someone to give him a chance…
I owed it to myself.
Once I came to that conclusion, my face slowly pinched with confusion.
Roach…
What the hell was Roach doing with my dad and Paxton?
The tension left my face at once and I shot off the bed. I flew down the stairs so fast, my feet scarcely had time to make contact with the creaky, old steps.
I had to hear it for myself.
There was no napping, no time for delay. I had to hear every fucking detail of how Paxton had finally left that skank Sabrina.
I had to hear it right this very second. I didn’t give a damn who he was with, as long as it wasn’t that nasty heifer.
“That’s not Paxton,” I blurted out, when I gripped the base of the staircase, and rounded at the bottom.
I couldn’t believe my eyes.
And yet I couldn’t look away.
I stared, nearly slack jawed while my mind raced to come to terms with the fact that it wasn’t Paxton’s arms Roach was snuggled in right now, but my father’s.
“Definitely not Paxton,” Dad confirmed, a smug grin resting on his stubbled features.
“You’re feeling better.” Roach smiled, looking me over in that concerned, friendly way.
“I– uh. I should get back to bed.” I nodded, backing away ever so slowly.
“G’night Pumpkin,” Dad called, his tone barely restraining his amusement.
“G’night my ass. It’s early,” I piped up, when his words finally penetrated the fog of my thoughts.
I couldn’t sleep. I painted my toenails twice before I was satisfied with the outcome. I did my hair with more attention to the detail than I’d ever paid in my whole damn life.
I rearranged my bookshelf, made the bed, and put away the laundry that had stacked up on my desk.
I’d have scrubbed the baseboards with a toothbrush if it kept me from thinking about my dad and Roach. I didn’t have any resentment or distaste for her, like some did.
I just never expected… That.
She was young. She had an empty slate before her.
Possibilities.
I itched to go talk to her, and yet, the man I would be trying to talk sense into her about was my own father.
I didn’t have bad things to say about him, or a warning I could put into words. I’d just hoped she would be able to step away from their chaotic circle, not end up claimed by the ringleader of the shit show.
I sighed and checked the clock.
It was a quarter after seven.
“If you’re going, you better get, Kenny,” I told myself aloud, using the name my mother had always called me.
Dad and Roach had retired to his room. I could hear the television, but little else. Paxton’s bike wasn’t in the driveway, leaving me the clean escape I desperately needed.
I hurried to my car and quietly shut the door.
I gripped the wheel and glanced at myself in the rearview mirror.
I looked confident. Happy.
So, why was I unsure?
I nibbled my lip and glanced back toward the door just as headlights lit up the street. The vehicle slowed and parked just before it reached our driveway.
It was a Chevy that I’d never seen before.
I cringed when the door shut a little louder than I’d have liked, but all the irritation left me when I noticed Bootsie behind my car. She must have spotted me, because she didn’t bother going for the front door, she just hopped in my passenger seat.
“Girl, where the hell are you o— Oh shit. What the fuck are you wearing?” she laughed.
I glanced down, instantly second guessing the outfit altogether, even if he had demanded I wear it again.
“Is it–?”
“No. No, it’s… wow. I just… I’m not used to seeing you like that.”
“Did your dad get a new ride?” I asked, peeking back at the Chevy in the rearview.
“Nah.” She waved her hand, dismissing the topic of the truck. “I’m staying out at Nick’s place tonight. They needed someone to package in the morning.”
I wrinkled my nose, still not understanding how she could work in that place. I know some people prefer fresh meat, but I never could stand the smell of a butcher’s shop. Even if it was her boyfriend’s family business.
No thanks.
“It’s not so bad.” She laughed, making me realize my every thought was probably painted across my face.
“I mean, I couldn’t do the stuff in the back.
I definitely couldn’t do the killing, like they’re going to do in the morning, but I suppose packaging food is no different than opening meat to cook at a restaurant job…
And this way, I don’t have to interact with the public. ”
“Right. That’s always a bonus.” I sighed, shivering at the topic.
She swatted my shoulder with the back of her fingers, “Kennedy Kohl, are you gonna tell me where you’re going so soon, after a morning in the hospital? I came over here to check on you.”
I shook my head, tapping my fingers on the wheel.
“It was just a migraine. You know the drill.”
She gave a reluctant nod.
“And, the outfit?” She folded her arms looking me up and down.
“Kingston.”
Her eyes widened, she licked her lips and silently nodded.
“What?”
She locked eyes with me but didn’t immediately speak.
“Just be careful, Ken. Please?”
“Always.”
“I’m serious. I don’t like him, and I don’t trust his decisions. I don’t want you ending up in court with him over something foolish or impulsive.”
“You think I’d do foolish or impulsive things with him?”
“No.” She didn’t hesitate to answer, “But anyone can end up in the wrong place, at the wrong time.”
It was sound enough advice, so I didn’t take any offense. A few minutes later, I gave her a side hug and watched her pull away, before I backed out of the driveway.
She was right. I shouldn’t trust myself with him on that bike. I didn’t know how much he’d drank today, or if something would trigger his temper and lead to reckless driving. I decided it was his turn to ride as a passenger, and pointed my car toward Birdman and Kate’s house.
The curtain of one of the trailer windows shifted when I killed the engine, and someone stared out at me. I didn’t even have time to open my door, before Kingston was hurrying down the sidewalk.
“You ready?” he asked, nodding toward his bike.
“I am, but we’re taking this tonight.” I called, stopping him in his tracks at the foot of my car.
He stared back at me, and for a minute, I thought he was going to make a thing of it.
Instead, his lips flipped up in a smile, and he returned, taking a seat on the passenger side. He smiled at me, his lips tight, and his silence thick as I backed the car up.
“You good?” I asked, sparing a glance his way.
“Good? Are you good?” He reached over, teasing the back of his fingers along my arm, until he circled my wrist and his fingers slid between mine.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
He raised my hand and kissed the back of my fingers, drawing my attention to him once more.
His teeth grazed my knuckle and he nodded toward the stop sign ahead, “Turn right and take it out of town.”
“Okay,” I stretched the word, waiting on some clue of where we were going.
“Why are you so pretty, but so prickly?”
I flubbed my lips and side eyed him, “We gotta work on your wooing game, bud.”
“Wooing?” He squinted at me, his lips finding the back of my wrist.
“Yes. Wooing. You know, picking up chicks?”
His eyes flickered around the nothingness of the car, as if he were in search of something unseen. “I wasn’t aware I had a problem scoring ass.”
A bark of laughter shot from me, and I pinned him with a gaze that took us to the edge of our lane.
“Watch yourself.” He laughed, shooting a finger out toward the road.
I sniffed and returned my attention to the wheel.
“You’re right. I stand corrected. You have no problem scoring low-rent coochie.
Forgive me for not specifying. You have no conversational skills, because you’ve never interacted with a woman that talks back.
You have no idea how to approach anything that isn’t a natural born cock monger without insulting her first. And your idea of romance is–”
“Turn here.” He motioned toward the cemetery entrance and I stomped the brake.
“Are you shitting me right now?” I laughed, waiting on the punchline.
When it didn’t come, I called his bluff and turned onto the lane.
“Your idea of romance is a cemetery. You see… Low rent.”
He flashed a guilty smile, but denied nothing.
We left the car near a tree line.
I was more amused than anything when I stepped out of the car. He took my hand, and made a throaty-feral sound as he tugged me close and moved along the tree line toward the back of the property.
“You women always bitch and say that us men plan nothing. I go all out, and now look at ya,” he teased.
The rocky cliff overlooking the lake was a popular drinking spot when we were younger, but no one really hung out there anymore.
I hadn’t been in years. I followed him along the rocky cliffside and was surprised to find a set of stairs installed.
“How long have these been here?” I marveled.
“Couple years.” He shrugged, as we continued down to a discreet dock that rested in a cove.