Silver Linings Playbook

 

Who can say where the road goes where the day flows.

- Enya

 

 

RISKE

 

She didn’t like me.

The interesting part was that she was the only one in my current quarter-sized town who didn’t. It was amazing. They all kissed my ass.

Men and women, old and young alike, lined their way up to meet the “new kid on the block,” the “Blond Rebel.” They were curious at first. Curiosity turned into interest as the local high school crews found out that I was a beast at basketball and the women figured out that I was a beast in… well, bed.

Christy Nicholson was the first.

The boldest of the popular cheerleader bunches, she approached me at the local ice cream shop, her blonde head held high, her strut confident as she emerged from the giggling group of schoolgirls at her back. Clearly, she was the leader of the pack. And she flaunted it.

In fact, she flaunted lots of things.

She hadn’t bothered to put a shirt over her bikini top and she sauntered in my direction in cut-off Daisy Duke shorts and flip flops, her green eyes staring at me long enough to make anyone uncomfortable. Except this was me. And frankly, nothing made me uncomfortable. I glared right back… until she stopped in front of me.

She shifted the ice cream cone in her right hand to her left.

“Strawberry Shortcake.”

“Excuse me?” I lowered my menu.

“You want the Strawberry Shortcake. I can tell… I have a knack for these things.”

“For picking out people’s food choices?” I raised one eyebrow sky-high.

“No,” she said, licking around the edge of her vanilla cone. “For determining what people like. You have the look of a man who likes Strawberry Shortcake. I think you should give it a try. It’s wet…” She took a second to slurp the cone. “And pink. Perfect for a man with your kind of tastes.”

I put the menu down on the nearby table. One side of my face pulling up into a smirk, I stared at the piece of “Strawberry Shortcake” in front of me, enjoying her angle. There were so many better ways to do what she had done… but “almost-women” type of girls like the long-legged blonde always imagined that they were the only ones. The clever Betties that always know what a man wants.

I wasn’t going to lie… I did want it, but only because she was dangling obvious bait in front of me like a fisherman with a really easy hook. You took the bait because it was there, but there was no satisfaction in it, no thrill from bringing a hard chase to a close and reveling in the spoils.

I looked at her dripping cone and back up to her face. Her very pretty, made-up, blush-packed face. I touched her cone.

“It’s dripping wet,” I commented.

“And so it is.” She licked it slowly. “I have a lot of things that are dripping wet.” She took a piece of paper out of her almost non-existent pocket, shoving it in my open hand. She winked as she passed the note I’d seen her scribbling just a minute before. There was a neon sign on her forehead that practically read “Fuck me. Anywhere. Anytime.” I snorted, slipping the note in the back of my jeans. I’d save it for a lonely night. A night when fucking with the hillbilly locals just got too damned boring to keep up.

I nodded in her direction. “I see that.”

“Call me,” she mouthed, before sashaying away. Her gaggle of friends laughed softly as she strolled her way confidently back into their center. Bored, my eyes followed her path slowly, debating her offer.

And then that’s when I saw her.

The girl from Sunday, the one with the sheriff.

The bell chimed over the door as she came in. A rush of heat swept in with her as the Tennessee afternoon blazed outside the air-conditioned ice cream shop. Her skin was tanned and sweaty. She ran a wrist across her brow. A sheen of perspiration covered the length of her toned shoulders, and she pulled at the fabric of her blue tank, her hair long and wavy, her stride just as long as she stormed into the store without a word and single-minded purpose.

She didn’t stop until she got to the counter. And even then, she seemed to be moving too fast, motioning way too quickly for a town as slow and seemingly backwards as this one. She threw her finger in the air.

“One lemon sorbet to go, Pappy, and if you could, make it snappy.” She shook her head, frowning. “That wasn’t supposed to rhyme.”

“You’re too quick for your own good,” the large man behind the high-raised counter bellowed. “Slow down a bit, Kat. You’re going to give yourself a stroke… and give me one in the process.”

The proud brunette hung her head with a laugh, and when I heard the sound, I almost did the same. She had a good laugh—the full-bodied kind. The other girls taking up the corner of the little store had only tittered and giggled. This girl’s laugh came from the lungs. She flashed the owner, Pappy, a genuine smile, and when I saw her profile, I could only think of how gorgeous it was.

Her pink lips. Those white teeth.

Her smile was wide and beautiful as it spread across her face, and I mentally compared it to the scowl I’d seen just days before. When she was in handcuffs. I hadn’t thought a chick capable of such a mean look could break into a smile like that.

I found myself walking towards her…and didn’t even know why. I stopped right before the counter, hanging loosely on her left.

“Ah, yes,” Pappy looked at me, grinning. “Mister Riske, have you made your decision yet?”

I looked at the brown-haired girl. “Yes, I think I have…” She looked back and then away. “I’m going to take the Double Chocolate Fudge with, uh, extra fudge, if you got it. I’m feeling suddenly hungry… and my sweet-tooth is definitely acting up.” I glanced at her again.

“One Double Chocolate Fudge coming right up…” The brunette opened her mouth. “And I haven’t forgotten about your sorbet, Kat.” He winked. “Just a moment.” And then Pappy disappeared behind the back.

I glared down at the display case. “I don’t see Lemon Sorbet…” I commented to the air.

She responded. “That’s because there is none. Least not up here, anyway. Pappy has his own personal stash. And since I babysit his daughters on Saturdays, he gives me a pass. A sort of additional payment…” She shrugged, her shoulders a little less sweaty.

I looked at her harder. Not a stitch of make-up was on her face. Her lips were slightly red, rosy without any lipstick and there was a smattering of freckles on her face, peppered around her nose and down her cheek. I suddenly found freckles to be fucking adorable. I fought the urge to kiss one.

The thought shocked even me. Unfamiliar as it was, I wasn’t sure I wanted it to stop.

“Well,” I heard a voice float nearby. “Lookee here. Big city girl comes down to grab a cone and hang with us townsfolk. How’s it going there, city girl? Need any help? Sorry they don’t have any flavors in sewer rat.”

The blonde cone-licker was nearly barking at her, and the brown-haired girl didn’t even move. She stood, straight as a statue, staring ahead. I almost thought she hadn’t heard the chick that all the girls were calling Christy, but then she rotated on her black-and-white Vans.

She fixed a stare on Christy that would have made her ice cream cone melt, if it hadn’t been already. It was full of fire and heat, shooting out with a ferocity that made a forest-fire seem like a baby blaze. I suspected that little cone-licking Christy might spontaneously burst into flames, but there were no pyrotechnics, unfortunately. Just the slight shiftiness of the blonde-haired girl…and one pissed-off possible witch by the name of Kat.

In several seconds, she turned the imposing cheerleader with straw-colored strands into a meek and mealy-mouthed mouse. I was enjoying it.

“I’m not in the fucking mood today, Christy,” the girl named Kat replied. “And even if I was, it’s a hot day to get blood on one’s hands, don’t you think?” The blonde girl gasped. “Now, be a good girl—swallow your cone, like you’re used to doing, and go back to your friends. I’ve had enough hot air for one day.” She turned back towards the counter.

Christy didn’t dare come closer, but stood there and scoffed, her hands gripping her nearly-bare hips. She flicked her hair. “Would you like me to tell my father that you threatened me?”

“Go ahead. Tell him…” Kat threw over her shoulder. “And I’ll tell him where you really were last Friday night. You know, statutory rape is still a crime in the state of Tennessee, Christy. Last time, I checked, Marty Randhouse was twenty-two…” She smirked to herself. “Wasn’t he?”

The blonde’s green eyes practically shot out daggers. “Marty Randhouse is old news, Kat. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve moved on to bigger and better things…” She shot me a look to let me know who this “bigger and better” was supposed to be. “And why are you suddenly interested? Take a break from muff-diving long enough to show an interest in boys?”

The pack at her back giggled as Christy crossed her arms, looking triumphant. The full-of-herself look on her face faded the second Kat turned on her heel. She ice-grilled the Queen Bee with a withering stare.

“Why?” Kat asked innocently. “Are you mad it’s not your muff? Though I don’t know how anybody comes within ten feet of yours. Your mouth isn’t the only thing taking in a lot of cones from what I hear.”

And with that, the girl Kat left, stomping out of the tiny overcrowded restaurant… surprisingly, with me at her heels. Through the dirt and grass, she marched, turning onto the half-constructed sidewalk, her arms swinging, her muscular legs trucking as she headed further into town.

I reached out to grab her wrist and she pulled it back, whirling on me to raise it high over her head. I snatched it clean out of the air.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I lowered her hand. “Slow down there. I came out to see if you were alright.” If looks could kill, I’d be a fucking dead man. The pretty brunette was seemingly in a murderous rage, and I wondered if I would be the next victim of her lethal tongue—a tongue that seemed to be the topic of much debate.

My brows furrowed as she frowned, taking her hand back. She still looked as if she could hit me, but the blue in her ice-cold powder-colored eyes was bright and blazing. I couldn’t stop looking at her if I tried. She was even more gorgeous than I had noticed, and part of me wanted to get her attention—needed to. Even if it didn’t mean a thing. She never did address Christy’s tidbit about not “preferring men.”

I stepped in closer. “You okay?”

“I’m fucking awesome,” she said stoically, without blinking. She shrugged. “Just fucking peachy. It’s just every time I get into an argument with that slut bucket, I mysteriously wind up implicated in the town’s next petty crime. Wonder what I’ll be charged with this time? Overpaying my tip? Leaving a gum wrapper on the freakin’ ground? Or having an independent thought in my brain? Maybe I can take my pick…”

She looked down at the sidewalk suddenly. When she glanced back up at my face, she seemed shocked. I said nothing, as I watched her mind work. She hadn’t meant to say as much as she did, but this girl seemed to have reached her boiling point. It was clear to me: She wanted out of this town. Out of Dayton, Tennessee.

And if she did so badly, what exactly in the hell was keeping her here? I knew what was keeping me here… and I didn’t like it one more bit than she did.

My eyes perused her face before she finally spun. “I gotta go,” she called out abruptly. She kept on walking.

“Where are you going?” I asked her, following.

“Nowhere.”

“Doesn’t look like nowhere.”

“Yeah, well, looks can be deceiving,” she declared, her voice raspy and losing breath. “You looked like you could mind your own business. Clearly, that isn’t the case.”

I smiled as she strode across the street with me behind her, our legs cutting a path into the hazy heat wave that thickened the summer air. I wiped at the sweat at my neck.

“Sorry to disappoint. You looked like somebody who wouldn’t give two fucks about what a ‘cone-gobbler’ like that Christy has to say. Clearly… that isn’t the case.”

The statement made her stop in front of the antique store in the middle of the block. She spun towards me, her blue eyes slanted, her dark brows creating a straight line across her pretty face. She bore a hole into my eyes.

“I don’t care what she thinks.”

I didn’t move. “That’s what you want everyone to think. But clearly you do… I understand wanting to give the entire town your ass to kiss. But if you’re going to do it… you need to do it better than you’re doing it right now. Frankly, you need to do it… like me. I’d be happy to teach you how.”

I didn’t smile this time. I just looked at her. Probably because she was allowing me to. Her eyes shifted focus. They wandered down towards my mouth and chin where they settled. They returned to meet my gaze slowly, and her stare swung, fixing itself on one of my eyes and then the other. I could tell she was thinking.

Her delicate nose wrinkled briefly, and just as her red mouth opened to break the silence, it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Kat whirled on her feet, walking away from me.

This time I didn’t follow. I knew I didn’t need to. When I looked down at the item that was in my hand…I knew I’d find her again. I smiled.