by J. M. Miller
“Okay. I’m heading over to the bistro on the corner. They have the best Saturday specials. I’ll be back in a bit,” she added, stepping out of the office.
Great.
I hung my jacket and paced. There was no avoiding the dilemma. It would be better to just clear the air and get it over with. After all, I never backed away from issues. If I had a problem, I took care of it, and that was what I needed to do.
The music cut off, filling the store with harsh silence. It was the interruption I needed to reset my mind or shut it the hell off. It had already proved it couldn’t be trusted, wandering into places that I never wanted it to go, considering options I’d always avoided. Every other time I’d been with a guy, it was cut and dry. It was all action, not much thought. Action I could handle because it kept everything simple, detached. It kept the questions away.
I stepped out of the office and stopped beside Damian, prepared for whatever.
He set a new record on the farthest deck and glanced over at me. Headphones sat cocked on his head. “You still want to learn more about the equipment?” His voice was soft, but it cut through the silence like a razor.
I watched him slide the fader switch and my insides twisted. I needed to handle the situation or let it go, but my mind didn’t want to do either. “Pam went over a good amount this week.”
“Okay.”
“But …” But her hands don’t have the skills yours do, I thought, still staring at his fingers.
“But?” he prompted, turning the volume up on a house track. It had a hard base and a steady tempo that made me want to shake my entire body … for him.
I stepped closer for a better look at his movements. “But she didn’t show me.” Apparently, I wanted to torture myself. Even knowing he was involved with someone, I couldn’t stay away. I clenched my fists, battling my thoughts, my feelings.
He turned his body toward me and pulled the headphones up, settling both earpieces above his ears. As he lowered his hands, his eyes traveled too, moving slowly from my eyes, down my neck, coming to rest on the V-neck sweater stretched across my chest.
I couldn’t ignore what was happening. It was far too complicated, and since I apparently couldn’t keep myself away from him, I needed answers. I opened my mouth, preparing to ask a question with an obvious answer, but he spoke before I could.
“So how’s Kyle Tanner?” He slid the fader and stopped the other record, letting the house track play alone.
What? Was this small talk? “Tanner? He seems okay. Do you know him?”
He tapped a couple of buttons between the two turntables with his eyes down. “He played some ball in junior high and was on JV freshman year, but he didn’t play after that. I haven’t seen him much since last year.” His eyes cut up to mine, searching for something. “You used to be close to him?”
I nodded. “He was my best friend.”
“Was? You didn’t talk after you left?” he asked, tapping his fingers while keeping his eyes on me.
I narrowed my eyes and cleared my throat. “No, we didn’t. What’s with the questions?”
He shrugged. “I’ve just heard some things. I think you should be careful, even if you were friends before.”
“Really?” I asked in an irritated tone, hanging my hands on my hips as I took a step closer. Other people might let their anger drive them away, but mine always urged me on to face the source, regardless of limitations or repercussions. I could say that about fear too. Self-defense had aided it and helped generate that self-confidence that Mom said was the cause of most of my trouble. In reality, anger and fear were what had started it all.
“I’m pretty sure I can handle myself, but thanks so much for your concern,” I snapped.
He shook his head. “I know you can handle yourself. I just thought I’d—”
“Warn me about the bad guys?” I quirked a brow and scrunched my lips.
“It’s not like that, I just …” He removed his headphones and rubbed a hand behind his neck.
“Just what?” I snapped.
“God, Syn. You’re making me crazy.”
“I’m making you crazy? I’m the one who has a reason to be pissed here.”
“I just thought I’d give you a heads up, okay? And seeing you outside with him … it just made me …”
“Made you what?” I crossed my arms over my chest, fuming. He had no right to be irritated.
“Jealous, okay? Shit,” he huffed, running both of his palms along the sides of his head where his headphones had been. “I can’t believe I just admitted that to you.”
“Oh, real nice,” I said, shocked. Nevertheless, it still didn’t change the real issue. “You’re jealous of me talking to someone I was friends with way before you and for a hell of a lot longer? That makes no sense. You and I kissed one time.” One amazing time. “One time and you’re jealous? Aren’t you forgetting the part that happens to flush all of this? The reason I have every right to be pissed? You have a girlfriend. Or does this happen so often that it doesn’t even bother you?”
His hands paused, leaving his elbows jutted out, and his brows creased. “Girlfriend?”
I shook my head. “Please, I’m not naïve.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said, dropping his hands.
“The dinner your mom came by to tell you about last week? At the-girl-who-likes-lilies’ house?”
He cursed under his breath and shook his head. “I dated Julia last year for less than a month. Our families are members of the same club. There’s nothing happening with us.”
I unfolded my arms and took a deep breath, attempting to calm down. What he said seemed possible. “Your mom hasn’t gotten that message.”
“Yeah well, my mom likes to ignore a lot of messages. I work here to get away from that.” He rested a hand on the deck, pressed his thumb to the edge of the still turntable, and moved it back and forth lazily. “With the end of the football season, working both jobs, and dealing with college prep stuff, I’ve been a little busy. I haven’t even thought of fitting a relationship into that schedule for a couple of months.”
“Makes sense.” I nodded, but I still wasn’t convinced.
“What about you, Syn? Is there anyone else I should worry about?”
“No. Just your mom, apparently.”
He laughed, soft and breathy, with a crooked smile. “Man, you were really pissed, huh? I’m kinda flattered.”
I scowled. “Who’s to say I’m not still pissed? You didn’t bother to say hi at school the other day. No one does that unless they’re hiding something or blowing someone off.”
“I’m not hiding anything, and I definitely wasn’t blowing you off,” he said, taking a step and closing the space between us.
“What’s the reason then?” I asked, planting my feet and tilting my head farther back to see him. His fresh scent drifted around me, making the memory of the kiss much more vivid. My heart kicked into a faster beat than the tempo of the house track.
“You scare the shit out of me,” he whispered.
“What?” My eyes widened and I shifted my weight.
“Not physically. No offense—I’ve seen how much damage you can do with these.” He tugged my hand gently, pulling it from my hip, and twisted his fingers with mine. When I looked back up, he was staring into my eyes. “I can’t get you out of my head.”
“I’m sure my knife is responsible,” I joked, even though I felt exactly the same. And it scared the shit out of me too. No matter how frustrated I’d been all week, my mind just wouldn’t let go.
“Maybe at first,” he joked back. “But now … I don’t know. I’m completely distracted. I don’t know how else to explain it.”
I stared at him, struck speechless. After a moment, I cleared my throat and pulled my hand away, setting a few fingers on the closest turntable. “So face your fear,” I dared with a grin. “Teach me how to use this stuff, and maybe you won’t be distracted or scared anymore.”
The wo
rried look I’d seen when I pulled my hand from his was instantly replaced with a wide smile. His arm slid around my back to guide me closer to the table. “Challenge accepted,” he said, angling himself behind me. His cheek pressed against my hair and his breath warmed my ear. “I’ll teach you, and maybe I’ll conquer my fear, but I can guarantee it’ll only lead to more distractions.”
I bit my lip and smiled at our hands on the decks. It wouldn’t just be a challenge for him—I’d have to face my own fears, too. It could be the first time I’d let someone in. I wanted to believe it would be the best choice I’d ever make, but a sinking feeling in my chest warned me it could be my biggest mistake.
A dresser drawer flew out into the loft hallway in Damian’s house, flinging clothes through the air. It crashed to the floor and tumbled past the music room. Shorts and T-shirts scattered everywhere, some falling all the way down into the living room where Damian and I watched, still tied to the banister.
Another drawer was quick to follow with loud grunts of Seth’s frustration. More banging came from Damian’s bedroom and his entire body tensed beside me. No matter what had happened between us, between them, this ordeal couldn’t be easy for him. Seth was his brother, and this was his house.
“Hey.” I nudged his arm gently. “Tanner will know something’s up. He’ll help us out somehow.” I considered what would happen when Tanner showed. If Seth was still occupied, there was a possibility of Tanner getting in here without any issues. But if he was seen, there was no telling what might happen.
“I just can’t believe this.” Damian looked up to the loft as Seth yelled incoherently and a nightstand drawer collided with the loft’s wall. “He’s blown everything good in his life. His scholarship. His future. Every opportunity he’s ever had. Now he’s fucking with my house. My life.”
There was no way to respond. Instead, I shifted to dig for my pocket again. Despite the definite chance of Tanner arriving, we still had to try to get out.
Damian’s gaze drifted back to me. Without another word, he tilted his knees and arms, giving me more wiggle room to maneuver my hands. His face remained tipped toward me, watching my tedious progress.
I blocked out the pain in my hands, wrists, and head, concentrating only on the depth of my back pocket. Something so simple had become the biggest challenge of my life. “I can’t …” As I pushed harder, the material at my wrists bit in deeper and the tips of my fingers started to tingle. I slid my feet in closer and Damian’s followed without hesitation, but there still wasn’t enough slack.
“Let me try,” Damian said, shifting his shoulder behind mine, leaning his body closer. The bare skin of his chest touched my arm. Its heat, and the fact that he was practically hugging me, was comforting. “I have longer fingers. I might be able to reach.”
I nodded and took a shaky breath, rocked by his proximity and the tenderness in his voice.
His upper body tipped away from me to push his hands closer. “Try to turn your body away from mine.” It was difficult because our elbows were connected, but I turned as far as I could. His fingers slipped into the top of my pocket, moving in bit by bit.
“I think you’re fucking with me, D.” Seth yelled before he walked out of the bedroom again.
Damian stilled. He tugged his fingers from my pocket and we adjusted our bodies before Seth could see.
Seth barreled down the steps and rounded in front of us, seething. “Where are the keys?”
Damian started, “I told you I’m not—”
Seth’s fist collided with Damian’s face before he could finish speaking. The force of the blow knocked Damian’s head into mine, and I cringed.
“Quit fucking around.”
Damian sat straight, his body tense again. “You motherfucker.” He licked some blood off his bottom lip and spat onto the floor. “I’m gonna kill you.”
“Good luck with that.” Seth placed a boot on one of my shins, applying slow pressure. “I’m the one in the position to do some damage. Maybe I’ll break something of Syn’s. Whaddya say, Syn? For old times?”
“Fuck you!” I replied, knowing his comment was referring to the last night I’d seen him—the night he’d broken his legs. It was obvious Damian didn’t know what had happened between us, which wasn’t surprising, I supposed. Seth could only be hurt by telling anyone so I figured he’d kept the encounter a secret, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t take the opportunity to pay me back.
A pained groan escaped my lips as Seth applied more pressure to my leg.
Damian jerked his legs hard and fast, yanking mine along and knocking Seth’s foot off me in turn. “I told you they’re upstairs. Just open your eyes and make an effort for once in your fucking life.”
Seth smirked. “Make an effort? You don’t think I’m working hard?” He took a single step and kicked Damian square in the chest, slamming his body back against the railing. Damian grunted as Seth spoke again. “Actually, my effort started after I found out you were back last month. Then two Saturdays ago, I happened to follow you to that club near Newark. What’s it called? Nighthawk?”
The name hit my ears and I froze. Nighthawk was one of my regular gigs. Glancing up, I caught Seth’s eyes on me, his smile as twisted as ever. I turned to Damian, realizing what Seth meant. My head swam. Damian had come to see me spin? That little bit of information made my mind and heart race, trying to recall the night. Nothing unusual had happened. It was an ordinary club night near college town. Despite how hard I pillaged the memory, I couldn’t find a trace of Damian having been there. He hadn’t wanted to be seen. Disappointment shrouded me, knowing he’d been so close, possibly even a few feet away, and I’d never known.
“I was just as surprised as you, Syn.” Seth rubbed a hand over his shaved head absently. “I knew he was going out to chase some tail, but I had no idea it was yours. You do look pretty fucking fine behind that DJ booth, though.”
I glanced back over to Damian. He had finally looked up, accepting that he’d been outed, silently admitting that he’d been there. He came to see me.
Seth kicked Damian’s legs, drawing his attention away from me. “The keys better be up there or something more precious than your furniture is breaking.” His body moved in a noisy blur up the steps and disappeared into the sound room.
Damian cleared his throat and looked back to me. His cheek and lip were red from the latest hit, but his hazels were what I couldn’t stop looking at. They held so much more now than before. Fear? Regret? “I heard about a girl DJ spinning badass sets in Newark. After digging around, I heard the name Syn. I had to see you myself.”
I blinked rapidly as I processed his words. “I …”
One corner of his lips tipped up the slightest bit. “And you didn’t just look good, Syn. Your set was on point.”
I bit my lip with a tiny grin. A compliment from him meant more than a packed dance floor at Nighthawk. “Thanks. The DJ thing … it stuck.”
“It gets in your blood,” he stated with a knowing smile.
“It’s so much more.” My cheeks warmed. I didn’t want to lie to him. After tonight, and no matter what happened, I wanted him to know the truth. He deserved to know, even if he still hated me.
I took a deep breath, ready to explain, but he spoke first. “Seeing you behind the decks and knowing that you weren’t behind bars … I was happy for you. But tonight …”
I released the breath with a sigh and tears pricked my eyes. He probably thought this was another job for me, like I regularly hit homes on my off time. Everything behind the words stung, but I couldn’t fault him for his assumptions. After all, I’d gone to jail before finishing senior year, so his assumptions were understandable.
Something crashed in the sound room upstairs. “Fuck!” Seth’s deep voice carried through the house.
Frustrated that I’d gotten sidetracked, I wrenched my hands and stretched my fingers back to my pockets, tugging Damian’s arms and pulling him closer again in the process.
&n
bsp; A vinyl record sleeve flew out of the sound room, over the hall railing, sailing down into the living room. Before it could even hit the ground, another followed. And another. And then one of the soft shell cases I’d seen earlier. It opened midair and spilled even more records onto the floor.
“Son of a bitch!” Damian yelled. His arms tightened and yanked against our ties.
“Where are they, D? I know this crap is expensive, and it’s about ready to fly.” Seth called from inside the room.
“Quit wrecking my shit!”
“Not an answer.” A MIDI controller launched through the door and crashed into the window across the open living room, splitting it apart. Pieces of plastic and padded buttons rained down to the floor.
Damian lurched forward with a growl, jerking our ties, digging the material into my skin and pulling my fingers from the edge of my pockets.
“Easy.” I hooked a few of his fingers with my own, trying to calm him.
He dropped his face and slowed his frantic breaths. After a few moments, his eyes met mine again, hooded and pensive. “It’s everything I’ve worked for. Everything I have.”
I’d said those same words earlier in the day. It was my truth too, why I was here. I uncurled my fingers from around his, preparing to explain. “I know how you feel. Everything, all my equipment, was stolen today. It’s the reason I called Tanner for a job, the reason I came here tonight. I have nothing left.”
Damian’s lips parted as his breaths quieted. More records spilled out of the room upstairs but he kept his focus on me. His brows knitted, filled with silent questions.
I shook my head. “Tonight was the first time in a long time that I picked a lock. Any lock. Despite what you probably think, I’ve been straight for a while. Not long after I got out of County, I moved south and hopped around. I came back to this area a couple years ago and got a place in Newark. I bought my own setups and landed a decent amount of gigs. Birthdays, weddings, mostly college parties. But after what happened today, I just … Let’s just say it hasn’t been the best day for me either.”
