Center of Gravity (Marauders Book 3)

by Lina Andersson

  “Mitch,” she mumbled. “This list has transformed from ‘things I couldn’t do because I was a dancer’ to ‘things I haven’t done,’ and now I think it’s just things you want to do with me.”

  He let go of her nipple and looked at her. “That a problem?”

  “No,” she smiled. “Not at all. Unless it’s me stealing stuff.”

  “Shoplifting, baby,” he said and groaned when she rolled her hips. “Just shoplifting.”

  He wasn’t able to convince her to go to the party with him, though. She had loads of excuses, including not having a gift. So he warned her that Eliza had a birthday the next week, he wanted her to come, and that his baby sister was a crazy feminist who’d written an essay about the role of women in ballet. He left it to her to figure out what to give a girl like that for her fifteenth birthday.

  She did, however, tell him that the main reason she was pissed that day was that some customers had told her she didn’t know the first thing about culture. To his amusement, she’d snapped and told them she’d been a principal dancer at the New York City Ballet and had culture coming out of her ass. He thought it was kind of funny but took care not to laugh out loud.

  The weekend after, they did the full-day-in-bed thing. They stayed naked most of the day, ordered in pizza and ate it in bed, talked, and had sex. It was amazing, and she agreed that they should do that at least once a month. If she could get something other than pizza because it was not one of the things she’d missed due to dancing, it was because she thought it was disgusting. When she suggested sushi, he protested, though. It had to be something greasy, and when she asked why, he showed her by licking all the grease off her.

  She came to Eliza’s birthday party and gave her a book, Scheherazade Goes West. He’d taken a look at the index, and the chapters had names like ‘Intelligence versus Beauty,’ ‘Sex in the Western Harem,’ and ‘Size 6: The Western Women’s Harem.’ He’d known Eliza would love it.

  At the end of January, Anna was going to New York for a long weekend to meet old friends. He thought it was a good idea and possibly a way for her to get some closure. She spent the last night before she left with him, and he realized that since Christmas they hadn’t spent many nights apart.

  He kissed her goodbye in the morning, and she said she’d call when she got back. He’d bitten his tongue dozens of times in the last few weeks not to tell her he was insanely in love with her, that he couldn’t get enough of her, and that he wanted them to just fucking admit they weren’t just fuck buddies—she was his girlfriend. But he didn’t. She kissed him goodbye, he watched her get into the elevator and wave at him with a big smile, and that was it. Besides a text to let him know she’d arrived safely, he didn’t hear from her again. When he called, she didn’t answer or declined his calls. No answers on texts either. Dead silence. Nothing.

  -o0o-

  It wasn’t later than nine, maybe nine-thirty, and he was already piss drunk, sitting in the armchair in his dorm with a girl sitting between his legs, giving him a blowjob. It was okay, not much more than that. Definitely not even close to anything Anna had done to his dick. At the thought of her, he took another swig out of the bottle, but it was too late. He grabbed the bitch’s hair, pulled her off his dick, and nodded towards the door.

  “Get out.”

  “But...”

  “Get. Out!”

  Once she was gone, he pulled up his jeans and grabbed the bottle again. It was pathetic, but he couldn’t make it work with any of the other bitches, and it wasn’t for lack or trying.

  It had been almost four weeks since Anna had left, and he had no fucking idea what had gone wrong but figured she’d met some old boyfriend in New York, who also had culture coming out of his ass, and had decided that was much more the kind of guy she wanted than an outlaw biker. He just wished she had the fucking balls to tell him that instead of just cutting him off. He should’ve known better, though. Girls like her might like to go slumming, but they always hooked up with the proper guys. The suits.

  He’d thought they’d had something going, but he’d obviously been wrong about that, too. It might just be that he was shit at relationships, really shit, and had misjudged everything. Maybe he should’ve just told her that he was in love with her, but he still believed it would’ve scared her. And if she were just slumming, admitting it would still have ended it all anyway.

  He hadn’t even bothered talking to Lisa and had, in fact, avoided her the best he could. He didn’t want to hear about him, who ever the fuck it was Anna had met in New York, or what other possible fucking revelation she’d had that had made her cut him off completely.

  Once the bottle was empty, he moved to lie on the bed instead and finally managed to fall asleep, or possibly pass out.

  The next day was Mel’s birthday. He usually liked the fact that a lot of people meant a lot of birthday parties, but at the moment he really just wanted to not meet anyone. But it was Mel, she’d been his second mother since he was around ten, and he owed her better than to bail out on her on her birthday. He dragged his ass out of bed, got dressed, and went home for a shower and some clean clothes. After a lot of painkillers and a couple of hours of sleep in his own bed, he went to his dad and Mel’s place.

  Most of the people were already there. He handed Mel her gift, some fancy kitchen aid his dad had said she wanted, and gave her a kiss.

  “How are you, honey?” she asked with worried eyes.

  “I’ll be fine, Mel, don’t worry.”

  He’d barely finished the sentence when someone grabbed his arm, dragged him out on the porch, and the next second Lisa was in his face.

  “What did you do?”

  He didn’t have to ask what it was about. “Nothing. I didn’t do shit.”

  “Then why the fuck isn’t she answering my calls?”

  “I don’t know, she’s not answering my calls either.”

  She calmed down, crossed her arms over her chest, and stared at him for a long time in dead silence. He sighed and sat down, since he still felt like crap, and his head was pounding.

  “What happened?” Lisa finally asked.

  “She went to New York, said she’d call me when she got back, and she hasn’t. Guess she figured out I was trash and hooked up with some old boyfriend or something,” he shrugged.

  “You know as well as I do that she’s not some cultural snob.”

  “What the fuck do we know? You knew her years ago. Going back and reconnecting with her old life... I don’t know. Only thing I could think of.”

  He took a deep breath and lit a smoke to try to control himself.

  “When a woman shuts a man out, it’s because she knows she can’t refuse him if she sees him.”

  “Lisa, we both know that’s bullshit.”

  “Not always.”

  He looked at her. “I’m not doing this now. Sorry. I know she’s your friend, but this is none of your business.”

  “But—”

  “No. I’m not doing this.”

  “Hey!” she exclaimed, and glared at him. “This isn’t just about Anna. It’s just as much about you, because I love you. You’re a fucking mess right now, and it feels like it’s my fault. And even if I haven’t seen her or talked to her, I’m pretty sure she is, too.”

  Mitch wasn’t all that convinced about that, but didn’t see the point in protesting. Lisa had a way of not listening to anyone but herself. Especially when she was in this mood.

  “I mean, you know where she lives!” she continued relentlessly. “Go there, make her talk to you. You deserve that.”

  Maybe he did, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what Anna had to say, and he didn’t think Lisa’s five-cent psychology about a woman ‘not being able to refuse him if she sees him’ was even close to right. Not in this case. When he didn’t answer, Lisa leaned over him and gave his cheek a kiss.

  “I’ll let you stew a while longer. Then I’m coming back.”

  He gave her a tired nod.

/>   “It’s not your fault,” he said when she was at the door. “Just thought you should know. And I love you, too.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled. “I’m here if you wanna talk.”

  “I know.”

  He stayed out on the porch when she went inside. In a way she was right, it would at least be some kind of closure, finding out what the hell had happened, because he honestly didn’t have a single fucking clue. Anna was just gone. It wasn’t as if they’d had a fight, said or done anything that could indicate that something was wrong. Quite the opposite, the last month had been fucking awesome, and he was sure she’d felt the same.

  The door opened again, and this time it was Eliza.

  “How’s my girl?” he asked with a tired smile.

  “Better than you,” she answered and sat down on the deck next to his chair. “It was a great book. The one Anna gave me.”

  “Good. What feminist crap did it teach you?” He was teasing her. Secretly he was really fucking proud and relieved that she knew her own value. She wouldn’t let any guy control her or push her to do shit she didn’t want to. “Anything I can use to lure women in?”

  “It starts with a story from ‘The Arabian Nights’ called ‘The Lady with the Feather Dress’ and it explains how love can become a prison. Like a gilded cage.” She leaned her head on his thigh, and he put his hand over her golden hair. The girl who’d been the cutest child he’d ever seen was becoming a beautiful woman. “Do you know what ‘Arabian Nights’ is about?”

  “Yeah, a woman trying to stay alive by telling stories. The king has a nasty habit of marrying virgins just to kill them the next morning because his previous wife was unfaithful. Then a woman stays alive by telling him stories.” He hadn’t actually read much from the book, but he’d heard about it. And seen some porn based on it. “And before you say it, I know it’s called ‘A Thousand and One Nights’ in other countries.”

  Eliza laughed, she was smart and read a lot, and she loved to hit people in the head with facts. And she also loved how she never got away with it when she talked to him. He knew that feeling.

  “Yes. Anyway, that book was a view of Western women from a feminist Muslim woman’s perspective. It was interesting. I’d never thought about our fixation with size, age, and beauty as something of a harem, our prison.”

  “Weren’t harems just something rich dudes had to get laid?”

  “No. It was a prison, a way to control women. Here women are controlled in other ways. Instead of physical walls that we can see, we have mental ones.”

  “Honey, I love you, you know I do, but why the fuck do you think I’m the right guy to talk to about feminism? I’m sort of an ass, you know that.”

  “Which makes you the perfect guy to talk to about feminism,” she said with a sly smile. “How are you doing? Really.”

  “Pretty shit, to be honest. I’ll be fine, though. It’s my job to worry about you, not the other way around, Buttercup.”

  “You’re not my dad, you’re my brother, which means that’s bullshit. We take care of each other, so don’t even try telling me to not worry about you.”

  He sat up straight and pointed at the chair next to his, and she moved to it. He still thought she was wrong. She was his baby sister, so it wasn’t just about taking care of each other. The day she was born, he and Mac had promised their dad they’d look after her and be there for her when Brick couldn’t. Brick definitely couldn’t deal with the fact that she was becoming a woman, so Mitch figured that making sure that went as smoothly as possible was on everyone but Brick. Which didn’t make him a bad father; he was there for her in other ways, and she really was the apple of his eye.

  At the same time, she’d continue worrying no matter what he said, so it was better to just fill her in on the basics.

  “Things are a bit shit between me and Anna. I’ll get over it, no matter what happens, so don’t worry about it too much.”

  “Okay.” Eliza hugged her legs. “You really like her, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  They all knew, for sure. They gossiped like bitches, all of them, and him walking around with her in the clubhouse, disappearing into an alley on New Year’s, and not paying any attention to sweetbutts had made it really clear to everyone that, yes, he really liked Anna.

  “She’s nice,” Eliza mumbled. “Kind of disappears in a crowd, but nice. Mom and Edie like her as well.”

  “What are you trying to say?” he asked and gave his baby sister a glare.

  “Gather your balls and go get her.” She smiled even wider. “Sink or swim, you know.”

  “It’s swim or sink, baby, but I’ll try to stay afloat,” he laughed and stood up. He pulled her out of her chair and gave her a hug. “One of these days that mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble, Buttercup.” He kissed the top of her head. “Let me know when that happens, and I’ll gather my balls and rescue you.”

  “You’ve taught me how to rescue myself, but having you guys around does help. I mean have you seen my dad? Not like anyone would dare to fuck with me.” She gave him a squeeze. “Come and celebrate Mom. I know you’re kind of an ass, but don’t make her worry on her birthday.”

  He agreed. Mel didn’t deserve that, so they both went inside and he sat down at the table with Eliza next to him. He stuck around the entire day and crashed in the guest room that night.

  -o0o-

  On the Saturday of weekend after the yearly spring Hog Roast, which he’d actually skipped for the first time ever, his doorbell rang and Mitch found Mac standing outside, holding up joints. His brother pointed towards the terrace.

  “You and me, these, out there. We need to talk.”

  “I guess Lisa told you,” Mitch muttered and pulled a hoodie over his head before opening the door to the terrace.

  “Uh, no.” Mac stared at him. “Fucking hell, tell me you didn’t go there.”

  “What?”

  “Did you fuck Lisa?”

  “No! Jesus! Give me some fucking credit.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Fucking hell.”

  “Sit down,” Mac said once they were outside, and Mitch did.

  He’d told Mac that Anna had gone to New York and that he hadn’t heard from her, but that was the last thing Mac knew about.

  “So why are you getting me stoned?” Mitch finally asked.

  “Yesterday I rode through Phoenix, and I saw Anna coming out of an abortion clinic.”

  “What?” Mitch didn’t really get it.

  “She was leaving an abortion clinic.”

  Mitch stared at him. His brain didn’t comprehend what Mac was saying at all. Then all synapses set off at once, and his brain was doing calculations at the speed of a fucking quantum computer. If she was pregnant, it wasn’t with some New York dude, because she wouldn’t know yet, and before that… there was no one but him for years. Years. But they’d always used protection. He’d almost slipped up once, but that couldn’t be it.

  Then it hit is brain like a fucking brick—shower sex. They’d had sex in the shower. Panic sex just so he could prove to himself they were just fuck buddies. But that was just once. What were the fucking odds? It couldn’t be. And would she just have an abortion without telling him? He honestly wasn’t sure.

  Then it all made sense to him. Why she was staying away. Or… not perfect sense, but it made more sense at least.

  “Fuck.” He looked at Mac. “Was she alone, or did she have a friend with her?”

  He was hoping it might be that she’d been there with a friend, but he knew that was unlikely. She didn’t have many friends in Arizona.

  “No. Just her,” Mac answered and shook his head. “I thought you always suited up. I was kind of hoping you’d laugh at me.”

  “I slipped. We had sex in the shower, and… I… yeah.”

  “Shower sex is good.”

  “Not that fucking good.”

  They sat in silence, and then Mac chuckled. “So the one time you get to fu
ck her without a condom, you didn’t even notice how fucking good it was?”

  “Not helping!” He turned and looked at Mac. “Think she’d already done it?”

  “I don’t know, man. She looked like she always does, and she could’ve just been there to check it out. But she wouldn’t go there if she didn’t need to.”

  “Maybe she was protesting. One of those crazy sign-holders thing?” Mitch tried, and Mac’s raised eyebrow was enough of an answer. “No. She probably wouldn’t. Do women do that? Don’t they… I don’t know, tell a guy they’re pregnant?”

  “You’re asking me?”

  “Yeah. That was stupid.” Asking Mac ‘the family man’ about how fuck buddies behaved was stupid. He leaned his head in his hands. “Shit. Fuck, motherfucker, and shit.”

  He was trying to imagine it, but he had no idea how he really felt. If she’d done it, shouldn’t he be relieved? It wasn’t that fucking long ago he’d told his mom he’d put a bullet in his head if he were a dad before next Thanksgiving. And now he was… what? Being sad that she’d had an abortion? Or just pissed that she didn’t tell him, or even give him a shot? He had absolutely no fucking idea what it was that he was feeling—or what he was supposed to feel.

  He looked at Mac. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.”

  “Me neither, but I don’t think pouring tequila down your throat is the answer.”

  “No. Probably not,” he agreed. “I thought she’d met someone in New York or something, and I was pissed.”

  Mitch rarely gave a fuck about what other people thought about him or what he was doing, but he always cared about what Mac thought about him. He always had because Mac was one of the good guys. He could never be like him, but he needed Mac to be okay with what he did. Always. Mac was pretty much his moral compass, and even if he didn’t keep a constant eye on it, he liked to glance at it on occasion to know he wasn’t way off.

  Mac eventually laughed. “Pouring tequila down your throat could be the temporary answer to that.”