Page 113 of Dirty Roulette
I’m chasing papers all over the sidewalk and streets, managing to grab a few. I almost snatch another, but the wind picks right back up and it’s carried off further than I can run. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” Payton comes over with a pout, hugging crumbled flyers against her chest.
“It’s okay. We’ve been at this for hours. Maybe we should call it quits today,” I say.
“I should have held onto them better.”
“It’s okay. You want to get some coffee? I’ll buy.” I point my head to the little coffee joint nestled between several shops.
“Sure.” She follows me, and the bell chimes as I hold the door open for her. The flyers land on top of a round table as she scoots the metal chair against the wood floor and collapses down, looking defeated. I’m mentally exhausted too, and at any second my brain just might splatter all over the place from the sleep deprivation.
The barista punches in my order and offers to take the remaining missing flyers to hand out. I pay for my order and toss my change in the glass tip jar. I attempted to ask my mother for help this morning, but she was with the church getting help spreading the word about Charlie there.
I grab our drinks and head over to the round table. Payton sits with her foot propped up on the chair and her chin resting along her kneecap. She curls long strands of her hair around her bony fingers and only lifts her head when I sit down. I got her some fancy fru-fru coffee with a bunch of caramel drizzle, whipped cream, and all those random sugar syrups she likes.
I slide it over and sip on mine, blacker than night. We haven’t spoken much since she came storming into the bedroom, smacking me awake with a bag of condoms. Ever since she landed on me, I asked her to be with me. I never wanted to pretend to be her boyfriend. I never pretended to care. I genuinely love her and more than I should. It’s not something I’ve been able to shake off either.
“So...” I break the silence, running my thumb against the warmth of the cup.
Payton stirs her drink with a wooden stick and says, “Yeah...”
“You want to deflate his balls?” I bite my bottom lip, staring at the black liquid reflecting the ceiling and the dim orange lights illuminating the shop.
“I think I can do it.”
“Hack the Jumbotrons?” I swallow hard.
I plugged in the little flash drive she showed me. My throat went dry with all the data given to her from Fatso at the gas station. When videos of me from freshman year popped up, I slammed the computer shut. I ended up taking the coldest shower possible to stop myself from heaving into the toilet.
“Mr. Clorox says he can help me hack them if I get him into the control room. He said he would put together an entire presentation to expose Roulette. It’s on the top floor... but I have to get these flash drives of dirt Brody has on him.”
I huff and lean back in the chair, rubbing the crease of my neck. “How are you gonna find these flash drives? And security in the stadium is everywhere. You’re not going to make it up there without someone stopping you.” Payton is quiet as she plays with the whipped cream and licks it off the stick. “Look, we really need to talk...” Fuck, she goes pale with the words. The one thing I don’t want her to do is shut me down. I see it in her opal eyes, leaving mine. I reach over the table before she can retract her hands and hide them in her lap. “Payt...” I turn my head sideways and squeeze her hands together. “Come on, cutie.”
“Yeah...”
“I don’t want to force you to make a tape with me. I think we are past that at this point. We don’t need to do any of this. If I’m the one you want to be with, I want to make it special, something you will treasure forever. There is so much going on.”
“You aren’t forcing me to do anything... I...” She bites her bottom lip, her eyes staring down at her lap as she pulls her hands out of my grip. “We can stop Brody from ever hurting anyone again. Cops will see that he hurt your sister and others. He can get charged for it.”
“This is going to come out cheesy, but I’d want to...” I pause. Men don’t say this sort of thing. I’m leaning my head back in the chair massaging the aching nerves in my face. I suck in a deep breath. “Give me your hands.”
She holds them over the table and I grasp them again. They are cold as ice as I rub my thumbs along her soft palms. “I don’t want to have sex with you, I... I want to...” Payton attempts to slide her hands out of my grip, but I hold on a bit tighter, so she looks me in the eye. The emotions swell up, but I watch her suck it back down with a swallow. “I want to make love to you. That’s what I want, this is why I can't take this from you. If you are going to lose your virginity, it needs to be me loving all of you. This plan is not that. It’s Brody forcing us to make a video so he gets what he wants. I don’t want anyone else in that room besides me and you.” I release my grip and wrap a hand across her cheek, stroking her velvet skin with a thumb as I say, “It belongs to you, and only you.” She clenches a hand on mine, holding onto my fingers. She is quiet again, and a sweltering pain lodges in my throat.
“If it’s you, it would be perfect,” she says, taking in a breath and staring down at her lap. Her right leg fidgets under the table, drumming a million miles an hour. “I just want to make this right for Charlie. It’s all my fault.” She drops her head.
“No, no, Payt. None of this is your fault.” I lift her face back up to mine. “I’m sorry, I was an ass. I was mad, but none of this is your fault. Don’t ever blame yourself for this. Just like you said this morning, we are sticking together no matter the outcome.”
“I never felt this way before, and it’s you. It hurts. I dunno where Charlie is, and if you disappear... I... I dunno Ryder... I’m terrified of losing you, too.”
Her gaze falls back down, but I shake her with my palm against her cheek. “Look at me.” Those beautiful opal eyes tremble. “I’m not going anywhere, so if you think you can bring Brody down, I’ll help. Run me through your idea again.”
***
I don’t like how Noah looks at Payton. It’s as if she’s the only person in the room. Something bites me in anger. All I hear is the heartbeat in my neck, and my palms start sweating. I run a hand down my face, standing in a garage smelling of old leather and sweat. We just got here – it hasn’t even been five minutes and I’m ready to hightail it out.
Payton spills the dirty details about her diabolical plan to expose Brody. Noah soaks up every word. Or he’s staring at her rack since she decided to wear a low-cut tank top with her cleavage hanging out. Or maybe that’s just me.
I don’t like the obvious ego he has, or his black cargo trousers and hoodie with skulls. Either I’m dyslexic or it’s impossible to read the tattoo font of words stitched on the sleeves. I can’t wrap my brain around why guys grow out their hair and tie that shit up like a Super Duty Hefty trash bag calling it a bun. The guy’s nails are even painted black, like he pranced out of a nail salon. Girls like Payton eat that shit up, too. Even Charlie was into this guy. I’m getting a migraine watching how well Payton meshes with him.
Noah hunches over on the drum throne resting his arms over his legs nodding his head, and side grinning at her. A guy graffitied in ink and screaming into a mic would better suit her personality. She’s always been into music, gushing over another band, and Noah fits into that box. For the longest time, I watched her melt for some skinny singer named Andy with smudgy eyeliner and lip piercings.
