The Complete Groupie Trilogy (114 page)

“How is it vain to use the voice God gave me to sing his praises?” I wanted to know.

“Because you did it for you. Not for him.”

I couldn’t argue that. I did sing for me. I just always kind of hoped God would understand. “Fine. I’ll quit the choir.”

“You made a commitment to that choir. You can’t just quit.”

I felt exasperated as I stared at her. “Is there anything that I can do to make you happy, Mother?”

We pulled into our driveway. Without looking at me she answered, “Yes. Put up the food.”

She slammed the door shut and headed toward the house.

It occurred to me she still hadn’t said word one about my birthday.

I tried not to let it get to me as I lugged in container after container of food. All these leftovers would fill our fridge until I could bear the temptation no longer. As much as my mother derided my weight, she really didn’t change her cooking or shopping much to help me tackle it. There were still cakes and cookies and fried chicken and macaroni and cheese. After all, I was the only one in my family with a weight problem, so surely the problem was with me rather than with her shopping or her cooking.

I sighed as I flopped down at the kitchen table with a slice of Mississippi Mud cake. All its gooey fudgy goodness and sticky marshmallowy topping stuck to my fingers as I lifted the piece to my mouth. Apparently it was as close as I was going to get to a birthday cake, so I might as well enjoy it. I would have polished it off with a soda, but that was the one thing my mother never allowed into the house. Instead we got sweet tea by the gallon.

Apparently sugar and caffeine is only bad if it has bubbles in it.

But I tried not to feel too deprived as I sunk my teeth into each velvety bite of the cake. And of course after the chocolate settled I couldn’t stop thinking about the cherry cheesecake squares. It dawned on me that I hadn’t stopped to eat all night while I was helping with the bake sale, which was ironic. My stomach growled its frustration at me, reminding me of all the rabbit food I’d eaten all week to lose some extra weight, all to no avail. So I felt entitled to that extra bite of sweet, creamy goodness.

It filled me in a way not much else did. Nothing but the singing, anyway.

I cleaned up my mess, hiding all evidence that I pigged out on the goodies we’d brought home to avoid a lecture in the morning. I tiptoed past my mother’s bedroom to escape into my fortress of solitude, with carpet as pink as the porcelain in our bathroom. Only then did I take out the music book Racine had given me. I touched the frayed edges, thinking of what kind of history this book had seen over the years. I could almost smell the cigarette smoke as the musicians tinkered on their instruments, and the background singers laughed gaily at some off-color joke the lead singer may have repeated.

I could feel the decades slip away as I opened the book to that very first song. I already knew it by heart. It was a classic by Etta James. I paid attention to the notes as I sang it softly to myself. Every now and then I’d glance over towards my closet, where I could see my Vision Board peeking out at me through all the clothes in the tiny, cramped space.

As if on cue, my cell phone buzzed to let me know I had a text message. I picked it up, assuming it was Bree. I lost track of her after the concert, and no doubt she’d want to know what happened with my mom. I was all prepared to tell her that I didn’t get my happy birthday when I read the name on the caller ID.

I sucked in a breath. It was Eddie.

“Meet me outside. You have 17 more swats to go.”

I hopped to my feet and glanced out my bedroom window. There idling by the curb was Eddie’s car. I grabbed the shoes I had kicked off upon entering the room as I raced as quietly as possible outside.

I climbed into the car. “What are you doing here?”

He laughed. “I told you. You have 17 more swats.”

I didn’t say anything as he turned up the radio and sped toward the outskirts of town – toward Makeout Bluff.

He kept the beat of the song by tapping out the rhythm on his thigh as he drove. I didn’t say much to spark a conversation. Somehow deep down I always figured I’d say the wrong thing and he’d realize what a mistake he’d made picking me up, turn the car around and drop me back off again. So I usually let him lead the conversation, but he wasn’t in a talkative mood that particular night.

Come to think of it, he wasn’t in a talkative mood most nights. He never even asked me if I wanted to go anywhere, especially Makeout Bluff. He just assumed I’d go because I never told him I wouldn’t.

I stole a glance at his darkened profile as he drove. There was no way I would have said no. He was the most popular guy on campus. At least a dozen girls were vying for his attention at any given time, figuring they could score themselves Oswen’s most eligible bachelor before the ink dried on their diplomas.

And here he was. With me.

Again.

My heart skipped a beat at the possibilities of what that could imply.

He turned the car off the highway toward the dirt road that ran parallel to the creek that led up to the bluff. Foliage brushed up against the car as he navigated the narrow passageway to the most secluded part of the area. When we parked it was mostly dark, except for the dim lights of Oswen down below.

He unfastened his seatbelt and turned toward me. “Come here,” he said softly, which made my stomach plummet down toward my feet.

I unfastened my seatbelt so I could scoot as close as one could get in the bucket seats. His kiss landed on my mouth as instantly as his hand found my right breast.

Apparently his car wasn’t the only thing that could go fast.

“Eddie,” I tried to say as I moved back slightly.

“Shh,” he instructed. His tongue drove between my lips and I could taste the beer he must have had after the church bake sale.

One of his hands slipped under my shirt, while the other grabbed the back of my head. He was more urgent than normal, his kisses more demanding. I groaned a bit, trying to find my voice to put the brakes on, but he took it as a sign of encouragement. He grasped my wrist and brought my hand into his lap.

I felt how hard he was through his jeans, which would explain the aforementioned urgency.

“Back seat,” he instructed breathlessly.

“Eddie,” I tried again, but this time he was out the door before I could stop him. Reluctantly I pushed open my door and scooted in between the tall weeds and the car to get into the back seat.

His jeans were already off by the time I joined him. He stroked himself as he watched me climb in beside him. He hooked a finger into my jeans. “Take ‘em off,” he instructed.

“Eddie…”

“Come on,” he said as he nuzzled my neck, which he already knew was my weakness. “Don’t you want your birthday surprise?”

His breath was hot against my neck. I reminded myself again that this was Eddie Nix. Any other girl would kill to be where I was. He could have brought any girl up to the Bluff, but he brought me. Without another word I slipped my jeans over my hips and crumpled them in the floorboard.

It was cramped and uncomfortable, but Eddie’s passion could not be contained as he pressed me back against the seat and slipped in between my parted thighs. He licked his hand to lubricate himself before he tried to enter me without any real foreplay. I reached for a kiss but he ducked his head to bury his face in my neck.

I bit my lip as he began to stroke. I was still dry and tight, but he didn’t seem to notice. He grunted as he rode me. I tried to muster some enthusiasm for our little romp, but it was rushed and decidedly dispassionate. Just as I started to get into it for my own pleasure, he shoved himself inside of me with a triumphant growl.  I could feel his heart thunder against my chest as he held himself inside me for a few minutes longer.

When he finally lifted away he gave me a grin as he honked my breast. “Happy birthday,” he said as he pulled away and stepped out of the car to dress.

I lay against the seat, unable to process exactly what had happened between us. It was almost as though I had come in halfway through the proceedings. As I lifted up to grab my jeans, something shiny on the floorboard caught my attention.

It was a gold charm bracelet.

My throat constricted as I reached for it. There, on the band, was a half of a heart that read “Best Friends.”

It was the perfect match to the charm on the bracelet I wore. My blood ran like ice in my veins as I put two and two together.

Eddie got back into the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition. “You’re not dressed yet?” he asked as he glanced back where I sat, frozen to the spot.

I swallowed the rock in my throat. “I thought you were going to give me my birthday swats.”

He just grinned. “What I gave you was much better, don’t you think?” I didn’t say anything. “But if you really want, I can give you some swats next time.”

I slipped back into my jeans as he checked his phone for any missed messages. I didn’t say much of anything as I got back into the front seat and buckled in, but in my mind I was thinking that there would not be a next time.

It was obvious that he had used me to get off after he had been with my best friend. It suddenly made sense why he had never called me by name during all our encounters. I was a convenient stand in, not the target of his true affection… someone to be toyed with in private while he dated those he really liked.

It was a harsh wakeup call that this particular dream was not about to come true.

He didn’t even kiss me goodbye after we stopped in front of my house. I murmured, “See ya,” before I fled from the car, and he was gone before I even made it to the front porch.

Tears flew off my face as I made my way back to my bedroom. I was not the same girl I was a mere hour before, when the boy I wanted more than any other had texted me out of the blue.

I was not the same girl who thought the sweetest thing her best friend could ever do was give her a matching bracelet to show her devotion.

I was not the same girl who thought it was par for the course that her mother would forget her birthday – or simply not care.

And I was certainly not the same girl who thought she’d ever get the guy that everyone else wanted.

They could have him.

They could have everything. I no longer wanted any part of any of them.

I pulled a suitcase from the back of my closet and packed everything I owned that would fit.

The Vision Board was too large to carry, so instead I took every single picture but one: the picture of Eddie Nix. I also took the nondescript envelope that had been pinned to the board, which contained every last nickel I had managed to save for the past nine months. The total came out to be $971.53. It wouldn’t buy me a car, but it could certainly buy me a one way ticket out of this hellhole.

On top of my treasures I put the songbook Racine had given me. It was the only real gift I got on this most important of birthdays. It was my ticket to dream… my permission to fly.

I zipped everything up and carried it as quietly as possible out of my bedroom toward the front door. I paused only briefly by the ugly pink bathroom. On impulse I went in and faced off with that mirror one last time. Before I lost my nerve, I reached into the drawer and pulled out some scissors. Thirty seconds later I left about ten inches of dull, drab, mousy brown hair in the trashcan next to the hateful scale.

Two minutes after that, I was on my porch, calling for a cab to take me to the bus station.

I was finally ready to take the midnight train going anywhere.

Ginger Voight is a prolific author, optioned screenwriter, and freelance writer, covering topics from
entertainment
to
travel
. Her fiction is equally diverse, with novels like the edgy, coming-of-age drama DIRTY LITTLE SECRETS
, and the fun family adventure for kids of all ages, COMIC SQUAD
.