Forfeiting Decency Page 2

  “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “I’m sorry.” I wheeze through laughs. “I guess this is payback from all the times you walked in on me naked in Lilly’s room.”

  His eyes cloud over in mirth. It’s a familiar look he used to give me throughout my teenage and college years but always tried to cover it up, clearly not wanting his little sister’s best friend to know he thought she was amusing.

  “It was my house,” he says in defense. “And it’s my house you’re in now. Get out.”

  “This is your house? Where’s Lilly?”

  “She and Justin went to go pick up her cap and gown for graduation. They’ll be back in a while.”

  She’s graduating? A ping of sadness registers before I push it away. Of course her life goes on without me.

  Kip stalks toward me and I lose the ability to breathe. He stops centimeters from where I’m standing, and I can feel the lingering heat on his skin from the shower. Moisture surrounds the air around him and the humidity makes it that much harder to suck in air. He looks me over, starting at my feet, his gaze traveling up over my body like I just did him, eventually meeting my eyes. Kip just checked me out.

  I cock an eyebrow at his audacity.

  “Wait,” I say, my mind finally catching up. “Aren’t you supposed to be in prison?”

  I don’t get a response before the door slams in my face.

  I rub the tip of my nose. “I’ll just wait downstairs,” I call through the door.

  “Great,” he replies, sarcasm evident.

  I snicker as I descend the steps. Prison has done Kip well. He used to keep his hair long, tied back when he worked under cars. Now it’s short, cropped close to his skull, and it does nothing but enhance his features. It no longer distracts from the stark color of blue in his eyes or the slight hollow of his cheeks. And those muscles.

  Oh my god.

  I just saw Kip’s dick.

  And it was glorious.

  As I wait in the kitchen, I scope out the fridge, deducing that Lilly and Justin eat like pigs. There are three different take-out boxes, a surplus of soft drinks, and a full block of cheese. I settle for a glass of water.

  Kip’s feet pound down the stairs and I can hear his annoyance in every step. “Enjoy the show?” he greets me.

  “I see prison only added to your deep need to be super surly all the time. But yes, I enjoyed the show. How come you never mentioned how well endowed—”

  “Kaley,” he interupts, gripping the bridge of his nose.

  “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Most men would be ecstatic to be so…” I take a moment to hold my hands up, exaggerating by a foot or so.

  “I swear to god, if you mention this to Lilly…” He trails off.

  “You’ll what?”

  He breathes out, turning away as he opens the fridge. “Jesus Christ, do they eat any real food in this house?”

  I guess we’re letting the penis topic go. He rifles through the fridge’s contents, coming up with a pack of yogurt he must have dug out of Narnia, because I’m positive there’s no way that fridge produced it. He sets it on the counter and starts opening and closing drawers, finally finding the utensils.

  “This yogurt is expired.”

  Peeling back the lid, he sniffs it before planting a spoon into the container and taking a bite. “Can’t be worse than what I’ve been eating.” Deeming it acceptable, he takes another bite, pointing at my face. “What happened to your face?”

  “Nailed myself in the face with the freezer door last night.” He gives me a dubious look and I laugh. “Believe me, I wish I had a cooler story to tell.”

  He replies by taking a bite of his yogurt.

  “So, you’re fresh out, huh?”

  He nods.

  “Since when?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “Good behavior?”

  “Something like that.”

  “No gang fights or shanking someone for calling you a bitch?”

  He laughs through his nose, shaking his head. “No. Federal prison is nothing like television or movies portray it to be. It’s equivalent to an all-male, adult daycare. Although, I’ve seen some guys do some weird shit for a roll of toilet paper.”

  I laugh. “Sounds like you know from experience.”

  He smiles, bracing his arms on the counter. I’m almost positive he’s going to tell me a borderline homoerotic prison story when Lilly’s voice cuts through the air. “Whose car is in the driveway?”

  Kip leans back, shoveling more yogurt into his mouth. Air lodges in my throat as I wait for Lilly’s arrival. The front door shuts and two sets of footsteps march into the kitchen, coming to a halt when we finally make eye contact.

  “Kaley,” Lilly says in surprise, caught off guard by my presence.

  She looks exactly the same, blonde hair pulled up and worn out Chucks on her feet. But she’s also different. Taller, maybe? She’s always been pretty, but it’s more than that. It’s…deep rooted. Happier, for sure.

  “Hi.”

  Justin’s the first to break the moment, hanging a garment bag on the doorjamb. “Hi, Kaley.”

  Lilly spurs into action, pulling me into a hug. “Where have you been? And what did you do to your face?”

  I don’t know if it’s her question that makes my throat close up or if it’s the human contact, because I suddenly can’t remember the last time I hugged someone. Squeezing my eyes shut, I hold on to her presence. She smells like shampoo, but there’s still the familiar underlying scent of motor oil.

  “You know me,” I answer with a shrug.

  She smiles and shakes her head. “When’d you get into town?”

  I pull back, well aware of Kip and Justin watching. Clearing my throat, I force out a smile. “You have to promise not to get mad.”

  Her face drops. “Why?”

  Justin coughs and it must be man code to give us space, because Kip follows him out of the room.

  “Where have you been?”

  “Promise not to get mad,” I reiterate.

  She thumps me on the forehead.

  “Ow.” I rub the spot. “What the hell?”

  “If I can’t get mad at you after, I’m going to do it now, before.” She flicks me again. “Whatever you did or are going to do is probably the dumbest, craziest shit I’ve ever heard of. You’re a fucking idiot.”

  I smile. “I can’t argue with that. Are you done?”

  “I suppose, since I don’t actually know what I’m supposed to be mad about.”

  I rush out the words, hoping if I say them fast enough it’ll lessen the blow. “I’ve been living right outside the city.”

  I can see the inflation of her chest as she breathes in. Some things never change. Anytime Lilly gets overwhelmed with any one single emotion, she inflates like a balloon. “You sent me a picture from Paris,” she says, disbelieving.

  “Yeah, that’s a long story.”

  “So you’ve been living not even an hour from here,” she clarifies.

  I nod, grimacing.

  “You—”

  “Uh-uh-uh,” I say, shaking my finger back and forth. “You promised.”

  More inflation on her part.

  Justin reemerges seemingly out of nowhere, massaging her shoulders in an effort to calm her. “Breathe, babe.”

  Lilly turns on him like a whip. “You knew.”

  It’s his turn to grimace. “I mean, I didn’t know the exact address—”

  That’s all he gets out before Lilly attacks, punching him anywhere he’s vulnerable, which constantly changes due to his flailing efforts to avoid her assault. His laughter only antagonizes her more.

  “Hey, children,” Kip admonishes them, pulling Lilly away by swooping an arm around her waist. “Let’s use our words.”

  That was a mistake on his part. Lilly unleashes every cuss word in the English language with a weird mix of Spanish thrown in. Kip rolls his eyes, releasing Lilly and sitting on the stool next to me.
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  “She minored in Spanish,” he explains.

  We watch Justin poorly defend himself, half laughing and half trying to take Lilly seriously. He could take her down if he wanted, but she’s not really, really mad. Just enough to be cute-angry, and he kind of loves it. It takes a few minutes, but she eventually calms down, traipsing up the stairs to deposit her gown in her room.

  “Why didn’t you tell her where I lived,” I ask Justin once she’s gone.

  “I don’t know,” he says, releasing a breath. “At first I figured you both needed time to figure out things on your own. As time went on, it seemed like you didn’t want to see her. Why would I add to her heartbreak of losing her brother with losing her best friend?”

  Kip speaks before I can register the verbal slap in the face Justin dished out. “That’s not fair. She didn’t lose me. It’s not like I died. I went to prison. And Kaley was going through her own shit.”

  “Lilly was there for Kaley every day of the trial, and Kaley walked past her every day like she didn’t exist. It takes one freaking second to acknowledge someone.”

  “Contrary to popular belief,” Kip spits, surprising Justin and me with his anger. Maybe even himself. “The world doesn’t revolve around my sister.”

  Justin’s face grows red.

  “Kip’s right.” All three of us turn our heads in Lilly’s direction. “The world doesn’t revolve around me. And this was four years ago, so why are we arguing about it?” She braces her elbow on the counter, propping her chin on her hand and cocking her head in my direction. “The real question is, why did you just decide to show up out of nowhere?”

  Oh, the sass is real.

  “Well, I, uh.” They’re looking at me, waiting. Except for Kip, who seems more interested in his yogurt.

  “Since when did you become shy?” Justin remarks.

  Kip snorts. “She’s not, trust me.”

  Lilly and Justin both look to Kip for an explanation, so I force words out of my mouth to distract them. “My car is broken.”

  Justin suppresses an eye roll but Lilly ignores him, unsurprised that I came to her because I needed something. “Broken how?”

  “All I know is it sounds like it’s dying and I don’t want it to blow up while I’m in it.”

  “I’ll go take a look at it.” When Justin makes no effort to move, she grabs him by the collar of his shirt, hauling him behind her.

  “Could have been worse,” Kip says, taking one last bite of his snack.

  “You didn’t have to stick up for me.”

  “Justin is always going to be Team Lilly. It didn’t feel fair to leave you hanging.”

  “Aren’t you Team Lilly?”

  “And because of that,” he says, shooting the empty yogurt cup into the trash bin like a basketball. “Lilly’s always had someone in her corner, rooting for her. But who have you had?”

  I roll my eyes. “My life isn’t that dramatic, Kip. I’m a grown-up.”

  He gives me a cursory glance, stopping for a split second on my chest. It’s so quick I would have missed it if I hadn’t been paying such close attention. That’s twice in the last thirty minutes, twice ever, that he’s looked at me with any interest. Not just in fascination, but with sexual connotation. I don’t shy away from his attention and I don’t bother to hide my interest, either. He doesn’t react as he turns away and stomps up the stairs, away from my smile.

  Prison must be as lonely as people say it is for Kip Foster to suddenly show interest in me. I mull it over in my head. He’s definitely stupid hot—and I’ve seen what he’s packing—but it’s confounding to think of him as anything other than Lilly’s brother. The same older brother that used to shield his eyes like the sun was blinding him anytime he saw me in a bathing suit, or convinced Lilly I was a bad influence because I drank all of his beer freshmen year.

  But I’m not that girl anymore. And I don’t think Kip is that big of an asshole anymore. I think Kip’s noticing me in the same way I’m noticing him: as a good lay.

  I take my time to tour Lilly’s living room as I wait, checking out the framed pictures situated throughout the space. They document Lilly and Justin’s relationship over the past few years I’ve missed. Most selfies, some from afar at various places they’ve traveled, and a few with some people I don’t recognize but I assume are Justin’s family. Various knick-knacks are scattered across the mantel, matchbox cars mixed with candles and tiny army men.

  After a half-hour, Lilly and Justin return inside to give me the bad news. My car is fucked. It’s so fucked that Lilly refuses to let me drive it home. It has a leak in the transmission, but she thinks it can be fixed. If it’s not what she thinks it is, it’s likely it’ll need to be replaced. I’m too broke to pay for a new transmission, and it brings on the question whether or not it’s even worth replacing, considering the car’s value.

  Justin’s drives me home because Lilly had to study for her exiting finals. She’s always been a religious studier, but I can’t help but wonder if it’s because she didn’t want to be in a car with me. She’s probably madder than she’s letting on.

  That or I’m just really paranoid.

  “Lilly seems happy,” I say, finally cutting through the tension.

  “She is,” Justin agrees, a small smile on his lips. “She’s even happier because graduation is right around the corner.”

  “Senioritis.”

  He agrees. “She’s ready for it to be over.”

  I nod like I understand, but in reality, I have no idea what it’s like to accomplish what she has. I left school when the news of my dad’s arrest broke. Stomaching the stares from other students, as well as my professors, was too much to bear.

  “I can get you a ticket if you want to go.”

  It takes me a few moments to figure out what he’s talking about. “To graduation?”

  He nods.

  “I don’t know,” I say noncommittally.

  He says my name, making sure he has my attention. “She misses you.”

  A smile tugs at my lips. “She no longer needs outside validation.”

  An even prouder smile spreads across his face. “No.” Ne shakes his head. “Not anymore.”

  Justin drops me off at my apartment and I enter my address into his phone to send me a ticket, just in case I decide to attend. He insists.

  I traded shifts with a girl from work, trying to make up for the compensation I was gypped from last night. But that was before I was sans car, and walking thirty-five blocks isn’t nearly as fun as it sounds. I would have taken the bus, except…well…I’m scared of the bus. So much bodily flood and mucus and germs not visible to the eyes…I just can’t. On the bright side, walking is good for the body. Never mind I nearly get bulldozed by an asshole in a jacked-up truck, step in two mystery puddles, and have to fend off a homeless woman trying to sell me knock-off flip-flops.

  Still less traumatizing than the bus.

  “You’re late,” Janine says, passing me a tray of chicken tacos the minute I clock in.

  “I’m not late, just behind,” I say, shouldering the mass of food. “Three minutes, tops.”

  She’s not swayed by my ability to talk in circles. “Deliver these to table twenty-seven and take twenty-two’s order. He’s been waiting for fifteen minutes.”

  I drop off the tacos to a rambunctious group of college students, already tipsy before the sun has gone down. It takes way longer than it should for them to remember who ordered what, and I can already tell this night is going to be hell. As I approach the second table, my pen is already poised over my notepad, ready to go.

  “I’m so sorry for your wait. Can I start you off with an appetizer?”

  “That wasn’t very sincere. Want to try again?” The familiarity of his voice makes me look up.

  “Lance,” I exclaim, throwing my arms around his neck. “When’d you get back?”

  “Yesterday. Went by your apartment this morning, but you weren’t home.”

  “Yea
h. I drove to Lilly’s to get my car looked at.”

  He lifts his eyebrows. “Really?”

  I nod.

  “And how’d that go?”

  I shrug. “Could have been worse. Did you know that Kip’s out?”

  “No shit,” he says, smiling. “That’s good. Does he still have a stick up his ass?”

  An image of Kip naked skips through my mind and I smirk. “No, definitely no stick. At least not in that area.”

  “I’m glad he got it removed. Maybe becoming jail bait isn’t so bad.”

  I shake my head. Lance may not have been the exact reason Kip went to prison, but he definitely played his part. For him to joke about it so lightly is very low class. “When was the last time someone told you that you’re an asshole?”

  His smile only grows. “Give me whatever’s on draft and the cheese sticks.”

  I hit him over the head with a menu as I walk away.

  Janine gives me a look. “I’m not in the mood to fire you again.”

  “Jan, you never fire me. You suspend me until you’re ready to take me back. He’s a friend.”

  “Just don’t cause a scene. The last time you hit a customer I had to talk him down from a lawsuit.”

  I’ve had my fair share of gropers—it’s almost an everyday occurrence—but when a man tries to stick his hand up my shirt, things are going to get ugly. Only a chauvinistic bastard would threaten suit when there’s cameras.

  The night runs just as horribly as I predicted. A screaming three-year-old at table thirty is up way past his bedtime, a group of teenagers take up the banquet room after a school dance and leave a stingy tip, more drunken collage students come in, and an old lady attempts to bring her Chihuahua in, claiming it’s her guide dog.

  Lance stays, munching on appetizers and watching whatever sports game is playing tonight. He only does this once or twice a year, depending on how often he gets to come home. He stays gone, on whatever missions the DEA sends him on sporadically. So he likes to relax the few weeks he has off a year. Why he does it in a rinky-dink restaurant, I have no idea.

  There’s only a couple of stragglers left when I clean off his booth, taking the seat opposite him so I can wrap utensils for the next day shift.