Payton Hidden Away (17 page)

I bite my
tongue. “What exactly are we looking for?”

Her silence is
enough to make me regret my question. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

We enter what
was a canning room where all the old Ball jars are either broken or filled with
some kind of pickled slime. An old wooden door lies at the back of the room,
and it’s pulled tightly closed. Kristie leans up against me, and I can feel her
heart racing. She’s scared.

“Seen enough?” I
ask.

“She’s back
there,” she whispers. “I can feel it.”

“She’s not back
there. The cops have been all through this place. There’s nothing back there.”

Kristie shakes
her head. “She’s back there.”

I try to take a
step forward, but she pulls me back.

“Do you want to
see or not?” I ask.

“No,” she
replies. “I don’t know. It’s been so long…”

“Do you want me
to look while you wait out here?”

She studies me,
draws a deep breath and finally nods.

Biting my tongue
while reminding myself that I’m here for her, I step forward only to hear and
feel a crunch beneath my shoe. Looking down, I find that I’ve stepped on a dead
mouse. That’s for effect, of course. In a grungy place like this, I need to
either step on a dead mouse or a live snake because otherwise it’s not worth
the hype that comes with hunting around a moldy old basement.

I close my
fingers around the brass handle, and suddenly I’m Indiana Jones, curious if
this door might be booby trapped. For all I know, I’m entering some kind of
cursed tomb. I turn my hand, and the knob squeaks poetically. The stiff door
gives, yawning open to reveal—

Kristie screams,
and I leap back. Closing my eyes I brace for impact but nothing happens. Opening
one eye, I look into the room only to see…

…nothing.

Absolutely
nothing. Brick and mortar, a few old shelves filled with gunk and garbage and
nothing more. Turning angrily, I find her trying to stomp on one of those ugly
white spiders dancing around her feet. She finally makes contact, and I hear a
pop. She looks up at me and smiles nervously.

“Got it,” she
says.

“No kidding.”

She frowns.

“Anything else
you’d like to see?” I ask.

“What’s in
there?” She tries to peer around me.

I step aside.
“Nothing.”

“You’re sure?”

“Be my guest.”

“I don’t want
to…”

“It’s empty.”

She steps around
me and into the empty room where she looks around. She even scuffs the ground
with her shoe, kicking up some dust but not much more.

“Satisfied?” I
ask.

She stares at
me, exhaling before turning to look around again. Hands on hips, she sweeps the
room one more time before turning back. “No…”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” She
looks around, and there are more of those white spiders that seem to be inching
closer. “What about that room?” She’s pointing into the open doorway of the old
coal bin. There’s even a small pile of coal, a shovel and a worn, rotting pair
of rubber boots.

“See anything?”

She shakes here
head. “I hate it down here.”

I extend my hand
toward the stairs. “Let’s go.”

Kristie leads
the way up the stairs while I admire her shapely behind. I wonder if it’s as
firm as it was back when we were kids.

“You’re looking
at my butt,” she says. “I can feel it.”

“I’m just making
sure none of those nasty spiders decided to hitch a ride.”

“How
thoughtful.”

“I’m a
thoughtful kind of guy.”

“Even after all
these years…”

“I’m loyal that
way.”

“That’s not what
I meant.”

“Your butt is
spider-free.”

“You’re sure?”

“Trust me, I’m
looking really close.”

We reach the top
floor, and she turns on me. “Thank you, Tony.”

“I’m just doing
my job.”

“That’s not what
I meant.” She steps forward, backing me up against the wall. She wraps her arms
over my shoulders and pulls me closer. She opens her mouth and touches her lips
to mine. I’m defensive until I feel her tongue touching mine. It’s weird, and
then it’s not, and it feels so good to be kissing her again. It feels natural.
We kiss like teenagers, her as hungry for me as I am her. When she pulls away,
she’s blushing.

“What was that
for?” I ask.

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t really
do anything. I was just—”

“Stop,” she
says, pecking me on the lips. “Just stop.”

So I do. She
looks at me, and I look at her. We do a lot of looking. We’re twenty years
older than we were then, but it still feels just as fresh, and I’m still just
as excited, and she can tell, because she’s grinning with that knowing grin
that both drives me nuts and turns me on. I take her hand and lead her out the
back door onto the porch. The boards creak under our weight, but they hold. The
storm is blowing in from the west, the clouds overhead tumbling and fighting
for position. The wind has picked up and there’s lightning in the distance.

“It’s going to
be a doozie,” she murmurs.

“Want to leave?”

She wavers a
moment then shakes her head. “No.” She cuddles up to me as the first rain drops
fall in big, fat splatters. “I feel better here.”

Ritchie frowns, that look he
sometimes gets in his eye. “What’s that even supposed to mean?” he asks. “Try
not to be the sore thumb?” He shrugs. “Why would you say that? Why would anyone
say that? I’m not a sore thumb. I’m the life of the party. Everyone likes me.
They all want me there.”

I say nothing.

“Well, don’t
just stand there like a door knob. What’s it mean?”

“Nothing,” I
say. “Other than it’s Greg’s party, not yours.”

“Greg’s an asshole.
If he tries anything, I’ll kick his butt.”

“That’s exactly
what I’m talking about,” I snap. “It’s
his
party, Rich. He organized it,
and it’s his place. And he’s not an asshole. He’s a good guy.”

“Well, if you
love him so much, then why dontcha marry him?”

I bite my
tongue, refraining from what I really want to say. “All I’m saying is you don’t
have to be the center of attention all the time.”

Ritchie is quiet
for a moment. “Bite me.”

“Do you really
think the fastest way to Joanne’s heart is by acting like a moron?”

Ritchie kicks a
stone angrily. “But people laugh at my jokes. They think I’m funny.”

“They’re
laughing
at
you.”

“The hell you
say.”

“Just…” I’m
overly-demonstrative with my hands again, a bad habit of mine I’m not at all
proud of. “Just play it cool. That’s all I ask. Play it cool, and everyone will
have a good time.”

We continue
through town, the fat old moon hanging heavy in the sky. I’m dressed
nice—casual, though it’s apparent to even me that I tried too hard to look
casual. Nice shirt, clean jeans, yet the shirt is carelessly un-tucked, and the
jeans are meticulously worn. I’m wearing my favorite cologne, and despite my
recent battle wounds, I might even pass for a semi-mediocre good-looking guy.

Greg passed me
an invite two weeks ago. It was under the table—a
nobody-knows-what-nobody-knows kind of thing. Even now I’m not sure he intended
for that invite to extend to Ritchie, but if not, he should have known better.
Ritchie’s my best friend, and he goes where I go.

The idea of a
party sounded prodigious, and it’s panning out to be a perfect night for a
bonfire. There’ll be hot girls and cold suds, and that’s all fine and
everything, but I especially can’t wait to see her. Kristie. It’s only been two
days, but it already feels like an eternity. My head is so wrapped up in seeing
her that I momentarily forget that my buddy is by my side. For once he’s quiet,
and I’m worried that I might have hurt his feelings.

“I hope she’s
happy to see me,” he murmurs.

This makes me
feel bad. He should be looking into scholarships and big ten schools, but instead
he’s wrapped up in her. He can’t focus on anything else. It’s sad. Sad and
innocent all in one. He and I couldn’t be more different, yet we couldn’t be more
the same. We’re both meatheads with boobs on the brain.

We walk through
the tall grass, stepping high, the dewing grass slapping at our legs. I can
hear the laughter from here. People sitting around the campfire and having a
good ol’ time. The neighbors are probably less than thrilled, but Greg
compensates by proactively inviting the whole neighborhood so everyone will
feel included and too guilty to complain. Then he invites the cops, just in
case anyone does. Of course, the cops never show. They know kids will be
drinking, but they did it when they were our age, and their parents did it
before them. Besides, there are more important things to do than bust some kids
out having fun. Nobody’s driving, and everyone walks home, so it’s cool just
long as someone like Ritchie doesn’t fuck it up for the rest of us.

We cross the
driveway and make our way into the backyard where there are fifty or more
people either seated around a fire or out in the shadows making out. We’re
fashionably late, and for the first time that I can remember, I am warmly
received. Mandy Ferguson is here. She’s off by herself, rocking to the music,
but she’s smiling—at me. It’s amazing what one little fight can do for a guy’s
reputation.

Someone tosses
me a beer, and I catch it on the fly. Ritchie gets one too, and he’s a wild man
as he hops around the fire, shakes his beer, pops the cap and lets the fizz
fly. The crowd cheers him on, and he’s the man in the spotlight just the way he
likes it. My ‘play it cool’ speech has not had the effect I was hoping for, but
so far, everyone seems okay with him being here. I approach Kristie, taking a
sip. I sit beside her, lean in and give her a kiss.

“You taste like
beer,” she giggles.

“I missed you.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Why
wouldn’t I?”

She stares into
my eyes, that soft little smile of hers at the corners of her mouth. “I love
you.”

She said it. She
actually said it. I should be freaked out, but I’m not. The weird thing is, it
feels nice. What’s weirder is I think I love her too. Ritchie is hopping around
the fire, stealing the attention of everyone else while I’m here in the shadows
with the only person I want to be with.

There’s a sound
to my right, and I look over to see someone walking past. Her head is bowed,
the long hair hiding her face. But I’d know that walk anywhere because it’s
just like her sister’s. Joanne.

“Jo?” Kristie
asks.

“Is she okay?” I
murmur.

Kristie doesn’t
answer as she stands and follows her sister.

“Perfect,” I
murmur disappointedly, mostly to myself.

The sparks dance
into the darkening sky. Ritchie has settled down a bit. He’s still on his feet,
but he’s congregating with a small group. Despite the shadows, I can still see
him stealing glances toward Joanne who is currently being consoled by her
sister. Joanne’s crying. Something upset her, though I can’t figure what. It’s
Saturday night, and we’re partying. There’s nothing to be upset about.

And I hate it
when girls cry.

Standing, I down
the last of my beer and approach the two sisters. Kristie tries to hold me off,
but I didn’t come to a party to hang out by myself. Besides, I know them both
well enough to arrogantly feel like I might be able to help.

“Everything’s
good,” Kristie says, preempting my question with a vague intervention. Joanne
turns away to wipe her eyes so I won’t see.

“What’s got her
upset?” I ask.

“Girl stuff. Can
you give us a minute?”

“What’s wrong?”
I ask Joanne.

Kristie gives me
a look, but I downplay it. Joanne turns back and tries to smile. Her eyes are
damp as she pushes her long bangs behind her ears.

“She came here
alone,” Kristie says.

I frown. “So? Half
the people here came alone.”

Kristie rolls
her eyes then cocks her head as if waiting for me to magically connect the
dots.

“I mean…” I try,
looking around, wondering who we might be able to hook her up with, but the
only single guy I see is Ritchie, and that won’t work. “It’s not like it’s end
of the world.”

“Don’t try,”
Kristie says. “You’re a guy.”

Joanne looks
miserable.

“I’m just
thinking…”

“Again, you’re a
guy,” Kristie says. “So, don’t
think
either.”

This time Joanne
grins.

“That’s not
fair,” I insist. “Being a guy doesn’t mean I’m automatically stupid.”

But Joanne
thinks I’m adorable, or at least she thinks I’m adorably dumb, because she’s
laughing, and laughing is good because it also means she’s not crying.

“So, what’s the
bottom line?” I ask. “She’s lonely?”

Any good humor
Kristie had disappears, leaving her ugly and angry.

“I didn’t mean
it like that,” I say.

“Then how exactly
did you mean it?”

“Joanne,” I say,
ignoring Kristie. “Take your pick,” I say, spreading my arms. “You’ve got the
pick of the litter. Any guy who turns you down is an idiot. You’re gorgeous.
Own it.”

“Hey,” Kristie
murmurs.

“Well, you’re
gorgeous too.”

An angry glare.

“I’m not
implying anything.”

“You better not
be.”

I turn to
Joanne. “Pick a guy. Any guy…”

“Any guy?”

“Except for
Ritchie…”

Joanne laughs
out loud then covers her mouth though she’s actually taking a look around,
taking stock of her choices. She seems to be cheering up.

“Joanne, honey,”
Kristie says. “It’s a party. Have a good time.”

“I need a
drink,” she says in that awkward slur of hers.

“Let me get her
something,” I say.

Kristie shakes
her head. “I’ll get it.” She wanders off toward the makeshift bar, disappearing
into the shadows.

“You okay?” I
ask.

Joanne just
hovers, though she does nod.

“Good, because
‘okay’ is on special. Buy one, get two free.”

“So, I owe you
big then, huh?”

I nod. “We can
work out a payment plan.”

“Settle for a
hug?” she asks before opening her arms. It’s scary how much she looks like
Kristie, a thought which makes me hesitate. Then again, it’s just a hug.
Conceding, I accept her offer, and we embrace like it’s no big deal. And at
first it isn’t. Then it is. The scent of her hair is exactly the same as her
sister’s. The frame of her body is exactly the same too, and for a fleeting
second I wonder if I’d be able to tell the difference. If I can’t, then is it
love or just lust? This frightening moment gets me thinking about all kinds of
screwed up scenarios until I realize she’s breathing against my neck, her head
on my shoulder, one of those screwed up scenarios suddenly becoming real.
Feeling guilty and even more confused, I gently try to pull away, but she
tightens her grip and holds on. She doesn’t say anything. I don’t know if it’s
the scent of her hair, or maybe the pheromones she’s releasing. Or maybe it’s
because I’m a teenager, and teenagers can’t help it. Whatever it is, I want
her. I want to kiss her, taste her, feel her—fuck her. I want her, and I have
to forcibly break from her and step back.

“Dance with me,”
she says with a smile, swaying to the music coming from the radio drifting from
beyond the fire.

“Maybe I’ll
just…”

“Come on. One
dance.”

“Kristie will be
back in a second.”

“I’m not talking
about my sister.”

“But…”

“One dance.”

Sighing, I hold
out my arms, and she steps up, a smile on her face. Her eyes are big and blue,
her lips full and curious as her hands fold into mine. She presses up against
me—crotch to crotch. Glancing toward the fire, I’m afraid I’ll see Kristie
staring at me with venom in her eyes, but everyone is doing their own thing.
Nobody seems to notice anything as we sway just beyond the edge of the
firelight.

Well, almost
nobody.

Someone’s
noticing, and that someone is lurking at the edge, eyes trained on me, boring
holes directly into my soul.

Ritchie.

He’s standing
still, all by himself, eyes locked on me, his mouth curved downward in a
perpetual frown. The fire dances in his slanted eyes, his hands curled into
fists at his side. I don’t think he’s angry with Joanne. I think it’s me.

I pull away from
Joanne, ending the dance. “Come on,” I say quietly. “Let’s find your sister.”