Chapter 2 #2
A few minutes later, she vigorously rubs her bare arms.
“You cold?” I whisper.
“Mm-hmm.”
Without a thought, I wrap my arm around her shoulders and bring her in close.
She’s shivering, but her pebbled flesh smooths out shortly after she burrows in.
Her skin is soft and smooth. Like silk. Like heaven.
Like I want to explore every inch. I’m painfully conscious of how good she smells too, all fucking fresh air and floral.
Fuck me.
“Thank you,” she whispers, sneaking a quick glance my direction.
I dip my chin and try, once again, to concentrate on the flick. It’s a decent movie, full of tension and some humor, and I’d be a lot more invested in it if not for the distraction to my right. But it’s cool. This doesn’t need to be a big deal.
Afterward, I invite everyone back to my pad. We race into the Montclair hills, our collection of rumbling muscle cars speeding through the flats, tires squealing around the curves, until we roll into the cul-de-sac on my dead-end street.
Our house sits high atop a ridge overlooking the bay. Crafted of redwood, cement, and slate, it’s modern and minimalist in design with a long deck spanning the house. It’s all one level with an abundance of glass to absorb the beautiful views, and my mom’s decor is simple but stylish. Comfortable.
We trek up the stone steps and I flick on lights as everyone settles in the living room.
My friends have hung out here often, just like I have at their homes.
Terry fires up a joint and does a super hit with Kendra.
Remy pulls out a vial of cocaine and a razor blade and cuts a dozen lines on the glass coffee table.
I get the tunes going, loading up the turntable with records.
After twisting the top off a Michelob, I offer it to Jacqui, who fumbles it but doesn’t let any spill. She looks embarrassed, tipping it back and chugging down a healthy amount. Is she nervous? Uneasy? Is it the blow?
Remy offers her a line, and Karin aims a cold, brittle stare at Jacqui. It’s so obvious she finds the golden girl a threat—and she should. My boy’s on his best behavior right now, but it’s just a matter of time before he tries charming his way into Jacqui’s pants.
Jacqui snorts the coke, so I guess she’s cool with it. I take my turn, enjoying the welcome burn up my nose and telltale drip down my throat. Once we’ve done a few lines, the high surges furiously through my veins. I’m soaring, my heartbeat rapid firing while every detail zooms into focus.
“You guys gotta hear this,” Remy says. He swigs his beer, garnering the attention of everyone present. “I was working on this 1975 Caddy. One of those big-ass Fleetwoods—”
“Land yacht,” Jeremy corrects.
“Exactly, brother. One of those luxury models with the plush brown leather interior. Swear to God, it’s like sitting in a motherfucking recliner.” He takes another swallow and nudges Karin. “Babe, line us all up again, would you?”
She starts chopping another mound of coke and Remy sets down his beer, pantomiming as he continues.
“Anyway, I’m putting down that protective paper we use with the customers so we don’t mess up their carpet and shit.
I place a sheet on the driver’s side, get in, and turn on the ignition.
Before I can move it into the bay, the paper wads like an accordion and gets all fucked up, you know? ”
He’s got a rapt audience, and although I was there when it happened, Remington’s so naturally engaging, I’m hanging on every word.
“I get out,” he says, his expression mimicking his irritation, “squat down, and I’m pulling the paper from under the seat where it’s all wedged to hell—and what do you think comes along with it?”
He looks around, making eye contact with everyone, but no one answers. Chuckling, he coughs it up. “Fucking crotchless panties.”
Guffaws resound, and I grin at the memory.
“No shit?” Jeremy asks.
“I shit you not.”
“Now I’m holding this little black scrap of lace and wondering what the hell to do with it,” he continues. “Shove them back under the seat? Throw them in the trash? Wash them and give them to my girlfriend?”
Karin glares at him, smacking him hard on the arm, then goes back to sectioning out lines.
“Babe, you know I’m just kidding.”
“Well, what’d you do?” Kendra asks.
Remy shakes his head. “I felt obliged to tell the customer.”
Kendra puts her head in her hands. “Oh my god. How embarrassing. Wait, was it a woman?”
He nods. “It was. And here’s the kicker.”
All eyes are on Remy.
“They weren’t her underwear.”
The room erupts with a variety of laughter and horrified gasps.
“Fucking men,” Karin mutters. “I hope she tore her husband a new one. Better yet…I hope she divorced his ass and laughed all the way to the bank.”
We snort the fresh lines, and conversation continues in the easy way it does when we’re together. Once again, Jacqui holds her own. An hour later, when she slips out the sliding glass door onto the deck, I follow, resting my forearms on the rail next to her.
“You’ve got a hell of a view,” she says.
The Milky Way blazes a path overhead, leading to those dark, murky bay waters and lit city skyline. Lukewarm air is just giving way to the evening chill. “Agreed.”
“Just your mom lives here?”
“I stay here a lot.”
She pauses, still absorbed in the panorama. “Where is she now?”
“She’s hiking in Italy, headed to Portugal soon. She loves doing outdoor stuff and always combines it with her travel-writing gigs.”
“Sounds glamorous. Adventurous.”
I shrug. “She digs it. I’m sure I get my love of nature from her.”
Her head tilts, as if she’s studying me. “Are you an only child?”
“Nah. I’m the youngest of three. All boys.”
“Are your siblings good looking too?”
Whoa. I face her, unable to hide my amused smile. “You think I’m good looking?”
She licks those damn lips, and my gaze tracks them intently. “Um…yes?” She whips her head back to the skyline.
Now I’m chuckling.
“Where’s your dad?” she asks, her eyes flitting back to me.
I sigh, scratching my chin before draining the last of my beer. “Yeah…that’s probably too much for this conversation.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”
“You’re not. I just don’t like talking about him.” I pick at my Michelob label, edging up the corner.
“I don’t like talking about my parents either.”
I swivel, poised to acknowledge that, say something more. Her gaze catches and lingers on my eyebrow—marred by an unmistakable scar—and that kills my urge to respond. I nod toward the house. “Come on. Let’s get another drink.”
The hours pass in the best way: friends, beers and blow, hanging out.
Jacqui gets a history lesson: how most of us went to Skyline High (I find out she’s nineteen, behind us by a couple of years), and Terry tells her how we met through baseball as kids and played on the same teams up until he went to Cal.
Vinny invites her to our next rec league softball game.
When Jeremy and Cora start making out, then Terry and Kendra, Jacqui scoots over to my mom’s vast record collection and sifts through it. Part of me wants to point out my favorites and the rare albums, offer to play whatever she wishes…but I resist.
When Terry and Kendra say they’re splitting, Jacqui quickly bums a ride, and I learn she only lives ten minutes away. She pulls her denim purse over her shoulder, and our eyes connect as I stand and walk them to the door.
Terry and I slide palms. “Later, brother,” I say.
“Later, bro.”
“Bye, Mick,” Kendra adds with a big smile.
“See you, Kendra.”
Jacqui’s last. “Thanks for…”
I cock my head and wait for her to finish.
“You know. For the arm…” Her eyes widen before snapping straight to the ground.
My mouth splits into a smile.
She huffs out a breath. “I mean, I had a nice time tonight. So just…thanks, okay?”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing and nod. “Goodnight, Jacqui.”
She scrambles down the steps like she can’t scurry away fast enough, and my chuckle lets loose the second I close the door.