The End Zone
“Oh, great. Now your new girlfriend is here!” Amber shrieks, throwing her arms in the air on an eye roll. Then she huffs. I think I made my opinion about huffing clear. I narrow my eyes at the not-so-happy couple. Sage turns around instantly, his eyes growing wide.
“What are you doing here, JoJo?” The words struggle out of his mouth.
“Standing in your way, obviously. Don’t worry, Sage. I’ll make myself scarce so you can go back to your…” I frown at both of them, standing so close to each other, “business.”
“No, wait. There’s no business with Amber. No business at all. You don’t understand…” He charges after me, but I take hurried steps toward Trish’s car, swing the passenger door open, slide in, and nudge her to start driving. She does. She throws the lit cigarette out the window and pushes the gas pedal like we’re on a police chase. I’m not sure I want to know how she mastered these escaping skills.
“Trouble with the boy?” Her voice is exceptionally cheerful, like she just proved a point. I shake my head, crossing my arms over my chest. I want to move out. I need to move out. I hate him. I want to kill him. I want to kiss him. I love him. I don’t know what I’m feeling. Everything is wrong and twisted and final. Or maybe nothing happened at all and this has a very simple, logical explanation. I’m confused. I need to drink. I have to think about this sober.
Goddammit.
My phone starts pinging with messages as I see Sage’s burgundy truck careening after us. Well, that’s just dandy.
Sage: Where are you going? Who is in the car with you?
Sage: You can’t just leave. I didn’t know you were coming. I can explain.
Sage: I know it looks bad.
Sage: You need to answer me, JoJo.
Sage: FUCK JOJO FUCK.
“Where to?” Trish asks, lighting her four-hundredth cigarette for the day as we speed toward an intersection. She nonchalantly passes a stop sign and I’m about to pee my pants—yeah, despite all the Pilates.
“Slow down, Trish.”
“Did he cheat?” She ignores me, getting all worked up. “It looks like he’s been cheatin’ on ya. This kinda thing doesn’t fly with me. Bob cheated.”
“It’s complicated, but…” I don’t want to die. Not even over Sage.
“Bastard!” She hits the accelerator so hard my head swings back. Meanwhile, the texts flow like cheap alcohol at a frat party.
Sage: Tell her to stop the goddamn vehicle or I swear I’ll slam into you from the side to pull you over.
Sage: Bitch is crazy, JoJo. She’ll get both of you killed.
Sage: IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK.
“You have to stop.” I swivel my whole body toward Trish.
“Like hell I will!” she exclaims with an evil laugh. Dude. Okay. Trish might be a little on the psychotic side. Plus, she is plucking out another cigarette from her magical, never-ending pack. I grab her shoulder and squeeze lightly so she doesn’t do something reckless in an attempt to gain her full attention.
“Trish, you’re spinning. Stop the car or I’ll take all your tips,” I threaten, and the car pulls over so fast my head is swimming again. We’re on the shoulder of the highway, in the pitch-black, and Trish leans over my body, throws my door open, and points outside.
“Get the hell outta my car, girl. If you’re taking this cheating bastard back, I don’t want to hang out with you no more.”
That escalated quickly. I grab my stuff and hop out, Sage already pulling behind her with his truck. No matter what happened between him and me, I still trust him more to get me home safe. Wherever home may be. He gets out of his truck and walks toward me, chest puffed up, eyes ablaze, just when Trish hits the gas pedal again and leaves us in a thick cloud of exhaust smoke. We’re standing one in front of another. I don’t say a thing. Neither does he.
He pulls his phone from his pocket and texts me. I stare at him like he’s an absolute lunatic.
Sage: If we talk about it right now, we’ll fight again. Come home with me and I’ll explain everything.
I don’t budge. I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to fight. But I don’t want to be a doormat, either. He’s got plenty of girls who’d be happy to play that role for him. But not me. He sighs, texting me again.
Sage: OUR home, JoJo. Don’t throw away all these years for a misunderstanding. Pls?
The drive back is soul crushing, no less. The silence hangs in the air like a stench. When we get to the apartment, I kick my Chucks against the wall and walk over to my room. A big hand grabs me by the waist and spins me around. I swat it away, feeling all the humiliation, anger, and sadness I’d felt at Barnie’s returning, burning in me like a red-hot wrath.
“What the hell, Sage. Get off me! All this bullshit about me being in your blood didn’t feel so true when you ran after Amber, begging.”
“You are in my blood!” he screams in my face, raking his fingers along his thick, lush blond hair. I look away so he won’t see the tears. My cheeks are wet, and my heart is pounding loud enough to hear from across the room. “You’re in my blood, in my veins, in my fucking soul. You’re in my heart and in my fingertips and on my fucking lips like a prayer. You’re fucking everywhere, Jolie Louis. Always will be.” He pushes me to the wall. My back slams against it. I growl, pushing him away. He lets me. We’re angry. We’re desperate. We’re frustrated.