Page 40 of The Jester and His Outlaw: Part One

“Then why did we follow him home?”

“He deals pot, Foxy, and he didn’t eat lunch the other day. I wanted to see where he lived. He also works another job.”

I didn’t fill Foxy in on the entire book store debacle. She may be my best friend, but I can’t handle someone else knowing about the atrocity and how the only thing I can think about afterward is how he wasn’t a total asshole to me that night. That he recognized I wasn’t myself and he held off on the insults, which started a war in my head of conflicting emotions toward the kid.

It also could’ve been because he was at work and didn’t want to get in trouble, but my mind has latched on to him as a good guy so it’s convinced he was being nice after he realized I wasn’t myself.

“People have to make ends meet.”

It amazes me how much people can change. I never would have heard those words out of that beautiful mouth before the Tatums’ divorce. Foxy isn’t an asshole and would never judge someone, but she understands it now. Mama T lives paycheck to paycheck on her own. I’m pretty sure Foxy buys her groceries and such on her dad’s credit card, but otherwise, they are far from living luxury. While Foxy’s life has changed little, half of it changed tremendously, and she refuses to let her mother deal with this on her own. She is more than okay with the other side of the tracks.

“That sucks, Foxy. He’s smart as shit and—” I start, not sure why my mind is on this track. There is something about Riggs.

“You do like him.”

“No, I have no reason to like him. He’s been nothing but mean to me,” I argue, telling her God’s honest truth. Other than he’s hotter than hot, I have no reason to like Riggs. So far, to my face, he’s shown me he’s nothing but an asshole. Sure, at the bookstore and this afternoon he wasn’t outright mean, but he wasn’t the nicest either. He couldn’t shake the judgment in his eyes, even if he wanted to.

“Mean for reasons thatyouwould be mean to someone. He’s sticking up for a friend that you bullied. I know it sucks and you’re the one receiving it, but I know you can’t ignore it because it is something you yourself would do. You would stick up for Sam if the roles were reversed, no?” She places her hand under my chin to lift my face, so I have to look at her. She squeezes my cheeks, giving me fish lips. “You tried to feed him, Charley.”

“I was trying to be nice.”

“Nice to a guy that has given you no reason to. Obviously, he’s not a bad guy and you like him. There’s nothing wrong with liking him.”

“It’s masochistic and irrational, Foxy. He clearly has it out for me.” I jam the shifter into ‘Drive’ and ease out of the spot. I’ve seen enough to understand that Foxy is right. Riggs isn’t the bad guy he makes himself out to be, and that was more than I wanted.

After this afternoon, I want to convince myself that maybe he is a rude asshole who likes to bully the bully, but he was nice to me and made me feel like shit. As much as I hate it, I sort of look forward to his attitude. It keeps me on track. Reminding me of who I’m trying to avoid being. But he’s not an asshole, not really. Not in the sense that I was last year, or that Jonas continues to be. He’s loyal, and he fucking walked his grandma into the house after he kissed her on the cheek.

He could be a closet psychopath.I shake my head to derail those thoughts. I can’t project my conflicted brain-ramblings onto him.

Psychos need love, too, but the guy is not a psycho.

“Judging from the looks he gave you this afternoon, I’d say otherwise. I’d also say that he is just as conflicted as you. Not saying he is in love or anything, but he doesn’t hate you. Maybe at one point, but not anymore.”

“Why, Foxy?! Why me?” In true Foxy fashion, instead of telling me it will be okay, she throws her head back and cackles as we pull out of the parking lot, leaving Riggs ‘the conundrum’ Sutton behind.

CHAPTER18

RIGGS

“You better getyour mother fucking ass over here, kid, before I lay a hurting on you so bad you won’t ever forget,” my daddy wailed across the living room, stumbling into his recliner. He was pissed because I forgot he sent me to the kitchen to get him a beer. When I went in, I had every intention of getting him one, but Mommy was making snacks and I got distracted.

I could never get distracted. Distracted got me hurt.

Mommy was making brownies, though, and since Daddy was in his room, we figured we had a chance for me to sneak in and lick the bowl. They never allowed me to have the actual brownies, so Mommy always left some of the batter in the bowl for me. I’d offer to get Daddy a beer or something to eat so I could go into the kitchen. If I never got to the kitchen, then she washed the batter away, but I usually always made sure I got some.

I forgot his beer, though. Why did I forget to grab his beer? Oh, I was going to pay now.

“Don’t worry, Daddy, I’m going to grab one right now,” I told him and tripped over the corner of the rug in the living room in my haste to get back to the kitchen. I took a beat to settle myself. My fear of him swarmed my head, my body rigid and tight, a spring ready to break free. The shaking in my hands was practically uncontrollable.

“I said get your ass over here right now, Riggs. Not gonna tell you again.” I ignored him, knowing my punishment was going to be that much worse but needing a few more seconds to myself before his hands found me. Just a few more seconds was all. That wasn’t too much to ask, right?

That was always too much to ask. His beatings always got worse. There was always another way for him to hurt me.

I felt the vibration of his steps across the living room before the sound registered.

I had just lifted my foot to the step-up leading out into the kitchen when his hand wrapped around my upper arm and he snatched me, whipping my head back. My neck crunched painfully and searing pain jolted through my arm.

I didn’t mean to scream. Normally, I didn’t let myself, but there was no stopping the sound. It’s not that he grabbed me. No, I knew he was coming. What scared me was the fact that my arm broke nearly on contact.

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