Play It Safe (20 page)

* * * * *

So having a job, a place, a boyfriend and a routine wasn’t boring.

But it was beautiful.

Until last night and it wasn’t Bud Sharp or Cecily or Mustang making my life not what I wanted it to be.

It was Casey.

And, after last night, I hated to admit it because I owed him everything. But for a long time, making my life be nothing I wanted it to be had been all Casey.

* * * * *

It was quarter to eight, fifteen minutes before Gray was due in but also after the dinner rush. Folks ate early in Mustang, the dinner rush starting at five and ending at seven. Then things got quiet and it was just Janie and me and a few regulars until, on weeknights, around nine thirty, ten, Janie saw things pick up but not so much she couldn’t handle it on her own. On the weekends, it was a different story but she had another girl who worked part time to help her out with that.

I was days. Or days until eight which was mostly days and evenings.

So it was quiet, me on the outside of the bar and Janie on the inside, shooting the breeze and there were only four other people in the bar.

I was winding down from work but winding up to see Gray. We’d been together a month but I was right. I wasn’t used to him or his beauty. I looked forward to it all day. I started getting excited about it when it got close then felt the splendor of it when he finally walked through the door.

And this escalated after our relationship became physical.

Since she didn’t mind sharing personal stuff with me, I tested the waters and I told Janie about it. When I did, she told me having an orgasm your first time was so unusual, it was exceptional.

“Though,” she went on quietly, “not surprised that a man like Gray gave that to you. What I will say is that I sure am glad you gave a man like Gray what you had to give him.”

It must be said I really, really liked Janie.

The first time being great, it kept getting better. Gray told me his father taught him patience and I learned that to be true. I didn’t know who taught him gentleness but that was true too, out of bed as well as in it. Nudity, touching, tasting, sharing, kissing, holding and making love was safe with Gray. I didn’t feel self-conscious, not ever. He communicated, not with words most of the time, with his eyes, his hands, his mouth. He guided. He taught. He listened. He paid attention. He discovered what I liked (and we both enjoyed it, me more, obviously) and he showed me what he liked (and we both enjoyed it, him more, hopefully).

And it just kept getting better and better.

Janie told me that, too, was unusual.

So I looked forward to Gray, to talking to him, to being with him then cuddling with him and finally
being
with him.

And I looked forward to it
a lot.

So I was in a good mood, in a good place, fifteen minutes away from Gray and unprepared for Casey to storm into the bar.

But even if he’d come in at high noon and I had hours to wait for Gray I would have been unprepared. Because even though Gray met him at the diner like he said and gave him five hundred dollars of his own money (something we had quiet words about and he refused to allow me to do it, I didn’t like it but it clearly meant something to him so I let him), I hadn’t seen Casey since that day at Gray’s.

And also because I was not then nor ever would be prepared for what Casey would do and say to me.

It went like this.

He walked right up to me, manner hurried, things on his mind, places to be. I knew him well so I knew that.

I just didn’t know what was on his mind, where he wanted to be and I would never have guessed he would take for granted wherever that place was, it would be with me.

When he made it to me, he said, “Come on, Ivey, let’s go.”

I stared at him and asked, “Where?”

“It’s fuckin’ cold up here. Tired of cold. I’m thinkin’ southern California, San Diego or maybe Tucson.”

San Diego or Tucson?

“What are you talking about?” I asked, so caught in my new life, what he was saying didn’t dawn on me.

He focused more on my face. “Next stop. San Diego. Tucson. Maybe Phoenix. Pack your shit. We’re on the road tonight.”

Was he crazy?

“Casey,” I said softly, “I’m not going to San Diego or Tucson. I’ve got a job. An apartment. I’m not going anywhere.”

That was when he really focused on me.

Then he declared, “Yeah you are. You’re comin’ with me.”

It hit me belatedly that his relationship with the mystery Mustang woman had crashed and burned.

“Oh Casey,” I whispered, moving to him, “did you break up with your girl?”

He jerked up his chin, eyes hard, hiding emotion he didn’t want anyone to see but I knew him. He couldn’t hide from me.

“Bitch ousted me. Just like that. Said pack your bags, out tonight. So I packed my bags, I’m out, we’re on the road and this shithole is in our dust.”

I studied him and I saw he wasn’t lying when he talked about her after they met. He liked her. And he was hurt.

“If you guys have had a fight, maybe you should give her a night to cool down. Go see her tomorrow. Talk it out,” I advised.

“Ivey,” he snapped, “you’re not listenin’ to me. We’re
gone.
”

“Honey, seriously, give her the night.”

“Yeah, give her the night,” he hissed sarcastically then went on in the same vein. “You gonna let me crash on your couch? Oh, I know, your friendly cowboy’ll let me crash at his pad.”

This meant he didn’t have any money.

“Yes, for the night, Casey, I’ll let you crash on my couch,” I offered cautiously at the same time trying to figure out how I’d convince Gray that was an okay idea.

“Fuck that,” he returned. “We’re goin’.”

“Casey, honey, I’m not going and if she means something to you, you shouldn’t either. You should give it a shot, work it out.”

“Relationship advice from my fuckin’ sister,” he muttered.

“Well, yeah, Casey. I know you. I love you. And you’re obviously hurt so I’m looking out for you and advising you should try to work it out.”

He leaned in, his face twisting and spat, “I’m not
hurt.
Bitch wanted to tie me down. Yammerin’ on every night, ‘Casey, you go to the plant and talk about a job?’ and ‘Casey, darlin’, saw an ad in the paper, sellin’ cars, you’d be good at that.’ Sellin’ cars. Fuckin’ crazy. That’s not me. I tell her that, she doesn’t listen to me just keeps at me with that shit. Fuck that, I’m done.”

At this speech it finally broke through. It dawned crystal clear that for the last month as I started my normal life with my job and my room and my boyfriend in this town, Casey had been going through the money I gave him, Gray gave him and undoubtedly his girl gave him. And no doubt he’d done it stupidly. And she was done giving money to him, feeding him, putting a roof over his head and a pillow under it. He probably promised her he’d step up. He didn’t. And she was done.

“Maybe you should take a second, think about what she said and look into those things, Casey,” I whispered my suggestion. “You don’t know. You might like it. I know I like waitressing. It’s fun. Maybe you’ll like doing something steady too.”

“Are you fuckin’ nuts?” Casey shot back. “This isn’t my life and it isn’t yours. We’re goin’.”

“Okay, if you’ve decided it isn’t your life, that’s fine for you. But it is mine and I’m not going anywhere,” I replied.

“We’re goin’,” Casey repeated.

“You can but I’m not,” I returned.

And that was when he shocked me straight to my core.

Because that was when my brother Casey lost it completely doing something he’d never, ever done to me.

And what he did was grab my arm, dip his face half an inch from mine, shake my arm hard and hiss, “Pack your
fuckin’
bags, sis, we…are…
goin’.
”

Looking into his furious face, feeling his fingers wrapped tight around my arm, hearing Janie whispering probably into a phone behind me, I knew it.

I knew it then.

He needed me.

I understood it before but not in the same way.

He couldn’t make his own way. He couldn’t put gas in his car. He couldn’t feed himself.

Unless he used me.

Used
me.

When Gray got angry with his uncle and made his declaration about no one using me, he didn’t mean Uncle Charlie. He meant Casey. He’d barely been around us but he’d seen it even before me.

That was why there were no connections but that rule was just for me. That was why I had to play it safe when he didn’t.

He found his girl who made his heart race; it was okay for me to find whatever I found.

But when he was done so was I.

I was his meal ticket.

I was all he had.

A long time ago, he was all I had. But as we got older, that had shifted. And instead of Casey finding us something safe, something steady, something right, something good and moving us into that kind of life, he was too scared or too dumb or too addicted to the hustle to do that.

And he couldn’t hustle anyone without me.

So he kept me under his thumb and used me.

“Take your hand off me,” I whispered but he didn’t.

His fingers tightened so much the pain magnified and he shook me again, this time my body going with it.

“Not gonna say it again,” he ground out.

I twisted my arm savagely but he was holding on so tight I didn’t get free and it hurt more so I stopped doing it and my voice rose with anger and a little bit of panic when I repeated, “Take your hand off me!”

He shook me again, leaning into me so I had to bend back and shouted, “Get your shit and get in the car!”

I twisted my arm again, it hurt again even more but he
still
didn’t let go and I shrieked, “Casey,
take your hand off me!
”

“Dude, do as Ivey says,” Barry, one of the two men (I was right back when I made my guess) who sat hunched with his friend Gene nearly every night at The Rambler was now standing close to Casey and me.

Casey’s neck twisted and he spat, “Stay out of it.”

“Let her go and move back,” Gene ordered, standing to Casey’s other side.

Casey’s neck twisted the other way. “Fuck
you!
”

“One last shot, dude, you let her go or we make you,” Barry warned and Casey looked back at him.

“Yeah, right, fat ass, like you can do that,” he snarled, lip curled.

“Casey!” I snapped, he looked at me, started to shake me again then Gene put two hands on his shoulders, Barry wrapped one around the wrist of his hand that had hold of me and they both pulled him away from me.

Then it began. Casey tore loose and then went back at them fighting.

“Oh God,” I whispered. “God!” I cried. “Casey! Stop it!” I shouted.

He didn’t stop. He took on Barry and Gene and he underestimated them.

Pure Casey.

They might be big boys but then again they were
big boys
and there were two of them. Casey had speed and agility but they had bulk and numbers and they got him down on his belly, his arm twisted around his back, Gene’s knee in it for good measure and Barry turned to Janie.

“You call Len?” he asked and she nodded.

“Lenny and Gray,” she confirmed.

I closed my eyes then opened them quickly.

A squirming, infuriated Casey demanded, “Let me up, asshole.”

I got as close as I dared and told my brother, “Casey, Janie’s called the cops and Gray and you do not want to be here when either of them get here. Trust me. If I ask Gene to let you up, will you promise to get out of here quick?”

“Fuck you, you stupid, selfish
cunt!
Fuck…
you!
” Casey yelled.

This was a bad idea and it was very, very bad timing.

It was a bad idea because I had gabbed with Barry and Gene on more than one occasion. I saw them nearly every night for a month. I liked them, they liked me and they didn’t like anyone calling me the c-word, even my brother.

And it was bad timing because he said it precisely as Gray stalked into the bar.

So Gene got one second to twist Casey’s arm so brutally he cried out in pain and I feared he’s snap it right off before Gray pushed him aside.

He rolled Casey to his back, jerked him to his feet, pushed him off and invited in a low, rumbling, seriously angry voice, “Let’s do this.”

The last time they went head-to-head, Gray had dumped him right on his behind in the snow but Casey, my stupid,
stupid
brother, did not hesitate.

And Gray instantly commenced beating the shit out of my brother while I stood straining against the arms of Barry that were holding me back and shouted at them to stop.

They didn’t.

Not until Lenny showed up in uniform, badge on his chest, gun on his hip and he pulled Casey from the hold Gray had on Casey’s collar to keep him steady while he slammed his fist repeatedly in my brother’s face.

Casey went flying, shaking his head, so addled by the blows he didn’t even throw his arms out to catch onto anything.

Lenny planted a hand in Gray’s chest, arm straight, eyes locked to Gray’s and voice growling, “Stand down now, Gray.”

Gray’s chest was rising and falling fast, his jaw was hard, a muscle jerking in his cheek. His eyes were locked on Casey who was swaying and still shaking his head, trying to shake the sense back in.

A fruitless endeavor.

Lenny gave it a minute, holding Gray’s eyes to ascertain he got a lock on it then when he did Lenny stepped back and dropped his arm.

Then he asked the bar at large, “What we got here?”

Peg, the barfly who, like Barry and Gene, was there every night, piped up and apparently, even though she was usually always borderline sloshed, that didn’t mean she couldn’t pay attention.

“That guy came in mouthin’ off at Ivey. She tried to be cool with him. He didn’t listen to a word she said. He got physical, wouldn’t stop, Barry and Gene stepped in, they warned him to stop, he wouldn’t. They got him off her then he called Ivey the c-word and Gray was walkin’ in, heard him and justifiably wailed on him.”

Although this was succinct and all the truth, albeit with a bit of opinion thrown in, Gray had heard Casey call me the c-word but he didn’t know Casey had been physical with me. Hearing Peg, his eyes cut to me, took me in and unfortunately I wasn’t wearing one of my long-sleeved henleys but instead a short sleeved tee and he saw the angry, red welts on my arm left by Casey.