Payton Hidden Away (19 page)

“Anywhere,” she answers dreamily
while staring up at the sky. “Anywhere in the world.” Kristie waves her hands
as though floating in a dream. “Anywhere at all.”

I frown as I
think. It’s another one of her questions that would sound lame had it been
anyone else asking, but since it’s her, then by default, it’s not lame. We’re
lying on our backs on a soft bedding of pine needles beneath our favorite tree,
head-to-head with our arms and legs splayed outward. We’re a Hallmark card, and
it’s a perfect afternoon. I’ve almost even forgotten how the party ended two
days ago. Almost.

I saw it, and
I saw you seeing me see it…

I’ve avoided
bringing up the conversation between me and Ritchie with Kristie. There’s no
reason to tell her. Besides, Kristie doesn’t like him any more than Joanne
does, so she’d likely be in favor of a fight that leaves me and him at odds.

“Bermuda,” I say aloud.

“Why Bermuda?”

“Why not Bermuda?”

She shrugs. “I
don’t know. It’s not that it’s a bad choice. It’s just seems so…it seems like an
easy answer.”

“Would Iraq be more romantic?”

“Yeah, that’d be
great.”

“Implied sarcasm
noted.”

“I’m not implying
anything.” She giggles. “I’m
inferring
.”

“Is this your
fantasy or mine? You asked me, and I’m answering.”

She’s quiet for
a second. “You okay?”

“I’ve heard
really good things about Bermuda.”

“I’m not talking
about Bermuda. I’m asking you. You seem on edge.”

So much for the
Hallmark moment. Now it’s Psych 101. She seems innocent enough as she lures me
along with a sweet smile and pretty eyes, but at that perfect moment when I
start to relax, that’s when she strikes, digging her talons in just like a
woman does.

“I didn’t mean
anything by it,” Kristie whispers.

“You didn’t do
anything,” I lie. Frustrated, I peel a blade of grass into pieces and flick
them away.

“Then what’s
going on?” she asks.

“Nothing.” I
scooch into a sitting position and lean back against the old tree.

She rolls onto
her stomach and rests her chin on the backs of her folded hands. “I know when
something’s bothering you. Is it that you’re moving to Atlanta?”

“I’m just in one
of those moods.”

“Are you scared
to go?”

“No, I’m not
scared.”

“Do you want to
go?”

I don’t answer.

“Then what?”

“I’m just in one
of those moods.”

“Is it Ritchie?”

“What about
him?”

She shrugs. “You
tell me. You were both acting weird last night.”

“You always
watch our moves this closely?”

“Again, I’m not
implying anything. I’m just saying.”

She’s not wrong.
Ritchie’s a loose cannon, probably off somewhere stabbing a Voodoo doll with my
likeness. He’s my best friend in the whole world, but that doesn’t mean I’m somehow
exempt. “We had an argument.”

“Over Joanne?”

“What is this,
the third degree?”

“You like her?”

“Yes, I like
her. But not like that, and that’s not it. Ritchie’s my friend, and Joanne’s my
friend. Ritchie likes Joanne, but Joanne doesn’t like him back.”

“I’m not…” She
shakes her head. “I’m not accusing you of anything.”

“Of course not.”
I shake my head and draw my knees, blocking my view of her, or rather blocking
her view of me. “You’re just
inferring
.”

“I wish he’d
leave her alone,” she says softly. “I don’t like the way he looks at her.”

“You like the
way I look at you.”

“I think Joanne
has a crush on you.”

I frown.

“The way she
talks about you.”

“I thought this
was about Ritchie.”

“It’s about both
of them. I don’t know. I just…” She sits up and wipes off a few pine needles
still sticking to her shirt. “Something’s happening.”

“Nothing’s
happening.”

She drops her
eyes. “Can you feel it? It’s in the air. Like electricity.”

I can’t say that
I don’t know what she means. I felt it the other day when we were lying
together in her hammock, and I feel it again now. Apparently, she does too. “You
wanna get out of here?”

“Like out of
this town?”

“Actually, I
meant out of the park.”

She smiles,
considers and finally shakes her head. “Nah. I’m happy just to be here with
you.”

Two kids in
love. It’s shouldn’t be anymore complicated than that. The problem is Ritchie.
He’s ruining everything, and I take my frustration out on another unwilling
blade of grass.

Kristie pushes
herself up and crawls my way on her hands and knees, a curious little smile on
her face, a twinkle in her eye. She stops with her face inches from mine before
closing her perfect eyes and tilting her perfect head as she leans in. Her lips
brush mine.

“My parents
won’t be home until late,” Kristie whispers, her breath smelling like
peppermint. I smile back, and in a moment we’re on our feet, hand in hand,
heading out of the park. It’s a long walk back to the Beaver, and it’s a bit of
a trek back home from there. All the while she’s rattling on about things that
have little relevance in the grand scheme of things, and I’m doing my best to
listen while trying not to notice how her hair cascades over her shoulders, or
how her hand feels in mine. She’s adorable, so by default, her meandering
questions are adorable too, and when she asks me again where I’d like to travel
if I could pick anywhere—anywhere in the world, well as far as I’m concerned,
anywhere with her is just fine with me.

Monday night. Two days from
graduation. Five days from leaving. It’s been a long week already with finals
and Ritchie’s shit and stuff at work. The week’s only getting started, but I’ve
got about a billion loose ends to tie up before taking off, yet all I want to
do is say fuck it and relax down by the Beaver. Originally, it was only
supposed to be a few of us, but word spread, and now there’s a whole group of
us hanging out under the shade of the tall oak. Greg has brought a few of his
friends from last Friday’s party, and they’ve brought their girlfriends. Then
there’s this guy no one seems to know, and he’s brought his own entourage,
though they seem to be doing their own thing and talking mostly amongst
themselves.

Kristie is late.

I talked to her
on the phone just this morning, and she said she’d be here by seven, but here
it is already after eight. Everyone else seems to have made it, so I put on a
good show of appearing relaxed. In truth, I’m a bit worried. Kristie is never
late. She’s the ‘always reliable, always dependable’ one while her sister’s the
exact opposite. Jo’s the brains of the two, but clocks and calendars are as foreign
to her as another language.

Everyone’s
laughing, having a good time, kicking back in the comfort of a summer breeze. I
keep an eye out for my girlfriend as I sit up slightly at the sight of someone
approaching from the other side of the creek. Almost immediately I know it’s
not her. The form is too big. Way too big. And I recognize the swagger even
before I see his face. Ritchie’s carrying a twelve-pack of cheap beer and
smoking a cigar even though he doesn’t smoke. The stogie is fat, and it’s been smoked
down to the nub. He’s been chewing on the butt for some time so that it sits
comfortably pinched between yellow teeth. He’s wearing shades and a cutoff
T-shirt, and he looks intimidating as hell.

“Ladies and lug
nuts,” he says as he grins through the cigar smoke, “the party can now begin.”

“Ritchie!”
several voices cheer.

He looks my way,
and I nod his as he pulls one of the cans from the plastic ring and pops the
top—all with one hand. He doesn’t smile, at least not with his mouth, and I
can’t see his eyes behind the shades. Ritchie makes his rounds, stepping over
legs or clumsily slithering between folding chairs. He pats his friends on the
back and taps beverages with the girls until he reaches my side where he sits
down in the chair I’ve saved for Kristie, kicks back, crosses his ankles and
exhales a plum of gray smoke in three consecutive O’s.

“How are ya?” I
ask with feigned enthusiasm.

“Where you
been?”

I shrug. “Right
here. Where you been?”

“Want a stogie?”

“New habit?”

“My cousin Joey
had a baby boy last night. It’s tradition.”

“Joey who?”

“My cousin.”

“By blood?”

“More than you.”

I bite my
tongue.

Ritchie burps,
takes a hit from the cigar and raises his beer in a toast. I hesitate then
clink cans.

“What are you drinking?”
He asks. “Pepsi?”

“What’s wrong
with Pepsi?”

“Kristie got
your balls in her purse too?”

“Jesus, Rich.”

He clams up and
glares at me, his lips pinched tightly.

“Don’t give me
that look,” I murmur. “I really don’t care if you approve of my choice of
profane words or not.”

“Big man.”

“And I’m tired
of worrying about what offends you and what doesn’t.”

He drags on his
cigar, the tip brightening to an orange tip. He blows smoke-rings in three
perfect circles before winking at me. “Missed ya.”

I nod toward the
group. “I prefer blondes.”

He chuckles.
“Speaking of which…”

“Don’t start.” I
knew he’d get right to the point. He didn’t come here to hang out with me. He
came here to see Joanne. I’m just the conduit.

You think you
got what it takes, small time…

I look around.
Everyone’s congregating in small groups of two and three. Ritchie strikes a
conversation with a girl I don’t know. I suspect she came with the guy on her
right, but she’s being friendly and acting interested even though it’s obvious
that she isn’t. The sad reality is I know Ritchie and the way he thinks. He
doesn’t want her. He wants Joanne. He’d hit on someone else’s girl just to get
Joanne’s attention, and Joanne’s not even here.

Yet there are
two figures approaching from along the game trail. Same height, same build, same
hair, same walk. Twins. If Joanne’s never on time, then the fact that they came
together explains why they’re late. Right away I feel defensive, unconsciously
crossing my arms and glaring as them as they step around the fire and stop
directly in front of me. They’re dressed the same. Exactly the same even though
they
never
dress the same. Kristie likes the attention, while Joanne is
conservative. Tonight they’re both dolled up. Same eye-shadow, hair
free-flowing, sharp dresses—great legs. They look exactly the same. Like it’s
some kind of a game. Until one of them speaks, I’d never know the difference.

“So, who’s who?”
Greg asks.

Both offer a
smile, but neither speak, which only confirms my suspicion that this is a game.
They’re not speaking because speaking would give away who’s who. Kristie and
her sweet voice. Joanne and her slurred accent. It’s a game. A game that has
nothing to do with either the party or Ritchie. It’s a game intended for me,
and I have to play.

Now I’m pissed.

They stand there
unmoving, eyeing me, waiting for me to somehow magically determine who’s who just
because I ‘love’ one more than the other. The guys are whistling, the girls
frowning with jealousy. The twins have their hands on hips, eyes on me, waiting
for me to choose. Instead, I stand up. Taking a long swallow, I finish my Pepsi,
burp and toss the empty can into the fire. Ritchie is silent. I think even he
knows when to shut up. And I think the twins suddenly know it too.

“Good one,” I
snap at the both of them, walking away.

“Tony?” Kristie
calls.

I ignore her. The
hell with her. And her sister. I keep going.

“Tony!”

I don’t want to,
but I stop. Then I turn. Neither of them say anything, so I still can’t tell
which is which. Real funny.

“Don’t be mad,”
Kristie says. Apparently, she’s the one on the left.

I want to say
something, but I’m afraid of how it’ll come off, pain in my chest and my eyes,
which are stinging with tears I swore would never fall.

“It was a stupid
trick,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

“You think I
love you just because of how you look?” I ask.

“Please don’t be
angry.”

“Believe me,
you’ve already crossed that line, princess.”

Now she’s
crying, and I hate it when girls cry. The eyes of the group are all trained on
me. Everyone’s looking. No one’s talking.

“Don’t do this,”
I mutter. “Don’t guilt-trip me into apologizing.”

“I’m sorry,” she
whispers.

“Tony…” Joanne
says in that awkward accent of hers.

“Yo, Triple A,”
Ritchie says. “Don’t be a dick. It was a joke. Lighten up.”

As if I needed
Ritchie’s input. But I finally step forward anyway and wrap my arms around
Kristie. She clings to me.

“You two good?”
Ritchie asks.

I have no idea
if we’re good or not. It feels weird. Me and her. We’re standing in a circle
with everyone staring. She’s my girlfriend, but she hurt me. And I didn’t do
anything to deserve it.

Ritchie watches
quietly from a few feet away. He and I haven’t exactly made up, but apparently
this is his way of moving on.

“We’re good,” I
say, and the tension around the circle seems to ease. Kristie smiles, sniffs
and wipes her eyes. Then she leans on her toes and kisses my cheek. “You owe me
about a hundred thousand of those,” I say gruffly.

“That many?”

“Give or take.”

She smiles.
“I’ll be in your debt for the rest of my life.”

“And then some.”

“So you’re going
to make me your slave?”

“My apology
wench.”

She laughs out
loud, then covers her mouth, and for a moment we just stand there, holding one
another, all alone while surrounded by people. It’s relatively serene, only
soft voices, quiet laughter and the sounds of nature around us—a bird singing
in the tree, the Old Beaver gurgling a few feet away. It’s when I notice how
serene it is that I get nervous. After all, Ritchie’s here, and he’s not a
serene kind of guy. He’s more of an in-your-face kind of guy, and if he’s not
in my face, then he’s looking to get in someone else’s.

I look around only
to find him staring across the circle. Following his gaze, I find Joanne
sitting in the lap of someone I’ve never seen before. She’s swinging her legs,
and acting all giggly the way girls do when they’re trying to be cute. Girls
only try to be cute when they want the guy they’re with to think they’re cute,
which means…

“Who’s that?” I
ask Kristie.

“She met him on
Saturday. At the party. Travis.”

I wait for more,
and when it doesn’t come, I get impatient. “So, who’s Travis?”

She shrugs. “I
dunno. He showed right before the party wound down after you and Ritchie had
already taken off. I guess they stayed up the whole night talking.”

“Why you didn’t
tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

I just shake my
head.

“Is this about
Ritchie?” She asks. “You worried he’ll do something?”

“Well, he
certainly doesn’t look all that thrilled.”

To be more
accurate, he looks to be in shock. I can see it in his eyes. He’s just staring,
that half empty beer squeezed between white-knuckled fingers. Eventually, he’ll
crack. Then he’ll react. Even now I can see the color draining from his face,
his mouth hanging slightly open. A gun could go off, and I doubt he’d notice.
He’s fixated, and I expect Joanne knows it. I expect she’s doing this on
purpose, though her performance is worthy of an Oscar judging by how well she’s
ignoring him.

“He looks…”
Kristie starts.

“Pissed,” I
finish.

In a way I feel
sorry for him, and in a way I’m glad. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell
him Joanne’s not interested. It doesn’t matter how much Joanne’s blows him off.
In his mind, they’re meant to be. Maybe this will be the wakeup call he needs.
Then again, I’m not so sure Payton County is prepared for a Ritchie Hudson
wakeup call.

Ritchie stands,
and I’m expecting him to charge Travis, but all he does is turn and walk away
without so much as a word. He hurtles his can of beer into the Beaver and
storms toward Payton, his huge hulk of a frame slowly being absorbed by the
setting afternoon sun.

Kristie smiles.
“That wasn’t so bad.”

I continue to
watch after my fleeing friend. That was too clean. No words, no insults, no
punches thrown. I know him too well. This isn’t over. This is just starting.

Joanne and
Travis are oblivious, making out and laughing and all those things that come in
the first stages of any new relationship. She deserves this. At the same time,
something feels out of place—like a missing ingredient to the perfect recipe or
the missing piece to one of those replica toy models they sell as numbered
plastic pieces in a cardboard box. I’m not happy about any of it, and I’m
wondering if Kristie might have been onto something earlier when she said
something’s happening—something’s in the air. Four days ago Ritchie was my best
friend, yet now I feel like we’re just pretending. Kristie and I were in love,
yet a part of me wonders if I’m also pretending about that too. I’m at a party
where
everyone
is pretending to be happy, but nobody’s saying anything.
Ritchie’s gone, and now Joanne’s staring after him, this ugly look on her face,
almost like she did it on purpose.

“Don’t think
about them,” Kristie says, turning my head back so my eyes meet hers. She’s
smiling the way only she can. “It’ll be okay.”

I smile and try.
I honestly try. I want to think that Ritchie finally got the hint and he’ll
just let things go. After all, there are plenty of women in Payton that adore
him. He’s a superstar in a small town, and maybe this will be all the
encouragement he needs.

He’s gone,
having disappeared over the hill leading back into Payton. I should be feeling
better. Instead, I feel anxious as though there’s a spider on my back that I
can’t quite reach. Eight clammy feet slowly crawling along my spine, its touch
ticklish—just enough to know it’s there.

“It’ll be okay,”
she repeats in a whisper, but I’m not so sure.