deep breaths of her, committing it to memory.
Relief along with a strange sense of emptiness made him feel hollowed out. He
put a hand to her face. “Good call, Peaches. Thanks for the mercy fuck.”
“Oh
that was no mercy fuck, Gordon. I wanted it. You wanted it. Now go home and
don’t call me, because if you do I’ll think you might be falling for me. And we
can’t have that, now can we? Oh, if you call me Peaches again I’m gonna pound
you.” She shot him a look he figured out later was one of remorse and walked
away without a backward glance.
He
watched her until her small frame was absorbed by a crowd of fellow students
headed to the library. Gulping back the strong urge to yell out, to beg her to
come with him, he climbed into his truck and turned the key. Something in him
knew she could handle Gordon Senior and the whole fucking mess better than he
could, knew she would be The One, if he let her be.
By
the time he got home, his grandmother was dead. He stuck around for the week.
Attended her funeral, the hollow feeling never leaving him, especially as he
gazed down at her still somehow stern and judgmental face.
He
was introduced to his father’s new wife, a brittle-looking chick who managed a
bank or something. Jack didn’t really absorb it. They endured an awkward dinner
together, Jack drinking glass after glass of wine until the room wobbled, and
he felt like he could handle it all. The next morning he kissed Mo goodbye and
drove back, eager to see Suzanne and sick over the fact that he wouldn’t.
When
he did lay eyes on her again, she was hanging off the arm of some tool he didn’t
know from a different fraternity. She smiled at him briefly. Then turned to
wrap herself around the other guy, bringing a sharp stab of fury to Jack’s
brain. One that he suppressed by giving Freitag the high sign that he’d found a
couple of girls willing to have a little private party with them. As he dove
between the legs of yet another nameless, faceless female, he realized it was
mainly so he could forget Suzanne and what she might have been for him.
* * * *
By
the time he hit the final summer of college with an acceptance letter to
Northwestern Law School in hand, he anticipated a few months of hard work and
nothing more. Looking back, Jack realized it was a pivotal set of weeks for
many reasons.
Having
worked his way up to job foreman for his father’s construction company, he was
in the best physical shape of his life. Never more than a single phone call
from getting laid—and two calls from a threesome if he wanted it. As he settled
into his room in the house on Church Street in May he truly should have been on
top of the world. But something remained just out of his grasp, an
elusive…not-quite-there-thing that made him antsier and more prone to bouts of
temper than ever before.
His
body thrummed with residual energy. No matter what he did—no matter how many
hours of work he put in, how many miles he ran, or how strong he got, he still
felt his own restlessness choking him. Even after the first weekend of parties
that ended with the usual tangle of naked bodies, he got up and would swear he
could fuck a thousand women, right then and there. He could by God bench press
them after that and then run a marathon. It was maddening. Making him a pain in
the ass to be around, he knew for a fact.
“You
are a pain in the ass, Gordon,” Brandis confirmed for him that first Sunday
afternoon. “Truly, what the fuck is your issue?” They were washing cars in the
bright sunlight of a warm Michigan summer day and had nearly come to blows over
who had left a few empty beer cans rolling around on the kitchen floor. Jack frowned
and concentrated on the rainbow reflected in the spray against the bright red
of Brandis’ car door.
“I
know. Sorry,” he muttered, tossing the thing down and flopping into a ratty
lawn chair. His head pounded, while the rest of him seemed to shimmer with a
sort of barely
Relief along with a strange sense of emptiness made him feel hollowed out. He
put a hand to her face. “Good call, Peaches. Thanks for the mercy fuck.”
“Oh
that was no mercy fuck, Gordon. I wanted it. You wanted it. Now go home and
don’t call me, because if you do I’ll think you might be falling for me. And we
can’t have that, now can we? Oh, if you call me Peaches again I’m gonna pound
you.” She shot him a look he figured out later was one of remorse and walked
away without a backward glance.
He
watched her until her small frame was absorbed by a crowd of fellow students
headed to the library. Gulping back the strong urge to yell out, to beg her to
come with him, he climbed into his truck and turned the key. Something in him
knew she could handle Gordon Senior and the whole fucking mess better than he
could, knew she would be The One, if he let her be.
By
the time he got home, his grandmother was dead. He stuck around for the week.
Attended her funeral, the hollow feeling never leaving him, especially as he
gazed down at her still somehow stern and judgmental face.
He
was introduced to his father’s new wife, a brittle-looking chick who managed a
bank or something. Jack didn’t really absorb it. They endured an awkward dinner
together, Jack drinking glass after glass of wine until the room wobbled, and
he felt like he could handle it all. The next morning he kissed Mo goodbye and
drove back, eager to see Suzanne and sick over the fact that he wouldn’t.
When
he did lay eyes on her again, she was hanging off the arm of some tool he didn’t
know from a different fraternity. She smiled at him briefly. Then turned to
wrap herself around the other guy, bringing a sharp stab of fury to Jack’s
brain. One that he suppressed by giving Freitag the high sign that he’d found a
couple of girls willing to have a little private party with them. As he dove
between the legs of yet another nameless, faceless female, he realized it was
mainly so he could forget Suzanne and what she might have been for him.
* * * *
By
the time he hit the final summer of college with an acceptance letter to
Northwestern Law School in hand, he anticipated a few months of hard work and
nothing more. Looking back, Jack realized it was a pivotal set of weeks for
many reasons.
Having
worked his way up to job foreman for his father’s construction company, he was
in the best physical shape of his life. Never more than a single phone call
from getting laid—and two calls from a threesome if he wanted it. As he settled
into his room in the house on Church Street in May he truly should have been on
top of the world. But something remained just out of his grasp, an
elusive…not-quite-there-thing that made him antsier and more prone to bouts of
temper than ever before.
His
body thrummed with residual energy. No matter what he did—no matter how many
hours of work he put in, how many miles he ran, or how strong he got, he still
felt his own restlessness choking him. Even after the first weekend of parties
that ended with the usual tangle of naked bodies, he got up and would swear he
could fuck a thousand women, right then and there. He could by God bench press
them after that and then run a marathon. It was maddening. Making him a pain in
the ass to be around, he knew for a fact.
“You
are a pain in the ass, Gordon,” Brandis confirmed for him that first Sunday
afternoon. “Truly, what the fuck is your issue?” They were washing cars in the
bright sunlight of a warm Michigan summer day and had nearly come to blows over
who had left a few empty beer cans rolling around on the kitchen floor. Jack frowned
and concentrated on the rainbow reflected in the spray against the bright red
of Brandis’ car door.
“I
know. Sorry,” he muttered, tossing the thing down and flopping into a ratty
lawn chair. His head pounded, while the rest of him seemed to shimmer with a
sort of barely
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