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“Bear?” I asked, the mention of his name grating against my nerves. The fucker still hadn’t shown his face. “I don’t know a Bear. I mean, the name sounds vaguely familiar but I can’t quite picture him. Sounds ugly as fuck though.”
It would sound more familiar if he showed his fucking face and stopped avoiding me.
Thia rolled her eyes. “He’s giving you time, asshole. Take it as a gift because trust me, you fucking need it.”
“Time for what?” I asked, pushing her legs off of mine and sitting up so I could lean in and better glare at the stranger in front of me. “And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“You’ll find out.”
“Thanks pink haired Dali-lama, I feel much better about one of my best friends ignoring me now that you’ve explained everything. Shit’s all fucking roses again.” I chugged down the rest of my beer and set it harshly down on the table, the bottom of the bottle made a loud SMACK against the glass.
“Why don’t you focus on what’s important, Preppy?”
“And what exactly is that?”
“The fact that Ray is at the cemetery right now putting flowers on your fucking head stone when you’re alive and right here, sitting in her fucking living room.”
“MY living room,” I corrected.
“See? That’s exactly what I mean. You’re not focusing on what’s important.” Thia said, standing up slowly in a series of small motions a lot like a semi truck making an eight point u-turn on a narrow road. “Also, she didn’t want to tell you but she’s been going to see Dre. They’ve become pretty good friends.”
“Wait, what?” I asked, but she too was already across the house. What was with people telling me part of a fact before taking off?
“Chicks,” I muttered again when I thought she’d gone back out the same door she’d entered.
“I heard that!” Thia said from behind me. I jumped and dropped my empty bottle onto the floor.
“You were supposed to!” I said back, picking the bottle off the floor and setting it back on the coffee table. I rounded the couch and grabbed a fresh beer from the fridge, feeling Thia’s gaze on me the entire time. When I sat back on the couch I felt the back of my neck where I could have sworn her stare was burning a hole in my skin. “You sure know how to make an impression,” I said.
“Well, now at least you’ll remember me,” she said, this time making her way to the back door and opening it.
“Pregnant girl with pink hair, no filter, and boundary issues. Don’t think I’ll have any trouble remembering who you are,” I said, raising my beer to her in a mock cheers before taking a long pull from the bottle.
She paused and smiled brightly. “Well, if you do find yourself a little sluggish on the details and you can’t quite remember who I am there is one tiny thing about me that might be able to jog your memory in a pinch.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked, “Lay it on me Thia. What is it that will make you so memorable?”
She winked. “You can just remember me as that chick who killed Chop.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
PREPPY
I was beginning to think the excuses that everyone was giving me about Bear’s absence was utter bullshit until he finally showed up, standing in the doorway on the front porch, his massive frame taking up every inch of available space. He peered into the living room. “Prep?” he asked, taking a tentative step toward me.
“About fucking time, bitch. Get your big ass over here. You can’t catch what I have although if you could I wouldn’t put it past you to already have it.” I paused as he entered the room because pure panic rose in my blood. The deep blue eyes, the freckles, the size, the posture, everything about him screamed RUN to me.
I straightened my spine and set my feet into the carpet, pushing back against the cushions of the couch until I tipped it over on it’s side. I stumbled over it, not able to take my eyes off the figure moving toward me. The one that haunted me. “No!” I cried as I shuffled against the wall to find the door.
He’d come for me. I needed to escape but it was too late. Before I could reach the door he was on me, his hands on my arms holding me in place. I closed my eyes tightly and braced myself for the blow, for the pain, because that’s what always came next.
The pain.
Only it never came.
“Preppy! It’s me, it’s Bear. I’m not my old man. I wouldn’t fucking hurt you like that cock sucker did. Do you hear me? I WOULD NEVER. FUCKING. HURT YOU!” he screamed.
Something familiar in his voice triggered me to slowly come back to reality and open my eyes. Much to my relief it wasn’t Chop standing there with concern written all over his face. “You would never hurt me,” I repeated slowly. Bear nodded, his breath ragged. He loosened his grip on my shoulders.
“Never,” he said.
I nodded slowly and he released me, taking a step back. I leaned over to compose myself, shaking off the adrenaline coursing through my veins. “Never.”
“Never.”
The fog cleared and I stood up straight, looking over my old friend, “Even if I fucked your girlfriend?”
“Never. I mean, I’d fucking kill you, but I wouldn’t hurt you. I’d make it real quick though. You know, ‘cause we’re brothers and all.”
“Awe. You’re such a romantic, Care Bear,” I was still trying to catch my breath.
“And you’re such an asshole, Prep,” Bear said, shoving his thumbs through the belt loops of his black jeans.
“Well at least now I know why you didn’t come sooner,” I admitted. “And I was motherfucking you to everyone who’d listen.”
“I know. I heard.” Bear smiled. “Now come here you alive, motherfucker.” He pulled me in for one of the only hugs Bear has ever voluntarily given me and the need to make fun of him lingered just under the need to be reunited with the other half of the duo that made of my best friends.
There we stood, in the middle of the living room, hugging it out, each trying to hold back our tears until our need to cry outweighed our need to be the manly fucking men we were and we were no longer able to hold in the tears.
“I’m not fucking crying,” Bear sobbed.
“Me neither, you fucking pussy,” I sobbed back as my old friend held me tighter and we hugged and punched each other hard on the backs until I was sure we were going to give each other bruises, and if it went on much longer, probably some broken ribs. When he finally let go of me we quickly wiped our eyes and noses on our t-shi
rts, because real men don’t fucking cry, and that’s when I noticed the new tattoo on the back of Bear’s neck.
“Bear?” I asked, as he pulled a pack of smokes out from his cut. “What is that?” I sang, pointing to the very reason why I’d be able to make fun of Bear for the rest of his fucking life. “Is that what I think it is?” I stepped behind him to try and get a better look.
Realizing what I was gaping at he quickly covered the back of his neck with his hand and stepped back against the wall. “That ain’t nothing.”
“No, Bear,” I said, slowly approaching him. “That’s a tattoo that says PREP. It’s...EVERYTHING...”
Bear dropped his hand and rolled his eyes. He smiled as he retrieved his lighter. “Fine, motherfucker. I thought your ass was dead so I got a tattoo of your name on the back of my neck. I realize that you’ve probably thought of a thousand dumb shit things to say about it already, but can we just skip that part for now? There will be plenty of time for that later. Besides, I’m going to get it covered up with like a dragon or a tattoo of Chuck Norris or something really fucking manly.”
I looked him in the eye and held up my index finger. “You get one pass. Just this ONE. And it’s TEMPORARY.”
