by Lucy Smoke
Black dots assault my vision. My breath rushes in and out and yet it feels like there’s no oxygen in the room. I push against his chest. “Let go!” I cry. Danny laughs in my face, his breath reeking of something sour and nasty. I turn my cheek, looking past him – trying, desperately, to see if anyone notices anything. But the door is closed, and someone has drawn the blinds to the hallway down. I’m alone with a fucking monster, and this time it isn’t me.
27
Tax
I catch Love’s sister waiting outside as I stride through the front doors of the hospital. I promised I wouldn’t leave, and I’m not going to, but damn if all of this doesn’t make me want a goddamn smoke. After bumming a cigarette off of another guy in the waiting room, I take it outside and slip it between my lips. As I had hoped, there are at least a couple of other smokers several yards away from the hospital doors – laws abiders and all that jazz. I quickly prod one of them into a light before I suck in a deep breath of nicotine and make my way over to the girl.
“Hey,” I say, moving close.
Love’s sister starts as if she didn’t realize anyone was around. She looks up and immediately steps back. I don’t blame her. After the shit she’s obviously been through, I’d want to stay the fuck away from guys that look like me – or really guys in general. But other than the one step back, she doesn’t do much else to show her discomfort. Nah. The only way I can tell is by the way her shoulders hunch inward and her eyes dart from side to side – catching on the passersby and making sure that we’re not alone.
I would offer to go get Blake or Cross – Blake especially seems unassuming and Cross… well, maybe he wouldn’t be any better than me. They’re around somewhere with Ally – likely in the cafeteria.
“Hey,” she says. Her voice is smooth, even, but body language doesn’t lie.
“How’re you holding up?” I ask, blowing out a breath of smoke. It lifts, filtering into the air, dancing in front of my face as the wind comes through, sweeping it away like it wasn’t even there.
“Holding up?” she says before straightening her shoulders and unhunching her back. “I’m fine, or I-I’ll be fine. Thanks for…um…everything.”
A tall man in blue jeans and an untucked button down sidles up to the sidewalk and passes us. When he does, Trisha moves back, allowing him room. The way he smiles at her – his lips curled in interest – as he passes makes me scowl. But the guy doesn’t stop or say anything. Good for him because my fists are feeling a bit twitchy despite the cigarette.
“Love’s gonna be okay,” Trisha says drawing my attention.
I glance down at her, but her head is bowed and she’s looking at the ground. “Yeah,” I say, “she is.”
“Thank you.”
I pull on my cigarette, letting the smoke clog my pores and make me feel full. Full of smoke if I can’t be full of Love. “For what?” I exhale, releasing it all. Emptying myself until there’s nothing left.
“For saving her,” Trish says. Her eyes turn to me as she shoves back the mass of blonde hair that falls over her shoulders. “I know.” My hand stills as I bring the cigarette back to my lips. “I know that she didn’t…fall asleep.” My hand lowers, and I look at Trisha. I mean, I really look at her for a change. Her skin is pale, still marred by the bruises. Dark, half-moons of exhaustion hang under her eyes, but she’s still pretty. This girl killed a man a few days ago and yet, she’s still got a spark. And she’s apparently not as oblivious as I thought she was. I’m not sure if I’m impressed or incredibly irritated.
I hum deep in my throat, debating on what to say. “So,” I start, “what exactly do you think you know?”
“I know that it wasn’t an accident. I know that Love has probably done things that she doesn’t want to admit to me. I know that my Mom hurt her.”
“Hmmm.” I drop the cigarette to the ground, crushing it under the toe of my boot. “You know all that, and you didn’t think to keep her from your fucking mother?”
To give the girl credit, she doesn’t flinch. Trisha turns her gaze back to me. “I should have,” she admits. “I know that now. Funny what almost dying does for you. I know better now, though. When my mom gets back, we’re going to her hotel and we’re going to have a long talk. It’s over. I love my sister more than I’m grateful to a woman who has done nothing but torture her.”
Something springs to my mind as I glance around. “Speaking of the bitch, where is your mother?”
“She’s—”
“Trisha, sweetheart!”
Both of our heads turn as a woman in black slacks and a white blouse exits the building. When she sees me, she scowls and hurries over. “Who is this?” she demands as she stops next to Trisha.
“Mom, this is Love’s boyfriend – Tax.” Trisha waves her hand at me and shoots me a look before frowning at her mother. “He was just in Love’s room with us, didn’t you notice him?” Something feels off, though. The moment Trisha let the word ‘boyfriend’ slip, the other woman’s face darkened.
“Oh, no, I didn’t.” She waves her hand. “Well, I’ll have you know, young man, that visiting hours are over,” she snaps in my direction.
“I’ve been informed.” I stare down at her, at the not-so-fine wrinkles along her neck, under and alongside her eyes, and on the backs of her hands. She holds her purse close as she moves. Even when she reaches for her daughter, she has that thing clutched in her grip. It’s not the purse that catches my attention, though. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least for a woman like this to assume I’m some sort of con, a criminal – a thief just waiting to take her little bag. No, it’s that even though she’s holding it close. It’s that her eyes keep darting to the hospital’s entrance. I look over.
“Well, good,” she says quickly, ushering Trisha towards the parking lot. “We really must be going. Come along, dear.”
“Mom?” Trisha turns to the side, avoiding her mother’s touch. When the woman reaches for her again, I grab her wrist.
“I don’t think she wants you touching her,” I growl.
The older woman stares up at me in shock before snatching her wrist from my grip. “How dare you lay a hand on me,” she says before turning to Trisha. “Of course, leave it to your sister to have such vile friends. Now, come on, let’s go.”
“Mom!” It’s Trisha this time who rips herself from her mother’s grip, “that fucking hurts.”
Once again, the woman’s eyes dart to the hospital’s entrance. I step closer, crowding her against the building. “She’s hiding something,” I say.
“W-what?” The woman looks to the side before up at me.
“What are you hiding?” I ask.
“Mom?” Trisha steps up alongside me, but she doesn’t attempt to help her mother.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I grab the woman’s throat, squeezing until she yelps and wheezes. “Where were you just now?” I demand.
“I-I—”
“She said she had to go to the bathroom,” Trisha answers for her.
“How long was she gone?” I ask.
“Um…it was…” Trisha looks at her mother. “You were gone for a long time, what happened?” Trisha steps closer as her mother finally loses it.
The older woman screams and thrashes against me, scratching like a demon. I growl and step back, yanking Trisha with me when the woman tries to reach for her.
“Let’s go!” she screams. “We have to go.”
“Why?” Trisha demands. “Why do we have to leave right—”
It clicks. “Love.” It has something to do with Love. I turn, leaving the old bitch as I rush for the doors.
I realize I’m not alone when the old woman screams Trisha’s name. I look down, but Trisha ignores it, hitting the sliding glass doors first as she rockets through them and into the front lobby. Several nurses attempt to stop us, and I shove more than a few orderlies out of the way as Trisha and I head straight for Love’s room. The door is closed, the bli
nds drawn down.
“Stop!” Love’s panicked cry hits my ears. I get to the doorway, nearly ripping the thing out of its frame when I see a familiar man – the same prick that had eye-balled Trisha outside, stands over Love, cornering her between the wall and the bed.
“Tax!” I don’t know if it’s Love or Trisha who screams my name, but what I do know is that all I see is red as I launch myself at the man.
My fist connects with the man’s face. When he crumples, though, I don’t stop. I slam my knuckles into the bastard’s mouth, feeling teeth cut against my skin as blood drips onto the floor.
I get it. I finally fucking get it. This is the fucking piece of shit that used her – that hurt her. My fist comes down again as the man tries to scramble out from under me. Instead of hitting his mouth, I aim for his throat and he chokes. Both of his hands clasp around his neck as his face turns a sickening cherry red.
There are shouts in the halls and then Blake and Cross are in the room with me. They take one look at the guy beneath me before herding Ally and Trisha back out into the hall. Blake takes his place at the door as Cross captures Love’s arm and attempts to pull her away, too.
“Tax.”
I curl my fingers again and sink my fist into the man’s fleshy gut. “You think you can fucking touch her?” I ask. “You think you can touch what’s fucking mine?” I grab him by the front of his shirt and haul him up—red face, trembling limbs, bloody mouth.
“Tax!” Love snaps.
I grin wickedly at the man in my grasp, bloodlust running hot in my veins. It never fucking left. It rages, burning through me as I stare at my victim. When the man laughs, throwing his head back, I don’t lose my focus. He chuckles through bloodstained teeth.
“She’s yours?” he asks. “Didn’t she tell you, she’ll be anyone’s for the right fucking price, man. Just put a roof over her head and some clothes on her back and she’ll spread her pretty legs for you. It’s a bit frozen down there, though. She’s a frigid bitch.”
I reel back and enjoy the sing of air against my skin as my fist moves. Cartilage crunches under my knuckles and blood spurts, hitting my neck and soaking the front of the man’s shirt. He groans, clutching his face.
“Fucking fine!” he tries to say. “You want her? You can fucking have her!”
I put my hand around the man’s neck, squeezing tight. I can hear noise behind me. Nurses and doctors. Hospital security is on their way. Possibly cops. I hold down on the worm’s windpipe, bringing my face close to his.
“Let me make this fucking clear,” I say slowly, succinctly. “The only fucking person who can give her to me is Love. And yeah, she’s mine. But only because she agrees. So, if you ever come near my fucking girl again, I won’t just give you the beating of a lifetime, I’ll put you in the ground. Understand?”
The man nods rapidly through another groan of pain, and I release him, letting the filthy pile of garbage slump to the ground. When I turn, I fully expect horror – perhaps even fear from Love. I did what needed to be done, what should have been done for her years before. And if she hates me for that, so be it.
Instead, what I see is her punching Cross in the gut. Cross grunts and releases an obviously struggling Love. Once she’s free, Love tackles me. Her arms go around me, legs spread as she climbs up my chest. I turn around and growl when I realize she’s naked under her goddamn hospital gown.
“Legs off,” I snap. “You’re fucking naked, Love.”
She slides her legs down as Blake is finally moved from the door by two men in Hospital Security uniforms. “What is going on here?!” A woman who I assume to be the hospital’s head nurse shoves her way forward and takes in the room. “What happened?”
“That man tried to rape me,” Love says, hissing the word that makes me want to pound my fist back into the motherfucker’s skull until I crack it open like an egg. “My boyfriend came in and stopped him.”
I look down at the top of her head as the nurse glances between us and the bloody man on the ground. She sighs loudly. “Are you okay?” she asks.
Love nods her head quickly, as if the faster she answers will also equal how favorable the nurse will be towards us. I shake my head and move Love to the side, closer to the door, with her back against the wall.
“I won’t apologize,” I say gruffly as Love clings to my front. I hold her to me with a steady hand rubbing up and down her back, touching her hair, sliding the strands over my fingers. It doesn’t matter that her hair isn’t clean, or that it’s dried into a tangled mess. She’s fucking gorgeous to me.
“This is gonna be a nightmare to figure out,” the woman says, nodding to the security staff holding Blake. “Go ahead and let him go. Call the police, though, we have to report this.” She looks down at the man again. “And get a gurney in here, we might as well treat the man before they take him away.”
The nurse continues to bark orders, and I’m left to hold the goddamn love of my life in my arms. Love buries her face against my shirt, mindless of the blood on my skin as she burrows. The buzzing noise of conversation grows distant as I tuck a finger under her chin and lift her to look up at me. I kiss her lips gently.
“I love you,” I whisper against her mouth.
“I love you, too,” she says, “but I need to tell you something.”
I move back, looking down at her. She bites her lip. I can feel her limbs shaking and I soothe her with a hand on the back of her head, stroking through the dark strands of her hair. “As long as you’re okay, I don’t care.”
Love swallows. “He called me,” she says, her voice shaking. “You told me to be honest with you and I promised I would. No more lies, never again. I promised. I was going to tell you, but I wanted to wait until I was out of the hospital.” Her eyes are impossibly wide as she stares up at me.
“He called you? When?” I glare at the piece of shit as the head nurse directs him to be lifted onto a stretcher.
“Last night,” Love says.
I look back at her. “Last night?”
She nods and then she buries her head against my chest. “I’ll never do it again,” she swears. “Because you’ll be there.”
“That’s right,” I say, kissing her forehead. “I’ll always save you, Lovely.”
The short moments we stand pressed together aren’t long enough, but Trish finally manages to get back in the room, and when she sees the blood on the floor, along with the man being carried out, her shocked, horrified eyes meet mine. Then she turns and runs. I know exactly where she’s heading. And if Love weren’t in my arms right now, I’d join her. But if I get anywhere near Love’s stepmother right now, I’ll kill her. I hope Love’s sister does the right thing.
Epilogue
Love
The sting sears against the inside of my wrist, but Tax holds me tight – his front to my back. It doesn’t actually hurt. It isn’t like I’ve never gotten a tattoo before. My entire back is covered in the scars of my past: the roots of my fucked up family tree and the flight of birds that circled around to my arm. No, tattooing doesn’t hurt. Sure, it feels like a pinprick of a concentrated burn scraping into my skin, but physical pain is nothing to the suffering I had endured in my own head. Still, though, Tax holds me.
He holds me proudly. He holds me like I’m the one thing on Earth that can anchor him. I love it. I love him, and it feels so amazing to love someone like this.
“Okay, so you’re coming then?” Tax’s new band manager, Brianne, repeats, her voice echoing loudly through the phone as she tries to be heard over the buzzing of the tattoo gun.
“Yes,” Tax says. “Love and I will be there next week.”
“You’re going to be here for a few weeks,” Brianne reminds us. “What about your housing situation down there?”
“Cross is staying behind for a week or two to finish out his current contract with the gym before he heads up. Trisha’s moving into Love’s apartment after it gets fixed up; it’ll be fine,” Tax says.
Brianne isn’t new to the band scene – in fact, she’s a contact of Sarge’s and was representing him for a while before whatever happened to his hands. Tax told me there was some nerve damage in his fingers and he couldn’t play as well as he used to. But now his old manager is representing Tax and the guys. As she has been running their schedule, more and more venues across the nation have been added. They’ll likely be going on tour soon. They’ve gotten to know each other quite well—or enough for Tax to know that she may find listening in on our tattoo session annoying, but necessary since we have very little time for everything else they have to do.
We could have gotten the tattoos while we were in another city, but Tax wanted them now—before we left. He said it was so that no matter where I went, I would know—and likely everyone else who saw the tattoo would know—exactly who I belonged to. I smile at the older man as he continues stroking the needle over my skin.
“We’ll talk to you later, Bri,” Tax says. As soon as he hangs up, Cross’s name comes across the screen. He groans.
“Just answer it,” I say, bumping him with my shoulder.
“No moving,” Bill, the artist, says gruffly. I murmur a quick apology as Tax swipes his finger across the screen.
“What do you want, man? I’m in the middle of something.”
“I cut all my hours at the gym. I’m only teaching the self-defense course until we leave for New York,” he says over the speakerphone. “Ally’s packed and ready to go for next weekend.”
I flinch as Tax stiffens against me—and not in the fun way. I’d love to say Tax’s sister was going to be around with us, but it just wasn’t fair to take a teenage girl to the big city and leave her all alone while Tax ran around doing his band stuff. I wouldn’t be able to hang out with her either since I would have to start focusing on my online editing and website design business. Even if online schooling was just as good as public, face-to-face schooling, and Tax wanted to take her, he knew it wasn’t right.
