Painless (7 page)

“That’s my plan.” Christos stood up from the bed. “I need a glass of water. Do you want any?”

“Sure.”

I heard the faucet running in his bathroom and he returned a moment later with a glass.
 

“Thanks.” I took the glass and sipped at it.

“Hey,” he asked, “what happened after I left you guys back at SDU?”

I gulped down several swallows of water. Did I want to tell Christos that, aside from his trial, those rugby jerks were now blaming him for starting the fight? Not really. “Oh, uh, Romeo called campus security and a bunch of cops showed up. What happened to the two guys who chased you?”

“I have no idea. I hopped on my bike and ditched them. That was the last I saw of them. Did you get your phone back? I tried calling you.”

“Eventually. After the cops left, Romeo and Kamiko kept calling my phone while we looked around behind the Dining Hall. It took forever, but we found it in some bushes.”

“Sorry it was such a hassle. Those rugby buttplugs were a bunch of Upper Assmen.”

I giggled. “Is the upper ass like a high quadrant of the anus near the colon? Or is it someone who’s taking advanced courses in assery?”

“Both,” he chuckled. “Hey, if your phone is all banged up now, and you need money for a new one, let me know. I feel like I owe you.”

“Thanks, Christos. You don’t owe me. Those guys were to blame, not you. Anyway, if I need a new phone, which I don’t, I’ll pay for it,” I lied. I didn’t have any cash to spare, but I didn’t want him worrying about yet another thing.

“You sure? Are you getting a quarterly bonus from Grab-n-Dash?”

“Yeah. My boss promised me a free ICEE,” I grinned. “I’ll see if I can use it as a down payment on a phone.”

Christos and I crawled into bed after I finished my glass of water.
 

I had no idea what the next 48 hours would bring, but for the moment, Christos was in my arms, and I was in his.

===

CHRISTOS

Thoughts of my pre-trial had me wired and jolted me awake before Samantha. I showered and dressed as quietly as possible. I don’t think I’d put as much effort into going out on hot dates as I was for going to court. There was something fucked up about that.

After I shaved, I examined my shiner in the mirror. Nice. Black ringed in red. You couldn’t miss it. Loved it. I grinned at myself. My upper lip was redder and fuller than usual, but I didn’t think anyone would notice. With my rugged good looks, maybe the judge would attribute it to a recent collagen injection. Yeah, right. While the bruise didn’t say, “This guy went twelve rounds with Mike Tyson and lost,” it did say, “This guy fights more than most people.”

I considered bugging Samantha for some concealer, but then I remembered she’d worn progressively less and less makeup since we’d met. If she had any, it was at her apartment, and I didn’t have time for a detour.

Whatever.

After buttoning my shirt, I knotted my tie in the mirror.

“Sexy,” Samantha said, standing in the bathroom doorway. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dressed up before. Or clean shaved.”

I flashed a cocky grin at her while cinching the tie up to my collar. “You like?”

“I love,” she smiled as she walked up behind me and slid her hands over my chest. “Do I get to see you with the jacket on?”

“Sure.” After giving her a quick kiss, I walked into the bedroom, pulled the jacket off the hanger, and slipped it on. I buttoned it and smoothed it down. “There.”

“Wow, Christos, I knew you could pull off ruggedly sexy like no one else, but damn, I think you put that guy from 50 Shades of Grey to shame!”

“I think my shiner adds that hint of street danger that the 50 Shades guy was missing.”

“Definitely,” Samantha purred. “Do I have time to shower?”

“What do you mean?”

“Before we go?”

I arched an eyebrow. “We?”

Her face sunk. “Don’t you want me to come with you?” she asked meekly.

I sighed and walked over to her. I grasped her arms and looked her in the eyes. “
Agápi mou
, it means a lot that you want to come with me. But this is just the pre-trial. Nothing is going to happen today. It’s going to be a lot of boring talk from the lawyers about technical details, and which arguments they’re going to use. Shit like that. Besides, you have classes, right?”

“Yeah, I guess. But I want to be there for you.”

“You’re here for me right now,
agápi mou
. I promise, you won’t miss anything.”

“Promise?”

I kissed her gently on the lips. “Promise. Now, I gotta run out the door. Don’t wanna be late for court. You still have your key, right?”

“Yeah,” she sighed.

“There’s food in the kitchen if you’re hungry. Take anything you want.” I kissed her again and went down to the garage and hopped in my Camaro.

===

SAMANTHA

After Christos left, I showered, dressed, and went downstairs. I opened the refrigerator in the kitchen and stared at the contents. Who was I kidding? I couldn’t think about eating when Christos was going to court. I gently closed the door and nearly jumped out of my skin.

Spiridon was standing right there.

“Oh!” I gasped. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Good morning,
koritsáki mou
,” he said. “My apologies. I didn’t realize you were still in the house.”

I was always amazed by how much Spiridon looked like an older, silver-haired version of his blue-eyed grandson. Spiridon’s eyes still shone as brightly as Christos’. I had no doubt that Spiridon had been quite the ladies’ man in his day and I suspected he still was, but I had yet to meet any of the women who most certainly were pursuing him. I knew he went out in the evenings all the time, but I wasn’t quite sure where he went or who he saw. Christos had hinted frequently about the women in his grandfather’s life, but so far it was nothing more than juicy insinuations.

“Would you like me to make you some breakfast?” he asked.

“Oh, no thank you. I don’t have much of an appetite.”

“You have to eat something,
Samoula
. You can’t go through an entire day without food.” Spiridon pulled out a loaf of olive bread and spread soft cheese onto a slice. He handed me the plate. “Try this.”

I took a bite. The cheese was salty and very peppery. It had some kick to it. It went great with the olive bread. “What kind of cheese is this?”

“You like?” he grinned.

“It’s delicious!”

“It’s called Kopansti. A friend of mine imports it from Mykonos.”

“Wow, it’s so good!” I chomped another bite and savored it. Somehow, the Manos men always managed to set me at ease, as if everything in the world was just right, and every moment was a decadent celebration of life. I hadn’t had an appetite five minutes ago, but now I was ravenous. “Can I have another slice?”

“Certainly,
koritsáki mou
,” he said, spreading more cheese on a fresh slice of olive bread. “I take it Christos made it home safely?”

“Yeah. Safe and sound.” For now, I thought. I knew his pre-trial wasn’t supposed to be a big deal, but I felt a doomsday clock ticking down to Valentine’s Day on Friday, the day of his actual trial. Lameness. Could I petition to have Valentine’s Day pushed forward a day? Probably not. “Spiridon?”

“Yes,
Samoula
?” Spiridon smiled.

“Do you, um, ah, I feel like maybe I shouldn’t be asking this, but do you, uh…do you know about Christos’ trial?” I was afraid maybe he didn’t know and I was going to break his heart, but I also felt like I was stuck in the dark on this whole trial topic, and I needed some emergency support.

His smile faded. It didn’t turn sour, like I could imagine my mom or dad doing, after which yelling and condescension would commence. Instead, Spiridon looked sad. “Yes,
koritsáki mou
, I know.”

Phew. One obstacle out of the way. “Are you worried?”

“Yes,” he said softly. “As many times as Christos has been in court, it never gets easier. There’s little I can do but pray for him and hope that the jury sees the good boy I know my grandson to be.”

“Yeah,” I sighed thoughtfully. “Are you going to go to the trial?”

“Of course.”

“Why didn’t you go to the pre-trial today?”

“Because, based on my experience, it’s largely a matter for the lawyers. But I will be at the trial on Friday.”

“Oh.”

I sort of felt left out because Spiridon knew all the details. But it made sense. Christos lived with him, so I’m sure he’d told his grandfather about it awhile ago. But I felt hurt that Christos hadn’t told me. I wanted to be supportive in any way that I could, but that was impossible if he didn’t include me in the process. I sighed to myself and shook my head.

Spiridon patted my shoulder. “It’s okay,
Samoula
. Christos will be fine.”

I hoped so. But the tortured look in Spiridon’s eyes ignited the smoldering worry that had been twisting my guts in knots for the last twelve hours.

===

I drove to campus along the Pacific Coast Highway, slumped over the wheel of my VW. Class was the last thing I wanted to think about today. Worse, today was Sociology 2, starring my sleep-inducing Professor Tutan-yawn-yawn, and American History 2, where I always managed to draw cartoons in my sketchbook while conveniently avoiding putting notes in my laptop.

I contemplated bailing on class entirely. One of the perks of being a college student. But what was I going to do if I didn’t go to class? Fret? Wring my hands together?

The beach was visible as I drove out of Del Mar. Too bad it was foggy and gray and I could barely see the ocean. Not much of a beach day, otherwise I might very well have parked my car and strolled down with my towel so I could lay out and catch some rays. Tanning under the buttery San Diego sun always soothed me.

Stupid fog.

The light at Carmel Valley turned red and I came to a stop. This was the intersection where I’d first met Christos last fall. I’d driven through here a hundred times since that day. The view of the beach never got old. I was so lucky to live in San Diego. I swear, it was a crime that people had to live anyplace else in the country. I felt bad for my parents, who were still stuck in the arctic urban wasteland of Washington D.C. It was probably snowing there right now. All I had to contend with was a little fog. The thermometer on my dash said sixty degrees.

A little fog wasn’t so bad.

I reached for the Venti Americano I’d bought at the Starbucks in Del Mar. They didn’t have a drive thru, so I’d had to park and it had taken forever. But today, I didn’t care if I was late for class.

Not like that first day when I’d spilled my coffee everywhere. I shook my head and smiled. I’d been such a spaz that day. I remembered that fat guy behind me who’d been yelling at me.

Bitch…

He’d called me all kinds of crazy names.

Slut…

And he’d practically bitten my face off, he was so mad at me for holding up traffic.

Whore…

What a tool that guy was. Thinking about all of it now brought back Taylor Lamberth and Damian Wolfram, and the roller coaster my life had been for three long years. Was it ever going to stop? I felt like I’d left some crazy loop-de-loop behind me in D.C., but now I was headed into six more.
 

Agápi mou…

At least I had Christos to ride with me through life’s twists and turns. Christos…

I started to tear up. I wiped my eyes, no longer worried about smearing the mascara I never wore anymore. My life had changed so much in the last six months. But was any of it for the better?

The light at Carmel Valley Road turned green and I drove the rest of the way to SDU.

===

I pulled into the parking lot on the north end of campus and searched for a space. The lot was packed with cars. I turned down yet another aisle and spotted an open space. As I drove toward it, a black Mercedes whipped around the corner at the far end of the aisle and raced for the space. I was closer and reached it well ahead of the Mercedes. The slick black car screeched to a stop as I was turning into the space, jamming its nose in the way of my VW.

“Hey!” I shouted. “What are you doing! This is totally my space! Move your car! I was here first!”

The Mercedes revved its engine. I couldn’t see the driver because the overcast sky painted the front windshield over with a light gray glare.

I held my ground in my VW. This space was mine by right. First come, first served and all that.

The Mercedes’ horn blared at me and the car inched forward like a menacing cobra.

“You’re insane! I was totally here first!” I shifted my VW into park and got out of my car. For a second I thought it might be Hunter Blakeley, the figurative sculpting model who’d been stalking me all quarter. Then I remembered he drove a Porsche Boxster. I knocked on the window of the Mercedes sharply.

The power window whirred down.

“You,” sneered Tiffany Kingston-Whitehouse, eyes narrowed.

“Yes, me,” I smirked confidently. “Move your car.”

“Move
my
car? You’ve got it wrong, Merry Maid. Shouldn’t you be cleaning up fecal matter somewhere?”

As always, Tiffany looked like a team of stylists had done her hair, makeup, and nails this morning. She was dressed in the latest San Diego winter fashion: a sexy studded leather motorcycle jacket over a white scoop neck T that emphasized her ersatz rack, skinny black jeans, and a rugged belt. A super cute studded black leather clutch with white piping sat on the empty seat next to her. I had to admit, the girl knew how to dress. But it didn’t make her any less of a bitch.

Which was why I was seriously considering grabbing a fistful of her fuck me blond hair and giving it a good yank. Could you scalp someone by yanking? Or did you need a knife to do it right?

“I hate to disappoint you, Tiff, but I was here first. Kindly remove your Mercedes from my way.”

“I’m not moving anything, you shit stain. Get your car out of my way before I push it.” She revved the engine of her Mercedes.

Her blond locks were within easy reach. I flexed my fingers in anticipation. Where was that knife? Screw it. I wasn’t going to need it. I had nails. I was tired of taking shit from Tiffany Buttplug-Nuthouse.