Has to.
Chapter 8
BLUE
Unknown Caller: Can we talk? Please.
Blue: Depends on who this is…
I set the phone aside and rinse remnants of soapy water from Scar’s cocoa mug just as another notification chimes. But this time, when I glance at the screen, I’m immediately sick to my stomach.
Unknown Caller: It’s West.
My hands are shaking as I pull down the menu, hovering over the ‘block’ option. I’m completely aware that I should’ve already pressed it, but it’s not as easy as I expect. So, one deep breath later, it’s done. West can no longer drop into my life whenever he pleases, and whatever chance there was for conversation, it’s gone.
What helps is envisioning the scratches and bruises my sister is currently sporting on her face and arms, thanks to him. By some small miracle, she’s fallen asleep, but before that, I didn’t manage to get a single detail out of her about today. Whoever these kids are, she’s terrified of them. So much so, she won’t even give up their names. Not a single one.
For now, Jules has agreed to see Scar to all her classes, and Shane’s not leaving her side during lunch. It’s not the top-flight security I’d love her to have, but it’s the best I can do from a distance.
Now, more than ever, I’m regretting being at CPA. Not only is my being there on the brink of meaning nothing anyway, but I know none of this would’ve happened if I’d stayed on my side of town. I’d be with Scar, I never would’ve met West, and I’d only have to face the usual BS that comes with being Blue Riley. The stuff I was already used to. The stuff I know how to handle.
North side drama is on a whole different level.
My heart leaps when the phone chimes again and, for a second, I think it’s West maybe texting from a different number, but an actual name pops up this time.
Ricky: Got a sec?
Blue: Finishing dishes. What’s up?
Ricky: Come out back when you’re done.
The message has me glancing toward the window and, sure enough, he’s already standing there, his back to me as he paces a little.
After drying my hands, I smooth my ponytail before realizing I haven’t done that in a while—cared if I looked a mess when he stopped by, but apparently that’s a thing again.
I snag a hoodie from the hook beside the door and then step out.
Broad shoulders beneath a black leather jacket catch my attention first, then he turns and I’m no longer remembering what it felt like being held by him the other night. Instead, before I can even greet him, I’m eyeing the two cuts on his face.
“What the hell happened?”
Before I can stop myself, I’m down the porch steps in just my socks, concern causing my anxiety to spike.
“I’m cool,” he insists, carrying fresh anger on his back like a boulder. But it isn’t for me. It’s for whoever was on the dealing end of these gashes, and whoever had likely taken a nasty beating himself.
As someone who’s seen Ricky fight on many occasions growing up, I feel for the other guy.
I settle back when I realize I’m acting too much like a girlfriend, but still keep close watch on him.
“Listen, some shit went down,” he begins, “and I just thought you should hear it from me before you hear it from anyone else.”
I breathe deeply and nod. “Okay.”
He looks off to the side and I try to read him, but he gives nothing away. My first thought is that he’s preparing himself, warming up to telling me that whatever he’s done will have the cops coming around. But I decide to let him explain instead of jumping to conclusions.
“I stopped by your school this evening,” he admits, making my stomach sink. His words cause me to see those marks and gashes he’s sporting in a new light.
“Okay,” I say again, trying not to panic.
“Shane told me about Scar, and I know you want me to stay out of it, but I was still pissed about the bullshit with the video and … I decided it was time to confront the guy.”
“You confronted West?” I ask calmly, having an idea of what Ricky means when he uses that phrase—confronted. I’m guessing there weren’t many words exchanged during this confrontation.
“He had it coming to him,” he explains.
I’m not sure what to say, and I’m also wondering how much this has to do with West’s random text a few minutes ago.
“So … what happened?”
Ricky blows out a breath and it’s visible in the chilly air.
“His brothers pulled us apart before it really ended. So, I guess you could say it’s over. For now, anyway.”
I take a breath and don’t quite know how to feel at the moment. “Thanks for telling me,” is honestly all I can say.
Ricky flashes a look my way now, for the first time since stopping by. I know what he was expecting. He thought I’d blow up and tell him he should’ve minded his business. While, usually, I do prefer for him to stay out of things, I get it. The protector in him couldn’t just let this go. Because of me. Because of Scar.
Not to mention, he only did what I wish I could’ve done myself.
“I’m sorry I butted in,” he adds, which actually draws a quiet laugh out of me.
“You’re forgiven, but promise me this is the last time. I’d prefer for you to stay out of trouble. Especially trouble that has anything to do with me.”
His steel-gray stare lingers on me as I blink.
“No promises, but I’ll take that into consideration,” he answers truthfully, which has me laughing a bit.
“Well, at least you’re honest. Been a while since I’ve had anyone be straight up with me,” I say.
“You know I have your back,” he reminds me. Not that I needed a reminder.
I take a couple steps to climb the porch, but a light touch to my wrist holds me in place. He doesn’t speak right away. Instead, he just levels a look on me that has me thinking there’s more he wants to say.
“What is it?” I ask.
He hesitates a moment, and then seems to come to himself.
“Nothing. Just … don’t hesitate to call me if you need something. Doesn’t matter what time it is,” he says. “Things on the street are heating up and … I just worry about you. About Scar. That’s all.”
When I nod, he lets go of my wrist.
“While I appreciate the thought, I stopped being afraid of the Boogeyman when I was eight.”
“Yeah, okay. Whatever,” he shoots back with a laugh, starting toward the alley. “Just sayin’, the Boogeyman doesn’t need you to believe in him to exist.”
“Got it, Ruiz. Night,” I call out, stepping back inside to watch from the doorway.
“Later, beautiful.” He waves once over his shoulder, never looking back.
Without even realizing it, he’s made my night. All because I’ll have the visual of one, West Golden, getting his ass handed to him as I fall asleep.
Sweet dreams to me, I guess.
@QweenPandora: SeXyBeAsT found the perfect way to lick his wounds after that fight. And I’ll give you one guess what his last stop was before heading in for the night.