Chapter Fourteen #2
He lets me go. I blow out my cheeks, go back to fixing the engine. Save my fury for another day.
Friday night, I’m stood in front of the mirror in my attic room at Scotch & Smoke when the music starts from below.
The muffled strains of Aerosmith’s Sweet Emotion creep into my room through rough-hewn floor boards, and I know that downstairs, the volume’s cranked up loud as it can go.
It’ll blast that way ’til the early hours.
Echo bought extra amps and the biggest generators he could find.
If he could, he’d have Evelyn Wallace listen to the racket all the way to east Canyon.
Friday night is when we turn out for Rapture’s cause. Our aim is to turn the tide, and maybe one day, the fortunes of this hell hole. We stick two fingers up at Mayor Wallace and her big-money developers. And them college kids, they’ve started to lap it up.
Scotch & Smoke ain’t no honkytonk bar with civilised folk line-dancing in their Stetsons and spurs. We don’t play no country music here, even if this is Texas.
Because fuck them, that’s why.
In about a half hour, the Ubers will start coming from the city.
Cars will snake all the way from the highway along the access road as the sun goes down.
The young came in their droves before, to the point that we had to start the system of giving out wristbands, to control the numbers.
Now it’s a little more ordered, but the bar is still packed to the rafters, with a string of hopefuls lining up outside the door.
I look at my reflection. I’ve tried on a dozen T-shirts, and it’s made me realize the same thing. All my T-shirts are the goddamned same, just different shades.
I settle on a white one, with a small ‘V’ at the front, buttoned halfway. I wear a clean pair of shredded jeans, my same black boots with the buckle. I spit on ’em both to give ’em a polish.
I think about whether Hollie Palmer would prefer it if I wore my leather jacket, then try and shake off any thought of her.
She might have requested a wristband, but there’s no guarantee she’s gonna show tonight.
It’s not like anyone is meant to know we went on a trip out to New Mexico together.
Except for Echo and Reyes, it’s our secret.
But damn it… I want her to show. Something inside me that I can’t explain is stirring. Clamoring to see her pretty face again.
I let my shoulders slump. Something tells me I had nothing to do with her requesting a wristband for tonight.
By the time I make it down to the bar, Chase and Reyes have already taken control of one of the two pool tables.
‘That there is twenty-five quarters,’ Reyes proclaims as I arrive, Chase already at the bar ordering us some cold ones. He’s pointing to a pile of silver coins balanced on the edge. ‘No fuckers gonna git within shitting distance of this table tonight. Specially no fucking college jokers neither.’
‘You might change your mind when I tell you what Nicole is wearing tonight,’ I inform him with a smirk.
I saw her on my way in. Reyes tilts his head to one side. ‘She told me she ain’t workin’ at Scotch tonight.’
‘Well, maybe Echo called her to work a shift, ’cause she’s over there wearing a tight pair o’ Daisy Dukes and the yella O.R. tank top.’
‘Shit,’ Reyes says, the word elongated on his lips.
As if right on cue, Nicole Escribano walks over, hips swaying, sipping on a bottle of Coors Light. Reyes’ jaw drops. She’s almost spilling out of the yellow top with Only Rapture branded across it.
Only Rapture usually refers to the bar staff who only serve drinks to those from around these parts, so as not to keep the locals waiting in line.
Though, Nicole’s job on a Friday night is to go around collecting empty glasses, rather than to tend bar.
One of the barmen – a Mexican Jamaican by the name of Nando – is our dedicated bar keep for the night.
He’s also wearing a bright O.R. yellow tank top which contrasts with his dark skin and dreadlocks.
‘Howdy, boys,’ Nicole breathes with a smile, twirling her fancy single braid, popping out a hip and resting her hands on the corner of the pool table, a move which presses her tits further together.
I know why she’s doing this. She wants to fuck with Reyes’ head, because only days ago they agreed they’d stop sleeping together and drop the ‘with benefits’ tag from their friendship.
He’s never said so, but I know that Reyes is smitten with her.
Always has been. She’s like a pocket rocket.
Five feet of curves, ass and sass, topped with a lick of bright red lipstick.
‘There a reason you dressed like a ho?’ Reyes fires at her from the far side of the pool table over the bang of the music.
‘You know me, Reyes,’ she hums playfully as she sips her drink. ‘Looking to git me some action with some college boys tonight.’
Nicole’s daddy was Hispanic, but he didn’t stick around in Rapture for long.
‘Go right ahead,’ Reyes says defensively.
She looks me up and down. ‘Bren said you weren’t gonna show tonight, AJ.’
‘Didn’t have any place else left to be.’
‘Did you do something to your hair? Looks nicer than normal. Like you attempted to style it.’ She looks to my hands, which are free of engine grease for a change. ‘My, my, somebody cleaned up some. Where’s your jacket?’
‘Can you go now, please?’ Reyes groans.
She tips the bottle neck to her lips. ‘Fine. I’ll leave you boys to your lonely existence. Bye, Balthazar.’
Reyes grunts in response. Chase passes her as she walks away and immediately checks out her sashaying ass. She flips him the bird.
‘Do you mind?’ Reyes snaps at him as he breaks.
Chase hands me and Reyes a beer. ‘What was the dumb reason you two decided to stop hooking up again? ’Cause that chick is tryna make you jealous, man.’
Reyes sniffs. I watch how his gaze always goes back to Nicole. ‘Says I ain’t never gonna commit,’ he says, thinking we can’t hear. ‘Or some such shit. I ask her out, and every time she blows me off.’
I used to think Reyes was wasting his time with Nicole. Those two have been hooking up since high school. Now, I’m beginning to see things differently. It’s like he can’t let her go, even if he wanted to. Like he’s caught up in her web, and the more he struggles, the more he gets stuck.
The bar is filling up now. Paradise City plays out over the amps.
It’s Echo’s favorite. The line for the bar is five deep, stretching all the way to the door.
I see Nando dancing at the same time as mixing cocktails.
I couldn’t do that job. College kids are everywhere, even using the pool table next to ours wearing their red-and-white dickwad varsity jackets, swilling beer and headbanging to Axl Rose like the loser fucking idiots they are.
Girls come and watch us play, which Reyes seems happy enough about.
A month ago, I might have considered taking one of ’em upstairs with me.
Except now, for some reason, the sight of ’em leaves me cold.
‘You waitin’ on somebody? Or somethin’?’ Chase asks me after we’ve played pool for about an hour.
‘No,’ is my response.
‘Then why you keep staring at the door?’
I bend to take my shot. Take my aim and hit a high ball into the far pocket.
‘Waiting on your momma,’ I mutter under my breath.
‘I heard that.’
‘I’m not waiting on anybody, all right? I’m just here to shoot some pool. That’s what you wanted, right?’
‘See this is what I mean. You’re being weird again.’
I roll my eyes. I don’t even know why I’m here. I hate that Hollie Palmer has got me all tied up in fucking knots. That the only reason I’m here is in case she shows up tonight, and I can’t think about anything else. It’s not like anything happened between us back in New Mexico. She was just…
She was cute. Sweet-natured, and I kinda regret ever ignoring her in high school.
Watching her sleep… made me think about things a little different. What I want from my life, I guess.
I’m still thinking about ways to forget Hollie when Nicole pushes through the crowd and comes bounding over. She’s pulling somebody along behind her and, the moment I see who it is, every nerve ending in my body stands to attention. Without warning, I feel like I’ve been sucker punched.
‘Y’all, look who’s here!’ she squeals, still holding her by the hand yet thrusting her forward into the light so we can see. ‘It’s Jenny English!’