by J. J. Sorel
“I made you this,” I said, setting the coffee table down in the hallway.
“Oh, it’s lovely. You made that?” Her eyes shone with admiration at the oval-shaped mahogany table. It was one of the many pieces I’d made in prison. Even though the officers had taken almost everything I made, I’d managed to keep the best one for my mother.
I nodded.
“You’re such a clever boy, my darling. Come on. Let’s get you a nice cold beer.”
“Who’s here?” I asked, hearing voices and giggles.
“Just the family.”
Family, I could just do. And as that thought turned over, Justin stood before me. “Twice in one week. It’s almost like the bad old days,” he said with that smug grin that made my fists clench.
“Be nice,” said my mother, looking at Justin.
When I entered the dining area, even though a collection of familiar faces turned toward me, my eyes zeroed in on Ava.
She’d raised the bar pretty high where women were concerned, which wasn’t the only thing she’d helped raise. Considering my plan for revenge, I hated how Ava did things to me that I’d never experienced before. I even tried to convince myself that was due to the lack of female contact for more than a year.
Dressed in purple, she was hard to miss. But as my eyes traveled back to those eyes, which had already cast their spell on me, I struggled to turn away. One couldn’t help being drawn into those deep blue eyes that echoed a hint of purple from her dress. And that mouth-watering body, the promise of those full breasts rubbing against me, had already launched a few explosions thanks to my dirty mind. The green buttons on her dress seemed to pop right out. A fantasy for later would go something like this: One by one, I’d undo them to find a silky piece of lace holding in a nice pair of tits waiting for my hungry mouth.
I just had to accept that she’d mess with my hormones all night. But the question remained: Was I ready to mess with Ava by seducing her for ulterior motives?
Floating back to reality, I greeted my Uncle James, his new bubbly and literally bouncy young wife, Candy, Marcus, his girl, and my old neighbors.
“Bronson, how good to see you again,” said Dora, who must have been at least eighty. She stamped a lipstick stain on my cheek, while her husband, Phil, shook my hand.
I had a soft spot for Dora. She’d cared for me when I was young while my mom worked part-time. Being one of those gentle types, Dora had a ton of patience. I did wonder, though, if they’d called the cops the night of that party. Maybe that was something I’d never know. And I couldn’t blame them, considering how the noisy party had spilled onto their normally quiet street.
My mom fussed about. She was never good at standing still for long. I also sensed a spark between her and Uncle James. I always had. Although I was certain that they’d never had an affair. She’d loved my late dad too much for that. In any case, it would have broken my heart to know otherwise. For non-biological parents, they were wonderful, affectionate people that I wouldn’t’ve hesitated to give a kidney to for rescuing me from that hovel. Experts say that most people don’t recall life before the age of three, but I did. Every cruel minute of it— from the cold eyes, stench of piss and vomit, to the gut-wrenching cries. It was woven deeply into every cell of my body.
“Bronson, darling, go and get that lovely little table you made me,” said my mother.
I bit into my cheek. I wasn’t exactly the type who liked to parade his creations before people but fueled by my mother’s encouragement and her insistence, I brought in the table and placed it beside the recliner she favored.
“Oh… that’s so interesting. It’s beautifully finished,” said Phil, who had lent me his tools after I’d developed an interest in woodwork as a teenager. While Justin had been out and about getting drunk and picking up chicks, I spent time in the shed, sanding pieces of timber I’d collected at scrapyards.
“Bronson’s always been creative,” said my mom, running her hand over the polished table.
“I love the legs. It’s so original,” said the angel.
I looked over at her, and when she smiled back shyly, our eyes locked. I soaked her in as someone starved of beauty would.
Noticing how drawn I was to his girl, Justin came over and claimed Ava by taking her hand.
James tapped the chair next to him. “Why don’t you take a seat, Bronson.”
I sat next to him, from where I had a perfect view of Ava.
“Would you like a beer?” he asked.
I ran my hands through my hair. “Yeah, sure.” I stood up again and said, “Stay. I’ll get one.” I checked his bottle. “Can I get you another?”
“Why not. I’m not driving.” He chuckled.
I looked over at the guests’ drinks. “Can I get anyone anything?” Of course, my eyes settled on Ava again.
“Yeah. Another beer here,” said Justin with that loudmouth of his.
I headed into the kitchen, where I opened the fridge door and grabbed three Coronas.
In the background, my mom moved about, preparing plates. “Mm… that smells good. Do you need a hand?” I asked.
“Maybe you can carve the meat if you don’t mind.” She smiled sweetly.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll be back. I’ll just deliver the drinks.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“So, how’s that architecture degree going?” asked Phil.
For some reason, everyone stopped talking and centered their focus on me, making me cringe.
“I’ve had to put that on hold,” I said.
Unsure of whether my old neighbors knew anything about my imprisonment, I kept it brief.
My eyes settled on Ava again, who’d spent most of the time chatting and joking with Marcus’s girlfriend between stealing little glances here and there. I even noticed a streak of pink on her cheeks whenever our stares collided.
“Bron’s been away for a while,” said Justin with a smirk that registered straight down to my fists as always.
“You’ve been on a holiday?” Dora asked me.
I shrugged. “Yeah, something like that.”
By the way, Phil gently tapped her hand under the table, I sensed he knew something.
Marcus looked over at me. “You’re looking really fit, Bron.”
“Yeah, I try.”
“So, are you working?”
I nodded. “I’ve just scored a job on a site starting Monday. Building pre-fab homes.”
“That’s interesting. I remember you were into designing them. Are they using your ideas?”
“Not as such, but Harry’s expressed interest in checking them out sometime.”
I noticed Ava following our conversation which pleased me. Not so much because I wanted to get into her panties, but because I wanted Ava to know that I wasn’t just some dirtbag felon.
“I liked the sketches you showed me a while back,” said my uncle. “I’m looking for something to do. I could be interested in backing a project.”
I nodded, casting a sideways glance at Ava, who remained fixed on our conversation.
“The shares are performing brilliantly. I imagine you’re happy about that,” said James.
My eyebrows drew in sharply. I had no idea what he meant. Just as I was about to comment, Justin blustered into the room with Candy by his side. By the cheesy grins on their faces, it was pretty fucking obvious that the pair had been doing sniff. That pissed me off big time, given that I could have snapped a shot of Justin snorting, saving some cash in the process.
Candy stood by James, giggling loudly. He turned away from me and whispered something to her, and after he returned his attention to me, I asked, “What shares?”
Justin jumped in and said, “Let’s not talk shop. Let’s party. It’s Mom’s fiftieth.” He stood beside Ava and wrapped his arm around her shoulder.
Going by the nervous look on Justin’s face, combined with my uncle’s perplexed expression, I sensed something wasn’t right.
“What shares?” I persisted.
&n
bsp; “I just cashed in the same shares that your father bought, which have reached stratospheric heights.”
He cast his attention to Justin, whose back was turned away, but from where I sat, I could see that he’d gone slightly pale.
“This is the first time I’ve heard about that,” I said, thinking about the shiny red BMW convertible that Justin had posted a photo of on Facebook.
Justin pounced in. “Did you see the ball game last night? I mean, that fumble cost us the game.” Falling for the subterfuge, my uncle, who’d always been a football fanatic, nodded. Justin then continued rambling on about the game, and that was that.
Something suddenly didn’t smell right. As always, it had my shady brother’s dirty fingers all over it. I recalled how, as a child, Justin had always stolen my Christmas presents or swapped them for the ones he didn’t like. He’d always been on the take.
Tired of listening to Justin blabbering overlaid with Candy’s piercing giggles at his every utterance, I decided to head out to the garden.
Standing on the porch, I lit up a cigarette, a bad habit I’d taken up in prison, which I’d planned to kick as soon as things settled.
The sky was clear. Taking my interest was a bright star that I speculated was Jupiter because of the flickering colors. That was something else I’d learned from my late father, who, being a keen amateur astronomer, had instilled in me a similar fascination with the galaxy.
“It’s a lovely night,” said a sweet-sounding voice from behind me.
I turned, and there before me stood the angel. “Hey.”
“Sorry. I hope I didn’t startle you,” she said with a gentle smile.
“No. I’m just indulging in my one and only bad habit,” I said.
“Only one?” She raised a brow.
I’d always been a sucker for blue eyes, and Ava well and truly won the prize for owning the prettiest set I’d ever seen. As I gazed at her, I tried to push aside the steam of attraction that threatened to overthrow my scheme.
Tearing my eyes away, I told myself to stay on the page, that seduction was close within my grasp. My chance to set up the payback.
“Mm… I guess,” I finally answered.
“Are you on a health kick?” she asked.
I blew smoke in the opposite direction. “Not with this dirty habit, I’m not.” I grinned. “But sure, I’m trying.”
She studied me. “I love that coffee table you made. Are you into working with your hands?”
I nodded slowly. “I like carpentry.”
It was like a drug, those sweet eyes flickering with possibility, and just as I toyed with the idea of finding another way to get back at Justin, he stepped outside. Spotting us, he strutted over to claim his girl. While noticing’s Ava’s forehead crease, I didn’t get the vibe of a woman happy to see her man.
“Can I ask you something personal?” I asked.
“It depends on what it is.”
“What’s a woman like you doing with that dick?” I lifted my chin toward Justin, who’d arrived within earshot.
She shrugged while shifting her weight. I’d obviously challenged her.
“That’s not much of an answer,” I challenged.
With the moonlight on her face and wearing a tight smile, she looked up at me, and once again, our eyes locked before she turned away and regarded Justin, who’d stepped into our space.
“Are you hitting on my girl?” He wrapped his arm around Ava.
Just to piss Justin off, I didn’t answer him and instead saluted Ava. “Nice talking to you.”
Leaving them to sort out their shit, I headed over to the shed. I stepped into the workshop, where my dad used to tinker about and where my interest in carpentry had begun. That familiar scent of freshly cut wood flushed me with nostalgia. Everything was where it had always been, as though nothing had changed. When I was a boy, that shed quickly became my little refuge. It was where I’d bonded with my dad, a relationship that made Justin seethe with jealousy. He’d even tried to join us but was so useless and lazy he lasted one hour. A welling of emotion gathered around in my chest as I recalled my father. The fact that he’d died while I rotted in prison had broken me because I hadn’t even been able to say goodbye. In many ways, that had been what hurt the most about being locked up.
The old transistor radio that my dad would have blaring while we worked stood on the ledge, where it had always been. He’d sometimes sneak the odd cigarette against a background of sixties and seventies tunes, which I quickly developed a taste for. I slumped into a chair and wondered what unlucky star had touched me. Because one year earlier, I’d been in a great place. Then that party. Bang. It all changed, and suddenly, thrown in with a bunch of scumbags from the dark fringes of society, it seemed as though I’d done a full circle. That I was back where I’d begun. On bad days, I’d even convinced myself that I belonged there.
Reaching into my pocket for my cigarettes, I’d just stretched out my legs when a scream made me sit up.
Ava yelled, “Don’t!”
At first, I thought Justin was just clowning around. I knew it well. That ugly snigger and then protesting his innocence by insisting his nasty prank was only a joke.
After I heard Ava crying out, “Justin!” I ran out to investigate, and hiding behind the thick bushes, I saw Ava struggling in Justin’s arms.
“Don’t, Justin,” Ava said.
“Oh, come on. Don’t go frigid on me.”
“Don’t!”
“Rough is fun.” He chuckled.
“Justin!”
By that stage, Justin had Ava up against the wall. “You’re a cockteaser, Ava. I need a fuck.”
“Not here. You’re hurting me.”
That was no play, I thought. Witnessing Ava’s face scrunching in terror, I was convinced that was not the face of a woman who wanted her boyfriend to play dirty.
CHAPTER EIGHT
AVA
There was no doubt that the little stirring of desire I’d felt for Justin had dried up. I put it down to his drinking, which only seemed to strengthen his fierce determination to take what he wanted. We’d slept together about six times over the three months we’d dated, which seemed ridiculous as far as relationships went. But the heavy drinking and the smell of his cigar-infused breath nauseated me.
I kept seeing that dark, almost dangerous look in Bronson’s eyes after Justin had tried to force me. Instead of fear, he made me feel safe. And something more.
Adamant and persistent, Justin had pulled a playful grin. His disregard of the pain he’d caused still iced my veins. Had Bronson not stepped in, Justin would have gone through with it, given that his fingers were hooked inside my panties.
My mouth remained agape as I leaned against the wall and watched in horror as the brothers pointed into each other’s face, spitting vitriol.
It was Bronson that my eyes sought. The fire in his black gaze made my heart skip a beat and my knees go weak. There was something magnetic and primal about him.
I couldn’t take my eyes away from him, even though it was wrong.
Really wrong.
The brothers hated each other. That was patently clear.
Bronson clenched his fist, while his eyes fired up with fierce determination to protect me. That really freaked me out, given we barely knew each other.
“Let her go, Justin,” he growled.
Justin turned sharply. “Keep the fuck out of it. This is between me and my girl.”
Bron looked at me as though seeking some kind of affirmation, but I remained wide-eyed and speechless. “Then why was she screaming?”
“None of your fucking business. You’re nothing but a fucking disgrace to the family. Why don’t you crawl back to that prison cell where you belong?”
The words “prison cell” deafened me. But when I refocused, I noticed Bronson pushing Justin against the wall. The sinews in his large arms bulged as his fist headed for my soon to be ex-boyfriend’s jaw.
My screams alerted Marcu
s and his father. They came running out just in time to stop Bronson from throwing a punch that would have knocked Justin out. He had, however, managed to shake Justin around as if he were a ragdoll.
After pushing Justin away—who, as a consequence stumbled back and fell on his butt—Bronson ran his fingers through his hair. His handsome chiseled features bore a film of sweat. His eyes were cast down to his feet. I sensed frustration or something more complex going on there. When his eyes returned to mine, I saw struggle and a deep longing that both frightened and touched me at the same time.
I wanted to thank him. To tell him it was okay. But my throat remained tense. And by the time I’d found my voice, Bronson left without uttering another word.
Lowering myself to a bench, I wasn’t ready to see people, while at the same time, James led Justin away. And although they couldn’t see me, I could hear them.
“What the hell was that about?” James asked.
“Stay out of it, Uncle.”
“I won’t stay out of it. Your heavy drinking is worrying your mother. I’ve seen you twice this week. And the other night at my house, I found some streaks of white powder on my Eagles album cover. Candy admitted to me she’d shared a line with you.”
“Your trophy wife, you mean. The one that offered to go down on me.”
It wasn’t so much what he said, although that did sicken me, but the manner of his smarmy retort that I found truly disgusting.
“What happened with those shares? Elliot told me while he was in the hospital that he planned to carve them up in three equal portions: for Alice, yourself, and Bronson.”
“Dad changed his mind after Bron was convicted. As anyone would. He probably would have blown it on drugs, anyway. He’s the jailbird in the family, after all. Even though you all treat him as if he were some kind of fucking hero.”
“We don’t. He had a tough start to life. He’s worked hard and shows talent. In my book, that kind of person deserves respect.”
“I’m sick of talking about that douche, who’s not even my real fucking brother.”
“This isn’t the last of it, Justin. If I find that you haven’t done the right thing, I’ll step in.”
