Joie

 

The house was quiet, but I’d seen mom’s car in the garage. So, either she’d gotten a ride, or she was home. I wasn’t really interested in finding out either way, I grabbed a soda from the fridge and made my way toward my room.

“Hey, Joie.”

I screamed.

Clutching my heart, I tried to calm my breathing. “What are you doing here?”

Tattoo Man leaned casually against the wall in the dark hallway outside my room. A shiver of true fear raced down my spine.

“Jeanetta let me use her car. I brought it back.”

My mind was going a million miles an hour. Was mom here? Tattoo Man was Davis? Wasn’t Davis the name of business professionals? The first-time mom had mentioned her friend Davis, the image that came to mind was a middle-aged man with loafers and a tweed blazer. ‘Davis’ did not bring to mind thirty-something men with tattoos and piercings.

“Are you Davis?” I had to know if this was the man my mom had been letting borrow her car. If she was allowing him into our house on a regular basis.

Tattoo Man nodded.

My heart sank. For all his casual appearance, Davis’s eyes were alert, calculating. Adrenaline pumped through my veins and I was reminded of encounters with my father. But Davis posed a different kind of threat. My father might have hit me and yelled at me, he’d even beaten me with his belt one time, but he’d never touched me. I didn’t think Davis would be like my dad.

“Davis!”

Relief flooded my body at the sound of my mom’s voice coming from the front door. Davis rose from the wall, his eyes never leaving me as he called out to my mom.

“Right here, Jen.”

My mom stumbled into the hall. She wore a cocktail dress with three-inch stilettos. Her blonde hair was curled into an elaborate twist. She was tipsy. Not knock-down drunk, but definitely buzzed.

“Oh, Joie. Have you met Davis?” Mom slipped an arm around Davis’s waist and leaned in to kiss him on the lips.

Davis met her kiss, but his gaze never left mine. My stomach churned.

“We’ve run into each other a couple of times.” I was certain my mom didn’t even remember the morning Davis stopped me as I was escaping her out my bedroom window. The day I thought was the last I’d ever see him.

“Darling, I thought you were going to meet us.” Mom draped herself against Davis, her fair coloring a stark contrast to the darkness of the ink decorating his skin.

His smile was indulgent. “I was running late. I just got here.”

This wasn’t true. Not that I was going to tell my mother, what good would it do at this point, but Davis had been in the house for a while. He’d been waiting in the dark. For me.

Anxiety burned through my nerves. “Well, I better be getting to bed.”

“Night, baby,” my mom said, her voice slurred by alcohol and the proximity of her lips to Davis’s skin.

“Night, baby,” Davis repeated, his eyes dancing, making him look younger than he was. Or maybe his tattoos and gaunt body make him look older than he should. I wasn’t sure.

Not responding to either of them, I stood outside my door with my hand on the knob. I didn’t want to unlock the door in front of Davis. For some reason, I felt like I shouldn’t let him see my keys and where I kept them. Thankfully, mom was ready to go, and she wasn’t ready to let him stay. Moments later they were both on the other side of the house, their muffled conversation blessedly unintelligible.

After digging my keys from my backpack, I quickly unlocked my door and slipped into my room. I locked the deadbolt behind me. Leaning against the door, I took a deep breath to try to calm my racing heart and rapid breathing. But I didn’t rest for long.

Flicking on the light, I searched every nook and cranny of my room and closet. I knew it was silly. The threat was down the hall doing who knew what with my mom. I couldn’t help it, though. I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I was assured I was alone. After thoroughly checking my room, I changed into my pajamas and crawled under the covers. It was early. Too early to sleep, so I pulled out my phone and headphones and logged into Netflix, wondering all the while how I was going to survive the next month and a half until graduation.

 

Cole

 

Joie was on edge. I wanted to ask her about it- desperately but figured that wasn’t a good idea. Brianna had let me off the hook the other night, but she was watching, paying attention. She’d even gone so far as to start hanging around at rehearsals. Not that I cared, I didn’t have anything to hide. I just wished I had a spare moment to myself to talk to Joie and make sure things were okay. Not that she was likely to tell me.

The play was coming along just fine. Joie had written an inspired script. I loved everything about it and had to admit I was having way more fun than I thought I would when she first asked me to do it. If football didn’t pan out, maybe I could pursue a career in acting. It came easily, even memorizing lines. In fact, I not only knew my lines but all the lines in my scenes, which came in handy when my co-stars forgot them.

I was impressed with the team Joie had assembled for all the other stuff, too. We’d been adding in music and lighting recently since the play was in about four weeks. Sets and props were beginning to feel comfortable and we were blocking out whole scenes at a time. No way this play wasn’t going to be a success.

Joie was a brilliant director. She knew just what to say to get the right emotion or reaction out of actors. It was beyond exciting to watch her in action. Knowing her the way I did, I couldn’t help but feel proud. Joie was going to make it. I sometimes wondered if she felt the same about me when I succeeded in sports. Or if she even noticed.

I kept my interactions with Joie detached and professional, even during the few times I’d given her a ride home. She’d made it perfectly clear she didn’t want anything else from me other than my ability to perform in her play. Well, then, that’s all she would get. But that didn’t mean I stopped caring. Or stopped worrying.

And today, something was off. Joie looked like she hadn’t slept in a week and she’d been pounding back the Dr. Pepper like it was her life-blood. She’d been crawling up Trina’s, my co-star playing the role of the princess, butt all through rehearsal. We were going through a scene where the two would-be star-crossed lovers meet by happenstance. Calvin, my character, was supposed to be bold and confident. Trina’s character, Elle, was to be coy and playful, careful to not reveal her identity as the princess of the land. Trina was surprisingly good, but she was also a sophomore and more than a little intimidated by my celebrity status, as Joie was wont to put it.

“Trina, no. You’ve got to loosen up. Cole is not going bite you, I promise,” Joie sought to reassure the younger girl. There were only a few scenes with both Trina and I together and we’d been practicing them all this week. It’s been the same thing every time. I tried to be my most approachable self, but she was still skittish.

Trina glanced at me skeptically and I had to restrain myself from waggling my eyebrows at her. Joie tromped up on stage from her home base in the center of the auditorium seats. Joie reached for me and pulled me in close.

“Look, he’s just a guy. Flesh and bone like everybody else.” To prove her point, Joie smacked my body in several places. “See shoulders and chest and face.” She smacked my cheeks with a grin.

“Funny,” I said, catching her hands before she could hit me anymore.

“Yeah, but-” Trina paused and leaned closer to Joie before saying, “he’s Cole Parker.”

I wanted to roll my eyes at the hero worship in her voice. Joie did.

“Good grief, Trina. He’s not Superman.” Joie paused to glare at me. “As much as he might like us to all think. He still has to shower so he doesn’t stink, and his mom still dresses him.”

“Hey!” I protested. Leaning close to Trina, I whispered, “I promise I dress myself. Don’t listen to her.”

Trina giggled, and I winked at Joie, who rolled her eyes again.

“Don’t listen to him. I was at his house not a month ago and watched Mrs. Parker cut up his meat. He’s just a big baby. Don’t let him get to you.” Joie smacked my shoulder again.

“Oh, really,” I sputtered. Did she really think she could get away with insulting me like that? “How about you show her how it’s done then, Miss Smarty-Pants.” I folded my arms across my chest and waited.

“That’s a great idea, Joie. I’m sure I could do it once I’ve seen how you want it to go.” Trina glanced hopefully between Joie and me.

Joie glared. This scene required a lot of interaction, both verbal and physical. I gave her my most innocent smile. The one I gave my mom right before asking her to cut up my meat.

“Let’s do this.” With a firm nod, I moved to the edge of the stage where I was supposed to wait for Elle to emerge from the side-stage across from me.

With a huff, Joie marched off-stage and Trina sat cross-legged front and center.

Calvin and Elle were supposed to be in a library. The set design included a few large backdrops painted to look like bookshelves loaded with books. There was one real bookcase with real books where Elle and Calvin argued the literary merits of various classics. Of course, since Joie wrote this script, Elle was the witty cynic and Calvin was the brooding romantic.

Wrapping herself in the cloak of Elle, Joie stepped from the shadows of the side stage and made her way confidently to my position beside the book case. Glancing around, I noticed all conversation and movement from the other actors and stage hands had ceased. Everyone was interested in seeing their mysterious director in a new role.

 

Elle steps up to the books and trails one finger along the spines, pretending to read the titles.

“Need a recommendation,” Calvin asks.

Elle looks him up and down before turning back to the books. “I think I can manage.”

Calvin nods and turns his attention to the books as well. However, he can’t seem to keep his gaze from straying to Elle.

Finally, Elle, hands on her hips, confronts him. “Fine. What would you recommend?”

Without pausing to consider, Calvin pulls a book from the shelf and presents it to Elle. “A governess and a brooding master.” Calvin wraps an arm around her waist and twirls her into a waltz. “Romance. Intrigue.”

Elle circles back around and out of Calvin’s arms. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she turns back to the books. “Already read it.”

Calvin re-shelves the book, tapping his finger to his lip, apparently, deep in thought. “Hmm. How about this one?” He plucks another book from the shelf. “Poor damsel meets pompous bachelor.” Bowing deeply, Calvin sweeps his arm out to Elle.  “Mother’s machinations. Misunderstandings abound.”

Elle yawns, patting her hand over her open lips. “Sounds boring.”

Calvin steps close, his mouth a breath from Elle’s ear. “Sounds romantic.”

Elle glares at him and takes a step back. Holding up his hands, Calvin bows himself back away from her. He places the book back on the shelf, appearing deep in thought. Removing another book, he runs his hand over the cover. With a glance at Elle, who ignores him, Calvin once more places an arm around her waist. Pulling her into a one-armed dance, he holds a book up for her inspection.

“Have you read this one? It is about a handsome prince who falls in love with a poor cinder girl.” Tension mounting, Calvin continues to dance with Elle. Reaching up to lace her fingers through Calvin’s hands, Elle appears to give herself over to the moment, losing herself in Calvin.

“I prefer adventure,” she says.

“Falling in love is an adventure,” Calvin replies.

“I prefer battles and mystery,” Elle presses on.

“You must never have been in love,” Calvin insists.

“Why would you say such a thing,” Elle asks insulted.

“For if you had, you would know there is no greater battle than that of winning your one true love and no greater mystery than discovering how to win that love for yourself.” Calvin slows their dance until they come to a stop, arms suspended in a traditional dance hold.

“Have you been in love,” Elle asks breathlessly.

Calvin gazes into Elle’s eyes. “Not yet,” he says just before kissing her.

 

I goaded her into it. I knew I had, but I didn’t quite think things through all the way, because when Joie’s lips met mine, I didn’t give her the small stage kiss the script called for- even though that had been my intention. Instead, the moment her lips met mine, I lost myself in them, in her, just as I always did when we kissed. It was like something happened. Something magical. Something worth fighting battles for. Worth figuring out the mystery of.

The room fell away as I dropped my hands from her, preferring to wrap them around her waist. Joie was tiny, my arms came around her with plenty to spare, leaving my hands to explore her back and the deep recesses of her hair. She was so familiar and so new at the same time.

The sound of applause filled the stage and auditorium, but I was too focused on the girl in my arms, cataloging all the changes, determined to become intimately knowledgeable of all of them.

“Cut!” A voice echoed above the cheering, almost breaking through the haze.

“Cut!” This time the voice was accompanied by a rough jerk on my shoulder. “Cole!”

Realizing I might be in danger, I reluctantly pulled my lips from Joie’s. Her eyes opened slowly, then widened, alarmed.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” The hand on my shoulder yanked again almost causing me stumble. I brought Joie close once more to keep myself from dropping her on her bottom right there on stage. The cheering had calmed to a deathly silence.

I shook my head to clear it, trying to make sense of what was going on around. Glancing over my shoulder, my gaze landed on someone who had me sobering up faster than Michael Phelps in an Olympic swimming pool from my Joie induced high.

“Brianna,” I croaked.