— FRANKIE —
6. TWO LEFT FEET
I sidled up to the pool table and handed Drew the beer I owed him. He’d just finished racking the balls and gestured to the row of pool sticks on the wall behind him. “Choose your weapon.”
I grabbed a pool stick and set my beer on a small table to the side. “Are you sure you’re ready for this kind of humiliation, Weatherby?” I asked. “I’ve got quite the reputation here.” I made a show of twirling the chalk on top of my cue and then blew the extra dust off.
Drew grinned. “Are you trying to tell me you’re good with balls?” He chose a stick from the rack and leaned against the table, giving me a lazy grin. His face was ruddy from working outside in the sun all day, but his eyes were bright with humor.
“I’ve never had any complaints,” I shot back.
“Neither have I,” he said, winking.
I rolled my eyes. Yes, Drew Weatherby had kissed me back in ninth grade. That was the first time either of us had ever kissed anyone, and it was the last time that either of us had wanted to do it together. We quickly realized we had one important thing in common. We both liked kissing…guys. At least that’s what we assumed.
After the most awkward lip lock on the planet, Drew admitted to me that he’d always been attracted to guys, but was too scared to follow through. He figured if he just tried kissing a girl, any girl, he’d find out that all his secret desires were nothing but curiosity, and he’d be like all the other guys his age—girl crazy. He begged me not to tell anyone, and I never did. I knew the kind of damage rumors could do in a small town like ours.
But it seemed that Drew wasn’t keeping secrets anymore.
I often wondered why he’d not only chosen me as his experiment but why he’d also admitted the truth to me. Personally, I think he chose me because he thought that since I had three older brothers and only hung out with boys, that I’d be safe to practice on. In most people’s eyes, I had been about as girly as a sack full of blue Legos. I was just another one of the guys. But as soon as the kiss started and clumsy hands began exploring, it didn’t take long for him to discover that under all the dirt and skinned knees I had from riding my dirt bike, I was still very much a girl. And he was still not attracted to me.
Which was fine by me. I’d kissed him to see if maybe the crush I had on my best friend was just a fluke. I figured I would like other guys if I just gave them a chance. I suppose we’d both been experimenting and attempting to deny the truths our hearts already knew.
As for why Drew admitted to me that he was into boys rather than just blowing me off? If anyone would have understood what it felt like to be ridiculed for things beyond their control, it was me. Drew knew he could trust me. We’d remained friends ever since, and Austin had never understood why. The truth about Drew being gay was probably the only secret I’d kept from Austin. At least it was until he went to Vegas.
“You wanna break?” Drew asked, nodding his head toward the table.
“As long as you’re prepared to lose.” I grinned and snatched the cue ball off the worn green felt of the ancient pool table. After rounding the corner pocket, I placed the cue ball on the little dot and leaned over the edge to aim. With one swift movement, there was a satisfying crack as the cue ball made contact and the rest of the balls ricocheted around the table before the orange five ball found the corner pocket.
“Solids,” I announced cheekily, meeting Drew’s gaze. I echoed my announcement by pointing the tip of my stick to the pocket where I’d just sunk my first ball. Rubbing it in was all part of the game.
“Don’t get cocky yet, DiGorgio. I’ve had more experience with balls than you have.”
That comment forced a bark of laughter out of me.
“Yes,” I said, lining up my next shot. “But anyone can knock balls around and hope to get lucky.” I hit the cue ball with a decisive, but gentle tap. It rolled forward, kissing the edge of the four and pushing it into the side pocket. “The thing is,” I said, straightening up, “you need a good, firm stroke to finish the job.” I ran my hand down the shaft of the cue stick and had to work hard to keep a straight face.
Drew laughed as he shook his head. “What do you know about a good stroke?” he teased.
I lined up my next shot and then looked at him, pulling back my right hand and then taking the shot without breaking my gaze from him. I heard the sound of the balls smacking together followed by the muffled thump of one of them falling into the pocket. I knew it was the two—the solid blue ball.
“With a stroke as good as mine, blue balls have never been a problem.” I quirked an eyebrow at him.
Drew pushed off the edge of the bar stool he was leaning against and strode up to the billiards table, leaning against the frame to return my raised eyebrow.
“I don’t know about that. I seem to remember a certain Jared Bennett who had blue balls for you.”
That name was like a kick to the stomach ceasing my good humor.
“Jared Bennett?” I asked in disgust. “The only kind of fucking he wanted to do as far as I was concerned was with my head.”
I surveyed the layout of the balls and then walked away to take my next shot. And missed. Damn Drew. I always prided myself for never losing my cool, but Jared Bennett was the one subject that could rattle me and make me lose focus no matter how hard I tried to feign otherwise. I guess everyone had an Achilles heel. Jared Bennett was mine.
Drew shook his head and then sauntered around the table trying to decide which shot he wanted to take. “He only did that because you made it clear he had no chance with you. Guys like Jared don’t take rejection well.”
“Guys like Jared make rejection far too easy,” I replied. Sitting down on the bar stool, I took a drink of my beer. “Does he still live in town?” God. I hoped not.
Drew nodded and chewed on his bottom lip, eyes narrowed as he took his shot. The ball went in. “Went away to Duke for Engineering I think. Flunked out his first year I heard. His dad pulled some strings to get him admitted into Penn State, but he’s home this summer. He had a little trouble with a girl at a party up there,” Drew said, meeting my eyes. “Apparently, he didn’t get the memo saying ‘no means no.’ His family is trying to keep an eye on him, but I think they’re hoping if they keep him away from the scene of the crime, the story will blow over before school starts back up. I’ve heard his dad’s got him on quite a tight leash until he graduates next year.”
“A leash?” I laughed. “How the hell do you put a leash on an adult?” I knew it was juvenile of me to find satisfaction in Jared’s situation and his failures, but it was nice to see karma taking revenge on a bully for once.
Drew managed to sink another ball and then straightened to look at me, rubbing his thumb back and forth across his fingertips as he held his hand out. “Money. Daddy holds the purse strings and Jared dances to his tune.”
“Ah. Right.”
Drew bent to take his next shot, and I sat back, lost in thought.
Money. I fucking hated it. Whether you had it and were trying to keep it, or you needed it and couldn’t get it, money could make anyone a slave. I remembered all the times my mother had to scrape together bail money for my dad. I thought about my mom keeping her diabetes a secret from us, and how if our family had had money for proper treatment, she might still be alive. But most of all, I recalled a hopeful flight out to Vegas that ended with a life-altering check in my suitcase and years of regret. Money created more problems than it ever solved. Just look at Jared.
Drew sauntered over and snapped me out of my dark thoughts after his elbow connected with my ribs. “You gonna give me a mulligan on that last shot?” he asked.
My eyes darted to the table realizing it was my turn. I quickly gathered myself and gave him a snarky response. “Not a chance. You learn nothing that way.” I walked away from him with my pool stick, surveying the possible shots and decided on my strategy. Within a few minutes, I’d run the rest of the table, beating him soundly.
“Christ, DiGorgio,” Drew said, leaning his cue against the wall. “You’re just as merciless as ever. I guess I should be glad you let me have a turn at all.”
“Nine ball?” I asked, ignoring his comment. It was one thing to be cocky and talk trash, but another thing entirely to be a total bitch.
“Yeah,” he agreed. He reached into the corner pocket and retrieved the balls inside to toss them back on the table.
Shuffling around the edge, I helped him find the balls we needed and rolled them to the center. “Loser racks,” I reminded him as I retuned to our tiny bar table.
“Enjoy it while you can, DiGorgio,” he called over his shoulder. “I’m about to show you how to hustle someone.”
“I can’t wait, Weatherby.” I sat down on my stool to have a drink of my beer and take advantage of my win.
My attention was pulled from Drew when the front door opened and Austin entered, followed by the people who’d shown up to his house earlier. There was a punk rock looking girl with red hair that had tiny braids scattered through her tresses. She was laughing loudly and had her arm linked with a man so impeccably dressed he appeared ready for a fashion runway.
They were followed by two handsome guys who looked like brothers. One had spiked hair and tattoos, and the other looked like he belonged in an American Eagle ad. Three women were the last to come in. If I had to guess, I thought they might be related, but they were still incredibly different from one another. One was blonde, one was a brunette, and the last had auburn hair. They reminded me of Charlie’s Angels, and all three of them were breathtaking.
Their group headed for the bar, but Austin’s eyes searched the room until he found me, like he knew I’d be here. And then I realized he probably did. Austin must have remembered my promise to buy Drew a beer. But then again, there were very few places to hang out in Buckley on a Friday night, so it didn’t take a genius to know where to find me.
As Austin stalked toward me with determined purpose, I had the distinct impression I was the only reason he’d shown up. Even though I knew it was because of what I’d done earlier, I couldn’t quell the satisfaction in knowing that he had come for me.
As he approached, Austin scowled, which wasn’t surprising since I’d stolen some of the most important parts of his wardrobe. He was wearing jeans, so it was difficult for me to tell if my underwear raid had been completely successful, but my gaze dropped to his feet, and I couldn’t control the grin that took over my mouth. He was wearing flip flops that were at least a size too small. His heels were hanging off the backs of them, and he didn’t look happy about it. Those piercing blue eyes were framed beautifully by his glasses, but they were full of icy fury.
Mission accomplished.
Austin reached my table, and when he grabbed my beer and took a swig, I raised my eyebrows at him. I lost the battle and grinned blatantly at him. His shirt was stretched tight across his chest, and his jeans hung low. Not low enough that I could see the boxer situation or lack thereof, but low enough that my brain was working overtime imagining exactly what could be revealed with just one swift pull of his zipper. His hair was still wet, and I smelled pool water and sun still clinging to his skin.
“Nice flops.” I nodded to the uncomfortable shoes he was wearing.
He didn’t answer right away. He stared at me for a second and then brought my beer up to his mouth again and took another long pull of it, his head tilted back. After he swallowed, he took a deep breath. By the look he was giving me, it appeared he couldn’t figure out whether to shake me or kiss me. I was pretty sure that second option was just wishful thinking on my part, though.
He ran his tongue across his teeth while he considered me, his tight grip on the beer threatening to shatter the glass. “I’m not surprised you think so considering you bought them,” he finally snapped.
I glanced down again at the shoes on his feet and finally recognized them. They were a rugged, well-worn pair of Oakley flops I’d bought for him during the summer after our Sophomore year. His mom had refused to buy him anything but Sperrys, and I got sick of looking at the ridiculous things every day. Not that I’d been an expert on fashion or anything, but I’d argued that wearing boat shoes all summer when one didn’t even own a boat was pretty stupid.
He loved the Oakley flops and wore them every day that summer. But it seemed that Austin had still been a growing boy in his Junior year because now, wearing those flops, he looked like one of the ugly stepsisters from Cinderella trying to cram his feet in Cindy’s glass slippers.
“Huh. So I did,” I mused. “I’m surprised you chose to wear them though. They don’t look very comfortable anymore.” A satisfied smile pulled at the corner of my mouth.
Austin set the bottle down with a loud clink and stepped closer. My knee was touching his thigh, and I had to hide the shiver that worked its way through my body. He towered over me, pinning me with his gaze. “There’s quite a lot that’s not comfortable right now,” he admitted. “Where’s my stuff, Frankie?”
His voice was laced with anger, but the fact that he called me Frankie softened the words more than it should have.
“Stuff?” I repeated, innocently. “I don’t know what you mean. Although I can see that you do look rather,” I dropped my gaze to his crotch, “chafed.” My eyes popped back up to his and I tilted my head, begging him to accuse me in front of the entire bar and to demand his underwear back.
There seemed to be an inner battle raging in his eyes. His fingers, which were still wrapped around my bottle of beer, twitched. “This is going to get real ugly,” he warned in a low voice.
But despite his words, it didn’t sound like a threat. It sounded like acceptance. We had been best friends and then lovers. We had made plans to be together. And then he chose to leave me. Yes, I made a promise to meet up with him, but in the end, I disappeared instead. It had been more than four years since we’d seen each other and now that we were in the same town again, right next door to each other, the truth would eventually come out. And it would be ugly.
I knew all that. I’d expected it from the first night I’d seen him. What I didn’t know was what was more terrifying. Him not knowing my reasons, or me confessing them to him.
My good humor faded, and I brushed him to the side with a not so gentle nudge of my hand as I stood up. “I’m going to get another round,” I called to Drew. Once Austin wasn’t directly in front of me anymore, I could see that Drew had finished setting up for our next game and was waiting patiently for Austin and me to finish our conversation.
Austin turned toward Drew and frowned in annoyance.
“You in?” Drew asked Austin, ignoring the look he was given.
Knowing that Drew was just being polite and that Austin would likely refuse, I left them to their awkward conversation and wove between the tables and chairs to make my way to the bar. Once there, I leaned my forearms on the worn, sticky, wooden edge and released a breath. I waited patiently for Henry, the bartender, to get a free moment. I was in no hurry to get back to Austin and risk a public rehashing of our past.
“You’re the girl next door.”
Surprised, I shifted my head to find that one of the women who had come in with Austin was standing next to me. It was the one with the red hair. She looked about my age, maybe a few years older. Maybe woman wasn’t the right word, though. Woman hinted at polished edges and practiced charm, and I had a feeling the female in front of me didn’t give a rat’s ass about either of those things. Chick was a better word to describe her, and I meant that in the best way possible.
Pieces of her long red hair were knotted and twisted and braided around her head in a messy style that looked perfect on her. She was wearing a tank top that displayed the intricate tattoos that decorated her arms. She was effortlessly cool and exuded confidence. It was clear she didn’t give a flying fuck what others thought of her. If it weren’t for the calculating assessment she was giving me, it crossed my mind that she was exactly the kind of person that I could easily befriend.
“Do I know you?” I asked, confused.
“We haven’t met yet.” She took a sip of the water she was holding. “My name is Cat. I’m married to Huck,” she said, nodding at a good-looking guy with dark hair standing among the group of people who’d come in with Austin. He was the one who looked like he came from an American Eagle ad.
I was startled for a moment because Huck looked like the opposite of Cat, and I couldn’t imagine them dating let alone being married. Where she looked like she’d fit right in with the rowdy, fun-loving crowd who hung out at the track where I raced my dirt bike, he looked like he belonged behind a desk running a multi-million-dollar business. Huck was dressed casually but exuded the kind of command I’d seen from various business men. He was quietly name brand, and Cat was unapologetically rebellious looking. I’d always heard that opposites attracted, but Cat and Huck were so far on opposite ends of the spectrum it was hard to believe they had any common ground.
But then again, people said the same thing about Austin and me. How could the absurdly talented cellist ever be attracted to the reckless troublemaker with a shady past?
“He’s Austin’s cousin,” Cat explained, interrupting my thoughts and gesturing to her husband. “We’re visiting for the weekend.”
I vaguely remembered summertime visits from Austin’s cousins when we were growing up. There were three that I recalled—Trace who was our age, Huck who was a few years older, and Pately, their older sister. I didn’t remember too much about Huck and Trace, but the memory of Pately was crystal clear. She was bossy, and we didn’t get along very well.
“You are the next-door neighbor, right?” Cat asked. “The one who stole all of Austin’s right shoes and underwear?” Before I could deny it, she said, “That was fucking brilliant by the way. I didn’t know he had it in him to get all ragey like that. It’s the most emotion I’ve seen out of him in a long time. He’s been a zombie for months. Emotionless. It was a nice change to see him care about something for a change.”
Henry the bartender appeared on the other side of the bar and slid two beers toward me, exactly like the ones I’d ordered earlier. Even though I had been planning to get something different, I took them without argument so I could continue my conversation with Cat. “What do you mean?” Austin had always been reserved, but I would never say he was emotionless.
She shrugged. “Over the last few months, he’s become completely withdrawn. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, he just up and left, and moved back here a month ago. Not even a goodbye.” She shook her head and gave him a sad look while she took another sip of water.
Hungry for more information, I leaned my hip against the bar, trying not to feel guilty about prying into Austin’s secrets. “What does Dallas say? He’s always been able to get through to Austin. Maybe Dallas just needs to step in and demand to know what’s going on. Austin could never say no to his brother.” In all honesty, Austin didn’t know how to say no to anyone. Not to me, not to his mom, not to Abby, but especially not to Dallas.
Cat tilted her head and eyed me critically. “Hmmm. He didn’t tell you,” she muttered almost to herself. Her eyes scanned me and then she abruptly changed the subject. “I heard you recently moved back home, too. So what’s the story?”
Taken aback by the twist of the conversation, I stuttered. “I-I’m selling my grandmother’s house.”
“Oh, yeah,” she said, shaking her finger as if remembering. “Austin was a bit “ragey” about that, too.” As if realizing she’d strayed back to the subject she’d been trying to avoid, she opened her mouth to ask another question but was interrupted by a male voice.
“Looks like trouble is back in town,” the voice oozed. “And she brought a friend, too.”
Jared Bennett.
My gag reflex jumped at the sound of his voice, so I turned and graced him with a disgusted curl of my lip. “Referring to yourself as trouble doesn’t make you appealing. Although I’m not sure there is anything that could. You can put a dog in a bow tie, but that doesn’t make him charming. He’ll still hump your leg if given a chance.”
Jared furrowed his eyebrow in confusion, his mouth opened to retort but he was unable to find his words. I figured he was just trying to figure out what, exactly, I’d accused him of. Sadly, witty insults were wasted on him.
“You’re the dog,” I pointed out.
Beside me, Cat chuckled.
Jared’s lips pressed together, his fury clear on his face. He narrowed his eyes at me. “Fuck you,” he snarled, loudly.
The noise in the bar quieted as people turned to look at us.
“Charming.” I took a sip of my beer and furrowed my brows in curiosity. “Is that the same pickup line you used on the girl at Penn State?”
His eyes flared in surprise. I’d only been home for a week and I already knew about his dirty laundry. He should know better than anyone, though, just how quickly gossip traveled in a small town like ours. I might be the daughter of a career convict, but he was the son of a respected lawyer. His fall from grace was so much farther than any of mine had ever been.
He also had more to lose.
Jared was fast. He had his hand wrapped around my neck, and he had my back pressed against the bar before I could take my next breath.
“Let. Go. Asshole,” I threatened even though I could scarcely breathe.
He leaned in closer and said quietly, “Make me, bitch.”
My knee came up and hit him square in the balls right before the beer bottle I was holding smacked him upside the head. He released his grip and staggered back, stunned. Beer trickled down my arm and his shirt was drenched. I stood up straight, and my hand reflexively reached for my neck to massage the sting of where his fingers had been squeezing. I took a lungful of air and glared at him.
“Touch me again, and I’ll rip your dick right off. Maybe then you won’t have to worry about your degenerate urges, fuckwad.”
Jared shook his head and then lunged for me again. I raised my bottle in defense, but before he could reach me, a fist collided with his jaw and he careened to the side, a big body bearing down on him. Jared hit the floor, and I watched in horrified fascination, realizing that the fist that had taken him down was attached to the arm of Austin Stone.
Who was now beating the bloody hell out of Jared Bennett.
And then it occurred to me.
Maybe I was a degenerate. Because I’d never seen anything so sexy in all my life as Austin Stone kicking Jared Bennett’s ass.