Where Souls Spoil (11 page)

“So, who did she hook up with? Was it Ian?” My mood has taken a turn for the better, much to Ruby’s enjoyment. She smiles back at me, clearly amused by my interest in this subject.

“Why Ian?” she asks.

“Because he’s all brooding, and she’s all grouchy. They just seem like they’d fit together.” She shakes her head, laughing. I try to think, and then it comes to me. “Duke,” I say with a nod. Her answering smirk tells me I’ve hit the nail on the head.

“And how did you come up with that?”

“Because he’s such a whore,” I blurt out, then cover my mouth in regret. Duke has made a habit these last two months of stopping by and catching me up on his dalliances, not that I want to hear them. Ruby’s jaw is slack, and a moment later she throws her head back in laughter. My cheeks are hot with embarrassment. Shaking my head, I find myself mortified by what I’ve said.

“I didn’t mean that,” I protest, but it does me no good. Ruby’s enjoying my honesty a little more than I’m used to.

“Oh, yes you did. I’m glad you feel comfortable enough with me to be honest like that.”

“I’m not,” I say, taking a sip of my iced coffee. “What if he overhead me say something like that?”

“So what if he did? It’s not like you insulted him,” she says. I shake my head and pull in more of my refreshment. A giggle escapes me. Even imagining calling Duke a whore to his face makes me nervous, much less actually doing it. Though, if I’m being honest with myself, in the back of my head, I’m contemplating doing it the next time he calls me Princess.

“So, when are you going to ask me about school?” My head shoots up at the implication. She’s on target, of course. But still.
How does she know?
My shock registers on her face, and she leans in close.

“I saw the search history on the desktop.”

“I was going to ask. I was just putting it off.”

“Why?” she asks. I let out a heavy sigh, unsure how to explain this to her. Despite the fact that my father had put me in the most exclusive private school in Brooklyn, one that promises its parents a ninety-nine percent graduation rate and a ninety-six percent college acceptance guarantee, he never intended for me to go to college. He’s old-school Italian like that. Before my mother even gave birth to me, I was expected to grow up into the perfect Principessa, marry the family man my father most approved of, and to provide my husband with as many male children as I could. Not that I ever asked, but he never mentioned it, either.

“I’m afraid you’ll say no.”

“Alex, you make your own choices. Jim and I don’t get to decide that for you.”

“I also want to get a job,” I say, before I can stop myself. Getting a job is something I’ve been thinking about for the past month or so. The money Gloria gave me will last me for a good, long time, but I want to be productive. I can’t just sit around the house all the time. It’s driving me nuts.

“I’m sure Jim can find something for you to do around the shop.”

“I’d like that.” And I would. So far, this day has been a serious rollercoaster of emotions. So much that I had been holding in these past two months came to the surface today. I have a home, a family, I might even have a friend in Duke, I’m actually getting to go to college, and I might be getting a job. And finally, this feels like my life is taking a turn for the better.

Chapter 13

You were once wild here. Don't let them tame you.

Isadora Duncan

MY ARMS ARE like jelly after shopping for the party. When Ruby told me we were going to be picking up party supplies, I expected a few bottles of each kind of alcohol and even a few cases of beer. What I hadn’t known was that we’d be filling up the Suburban with enough food and liquor to supply the entire town. It took us visiting two grocery stores and three liquor stores to find everything we needed. Thankfully, when we got back to the house, the prospects took over grilling and setting everything up. I have never been so grateful for Tall and Squat before.

The noise outside of my bedroom door is at an all-time high. Even PJ and Tegan, who are normally in everyone’s business, have taken to hiding out in here with me. The house has never been this noisy before, but then, Jim and Ruby haven’t had people over like this in the time I’ve been here. Not that I would really know what’s going on out there. The moment Ruby turned away to find Jim, I snuck off into my room to hide and check out the fall schedule for Redwoods College. But that was over an hour ago, and the school isn’t very big, a few hundred students at the coastal campus at the most. There’s a selection to choose from—art, history, science, and even automotive technology courses available. But some of them require other courses be taken first, and I don’t know where to start. It isn’t helping any that I grabbed a bottle of vodka before sneaking off. It’s not like I’ve been sitting here chugging it out of the bottle or anything. I’m classy. I grabbed a glass to pour it in.

Frustrated, I close my laptop and set it on top of my dresser, swaying a little when I stand. I look around, suddenly annoyed that I don’t even have a desk in here. I’m so unprepared to start classes, it’s not even funny. But I’ll worry about that later. Right now, I just want to loosen up a little. I’ve had exactly enough alcohol to lower my inhibitions, but not so much I’m not aware of what I’m doing. Before the last couple of sips of alcohol, I had been convinced that all I needed for a proper party was in my room with my laptop and the vodka. Now though, my curiosity has been piqued. I’ve seen how mobsters party; now I want to see how bikers party. I give the dogs one quick look and find that they’re curled up together beside my bed. It’s crazy to think I was once scared of them.

A crash sounds outside my bedroom door and then loud screams followed by a chorus of laughter. Before I can think better of it, I swing the door open and peer down the hallway. A suffocating strain is put on my chest at the sight before me. Ryan is pressed up against the other side of my bedroom wall. His head is tilted back against the wood paneling, his eyes closed. A woman, curvy with jet black hair, drapes herself over him. Her lips are attached to his neck, her pelvis rubs against his, and her hands travel up his abs. Words fly through my head at such high speed they threaten to fly out of my mouth.

Whore.

Bitch.

Skank.

Something primal strikes me. I have to grip the doorframe to keep myself in place. It’s stupid, this jealousy. Wanting Ryan when I’ve barely seen him for two months. Wanting him after he was such a bastard. There’s just always been something about the things I can’t have. I want them more than anything.

“Princess!” Duke’s deep voice sounding behind me makes me jump. Ryan shifts his head, staring me down with angry, bloodshot eyes. A quick look at Duke, and I see he’s leaning up against the wall with a grin on his face. The sickly sweet scent of pot wafts off of him. His normally rigid posture is slack and his eyes are unfocused. In his left hand is a bottle of whiskey, and in his right is a lit cigarette that’s nearly burned right down to the filter.

With my eyes back on Ryan, I back up until I’m next to Duke. Taking the bottle of whiskey from his hand, I bring it to my lips and suck in as much of the vile stuff as I can without breaking eye contact with Ryan. Lowering the bottle, I lick my lips. His body vibrates in irritation, his jaw ticking as he fights to keep himself still. Duke fumbles behind me, throwing a heavy arm over my shoulders.

“Again,” Ryan says huskily, giving the woman on him a gentle push. Oh, he wants to do
this
again. She pauses for a moment then continues her ministrations on his neck, her right hand reaching down to cup his dick through his jeans. His lips part. I’ve seen enough, but I can’t help myself. I bring the bottle to my lips and suck down twice as much as the last time, never letting my eyes leave his.

“Again.” And just like last time, I take another draw from the bottle. Duke watches us, his eyes slowly moving between Ryan and me.

“Something going on here?” he asks. Ryan’s eyes cut to Duke and then narrow when they fall on me. I don’t know what his problem is, but he’s pushing me in ways I can’t handle. I shake my head and turn to Duke. My belly is a flutter with a mass of nerves. I think I’m either going to be sick or pass out, perhaps both. My head is swishy, and my knees feel a little weak. Perhaps I imbibed a little more in the comfort of my room than I realized. I can’t chicken out, though. I want to prove that I can handle it here, and that means not running away to my room every time something happens that’s even remotely uncomfortable.

“I want to have fun,” I say. Duke tightens his grip around my neck and gives Ryan the cockiest smirk I’ve ever seen.

“Princess wants to have fun,” he says, leading me toward the kitchen, past Ryan and that stupid bitch who still hasn’t let go of his neck. With every step that brings me closer to Ryan, my heart rate speeds up little by little. Brushing past them, a calloused finger reaches out, wrapping itself around my pinky. His touch sends waves of heat and bolts of anger through my entire body. I don’t want him touching me, but my body craves it. The more distance I put between us, the farther our arms must stretch to keep the contact. And we do for as long as possible. A quick look back, and I find Ryan’s arm reaching out, his index finger slipping from its grip on my pinky. We lose contact, and suddenly I’m not nearly drunk enough for this shit. Turning my attention toward the kitchen, I bring the bottle of whiskey to my lips, intent on making everything so blurry I won’t be able to remember what Ryan’s touch feels like.

“What are you up for?” Duke’s breath washes over my face, an olfactory reminder of how high he is. I check my nerves in the hallway and bring my face to his.

“Anything,” I whisper, letting the word drawl out in a husky breath. Really, I could fall over right now with how terrified I am of my own actions. If I thought I was in over my head with Ryan, I’m not sure what I’m thinking as I lead Duke on. The smile on his face is blinding. He leads us through the kitchen, where men I’ve never met play poker. Women who are nearly naked flank their sides. One conspicuously has her hands beneath the table, and the man beside her looks like he’s having trouble focusing. I turn away quickly. It’s not much different through the rest of the house, where people have crowded into smaller groups and talk amongst themselves. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a few couples making out up against walls, or in the corner of furniture. Through the open windows in the living room, Ruby and Jim, she in his lap, entertain another group in the sun porch beyond.

We round the corner to the foyer and exit through the front door, making our way down the deck. We pass men in vests who smoke cigarettes, grope the women who stand beside them, drink straight from the bottle, and even what looks like a coordinated fight between two of the prospects, but I can’t make out who it might be.

We make it to the barn before it quiets down enough to really hear anything of substance. The closer we get to the cracked barn door, the more it smells like they’re burning sage in the barn, only wetter and sweeter. I know better than to assume they’ve lit incense to help soothe their nerves. The smoke coming from the barn is thick and stings my eyes more with every approaching step. I take another drink from the whiskey bottle and shake off the shiver that runs up my spine. Now that we’re out here, I’m less nervous than I was in Ryan’s presence.

“This is why I like you, Princess. Underneath that little girl act, you’re wild.”

Tears spring to my eyes as a flurry of emotion bursts inside of me. I barely contain the scream that wants to escape. My chest rises and falls with labored breaths. I push my body up against the front of his and whisper, “I’m no little girl.”

His arm falls from around my shoulders and cups my hip, his fingers splayed on my ass cheek. He lowers his face, his eyes darting to my lips. The energy’s changed between us, and suddenly Duke, my friend, is Duke with the piercing blue eyes and the firm grip on my ass. His fingers kneed my pliant flesh, and I press into him.

“No, you’re not,” he whispers and lowers his lips to mine. His kiss is rough and persuasive, like he’s trying to convince me of something. But I don’t need to be convinced of anything in the state I’m in. I want it all. No matter the disaster I’m going to face tomorrow, I want to enjoy the trip down the rabbit hole tonight. I open my mouth, inviting his tongue inside. I keep my eyes closed tight, trying to block out the feel of his goatee against my skin. Ryan doesn’t have a goatee, but if I focus on the way his tongue slides against mine enough, maybe I can block the differences out. I let myself drown in the idea that it’s Ryan who’s wrapped himself around me, whose dick is pressing up against my stomach, and I become greedy, needing more than he’s giving me.

He speeds the kiss up hungrily and then slows it down, withdrawing his tongue until he’s merely placing chaste kisses on my corner of my mouth.

“You taste good, Princess.” His voice is a painful reminder that it’s not Ryan here with me, that I’m self-medicating. But it’s not enough because Ryan’s in the house with that stupid bitch. His neck must look like a victim of domestic violence by now with how hard she was sucking on the skin. I wonder what else she sucks on that hard.

“Shut up,” I snap against his lips. Duke’s eyes focus for a moment as shock registers on his face. Then he’s descended on me again. I take my frustration out on his mouth as I nip and suck at his soft lips. Slowly, we slide to the damp grass and tangle in one another’s limbs. Every time he grunts or moans, I find myself irrationally ticked off. I try to limit how often I hear his voice by keeping his mouth busy.

His body covers mine, his right hand trails up the outside of my bare thigh. Fingers drag over my jean shorts. My body responds to the attention immediately as I dampen my underwear. I let my head fall back into the grass, arching my back in anticipation. Clenching and unclenching the muscles in my lower stomach, my breath hitches as Duke unbuttons the top of my shorts and then tugs down the zipper in one smooth movement. His thumb circles the top of my pants and then dips below, brushing against my soft curls. My body tenses as his thumb makes contact. Moving in a clockwise motion, he keeps his speed steady. My core pounds with a wanton need, pushing me to the edge. As he slips a single finger inside, I think back to Ryan wrapping his cracked pinky around mine when the tire blew in the van, the ride into Nevada, and even his angry rant. As I dissolve into a thousand little pieces, the only face I can see is the same one that’s been haunting me for the last two months. I bite down on my bottom lip to control the scream as my muscles tighten and I spasm around Duke’s finger.

Barely coming down from my release, Duke moves off of me. His middle finger is pointed up, covered in my juices. He dips it into his mouth and sucks it clean. Looking more sober than he has all night, he adjusts himself in his jeans. I prop myself up on my elbows and stare up at him in confusion. A mixture of shame, embarrassment, and fear overtake me as he gives me a cold look and turns to walk away. The more distance he puts between us, the more painful the rip becomes in my chest.
What have I done?

I want to ask him where he’s going, if I did something wrong, and even beg him to come back. I fight the urge to zip up my shorts and chase after him. I have such little experience. I’ve dated, sure. And I’ve fooled around. I’ve had sex. But never have I let some dirt bag finger me in a damp field before. Never have I just been left like this before. And never have I wanted to just disappear this much before. So I don’t chase after him, I don’t even zip up my shorts. I just lay there, in that field, for as long as I can take the encroaching cold. Silent tears stream down the sides of my face as I stay perfectly still, in the same exact position he left me in, feeling like the most pathetic person to ever live.

I drag my zipper up, catching my index finger in the process. It throbs, but I force myself to ignore it as best I can. Just then, the night sky lights up in an explosion color so vibrant it makes me blink away the spots that dot my vision. Fireworks shoot high in the sky, like missiles they wheeze through the air and then burst with pops. I watch them, mesmerized by how lovely bolts of fire and light can be in the near total darkness surrounding me. Lying here, alone with the fireworks, I whisper to myself, “Happy Independence Day.”