by Grace James
Those eyes. That face. The way he was looking at me.
Escape with me?
Oh, hell yes.
But I didn’t want to give it up that easily. No matter how gorgeous he was, I had just met him. I at least wanted to protest a little.
“Who are we escaping from?” I asked.
“A crazy bitch who wants to wear my balls as earrings,” he said, without missing a beat, his face completely straight.
“It’s true,” Derren piped up. “She’s an evil genius, like The Brain from Pinky and the Brain. Don’t let her get her claws in him, Amy, she’s like Hannibal Lecter! If she comes over here he might as well be at the bottom of a pit putting on lotion!”
I turned to see Hayley laughing at him. “That’s Buffalo Bill, jackass!”
“Same difference, they’re all crazy as a hamster on crack!” He glanced across the club. “Incoming, bro,” he said to Connor.
I leant around Connor to see a petite brunette in a low cut dress approaching the booth from the other side of the club, a hateful glower on her pretty face.
“What do you say, Amy?” Connor asked again, grinning. “Come on an adventure with me?”
I barely nodded before he was pulling me out of the booth with him, his warm hand clasped firmly around mine.
“Where are we going?” I asked as he ushered me towards the door.
“How do you feel about breaking and entering?”
“What?!”
He burst out laughing. “Kidding!”
I soon discovered he wasn’t kidding, not even a little bit.
6
As we emerged from the club into the night, I became intensely aware of Connor’s hand in mine, of the feel of our forearms brushing together as we walked. I stole a glance at him out of the corner of my eye.
He was looking at me.
My heart rate kicked up as I glanced away again, feeling self conscious under his scrutiny – or admiration – or whatever it was.
When I looked back at him he was still looking at me, but now he was smirking a little like he knew he was making me nervous and he liked it.
“Hayley told me you were really pretty,” he said. “I think she undersold you a little.”
“Oh, um, thanks.” I felt my cheeks begin to heat.
“Are you easily embarrassed?”
Yes! Obviously!
“What? No! Just – I didn’t expect you to say that.”
“You don’t like compliments?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Well, everyone likes compliments…”
“Ah – but you look a little uncomfortable.”
He was right, but only because he was deliberately trying to make me feel uncomfortable...I think…or maybe he was just direct. I couldn’t figure him out.
“Do you?” he pressed.
“Do I what?” I asked, feeling myself prickle a bit.
“Do you feel uncomfortable? Do you want me to tell you you’re ugly instead? ‘Cause if that’s what does it for you, I can do that.” Abruptly he stopped and, very obviously, looked me up and down. “Shit, no. I really can’t do it. Too hot.” He shook his head ruefully, like he was disappointed in himself.
I didn’t want to laugh at him, but I couldn’t help it.
He grinned at me and started walking again. We walked in silence for a minute or two before he stopped suddenly in front of a liquor store. “Hey, hang out here a minute?” He cocked a thumb over his shoulder at the store. “I just gotta grab a couple things.”
“Um, sure…”
He shrugged off his leather jacket and held it out so that I could slip my arms into the sleeves. He settled it, still warm from his body, around my shoulders. A tang of old leather, smoke and stale whiskey drifted up into my nostrils. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant smell but it wasn’t horrible either. It was kind of untamed, a little dangerous. And, if I’m being completely honest, it turned me on just a little bit.
“See if you can hail a cab? I’ll be out in a few.” He shoved into the store without waiting for me to respond.
By the time he came back out carrying a brown paper bag, I had a taxi waiting by the curb. We climbed in to the back seat and Connor rattled off a downtown address before settling back with the bag on his lap.
As the cab pulled into the traffic, I felt a trickle of apprehension course through me. “What did you get?” I asked him, gesturing towards the bag – although I was pretty sure I already knew. He’d gone into a liquor store, it wasn’t exactly a mystery. But, although he definitely looked older, I was pretty sure from what Hayley had said about them having been in the same grade at school that he couldn’t be twenty one yet.
He opened the top of the bag and showed me: A six pack of Lonestar, a fifth of Old Crow Bourbon and a pack of Lucky Strike.
“How old are you?” I blurted.
“Twenty seven.”
“Twenty seven?!” I didn’t believe that. No way.
He grinned. “Yeah. Here, look.” He pulled an ID card from his wallet and handed it to me. A fake ID. Of course he would have a fake ID.
“This looks nothing like you!” I said, looking at a picture of a fleshy guy with black hair.
“Sure it does, I’ve lost some weight.”
“Riiiiight. So your real name is Alphonse Ramirez?”
“Just call me Big Al.”
I snorted and handed the card back. “Okay, Big Al, how old are you really?”
He tucked the card away. “Twenty. You?”
“Nineteen. And what’s your real last name?”
“Maxwell. You?”
“Scott.”
He nodded, then broke into a grin. “Amy Scott is pretty hot. Your name rhymes with hot.”
“Oh my God,” I giggled. “You’re real smooth.”
“Yeah, I know.” He puffed out his chest like he was showing off, but his grin told me he was kidding. “So, you and Hayls work together but you’re in college here too, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I guess the next question is what’s your major?”
“Business.”
He cocked his head to the side and studied me a moment before nodding to himself. “That fits.”
“Um, thanks…” I think…wait, is that an insult?
“So why Vegas?” He asked before I could question his response.
“Why Vegas what?”
“Why did you pick Vegas? For college, I mean. Weren’t there a million other places you could have gone?” The way he said it made me think that he didn’t see why anyone would voluntarily live here.
There were a few reasons I chose Vegas, not least because it seemed like the most exciting place on the planet when you compared it to my hometown – a little place just outside of Sacramento – but I was more interested in hearing about him at that point. He was like a mystery I wanted to crack. “You don’t like it here?” I asked.
He shrugged.
“But its Vegas, baby!” I said, quoting every movie, ever.
He burst into a brief laugh. “Can’t argue with that, I guess. You big into gambling? Is that it? You a shark?”
“Totally,” I said, going along with the joke. “It was here or Atlantic City, and I like the heat.”
He laughed again; it was warm and infectious. Without warning, he reached over and took my hand, cradling it in his, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. “Well, I’m really glad you picked Vegas, Amy,” he said softly.
Just like that, all the apprehension I was feeling disappeared.
7
Twenty minutes later my apprehension was back in full force – and then some. We were standing in a deserted parking lot outside of an old, abandoned bowling alley. It looked like it had been boarded up long ago and the area around the outside of the building was littered with beer bottles and soda cans.
“Um, Connor, not to be paranoid or anything, but you don’t have a roll of duct tape and a set of knives hidden around here somewhere, do you?” I was joking…mainly.
“Uh…that’s actually really creepy.”
He grinned. “Sorry. I’m not a psycho murderer, call Hayley and check if you want.”
I narrowed my eyes and pointed a finger at him. “Aha! That’s exactly what a psycho murder would say to put me at ease.”
“He’d probably also tell you to trust him and that you’re completely safe…but I’m not gonna do that – ‘cause I’m not a murderer.”
“Smart,” I said. “I feel better already.”
“Happy to help.”
I gestured towards the bowling alley. “So, this is nice and all but…”
“What the fuck are we doing standing outside a deserted bowling alley at one in the morning?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ll see,” he said cryptically, taking my hand and leading me around back of the building. There were some dumpsters against the back wall and Connor shoved a wooden crate over to the foot of one of them. Then he closed the lid of the dumpster and turned back to me. “You think you can climb up there using the crate, or do you need a boost?” he asked.
“And why are we climbing on a dumpster?” My voice betrayed my uncertainty.
“Because we need to climb through that window.” He pointed toward a smashed window on the first floor, just above the dumpster.
“You said you were kidding about the breaking and entering thing!”
“Technically, it’s not breaking and entering – that window’s already broken, so it’s just entering.”
I looked at him doubtfully. “I’m not sure a judge would see it that way.”
He shrugged and looked down, like he was really disappointed. “We don’t have to go in if you don’t want,” he sighed. “I guess you’re not really dressed for climbing…and it’s pretty high, you’re probably scared of heights, right?” He shot me a look out of the corner of his eye, and that was when I registered the gentle goading in his voice.
Asshole was trying to play me. I knew it. And yet, I didn’t want him to think that I was boring. Also, I really hated guys underestimating me.
“Alright, let’s go in,” I said brusquely, starting towards the dumpster.
“Here, I’ll help you up,” I noticed he was trying to disguise a grin as he placed the paper bag on the floor and linked his hands together to give me a boost.
I ignored his offer of help, stepped onto the crate and effortlessly pulled myself up on to the dumpster in a fairly fluid motion – although the trade off for that little move was that I was pretty sure I flashed my panties as I went. When I was up, I put my hands on my hips and turned to look down on him, raising my eyebrows expectantly. “Well, are you coming or not?” I asked.
The look of happy surprise on his face made me feel badass. “After that little show? Try and stop me.”
8
“This is actually really incredible,” I breathed, looking at the view from the roof of the bowling alley. Connor had led me through the almost pitch black gloom of the deserted building before opening an emergency exit door onto the huge, flat roof. There was a chest-high wall around the full structure, with a couple of ladders leading over it – presumably leading to fire escapes. There was a gigantic tower of vertical lettering that spelled out ‘BOWLING’ in red and white. The letters must once have lit up but now they were dim and lifeless against the night sky. They stretched upwards maybe forty feet from a rickety-looking scaffold that was attached to the roof only a few feet away from the surrounding wall.
“Yeah, it is,” he agreed, moving to rest his forearms on the wall next to me. The building was tall, and the lights of the city stretched out around us like neon candles adrift on a midnight sea.
“So, how come you knew we could even get up here?” I asked. “Do you hang out in abandoned buildings a lot?”
“Sometimes.”
“Seriously?!” I turned to look at him.
He acted like he hadn’t heard my question. “Want to play a game?”
“What kind of game?”
“Truth, Dare or Drink.” He started to empty the contents of the bag onto the wall. “I’ll let you go first.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re just going to choose the ‘drink’ option every time?”
“That’s not how the game works.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, you have to do it in that order: truth, dare, drink.”
“Okaaaay…I’m not drinking bourbon.”
“The beer is for you.” He opened the pack of cigarettes and offered me one. He seemed to find it amusing when I shook my head and wrinkled my nose. “What do you say?” he asked before he stuck a smoke in his mouth and lit it with a Zippo from his back pocket.
“I go first?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, then.” I paused for a moment, debating whether or not to ask him what I really wanted to know. In the end I just decided to go for it. “Okay, I have to ask…why does that girl from the club want to murder you?”
“Knew you’d ask that,” he said smugly.
“You didn’t!”
“I did. And I told you – crazy bitch.”
“That’s not a real answer!”
“People don’t need a reason to be crazy – they just are.”
“Hmm,” I shot him a side eye. “For someone who really wanted to get me up here to play this game, you kind of suck at it.”
That got him.
He snorted a laugh, blowing blue smoke into the night air. Now, I wasn’t generally into guys who smoked, but there was something about the way that Connor looked with that cigarette hanging carelessly out of the corner of his mouth that just made me want to jump him…or maybe it was just that he was the hottest guy I’d ever met. Could have been that.
“Alright. That was Carley. She’s my ex. We broke up a couple months ago and she’s…bitter.”
“Were you together for a long time?”
He narrowed his eyes, like he was thinking. “Maybe three months.”
“Why did you guys break up?”
He pointed a long finger at me. “You know you’re cheating, don’t you?” he admonished. “It’s supposed to be one question. My turn. Why did you agree to leave the club with me?”
How do you answer a question like that?
Maybe a more confident girl would have laid it on the line: Because you’re like James Dean on his best day and God knows no sane woman could resist that.
When I didn’t answer right away, he just watched me with a faint smile on his face.
I groped for something to say. “You seemed like fun.” I said eventually.
He raised his eyebrows expectantly – then he realized I wasn’t going to continue. “Is that it?!”
“One question – that’s the rules.” I pointed at him, using his own tactics against him.
“Okay, then it’s my dare now. I dare you to tell me why you left with me.”
“No! It’s my dare now, your dare comes after!”
“Then hurry up and dare me so that I can have my turn.”
“On one condition.”
He nodded. “Go on.”
“If you chicken out of the dare I give you, you forfeit your dare.”
“Now you’re just inventing rules.”
“This is a made up game anyway!”
He thought for a second. “You really don’t want to tell me why you came with me do you?” He waited for me to answer, but I didn’t. “So now I’ve got to know – there’s no way I’ll back out of this dare – give it your best shot.”
I folded my arms across my chest and gave him a smug look. I was pretty confident I had him. I pointed to the enormous ‘BOWLING’ sign that towered up from the roof. “Climb that, right to the top. Then I’ll tell you.”
He took a final pull on his cigarette before throwing the butt to the floor. Then he looked me dead in the eye. “Deal.”
9
It wa
s like something from a movie. Him climbing this swaying, groaning structure with a manic grin on his face, me standing at the bottom screaming at him to come back down.
The damn scaffold creaked with every move he made and, by the time he had scaled it half way, I could see the bolts that were anchoring it to the concrete start to move. The massive tower of letters was so close to the edge of the roof that, if he fell, there was a good chance he’d hit the ground. Like, the actual ground – which was at least fifty feet below where I was standing on the roof, so from where he was…well, let’s just say they’d be hosing him off of the parking lot.
“Connor! Please come down! It’s going to fall!” I had my face in my hands and I was peering through the gaps in my fingers – really not wanting to watch, but unable to look away.
“This is what you wanted, Amy. If I fall, it’s your fault!” The glee in his voice made me want to kill him – if he didn’t fall to his death, which he looked like he was about to do.
“I didn’t think you’d actually do it! Please stop! I’ll tell you anything you want to know! Just come down!”
He hooked an arm around the huge ‘W’ and leant over so that he could look down on me. The structure let out a loud screeeeeach at the shift in weight.
I thought I was going to throw up.
But Connor was laughing. “You’ll tell me ANYTHING?”
“Yes! God, Connor, just come down!”
“You won’t lie or dodge the question?”
“No!”
“You promise?”
“Yes! I fucking promise! Now please come down!” It was a measure of how beside myself I was that I swore like that, because I hardly ever swore. Only in life or death situations – which this looked like it was about to become.
“Okay…oh, SHIT!” The tower rattled and groaned as he lost his footing and slid, his hands fumbling to stop his fall. I saw him jerk to a halt as he got a grip on part of the scaffold.
“OH MY GOD! Are you okay?!” I shrieked.
He was roaring with laughter. “Oh, shit, you should have seen your face!”
“Are you KIDDING ME?! Did you just pretend to fall?!”
