Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part Two
Page 18
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“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-shirts, 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.”
“You’re too fucking kind. Now here,” Bear said, reaching down into a saddle bag that was right outside the door. “This is for you,” he tossed me an extra deep shirt box.
“What the fuck is this?” I asked, following him outside onto the front porch.
“Consider it a Preppy starter kit,” Bear said.
I set it down on the back of the railing and opened it up to find several shirts, suspenders, and bow tie sets. I closed the lid and set it aside. “Thanks, man.”
“When you’re ready,” Bear said, pointing to the box. “Just for when you’re ready.” For all the shit I gave him Bear always had an uncanny way of understanding me and knowing when not to push.
I nodded.
“Now look under the clothes,” he said the cigarette dangling from his bottom lip.
I cast him a ‘what the fuck are you up to’ look and opened the box back up. I felt around under the clothes at the bottom of the box. I pulled out a carton of cigarettes, a plastic bag with several already rolled joints, and a box of magnum sized condoms.
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-shirts, 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.”
“You’re too fucking kind. Now here,” Bear said, reaching down into a saddle bag that was right outside the door. “This is for you,” he tossed me an extra deep shirt box.
“What the fuck is this?” I asked, following him outside onto the front porch.
“Consider it a Preppy starter kit,” Bear said.
I set it down on the back of the railing and opened it up to find several shirts, suspenders, and bow tie sets. I closed the lid and set it aside. “Thanks, man.”
“When you’re ready,” Bear said, pointing to the box. “Just for when you’re ready.” For all the shit I gave him Bear always had an uncanny way of understanding me and knowing when not to push.
I nodded.
“Now look under the clothes,” he said the cigarette dangling from his bottom lip.
I cast him a ‘what the fuck are you up to’ look and opened the box back up. I felt around under the clothes at the bottom of the box. I pulled out a carton of cigarettes, a plastic bag with several already rolled joints, and a box of magnum sized condoms.
