First off, I need to thank a few more bloggers for participating in my new release. Thanks readers!
I feel good after our phone call. We Skype a few times later that week and while Colin’s name is mentioned quite a bit it’s generally referencing how he’s managed to piss her off again. We have a good laugh about how he struck out with her tutor, Reta, and how I’ve managed to avoid Greta. She stopped texting me after I didn’t respond.
By Friday, everything is back to normal between us which is why when Nick asks me if we should hit Juliette Waite’s party at her parent’s house in the North Shore, I don’t hesitate to say yes. Juliette Waite is a North Prep graduate. She attends Northwestern and is well known for initiating the young men in our crowd into the pleasures of the female body. A lot of us have learned how to make a girl scream based on lessons taught by Juliette.
She’s an icon in North Prep history. I had my own time with Juliette when I was fourteen and she was sixteen. Good times. Of course what goes on in Juliette Waite’s bedroom stays there. That’s the code and weirdly we’ve all kept it. But her parties are legendary.
Not going never occurs to me. Charlotte is grumpy when she hears it’s that time of year.
“I can’t believe I’m missing Juliette’s party.” She wrinkles her nose in disgust. “Instead I’ll end up eating popcorn watching episodes of Space Patrol 2050.”
“I thought you hated science fiction.” I’m not paying a ton of attention. My phone is blowing up with people asking where Nick and I are.
“My T-Rex arms aren’t long enough to grab the remote from Colin’s hands and that’s allhe likes. But maybe Mom and I will do something. At least I won’t spend the whole night with you glaring at me.”
“I didn’t glare at you,” I protest. “I was making sure none of the assholes made a play for you. What was Bo thinking letting you out of the house with that bikini on? I spent the whole night reminding everyone you had just turned fifteen.”
She smirks. “Got your attention, did it?”
“So you did wear it to piss me off,” I exclaim. I knew it. Last year Charlotte had stripped off her demure bell shaped knit dress to reveal a white bikini with gold rings holding the various tiny triangular pieces of cloth together. When she spun around on her wedge heel and announced she was thirsty nearly every male there surged toward her. “You could have started a riot.”
“I bought it for you,” she says with a naughty smile. “I’d overheard you telling Nick during one of our boating trips that you loved white bikinis.”
This made me raise my eyebrows. “Really? I don’t remember having a preference.” But I do now. In fact, I think I still have a picture of Charlotte in said bikini. I scroll through my phone and find it. Mmmhmm. I know what I’ll be looking at later tonight.
“Stay away from the white bikinis tonight,” she says but I’m not paying much attention because a photo of one of the lacrosse players losing control of a beer bong and getting a facial from the excess beer is shared on the school forum. I show it to Charlotte.
“You’re obviously very occupied,” she sighs.
“No, sorry.” Hurriedly I put the phone face down but she’s waving her hand at me.
“Go on. I’m super tired anyway. Mom would kill me if she knew I stayed up this late to Skype with you.”
We exchange I love yous and then I grab an impatient Nick and we head out of the city. It takes us about forty five minutes. We have to park about a half mile away because there are a crapton of cars that have arrived before us. Thankfully Nick doesn’t say a word about our late start only asks how Charlotte is.
“Good. Spending a lot of time with the douchebag Colin.”
“I looked him up.”
“You don’t have anything to worry about.”
“Why would I worry about him?”
Nick throws his hands up. “No reason.”
Since we’re nearly at the door of Waite’s house, I don’t pursue this any further. Charlotte doesn’t like Colin. She’s forced to spend time with him. There’s no reason at all that I have to worry about the two of them.
Inside the house there are wall to wall people. Thankfully between Nick and I we can muscle our way past the crowd. It only takes a couple of people to drop away before a path is cleared for us.
Juliette is sitting on the patio in a lounger with several sycophants around her. She languidly raises her hand in greeting. “The Jackson boys are here. I suppose we can now start the party.”
A few of the guys look older—college aged—and they glare at us but Nick and I are solidly built. We could take them. In fact, it might be kind of fun. I haven’t had a brawl for a long time. I step back and allow my arms to hang loosely at my side. Nick steps to the side to provide spacing and adopts a similar stance.
Three of Juliette’s subjects get to their feet, their greek letters straining across their drug assisted chests.
“Boys is right,” says the one in the middle. He must be the leader. The music continues to play but the energy out here on the patio has changed. There’s a charge in the air and everyone out here senses it.
“I’ve got the guy in the middle,” I say softly to Nick. “You take the guy on the right. The one on the left looks like he’ll flail around searching for a partner.”
“Got it,” he nods.
The leader charges me and I spare a glance to Juliette. Her eyes are sparkling with excitement. Yeah, she knew exactly what she was doing inviting these meatheads here. She probably talked up the fact that we were high schoolers and these frat guys showed up to teach us a thing or two. Good luck.
I meet their leader in the middle, about five feet from Juliette’s lounger and he swings at me, an obvious first that is meant to lay me out with one punch but I can tell by the wide sweep of his right arm as it moves toward me that he’s never fought before. Or if he has, it’s been with people as inept. His primary move seems to be the right jaw punch only it doesn’t land. I step sideways and he stumbles between Nick and I.
Nick grins at me but has to turn back to his smaller, but more experienced opponent. I watch as Nick swerves to avoid a combination and then counters with an open faced slap to the face. It’s a complete insult and his opponent draws back to blink in surprise while everyone around them giggles. I shake my head. One of these days Nick’s arrogance will be the end of him, but not today. The slap spurs his opponent to charge and Nick allows himself to be pushed back into a table.
I’m prevented from watching more when my guy comes roaring back. He’s watched too many mixed martial arts fights on television because this time he tries an elbow to the forehead. A good move as an elbow can have a greater force impact on a target. But it has to land to do any damage. I pull on his elbow until we’re flush together and then I press my other hand on the low of his back and pretend for a moment we’re dancing. This draws a roar from the crowd and a fevered look of rage from my opponent.
“Don’t like dancing?” I mock. Spittle is starting to form at the sides of his mouth. “You really picked a mouth breather this time, Juliette.”
I push him away before he slobbers all over me. Yeah, okay. I’m as arrogant as Nick. The leader motions to the third guy who is watching us and they both rush me. One of them gets a lucky fist to the side of my jaw and I feel another fist in my gut. The adrenaline is flooding me and since I’ve not had sex in weeks, this feels almost as good.
The third player is about six inches shorter than I am. He must have gotten the body shot in. He needs to go down first. I duck to avoid a punch from the big guy and then turn my body toward the third player. Two knees into the rib cage has him folding in half. I finish him with an elbow strike to the temple since he’s lower than me and he crumples to the ground.
The leader steps back, bounces around on his heels and rolls his shoulder like we’re in some cage match.
“You toying with your prey?” I hear Nick say. He must have sent his opponent to a sweet sleep. “Dad wouldn’t approve.”
“Na but he’d think this was sweet,” I answer. Opening up my stance, I raise to the balls of my feet and then in one swift move bring my right leg and strike the asshole in the temple. Shock widens his eyes before the lights go out in his brain and he falls backward onto the ground. No one catches him. In fact, everyone moved out of the way.
A silence falls and then cheers erupt, probably from North Prep kids. Juliette hasn’t moved an inch from her lounger although I see a few blood spatters on the cushion.
“Very nice,” she says.
“I’m guessing you didn’t tell them that your high school friends were sons of a professional fighter?” I swipe the back of my hand across my mouth but there’s no blood there. It must not be mine. A quick check of Nick reveals he’s fine too.
She presses a finger to the center of her lips. “Hmm. I may have forgotten to mention that. Now which one of you victors is going to celebrate with me tonight?”
“That’d be me,” Nick says bending over and scooping Juliette into his arms. I drop into the now vacated lounge chair and someone drops a beer bottle into my empty hand. This has the makings of an epic party. I place an arm behind my head and prepare to be entertained.
If you want the next scene delivered to your inbox on Friday’s, sign up for the newsletter here.