GIVE IN: Steel Phoenix MC

by Paula Cox

  I talk about “flight or fight” all the time as a counselor. Most addicts are always in flight mode. It’s an oddly thrilling sensation not to have to fight—to be able to deal with life in a way that puts them in control of their situation, even if it is to escape. The endorphins make the “flight” almost as appealing as the drug of their choice. Right now, I can feel that same energy build within me, even through all of the nauseating fear.

  The man laughs under his breath. It’s hearty, humorous, full of life. I haven’t heard someone laugh like that in years. It’s almost like my dad’s laugh, but way less innocent. He’s apparently taking pleasure from seeing me like this.

  I go to speak again, but he cuts me off.

  “Shut the hell up,” he orders, getting down on the couch beside me and covering my lips with his large hand. “Just quiet down and be good for me, and I won’t have to hurt you.”

  I nod, agreeing to his terms because it’s the safest option right now.

  He continues to hold me in place. “You’re way more valuable alive than you are dead. Though I certainly can’t make promises on how you’ll end up when I’m through with you...”

  My voice trembles as I question him, “What do you mean? Didn’t you hear me? Take whatever you want and go. I’m not going to try to stop you.”

  “Robbing you? This place isn’t yours.” He pulls back a bit. That light spot on the boots disappears into the shadows as he gets up and takes a seat across from me on the old recliner Mark always sat in when he was in a good enough place to have me over for dinner.

  I push myself up to my elbows, blowing a piece of my hair out of my eyes with a huff. “How do you know that this isn’t my home? Who are you? How do you know Mark?” A large, thick lump in my throat sinks to the bottom of my gut. It’s all becoming so much clearer to me. This wasn’t just a robbery. This was something so much worse.

  He cracks his knuckles casually as he replies, “I don’t know Mark. I couldn’t care less who he is. I’m just a businessman. I pick up the strays for my clients and cash in on a commission. Tonight is your unlucky night, I guess. You walked into the wrong apartment at the wrong time.”

  “If you don’t know Mark,” I ask, trying to steady my voice, “then what’s your business with him? Are you a dealer?”

  He stands again, pacing a bit as he looks out the window over his shoulder.

  “Hell no,” he says, his tone insinuating that he’s taken offense to the question. “I don’t deal. That stuff is too petty. There’s not enough money in selling drugs to deadbeats and burnouts like your brother. I work for the dealers, making sure that they get their cash when their customers don’t pay up.”

  My mouth goes dry. The man was painting me a crystal-clear picture now. I have suspected for a long time that Mark was getting himself in way too deep with this stuff. Even all my training couldn’t stop him from throwing his entire life away to this shit. And now it was catching up to him. But the problem was that it hadn’t caught him—it had caught me.

  “How much?” I ask, in a hushed whisper. “I’ve got money—a good job. I could work out a payment plan if it’s more than what I can afford. Do you need to run a credit check or do you just take my word for it? I don’t know how this works.”

  He laughs again. His dark eyes steer back out the window towards the sky while his shoulder-length hair cuffs against the back of his neck. “It’s way, way too much for you to pay, darlin’. And I’m not a bank. I don’t do installments, and I certainly don’t call up your references or place of employment.”

  This time, it’s me laughing; a genuine burst of ridiculous chuckles.

  “That would be rich,” I mutter under my breath. Throwing my legs over the side of the couch and sitting up, I cross my arms on the defensive.

  “What did you say to me?” he asks with a spark of anger in his tone.

  “I said that that would be rich—for you to call my work considering I’m an addictions counselor. They deal with people like you all the time...”

  I look him over from top to bottom. He’s not the typical client, but he’s got the wild, lost look of one. There’s desperation in his eyes, danger too. He’s seen things I can only imagine. And he thinks he knows it all.

  “You people?” he repeats, “You people? If you’re implying that I use that shit your boyfriend’s into, you’re dead wrong, lady. Get that fancy counseling degree re-checked because I’m no user. And even if I were, I wouldn’t like to end up dead because my smart-ass girlfriend wouldn’t stop running her big fat mouth to the debt collector.”

  I carve a weak smile—I can’t help it—and then get serious.

  “First of all,” I tell him, “Mark isn’t my boyfriend. He’s my brother.”

  There’s a small pause between us where he raises both eyebrows. “Oh really? By the look of some of the pictures in this house, I could have sworn you two...”

  “What? No. Ew.” I screw my face up to register my disgust. “He’s my older brother. I’m just house-sitting for him while he’s—” I stop myself. Even if I knew where Mark was right now, I couldn’t give it away to this guy. He’d hunt him down and pull a knife or gun on him as he has done with me. I suck in a few sips of air before finishing my sentence. “He’s gone.”

  “Gone? Interesting...” The man’s large but slender fingers flex outward. “Your brother owes a drug lord a shit ton of money, and he cuts out of town, leaving you here to... what? Hold down the fort?”

  “Something like that, but I didn’t know about the whole drug lord thing.” I fumble for a second, trying to pivot back to how to get this guy out of my apartment. “Please, just let me know how much he owes you, and I’ll tell you if I can pay it or not.”

  “You can’t. When I walked through the doors, I knew your brother couldn’t either. A guy living in a dump like this makes debts. He doesn’t pay them back.” He walks over and takes something off of the table, a cracker, and snacks on it, washing it down with a can of opened beer. He certainly helped himself earlier, huh? Jerk.

  “Okay, if you’re not going to give me a chance at paying it back, and you’re not here for my brother, what the hell do you want?” I don’t even try to disguise my annoyance or contempt.

  The man saunters over to me, taking his time with each step. Squatting down in front of me, he shows me the knife in the palm of his hands. “My name’s Rev, and I’m a debt collector. I get my money every time. You need to get a hold of your brother and tell him his time’s up.”

  “I told you,” I whisper, “I don’t know where he is.” My eyes haven’t moved from the tip of the knife. It looks as if it’s been sharpened over and over again to get that kind of a point.

  He moves the blade slowly up towards my neck and places it dead center under my chin. It’s pressed in light enough so that it doesn’t cut the flesh but hard enough so that I can feel the call of death millimeters away. I try not to move, shudder, or even breathe. One wrong slip and—

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  The man’s knife drops down to his lap as he leaps up to his feet. He turns to me, searching for answers as a voice on the other side of the door calls out, “Jenna! Come on! Open the door!”

  Chapter Two

  Rev

  “I thought you said you didn’t know where Mark was!” I growl. This pretty little firecracker was starting to piss me off. First, she thought she could talk her way out of it, and now she’s been straight up lying to me through her teeth. I don’t let anyone play me like that, no matter how great her ass may look in a tight black skirt and green button-down top.

  “I told you,” she states, “I don’t know where he is.” She’s trying to hide it, but I can see her trembling. It’s a little hot to see her cower, but I put it out my mind. This chick thinks I’m an idiot, but she persists, “I swear to God I don’t. That’s not Mark... it’s, well, it’s...”

  The man outside starts pleading like a bitch. “Jenna!” he calls out. “Come on, baby. Don’t leav
e me hanging out here all night. I swear to God, Jenna! I’m not going to go until you open the door and tell me why you left me at that bar... Jenna?”

  “Goddammit,” she sighs, her head hanging low like she’s embarrassed at her clearly drunk visitor. “His name is Teddy.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t have a boyfriend,” I shoot back before I can even think to stop myself. “So, who the fuck is this?”

  “I never said I didn’t have a boyfriend,” she replies, with an air of innocence. “But for the record, I don’t, and even if I did, it wouldn’t be Teddy.”

  “Whatever. Who is he?” I demand. This girl is testing my last fucking nerve.

  “He’s just...” she trails off as if she’s searching for the right word. She looks defensive and tense. I must have struck a nerve. “We’re seeing each other. Not, like, exclusively or anything. Just... seeing each other. That’s it.”

  I flash her a sneering smile. “So, you’re fucking.”

  She blushes as she nods. The pink in her cheeks brings more life to that beautiful face. The sadistic part of me loves to watch her squirm like this, especially over a prick like the man standing outside.

  While I’d love to see her get redder in the face, I’ve got work to do, and I don’t have time for this bullshit. I stiffen up a bit before I point my knife towards the door. “Tell whoever the fuck it is to get out of here,” I instruct her as I start to duck out of sight of the doorway. “And if you even try to pull something on me by trying to run or sending that drunk ass a message, I’ll make sure you never get out of this building alive. You got it?”

  Jenna nods, and I back away towards the coat closet. It’s just wide enough to hold my thick frame without me having to duck down or suck in my chest and stomach. I leave it open wide enough so that I can watch Jenna’s every move but am still covered by the shadows of the few, dingy leather coats hanging over my head.

  I watch as Jenna straightens out the hem of her skirt. That apple round, tight ass wiggles and shakes a bit as she shimmies in her clothes. She then throws her long, corn-silk ponytail behind her shoulder, letting it fall down her straight back. For someone who swears up and down that she doesn’t have a boyfriend, she’s sure trying hard to impress. She even readjusts her posture to stand a little taller in her bare feet. I hadn’t noticed she wasn’t wearing any shoes until now.

  With a deep breath, she opens the door just slightly. I see the face of a plain-looking preppy joke leaning up against the frame. His arm dangles over his head.

  “Finally,” he coos towards Jenna, “I thought you were going to make me wait all night. I’m gl—”

  She cuts him off before he can say another word, “What are you doing here, Teddy? I didn’t say you could come back here. Or follow me either!” Her long fingers dance along the inside of the wooden door with the tapping of her nails breaking the awkward silence between him.

  Teddy leans even closer to her, so much so that she has to take a giant step backward to avoid his drunk stammering. “I didn’t think I needed an invitation. I didn’t that time before–back in your apartment.”He reaches out to grab an errant strand of hair, twisting it around his finger until she pulls away, apparently disgusted—though I honestly can’t fully tell if it’s with him or herself.

  “That was a mistake, Teddy,” she corrects him, her tone hushed and urgent. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. I’m sorry if you think I led you on—I really am—but it’s not going to happen. Not tonight, not ever again. Capisce?”

  Jenna scolds him like the fucking baby that he clearly is. For all that sass she was giving me earlier, she seems to have no problem putting this douche in his place. Outside a fuck quick fucks, I couldn’t see what Jenna, or any woman for that matter, would want from that kind of guy.

  He laughs. “A mistake? Fuck you, Jenna. You sure weren’t calling it a mistake when you were screaming out my name—” He leans too far toward her again. She takes a quick step to the side so that he falls straight into her apartment. This sad, stringy lump of a guy nearly breaks his damn neck on the coffee table. He just barely avoids smashing into it and instead falls face-first onto the floor.

  He stands up, dusting himself off and laughing idiotically. “See, baby?” He grins. “Even gravity can’t keep me away from you.” He smirks before stumbling back, landing on the side of the old sofa.

  Jenna heaves a long sigh and tries pushing him the other way, but he doesn’t take the bait. “How the hell did you even get here in this state, Teddy?”

  He shrugs and slumps onto the sofa. She walks back toward her purse. “Jesus Christ. Look, just—just sit here on the couch for a sec. No—” Teddy moves to lay on the sofa, looking drowsier by the second, but Jenna heads him off. “—no, sit.” He sits up straight, like a dog obeying his master. “I’m gonna call you a cab, all right?”

  This makes him spring up from his spot as if the thought has reanimated him. “What for?” he demands, slurring his way through a two-word sentence. “I’m totally good to drive. C’mon, let’s take a trip. We can go anywhere you want.” His hands grab her by the hips and position her so that her ass leans right into his crotch.

  Jenna struggles to break free, but with every sleazy tug, he seems to come up more and more on her until his entire body is draped over her.

  “Teddy—the fuck—no—get the hell off of me!”

  This is getting to be too much. My blood feels as if it has hit a boiling point. I can deal with a douchebag being skeevy. I can deal with a drunk scumbag macking on a girl like no one’s business. I mean, I’ve been that drunk scumbag plenty of times. But this motherfucker is looking more and more dangerous by the second. And if there’s one thing I ain’t gonna stand by and watch, it’s a girl getting violated like that.

  I walk out of the closet towards the living room, in plain sight of the guy. “Hey asshole,” I shout, as menacing as I can. “You heard the lady. Get the fuck off of her.”

  He turns to look at me. “Who the hell are you?” he throws back, visibly panic-stricken, but he’s still holding on to Jenna by the waist, almost like a shield. “What are you doing in her apartment?”

  I take a step into the light, letting him see me fully. I know my size—and, more importantly, I know what it does to guys, especially those weak pussies who are deluded into thinking they even have a chance with a stunner like Jenna. He cowers from me as I tower over him. I build up my deepest, most brooding voice. “This ain’t her apartment, fella,” I sneer. Jenna catches my eye, and I wink at her slightly. “It’s mine.”

  “Your—what? No. That’s not true. That can’t be...” Teddy trails off as he lets go of Jenna, and she slides away. He looks to her for confirmation, but her face has gone ashen white. Teddy looks back at me. “I—Jenna, what the fuck is this? Who is this guy?”

  Jenna opens her mouth to respond, but I cut her off. I know what I’m doing. “You thought you were special, huh?” I laugh. “You got played, boy. I’d feel sorry for you, but you don’t look like you could piece it together if you tried.”

  Teddy bristles as I walk a little closer to her. My hands flex into fists. “Jenna knows what’s up,” I add, “She knows what she really wants in a man. Yeah, sometimes she goes off the reservation, but she always comes back to me. You got a problem with that, bitch?” I savor saying that last part. This guy is the definition of a male bitch.

  “The fuck did you call me?” Alcohol has not been good for this prick. It’s certainly impairing his ability to think through the situation. I’ve got at least five inches and a good sixty pounds on him, and my thick fists could easily put a hole through his chest if I wanted to. But here he is, puffing out his chest like a proud peacock—like he actually thinks he’s gonna fight me.

  “I called you a bitch,” I say without blinking. “Jenna’s done with little pencil dicks like you. She wants a man who can always show her a good time. Do you get me? That’s why she left you tonight–to return to me.”

&nb
sp; He does that cartoonish double-take again, looking at Jenna, back to me, and then back to Jenna again. “Jenna,” he stammers, “What the hell is going on? You never mentioned another guy...”

  Jenna, whose complexion is still pale, doesn’t miss a beat. I’m impressed by how quickly and easily she lies through her teeth. “It’s true, Teddy,” she blurts out like it’s an actual confession. “This is the man I want to be with, and he doesn’t mess around, so you should really get the hell out of here.” She flicks her head toward the open door, gesturing with her chin.

  “I’m not going anywhere!” Teddy shouts back, but before he can take another step towards her, the damn dog comes out of nowhere. The round, furry hound lands on his leg, just under his knee, and grabs hold of Teddy’s khaki pants with its teeth and begins to tear. For a little dog, he manages to shred through the cloth within seconds. But then again, it is a bulldog–aggressive little bastards. I dig it.