Page 5 of Trash Talk
Chapter 3
Knox- 18 years old
I’m graduating high school in a few months. I can’t wait to go to college this Fall, but there’s gonna be a lot about this town I’ll miss. My teammates. My Gramps. But most of all, my best friend. No, not Graham, he’s actually going to be my roommate next year. I’m going to miss the girl sitting on the curb with her bag perched next to her. It’s winter, and way too cold for her to be sitting out here in a flimsy track suit. How long has she been there? Cell phone in hand, waffling between looking sad, pissed and elated. God, I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful. Ruby Kendall. My, hands down, best fucking friend. That I’ve been crushing on since the first time I lost a bet to her.
My problem with letting her in on that little secret is three-fold. One: she’s really young. I’m only sixteen months older (she’ll be 17 in May), but I ain’t all about chasing after a statutory rape charge. My future is way too bright for that shit. That’s the kind of mistake that haunts a man for life.
Two: I have a girlfriend. Brit may be a raging bitch half of the time, but the other half she’s pretty cool. She has a beautiful face and a bangin’ body. Plus, she’s the most popular girl at school, and her blow jobs are phenomenal. She cares about me. I think. Our relationship just makes sense. I’m a baller, she’s a cheer leader. Which means, she’s at every one of my games. It’s nice having someone there. Gramps can’t always make it cause he’s busy at the bar. He tries to be supportive. It’s hard for him; I think it reminds him of my dad. But he knows how difficult it is for me to be one of the only kids without family there.
My parents died in a plane crash when I was twelve. It was the worst thing I’ve ever been through, probably will ever go through. Hell, it’s still fucking unbearable some days. I try to live life to the fullest every day for them. Make choices that would make them proud. Not give Gramps any grief. So, it sucks balls that he doesn’t really like Brit (thinks she’s too flashy, too fake; says I need a nice girl with substance). He adores Ruby, of course (thinks she’s good for me, puts me in my place— you always know where you stand with a girl that knows her own mind). He actually loves all the next-door neighbors. I think he harbors a little crush on Faith, Mrs. Kendall. He called her a MILF the other day (I should let him know what that term actually means, but I was laughing too hard when he told me he thought it stood for— Maternal, Intelligent Lady Fox).
Brit absolutely hates Ruby and her family. She’s never given me a concrete reason really, but I know she’s jealous. She can’t seem to understand why I’d rather spend my Saturdays with my ‘little friend’ than with her. Brit loves to shop. Me? Not so much. If she could drag me all over God’s green earth to watch her try on every dress at every boutique, she would. That’s not my jam, although we did have fun in the dressing room that one time. Anyway, where was I?
Right, my third reason: Ruby has never once showed even the slightest interest in me that way. To her, I’m just a friend. One of her best, but she’s never even hinted that she wants more. And call me crazy, but I don’t want to rock the boat. There's no reason to do anything if nothing can be done. Yeah, I’ll admit it. I’m a big fat fucking chicken. I’d rather have Ruby as a friend than lose her forever ‘cause I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. It’s a crush; I’ll get over it. Besides I'm ninety-nine percent sure, Ruby's a virgin. I'm used to getting sex on the regular. Not to talk like I think with my dick, but I am an eighteen-year-old guy. We think with our other head. Being someone's first is a lot of responsibility. It takes time. Not that I'd mind putting it in for her. There's nothing I wouldn't do for Ruby.
I walk over; her face is red. I can’t tell if it’s from exertion, the cold or if she’s been crying. I’ve never seen Ruby cry. Just thinking it’s a possibility freaks me out. Yeah, I know she’s a girl, and girls cry. But not Ruby. She’s tough. She just decimated, almost single-handedly, our girls’ basketball team. Tonight, was the annual grudge match: Westwood County High vs. St. Matthews Academy. While me and the boys managed to eke out a W, our girls, did not. It was almost too painful to watch, except that Ruby was playing. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She’s amazing. Good at everything. So much talent crammed into such a tiny package. I almost felt bad about cheering for the opposing team while wearing my jersey.
Brit left mid-game in a huff. Her jealousy of Ruby is legitimate. Not that I’d ever cheat on her, but my feelings for my best friend go way deeper than anything I feel for Brit. And I do feel bad about that. Half the time I think Brit’s just as tired of me as I am of her. Like she’s just waiting until after prom or maybe the end of the year to dump me. I’m hoping for prom. That’s wrong isn’t it? We shouldn’t even be together. I should just break up with her. It’s better to be alone, than continue with someone I can’t see any future with. Graham says I’m wasting my prime years on one pussy. That I need to experiment. At this point though, it’s easier to stay. I have someone to go out with, eat with, watch movies with, and I get regular sex (why switch things up now?). Plus, our friend group at school is the same. I don’t want to spend the last three months of my senior year looking over my shoulder or worrying about which one of our friends is team Knox. It’s only three more months; I can deal.
She’s sniffling. No fucking way is Ruby crying. “Great game, Rubes.”
She looks up, the lost expression on her face is killing me. “Yeah, thanks.” No trash talk. Not a good sign; something must be really fucking wrong. God, please don’t let anyone have died.
I sit next to her on the curb, “What’s going on? Is it MB? Becks? Your mom? Em?” I’m so nervous, I don’t give her the chance to answer. Shit happens. My parents dying in a freak accident was the shittiest. Maybe I shouldn’t automatically think the worst, but damn. Her face is so sad. And angry. I grab her hand, and she entwines her fingers with mine. She’s freezing. “Rubes you’re scaring me. Say something. What happened?”
“What happened is my dad is a maláka.” Oh shit, she’s calling him an ass in Greek; it must be bad. “I just keep giving him chances, and he just keeps screwing them up. Just like he did with mom. This was the best day. I killed it out there tonight.”
“Yeah, I saw. You looked awesome out there.”
“My dad was supposed to come to the game. He hasn’t seen me play all season. This was his last chance. Then afterward he was going to take me out to dinner. Like he used to when I was little. He never missed a game if he could help it. He hasn’t come to see me play in two years. He’s been busy at work and with Claudine,” she says the name as if the woman is Satan incarnate. I guess in her mind she is. The woman is partially responsible for breaking up her parent’s marriage. “He just sent a text, said he watched the last ten minutes online and is so proud of me, but he really couldn’t get away from work in time to make it. He owns the damn company; he had the time. It’s only a two-and-a-half-hour drive. Hell, it’s only a forty-minute flight. He just didn’t want to make it, because I’m not important to him anymore. He has Claudine, who’s pregnant, by the way. He’ll have a whole new family, and I’m just the girl that was his daughter a long time ago. Gamóto! I can’t even count on my own father to put me first. How the hell am I supposed to trust any other man to do it?”
She’s crying. I have no idea what to say, but I want to make her feel better. I put my arm around her shoulder and pull her into my chest. My chin rests perfectly on top of her head as she soaks my shirt. I don’t speak until her sobs get softer.
“You know your dad loves you. He's just an idiot. And maybe he is really busy, but you’ll always be his daughter. He’s probably stressed and that’s making him be a shitty parent right now, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. Give him some time. If he's still an asshole when you're thirty, write him off then." That gets a small smile out of her. And hell, knowing her dad, it'll probably take him years to get his head out of his ass. But he's still alive. If she can have a relationship with him, she should try. "You might not be able to count on him right now, but you can count on me. You can trust me Rubes. I’m always gonna be here for you.”
“Always?” She looks up at me, swiping her tear-stained cheeks.
“Always,” I promise. “Now let’s get you out of here.” I pick up her bag and walk her to my truck. “What do you say we go have a nice dinner? You’re probably starved after that game. When’s the last time you ate?”
“Lunch,” she sniffles. “I’m really hungry.” She's always hungry; I have no idea where she puts all the food she eats.
I toss her bag in the back, open the door and lift her inside. She doesn’t fight me, doesn’t complain that I’m helping her while she’s weak. I like it. I like being here for her. Supporting her when she needs it. I want to be her rock. I care about her. More than anyone else I know.
I hop in the driver’s seat and crank the heat. “What are you in the mood for? Steak? Lobster?”
“Tacos,” she says quietly. Then laughs. It’s soft and short, but it’s the best sound I’ve heard all day. Better even than the final buzzer signaling our hard-fought win over WCHS. Her laughter brings relief like I’ve never known. She’s going to be okay. And I helped her get there. Best feeling ever.
“La Mesa it is,” I announce and turn out of my school’s parking lot. I should’ve guessed— it’s her favorite. The restaurant is only a fifteen-minute drive from here. I’m hoping the crowd from the games isn’t too big. It’ll take forever to get those tacos. “You wanna call in a to-go order and eat at the house? We can watch a movie; I’ll even let you pick.” And that’s how I know I really care for her, her taste in movies is legit terrible.
“Sounds perfect. I’d rather not fight for a table right now. Especially not with the same girls I just destroyed on the court. Things might get a little awkward.” I chuckle as she calls in our order— six supreme steak and chorizo tacos, a large chunky guac, queso and extra chips.
We settle into a comfortable silence for the rest of the drive. I park out front, but before I can hop out of the cab, she puts her hand on my arm, stopping me.
“Thank you, Knox.” I know it takes a lot for her to admit she needs anything or anyone, but I couldn’t be happier to be on the receiving end of her appreciation.
“Any time, Shorty.” And I mean it. I’m always going to be there for her. I don’t care where I am or what I have to do. I don’t care if something happens and we haven’t spoken for years. If she needs someone or something, I will find a way to keep that damn promise.
As we pull into my driveway, her phone rings. Her face falls. She looks at me with tears in her eyes when she hangs up. “That was Em. Her mom, sister and aunt were in an accident. It’s bad.”
