The Vanity of Roses

by Lily White

  “She’s hurting,” I argue, not that it should matter.

  “She’s just a kid, Ari. You’re sick in the head to keep following her.”

  He’s not wrong.

  “She’s also going inside. It’s been great catching up with you. The pep talk was helpful. But I need to go.”

  His laughter cuts off when I slam my thumb on the screen to end the call.

  Asshole.

  Lincoln Major is another killer like me, a pain in my ass since we kindled a friendship when I first started in this business. He’s the only person I trust to watch Adeline for me while I take jobs, and he knows she is a serious pain in the ass.

  Much like the majority of patrons now inching their way into Black Orchid, I’m dressed in head to toe black, my hair as dark as my clothing, my eyes a hard, steel grey. I’m older than most of them by ten years, but I left my hair disheveled and my face unshaved for a few days so I can pull off the appearance of youth.

  I knew Adeline’s birthday was coming up and I would be forced to blend in to this type of place.

  Rather than getting in line like the rest of the plebeian hopefuls, I approach the door, pay the bouncer more than he makes in two weeks, and I’m walking inside to scan my gaze over the multiple dance floors, stages and cages, looking for one seriously fucking aggravating girl I can’t get out of my head.

  My trigger finger twitches when I find her at the bar, the stick of a lollipop poking out from between her full lips while the idiot she brought with her has his hands on her ass and his face buried in her neck.

  I have to restrain myself from marching over there and breaking every part of his body that touches her. Every single one of them.

  Not that she enjoys it. He thinks so. But I know better.

  The smile she’s giving him now is as fake as the stud glimmering in his ear. Cubic zirconia because he can’t afford diamonds. He has exactly two hundred, seventy-three dollars and twenty two cents to his name. Not that I’ve kept tabs on his accounts ever since she started dating him.

  Okay, fine. I know everything there is to know about Jason Ayers, but only because I’m looking out for her best interests.

  He chucks her chin with his finger before turning to grab the drinks she paid for.

  My teeth clench and I watch as they wind their way through the growing crowd to set their drinks on a high-top table in the dungeon room, fake whips and chains adorning the walls while half-dressed women dance in the cages.

  Jason remains near the table while Adeline takes her place against a pole close by, her hands lifting to grip the black metal above her as her hips begin to sway to the dumbass emo/retro/alternative shit music mix that makes my ears bleed…and that I will always associate with Adeline for as often as I find myself listening to it because of her.

  The sight of her, though, it almost makes the music enjoyable. I’m as entranced in the way she moves as her no dick, no ass boyfriend, which only pisses me off more.

  I felt like a pedo, but still I slip into the room, blend into a dark wall and watch Adeline move, her hips becoming liquid, her body becoming the music itself.

  Real Life’s Send me an Angel is blasting through the speakers, the fast tempo forcing her body to sway, her arms to stretch out, her hips to move in such a way that desire rattles in my chest. Eyes jealous of the strobe lights that flash against her face and the colored lights that roll over her skin like a lover’s hands, I become engrossed, my head falling back against the wall while my tongue slides slowly across my teeth.

  It doesn’t help that her mini skirt hangs low on round hips, the length barely traveling mid-thigh, or that the scrap of cloth she calls a shirt does nothing to cover her sculpted stomach. Tight over her chest, the shirt leaves nothing to the imagination, not that she takes issue with people knowing what she looks like.

  Adeline likes being naked and I often wonder if she knows I’m watching.

  She’s a temptress with tragic eyes and a black soul, her heart locked behind steel bars. Only I possess the key to it, but she doesn’t know that. And she never will.

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I watch for what feels like hours. Her boyfriend keeps running for drinks - on her tab, I might add - and she keeps dancing while consuming them, the temptation of her drawing the gaze of many predators, all circling like the sharks they are.

  Meanwhile, the idiot with too tight pants is oblivious to their attention, at least until one brave soul decides to stroll up and take a taste of what Adeline can offer.

  He isn’t much older than her from what I can tell, a mess of spiky blond hair and facial piercings. A tattoo peeks up from under the back of his collar when he turns to face Adeline where she dances.

  Her eyes flick open and she gives him the same hazy, fake smile she gives everybody else, the one that pins them as nothing special while they believe they are. The man’s hand cups her cheek and he leans in to kiss her.

  I know what you’re thinking.

  She should shove him off. Should tell him she has a boyfriend. Should mention that her boyfriend is standing only a few feet from her.

  But she doesn’t.

  Not Adeline.

  Not a girl who doesn’t care about any of them.

  Call her a slut if you want. Clutch your pearls over her lack of commitment. But she won’t give much of a damn about your opinion because she’s living her life as she feels.

  The same can’t be said for ninety-nine percent of the world, those people who love the comfortable walls of societal cages.

  Adeline will go to her grave without regret for the way she lives her life, only for the bullshit that same life handed her.

  I respect that.

  Embody it.

  Find more truth in her than I’ve ever witnessed in another person.

  It’s why I can never stop watching.

  That and she’s always good for entertainment, especially in moments like this.

  Rather than shoving the stranger off, she melts into him, her beautiful body still moving in a teasing rhythm, her mouth opening wide to accept his tongue. She kisses like I know she will fuck if anybody ever plays her body right.

  Warm.

  Open.

  Unashamed.

  I’m not jealous. And other parts of my body that react are merely natural. They can’t be helped. Like watching porn. They have nothing to do with me wanting her for myself.

  She’s too young.

  I’m the reason for a large part of her heartbreak.

  And it would be selfish of me to take advantage.

  So, why don’t I believe it when I tell myself that?

  In a way I helped create her, was part of the bullshit she’s trying to escape now.

  But, fuck, if she isn’t more beautiful because of the fractures.

  My lips twitch when No Dick finally looks up from his phone to notice what she’s doing, my shoulders shaking with a bark of laughter to see his jaw go slack in surprise.

  The poor guy just learned that he’s nothing more than a number, a pathetic placeholder for one moment in time.

  Most would assume that Adeline is drunk and doesn’t know better, but I’ve watched her do this before. She knows exactly what is going on. No Dick made the unfortunate mistake of not paying attention and she slipped through his fingers like water.

  Damn, I admire her.

  It’s rare to find a woman so uncaring and unafraid, especially one as young as her.

  Shifting my posture, I watch with a smirk as Jason shoots from his seat to lay claim on his now soon-to-be ex-girlfriend, but rather than confronting the guy with his tongue crammed down her throat like any real man would, he grabs her hair instead and jerks her sideways.

  This is a moment when I should step in to help. And I would if I didn’t know Adeline as well as I do. She isn’t a victim - yet another reason she intrigues me so much. Jason has no idea what’s coming.

  The random stranger she’s kissing walks away like a scared jackass, unwilling
to help a woman being manhandled by someone twice her size.

  Wrenching away from Jason’s hold, Adeline’s blue eyes fill with a fire brighter than a thousand suns, a fierce blaze that warns of her violence.

  One punch and she knocks Jason back a step, her mouth opening to tell him off, her hand landing on a drink sitting on the table that she throws at him with significant force. Not just the liquid, but the glass, as well, before shoving him against a wall and telling him where he can stick his piss poor attitude.

  That’s my girl...

  The date is as good as done, Jason slinking off into the crowd with his tail between his legs, as Adeline stares after him, pure adrenaline causing her cheeks to tinge red and her pulse to flutter.

  I grin.

  She truly is amazing.

  And instead of crying or giving much of a damn for the scene she caused, Adeline finds another drink she’d yet to finish, takes a sip, sets it down, and resumes dancing to the beat of a faster song.

  Sighing, I shake my head and I’m glad I came to babysit her from afar. She’s now a drunken girl alone in a club. The sharks are circling faster and I have to make sure she doesn’t end up in the jaws of one she won’t be able to fight off.

  Another few hours pass. In that time, Adeline drinks far too fast for her small size, sweat glimmering over her body as she dances. Her hair is a wild, dark mess from running her hands through it, her eyes closed as she loses herself to the music, her clothes sticking to her from how hot her skin has become.

  Several men have approached her. Some danced and then walked off after realizing she didn’t really notice them. One tried to kiss her, but she’d actually shoved him off, surprising me. It was a typical night for her, the slow spiral of self-destructive behavior that makes her more a victim of herself than anybody else.

  As the night wears on, I watch her stumble over her feet, her eyes becoming unfocused, the alcohol in her veins finally catching up to her.

  And then another man approaches, this one about six foot two, over two hundred pounds easily, a bruiser I’d seen work another girl over earlier in the night. He isn’t interested in hearing the word no and Adeline is in no condition to fight him off.

  She’s against the pole again, hips swaying, thoughts lost to whatever nightmare plagues her, and for the first time in the years I’ve watched, I know I have to step in.

  The first thing the asshole does is trap her hands against the pole, his beefy fingers easily crushing the delicate bones of her wrist.

  I step forward, hesitant to reveal myself, but also hoping she will be too drunk to remember.

  The brute’s other hand goes to Adeline’s hip as I weave through the crowd to approach, her eyes opening and locking to his with intoxication behind them.

  I see her mouth move to tell him to fuck off, see her body jerk away from him, but he isn’t the type to care what a woman has to say. He’s the type to pick on someone smaller than him when there is no one around to protect her.

  Adeline won’t be able to fight this one off.

  I shouldn’t have stepped away from the wall. Shouldn’t have intervened.

  If only I’d minded my own damn business, I wouldn’t have made the mistake that dragged me even closer into her orbit, a mistake that I would regret for rest of my damn life.

  A mistake that would make me an addict with the very first taste.

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