Chapter 2
Jesus Christ. Three hours into this lame party and it was apparent that Mandy had one thing and one thing only on her mind: getting some dick tonight.
I hadn’t seen Robbie for damn near an hour, and being that Ginger was nowhere to be found, I could only presume they’d gone upstairs to her room.
“Want another shot of Wild Turkey, Bryce?” Mandy yelled above the din of the stereo that was cranking out some Metallica in Surround Sound®, as she walked back over to me with two plastic cups of the amber liquid sloshing against the sides.
“You trying to get me drunk?” I asked, cocking my brow at her.
She giggled as she handed me one of the cups. “Maybe,” she crooned. “Is that a bad thing?”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “Not gonna happen, Mandy,” I replied, downing the shot in one gulp.
She immediately copped a pout, her bottom lip jutting out just a bit. She wore a lot of make-up I noticed, and in my opinion, she really didn’t need it.
Mandy had long dark hair that she wore down. Her complexion was olive; her eyes green, which gave her a sort of exotic look. She was tiny, almost fragile looking. “I don’t know why you’re so mean to me Bryce Slater,” she murmured, “Especially when I can be so damn good to you.”
Her hand lowered to my crotch and she rubbed it to reinforce her intent I guess.
I shrugged. “Maybe so. Thing is, you want more than what I’m willing to give, babe.”
She pulled a joint out of the pocket of my jacket. I wasn’t sure how she even knew I was carrying them, but then I remembered I pretty much always had a joint or two on me. She put it between her lips, waiting for me to light it.
“Help yourself,” I said, flicking my Bic so that we could burn one together. She took a hit then handed the lit joint back to me.
“And just what is it you think I want, Slater?” she asked, blowing smoke into my face.
I took a long hit on the joint, sucked it in and was thankful that I had a few moments before I had to give her an answer. I knew when I did, it was going to make me look like a total asshole, but it couldn’t be helped. She needed to know how I rolled.
I exhaled, and passed it back over to her. “More than sex,” I replied, not taking my eyes from hers. I had to make sure that what I was saying registered. We were both getting fried. It was important that I spoke with clarity so that she understood where I stood.
I wasn’t prepared though for her reaction. Her eyes narrowed and instantly became cold. “You really think you’re all that, Bryce Slater? Unbelievable. Let me tell you something. Everybody here and everybody at school know you’re nothing but a fucking poser. Fuck you,” she snarled, dropping the still lit joint into the rest of her whiskey, and placing the cup on a nearby table. She continued to glare at me with venomous green eyes.
“Whatever,” I said with a laugh, “I’m out, babe.” As I turned to walk away, I felt her lunge at me from behind. In that moment, Mandy turned into a fucking she-devil, her fists were pounding against my back as her voice reached a high-pitched shriek.
“I’m so fucking sick and tired of your shit, asshole! You’re so goddamn full of yourself and so fucking uppity, and you act nasty to people as if they don’t matter! It’s no wonder everyone thinks you were born with a stick up your ass!”
Everything grew quiet.
I turned back around to face her, totally blown away by her meltdown at a goddamn spring break party. My first instinct was to lay her shit down with words, but when I saw the tears streaming down her cheeks, I just couldn’t do it. “What?” I said, and it came out more like a hoarse whisper than anything else.
“You heard me,” she sobbed, burying her face in her hands as she turned away from me. I placed my empty cup next to hers on the table, and then reached for her, pulling her back around to face me.
“What the hell, Mandy?” I asked, clearly needing to know just what I’d done to warrant such an outburst from her. “Where did all that come from?”
She sobbed, and then looked up at me. Her eyes seemed to be pleading for me to listen, really listen to what she was about to say. “I’ve never been anything but nice to you, Bryce. You name one time when I haven’t. But you? You walk around school like you’re too damn good to be bothered. Like all of us are nothing but small town trash you’re forced to tolerate because your folks uprooted you. Well boo-fucking-hoo! That doesn’t give you license to treat people–to treat me as if I don’t matter. Because I get enough of that crap at home, lemme tell you.”
She sniffled and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. I felt like a total shit if in fact I had been treating her like she claimed. I looked around to where we still had a captive audience.
“Shh,” I said softly to her, putting my arm around her shoulder and leading her out of the room towards the back of the house to get away from the audience we’d created with the drama.
Once we were in the kitchen, I spun her around, my fingers tilted her chin upward so that she was forced to look me in the eyes. “What the hell was that about out there, Mandy? Tell me one time that I’ve treated you the way you said, huh?”
She closed her eyes to block me out of her world, shaking her head back and forth. She was high, there was no question about that, but she also believed what she’d said out there.
“It doesn’t have to be anything specific, Bryce. It’s your whole demeanor, your attitude especially towards chicks–I mean what’s that about? Are you gay? If so, then fine; own it instead of being nasty to everyone. But to stand out there and tell me what it is I want from you and automatically conclude it’s anything other than just sex makes you kind of a… jerk.”
And the bit about me being gay totally pissed me off. What was it with girls? If you weren’t trying to get down their panties did they automatically assume that you were gay?
I felt the tick in my cheek. She’d gone a little too far with that one. “So, it’s just sex you want from me—is that about it, Mandy?”
She calmed a bit before responding. “Yeah, dude. That’s all I want. A good fucking, but hey, if you’re not up to it, s’all good. I’m not about to beg,” she replied as she pushed away from me.
I’m not sure what it was with me at that moment. I wasn’t a guy to do things on a dare; or to be shamed or badgered into anything. I was also one to be choosy and cautious when dipping my dick into strange territory—that was a given. But some of the things she’d said to me hit home.
The fact was that I did act like a prick at times—maybe most of the time to the girls at school. It wasn’t personal; it was just my anger at having to be here instead of where I wanted to be seeping out in my actions I guess.
But it wasn’t right. It just wasn’t. And maybe it was time I rectified that situation starting with Mandy. I grabbed her by the arm right before she was ready to go back out with the others.
I pulled her up against me, and lowered my face to hers. “Don’t go,” I whispered. “Stay, babe.”
“Are… are you sure?” she asked, studying my face, her hand brushing the wetness from her cheek.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve got no condoms though,” I admitted softly with a shrug.
“No worries,” she replied, a smile finally making an appearance on her face. “I always come prepared.”
And so there, on the kitchen table in Ginger Stanley’s kitchen, with my jeans pushed down around my ankles, and her bare feet resting on my shoulders, I fucked Mandy Jo Reynolds, while people from the party came in and out of the kitchen, to grab more beer or ice, some even stopping to watch us for a minute or two, before going back out to the party.
Yeah, after all I said about keeping shit private and not being tacky? Fuck me and the hypocrite I am. But the deal was Mandy had wanted it exactly the way I was giving it to her at that moment.
Not my finest hour, I knew.
But things were about to go downhill from there, trust me.