Chapter 44 #2
“I’m cool. But . . .” Inside, I pick up a blown-glass figurine and study it. “Seein’ this house, this life . . . I want to be here with you, but I look around and realize this will never be me.”
“You’re thinking too much.” She kneels on the carpet and pats the floor. “Come here and lie on your stomach. I know how to give Swedish massages. It’ll relax you.”
“You’re not Swedish,” I say.
“Yeah, well, neither are you. So if I do it wrong you’ll never know the difference.”
I lie next to her. “I thought we were gonna take this relationship slow.”
“A back rub is harmless.”
My eyes roam over her kick-ass bikini-covered bod. “I’ll have you know I’ve been intimate with girls wearin’ a lot more.”
She slaps me on the butt. “Behave yourself.”
When her hands move over my back, I let out a groan. Man, this is torture. I’m trying to behave, but her hands feel too damn good and my body has a mind of its own.
“You’re tense,” she says in my ear.
Of course I’m tense. Her hands are all over me. My answer is another groan.
After a few minutes of Brittany’s mind-numbing massage, loud moaning, groaning, and grunting from the hot tub floats into the room. Doug and Sierra have obviously skipped the back rub portion of the evening.
“Do you think they’re doing it?” she asks.
“Either that, or Doug’s a very religious guy,” I say, referring to the guy screaming Oh, God! every two seconds.
“Does it make you horny?” she sings quietly into my ear.
“No, but you keep massagin’ me like that and you can forget about that goin’ slow bullshit.” I sit up and face her. “What I can’t figure out is if you know you’re a tease and are fuckin’ with me or whether you really are innocent.”
“I’m not a tease.”
I cock an eyebrow, then look down at my upper thigh where she’s parked her hand. She snatches it away. “Okay, I didn’t mean to put my hand there. Well, I mean, not really. It just kinda . . . wh . . . what I mean to say is—”
“I like it when you stutter,” I say as I pull her down next to me and show her my own version of a Swedish massage until we’re interrupted by Sierra and Doug.
Two weeks later, I get word that I have a court date for my gun possession charge. I hide the info from Brittany, because she’d freak out. She’d probably go on and on about how a public defender isn’t as good as a private lawyer. The thing is, I can’t afford a fancy lawyer.
As I’m worrying about my fate while I’m hanging by the front doors before school, I’m suddenly sideswiped by someone and almost lose my balance.
“What the hell?” I push back.
“Sorry,” the guy says nervously.
I realize the guy is none other than White Guy from the jail cell.
“Come and fight me, geek,” Sam calls out.
I step forward, getting in the middle. “Sam, what’s your problem?”
“This pendejo took my parkin’ spot,” Sam says, pointing past me to White Guy.
“So what? Did you find another spot?”
Sam stands stiffly, ready to kick White Guy’s ass. Sam can do it, no problem.
“Yeah, I found another spot.”
“Then leave the guy alone. I know him. He’s cool.”
Sam raises an eyebrow. “You know this guy?”
“Listen,” I say, taking one look at White Guy and am glad he’s wearing a blue button-down instead of his coral shirt.
It’s still geek city, but at least I can keep a straight face when I say, “This guy’s been in jail more times than me.
He might look like a complete pendejo, but underneath that fucked-up hair and lame shirt he’s a complete badass. ”
“You’re fuckin’ with me, Alex,” Sam says.
I step out of the way and shrug. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
White Guy steps forward, attempting to look tough. I bite my lower lip to keep from laughing and cross my arms around my chest as if waiting for the ass-kicking to start. My LB buddies also wait, ready to see Sam get his ass kicked by a white geek.
Sam looks from Alex to White Guy and back. “If you’re fuckin’ with me, Alex—”
“Check his police record. Grand theft auto is his specialty.”
Sam contemplates his next move. White Guy doesn’t wait. He walks over to me, holding out his fist. “You need anything, Alex, you know who’s got your back.”
My fist connects with White Guy’s. He’s gone a second later and I’m thankful nobody noticed his fist shaking in fear.
I catch White Guy at his locker between first and second period. “Did you mean it? That if I needed anythin’ you’d help?”
“After this morning, I owe you my life,” White Guy says. “I don’t know why you stuck up for me, but I was scared shitless.”
“That’s rule number one. Don’t let them see you scared shitless.”
White Guy snorts. I guess it’s his laugh—either that or he has a really bad sinus infection. “I’ll try and remember that the next time a gang member threatens my life.” He holds out his hand for me to shake. “I’m Gary Frankel.”
I grab his hand and give it a shake. “Listen, Gary,” I say. “My court date is next week and I’d rather not rely on a public defender. You think your mom can help?”
Gary smiles. “I think so. She’s really good. If it’s your first offense, she could probably get you a short probation.”
“I can’t afford—”
“Don’t worry about the money, Alex. Here’s her card. I’ll tell her you’re a friend of mine and she’ll do it pro bono.”
As Gary walks down the hallway, I think of how funny it is that the most unlikely person sometimes becomes your ally. And how a blond girl can make you think futures are something to look forward to.