The Lovely Reckless (30 page)

“I don't know. Maybe I'll ask Marco if he can ask around the Downs. He knows a lot of people.”

I burst into tears when she mentions his name.

Lex hugs me. “I'm sorry, Frankie. I shouldn't have brought him up. I wasn't thinking.”

“It's fine. I'm going to have to get used to it.” I wipe my face on my sleeve.

“Want to tell me why you broke up with a guy you're in love with?” she asks. “Is it because he got arrested?”

“How did you know?”

“Cruz told me. It was all I could get out of her.” Lex rubs her eyes. “She probably wouldn't have told me anything if Marco hadn't spent the last two days following me around. But she didn't give me details.”

I take a deep breath. “On Friday night, Marco had to pick up a car for the asshole his father owes. When he left the Heights, my dad followed Marco and arrested him as soon as he got into the stolen car.” I search through the glove compartment for a tissue and come up short. I settle for a crumpled napkin on the floor.

“How did your dad know Marco was in the Heights in the first place?” she asks.

I look right at Lex, waiting for her to put it together.

She shakes her head like she couldn't have heard me right. “Wait? Was he spying on you to see if you were sneaking out?”

“No. He was using me to find Marco.” Saying it out loud makes me feel hollow inside.

Lex falls back against her seat. “You are shitting me.”

“It gets worse. I told Dad about Marco's father and the debt, hoping he would understand and help him.”

“Get to the part about why you broke up.”

I take a trembling breath. “Dad offered me a deal. He'd let Marco walk if I promised to stop seeing him.”

“Is that even legal?”

I nod. “Undercover cops do it all the time to build cases. If Dad or Tyson think they can get information that will benefit the case by letting someone go, or if they believe that following the person might lead them to a criminal who is higher up the ladder, they can let the person go without charging them.”

“Even if they already arrested the guy?”

“In Maryland, a police officer has a year and a day to charge someone for a misdemeanor, and years for a felony. Some felonies don't even have a statute of limitations. I looked it up. As long as the person hasn't been charged, the cop can let them walk.”

She narrows her eyes. “Screw your father. We'll figure out a way for you and Marco to see each other.”

“I tried that already, remember? I can't risk it. If Dad catches us, he'll use what he already has on Marco and charge him.”

Cars trickle into the parking lot—Mustangs and custom cars with street racing modifications in Lot B, and Land Cruisers and luxury cars in Lot A.

In the far corner of Lot A, only six spaces away, sunlight glints off the hood of a hunter-green Firebird. Deacon leans against the car, a black hood hiding his red baseball cap. He turns something between his fingers near his mouth—a toothpick, most likely. He's facing Lex's car and there's no sign of Marco.

Lex scrunches her nose. “Why is Marco's psycho friend watching us?”

Not us.

Me.

When Deacon realizes I see him, an unfriendly smile spreads slowly across his face.

“Does he go to school here?” Lex asks.

“No.”

A flash of yellow whips by, and Cruz's GT-R pulls in next to Deacon's car. Ava gets out and Cruz shoos her away. Cruz points at Deacon with her good hand. She's not happy.

He alternates between grinning at Cruz like a mischievous kid and flashing me a wicked smile. The way his expression shifts in the space of a heartbeat gives me the creeps.

“Please tell me Cruz isn't getting back together with Future Inmate 666 over there,” Lex says.

“That would be a
no
.”

Mr. Santiago charges down the steps of the main building in his signature turtleneck and pressed jeans. He shouts at Deacon, then speaks into his walkie-talkie. Deacon hops into his car, flips a quick U-turn, and speeds past us.

Cruz rushes over to the Fiat.

“What did he want?” I ask, getting out.

“I don't know. But if Deacon finds out about your father…” Cruz looks around to make sure no one is nearby. “Just stay away from him. He usually only comes around if he's looking for Marco or me. Him showing up for no reason, it's—”

“Psychotic?” Lex closes her door and studies Cruz. “I can't really see you two together. You seem too … what's the word I'm looking for?”

“Stable?” Cruz offers.

“That's the one.” Lex checks her phone for the tenth time and bites her lip. One look at her expression tells me Abel still hasn't texted.

“How are you holding up?” Cruz asks me.

I just shake my head. “Is Marco okay?”

Cruz stares at the ground.

“Tell me the truth.” I hold my breath.

“He's having a rough time.”

Lex loops her arm through mine and rests her head on my shoulder as we cross the street. “Today is going to suck.”

It's still early and the halls are empty except for a few people sitting on the floor studying. I lean against my locker, wishing the day was already over.

“Shit.” Cruz stares down the hall.

Marco heads in our direction. His beautiful tan skin has a pale cast, and dark smudges from oil streak his clothes, as if he raced last night and didn't bother to change.

I catch a glimpse of Chief standing at the vending machine not far behind Marco.

“Frankie? Are you okay? Lex said you were sick,” Marco calls out.

“She's fine,” Lex says. “I told you a hundred times that it was just a cold.”

“Can we talk?” he pleads. “I tried to call you, but it kept going straight to voice mail.”

No one moves.

I shake my head. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

Chief heads in our direction. “Everything all right?”

Marco moves closer, and Cruz darts in front of him. She rests her hands on his chest. “You're only making it worse.”

He jerks back. “How can it get any worse? She left me.”

Cruz grabs his arm. “Have you been drinking?” she whispers.

Marco pulls away. “What difference does it make?”

“A big one to the people who care about you,” Chief says. “And everyone else on the road.”

I've never seen Marco drunk before. This is my fault.

I'm destroying him.

“Did you drive here like this?” Cruz yanks his keys out of his back pocket. “What the hell is wrong with you? Who is going to take care of Sofia if you get yourself killed?”

He rubs his forehead. “I need her.”

I bite my lip, and Lex squeezes my hand.

“I know,” Cruz says gently. “But showing up drunk and embarrassing Frankie at school isn't the way to get her back. And it will get you expelled.”

Marco's head shoots up, and the brown eyes I love so much find mine. “Can I get you back? Just tell me if there's a chance, Frankie. Give me something.…” He sounds desperate and angry, hurt and confused all at the same time—and I'm responsible.

Chief glances down the hall. “We need to get you home before anyone else figures out you've been drinking. When was the last time you slept, Marco?”

“I'm not leaving until I finish talking to Frankie.” Marco makes eye contact with me again. “Is there a chance?”

How many times will I have to look him in the eye and lie? “It will never work. It's better this way.” I barely get the words out.

“Better for who?”

“Come on, son.” Chief motions for Marco to follow him. “What you're doing right now won't change anything. Just walk away.”

Marco whips around. “Is that the brilliant advice you gave my dad before he blew his career out of the water?”

Cruz freezes next to Chief.

“Because if that's what you told him, I'm not surprised he threatened to screw up someone's car.”

“Marco!” Cruz shoves him down the hall. “Shut up and come with me. Right now.”

Chief's shoulders sag. “I tried to talk your father down. He couldn't see past his anger. But you're a better man than him.”

Marco's jaw twitches, and he tips his chin in my direction. “Her dad doesn't think I'm a
better man
. Nobody does. Not even the girl I love.”

Cruz pulls Marco aside. “You've got to stop.”

Chief puts his hand on my shoulder. “He can't see those other doors.”

I only have one thought.…

Neither can I.

Students filter into the hallway. I spot Abel dragging himself toward us, and I forget my own problems.

“Where were you?” I demand.

Lex crosses her arms, digging her nails into her skin. “Go ahead. Dodge the question like you always do.”

He looks like crap.

“Are you hungover?” Not him, too.

“No.” He rubs his bloodshot eyes and leans his head against a locker. “I just didn't get any sleep.”

“Frankie?” Marco's voice makes my heart speed up.

Lex shakes her head. “He's never going to give up.”

“What are you talking about?” Abel asks. He's out of the loop.

“Worry about yourself,” she snaps.

I turn around and Marco is right behind me. Cruz looks at me and throws up her hands like she's out of ideas. Chief gives him space, but he doesn't leave. For a second, Marco just stares at me. I want to wrap my arms around him and confess everything.

“I'm sorry you were worried, Lex,” Abel says, oblivious to what's going on between Marco and me. “Will you forgive me?”

“Not until you tell me where you were all weekend.”

Abel sighs. “I lost my phone. That's all.”

Marco glances over my shoulder in Abel's direction, distracted, before he turns his attention back to me. “I don't want to upset you,” he says softly. “You and me are good together. Don't throw it away.”

Lex steps between us. “You need to leave Frankie alone and give her some space.”

“I know, but it's killing me.” Marco gives her a weak smile and puts his hands on Lex's arms as if he's planning to step around her.

Abel looks over and sees Marco holding her arms, and his expression darkens. He pushes past me and moves in front of Lex. “Get your hands off her.” Abel slams his palm against Marco's chest, shoving him back a few feet.

Lex pushes Abel away. “He wasn't doing anything.”

People in the hallway slow down, bumping into one another as they stop to watch.

Chief rushes over. “Okay, that's enough.”

Marco looks at the spot on his chest where Abel shoved him. His eyes flicker back to me, and he takes a deep breath. “I'll let that slide, Abel, because you're one of Frankie's friends. But if you're such a badass, why don't you tell your girl where you were all weekend?”

Lex's eyes dart between them, finally settling on Marco. “You know where he was?”

“Shit!” Abel punches the locker next to mine.

She turns to him. “How does he know, Abel?”

Abel stares at the floor.

Cruz tugs on Marco's arm, and he finally lets her lead him away. Chief sticks close to them. Marco stops when he reaches the end of the row of lockers and looks back at us. “Abel was betting on my races.”

Lex doesn't bother to ask if it's true. The look on Abel's face says it all. She turns to walk away, and Abel catches her wrist.

“Don't touch me.” She snatches it away. “I'm tired of worrying about you all the time.”

Abel flinches as if she slapped him.

“I don't want a front-row seat when you self-destruct. The view already sucks from where I'm sitting now.”

 

CHAPTER 36

BLACK DAYS

By the time Lex drops me off at the rec center that afternoon, my nerves are fried, and the pain tearing me apart has morphed into another emotion—anger.

Anger at my dad for manipulating me.

Anger at myself for letting him.

Anger at Abel for gambling and lying and hurting Lex.

Anger at Deacon for watching me in the parking lot like a stalker.

Anger at Marco for driving to school drunk.

The shirtless basketball players are hanging out against the wall as I walk up the sidewalk to the rec center.

One of them whistles, and another grabs his crotch and calls out, “I've got something for you over here, baby. And they don't have any of this in the Heights.”

The tightrope I've been walking—between holding myself together and losing it—snaps.

I whip around and face the idiots. “Let's clear up a few things. First, I don't live in the Heights. Second, I'm sure they have plenty of
that
in the Heights.” I point at his shorts. “Third, if I wanted any of
that
, I'd get it from someone else. By the way, do you guys even know how to play basketball?”

The three losers burst out laughing, but they don't say anything.

I'm almost at the glass doors when I hear barking and growling, followed by a piercing howl.

Cyclops.

I sprint toward the side of the building. A dog has Cyclops cornered, and the cat's fur is matted with blood. Not just any dog—the husky mix that chased Cyclops the first day I saw him. The dog advances, and the one-eyed cat turns, limping on an injured back leg.

Cyclops doesn't look like he'll survive another round. Without a hose and serious water pressure, there isn't much that will send a dog running once it's in attack mode.

Except …

I grab the biggest rock in sight. I'm not going to throw it, but the dog doesn't know that, and I need to establish the alpha position fast. With my arms raised to make myself look as big as possible, I shout, “Get away from him! Get away!”