Chapter 20
Twenty
Wolf
Zepp and Hendrix’s house, like most of the houses in Dayton, looked like it should be condemned. A few boarded-up windows, peeling paint, and a sagging porch I was surprised hadn’t collapsed under the weight of all the parties.
I parked in the drive behind Monroe’s beat-up piece of crap and got out. Muggy heat wrapped around me, as did the distant wail of sirens. A sense of nostalgia settled over me. Dayton may have been a shithole, but it was my shithole. Home when I no longer really had one…
The front door swung open to the sight of Hendrix sprinting down the hall and ducking into the living room. “Get your stumpy ass in here and play this game with me,” he shouted over electronic gunfire.
“Well, hey to you, too, asshole,” I mumbled, closing the door and heading into the living room.
Hendrix sat hunched over on the couch, tongue out in concentration, and his fingers going wild over the controller. “I swear to God, this cocksucker here has a death wish.” Another barrage of gunfire rang through the speakers. “I’ll fuck your mom’s corpse.”
Shaking my head, I sank onto the ratty couch beside him and snagged the spare controller from the coffee table. “You know that player could be a twelve-year-old kid.”
“Yeah, well…” The buttons on the controller clicked. “He’s a cock of a twelve-year-old then.”
“Get off the game, dipshit.”
Huffing, he shot the other player in the face before glancing at me. “You look stumpier than the last time I saw you.”
“And you look more inbred. Shut the fuck up, dickhead, and play the game.”
The distant thud of a headboard carried down the stairs, and Hendrix groaned. “I hate when she comes to visit. That’s all I hear.” He grabbed the remote and turned up the TV to drown out Monroe’s moans.
“Lola lives with you. That’s probably all Zepp hears day in and day out.”
“It’s different. Lola doesn’t scream like a hyena. She’s more like a…”
I blocked out the rest of what he said. I didn’t want to know any of the information he was spewing. “Shut up and play the game.”
An hour later, I’d beaten Hendrix at every game, and he was pitching a holy fit.
He scooted to the edge of the tattered cushion, his fingers flying over the controller as the pop of electronic gunfire rang through the TV speakers.
“I’m gonna murder your ass.” Blood splattered the screen.
“That’s right!” He chucked the controller down and shot up, grabbing his crotch with a victorious grin. “Suck my balls, stumpy ass!”
“You only made that shot because of your spastic fingers.”
“Don’t be a sore loser, Wolf. I’m a motherfucking wizard.”
Just before a new game started, my phone pinged on the coffee table. Mrs. Seaton had sent a picture of Dog sleeping on her recliner.
Hendrix leaned his nosy ass over, reading over the text. “Who the hell is Mrs. Seaton?”
“She’s the lady who watches Dog.” I shot off a response, then resumed the game.
“Getting you a little cougar action?” He nudged my side, and it took everything in me not to punch him.
“She’s eighty-five years old.”
“Senior cougar, excuse me.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“You’re the one who was all up in Miss Smith’s musty-dusty-muff buffet.”
“Fuck off.”
Miss Smith was one of our high school teachers. She flirted with half of the guys, and Hendrix had been convinced I’d hooked up with her. I hadn’t. I’d just let his demented head run wild for my own entertainment.
“Better option than Weirdo.”
When I looked away from the screen to glare at him, he took the opportunity to blow my avatar’s head off.
“See! Just the mention of that Medusa’s name and you lose all focus.”
“That’s not her name.”
He whacked the side of my head. “You need to?—”
I nailed him in the stomach so hard he doubled over on a cough. “Fine, you want to abuse me because I’m trying to help you. She fucked you up, man. Taking all your dreams and shitting all over them.”
“I’m not doing anything with Jade.”
“Did you or did you not get suspended from the team because you knocked out her boyfriend?”
“Ex-boyfriend. And if you met the guy, you’d punch him.”
Frowning, he cracked a pretend whip. “ Whippah , Wolf. Whip-the-fuck-ah.”
The stairs behind the living room wall creaked. “Stop being a cocksucker, Hendrix.” Zepp, Hendrix’s older brother, rounded the corner, lighting a cigarette.
Hendrix paused the game. “At least I had the decency not to be balls deep in a redhead when this sack of shit,” he thumbed at me, “showed up.”
Zepp cracked a smile. “If you were balls deep in my redhead, we’d be having your funeral.”
“You disgust me.”
Ignoring his brother, Zepp moved around the couch, so I stood up, and he clapped his arm around my back. “Good to see you, man.”
“Yeah, you, too.”
“He’s bumping uglies with Jade again!” Hendrix shouted. “Talk some sense into him.”
Zepp lifted a brow at me. I swore, if he actually took Hendrix’s side…
“I’m not.”
“Wouldn’t matter if you were.”
Hendrix shot to his feet, both hands on his head like it was about to explode. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this crap.”
“Go jerk one off or something,” Zepp said, glaring at his brother. “You’re acting like a moody bitch.”
“I’m acting like a savior, you dickface.” He headed to the kitchen. “You don’t want to fix this crap. I will.” The fridge creaked open. The rattle of bottles sounded.
Zepp clapped a hand to my shoulder. “Wanna go with me to the Wal-E-Mart —” he said that word extra loud—“to pick up a keg.”
“Fuck you, Zepp!” The fridge slammed shut before Hendrix stormed back into the room.
“I’m drinking your soda, you capitalist traitor.
And you…” His eyes narrowed on me. “Weirdo isn’t ringing your bell tower if I have anything to do with it.
” He pulled his phone from his pocket and headed to the stairs.
“I don’t even know what he’s up to.”
Zepp chuckled to himself. “Ah, don’t worry about dickhead. He’s been extra moody since Lola started working. Let’s go get the beer and take selfies with One-eyed Gerald to really piss off Hendrix.”
We picked up beer and a yard flamingo. Hendrix was like a toddler.
Give him a present and he forgets all past transgressions.
We set up the house for the party, Hendrix propping the flamingo he’d named Carl the Second against the boarded-up fireplace.
People slowly trickled in, and with each passing hour, the music pumping through the speakers grew louder.
By the time I’d downed five beers, the living room was packed.
Aside from there being no half-naked girls dancing on the sofa, it didn’t feel that much different than the parties Zepp had thrown in high school.
With no parents to bitch about trashing their house, theirs were the parties everyone wanted to come to.
Hendrix shoved his way through the crowd, Carl the Second tucked under his arm. He stopped beside me and belched in my ear.
Fucking idiot. He was never going to grow up.
I shoved him hard enough that he collided with the person behind him.
“Asshole. You could have wounded Carl.” He stroked the plastic bird’s head.
“And to think, I was coming to show you the pack of fresh meat I invited just for your stumpy ass.” He jutted his chin toward the entrance.
My attention drifted to the group of girls at the front of the room. All in skin-tight clothes and enough makeup to make a hooker look like a virgin. That was his plan to keep Jade from “ringing my bell tower.”
“Dude, I’m not?—”
“Don’t give me that load of horseshit. I’m trying to save your ass from certain Medusa-tainted doom.”
Lola wedged herself between us. “Why am I a Medusa now?”
“Not you. Weirdo.”
She glanced at me. “Jade?”
I gave a nod as I lifted my beer to my lips.
“Ah, you guys were so good together.”
Hendrix’s eyes looked like they were going to explode out of his head.
“No, the fuck they were not. He’s lucky she didn’t sacrifice him to her goat god or some crap back in high school.
” He pointed at me. “He went all sniveling pussy after they started doing whatever it was they were doing. She’s Queen Medusa of Weirdos and?—”
“Seeing as I’m your ‘Medusa,’ those in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
Hendrix’s head snapped to the side, his glare aimed at his girlfriend. “You’re a different breed of Medusa. Doesn’t count.”
It had counted for two whole damn years when anytime we mentioned Lola’s name, Hendrix would sucker punch the shit out of us.
“If you say so. Just save the man the emotional turmoil.” She thumbed toward the group of girls. “And the STDs.”
“Are you telling me you want him to be with Weirdo? The girl who took a shit all over his heart like some cheap litter box!” Hendrix scratched his feet over the floor.
“Just like that.” Hendrix grabbed my shoulders and shoved me forward.
“Go forth and spread your stumpy seed. Earn those pimp stripes back, you Quasimodo-fuck!”
Stopping Hendrix when he was on one of his rants was as likely as stopping a metric ton of shit from rolling down a hill.
“Yeah. Okay.” I turned toward the kitchen.
“But you know I’m not into blondes.” My gaze drifted to Lola.
“No offense,” I said, then headed through the kitchen onto the back porch.
People crowded the small space. I couldn’t handle one more person asking me why I wasn’t at the game—everyone from around here knew I played for State, knew I shouldn’t be here on a game day.
I grabbed a beer from one of the coolers strewn around the porch, then made my way down the steps, toward the rickety old trampoline.