by Janice Ross
Bit by bit, my breath seemed to get cut away. I wanted to look into his eyes, yet at the same time wanted to keep mine hidden. My hands formed fists at my sides, causing my entire body to become rigid, unbendable.
“I couldn’t do it.”
“You broke up with her for me?” I was mortified.
“I did it for me, for her,” he whispered. “I had to be honest with myself. Now, you do too.”
“Then you need time to heal, Lucas.” Walking away was the last thing I wanted, but this had to be too soon. “And, and you guys still live together.”
“So . . .” He reached for my chin to tilt it as far as it would take to make me focus only on him. “We’re not together anymore. She needs to be happy. I want to be happy. You deserve happiness too.”
“Yeah. But, Lucas . . .” I barely got out his name when my voice croaked.
Setting one foot in front of the other, I now shifted attention to the door. Shaking him off, the tears rolled down my cheeks slowly and on each side, like they were sneaking away. “You’re saying everything right, but the words mean nothing. You guys are still living together. Besides, how would I know this is really over with her until one of you moves out?”
“Trust me, please? She’s dealing with some family issues, first. I’d be an asshole to force her out.”
Lucas reached for me, while his hands gripped my waist. I couldn't fight as he shifted me around to look at him. He then ran his thumbs underneath the meat of each cheek. He used a little extra force in stroking the flesh. I tried to convince myself that it was painful, though my body responded that it was painfully good. With each movement, he only diminished my walls. While I internalized the idea that I couldn’t have him and shouldn’t want to, my body held off on cooperating.
I wasn’t the type of girl to chase behind some guy, especially a mentally unavailable one. I didn’t try to take what wasn’t mine. Above all, I preferred to be left to my own thoughts, instead of getting caught up in drama. For those times when I desired to reach outside of myself, I looked to my bestie or this one—my ace. He was my number one friend, in that capacity. Period!
Lucas was supposed to be my go-to guy-friend. He was the text-message guy, the chat-on-the-phone guy. He was my rock in many ways. In all that, he’d captured my heart, when I’d let the walls down. But this was too much. At twenty-four, I was old enough to know better than to screw with a man whose mind might’ve still been tied up, no matter how much I believed he should've been mine in the first place.
Taking in a mouthful of air, I tried to run for the exit. Even when Lucas’s hand held onto my elbow, I shook wildly to get away. His touch penetrated my skin. I felt it to my core.
“Shay, don’t go.”
I didn’t want to leave, but didn’t have a choice. My insides sang with a wild thump, thump, thumping from the heartbeats. I willed my legs to move, but his pleas had a greater pull.
“Shay, I need you to stay. Let’s talk.” If those words didn’t do anything, his final plea shattered the walls when he added, “Please.”
My fight was gone. Lucas had done something only he could do: soothe the fire with his words because of our emotional ties. I held onto my cries, captured the sobs in my chest and tossed my head side to side. I despised myself for being weak and in love. My head hung low, until all I was able to study was the gray floor of the basement. That pause was just enough to let him know that I could be his. Realizing my error, I swung my head almost mechanically.
“Nooo,” I whined in a somber tone.
“Yes, I can fix this,” he pleaded in a heavy whine.
“No, Lucas.” His finger tightened on my arm. This time, I turned to him full-on to advise, “No, you have to give it time; damn, Lucas, I need to be free.”
Lucas gripped my chin only to trail up to tilt my chin. His breath lashed at my eyelids, then trailed across my cheeks until he breathed onto my tender lips. There we were, two friends panting, with no more than an inch to separate us.
“Let. Me. Go,” I whispered. My voice cracked at the very end. There was a type of finality to the words, as if I had no intention of ever coming back to him. Actually, I wanted to draw the line, build a wall and sever the ties. Who was I kidding? I tried to convince myself to never think about him beyond this evening. “I don’t want this . . . And you. You made a choice, now live with it.”
“That was then, Shay, this is now ,” he growled and tried to hold me.
There was a spark. Literally, as the tip of his fingers got ready to caress my elbow. I shook him off. “No. No. No.”
He reached out for me all over again, but stopped when I squinted.
“Don’t you see, Shay? I fixed things.” His hands went up, fingers gripped the thick, dark brown hair. “I want you. I need you. I wanna have a life with you!”
“Not with me!” My voice cracked. My throat burned. And the tears flowed. I loved him with every inch of me but outside of the obvious, too many issues had been weighing down my soul.
“So, you’re asking me—”
“Telling. I’m telling you to let me go.”
“And if I can’t, Shay?”
“I’ll make it easy on you. Just forget about me!” As the final sound passed from my lips, I walked away.
In the end, I hadn’t won over his strength. I was barely strong enough to get away. He ultimately had no choice than to let me go.
HOW IT ALL BEGAN
——————————
FIVE & A HALF YEARS EARLIER
——————————
SHAYNA
“UMMM . . .” a drowsy male voice moaned. My hips were thrust upward as someone tugged on my tiny shorts. A metallic scent carried through the air, followed by a stale alcoholic aroma. Every damn person I knew drank, not a little—a whole damn lot! The stench was stifling.
I kicked and it connected with a gut. I think.
“Shit!” he hollered.
Score one for me. Screw the damn pervert who was willing to take advantage of a sleeping female. Taking a deep breath, I eased open my eyes and reached for the phone that was next to me on the sleazy, coffee-colored leather couch. It had fallen out of my hand when I’d passed out. My mom must’ve talked herself to sleep too.
The room carried a stale perfume scent, like someone had OD’d in a cheap fragrance at six o’clock the previous morning. But it was no different than usual. Plus, there wasn’t an ounce of light on inside of the room, and when I pressed the button for my cell, I had to blink several times.
3:45 a.m.
“Shit!” I jumped up, grabbed for my striped Vicky tote and searched out my shoes with the flashlight from the phone.
“Where are you going, Taylor?” He used my fake name, the one from the old ID I’d paid $150 to a nameless geeky tech I never saw again.
Taylor Rosen.
Yeah, because I really looked like that could be my name. Either I was stupid or Van was just desperate to believe in someone.
I shrugged him off. He kept coming closer.
He felt comfortable. Too comfortable and too familiar.
He stood close. Too close.
“You’re gonna make me hyperventilate,” I whined.
He laughed from down in his gut, sending out more of his alcoholic stench. I sighed, drawing out the expression to make it clear that I wasn’t amused. He moved away. The lights came on brighter.
“Am I coming home with you?” he drawled. His beady black eyes were glossy. He had the nerve to grab at his crotch while talking to me.
“Oh, um . . . I have an early day tomorrow. Um, I’m sorry, V.” I never felt comfortable about letting him into my home. In fact, Van didn’t really know where I lived. All of my mail was either directed to a PO box, or I’d have items come to the club. Work stayed at work. My personal life never crossed with this place, what little of it there was.
“I’m not begging anymore,” Van finally responded, turning for his desk. He plopped down, proudly playin
g the part of king in his domain. A hint of a beer belly extended from his shirt. Not saying he wasn’t a good-looking guy or anything. Van just didn’t do it for me.
Tiny prickles ran up and down my spine as I studied his semi-attractive face. He had this perfectly tanned skin like he’d been kissed by the sun. He had a single dimple in his left cheek and the most gorgeous, forest-green eyes. But there was a darkness too, it fell all over him. All the same, he looked out for me and got a pass because of that.
“Can you drop me home, V?”
“Only if I can come in.” Forget about the way he accentuated the “come in.” My insides churned.
“Never mind, I’ll call a cab.”
“You can’t cut me a break? I give you more affection than anyone else. I pamper you, Taylor. Do you think it’s just because I’m looking out for you?”
“Van, we’re cool, right?” Sure, I might’ve led him on. It wasn’t intentional. I actually enjoyed being around him and knew he was safe, for many reasons. But getting involved in an actual relationship with him was nowhere on my agenda. Someday, I planned on having a kick-ass romance with the right type of man, when I became the right type of woman. Maybe I’d even decide to have kids. As for Van, he definitely wasn’t the man for me. And the time, sure as hell, wasn’t now.
He sprang up from the seat, his boots hitting the floor with loud thuds. Neither of us spoke. Instead, I clutched my personal items to my chest. My stilettos dangled from my pinky finger, while the soles knocked on my right thigh.
“Boss, ready?” The door shoved open. Axel, his driver, appeared. He literally filled the passageway. His entire body moved when he inhaled and exhaled, making him resemble an oversized teddy bear. He was intimidating to a degree, if not for the fuzzy dimples set among the whiskers of his beard.
Van paused, ran his eyes over me, turned back to Axel and then pumped his head up. He signaled me out of the door with two fingers.
The club was empty. The scent of alcohol hung in the air, along with desperation. I felt sick for a second there as images of desperate men from the club flooded my mind. They loved this club for the hot girls, not necessarily women. I’d had my doubts, but couldn’t prove anything and no one ever talked about the specifics. And I, I didn’t ask questions either.
Hard to believe the venue had been packed so much that he’d had to turn people away. But I tiptoed through, securing my items to my chest. A chilly sensation trailed down my neck to rest on my back. Once outside, I took the back seat of a cream Escalade, hoping that Van would sit up front, but he didn’t.
“How many stops, boss?” Axel teased.
I squinted at the rearview mirror, throwing invisible punches his way.
Van spat out, “We’re dropping her at the usual spot. You can take me home afterwards. You won’t have to pick me up until late afternoon.”
Axel nodded, turned up the music and sped off. Van eased over on the leather seats to my side, only to lean his head on my shoulder. I tensed up when his fingers started massaging through my blue chiffon blouse. He eventually landed inside of the pale material.
“V, c’mon . . .”
“Can I come home with you?” He was persistent as hell!
I wanted to shove him away. But couldn’t forget how he’d found me when I needed a friend the most. Shit, I was in full view of anything that could possibly occur, so there was absolutely no way in hell that I was going to demean myself. I needed to be firm with him; not to piss him off, but strong enough to make him stop. I wasn’t trying to make him think I was ungrateful. After my family life deteriorated, he’d found me. Van had accepted me—a shy, broken girl. Could’ve left me out on the streets, but chose to take me in. I didn’t want to insult him. I could just never be with him in the way he wanted.
“Van?” I whispered.
But then . . .
Boom!
The vehicle threw us forward. My reflexes kicked in as my palms pounded on the back of the seat. I then gripped the headrest with one hand and unhooked the seatbelt with my other.
“You‘re okay?” Van asked. He sat at the edge of the seat and reached behind his back. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
The doors flew open. I saw guns before men, dressed in full black, including ski masks, from head to toes and without identifying marks.
“Drop it!” one of the men shouted.
I wasn’t sure of what Van did next because I got pulled out and was forced to stand at the back half of the truck. Streams of tears rolled down my face, but I counted just two men guarding me.
“Do you know who I am?” I heard Van scream out.
“You think we’re amateurs?” someone replied.
Shots fired. I dropped to the ground as a shower of the worst kind poured around me. Gunshots! The men that had been guarding me took off. After several rounds of machine gun bullets and maybe ten seconds of deathly quiet, I got enough courage to get up on my knees.
My bag was on the floor of the vehicle. I slowly pulled it out, unable to see much else. As I made slow movements, the beating of my heart pulsed through my eardrums. Remaining low, I shifted and nearly fell over a body. Blood tainted my hands as I clambered to get up and keep moving.
I gasped but nearly tripped over another. Only then did the stench of death hit me. I crept low, away from the truck. Not once did I think to look back. I could’ve been seconds away from death but didn’t care. I only wanted to get away.
When I reached the sidewalk, I paused for a few deep breaths. The tears had finally stopped flowing. I felt optimistic about survival.
“Taylor . . .” It was Van. He limped toward me, his clothes torn and soiled.
“You’re okay?” I jumped up and into his arms. Pulling back just enough, I searched for bullets or blood. I thought he signified safety. I cried. A gush of tears rushed down my face, some soaked up whatever part of his body I was leaning up against. And for the first time since meeting him, I considered having him take me all the way home.
“Can’t nothing or no one take me out,” he swore. Rubbing his thumb on my chin, he asked if I was all right.
I parted my lips to reply. My throat was dry. I took a few seconds to think on my answer because even though I hadn’t gotten hurt, my mind was totally fried. I was still scared and shaking and ready to end living, just so I wouldn’t have to go through anything like this ever again.
“Did you think it would be that easy?” a female voice kinda whistled at us. In slow motion, I turned my head to the voice and zoomed in. She was dressed in black, with strands of blonde hair streaming through a cap. It was pulled low enough that you couldn’t quite make out all of her features, but it was obvious that she was gorgeous.
“Who the hell are you?” Van asked. His arm snaked around my waist as he yanked me into his groin. I could’ve thrown up right there, but I swallowed hard and forced back down the vomit.
“No time for that. I need you to take a walk with me.”
Van laughed kind of shaky.
“It’ll be even funnier when this place starts swarming with police and you’re forced to explain these dead bodies,” she threw out.
I’d forgotten Van had a gun until he pulled it out and pointed directly at her. As much as I was scared out of my mind, I couldn’t help but mentally trace the sleek design. I was inches away from something that could end a life. Silent alarms sounded in my mind. I squirmed around, but his grip grew tighter.
“What’s this, Van?” I mumbled, turning my head just enough until I was able to see him from the corner of my eyes. “You’re squeezing the hell out of me.”
“Don’t move.” He yanked me closer into him. “Stay quiet.”
My tear ducts burned as I searched out some kind of hint from the stranger. I didn’t know if she was a friend or enemy. Right now, Van had me feeling like he was nothing but an evil and twisted bastard for doing me this way.
“Van . . .”
“Shut the fuck up!” he screamed and drew me up.
I had to inch up on my toes. My fingers tried to pry away his god-awful hold until I felt the cold steal at my temple. I swallowed air, stopped squirming around and gazed into the dark, dusty night. There were houses in the distance. Streetlights appeared dim. Open fields were still, cold . . . empty. Deafening silence fell all around us. Everything waited for this bastard to make his next move.
“I don’t have anything to lose,” she assured. Something in the way she spoke to him and looked at me seemed kind of reassuring. She adjusted her cap with one hand. Her lashes fluttered down just for a brief second.
But then, we heard footsteps. In the seconds that followed, I literally felt Van’s hold on me get loose. My head pounded and heart raced. I glanced up in time to see the girl nod up.
My life flashed in front of me: old smiles and new tears. I ducked, unsure of how this would turn out. Sometimes I felt ready to die; right now, I wanted to live! God, I wanted to live, even if my life was the opposite of perfect. I didn’t want death. I chose life as my knees bent and I touched the ground with my fingertips.
Two shots fired. The noise blasted my eardrums, but I became free.
Van shouted out, “Fuck!”
Another muffled yell filled the air, though I think my heartbeat overpowered the cries.
As I reached down to the road to snatch up my bag, I saw Van’s gun flip onto the ground. Blood gushed out from a wound. I was the last thing on his mind.
“Get the gun!” the girl yelled. She walked up to the truck and quickly fired a single bullet in each tire.
I lunged forward to the gun. Off to the side, behind Van, Axel was on his back. He was squeezing his right leg.
“Taylor, I swear to God, I’ll find you!” Van yelled. He didn’t come for me though. In fact, he didn’t follow us as we raced up the sidewalk and around the corner. He let me go.
Once in an old black Corvette, we sat there. The windows were tinted and the outside world ceased to exist. But we just sat there.
