“You need to leave.” Josh and I both turn at the sound of King’s voice. His eyes meet mine. They’re wide and questioning before they turn back to my brother.
“Who in the hell are you, anyway?” Josh asks, his tone aggressive.
“Who in the hell do you think I am? I introduced myself as Kingston, Lauren’s boyfriend. How many more dots do I need to connect for you in order for that to make sense?”
Josh doesn’t acknowledge King’s reply or irate tone. I doubt he even heard it over the words he’s clearly ready to spew. “You need to stop being a bitch and start thinking about someone other than yourself!” Josh continues, his belligerence making others in the restaurant turn, though his voice is still decently quiet.
“You aren’t seriously going to let him say that to her!” Mercedes shoves back from the table. “I’ll punch him if you guys don’t!” She only makes it past Brandon before Charleigh stops her with an arm.
“You need to apologize,” Mercedes demands. Her fists are stuck to her small hips, her chin raised high.
“You’re dating someone with a kid? This is great. Mom couldn’t stand you. That’s why she left. Now you’re trying to be a mom?” His laughter is colder than his words that fall too easily, without a second of thought behind what pain the callousness of his words brings.
“She’s my nanny, you jerkface!” is screamed from Mercedes, but I don’t see her. My attention is on King, whose head turns quickly, his fist even faster. His knuckles connect with Josh’s cheek, making his head whip.
“I don’t give a shit who you are. You don’t talk to her like that.”
Josh laughs and it’s filled with a mocking enjoyment.
The entire restaurant has turned to face us. Everyone at the table is now standing, even my mom.
“Lauren, what are you doing?” she asks as I turn and grab my purse.
“Leaving.”
“What’s new,” Josh mutters. “She’ll leave you too, man. Get out while you can.” King whirls around, his hands both fisted. “Ask her,” Josh prompts, the muscles in his neck straining. “She doesn’t need anyone. She’s never needed or wanted anyone. She isn’t someone you can hold on to and expect to be there for you when you need her.”
Kash grabs King’s arm, holding it firmly to his side and saying something so quietly, only King hears it. Then he turns and faces the table. “Lauren has been one of the greatest blessings our family has ever experienced. She has taught all of us about life and love and following your dreams. You guys should be embarrassed and ashamed. Don’t step back into this city again with all this crazy shit. You aren’t welcome.” His hand is against my back, King’s on the back of my neck.
“We’re the city of weird, not rude,” Mercedes says, her hip jaunting and eyes glaring. It seems like a million years since it was me on the opposite side of this reaction.
THE PARKING lot is far worse than standing in front of everyone while modeling today. Far, far worse. Everyone is off balance with what to do or say, creating an awkward energy that has us all looking down at the pavement rather than each other.
“I say we get a drink. Are there any good pubs in the area?” Charleigh breaks the silence, looking to King and Kash for direction.
Kash rubs a hand along the back of his neck, exposing a long scar on his forearm. His eyes dance over each of us, focusing on me before looking back to Charleigh. “We could head back to the house. We’ve got all kinds of shit from different things.”
“You want to ride with us, Lauren?” Charleigh asks, her voice high, revealing a hopefulness that makes me even more embarrassed.
I shake my head and look toward the street to gain my bearings. “I’m going to head home.”
Mercedes looks my way, and I instantly turn my head. I feel like a coward. I’ve encouraged her to open up and speak freely with me about the tormenting she has endured at school, and now that we’re in reverse rolls, I can’t even look at her.
“We need to properly celebrate and get that awful taste out of our mouths.” Charleigh’s voice is hopeful and shaded with sympathy, which I loathe hearing.
“Yeah, I’m tired. I need to study for my math final, and I feel sticky and gross from all that hairspray.”
“Let’s just go for one round,” Kash suggests.
“That’s alright. I’m not in the mood either,” King says, taking a step closer to me.
I notice Brandon shift uncomfortably and feel even worse. I haven’t even introduced myself to the guy and he’s already been thrown into the crazy circus that is my life. No wonder Charleigh went AWOL. I understand it. I completely get how life can be so distracting and crazy that sometimes it’s more tempting to leave it all behind for a while and just enjoy something that makes you feel good.
“I’ll see you guys on Monday,” I say, taking a long step back.
King moves with me, his weight shifting in tandem with mine. I look to him, confusion knitting my brows. His draw down as well, and then he shakes his head just once, and I see a trace of pain cross his features before he drops his head. He remains in step with me though, a hand resting on my hip. I allow him to guide me to his truck, though I’d prefer to be on the bus tonight. I want the distraction of nameless faces and the lull of white noise.
When his driver’s side door closes, he inserts the key and then drops his hand to his slack-covered thigh. The slacks he’s wearing because of me. “That’s the anger you were referring to. It wasn’t your mom or your dad; it was your brother.”
For several seconds my jaw stays flexed, my attention trained on the passing cars. Then I look over to him, my lips still firmly together.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking. I can’t tell if you’re sad or angry, or even worse, embarrassed.”
I narrow my eyes, puzzled. “Why is embarrassment the worst thing?”
King’s eyes shift between mine, still searching for recognition. “Because you deserve to be angry and sad, but there’s no reason for you to feel embarrassed. You didn’t ask for them to act like that. It’s not your fault they were being assholes.” He moves a hand to his nose, his thumb and forefinger applying pressure to the slight bridge there. His hands look cleaner than I’ve ever seen them, scrubbed to the point there’s only a hint of grease along some of the deeper grooves on his fingers. Last night I had to alternately soak and scrub my hands until the charcoal was gone except for the small callus on the knuckle of my middle finger. I think it’s imbedded into my skin at that spot.
“I knew … I could feel it.” My attention moves back to King’s face. His dark eyelashes are fanned, his eyelids scrunched with thought and frustration that has his head shaking nearly imperceptibly. “Everything about it seemed off. You hadn’t mentioned them, and Charleigh looked so annoyed … I knew you weren’t expecting them, but I thought … I hoped … they were there to support you. I so rarely hear you talk about them, I thought maybe it would be a good thing.” He opens his eyes but doesn’t meet my stare. “Something was off though, and I could tell things were going to go to hell in a hand basket.”
“There’s nothing you could have done to stop it.” I don’t want to say these words, because I fear that they are like when he told me he wasn’t trying to insinuate that I was stalking him. I don’t want him to even consider that he is somehow responsible for this night, yet I see it. I hear it. Being that it’s King, I can even feel his guilt. It makes me nearly loathe them.