Losers: Part II

I was in love. So desperately, irrevocably in love.

But it wasn’t only Manson. We’d been honest with each other first, but that didn’t mean my mind wasn’t with the other boys. Nervousness swirled within me every time I thought about it. When I envisioned their faces, the way they held me, touched me, kissed me — the same feeling was there. The same warm feeling of trust, the certainty.

That was what got me. How damn certain I felt. It was like a switch had been flicked and all the shadowy corners of my mind were illuminated, all my worries chased away with the dark.

I was admittedly a little airheaded during work the next day, but I really couldn’t help it. It was too hard to keep this to myself; I had to tell someone.

It was about time Ashley knew what was going on anyway.

Somehow, miraculously, she called me out within minutes of answering my phone call.

“Girl, wait, I don’t know what’s up, but uh…” She paused, a loud crunching sound coming over the call as she chewed a snack. “You sound different. You sound, like, giddy? Is that a word?” She laughed loudly, and I missed her more than ever. God, I just couldn’t wait to be in New York with —

With…

It all spilled out. I told her everything, every disastrous, messy detail. I thought she would have an aneurysm when I told her about breaking into the garage and hiding from the boys on their own property.

“Holy shit, girl, how are you not in jail? You’re telling me they forgave you for that? I think I’d throw you in the fucking ocean, honestly.”

I didn’t mention the punishment that came before their forgiveness; that was too personal. And I had to do some twisting with the story to avoid mentioning our “agreement.” But Ashley got the whole story — at least as much of it as she needed.

“Girl, I knew it,” she said, with a satisfied crunch as she took another bite. “I could have seen this coming a million miles away.”

I laughed. “Is that so?”

“Uh, yeah? I knew it was going to happen after you hung out with Manson all night at that Halloween party! Like it was so obvious you were into him. The other guys are a surprise, but you know…” I could almost imagine her shrugging casually on the other end. “It’s up to you, babe. It’s about what works for you. If you want four dudes in one big house where everybody is loving on everybody, then more power to you. I’m just too jealous for that shit.”

We went on talking, getting distracted for several minutes with tales of Ashley’s latest dating exploits. Apparently, she’d found a new dating app where everyone is rich! so she’d been having far too much fun with that. I didn’t even know anymore how she managed to go out every weekend.

All I used to think about was parties, clubs, events — making sure I was in the middle of whatever was happening, constantly chasing after the next big thing. Now? I couldn’t even be bothered to care. All I wanted to do, every day, was sit in that garage while the boys worked. Lay on the couch next to Jason, play in the yard with the dogs.

That was what gave me happiness. That was what brought me joy. And leaving that behind for a job…

God. That was a problem.

“So are you guys doing long-distance?” Ashley said, as if she’d read my mind. But her question alarmed me, because I didn’t have a good answer.

“I…well, I’m not sure,” I said, and she gasped.

“Wait, wait…you’re telling me that you haven’t even discussed what’s going to happen when you move? Jess! What are you doing? You have to talk to them!”

“I know, I know, it’s just —”

“Just nothing! Jess, seriously.” I was actually surprised at how determined her voice became. “Listen to me. I can hear the change in your voice. I can tell how much happier you are, okay? And that’s amazing. I love that for you, and I don’t want you to lose a good thing. Talk to them about it. So what if the conversation is hella awkward? It needs to happen.”

“You’re right, you’re totally right,” I said. “I will. I’ll talk to them.”

I just didn’t know what exactly to say.

As I did the dishes that night, I kept mulling it over. I’d told Manson I loved him, but what about the others? The same feeling was there for me, but what if they didn’t…what if…

A cup nearly slipped out of my hands, and I barely caught it before it shattered in the sink. I leaned against the counter for a moment, turning off the water and taking a deep breath. What if the others didn’t feel the same? That was what I feared. Rejection from Vincent, from Jason…from Lucas.

I put down the cup and pulled off my gloves. My stomach was in knots, and at the forefront of my mind was the desire to talk to someone with more knowledge than me, someone who could offer me advice and tell me which way I was supposed to turn.

I certainly couldn’t talk to my mother about it. Even removing the fact that she was already biased against the boys, her criteria for a good partnership was very different from my own. She believed money, status, and good looks trumped all other attributes. Relationships weren’t about love so much as they were about financial stability and showing off.

But that wasn’t what I cared about.

I thought suddenly of Vincent’s mother, Vera. Her warm smile, her kind, quiet manner. How eagerly and sincerely she’d listened, how she’d made the effort to engage with each of the boys. She’d been so easy to get along with, so kind. I longed to talk to her again and realized that I should have asked her for her phone number while I was over there.

I would ask her next time. Maybe my own family couldn’t offer me the advice I needed, but I’d come to realize that “family” was far more than merely being related by blood.

Collecting the garbage bag from the trash, I carried it out the front door and down to the bins at the curb. Night had fallen, and the streetlights were the only illumination for our quiet cul-de-sac. Holding my breath, I shoved open the trash bin and tossed the bag inside, taking a deep breath again only once the lid was closed.

When I did, I got a lungful of cigarette smoke.

In the shadows across the street, outside the pool of light cast by one of the lamps, was a small faint light. Like the smoldering tip of a cigarette. A figure was faintly visible beyond the little point of light, but it was only a silhouette.

It was impossible to see their eyes in the dark, but I swear they were looking at me.

I’d never seen any of the neighbors walk around smoking. And our neighborhood was out of the way, somewhere people rarely walked through if they didn’t already live here.

So, who the hell was standing in the dark?

They hadn’t moved, but dread crept through every inch of me. It shivered over me as I turned away, forcing myself to walk — don’t run, why did I feel like I needed to run? — back to the front door.

As I reached for the door handle, there came the sound of rapid footsteps from behind me.

With my heart pounding out of my chest, I slammed and locked the door as quickly as I could. My fingers were shaking so much with adrenaline that I put in the wrong code twice as I tried to arm the security system. When ARMED finally flashed across the screen, I went straight into the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife we had.

Keeping my head low, I peered out the kitchen window toward the front porch. The light was on, illuminating the man now standing directly in front of my door.

Reagan. He looked even more haggard than when I’d last seen him, and he swayed slightly as he brought the cigarette to his lips again.

Ding-dong. The pleasant chime of the doorbell almost made me jump out of my skin.

“What the fuck,” I whispered, ducking down below the counter. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fucking fuck is happening…” Had Reagan lost his mind? There was no good reason for him to be at my door after dark, stalking around my neighborhood, watching me.

My phone was plugged in to charge upstairs. The pepper spray Jason had given me was up there too, inside my purse. With the frantic speed of someone who anticipated being grabbed at any second, I sprinted through the hallway, up the stairs, and into my bedroom.

With my phone in my hand, I felt braver. But I swore I was hearing things. After the doorbell rang a second time, a long silence followed in which I was almost certain I heard the creek of a footstep downstairs. But it was impossible. The door was locked. The alarm was set.

But what if…

Dialing Manson’s number, I tried to calm myself down as I listened to it ring. He was an old man. I could defend myself. He wasn’t a supervillain, he couldn’t just blast through a locked door —

“Hey, angel. You okay?”

Manson’s voice sounded groggy with sleep. I hadn’t even bothered to check the time. My intention had been to sound calm, but that was not what came out of my mouth.

“Your dad is at my house,” I blurted, the words shaking and far too loud with panic. “I mean he’s…he’s outside. He —”

“Is your door locked?” It sounded like Manson was moving, his words short and clipped. But calm. I didn’t understand how he managed to stay so damn calm.

“Yes,” I said. “It’s locked. The alarm is set. He was watching me take out the trash and then he…” As if I could exhale the trembling fear from my body, I slowly breathed out through my mouth. “He followed me to the door. He’s been ringing the doorbell.”

“I’ll be right there.” There was muffled conversation on the line, rustling fabric, and the sound of a door slamming shut. “Jason and I will be there in five minutes, okay?”

***

By the time Jason and Manson arrived minutes later, Reagan was gone.

“There’s no sign of him,” Jason said, after he’d driven around the neighborhood for a while. Manson had stayed with me, holding me in his arms as we laid in bed. He almost had to pry the kitchen knife out of my clenched fist when he arrived.

Now that Jason had returned, I finally felt like I was safe again in my own house. Reaching out for him, I grabbed his shirt as he came close and dragged him down onto the bed. He snuggled up tight against my side and Manson adjusted his arms to make room for both of us.

“Will you stay here tonight?” I said. “My parents won’t be back until tomorrow evening, so…”

“Of course we will,” Manson said, and Jason nodded in agreement.

“We need to start keeping you at our place,” Jason said. He’d wrapped his arms tight around me, his hand resting in such a way that he was holding my breast. He squeezed, sighing in contentment before he said, “I don’t know how you can keep your own hands off these; they’re so soft.”

Laughing, I said, “Do you really think I’m going to walk around playing with my own titties all day?”

Jason nodded enthusiastically. “Uh, yeah? I would, if I had tits that nice. My hand would be down my shirt all damn day.”

“Instead of down your pants all day?” Manson said, and Jason gave a mocking laugh.

“Very funny, asshole, but untrue. My hand is down Vincent’s pants all day, thank you very much.”

As they went on teasing each other, I drifted off to sleep. I was still shaken up, uncertain now of where I could expect danger to be lurking. But I liked Jason’s idea; how he’d so casually mentioned keeping me at their place.

That was exactly where I wanted to be.