Trashy (9 page)

Vickie

The park is quiet. Shep called at lunch to say his shift would go long, so Buck and I should eat without him. I don’t know why he works so hard at the mine. I mean, I know it’s hard work, and it pays better than most places around here. Benefits and all that. But the hours are long, and I know it isn’t always safe.

I’ve taken to waiting on the front stoop for him to come home. Buck’s inside right now watching football. We kiss a little, but the times we fool around without Shep are fast. It’s not the same.

It’s twilight. The park’s real still and peaceful. Everyone’s inside, eating their dinners. Summer’s halfway done already, and the fireflies are in full force. Their blinking butts make me smile as they compete with the setting sun.

The new screen door swings open. Shep replaced it after Lloyd ripped it off. Buck steps onto the stairs, then stoops beside me. He’s got a cigarette for me in his hand.

“No thanks, I don’t smoke.” The boys don’t much anymore. Usually we’re too busy with each other.

“Have you ever had one?”

“No.”

“Humor me.” He holds it out again and I take it. The stairs shake a little as Buck plops down beside me. His legs sprawl out, and suddenly it’s like he owns the whole step and I’m just borrowing space. It doesn’t bother me. It’s nice having him here. Close.

Pulling a lighter from his jeans, Buck teaches me which end to put in my mouth. How to get the end lit and how to inhale. My lungs burn, but there’s a bit of a rush that comes with it. The taste is nasty and I’m coughing, but in a few drags I can see where the pleasure sets in. It’s a comforting habit.

“I hate when Shep is late,” I moan. As soon as the words leave my mouth, it occurs to me that Buck’s feelings might get hurt by this. “Not that I mind being alone with you, Buck.”

“Naw, don’t worry.” The weight of his arm falls hard across my shoulders, and I lean into him. “I get it. I don’t like it, either.”

We sit in silence. The Taylor twins are out now, dinner over, playing in the dusk. Their giggles carry through the park. It makes me smile with sadness behind it. That used to be me. It used to be Buck and Shep. The park gives you joy when you’re young and ignorant and too much weight and cruelty when you’re older. 

“You used to be the one giggling,” Buck murmurs, like he’s thinking the same thing. “Shep and I’d be out back, playing with fire crackers or looking at nudies we’d hidden from his grandma, and we’d hear your laughter.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, but I snuggle in deeper. Buck finishes his cigarette and puts the butt into his beer can. It sizzles in the final dregs at the bottom. “Baby girl, I gotta talk to you about something real unpleasant.”

There’s lead in my gut, in my lungs. While I haven’t been able to spell out my worries, there’s been a lingering fear that this was all too good to be true. That Buck and Shep would come to their senses and kick me out. That they’d figure out how much they love each other and not need me anymore. Chewing on the inside of my mouth, I wait for it, but there are tears already sweeping down my cheeks.

“What the hell are you crying for?” Buck leans away, surprise in his features. “I haven’t said nothin’ yet.”

“It’s okay. I just was waiting for this to happen--”

“Waiting for
what
to happen? What the hell, Vickie?”

When I meet his eyes, he seems genuinely shocked. His brows are pressed tight together and he’s looking at me like I’m crazy. Dashing the tears from my cheeks, I’m caught off guard. If this isn’t about them asking me to leave, what on earth could he want? “Aren’t you kicking me out?”

I’m not sure what reaction I expect, but Buck starts laughing in my face. “Hell no!” He grabs my breast and squeezes it hard. Pleasure ripples through me and I moan, despite trying to pull away. It only encourages him to lean in, both hands on my tits, squeezing them together and resting his cheek on the cleavage. “Where else would I find fine-ass titties like these?”

Buck’s crude, but his words always make me wet. “Stop! The neighbors will see!” Squirming, I try to get away, but Buck hurdles himself up and over me, pinning me back against the steps. The wood is pressing into my back, my rump, my legs. My thighs part instinctively, legs wrapping around his waist.

“Who cares?” He growls, nuzzling my neck. The hard length of his erection is pressed against me, and it’s hard to say no.

But I push my hands into his chest. “I care. Mama might be watching. Lloyd got home from the hospital, too.”

Buck tenses above me. “When?”

“Two days ago.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It’s park business. I just assumed you knew, too.”

Buck rests his forehead on mine. His hips begin to rock into mine, gently, as if humping me helps him think. That can’t be true, though, because he makes me a puddle of incoherent lust as he does it.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” I whisper.

But tires on gravel distract us. Shep’s Camaro pulls in and he gets out, eyes hard on us. “What the hell are y’all doing?”

I try to wriggle out, but Buck takes his time before getting up, which means I’m stuck while he dawdles. “Just waitin’ for you, man.”

“Have you lost your damned mind?”

Something skirts over Buck’s features, but it’s gone so fast that I’m not sure it really happened. It was doubt. Toward Shep. “Nope. Let’s go in. I bet you’re starving.” Buck pulls me to my feet as Shep storms past me into the trailer. A sharp tug at my wrist gets my attention, and Buck’s looking at me in warning.

Whatever it is he wanted to tell me-- he doesn’t want Shep to know.

Shep

Buck’s a goddamned moron. Practically humping Vickie out there on the front stoop! Our neighbors tolerate us because they loved my grandma. But there have been some rumors about Buck and me. And since my grandma died, we’ve been on thin ice. Honestly, I think the only reason we don’t have more trouble is because we share a lot of the venison we bring back, and we’re quiet. We don’t draw attention to ourselves.

He’s lucky, too. He’s charming. Funny. He can joke his way out of any situation, making the people who were just angry as vipers at him suddenly head over heels in love. I’m not funny and I know I look mean. But sometimes I wonder if I’m smarter than Buck, because I don’t do things like dry hump young girls on the front stoop. That’s just inviting shit to our home.

Dinner’s cold, but I’m not gonna snap at Vickie about it. She tries so hard to make us happy. I told them to go ahead; it’s not like she should cater to me. But the scheduling thing with Bill has me riled up, and my brain is in a hundred different places.

Vickie and Buck are sitting with me. Vick’s picking at her food while Buck is wolfing it down, trying for a new record in cleaning his plate. It’s quiet in the dining nook, and we don’t usually dine in silence. Something’s up between them.

It’s itching at me. Coming home and seeing Buck all over her just out in the open. She was writhing under him, too, the two of them were looking fine and hot and horny without me. Maybe that’s what’s rubbing me wrong. I came in last on her birthday. Buck made Vickie suck me off, but he got to her first.

But she gave you her cherry. That’s gotta mean something.

It did. It
did
mean something. And Buck! He’s been the one who’s been involving me. Touching me. But now something feels off. Different. He’s not looking me in the eye. Was he including me out of pity? Trying to help me with a woman like he helped me learn to fight? Helped me after my grandmother died?

Am I just a charity case to him? Is she falling in love with him instead of me? Instead of us?

Goddamn, Shep. You got too hopeful. Dad always said you’d get what’s coming to you.
It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about my father. Some memories are best left buried. My father isn’t just buried. I’ve spent most of my life trying to scrub him from my thoughts, especially that last memory of him--

The sawing of my knife in my chicken becomes a brutal thing, the blade screeching across our fake china until --
crack
-- the plastic plate breaks and my dinner goes flying. “Fucking hell!” I growl, shoving my chair back.

Vickie lets out a little squeal and Buck looks at me like, like, well, like I don’t fucking know. It ain’t good, that’s for damned sure. It’s like he thinks I’m dangerous.

Like he doesn’t know me at all.

It’s too much. He’s the person I trust most in the world. The person who stood by me, with my grandmother, when the whole town was out for my blood. She’s gone, so if he doesn’t trust me? Jesus, I can’t even think about it.

Grabbing my pack of smokes, I don’t say anything as I head out the back door. It isn’t much more private than the front, but I don’t want to see anyone right now. My head’s buzzing and I need something to calm my shit down.

Cig hanging from my lips, I flick the lighter over and over, pissed at how my hands are shaking with what? Fear? Anger? Shaking is all I know, and it takes too many tries to light the damn thing. As soon as I inhale, it tastes stale and I cough. Spit a couple of times to get the taste out of my mouth. It hits me that this pack is old. Vickie’s kept us so happy and occupied that smoking kind of tapered off on its own.

Fuck. Fuck Bill for starting shit at work and trying to push my buttons. And fuck his cronies for trying to get me riled up and making it so not a single damned day goes by that I’m not uncomfortable at work. Fuck Lloyd for being home now and the whole town for whispering about it.

Fuck Buck for that look in there. For maybe stealing Vickie from me (although I’m not sure that’s what’s happening). Definitely fuck him for touching me; for starting this screwed up relationship between the three of us. For touching me and making me want things I’d never considered before. Things I can’t exactly put back on the shelf if the two of them walk away.

Fuck Vickie for being so sweet and so damned sexy. For her giggles that lift my heart when nothing else can. For her large, brown eyes that watch my mouth when we’re talking, like she can soak up all of my words straight from the source. For her honeyed pussy that feels like home.

For making me dream of a life bigger than the three of us, but only with the three of us.

The screen door slams behind me, and I can tell it’s Buck because his huge frame blocks all the light. The summer cicadas are out and they’re loud as hell. The air is sticky. A storm’s coming, most like. Vickie’s been reading about metaphors in her online classes. She likes to tell me about them, her little fingers tracing the tattoo of the bulls as she does. The damp crackle in the air between Buck and me and the sky would probably delight her.

“What the hell, man?” He moves close to me, his shoulder pressing in a little. It’s closer than he should be standing. Not just because I’m mad at him, but because we’re in the park, and the park has eyes.

“Bad day, I guess.”

“Heard Bill’s got it out for you.”

Ah, well, news travels fast. Then again-- “When hasn’t he?”

Buck plucks the cigarette from my fingers and takes a drag. “Shit, this is nasty.”

“Yeah.”

He waits, trying to feel me out. I can hear Vickie in the kitchen cleaning up. She never complains about the cleaning, even though she bears the brunt of it now. On top of all her classwork, she makes our trailer a home. “Shep--”

“It’d be okay.” I say, tasting the lie on my lips. It might be a test, but for the most part, damnit, I love them. I love them both. I don’t know when it became love. Maybe when Vickie started giving me tiny peeks over her shoulder, her lips curled in a smile just for me. Maybe it was when Buck just made his way into my bed, like he always belonged there and I was too stupid to see it. If they want to be together, then I’d just have to be okay with it. I’d be a hollowed man, but I’d let them go if that’s what they wanted.

“What’d be okay?” Buck sounds so surprised, his deep, gruff voice lilting, that my guard wavers. So I give him a look, and his green eyes, dark in the moonlight, are questioning me. “Shep, what the hell are you talking about?”

I nod back toward the kitchen window, where Vickie’s humming and the sink is running. “You and her. If you’re ready to move on together without me. It’d be okay. I saw you when I came home and--”

“Shut the fuck up, Shep.” It’s a joke, but he means it. He flicks the cigarette to the dirt and snuffs it out with his boot. “There’s no me and her. There’s only us, and you fucking know it. Just because I touched her without you doesn’t mean we’re suddenly crowded. She and I were just talkin’ and things escalated. You know what it’s like with her.”

Like how you can’t breathe in her strawberry scented hair or brush by that milky skin without immediately getting hard? Yeah, I guess I know what it’s like.

“What were you talkin’ about?” There’s a hitch in my voice, like maybe I’m suddenly realizing I don’t want to know, but I’ve already started asking and it’s too late to stop.

“I was going to tell her about your folks, Shep. I know it’s your story, and I know I don’t know all the details--”

“You don’t know shit, Buck.” My skin is cold now despite the summer heat, and I cross my arms against it. Puff out my chest a little. It’s instinct, this need to look bigger. Scary. Intimidate the other guy before he can hurt you.

Because memories of my folks bring too much hurt. I don’t want to face it. I can’t bear it.

His hands are up, though, and he’s giving me space. “You’re right, you’re right. I don’t know shit. Because I never asked. I let you have room for when you wanted to tell me.”

My eyes narrow. “Tell you what, Buck?”

His face, usually creased with mirth, is like stone. Those green-now-dark eyes are rocky. Penetrating. “Whether you killed them, Shep.”

There’s nothing else he could have said, no punch that would have hit harder, no knife that could’ve cut deeper than those words. I’d always hoped, you know? That his standing by me, regardless of the police taking me into jail and questioning me, or the folks around the park murmuring loud enough we could hear, that this question didn’t matter to him. That he knew the answer already, because he knew me.

“And if I did? If I murdered my parents, then what?”

My muscles are tense and I’m ready to run. Go in the house, grab my keys, get in the Camaro, roar off and never turn back.

Buck doesn’t give me a chance. In an instant, thick, muscled arms are wrapped around my shoulders, pinning me to him. Our chests are pressed together, hard pecs against hard pecs and the heat of him, Jesus, it’s snaking into me. Buck pulls me tight into his embrace, his lips resting on my neck.

It catches me off guard. My fists are squeezing with the impulse to punch a man and the immediate response of my cock to his touch. Always, when he’s touched me before, we’ve had Vickie there. A buffer. A bandaid. An excuse and a catalyst and a necessary component all wrapped in one.

“What are you doing?” The words tumble from my lips, but they’re half plea, half whisper.

“I don’t care if you did it, Shep.” The brush of his mouth against my skin sends jolts of pleasure through me. Breathing deep, I force my fingers to unfurl. They find their way to his waist. “I care about protecting you. Protecting Vickie and us. So I wanted to warn her, and yeah, I wish you’d tell me what happened that night, but not so I can cast you away if I don’t like it. So I can help keep you with me.”

It’s like I’m standing in one of those waterfalls they show on the travel channels Vickie likes so much. The huge ones, all white foam and crushing power, with those men who dare to stand in the fall, beaten down by the never ending onslaught of water. Buck’s closeness, his compassion, his fucking
love
are eroding me. How can we feel this way for each other? What does it mean? I’m so pulled to him right now. Not a damned thing feels
wrong
about this embrace, but it’s overwhelming and-- “I don’t know what to do,” I admit.

He releases his embrace a little but doesn’t step away. Somewhere in my mind I know how dangerous it is for us to be like this. Together, in the low yellow porch lamp, a fucking spotlight on things this park could never understand. But I’ve needed something-- I’ve needed this, this right here-- for so long and didn’t even know it. I’m not backing away now that it’s here just because of some peeping assholes who should learn to mind their own trailers.

Buck’s hand cups my cheek. His thumb slides over my cheekbone and my skin burns beneath his touch. Then his mouth is there, crashing into mine, before I have the common sense to stop him.

Kissing Buck isn’t like kissing Vickie. With Vickie, it’s all me guiding her soft lips, plundering her wet mouth with my tongue. She yields to me. Buck does not yield. Our kiss is bruising. It’s a battle with teeth and tongue. There’s no elegance, no seduction, just raw intensity.

My fingers wind into his disheveled hair, and I’m thankful he keeps it so shaggy and long because when I fist it he groans. It hits me that there’s silence then. No dishes or activity in the kitchen. Even the song of the cicadas seems softer. Muted.

In Buck’s arms, I feel exposed.

Breaking the kiss, I shove him away, and it slams into me what we just did. There was the two of us. Buck had just dragged me, and my hard on, across  the line that we’d been dancing around. If Vickie wants to leave, or he does, or we fight, or who the fuck knows-- if anything happened before that kiss, we could have stayed friends.

There’s no friendship anymore. Or there is, but it’s saturated with something else. It’s tainted. Stained with the passion I felt in that kiss. The way it felt so right and natural. We’ve crossed the line, and it terrifies me. Because I can’t lose them, not like that.

When I glance at the trailer I see Vickie in the doorway, her mouth dropped, and the trickle of fear I was feeling becomes a torrent. She said she liked it when Buck touched me, but two men kissing? That’s different. That’s not done around here.

I wait for her shock to turn to disgust.

“Don’t stop on account of me,” she murmurs, voice low and husky. Buck laughs and grabs my hand, pulling me inside.

“Stop dragging your feet, Shep. You don’t want to leave us hanging, do you?”

I’m overthinking it. Worrying. It’s what I do. But Buck doesn’t know how to worry, not really, and Vickie’s too young for me to want her to. So it’s up to me.

“Please, Shep,” Vickie whispers, and it shuts my worrying down. “Come inside. Come home.”

So I do.