Текст книги "Delayed Penalty"

Автор книги: Sophia Henry

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Chapter 29

Incredible was the word that came to mind as I surveyed the almost-finished transformation of a gutted, run-down movie theater in downtown Bridgeland to a beautiful open space that would house the Central Club’s newest branch. After two months of helping me work on the space in their free time, Jason, Kristen, Aaron, and Josh had given up one final Saturday night to help me complete the setup. Just in time for tomorrow’s Open House fundraiser, where we would unveil the Central Club to the community and, with any luck, get some donations to keep it running.

The ideas that Kristen, Lacy, and I had dreamed up and fleshed out while sprawled across our living room floor or in our booth at Larry’s were finally coming to fruition. Together we’d created a schedule of free classes and workshops for the kids to participate in. The classes ranged from singing (me) and learning instruments (Aaron and Josh) to gymnastics (Lacy), crafting (Kristen, resident Queen of Creativity), and various others to be led by the more than thirty friends and classmates who’d volunteered to teach and tutor. The support overwhelmed me. It thrilled me to have the ability to see this project through instead of relying on someone else, as I had for the Detroit branch.

“Thanks, John,” I told the cop who’d just set down a second banquet table. I whisked a damp clump of hair off my sweaty forehead and began unfolding the tables and chairs that the Bridgeland police had donated for the homework station.

Kristen and Jason were creating a sports and games area, complete with a basketball hoop that Jason had installed yesterday. Though we’d post a “No Hanging on the Rim” sign, I sure hoped the stud in the wall could support the weight of the kids who were sure to ignore it.

Aaron and Josh were setting up instruments on a small raised stage that Greg’s dad had donated. Greg himself wasn’t here. He’d been avoiding me since our dramatic blow up. At first, I thought being ignored wouldn’t bother me, but it did. I missed his friendship and the camaraderie of being in the band. Though Aaron and Josh continued to hang out with me, I missed late-night, jam-and-songwriting sessions with all the guys. There were no romantic feelings, just the loneliness of having been abandoned by something I loved again.

“Testing, testing one, two, um, twelve,” Aaron said into the microphone he’d just plugged in.

“You aren’t fucking Eminem, dude. Shut up,” Josh said straight into the mike.

“Language! We’re in a place for kids,” Kristen yelled from her corner of the room.

“They aren’t here yet,” Aaron called back, whipping a drumstick across the room. It bounced off the floor and landed on a mesh bag filled with basketballs.

“You are so lucky that didn’t hit me,” Kristen warned.

I chuckled at their exchange because it was the same kind of banter I had with the guys. It made me giddy with excitement to have a sibling. Jason and I had missed the wedgie-attack and big-brother-helping-me-open-my-combination-lock-in-high-school stage, but he was all I had, and rather than push him away like I would have done in the past, I’d hold on to him and make future memories.

And he would be mine, and he would be my Squishy. I mean, Jason.

“Dude, we gotta get to Wreckage.” I heard Josh say. I had a feeling it was supposed to be for Aaron’s ears only, but he was standing next to the microphone, so his voice traveled.

“Do you guys have a gig?” I asked. I was curious. Okay, I was jealous, too.

“No.” Aaron punched Josh’s arm before he jumped off stage. “We’re checking out a friend’s gig.”

“Oh.” I nodded. Aaron wasn’t a good liar. It was my fault I was “on a break” from the band, so I didn’t have the right to be upset. Well, I did, but I couldn’t show that I was.

I rounded the table, pushing the chairs I’d unfolded underneath, then unraveled a maroon tablecloth and shook it out.

“It looks fucking ridiculous in here,” Aaron said, grabbing the free end of the fabric and pulling it toward the opposite end of the table.

“Yeah. It’s pretty good compared to when we started.” I set my hands on my hips and inspected the reformed room.

Jason had helped me patch holes in the walls and paint the entire place. Lucky for us, the theater owners disposed of the seating years ago. All the tattered blue-and-gray-striped carpet needed was a vacuum and a deep cleaning. A friend of Uncle Rick’s who owned a carpet cleaning business graciously donated his services.

Kristen and I had scrubbed and bleached the bathrooms, which were in good working order otherwise. Since the theater closed fifteen years ago, the owners rented to various groups, and because of the constant activity, there wasn’t as much to do as there could have been if the place had sat empty all that time.

Aaron swept me into a hug. “Great job, Aud.”

When he let me go, Josh did the same thing, except he lifted me off my feet and spun me around before letting me go. “I’m so proud of you.”

It was impossible to keep the smile off my face because the transformation of the space, as well as the Central Club, filled me with pride.

“Thanks, guys,” I said, lifting my eyes to the ceiling. Though I was ecstatic to be filling up with happy tears, rather than thinking-about-Aleksandr tears, I still didn’t want everyone to see me cry.

“Don’t make her cry, Dickweed!” Aaron chastised Josh. I laughed.

“We gotta get going, but we’ll be here tomorrow,” Josh told me.

Aaron nodded. “Bright and early to help eat the food.”

“Help put out the food, you mean,” I said.

“That’s what I agreed to? Well, that blows.” Aaron winked and threw me double finger-guns as he and Josh rushed out. Wreckage was three doors down, so it wasn’t like they’d be late for whatever they had going on.

“It looks great in here, Aud. This is gonna be so awesome,” Kristen said.

“What’s left?” Jason asked, standing beside Kristen.

“I think that’s it. I just have to take out the trash and—”

“Hey, Aud,” a voice behind me interrupted my train of thought. When I turned around, Greg stood in the doorway, his hands stuffed into his skinny-jean pockets.

“Greg,” I said. His presence was a complete surprise.

“Can I?” He nodded toward the threshold.

“Yeah, of course, come on in,” I said, glancing at Kristen. She just shrugged.

“I came to apologize for being such a jerk.” Greg was slow, almost cautious, like he was trying not to wake a baby. Then he stumbled over a can of paint sitting on the floor, and I laughed.

“Sorry.” I held my fist in front of my mouth.

“I totally planned that,” he said, nodding to the paint can. He chuckled before continuing. “I’m sorry for everything, Aud. I’m sorry I was such a dick about Aleksandr. I’m sorry I’ve been too stubborn to accept your apology. I’m sorry I kicked you out of the band.”

Despite acting like a jealous jerk, Greg was a genuine, positive guy. Until his jealousy of Aleksandr reared its ugly head, he’d never said anything hurtful about anyone when I was around him, and he always wanted to help me get better. In that regard, I knew his apologies were sincere, and I appreciated it, but hearing Aleksandr’s name reminded me of the heartache I’d been trying to suppress for almost two months.

He continued, “I’ve been a total dick, and I don’t—”

“Everything About You” by Ugly Kid Joe filled the air. I looked around, creeped out by whatever weird-ass theater ghost would choose that particular one-hit wonder to spook us. I didn’t realize it was a ringtone until Greg reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone.

“Who has that song as their ringtone?” Kristen asked.

“Who even knows that song anymore?” Jason agreed.

“It’s not,” Greg started to defend himself, and then shook his head. “I gotta get this.” He turned his back to me. “Yeah?”

I glanced over my shoulder at Jason and Kristen, lifting my palms and shrugging my shoulders in total confusion. Kristen rolled her eyes and shook her head, her disgust for Greg’s disrespectful actions apparent. Jason just shrugged.

Suddenly Greg spun around and held his phone out to me. “It’s for you.”

“Aaron?” I asked. What did he want to razz me about now?

Greg didn’t answer. He just thrust the phone at me. When I looked at the screen expecting to see the name or number of the caller, I realized it was a video call. A girl I’d never seen in my life smiled brightly from Greg’s smartphone screen.

“Hi, Auden!” she said. Then her head turned sideways for a split second and I realized she’d adjusted the phone. It looked as if she was standing among a large crowd of people. A guitar strummed in the background.

“Hey.” I returned the girl an über-excited fake smile, before lifting my questioning eyes to Greg.

“Just watch. You might learn some stage presence.” He winked before I could pout.

I’d gotten better with stage presence over the last three months. He’d know I’d been practicing if he would’ve let me back in the band earlier.

The video scanned the crowd quickly before settling on a stage. While trying my hardest to get a glimpse of the band, the phone swung back around to the girl, and I huffed.

“I’m Greg’s sister, by the way.” She still had the perma-grin on her face.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, but I was unsure if she caught it because she swung the phone back toward the stage.

Greg’s sister’s shaky camera skills had my stomach on edge. Puking was a possibility if she didn’t quit whipping the phone around.

“Hello, Charlotte!” the lead singer yelled. Though his head wasn’t in the camera’s view, I could make out his outfit. A long-sleeved black shirt hugged every curve of his muscular upper body, and narrowed into the waistband of classic rock and roll leather pants that fit him just right. He looked familiar, and I wondered if I’d previously seen this band in concert. Why couldn’t I figure out who it was? If only Greg’s sister could fix the angle and zoom in on the singer’s face a little.

“I fucked up with my girl, Charlotte. And I had to do something big to get her back because she is my sun, and I revolve around her,” the singer told the crowd. I still couldn’t see him, but I recognized the thick Slavic accent that made my legs sway like a palm tree in a hurricane.

Aleksandr appeared larger and larger as he approached the spot where Greg’s sister was standing. He knelt down and grabbed the phone. His gorgeous face filled the screen as he spoke directly to me, “I love you, Audushka. You’re all I have.”

He must have passed the phone back to Greg’s sister because I heard a shrill shriek of, “Ohmygod! Ohmygod!”

The next image I caught was of my hot Russian hockey god’s leather-clad backside retreating from the edge of the stage toward the microphone. Just then, the opening riffs and “Whooooo ooo ooo” of “You’re All I Have” by Snow Patrol roared through the phone’s speaker.

Unable to fully wrap my head around what was going on, I kept my eyes glued to the screen. Kristen and Jason had moved closer, pressing against my back as they peered over my shoulder to catch the show on the phone’s tiny screen.

When the first verse started, Aleksandr was singing. And it wasn’t karaoke-style singing, either. He was backed by a full band behind him.

And my man looked damn sexy behind the microphone. Though he told me he’d never sung karaoke before, his confident demeanor drew the same response as it did on the ice, a hoard of fans screaming and bouncing at his feet.

“That looks like Wreckage,” Kristen said.

I shook my head. “He said ‘Hello, Charlotte.’ So he must be at a bar there.”

“Why would a bar in Charlotte have a Central State poster on their wall?” Kristen pointed to the screen. She was right. The bold maroon text on the poster-sized Central State men’s basketball schedule loomed behind Aleksandr. How had I not noticed that he was standing on the same stage I’d performed on for almost three months?

I lifted my eyes, expecting to see Greg, but he wasn’t there. I hadn’t even noticed his exit.

Hiding behind a coward’s mantra of nothing (and no one) is permanent, I’d run away from countless important people in my twenty years on earth. Supportive friends who’d saved my sanity through elementary and high school, amazing teammates on Central State’s soccer team, and even a few nice guys who may have wanted something more than I’d ever dared to give.

Though giving up on those relationships may have been a mistake, I never looked back with regret.

Only one relationship would haunt me for eternity if I ran away.

So I sprinted toward it, pushing through the front door of the Central Club and racing to Wreckage. I elbowed my way from the back of the room to the stage, refusing to stop for anyone, even the bouncer. I knew he wouldn’t mind, because he knew me, but I’d still buy him a couple of lottery tickets tomorrow as an apology gesture.

Greg’s sister was at the front, still holding up the phone, mesmerized by Aleksandr’s performance. I wondered if she even noticed the screen that had just been filled with my face had turned black as I clutched Greg’s phone in my hand.

Aleksandr stood behind the microphone belting out the song as if he performed every night. Granted, he didn’t have the greatest vocals, but he wasn’t bad, either. Behind him was my band. Josh on the drums, Aaron at the bass, and Greg on his guitar.

I was dumbstruck. I couldn’t believe my ex-boyfriend was on stage with my band singing a song about finally realizing I was all he had.

How it was possible to feel my heart beating so ferociously, yet still wonder if I was breathing? The two had to go hand in hand, right? As Aleksandr sang, I felt the words seep into me like penetrating lotion on cracked and weathered skin.

Aleksandr took a step back from the microphone after he’d finished the last words of the song. I climbed onto the stage and launched myself into his arms. He caught me easily, squeezing my waist in his vise grip. When our mouths collided, the comforting taste of cloves mingled with the salty tears cascading down my cheeks and onto my lips.

“You’re all I have. You’re all I want. I love you,” I said when we broke from the kiss.

The words must have been picked up by the microphone because the crowd exploded.

Greg moved forward and grabbed the mike. “Should we let these lovebirds go somewhere private?”

The audience responded with another thunderous cheer. I tapped Greg’s shoulder with his phone and held it out to him, giving him a huge smile. He winked and returned the grin.

Aleksandr bent down and tucked one arm across my back and the other at the back of my knees. He lifted me up and jumped off the stage. His arms never wavered as he jostled me through the crowd. Rather than have my head bonked by every shoulder we passed, I burrowed into Aleksandr’s neck.

“Where to?” he asked, setting me down once we arrived outside.

“This way.” I grabbed his hand and led him to the Central Club, which was private and close.

Aleksandr stopped abruptly when we crossed the threshold. “Is this—”

The way Aleksandr’s head whipped from side to side and up and down as he took in every inch of the space, getting whiplash was a strong possibility.

“The newest branch of the Central Club,” I finished.

“Wow. It’s amazing, Audushka.”

My cheeks burned at the compliment, excited that the person I cared about most was proud of what I’d done. But I didn’t want to make small talk right now. No beating around the bush. No running away until everything was out in the open. Whatever happens will be.

“I know the poem was horrible, but it was out of context,” I said. “It was a stupid outlet I use to get all my pent-up frustrations out. I was lusting after you, but I wouldn’t let myself act on it. I never thought that way about you. I would never use you like that.”

I continued without giving him a chance to speak because I needed him to understand everything, understand me. “That poem was fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of getting too close. Fear of letting someone love me. Fear of ending up like my mom.”

Without a word, Aleksandr grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted the left side, revealing one of the tattoos I’d admired on numerous occasions but had never asked about. Black Cyrillic script began at his hip and drifted elegantly up his side.

“ ‘To fear death is not to live,’ ” Aleksandr translated before I converted the words myself. Then he lifted the right side of his shirt and revealed the same beautiful script, only this time the words started under his arm and flowed down his lean side. “No matter which way I turn, this is the message I must remember.”

“You got those after your parents’ accident.”

“See? You know me better than anyone.”

“Well, I’m sure anyone who knows your story could’ve guessed.”

“Sorry I flipped out. Seeing you with Greg set me off. It’s hard for me knowing you’re with these guys all the time. I want it to be me you confide in, not them. But I should’ve trusted you like you trust me with the bunnies.”

Suddenly my shoes were more important than anything else in the room. I didn’t trust him with the bunnies. I just hoped for the best.

“I don’t confide in them, not really. I write stupid poems, and we try to use them for lyrics. I guess it’s confiding in a way, but I’m not knocking on Greg’s door at three a.m. looking for a shoulder to cry on. It’s totally different.”

“True. And I’m not answering the door when bunnies come knocking on it at three a.m.”

“Bunnies come to your door? Not just the arena and bars?”

“Perspective, Audushka.” He brought me back to the present. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls. I needed time to cool off, to think.”

“To screw other women,” I finished for him.

With the haze of admiration lifted, I reminded myself that this wasn’t a dream. I couldn’t forget about his betrayals because he’d made a (freakin’ awesome) grand gesture. This was real, and the wounds of reality sliced deep. Being with him again immersed my mind in melancholy thoughts, reminding me how difficult it is to modify deeply ingrained insecurities.

“I didn’t touch another woman,” he told me. When I refused to meet his eyes, he tipped my chin up with his fingers. “I haven’t touched another woman since I’ve been with you. I swear.”

“What about Angie?” I asked.

“Who’s Angie?”

“The last time I called you Pavel answered. There was an Angie in the background. It sounded like you were—” I stopped, shaking out of his hold. I couldn’t finish.

“Fucking Pasha.” Aleksandr let out a breath. “I didn’t do anything with any woman. It may have sounded that way, but I didn’t touch her. Pasha was, I don’t know, trying to break us up or something.”

“Why does he care?”

“He doesn’t want me to be happy.”

“What?”

Aleksandr dropped his chin to his chest and clutched his hair with both hands, groaning as if in pain or anger.

“I didn’t tell you the whole story of my parents’ car accident, Audushka. It’s not a secret, I just, I didn’t want you to hate me like he does.”

I reached up and grabbed his hands away from his hair, hoping that my touch would give him the strength to continue with what he was about to reveal. Though I didn’t know what it would be, I knew we could handle it. Together.

“My father was driving the car. Pavel’s father was in the passenger seat, and our mothers were in back. They were all killed.” Aleksandr’s voice was almost a whisper. He cleared his throat and looked into my eyes. “My father didn’t do anything wrong. He wasn’t speeding, wasn’t going the wrong way. It was the wrong place, at the wrong time against a bus making a fast, wide turn. But Pavel blamed my father. And ever since then—” I squeezed his hands for him to continue. “He’s made my life hell ever since then. Said I don’t deserve happiness because my father killed his parents.”

“But it wasn’t your fault. Even if your dad was driving. It wasn’t your fault. You lost the same thing Pavel did.”

“He doesn’t see it that way.”

“He’s grieving and looking for someone to blame. We’ve both been there.” I kept my eyes glued to Aleksandr’s until he squeezed his shut and nodded. “Gribov was right about me, though. I am selfish.”

“He’s not right, Auden. You are the most wonderful, loving person I’ve ever met. Look at this place.” He gestured around the Central Club. “You have this ridiculous idea that talking about your own tragedy is selfish, but it’s not. I want you to trust me enough to talk to me. I want everything from you. Your pain, your insecurity, your trust, and your heart. And I want to give all of mine to you. You’re the only person who knows how I got this.” He took my hand and lifted my fingers to the scar on his cheek. “You are the only person who knows me at all.”

“I want to trust you. I do, but I don’t know if I can get over some of the issues we have.”

“Like what?”

“You left me.”

“Audushka, you know I have to leave for—”

“No.” I cut him off. “After you read the poem you left without even looking back. Without answering my phone calls to talk about it. You left even when you knew that was my biggest fear.”

“I ran from the situation, not from you.” He rubbed his face in his hands. “It’s what I do, Audushka. I run. I drink. I smoke. That’s how I deal with things. You shut down and let people go. I run. Being a hockey player suits me. I escape to a different city every other day, and I get my aggression out on the ice. Slap shots, skating hard, checking hard.”

“How do I know you won’t do it again?” I asked, my voice shaky, on the verge of tears.

“Because deep down you know that everything we feel for each other is real,” Aleksandr pleaded, passion radiating in his voice. “I love you, Auden. I know we’re young, and it happened fast, but I had other girls before you, and none of them touch you. I want to be with someone who sparks something inside me. Someone I can’t stop thinking about. That’s you, Audushka.”

Our eyes locked for a split second, before Aleksandr spun around and yanked his shirt off. Without thinking, I reached out and brushed the words scrawled across his shoulders with my fingertips. At my touch, his head jerked to the side, and a ripple coursed through his muscles.

“ ‘How well you live makes a difference, not how long,’ ” he translated, and dropped his shirt to the floor before turning to face me.

I ignored the desire to spin him around and trace the words with my tongue and spoke instead. “Your parents would be proud of you. You’re living pretty well right now.”

“I didn’t get that for my parents. I got it two weeks ago, when I started planning this with Greg. There is no living well without you, Audushka. I couldn’t do it. I didn’t care that I made it to the NHL. I didn’t care about scoring, about winning, about hockey. Being without you was like my parents’ death all over again. Life sucks when there’s no one you care about to share it with. You’re all that I have.”

The hem of my maroon Central State football T-shirt was sweaty and dirty, but I pulled it up and dabbed at the tears building in my eyes anyway. They were probably already racooned-out from crying off my eyeliner while he sang.

“Not true. You have your family in Russia. You have your friends and teammates and coaches. You even have my grandparents,” I added.

“But you are the only one who matters. I need to know if I have the most important person.”

As someone whose identity was created around a father who never wanted to know her, and a mother who was killed before she was seven years old, it would be an impossible task for me to let go of everything in a minute, or a month, or even six months. But I had to get over my trust issues, or let Aleksandr go for good. If I couldn’t trust him what kind of life could we have together?

Aleksandr was the one person I couldn’t hide from or filter myself around. The person who called me out on my bullshit and persuaded me to open up. He was the person who taught me that not everyone would abandon me, and I didn’t have to abandon others.

Despite the insecurities muddling my brain like a three-year-old’s finger painting, there was no hesitation in my answer.

“Yes.”