“Well, I know you left there and came here, which is pretty far away from Wisconsin.”
As often happened with Charlie, what seemed like a simple statement sliced right to the heart of the matter. It was true that Jean had put as much distance as possible between her adult life and the place where she grew up, and this experience was a big part of why. Steeling herself, she spewed out the rest.
“Fall of my junior year there was a big football game, and Smitty the Douchebag convinced me we should have a party after, at Bogey’s. Just a couple of ‘our’ friends.” Though maybe the air quotes should have been around “friends” instead, since he only seemed to notice Jean when no one else was around. Either way, they were not people who gave a shit about her.
“Like an idiot, I let him have the keys, supposedly so he couldgo in and start setting up if he got there first. He and his buddies left at halftime, and when I finally realized they were gone, and begged someone to give me a ride, the place was trashed. He’d invited half the school. It was like raccoons in a dumpster. They tore through everything. Food, beer, condiments. Not even eating and drinking it, just making a mess. I walked in and I knew, with total clarity, just like that.” She snapped her fingers.
“That you were in big trouble?”
“No. Well, yes, but that came after. I knew I wasn’t even a person to them. My feelings didn’t matter, my family didn’t matter, our business didn’t matter, we were just background noise. You want to know the really sad part?”
“Not really,” he admitted. “But you can tell me if you want.”
“I thought it was going to be some big romantic night, like the party was an excuse to spend time with me and after that we were going to be together, officially boyfriend and girlfriend. Only instead of a rom-com it turned out I was starring in a sad cautionary tale. My little teen dream got taken out back and shot in the head and then run over.”
He scooted closer, pressing his legs against hers. “What did your parents say?”
“Let’s see.” She counted off the answers on her fingers. “‘You’re grounded for the rest of the school year’—which was not really a hardship since my social life was dead in the water. And I had to work every day until I paid them back. Cleaning, repairs, everything those assholes ruined. Again, I could see their reasoning, even if I wouldn’t admit it at the time. The part that burned me up was that they blamed me for all of it. That was Dickhead’s story. It was her idea, she invited everyone, he was the real victim, because I was a femme fatale and an evil mastermind. But I guess it was easier to go along with that version of events than confront his wealthy parents about the sociopath they were raising.”
“That’s so unfair.” His voice trembled, like this was Charlie’s first encounter with injustice.
“Also it made no sense. I mean, hello, why would I trashourbusiness? Where’s the logic? It was all, ‘You know Jean. She’s always been wild.’ Like there’s a straight line from giving the dog a haircut or drawing on the wall to juvenile delinquency. Meanwhile Smithson is out there crashing his new Acura a day after he got it, and shattering his mom’s crystal vase playing Nerf guns in the living room, and setting their outdoor kitchen on fire trying to reheat a Styrofoam container full of leftover Chinese in the freaking pizza oven, but I’m the asshole? Please.”
Jean tried to exhale the residual frustration. She really should be over this by now, able to look back with the evolved perspective of a twenty-seven-year-old woman, and yet the embers were still there, smoldering. She made an effort to steady her voice.
“Long story short, I made it my life’s goal to never be that big of an idiot again.”
“You’re not an idiot.”
“That’s because I wised up and realized it didn’t matter what I said or did. They’d already decided what kind of person I was, and nothing I could do or say would change their minds. If you’re going to do the time, might as well do the crime.”
“Vandalism?” he whispered.
“Being myself. To everyone there—including my parents—I would always betoo much. So I got out. Not the next day, because I was still in high school, but as soon as I could. And I found people who can handle the real me, at least most of the time. No more trying to impress jerks who don’t deserve my unique brand of awesome.”
She could feel Charlie thinking. Maybe he saw her differentlynow—the poor girl with bad judgment who camethis closeto having a criminal record.
“Did he break your heart?” he finally asked. Something tight inside Jean unclenched.
“What heart?” She thumped her chest. “It’s pure titanium in here. And rusty chain saws. With a delicate lacing of barbed wire.”
He smiled as if she’d said something funny. Maybe she had, maybe she hadn’t.
“That guy was just a shark, cruising around all full of himself. ‘Look at me, I’m an apex predator. Maybe I’ll take a bite out of this surfboard, see how it tastes. Not a seal? Oh well, gotta jam.’ And then you’re left to bleed out because those big teeth took a chunk out of your thigh. But it’s fine, because now I know I’m an acquired taste.”
Charlie burrowed his face into her neck. “I acquired it right away.”
It should have felt suffocating—not the physical hold he had on her, but the weight of someone liking her too much. There was so much room to fall from a height like that. And yet it filled her like sunlight, sinking into the cracks and warming her blood.
“Ugh, feelings,” she groaned, fake gagging. “They’re like water snakes inside you.”
“I just wanted you to know, Jean. In case there was any doubt. You’re my favorite flavor.”
She hesitated, the need for reassurance warring with her general policy against sounding needy. “You’re not freaked out by my dark past?”
“I get it.”
“You do?” It was hard to imagine gentle Charlie getting bamboozled into a crime spree.
