A Love Hate Thing Read online

  I pouted. “I hate schmoozing.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I’ll make it up to you. Anything you want.” A flash of that handsome smile had me loosening up. He had come through for me the night before, as he always did whenever I needed him.

  “Fine, let me talk to the girls and we’ll figure this out,” I told him.

  “Awesome.” He came down for a quick peck, and my lips felt stiff against his.

  Really, I was off my game.

  “Oh my God, Nan, you two are such goals,” Sophie Morris gushed as Chad took me under his arm.

  “You’re way too good to your girl, man,” Oliver commented. “Keep that up and we’re all going to have to start treating ours nice.”

  Pig.

  Sophie only playfully nudged Oliver for his remark.

  I left Chad’s side to go grab a bottle of water and bumped into Edi Gómez along the way.

  Edi was one of my closest friends, and seeing her amongst the crowd made the party all the better. She lived two houses down from me, and had I known she was coming, we could’ve carpooled, each of us being the other’s reason to go at any time.

  “Nandy!” she squealed from where she stood, nursing a frozen blue drink. The bright color almost made me want one, but it was early.

  A look around the small beach house showed me that no one cared about the time of day. More than a few of my peers were actively drinking or acting goofy due to being under the influence. Chad’s crowd came with this atmosphere; my close friends tended to keep things much more chill.

  “Who supplied the party favors this time?” I asked as I studied the scene.

  “Jared’s mom just got her hip done, and she’s got all the pills,” Edi informed me. “And you know these kids can’t function without poppin’ a few. I declined.”

  Edi’s dad was a cop, so she was saying no for more reasons than one.

  “Tell me about it. I don’t know how long I’m staying,” I said.

  “Ten minutes with Captain Ginger is long enough for me.” Edi pretended to gag as she gestured toward Chad and his boys.

  “If you hate Chad and his friends, why are you here?” I teased as I nudged her.

  Edi shrugged as she took a sip of her drink. “Girl, it was either come out or stay in and watch Hector and Mani, and I ain’t spending my summer babysitting.”

  The Gómezes were the parents of two sets of twins. Edi and her brother Warhol, and their eleven-year-old younger siblings, Hector and Manuela. On many occasions Edi had gotten stuck babysitting instead of coming out with the girls and me.

  Speaking of her twin, I couldn’t spot him in the vicinity. “Where is Warhol?”

  Edi waved me off. “Probably still asleep at home. I told him he better get his act together if he’s going to pass summer school.”

  It was already a pain getting up early every morning for regular school; it had to be hell doing it in the summer. “That’s gotta suck.”

  “That’s what he gets for slacking off. All these boys do around here is eat, sleep, and shit football and lacrosse.”

  And Chad was the captain of the lacrosse team. Even if Edi wasn’t fond of my boyfriend, he was as much a part of her world as her brother was, whether she liked it or not. Warhol played football and Edi was a cheerleader; coexisting with Chad came with the territory, because both sports crowds usually hung together.

  People had expected me to be a cheerleader, but I was too busy running other things around school to put on a uniform and jump around with glee. Student council, student government, and a few academic clubs, not to mention community service. Even at the end of summer, I’d be back at Cross High helping with new student orientation.

  Part of my commitments were solely for my résumé, and part were because I enjoyed organizing things and helping new kids transition to our school. Being a leader was natural for me. When I’d hit my teens and started dating Chad, I’d become “queen of Pacific Hills” to a lot of my peers—I didn’t take myself that seriously. In some ways, I viewed cotillion as my reward for all the hard work I’d done over the years. My debut would be my crowning achievement.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” I said, walking with her toward the patio doors. Fresh air sounded nice. “You know how I feel about Chad’s friends.”

  “Strike three, huh?” Edi quipped.

  I sighed. “Edi.”

  “Let’s not pretend the signs aren’t there, Nan,” Edi said. “I mean, the guy lives in the biggest house on Narcissus Avenue. It’s like the universe is laughing at the irony.”

  Chad did actually live on a street called Narcissus Avenue, a few blocks from me. But he wasn’t as terrible as Edi tried to paint him to be.

  My defense of Chad was half-hearted, though. Edi’s usual spiel against my boyfriend was no match for where my thoughts kept drifting.

  Tyson’s arrival played constantly in my brain. Even though it had been ten years, I hadn’t forgotten him. But things were different. I was different. He was different. We were from two different worlds.

  Who knew how much had changed? As much as part of me wanted to welcome him in, another was intent on freezing him out—for more reasons than one.

  It had been only one day, and Tyson was already ruining my summer.

  5 | Trice

  One hundred and fifty-eight days to go.

  I wrote it down on the calendar that hung on the wall in my bedroom as soon as I got up Tuesday morning. Two nights down, over a hundred more to go.

  There was no official plan for what would happen once I was eighteen and free to go, but I knew I’d be leaving. More than likely back to Lindenwood. Nandy had made it clear by her continued icy glare that she wasn’t up for renewing our former friendship.

  I didn’t care for the Smiths’ charity anyway.

  When I came out of the bathroom after washing up, Jordy was in the hall. From the way he was staring at me, I knew my scar was showing, as it often did when I wore a tank top. The mark wasn’t grotesque, but it was definitely a sign that shit got real outside of the Hills.

  “It’s crazy out there in these streets, huh?” Jordy yawned and walked by me into the bathroom, then closed the door.

  I touched the lesion, the scar, the memory of six months prior. The shots echoed in my head, harsh and loud—so loud that I felt the need to hold my hands to my ears to make the noise stop. The wound burned just as it had when I’d first been shot and fallen to the floor. My stomach twisted, my mouth ran dry, and I felt dizzy.

  Like a chant, I told myself I didn’t care and pushed forward.

  It was seven fifteen in the morning and I had to register for summer school. I’d missed a lot of school, resulting in my needing to take classes in math and English to get into the twelfth grade. The Smiths had set up a meeting for me to register for the classes I needed and to talk to the school’s counselor, I’d learned this Sunday evening when we’d talked with Misty.

  I didn’t care about finishing school, but I knew that, realistically, I wouldn’t get anywhere without at least a high school diploma. Even though I wanted to leave as soon as I turned eighteen, I planned on using my summer wisely and getting my credits up to become a senior. Maybe after I was free, I’d go and finish high school back in the ’Wood.

  I made my way downstairs and followed voices along with the sweet smell of cinnamon to the kitchen. From my two nights with the Smiths, I was still getting used to their home and all its glory. Nice wasn’t the word to describe their crib and its setup. Expensive was more like it. Half of the things they owned left me feeling anxious and not wanting to touch anything, just in case I slipped up and broke something. Most of their stuff probably cost a car payment or two, like the wine bottles in their private wine room, or the fancy imported dishes in their dining room along with their glass table and plush cream-colored chairs. Max had us put away the display dish
es into their china cabinet before we’d eaten at the table both Sunday and Monday night.

  Their kitchen was simple, yet impressive. It was a bright room thanks to a fancy light fixture hanging above their island. Unlike my bedroom, where Nandy had gone out of her way to add a pop of color, the kitchen was a gentle and subtle gray, ranging from dark to light. The stainless-steel appliances—they had two ovens, one above the other—added on to their pricey image. With how neat and organized everything was, I questioned how often they really took the time to cook in such an immaculate space.

  The dining room was a room over, and as I hung back in the doorway, I noted that only Nandy and Max were up in the kitchen. Nandy was at the long and wide island while Max leaned back against the kitchen counter nursing a mug of coffee. She was dressed professionally for work. Parker was MIA.

  Nandy looked upset, and Max looked annoyed.

  “The last time I was around him, I didn’t have breasts, Mom!” Nandy was whining. They both were oblivious to my stance in the doorway. “He’s been to juvie—who knows what he’s learned about taking advantage of girls like me!”

  Girls who sounded like whiny rich white girls and who wouldn’t shut the fuck up until they got their way?

  And juvie? That was ironic. Had I gone to juvie, I’d be dead. Just like I was supposed to be dead instead of standing in the Smiths’ kitchen.

  I took in Nandy’s brown skin, her blemish-free face, and the long, dark hair that she’d pulled up in a ponytail. She’d always been pretty, but she had definitely changed. For one, she was eating a bowl of fruit. When we were kids, you couldn’t blink without catching her munching on a bag of potato chips.

  I wondered if that white boy she’d snuck out with had anything to do with the new Nandy.

  Max sighed. “For God’s sake, quit acting like he’s some stranger from the street.”

  Nandy poked at her mango. “Might as well be.”

  “Tyson—Trice is a friend to this family, and now he lives here. He might as well be a new family member.” Max sipped her coffee and appeared to think over her words. Nandy wasn’t paying attention, but I watched as Max smiled, as if she liked the idea.

  There was something honest about Max that I’d always liked, that and the fact that when I mentioned my preferring to be called Trice rather than Tyson, Max immediately took to my new name while Misty kept forgetting.

  Max’s gaze flickered to me. “Trice! You’re up.”

  Nandy turned and instantly scowled, then stood up from the island. “Excuse me, I’ve gotta get dressed for the day.”

  She slipped past as I stepped into the room. Across the island was a small array of breakfast foods. From hot: eggs, bacon, and cinnamon rolls, to cold: fruit, boxes of cereal, and what looked like bottles of smoothies.

  Max waved a hand toward the island. “Help yourself. We went shopping and bought a bunch of stuff. Do you like pulp in your orange juice or none?”

  I took a seat at the end of the island farthest from the chair Nandy had abandoned along with her unfinished breakfast. “Pulp.”

  Max was amused. “Nandy’s the same way.”

  “It tastes more natural.”

  “That’s what Nandy says. I see you two will get along again.”

  Had she met her daughter? That girl hadn’t seemed that willing to sit with me, let alone forge a bond. She’d practically glared at me for stepping foot in the house. That, and her repeated absence from dinner the past two nights, revealed the truth.

  Kumbaya my ass.

  I poured a glass of orange juice. The island had a lot of food on it and, as much as I wanted nothing to do with the Smiths, I appreciated Max’s efforts. The smell of the eggs and bacon reminded me of home, waking up on a Saturday to breakfast... Lead seemed to fill my stomach at the memory, and the thought of eating the hot foods turned me off. Honestly, I didn’t want to eat just then, but being wasteful was rude.

  “What’s your favorite cereal?” Max asked as she came over to the island.

  “Fruity Pebbles,” I answered as I gestured to the box. “But I should probably pitch in. I like to eat them in a big mixing bowl.”

  A smile touched Max’s lips. “Don’t worry, money’s not a problem here. Eat to your heart’s content.”

  I grabbed the fruit-flavored cereal and poured myself a bowl.

  The room fell silent, but I felt Max’s gaze on me.

  I looked at her, finding her unashamed in all her staring. “What?”

  She shook her head, reaching up to wipe her eyes. “Oh, nothing. I was thinking of when you and Nandy were kids, and how I always wondered what happened to you. I’m just grateful you’re alive. Thank God.”

  Her words taunted me, stirring up something I couldn’t swallow as she juxtaposed the past and present in such a way that I almost lost interest in my cereal.

  Max was a good woman, she didn’t know any better, yet still I asked, “You believe in God?”

  She shrugged. “I like to think there’s more to how we got here than this big bang mumbo jumbo. You?”

  “Sometimes I do, and sometimes I think it’s all bullshit. If God’s real, then what good is He for letting all the bad shit happen in the world? Cancer, robberies, rape...murder.” I looked down at the tabletop. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather believe in the big bang mumbo jumbo than have faith in a guy who’s not there when you really need him, who leaves you hanging in the balance.”

  Max came and squeezed my shoulder. “If that’s true, then why didn’t you die on the floor that day?”

  Maybe He was just evening the score. “Maybe He gets a kick out of watching us suffer.”

  “I’m not the most religious person, Trice, but I’d like to think God is out there and He has a plan for us, that everything happens for a reason.”

  I shook my head, squeezing my fists shut. “There’s no fuckin’ reason for what happened. There’s no good out of that. I may be alive, but for what? To serve some greater purpose? Bullshit. I should’ve just died alongside them.”

  “Trice—”

  “I’m supposed to believe that God ‘got another angel’ or ‘needed someone in heaven’ or some shit? When babies die, people say that to make themselves feel better, but it’s complete bullshit. What would God need with a baby? Either I lost faith, or there’s never really been a God, and now I’ve got lucid clarity.”

  Max frowned. I sensed she wanted to say something but was at a loss for words. She squeezed my shoulder again and went back to the counter. “There’s no swearing in this home, Trice. We don’t want Jordy to get the wrong idea.”

  “But shit’s okay to say when you’re meeting people?” I challenged, remembering Nandy’s slip as she’d been coming into the house from the pool Sunday.

  Max laughed. “Glad to see you have a sense of humor.”

  Nandy came back into the kitchen and took her place at the other end of the island. When she looked up and caught sight of me, she grabbed a box of cereal and stuck it in front of her, as if that would block my view. I was six foot three; I had no problem seeing Nandy over a tiny-ass box of cornflakes.

  “So, Nandy, what do you have planned for today?” Max asked.

  Nandy shrugged. “I was thinking of hitting the beach with Erica and Shayne.”

  “Well, you be sure to come home for dinner.” Max turned to me. “We’ll let Trice pick what he wants for takeout. We eat that a lot around here. With me busy at the office and Parker always at work as well, it gets pretty hard trying to cook a meal at the end of the workday.”

  “They manage to do it Sundays, though,” Nandy spoke up. “Always.”

  “We mostly eat Chinese—”

  “My best friend Erica’s family owns this restaurant, it’s more loyalty than anything.”

  “—but whatever you want tonight is fine by us,” Max concluded.
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  Takeout was good, but nothing beat a homemade meal.

  “Mind if I cook?” I offered.

  Max and Nandy faced each other, eyebrows raised.

  “Yeah?” Max asked.

  I nodded. “I could see what you got in the fridge and put something together.”

  “Oh, you don’t—”

  “I just spent six months eating nothing but food that came in plastic containers. No offense, but I wouldn’t mind whipping something up.”

  Max was impressed. “Okay by me. We’ve got plenty of food.” She eyed her wristwatch. “I’ve gotta get to work, but Nandy will take you to school. It’s not too far from here. Until we figure out a vehicle situation, we’ll have her take you.”

  “Every morning?” Nandy’s whine had returned tenfold.

  Max lifted a brow, and Nandy said nothing else.

  “Well, I’ll see you tonight, Trice. I look forward to dinner.” She left the room with a skip in her step. Maybe she meant her words.

  Nandy’s algid stare was hard to miss. She stood from her end of the island and marched over to mine, leaning into my face, trying to intimidate me or something. “Listen up. I will not be your bitch and chauffeur you around all summer. You are not going to ruin my good time.”

  I reeled away. “At least you’re half right.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you’re good on the bitch part, but you should start working on the chauffeur part and go start up the car.”

  She caught her breath, as if she hadn’t expected me to bite back. Fuck that. Nandy wasn’t about to get on my nerves all summer with her pissy-ass attitude. I’d be damned.

  Her phone rang, and I took that as my cue to walk my bowl to the sink.

  Nandy answered the call as she retreated from the room. “Oh my G, Erica, you will not believe what just happened.”

  Oh my G? I wondered if the white boy had anything to do with Nandy’s vocabulary as well.

  I went outside and headed down the front walkway. At the end, I stood and observed my surroundings.