THE BAD BOY AND THE CHEERLEADER

THE BAD BOY AND THE CHEERLEADER - CHAPTER 47

CHAPTER 47: 

CALEB’S  POV: 

I stumble through the door of Donna’s tattoo shop and bump into someone standing in her lounge area.  As I back away apologizing, a girl about my age giggles, “That’s okay.”  Through my drunk haze, I vaguely register her flirty look before turning away and looking for Donna, leaving the girl to return to admiring her new tat in a mirror. 

I see Donna wiping down a chair in the back, “Hey Donna, my man!” 

She looks up and smiles when she sees that it’s me.  “What’s up, kid?”

I lean against a glass counter and blink in an attempt to clear my vision, “I need a tat.” 

Throwing the rag in a bucket, she saunters over, wearing a pair of black cargo pants and tank top, to where I’m propped up, “Well, you came to the best.”  I think about when I first met Donna awhile back, and she did my first tattoo.  How I tried to get into her pants, a different pair of cargo pants as a matter-of-fact, and she shot me down.  What an idiot I was back then, thinking that any female would do, even the older ones like Donna. 

“So humble,” I give her my most charming smile. 

Rolling her eyes, Donna leans on her elbows against the other side of the counter, “Turn off the charm, Caleb.  You know you don’t have to butter me up.  I’ll do the tat, all you have to do is pay me.”

“I--” I start to talk, but get cut off by my friends stampeding through the shop door.  Loud, obnoxious and almost as drunk as me.  It’s still weird to call Ian a friend, but since I can’t think of another category to put him in, friend it is.  The word ‘frenemy’ comes to me, but I think if you’re a guy, you have to at least be gay to use it.  Damn, gay guys have it so good. 

My drunk intellect thinks I’ve hit up some type of male epiphany.  I decide to share with Donna, “Donna, do you know how good gay guys have it?”

She does a closed-mouth laugh, those never sound good, then pretends to look serious, “No, I don’t, Caleb.  Why don’t you enlighten me?”

“First off,” I begin. “They get to act all bitchy like girls.  If I act bitchy, I’m an asshole.  If a gay guy acts bitchy, he’s just acting gay.”

“And?”

“Second, they get to wear pink.”

“Do you want to wear pink, Caleb?” She asks with obvious amusement.

“No, but that’s not the point.  I couldn’t wear it even if I wanted to.”

“You could.”

I can hear Ian and Dante flirting with the chick who was admiring her tattoo behind me.  Ian doing most of the flirting since Dante has a girlfriend.  Getting back to my philosophizing, I throw my hands up in exasperation, “But, I can’t.  If I did, people would think I was gay!”  I quickly lean back against the counter as I feel unstable on my feet. 

Donna lets out a drawn out, “Okaaay.  What else?”

“They dance better than us straight guys.  What’s up with that?”

She pats my cheek, “Poor Caleb can’t dance.”

“I can dance!” I say indignantly, and loudly.  “Just not as good as gay guys.”

“What about breakers?”

Thinking of Jared, I laugh, “Gay guys in denial.”

I hear Ian tell the girl behind us, “I love your tramp stamp.”  Oh lord, is that his game?  I hope she slaps him.  Dante busts out laughing.  I’ve tried the whole asshole thing with girls before, stupid chicks eat it up, but it makes me feel like, well, an asshole. 

“Donna, I need a tat.” 

She nods slowly, “Uh-huh, you said that.”

Fumbling with the paper in my back pocket, I pull it out and unfold it.  “I want this.”

She looks down at the drawing, scanning it thoroughly, “You sure you want that?  Did you decide this while you were still sober?”

“Positive and yes.”  I nod my head in affirmation.

Shaking her head, she mumbles, “Well, at least you’re not asking me to tattoo by your crotch again.”

Dante walks over to me and pats me on the back, “You set?”

“Yeah, check it out.”  I hand him over the paper. 

He whistles, “You’re crazy man.” 

Ian glances over his shoulder, “Stupid is more like it.”

“Frenemy,” I grimace and shake my head, nope, doesn’t work for straight dudes, “Just like me, you have to turn yourself into state custody on Monday morning.  Therefore-”  I momentarily lose my train of thought, then remember, “Therefore, you are just as stupid as me.”  I give him an ‘I showed you’ look and stumble to the back of the shop to drop myself down into the chair. 

When I realize that I’m lying on my back, still fully clothed, I reluctantly pull myself up and strip off my shirt and plop back down onto my stomach.  With my cheek pressed against the leather, I say, “Ink me, Donna!” 

I see her combat boots come into view, then twist my head up to look at her as she tells the guys, “Have a seat you two.  If the police come in here, you better hide that alcohol . .  .”

It isn’t until I wake up what seems to be a long time later, that I realize that I passed out before Donna even got the tattoo started.  But from the feel of the needle at my back, she’s still going at it.  I’m wondering where Dante and Ian are when she says, “They went to the liquor store.”  I turn my head to the side and see through the shop windows that the sun has gone down and it’s nighttime.  She goes on to say, “I didn’t know what size you wanted it, so I’m making it the same size as the drawing.  If you don’t like it, well then you shouldn’t have passed out on me.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I mumble.  “I need water.”  As  a water bottle is shoved in my face, I twist off the cap and turn my head to the side to clumsily gulp it down.  Water spills and out of the corner of my mouth and runs down my neck, to pool between my chest and the leather of the seat.  “I wet myself, Donna.”

She laughs, “Almost done, kid.  When are you going to start drawing designs for my book?”

“Is ten months from now good for you?” My voice is laced with bitterness, but I can’t help it, my life sucks.  If I could go back and change one thing, it would be beat the crap out of Josh after he attacked Gianna.  I would have done it at a later time, when the cops weren’t about to show up on the scene.  Although, if those cops hadn’t shown up when they had, and pulled me off him, I probably would have killed Josh.  Thinking of the lives he’s ruined, I may still.  Ten months from now. 

From what my dad has heard, bastard still hasn’t had his court date yet.  Since he’s still healing from the injuries Ian and I inflicted on him, his court date has been pushed forward.  Unlike me and Ian, this was his first offense, so no one really knows how the judge will sentence him.  Thankfully, the judge has accepted a letter from Gianna, because of her broken jaw, so she doesn’t have to testify in court against him. 

“Why ten months from now?”  Donna moves around to the side and I feel the needle in a new spot on my back.

“Juvie.” That says it all. 

“Aw man, that sucks.”

“Yep.”

Before I leave her shop, Donna tosses me a shirt.  It’s pink and says, ‘Donna’s Designs’ in black lettering.  She smiles, “Come visit me when you get out, Caleb.”

Looking up and down the street, I don’t see Ian and Dante anywhere, so I text Dante, “What the freak?”  Feeling sober now, and with a headache from hell, I’m in no mood to hunt their asses down. 

He texts back immediately, “Pretty boy had to run home n change for club. We R at his fancy place”

“Steal something good for me” I text Dante.

“Will do” Then he sends another text, “Meet u at ur moms apt in 20 mins?”

“See you there”  It’s not far to my mom’s place from here and I get there in about fifteen minutes.  My parents wanted me to have dinner with them tonight, but I told them earlier that I’d spend time with them tomorrow.  It’s kinda weird, but my parents decided to go on to dinner without me.  It’s the most time they’ve spent together since the divorce.  I figure they’re bonding about the whole our baby’s going to jail. 

I feel so freaking bad about what this is doing to my parents.  Especially my mom.  On Wednesday she cried all afternoon and evening about it.  What’s so horrible is that I really had changed.  If Josh hadn’t made me lose control, I don’t think I would have gotten in trouble with the law anymore.  My hands were full enough dealing with Gianna and hiding our relationship from my step-psycho.

Our relationship never stood a chance, with all the candidates for padded cells surrounding us.  Never should have returned from Vegas.  Should have just kept driving west until we reached the Pacific.  We could have made it hard for Julie to find us until we turned eighteen. 

I bet that witch is laughing her head off right now.  I’m sure by now she’s found out that I’m being put away until next August.  She’s probably toasting to my demise.  Well, I hope she chokes on it. 

After court, I called Gianna, not wanting to tell her what happened through texts.  She cried.  Which just made me feel even worse.  And I’ll admit it, cry too. 

Dante knows why I’m being sent to juvie, but he doesn’t know why I beat up Josh.  Ian knows not to tell him, so for all Dante knows, Ian and I, former enemies now friends, decided spontaneously to put Josh in the hospital.  If Dante suspects there’s a connection between Gianna taking off to Houston and Josh’s beat down, he’s keeping it to himself.  Which I really appreciate. 

When the guys show up, I answer the door in the pink ‘Donna’s Designs’ shirt.  Dante laughs, Ian gives the shirt a dirty look, “You look gay.  I hope you aren’t going out in that.”

“And what if I am?” I stubbornly cross my arms over my chest.  Dante just shakes his head and heads down the hallway, most likely to the bathroom.  He’ll use my mom’s cause he thinks I’m a pig. 

Raising one eyebrow, Ian looks incredulous, “Then expect to get hit on by dudes.”

Dropping my arms, I turn away, “Fine, I’ll change.”

Dante whispers, “He’s sober.”

Walking over to the dining room table, Ian sets down a brown paper bag, “Well, we can’t be having that. By the way, Caleb, you’re poor.” 

“I’ll have you know that my mom is a well-known artist.”  I pull off the pink shirt and grab the option-B shirt off the couch.

As I’m pulling the gray long-sleeve  thermal over my head, Ian clears his throat, “Yeah, well known to those who dig that artsy crap.”

Using a mirror hanging nearby, I smooth down my hair, “I’m an artist.”

His lips quirk up as if he’s trying not to smile, “Maybe you should put the other shirt back on.” 

Looking around my mom’s apartment, I can see where Ian might think we’re poor, especially compared to him and his fancy penthouse, but this place is in a nice area of downtown and rent is actually really high.  My mom makes a good salary at the art gallery she manages, plus the money she makes on the side, selling her own artwork.  Besides, everyone is poor compared to Ian. 

“I would watch the gay bashing if I were you, Ian.  One of my mom’s best friends is a gay ice sculptor and the dude is ripped from hauling around big blocks of ice.”  I look Ian up and down, taking in the fact that he’s dressed like he belongs on a GQ cover, “He could totally take you.”

He shudders, “I hope you mean that in a non-sexual way and not the drop-a-bar-of-soap in prison way.”

I smirk at him, “Like the way you’re about to experience starting Monday?”

Handing me a drink, his eyes narrow, “Are planning on touching me inappropriately, Caleb?”  Damn, I have to get drunk all over again. 

“Hell.  No.  I’ll leave it to your new boyfriend in juvie.”  I take a sip out of the glass and realize that Ian’s given me straight vodka.  Nasty. 

Ian sits back into an armchair, “So, where’s your mom?”

“Dinner with my dad.”

He laughs, “Is this the part where you hope that mommy and daddy get back together?”

Shaking my head, I laugh, “Uh-uh.  Those two were not well-matched in the first place.  I think my dad found my mom’s eccentricities endearing when they were younger, but now he wants someone more conservative.”  I think about how ultra-conservative Julie is.  Exact opposite of my mom.  My mom has always appreciated the imperfections in life and people.  Julie expects nothing less than perfection out of everyone and everything.  Perhaps when choosing his next wife, my dad could find a woman somewhere in the middle. 

Taking me out of my thoughts, Ian asks, “What are you going to do about Gianna?”

Isn’t that the million dollar question?  Staring into the liquid in my glass, I lean against the wall, “Well, I’ve asked her to wait for me . . .”

“She will,” Ian sounds so sure, me not so much.  Dante comes back out and goes over to the cupboard to grab a glass.  When I raise my eyes to give Ian a skeptical look, he continues with a mock-pained expression, “I had to hear all sorts of annoying love crap about you when I became friends with Gianna.  I know how much she loves you.”

Thinking how funny that is, I grin at him, “So, you got to hear about how hot I am?”

“Among other things,” he mutters wryly, tilting his head to the side. 

Dante gulps down half a glass of vodka, then slams it down on the table, “Annnnd, we’re out.”  I take one big gulp of mine, then walk over to the sink to pour the rest out.  Nasty stuff.  I think I may get something fruity at the club. 

All it takes is thirty minutes of being in the club for me to realize that this just isn’t my scene anymore.  What does a guy do with himself at a place like this when he doesn’t want anything to do with any girl other than his own girl?  I’m drunk again and now I don’t know what to do with myself. 

Ian and I are finishing our drinks at a booth and Dante is out on the dance floor somewhere when two girls slide in next to us.  Ian gives them a suggestive, “Hello.”  I stare at the tabletop, blatantly ignoring them. 

A hand creeps its way over to my thigh, making me tense.  I pick up the hand by a pinky and drop it on the table.  Not taking the hint, the brunette next to me moves closer, putting her thigh against mine.  “My name’s Michelle, what’s yours?”

“Ian” I answer after a moments hesitation. 

“Oh my god!  Both of your names are Ian?”

Ian gives me a startled look, then rolls his eyes, “Yeah, but I’m the hot one.”

The girl next to me gives me a sly look, “I dunno, this Ian is pretty hot too.”

“I have a girlfriend.”  Maybe bluntness will get rid of her.

She leans even closer, “But she isn’t here right now . . .” 

“She’s better-looking than you.”  I give her my most disdainful look, “And obviously smarter too.”  Ian starts laughing and the girl he’s next too gasps dramatically.

Her mouth opens in offended shock, then she shoot a sharp look at her friend, “I want that Ian.”  Yep, Gianna is definitely smarter. 

Soon afterwards, I decide that my scene involves my own bed. 

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