Choose Me Read online

  3

  My dad’s reply arrives soon after. He's exhausted and ready for bed. He encourages me to go out, however, and unlike me, thinks it's a great idea to go out with five total strangers. He reminds me, again, that we have an appointment at the admission office on campus tomorrow to pick up the list of books and class schedules then says, again, that he'll pick me up at 9:00. On the dot.

  I knock quietly on Erika's door and wait for her to answer. When she opens the door, she's in her underwear, running the straightener through her hair.

  "Come in," she says, stepping aside.

  I'm immediately hit by the scent of coconut oil, which reminds me of summer and the seashore. "What do people wear for a night at the in Orlando?" I get straight to the point and she grins back at me.

  "Yeah! I'm wearing a denim mini-skirt and that top." She points to a strapless, blue and white striped tube top lying on the bed, then turns her attention back to the brush in her hand.

  She's having trouble with the straightener so, when our eyes meet in the mirror, I ask her if she needs a hand.

  "That would be great, thanks. Jessica usually helps me out but, mmm, I think she and Ryan are busy working off that pizza."

  With the straightener in one hand and the hairbrush in the other, I set about taming Erika's thick, jet black, kinky hair.

  When we're almost done, she takes the brush and the straightener and says, "Thanks, I'll finish up here now, Cat. You go get ready. The guys will be here in ten and they hate it when we're late!"

  I'm an only child and I've never shared a house with two girls before. I've never had to worry if someone else, apart from myself, needed a hand to fix their hair and makeup. And Erika really needs my help. Every time she tries to put on her eyeliner, she almost pokes her eye out and I hear her cursing under her breath.

  I rush back to my room and stare into my closet, looking for inspiration. I grab a pair of jeans and try them on, then I pull them off and try a balloon-style mini skirt. Nope. I take that off and slip into a pair of shorts, then I take off my shirt and grab two tank tops from the dresser. The first one is rather tight, black and very simple, the second is white and baggier, with 'KISS ME' written in rhinestones. Then I pull on a pair of lightweight summer boots with a two-inch heel. I add a long necklace with a heart-shaped pendant and a dozen metal bangles that jingle every time I move, then I tie my long, honey-colored blond hair up in a top-knot and stand back and take a look in the mirror.

  I don't know how many hours I've been awake now and my skin looks gray and lifeless, so I try to remedy the situation with a little concealer but it doesn't work. To hell with it, that's the best I can do tonight.

  I head to the living room, clutching my purse tightly, and wait for the girls to come out of their rooms. Ben walks in through the front door without bothering to knock. Two things are already perfectly clear: the guys come and go when they choose and they never lock their doors around here.

  I can't stop staring at him. He's not changed out of his ripped jeans but he's now wearing a white t-shirt, not too tight. His guitar is in a black case, which protrudes from behind his back. He's still wearing that ball cap, but this time he's wearing it backward and his eyes, now that I can see them up close, are green with turquoise flecks. I never knew such a color existed in nature.

  My heart almost stops.

  Damn!

  He looks embarrassed. "Hi," he says from the doorway. "Er, the door was open."

  I nod.

  He looks me up and down for a few seconds than calls out for Jessica and Ryan.

  I tap my foot nervously and fold my arms across my chest.

  "Cat." His deep voice is so intense I almost jump out of my skin and I feel a shiver run down my back. "You know your window is on the corner and from the street and my house you can see...well, when you get changed next time...perhaps you should close the curtains."

  My eyes open wide and I feel my cheeks catch fire. They're literally burning.

  Oh my God. I just got undressed in front of the whole neighborhood. Did he see me?

  "Ben, you're such an asshole. The view from my room was spectacular, so mind your own business!" I hear Mark's voice coming from behind his brother but I don't see him, my eyes are glued to Ben’s and I want to die.

  I've only been here a few hours and two guys have already seen me naked? Ben glares at Mark and he loses a little of his cockiness.

  I open and close my mouth like a fish, searching for something to say. "You're right," I stutter in the end. "I'm not used to having..." What? Curtains? Windows? "...neighbors."

  Ben looks away, not interested in my excuses, and calls out for Ryan again, then he walks down the corridor and I hear him chatting with Erika.

  "I'm glad you're coming tonight," Mark says as soon as his brother leaves the room. "You'll have a great time, you'll see." His tone is polite, not at all provocative. I wonder why he behaves like he does when the others are around. He's obviously living up to his role as the Latin Lover of the group.

  Ben comes back into the room, huffing and puffing, and heads for the front door.

  "Erika's taking Jessica and Ryan. Blondie, you're with us," he announces without even looking at us, then he walks out.

  Without moving a muscle, I look at Mark, and my face is one huge question mark.

  "Come on, Cat. He's really pissed tonight, and that’s pissing me off, so let's try not piss him off any further..." His fingers lace with mine and he drags me out of the house.

  "Why can't I go with the girls?" I ask frantically, trying not to fall over as Mark pushes me toward his house. Ben is already in the driver's seat of his car, waiting for us.

  "You heard the boss. Blondie, you're with us." His imitation of his brother's voice makes me laugh.

  "Who's Blondie?" I ask, confused. I don't want to be stuck in a car with two strangers. They may seem harmless, but the number one rule is never accept rides from strangers. Okay, so maybe the number one rule is actually never wear black with brown, but the one about accepting rides is definitely number two.

  "You're Blondie, obviously," Mark replies, leading me over to the car.

  Blondie.

  I’m Blondie? I was just getting used to 'Cat', they can't give me a different nickname every couple of minutes.

  However, I'm clearly not capable of thinking straight because I let Mark drag me over to Ben’s car and two seconds later, I'm in the back seat.

  I was expecting to find it covered in trash, with crumbs and empty Coke cans everywhere, but it’s clean and fragrant, and smells of the ocean and sunshine. I know that sounds stupid. How can a car smell of sunshine? Yet it's true, as soon as I get in the car it feels like I'm at the seashore.

  Mark makes himself comfortable in the passenger seat and before he's even closed the door, Ben takes off at high speed, the music at full-blast.

  I know I listen to music at an almost unbearable volume, but this is too much. The bass trembles inside my belly and my ass jumps up and down to the beat.

  Ben adjusts the rearview mirror and our eyes meet for a second. The briefest of moments in which his ridiculous eyes make contact with mine and my hands begin to sweat. I can't believe he caught me watching him again.

  I'm just curious, that's all, I tell myself. The others have all been so kind and he's hardly said a word.

  I pluck my iPhone from my purse and frantically text to my father, telling him I decided to go out after all. Then I text Leonardo. I'm so tired I can't even work out what time it is in Italy. He's probably fast asleep, but when he wakes up tomorrow and sees my text full of love hearts it will make his day.

  Most of all, however, I want to know what Blondie means. I've heard of a group called Blondie, but I don't think he meant them. A couple of minutes later I find out that Blondie refers to a girl with blonde hair.

  Me!

  I smile like an idiot. Blondie!

  Leonardo replies to my message and I stiffen. Only twenty-four hours since I saw him
and it seems like a lifetime since we last spoke.

  LEONARDO: Ciao, Tata, are you tired?

  CATERINA: Ciao, Amore. I'm pretty tired but my housemates are taking me out to show me around. Papà's back at his hotel. Where are you?

  That’s the first lie I've ever told him. I tell myself it's just a little white lie for his own good. He's so jealous, he'd get the first flight out to Orlando if he knew I was in a car with my neighbors, who look like they just stepped out of an Abercrombie catalogue. Sexy and dangerous.

  LEONARDO: At home. Can't sleep. Shit, Tata, I miss you so much already, I can't survive a year without you!

  A whole year. I know it's hard for him, stuck in the same place, doing the same old things, seeing the same old people, all without me.

  CATERINA: I miss you, too, amore, and I love you so much.

  I put my phone away, fighting back the tears. We've been together almost four years and I can't remember a single day when we didn't see each other.

  The music inside the car changes and the next song is even louder than the one before. Is this the kind of music they play? I hope not, I can already feel a headache coming on and we haven't even reached the bar yet. I sit back and look out at the view, trying to remember the road and get an idea of where I am.

  Though he's driving fast, Ben changes gears gently, while Mark focuses on a piece of paper. He leans forward and turns the volume down.

  Thank God!

  "What do you want to start with?" he asks Ben.

  "Simple Plan, “Take my Hand”?" He turns his head a second to look at Mark, who nods in agreement.

  "That’ll warm them up. I'd follow that with Breaking Benjamin, “So Cold” or “I Will Not Bow”. What do you think?"

  Ben takes a right turn and thinks about it for a few seconds. "We've already done “So Cold” twice this month. Let's do “I Will Not Bow” but check with Kris first, I don't know if it's ready. Last week he still wasn't satisfied. Then I'd finish up with The Ataris, “The Boys of Summer”."

  "We always do that one, Ben. Everyone's heard it."

  Mark looks down at the sheet of paper again and Ben's gaze meets mine in the rearview mirror.

  "Not everyone," he says, his voice low.

  A blast of heat hits me straight in the stomach and I catch my breath.

  "Okay, let's finish with that one. Next week, at Eagles Bay, we're doing five songs but we have to change the set list. We've only got this week to rehearse the new songs, before college starts again and we don't have time."

  "Let's meet with the others on Sunday morning and decide." Ben cuts short and pulls into the parking lot near the entrance to the pub. In one fluid movement he slides out of the car and pulls the front seat forward so I can get out.

  His car is pretty complicated. Very little room to maneuver and the driver’s door keeps swinging closed. I manage to block it a second before it hits me on the nose. Obviously, Ben doesn't give a shit about me and the faulty door because he heads straight for the trunk.

  All of a sudden I'm aware just how short my shorts are and I pull the legs down, if you can call them that. I figure I need an extra two inches of fabric.

  Mark joins me, sliding an arm around my shoulder, leading the way. As we enter the Blue Rock I feel strangely relaxed. I've known him for less than twelve hours and he's already hugged me about sixty times. I don't usually like physical contact but I find myself clinging to him.

  The bar is very large and packed with people. There's a band already on stage and all the tables seem full. The band is playing some god-awful rock song and the singer's voice is low and not right for the song.

  Ben leads the way and stops to speak to a guy at the entrance. They bump fists then the man turns to look at me and Mark, grinning in amusement.

  "Ron, this is Cat." I try to shake Mark off without succeeding and hold my hand out toward Ron. "Can you see her to our table? She's with me, anyone tries to mess with her..." He doesn't finish the sentence but Ron seems to understand. It's quite funny. A nineteen-year-old, behaving like The Godfather. "She's with me and no one goes near her." I begin to think he's going to piss around me to mark his territory.

  "Got it!" Ron smiles again and shakes his head. He must be thinking the same as me: that Mark is crazy, that he lives in his own little world full of tough guys and poor, helpless girls in need of protection.

  "Cat, Ron's going to take you to our table," he says, speaking very slowly, which is so funny I have to bite my bottom lip to stop myself from laughing. "The girls will be here any minute. Don't talk to anyone."

  "Yes, Sir!" I can't help it. Ben's standing behind Mark and bursts out laughing, which pisses Mark off. I try and make amends with a big smile. I'm sorry he's offended but, come on, I’m from Rome, not a convent.

  I stroke his arm. "I promise," and he breaks into a smile.

  Ben takes his ball cap off and runs a hand through his hair.

  "I'll go and get ready so I'll see you when we're done." Mark gives me a peck on the cheek and nods at Ron, reminding him to take care of me.

  Ben, who's busy signing papers, speaks to me without even bothering to look at me. Apparently, the young gentleman is too important to lower himself to speaking with normal people like me.

  Just who does he think he is?

  "Blondie." It's too bad, however, that as soon as the word is out of his mouth, my heart skips two huge beats. "My brother tends to exaggerate, he thinks we live in the Bronx. But really, don't talk to any guys you don't know and don't accept drinks from anyone." His gaze meets mine and he raises an eyebrow knowingly.

  I nod, but this time I'm not laughing.

  Where the hell have they brought me? Should I be scared?

  Ron leads me over to their table, set to the left of the stage, close enough to get a good view but far enough away from the speakers that we won't be deafened.

  "Where you from, Cat?" Ron asks as he pulls the chair out for me and I sit down.

  Is he one of the guys I'm not supposed to talk to?

  "Rome." I love saying it out loud. Rome. Everyone has the same reaction: eyes and mouth wide open, always followed by, "Wow! I'd love to go there some day."

  I smile and cross my legs. Ron sits down next to me.

  "So what are you doing in Orlando? College?"

  "Yes, I'll be studying here for a year. I arrived today."

  Ron laughs. "And the Carter boys have already taken you under their wing?" He laughs again, which makes me feel stupid.

  Trying to hide my discomfort, I smile sarcastically and ask, "They're my neighbors. Should I be worried?"

  Ron waves his hand in front of my eyes, but he's still laughing. "No, no. Not at all. They're good kids." He gets to his feet. "Can I bring you anything?" he asks, looking down at me.

  "A Corona, thanks."

  His eyes narrow. "And if I ask for ID, will you give me some fake Italian driver's license?"

  Why should I give him a fake license?

  "Er, no."

  "You do know that in the state of Florida you have to be twenty-one before you can buy alcohol, don't you?"

  I turn white. Yes, I did know. I'd forgotten all about it, though.

  I shrug and smile, but I can't hide my obvious embarrassment.

  "You mean I don't look twenty-one?" I ask in a sexy little voice that doesn't suit me at all.

  Ron bursts out laughing. "Listen. Just this once, I'll let you have a beer, but if anyone asks, it's root beer. Okay? That way you'll make a good impression on your new friends." He walks off laughing and I feel really good. I'll make a good impression on the others because I was able to get served in a bar. My grandmother would be so proud of me!

  A very cute waiter arrives at my table with an ice-cold pint of dark beer. "Hi. You new around here?" he asks, placing a coaster on the table and carefully setting the mug down on top.

  "Yes."

  He's probably one of the guys I shouldn't be speaking to. His head is shaved and the first thing I notic
e is a huge tattoo that snakes out of the collar of his shirt and works its way around his neck. He looks the moody, dangerous type. I imagine him racing around on a shiny black motorbike, winking at girls, asking them along for a ride. He leans against the table and looks me up and down, licking his lips provocatively, like I'm his prey and he wants to swallow me up in one bite. "I can always spot the new girls." He stares at my breasts and smiles provocatively.

  Where have Jessica and Erika got to?

  Ron suddenly materializes and attracts the waiter's attention with a noisy slap on the back. "She's with the Carter boys." That's all he needs to say.

  The tattooed guy shakes his head and laughs. "I should have known. She's too hot." He winks and leaves the table. "See you around, honey."

  Honey?

  I hold my breath as an icy shiver runs down my back.

  Where the hell have I ended up? I'm not supposed to talk to strangers or accept drinks, guys I don't even know call me honey, babe, and Blondie, not to mention, that the Carter boys seem to belong to a Mafia family straight out of a fifties B-movie. Just who do they think they all are?

  I sip the bitter beer and scratch my head, worried. I get the idea they take themselves a little too seriously around here.

  Finally I catch sight of Jessica and Erika winding their way through the tables toward me. Now that I can see Erika wearing her tube top, it seems even more microscopic than it did before and shows off her breasts to perfection. The beautiful color of her skin contrasts with the blue and white of her top and she looks very pretty.

  "Cat! So sorry we're late!" Jessica leans down and gives me a warm hug. It's only an hour since we last saw each other but she flings her arms around me as if it were weeks. She smells deliciously of vanilla and I'm tempted to take a bite.

  "Cat, this is Abby, Kris the drummer's girlfriend."

  I'm bombarded with names. I shake her hand but one second later I've already forgotten her name.

  "What are you drinking?" Jessica asks.

  "Root beer," I reply, trying to keep a straight face, but I fail miserably. (Note to self: look up root beer on Wikipedia. What is it anyway? Beer made from roots? It doesn't make much sense.)