6. Luc
6
LUC
REVENGE IS OFTEN COLD AND UNCALLED FOR
“ I didn’t see Beaterman for ages after that night at the lake.”
Sated, as warm chicken and delicious potatoes settle in the base of my stomach, I kick one foot over the other and lean back against the baby changing table. Billy sleeps peacefully, and Jess rocks herself into an almost comatose state.
But her lips curl as she remembers that night, too. Maybe she didn’t hear the shit Kari and I said under the willow tree. Perhaps she didn’t catch all the details of how a high school boy’s brain works. But she saw the aftermath. And no doubt, they bitched about me after.
“We didn’t go straight home that night.” Snickering when my brows shoot high in surprise, Jess pats Billy’s backside and nuzzles the side of her head. “Kari was so mad at you. We knew we couldn’t take her back to the Turners’ house and leave her there when she was spitting fire.”
My heart gives a heavy thump, almost like she’s a kid again and admitting to something naughty. “You told me you went home.”
“We told, and still tell, our brothers all sorts of things.” She shrugs. “It’s a game of keeping the peace, Luca. Not telling the truth. Even now, there’s a lot you don’t need to know about my relationship with Kane. A lot you don’t need to know about Laine and Ang. It’s called privacy.”
“It’s called being a pain in my ass.” I fold my arms and drop my head back to study the ceiling. “If I’d known you girls would fuck around that night, I’d have followed the four of you home and marched you straight to your bedrooms.”
“Yeah, well…” She snickers. “We got back before you guys did, and we lied through our teeth to make sure we got away with it.”
“Where’d you go?”
She stops rocking. Stops patting. Stops breathing, even. Then she laughs. “We circled back, went to the other side of the lake, sat our asses on the dock, put our feet in the water, and watched our brothers play their set.” She goes back to rocking again, content in her comfortable position with the baby sleeping on her chest. “We didn’t want to miss out, and as long as Marc didn’t know, we didn’t feel the need to follow your orders.”
“That was dangerous, Jess. Any one of you could have fallen in, and we wouldn’t have known to come looking. Anyone could have followed you, and we wouldn’t have known you were in trouble until you’d already been victimized.”
Her eyes flicker for a beat. A memory, perhaps. A response of some sort. But she covers it with a gentle shrug and continues to pat the baby’s backside. “It worked out in the end. No one followed us across the lake. You thought we’d left, so you stopped looking. And once you finished, we got up and ran all the way home.”
“As soon as we finished our set?”
Her stare glitters with deviousness. “As soon as the set ended, and the guys started packing up. That was the point you got lazy, letting them do all the work while you sucked face with Sassy instead. I didn’t realize back then that you and Kari would end up,” she gestures to the baby, “ya know. I had no clue a romance was blossoming.”
“It wasn’t.” Defensive, I scowl and look down at my shoes. “Not yet. She was still too young.”
“Well…” she scoffs. “Then I guess Kari had some especially harsh feelings about her friend swallowing Sassy St Slut’s tongue. Because the second you grabbed her boobs and forgot to help clean up the stage, Kari went on a rampage. We went to the other side of the lake to calm her down. Ya know, after your big sex talk fight. She was angrier than ever and ready to tear the skin off your face.”
“Guess that explains her icy mood the next morning.” I remember back to her snarling temper. Her ‘ does anyone want a soda ?’, only for her to get something for everyone else… but not me. Kari Macchio knew how to throw a tantrum just as violently as Marcus did—it’s in the blood, I guess—bu t I suppose I had assumed it was because I’d chastised her the night before.
Not because I spent time with Sassy after our set.
“Everything made so much sense after you and Kari came out as a couple,” Jess sniggers. “There were so many holes in my memories. So many missed details over the years. Turns out my brother and my best friend were hip deep in a scandalous love affair the rest of us didn’t know about.”
“We weren’t a couple yet,” I argue, our age difference still a sticking point for me. I fought my attraction for the longest time out of a moral and loyal code.
Rule one: You don’t hit on your best friend’s sister.
Rule two: You especially don’t hit on your best friend’s much younger sister.
Not until she’s eighteen, at least.
“Not way back then,” I continue. “Not even close.”
She shrugs, her smile curling up playfully. “Like I said: I think the heart knows. Even before things become romantic, your future rides on you taking care of that other person. You were protecting her from guys like Beaterman. And she was pitching an epic fit because you were kissing the wrong girl.”
“And maybe you’re stretching,” I counter. “You’re looking to add a starry-eyed twist to a story that’s already happened. You can’t go back and rewrite history to further your narrative.”
“Uh huh. So Beaterman?” She firms her twitching lips. “What happened with that situation?”
Ugh . I groan, remembering. “He beat the shit out of me.”
“ H ey, Lenaghan?” Garth Beaterman might have eggbeaters for brains, but he has the brawn that comes with a football education, and the guts to come for a guy in the middle of the day when there’s no one around to defend him.
There’s a difference between a guy who bangs on a drum for sport, and a guy who tackles other dudes on a football field.
I’m not, and I never have been, insecure about my choices in life. But fuck, I’m realistic enough to know I can’t go toe to toe with the linebacker .
I glance up at his voice, the splintered wood on the park bench grabbing onto my shirt so the crackle becomes audible even above the din of traffic and a regular week in this town. A couple of blocks one way, garage employees bang away with their work, the impact wrenches buzzing into the air, and the clatter of tools hitting the floor, a racket we hear even from our house. A couple of blocks the other way, Main Street hums with cars puttering by and businesses doing… business.
Whatever it is they do to get through a day.
And here I am, with a notebook balancing on my knee. A pen clasped between my fingers. And a fucking douchebag meandering closer with fire in his eyes.
I don’t get up. Don’t even feign to respect him or his approach. I merely firm my lips and wait.
“You’re all alone today, Lenaghan.” He rubs his palms together; he’s a regular Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz . “Your friends aren’t around to make you brave, huh?”
A long, drawn-out sigh rolls through my chest. It’s not like I didn’t know this day was coming. His stare downs in the hall were becoming tedious. His shoulder-checks, constant. His bullshit on school grounds was becoming less subtle and more noticed. So I knew things were escalating. Though I figured in the middle of the park, in the middle of the afternoon, was a low risk kinda place to be. “Pretty sure I was alone that night at the lake, too.” I lower my pen and scan his ugly face. “I mean, Kari was there. But I don’t consider her muscle, so to speak.”
He whistles, loud and blistering in my ear. But of course, that’s not even the worse shit that’ll happen to me today. Because the rest of the football team steps out of their hiding places and surrounds my place on the bench.
Maybe not the whole team. But six guys. Seven. Could be eight, though I don’t intend to look over my shoulder to confirm.
“Ah…” I click my tongue, though my heart thunders in my chest. I can throw hands with enthusiasm more than finesse, and usually, that keeps me out of trouble. But me versus our high school JV team? “I see what’s going on here.”
“You see now?” Beaterman stops a few feet from where I sit, his eyes hooded and hideous, leering down at me. “Feeling brave today, Drummer Boy?”
“Dunno.” I carefully close my book and place it on the bench to my right. Then I drop my leg and set both feet on the ground. “Feeling kinda rapey today, Beaterman? ”
His face burns red, anger making his fists ball tight. “I was just talking to her!”
“At night, hidden behind low hanging branches, with her top coming down at the side… annnnnnd, she’s just a kid.” I glance to my right, to a dude I know to be the quarterback and leader of his friends. “He had no business taking Kari Macchio anywhere alone. Especially at night.”
“Says you?” Packer growls. “Luca fucking Lenaghan. The dude who has run through half the team’s sisters already?”
I gulp and cast my gaze over to Manny Paige—his sister is Julie. Then to Carter Day—his sister is Tara. Hernandez—his sister is Gloria. By the time I reach Tyler St James, I know I’m fucked.
“Every moment I have ever spent with a girl has come with consent.” I drag my focus back to Beaterman and glower. “Always my own age or older. You have no reason to even go near Kari Macchio.”
“And you probably shouldn’t have come to the park alone.” A flat palm slaps the back of my head until bells ring in my ears and a deep buzzing saws in the base of my skull.
I swing forward with my attacker’s momentum, slamming my knee to the ground in front of the bench and twisting to find whoever the fuck is throwing hands.
“You don’t get to bang every other chick in the school, then lay claim to the one you haven’t, bitch.”
Shoes scraping against loose gravel draws my focus back around. My neck swivels faster than is probably safe, but then a heavy boot slams against my ribs, lifting me from the ground a couple of inches and moving my bones until I think they might puncture my lungs.
But anything that goes up—according to Miss Caine in third period science—must come down.
I drop back to the ground with a thud, my knees hitting the edge of the concrete platform the bench was built upon and my lungs heaving for fresh air. But Beaterman lays his foot into my gut again, stealing whatever oxygen I thought I’d scraped together.
Then more join in.
Motherfuckers kick me in the back. In the kidneys. Thighs. My brain vibrates in my skull, and a deafening bell rings in my ears. Dust and dirt stirs under shuffling feet, filling my mouth and nostrils so it becomes damn near impossible to breathe.
I peel my eyes open, just in time to catch Beaterman’s size ten Nike flying at my face .
Fuck.
“Hey!”
Beaterman’s foot catches the side of my jaw when I turn, the solid kick cracking my neck and leaving my brain swirling as I consider a life in a wheelchair. But then feet start moving again. Half a dozen sets, thundering against the patchy grass as the football team runs away and others, friendlies, sprint in my direction.
“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!” Marcus’ voice is first. The panic in his tone. The fear that grips him as his trauma takes over and the thought of losing people is, literally, his one and only fear. He skids onto the dirt, his knees slamming into my stomach cause more damage when his momentum is simply too fast.
His hands are rough. His intentions, pure, but fuck, he’s not careful as he grabs my shoulders and flips me to my back. “Luca!” He presses his hands to my chest, like he’s gonna do compressions or some shit. I dunno. We didn’t listen that day in class.
“Stop.” I cough, which hurts my injured ribs, which steals the breath from my lungs and ends with a groan rolling along my throat. “Shit, Marcus, stop.”
“Are you okay?” He swats my cheek—to clean the dirt away, I’m sure, though it feels like he’s slapping for the fun of it. “Luca! Are you alright?”
“Dude.” I groan and turn away, spying a larger than us, older than us, Alex Turner pounding Beaterman into the grass. He rests his knee on Beaterman’s chest and just… hits. And hits. And hits. “Someone probably should stop him.”
“Give him a sec,” Angelo growls. He stands over us, his hands on his knees and a long grease stain marking his face. “He knows how to do it without killing the guy. And none of us are gonna snitch.”
“What the fuck is going on between you and Beaterman?” Marcus growls. “He’s been on your case for weeks. What’d you do? Screw his sister?”
“He doesn’t have a sister.” I draw a breath into my lungs and pray it doesn’t spill out into my chest à la punctured organs. Then I turn on the dirt, placing my hands on the ground and grunting when my body rejects the idea of moving. “Jesus, that stings. Where did you guys even come from?” I glance to my right to find Sam half watching me, half watching his brother lay Beaterman into the ground. “Scotch? I thought you were hanging with Sammy this afternoon?”
“We were at the garage first,” Marcus rumbles. “A dude just brought a Charger in that he wants to sell. And Sammy is with Meg. What the hell are you doing getting beat up in the park?”
I choke out a laugh and plop back to my ass, sending plumes of dust up and glancing at my knee–—denim scraped away and blood trickling along my skin. “Bastard. These were my favorite jeans.”
“Get the fuck up!” Alex yanks Beaterman to his feet and holds him steady when the guy wants to sway.
“He’s going to prison if your dad finds out he did that.” Breathing through the nausea rolling in my gut, I rest my aching back against the park bench and drop my head. “That shit hurts.”
“What is going on between you and Beaterman?” Marcus grabs my jaw and forces my eyes to come to his. “If you have a problem with him, then I have a problem with him.”
“It’s not?—”
“But you’re not even telling us! You haven’t said shit about your beef with him. So we’re going about our business, no fucking clue we’re supposed to be watching your back. And you’re out here getting pounded on by the entire JV team.”
“It was the whole team, right?” I drag my gaze across to Ang. “Felt like the whole team. ”
“Eight of ‘em,” he smirks. His eyes burn with rage, but he makes a conscious effort to relax. To smile. He knows what it is to have your guts kicked in. He knows how much it hurts.
Most of all, he knows how annoying it is for your friends to fuss about it.
“Can you get up?” He steps closer, nudging Marcus to the side. Then he takes my hands, linking us together and wrapping his palms around my wrists. Hooking us securely, he tugs just hard enough to start the momentum. Then he becomes my leaning post as my head swims and my ribs smart. “Hospital or home?” he grumbles. “You need a doctor or just a little rest?”
“Doctor,” Marcus snarls. “Then a baseball bat. We’re gonna take care of business.”
“Business has been taken care of,” Scotch inserts. He steps closer, and Marcus pushes to his feet, so my friends become my wall. A shield. But we all still look over at Alex, who says something to a glassy eyed Beaterman. He doesn’t shout. Doesn’t swear. The most terrifying part of his actions are that he’s entirely too calm and collected. And like a good, obedient boy, Beaterman nods.
His friends, though, are long gone.
“Come on.” Ang claps my shoulder, dislodging a plume of dust so it wafts into the air. “The sooner you walk it off, the better it’ll feel.”
“What the fuck was that all about?” Marcus repeats. While Scotch leans in and grabs my notebook and pen from the bench, Marcus pushes in front of us, giving his back to the rest of the park and staring at my face. His glare is like a warm touch on a hot day. His concern, the reason we love him. The reason we’re best friends: now and forever.
But thirty feet back, at the edge of the park, with one foot on the grass and the other still on the road, Kari stands with her hands pressed to her mouth. Tears, glittering in her eyes. Her chest heaves in silent panic, and worst of all, no one is there to comfort her. Not my sisters. Not Britt. None of the guys. She’s all on her own.
And she knows what Marcus doesn’t.
She knows what neither of us have verbalized in all the time since that night at the lake.
“Luca?”
“I hit on his cousin or something.” I shrug my friends off and step-shuffle away from the park bench. The sooner I walk, the better I’ll feel. “And maybe I told him to fuck himself over it. He didn’t like it.”
“ Y ou never told me that.” Marcus wanders into Billy’s bedroom, surprising me so I jerk to my right and feel those phantom pains from forever ago in my ribs. My shoes scuff against the floor and startle sweet Billy, but she settles again just as soon as Jess pats her butt. “You protected my sister from Garth, told no one, then took his beating all alone?”
“How the hell did you get into my house?” I press a dramatic hand to my chest and laugh. Because if I don’t, I might fall apart. I’ve lost too much today already. Fighting with my best friend, my brother-in-law , isn’t something I intend to do. “Dammit, Marcus. You couldn’t even make the stairs creak to give me warning?”
“I was listening to your story.” He stops on the threshold and leans against the doorframe. “Beaterman wanted to take advantage of Kari, you stepped in and dealt with it, and told no one? ”
“Well…” I drag my eyes across to a grinning Jess. “I was protecting the girls, mostly. Though if you heard the part about them staying at the lake that night, that’s not on me. I thought they’d left.”
He casts a judgmental, impatient gaze toward Jess. Though fuck knows marriage and parenthood has mellowed the guy out. “You were a bad influence on my baby sister.”
Jess snickers. “And just so we have it on record, Kari was older than the rest of us. So were we the bad influences, or…?”
“Yes.” Marcus and I both answer at the same time. Then he adds, “You, Laine, and Britt were always the crazies. Even now. You married a fuckin’ thug. Laine married Ang?—”
“Hang on.” I feel the need to stand up for my friend. “What did Ang ever do to you?”
Marcus snorts. “If you don’t know what he gets up to with Bishop, then that’s on you. If you hadn’t spent so much time and effort sneaking around with my sister, you might’ve noticed how unhinged the dude actually is, especially now that he’s one of them .”
“One of them, what?” I point a finger at my sister. “Jess married Bishop! Laine got hitched to Angelo. If you have any information for me, Marcus, feel free to share.”
Chuckling, he moves further into the room and sweeps in to steal Billy from Jess with smooth movements. He’s a dad now, too. He knows how to cradle a baby and keep her safe.
Jess scowls at her loss, but when Marcus sits on the arm of the recliner and holds Billy close, Jess only presses her cheek to his arm and sighs.
“Nah.” He smiles at a sleeping Billy, stroking the bridge of her nose with fingers callused from work. But gentle enough, they wouldn’t pop a soap bubble. “I went through hell figuring things out about you and Kari.”
“ You went through hell? Dude. I was the one who got his ass beat, day after day, by my best friend. All because you wanted to avenge her honor, and I was too in love to walk away.”
“Seems Beaterman’s flogging wasn’t the last you would take for Kari.” Jess pulls back and smacks Marc’s arm. “You were a jerk back then!”
“Oh sure,” Marc rolls his eyes. “Blame me for being mad my best friend was sneaking around with the one and only person on this planet I lived to keep safe.”
“Funny,” I drawl, looking down at a completely content Billy. “I felt the same way.”