12. Jimmy
Jimmy
M usic blasted from the stadium’s tinny speakers, probably the same ones from back when I’d been in high school. Close to a hundred cars littered the gravel parking lot alongside the fenced-in field, and the noise from hyped-up voices and laughter deafened.
“This is my first game!” DJ danced like he had ants in his pants alongside me as we hurried toward the entrance, both of us bundled in sweatshirts and beanies on our heads to ward off the slight chill in the air.
Gram’s insistence, of course since I hated having to smoosh a hat over my styled waves.
I enjoyed how DJ’s gaze jumped from here to there as he stared at everything with wide-eyed wonder. I imagined taking him to TD Garden for a Bruins or Celtics game and grinned, shaking my head.
That would be one reason to go to Boston again, but I couldn’t come up with another drawing factor.
Sure, I had a handful of co-workers I considered friends, but I’d always kept things on a surface level—same as with everyone else around me.
Only Gram and Sutton had ever seen the deeper parts of me, and I planned on it staying that way.
Once I paid the small entry fee, I led DJ toward the snack shack. The line dwindled down since both teams were stretching out on the field, and we were minutes away from kickoff.
“Fries, candy, or both?” I asked DJ, sidling up to the shed that had been peddling empty and fat-filled calories for as long as I could remember.
“Both, duh,” DJ sassed, dragging out the second word with a roll of his eyes.
Chuckling, I placed his order along with a hot chocolate for myself.
Same as every day I’d walked around downtown, no one gave me a weird second glance even though I dressed to impress with my tight jeans and shimmery gloss. I wondered what the townsfolk would think of the lace panties I wore.
I wondered what Sutton would think of them, and my body broke out in goose bumps.
The stands were already packed, but I managed to find a too-small space for me and DJ to jam our behinds into at the far end.
“Hey, Jimmy,” the woman on my left welcomed me with a smile, and although she looked familiar, I couldn’t put a name to her face.
“How are ya?” I asked with my fake smile before settling DJ in with his boat of fries. Thank fuck he didn’t like ketchup, or I feared having a mess on my hands, considering how he squirmed in his seat, trying to peer around the head of the man in front of him.
“Here,” I got back on my feet and shifted over. “Trade places with me.”
“Thanks!” He grinned and shoved fries into his mouth, chomping away while scooting along the bench, his gaze on the field.
The dude now blocking my view was massive. I wouldn’t be seeing much either unless I stood, which I expected would happen more often than not considering it was opening night and everyone was riding a high.
Sipping my tongue-burning hot chocolate, I glanced beneath my feet to the gravel and sparse patches of weeds below the bleachers.
A memory ingrained in my brain played out in vivid color.
It’d been a Wednesday after school, and one of the senior football jocks had decided to give into my bet that he wasn’t as straight as he claimed to be.
His coach had caught me on my knees with the kid’s dick down my throat, but Sutton’s son Jamie had been lingering nearby without knowing what we’d been up to.
He’d been found guilty by proximity even though he claimed to have no idea a blow job took place mere feet from him.
Hell, I’d been gagging, the straight boy groaning while gripping my hair—no way Jamie hadn’t heard us.
For the first time, I had felt real guilt over the chief being called over my shenanigans.
I’d been a minor but admitted to being the aggressor.
Seeing as how the guy I’d blown was the town treasurer’s son or some shit, he’d walked away with only a suspension.
He’d moved to Tennessee for college and hadn’t ever returned, so I didn’t worry about running into him. Hopefully.
Chief had stepped in to keep me from getting a worse punishment. He’d also never said a word to my dad, but the asshole had somehow heard about it through the grapevine.
He’d labeled me a whore that day, beat the shit out of me, and I’d gone on to prove him right by selling myself for food and then a sweet paycheck that had made me feel as though I’d done a worthwhile service.
Bile rose up the back of my throat, and I forced my focus off the ground. I craned my neck to check for my favorite fantasy who would never treat someone as my father had with me. Sure enough, Sutton had a seat front and center on the fifty yard line.
God damn , the man was fine as fuck in a red hoodie, his gray-speckled hair a mussed mess my fingers itched to sink into and tug while tonguing that incisor that made him imperfectly perfect.
Sighing, I slouched in my seat and stared, completely missing the kickoff. Daydreams of him falling for me and offering the happily ever after I’d always wanted but didn’t deserve filled my mind.
DJ hollered along with the rest of the crowd, but I only stood when everyone else did so I could get a better view of the whole reason I’d come to the game.
Sutton was gorgeous no matter the expression on his face, but grinning and laughing with Dexter?
The man was absolute fire, burning me up inside.
I couldn’t begin to imagine what it would feel like to have his hands on my skin.
His lips on mine. His wet tongue dragging over my taint, teeth tugging at my piercing.
I shifted on the hard bench beneath me, blowing out a slow, steady exhale.
This wasn’t the time or place to get caught up in?—
“He scored!” DJ shrieked, but seeing as how no other Pippen Creek fans were screaming, I realized the opposing team had crossed the goal line.
DJ didn’t care. He was having too much fun, and after checking out the field to confirm, I didn’t bother telling him the touchdown wasn’t something to be celebrated.
Still, we exchanged high-fives, and the woman on DJ’s other side gave me an encouraging smile, which caused my chest to puff up the slightest bit.
I knew I did a good thing hanging out with DJ, loved how Sutton seemed to appreciate my actions from afar, but I hadn’t taken the kid under my wing to impress anyone.
I honestly enjoyed DJ’s company. He made me laugh more than I had in years, and I’d decided after day one of shooting hoops with him in Gram’s backyard that I would act as his big brother for the duration of my visit to Pippen Creek.
My energy matched his, which made his stays at Gram’s easier for her to handle.
The game ended with our town the victor, and the press of people attempting to leave the stadium caused me to lose sight of the chief.
The woman on DJ’s other side had clued me in to the fact that lots of folks headed to Frenchie’s after Friday night home games, so I settled a plan in my head for after dropping DJ off at Gram’s.
We hopped in the car, buckled up, and inched our way through the gravel lot toward the exit along with everyone else.
“Dad asked about you and was being all weird.”
I glanced over at DJ. “What do you mean?”
DJ peered out his window, unable to sit still as was his norm. “He was drinking. He’s always says stupid stuff when he’s got a beer bottle in his hand.”
A shiver of unease slid down my spine. “Does your dad mind that we’re buddies?”
DJ shrugged. “He didn’t tell me we couldn’t be friends, so I don’t think so? But he doesn’t care what I do. He’s too busy daydreaming about his girlfriend to pay attention to me.” The sarcasm and eye roll spoke volumes.
I’d talked to Mary about DJ’s home life, remembering Kurt only a little from back in school as he was a few years ahead of me. He’d been a hothead and got into a lot of fights, one of which I’d witnessed as a freshman.
Kurt hadn’t been great with paying child support after the divorce, and according to Gram, Carrie constantly threatened to take him to court for full custody.
It sounded like DJ was nothing but a bargaining chip between them, the constant push and pull taxing on the poor kid as well as Gram.
It was why she babysat him whenever she could, the only reason she’d stuck around as long as she had when Florida called her name.
But I noticed how slowly she walked, heard the constant complaints about her brittle, tired bones that would benefit from warmer weather.
What would happen to the boy if she decided to become a snowbird or move permanently out of town where she wouldn’t be a short car ride away?
We rolled forward a few more feet and stopped again, but I was in no rush to rid myself of DJ’s company for Sutton’s.
This was the first time the kid had opened up to me, and I loved how he felt safe enough to share his heart.
“Who’s your dad’s girlfriend?” I asked, wondering if maybe a solid relationship would help settle Kurt and create some stability for his son.
“He won’t tell me her name, but I know he has one. He’s always stinky like a girl’s perfume.” DJ’s nose wrinkled. “But she smells better than that shit Dad drinks.”
“DJ,” I admonished like Gram would over his language but let it go, my mind full with not only my own issues but the kid’s as well.
More than anything, I wanted to hug the boy’s hurt away, to protect him from the further trauma ahead of him, but I’d learned from experience that while support might make things better for a little while, the deeper issues had to be dealt with personally.
I wanted to fix myself but still hadn’t found the healing I’d hoped for. Walking into Dad’s house had proven there was a shit ton more work to do—and not just with the house’s rehab.
I dropped DJ off at Gram’s, the tug of wanting to escape reality for a while making me refuse her offer to hang out longer. With a promise to pick DJ up again in the morning to help me paint the living room over at Dad’s house, I slipped back out into the chilly night, my heart racing.
Frenchie’s called out to me from afar, so I slid my confident, laid-back mask into place and headed downtown.