Perfect - Page 2

I don’t wait for his answer because he’s already on the retreat, my point made.  I do my best to shake the anger away.  Clearly that doesn’t work because when I get to the back door I jerk it open so hard it bends the hinges and won’t close behind me.  I grab the six cans of some craft double IPA, fancy bullshit beer I thought Derrick might like and shoulder my way inside the house.

That whole scene shouldn’t have set me off the way it did. I didn’t want this party, and I’m sure my general level of irritation when I came through the back gate didn’t help things.

Inside, I take a quick breath, blow it out and try to reset my mood.

Thumping music hits me in the chest.  The back entry leads straight into a party room with floor to ceiling windows right across the back wall that also function as doors when the weather permits.  It’s a little cool out in October for the pool, but plenty of parties in the past have seen this room completely open to the patio by sliding all those windows into the walls.  Slick, I know.  Money buys some cool stuff, that’s for sure.  I only know about this stuff because of my friends.  If I stayed on my side of the tracks my whole life, I’d be lucky to see a plastic kiddy pool in the backyard.

I scan the busy room, raising a hand as people turn and wave.  Heads spin as whispers grow.  Girls start licking their lips and tossing their hair. They should know better by now.  I’m not taken but I’m not really available either.

One hand is holding onto the six pack and my other one moves to the comfortable place in my back pocket.  I’m trying to work out the best strategy for getting through this with a minimum amount of attention.  Then, just as my eyes adjust to the bright light, I catch a glimpse of the most beautiful silken black hair off to my right.  Streaks of light cascade down the slick dark strands like moonlight on a still lake.

Under that hair I see the blush of a cheek against skin that makes me think of the finest china.  It’s barely a second, but it’s intoxicating.  My insides start to rearrange themselves and my heart does some twitching thing that makes me wonder if I need a cardiologist.

My eyes widen and my mouth waters.  Maybe I’m sick.  I’m lightheaded, and even my skin prickles to life.

And my dick is hard.  In an instant.  That’s never happened before.

I shift my head, straining to see around some idiot who’s stepped into my line of vision blocking my view.  My feet may as well be encased in cement and bricks stacking on my shoulders.  There’s a raging urge to throw myself forward and touch her, but I’m frozen.

With a spin of her head the light is swirling around her raven black hair, and there is this look in her eyes that cuts me.  She’s unsure.  Even afraid.  Maybe I’m hallucinating because I swear to Christ a halo hovers over her.  She catches me staring.  Her honey-green eyes capture mine for a split second and the wind is knocked out of me.  Just that single second of connection sends me spinning.

And with that, she’s gone, another young girl leading her by the hand out of the room followed by a few more giggling as they go.  They’re too young to be friends of Derrick’s.  Maybe seniors in high school, friends of Derrick’s newest stepsister, Amanda.

I don’t know Amanda well, except whenever I come around she finds a reason to be wherever I am.  She’s overly flirty for her age and from what Derrick tells me she does that with all his friends. To top it off, he’s mentioned her attitude needs frequent adjustment, unfortunately, her mother is less than attentive.

Something about this whole setup is unsettling, they are way too young to be mixing with this kind of adult crowd. There’s alcohol flowing, flesh on display, and who knows what else might be being passed around this room.  What I’d seen on the back patio now makes me even more pissed.

I don’t even know the haloed angel that swept through the room and through me a moment ago, but the thought of her stumbling onto that sort of scene has me seeing everything through a red mist.

I know when someone is out of their depth.  Something was going on there, she looked like the lamb being lead to slaughter.

I clear my throat and toss my head back on my neck, trying to shake it off.

Looking around the enormous party room starts to close around me. The muscles in my chest twitch and tighten.  In a house this size, some of the closets are bigger than my parents’ entire house.  The place is all English country estate from the outside, all worn brick and limestone with ivy gripping onto every vertical surface it can find.  But inside, clearly there is a new sheriff in town, which is Derrick’s new step-mother.  The inside is more SoHo loft, all white on cream with splashes of modern artwork covering nearly every open wall.

A lot has changed here at Derrick’s family’s estate since I was here last Christmas.  Seems Rita’s been giving the old credit card a workout with her redecorating.

“Hey, retard!”  I roll my eyes as Derrick’s bark cuts through the thumping music and the static hiss of voices from the people packed inside, mostly friends and acquaintances from our high school class.  Some of Derrick’s college friends.  He got his undergrad a year ago and stopped there.  I pushed on and finished up my MBA; I need every advantage I can get.

A slap on the back spins me around, my hand flies out of my back pocket ready to do battle.  I know it’s Derrick, but I’m not a huge fan of random touch and he knows that so I throw an elbow into his gut as I turn around, holding the six pack in my other hand still, letting him know my retaliation wasn’t an accident with a glare.  “You should know better.”

He doubles over with a laugh.  “I should.  But I can’t help myself.  It’s fun.”

My aversion to touch became a game with our football teammates in high school.  On the field it wasn’t an issue.  But more than a few of my teammates found out that when I said ‘don’t touch me,’ I was fucking serious.

“Yeah, fun for who?  You having fun?”  I chuckle down at my friend who is bent in half finding his next breath.  “You’re lucky I don’t throw another shot into that pretty face, give your nose a new angle.  You’re too pretty to be a dude anyway.”  Even as I’m goading him,, I’m shoving the six pack his way.  He’s grinning and nodding getting his vertical back with a groan.

“Yeah?  Well you’re too ugly to be above ground, dude.”  He playfully slaps my face and I let that one go.  He could easily be in an Abercrombie ad with his surfer looks.  Me, I’m more the dark, gritty underbelly, hard on the outside, but when you get to know me, the inside is far different.

The irony is the scar on my lip is from when Derrick knocked me over when we were ten playing football out in his front yard.  He hit me low, took my legs out and I fell face first into the jockey statue at the edge of their driveway.  He’s the only one who’s ever taken me down and left a mark.  And, lived to tell the story.

Which, trust me, he does at every opportunity.

Derrick was our high school quarterback when I was a lineman, so I know he’s tough, but I doubt he could topple me over anymore, even on the best of days.

Derrick flashes me his ever present smile. “With your looks the D.O.D. will surely keep you locked in the dungeon with the other freaks.  Forensic accounting?  Who would’ve thought that was such an in-demand skill.”

“Shut up, it pays well.  I’m all about the paycheck.”

I know he sympathizes, but there’s no way Derrick could understand about student loans, housing fees let alone my family’s medical bills and foreclosure notices.

He nods.  “How’s your mom?”

I shake my head and let out a long sigh.

“Sorry, man.  Your dad’s worked hard his whole life.  Plumbers should be paid better than doctors in my opinion.  Dealing with all that shit.”  He explodes in a laugh.  “Forensic accounting is almost as glamorous as plumbing.”

“Don’t even go there, man.  This job may not make me famous, but I get to do something I enjoy and pull down enough scratch to change things for me.  For us.  Mom and dad too.  Not just scraping by.”  I hate the strained hope in my voice.

Growing up without wasn’t so bad, but watching my parents struggle now sucks.  I look at Derrick, his life an affluent alternate universe.  More money than he knows what to do with, but parents who spend almost zero time with him.  He’s said many times the staff raised him more than his mom and dad ever did.

Me?  Mom and Dad always gave me time and attention.  Support and love.  Money was another issue and still is.  But I’m going to fix that; it’s been the driving force gnawing inside me since I was a kid.

“I hear you.  It’s just not exactly sexy, you know?  The whole ‘join the ranks of the indentured middle class’ thing.  But, you’re right, it’s a sweet deal they offered you. And they made sure you signed on the dotted line.  They own your ass.”  He wraps his tongue over his top teeth flashing his familiar wry grin.

He’s right.  I didn’t realize my knack for numbers would ever pay off.  I was sure it would be my skills at knocking heads together on the football field that would be my meal ticket, but in the long run, my brain is my greatest asset.  So after a few concussions, I opted out of football as a future career direction.

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