The Second Jam Page 9

  “Most people don’t like him.” I said discreetly to Cyrus.

  “He’s fine with me. The one in the window is freaky though.”

  I knew who he was talking about. There was a man on the Quarter who stood, holding a window, glassless, and once you moved away, he started making faces and moving. It was creepy as hell to turn around and see him in a different position.

  Especially at night.

  We continued walking until we got to the place where my car was parked. He didn’t look please about not driving, but my car—I drive.

  “You didn’t get to tell me about school.”

  I looked at him in the passenger seat. He always looked so collected. Even when he was upset.

  “Oh, I substitute teach when I can for extra money. They usually put me in English classes. No one wants to substitute for them. I make decent money and maybe I can get the place started on my own if I need to.”

  Cyrus, with his hair in that bun and his wiry beard scraggly from the wind on the levee, stared out of the passenger side window—not speaking. The more I drove with silence from him—the more I worried.

  I’d probably said something insensitive.

  I was a pro at that.

  Pulling into the Hope Center parking lot, I finally couldn’t take it anymore. “What happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No. Something happened. We got in the car and you clammed up.”

  He blew me off. “I was just thinking.”

  “I’ve got practice on Thursday and team dinner on Friday night and then a bout on Saturday. You up for a lesson on Sunday?”

  “Sure. Thank you.” His words were clipped.

  “See you later.”

  That’s what happens when you let your guard down.

  You get the wall.

  ~~~

  “Damn, Bea, what crawled up your ass and laid its spikes? I think her nose is bleeding.”

  I put my toe down just long enough to slow me down and look at the girl I’d taken out. It was less of me taking her out and more of her losing her balance, but when the blood is flowing they all look to the last person who made contact.

  Which was me.

  “She just lost her balance.”

  Scout took a long draw of the neon green liquid in her bottle. “Yeah, and I’m Snow White.”

  “What?—Nevermind.”

  If Scout got to explaining something to me on the rink, we’d be there all night.

  “I’ll e-mail it to you.”

  Scout was also one of those. The ones that forwarded completely random, densely packed emails full of information that I would never use. Every single one was of dire importance and couldn’t be ignored—her words not mine.

  I watched as the bleeding girl—number 17—got up and under the cover of the wads of paper towels, managed to flip me off.

  “You’re not going to apologize?”

  Scout, always making amends.

  “Yeah. After the bout. It’ll make me feel squishy.”

  “You couldn’t be squishy if you wanted to.”

  She was speaking to me, but her eyes were scanning the crowd. It was a known fact that the Black clan attended all bouts. Nellie was our coach and Storey was the junior league’s coach. But every single wife had been a derby girl—I was sure their blood ran with derby girl sweat.

  “Looking for a guy?”

  Her neck blushed, but she blew me off with a ‘pftt’. “A guy yes, but not what you’re thinking.”

  “Then who?” I heard Nellie barking out for us to get back in place, but I wanted to know.

  “My cousin, Cyrus.”

  “He doesn’t come to bouts?”

  She pooched out her bottom lip. “He used to.”

  Sickness pooled in my belly. The Cyrus I knew and the Cyrus that Scout knew were the same. There couldn’t be more than one Cyrus Black in New Orleans, I didn’t care how big the city was or how many thousand lived here.

  I didn’t ask any more questions. I didn’t have time to—I heard the whistle and we returned to the bout.

  Pink hair blurred my view of the rink. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose. Remember, we are all derby sisters, no matter the team ties.”

  Nellie was all about the Derby Sisterhood.

  “I will. At halftime.”

  “Good.”

  The idle threats catted through the wall of blockers on the other team before the whistle was even blown to start the jam. I didn’t even make it around the corner before I was on my ass. And then again on the next turn. And again while trying to block their jammer from passing through.

  By the time the second jam was over, my hips were throbbing while a growing patch of rink rash grew bigger and bigger on my side. I could feel it. My fishnets were beginning to stick to my thighs.

  Maybe if I apologized, it would all go away out of good will.

  In the middle of my sixth jam, everything was going fine. The girls on the other team seemed satisfied with their revenge and I was skating better than ever despite my injuries.

  It all happened so fast.

  Something tripped me.

  Instead of going forward or backward, I forgot all my training and flailed sideways, twisting my ankle. The whole rink tipped on its axis and then the lights went out.

  I woke up during the ambulance ride to the hospital and embarrassment set in before the pain.

  “Miss Morales, how are you feeling?”

  I rolled my eyes around to meet the owner of the voice, a skinny man shining a pencil-sized flashlight in my eyes.

  “I feel like I’m being probed by an alien.”

  He laughed and my upper lip curled in disgust. I wasn’t kidding. I felt like I was being observed.

  “We are just bringing you in for some tests. I think you’re fine, but it’s procedure.”

  How they ever expected someone to stay calm with those blaring sirens wailing was beyond me.

  My head began to pound. My vision got fuzzy with the impact of the newfound pain.

  “One to ten, how bad is the pain?”

  The last thing I remembered saying was, “Seventeen.”

  The most disconcerting thing in the world was waking up to a loud fluorescent light and peppermint curtains. And beeping—all the beeping.

  “Thank God you’re okay.”

  I knew that voice but it felt like ages since I’d heard it.

  “Cyrus?”

  “Yeah, look, I don’t have much time. They will be here soon—Scout and your friend and mo…Nellie. I just had to make sure you were okay.”

  “She’s going to be just fine. We will keep her overnight to make sure there is no concussion, but tomorrow she will be right as rain.”

  I assumed the voice belonged to a nurse or a doctor, not able to tear my attention away from the candy cane curtains. Plus, I couldn’t feel my lips—or my face.

  A hand enveloped mine. Its warmth made me close my eyes.

  “I have to go.” Lips pressed against my forehead. “One day this will be different, I promise.”

  I tried to get my mouth to work, but my tongue was velcroed to the top of my mouth and no matter how interesting the curtain was, my eyelids were failing me.

  Then the warmth swished out of the room, and out of my hand. Somewhere in between sleep and wake, I knew it was Cyrus.

  “Dude, that shit is already on YouTube.”

  That was the first thing I heard from the red-haired genius at the foot of a bed I didn’t remember getting into.

  “Give her a minute, Scouty girl. The nurse said they gave her some heavy pain meds.”

  I tested my mouth and found it a desert.

  “Here, drink.” Nellie shoved a straw into my mouth and the second of semi-panic was eased when I involuntarily sucked water onto my parched tongue.

  “He didn’t come back.” I said first. Why that was the first thing I chose to say, I didn’t know.

  “Who?”

  “I told you.” Scout grumbl
ed next to Nellie. They were still in their derby outfits, minus the helmets and padding.

  “Give—her—a—minute.”

  “Bea, they say you can get out of here as soon as you wake up. You don’t have a concussion.”

  “Okay.”

  I sat up little by little and by the time I’d been awake for ten minutes, the smell of disinfectants and plastic was churning my stomach. I needed to get out of there.

  “I’m ready to go.” I mumbled, my tongue still lazy.

  “I’ll go let them know. Scout, mind yourself.”

  I wondered where Zuri was, but she probably had to go to work. Her job wasn’t one that was missed and she’d tested the limits by being late so many times in the first place.

  As soon as Nellie hit the door, Scout zeroed in on me. I felt hunted.

  “Who were you talking about?” She whispered.

  “Huh?”

  “You said ‘where is he’ and before you woke up, I thought I saw someone leaving your room in the ER. Do you know who it was?”

  “I do.” One fist popped onto her hip. She wasn’t going to let me use the sick card one bit.

  “Spill it.” Her voice quivered with the demand.

  “Cyrus.”

  It looked like Scout would soon need a bed.

  “Okay ladies, a few more minutes and you’re out of here.”

  I had to cover for Scout until I could get more information. “What time is it?”

  “Nine a.m.”

  That really woke me up. “I have to go. My dad.”

  The girls on the team knew what was up with my dad. We’d played a dangerous game of truth or dare one night after a rowdy practice session and I’d ended up choosing truth with the question, ‘What’s your greatest fear?’

  “We can stop by there on your way home and check on him. But you have to get home and rest—shake all that juice they gave you.”

  I agreed and swung my legs out of bed while shooting Scout a look that I hoped was taken as ‘gut up’.

  She took the hint.

  “I brought you some of my clothes to wear home, unless you want to walk around in that sexy thing.” Scout pointed to my hospital gown and I cringed.

  “Whatever you brought is fine.”

  Hours later, I had checked on my dad and was back in my bed. Scout had agreed to hang out in case I needed anything, but I knew she and I both wanted to get down to the bottom of the Cyrus connection.

  After sleeping everything off, I stumbled into the living room to find Scout there, reading.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  “I’m starving and we need to talk.”

  “No shit, Sherlock.”

  We settled for turkey sandwiches from my kitchen and sat down in the living room.

  “How do you know him?” I began.

  “He’s my cousin and my best friend.”

  “Oh.”

  That was a simple enough answer and it put to rest my curiosity about his last name. And like a fever rising on my face, the truth of who she was talking about crashed into what I knew about Cyrus. I barely met her eyes. She’d never mentioned his name. It was like a curse word on her tongue for a while and then it became painful.

  I choked on my words. “The one—with the college—kicked you out—that’s him?”

  “Yes.” Shame marred her face, the same shame I’d seen in the face of Cyrus.

  “Wait, he’s Nellie’s boy.”

  She nodded and put her food aside.

  “Holy shit.” I let the weight of it sink in. I should hate him on behalf of Scout, I really should. He ruined her collegiate career and if it weren’t for her professors and the dean knowing how incredibly intelligent she was—possibly criminal charges.

  “How long have you known him?”

  Betrayal—knowing this guy who had wronged her felt like betrayal.

  Betrayal tasted like mold.

  “A week or so.”

  I geared up for the onslaught of questions that I wasn’t sure I wanted to answer. Yes, Scout was his cousin and his friend, but there was obviously a reason that he wasn’t keeping in touch with them. I would be a fool not to guess why.

  Telling her his secrets would feel wrong.

  “Don’t worry.” She laid a hand on my arm and I realized this was the first time I’d seen Scout calm about anything. “I’m not going to put you in the middle. Can you just let me know that he’s okay?”

  Maybe they needed this time apart.

  Sometimes friends need time apart to figure themselves out—so they can be better friends to the ones they love.

  “He’s okay.” I coupled the sentiment with a smile to drive my semi-truthful point home.

  Warmth pooled in my stomach at knowing what I had to do.

  “He’ll be better.” I reiterated.

  “Good. As long as he’s okay, then he’ll come back one day.”

  Scout sat with me the rest of the night. I texted Cyrus while she wasn’t looking to cancel our lesson for the night.

  The next lesson would be brutal.

  Cyrus Black would learn to read come hell or high water.

  He needed to get back to his family and I had a feeling that if he could manage that hurdle, it would happen.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cyrus

  All Sunday night, I paced back and forth along the sidewalk behind the garage. The place was abandoned. Car parts and what was once a car sofa were buried in tall grass and gnarly weeds. I’d seen a machete in the garage, so I grabbed it and got to work. By midnight, I’d gotten the place cleaned up and looking halfway decent.

  Plus, it distracted me from dogging on myself for not staying with Beatriz in the hospital.

  I’d left her alone.

  Hurt and alone.

  She’d texted me telling me that she was cancelling our lesson but didn’t answer when I asked if she was okay. If I knew where she lived I would’ve been there already.

  I wasn’t owed the right to know—I knew that.

  I hadn’t earned it.

  It didn’t stop me from needing it.

  Worry plagued my sleep. I’d thought knowing Beatriz would be harder since she knew my greatest fault, but it was almost easier. I didn’t have to hide from Beatriz. I didn’t think I could if I tried.

  Monday passed without a peep from her. It was almost excruciating. I must’ve asked Jacob a thousand times if she was okay. I swore I heard him say that she was in school again. He said she was in school a lot.

  By the time the afternoon rolled around, I was worried again. I’m not sure it ever really stopped, just thwarted by busy work.

  “Jacob, do you mind if I take off a little early?”

  “Go. Be young!” He yelled at the top of his lungs over the music. Jacob had gotten more and more strange. One day he seemed like a level-headed man who knew everything and the next he came across as a man who still knew what he was doing, but simply didn’t give a damn. He repeated the same stories, often told to no one but the hood of a car, day after day.

  And sometimes he would mumble ‘miles and miles’ over and over.

  Nothing like marketing your own shop by saying its name repeatedly.

  I showered as fast as I could and rushed over to Beatriz’s place. I didn’t even know if she would be there or not, but a text just didn’t seem sufficient. I had to see with my own eyes that she was okay.

  The double doors to the place were wide open. This time I didn’t hear laughter or joking. I heard crying—whimpering.

  I followed the pitiful sound down the hallway and had to double back when I found I’d gone too far. The noise was coming from a section of the building I hadn’t been in before. When I cracked the doors open, I found it was a gym—an enormous gym. No one would be able to tell from the outside that this place housed a gym that would put some universities to shame.

  “Beatriz.”

  “I’m here.” Her voice didn’t carry her regular force and my anxiety grew. />
  “Are you okay?”

  “No!”

  I found her on the side of the room with screwdrivers and white plastic pieces scattered everywhere. She sat in front of a receptacle with wires pulled out at every angle. Her hair was up in a mess and her glasses had been taken off and tossed aside. She looked up at me and sniffled while tugging at her cut-off shorts.

  “The guy changed his inspection date.” Another screwdriver got tossed behind her.

  “What guy?”

  “The electrician. They were supposed to inspect next week and I had an electrician coming in on Friday but now he’s coming tomorrow and I’m so screwed.”

  I almost cracked my knuckles at the thought. It had wires and involved screw drivers. This was my jam.

  “Give me a list of everything that needs to be done.”

  The incredulous look stopped me from doing the knuckle thing. “Hey, I’ve got an issue with letters, not wires. I’m serious. If it involves tools—I’m your man.”

  She pursed her lips. “You’re my man, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay. Here’s the list. And I want you to show me. None of that pansy standing around while you work.”

  “The list.” I demanded. “You got more tools than this, right? Pliers, a voltage tester?”

  She laughed and shrugged. “Not sure. Let me go get my tool box.” What happened next was nothing short of nature taking its course. I reached out my hands to help her off the ground and she took them without a pause. I pulled her up and before I could take a breath, her chest was against mine. She didn’t move back or jump in shock. Beatriz just took it at face value. I looked at her while she stared at my chest. The heat between us was so palpable, I could’ve sworn we were sandwiching a heated blanket.

  Rose petals permeated my nose—I’d never imagined she’d smell like that—or ever could. She seemed like the anti-rose—not capable of wilting or shedding a single petal.

  And there she was surprising me again.

  “The list.” I whispered again.

  “Yeah. The list.”

  After she was out of view, I deflated, letting out the breath I was holding. My mind had become so centered on fixing whatever was making her upset that I’d forgotten to check on her health.

  “Here’s the list and here’s my toolbox. It’s pretty sad.”