Tasting, Finding, Keeping: The Story of Never (44 page)

Ty McCabe

I pause next to the table where I left my beer and find that it's mysteriously gone missing. No biggie. Something a little stronger than beer would be nice right now.

“Hi, I'm Lacey.” A beautiful blonde girl pauses in front of me and thrusts out her hand. I look at it and then up at her before reaching out slowly and grasping her fingers in a firm grip. I think at first that she's here to hit on me, take advantage of her friend's strikeout and try to take me home. I only think that for a split second. “Hey, is Korina single?” she asks, leaning in close and whispering conspiratorially. I try to smile, but it doesn't quite reach my eyes.

“No clue,” I tell her honestly, glancing up at the crowd around the pool table. I've forgotten half of these people's fucking names. No clue who goes with who. Don't really give a shit neither. I grin. “But I don't think it would hurt to hit on her.” I shrug and consider asking Lacey about her friend. Either she hasn't noticed that Never's gone or she doesn't care. Either way, it looks like she's planning on sticking around. I watch her move over to Korina, run her fingers down the backs of her bare arms, whisper something into her ear. Korina laughs, but doesn't turn Lacey's way, bending low and taking aim at the colorful balls spread about the green fabric.

I tuck my hands into my pockets and sigh.

Shake that shit off, Ty McCabe,
I tell myself, lifting my chin and trying to keep my smile fixed firmly in place. The night's young. There's time for more drinks, more girls, more time to forget about all the things in my past that demand to be wiped clean. If I refuse, they'll dig their claws in and bleed me dry.

I step up to the table and shrug my shoulders to help work out the tension.

“Next hit's mine. I'm in this game big, remember?” Korina snorts and takes a hit, sends the cue ball into the group and manages to sink a red solid. My eight-ball rules are a little rusty, but I'm pretty sure that means I'm stripes. I grab a pool cue and move up to the table, my mind a thousand miles away from the seedy little bar and the warmth and press of strangers around me. I let my eyes sink closed for a moment, try to pull myself together. God. What was I thinking? If I'm going to pick up a girl tonight it has to be someone who's not so … vulnerable. I shake my head and open my eyes. Maybe in another life, I'd have a girl like that? Maybe I could tilt her head up to look at me, smile into those hazel eyes and find my lips on hers? Maybe I'd really believe in all the things I spend my days wishing were true?

“Are you going to contemplate the wonders of the universe or are we playing pool here, Ty?”

I open my eyes and hit the white ball, watching as it rolls across the table and smacks into a blue striped ball. I manage to pocket the little son of a bitch and step back with a smirk, setting the end of my cue against the floor and resting my hands atop it. My bracelets jingle merrily, mixing with the buzz of pop music thumping in the background.

Korina scrutinizes the table like this game really matters, like it's something important in her life. I've been around the block – more than once – and although I ain't got the saggy balls or the drooping smile, I've got as much wisdom as a man four times my age. Being a teenage prostitute will do that to you, you know? I blink rapidly, pushing back visions of things I'd really rather not relive.

Never's friend, Lacey, clings to Korina's side, flirting and smiling and trying to hide the smallest stab of pain in her blue eyes. It's nothing like what I've got – or what Never seemed to have – but that doesn't make whatever hurt she's nursing ache any less. I watch this girl throw herself at my pseudo-sometimes-friend and wonder how she and Never get along in their day to day, how they even met. Their vibes are completely different, like trying to mix hip hop with country western. It just doesn't work so good.

I sigh again. Still thinking about the mysterious beauty in the red dress is a fruitless exercise. Time to move on.

I look up as the front doors swing inwards, ushering in a gaggle of giggling college co-eds. A smirk ratchets across my face, not a real one, of course, but it's there and I can't seem to stop it. This is what I do, I flirt with girls, fuck them, and then I walk away. I don't feel like a stud. I'm not one of those guys that's proud of what he does. I just do it. I have to do it. It's an addiction, like anything else. I think I need therapy.

The tracks switch and the pop music's replaced with a hard ass rocker beat that makes my teeth hurt – in a good way, of course. I listen to the lyrics as I watch the girls pause by the bar, leaning their elbows on the scratched wooden surface, lips moving in slow motion as they whisper their darkest desires and their deepest dreams to the bartender.

“
This, this is truth. This is pain. This is us. Can't break what ain't fixed, can't mend what's not torn. CAN'T BLEED FOREVER. CAN'T WEATHER ANY STORM!
”

I raise my eyes up to the roof and the stained white tiles that make up the drop ceiling. This band that's playing,
Indecency
I think they're called, their lead singer is the kind of guy that enjoys what he does. That
likes
to fuck all the girls and leave them, break their hearts and forget that the sound of shattering glass is the loudest there is.

I flip off one of the speakers and glance down to find everyone staring at my ringed hand like I'm a crazy person. And hell, maybe I am? Ty McCabe has never claimed to be sane.

I grin and notice that the girls all have bright blue drinks in hand now, and they're making their way towards me. So. Great. Awesome. This night's not going to end with the echo of my own words playing in my head.
You're not worth it.
Broken echoes of a heart that's so black it could never judge. Never judge Never, huh? I smile and drop my hand, rolling my shoulders, and waiting for the girls to make their way towards me.

I'll pick one of them out, wrap my arm around her waist and watch her fall deep into the dark pit that makes up my soul. In the morning, she'll forget I even existed. In circles I go, on a merry-go-round of fucking shit that refuses to end.

This is my life. This is the legacy of Tyson Monroe McCabe.

Ty McCabe

Not fifteen minutes after I've decided to snag one of the giggly beauties for myself, Korina has absolutely destroyed my ass in pool and pocketed the eight ball. She snags the money from the edge of the table and stuffs it in her bra.

“I'll take care of the beers as an apology for completely and utterly annihilating your ass in front of these beautiful women.” Korina gestures absently at the girls clustered around me. It could very well be their fault that I lost. They kept feelin' up my ass as I bent over the table and making me wonder why the hell I subject myself to this kind of torture. Twenty bucks down the drain in the span of a few minutes.
That's like, three hours of work
before
taxes.
I try not to sigh. If I was still working the street, that'd be like five minutes of grabbing some housewife's breasts. But I won't go back to that, no fucking way. I'd rather leap off the Golden Gate Bridge.

“You did a good job, Tyler,” one of the girls whispers into my ear. I don't bother to correct her.
My name is Ty, thanks.
I just toss her a wink and glance around at the other three girls in the group. They're all pretty, but not as pretty as the girl in the red dress. Never. Damn. I guess I really
did
want to go dancing with her. What would've happened if she'd said yes? Would we still have ended up horizontal and panting? Or would I have given her my number and taken her out for coffee tomorrow? Who knows? The world's full of what-ifs, and if you let them get into your head, they'll kill ya.

“Thanks, sweets,” I say, trying to decide who I want to go after. I have to make my choice soon or they'll all get pissy with me, call me a player, throw their drinks in my face. Trust me, at this point in my life I know what I'm doing in this scene, know my role as considerate Casanova. I hate to admit it, but in the clubs and bars, it's so fucking easy for me to pick up a girl because they're not used to having a guy be nice to them. That is all sorts of freaking fucked the fuck up. But at least I can go through with it knowing that although I don't want a relationship, that I don't plan on them being anything to me, that I am genuinely trying to be an okay guy. Seen a lot of shit in my day; rudeness just doesn't cut it. Sexist, racist, condescending, snotty bullshit doesn't suit me. I don't play into that crap.

“Let's get out of here,” Lacey suggests, and I can see Korina is really into the blonde beauty hanging off her arm. She keeps licking her lips and tossing her hair. She might not be there in the morning – same as me – but Lacey must know that. Korina gives off the same vibes I do, only of a lipstick lesbian sort. I smile sadly. “I want to go dancing. Let's go dancing.”
Dancing.
Fuck. Korina's already nodding and confirming the name of a good club with Darwin. I have two choices. I can either go along with the group or I can choose one of these ladies and try to get them to go home with me. Thought I had a bit more time before the crowd bailed on me. I don't much feel like being alone right now.

“I guess dancing sounds alright,” I say, wondering if I might find a girl willing to spin the night away with me. That was my original intention anyway, right? I glance back at the group and see that they're back at the bar again, ordering another round of drinks. Hmm. “Okay, okay, let's do this.” I slip past Lacey and Korina and wait outside, hoping the gigglers won't notice that I've slipped out. I take a moment to light a cigarette and glance up at the moon. I can practically feel the light slipping across my skin, teasing me with a gentle touch and a smile.
Bitch.
I take a drag of my cig and let my head fall back. My eyes flutter closed and for a moment, I'm not in my skin but somewhere up in the fucking stars. I'm not worrying about how to blow off some co-eds; I'm climbing the sky and looking fate straight in the eye.
You wretched, wretched monster, you.
I came into this world with a mom who didn't want to be a mom, a dad who didn't give a fuck, and a grandma that I loved but who left too soon. Who decides how the cards fall in a person's life? Hmm? Whoever they are, they must be one sadistic little bastard.

“Ready to go?” Korina asks as I drop my head and finish my cigarette with a final drag. She has her arm wrapped around Lacey, snuggling up to a stranger. “We want to stop by the convenience store up ahead and grab some cigarettes and stuff. You cool with that?”

I shrug.

“Cool with me.”

Nobody here has a fucking car. We either walk or ride the bus. That's it. Well, okay, everybody but Lacey. I don't know a damn thing about that girl. Anyway, the store's just a few blocks away, so we walk together in a group, making small talk, laughing about nothing. The cold air stings my skin and my bracelets ring with each step I take, closing the dark distance between the club and the store. Everyone but me's loaded up with alcohol, leaning on one another and stumbling down the pavement.

By the time we hit the glass doors, I'm ready for a cold one myself. What I don't expect to see is that girl, the one in the red dress, standing near the register. As soon as we move inside and she sees us, I get a little weird. My stomach clenches and my throat goes dry. Guess I'm still just pissed at being called a whore.

“Hey Never,” Lacey says as I step away and move down the chip aisle. I really don't want any fucking chips, but I need something to do to distract myself. “I thought you'd gone home. What are you doing here?”

I force my gaze to remain on a bag of Doritos when all I really want to do is look up and study the curves under that red dress, let my eyes linger on that face, taste that pain that so closely mimics my own.

“I'm picking up my three favorite therapists: sugar, alcohol, and nicotine.”

I feel my lips threaten to twitch up into a smile, but nobody else finds the joke funny, so I choke it back. Damn, damn, and damn. I really do like this girl. We could've had a lot of fun together. Looks like we share the same sense of humor.

“Come hang with us, Never. We're going dancing.” I watch Lacey and Korina split up as the group separates and disperses into the store. Lacey stays where she is and looks at her friend expectantly.

“Never doesn't like to dance,” I say, even though I know I should just keep my fucking mouth shut. “She told me herself.” Have no freaking clue why I'm so into provoking this girl, or why I'm so disappointed. That feeling hangs over me like a pall, but only because I'm in a weird mood tonight, looking at possibilities and maybes and thinking far too much about feelings and instincts. See, I look at things like this: nothing I've ever done in my life before has been right, so when I have an idea about something, I always second guess it. Challenge it. Even ignore it. But right now, I can't seem to stop myself from acting like an asshole.

I can tell Never's glaring at me from the corner of her eye, but she doesn't say anything. Her friend, Lacey, takes care of that for her.

“Are you kidding?” she exclaims, like she couldn't be more excited about it. Never switches her death glare from me to her bubbly blonde friend as the girl pokes her in the arm. Dangerous move, that. Never doesn't retaliate though, just starts moving towards the door, a package of donuts clutched under her arm. “Never's mom was a belly dancer. She's great at it. Never, I mean, not just her mom.”

Huh.

I try not to let my brows raise with this new bit of information. Belly dancer. I've never slept with a belly dancer before. I bet that'd be fun. I look at Never again, and I try to keep my thoughts light. I try not to think about how a girl that does indeed dance just didn't want to dance with me. I examine her and don't try to hide it, searching her face for some hint of how she picked up all of that pain. It's not as common on people as young as us. Life usually takes a few more years to completely and utterly bend you over the table. I'm thinking though that if I was a teenage prostitute, a kid with nothing to lose, and a home life that would make a stray dog praise Jesus for his fleas, then what happened to this Never chick?

“I'm going to take the bus home,” Never says with a shake of her head. She moves to the side briefly as the glass doors open and let in a trio of raunchy lookin' kids, the kind that beat your face in just to grab ten bucks from your wallet. I look back at Never and hope Lacey can talk her out of that. If she can't, I might have to do the gentlemanly thing and walk her to the bus stop. My head's already started spinning tales about these punks following Never down the block and doing God only knows what to her. I might be paranoid, but only because I've seen shit that would cause the average Joe to puke up the turkey sandwich he had for lunch. Shit that doesn't even exist in movies because it's too fucking cruel. Never might've turned me down for a dance, but that doesn't mean she deserves the evils that the world holds hidden in plain sight.

“No, no,” Lacey tells her, reaching out to grab Never's arm. “Come hang out with us.” She leans in close to Never and nods her head in my general direction. I think Lacey's trying to be subtle, but I can hear her loud and clear. I have to fight back a smile. “He's single and cute, don't you think?”

“You're a lesbian,” Never whispers back defensively. “How do you know if he's cute or not?” I notice that she doesn't deny it though.
Lookie there, Miss Never thinks I'm the cat's meow.
I do my best not to grin. It wouldn't be appropriate, and anyway, I'm still irritated at her for calling me a whore. Just because I used to be one doesn't make it right. “Look, I just want to go home, okay? Is that hard to understand?”

I'm about to make another comment that I'll probably regret later, just to get her to stay inside the store, when I hear the gunshot. At first I think I'm imagining things or that I'm royally confused. Is that thunder? A metal garbage can getting knocked over?

“Get down on your fucking knees.” My eyes flicker over to the refrigerated wall of drinks at the end of the store. The trashy chick that came in with her two buddies is pointing a fucking gun at Never, the girl who doesn't dance.
Fuck. Fuck. And fucker fuck.
I can't die here. I have nothing to show for my life. Nothing. And I can't let anyone else die either. One good thing about living through the worst the world has to offer is that you realize how precious the good moments really are. Korina, Lacey, even Never, they're all young. Korina's other friends, like Darwin the flamboyantly gay biology major, they're all young, too.

I catch a glimpse of the clerk, slumped over the counter. Dead as a fucking doornail, he is. And there is just blood all the fuck over everything. It sends chills down my spine and causes my fingers to curl at my sides with adrenaline. No way I'm going to give into a couple of punks like this.

I drop to my knees like everybody else, casting one last glance at Never and her friend.
No
worries, ladies. I might not be a knight on a white horse, but I'm still going to try like hell to get you out of this.
I've got the advantage, crouching where I am. The three fucking Stooges, stupid enough to commit armed robbery
and
murder on camera in a shitty convenience store with poor cash flow, can't see me from where they are.

I turn away from the front doors and start crawling down the aisle. I have to move slowly because my bracelets are doing their damnedest to jingle around on my wrist and draw attention. If I thought I had time to remove them quietly, I would.

“What do I do now?” I hear the female shooter's voice echo around the store as I bypass the
Employees Only
door and continue down the back of the aisles, pausing at each one to make sure nobody's looking this way. Not even Korina notices me skulking around back here. At this point, I have a loose plan working itself together in the back of my head, but mostly, I'm runnin' on instinct. That pesky, little voice I usually ignore.
Goddamn, Ty McCabe, if you get yourself shot here today.
At least my life would be worth something. Even if I died protecting a bunch of people I don't really know, that'd make me happy. That'd mean my body, my spirit, my fucking soul were worth more than a few hundred bucks and a night in a motel. It'd freaking mean something.

“Son of a bitch,” I whisper when I hear a crash from the direction of the register. I don't have time to see what it is though, and I am not fucking risking my neck to look.

“Just shut the fuck up,” one of the men says, voice echoing strangely in the sudden silence. “You've already fucked this up enough, so shut your fucking mouth. Mel, search the others, take whatever they've got.”

Another pause, a rustle of clothing, footsteps. I hate that I can't fucking see shit from back here. Too late to turn back now though. I set my ringed hand on the edge of a shelf, next to some dented cans of green beans and stewed tomatoes. The next thing I hear does not put me at ease.

“Hey there, baby. What's your name?”

Fuck.

Laughter finds its way to me, clogging up my ears, making me sick to my stomach. I want to stand up and charge down the aisle, take some of these bitches out with a right hook to the face, but that crap only works in movies.
Slow down, Ty, take it easy. Slow and steady wins the race, right, tortoise?
With a comatose turtle in my head for inspiration, I manage to scoot through another aisle. Just in time, too. The second I slide out of sight, I hear movement at the end. Hopefully the only thing that's happening down there is that someone's getting robbed.

“I think I hear sirens,” the girl says and her words are followed shortly thereafter by a moan. Have no clue who or why that was, but it scares me. I don't like when bad things happen to good people. Or even average people. Fuck, even those of us with sin laden bloods on our hands deserve a break every now and again.

“Come on, I bet you'd like to play, wouldn't you, little bunny?”
I bet you'd like to get your face smashed in, wouldn't you, you sick son of a bitch?
The sound of boots squeaking across the floor is followed by a crack of flesh on flesh.
Goddamn it!
I scoot forward and make it to the end of the room, just one aisle away from the refrigerated wall. A quick peek around the corner shows me that the girl with the gun is still standing there, eyes darting every which way, hands shaking.