CHAPTER THREE
LACEY
I sit on my bed with my back pressed against the wall. I didn’t hear my beloved neighbor come in last night, no headboard tapping or cries of pleasure.
That pleasure could be yours, I think.
Sure, it’s hard not to find Payton physically attractive. From those broad shoulders to the Adonis-like vee directing you to the main attraction, he’s a ten out of ten. But man candy or not, I like the full package—personality included.
Package, my brain repeats. He certainly had that.
My cell is warm against my ear, morning sun heating the small space of the room.
“So,” says Mom, “how’s it going, pumpkin?”
I wish she’d stop calling me that. I’m twenty for crying out loud. It’s probably the same reason she keeps all my pageant trophies on the shelf, every soft toy I owned as a child still laid out over my duvet. “They’re not making me jump off burning buildings if that’s what you’re asking.”
A resigned sigh follows. “I’m not allowed to worry about my little girl?”
My teeth grate together. “I can handle myself, Mom.”
I’m getting a touch sick of reiterating this.
“Just remember you can come home any time,” she continues. “Did you know Cassie Temper’s working at the Buy ’n’ Sell down the road? She says she’ll be a manager in a year. Isn’t that wonderful, making an honest, safe living like that?”
“Mom…”
“You were Homecoming Queen, Lace. Imagine the possibilities for you here.”
My mother’s never been big on subtlety, but if she thinks I’m going to be another girl caught in the small-town trap, she’s wrong. I aspire to be a bit more than a manager at the mighty Buy ’n’ Sell, the biggest store in the two-thousand-strong mining town of Willow Falls.
“Good for her,” I respond, “but I’m staying put.”
“You’re stubborn, Lacey Nelson, stubborn like your father was. You’re stubborn, but I still love you.”
“I know, Mom, and you have nothing to worry about, honestly.”
“What about your classmates? Are there any other girls there?”
The first thing I did when I arrived was ditch the rape whistle she gave me. “No, Mom, but I do have a partner.”
I’m not exactly sure why I’ve thrown this tidbit out, but she seizes on it.
“Really?” she says. “What’s her name?”
Did she not hear me when I said there were no girls in my class? “His name is Payton.”
A pause. “Hmm, sounds like a troublemaker.”
You have no idea. “He’s… fit.” It’s the only positive attribute I can come up with on the spot. Oh, and he has a penis like a telegraph pole.
“And are they feeding you at this place? I don’t want my pumpkin coming home all bony and brittle.”
She makes me sound like a Butterfinger. “Yes, there’s plenty of food, Mom.”
I’m starting to regret this call, but I know if I don’t call she’ll be dialing every hospital in the state fearing the worst. She thinks I’m this fragile flower who should be sheltered from the world, settling down with my mine-working husband and our two-point-five children, a two-bedroom in the outskirts of town with a bird bath and scabby lawn. No, thanks.
It’s even worse being Homecoming Queen. It comes with a certain expectation of what will follow next—either complete self-destruction, which is what everyone secretly wishes for, or a quick ascension to greatness, maybe a receptionist in the Big Smoke, a personal assistant… The sky is the limit! You should have seen the expressions on their faces when I told them I’d be heading a thousand miles away to middle of the desert to become a firefighter.
“Are girl firefighters, like, a thing?” Nancy Stewart asked, as if it were the most natural question in the world. This from the girl who thought you could use a plastic bag for a condom.
“What about the scholarship?” Mom continues. “Was that all sorted when you arrived?”
I hate lying, especially to my own mother, but it was a necessary evil. “Yes. Everything’s being looked after.” I can’t handle any more questions. “Class is about to start, Mom. I’ve got to go.”
“You’ll call me at the end of the week, as we agreed?”
I roll my eyes. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Alright then. Stay safe, pumpkin.”
“You’ve got to stop calling me that.”
She either ignores me or is too busy sticking to her agenda. “Call if you need anything. There’s no shame in backing out.”
Such a pillar of support. “I will. Love you, Mom.”
“Love you too.”
I end the call and slowly remove the cell from my ear.
I stand and take a breath.
Back to business, Lace.
*
We’re standing out in the open, partnered and geared up. I expected the breathing apparatus to be heavy, but it’s like carrying a sack of concrete on my back. It’s hot out, too, the bunker suit, thankfully as unflattering as all get out, even hotter.
Payton leans over to whisper, “Don’t worry. You still look fucking incredible.”
I stand there shaking my head. I see Ryan down the far end of the group eyeing me.
The Captain points up to a blackened skeleton of a building behind us. It has to be a good ten or eleven stories high. “That,” he announces, pausing for dramatic effect, “is the Tower.”
Payton whistles, hands on his hips.
“Do we get to set it on fire, Cap?” asks Jackson.
The Captain walks over to him. “Say what, son? Jesus H. Get down and give me twenty.”
“Now?” Jackson protests.
“No, tomorrow,” replies the captain, still shaking his head. “Get on with it.”
The Captain’s smiling while he addresses us. “The Tower is going to break you, recruits. You’re going to know every step and corner of it as intimately as your mother’s womb. You’re going to sweat and bleed getting to know one another.” He points to the roof. “The elevators aren’t working and the ladders can’t reach, so what are you going to do?”
He’s met with silence even though the answer is obvious.
“That’s right,” he smirks. “You’re going to hoof up the stairwell and retrieve a body each from the roof.” He takes out a stopwatch. “You’ll go up in pairs. The last of each pair down gets to do it over. Nelson and Cox, you’re up.” He clicks the stopwatch. “Go.”
For a split-second Payton and I look at each other… and then it’s on.
We sprint hard for the stairwell, Payton managing to get there first, swinging the door wide. It almost collects me on the way through. I whip it open and start up the stairs right on Payton’s — admittedly attractive — tail.
By the third floor we’re both breathing hard, Payton using the railing to pull himself around the corners. “Why don’t you drop back, take a rest?” he shouts, his Halligan bar bouncing by his side.
“Why don’t you shut the fuck up?” I call back.
He laughs and continues upwards.
By the time we come out onto the roof I’m sweating up a storm. I may as well be wearing a raincoat. My heart’s hammering, but I’m feeling good, pumped.
We race to the pile of dummies side by side, Payton elbowing me out of the way to get there first, tossing the first over his shoulder with ease as we were shown yesterday and already heading back to the stairs.
Shouts come from down below.
Not on my watch.
I heave up a dummy, an arm between its legs, taking the weight of it with my hips, and dash for the stairwell, just managing to squeeze through the door before it closes.
“Give it up, goldilocks,” Payton laughs.
I take the stairs two, three at a time to close the gap between us, Payton’s head craning back to see where I am.
“It’s going to suck ass doing this again,” he shouts.
I can’t close the distance, the dummy increasingly heavy, my knees jarring with every step.
“Tell you what,” he says. “I’ll let you win in exchange for a blowjob. You don’t even have to swallow.”
“You can suck my dick for free,” I reply, huffing from the strain.
“Don’t say I didn’t offer,” comes the echo.
There are only three flights of stairs to go. There’s no way I’m going to beat him. Unless…
I lift the dummy off my shoulders and toss him, or her, down the middle of the stairwell. It lands with a thud at the bottom.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Payton calls.
“Winning.”
Freed from the weight, I leap down complete flights, rounding past Payton on the second to last and just managing to sling my dummy back over my shoulder before heading outside ahead of him
“The fuck!” he yells.
My legs are burning as I head back to the Captain, but Payton’s hot on my tail.
“No. You. Don’t!” he shouts, the effort clear.
The rest of the class is jeering and shouting.
It’s close, but I manage to make it to the Captain first, dumping the dummy on the ground and collapsing, breathing up at the sky.
Payton arrives beside me, letting his own dummy down slowly. “That was low,” he says, “really fucking low.”
I cup my ear. “What’s that?”
Jackson wolf-whistles. “Yeah, boy. Schooled by a girl. You need a tissue, Cox?”
The captain’s smiling. “Nelson’s the winner… but…”
I don’t like the sound of that.
“…you don’t dump your dummy on the ground like that—ever. To you, that’s a real flesh-and-blood victim. You treat them with respect, which means you two are both going up and down again.”
Payton looks over at me. “Don’t worry, Captain. I love going down.”
I roll my eyes and lift myself up, pressing onto my heel. “Best of two?”
“No dirty tricks this time?” smirks Payton.
“I can’t make any promises,” I reply, taking off before he makes it to his feet.
*
I’m completely exhausted come day’s end, and I’m pretty in shape. Some of the others looked ready for a grave rather than a bed.
I decide on a quick shower before dinner, grabbing my clothes and toiletries bag.
It is nice having a bathroom to myself. We only had one growing up. Given my mother’s propensity for make-up and her obsession with her physical appearance, I almost had to make an appointment to use it.
I stop by the bathroom counter and dump my bag, stripping down.
Naked, I leave my towel behind and head around the corner to the showers.
But I’m not alone.
I freeze when Payton comes around the corner instead, towel around his shoulders, his hair wet, and, yep, that on show.
Given the way he flinches, he’s clearly as surprised to see me as I am him. He manages to correct and straighten back up in an instant. “Fancy meeting you here.”
I suddenly realize he’s not the only one standing there in his birthday suit.
I cover my breasts with one hand and my crotch with the other, awkwardly pressing my legs together like my bladder’s about to burst… or my face… from embarrassment.
He’s smiling. “A body like that shouldn’t be hidden away.”
“What the hell are doing in the women’s bathroom?”
He looks around. “I figured no one was using it.”
“I am using it.”
He’s loving this. “Seems a waste, though, doesn’t it, when we’re all squashed in like sardines next door?”
I nod downwards. “The only thing around here about to be squashed is your balls if you don’t cover that thing up.”
He pulls his towel off his shoulders and ties it around his waist. “Better?”
I cautiously reverse back to the bench, but I’m going to have to let go of myself to pick up the towel. “Turn around,” I tell him.
He does so and I release my hands, picking up my towel and wrapping it around myself flustered, my cheeks the color of ketchup.
When I look up I notice he’s looking right into the vanity mirrors.
Oh, come on.
I point to the door. “Leave, please.”
He starts to walk towards the door. “You owe me a blowjob, by the way.”
I eye him carefully. I keep a firm grip on my towel lest it float away like some Jedi mind trick given Payton’s apparent animal magnetism. I go to retort, but I’ve got nothing, standing there stuttering and gasping for air, a fish out of water.
He winks as he passes. “That your gag reflex?” he laughs.
I flip the bird at his back, angry and irritated and sweaty and sour and so sick of this guy.
Which is why, when I step into the shower and my hand starts to slide south, I’m as surprised as anyone else.