Tasting, Finding, Keeping: The Story of Never Page 2

  You're not worth it.

  I want to tell myself that I am, I am worth it, but I can't because I don't believe it either. The reason that Ty's words have cut me so deep is because he's right. I'm not worth it. I'm not worth anything. I grab a box of donuts and a six pack of beer and head to the counter.

  “Gimme a pack of Marlboro Reds,” I say as my eyes catch movement outside the glass doors. I dash the tears away with the back of my hand. “You've gotta be fucking kidding me.” Ty and his friends, Lacey included, are coming into the store, laughing and smiling and leaning on one another like they're old friends.

  “Hey Never,” Lacey says as she pretends to be as drunk as the rest of them. “I thought you'd gone home. What are you doing here?” The girl she's leaning on starts to giggle and gets the whole group going. Except for Ty. He's moved into the chip aisle and is purposely keeping his gaze off of me and on the snack food. I hope it's because he feels bad for what he said to me, but I guess that it's really because he doesn't like me and doesn't want to get roped into hanging out by association.

  “I'm picking up my three favorite therapists: sugar, alcohol, and nicotine.” This is the only time the group stops laughing, not even the clerk smiles at my joke. I don't look at Ty. I slam my ID and debit card down on the counter and hope there's enough left on there to cover the cost. I've blown through all of my financial aid for the semester and half of my Perkins loan. I tell myself I'll make up for it by pirating my chem book off the internet. It's overpriced anyway.

  “Come hang with us, Never. We're going dancing,” Lacey says as she reluctantly lets the others untangle themselves from her and go stumbling through the convenience store. It only takes one of the guys a few seconds to bump into something and knock a pile of magazines to the floor. At least the clerk isn't staring at me anymore. I'm getting really fucking tired of being stared at.

  “Never doesn't like to dance,” Ty says from his position next to a display of Doritos. “She told me herself.” I watch him out of the corner of my eye, but I don't stare. If I do, I think my gaze will be hot enough to melt him, to burn those colorful tattoos down his skin, bleed them across the white linoleum floor.

  “Are you kidding?” Lacey says, poking me in the arm as I stuff the cigarettes into the pocket of my jacket and give her a look that says, You talk, you die. She ignores me or doesn't get it. Either way, she continues to blabber, oblivious to the fact that I'm pointedly headed for the door. “Never's mom was a belly dancer. She's great at it. Never, I mean, not just her mom.” I pause for a moment, tucking the donuts under my arm where they'll no doubt get squashed. Doesn't matter anyway; I'm such a sucker for powdered sugar, I could practically eat it out of the bag. Plus, I have cigarettes and booze. The night isn't a total fucking waste.

  Ty is staring at me with an expression that says he's disappointed. What he thinks gives him the right to look at me that way is beyond me. You're not worth it. I shake my head and step out of the way of the glass doors. They're swinging inward and ushering in a rush of cold air and a pair of guys that I don't like the looks of. There's a girl with them, too, but I don't like her anymore than I like them. I ignore them all. There are a lot of shitty people in this world. I know that better than anyone.

  “I'm going to take the bus home,” I tell Lacey even though I hate the fucking bus. The campus is several miles from where we're at, and I don't want to walk back alone, in the dark, in a pair of high heels. Talk about a disaster waiting to happen.

  “No, no,” Lacey says, grabbing my arm as I reach for the door. She's pouting her lips and looks really stupid with her red lipstick smeared around her face like a clown. She thinks she looks cute that way. “Come hang out with us,” she pleads as she nods her head at Ty and leans in for what's supposed to be a surreptitious whisper, but actually comes out loudly enough that I know he hears her. “He's single and cute, don't you think?”

  “You're a lesbian,” I say to her, not trying to be judgmental but wanting to prove that she doesn't know shit about guys. “How do you know if he's cute or not?” Lacey rolls her blue eyes to the ceiling like she just can't believe how difficult I'm being. I don't know why she's being so pushy. We're not even friends, just roommates. Never Ross doesn't have any friends. Not anymore. “Look, I just want to go home, okay? Is that hard to understand?” I push past Lacey and reach for the door when a loud noise sounds from behind me. At first I think that one of Lacey and Ty's drunken buddies has knocked over some cans because that's what it sounds like. Then I turn around and see the gun.

  It's clutched in the hands of the new girl and it's pointed straight at me.

  “Get down on your fucking knees,” she tells me and I know better than to argue. Adrenaline pumps through my blood as I squat down and set the six pack on the floor next to the donuts. Lacey is still standing, and her legs are shaking, actually shaking. I don't blame her because these people, whoever they are, are serious as a fucking heart attack. The clerk is already dead, slumped over the glass counter like a doll. His eyes are as empty and lifeless as the dead father's are in my single, lonesome memory, and there's blood, a whole lot of blood. It's splattered across the counter and the floor, glistening red as rubies. I look away from the body and over at Lacey. If she doesn't get it together then she'll be joining the clerk on the other side, and I don't think Lacey's ready for that. Something my mother once said pops into my head at random. That girl was a young soul; she wasn't ready to die.

  “Lacey,” I say as quietly and calmly as I'm able. The girl with the gun looks spooked and the guys behind her, they both have guns, too, whether I can see them or not. I can tell by the way their hands hover around the openings in their coats. The sneers on their once handsome faces tell me that they wouldn't mind using them. “Get down.” Lacy collapses to her knees with a thud and slumps to the side. She's passed out. I swallow hard and try to catch a glimpse of Ty and his friends. They're hidden in the aisles, obviously down on their knees, too. Ty is the only one I can see and he doesn't look afraid, just pissed off.

  At first, I'm thinking this is just a robbery gone wrong, that if we sit still and wait, that they'll go away and leave the rest of us alive. I mean, the girl with the gun looks kind of freaked out, like maybe she didn't mean to shoot the clerk. Her brown eyes are dilated and blood shot; they flicker around the room like bugs in a jar. Her hair is stringy and blonde with dark roots. It's not a good look for her, giving her pale skin an ashen quality that, combined with the sweat on her brow, makes her look like she's sick. Drug addict? I wonder as Ty starts to crawl across the floor in the opposite direction from where I'm crouched. I'm guessing that he's trying to get to the door that's marked Employees Only which is fine with me because if he gets out, presumably he'll go for help.

  “What do I do now?” asks the girl as one of the guys hops over the counter, shoves the clerk's body out of the way and smashes his gun into the register. Her voice sounds young but rough, like her short journey on this earth hasn't been the most pleasant. I can agree to that, but I don't sympathize with her actions. I'm aching, too; I'm broken, too, but I don't take it out on everyone else. I draw inwards with my pain. Maybe that's not healthy either, but it's better than shooting a man who, as far as I know, did nothing wrong except show up to work today.

  “Just shut the fuck up,” says guy number one behind the register. He has big brown eyes that probably once made girls say things like, Ohmygod he's cute!, but that now look misplaced in his sunken, sallow face. He's got a good jaw, strong and square, but even though I can tell he's young, the skin hangs from his bones like a wrinkled T-shirt. This guy, whoever he is, looks both sad and angry with the world. “You've already fucked this up enough, so shut your fucking mouth. Mel, search the others, take whatever they've got.”

  Guy number two, the only one of the three whose hair doesn't look straw, licks his lips and gives me a once over. I know I look good in my red dress and heels, and that scares me, really scares me. Seriously though, they can't be
thinking of raping me or anyone else here? We're in the middle of a convenience store. Surely there are cameras? An alarm system? What about passersby?

  “Hey there, baby,” he says to me with a leer that makes me want to break his face. “What's your name?” I don't respond. I keep my face neutral, bare of even a frown. If I don't give him a reason to keep looking at me, maybe he won't? Guy Two laughs as he pauses in front of one of the aisles and finally pulls the gun from inside his jacket. It's black and wicked looking, a crafting of plastic and metal capable of changing the world. He bends down and disappears from sight for a moment.

  “I think I hear sirens,” says the girl as her hands start to shake. The gun looks unstable, clutched in inexperienced hands, and it's still pointed directly at me. If Gun Girl goes rogue, I might not walk out of here alive. I swallow and try not to let fear overtake me. It's a useless emotion, more capable of getting me killed than saving me. Nobody pays her any attention, but Lacey does groan in her sleep, causing Gun Girl to switch her aim to my comatose roommate.

  Guy Two stands back up with a wallet in one hand and a new gold watch wrapped around his wrist. Presumably he's robbed one of Ty's friends, but I can't see a thing from my position near the front door. Guy Two is looking at me again, and it's scary as hell.

  “Come on,” he says to me as he stuffs the stolen wallet in the front pocket of his green coat. “I bet you'd like to play, wouldn't you, little bunny?” No reaction from me. It pisses Guy Two off, I can tell. He storms across the room, boots squeaking on the white linoleum floor, and slams the back of his hand into my face. Pain slithers through my jaw, makes every single one of my teeth ache, and knocks me flat on my back.

  “Don't,” says the girl with the gun, but she doesn't sound very authoritative. Obviously, she isn't the boss of this trio. “Just leave her alone and let's get out of here.”

  “You said take whatever they've got, am I right?” Guy Two asks as he looks down at me and licks his lips again. He rubs the stubble on his face and smiles.

  “We don't have time for that, asshole,” says Guy One as he empties the money into a backpack and then starts in after the cigarettes. “There's plenty of good ass in Memphis. Just grab some stuff, and let's get the fuck out of here.”

  “Let's take her with us,” Guy Two says as I sit up and wipe the blood from my lip. My heart is galloping along at a hundred miles an hour, but I don't let it show. I haven't gotten this far in life to fail now. I tell myself everyday that I don't care, but sitting here on the floor of a convenience store, I know that the indifference, the disdain, it's all a front. Wish I could admit that to myself outside of a crisis. Guy Two points his gun at my face. “Stand up.”

  “You're pathetic,” I say, but I follow his instructions, at least for the moment. Standing can only help my situation. It's hard to feel powerful when you're on your knees.

  “Take off your coat,” he instructs as he waves the gun around like it's a toy and not a deadly weapon. I shrug my jacket down my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Guy Two gives me a rictus smile and then brushes his fingers down my arm. I smack his hand away and he snarls, thrusting the barrel of the gun into my forehead.

  “You must feel pretty fucking powerful,” I bait as I catch a glimpse of movement reflected in one of the glass doors to the coolers. The image is blurry, but I think I see someone moving down the back aisle towards Gun Girl. “So in control of your life. Does hurting people make you feel good? Do you get off on it?”

  Guy Two stares at me for a long moment, but he doesn't react to my words. Instead, he pulls back and steps away, turning his attention to Lacey who's groaning and rolling around on the floor. Shit.

  “Mm, mm, mm,” he says as he steps over to her. He keeps the gun locked on my face, but he kicks my roommate over with his boot. “What a hot, little piece of ass. Do you think she'd wake up if I started fucking her?” My hands curl into fists, and the pulse of blood inside my head switches to deafening.

  “Mel,” Guy One snaps as he hops the counter again and attacks a cooler full of beer. “We don't have all goddamn day. Get their wallets and let's go.” Guy Two sneers and reaches down for the brown belt around his waist. Obviously, he doesn't give a shit about what Guy One says.

  “Come on, Mel,” I tease, hoping to draw his attention away from Lacey and back to me. “The master calls.” Guy Two ignores me, proving that he's the worst kind of monster there is: an apathetic one. There's a moment there where I wonder what the hell happened to make him that way. His hair is still shiny and well kempt, like he hasn't been at this as long as his friends have. His clothes are newer, nicer than even my own. On the outside, he looks like any of the thousand frat boys that I go to school with. On the inside, he's been damaged beyond repair.

  “It'll only take me a minute,” he says as he lets his belt hang open and starts to unbutton his pants. Poor Lacey is just waking up, just realizing that she's still in hell.

  “Don't hurt me,” she whimpers as her eyes take in the man towering above her, staring down at her like she's something to be crushed, to be dominated. Lacey, who doesn't like men, who's blonde and petite and dressed in a yellow sweater and a white skirt, who's not the kind of girl that gets into trouble. “I'll give you whatever you want, just please … don't.”

  “They're coming for us,” shouts the girl with the gun. She's shaking worse than Lacey now and she can't keep her eyes still. Her massive pupils are moving too fast for me to keep track. “I don't want to go to jail. Let's just get out of here.”

  Nobody is paying attention to me at the moment, at least not overtly. I step out of my heels, careful to keep my movements slow and innocent because I think if the girl sees me move, she's going to pull the trigger whether I'm a threat or not. I watch the tenseness of her shoulders beneath her leather jacket and the twitches in her face. Careful, Never, I think as I switch my attention to Guy Two. Wait till he drops to his knees. If I'm going to do this, I'm going to have to be quick.

  I look up, trying to catch that bit of movement in the cooler doors again. If Ty or one his friends is back there, maybe they can help me. If they can get Gun Girl, I can get Guy Two, and maybe, just maybe we'll all get out of here alive and intact.

  “Roll over,” Guy Two commands Lacey as he switches his gaze to my eyes and smiles, slow and wicked, blooming across his face like a disease. Lacey obeys with a sob, turning over and letting herself pool into a shaking mess of nerves and self-pity. He bends down, nice and slow, deliberate, and points his gun at the back of her head. When he reaches out to touch her with his other hand, something inside of me just friggin' snaps.

  I launch myself forward without a sound, wound up with adrenaline and anger and fear and I hit Guy Two right in the chest, knocking him to his back on the floor. The gun goes off and fires a single shot towards the front of the store, missing my face by a fraction of an inch. The massive window comes down in a sheet of shards and seconds later, an alarm rings out, sharp and piercing. My ears are already ringing and this new sound is enough to paralyze me for just a moment, just long enough that Guy Two can pull his arm back and use the butt of his gun to hit me in the face. I fall back with a shout, hit the ground with my shoulder and roll away, terrified that at any moment, one of the other two thugs is going to shoot me in the back.

  “Goddamn bitch,” Guy Two says as he struggles to his feet, and I look up just in time to see that his gun is pointed straight at my face. Another shot goes off behind me, whizzes past Guy Two and breaks down a second window. When I glance over my shoulder, I see Gun Girl slumped on the floor near Ty's feet. He's got her gun in his hand and has it pointed at Guy Two. Guy One is nowhere to be seen, and I can only guess that he's already fled. I suppose that whole Honor among thieves thing doesn't always hold true.

  Ty is breathing pretty hard, and there's blood on his chest, whether from Gun Girl or someone else, I don't know, but it scares me. However much I might dislike the guy for what he said to me, he didn't flee the building li
ke I'd thought. Instead, he chose to stay and fight. Anyone that's willing to do something like that is someone that the world can't afford to lose.

  I panic when I see Guy Two turn towards him and kick out hard, hitting the man in the shin. He stumbles and fires off another shot. I don't have time to see where it goes because the gun is now swinging towards me. People are screaming and there's movement all around me. I think I see a flash of color as Lacey flees the building, but I'm not sure. All I know in that moment is that I have to survive. I don't know why, and I don't have time to analyze it, all I can do is stand and throw my body at Guy Two. I hit him in the stomach, but he doesn't go down, not this time. We struggle for control of the gun, and I pull out every trick I've ever learned to deal with rowdy college guys. I knee him in the balls and pull at his hair with the hand that isn't wrapped around his wrist, fighting to keep the gun pointed at the ceiling and away from Ty, his friends, and me.

  It seems this goes on forever, but I'm guessing it's merely seconds. Just as I think I'm about to lose control, Ty appears from out of nowhere and smashes the butt of Gun Girl's weapon into Guy Two's skull. He falters for just a second, long enough for me to knock his gun to the floor where it skids across the tiles and comes to a stop near a display of sunflower seeds. Guy Two uses the last of his strength to push me back; I stumble into the broken glass and feel my feet slide out from beneath me, sending me to my back in the shards with a hiss of pain.

  Ty spins Guy Two around and pulls back his fist, hitting him in the face with knuckles loaded with rings. I hope it hurts like hell, I think as I watch Guy Two stumble. Ty doesn't stop. He grabs Guy Two by the shirt and hits him again. And again. And again. Finally, Guy Two drops to the floor like a sack of garbage, and Ty shakes out his hand like it hurts. I stare at the wet spot on his chest, afraid that he's been shot and struggle to sit up. Broken glass cuts into my hands and feet, and I gasp, drawing his attention to me. Other than Gun Girl and Guy Two (who are both passed out), we're the only ones left in the building.