Poughkeepsie (20 page)

When she heard her name shouted behind her, she recognized the voice before she could hope it was Blake.
Chris.
He hustled down the platform steps holding a bouquet of red roses and a black velvet box.
Oh crap.

“Livia, I’m glad I caught you. Hey.” He stepped into her personal space, breathing hard, and gave her cheek a kiss that she tried to dodge. “Whoa—you’re looking above average today,” he noted, appraising Kyle’s makeup job. “I just wanted to let you know I miss you. I miss us.”

He stepped even closer. His cologne now seemed chokingly strong. He started in with the crude baby talk he considered suave. “Come on, sweet baby, let me into your silky hole again. You know you want me.”

I can’t believe I ever put up with this shit
. “Chris, I don’t have place in my life for you anymore. We just don’t look at the world the same way—or want any of the same things. I’m sorry if that hurts you, but it’s the truth.” Livia took a step back.

Chris’s jaw tightened. “Is it the bum? The fucking bum that lays there?” He pointed at the place. “You know, we think he’s dead. So you might not hold out hope for his crazy ass.”

Livia shut her eyes. His voice had morphed into that of typical, spoiled Chris. He hated not getting what he wanted.

“That’s right. Dave and his buddies throw pennies at him, and they’ve been missing their target practice.”

Livia shook her head and glared at him. Chris lifted his chin defiantly.
Is this really who he is?
“You think that’s okay?” Livia made a mental promise to mess up slimy Dave in a serious way.

“Ah, Dave’s a big, banging nerd. I think it’s a stupid hobby.” Chris looked forlornly at his batch of roses, as if suddenly remembering his mission. “Listen, really Livia. I got you a real ring. I’ll forgive you for being with this fruitcake. We’ll chalk it up to experimenting.”

Chris went down on one knee. Livia felt the stares of the other commuters.

“Chris, stand up. Please. Don’t do this,” Livia demanded quietly.

Chris stood up, his face shading red. “This is because of that guy? Really?”

“No, Chris. This is because you cheated on tests in school. This is because I don’t trust you and Hannah. This is because your job in the summer is killing defenseless deer.” The list she’d spent so long carefully ignoring now blared in her head.

“I work on a deer farm,” Chris said, selecting only this for response. “It’s a legitimate business.”

Livia nodded. “Yes, I know. But there’s something wrong with walking out to a paddock full of deer and shooting one. I mean, shouldn’t they at least get to run?”

“I only shoot the ones that
don’t
run.”

Chris seemed to think this made it better, but it only made it worse. The train approached, and Livia willed Chris to leave so she could drop Blake’s breakfast safely.

“Go home, Chris. Return the ring and get your money back. I’m not dating you anymore. It’s as simple as that.” Livia tried to avoid looking at Blake’s spot.

“So does he have, like, a really monster dick or something?” Chris still couldn’t accept his failure.

Livia didn’t want to stoop to his level, but she needed him to leave. “Yeah, it’s fantastic—so big it’s almost a medical condition.”

Chris tossed the roses in the closest garbage can and pocketed the ring box. “You’re a filthy, cock-loving whore, Livia McHugh.”

She watched him stalk up the stairs. Livia dropped the brown bag where it belonged and shuffle-ran to the train before it closed its doors. Forced to stand, she leaned her head against the smudged silver pole that served as a handhold and thought of…
Chris?
His eyes had shown such hurt. Livia knew he was a narcissistic, small-minded boob, but he’d really seemed to believe she’d say yes if he bought a real ring and forgave her indiscretions. He really thought she’d come back. His hurt look took a while to fade from Livia’s memory. She had no idea why a knot of fear had formed in her stomach.

After her day of both teaching and attending classes—all the while feeling a little like a clown in her sister’s dramatic makeup—Livia changed into her Kyle-prescribed getup in the ladies’ bathroom at school. In spite of it, she spent the whole train ride hoping.

He’ll be there in his shade spot, out of the rain
, she told herself.

Carefully following Kyle’s instructions, Livia waited until the White Plains stop before reapplying her makeup. Kyle had used some serious beauty-pageant-strength stuff, so Livia just followed the lines that still existed. She packed everything back in the polka-dot bag and looked out the window as the train pulled into Poughkeepsie, but the rain prevented a clear view.
No Blake?

Livia tried to look again, but the lights came on in the train and she could only see her reflection. She knit her eyebrows in frustration. Was the breakfast bag still there? Had he been there today? Livia stood in the doorway of the train and opened the red umbrella Kyle had uncannily predicted she would need. It matched her hooker heels perfectly. She took a few steps forward and stood for a moment, watching the other passengers run like drowning rats from the platform. There was no bag, but there was a man.
Oh dear God. There’s a man
.

Livia stepped further forward, and the train pulled away behind her. The rain was ice cold and so loud it sounded like sizzling bacon. It pounded on the umbrella and she couldn’t hear anything else, but there he was. He’d come back for her.
Blake.

His silhouette was blurry through the angry, sheeting rain, but she could see his hands were two fists. Was he angry? Livia walked toward him, leaving her heels behind after two steps. She let the umbrella tumble off her shoulder shortly after that.

The cold rain made her gasp. It poured over all of Kyle’s handiwork. Livia kept moving until she stood before him. She closed her eyes against the burning of Kyle’s hairspray as it ran down her face.

Livia reached out to touch his arms. She felt her way down to his fists and gently unfurled them with her fingers. She leaned forward on her tiptoes until her cheek touched his jaw. She sighed as his ice-cold face met her still-warm one.

Livia’s hands followed his arms back up to his chest. She frowned at the bandage on his forearm. When she found his chest, she used it as an anchor as she walked carefully around him. She settled her face on his broad back and hugged him.

She felt and heard him breathe. “Livia.” But he did not move.

She rubbed her face on the back of his wet black T-shirt to wipe her eyes. When she could see clearly again, she peeked over his shoulder and saw the red heels waiting patiently. The rain had filled them like little ponds. The umbrella lay on its side, catching water like a bucket.

Livia leaned up to his ear and said, “Face me,” in a husky voice she’d never used before.

Blake turned achingly slowly until the platform light finally revealed his face. Despite the rain everywhere, Livia knew she’d been dying of thirst, and the sight of him was water.

He finally reached for her with his cold fingers and tilted her face to the emptying sky. “Were you meeting someone?” he asked as the rain and his fingers wiped the last of the makeup from her skin. “You’re all dressed up. You’re dressed…differently.” Finally, his hands were still, and the rain slowed, as if its job was completed.

Livia blinked her now clean eyes open and was relieved to see him again. “No, of course not! Why would you—
oh!
This crazy outfit. I’m supposed to go out with my sister. She picked this for me.”

Something flickered in Blake’s eyes for a moment—relief?—but then he charged forward, his words tumbling out. “Livia, I’m here to say it’s okay. It’s okay if you want to leave, live a normal life, have a husband with a great job and beautiful children with your gray eyes.” His breath caught a little as he finished.

Livia, just a gut feeling, but let him come to you…Listen to him.
Livia stayed silent instead of rushing in with words.

“I’m asking permission to watch you from a distance, just to make sure you’re safe,” Blake continued. “You won’t even know I’m there. I promise.” Blake removed his hands from her face.

“Are you done?” Livia wanted to make sure.

Blake stepped back and nodded as if they’d just completed a painful business transaction, like buying a coffin. Livia shook her head and launched herself at him. He caught her as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She held his face like he’d just held hers. His green eyes were unsure, but a tiny spark danced within them.

“Blake Hartt, I choose you. I
deserve
you. I want you.” Livia proved it by kissing his cold lips until they were warm.

Blake laughed and pulled away to look at her with tears and rain in his eyes. “Really? Really. Really!”

Livia nodded. “Absolutely.”

Blake kissed Livia this time. He started out gently and then became more serious. He carried her over to the station’s brick wall and pressed her back against it. He put her feet on the ground as he grabbed a fistful of her soaking wet hair. Livia reached under his T-shirt to feel his stomach and then his chest. Blake moaned and pushed her harder against the building. But again he pulled back to look at her.

“Me? I want you to be sure,” he said.

“You,” Livia whispered.

“Me.” His eyes were full of intent.

“Always you.” Livia gave him her biggest, heartfelt smile.

“Five hundred.” Blake touched her face as if she might be a mirage and smiled back only when she didn’t disappear.

Livia was content to prove right here how much she’d missed him. She was finally grateful there was so little of her outfit to get in the way. Blake leaned in for another kiss, but he stopped. His eyes cut to the parking lot. Livia followed his gaze to a set of headlights pointed straight at them.

“Oh, that must be Kyle—my sister. She’s picking me up.” Livia tried not to feel annoyed about this.

Blake kept his eyes on the headlights. “What does she drive?”

“A sporty little convertible.” Livia arranged her skirt to be as presentable as it was going to get.

“That’s a truck. Maybe an F-250 from the size of it.” Blake’s whole body tensed.

“Chris drives that kind of truck—”

Before the words were completely out of Livia’s mouth, Blake had pushed her around the corner of the building.

He kept her pressed against the wall, his eyes scanning their surroundings. Livia and Blake hugged in the cold and wet. Their clothes felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. She opened her mouth to ask a question, and Blake put his finger on her lips, shaking his head no.

He seemed to brace for something and pulled Livia closer to his chest. An instant later, she heard the very definite sound of one car smashing into another.

Blake peeked around the corner of the building. “Someone just crashed into that truck. Looks like a little car.”

Kyle’s angry words echoed in the little valley of the platform. “Chris Simmer, you stupid fuck!”

“Kyle!” Livia screamed.

Blake took off running toward the accident. Livia followed, but he was much faster than she was in her bare feet and restrictive skirt. By the time she got there, Blake had planted himself next to Kyle’s convertible, the front of which was lodged underneath the running board on Chris’s truck. Kyle stood on her car’s now slightly bowed hood and whacked the truck with the Mag light their father insisted both girls keep in their cars.

Chris keeps his guns in the truck bed
. Livia knew he was fastidious about keeping his guns protected. She prayed they were
locked
in the truck box.

Blake tried to reason Kyle down. “Ms. McHugh, I’m afraid you’ll need to remove yourself from this situation.”

Kyle ignored him and started whaling on Chris’s window with the flashlight. “You stalking, drooling dickhead! I will cut you. Leave my sister alone!”

Chris’s driver’s side window was beginning to crack under the pressure. Chris looked right at Blake, who returned the gaze with terrifying calm. Blake did not seem afraid of Chris or his truck.