Seventeen - River
So, this is what suburban hell feels like. Hot sun. Barbecue roasting. Loud country music. And hoity-toity moms and dads looking down their noses at me when I pass by with a plate full of food in one hand, Kieran’s arm around my shoulders, and Rad on my tail as the latter talks a million miles a minute. Sometimes I don’t think he takes a breath to speak. Is he even human?
As we pass people, Rad loudly introduces me, without shame, to each and every person and lets them all know I’m his girlfriend. I’m constantly reminding the fucker that we’re not in a committed relationship. We’re—well, whatever we are. Fuck buddies? Having a fun time? I mean, the way he looks at me gives me butterflies. But still. Do we need an actual label to put on ourselves?
He seems to think so because he’s constantly reminding me that we are in a relationship—I just won’t admit it. In Rad’s mind, we’re probably married by now and have two kids and a white picket fence.
It’s only been five days since we rolled around on Rad’s bed and had some of the best sex of my life. Since then, we’ve taken advantage of our time together. Any chance I get, I’m at Rad’s, watching him and Callum play some game called Angel Warrior while doing my homework. I’m falling into a weird routine with them: they pick me up from home, take me to work, and then take me back. Every step of the way, they’re there. Always following me. Their faces are all I see, and I’m beginning to get used to it, halfway expecting them to be there every turn I make. Rad, Callum, or Kieran make an appearance every night outside my sliding glass door, begging to crawl into my bed. Some nights we rest together, but most nights, we have our wicked ways with each other until the sun comes up and I’m exhausted. It’s gotten to the point where I rarely lock the door, opting to leave it open for them to slip through.
“I can’t believe we’re going to be in a recording studio in a month,” Kieran murmurs with a grin, squeezing my shoulder with happiness.
Wednesday, the one day a week I make it on campus for classes, I signed the boys up for a recording session after talking to the guy in charge. Come October first, they’ll be nestled away in the recording studio, making their dreams come true. And mine. The more I’ve thought about it, the more excited I get for the adventure to California with the guys to watch them perform.
Come December, I'll be walking the cold beaches and shivering in the waves. Something I've always dreamed of. You crave change when you've lived almost your whole life in one town surrounded by bean and corn fields with no ocean in sight. I want to breathe in the salty waters and watch as the waves crash down. I want to walk the beaches without any stress.
And maybe… just maybe, I'll find my father and brothers, too. It can't hurt, right? They may have forgotten about me for the past nineteen years, but I haven't forgotten them, even after all the rejected letters I received. It’s a tough pill to swallow, but I’ll know for sure when I meet them face to face.
“Yeah, and my only reward for being such a big help is these ribs and wings,” I quip with a grin, nudging playfully into Kieran’s ribs as he chuckles at me.
My mouth waters at the sight of the delicious barbecue ribs and wings filling up my plate, and on cue, my stomach erupts with growls begging for the food. I haven’t had anything this good since my ma took me out for my birthday to the local buffet, where I ate anything and everything I wanted. And now is no exception. No matter the judgy eyes following me around and watching my every move. What do they think? That I’ll steal their TVs while they’re outside or something? Sheesh. They need to cool their jets. I’m no thief. I work for everything in my life. Just because I come from the other side of town means nothing. So, they can shove their judgmental glares and whispers up their tight assholes and go back to minding their own business. I’ve got food to demolish. Finally, we make it to a picnic table set up in the middle of the cul-de-sac, fit with a white tablecloth, salt, pepper, and even a fancy napkin holder set up in the middle.
The warm breeze blows through my hair as I watch the cookout in full swing and marvel at their dedication. They've literally blocked off the entrance to their block with police barricades and a sign that says, road closed to traffic. How they pulled that off, I'll never know.
People meander around, carrying plates. Their gossiping whispers and wandering eyes pierce through me, but I don't give a shit. I'm eating homemade ribs dripping with barbecue. And I'm in heaven. Screw their mean glares and noses in the air.
“K!” I raise a brow when a cute little girl throws her arms around Kieran, hugging him tightly and nearly knocking him over.
A marvelous smile lights up his face, chasing away any ounce of darkness bringing him down when he happily chuckles at her antics. He doesn’t hesitate, pulling her into his lap and wrapping his arms around her little body. When she pulls back, a huge grin lifts her lips.
“I didn’t know if you’d make it,” she says in a small voice, her big, blue eyes dancing around the cookout. “I thought maybe…”
“Nah! We made it, Cam,” he murmurs, straightening out her perfectly curled brown locks. “Cam, I want you to meet my girlfriend, River.” My heart pounds double time, nearly melting, when she turns to me and politely offers me her little hand. “River, this is my little sister, Camilla.”
“Nice to meet you,” she whispers, biting her lip when we firmly shake hands.
“Nice to meet you, too,” I say with my heart in my throat, watching the two of them interact with each other in such a loving way. With every word Camilla says with excitement, Kieran leans in and listens attentively. He doesn’t take his eyes off her until she skips away when her mother calls Camilla over to her.
“She seems sweet,” I mutter through another bite of food, nearly coming from the glorious taste hitting my buds. I swear, if the boys tasted half as good as these barbecue ribs and wings, I’d never leave them alone.
“She is,” Kieran mumbles, rubbing his chin as something odd sparks across his pensive face. Something darker brews between Kieran and his parents, judging by how his eyes narrow in on the man moving toward Camilla and her mother.
“You having fun yet, Pretty Girl?” Rad asks with a grin, putting an arm around my shoulders when he settles into the seat next to me with a big plate of food.
“You kidnapped me on my day off. I'm just here for the food,” I groan, ripping a bite off the ribs like a damn animal.
So. Damn. Good. Fuck what I thought about these assholes before. They can cook. Well, the people they hired can cook, that is. They've been milling around, filling the pots with more food in their white chef outfits. I swear I've seen the guy on TV somewhere. Probably one of those barbecue competition shows. Because damn, this is tasty food!
So, they get a River-approved gold star. Only for the cooking, though. Their hospitality is lacking in several departments.
“Kidnapped you?” Kieran says with a raised brow. “You willingly got in the car.” I glare at him when he grins more, tilting his head to watch me savagely bite into another wing.
“Yeah, Assface…”
“Oh, we’re back to Assface now?” he quips, biting his bottom lip. I swear his eyes light up, giving me his undivided attention.
I frown. “Yeah, Assface. As I was saying. You tricked me into your vehicle by using him.” Callum stiffens when I point to him. He sits across the table with a blush so deep sweat drips from his brows.
“I-I…it was them,” Callum says with an accusing glare, shaking his head.
Poor Callum. They sent him into my room as I laid in bed watching the damn ClockTok app on the new phone Kieran insisted I have. I put up a good fight, but at the end of the day, it was a gift—an expensive gift, but one, nonetheless.
“Your new phone,” Kieran says with a smug grin, puffing out his chest when I take the device from his hand and shove it back.
“I'm not a charity case,” I snap, tossing the phone back at him from the backseat of the Tahoe and nearly laugh when it bounces off his big head and lands on the floorboard of the driver's seat.
“I never said you were a charity case, River Blue,” he grumbles, picking the phone off the floor and wiping it on the tight black shirt stretching across his defined pecs. “But Callum doesn't use it anymore. It's collecting dust. And your fingers are fucking bleeding from swiping.” I frown, looking at my fingertips.
“Do not,” I say, shaking my head. “My phone does just fine. Seriously.”
“Seriously, nothing, Pretty Girl. Take the phone! You'll need it anyway. I started a group chat.” To prove his point, Rad sends eggplant emojis on repeat at least fifty times.
“Could you not?” Asher snaps, turning in the passenger's seat with a scowl, glaring at Rad. “Last time, you bombarded my phone with pictures of your dick. And they don't make water hot enough to get those images out.” He fake shivers and shakes his head with disgust.
I snort at Rad's fallen face until he snatches my broken phone out of my hands and tosses it to Kieran. Traitor!
“You're supposed to be on my side!” I hiss, slapping his chest, but he catches my hands.
“I’m always on your side, Pretty Girl. That’s why I want you to have this phone,” he mumbles, leaning in so fast and shoving his tongue down my throat as a distraction. I moan into his mouth, pulling him harder against me, and DISTRACTION! Rad snorts, grinning at me when I pull back, all flushed with puffy lips. “Teamwork, bro,” he says, high-fiving Kieran, who turns to me with a smug, victorious look.
A smug look I wish I could punch from his face. Do you think he'll miss his nose when I push it through his skull for being such a prick? No? Okay, then. Worth a shot. I grit my teeth.
“It wasn't a request. It's a gift that you're keeping,” Kieran demands as he tears my broken phone apart, digs out the damn SIM card, and places it in the other.
“Don't fight it, Pretty Girl. It's either that or he spanks you,” Rad says, wiggling his brows. “Although, I’m down for the spanking.” I shiver at the image in my mind of pink butt cheeks and the burn it leaves behind.
“Or me,” Asher says in a low voice that turns my insides into knots.
I swallow hard, catching the slow smile spreading across Asher's lips. If there's one thing I can say for the guy, he'd be an excellent hate fuck. Like, pound me into oblivion, hate fuck. He'd be good at it, too. Too bad he's an asshole and not touching me with a twenty-foot pole. Yet.
“Mmhmm,” Asher hums, snatching the new working phone from Kieran's hand. “Now, be a good little brat and use this phone.”
“Jesus,” Rad murmurs, adjusting himself. “You gonna spank her? Or should I? Bend over my knee, Pretty Girl,” he says jokingly, tapping his lap.
“Like fuck,” I quip, snatching the phone out of his hands. “Thanks for the phone,” I murmur, looking over the sleek screen and four camera lenses in the back. “I guess.” I shrug, shoving it into my pocket with a calm demeanor.
But I'm anything but calm. No one has bought me anything like this before. I've paid for everything out of my own pocket. Van didn't even buy me flowers or chocolates. The only thing Van brought me was heartache. And yet, these four guys have already come to my house, set up a home nurse for my ailing mother, slept with me every night, taken my mind off my shitty circumstances, and got me a new phone. It’s a longer list than anyone has ever done.
Later that night, Callum snuck back through my sliding glass door, stripped to his boxers, and held me all night. My new phone played soft melodies, and we drifted to sleep in each other's arms. He seems to be sleeping better since he started crawling into my bed and rarely wears his earbuds anymore.
When Callum walked through my sliding glass door with an innocent grin, I instantly lit up. I was still in my pajamas when he innocently convinced me to get dressed in shorts and a T-shirt because we had somewhere to go. I thought we were going to hang out. They had other plans. So, here we are at the Lakeview neighborhood cookout, eating everything under the sun.
“Now, now,” Kieran says, shoving another barbecue wing into my fingers. “He did good. He got you here so we could show you off.”
“Show me off,” I scoff, ripping into another wing and moaning at the taste in my mouth.
“Right,” Rad rasps, staring straight at my mouth as I bite into another wing like he’s hypnotized by the way I eat. “You just keep eating, Pretty Girl. I'll hide this boner somehow. Unless you want to sit on my lap and talk about the first thing that pops up.” He doesn't take his eyes off me even when I set the cleaned bone on my paper plate. “Then we could play just the tip. Or hide the hotdog. Or maybe…” He wiggles his brows, letting that charismatic smile fall across his lips.
“Mmmm, maybe,” I moan into my fingers as I suck them one by one, getting the remnants of the sweet barbecue sauce off my fingers. Seriously. How do they get this shit so sweet but tangy? I could drink a gallon of this stuff or bathe in a pool full of it.
“For fucks sake, Little Brat,” Asher huffs, yanking my fingers from my mouth and holding my wrist hostage in his tight grip. He shakes his head, lust swimming in the depths of his hazel eyes. I suck in a breath when he leans closer, a breath away from kissing me, and mumbles, “This is a family event.”
A protective growl vibrates through his throat when he gestures to the older males standing around and staring in my direction. Some of them shift away, hiding their interest. And by interest, I mean their old man dicks standing at attention for the first time since Reagan was president. Perverts. Talk about losing my appetite.
I snort, shrugging. “Better watch out, Asher. I might just become your new mommy,” I quip, digging into the remaining ribs on my plate with zest.
“I need a drink,” he hisses, adjusting himself with a grunt. Narrowing his eyes at me, he stares at me like I might do something else wrong. Asher huffs, trying to cover his boner.
Me? Do something bad? I would never march over to the grill and demand more ribs or cause a scene if I don't get any.
Asher leans closer than before, brushing his lips against my cheek. My breath leaves my body entirely at the sparks flying from his touch, heating my entire being.
“You’re trouble with a capital T, Little Brat. Be a good girl and stop licking your goddamn fingers in front of them. You really want to give them something to jack off to tonight?”
My nose wrinkles, and I cut my eyes to the old men standing in a circle across the party. Some of them look this way but suddenly stop when they realize I’m watching. Asher’s breath brushes against my cheek when he chuckles.
“Will you?” I ask suddenly, jerking my face to his and nearly kissing him.
He swallows hard, his eyes dilating. “That drink,” he barks, marching away.
“Yeah! That’s right, get your drink. By the time you get back, I'll be…” A hand covers my mouth, settling their warm body beside me, chuckling.
“I wouldn't finish that sentence,” Kieran says with a grin, shaking his head. “Asher will blow a gasket, and he really will bend you over his knee.”
“That’s hot,” Rad groans, running a hand down his face. “We gotta stop being so sexy out in the open. My dick…” he trails off, shaking his head.
“Ashton Radcliffe!” Bellows an angry woman from across the cul-de-sac. “Come here this instant!” Her demands echo through the neighborhood, turning everyone's attention this way for one brief second.
“That’s one way to make a boner disappear. Thanks, Mother,” he mumbles, pushing up from the seat with a frown. “Fuck my life, man,” Rad hisses, running a hand through his hair. “I'll be back. And don't you dare move.”
“Aye, aye, Ashton,” I say, saluting him as he walks away. Only looking back once with a storm brewing in his eyes, promising me of the things to come later.
“For someone who didn't want to come, you're enjoying yourself,” Kieran says with a grin, watching as I gobble down my last rib.
“Well, you should have started with ‘the food is top-notch, River.’ Then I wouldn't have put up such a fight.” I chew through the pieces of meat, reveling in the melt-in-your-mouth deliciousness on my tongue.
Screw sex, bands, rock and roll, and anything else in between; I'd die in the depth of these barbecue ribs any day just to get another taste. Shit. When I reach down to grab another, all I get is a cleaned-off bone.
“I need more,” I hum, nodding to my plate. If I'm going to be here for free food, I might as well stuff myself until I want to puke. They invited me, so I'm taking advantage. Besides, he wants to show me off, right? Well, take that, Kieran Knight.
Kieran cracks a grin. “I'm going to remember this moment forever.” He barks out a laugh and straightens his spine. His smile melts away into a grimace until he's standing behind me and places a firm hand on my shoulder. “Go get your ribs and whatever else you need. Apparently, our parents are having a tizzy fit.”
“A tizzy? Over what?” I ask, looking around the party, taking it in. And what I see sends my heart into a frenzy. Of course.
Like every other parent on this side of the green grass, they're concerned about their boys hanging around a Central girl. Oh, right, that's me. The Central girl, who they think is too stupid to make any good decisions and will convince their sons she needs a baby or will rob them blind. I’m just here for the food, and well, their dicks are nice, too. But no babies for me, thanks. I have life aspirations that don’t include children until I’m at least thirty.
“Got it,” I mumble into my empty plate when Kieran gets up and waltzes toward the woman glaring daggers at him.
Her face wrinkles when Kieran approaches with his hands in his pocket, murmuring a few things to him and shaking her head in disappointment. If they only knew I wouldn't be here unless these assfaces had dragged me here kicking and screaming. It was a kidnapping. Whatever. Nothing I can drown my sorrows in more food.
“I’ll be back,” I tell Callum, pointing toward the food.
“You-you want me to come with you? I don’t have parents to disappoint,” he says, cracking a smile when I snort.
“Nah. I got this. You stay here.”
I march my happy ass toward the long row of potluck food. The entire neighborhood chipped in, bringing a slew of homemade sides that would make Martha Stewart jealous. Chicken and noodles, with those thick noodles, mashed potatoes, beef and noodles, pulled pork with barbecue sauce, and finally, the glorious barbecue ribs stacked high. I nearly come when more gets added to the platter, fresh, hot, and ready for my mouth. I'm practically drooling by the time I grab a clean plate and pile it high with ribs, adding mashed potatoes and even a little potato salad because nothing says hello Midwest, like cold potato salad on a hot day or any kind of cold salad, for that matter.
“I know what you're up to.” A menacing voice says from beside me, breaking me from my rambling potato thoughts.
I clutch my plate, and my heart races in my chest. Shit. I almost dropped my food at the sound of his deep voice. And that's a goddamn tragedy. There are hungry people all over this city who'd die to get a taste of these ribs and the seven different types of cold ass salad that doesn't involve lettuce.
“Wow, you caught me. I'm just grabbing a bite to eat,” I say, my voice dripping with heavy amounts of sarcasm. There’s no way I’d show this man any amount of respect.
Every time I'm face to face with this pain in my ass, he's nothing but a walking, talking dickhead. I cock my head, imagining his bald head into the shape of a dick, and wouldn't you know, he's not as intimidating.
He snarls at me, lifting his upper lip. “First, you poison my son, Van, with your filth, and now those four? You're really moving through them, aren't you?” Disgust fills every molecule when he steps up to me, letting me feel every inch of his over-inflated body.
Reading between the lines, I see exactly what he's throwing down. Whore. Slut. Trash. Yeah, I've heard it all. But screw him and all these people who look at where I come from instead of looking into my heart. I know exactly who I am and where I come from. The fucked-up thing is, if I had even some of my dad's money, I'd be richer than all of them. How ironic is that?
Wrinkling my nose, I pick up my plate and take a big bite of my rib. “It's funny you think that,” I say with a shrug, moving to walk past him, but he grabs my arm with lightning speed, squeezing tight.
I narrow my eyes at the fat fingers holding me captive. I could tell a cop when he leaves bruises, but big and round Judge Drake is just that—a goddamn judge. No one would believe the poor Central girl over the reigning judge of Central County. Besides, I’ve been down this road before with the police. They laughed at me then, and they’d laugh at me now.
“I don't think so. I know so. We all know how you tramp Central girls work. Trap a nice, hardworking Lakeview boy, and then you have a cushy future.” His teeth grind back and forth when he speaks. I’m surprised he doesn’t break a tooth.
I nod, taking another bite of my rib without care, working around the hand holding me hostage.
“You know, I shouldn't explain anything to you because, in your mind, I'm nothing more than this idea you have. But let me clarify it for you, Judge Drake.” Van's father's eyebrows raise when I use his formal term with venom. “I work two jobs, more than your precious little angel Van ever has. I go to community college to better my future. I literally don't give a flying fuck about anyone on this side of town. I want to get out of this place. Now, let go of me.” I bite into my rib again when his fat fingers finally peel away from my arm, and he wipes them on his pants like I have a disease on my skin.
What a twatwaffle.
“Don't think their parents will sit back and let them continue this little pipe dream of theirs, which doesn't include you. Go back to the hole you crawled out of and leave this side of town,” he growls his entire sentence, shaking his head in disgust. “I'll make sure they know all about you.” At that moment, I see the first glimmer of a wicked plan developing in his pea-sized brain.
“River,” Callum says in a tight voice, coming to my side and placing an arm around my shoulder. “You okay?” he murmurs, staring daggers at the Judge, lifting his chin.
“We were just chatting,” Judge Drake says with a crude smile. “I’d watch yourself if I were you, son. She’ll bring you nothing but a damn headache.”
Callum cocks his head to the side. “I happen to like my headache,” he says confidently, squeezing my shoulder. “Come on, let's go sit.” I nod in confirmation as we take a few steps from the stupid judge and stop in front of the large trash can.
Great. Just what I need, pissed-off parents coming after me for no reason. I sigh, looking down at my delicious plate of food, and grieve with a broken heart that splits in half and cries. Lead sits in the pits of my stomach, threatening to send my already delicious ribs back up. I have a feeling they won't taste as orgasmic the second time around. There's no way I'll be able to inhale this food like I wanted to after all his words sink in. I'm only human, after all, and sometimes the words people throw at me do stick. I'm not worthless or whatever because of where I come from. I'm trying my best, but no one will ever see it from this side of town. They only see a Central girl clinging to their kids with stars in her eyes.
With a heavy heart, I mean seriously, my heart hurts when I toss my full plate in the garbage, thinking about all the hungry souls out in the world begging for a full plate of food just like that—what a waste. But I can't imagine biting into that food without it tasting like ash in my mouth. Grabbing a few napkins, I wipe all the sauce from my sticky fingers and mourn the loss of the delicious food staring back at me.
I shove my hands into my shorts pocket and peek around the party again with Callum at my side. The parents mingle, drinking their martinis and whatever fruity shit they have in their glasses. Judge Drake stands close to Kieran's mom and another man I haven't seen before, discussing something. Or someone.
“How-how about a walk?” Callum suggests, nodding his head toward the sidewalk.
I wrinkle my nose, flipping them off from my pocket, as we start walking through the party. Looking around, I don't see the others who dragged me here anywhere. How can they abandon me in the depths of Hell like this?
“You’re still my favorite,” I mumble, leaning my head on his shoulder for support.
“I won’t-won’t tell them,” he whispers, kissing my hair with such love my heart pumps double time.
“Good, because they’re seriously trailing behind,” I grumble when we make our journey up the sidewalk away from prying eyes.
A soft chuckle vibrates through his chest when he kisses my head again and hums. Every day I swear he breaks out of his shell more and more. We haven’t done more than kiss—oh, and what we did in bed with Rad. Callum’s taking things at his pace, doing what he needs to do, and I’m waiting on him. Whatever my sweet Callum needs, he’ll get.
“Can I ask you something?” Peering beneath my lashes, I glance up at Callum, who shrugs.
“Sure,” he says through a breath, furrowing his brows.
“Your house,” I mumble as our walk slows. “I…” Callum’s lips pull up into a tight smile, and he shifts uncomfortably to my side, nervously peering around the neighborhood. “No. You don’t have to talk about it. I’m just nosy,” I say, playing it off with a laugh.
“What do you want to know?” he asks in a deep voice, slowing our steps to a stop at the edge of the party madness as we overlook everyone milling around with plates of food in one hand and an alcoholic beverage in the other.
“How?” I ask, nibbling my bottom lip. “It’s just you and Rad with no jobs and no school. You guys play in a band and barely make enough to get out of here. So, um… how?” I ramble, spitting out my question as fast as possible.
He nods, eyes falling to the large crack in the road's asphalt and studying it intently. For several long seconds, he doesn’t say a word. I’m almost to the point of apologizing again and dropping my nosy question, but then he speaks, stunning me into silence.
“When my family died, they left all their bank accounts, life insurance, and assets in a trust with their lawyer,” he heaves a trembling breath, finally peering at me with bloodshot eyes. “It pays my monthly bills and leaves me with a little spending money to get by, but nothing substantial. At the end of December, the trust will be completely signed over to me, and I’ll be free to do what I want. My parents wanted me to go to college and get a degree. So, they stipulated that if they passed before I was a certain age, I’d have to hang onto the house for that long. I don’t-don’t think they realized it would be like living in a tomb,” he wheezes the last words, clamping his eyes shut.
I swallow hard, pulling his face down into my neck, letting him cling to me for dear life. His fingers dig into my ribs as he pulls in deep breaths of oxygen. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, running my fingers through his blond locks and twirling them in my fingers. “I didn’t mean to upset you like this.”
“It’s okay, Little Star,” he mutters into my flesh. “I rarely-rarely talk about them anymore. Sometimes, I need to let this out, and I’m… I’m glad you asked. I want to tell you everything,” he whispers, lifting his face from my neck. Staring deep into my eyes, I see all the vulnerabilities swimming in the depths of his gray eyes as they soften more. “Once I can leave, have access to their money, and sell the house, we’ll have enough to invest more into the band. I-I don’t know what our plans are. But you’ll come with us, anyway. Right?” he whispers the last part, making my heart fall into my churning stomach.
“More than anything,” I reply without thinking about the future's implications or consequences. I’m living in the present, and I can’t think of what will happen come December when they walk away and live their dreams. Will I go? Or will I stay home with my ill mother? Only time will tell.