The Perfect Game (The Perfect Game #1)

The Perfect Game (The Perfect Game #1) Page 8

My slight smile dropped. “But when you don’t follow them up with any action, they’re completely pointless. They’re just sounds and syllables. But they mean absolutely nothing.” My gaze glossed over as my mind wandered.

He reached across the table for my hands, but pulled away quickly before he touched them. I watched as he grabbed two loose quarters from the pile and scooted them over to my side of the table. “Almost forgot.” He smiled before placing his hands on top of mine.

I tried not to smile, but failed. Heat swirled throughout my hands at his touch and I tried to tame the butterflies that flapped wildly in the pit of my stomach.

“I knew you had daddy issues.”

My smile faded as I ripped my hands out from under his. “You’re such an asshole,” I said defensively, feeling stupid for sharing anything of importance with him.

“If you stop calling me names, I’ll tell you something personal about me.”

“I don’t want to know.” I folded my arms across my chest.

He swallowed his food when loud shouts drew his attention. He looked up from our table, grumbling under his breath.

“What is it?” I asked him, looking around for the source of the shouting. My eyes fell on two muscular-looking guys in baseball hats. “Friends of yours?”

“Not exactly.”

I took another bite of my burger when a loud thwap diverted my attention. I jumped in my seat and noticed one of the guys had pounded his fist on top of our table, causing the quarters to spill out around me. I reached for my drink, steadying it before it toppled over. I looked at Jack, whose face was slowly turning a shade of purple. His hand flexed, his knuckles whitening with each compression.

“Get out of my face, Jared,” he threatened, his jaw tight.

“Not so tough sober, eh Jack?”

Jack looked at me with pleading eyes, as if apologizing for what was to come. Then he glared up at the unwelcome visitors crowding our table. “You’re just begging to get your ass kicked twice in one week, aren’t ya?”

“Get up!” Jared challenged.

“Can’t you see I’m on a date?” He gestured toward me.

Jared glanced in my direction. “Like she matters. Just one of many, isn’t that what you always say?”

Jack jumped out from behind the table and puffed out his chest. “Don’t talk about her like that. Don’t even fucking look at her. You hear me?” He took a step toward Jared, his fist clenched tightly at his side.

Jared noticed Jack’s intent and offered slyly, “Another time then.”

“I highly doubt that.” Jack seethed, the veins in his neck throbbing.

Jared leaned in close to my face before walking away. “At least you’re pretty. Come find me after he tosses you into the garbage with all the others. I promise to sleep with you more than once.”

My mouth opened to respond when Jared’s body was suddenly ripped out of view. Jack pummeled him against the floor with a loud thud. Jared tried to kick, but Jack was too quick, moving out of the way before he could make contact. Jared scrambled to get up, but Jack threw his fist into Jared’s jaw as the sound of bones crunching filled the air.

“I told you,” Jack said as he punched him again, “…not to talk to her.” Another hit and I gasped when Jared’s bright red blood splattered across the clean, white-tiled floor.

I shook my head, struggling to make sense of this crazy, unexpected scene. “Jack! Jack, stop!” I scooted out of the booth and pulled at the shirt stretched across his back, begging for his assault to end. Jack delivered another blow to the ribs and I threw my body onto his back, leaning as close to his ear as I could get without getting hit. “Jack, stop.”

His head snapped up. He glanced down at Jared, then lifted his head to look around at the gawking crowd and then back to me, his eyes sad. “I’m sorry, Kitten.”

It was the first time that name didn’t piss me off. I helped him to his feet, my body shaking with shock.

Our waitress, Sarah, hurried over, shaking her head. “You have to go, Jack. Just get your stuff and go.”

“Sarah, tell Carl I’m sorry about the mess.” Jack wiped his face, still red from anger, and now probably embarrassment as well. He scooped the quarters into their paper bag and tossed two twenties on the table before grabbing my hand and pulling me out the door.

When we reached the car, he opened the passenger door, lifted me in, and then walked over to the driver’s side, his head shaking the entire time. I watched his chest slowly rise and fall with each breath he took. “I’m sorry, Cassie. I shouldn’t have let him get to me.”

“What was that even about?” I asked, eyeing his bloody knuckles.

Jack settled into the driver’s seat and looked out his window, avoiding my gaze. “I slept with his girlfriend.”

My heart throbbed as his admission caused an ache of disappointment to spread throughout my chest. “Right when I think you might be halfway decent, you say something that fucks it all up.”

He gripped the steering wheel tightly and turned to me, his dark hair flopping forward. “I didn’t know.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Jack.”

“I’m not. I promise. She said she was single.”

I sank into my seat as the breath I unwittingly held escaped from between my lips. “Well, she sucks. That girl.”

He forced half a grin. “Yeah, she does.”

He started the engine and I felt the rumble violently vibrating my seat. I quickly buckled myself in and said a silent prayer that we wouldn’t die on the drive home.

We spent the drive back to my apartment in silence, the radio providing background noise as we each buried ourselves in our own private thoughts. I watched as the lights of the town streamed past in a neon blur, my mind replaying the events of the evening. Jack pulled his deathmobile in one of the spots marked Visitor in front of my building, and turned the ignition off, but didn’t make any effort to move. I reached for my door handle. “You know,” he said, “my dad’s an ass too.” His voice sliced through the warm evening air.

I allowed my hand to slide down the side of the door, releasing the grip I held. I turned my body to face him before I leaned back into the seat. “Tell me.”

He avoided my eyes, reluctant to continue. I wondered if he regretted starting to open up to me, but I wasn’t about to let him off the hook.

“Please?”

“He took off when Dean was three. He just left one morning for work and never came back. My mom was frantic looking for him. Called every hospital, police station, hotel, but he was nowhere. I remember her tearing through the phone book with such fear and desperation in her eyes. She flipped the pages and tried to dial the numbers, but her fingers were shaking so badly I had to do it for her.” He sighed sadly.

I wanted to reach out for him, but didn’t. Thinking that somehow my touch would stop his train of thought and I wouldn’t get to experience this side of him again, I kept my hands tucked between my legs and pressed my lips firmly together.

“I don’t really remember my dad. But when my mom left…”

I could no longer stay silent. “Your mom left you guys too?” My mouth fell open in shock as my heart literally ached for him.

“Yeah. I distinctly remember her saying that we were so bad, she couldn’t take it anymore. She said she couldn’t raise two bad boys on her own, so she had to go.”

“Holy shit. She said that? How old were you?” Each breath I took felt like it was being ripped from my lungs.

“I was eight. Dean was five.”

“Jack, I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine.” I reached out my hand and settled it on his thigh.

He eyed it for a split second. “Fifty cents, Kitten.” I jerked my hand away, shaking my head.

“I was just joking, Cass. Listen, don’t say anything to anyone, okay? Not many people know that story and I’d like to keep it that way if possible.”

“Of course. It’s not my story to tell.” I smiled, hoping he believed me.

The moment I thought he was done revealing his past, he continued. “My mom walked out the door just as my grandparents were pulling into our driveway. I remember hearing yelling, car doors slamming, and tires screeching. And I’ll never forget the sound of Dean crying and screaming out for her.”

His eyes looked like he was a million miles away as I watched him relive his childhood nightmare. “The next thing I remember was my grandmother’s smiling face walking through our front door. She told us to run upstairs and pack our things so we could sleep over at her house. I think it was really hard on them, suddenly having two little boys around, but my grandparents never complained. Not once.” He scratched the back of his neck.

“Have you seen your mom since?”

“No.” His response was sharp.

“Haven’t heard from her or anything?” I asked, wondering what kind of mother could just up and leave her two boys and never come back.

“Not a word.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “I can’t imagine. So, how rotten of a kid were you,” I asked with a smile, not really meaning the question.

He reclined the driver’s side seat and focused his gaze on the night sky. “Pretty rotten. Dean wasn’t, though. I mean, he was, but he was just copying me. He stopped being bad the minute she left. I think he thought if he was the perfect son, it would bring her back. She’d come home if he was extra good all the time,” he said as he tilted his head toward me, “…or something.”

“What about you?”

“I was so angry. I thought it was all my fault that she left. So I figured if she was never coming back, what was the point in being good? I got into a lot of trouble.”

“Like what kind of trouble?”

He took a deep breath. “I got in a lot of fights.” He looked into my eyes and shrugged his shoulders. “Guess that hasn’t changed much.” His stomach moved in and out as he laughed bitterly and I found my eyes drawn there.

“He deserved it,” I whispered, reclining my seat as well.

“He did, right?”

I smiled.

“I got in a lot of fights. And I got in a lot of trouble with girls. I basically took on the philosophy in high school that if I could either hook up with a girl at every party, or beat someone up, then they wouldn’t talk about the fact that I had no parents. Fucking and fighting were the ultimate distraction.”

I frowned, my stomach churning slightly at his bold revelation.

“What?” He turned his head toward me, his eyes concerned.

“It’s just that you still sort of act like that, you know?”

“I know. Old habits are hard to break. Plus, I’m good at being bad and screwing things up. Just ask Dean.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. I honestly wasn’t sure how I felt. I’d never met anyone who had lost both of their parents except to death. I couldn’t imagine living with that knowledge, or feeling somewhat responsible for it happening.