How to Kill Yourself in a Small Town (19 page)

Tough

There
were only a few cars parked outside Tiffani’s when I got there, but it being
the tail end of lunch, the bakery was full of tourists and people who worked on
the square. Addison Kelley and a couple other girls from our class waved at me
from their table by the door.

“Oh
my gosh, Tough, what happened?” Addison asked. “Did you get in a fight?”

I
snorted. Nodded, but didn’t stick around to answer more stupid questions. You
can’t even be sarcastic with people like Addison because they won’t get it.

I
got in line behind a fat, Gothed-out tourist who was watching Tiffani’s boobs
while she got his order. Tiffani saw me before she finished ringing him up and
smirked.

“Looks
like someone finally gave you that ass-whooping you had coming,” she said.

I
pretended to laugh, then rolled my eyes and handed her the note.

I
need you to make me.

She
barely looked at it before she handed it back.

“Piss
off, kid,” Tiffani said and gave the Goth his change.

It
was against the law in Halo to make vamps. Not that vampires were real serious
about following the law—otherwise Finn would never have gotten made—but they
had a pretty sweet setup in Halo with the protection laws and all the vamp-groupie
tourists they could suck off of. So, I’d seen Tiffani’s rejection coming. I
flipped the paper over.

Name
your price, but it’s got to be today.

Tiffani
raised her eyebrows at me. “Anything I want?”

I
nodded.

“Even
sex?” she asked.

I
took a deep breath to spike that rib-pain, then nodded again.

Tiffani
shook her head.

“Mitzi
turned you into such a slut. You ought to be glad your mom didn’t live to see
you this way.” Tiffani handed me the note and pointed at the door. “Piss off
before I call the big, bad boss man on you.”

I
could feel my teeth grinding and metal music screaming in my head, just like
when I found out Jason stole my voice, only louder. Mom didn’t fucking live to
see this because Mikal stomped her fucking skull open. For once, I was trying
to fix something instead of fuck it up—save my brother, protect my girlfriend.
Noble shit that probably would’ve made Mom proud of me or at least a little
less disgusted by who I was now.  If Tiffani was a man, I would’ve smashed
her head through her display counter, but she wasn’t and I couldn’t, so I made
the cross at her.

Before
I could move, Tiffani jumped over the counter, grabbed my ear, and dragged me
to the door. She shoved me outside and I tripped onto the sidewalk.

I
was so pissed I could barely see. Somehow I got in the truck and fired it up. I
smacked the steering wheel with both hands and then they turned into fists and
then I was dripping blood on Ryder’s stupid hand-me-down jeans.

I
hit the wheel again, harder because I could feel my eyes getting wet. Maybe
Colt felt like this when I told him I was done with the Soldier of Heaven
bullshit, but he didn’t start bawling like a pussy. He knew he was all alone
and he took it like a man. Even being a familiar—as far as he knew, the only way
out was dying and he still fought Mikal enough that he could let me know she
hadn’t broke him yet.

I
wiped my face on my shirt and shut off the truck.

Right
after Sissy died, I started wondering if I was the only person who couldn’t
figure out what the point of saving this shitty world was. For a while I had
tried praying about it, but no divine guidance came down like Colt and Ryder
were always claiming came down on Dad. Either God didn’t want to talk to a
fuckup like me or He didn’t think there was any point to saving this world,
either.

Fuck
the world.
If I could save Desty and Colt, that would be enough.

I
blew my nose out the window and checked the side mirror to make sure I didn’t
look like I’d been bawling or have any snot on my face. Then I found a pen in
the console and the receipt from when I bought my mud tires.

When
I came back into the bakery, Addison and the girls from school—plus most of the
other customers who’d been in there earlier—tried not to look like they were
staring. Tiffani didn’t look my way, either, but her whole body went taut like
she might have to kick my ass this time.

My
new note was wadded up in my fist. I smoothed it out and waited for her to
finish getting a tourist a refill on coffee.

When
Tiffani sat the pot down and looked at me, I handed her the new note. She
scoped out the blood on my jeans and cuts on my knuckles before she read it.

Please.
It’s for Colt and my girlfriend. I can save them.

Desty

Three
hours later Bailey kicked us out so she could close up shop. Jax and I had to
go outside and climb into his oven on wheels and, like a genius, the first
thing I did was burn my leg on the seatbelt buckle.

“Ouch,”
I yelled. “Dang it!”

“Hey,
it’ll be okay,” Jax said, shutting his door.

“You
don’t believe that either.” I wanted him to admit that he felt helpless, too,
or at least frustrated that we didn’t learn crap, but Jax just shrugged. I
closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the seat. “We wasted all
freaking day.”

“Come
on,” Jax said, starting the car. “Let’s head back to HQ and regroup. We’ll
think this over for a while.”

I
wiped my bangs off my forehead and nodded even though there wasn’t anything to
think over. We hadn’t found anything—no loopholes in the prophecy, no magical
solution, nothing. At least when Tempie ran away, I’d been able to go after
her.

In
the passenger side mirror, I could see Halo’s town park at the center of the
square. Carnies, human and NP, were setting up rides, games, and food stands
for the Armistice Celebration. A shirtless lizard unhooked a hose from a
corndog stand, sprayed his scaly face and chest, took a drink, then went back
to work. A guy whose race literally ate babies and all he had to worry about
was dehydration. Sometimes life was so freaking unfair it made me sick. Maybe
Kathan should take over the world—the current management sucked.

“Fucking
heat,” Jax said, backing out of the space in front of the Witches’ Council
building. Down the Square the bank clock was flashing ninety-nine degrees.

I
didn’t want to stop being mad, so I glared out the window and stewed in all the
done-me-wrongs and why-can’t-everything-justs I could think of.

We
turned off the square.

“Soon
as I get my shit together,” Jax said, “Harper and I are getting the hell out of
this town to one of those sexy tropical isles—anyplace where heat is
accompanied by colorful alcohols and nude beaches.” From the corner of my eye,
I could see him watching me. “I figure I can go to a game design school down in
Hawaii or the Caribbean and make at least a couple billion dollars on my
awesomeness.”

“I
know what you’re trying to do,” I said.

“Obviously
not or you would’ve quit scowling by now,” Jax said. He pointed at me. “Don’t
make me turn this fucking car around and get us some fucking tiramisu from the
bakery, young lady. Because I’ll do it, by God.”

I
couldn’t help it. I snorted.

“Fine,”
I said, giving him an exaggerated smile. “Happy now?”

“No,
now I want tiramisu,” Jax said.

I
stuck my arm out the window. The smile didn’t go away.

When
we arrived at the Carpenter-Ives-Whitney house, the hot box blues were drifting
down from upstairs just like the day before. Unfortunately for me, though, both
Ives were waiting in the front room. My fragile good mood evaporated.

“Howdy,
girls,” Jax said, plopping down on the couch between Harper and Scout. “Come to
watch me solve some vamp crimes in Blood City III? The graphics are so good you
can smell the stench of death.”

Harper
kissed his cheek and stood up.

“That
game is offensive and inaccurate,” she said. Then she looked at me. “We need to
talk to Desty.”

“Rain
check,” I said. I headed for the stairs, imagining what I’d walked in on
yesterday—Tough shirtless, playing guitar, and looking like a hillbilly rock
star—versus a catfight I would undoubtedly lose to Redneck Revenge Barbie and
Sex Kitten Skipper.

“No,”
Harper said. “This is important.”

Inside,
I threw a tantrum. I just wanted to go hang out with Tough! Why couldn’t the
universe or God or whatever let me do one thing I wanted? Even if we laid
around and listened to music again, even if we didn’t make out, being with
Tough would make me feel better.

“In
the kitchen,” Harper said.

“Fine,”
I said, hoping I sounded more bitchy than spineless.

I
followed them into the kitchen and took the chair by the wall. Scout leaned
against the sink, the better to glare chainsaws at me. Harper didn’t sit down.

“You
know human outsiders can’t move into Halo,” Harper said. “Eventually you’re
going to have to leave.”

“I
didn’t plan on staying,” I said. “I just wanted to get my sister back, but
that’s turning out to be more complicated than I thought it would. You saw her
with Kathan last night.”

“So
you’re just going to hang around here until her brain rots?”

Thanks
for not hitting below the belt, Harper.

“There’s
a way to keep her brain from corroding,” I said. “But I’d have to be Kathan’s
familiar, too, and I’m pretty sure that would bring about the end of the world
or something. And anyway, I don’t want to leave yet.”

“Because
of Tough,” Scout said.

It
wasn’t a question, so I didn’t bother answering.

“Trust
me, I know it’s hard not to love that guy,” Harper said. “But you can’t have
him. For one, you’re not good enough, and for two, you and your sister belong
to Kathan.”

“The
warden sent his rent-a-cop around to make sure Harper and I know not to mess
with you,” Scout said. “Otherwise, I would’ve shivved you when you walked in,
you bitch-ass punk.”

“Stop
with the prison bullshit, Scout,” Harper said. “I’m being serious.”

“I
am, too. She is a punk,” Scout said, pushing away from the sink. “Tough would
never go for her. I bet he was just looking for someone to blow off steam
with.” She cut her grey eyes to me. “Did you guys screw yet?”

The
sunburn on my cheeks glowed. I might not be a militant bitch-doll like Scout
and Harper, but Tough wasn’t just some user, not the way Tempie thought human
men were. If Tough didn’t like me—if he’d just wanted sex—we would’ve done it
yesterday instead of just making out, right?

Right?

“Okay,
we’re fine then,” Scout said. “He’ll kick her out soon.”

I
stood up so hard my chair smacked into the wall.

“You
obviously don’t think much of Tough,” I said.
Nice one, self, just lacking
in meanness, wit, and the dismount.
I tried to regroup. “He’s not the kind
of guy who’d have sex with someone he didn’t care about.”

Scout
thought that was hilarious.

“All
you’re doing is proving you don’t know him, honey.” The way Scout said “honey”
was the way Tempie would have if she was trying to make someone feel stupid. It
was really effective.

“Shut
your mouth, Scout,” Harper said.

“Why?”
Scout asked, looking me in the eyes while she twisted the knife. “It’s true.
Tough was screwing a vamp he hated for the last five years. Hard and hot and
often.”

Then
it was like watching a replay of yesterday when Harper cornered me against the
sink, except Scout didn’t flinch or try to get away like I had. She stood her
ground, even when Harper was in her face, snarling, “You think it’s so fucking
funny Tough had to do that? If there had been any other NP in Halo who would’ve
given him protection—”

Scout
shoved Harper out of her way.

“Whatever.
I just thought Desty should know. But if you don’t think we should tell her…”
Scout turned around and left the kitchen, waving her middle finger over her
shoulder.

I
chewed on the inside of my bottom lip while I listened to Jax tell Scout
goodbye, then the screen door slam. Harper was glaring down at the table. I
pushed my bangs out of my face and set my chair up.

“She
likes Tough,” Harper finally said. “She has since she was little. She’s just
jealous.”

“Oh,”
I said because it seemed like Harper was waiting for me to acknowledge that I’d
heard her and because I couldn’t get any other words out.

“I
just wanted to tell you to leave him alone,” she said. “When Tough gets it in
his head that he likes a girl, he goes crazy for her. I don’t want to see him
hurt again. With Mitzi—with the vamp Scout was talking about—” Harper shook her
head. “Tough’s not some huge man-whore or anything. Some people talk shit about
him, but… He didn’t start off hating Mitzi. He liked her at first, but Mitzi
was a bitch and he was himself. He doesn’t know any other way to be, you know?”

After
a few seconds, I was able to nod.

“Rian
really did come by to tell us you belonged to Kathan,” Harper said. “He said
it’d be safer for Tough if you just went to the Dark Mansion with your sister.”

I
tried to care that Kathan had moved to the Threatening People You Love phase,
but I was stuck on Tough going crazy for the girls he liked.

“There
was a song we listened to on his mp3 player yesterday—”

“‘Harper’s
Song,’” she guessed.

The
painful melody drifted through my mind and scoured my throat. This must be the
kind of blind jealousy Scout was feeling. I had to force the words out—“He used
to love you.”

“Nothing
happened between us,” Harper said. “Tough’s always been like my brother and Jax
was always my whole heart.”

I
glanced toward the front room.

“Jax
loves you a lot,” I said. “I think he might be a real warrior in disguise.”

That
made Harper smile.

We
stood there for a while, listening to the film noir music from Jax’s game and
the guitar tripping along upstairs in a snarky-sounding song. Then something
else from yesterday came back to me—Tough laughing when I walked in on him
listening to “Harper’s Song,” like it reminded him of something funny and a
little bit stupid. If I was going to go the optimistic, possibly-mentally-ill
route, I should keep that in mind.

And
I should go see him.

“Are
we done here?” I asked.

“Will
you please go to the Dark Mansion?” Harper asked. “For his sake.”

“No.”
I actually sounded like someone who could get her way for once. “Not tonight
anyway.”

Then
I turned and headed for the front room.

“Nicely
handled,” Jax said.

“Thanks,”
I said, jogging up the stairs.

Tough
was lying on his bed just like I’d found him the day before, no shirt and
picking that tattooed acoustic guitar. It ought to be a sin for a man to look so
good with a busted lip, a black eye, and a hundred cuts, scrapes, and bruises
across his face and chest. No mp3 player today, but there was an open notebook
beside him and a pencil strapped across the guitar strings with a rubber band.

“Hey,”
I said.

When
Tough opened his eyes and saw me, he smiled, beautiful even all beat up like
that. Then he put his pick in the unhurt side of his mouth and leaned the
guitar against his nightstand. A teal and magenta box was lying on the stand
next to a half-empty forty sweating in the afternoon heat. Tough sat up,
grabbed the box and underhand-lobbed it to me.

Despite
my serious lack of coordination, I managed to catch it without looking too
stupid. I turned it over.
Skintimacy Condoms—100% Hypoallergenic for Your
Most Sensitive Skin!

“Pretty
presumptuous,” I said.

He
unwound the pencil from the neck of the guitar and flipped a page in the
notebook sitting beside him. He wrote something and turned it around so I could
see.

I literally don’t know the
meaning of the word. Most folks round here just say cocky.

I
unlaced my boots and kicked them off.

“Guess
you don’t know the meaning of the word ‘literally,’ either,” I said, climbing
up on the bed beside him.

Tough
scribbled something else in his notebook.

I know what multiple orgasms means. Want a
demonstration?