Chapter 1
“Despite everything, no one can dictate who you are to other people.” - Prince
Bryce Slater
As I stepped out into the sunlight from the darkened movie theater, I pulled the cigarette from behind my ear where I’d tucked it earlier, and placed it between my lips. I heard the metallic sound as the top of Robbie’s prized antique lighter hit the back when he flicked it open. I stopped and turned to catch a light since I’d left my Bic in the truck.
“Thanks, dude,” I mumbled, taking a drag and waiting as Robbie stood still to light his cigarette. “Where to now?” I asked, as we resumed our trek down the block.
“Ginger’s got a gig going on at her house. The parents are gone, wanna swing by and check it out?” he asked. “If it’s lame we can always split.”
I shrugged. “Why not? Got nothing better going on in Crapville today. I’m game in going anywhere but home,” I replied, digging my keys out from the pocket of my jeans.
I hit the power locks, took one last drag on my cigarette before tossing it, and climbed into the driver’s side of my shiny black pickup. Rob joined me on the passenger side, tossing his cigarette to the pavement before he shut the door. He knew the rules. No smoking in my ride. Not even by me.
“What’s the deal at your crib anyway, man?” Robbie asked. “You’ve been avoiding it more than usual.”
I sighed.
Did he really even need to ask at this point? Wasn’t it always the same song and dance between my parents and me?
“High expectations, minimal results,” I replied, pulling out of the parking lot from the multiplex to the street, and laying a bit of rubber in the process. “My old man is on my back 24/7 most days. It gets old.”
“Yeah? Well that’s not so special, is it? Same way at my house, you know? Why is it that parents think it’s their freaking responsibility to map out your entire life as if you got no say in it?”
“No shit,” I remarked, chewing on a toothpick. “And the real clincher is how my old man automatically presumes I want to follow in his footsteps. Finish high school. Go into the military. And then on to the FBI Academy just like he did. Fuck that shit. Maybe I want to be a rock star, you know?”
Robbie smirked. “Dude, you can’t hit a note or play an instrument. Your looks can’t carry you that far. Better think of something else.”
“Fuck you, Rob.”
“No thanks. Save your big dick for Mandy. She’s just begging to be fucked.”
“Then fuck her,” I replied.
“It ain’t me that she wants, Bro,” he said with a smirk. “Besides, you know I’ve been hooking up with Ginger.”
I cocked a brow as I looked over at him. “Is it more than a fuck with you two?” I asked. It wasn’t like Robbie to get emotionally involved with a chick. He was just all about the fucking usually. But it appeared as if that had changed.
He shrugged, “Maybe. Don’t hate on it though.”
“Did I hate on it, man? I just asked a fucking question.”
“Yeah, yeah. We’re tight. I’m cool with that. So maybe you ought to give Mandy a chance, huh?”
Mandy Jo Reynolds was an okay chick. She’d been the first one to flirt with me when I started school at DeKalb High. And that in and of itself was no small feat. I wasn’t the friendliest dude around back then.
Hell, I still wasn’t the friendliest dude around and it’d been damn near a year! But that’s what happens when you’re forced to leave friends, classmates and your favorite chick behind when your old man gets a big promotion within the Bureau.
The Bureau.
The fucking Bureau.
It was always about the Bureau from as far back as I could remember. That was my old man’s life, but it sure as hell wasn’t mine no matter how hard he tried to use his parental authority over me to make it so.
Fat fucking chance.
But I was getting off topic. About Mandy—yeah, she was pretty in her own street smart way, and popular with a certain crowd, but not really my type.
I might be rough around the edges. I might have a chip on my shoulder that’s just begging to be knocked off like my father was always claiming. And, while it was true that I’d adopted some bad habits since the move, I had no confusion about the kind of chick that I was attracted to whatsoever. And Mandy–well, she was the type of girl a guy might want to hook up with once, but definitely not my idea of a keeper. She was the clingy-after-one-fuck type of girl.
If that sounded screwed up, sorry. But that was the honest truth from my perspective. There was no uncertainty in my mind of what I looked for in a chick as far as looks, personality and intelligence; Mandy Jo Reynolds didn’t have what it took to hold my interest for more than a night.
I wanted soft and sweet; maybe even a bit feisty; certainly not someone who allowed herself to be bossed around. No way. And intelligence was important. I wasn’t one that had a need to feel superior to a chick—but maybe just a bit protective. I guess I got that from my dad, and it wasn’t a bad thing I decided.
Mandy had undoubtedly been around the block sexually–word travels around on shit like that, and in a way, I find that kind of pathetic. I was no virgin. In fact, I’d nailed my share of chicks back in D.C., but I never felt the urge to make it public or fucking brag about it like most dudes my age liked to do.
Not right.
Downright tacky as far as I was concerned.
“So, you gonna?” Robbie asked as I pulled up to the curb outside of Ginger Stanley’s house.
“Gonna what?” I asked shutting off the car and taking a quick glance in the rearview mirror, checking my teeth to make sure no remnants of the theatre popcorn remained.
“You know… give Mandy a chance? She’s Ginger’s best friend, Man. And well, you know, I’d like to get Ginger alone tonight and fat fucking chance if Mandy’s hanging around. You know chicks. They hang in herds. I need your help here, dude.”
I pulled my lighter from the dash, placed another cigarette in my mouth as soon as my boots hit the pavement and lit it. “Sure, whatever man,” I said with a snicker. “Go ahead and pimp me out like that, Rob. Bros before hoes. I got you covered.”
Robbie laughed and gave me a hearty slap on the back as we walked up the steps that led to the porch. Already the sun was starting to set and other cars were pulling up. “Thanks dude, I owe ya.”