Vicious Boys by Nora Cobb
Chapter One
Vicki
My hands are shaking as I stare down at my fingers, trembling with fear. I have to breathe from my mouth as my chest rises up and down. Gasping, I take in gulps of air as my shoulders begin to shake. Why did my mother have to come here? She’s never given a fuck about me. I close my eyes and try to steady my body, but I can’t. My knees feel weak as I hold onto a stool. My hair swings down into my face as I wobble. Great, I’m going to fall to the floor and crack open my head. I grab hold of the kitchen island and take in slower breaths, just like Jagan does before senior meeting.
My hands grip the counter tightly. I flip off the fear and switch on anger. Fuck her. Fuck her for making me feel this way.
My head hung down, I rock back and forth until I’m calmer and can think straight. Dad will be back, and he’ll tell Maya to go back to hell where she belongs. She can’t do this to me. She can’t threaten to control me. How dare she threaten me? I grab my phone and tap Dad’s number.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he answers after a few rings, and the ambient sounds of the highway are in the background. “What’s up?”
“Maya was here…” I inhale, then finish the sentence, “At the house.”
There’s a long pause. “She left, right?”
“Yes.” I wipe my nose on the back of my hand. “She came into the house with her friend.”
Dad scoffs. “She’s not remarrying as long as I’m paying for her to remain single. I just have to tie up a few loose ends and I’ll be back before dark.”
I just wanted to hear his voice. “No, Dad, I’m okay now. I don’t want to spoil your weekend. I just wanted to tell you about Mom.”
“I have to finish up a couple of things here,” he continues, “And then I’ll be home in a few hours.”
I sit on the kitchen couch and lay my head down on the throw pillow. The thick canvas presses into my forehead, and the firm pressure calms me. It helps center me and remind me that I’m here at home. And home will always be wherever Dad is.
“I’ll be okay,” I whisper.
There’s a long pause. “I’ll call your mother. Lock the door, and call me if she comes back. Don’t open the door.”
I lift my head up and swallow down a thick lump of mucus. “I won’t.”
Dad reassures me one more time before we end the call. I pull the fuzzy throw on the back of the couch around me. I’m still shaking, but not as bad. I’m kidding myself. I’m fucking terrified of that bitch.
Sighing, I pull my hand through my messy hair and curl up into a ball. I’m too tired to keep crying, so I lie there, staring at nothing while my mind works hard to make sense of this shit. I think back to the moment when I fucked Redwood up. Maybe things would’ve been different if I hadn’t tried to run against Silas in the student election. If I hadn’t made trouble on my first day.
After a while, the throw is too hot, and I toss it off me. I get up and walk over to the kitchen cabinet for an aspirin. I can’t tell if my head is warm or if it’s hot from being under the cover. The doorbell rings, and I freeze to the spot and wait. It rings again, and I hesitate. I should just run upstairs to my room and hide in bed until she rides off on her broom. When the bell rings again, my curiosity lures me to the door. I just want to look, but I won’t open it.
Dom is standing on the front steps with his back to the door. He stares out at the view with his hands in his pockets, and his broad back stretches the print on his old graphic T-shirt. His dirty blond hair shines with streaks of platinum, reflecting the midday sun. Maybe I shouldn’t open the door, but I do.
“What are you doing here?” My voice is gravelly, like I just woke up.
“Nice greeting,” Dom replies stiffly. “What do you say to people you hate?”
“How do you know I don’t hate you?” I sass back as the fear melts off me. Truth is, I’m relieved to see Dom standing there like a lone crusader, but he still fucked up. His face falls, and I feel a little guilty. We were friends—more than that, the way things were headed.
I waver then step aside, letting him in the front door.
“Nice house,” he says, gazing up at the cathedral ceilings.
“You’ve never been inside before?” I ask, trying to remember.
“Nope,” he replies, “It looks small on the outside, but it’s pretty big.”
Dad left a grocery list for the delivery service on the side table, and Dom fingers the edge of the paper while reading it. Intently, he stares at the writing as if it contains a secret message for him. He pushes it aside then turns to look around the hallway, which opens up onto the living room.
“It goes all the way back,” I reply, “but I’m not giving you a tour.” He doesn’t need to snoop around my dad’s stuff.
Dom sighs. “Look, I came by to apologize again. Vicki, I’m really sorry about what happened at my dad’s house. I wouldn’t put you or Luna in danger on purpose.”
I cut him off. “You know that your dad is a shitty person.”
He winces as if I’d slapped him with the truth. I was being kind. His father is an evil, deranged, sick fuck. Dom has to already know that, or he wouldn’t be here looking for forgiveness. His voice is soft. “I know, Vicki. I know he’s a psycho dick. But I’ve got to deal with his shit because we’re related.”
“I get that,” I mumble, turning away to avoid his gaze. But forgiveness is earned, and he doesn’t look sorry enough. “Of course you do,” I continue, “but I hate to see that sickness become a part of you. Things like that creep up on you until one day, you’re doing something bad, and you don’t even realize it’s fucked. I mean, the first time I did drugs, I felt good, and nothing horrible happened, so the next time, it was easier to ignore that little voice telling me it was a bad move.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that too.” Dom shifts nervously as I speak the truth. “I just wanted to apologize.” He sighs, looking at the shut front door. “I’m going to head out.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have been so straight. My shoulders tremble as I think about being alone in the house. What if Maya comes back? I reach out and grab hold of his arm. “Would you mind staying?” I ask. “I’m not sure when my dad’s coming back.”
Dom looks surprised, and the stiffness eases off his face. He watches me closely, as if he’s not sure if he should stay. Dom shrugs his shoulder as if he’ll tolerate my changeable mood. I feel the need to explain and validate my flipping behavior.
“My mother was here earlier, reminding me just how shitty our relationship is. She’s my Mel.” I scoff, “Her name is Maya. Both start with the letter M.”
Dom turns and faces me with a soft smile. He gets it. “Maybe it’s a sign,” he says, “Don’t trust people with names that start with M.”
I walk toward the kitchen doorway, but he stays where he is. “You want something to drink?”
His shoulders relax. “Okay, you have some green tea?”
I nod. “Is Jagan rubbing off on you too?”
Dom’s expression lifts as his mouth widens into a smile. “The MF’er has got me hooked on it.” He walks over to the living room couch and sits down, stretching his limbs out like guys do.
I go into the kitchen to make tea and return with a tray—two mugs and some Oreos on a saucer. After a lifetime of being chased out of fancy rooms by my mother, I rarely sit in the living room, and its prissy look is long gone. Dad decorated the room with old-as-hell antiques from estate auctions up north. Brand-new, mass-produced couches, covered with hip print cushions that hide satins, line two of the walls, and the oak table doesn’t show marks if you place your feet on it.
Dom’s found the remote and looks pretty comfortable flipping through the selections. I place the tea down on the table, and he looks up at me. “Sometimes I just watch the trailers,” he explains.
Sitting down near him, I laugh. “I do the same thing.” I pass him a mug and a paper napkin.
“I know we haven’t been getting along,” I say quietly, “But if you had to pick a day to come over, this was the best day.”
Dom leans in toward me, and I don’t move. I hold myself still as the back of his hand brushes the underside of my chin. “Vicki, I really am sorry.” His eyes widen as he suddenly pulls his hand away from me. “You’re shaking.” He sits back as far as he can, not touching me.
I take my mug in my hands and let the heat burn my skin until I can barely stand the scalding heat inside the mug. Let it give my body some other pain to focus on. “My mother scares me,” I whisper.
Dom’s hard gaze catches on my eyes, and I have to look away. I want to tell him how badly his father could destroy him if the man hasn’t already. I swallow hard, but I’m probably too late.
“My mother is a control freak,” I say softly, and force myself to keep my gaze on his unblinking eyes. “So when she married Dad and all of his money, she felt…inadequate. A control freak with nothing she could control. Well, her own insecurity about being an equal partner in the relationship ate away at her, and she started lashing out at anyone that she saw as a threat. Before my older brother was born, Dad had an intern, Lucy. She was young, kind, but most importantly, pretty. My mother was convinced that Lucy was going to be the second Mrs. Saunders, to the point that my mother did a really shitty thing. Dad had a petty cash account that Lucy had access to. There was a lot of money in it—enough that when it all went missing, it was noticed immediately. My mother had waited until the day Lucy went on vacation to empty the account. She framed her.”
He places down his mug and stares, horrified at what I’m telling him. “Was Lucy fired?” he asks.
“Worse,” I reply. “Arrested. Her parents posted bail and even hired a lawyer to defend her from the charges my mother pressed. They couldn’t afford it. Lucy tried to contact Dad, but the damage was already done. It made the news. Dad felt so terrible about it and guilty, even though he hadn’t done anything wrong. The only thing he could do was find Lucy another job out in the Midwest. After that, Dad didn’t want Maya anywhere near his workplace anymore, so he suggested they start a family.”
“Holy shit, that’s fucked.” Dom sits back and looks away. “I’ve seen some shit, but that’s low.”
For a moment, I consider stopping, but I’ll never feel comfortable sharing tales of my fucked-up home life again. “Drugs kept me sane in a way. It’s easy to ignore what’s going on around you when you’re high. It worked until I lost control. Of course, my mother found out.” I pause and push a deep breath out of my mouth. “I was never her daughter. I was her project. So was my brother Troy. But I was fucking it up. Having free will was fucking Victoria up for mommy dearest.” I stare at my trembling hand. “I wish I had a fucking joint right now.”
“Isn’t that the gateway drug?” he asks.
I look at him sharply until that grin twitches the corner of his lips.
“You’re such a fucker,” I tease with a smile. I needed that.
Dom shifts his body over, so we’re sitting closer. “Well, if we’re sharing with the group…My mom kept Mel in check. Your dad’s personality reminds me of my mom’s.” He smiles at my surprised expression. “It’s not simply that you have a functional father. Greg reminds me of my mom, Hillary. She loved the outdoors and took me camping when things got bad at home. My mom was kind, but she had a backbone that wouldn’t tolerate shit. She left Dad once.”
“Why?” I ask.
Dom lifts his eyes to mine. “Why’d she leave him, or why did she go back?”
“Both,” I reply.
He looks away again. “Dad was always tempted by excess. He has that personality. People assume that other people are led astray. That we’re all born pure and innocent. Impressionable little fucks, we are. Well, that’s bullshit. My dad was born greedy. He used to hide food in his closet when he was a kid. He didn’t need to. My grandparents weren’t poor, but Dad has a strong aversion to sharing.”
“Do you have an aversion to sharing?” I ask.
Dom doesn’t answer right away. He watches me long and hard, then looks back at the monitor. The screensaver is flashing generic pictures of landscapes across the monitor. He speaks to it as the images of flawless beauty flash by. “I don’t know,” he finally says. “I’m an only child. I’m rarely asked to share anything. And I haven’t had anyone else want what I want until now.”
I’m a little shaken, but I started this conversation. I don’t even know why I asked him about sharing, or at least, I don’t want to admit it quite yet. I may have wanted to see where that moment would lead. Awkwardly, I change the topic. “I thought I wanted this, but I’m not so sure.”
“Wanted what?” he asks.
“Redwood,” I reply. “I wanted to go before I got there. I’d look at the pictures of the campus online and imagine myself there. I imagined what my first day would be like, and how I’d blow everybody away with my talent.” My voice softens to a barely audible whisper. “But now, I’m not so sure.”
Fuck, the trembling is back as my bottom lip quivers. I close my eyes, and a tear slips down my cheek. I don’t open my eyes. I keep them shut tight as I try to pull it together. My skin on my forehead tightens and my temples ache. I can’t break apart into ruined pieces, but life seems impossible. Maybe I’ll always be what I’ve always been—a shattered, strung-out mess.
I sense Dom is closer. The couch shifts beside me, and the heat of his body is near. His breath is on my hair. The smell of his skin—I could recognize it out of a thousand. I know him now. Or maybe I still don’t. Dom doesn’t touch me, not with his bare hand. I feel a napkin press against my wet cheek, and the trembling immediately stops.
“We haven’t talked like this since that day we split a cigarette,” he whispers.
I open my eyes and my gaze locks on his. My breath quickens as another tear streams down my cheek. My mouth collapses into a painful sob. Cigarettes. I had to stop smoking after the prank. I wouldn’t be such a mess if I had one now.
“It’s too much,” I gasp with ragged breaths, “Redwood and my mother. Not both. I can’t handle both.”
His brow creases hard. “What do you mean, Vicki?”
My voice vibrates as I say the words. “I mean I want to drop out. Maybe I’ll just get my GED, or I’ll just start working. I can get a job. I don’t need this fucking drama in my life. I quit.”
Dom’s eyes narrow and he moves closer. “Vicki, you can’t do that.”
“Why not?” I argue. “I’ve been through some shit, but the crap I’ve dealt with at Redwood?” I shake my head. “It’s cruel and unnecessary. I don’t need to deal with it.”
“You’re tougher than this.” He tries to reassure me. “It’s just petty bullshit.”
The sadness ebbs as anger returns. I stare down at my trembling hands. “Who fucked with my cigarettes?” I demand.
Dom won’t answer me. Our gazes lock until he turns away first. No matter how he feels about Chase and Silas, he won’t rat them out.
I soften to get an answer. “Please don’t tell me it was you.”
“No.” His frown hardens. “And I was pissed when it happened. Vicki, don’t quit school. I’ll help you, no matter what.”
I just stare at his pained expression—a mix of frustration and rage at the past. Does he even realize that it all started with him? “I need to think about it,” I mumble as I wrap my arms around my knees.
“I wonder if you care about me at all,” he whispers in defeat, “Is it love or control with you?”
I jump up from the couch, narrowly missing the coffee table. “I won’t be guilted into being with you,” I say loudly. “Love? Were we even there yet?”
“Maybe I’m just lagging behind the rest,” he says coldly.
I give him a sharp look and then grab the mugs. The tea is ice cold and swishes precariously as I slam the mugs back onto the tray. He grabs my hand, and I have to place the tray down fast, or it will spill onto the floor.
“I’m sorry.” He stands up. “I didn’t mean anything by it.” His mouth curves down in disappointment. “I know I’m an adult, but I haven’t had the best role model when it comes to dealing with women.” He looks at the front door. “Look, I’ll give you some space.”
Before he can shove his hands into his pockets, I grab the nearest one. “Look, I know it sounds weird, but I don’t want to be alone.”
He pauses, looking down on me. “Even if it’s with me?”
I sigh deeply, like the effort is draining me. The spent air leaves me lightheaded and hollow. I close my eyes, and my fear shakes me like a leaf on a branch before it falls. “I don’t want to be alone.”
Another tear slides down my cheek, and Dom pulls me into his arms. My body fits tightly against his. I can feel the warmth along his solid body and it grounds me. Dom brushes my tangled hair off my flushed cheeks.
“She must have really scared you,” he whispers. “I won’t leave you alone.”
I hesitate, but then he smiles. I let him pull me closer. He smiles sweetly, and the boy from Malibu is back again. The one I’ve missed. Dom tilts his head to the side, and my lips part as I lean my body against his.
