Knockout (30 page)

My phone rang on the table, vibrating and ringing at the same time like it was all hopped up on crack and candy. I didn’t bother looking at the caller ID. I knew who it wasn’t.

“Hey,” I answered.

“What’s up?” Sam said happily. “Are you working today?”

“I wasn’t scheduled to but I think I’ll go in. Nothing else to do. May as well make some money.”

“You okay? You sound down.”

I looked at the charcoal I’d done with its deep shadows, shady inner city backdrop and all around morose feeling.

“I might be a little down.”

“You want me to turn that frown upside down?”

“Depends what you have in mind.”

“I got us tickets to ComiCon.”

My jaw dropped to the floor.

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” she said smugly. “Two of them. If you’re too busy I can go alone or sell the other ticket…”

“I’m in, I’ll go. Don’t sell it. I know you’re messing with me but seriously, for real, I’ll murder you if you lose or scalp my ticket. I’m in.”

Sam laughed, the tinny sound of it coming over though my phone and making me smile.

“Alright, but you can’t go to work today. Let’s do something fun. Pull you out of whatever funk you’ve landed yourself in.”

I sighed, leaning back into the chair with a thud. “Have I ever told you that you are the greatest of friends?”

“Yes, but one never tires of hearing such things. Get dressed. I’ll be there in ten.”

I hung up my phone without looking away from the drawing. It held me, even without eyes. It was watching me, even as it was leaving.

I met up with Sam at the food court in the mall where we split a massive platter of cheese fries and people watched. It was one of my favorite things to do. Like going to the zoo but for adults. It was better than hitting up the local Walmart. That was more like going to a petting zoo at a shady street fair where all the animals had frothy mouths and patchy fur. The llama is actually a goat but no one wants to get close enough to make sure because he’s wearing a tutu and a G-string, his face a lump of crazy.

“So what’s got you down?” Sam asked between mouthfuls.

“Guess.”

“Kellen.”

I tapped my nose, the international charades symbol for ‘correct’.

“Go ahead and say it,” I told her.

Her brow pinched together. “Say what?”

“That it’s always Kellen bringing me down. That I should move on. I should let it go. It’s never going to work out.”

“Whoa. You are lower than I thought you were.”

“Just say it,” I insisted.

I suddenly realized I wanted to hear it. I wanted someone to tell me to quit because it was a lost cause and it always had been. I didn’t know if I believed it, I didn’t know what I’d do if they said it, but I felt like it was time someone did. Someone other than Laney with her biased opinion and bitter tongue.

Sam shook her head, picking up another fry. “I’m not going to say that because it’s not true. Kellen is not always bringing you down. He makes you happier than anyone else on th
e planet, even me and I’m your hero.”

“That’s true, you are,” I said, grinning affectionately at her black clothes, white hair and myriad of piercings.

“And I don’t think it will never work out. I think timing is a bitch and it hasn’t been kind, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth the wait.”

“We had sex,” I blurted out, staring at the cheese going cold and forming a thin, waxy film on its surface. I wanted to poke at it, swirl it around to mix it with the rest and make it new again. I wanted to help it. Hide the blemishes.

Cheese was making me sad. I was pretty sure I was losing my mind.

“When?”

“Three days ago. He stayed the night but he was gone in the morning. I haven’t heard from him since.”

She winced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, shit. You’re in it now, huh?”

I chuckled. “Really? Cause I feel like I’ve been tossed out of it, whatever it actually was.”

“It’s
the love of your life,” she told me matter-of-fact.

I rolled my eyes. “That’s insane coming from you.”

“What? I can’t believe in true love and fairy tales and all that mess?”

I
paused, my fingers dipped in the cheese I lamented, and I eyed her shrewdly. “There’s a guy.”

“No, there’s not!”

“Why are you shouting?”

“There’s no guy. Shut up.”

I grinned. “Methinks she doth protest—“

“I said shut up, Shakespeare.”

“You do know that I know that there’s a guy so there’s no reason to keep pretending no one knows there’s a guy. Cause there’s a guy. I know it.”

“Why are you saying know so much?”

“Why are you evading the question?”

“Because I’m embarrassed,” she hissed. “He’s sweet and successful and a freaking banker of all things. And he’s funny and he… Jen, he likes to surf. And I like to watch him do it. He gets out on those waves all wet and shiny and he stands on his board as he glides over them like Poseidon in a Calvin Klein ad for eau de sex spray. I swear to God, the world goes black and white for a minute as I watch him. He walks to a soundtrack in my head!” She grimaced. “It. Is. Humiliating.”

I smiled at her, feeling suddenly so happy inside I could hardly stand it.

“You’re in love,” I told her, my voice hushed with awe.

She slammed her head down on the table and moaned, “I know.”

“That’s good.”

She rolled her head to look at me. “He’s a typical California boy, though. And he’s clean cut and he goes to work in a suit. And he’s good at it! He reminds me of my dad, for fuck’s sake.”

“Your dad is a great guy.”

“But this is everything I didn’t want.”

“No,” I told her, still smiling at her agony over this amazing thing, “it’s everything you
thought
you didn’t want.”

“Ick.”

I laughed at her. “Well, I’m happy for you even if you’re not. What’s his name?”

She buried her face again, falling silent.

“Sam,”

“His name is Carter.”

“It’s nice.”

“It’s pretentious.”

I snorted. “So is Samantha.”

“Which is why I go by Sam,” she grumbled, sitting up straight and looking pretty
morose for a woman in love.

“Then call him Car. Who cares? If he’s a good guy and you love him, why would you worry about his name?”

“I’m not,” she said, moving her finger through a small scattering of salt that had dropped on the table. “I’m worried he’ll want me to be more like him.”

“More like him how?”

“More mainstream.”

“Would you be willing to do that for him?” I asked, feeling surprised. Sam had always been very adamant about never being a Barbie. But California was full of them, we were both related to a few, and if she really loved this guy…

“No,” she said firmly.

“Then you have nothing to worry about. Besides, is he asking you to change?”

“No,” she admitted. “He actually asked if he could come to the parlor and have you do a tattoo for him. He saw the bird you did on my wrist and he liked your work. He’s got a few tats already, all tastefully hidden under his ties.”

“Bring him in!” I cried, throwing my balled up napkin at her. “I want to meet him.”

“Bryce will tear him apart.”

“He’ll be fine.”

“Maybe.”

“Bring him in.”

“Or I could wait until you have your own shop and I can bring him in there.”

“Don’t wait for that,” I said, feeling suddenly deflated. “It’s a long ways off.”

“I thought you were shop shopping,” she said, perking up now that the spotlight was shifting off her.

“I am, sort of. I was, at least. With Kellen.”

“But now that you’ve done the deed and he’s on the run…”

“Who kn
ows where that leaves the store.”

“It leaves it with you, dumbass.”

“What?” I laughed.

“It’s your store, not his. It’s your dream. You don’t need Kellen to make it happen.
You needed him to jump start you, yeah, but now that the ball is rolling you need to go with it.”

“I guess.”

“No, you know. Get out there and make it happen.”

“There’s a little matter of money, though.”

“I thought your dad was helping you.”

“He is.” I frowned, feeling a little confused. “At least I think he is. He’s acting like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about because he knows I’m weird about money and help. I guess he’s staying a silent partner. Very silent. I know how much he told Kellen he’ll invest in the property, though.”

“Okay, so where exactly did you guys leave off?”

“We were still looking for the right place.”

Sam stood up and drug her chair loudly behind her making me wince as it scratched sharply across the linoleum. She put it directly beside me then plopped down in it.

“Get out your phone. Let’s get to looking.”

“You’ll help me?” I asked, feeling relieved as I pulled up the realty app on my phone.

“Apparently someone has to,” she said, sounding exasperated. “Just promise you won’t pine over me for the next decade and try to have sex with me.”

“I lose the best friends that way,” I mused wistfully. “I think my lady parts are cursed.”

“You’re like Tut’s Tomb down there. You’re an Unsolved Mystery. Robert Stack should do a special on you.”

“He’s dead,” I told her sadly.

“It’s probably your fault.”

“More than likely.”

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Bryce asked, staring at me from behi
nd the counter, the page of the paper he was reading stilled between his fingers in midair.

I looked down at myself and wondered the same thing. I mean, I knew what I was wearing. I was dressed in yellow and black vinyl from my neck to my gloves, to the tips of my 3 inch spiked heel boots. The only exposed skin on me was my face and my thighs in a cutout of the costume that made me feel naked despite the layers of material covering me and making me sweat in the heat. How did Batman do this? Vinyl is the worst.

“I’m the Silk Spectre,” I told him. “From
Watchmen
.”

“Hmmm,” he replied, his eyes taking in my outfit one last time before he returned to his magazine.

“That sounded judgy.”

“I’m surprised, that’s all.”

“Why? She’s kickass! The one girl in a group full of men and she can hang.”

“Hmmm.”

I glared at him. “Stop it.”

“Has your boy or your dad seen you in that?”

“It’s none of my dad’s business and I don’t have a boy,” I said defensively.

“Hmmm.”

“You’re a dick.”

He chuckled softly.

“Are we ready to go?” Sam asked, emerging from the back of the shop.

I laughed when I saw her. She was in a full pink gown with her long, white hair cascading in big curls over her bare shoulder, the top section piled high under a golden crown. Her makeup was insane. It was natural, pink and startling on her normally pale, clean face. She looked beautiful, she always did, but I couldn’t say I especially liked it. This was not her, no more than the Silk Spectre’s skin tight vinyl number was me.

“What?” she asked, smiling with glossy red lips. “Isn’t the point to go dressed as something you’re not?”

“Is that why Jenna is dressed as a whore?” Bryce asked.

“Hey!”

Sam shrugged. “It’s kind of a compliment. He’s saying you’re not one in real life.”

“Still though,” I grumbled.

Bryce grinned at me. I glared back, considering doing some research on sexual harassment in the workplace. I knew some pretty good lawyers.

“This is too weird,” I said, turning back to Sam. “Who are you exactly?”

“Princess Aurora. From
Sleeping Beauty
.” She yanked at the rigid material pinching her stomach. “I’d rather be Maleficent, though.”

“Then why aren’t you?”

“I wanted to give this a try,” she said vaguely, not looking at me. I couldn’t tell if it was the makeup or if the flush in her cheeks was real, but I got the impression she was embarrassed.

“You wanted to give what a try? Normal?”

“Maybe,” she admitted grudgingly. She grabbed her phone from the counter beside Bryce and handed it to me. “Here, take a picture. I want to send it to my mom and give her a joygasm.”