“Hello, Slick,” Cyndra said.
Monique, her small cheer bag dangling on her back, glided forward and squeezed my arm. “Woo, y’all. Ice is ripped.”
I twitched my arm out of her grip. Of course. The southern girl.
Michael walked over and slapped my hand. “So this is what you do after school? Boxing?”
“Sometimes,” I said. Michael grabbed my bag and tossed it into his car.
“Let me tell you, he was going after that punching bag like it had a name,” the other cheerleader, Samantha, said.
Monique fanned herself and leaned close to Cyndra. “All I can tell you is he looked good doing it.”
She didn’t mean it. It was just some flirt game designed to make me feel self-conscious or make some of the other guys start posing.
“Mmm-hmm,” the other girl agreed. “Like a statue or an underwear ad.”
I raked hair off my face and glared at them.
“Zap-zap.” Cyndra squinted at me.
I glared at her, too.
Dwight moved forward. He lifted his shirt over his head, still keeping the sleeves on his arms.
“What, like this? Right?” He flexed his pecs. Some of the other guys joined in, popping their shirts over their heads and striking muscle-man poses.
Michael leaned against his car, laughing. He kept his shirt on. It was one of those tight, athlete shirts, so you could tell that he could join in the posing if he wanted to.
He didn’t feel the need.
I walked over and leaned against the car next to him.
“Nice try. Yes, very nice. That’s a very admirable muscle you have there.” Monique was poking various arms, butts, and abs. “But sorry, fellas, it just doesn’t cut it. Right, Sammy?”
The other cheerleader popped her gum, nodding.
“Sorry, boys. Maybe you should take up boxing.”
“Or drink less beer,” Cyndra added. She smiled at me. “Come on, Slick. Let’s see the gold standard. Take off your shirt.”
I snorted.
Cyndra frowned. Monique sidled in. “Yeah,” she drawled. “Show the boys we’re not being too harsh.”
“Not happening.” I turned to Michael. “We’re going somewhere, right?”
“Sure, but hold on a sec.” Michael had a strange look in his eyes.
There was silence as everyone watched. I was suddenly not so tired anymore.
“I think that this is something you should do,” Michael said. “Go on. It’ll only be for a second. I think you owe us that.”
He didn’t have to stress the word. I already knew he had decided this was a condition of our deal.
I’d seen that look in his eyes before.
It was power—wanting something, setting your mind to get it. Control over someone else.
Something he was used to.
I lifted my head and narrowed my eyes.
“No.”
“Jason . . .” His voice trailed off, almost like a warning teachers give you before they learn better.
Did he just want me to do it because he could see I didn’t want to? Did he want to show everyone his control over me? Did he want to check out the competition?
I didn’t care.
I grabbed my bag out of the car and walked away. I’d wasted the whole day playing his damn game and hadn’t thought to get the cash up front. So I probably never would.
Still felt good to leave them behind.
I cut across the soccer field and trotted out along the street, heading to Clay’s house.
I heard the rumble of the engine as it glided up beside me. Michael leaned over, glancing at the road sporadically.
“Jason,” he called. “Listen, it’s okay. Never mind. I thought you’d like the opportunity to show off without looking like a conceited poser. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”
I didn’t believe him.
“Yeah, we didn’t mean to make you mad,” Cyndra echoed.
“Yeah,” Monique agreed from the backseat. Another car purred over to the curb behind Jason’s Mustang. I glanced back and saw Dwight, T-Man, and some of the others crowded into a Lexus.
“C’mon.” Cyndra popped open the door. “Let me make it up to you. We’ll buy you dinner.” She climbed out and leaned over to flip the seat forward. Monique and Samantha scooted over so Cyndra could squeeze in next to them.
Michael pushed the seat back. “Okay, Iceman?”
I walked over and climbed in. I was thinking I’d get the dinner and the day’s pay. I was thinking I would quit after that.
As if it was that easy.
CHAPTER SIX
The girls in the back murmured, but Michael kept quiet until we reached the interstate. We were going to the swank mall, not the closer one. I shouldn’t have been surprised.
“Man, you’re a strange one,” Michael said. As if he wasn’t. “I mean, you have some good-looking girls practically begging to see your muscles, and you act like it’s embarrassing or something.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Yeah, I just wanted a better look, that’s all. I mean, I saw enough to get me all . . .” Monique moaned.
The girls laughed.
“But it was dark in there,” Samantha said.
“And I didn’t get to see at all,” Cyndra whined.
Our exit was coming up.
“Yeah, so. Again. I have to wonder why a guy doesn’t want to take advantage of all that attention.” Michael downshifted and pulled onto the access road.
I didn’t say anything.
“You got an embarrassing tattoo? Tweety Bird or something?”
I waited until he parked. Then I pushed him back in the seat and twisted the keys out of the ignition.
“What the—” Michael said
I held up a finger in front of his nose. “Stay.”
I jumped out of the seat and popped it forward. My eyes narrowed at the girls. “Get out.”
They filed out without a word. I climbed back into the front seat and slammed the door.
“What the—” Michael began again.
“Pay me. Fifty for today at school. An extra fifty for this crap.”
His lips curled up, like he wasn’t surprised. Like he understood everything now. He dug into his wallet and handed over the money.
I stuffed it into my pocket.
“Okay. Now listen.”