28. Monroe

TWENTY-EIGHT

monroe

Mine and Zepp's conversation had played through my mind on repeat.

It didn't take a genius to see it bothered him. I was going to college; he wasn't planning to. If I was honest with myself, I didn't want to leave him, either. There was no doubt anymore that I loved him, and love had made me weak. But more than that, it made everything else seem unimportant. I'd dreamed of getting out of Dayton my whole life, but suddenly, it wasn't this awful place I'd always seen it as. Because he was here. But he didn't have to be. Zepp didn't want to go to college, but he also didn't know what he wanted to do with his life. He'd never had any opportunity, and he had no idea how talented he was.

Zepp had gone outside to work on one of the cars, and I sat on his couch, reading over the webpage for the Elizabeth Roux School of Art in Florida. Before I could think it through too much, I clicked on the contact tab and typed out an email, attaching a picture I'd taken of his sketchbook a couple of days ago. It was a picture he'd drawn of me, not the best one, but the least invasive to his privacy, I thought. I hesitated before clicking send. Would he be annoyed that I'd showed one of his drawings to someone else? He didn't show them to anyone. Then again, what if they offered him a place in their school? That had to be worth it. I clicked send, holding my breath until I heard the little ding that signaled it had gone, no taking it back. The worst they could say was no, in which case I'd never tell him.

The front door banged closed, and Hendrix rounded the living room doorway. "Where's Zepp?"

"Out back."

He nodded. "Wanna come to Taco Casa for lunch?"

For the past three nights, all we had eaten was pizza, so I was game. "Sure."

Wolf and Bellamy already had a table by the time we walked into the brightly lit Mexican restaurant. I slid into the booth between Hendrix and Zepp while Wolf mumbled something about Barrington, his fist balled on the table.

"Pussy dicksuckers." Hendrix grabbed the menu, popping it open. "Don't worry, man. I got you."

I elbowed Zepp. "Did I miss something?"

"Barrington emptied a garbage bag onto Wolf's truck."

Wolf crumpled his straw paper up and tossed it to the floor. "Diapers and tampons and shit."

"Gross." And of course, any move that ballsy from Barrington would warrant retaliation.I opened my menu and glanced over the options.

"You ever eaten here before, Roe?" Zepp glanced over the top of his plastic menu.

"No."

"Whatever you do. Do not get the inferno fiesta bowl."

"Okay."

I sat there and ate a taco while watching Hendrix wolf down food like the plate was about to grow legs and run away. He ate not one, not two, but three of those inferno fiesta bowls, and the smirk on Zepp's face told me he was going to regret it. After we paid, Hendrix strutted up to Wolf's pickup, clutching his stomach.

"You gonna come?" he asked Zepp before hauling himself into the back.

Zepp glanced at me, fighting a smile. "Hell yeah." He chuckled. "I'm not missing this shit." Zepp waved me into the back, and I wedged myself between him and Hendrix.

The engine cranked, and Hendrix's stomach rumbled. He grabbed Wolf's headrest and shook it. "Go, man. Go! Floor this bitch."

Wolf threw the truck into reverse and peeled out of the parking lot, cackling.

We stopped at one of the four-way intersections, and Hendrix's stomach gurgled again. The aroma of dead animals filled the car.

"Oh my God." I gagged, burying my face in Zepp's jacket.

"Run the light, Wolf!" Hendrix swiped the sweat from his brow. "I'm not gonna make it."

I practically climbed in Zepp's lap, trying to get away from Hendrix, who wriggled around in the seat like he was about to shit himself.

"Can you hold it?" Bellamy said through laughter.

Hendrix crossed himself. "Lettuce pray."

We were about five minutes away from Barrington when the smell worsened. Zepp cracked his window. Bellamy hung his head out of the passenger side window like a dog on a joyride, and I buried my face deeper into Zepp's shirt.

"Did you shit, Hendrix?" I asked.

"A little shart never killed anyone," he grunted.

The Barrington High sign with its stuffy, coat of arms emblem whizzed past. Wolf whipped it into the parking lot, flooring it around behind the stadium where the football player's shiny SUVs were parked.

I looked from Zepp to Hendrix just as he threw himself out of the truck. "What is he… Nooo !" There wasn't much I would put past Hendrix, but whatever he was about to do involved shit and Barrington.

The guys all cackled, struggling for breath when Hendrix yanked down his jeans.

I looked away before I saw far more of him than I ever wanted to. "I absolutely do not need to see your brother's dick. Or his asshole fall out."

Wolf lowered his window and cupped a hand to his mouth. "Squeeze it out, dude."

"There's no squeezing." Hendrix grunted. "It's more like." Another grunt. "Power washing and plastering."

Minutes ticked by. The guys were laughing so hard they were gasping for air. I looked up just as an army of red and white jerseys jogged off the field. One of the guys stopped at the gate and pointed in our direction.

"Uh, guys. He needs to hurry up," I said. "They're coming!"

"Shit." Bellamy lowered his window, shouting for Hendrix to pinch it off.

"I can't." There was an edge of panic to Hendrix's voice. "It's a water hose, man!"

"I swear to God." Zepp grabbed the door handle. "Had to have three intestinal bowls."

I reached over him, holding onto the door. "You cannot get in a fight just so Hendrix can have a shit!" I leaned over to the open door, shielding my eyes. "Hendrix, get in here!"

I looked up just as half the Barrington football team started toward the Range Rover—the white one with a fresh pile on the once pristine hood, a piece of shitty toilet paper strung over the antenna. Hendrix sprinted across the parking lot, yanking up his jeans before he hurled himself into the backseat, and Wolf took off with a screech of tires and a backfire of the engine.

Hendrix slouched down in the seat on a sigh. "Man, I feel so much better."

I just shook my head because I had no words for him. None.

I pulled up outside my mom's trailer, right next to Jerry's car. I could have stayed at Zepp's, the same way I had for the last three nights, but I wasn't about to start living at his house. It felt like I practically did anyway, and I didn't want to be the full-time girlfriend he never signed up for. So I had decided I was staying at home that night. No matter how much Zepp sulked about it.

The hinges to the trailer door creaked when I pulled it open, and I froze. Jerry was lying on the couch, wheezing, his face bloodied, lip swollen. Mom buzzed around him with a bag of frozen peas in her hands that trembled on a come down.

"What the hell?" The words fell from my lips.

"Oh, baby." My mom came at me with wild eyes, her greasy hair in disarray. "Ya stepdaddy got beat." Stepdaddy? She was on that again? Every time, she thought we were going to be one big happy family with a crack whore, a meth dealer, and a stripper daughter. Fun. How Dayton.

On a grunt, Jerry managed to sit up. And holy shit, Jerry did some sketchy shit, but I had never seen him hurt. And this was beyond hurt. His right eye was swollen shut, and a few extra teeth were missing. The uncomfortable feeling tearing down my spine quickly replaced my temptation to smile.

Jerry stared me down like he thought this was something to do with me. "When I find out who would have the balls to try to come at me…" Rage filled his one good eye. "I'm gonna bury the little shit. Don't think I won't find out, Monroe." The accusation was right there, written all over his face. Why the hell would he think I had anything to do with this?

A thread of fear pulled at my gut. Call it intuition.

I had no doubt that Jerry had enough dirty cops, desperate hookers, and shady drug dealers in his pocket to find out almost anything in Dayton, and I knew—I just knew this was Zepp. And that terrified me.