It’s graduation, and of course Dad’s not here. I don’t know when him and Duncan are going to return home. He hasn’t called once, and I’m sure that he’s the reason Duncan hasn’t called, either. I thought I’d at least get a postcard or letter, but nothing turned up.
If I had to guess, it’d be that Dad’s kept Duncan locked up like a princess in a tower. I have to rely on that assumption, because I don’t want to think about the idea that maybe… maybe Duncan just chose not to call.
For six months it’s just been Frank and I at home. He tried to cook meals, but it was usually some variation of eggs on toast or tinned food. Not exactly healthy. I ended up cooking for him.
I sit in my gown, watch on as several people on stage make speeches, but I don’t really listen to any of them.
I grow hot and bored, feel my dress under my gown clinging to my back. The sun is warm overhead, and I’m frustrated, so that just makes me even more uncomfortable.
I don’t care that Dad’s not here, anyway. I’m still angry at him because he specifically ordered Frank not to let me go to prom. His reason? It was too big of a risk.
Right, like a bunch of high school students dressing up and dancing in a rented ballroom of some three-star hotel is too great of a risk. He’s just a control freak, wants to control every aspect of my life, even when he’s in a different state.
It doesn’t matter that I heard prom kind of sucked. The rumors were that nobody spiked the punch bowl, that the music was too quiet, that the room was poorly ventilated, that the carpet wasn’t washed, and that it smelled like old gym socks… but I would still like to have been there myself rather than learning about it through the photos and comments everybody else uploaded.
I sigh. This speech is dragging on.
I look around the football field. I’m just one of a few hundred students graduating, buried in a column of chairs. All of us are wearing our gowns, all of us look so uniform.
Parents and family are scattered about in the stands, and as the valedictorian finishes her speech, offering some cliché remark about how bright our futures are and about how much we’ve already accomplished – it’s only high school, geez – everyone bursts into applause and cheering. Some people throw their hats up, but I don’t. I don’t want to lose it or have someone trample it.
I look around, see everybody chatting, hugging, going to see their family members, celebrate with them. Me? I’m under orders from Frank to catch a cab straight home. He couldn’t even be here today, said he had business to attend to.
I continue scanning the crowd, and my eyes dart past the dark mouth of the tunnel that leads to the changing rooms. I see a figure there, leaning against the wall.
I squint against the sun, and then grin from ear to ear. I feel this explosive surge in my chest, a mixture of happiness, confusion, relief.
He came! I can’t believe it. I’m not alone at my graduation.
I rush toward him, beaming, put my cap on, and when I see him open his arms, I throw myself at him, and we hug so tight, and I feel his huge, hard body, his heat, and I’m in his arms.
Duncan pulls me back into the tunnel, pins me against the wall, and he kisses me. Soft at first, gentle, but his lips grow hungry so fast, and I feel an overwhelming urge to kiss him back harder.
I run my fingers through his hair, clamp his lips to mine, and I kiss him for so, so long.
My heart is racing, my breath is quick, and I don’t even care that everybody on the football field… they could all just walk past the tunnel and see us, see me, like this.
Our kiss ends, and I hold onto him, hug him, and he holds me tight, and I bury my face in his neck and I smell him.
“I fucking missed you,” he tells me, one hand on the back of my neck, the other running down my back, making me tingle.
I laugh. “Me, too. I can’t believe you came!” I feel almost delirious with happiness and relief. It strikes me how much it means to me that he came. I’d assumed that all day I’d be alone, and graduating – even if I didn’t do so as an ace student – means a lot to me.
Our embrace fades, and I look him up and down. He’s wearing slacks and a dress shirt, black shoes. He looks amazing.
“Congratulations,” he says.
“Why are you so dressed up?”
He gives me a sheepish smirk. “I thought it would be more formal.” When I make a face, he says, “It’s not like I ever graduated. I didn’t know if there was a dress code. That girl just went on and on, didn’t she?”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah. That’s Jenny Halbrook. She’s so stuck up, thinks she’s the smartest girl in the world.”
“Glad it’s over?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Want to get out of here?”
I grin. “Definitely! Where to?”
“You tell me.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “When did you even get back?”
“We got in early this morning, but you had already left.”
“I volunteered to help set up here. Did Dad come back with you?”
“Yeah.”
“Figures,” I say, looking away. I’m not even surprised he didn’t turn up. “So, that’s it, all your training is over?”
“Pretty much. First fight is tonight.”
“Tonight?” I echo in surprise. “That quick?”
“Yeah, Glass is busy setting it all up now. He wants to get started as soon as possible.”
“And you’re fine with that?”
“Got to start sometime, right?”
“Then aren’t you supposed to be preparing for your fight?”
“I worked out this morning, got some reps in, took a nap. Now I’ve got to eat a little and hydrate, really. It’s nothing.”
“Hydrate, huh?”
“That’s right.”
I pull off my gown, and then nervously smooth my dress. It’s a black, sleeved midi-dress that I had altered so it ends right above my knees, rather than half-way down my calves.
I still feel frumpy, though, and I look toward some of the other girls who wear their tighter, shorter dresses so much better than I wear mine.
“You look beautiful, Dee,” Duncan says, pulling my eyes back from the other girls and up to him.
“No I don’t.”
“You do. God fucking damn it, you do. You’re hot as hell.”
Feeling awkward, my face going red, I turn toward the columns of chairs. “My bag.”
“Let’s go together.” He puts out his arm. “Nobody knows who I am, right?”
I shake my head.
“Come on then,” he says.
“Somebody has a big head.”
He smirks. “I know I make an impression.”
I take his arm, and together we walk back toward the chairs. Some of the girls notice us – or rather, they notice him – and before long all eyes are on us.
God, this is so stupid, but as we pass people I hear the whispers, and suddenly I feel like I’m walking down the red carpet. They’re all asking who this hot guy is, is he a gangster like my father… they’re all asking why he would be with me.
Little do they know that Duncan and I… well, there’s something going on between us, that’s for sure.
Little do they know that he’s my adoptive brother.
It’s all so… risky.
It’s kind of… exciting.
It’s also reckless, but I’m not in the mood to care right now. I feel like I’ve tossed my parachute out of the plane first, and now I’m diving down to collect it.
Live a little.
We get to my chair, he takes my gown and hat and I pick up my bag. Together, we walk off the football field, past teachers who dare not speak to me because of my dad, past students who were never my friends because of who my father was.
Finally, I wasn’t alone in school, even if it was, for all intents and purposes, the very last day.
Idly, Duncan rolls up his shirt sleeves. He shows off his tattoos, and I can’t hold back my laugh. He’s really putting on a show, he’s really milking it.
The girls are all wondering who that tall guy is, with the broad back and tight body and the tattoos.
The boys are all wondering who’d have the balls to date a mob boss’ daughter.
I feel like we’re in a cheesy high school movie.
When we get outside the school, and start walking toward Duncan’s car, I laugh, slap his shoulder. “That was bad,” I say.
“They’ll gossip for weeks,” he says. “The whole summer, maybe.”
“No they won’t,” I tell him. “You’re not that hot. Hey, thanks for coming. I… I’m really glad you did.”
He turns to me, and then without warning leans down, scoops my face into his hand, and kisses me. It’s a gentle kiss, lingering, on his hot lips the promise of more, but we just can’t do this in public! Not this level of affection, and not out on the street.
“Duncan!” I say, pushing off him. “No, Frank could be watching.”
He shakes his head. “He’s not here. He went to meet your father.”
“Well anyone of Dad’s guys could be watching now that we’re out here. No.”
He just smirks, and we climb into the car together.
“So, where to?”
“I want to watch you fight tonight.”
“I’m down with that. I’d like you there.”
“So, do you like, need to do any more preparation?”
He licks his lips, thinks for a moment. “I’ll need to warm up.”
“Let’s do that,” I tell him.
“You’re sure?” he asks. “You want to come with me and watch me prepare? It’ll be boring for you.”
“You’ve got to, anyway, and I’m going to be there to support you. We may as well get started. Maybe I can help somehow.”
“Just being there will help me.”
“Why?”
“Motivation.”
“There’s just one thing, though…”
“What?”
“Frank told me Dad wants me to go home straight away after graduation.”
“No offense, but fuck your father. Do what you like, you’re your own person. Do you really care what he’ll think?”
I shrug. “Not really. He’ll just shout at me for not being the good girl or whatever.”
“You want to be the good girl?”
“No,” I say with a shake of my head.
“Then…?”
“Let’s go,” I say. “Fuck what he says, I’m not going straight home. It’s time I stopped letting him push me around.”
“Fucking right,” Duncan says. It’s almost a growl, catches me off-guard.
He starts the car, guns out of the parking spot and around the bend. I’m thrown into my seat by the acceleration, love the feeling of it. Dad always has Frank drive the limousine so slowly.
Duncan drives me to the location, a restaurant that only exists as a front. As we get out of the car, I see Dad sweeping out of the door, and he’s pointing at us.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he bellows at me.