Twisted

I came up with a new apology every step of the way.
Sean, I am an idiot.
Sean, words fail to convey the depth of my sorrow...
I am really, really, really, really...
Sean, wonderful Sean, wherefore art thou...
The cake was beginning to sag in the heat. Hurry up, moron.
After I passed through the entrance gate to the Hampton Club and Estates, I froze. I lifted the cake above my head and sniffed my underarms. I should have put on more deodorant before I left. Or body spray. Did my jeans smell, too? Did the Caines have dogs? Would they send them out to attack me? The dogs would rip off my clothes and feast on my flesh and the cake would be a sticky stain on the driveway.
I took two steps and stopped again. The visual of having my clothes ripped off in front of Sean Caine...
A sprinkler system kicked on.
I sprinted. Only a few drops made it t the cake, but between the heat and the water, the rosebuds were dissolving. Running caused the frosting to lean dangerously, so I slowed to a power-walk, sticking to the shady side of the street, keeping my eyes open for out-of-control sprinklers and other dangers.
I hustled up to the Caines' door and rang the bell.

---

Mrs. Caine answered. She blinked once when she saw me, but then remembered her lines. "Elise."
I held up the cake. "My mother sent this. For Sean."
She waited.
"Um, I sent it too- am sending it, I mean. I'm the one carrying it. I'm here to, you know... to see how he is. After what happened. I really am sorry, Mrs. Caine."
She took the cake from me. "Nothing to apologize for, Elise. Those waiters had no experience and should never have worked for a party like ours. It's not your fault they couldn't hold on to a tray of glasses."
Okay, I was confused, but she hadn't killed me and that was all that counted. I could go home and tell Mom "mission accomplished".
"Why don't you come in and chat with Sean?"
"Um, no, I can't. I have to be somewhere."
"On a Sunday afternoon?"
"It's ah, Sunday school. Sunday afternoon school. Church stuff."
That was obviously a lie. I was Pagan.
Still, she believed it and her mouth dropped open in surprise. "Why, Elise McCready, beautiful and spiritual, too. You're much deeper than you look. But I'm sure the Lord won't mind if you take a few minutes to make an injured boy feel better." She narrowed her eyes until they reminded me of the business end of a rifle. "Don't you agree?"
"Yes, ma'am. Whatever you say."
She blinked and suddenly she was Mrs. Martin Caine, society queen, again. "Follow me!"
Their front hall looked like a hotel lobby: white walls, gold-framed mirrors, a table with fake flowers stuck in a vase, and a giant staircase winding its way up to the second floor.
She led me to the basement door and down the steps to the media room. You could have screened a movie for a dozen friends down there and still have enough space for a poker tournament. The newest Sony flat screen was mounted on the wall. Actually, it took up the whole wall. The other walls were covered by framed Metal Blade Records memorabilia, all signed.
But I wasn't there to drool.
I was there to grovel.
Sean was half-buried in a black, overstuffed chair, watching an old Nightmare On Elm Street movie on the TV. He was wearing a baggy Nevermore shirt and blue sweatpants, and a greyish-brown cat with black stripes sat in his lap, its tail curled up around his wrist like a bracelet. His left foot, wrapped in bandages, rested on a pillow on the coffee table. Three crutches lay in pieces on the carpet.
"What's she doing here?" he asked his mother.
"She came to cheer you up," Mrs. Caine said. "I'll just leave the cake."
"I don't want cheering. Make her go. Leave the cake."
Mrs. Caine shook her head. "Don't want to tempt you, sweetie. Not when you can't exercise."
"I said leave it," Sean said louder.
I glanced around for an emergency exit.
Mrs. Caine set the tired cake on the coffee table and put her hands on her hips. “Maybe Elise would like to sit with you while I run down to Teresa’s and look over their crutches. I don’t want you to be alone.”
“Sure thing,” I manage to choke out.
Sean sighed dramatically.
His mother wagged her finger back and forth. “Just don’t eat all that cake before I get back.”

---

I was alone with Sean Caine. In his basement. Was this a new pain level in Flesh and Blood? Or a dream? What was I supposed to do? Talk?
On the TV, Freddy popped out of the wall and molded with the girl’s television. He grabbed her with the wires and shoved her head into the screen as she screamed. “Welcome to prime time, bitch!” he laughed maniacally.
Saysomethingsaysomethingsaysomethingsaysomething.
Sean reached up with his perfect boy nails to scratch his head. His cat sneered at me.
Say anything, you pathetic loser.
I picked up the center post of one of the broken crutches. It had a deep crack running down it and splinters of wood bristling from one side.
“What happened to this?” I asked.
Brilliant opening! Great job!
“Kelsey.”
“Was she making firewood?”
“No. Fooling around with her stupid whore friends.”
“Huh?”
Careful. Don’t scare him off by grunting.
Freddy just stabbed another dude in the back of the head. Sean muted the TV. “Kelsey and her friends. They have this sort of strippers' club, they call it. The crutches were makeshift poles.”
“Wow. Is she a stripper?”
“Not necessarily. She just wishes she was one. It’s disgusting.” He rested his head in the palm of his hand. The cat jumped off his lap and strutted over to me, sniffing my Converse. “Kelsey’s an ass.” he said.
The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Got that right.”
“She crumpled the hood of Mom’s Jaguar once,” Sean said. “Accidentally dropped a twenty pound weight on it. Told Mom it happened in the grocery store parking lot. She almost got her to sue them for the ‘damages’.”
“Some people get away with everything, huh?” I said.
Sean watched the screen without reacting to the bloodshed commonly found in Nightmare On Elm Street movies. “She never gets caught.” He set the remote on the arm of the chair and turned to me. “I saw her push you. I tried to tell Dad, but he didn't believe me.”
“Oh, man.” The dam burst. “I am so sorry. I wish you knew even one-tenth percent of how sorry I am. It doesn’t matter that Kelsey pushed me. It was all my fault that it happened. Can I just kill myself here, or should I do it outside so the mess on the carpet doesn’t upset your mother?” Grovel time. I laid face-down on the opposite arm of the chair. “Cafufoifemuh?”
“What did you say?”
I lifted my head and swallowed the lump in my throat. “I said, can you forgive me? I am a moron, a loser-”
He pressed a finger to my mouth. “Elise! It’s alright. Apology accepted. The whole thing was stupid. The caterers told us to use plastic glasses, but Mom pitched a fit and insisted on the real thing. She grew up worshipping Dallas. Ugh.”
“I’m sorry, Sean. I’m sorry, sorry, so so sorry.”
“Get up, Elise.”
He stood up, but not before grabbing a handful of my t-shirt and pulling me up so our noses were almost touching. When he let go of my shirt, his hand brushed against my cheek. It smelled like fresh-cut grass and AXE and boy: pure and perfect boy. His touch set my face on fire. My face and everything else, for that matter.
“Let’s go eat some cake,” he said.
The cat twitched its tail and left.

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