She was getting closer, in both idea and distance.
Alissa reached over and punctuated her comment by lifting up the hem of my hoodie, exaggerating her movements to peer under it. I yanked it back down before she or anyone else could see anything. I grabbed her wrist and squeezed until she released my shirt, ignoring the fire building in my palm as I crushed her in my grasp.
She gasped and stared at me in wide-eyed shock.
“What was that Alissa?” I asked her.
She tried to wriggle out of my grip, but one thing I’d learned in my life was that hatred and adrenaline make people much stronger then they look. She may have been taller than me and outweighed me by at least twenty pounds, but at full boil, I could take her down with just a few blows.
Lucky for her, I was only on a simmer.
“Did you say something about the clothes I wear, bitch? Because honestly, I’d much rather be known as the girl who wears sweatshirts than the vagina most likely to be recognized in a line up.” People had gathered around to watch us. I didn’t care. “Did you ever stop to think that it might be whores like you who put every nasty bit of their ugly shit out on display for the world to see that disgust me so much I feel the need to cover myself up so I don’t wind up single, with seven kids, barhopping every night when I’m well into my sixties?” I gave her a sweet fake smile. “Oh wait, I forgot to ask you: how are your grandmama and mama doing these days?” Her glare became even more evil. I pulled on her wrist, and when she tugged back, I released her, sending her falling to the dirt floor, flat on her ass. The crowd laughed as she jumped to her feet, looking mortified.
“You’re such a fucking freak! Jake!” She held out her hand to him. “Let’s fucking go!”
Jake didn’t move. He didn’t even look at her. His gaze was fixed on me. “I told you I would come find you when I was done talking to Abby,” he said calmly.
Alissa stormed off in a huff, muttering under her breath, but I wasn’t paying attention. I was focused on Jake and his reaction to what just happened. He’d remained eerily calm and relaxed during my scuffle with Alissa, while I could practically feel that most people in the crowd had instantly tensed. When you don’t want to be touched, you learn to read body language. I was pretty good at judging if a look of pity was going to turn into an attempted hug or if an angry conversation was going to turn into flying fists.
“Impressive.” Jake pulled a joint from his pocket and lit up. “You want?” he asked, after taking a hit then offering it to me. I took a few slow, deep hits before passing it back. Alissa had set me back to sober, and I was out to correct that immediately.
Movement in the corner of my eye brought my attentions to where Owen stood by his truck. His friend Andy was talking to him excitedly, making wild gestures with his hands, obviously telling Owen a story of some sort, but Owen didn’t seem to be paying attention. Instead, he was looking right over Andy’s shoulders in my direction. It wasn’t me he was looking at this time. It was Jake. And he wasn’t just looking at him. He was glaring at him. Owen raised his shoulders as if to ask me if I was okay. I figured he hadn’t seen what had gone down with Alissa. I nodded to him, and he focused his attention back on Andy. “You with him?” Jake asked.
“He invited me. You know Owen?”
“Sort of.” He took another hit from the joint and slowly released the smoke in little rings.
“Impressive.”
He laughed. “So Abby, is not turning into a whore the real reason you wear sweatshirts in the summer?” It was none of his business, but he wasn’t asking in a way that was making fun of me. He seemed curious.
“Not really. I’m also deathly afraid of herpes and the clap. Stand too close to some of these girls, and that shit’ll just jump off them and on to you,” I joked.
Jake flashed a smile that reached all the way to his eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“So you with that crazy bitch that just tried to undress me in public?” I asked. Why was I asking? Why did I care?
“Alissa,” he said. “Nah. I went to high school with her, is all.”
“You guys are friends, then?”
“Something like that.” Jake smiled.
Bingo.
And gross.
Alissa had probably been the girl on her knees for him in the junkyard. I tried not to think about it: the choking, the spitting. It was too fucking repulsive. I shivered.
“You’re in my seat, Dunn.” Owen seethed as he approached us. His forehead was lined, his brows knitted together.