Harley parked in the cul-de-sac in front of Juliet’s house and stepped out of the car. At first glance, he looked amazing. Blond pompadour messily pushed back. Black suit. White shirt. Skinny black tie. Chain wallet. Simple. Masculine. Badass.
But the closer he got the more comical his outfit became. The sleeves of his suit jacket stopped at least three inches above his wrists. The button looked like it was going to pop off at any second and put someone’s eye out. Harley’s tie had literally been tied in a knot like a pair of shoelaces. And speaking of shoes, he was wearing his ratty old black combat boots, which helped to hide the fact that his pant legs were also at least three inches too short.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” Juliet whispered through her teeth like a ventriloquist.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I whispered through my teeth as he approached.
“I’m takin’ you to prom, lady.” Harley flashed me that panty-melting, baby-faced, bad boy smile, and all four females, plus JayShawn, sighed in unison.
Standing next to me, Harley wrapped his arm around my shoulders, kissed me on the side of my head, and posed for the camera.
Fuck. Me.
Six
“So…Harley,” Juliet smiled awkwardly as she took the seat to my left in the back of our white stretch Lincoln Town Car. “Glad you could make it.”
I reached over and discretely pinched the shit out of her thigh.
Harley was kicked back on my right with an arm around my shoulders and an ankle resting on his knee. He gazed down at me with genuine affection in his pretty blue eyes and gave me a little squeeze. “If my woman wants to dance, I’ma take her to a fuckin’ dance.”
Not rolling my eyes was physically painful. His woman. He hadn’t even called me in over a week.
“You look good, man.” Goth Girl deadpanned. She was sitting between JayShawn and Steven on the sideways bench seat, facing the wet bar. “Where’d you get that suit?”
I looked around as all three girls, plus JayShawn, bit our lips and tried not to laugh at Harley’s shrunken, wrinkled excuse for formal wear.
Steven was oblivious.
“Thanks. I borrowed it from my brother.” Harley smiled at Goth Girl as if there was absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. “He bought this for a court date a while back.” Harley admired the fit. “It’s a little snug, but fuck it, right?”
“Honey, do you mind if I…” JayShawn gestured toward Harley’s tragic tie situation with a look of pity on his beautiful face.
“Fuck yeah, man. Do that shit,” Harley leaned forward so that JayShawn could fix his tie. “Just don’t make it into one of those little bows…No offense.”
I laughed through my nose and turned my head to glare at Juliet, who was also about to burst. Shaking my head slightly, I mouthed, What the fuck do I do?
She simply smiled with her big red lips and shimmered in her bright red gown and shrugged in amusement over my impending doom. “Drink?”
By the time we got to the Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse in downtown Atlanta, the six of us were higher than the Bank of America building. Goth Girl had a brick of weed in her clutch bag. The limo driver had “accidentally” left a few bottles of champagne out, probably hoping for a fat tip. Steven had a silver vial of coke hanging around his neck under his shirt. And Harley had a flask full of tequila in his breast pocket.
Or he did, before we got ahold of it. Now he had an empty flask, and we all had a bad case of the giggles.
Our server, a middle-aged fellow who looked like he probably taught chemistry to little shits like us during the day, took full advantage of our inability to comprehend what was on the menu by bringing each of us the surf and turf, a side salad, a dessert, and a bill for five million dollars.
That sobered us up real quick.
We rode to the Fox Theater in quiet contemplation of our life choices.
Me especially. I was minutes away from what had the potential to be World War motherfucking III. A jealous, rage-fueled, psychopathic Marine with a hair-trigger temper and unresolved childhood trauma was waiting for me, and I was going to walk up to him arm-in-arm with a scrappy, impulsive drug-slash-gun dealer who probably still carried a shiv as a memento from his days in the clink.
My hands trembled, my armpits began to sweat, and “Someone’s Gonna Die Tonight” by a grimy little punk band called Blitz played on repeat in my mind like elevator music from hell.
When the limo pulled to a stop underneath the twinkling white lights of the Fox Theater’s marquee, my stomach lurched, threatening to spew tequila-soaked chunks of lobster and filet mignon all over the off-white carpet.
Someone’s gonna die tonight! Oi oi oi! Blitz cheered in my head, taunting me, as I stepped out of the Town Car. When fists didn’t immediately start flying, I stood up, a little wobbly on my stilettos, and looked around. The sidewalks of Peachtree Street were lined with smiling, sharply-dressed teens. Sequins and satin glittered under the marquee as they filed into the historical, Moroccan-themed theater.
No one was screaming.
No one was being murdered.
In fact, there was no sight of Knight at all.
I exhaled a deep, shaky sigh and glanced at Juliet. Her face contorted into a cringe that was anything but reassuring, and we shrugged at each other in mutual confusion and hesitant relief. Taking my elbow, Juliet ushered me into the building before Harley could offer to be my escort, just in case a certain pair of zombie eyes were watching.
Once inside we had to check in at a table manned by four Peach State High School teachers. They wanted to see a student ID from at least one member of each couple, and every student had to sign in and provide the name of their date. I scrawled our information with trembling hands, looking over my shoulder every few seconds.
Student Name: Brooke Bradley
Accompanied by: Harley motherfucking James
Tucking my ID back into my shimmery silver clutch bag and praying Coach Johnson couldn’t smell the alcohol on my breath, I followed Juliet and JayShawn across the lobby to the photographer’s booth. Harley was right on my heels, but Goth Girl and Steven were already gone, probably making out in a corner somewhere.
“Let’s get our pictures taken while our hair and makeup still look good,” Juliet suggested, staring at me as if she were trying to communicate something telepathically.
“Um, don’t you think it would be better if we danced first and waited for the line to die down?” I replied with my mouth, but what I said with my eyes was, What the fuck are you doing? I can’t be standing here with Harley when Knight shows up!
“Nah. If we do it now we can see what everybody’s wearing as they arrive. It’s good people-watching.” Juliet replied, cocking her head to one side and glaring at me.
People-watching. She wanted to watch for Knight so we’d know when he got there.
I nodded, my senses on high alert as I glanced at the front doors.
“I can’t believe they let you in,” JayShawn laughed, clapping Harley on the shoulder. “Didn’t you get expelled a few years ago for punching the principal or something?”
My cheeks reddened, but per his usual, Harley just laughed as if there was absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. He was so fucking cool it drove me crazy. I hated to admit it, but seeing him in that borrowed suit with his combat boots and chain wallet, looking effortlessly badass in a sea of stuffy rented tuxedos, had me questioning why we broke up in the first place.
Then an image of a plush donkey with a pink bow on its ass popped into my mind.
Harley chuckled. “Nah. Principal Jenner actually punched me. Clocked me right in the jaw, that motherfucker.”
Juliet and JayShawn gasped.
“And you didn’t sue his ass?” Juliet snarled.
“He had it coming.” I smirked up at Harley, all too familiar with the story. “You shoulda heard what he said about Principal Jenner’s mom.”