The Devil's Match

by Amo Jones

  “Wanna come by and get us at eight?” I ask Chase.

  His eyes connect with mine and I can see him yearning for me. I just can’t give that back to him right now, not when all I think about is Frost. That wouldn’t be fair to him, or me. I want to though. Chase feels safe. He knows my deepest and darkest secrets and still looks at me like I’m the best thing on earth. I just, can’t right now.

  “Yeah,” he smiles a sweet smile and then stands. Leaning down, his lips press to my forehead. “I’ll see you guys later. Bye, Willow!” Then he leaves, and I stay in the same position he left me in for a few seconds.

  “He’s got it bad for you,” Willow interrupts my thoughts.

  “What? Oh, yeah. Long story, but we used to date when we were kids.”

  “Really?” Willow brings her eyes to me. “Wow, I mean, that’s a long time?”

  I shrug. “By kids, I mean high school.”

  “Oh,” Willow’s laughter dies out. “Well that wasn’t too long ago but it also explains the puppy eyes. I mean don’t get me wrong, he’s hot, but the way he gawks at you is enough to turn off any girl.”

  I close my eyes in realization. “Really? Is that why you haven’t?” I bring my attention back to her.

  “Duh, of course. Why else? He’s obviously good-looking, kind, and single. Why else would I knock down your hints.”

  She has a good point. Chase was mighty fine, and he was a sweet guy. There’s that word again—sweet. Fuck.

  Noticing the time, panic sets in. “Shit. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you back in the dorm.”

  She waves me off and goes back to eating at a snail pace. She truly needs to hurry her eating along, and being my roommate, she won’t last long. I live for food, good luck to her turning down all my snacks. Provided, I share those snacks. I have been known to snap a few fingers for touching my pie.

  The rest of my day goes surprisingly fast, and almost all the way through, I’m constantly thinking about our night out tonight and how much I need it. It’s taken me all day, but the more and more I think about it the more excited I get. There’s still a pang of hurt that lies underneath everything when I think about Frost, but I can’t let his loss consume me anymore. I just have to move on without him, and the first step to that is going out, getting drunk, and having a good time.

  FROST

  The past two weeks have gone pretty fucking slow. Almost routine like, and it’s probably a good thing. Has me getting back into the swing of things in a slower pace—not that I would have minded a faster pace. “Yo!” I whistle out to Racer who is walking into the clubhouse with a local slut under his arm. This fucking kid, he has more game than Hannibal. In Han’s defense, he ain’t into it, but still. This fucking kid flutters his eyelashes and pops those dimples and every bitch within a three-mile radius comes running, begging to jump on his dick. I get it, it’s the charm, little fucker. Just to prove a point, 'cuz I’m an asshole, I pull at the girl who’s under his arm. She looks between Racer and I, then her eyes go up and down my body.

  “Are you Frost?”

  “Shut up. You don’t speak.”

  “Oh, ok.” She shrugs and tucks herself under my arm.

  “The fuck?” Racer tosses his arm around. “How you goin’ play me like that? Even though he’s an asshole?” He’s joking, anyone can see it from the twinkle that is in his eye. “I’m hurt, baby, I’m hurt.” He ain’t hurt.

  I can’t help it, I chuckle, because the little fuck has grown on me since he patched in.

  She shrugs again. “He’s Frost. I mean, I’ve heard all about you…”

  “Yeah, whatever.” I push her away and she trips over her feet before moving toward the bar, or to the next sucker she’ll have balls deep down her throat. Racer and I make our way to one of the corners and onto a couch.

  “How the fuck?” He watches at me with newfound interest.

  I put a smoke in my mouth and slouch back. “I’m gonna pretend not to be offended, but it’s easy.” I blaze up and take a long inhale. “You don’t need to be charming when you have a reputation like mine.”

  “I get it,” Racer gestures at me. “The whole, tattoos, dark, devious eyes, angry, bad biker, not to fucked with caveman type thing you have going on.”

  “You ‘bout to ask me on a date, pretty boy? 'Cuz I don’t hit it that way.” I smirk.

  His smile falls flat and he rolls his eyes. “Dick. I’m just saying, I get it. You know chicks are fucking whack. It’s like they’re born into this world with this hardwired mechanism that replays ‘must go for bad boys. Must save them. Must save them.’ Bitch, some of us just wanna get our dick wet, fuck being saved. Save your damn self, ‘cuz I’m about to ruin your life.”

  I nod, my lips kicking up in a half grin. “Brother, you have no idea how much you made sense just now.” My phone vibrates in my pocket and I take it out, seeing it’s X.

  “Yo?”

  “Yeah, brother, I don’t know. Are you sitting down?”

  “What now?” I snap, squeezing a little too tightly on the end of my cigarette.

  “If that was my woman, I would need to be sitting down, so I’ll ask you again… are you fucking sittin’ down?”

  This motherfucker.

  “Yes,” I hiss, trying to calm myself before I snap someone’s fucking neck, and considering Racer is the closest thing alive near me, his odds are not looking very fucking grand right now.

  “Maybe I’ll just send you some photos. I’ll be flying back tonight on Iris.”

  Iris is Raze and Millie’s private jet. They named it after their daughter who died after an accident a while ago. Was fucked up, and I hated seeing Millie like that, only because she’s cool as shit. Could never resonate with those feelings though, never loved or gave a shit about anyone to care enough whether they died or not. I think that as I’m getting information from a brother who I specifically sent to New York to check on the only fucking girl who probably ever came close to me feeling that way.

  Hanging up on X before I lose my shit, I wait for his text.

  “This about Ella?” Racer asks, waggling his eyebrows.

  “Fuck you.”

  “No, thanks, but speaking of,” his eyes go over his shoulder, “I need to be. Excuse me.” He leaves, and I’m left sitting here waiting for these fucking photos. Five minutes pass and I still haven’t heard anything. I’m about to text X and tell him to hurry the fuck up when his name lights up on my phone. I slide it unlocked.

  “Brother, what fucking game you playin’—”

  “—Oh hey, honey!” Fuck. Ella’s sassy little tone continues, “I just thought I’d let you know, you know, since you, you, well, you are freaking stalking me! Frost, baby, this is stalking. If you wanted me back, all you had to do was ask…”

  She’s slurring, fucking smashed out of her head. I shoot up from the couch, rage boiling inside of me. “Ella, what the fuck are you playing at?”

  “What?” she slurs again, then giggles. “I don’t play games, Frost. Unlike you.”

  “What would you had said if I told you that I wanted you back?” I reply to her earlier question. I don’t want her back, but I’m interested to see what would she had said.

  “I’d say fuck you and go get a backrub if you want something back— I gotta go! Willow is waiting for me, and Chase, and some other hot—” she cuts out and then I hear her complaining.

  “X! Give me the damn phone! I’m not done with him! He fucking hurt me!” Jesus fuck. Ella McKenna can’t be fucking hurt. She’s just drunk.

  “Who the fuck are you?” I hear X snap at someone else, I’m guessing because there’s no way in hell he’d talk to Ella like that. At least not while I’m in earshot.

  “Who’s who?” Fuck this. I knew I should have gone with him myself, to hell with Raze and what he needs me for.

  My eyes are darting around the clubhouse, trying to make out the sounds on the other end. “Brother, fucking answer me.” I put the phone on speaker just as Racer comes
back to the corner, catching my unease.

  “You all right, brother?” he asks, taking a seat back on the chair he was in shortly before.

  I ignore him because my only focus right now is this bullshit over the phone.

  “I’ll ask you again, who the fuck are you?” X repeats, his voice low. It’s muffled as if he has the phone resting on his shoulder.

  “I’m Willow! Her friend! And who the fuck are you?”

  “Oh.” Racer clicks his fingers and points down at the phone. “Now that’s wifey right there. She got balls to speak to that big fucker like that, I need her number—”

  I cut him a glare and he shuts his mouth, sipping his whiskey.

  “Brother, I have those shots for you, but I’m pretty sure you get what’s happening right now.”

  “Yeah.” I sit back down and lean in my chair. “I get it.”

  “Want me to drag her ass back with me? I can just tie her up and gag her.”

  My dick goes hard.

  “Nah,” I shake my head. “Just let her go.”

  “You sure?” X asks, his tone dropping low. “I mean I’m no expert, but she’s…”

  “Unhinged?” I laugh, picking up my drink and shooting it back. “Yeah. Let her go. She’s doing her thing.”

  I hang up with X and glare toward a smug Racer. “What?”

  He shrugs, leaning back in his chair and swinging his arms over the top. “Oh nothing, brother, just an observation.”

  “That observation worth you getting your ass kicked?”

  “Nope.”

  Chapter 18

  Shutting the fridge door, I pop the lid off of my beer and squeeze my eyes shut. All that’s flashing through my head right now is Ella fucking dirty dancing to some slutty hip-hop song. There’s a loud bang at the door, jolting me out of the nightmares I’m creating for myself. Dropping my beer to the counter, I walk toward it, fuck the peephole, no motherfucker will knock at my door like the police if he knew what was good for him.

  I swing the door open and it slams against the wall.

  “Wow!” Raze throws his hands up. “Calm down.”

  I instantly relax. “Fucking knock like you’re the damn po po, man. Get you killed.”

  Raze laughs humorlessly.

  Yeah, solid. I’d still give him a go, though.

  I step aside to let him in anyway, and he walks straight to the living room. I shut the door before joining him on the lazy boy opposite. He pauses, running his index finger over his upper lip. “You heard from Ella?”

  That catches my attention instantly. “Yeah, why? Something happen?”

  Raze shakes his head. “Nah. There’s just something that interests me is all. Where’d you grow up, man?”

  “Like from from? Here. Don’t know where the fuck my mom and dad went after they dumped my ass at an orphanage when I was four, but here.” I pause. “Why?”

  He keeps his eyes on mine. “Your mom and dad, remember their name?”

  The fuck?

  “Yeah, I have it on record I think. Why?”

  “Any chance you could have a sister?”

  My blood turns to ice. “Fuck if I know. Probably. After they failed with me it wouldn’t surprise me if they tried again.”

  Raze’s face turns serious, then he takes out a photograph from his pocket. Dyed red hair, bright eyes, heart-shaped face with long dark eyelashes and little petite figure. Pretty. Then it sinks in. She’s the hoodie girl from the lights. What the fuck. “Meet Willow Ambers. Aka, Willow Walters. Daughter of Sebastian & Charlotte Walters—” My blood turns cold, my jaw pulsing in annoyance.

  “—Why you telling me this?”

  Raze pushes the photo back into his jacket. “They assumed she suffered from the same condition as you.”

  “So they got rid of her too?” I should be asking why he’s bringing this up, but it’s Raze, I know he’ll get there eventually. The man just likes to take the scenic route when he wants to make a point.

  Raze shakes his head. “No. She ran. And she’s also…”

  “What?”

  “Ella’s roommate at NYU.”

  “What!” I snap, launching off the chair.

  “Calm down, bro. I don’t think she’s a threat.”

  “Yeah?” I tilt my head. “Well, I don’t feel like taking chances. Not when it’s fucking Ella.”

  Raze doesn’t answer, and it’s then that I realize what I had said. “Well, shit.”

  I drop down onto the lazy boy, ignoring Raze trying to hide his laugh.

  “I’ll be fucking damned.”

  I drop my head into the palm of my hands. “Brother, I’ve been really battling internally with what the fuck is going on lately, and I ain’t going down that road with her. She’s enough while still not being enough if that makes sense.”

  Silence, and then, “Ella? Brother. You sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?” Raze warns, but I know he means it lightly.

  “I don’t fucking know. Can’t help it.”

  Raze stands. “You should speak with Miles sometime. He’ll probably be the only person who knows how you,” Raze gestures to me, “feel, or lack thereof.”

  “Miles?”

  Raze smiles. But it doesn’t reach his eyes. In fact, it’s more of a haunting smile. Dark and musty. “One of the many things he deals with on a daily basis, I guess you could say.”

  “What are we going to do about this shit?”

  Raze stops at the threshold. “Well, you have two options. Wait until this shit blows over with me taking over the operation and let her graduate, but risk the chance of her moving on without you, or go get her ass now, drag her back into it, and to fucking hell with anyone else.”

  “Fuck.” I know what I needed to do, and so did Raze. He leaves, shutting the door behind himself and I sink back into the couch. Three fucking years.

  I pull my phone out of my pocket and hit her name. She picks up on the third ring. She sounds a little soberer now, not slurring as much. Her voice instantly paralyzes me. Fuck.

  “Frost?” she whispers, her breathing heavy on the other end. I leave it for a couple beats, trying to find the right words. Fuck it. Never been good with words. I drop my voice to a low growl. “Three years, Ella. Three-fucking-years, then your ass is mine. Don’t fucking talk to another guy, or I’ll fucking kill him, don’t fucking breathe the same air as someone who is remotely interested in you, or I’ll rip out his fucking throat and send it to you as a souvenir. Three years, Ella. And when you graduate, I’ll be there, on my bike, ready to bring your ass home, on my dick, as my woman, in my house, where the fuck you belong.” Then I hang up, throw my phone across the room until it shatters into a million pieces on impact and reach for the keys to my Harley.

  Chapter 19

  PART TWO

  ELLA

  Three years later

  My fingers graze over the long black gown, and a smile pinches the corner of my lips, before I look up at the cap that’s sitting above it. Graduation day, the day I dreamed about since I even thought about starting NYU.

  The dream I wanted, craved and felt like I needed. The dream that was the ultimate distraction from me running into my demons on a daily basis. Shame I won’t be graduating today like planned, just like it’s a shame that this gown isn’t a real graduation gown, it’s just a fake one Willow purchased for a Halloween party one year.

  “There she is.” Chase walks into my bedroom.

  “Here I am,” I answer with a whisper, more to myself while gripping onto the gown one last time and stepping out of the closet.

  “Mamamama!”

  “Oh hey!” I turn around, my eyes falling on the bundle of perfection that is in Chase’s arms. “Hey princess. So, Mommy was thinking…” I take her from Chase and she snuggles into the crook of my neck. My heart beats for her and only beats for her. I’d cried a thousand tears when I found out I was pregnant… it wasn’t a pretty scene…

  Three years earlier

 
“I’m late.”

  Willow stopped what she was reading, dropping the book onto the desk in front of her. “Late as in, late to an appointment, or late as in, to a class, or late as in—”

  “—Willow! As in mother nature better had forgotten to have her banana today and it slipped past her mind or I’m in deep fucking trouble.”

  “Oh.” Willow’s face paled. “Well, shit. This isn’t good.”

  Oh, she had no idea.

  She stood from her chair and a look of horror flashes over her face briefly. “Ok. Well, we can sort this. Let’s just go and buy a test and I bet you’re freaking out over nothing.”

  God, I’d hoped she was right. Panic started to slip into my bones and I shook it off. “You’re right. We’ll get this over with before I finish my human anatomy paper.”

  We grabbed our things and then went on our way. Willow was scarily more quiet than usual. Although, she did fall on the other side of the spectrum once you sort of got to know her I found. The loud, outspoken, no filter, sort of quirky side.

  “Are you okay?” I ask her as we continued to walk down the busy street and toward the 7-Eleven I knew was on the corner.

  “Yeah,” she cleared her throat. “Look, I think there’s something—”

  “—Shit.” My eyes come up to the store, and I swear to God it was the scariest thing I had ever seen in my entire life. And I had seen some shit.

  “Everything will be fine.” Willow took my hand and led me through the sliding doors. Everything went in slow motion. From walking down the aisle, to choosing the ‘right’ test, to end up just getting one of each, and to paying for eleven pregnancy tests to the clerk who raised her judgey eyebrow at me. Then everything fast-forwarded, and we were back in our dorm, and I was pacing up and down the floor, my hand pressed to my forehead while we waited for the result window to please fucking say not pregnant.