I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2) (22 page)

Kay nods and kisses me in return. I love the feel of her soft lips pressed to mine. And I love that she’s as into this as me. Things start to get a little heated, but I try to maintain some control. After all, we are in the rectory office, and Father Maridale could walk in on us at any time.

Oh, fuck it.

My tongue wraps up with my girl’s tongue as her hands move down to my ass. Our bodies kind of smash together, and our kisses escalate from simmering to boiling over. When we finally break for air, I take a step back. We give each other these big, goofy grins. We’re so fucking ridiculous, but who cares? This is what love feels like.

A part of me considers telling Kay right there and then that I love her, but I hold off. Those words are way too precious to give away in the church office. I want the moment I give my heart to my girl to be better than this.

I take her hand in mine, and we just speak with our eyes for a minute. Kay gives me a look, like maybe she has something she wants to tell me too. But she remains silent.

After a beat, we sneak in a few more stolen kisses, and then I leave.

As I walk to my truck, I feel better than I did prior to seeing Kay. I flip the keys in my hand and ponder some things. Like, I wonder what Kay wanted to tell me. It seemed like it might be something good, based on the smile in her eyes. Shit, maybe Kay loves me, like I love her. Could it be possible for sweet girl to feel more for me than some kind of a friendship-lust thing? I sure hope so.

I think about this—and more—as I pull away from the church. But my inner reflection grinds to a screeching halt when my cell phone rings.

I glance down, and, shock-upon-shock, it’s my brother.

When I answer his first words are, “Mom made me call.”

I have a few choice words of my own in mind for a retort, but I hold my tongue. I know this kid has been hurt, by me, by fucking life. So I need to move slowly and rebuild his shattered trust.

I opt to stick with a nice, benign, “Hey, Will. How’ve you been?”

“Okay, I guess.” Awkward silence, and then, “Oh, thanks for the happy birthday text.”

I laugh. “Does that mean I should delete your earlier reply?”

“Yeah, delete it.” Will chuckles a little, and I know he’s softening, the ice is finally breaking. “Sorry about that. Mom was on my ass when I typed
fuck off
. I think I was probably saying it more to her than to you.”

“That’s okay, kid,” I reply. “But you should show Mom more respect. She’s trying, you know.”

Will doesn’t respond to my commentary on Mom. Instead, he snorts, “Kid? Shit, I’m not that much younger than you, bro. Besides, I’ll be eighteen soon, and then I’ll be a grown-ass adult. I’ll finally be able to do whatever the fuck I want.”

I laugh. “Shit, you have three more years before you have the right to call yourself a grown-ass adult,
kid
.” We both crack up, but then I quietly add, “And, Will, you know you have six more years till you’re legal to drink.”

My brother sighs. “Guess Mom filled you in, huh?”

“Guess she did.”

“I only took Greg’s booze once, okay?” My brother pleads his case. “My friends wanted to start celebrating my birthday early, that’s all. We drank a little last week in my room. Mom needs to fucking relax.”

“She’s just worried about you, bro. She’s doing her best, you know.”

That last gets a very sarcastic, “Yeah, right.”

He’s not completely off-base, but I have to be the adult here. “Will, you
are
only fifteen. I heard about you staying out all night. You need to slow down. Underage drinking…what else do you do? You better not be getting fucking hi—”

“Like
you
never partied,” he interrupts.

He’s got me there, but that doesn’t mean I want him to make the same fucked-up choices I made. I tell my brother as much, and he listens. I mean, I think he does. He remains quiet and doesn’t fight me at least.

I don’t mention anything about Mom’s proposed plan to send him to Ohio for the rest of the summer, but I do tell Will he’s welcome to visit anytime he wants. My brother thanks me, and when he does I hear just how young he really is. But I also hear how tired he sounds, and not in an up-all-night kind of way. No, Will’s tired tone is the sad, this-life-is-wearing-me-out variety.

My heart pulls and stutters. This kid should get to enjoy being what he is, a kid. But I guess that’s a luxury that was taken away from both of us a long time ago. I can’t lie to myself—Will’s just as damaged as I am from the shitty past we share.

So, I make it my mission to cheer him up. I spend the remainder of the call just trying to get my baby brother to laugh. I try so hard to make him feel like the kid he actually is, especially since it’s his birthday. I tell him crude jokes—filthy ones, really—until he’s laughing so hard he’s practically crying. And slowly, slowly, he starts to open up. Just a little at first. And then more and more, like a dam breaking.

He tells me about last night, the eve of his birthday. He and his friends got really drunk. No surprise there. Will doesn’t say if they did anything else, and I don’t ask. I just listen without comment.

My brother talks as I drive the rest of the way to my house, and when I pull in the driveway, he’s telling me about his art. He’s still drawing, comic book stuff. His dream is to someday have his own series of comic books.

I am just relieved this kid still has a dream. I ask him to send me some samples of his work. He promises to e-mail me some stuff he just recently finished. Shit, I can’t wait to see my brother’s art. It was good before, but now that he’s older I have a feeling Will’s art is going to amaze me.

Our call comes to a close as we run out of words, but I sense Will wants to ask something more. He’s stalling, just like Mom does when she’s trying to get up the nerve to ask something she knows I won’t like.

“What’s up?” I ask.

Will starts to speak, but then hesitates. I wait him out, and finally, he gets to the point—my brother wants me to transfer some money into his banking account.

“Mom’s being a bitch after last night,” he says. “And there are a bunch of art supplies I was hoping to buy later today. Can you do it? I’ll pay you back.”

He won’t, but that’s not really the issue. The problem is that I know—I fucking know I should refuse him. If Will is asking now, and not waiting for our mother to come around, then it’s probably because the money is for something he’s not supposed to have.

Art supplies, my ass.

Fuck, I just hope the money’s not for something illegal. I should tell Will no, but with the connection I’ve just made with him, I can’t bring myself to deny him.

So, I get all his bank information. And then we hang up.

I sit in the truck for a while. Shit, I should feel good. My brother is talking to me again. And things are beyond fantastic with Kay. But damn if I can’t shake this sense of dread washing over me, this feeling of foreboding.

I give myself a few more minutes, trying to get a grip. I’m so knotted up and bound, I can’t relax. And the longer I sit, the more it feels as if those imaginary ropes are being pulled tighter. But the worst part is that I feel like some force I have no control over is about to pitch me out to sea, bound and helpless. And in that condition, there will be no chance.

I will surely sink quickly.

Chapter Eight

Kay

Something is up with Chase, but I can’t imagine what it could possibly be. Yesterday was wonderful, perfect really, and I was hoping to spend more time with him today. Guess that won’t be happening.

Alas…

If my complicated boy needs time to himself, then who am I to deny him? He did say he’d tell me what’s bothering him later. And that’s good enough. Besides, the kisses he so enthusiastically bestowed made me forget everything, at least for a while.

But after all that delicious affection, now that Chase is gone, I feel a little empty. Worse yet, I have a feeling the off-kilter vibe to this day is only just beginning.

Ominously, the next person to step into the rectory office is Missy Metzger. And she looks like she’s on a mission.

I sigh and slump into my chair at the desk.

I mean, I’ve already told Missy I can’t make cookies—or anything else, for that matter—for the upcoming bake sale that’s part of the big Fourth of July carnival next week. It’s not as if my oven has miraculously started working. I try to circumvent a labored discussion by telling Missy exactly these facts as she approaches. However, I soon discover the bake sale isn’t even on my sort-of friend’s radar today.

She waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t worry about making anything, we have it all covered. Maybe by the August rummage sale your oven will be working.” She gives me a questioning look and I shrug. “Well, if so, you can get in on that one.”

I don’t tell her it’s not likely I’ll have a working oven by August, but Missy doesn’t seem too worried about it anyway. She hops up onto the edge of my desk and crosses her legs, making her miniskirt rise even higher. I’ve noticed the head of the bake committee has been dressing in skimpier clothes lately. Wonder what’s up with that?

“So-o-o,” Missy drawls as she picks up a freshly sharpened pencil, “Chase Gartner, huh?” She blows shavings from around the lead tip and shoots me a sidelong glance.

I reply nonchalantly, “Oh, you saw him leaving?”

“I saw more than that, sweetie.” Missy winks and points the pencil at me. “So, you and Chase making out in the rectory, you’re lucky Father Maridale didn’t walk in.”

She’s right, so I say, “No kidding.”

Well,” she continues as she toys with the pencil, “this is all very interesting, Kay. What’s going on with you and the town’s resident bad boy?”

There’s no sense pretending, so I just spit it out and admit we’re officially dating.

Her eyebrows go up and the pencil goes down. “Really? Like, he’s your boyfriend?”

I nod and Missy purses her lips, seemingly losing herself in thought.

I’ve wondered for a while why there’s this odd vibe between Missy and Chase, so I ask, “What’s your problem with him anyway? You used to think he was hot, but now you act like you can barely stand him.”

“Oh, I still think he’s hot, honey. Some things are indisputable. But, I told you before, the guy is a prick. He’s a player, Kay. You should watch your step.”

I know my boy’s past reputation, but there’s something in Missy’s tone that makes me think she may have firsthand knowledge of something. But that can’t be right. Chase would’ve surely mentioned if anything had ever happened between them. I mean, I think he’d tell me.

My stomach sours at the thought of Missy and Chase having done, really, anything. Maybe this is part of what Chase is referring to when he says he’s trouble? But my guy and the head of the bake committee? Ugh. I can’t even.

I force myself to ask Missy, “Why do you say he’s a player?”

She flips her blonde hair back. She used to always wear it up, but that’s another change I’ve noticed. Her hair is down almost all the time now.

“I’ve just heard things, that’s all,” Missy replies, picking up the pencil she set down earlier, and studying it intently. “I’m sure it’s all the same stuff you’ve heard. He does have a reputation, you know?”

I nod, but I also breathe a sigh of relief. I know Chase has a past. A past filled with many…conquests. Thank goodness Missy isn’t among them. That would just be weird.

“Hey, I actually came in to ask you a question,” Missy points the pencil at me once more as she, thankfully, changes the subject.

“Okay.”

“What are you doing tonight? Do you have any plans?”

I thought I had plans, but Chase made it clear I’d not be seeing him until tomorrow. Do I really feel like sitting home all night? Not particularly. My life has changed a lot in the past few weeks. I’m more apt to take chances, live a little, so to speak. So far, I’ve done this chance-taking, this life-living thing, with Chase only. Makes sense, since he’s the one who got the whole thing started for me. But I feel ready to expand my horizons. I’m ready to make others a part of my life too.

With my new attitude and renewed enthusiasm, I look up at Missy from my seated position at the desk, and ask, “Why? What did you have in mind?”

A smile creeps along her lips as she drums the pencil excitedly on the desk. “You’re really up for doing something?” I nod and Missy actually squeals. “Oh my God, this is great. We are going to have so much fun, you’ll see.”

Missy’s reaction makes me realize this is the first time I’ve ever agreed to do anything with her outside of church obligations.

“So, where should we go?” I ask.

She hops down from the desk and straightens her skirt. “Ooh, I know. Let’s go to the Anchor Inn.”

I groan a little inwardly because that place is such a pick-up joint, but it’s also one of the only bars in town where you can dance.

Oh, what the hell
, I think. To Missy, I say, “Okay, that works for me.”

We finalize our plans—I’ll meet her at the entrance to the Anchor Inn at eight o’clock so we can go in together and find a booth. After Missy leaves, I debate whether I should call Chase and tell him my plans. I decide against it. He wanted some time to himself and calling will make it seem like I’m trying to find excuses to contact him. So, I let things be.

After work ends, I speed back to my apartment so I can get ready. I shower and pick out a cute outfit I’ve never worn. I bought it last fall when I was sort of dating Nick, but we quit seeing each other before I ever got around to wearing it.

I get the scissors out and cut off the tags. The jeans are this nice deep, dark indigo color. The cut is skinny, but the denim is stretchy. I tug indigo up my legs and over my hips. I zip up. The jeans are snug, but for the most part, comfy. The blouse, I find I love. It looks fantastic once it’s on my body. The fabric is light and summery, a pale yellow crinkled chiffon. Floral embroidery stitching runs all along the neckline and up over the shoulders. I pair the whole ensemble with a pair of flat-soled metallic sandals.

When all is said and done I take a spin in front of the mirror in the bathroom. I have to say I look good, maybe a little sexy, even. Too bad my night is about to be spent with Missy and not with someone I
know
would fully appreciate my appearance this evening.

Oh, well.

Three hours later Missy and I are seated at a booth near the bar, drinking margaritas out of salt-rimmed glasses. The music blares around us, and the place is filling up rapidly.

“Are you having a good time?” Missy yells over the music.

She’s wearing a low-cut top and a pair of tight jeans. The blue fabric
v
of her top is so low and revealing I have to resist the urge to tell Missy she’s about to have a nip-slip any minute. Somehow, I don’t think she cares.

I take a sip of my margarita, and answer her question, “Yeah, it seems fun here, so far.”

I am exaggerated a little, I’m mostly just bored. But soon the alcohol from the margarita begins coursing through my system, and I begin to think there may be the potential for good times ahead.

I bounce a little in my seat to the bass beat of the tune that’s playing, and say, “We should dance.”

“Sure.” Missy holds up her margarita “After we finish our drinks, yeah?”

I nod and start sipping.

Just as we finish off our margaritas, and are about to hit the dance floor, I spot Nick Mercurio, manager at Pizza House and one-time date of mine. He’s with a friend, some guy I’ve never seen before. But the guy bears a striking resemblance to Nick. The two of them just got here, but, even from this vantage point, it’s apparent they’re both a little drunk. I try to hurry Missy along so we can get out to the dance floor and lose ourselves in the crowd. I don’t care to deal with Nick and any alcohol-fueled advances tonight.

Unfortunately, Missy is fumbling around in her purse, searching for who-knows what, and taking forever. “Come on,” I prod, standing up.

“Okay, okay.”

Missy starts to slip out of the booth, but it’s too late. Nick has spotted me. He waves enthusiastically, and heads to our table, his friend following.

“Hey, isn’t that your manager from when you worked at Pizza House?” Missy asks as she settles back into the booth. Before I can answer she adds, “Ooh, he’s cute. And who’s his friend?” She licks her lips. “Mmm, I want to meet them both.”

I roll my eyes. Not to be crude, but Missy is like a bitch in heat sometimes. Nick and his friend close in on our table; there’ll be no escaping now.

Damn, I’ll have to talk to him.

His friend-that-I-don’t-know is, in fact, cute, just as Missy has observed. This guy actually looks
a lot
like Nick, same dark hair, olive-toned skin, similar dark eyes. He’s most definitely tall, dark, and handsome, like Nick.

The guys reach us and an awkward greeting is exchanged. Nick introduces his friend as his cousin, Tony.
No wonder they look so similar.

As Missy begins to flirt shamelessly with Tony, Nick kind of chuckles and turns to me. “Do you want to dance?” he asks.

“Uh, I…”

I look to Missy for help, but she chimes in with, “Actually, we were on our way out to the dance floor to do just that.” She loops her arm around Tony’s.

Oh, great, this is so not what I wanted
.

The four of us make our way to the dance floor, Tony and Missy lead the way and Nick guides me forward with a lightly placed hand on my back. We fight through the crowd and stop somewhere in the middle. And then we carve out a little space of our own in between packed bodies and start to dance.

I’m just relieved the song is a fast one, since there’s no way I am pressing my body up to Nick’s for any slow songs. Not only would Chase surely not like if I did something like that, but leading Nick on is the last thing I care to do tonight.

While I dance facing Nick, I also make sure to keep a respectable distance away. The up-tempo makes it easy enough, but it sure doesn’t deter Missy. She dirty dances with Tony like there’s no tomorrow, grinding her ass right up into Nick’s cousin’s groin. Not that Tony seems to mind. He appears to love it.

Nick laughs and looks pointedly at me.
Is he kidding?
I just shake my head.

The song changes to something a little slower and Nick tries to wrap his arms around me so he can pull me closer. I slip under his grasp and tell him I have to use the ladies’ room. Really, I’m just done dancing for the night.

“I think I may leave soon,” I yell over the music to Nick.

He just shrugs and says dismissively, “Whatever, Kay.”

He steps away and turns to where his cousin and Missy are really ramping up the grinding. When Missy sees Nick alone, she puts her arms around him, effectively sandwiching herself between the two cousins.

I turn and make my way through the crowd. When I reach the edge of the dance floor, I glance back. Through the crowd, I catch a glimpse of Nick, Tony, and Missy. The two men have their hands all over Missy, right there in the middle of the dance floor. They’re basically feeling her up. No one seems to care though. The whole scene starts to become very dirty and wanton, and there’s no doubt the three of them will move and escalate elsewhere sooner rather than later.

The margarita I drank earlier churns in my stomach. Why am I even in this place? I wish I were somewhere with Chase right now, anywhere but here. There’s nothing at the Anchor Inn for me.

I go to the ladies’ room and splash cool water on my face. Whatever alcohol I consumed has long since left my system. I just want to leave. A night I thought had the potential to be fun is shaping up to be something far different.

I go back out to the bar and look for Missy, so I can tell her I’m definitely going home. However, she’s nowhere to be found. I go over to our table and pick up the tab our waitress has left us. When the waitress comes back around, I hand her the money for our drinks, plus a generous tip.

“Hey, thanks,” she says, tucking the money into her apron. She adjusts her high-on-her-head ponytail, and starts to clear off our table.

“Did you happen to see where my friend went?” I ask. “I wanted to let her know I’m leaving.”

The waitress points to the area from which I just came. “I think she went back there.”

“By herself?”

The waitress shakes her head. “No, there were two guys with her.”
Nick and Tony, no doubt.

Now, I’m torn. Do I leave, or do I first check on Missy? She seemed pretty much into what Nick and Tony were doing to her, but I want to be sure. Missy isn’t some close friend, but I do like her, and I’d never forgive myself if I left and later found out she had needed rescuing.

I take a deep breath and head back to the hallway leading to the restrooms. Beyond the men’s room, there’s a heavy-looking door marked as an exit. Another closed door in between the restrooms is marked
stairs
. I place my hand on the handle of the door marked
stairs
, but hesitate when I hear muffled grunts and groans coming from the other side. I try the doorknob, but it’s locked.

“Missy?” I pound on the door. “Are you in there? Are you okay?”

I hear skin-slapping sounds and Missy moan-answers, “Go away, Kay. I’m—Oh, God—fine.”

A man’s voice—not Nick’s, so I guess it’s Tony’s—calls out, “Hey, come on in and join us.”

Missy giggles, and then groans in what sounds like pleasure. She’s obviously fine.