by Nicole Reed
He looks away from me. I watch his nose flare in and out.
“No.” It sounds like the word is forced from him.
Suddenly, my mind clears. I am all too aware of my surroundings. It’s like a light switched on somewhere inside of me. Someone’s hand is placed low on my abdomen, too close to my privates. What is happening?
The feel of something sharp pokes my stomach. It digs into my skin, stinging painfully. I scream. What are they doing? It doesn’t stop.
“Hold, help me. Please help me,” I cry. Glancing up to look at his blue eyes, I beg him. “Please. It hurts so bad, Hold. Save me.” I try to wiggle away but the hands hold me securely in place. I start to shake all over as I sob.
“Goddamn it to hell!” He yells, looking up at the ceiling. When he looks back down, fat tears fall from his eyes to splatter hotly onto my face. “I love you, Hels. Please don’t cry. I love you. This is to protect you.”
The stabbing pain doesn’t get better, but worse. It’s like they’re trying to kill me now. Maybe because I saw what happened and I’m not a member?
“Stop! Stop! It hurts.” I chant over and over, knowing no one will ever save me. Not even the one person I trusted always would. I glare up at him, letting him see the hatred that I feel. For him.
“Stop. Ward, tell him to just fuckin’ stop,” Hold says, bawling like a baby above me.
“Son, this is for her own good and the club’s. She is yours. Man up, Hold. Take care of what is yours. That means marking her as ours.”
“She’s just a kid,” he whispers, not looking at me now.
“No, she’s your woman. Soon to be your old lady,” Ward says. “Sage will spend the next couple of years preparing her for this life. For you. She was meant for it, born into it, whether she wants it or not. The same as you. Tonight she was forged in blood to the club. You understand what that means for the few it applies to in our inner circle. It falls to you to make sure she understands the beauty of it. Blood in and blood out.”
“Blood in and blood out,” voices echo around me.
I close my eyes, wishing I could shut my ears as easily. I don’t understand what he is saying. I don’t care. I don’t care about anything or anyone, me included. Kill me now. Get it over with. Isn’t that what he means by blood in and blood out? If I die, at least I might get to be with my mom and Tara.
Time passes slowly. My entire body trembles from the constant torment, when finally the buzzing stops. My lower abdomen aches, but I don’t feel the press of something sharp anymore. Are they finished or is my torture only paused for the moment? I open my eyes to see that one by one, each of the men who held me down, releases me. I gently sit up on the pool table. They walk by, patting me on the shoulder and each one says, “Well done, little sister.” I see that some even have red eyes, almost like they have been crying. Mikey walks by muttering something. His eyes even have tears in them. I am left alone with only Ward and Hold.
“Sage is here and will drive her home. Her Expedition is waiting downstairs. Carry her down there, then come back in for some club business,” Ward says, before stepping toward me.
He reaches his hands out to grasp both of my shoulders. His face leans in to cover my cheeks with quick kisses. My body now shudders from the touch of this man. I can barely contain the revulsion I feel for Ward. Some internal warning prevents me from saying anything, keeping my mouth firmly shut. I steel myself, but I can’t hide the hatred that burns inside of me. I watch him see it in my eyes, and he laughs.
“You keep that, my daughter. Hate makes us survivors. It makes us strong. Just be very careful that you don’t hate the wrong person. That could only make us stupid.” He turns to walk out.
I don’t look at Hold. I can’t. It’s like I have opened my eyes and seen the truth. The monster. The one I already knew existed, but thought I could keep him far away from it. I thought I could save Hold from its clutches. My eyes close when I think of all I lost tonight. Pain once again threatens to break me, but this time it’s from within. I am alone. I have no one.
“Hels,” he whispers my name, “I’m sorry. I am so sorry. You have to forgive me—I did it for you.”
I hear him, but I don’t. Not anymore. His voice lies. He is a lie. My Hold is gone. I open my eyes, but still I don’t look at him. I slide carefully off the table, hissing from the pain. I don’t look to see what they have done to me beneath my skirt. I survived. Just like I survived almost getting raped. Just like I survived watching a man die. Just like I survived the betrayal of the only person I had left in this world.
“Let me carry you,” he chokes out.
His cries even sound like lies. I shake my head and walk away from him. My legs barely hold me up to get me outside, but I make it. I open the car door to climb in. Sage turns toward me, her eyes red and puffy.
“Baby girl.” She reaches over to pull me toward her, hugging me. “It will be okay. Our boys took care of that.”
I don’t say anything. Let her believe their lies, because I have seen the ugly truth. No one is ever safe from these people. No one. Not her, not Hold, and certainly not me. I will not cry for them ever again. I will not cry for me. It made me sick to see Holden crying.
She lets go of me so that she can drive us away from here. I silently hope that I never have to return.
“Are you seriously going to tell me that he wanted his balls pierced with bells?”
“Yes, it was awesome!” Billy smiles while regaling me with what happened last night at the shop. “Every time he walked, you could hear a tiny ding from his tiny dong.”
I bust out laughing, the mental image smacking me upside the head.
“Dude, you should have been here. It was epic for a Tuesday night,” she says, turning to clean her work area.
“Are you serious? I have been working nonstop for weeks. This coming weekend will be the first entire one I have had off in months. And I am not answering my cell phone for anyone,” I loudly say, looking straight at Malik.
“It’s your job,” he says, while tatting his latest customer.
I know he is just kidding. I hope. Right? I look at him waiting for a punchline that I think is never going to come, until he raises his head to wink at me.
I turn back to my station, shaking my head. I have no idea what I am going to do with my off time. Not cleaning, that’s for sure. Ginger is working all weekend so I’m on my own. Not that it is any different than normal, but it would be nice to spend some girl time together that we have been lacking these last several weeks. Seems that Mr. Bartender finally got his act together and they’ve been spending every waking minute with each other, which is great, but leaves me by myself. Alone. As always.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
I shut my eyes and turn my face toward the ceiling.
“Honestly, I’d pay more than that. Possibly even a dollar.”
“Stalk much?” I ask, glancing over at him.
“Only on my off days. But actually today I am a customer,” Vin says, swaggering over to sit in my chair. He stretches his legs out, crossing them at the ankle.
“I should have warned you that tattoos could become addicting,” I say, clicking my tongue. “I also forgot to tell you that the second one you get is artist choice. And in your case, I am going to give you a tramp stamp that says, “Come and Get It.” My quip earns a chuckle from him.
“Are you always this customer-friendly or is it just me who gets the special treatment?”
“Roll over, Romeo, and let’s dance,” I say playfully, picking up my machine and pushing the pedal for a little buzzing action.
He laughs first and I follow. Why, oh, why can I not get him out of my head? It’s been two whole weeks since he walked away from me and it feels like forever. Literally, forever. I have never had this problem getting a guy out of my head. Usually, it’s, like, forget him, Keller. And I do. No problem. But not Vin. I spent an entire day sketching that mental image I had of him. Personally, I had thought I�
��d drawn him a little too handsome, until he strolled in today and I now realize that I was right on the mark.
“Why are you really here, Vin?”
“That day at the coffee shop, before I noticed you, I saw the girl who works up front here with the funky hairdo. She asked how my tattoo was and I said fine, but that I was concerned that a part looked lighter than the rest. She told me that I could come by here to have it checked out or go talk to you that morning. That is what led me to your table. And you know the rest. I never got around to asking about the tattoo and I’ve been too busy to come by the shop until today.”
“So you called to make an appointment with me,” I say, shaking my head at myself for letting him get under my skin.
“Yep. I called her a couple of days ago. That Ginger is a wealth of information, unlike some people that I know. She is definitely not missing a certain gene, if you know what I am saying,” he says, clicking his tongue at me.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I tell him. “At least you wore a shirt this time and you’re not the total douche I initially thought you were. Alright, wise guy, unbutton it, please,” I say, indicating the navy button-up he has on today.
“Usually a girl at least buys me dinner before getting me naked. Are you always this forward?”
“You wish,” I say. “Let’s take a look at your tattoo. Sometimes different skin types have problems with holding ink. Most of the time it’s the color saturation and the shading is what I have to touch up.”
While he undoes each button, I place my gloves on. I pull back his shirt where his tattoo is located. At first glance, it looks fine to me—no touch-up needed. I run my fingers lightly over his chest, making sure there isn’t any scarring. Even through the latex, I feel the warmth of his skin.
“Go to dinner with me?” His voice whispers against my ear.
I start to shake my head when his fingertip lightly traces the birdcage tattoo on my arm. My eyes shut at the sensation. His touch.
“I dream about you almost every night.”
Join the club, buddy, I want to tell him. I dream about me every night, too… well, until I met him. Now I dream too damn much about him.
“Just one date and I will leave you alone if you never want to see me again. Deal?”
I open my eyes to gaze into his. There are too many things happening at once. Everything within me says to tell him no. Nothing good can come of this. I know what I have to tell him.
“Dinner, not a date,” I say, looking him square in the eyes. Holy hell! What did you just do, Keller? Really? Seriously?
He grins, not hiding his happiness at my words. I step away, allowing him time to button his shirt up.
“Dinner then dessert, and, Keller, it will definitely be a date,” he says, standing up. He reaches for my cell phone lying on top of my workbox.
I am stunned into silence at his words. My mind searches for a quick comeback, which doesn’t easily come. I think he has made me stupid. I watch him replace my phone.
“My number is programmed into your phone. Text me your address and I’ll pick you up around seven o’clock Friday night,” he says, before leaving.
“Wait,” I say, regaining my senses. He turns toward me. “How do you know that I don’t have to work?”
“I already asked Ginger. Like I said, a wealth of information, that one. She says you love Italian food. I found a great place a couple of blocks over. I’ll see you Friday,” he says.
My eyes are glued to his backside as he walks out. What the hell just happened? Do I have a date? Like a real date? A high-pitch shrill breaks into my thoughts. I am going to kill Ginger.
“Hot damn, girlfriend,” Billy says. “Did you just get yourself a date?”
“I think so,” I tell her, still stunned.
“Good for you.”
I nod, realizing that every employee and customer must have heard the last of our conversation. My gaze falls to Malik to see him smiling at me. He looks down to finish working on his client. My world is a mess. Why am I breaking the rules? Rule number one—do not complicate my already crazy life. Maybe it’s time to move on. Too many people are becoming entangled with my life. I don’t need the stress, but for the first time, I have no desire to uproot everything I have built.
“Keller, your next client is up,” Billy yells.
This is mine. These people. This place. This life. Just for a little while longer.
I keep myself busy for the rest of the week. Friday looms like a bad omen, but I am drawn like a zombie to flesh. Ginger goes with me shopping and we find the perfect little black dress. It has been too long since I have decked myself out for a date and I have never had a female friend to share in the excitement.
I take several deep breaths. I am a mess and not even a hot one. Screw him, if he’s ashamed of me. Something deep inside tells me that Vin wouldn’t be, but what do I really know about him? I shouldn’t be going out with him or with anyone. I am not looking for sex—I have a vibrator that takes care of that.
Turning toward the clock, I see that it reads 6:35 p.m. Way too late to cancel. I blow out a loud breath. I can do this. No matter what he said, it’s just dinner. I rush to finish getting ready.
My heart stutters at the sound of him knocking on my door. This is it. I can do this. I go ahead and slide my coat on. I have no plans for him to enter inside this apartment, before or after dinner. I reach for my purse before turning to open the door. He is in mid-knock when it swings open.
“Whoa,” he says, standing back to look at me. His eyes travel my entire silhouette.
My hair falls in big, soft curls. I actually took the time to apply makeup tonight, accenting my features. Black heels give me enough height so that I don’t have to stare at his neck, but his face. And may I say what a nice face it is? He is so alien to what I am usually attracted to. So clean cut. My last date had a tribal face tattoo that I honestly thought was the greatest thing since sliced bread. That is, until he passed out halfway through the date from whatever drug he was on at the concert we were attending. I had to find my own way home. That was two years ago.
“You look great.” He steps backward, so that I can close the door.
“Thanks. You too.” I feel my cheeks heating.
We walk down the steps and I take extra caution not to slip in these shoes. Once we reach the bottom, he guides me to a newer model white Ford F-150 truck.
“Nice,” I say.
“It gets the job done. Watch your step,” he says, helping me into the cab.
Once Vin is in the truck, he glances over at me with a grin on his face. “I had convinced myself that you would call to cancel.”
“It was too late by the time I decided to.” I tell him honestly.
He laughs before backing the truck out into the road. I watch him turn the heat up.
“You warm enough?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“We have reservations at Little Italy. Have you eaten there?”
I nod. “Ginger and I have been a couple of times. It’s really good. You?”
“Are you kidding, I love me some pasta. I found it the first week I arrived. That is my game plan whenever I am sent somewhere new to work. I scout out the Italian and Mexican joints before even finding a grocery store. I exist on take-out most days.”
I laugh. “Typical male. So how long does it usually take to renovate a house?”
“That depends on the client. Most of the ones we deal with are, nicely put, wealthy. They don’t necessarily rush our creativity, but if they require a certain time frame we bring in a bigger crew. This particular project is for a couple moving back here to teach in the fall. I have two of our guys coming out next week to work on some of the big stuff, but I am the only one who stays here full time for now. I am hoping to have my job wrapped up by June or July at the latest. You know, we do have at least one thing in common,” he says, glancing over at me while driving.
“What?” I am truly curious for his answer. I shift m
y body so that I am facing him.
“Art,” he simply says.
“Art?”
“Yes, art. What do you think it is that I do all day? I see the beauty in the ruins, bringing it to life with my bare hands, molding and shaping it. When you look at a building, you probably don’t see the art within the structure. The same way I imagine that most people don’t look at a tattoo and see the sophisticated beauty in the design. I look at your tattoos and see moving, breathing art. There is an intricate story, carefully and artfully designed on your gorgeous skin,” he says, reaching for my hand that lies on the seat between us.
I am mesmerized by his words… and totally stunned by his actions as he brings my hand to his mouth, brushing a soft kiss against it. He doesn’t let go and for some odd reason, I don’t retract it. He captures it tightly within his, resting them both back on the seat.
I clear my throat, finally finding my words. “Maybe I haphazardly threw some ink on my body.”
“No, you thought them out. I bet every single one has some meaning behind it,” he says. “I can’t imagine someone going through that amount of pain to have something randomly etched on their skin.”
“Oh, believe me. I see it all the time. These college kids come in to have some of the most moronic ideas tatted on them. But honestly, grown men are the worst. I have seen some sick and depraved…” I pause, realizing I am talking about another time, another life.
“Kids? C’mon, you have to be about the same age as those college ‘kids,’” Vin says, oblivious to my distress.
It’s too easy to talk to him. I have to stay on my toes to make sure that I don’t reveal something that I shouldn’t, something that could place him or me in danger. I glance over to see him waiting for an answer.
“I’m twenty-one.”
“Whoa, you’re barely legal. At least I don’t have to slip you wine at dinner,” he says, smiling.
“I don’t drink,” I answer.
“Well, that makes two of us,” he says, squeezing my hand that he still holds tightly. “I may have a glass of wine on special occasions, but I learned at a young age that alcohol wasn’t for me.”
