Breakaway (17 page)

She did as I said though it took her three tries to get her leg high enough to reach the top and then she couldn't get her leg hooked over. Rather than give her empty encouragement, I just waited patiently while she struggled. Half my attention was on the background noise as I expected any minute for a flashlight beam to catch us in this awkward pose.

When she finally did get her leg up she gasped as the sharp edge at the top of the fence bit into her leg. But then we heard confused shouts and the slam of the back door as people started to run out of the house and scatter in every direction. “Cops! Cops!” someone shouted to announce the obvious. I thought we were dead for sure when she finally got her bottom half all the way over the fence.

“I'm going to fall,” Raine said, her voice tight from pain and fear.

“I won't let you fall,” I said simply.

“What now?” she asked.

“Dig in with your toes,” I said and shifted my weight so I could lift her under the armpits and lean over the top of the fence to lower her toward the ground. “You're only a foot or two off the ground. I'm going to let you go,” I said. “Ready?”

She took a small stumbling step as she landed but Chick stepped in to try to steady her and got knocked ass over elbows for his trouble. They both broke into nervous giggles as Raine bent over and tried to help him to his feet.

I hurried to follow them over the fence and landed with a twinge of pain in my ankle. Raine was bent over, rubbing her hands over her tights, as if to make sure she was still in one piece. Chick stood swaying, studying his hands as if he had never seen them before.

“You okay?” I asked them, dropping my voice to a whisper.

“I ripped my tights,” Raine said. “And I left my purse in Jordan's car.”

“It'll be all right,” I said.

As we started walking down the street, Chick fell into step between us. The two of them were slowing me down. Alone I would have been walking much faster, and I had to keep slowing up to stay beside them. The temperature had been dropping steadily during the party. I hadn't really noticed how cold it was, because of the exertion from climbing over the fence, but as a breeze lifted the sweat from my face I heard Raine shiver, her teeth chattering together.

“You cold?” I asked.

“A little,” she said.

“Just a little, huh?” I asked, teasing her because she was hugging her chest and rubbing her upper arms with her hands. I unzipped my hoodie and tugged at the sleeves then handed it to her, though Chick probably needed my jacket more than she did.

“Now you'll be cold,” she said as she took the jacket from me. And she was right, I was cold in just my T-shirt, but I wouldn't let her know that.

“I'm fine,” I said.

“Well … thanks,” she said.

Chick was quiet, thoughtful, kept bouncing off both of us, like a pinball, back and forth between us. Raine was tall enough and Chick short enough that we could speak to each other over his head. Like he wasn't there, yet at the same time, kept us apart.

She dug her hands into the front pockets of my sweatshirt and tucked the bottom of her face into the neck of, as if to warm her nose. After a minute she let the hoodie settle back onto her shoulders and said, “Your sweatshirt smells like you.”

“Oh, yeah?” I asked. “It smells offensive, you mean?”

“No, it just smells like … you. I can't really describe it.” The thought of her being close enough to know what I smelled like was kind of a turn-on. When I was around Raine I had to be a little bit of a dick, keep her at a safe distance. If I let my guard down, let myself say the kinds of things I wanted to say to her, there was no safe outcome. I was distracted, thinking about her, and realized she had still been talking and I hadn't been paying attention. “You know, most guys smell like an overapplication of Axe body spray or Old Spice deodorant. I hate to say it, but Jordan is the worst offender when it comes to spray cologne.”

Her comment reminded me suddenly to think of Jordie and Mario. I had just left both of them at the party to take their chances getting busted. Mario had gone down for sure, passed out as he was on the front porch. Two months ago that never would have happened. He would have been with me instead of with Travis, and I never would have left him, even if it meant getting busted myself.

“I'm texting Cheryl,” she said as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Maybe she and Jordie got away and are wondering where I am. They could pick us up.”

“You think Cheryl's worrying about where you are?” I asked out of curiosity.

“Sure, why wouldn't she be?” Raine asked, her eyes on her phone as she finished typing her text to Cheryl.

“Should we go back?” Chick asked me, his forehead wrinkled with a concerned frown. “I hate that Mario and Jordie will get busted.”

I snorted at that. “If Jordie gets busted out drinking and the cops call his parents it will be the last time the Colonel lets him drive that car.”

“The Colonel?” Raine asked. “You mean Jordan's dad?”

“Yeah,” I said absently, my mind already skipping ahead to figure how I was going to get us all home. I was used to walking everywhere, wouldn't think twice about walking the thirty minutes it would take me to get home. But Raine's house was too far from where we were and I wouldn't let her walk home alone, which meant I'd be just getting home when the sun came up if I walked her home first.

“The Colonel is a hard-ass,” Chick said. “Not that we ever see him. He doesn't like for Jordie to have company over. But Jordie's always complaining about him, about what a ballbreaker he is.” Chick's head jerked up suddenly, his eyes wide. “Uh, sorry,” he said to Raine.

“About what?” she asked, her nose wrinkling with the question.

“I didn't mean to cuss in front of you. In front of a girl, I mean.”

Raine laughed, loud on the quiet street. “Believe me,” she said, “I hear much worse from my brother. I've been
called
worse by my brother.”

“Oh, well, I don't like to cuss in front of girls,” Chick said.

“That's nice,” Raine said as she put her arm through Chick's and moved in close to him. “That's really nice. I like the idea of a boy showing respect like that.”

“Yeah?” Chick asked, his voice catching. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Raine said. “I do.” And she sounded like she really meant it, her voice becoming warm and soft as she looked on Chick with something resembling affection.

“It's too late to catch the bus,” I said, breaking into their little romantic moment, “not that I would know where to catch the bus in this neighborhood anyway.”

“So, how the hell am I supposed to get home?” Raine asked, keeping her arm linked with Chick's.

I wasn't really sure. There was only one option I could think of, and not a very good one, but I would still try to make it happen. “We can walk to Bad Habits from here,” I said. “It's only about a mile. Chris will let me borrow his car so I can drop you at home.”

“Who's Chris?” Raine asked.

“He's—,” Chick started to answer her, but I cut him off.

“He's the owner of Bad Habits,” I said. “He'll be there. He's always there on Friday and Saturday nights until close.”

“Oh,” she said. “God, I really need a ginger ale or something.” She covered her mouth with her free hand as she burped and grimaced. She laughed then checked the time on her phone and said, “I only have thirty minutes until my curfew.”

“We'll make it,” I said. “As long as Chris lets me use his car.”

“What time do you have to be home?” she asked.

“I'm all grown,” I said. “I can stay out as late as I want.”

“Really? Your mom doesn't care how late you stay out?”

“I don't think my mom gives a shit about me one way or the other,” I said, unsure why I was relating this information.

“What about your parents?” Raine asked, turning her attention to Chick.

“It's just my dad,” Chick said. “My mom's dead.”

“I'm sorry,” Raine said quietly.

“No biggie,” Chick said in his usual affable way. Dead mother. No biggie. Poverty. No sweat. “But my dad doesn't really worry about where I am.”

An awkward silence followed as Raine digested what we had said and I felt her judgment settle on us. Somehow I always managed to disclose things in conversation with Raine that I would never say to anyone else. Every conversation we had ended up being an accumulation of regrets for me.

“Well, I've always been a huge disappointment to my parents,” Raine said. “I'm used to it. Maybe they give me a curfew, but they only really care about our family image. My brother and I are supposed to be the best students, best athletes, best everything, just so they can brag about us. If my mom had her way I'd be wearing clothes that were color-coordinated to match our curtains.”

I laughed at that. “I guess that explains the pink hair. You wear it like that just to piss off your parents?”

“Maybe,” Raine said with a halfhearted shrug, and I could tell she didn't really like the suggestion that her pink hair was just an act of rebellion. “Maybe I figure if my hair is pink, they'll find at least one thing about me exceptional.”

When we got close to Bad Habits, I led them through the dark alley, instead of walking out onto the Pike. Chris would lose his shit if I brought a drunk underage girl through the front door of his bar. In the alley there was a sweet, rotten odor as we passed a line of Dumpsters, and the metallic smell of stale beer from the large cans holding the bottles for recycling.

“Stay out here,” I said to Chick. “You're too drunk. Chris will know as soon as he sees you. He won't let me use the car if he thinks we're all hammered.”

Chick waited obediently as I took Raine with me into Bad Habits. I didn't want to leave her in the alley with Chick since he would be pretty much useless if someone came along looking for trouble. And maybe, I just wanted her with me.

The door to the kitchen stood open and V
í
ctor, a Dominican guy who worked in the kitchen, stood against the brick wall, smoking a cigarette and looking at his phone.

“¿Qu
é
lo que?”
I asked with a chin thrust.

“Ella es muy bonita para ti,”
he said with a sly smile.

“No te pregunt
é
,”
I said, and he laughed.

Then we were inside the kitchen of Bad Habits, loud with the dishwasher running, people shouting to each other to be heard above the clatter of dishes, and a radio blaring salsa music.

“What did he say?” Raine asked.

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

“Was it about me?”

“He just said you were pretty. You don't speak any Spanish?”

“I speak French.”

“I bet that comes in handy. Wait here one minute,” I said, nodding toward the coatrack just inside the door. “I'll be right back. Hopefully he's in a good mood.”

The bar was packed with people and Chris was so busy I had to wait a few minutes before he noticed me standing there.

“What's the matter?” he asked when he came to the end of the bar to pull some bottles from the cooler.

“I need to borrow your car.”

“Is this a joke?” Chris asked. “Tell me it's a joke.”

“No joke,” I said. “My ride left without me. I've got a girl with me. I need to give her a ride home. There and back. That's it.”

“Wait a minute,” he said, then went to give the bottles to a customer.

Chris called out to the other bartender—they always had two behind the main bar on weekend nights—then followed me into the kitchen. Raine was leaning against the wall in the short hallway that led to the alley door, arms crossed over her chest and her nose tucked into the neck of my sweatshirt. She stood up straighter as we approached, as if she was trying to appear as sober as possible.

“Raine,” I said, “this is Chris. Chris, Raine.”

“Hi,” she said quietly with a shy smile.

“Nice to meet you, Raine,” Chris said with a nod. Then he turned to me and said, “You been drinking?” He held up his keys, as if he was ready to snatch them back if I admitted to having had anything to drink.

“I had one beer,” I said, “three hours ago. I'm fine.”

“Where do you live?” Chris asked, turning back to Raine.

“Um, over near Ridge Road,” she said and I could tell Chris was sizing up her condition with the practiced eye of someone who got people drunk for a living.

“About fifteen minutes from here,” Chris said, directing his comment to me. He pointed at me with a meaty finger. “You've got one hour. One minute after that and I call the cops and report the car stolen.”

I took the keys from Chris's hand and gestured for Raine to follow me.

“God, he's really scary,” she said quietly once we were well away from the entrance and walking through the alley toward Chris's car.

“Chris is all right,” I said. “He likes to talk tough but he's not so bad.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

When Raine and I returned to the spot where we had left Chick, he was gone.

“Should we look for him?” Raine asked.

“Nah,” I said, though even as I said it my eyes were searching the shadows along the alley for Chick's familiar form. “He probably forgot why he was here and just walked home. His apartment isn't far from here.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, her tone uncertain.

I thought about it for half a minute then said, “Yeah. Yeah, I'll take you home, then swing back by his place to make sure he got home okay.” The night, and the hours of sleep I would get, suddenly disappeared in a puff of smoke. “C'mon. I'd better get you home.”