“Nah, nah. The owner doesn’t come ’round much. That was the manager and a couple other guys. We all have an arrangement. What’s your poison?”
That was all he was going to say on the matter of his “business,” and I didn’t want more details anyway. “Just a soda or something. I’m not drinking.”
“I told you, bro. No one’s gonna check your ID here.” He thumped me on the back, waving a bar chick with dreads over.
Shady ordered vodka and OJ, and I got a Coke, then turned to him. “It’s not that. I have to drive back to Devilbend, and I can’t get in any more trouble, man.”
He nodded and dropped the grin. “Hey, man, Wiley told me what went down. That’s some heavy shit.”
Wiley was Shady’s cousin and a friend of mine from New York. He didn’t go to my school, but I’d met him at some party, and we clicked. We used to egg each other on to do the stupidest shit. He didn’t have a lot of money, so I always insisted on paying when we went out for food and shit, but he provided an outlet for me—dangerous access to getting into some dumb trouble. He was one of the only people who stood by me when “shit went down,” as Shady said. But I’d stopped returning his calls too. I didn’t deserve anyone’s support, and I needed to cut ties to that life anyway.
Yet there I was, sitting in a dodgy bar with his cousin, who was already downplaying the single biggest mistake of my life. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea . . .
“What went down?” I arched a brow at him.
The bar chick delivered our drinks, and he took a sip. “Yeah. You know, what happened . . . the incident.”
“The incident . . .” I glared at him. “I don’t need you to play it down, man. As much as my parents wish I wouldn’t, I actually own my shit. You can just say it. I—”
“Hey, look,” he said, cutting me off. “I’m not trying to piss you off or fish for info. We don’t even have to talk about it. Wiley told me you were out this way and asked me to reach out. I’m happy to be a drinking buddy or intro you to some chicks if you wanna get laid, or you can just ignore my ass and come here whenever you like. I’ll let the bouncers know you’re a friend. They’ll take care of you. That’s it, bro. Take it or leave it.”
He shrugged and took another sip. I watched him carefully for a few moments, then sighed and drank my Coke.
Maybe I’d let his words get to me too much. This lowlife seemed to genuinely have a sliver of heart in his skinny chest. And it would be nice to hang with someone without pressure—someone I didn’t have to pretend with, someone who knew what I’d done.
“Sorry, Shady. I’m a little touchy.”
“Forget it.” He waved a hand, then swiveled on his stool to look at the dance floor. “Now, tell me. Are you an ass man or a tits man?”
I chuckled. As long as I kept a wide berth from Shady’s “business” here, this could be exactly what I needed to chill out from time to time.
Chapter Five
Donna
The car was eerily silent when the girls piled into it at the end of the day. Amaya didn’t launch into the day’s gossip, Mena didn’t crack jokes, Harlow didn’t throw out any random facts. I sighed and turned the music up. I wasn’t sure if they were pissed at me or worried about me, but I hated this.
We needed some girl time, so instead of turning off toward home, I continued on into town.
Amaya turned the music down. “Where we going, D?”
The use of my childhood nickname made something in my chest constrict, and I forced some levity into my voice. “We’re ignoring all our responsibilities and getting something greasy to eat.”
Harlow snorted. “It’s Friday afternoon—you’re the only one who has responsibilities.”
They all laughed at my expense, and I couldn’t help joining in.
We parked our asses at a Portuguese joint and shared a massive plate of Peri Peri chicken and fries. When the plate was empty, Amaya crossed her arms on the table and fixed me with a look. “Is the new guy situation getting out of hand?”
I groaned. “Maybe. He’s been a giant pain in my ass since he showed up.”
“I think you need to tell people to back off him,” Mena said.
“I never told anyone to lay into him in the first place.” I hadn’t been lying when I told Hendrix I wasn’t telling people to make his life hell.
“I know that, but people listen to you. They’ll stop if you tell them to.”
I bristled. That would feel like admitting I was wrong. “Look, I know some people have started taking things too far, but that’s not my fault. He was a complete jerk to me, and he turned his nose up at every single person in our school. He’s been disrespectful and antagonizing every time I’ve spoken to him. I’m not gonna just stand there and take that. I’m going to defend myself and you guys, no matter what it takes. He started this.”
Mena looked down into her lap and frowned. She clearly didn’t agree with everything I’d said, but she knew firsthand how far I’d go to protect the three people sitting at that table with me.
When we’d found out she was being bullied at her last school, I pulled every thread I could think of to make her tormentors pay. I’d called in favors I was holding on to for after college to protect her.
“He started it.” Harlow mimicked my voice, and I smacked her shoulder. She pinched my thigh in response.
“Ouch!” I yanked her ponytail, and then we both burst into giggles.
“Seriously though”—she straightened her hair—“I’ve never seen you this worked up. He’s just an asshole with an ego. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had the hots for him.”
“Oh, please.” I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes.
“Holy shit.” Amaya sat up. “Is that why you don’t want to call the dogs off? You’re worried the other girls will think it’s open season?”
“No.” My answer was immediate and firm. But now that she mentioned it, I didn’t like the idea of a sea of teal pleated skirts hanging off his every move. But that was only because I didn’t want him to have anyone to hang out with—as he’d insisted he didn’t want. That was all. It wasn’t because I secretly liked him.
“You’re bullying him.” Mena finally raised her gaze, making Amaya and Harlow pause in their taunting and poking at my sides.
I reeled back as if she’d slapped me. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You all are. The entire school. He may be big enough to defend himself from most physical attacks, but what happens when people decide to gang up on him? What happens when they get a group together, drag him out to the football field, tie him to the goalpost . . .” She swallowed as I shared a wide-eyed look with the other two. “Because they decide they need to prove a point. Prove your point.”
She was describing the horrific things that had been done to her.
I reached across the table and took her hand. “I’d never let that happen, Philomena.”
“Not intentionally.” She slowly pulled her hand out from under mine. “But can’t you see that you’re doing to him what they did to me?”
I sat back and really thought about it. Was I instigating the mean, petty shit Fulton students were doing to Hendrix? No. But did I start the campaign against him to prove a point? Yes, I absolutely did. And did I get satisfaction from how thoroughly he was being punished for treating me with disrespect? I’d be lying if I said no. It was why I’d let it go on.
But the thought of being as bad as her bullies in Mena’s eyes broke my heart.
Tears stung the backs of my eyes, but I forced the emotion back. I refused to cry in front of other people.
“I think she’s right.” Harlow fiddled with her napkin. “We need to take Mena’s view on the situation seriously, considering.”
Amaya nodded. “D, we know you’re not intending to bully him, but I do think we need to be wary of this escalating. Fulton is a whole other ballgame. You know that if any of those shits pulled the kind of stunt Mena went through, they wouldn’t e
ven see the inside of a police station before their parents’ money took care of the problem.”
“You’re right.” I nodded and licked my lips. “You’re all right. I refuse to let him talk to me like shit, but I don’t agree with how things have been escalating. I’ll do something about it on Monday.”
“We will.” Harlow smiled, reminding me I wasn’t alone in this . . . even though it sometimes felt like it.
“It’ll be fine.” Amaya flipped her long black hair over a delicate shoulder. “We just need to remind those idiots they have reputations to uphold. Nothing brings rich brats into line like the threat of embarrassing their parents.”
Mena smiled, already looking lighter. “I love you girls.”
“Love you,” the three of us chorused.
“Ugh!” Amaya slapped the table. “Enough heavy shit. Let’s go get Starbucks.”
We walked two blocks to the nearest one and got giant cups of sugar and caffeine.
Out on the sidewalk, Mena sucked on her straw while typing out a text. When Harlow and Amaya joined us, she put the phone away.
“Turner is about to go on his break. Mind if we swing by his work?” she asked.
“Not at all!” I looped my arm through hers, and we took off down the street. Her boyfriend still went to her last school—Devilbend North High School—and the two of them were adorable together. But Mena worked at a diner closer to where she lived, and Turner had just recently gotten a job at a gym downtown, so they had less and less time to spend with each other. I couldn’t blame them for seizing every opportunity.
As we rounded the corner and strolled toward the gym’s front doors, our steps gradually slowed to a stop; each of us was staring through the window, transfixed.
My first response was a spike of annoyance—I couldn’t seem to get away from this jerk!—but it was soon replaced with a grudging appreciation.
Only a small part of the gym was visible through the front window, the neat rows of machines disappearing around the corner. Hendrix was on a machine close to the glass, sitting on a bench with his knees spread wide, his arms pulling down on some weighted contraption. He was shirtless and so sweaty he was fucking glistening. It seemed as if half the muscles in his body danced under his skin at every movement.
“Wow,” Harlow breathed, sucking the dregs of her drink with an obnoxiously loud slurp.
“I have a boyfriend, and even I can’t look away.” Mena tilted her head to the side, eyes glued to the show.
“You’re only human.” Amaya shrugged. “But fuck me. Why is it always the assholes that look like that?”
“Is that a tattoo?” If I’d been with anyone other than my three best friends, I would’ve been embarrassed at how breathy my voice sounded. There was definitely some ink on the left side of his back, just under his shoulder blade, but we were too far away to make it out.
That didn’t stop us from leaning forward as one, our foreheads nearly touching the glass, as we tried to see what it was.
“You ladies wouldn’t be objectifying our newest member, would you?” A deep, masculine voice made us all jump. Mena even made a little squeaking sound in the back of her throat that had us all cracking up in embarrassed laughter.
Turner leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, smiling in amusement. We’d been so entranced by the frustrating guy on the other side of the glass we hadn’t even heard him walk up.
Mena was the first to recover. “You know I only have eyes for you,” she cooed, rising up on her tippy-toes to give him a kiss.
He glared at us all with a thin-lipped smile and shook his head. “You four are worse than the creeps who only pretend to do weights while they stare at the women on cross trainers.”
“We are not!” Harlow smacked him.
“We kinda are.” Amaya shrugged, taking another sip of her drink.
I took one last surreptitious glance at the window—to make sure Hendrix hadn’t spotted us, not to cop another eyeful, of course. Unfortunately . . . I mean, fortunately, he’d disappeared into the back of the gym.
Turner slung an arm around Mena’s shoulders. “Come on. I’ve only got another twenty minutes of my break, and I need to get something to eat.”
We said our goodbyes and left the lovebirds alone.
I hadn’t planned on going to Davey’s that night, but I was so agitated after I got home I couldn’t even focus on my homework. Harlow had changed into sweats, carried armfuls of junk food into her room, and parked herself in front of the computer, so she wouldn’t be noticing jack shit for the remainder of the night. My parents were home, but I figured if I left after midnight, they wouldn’t even notice. They’d both had long days at work, and their bedroom was on the opposite side of the house.
I just had to be extra cautious and make sure it was a short visit. Everyone would be home in the morning, so I’d have to skip sleeping in, but I could handle one day of sleep deprivation.
What I couldn’t handle was another week—another day, another hour—of this clawing, pressured feeling inside me.
My to-do list was growing instead of diminishing, no matter how hard I worked, and now I had the added problem of trying to figure out the Hendrix situation. I couldn’t let Mena down; I just had no idea how to fix it. Not to mention I was suddenly finding myself thinking about Hendrix’s sweaty muscles instead of focusing on how annoying and rude he was.
Black stiletto boots in hand, I tiptoed down the stairs and into the garage without making a sound. I didn’t stop listening and looking out for someone to bust me until I was at the end of the driveway and putting my headlights on.
The leather seat was cool on my bare back. I’d kept the all-black outfit simple—halter top and short, loose skirt. Heavy eye makeup, messy hair, and no panties.
I didn’t always fuck some random when I went to Davey’s, but I was going to make sure I did tonight. I needed more than the illusion of freedom that came with dancing and anonymity. I needed the oblivion of a strong body looming over me, making me feel for a little while instead of thinking all the fucking time. I just needed a break . . .
The anticipation built as I drove, only speeding a little in my eagerness. I just knew I’d feel better in the morning, even if I was a little tired. I’d be more clearheaded and ready to tackle school, college applications, and Hendrix fucking Hawthorn.
I parked, tucked my keys into my little cross-body bag, and resisted the urge to sprint to the front door.
A grin spread over my face when I spotted Shady at the bar. I wouldn’t even need to be here an hour. But as I got closer and saw who was on the stool next to him, my heart instantly jammed up into my throat.
Why was he ruining every single aspect of my damn life? Why was I being punished like this?
Hendrix was in jeans and a black T-shirt—an expensive one with the brand in bold white letters near the bottom hem. It was a loose style, but the fabric still stretched taut over his muscular shoulders and arms. Immediately, flashes of what he looked like shirtless and sweaty assaulted my mind.
I clenched my thighs against the pressure low in my belly. I wasn’t turned on by him. My body was just already primed for sex, that was all.
But now that I was staring at the root of all my recent problems, my body was starting to make me think the solution could be to just . . . fuck him out of my system.
A group of chicks heading for the dance floor, drinks in hand, bumped me out of my stupor.
I clenched my teeth and retreated back into the crowd, then found a spot by the wall and leaned back, crossing my arms and keeping him in view.
“Hey.” A deep male voice made me glance to the side. “Can I get you a drink?”
He was exactly what I’d come here looking for: tall, late twenties, in worn jeans and boots, his tattooed arms exposed. He had the confidence to approach me within five minutes of my arrival, and he’d already made physical contact, dragging the backs of his rough knuckles up the side of my arm.
“Fuck off
.” I shrugged him off and focused back on the problem at hand.
The big, bad man chuckled and muttered “feisty” under his breath as he headed for the bar. My body groaned in protest as I watched him walk away, but I had to figure Hendrix out first.
What the hell was he doing here? And how did he know Shady? Having my fun for the night ruined was frustrating, but his presence here could have much heavier implications. If he told anyone . . . I couldn’t even bear to think about it. I had to speak to Shady and get some info, then I had to either make sure Hendrix didn’t see me or find some way to make him keep his mouth shut.
My mind churned, adding more weight to the already massive amount of pressure I was there to get a break from. This wasn’t fair. This was supposed to be my place. My reprieve from my life.
What . . . how . . . ugh! Why?!
I couldn’t even think straight anymore. All I could do was glare and grind my teeth as worst-case scenarios flashed through my mind.
Shady got to his feet, did that manly handshake/slap-on-the-back combo, and disappeared into the back area. I’d never been over there—even Shady had warned me off a time or two, so I was pretty sure it was where morals went to die.
Hendrix downed the rest of his drink and turned on his stool, ready to get up, but his eyes locked with mine and he froze. A frown wrinkled his brow, then his eyes widened a little.
Well, at least now I knew this was a coincidence. He definitely hadn’t been expecting to see me.
Fuck it.
I glared back, then pushed off the wall and strutted toward the bar.
I needed to clear my head before attempting damage control, and I figured half an hour wouldn’t make a difference.
Hendrix settled back on the stool, watching me intently as I approached, but I changed direction just before I reached him.
I tapped tall, dark, and dangerous from earlier on the shoulder.
The man turned and grinned, leaning back against the bar. “Hey, feisty.”
I smirked, he raked his eyes up and down my body, and I knew I had him.
Like You Hurt: A Standalone Enemies to Lovers Romance (Devilbend Dynasty Book 2) Page 5
