Chapter 7
“Evening, pirate.” Bonham reached back and opened the side door for me. “For just a flash of your treasure chest, you can step on board.”
My breasts. He wanted to see my breasts.
I was very aware that Dreux was still in my yard, watching us.
It wasn’t that I gave a shit what anyone thought of me, but I didn’t want to give him a bad impression. What if he told Scott?
“Maybe later,” I said.
Excitement lit up Bonham’s face. “Aye, aye, captain.”
I climbed into the back, and as I was sliding the door closed, I caught Dreux still in place, observing me.
He merely shook his head.
I wanted to say something, or do something, but instead, I simply closed the door.
For tonight’s excursions, it was only Bonham, his friend Bug, and me. Bug was a little guy, maybe five-foot-six at the most, but he had the excitement of ten men. He was bouncing in his seat as I settled in, his hands playing the drums on the steering wheel.
Music on the radio was provided by Linkin Park. It reminded me of how all the good ones died young.
As Chester Bennington sang about being numb, Bonham sat back and took a drag from his cigarette.
“I should be checking you for snakebites,” he said as Bug began driving. “Or a wire.”
Right, because according to him Dreux was a snake. “Guys who quote Hemingway can’t be shady.” Most guys I knew couldn’t even spell Hemingway, much less read and interpret his work.
“ ‘We are made up of two contrasting ideals: Love and Fear. Pick one and live,’ ” Bonham recited. “Axl Rose.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. I loved Guns N’ Roses, but his little quote was just to rival Dreux, and Dreux’s was more fitting.
Bug joined in. “You’re too new to understand.”
This was true, and while I didn’t truly care, I was curious.
“What’s the story between you and him anyway?” I finally asked.
I watched in the rearview mirror as Bonham sank back in his seat, his lips pressing into a hardline as that mask he wore when Dreux was mentioned took over his face. “He knows what’s up.”
“Cryptic, much?” I responded. “You warn me about him and he warns me about you, am I ever going to figure it out?”
Bonham snorted in disbelief. “He warned you about me? That’s funny.”
“He doesn’t seem so bad.”
“Gag,” Bonham said loudly. “Fucker probably has freckles on his balls.”
I smirked. “Nice to know you’re thinking about his balls.”
He eyed me fiercely. “Choose a side and stay there.”
I snorted as I sat back in my seat. “I’m using you to get laid.”
In the rearview mirror I caught a smile washing across Bonham’s face. “You’re my favorite kind of girl.”
He held his hand back toward me. “Pick your poison, sticks or stones?”
Pills or weed.
Pills weren’t my favorite. I was too afraid of becoming addicted, and worse, overdosing.
I chose the joint and he lit me up.
“Where to first?” I asked.
Bonham drank from a flask. “To Neverland.”
The night went on as I got faded in the back.
Soon, all my troubles disappeared as I was floating on clouds. There were no traitors. No more feeling pushed away. Only the euphoria the weed was bringing.
A little while later, Bug pulled into a parking lot that was packed with other vehicles outside of some large building.
Bonham climbed out immediately after Bug parked, and to my surprise, he opened the side door for me.
“Let’s set sail,” he announced.
A pun on my name. I’d heard them my whole life, but this one, this one I really liked.
I climbed out of the van and stretched my legs, being five-foot-ten meant a lifetime of having to stretch my legs after being in cramped places.
Around the parking lot, I spotted other groups of the local teens.
Some were hanging out on the beds of trucks, open vans, or just standing.
Smoke pilfered through the air, a deadly mix of nicotine and weed.
Music played in the background, the head banging variety.
These kids were mostly burnouts, getting smashed as they passed back bottles of liquor and filled red Solo cups in between smoking.
This was my type of scene.
And then I saw the sign.
“Bowling?” I questioned.
Bonham shrugged. “This is just a prerequisite. The alley’s not really supervised at night as you can see. We can get trashed here before trying a bar. I will warn you, some of the fascists won’t let you in.”
“So bowling?” I repeated.
Honestly, this seemed to be more of Cameron’s gig. I wouldn’t have been surprised if we bumped into the bubbly blonde inside the establishment.
Bonham finished my joint for me, taking it in and releasing a cool stream of smoke. “At least until Rick shows up.”
“Rick?”
Bug snickered. “Your boyfriend’s cousin, Deputy Rick St. Julien.”
Bonham shot two fingers at me. “Fuck the police.”
The law wasn’t fond of me either.
Like a tightknit crew, we approached the alley and entered its quarters.
Once inside, I realized Bonham was right. The entire place was swarming with teenagers from the staff to the customers. It was all one big underage party.
“This is about as nice as the adults get around here,” Bonham explained to my confusion after we’d gotten our shoes and lane location.
“They figure they let us let loose here and send a cop or two by to check in on us to make sure we’re not killing each other and all’s good.
The school even has designated drivers on standby, not to mention Uber and Lyft.
As long as we don’t torch the place, they’re laissez-faire, just for a night. ”
It was kind of interesting. I guessed the town wasn’t so lame after all.
The bowling alley housed a litter of every high school cliché you could think of. There were jocks, cheerleaders, misfits, and a few freaks and geeks in between.
I did manage to make out some familiar faces from class, Cameron’s friend Vanity being one. She was lounging back against some tall guy in a Horton High jacket. A buddy of Aidan’s named Ebram. He had a fade too, except unlike Dreux’s natural coils on top, he had locs.
Vanity spotted me and made a show to wave. God bless this girl. “Hey, Navy!”
Close enough. Forcing a smile on my face, I said, “Hey, Vanessa!”
Vanity laughed. She was already too far gone. “It’s Vanity.”
I gestured to myself. “Saylor.”
She bobbed her head and tugged on Ebram’s arm. “This is my boyfriend, Ebram.”
Ebram merely tipped his head toward me before sliding his gaze elsewhere, namely being two girls in the lane over.
Vanity squinted her eyes, trying to see through her drunken vision. “You’re here with Bonham?”
Bonham took no offense as he planted himself next to me. “Evening, Vanity.”
She frowned a little. “I don’t like him for you.”
“Aww, but I totally love Ebram for you,” Bonham mocked in a high-pitched tone of voice.
Ebram tore his eyes away from some girl’s ass and shot Bonham a death glare. “Get lost, Bonham.”
Bonham smirked. I loved that he wasn’t intimidated by Ebram’s much bigger stature. Bonham was a cool five-foot-eleven, average in build, and not at all threatening in the manner of his reputation. Ebram was a clear athlete with his six-foot-plus height and massive physique.
“We’re just here until Rick shows up,” Bonham clarified.
To this Ebram settled down.
Of the two St. Julien men that I met, I wondered if Rick was as handsome.
“Cameron says you live next to Dreux,” Vanity spoke up. “I like him.”
Of course. Who wouldn’t like Dreux’s angel to Bonham’s devil?
“Not my type,” I let her know.
Vanity waved me off. “You just gotta get to know him. Ooh, ooh.” She got really excited as she sat up, the contents of her cup sloshing onto the floor. “And see what he looks like in sweatpants.”
“Sweatpants?”
“It’s about how he looks in sweatpants,” Vanity insisted. “Not in that pervy way, but in that cozy I-Wanna-Cuddle way.”
“O-kay.” How much had she drunk already?
“Ooh, and pull-ups.”
“Pull-ups?”
Vanity shrugged. “It’s just hot watching a guy do pull-ups.”
Sweatpants and pull-ups, interesting.
Ebram was fed up with her chatter, so he wrapped his arm around her neck and covered her mouth with his hand.
Something about this rubbed me the wrong way.
That and the way he kept checking out every girl within a two-inch radius.
Cameron was right. This douche was a total skeeze.
“Church!” some kid called out to Bonham.
A boy approached Bonham and they pounded fists before the kid slipped him a large fountain cup.
I seriously doubted that soda was inside.
“Best damn beer in town,” the boy told Bonham.
Bonham gave a thumbs up as he tilted his head back and chugged some of the brew.
When he held it out for me, I boldly dug into his jacket and grabbed his flask.
I took a shot and down the rabbit hole I went.
Whoever was manning the music was okay in my book. Instead of that pop shit they played on the radio, the bowling alley was playing classic rock. My type of vibe.
Eagles blared through the speakers as Bonham hung back in our booth as we sat at our own lane. Bug was actually attempting to bowl.
“This is retirement.” Bonham turned to me. “Meadow Grove is the place you come to die, not start a family and live. When I graduate, I’m hittin’ that road and heading straight to LA, baby.”
At first I loved his words, and then I didn’t because they reminded me of Scott.
“Hopefully you don’t crash and burn,” I said.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Saylor, but I’m going to do something. I’m going out there and finding my purpose. I’ll sleep when I’m dead. People around here don’t think much of me anyhow, but I’ll show ’em, especially him.”
“Your father?”
Bonham shook his head and said no more.
I didn’t exactly get it, but I sensed it was serious.
We all had our own hell.
Bug bowled a perfect strike, eliciting a chime from the computer and cheer from our neighbors.
Not many were actually bowling. Most kids were just hanging out, drinking, and eating.
I was satisfied with my stolen flask.
For a while the sounds of balls hitting the pins and classic rock mixed with many conversations filled the silence wedged between us.