Page 13 of Liar & Champion
“Really? You’ll escort me home like a parole officer?”
He licked his lips, glanced back at the other skaters then shrugged and put down his board, gliding a few feet in the direction of my street. This was him not taking no for an answer, but it was only Bosky.
I sighed and headed after him. It wasn’t bad for two blocks, because he didn’t say anything, we just rode in companionable silence through the darkening streets with the lights coming on one by one.
“I haven’t seen your man around all summer. He didn’t come tonight, either.”
“He’s been working.” And he wasn’t my man, because I didn’t have or need one of those.
“You were on tonight, every landing tight, every lift perfect. Remind me why you don’t compete.”
“It takes the fun out of it. It’s not about other people, it’s about me. I guess I’m just selfish with my boarding. You placed this summer, right?”
“Sure. I get that you’re saving yourself for your Beastie boy, but I really don’t think he’s ever going to want more than friendship with you, and you deserve so much more.”
Mm hm. Here we go, the fun ride that you can’t ever get off. “You can’t blame me. He is completely perfect.” That usually helped derail the most boring conversation I’d ever heard over and over and over again. It wasn’t true, though. Beastie was a psychopath, totally imperfect, but that suited me, well, perfectly.
“Yeah, I get the appeal, but maybe you can try getting with someone else. Maybe he’ll get jealous and really notice you that way.”
I laughed. That was funny. Beastie was protective of me, but not jealous. He’d tried to set me up with every rich snob he was friends with, and they were all as messed up as him. I didn’t like them as much, probably because we just didn’t have the history. “That’s a great idea, but I don’t think it would work. You know his temper. If he was jealous, I’d worry about the guy.”
He slowed down and blocked my board so it bumped against his and I was left standing way too close to him. He had a lot of really poorly doodled tattoos on his left arm, done by his truly. I kind of liked it. It suited him. He wasn’t a bad guy, and maybe in another world where I wasn’t going to die, I’d totally fall for him. We did have boarding in common, and if I didn’t have to always be careful not to collapse in the bowl with everyone watching, we could have had a lot of fun.
“You don’t have to worry about the guy. He can take care of himself.” He gently cupped my cheek and leaned in for a kiss. I was so shocked, I didn’t even move, at least not until the car jumped the curb and almost killed us.
I leapt back, and so did Bosko, leaving our boards to get crunched under the tires of the very expensive and ostentatious car. It was silvery blue, and it had run over one of my favorite boards.
“What the hell, man?” Bosco yelled, arms raised as he went back towards the car.
If this was my Beastie, I was going to give him the longest lecture he’d ever heard in his life. I followed Bosco towards the driver’s side, then stopped abruptly when I saw the dark hair, slicked back above tan forehead, pointlessly expensive sunglasses over blue eyes that knew how to stare at you until your skin crawled.
I took a step away, glanced at my skateboard and then in the other direction, only to see two other cars, neither quite as ridiculous as Michael’s, pull up at the curb, almost like they were blocking my exit in that direction. There was still the park behind me. I was very good at climbing trees.
No, I was being ridiculous. Michael wasn’t going to chase me into a park with his goons and thugs.
“You smashed our boards,” I said, smiling sweetly. “I’m sure it was unintentional, but it leaves us without transportation. I guess you’ll just have to give us your car.”
Michael laughed and took off his sunglasses, coming towards me with arms outstretched. “It is yours, ma cheri, for the price of a kiss.”
“I have a boyfriend, and the car would be in exchange for my board. The kiss wouldn’t be worth it for you. Trust me on this.”
Bosko shot me a look. Was I going to pin the title of boyfriend on him and hope he ran with it? No. Bosko was a nice guy, and nice guys were not the kind you used as defense against psychopaths like Michael. That’s what other psychopaths were for. Where was Beastie? He’d said that he’d be here.
“You want me to trust you?” Michael looked at me for a long time, that deceptively charming smile playing on his perfect mouth. He knew that I was a liar, he just wasn’t sure about what.
“I want you to not have run over my board. What were you thinking?” I kept my voice light, teasing, but my heart was pounding.
“I was thinking that this person was about to kiss you. If he’s someone you’re interested in, then you don’t have another boyfriend, and are available to date me.”
That was the kind of logic that money and ego gave a person without any reality checks. “Am I? Well, I haven’t checked my calendar, but I’m pretty sure I have a few other things going on.”
Michael grabbed my arm, his hand strong, but not particularly painful. He knew I was delicate because he’d had some of the same symptoms I’d had. So, why wasn’t he in his wheelchair being diabolical from a distance? Instead, he was up close and personal, and I didn’t like what I saw in his eyes.
He pulled me close, leaned in, and was about to kiss me when Bosko, the idiot, smashed what was left of his skateboard over the back of Michael’s head.
“If she’s kissing someone, it’s going to be me,” Bosko said, and raised the board for another strike. But Michael had been taking his vitamins, or something else, like mutated spider venom, because he caught the board and spun it around, then hit Bosko in the temple, so he folded like a puppet with cut strings. Michael did that with one hand, never releasing me, so I didn’t get the chance to bolt. Not that I would have, I was too stunned by the ridiculous sight of Michael the Sickly beating up Bosco with his fists. Fists. Violence. I really, really hated violence.
I swallowed hard as Michael walked me around the car and ‘helped’ me in, locking the door on me and then slid over the hood to climb in the other side, like a Dukes of Hazard fan.
