Threat (9 page)

“Alright then,” he says. “Truth.”

With one eye opened I turn my face toward him. “Truth? I
thought we were only doing dares.”

“My game,” he reminds me, pointing to his chest.

“Fine. Truth. And you can go first.”

He lets out a howling bark of laughter. “I don't think so. This
game is for you, sweet cheeks.”

I feel like I should be taking a shot every time he comes up with a
new nickname for me.

“What, are you scared?” I taunt him.

He twists his mouth, his jaw tightening. “Do you really think a
guy like me is scared of anything?”

“That's what I'm trying to figure out.”

He shakes his head and shrugs. “Fine, then,” he relents.
“Truth. Ask me anything. I’m an open book.”

Oh, this should be good. “Hm…” I stroke my chin
mischievously, there are so, so many things about him that just don't
make any damn sense; where does one even start?

“Hit me with your best shot, Parker.”

“Why did you go to juvi?” Pretty simple question, but I'm
dying to know.

He lets out a long sigh, diverting his eyes across the cavern, yet,
he doesn't exactly look ashamed.

“Are you sure you wanna hear this story?”

“I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't.”

He links his fingers behind his head as he wades in the water.

“Whatever the answer is, I can tell you right now, it's not
that intriguing to anyone else,” I tell him.

“Then why the hell did you ask if you don’t care?”

“I didn’t say I don't care. I do want to know. I'm just
telling you that the story probably isn’t as compelling as you
think it is.”

“Good God, do you have to be such a frigid bitch about
everything.”

“Ugh! Don't call me that!” My whole face scrunches and I
splash water right in his face, again and again until he's blocking
the man-made waves with his arms.

“Shit, would you stop that! What the fuck, are you trying to
drown me?”

“Maybe!” I reply, slapping one last bit of water at him.
“Don't fucking call me a bitch again.”

“Then stop acting like one!” he says.

“Just answer the damn question,” I demand.

“I was framed, that's why.”

Beneath the water, I fold my arms in front of me. “You know
it's called truth, right? As in, you have to actually tell the
truth.”

“Except I
am
telling the truth,” he continues.
“Look I was fucking this really hot girl—“

“Oh, God,” I groan.

“Would you listen please? So I was fucking this girl—you
probably remember her, Susan Lafferty.”

That name sounds awfully familiar. “Wait, Lafferty? As in Mrs.
Lafferty, the English teacher?”

“That would be the one.”

Am I really hearing this? “You fucked the English teacher's
daughter?”

“No, I fucked Mrs. Lafferty.”

My mouth drops open in horror. Should I be shocked? Probably not,
knowing him, but I am. He really has no shame at all.

He shrugs. “What? She was hot. You remember what she used to
look like.”

I bury my hands in my face. “I just...I can't.”

“Any who... it was out this way, actually, not too far from
here. We had a few beers, a little bit of weed and well, if you knew
Mrs. Lafferty you'd know those two things get her really horny. Like,
she was all over me. So I was fucking her from behind in her car
and—”

“Spare me the details!”

“God damn, such a fucking prude,” he mutters under his
breath. “As I was
trying
to say, the cops decide to bust
in on us, all naked and shit, just to be dicks.”

I blink rapidly. “Just to be dicks? You don't think it had
anything to do with the fact that, oh, I don't know, a grown woman
was taking advantage of a kid in her car?”

He rolls his eyes, splashing water in my direction. “Oh,
whatever, she didn't take advantage of shit. I was almost sixteen at
the time.”

He was
fifteen
? I think I'm going to hurl.

“So, like, the bitch starts yelling rape. She's the one who's
all over me, comes and picks me up, brings me out here, and what does
she do? She tries to fucking accuse me of rape because she doesn't
want her husband to know she's slept with half the football team, and
she doesn’t want to lose her job.”

This is like a train wreck. The longer it goes on, the more
horrifying it gets, and yet, I can't stop listening.

“I'm denying it but the asshole cops aren't buying it. So I'm
like, you know, I can be an asshole right back to the cops—bad
idea.”
You don't fucking say?
“They haul me down
to the precinct, Mrs. Lafferty finally breaks down and admits it was
consensual. But guess what? The cops still found my bag of weed, so
they lock me up anyways, just to be jerks.”

“Please tell me you just made all that up.”

He shakes his head. “Not a word of it.”

“That's… disgusting.”

“I know, right?”

“I mean, she's the one who raped
you
. And she tried to
say it was the opposite?”

His whole face goes blank. For a moment he looks puzzled, and then
angry. “What the hell?! How the hell could that broad rape
me
?”

“Um, it's called statutory rape. You were fifteen.”

He waves his hand at me. “Get the fuck out of here with that
mess. That shit wasn't rape, it was consensual!”

“You weren't even old enough to consent, not with a woman her
age!”

“She was only twenty-eight years old!”

“Right, and by law,
that's statutory rape
.”

His brows lower, I've never seen quite so much rage on his face—and
it's directed at me? Why?

“What is your damn problem?” he demands.

“What did I do?”

“Don't try to psychoanalyze me.” He pounds the surface of
the water with his fist. “You don't know shit about what you're
talking about.”

“Look, I know it's tough to hear the truth, but I—”

“Fuck that,” he shouts, jutting his chin out at me. He's
so damn aggressive right now, my whole body stiffens as I remember
what happened the last time I made him angry. “Do I look like a
victim to you? Do I look like I'm fucking traumatized? No, so don't
put that bullshit on me.”

“Why are you so mad? I didn't say anything that wasn't true!”

“Why don't you just shut the fuck up about it, Leah? Fucking
drop it. You don't know shit about the real world, you know that? You
haven't even lived, except in that perfect insulated little bubble of
yours.”

“Fine,” I resign, turning away from him. “Let’s
just go, okay?”

“Fine by me.”

THREAT

Fucking Leah Parker. She might play innocent, but she knows exactly
what pushes my buttons and never fails to use it. I'd leave her ass
behind in this cave if I could but she's following behind me as I
swim to the exit and I can't exactly shake her.

Keep your eye on the prize. It will all pay off at the end.

“My clothes?” she says to me as I climb out of the water.

I don't even look at her, because frankly, I don't want to. “What
about them?”

She hesitates. “I'm not getting out of here without them.”

I shrug and start to walk away. “Suit yourself.”

“Threat!”

“What?” I reply with obvious exasperation.

“Can you get me my clothes, please?”

I stretch my back out, knowing good and well she's getting an eyeful.
“Get 'em yourself.”

She makes some strained gurgling sounds from behind me.

“Do you swear you won't look?” she asks.

I have to think for a moment. Sure, I don't want to look at her
annoying ass face right now but that doesn't mean I wouldn’t
like looking at her other... parts.

“Threat?!”

“God, fine, no. I won't turn around, okay?”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes.”

“Can you find me some big leaves, or something?”

“No, I just fucking said I won't fucking look at you, so come
the fuck on!”

She pauses. “Say
fuck
one more time.”

I press my palm against my forehead. She'll be the death of me, I
swear it.

I start off, pushing my way through the trees back around to where I
left my bike. Leaves rustle behind me and I know she's following me
with a significant amount of distance.

“What if there are other people out here?” she frets.

“Then I hope they have cameras.”

“Ugh, don't say that.”

I ignore her for the rest of the way. Walking naked through the
forest is just what I need right now—fresh air, getting in
touch with nature. It's the perfect way to cool down after how hot
headed she made me back there. Who the hell does she think she is,
anyways? Telling me how I should feel, making me into someone's bitch
just because I fucked an older chick. My hands ball into fists,
knocking twigs and leaves and branches out of the way like they're
skulls. Just thinking about her pisses me off.

“Why are you doing that?” she asks.

“Shut it.”

For what's probably the first time in her life, she listens. She
doesn't make a peep the rest of the way, and I’m guessing it’s
because she could sense how angry she made me. No, forget that; she's
not that self-aware.

When I finally step out of the brush I make my way over to my bike
and pull on my clothes. It's then that I realize she's not behind me
anymore—no, she's hiding from me behind a bush.

“Can you bring me my clothes?”

“Get them yourself,”
I
mumble back.

“Please? Just hand them to me.”

I roll my eyes hard. She's so fucking high-maintenance.

I yank her things up off the ground, pounding the dirt beneath my
feet as I stop toward her direction. “Here's your God damn
clothes,” I snarl as I chuck them at her. Yeah, that doesn’t
exactly make her happy.

I sit back on my bike and light a cig, checking the time on my cell
phone while I exhale a puff of white smoke. It's past four, and at
the rate we're going we should be at the next stop before six.

“Do you know how many chemicals are in that?”

She really doesn't know when to stop, does she?

I turn to her, not hiding my annoyance. “What, you want some?”
I ask as I flick the ashes in her general direction. She yelps and
jumps back.

“What the hell, Threat? That's really fucking dangerous!”

“Did I burn you?” I ask.

“Well, no, but you tried.”

“Trust me if I wanted to I would have. Now get back on the
fucking bike.”

Her lids lower and she looks pissed. “No.”

I would gladly take off and leave her. Or to be nice, I could zip
down the road, turn the corner and park there for a good fifteen
minutes, taking in a drag while she freaks out and tries to run up
after me. Just thinking about it gets me excited. But I already know
miss goody two-shoes would be on her phone, crying to daddy within
seconds, and that wouldn't work out well for me. This whole
arrangement is starting to become more trouble than it's worth.

She steps toward me. “What's my truth?” she asks,
stomping her feet into the ground beside my bike.

“Excuse me?” I respond.

“You never asked me a truth.”

This isn't happening right now. “Just fucking forget about it
and let’s go.”

“No, that's not how the game works, remember?”

I roll my eyes hard. “Fine. Here's a question for you. Why do
you have to be such an abrasive bitch all the time?”

“Try again,” she replies.

“That's not a very good answer.”

“I mean ask something that isn't ridiculously rude and
misogynistic.”

“Misogi—
what
?” Is she making up words now?

She rolls her eyes and throws her hands up. “Just ask another
question, idiot.”

I take another drag. “So much for our truce.”

“Which went out the window the second you called me a bitch.”

I raise my hands and reply, “A spade’s a spade, sugar.”

Her whole face practically scrunches in anger—jaw clenched,
eyes narrowed, nostrils flared. She looks like an upset puppy, I
can't hold back my laughter. Dare I say she's kind of cute when she's
angry? Good God, what the hell is wrong with me?

I flick my cigarette but in the dirt and stomp it out. “We're
leaving. Now. Get on the fucking bike or I'll leave your ass out
here.”

She's defiant at first, challenging me with her eyes, foot stamped
into the ground. I give the engine a good rev to show her I’m
not playing around—that's all it takes for her to leap to
attention and jump on the back.

“Good choice,” I call out over the loud roar of the
engine, before taking off.

*

It's late in the day now and it's getting a hell of a lot hotter than
I expected. The sun beats down on me every time we stop at a red
light, sweat beading above my brow, dripping into my eyes and
stinging like a bitch. She's barely holding on to me now, but her
palms are warm against my hips. Luckily, the second I start moving
the wind whips against us, cooling down the ride.

And it's just my luck that we're driving through the middle of
fucking nowhere when my baby starts puttering.

“What is that?” Leah shouts from behind. I can barely
hear her, but I knew that question was coming.

Ignoring her I keep on going. The last thing I need is her freaking
out, or worse, nagging me and telling me 'I told you so'. Spare me. I
continue down the road, figuring there has to be a service station or
something up ahead. But the sound gets louder and louder with each
passing mile, and then my bike starts smoking.

Shit
.

“Is it supposed to do that?” she asks as I slow down, and
not by choice. My bike literally will not move any faster.

“Dammit,” I mutter under my breath as I bring us to halt
on the side of the road. I jump off and stand back to take a look at
it. Leah looks frazzled.

“Jump off for a second,” I instruct her, and she
complies.