Chapter 17 - Delaney

17

Delaney

I sleep most of the day. It’s a surprise to me. I thought maybe I would be too wired up, my body wanting to just keep chugging. But after my shower and after Ares comes back with a bag of greasy food from the bar across the street, we both collapse on our separate motel beds and pass out.

I try hard not to think about him sleeping only a few feet away. Something happened when he was showing me those self-defense moves. That familiar bubbly feeling awakened inside — butterflies flapping wildly in my belly. A tiny part of me thought — had hoped — that he might kiss me.

Then I went and fake kneed him in the balls and ruined the whole goddamn thing.

I’m still thinking about it, even now as we head across the street to the bar. The night is humid, sweat already sticking to my skin and making me feel even more clammy and uncomfortable. I should’ve worn my dress, but instead I grabbed something from my thrift store haul — denim shorts, a ribbed tank, and a gray checkered flannel shirt. It’s too hot to wear the shirt, so I’ve tied it around my waist and I feel it flapping against the back of my legs as I walk.

Ares strides in front of me. He seems tense, his body a solid mass of black as he cuts through the lone streetlight. His new jeans fit a little too well, and the tight black t-shirt is one of the ones I grabbed for him. I feel weirdly pleased that he chose it, even though it’s just a dumb shirt and it doesn’t mean anything.

Some rough-looking guys mill around outside the bar, smoking and talking. They quiet down as we approach and Ares slows, slipping to my side like he’s done this a million times before. He flattens a hand to the small of my back and urges me forward, shouldering the door open so that I have to squeeze past him to get inside.

It’s hot and crowded, the bar’s AC pumping overtime to try and cool the place. It’s also impossible to hear anything over the music, the chatter, and the loud crack of pool balls breaking.

“Come on,” he says, ducking to speak in my ear. “I see an open table over there.”

He grabs my hand and my stomach swoops as he leads me through the room. I see some women checking him out as we pass, their eyes lighting up with possibility. But then they see me, see my hand gripped in his, and turn away, lips pursed.

They’re jealous. Of me . Of broken, ruined, Delaney Jackson. I bite back my grin as we find a table tucked away in the corner. It’s quieter here and I’m happy to sink down into my seat. Ares takes the one across from me, his knees hitting mine under the small table.

“So… You come here often?” I say with a chuckle.

Ares looks up from the plastic menu. “Hmm? What’d you say?”

“Nothing.”

What the fuck is wrong with you? I chide myself internally. This isn’t a date. Why are you being so weird?

The most hurtful of my thoughts slips through before I can stop it: He wouldn’t want you, anyway.

I sigh and slide my own menu towards me. Back home, eating out had been a luxury. Almost every dollar I made went to my ’Get The Fuck Outta Here’ stash in my closet. Maybe I’d treat myself to a fast-food burger now and then, but nothing like this.

“They have steak,” I say, my eyes going wide as I scan the ‘From the Grill’ portion of the menu. “I’ve never had steak,” I muse quietly.

Ares looks up, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “You’ve never had a steak.”

I ignore him, my eyes widening even further when I see the price. “Jeez, okay. So that’s a no.”

I flip the menu over. A shadow slices across the lists of salads and sandwiches and I look up at the waitress. She’s closer to Ares’ age and very pretty, her brown skin glowing at the high-points with shimmery make-up. She balances a full tray of dirty glasses on one palm, making it look light as air.

“Welcome to Oscar’s,” she says, making sure to lock eyes with us both. “I’m Shan. Can I get you started on drinks?”

“Shot of tequila,” Ares orders. I blink, surprised, expecting him to order a beer or something. Shan nods, then looks to me expectantly.

“Vodka soda, please.”

She crinkles her nose apologetically. “Sorry, hon, all out of those. We do have Coke, Diet Coke, Sprite…”

Ares snorts and I shoot him a glare. When I look back to her, Shan gives me a ‘Just doing my job’ kind of shrug, which I appreciate.

“I’ll take a Coke.”

Ares is still smirking, so before Shan turns away, I flip over my menu again.

“And the steak.”

***

Turns out I like my steak bloody. I hadn’t known what to say when Shan asked me how I liked it done. ‘Medium’ seemed like the right answer because it’s, you know, in the middle. As I saw into it and pop the first piece in my mouth, I let out a groan. The piece of meat melts on my tongue, flavor exploding and I wiggle in my seat, doing a little happy dance. I glance up and I’m suddenly caught, frozen in Ares’ stare.

“What?” I mumble, my mouth full.

He blinks, then clears his throat and reaches over to grab one of my fries. “Nothing.”

“Hey!” I slide my plate away. “If you wanted food, you should’ve ordered.”

“How can I, when you blew our budget on that half a cow in front of you.”

The steak gets caught in my throat. I cough, forcing it down, and look warily down at the rest.

“Did I really...” I trail off, not knowing what to say. Ares sighs.

“No. Fuck. I’m— I’m kidding, Delaney. It was a joke. I’m not hungry.”

“Oh.” I consider the steak again and start to carve it in half with my knife and fork. “We can share. Here. I’ll cut you half.”

“Delaney, no.”

And then his hand is there, covering mine and stopping me. He dips his head, finding my eyes, and smiles. The corners of his eyes wrinkle.

“You’re fine. It’s all yours, okay?”

I take a beat, his hand on mine making my throat go tight again, then I nod and keep eating. This time I slow down and make to sure savor it.

Ares orders another drink, this time a beer, and sips it slowly as I finish. He spends equal amounts of time watching me and scanning the bar. I’m not sure what he’s looking for — nobody here knows us, so the threat of Dad finding us here is low. At least that’s what I hope.

“Maybe we could sell the coke,” I say suddenly. Ares whips back to me fast.

“We’re not selling it.”

I shrug and swirl my last bite of steak through the greasy pool slicking the bottom of the plate. “We need cash, right? I figure that’s why you didn’t come back with a car this afternoon.”

“Don’t worry about the money,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ve got it handled.”

Oh, God. Did he already take the drugs and sell them? Maybe he went through my bag? I’m hit with a biting surge of anger at the betrayal. The drugs are my bargaining chip and he doesn’t have the right to touch them.

I motion to the raucous crowd, the night finally in full swing. “Look around, it’ll be easy.”

Ares shifts in his seat again, this time rocking forward until he’s bent over the table. He levels me with an intense stare.

“Delaney, we are not selling that coke. Especially here.”

“Why not?” I shove my plate away, forcing him to lean back again so he doesn’t get steak-juice splashed on him. He groans in annoyance and rakes his fingers through his hair. As his arm moves, my eyes flick to the colorful tattoos inked there. They’re a patchwork of symbols, some shaky and faded, some bold and bright. I see a rose with pointed thorns, a black cat, a palm tree and a sun with wavy golden rays. The collection is fuller now than the ones I remember and I wonder what drew him to each design.

“We don’t know if there’s already a dealer who owns this turf,” he says, breaking me out of my stare. “Stepping on toes is not a good idea.”

I slump down, reluctant to admit that he’s probably right. “Fine. Whatever.”

“What’s with the attitude?”

I want to say I don’t have an attitude, but I do. I’m upset that he’s acting like this afternoon never happened. Like something didn’t happen between us. I take a deep breath. I shouldn’t dwell on it. Nothing good will come of it.

“Can I have a sip of your beer?”

Ares sneaks a glance around, probably looking for Shan, then he slides the bottle to me. I pick it up and take a long swig, my lips pressed over the ghost of his.

“Thanks,” I say, pushing the bottle back.

“You drink a lot back home?”

I half shrug and settle back in my chair. My stomach is pleasantly full and even without the comfort of alcohol, I feel relaxed. “Not really. It’s kind of lame to drink alone.”

“A lot of kids party out at the quarry,” he says. His flicks the corner of the peeling beer label with his thumb. “Not that you’re a kid.”

My grin twists wryly. “And what about you? Back when you were my age?”

“Which was not that long ago,” he replies, his look pointed. “We used to go to the field behind the old Harris place.”

“Classy.”

“Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it. Laying out in the bed of your buddy’s truck, blanket underneath you, looking up the stars. Warm from the bonfire… and the girl beside you.”

“Sounds idyllic. Did you have working internet back then or did you get all your porn from a dirty magazine you found in the woods?”

Ares tosses my balled up napkin at me and I laugh. I feel like I owe him more than a joke. There’s a tug inside me, a tug to say something real. I stall, rolling my lips between my teeth.

“Everyone at school — before I dropped out, anyway — they’d do stuff like that. I never did.”

“Why not? You didn’t like fun?”

I shrug. “I didn’t like people. People... stare and whisper. They judge you. It was just easier to stay away. Besides, with my dad being who he is, either they were afraid I was a narc, or their parents were afraid I was a bad influence. Couldn’t really win.”

The silence settles between us, heavy and sour with the mention of Dad.

“Why is your sister with your aunt?”

My eyes snap to his, narrowing quickly. “Why? Has Lilly called?” I grab my chair and drag it closer. Beneath the table, my knees bracket one of his, the denim scraping against my bare skin.

“You’d tell me, if she did. Not just hide it from me because it makes your life easier, right?”

Ares holds his hands up in surrender. “Whoa, calm down. It’s just a question.”

It doesn’t feel like just a question. Not when it comes to Lilly. The only good thing left in my life. My eyes stay narrowed, assessing him, but I take a breath. There’s no reason to lie.

“Dad’s sister keeps her most of the time. Has for a few years now.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think? To keep me in line.” I look down and flick my thumbnail against the edge of the table, bitterness rising in my throat. “I get to see her if I’m good.”

Ares makes a noise that I don’t comprehend. When I look up at him, I realize the noise isn’t coming from him. He’s gripping the arms of his chair so hard that the wood is groaning. His knuckles are pure white.

“Aunt Judith, she’s Dad’s sister. She doesn’t really like kids, but he sends her checks every now and then so she puts up with it. When Lilly was born and Mama—” I swallow hard, my throat going tight, “— My mom died, he said it was too much, taking care of both of us. So Aunt Judith took Lilly in. But Lilly’s growing up now and I think the old bat’s finally sick of her, so Dad agreed to take her back full time.”

“When?” Ares asks.

“A couple of weeks,” I reply carefully. My lips tremble and I press them together tightly for a moment. I don’t want to talk about this.

“I’m scared.”

I say the words, yet they don’t feel like mine. It’s like they’re sentient, have been growing inside me for so long that they’ve come alive and have their own desire to be free.

“I’m scared,” my lips say again. “That Dad’s taking Lilly back to replace me, because he can’t control me anymore.”

God, when did my mouth get so dry? I reach for Ares’ beer and he lets me take it. Watches me take a long gulp. When I slam it back on the table, I’m resolute.

“When she gets here, I’m taking her away. We’re leaving and we’re never coming back.”