ALL THE RAGE (writer: T.M. Frazier)(51)
Rage giggled and closed the door. “What? You’ve seen Mean Girls? Do you have it? We have to watch it?” she asked excitedly.
“Don’t you think we should get you out of here before they talk to Griff and find out what really happened?”
“Nope.”
“And why not?” I asked, completely baffled as to who this creature really was before me, and why a visit from the law left a smile on my face, something that had never happened before.
Rage’s eyes shone wickedly. “Nolan, do you really think that a guy like Griffin is going to tell the officers that a girl a third of his size kicked his ass in front of a bunch of people? Or do you think he’s gonna go along with the fake video story?”
“My girl is an evil f*cking genius,” I said, coming around the counter into the kitchen. Rage bent in a curtsy and I couldn’t help myself. I made a move on her, picking her up and setting her on the counter, pushing myself between her legs. I kissed her on the lips, soft at first, and then roughly until I was showing her every bit of what I was feeling for her at that moment.
When I finally pulled back for air, I looked down at her, a worried look on her face. “You said I was your girl,” she whispered, touching her swollen lips.
“Yeah, I did,” I said, leaning in for another kiss. I couldn’t get enough of her mouth. “Now, I’m going to make sure you don’t f*cking forget that.” I took her mouth again, tilting her chin up with my hands and cupping her cheek. I pulled back and kissed over her closed eyelid. “But first things first.”
“What’s that?” Rage asked, yawning an actual real yawn.
“Did you just yawn?” I asked.
She shook her head and waved me off.
“No. I don’t yawn. You must be seeing things,” she said. “But tell me, what first things are first?” she asked, her voice lifting expectantly at the end of the sentence, and I knew she was waiting for me to tell her all the dirty details of what I planned on doing to her. But we had time, that could wait. After seeing how Rage handled the officers and how at ease she was with something that would have any other nineteen-year-old girl flipping out, I had questions that couldn’t wait any longer.
“First, Regina George,” I whispered, brushing my lips over hers. “I’m gonna tell you mine, and you’re gonna tell me yours.” Her eyes sprang open. “That’s right. It’s secret time, baby.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Nolan
Rage plopped down on the deck chair, sitting Indian-style with her legs folded underneath her as she always did. It was late afternoon. I brought her over a plate with one of the sandwiches I’d made while she showered and changed from her wet dress into shorts and one of her seemingly many pink T-shirts. “Nice shirt,” I said. She looked down and stretched out the thin fabric, moving her lips as she read what it said upside down, like she couldn’t remember which one she’d put on. This particular shirt read “YOU’RE MOM’S A BITCH.”
“Thanks.” She yawned again. The fourth time in less than an hour. Her eyes were rimmed in red. The girl didn’t want to admit she was tired for some reason, denying it each time I called her out on it. When she realized what she’d just done, she glanced over to me and declared. “That’s not what you thought it was.”
“Okay,” I laughed. “I believe you. You’re not tired. Got it.”
There was a commotion on the beach. Rage craned her neck to see over my head. I followed her gaze to where dozens of seagulls were cleaning the beach of any food remnants left behind by the day’s visitors, squawking angrily at one another over pieces of popcorn and waffle cone.
“Where do we start?” she asked, tentatively. I was on the other chair, so I could sit across from her, my back to the beach.
“The beginning usually works.” We were going to have this conversation in the bedroom, but the second I saw the bed, I knew it wasn’t going to happen, so I spun us right around and decided that the deck was a lot more conducive for secret telling than the bedroom, where my only thought was getting inside of her.
Rage was already ripping pieces of ham off her sandwich and dropping them down to an eagerly awaiting Murray, who snatched them out of the air before they even hit the deck.
“I can go first if you want,” I offered.
Rage simply nodded.
I took a deep breath and rested my hands on top of my head. “Well, I’ve told you about how my parents were never around, and how they dumped me here with my grandparents until one day, they just never came to get me. But that’s not the entire story.” Rage sat up straighter and leaned in. “What I didn’t tell you was that they weren’t just *s who abandoned their only kid. They were liars. Thieves. Fuck ups of the highest order. My dad used to beat the shit out of my mom all the time, even saw him take a swing at my grandparents a time or two.” I shifted in my chair, recalling shit I’d much rather not be recalling. “The only reason why they came around at all was because every few months or so, they’d show up and ask my grandparents for money. Only good thing my dad ever did was introduce me to hockey and he only did that because he used to play on a minor league team down in Estero. Well, until he got thrown off the team for fighting,” I said, glancing from my plate to Rage to make sure she was with me.