Weightless (17 page)

My knee bounced as I thought hard about who to call. Rhodes popped into my mind out of nowhere and I shook my head, but then I paused. Maybe he
could
help. He did kind of save me from my thoughts after that night at the fair, and we were joking around more. He wasn’t Willow, by any means, but he cared about me. Right?

Before I could overthink it, I dialed his number.

“Hey, everything okay?” He answered after five rings, and I could tell by his breathy voice that he was busy.

When I didn’t answer right away, he muffled the phone with his palm but I could still hear him speaking to someone through it. My throat felt thick with something I couldn’t swallow as my mind raced, wondering who was there with him. When the phone cleared, he spoke again.

“What’s going on?”

“Can I come over?”

He paused. “Uh, it’s not really a good time. Did something happen? Are you hurt?”

“Please, Rhodes.” I hated the way my voice sounded when I pleaded with him. “I don’t really have anyone else to call right now. My parents are out of town and Willow… well, she’s not available. It’s kind of a long story but I really need to clear my head right now. Go for a run with me or cook for me or something — anything. I just need to… I need to do something.”

Rhodes drew out a long breath laced with curse words and I paced as I waited for him to answer.

“Okay. Give me thirty.”

He hung up before I could answer, but I exhaled, feeling some sort of unexplainable hope that he would hold the key to making me feel better. I realized then that Rhodes often gave me a hope that no one else could, and that recognition scared me.

I dressed in workout clothes, tossing my hair into a bun before packing a bag with extra clothes just in case we did something after. I didn’t know why I expected Rhodes to want to spend his Saturday night with me, and I guess that’s not really what I was asking. I just needed to pass some time, to get out of my thoughts and into my body for a while. Rhodes was actually a pro at ignoring me and not talking, which is more of what I needed in that moment. Maybe that was why I called him — it just made sense.

I left my house earlier than I needed to, mostly because I couldn’t stand to be in there alone anymore. I couldn’t believe I was taking the news of Willow leaving as hard as I was. It wasn’t like I thought she wouldn’t get into the program. Still, the hit of her news crashed through my already shaky emotions and I’d found myself spinning. I needed something to ground me.

Pulling up to Rhodes’ apartment complex ten minutes earlier than he’d asked, I tried to pass time playing on my phone in the Rover. Pictures of Mason and Shay along with
congratulations
posts to Willow flooded my social media networks and I tossed my phone into the passenger seat, letting out a frustrated sigh.

I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, applied another coat of lip balm, cleaned my Ray Bans with the end of my t-shirt before placing them back in their case. I popped in a piece of gum and chewed it for a minute before spitting it out my window. Not even sixty seconds had passed.

I knew he was with someone when I called, but surely he had time to get back home by now, right? I didn’t see his bike, but then again I
wouldn’t
see his bike because he parked it inside. Sighing, I gave up trying to wait.

“Screw it.”

I grabbed my bag and jumped out of the SUV, locking it behind me. The closer I got to Rhodes’ apartment, the more the familiar nerves my body associated with his proximity consumed me. He always made me anxious and I had no idea why.

When I reached his front door, I lifted my hand to knock, but it swung wide open before my knuckles could tap the light blue exterior. Rhodes stood in the doorway, but he wasn’t the only one. A busty woman with razor cut brunette hair and a fake tan was wrapped around him, her lips hard on his. She was giggling, but startled as Rhodes ripped his mouth from hers to stare at me.

“Shit.”

I snapped out of my trance and let my eyes fall to the ground. “Uh, sorry.”

“It’s all good, babe,” the woman said, her leathery hand touching my arm as she excused herself from Rhodes’ apartment. “We just finished up.” She threw a wink back at him and my stomach lurched, my cheeks burning. “See you at the club Monday, stud.”

With that, she swayed down the hallway, intoxicated by a high I was sure only Rhodes could provide. She didn’t even have her shoes on. She was waltzing away barefoot, her high heels hooked on two dainty fingers over her shoulder.

Rhodes and I both watched her until she was out of sight. I lifted my eyes to meet his again, but he’d already turned his back, leaving the door open behind him.

“Who was that?” I asked, following. I closed the door and tossed my bag on the floor.

“A client.”

“Uh huh.”

He leveled his eyes at me. “Don’t make this about me. I told you thirty minutes. It’s been twenty-five.”

“Well at least you have your timing down,” I scoffed.

“Why are you here?”

His question knocked the cocky smirk from my face. “Willow got into the early admittance program. She’s leaving in three weeks.”

Rhodes didn’t soften his glare or offer an apology. He simply nodded, turning toward his bedroom. “Let me get changed and we can run.”

And run we did. We didn’t talk the entire time, save for random things I spouted off on my watch, like how the first mile we ran was my fastest mile yet. Rhodes led me through the trail that lined the back of his apartment complex, showing me a side of Poxton Beach I’d never seen before. We ran past a few homeless colonies, their shaded eyes wary of us as we did. I swallowed, running faster to stay close to Rhodes.

I wasn’t sure how far we ran, but we were out for at least an hour before we made our way back to his place. Neither of us said a word as we took turns showering, and I knew he really was what I needed most in that moment. I already felt better about Willow, the run helping my thoughts settle, and Rhodes didn’t ask me to talk about it if I didn’t want to.

Still, after our showers, I sat on one of his kitchen bar stools with my hair in a wet, messy bun and watched as he pre-heated the oven, finally feeling like maybe I did want to talk. Even if just a little bit.

I waited as Rhodes began pulling ingredients and cooking utensils out onto the counter, wondering if maybe he’d ask me to talk about it, but he never did. That was part of his allure, which I knew, so the ball was in my court if I wanted to talk. For a while, I just watched him cook in silence. Every now and then he would glance up at me, but then his focus was drawn right back into the meal. He seemed to be working through something, too. Even while we were running, I could feel some kind of emotion steaming out of him, too.

“She’s my best friend,” I started as he cut a mango. “It’s always been me and her. We had our group of friends and everyone loved Willow, but at the end of the day, it was always us. We were supposed to go to college together. We want to have houses right next to each other. That was always the plan. Get married, have kids…” I trailed off. “I sound so stupid, don’t I?”

Rhodes shrugged. “You’re going to miss her. There’s nothing stupid about that.”

“But I wouldn’t have to miss her if I were going with her.”

“So why don’t you?”

I sighed. “I don’t want to do what everyone else in this town does. Go to Appalachian State, travel for a while, and then end up right back here. It’s like the cycle of life around here.”

“Yeah,” Rhodes said sarcastically, the knife in his hand clacking against the cutting board. “Sounds awful.”

“Oh like you want to be here any more than I do.”

“Some of us don’t have a choice.” He met me with hard eyes. Dumping the mango into a bowl along with diced tomatoes, he continued. “Besides, Appalachian isn’t the only college out there. What’s stopping you from going somewhere else?”

“My family.”

He mixed in a few spices, but didn’t look at me when he responded. “It’s not your family’s life you’re living. It’s yours.”

I chewed on that, falling silent. He had a point. I wasn’t sure exactly what it was that was holding me back from making decisions about my future. Part of me did want to go to Appalachian State University. They had a great photography program and Willow would be there. But then again, so would Mason. I could go somewhere else, like an elite art school where I’d r
eally
learn more about photography, but Dale would fight me on it and that wasn’t a battle I wanted to tackle. I was surprised he was even letting me slide with the
I’m taking time off
excuse for not applying to Appalachian State right after SATs. Maybe it wasn’t even about college. Maybe it was about the way I felt about myself, the feeling I was trying to change by training with Rhodes.

I was lost. I was frustrated. And though I knew in my head that I had the power to change it, I still felt so helpless.

I sighed, sipping on the water Rhodes had poured me. I had no right to be upset about Willow leaving. I could miss her, but I couldn’t feel much else than that. She was following her dreams and I couldn’t fault her for that just because I didn’t have my own.

Watching Rhodes work, I wondered who the woman was earlier and what they had done. It was stupid to wonder, really, because the implication was pretty clear — but I couldn’t figure out why he did what he did. He was young, attractive, smart — he could have any girl he wanted. Why was it the stuck-up house moms who got to live between his sheets? Was it the only way he could keep his job? Why didn’t he just work somewhere else, if that was the case?

I traced the lip of my glass with my fingertip, eyes skating with it. “You know you can file sexual harassment against those club members. They can’t make you do the extra… training.”

Rhodes scoffed. “Don’t be naïve.”

“Do you choose to do it, then?”

“Yes,” he snapped. “I choose to. And stop skirting around the word. I fuck them, Natalie.
Hard.
Long. And until they scream like they used to when they were in their twenties.”

I tried to swallow, but found no moisture to aid in the process. Rhodes’ scowl was intimidating, but I saw him shaking slightly. And that’s when it hit me.

He was embarrassed.

There was a reason he asked me to show up after that woman was gone. He didn’t like this part of himself, which prompted my next question.

“Why?”

“Because not all of us have a rich daddy.” He slammed the fridge shut with those words, popping the top off a bottle of beer.

“That’s not fair.”

“Don’t talk to me about fair,” he said, bringing the bottle to his lips. After a few chugs, he set it on the counter and splayed his palms out, facing me. “My twin sister disappeared when I was a senior in high school and as soon as I graduated, my foster parents kicked me out. The money stopped, right? So why would they want to keep me?” He shook his head. “I was glad to leave though, Natalie. Because being out on the streets without a clue as to what to do with my life was better than being beaten by my alcoholic foster dad every night.”

My throat was so tight, so dry. I wanted to say something, but I had no idea what.

“But I made it on my own. It wasn’t easy, but I learned real quickly that earning enough to live means not always doing what you want to do. I lived on the streets for months before I figured out the kind of work I could do to make real money. It was drugs at first, and then it evolved into… other things.”

“They pay you?” I asked softly.

“Of course they fucking pay me.” He shoved back from the counter. “And not shit money, either. I make more off one
session
with them than I do an entire month of working at the club. They toss hundreds around like food scraps.” He took another long pull from his beer, his eyes wild. It’s like he wanted to stop himself from talking, but he was at the point where he couldn’t. “You think I can pay for an apartment on my own with the twenty dollars a training session the clients pays me? You think I’d be able to afford the private investigator I’ve had searching for my sister for the past three years on the paychecks from the fucking country club?” He wasn’t yelling, but I felt anger pouring out of him. “I fuck sad, rich women to pay my bills. I’m a shitty fucking person. Is that what you wanted to hear, Natalie?”

He moved from the kitchen into the living room and plopped down on the couch, draining the rest of his beer before slamming the bottle on the coffee table. I jumped, but he just stared at his clasped hands, his elbows on his knees and his head down.

Cautiously, I moved over to sit next to him. There was something about the torture in his eyes and the tenseness of his jaw that made me want to photograph him. His edges were so hard, but in moments like that I saw his softness. I almost reached for my camera, but thought better of it.

“I’m sorry, Rhodes,” I whispered as I sank down in the couch cushion next to him.

He cringed, shaking his head. “Don’t.”

I bit my lip. I knew saying sorry wouldn’t make him feel any better. He wasn’t just angry, he was embarrassed — and it was my fault.

“You pay for an investigator?” I asked and he nodded, head still in his hands. I swallowed. “Has he found anything?”