Unbelonging

by Sabrina Stark

  I snuggled up close to him, feeling the hard muscles of his body shift subtly with every moment he made, whether to refill my champagne glass or to turn and look out the window.

  Together, we watched the cityscape slide past us until we stopped in front of a gleaming, circular tower bathed in the blue and orange glow of sleek accent lighting and rows of well-lit windows.

  Surrounding the tower were buildings of a similar, if slightly less, towering caliber.

  "The Renaissance Center?" I said, although I knew exactly where we were. I'd been here before, although not very often. I sifted through my memories, recalling a Saturday afternoon shopping, and then another ill-fated afternoon at the movies with Josh. I'd lost my car keys and ended up having to beg my Mom to come get us.

  She hadn't. All I can say is thank heaven for Erika's parents.

  Unlike that ill-fated afternoon, tonight I wasn't a pauper begging for a ride. Well, okay, I was still sort of a pauper. But I didn't feel like one tonight. I was with Lawton, and limo or not, I knew I didn't need to worry about how I'd make it back.

  Somehow I knew that even if the limo went up in flames, or we were stranded somewhere off Eight Mile, everything would be okay, if for no other reason than I wasn't in any of this alone.

  It was a good feeling.

  That good feeling only got better on the seventy-second floor, where we dined and drank from a vantage point that was simply mind-blowing, with spectacular views that took my breath away nearly as much as the view of Lawton, sitting across from me, looking good enough to eat.

  Based on not-so-subtle glances from the women at neighboring tables, I knew wasn't the only one who thought so. I tried not to notice when a table of three women, obviously out for a girl's night, ogled him with enough enthusiasm to make me want to march over there and slap them silly.

  What was I saying? Slap them silly? That wasn't me. I wasn't the jealous type. Besides, I could see why they ogled him. Cripes, I wanted to ogle him.

  Probably, I was ogling him.

  I turned my shoulders away from the women, choosing to study the magnificent view outside rather than watch three bimbos drool over my date.

  Okay, they weren't exactly bimbos. They looked like professional women. Still…

  Stop thinking about them, I told myself. He's with you, not with them. I turned my gaze to Lawton, studying the dessert menu. If he noticed the women or their interest in him, he gave no indication.

  As if feeling my eyes on him, he looked up. Our gazes held, and he smiled like there was no one else in the world but me.

  Glancing out the window, I said, "Detroit sure does look a lot different from up here, doesn't it?"

  He set aside the menu. "Got that right," he said in a tone that suggested he wasn't only talking about the view.

  I studied him over the rim of my champagne class. He looked perfectly at ease in his expensive clothes and luxurious surroundings. From what I'd read, his life had changed an awful lot in a relatively short time. How long had it taken him to get used to the good life?

  Maybe he still wasn't used to it.

  Was he faking it? I faked it pretty good myself. Was I faking it now in my secondhand dress and cheap shoes? No, I decided. I wasn't. Tonight, for whatever reason, I didn't feel like an imposter. I felt like just a girl on a date with a beautiful guy in a beautiful place.

  When one of the women got up and walked slowly past our table, her hips swaying as she gave Lawton a long, lingering look, I changed my mind. Turns out, I was the jealous type. Oh yeah, and she was a bimbo. Definitely.

  But her effort was for nothing. Lawton's gaze rested firmly on me as he held my hand across the table.

  The view below us was undeniably spectacular. It wasn't just of the Detroit cityscape, which looked a whole lot better from this vantage point, but also of the bridge to Canada, where the city lights of Windsor reflected before us on the Detroit River.

  But honestly, the thing that really took my breath away was Lawton. I was falling for him. Falling for him hard. Sometimes, I thought he felt the same way, but then I'd remember all those girls. They had fought over him. And not just with words.

  Had he made them feel special the way he made me feel special? It would be hard to resist something like that, especially packaged with his amazing looks and undeniable success.

  When we left, hand-in-hand after Lawton paid the bill, I could barely remember what I'd ordered, or how it tasted.

  But I did remember the feel of his hand in mine as we rode the glass elevator down, seeing the ground get closer and closer every second, and the look in his eyes when he told me he'd waited too long to show me off.

  I'd laughed. "Show me off? For who?"

  "For me." He lowered his voice. "Because I gotta tell you, the thought of anyone else looking at you –" He shook his head. "Not good."

  I rolled my eyes. "Oh please, the way all those women looked at you in there, I don't think you're the one who's got to worry."

  He grinned. "You worry?"

  "No," I mumbled, looking down at my shoes. Now that I studied them in these surroundings, they really did look cheap. I looked up and met Lawton's gaze. "Well, not really."

  "Trust me," he said, leaning in close. "You don’t have anything to worry about. Besides, I didn't see any other women in there."

  "Yeah, right."

  "But I did see a lot of guys checking you out." His voice was quiet. "Lucky all they did was look."

  "Oh please," I said. "No one was looking at me."

  "You just keep right on thinking that," he said. "Come to think of it, it's probably a good thing."

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "I mean," he said, meeting my gaze, "that if you don't notice them looking, odds are, you won't be giving them any looks back." And then he kissed me, a long, lingering kiss that made me nearly as breathless as the downward motion of the elevator.

  Chapter 46

  As the night progressed, his decision to take a limo made more and more sense. We didn't have to stumble through some parking garage, looking for our car. We didn't have to worry about how much we drank, which was considerable, or which road to turn on as we navigated the city.

  We went from dinner to a casino in Greektown, where he taught me how to play craps and blackjack, sometimes winning, sometimes losing, but always together, hand-in-hand, except when throwing the dice.

  Around ten o'clock, we left Greektown and made our way to the same night club we'd passed on our way to dinner.

  I'd already had way too much to drink, and my head was positively spinning.

  When we pulled up, the line at the door was, if anything, even longer. People jostled each other in the chilly air as they stood under the long awning, waiting for someone inside to leave so they could get in.

  I bit my lip, wishing I'd thought to bring a coat.

  "Don't worry," he said, "we're not doing that."

  "Doing what?" I said.

  "Waiting in line."

  I squinted up at him. "We're not?"

  "Hell no," he said. "I got reservations."

  I looked out at the crowd. "They take reservations?"

  "Yeah. Watch."

  We stepped out, and Lawton took my hand. Good thing, considering I might've been the teeniest bit wobbly on my feet at this point. He led us to the front of the line. "We got reservations," he told the guy at the door, a beefy guy wearing some sort of electronic headset.

  "Hey," yelled a guy near the front of the line. "Buddy, haven't you heard? They don't take reservations."

  Lawton didn't spare him a glance as the guy at the door looked at Lawton and then at me.

  Then the guy smiled. "Come on in, Mister Rastor. Got your table all ready."

  As we passed, Lawton handed him a folded bill, and not a small one either. The pattern continued as a woman in a tight red dress led us up a corded-off stairway to a VIP section, high above the dance floor. The sound pulsed through the place, making me move in time with the be
at even as we settled into a comfortable booth, perfect for watching the action down below.

  I leaned in close to whisper in his ear. "Mister Rastor? Well, aren't you civilized?"

  He looked at me with hungry eyes. "Don't bet on it," he said.

  When a tall redhead came to take our drink order, I glanced at Lawton. "I'm not sure I should have anything else to drink."

  "Whatever you want, baby," he said. "You wanna order a Coke, go ahead. Or, we can get out of here, head back to the house. Or wherever you want."

  The music was hypnotic, with a steady beat that just begged to be danced to. "I don’t want to leave," I told him. I turned to the waitress. "I'll have a daiquiri," I said. "Heavy on –" I bit my lip. "– whatever isn't the alcohol part."

  After she left, Lawton wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. "Don't you serve drinks where you work?" he said.

  "Sort of," I said. "But I don't make any of them. Mostly, I just relay whatever to the bartenders, then just drop it off."

  He glanced down toward the dance floor. It was jam-packed with gyrating bodies. I saw arms raised, hips moving, hair flying. I hadn't done a lot of clubbing, even in college. Between working most weekends and my constant money shortage, it hadn't been a high priority.

  But looking down at that crowd, I wanted to be part of it.

  "You wanna dance?" he asked.

  I nodded.

  He took me by the hand and pulled me up from the booth. Hand-in-hand, we made our way to the dance floor and waded into it. He wrapped his arms around me, and we started gyrating to the steady beat.

  It felt amazing. He felt amazing. Moving against him made me think of all the things we'd done in private, and all the things I'd like to do again. I threw back my head and gazed up at him as we moved in time to the music. Around us, people were watching. I didn't care.

  We stayed out there for the next song, and the next after that. Then the music abruptly changed, to a slow, hypnotic song. I fell into his arms and floating into sweet bliss as he kissed me long and hard, his tongue snaking into my mouth, and mine into his.

  The rest of the night was a blur of dancing and daiquiris. Of watching from above and wading through the crowd. Of feeling his lips on mine, and strong arms shielding me from the crowd. Good thing, considering the place was packed, and I was getting more unsteady as the night wore on.

  At midnight, he led me back to our table and gave me a small wrapped box wrapped in silver paper. In it was a stunning pair of diamond earrings. I hardly recall what I said. It seemed far too extravagant, but the look in his eyes told me I couldn’t refuse. I was glad. Honestly, I wasn't sure I could have.

  I put them on, right then and there, tucking the ones I'd been wearing into the box and handing it to Lawton for safe-keeping. I don't know why I bothered. It's not like they were worth stealing, but I wasn't the type to waste anything, even if what I'd just gotten was so much nicer.

  All in all, it was the best birthday ever. A night to remember, just like he'd promised.

  Within the club, Lawton and I were inseparable. Even when going to the ladies room, he insisted on escorting me.

  I remember smiling up at him. "Why?" I asked. "Because of the daiquiris? You worried I'll pass out under some table, and you won't find me 'til morning?"

  "Nah, that's not it," he said as ne navigated me through the crowd. "On second thought," he said, as I stumbled a little over my own feet, "Yeah, I guess there's some truth to that. But mostly, I'm not gonna let you out of my sight. Not in this place."

  "What's the matter?" I teased. "Don't trust me?"

  "I trust you just fine, baby," he said. "It's those other guys I worry about."

  I laughed. "There's no other guys."

  "Yeah, I believe that," he said in a tone that suggested just the opposite.

  At the hallway to the ladies room, I turned to him. 'I think I can handle it from here."

  "You sure?" he said, giving me a wicked grin.

  "Oh stop," I said, smiling up at him. "I'll be right back."

  In the restroom, I did my business, then freshened up my lipstick. Why, I didn't know. If I were lucky, I'd be smearing it the second I ran into Lawton. His lips were a temptation I simply couldn't resist, much like the rest of him.

  Stumbling maybe just a little, I made my way out of the ladies' room and looked to where he said he'd be waiting.

  He wasn't there.

  Chapter 47

  I looked around, momentarily confused. Sure, I didn't really need an escort or anything. I was a big girl, perfectly capable of getting from point A to point B without a bodyguard or tour guide. But still, it seemed odd. Why would he be so insistent on coming with me, only to leave me wondering where he was?

  When I didn't see him, I started wading unsteadily through the crowd toward the stairway leading to the VIP section. Walking, I peered upward, but didn't see Lawton at our table. Maybe he'd gone to the men's room?

  I turned around, deciding I'd wait for him in the original spot. I was halfway there when I heard something that stopped me cold in my tracks. It was a male voice, hollering out from somewhere off to my left. "Hey! Dog girl!"

  I whirled around, scanning the crowd.

  "Over here!" the same voice called again.

  Sure enough, there he was, one of player wannabes who'd been with Brittney and Amber that awful night at the restaurant. He was dressed the same as before. The only thing louder than his voice was his shirt, some black and gold sleeveless thing, no doubt designed to show off his overgrown muscles.

  "All bling and no brains," I muttered, moving faster toward the hallway, determined to avoid him. I was nearly there when I felt a hard tug on my elbow. I whirled to see the player latched onto me like he had no plans of letting go any time soon.

  His smile was a little off-kilter. "Aw c'mon, don't be like that." His gaze scanned me up and down. "Damn girl, I thought your work getup was hot, but you're double-smokin' now." He turned his cheek to the side. "C'mon, give me some sugar."

  Ick.

  Unsteadily, I shrugged off his arm. "I'm meeting someone," I said. "Go away."

  "Now, that's just fuckin' rude," he said.

  I glared at him. "Hey, you haven't seen rude. Where's your friend?"

  "Why? You looking for a threesome?"

  Double ick. "Seriously," I said. "Go away. Find your friend. Leave. Whatever. Just stay the hell away from me, alright?"

  Over the guy's shoulder, I finally saw Lawton, wading through the crowd toward us. His jaw was tight and his expression dark. The player turned around to follow my gaze, and when he did, he visibly swallowed.

  "Your loss," the guy muttered, and waded into the crowd, not exactly disappearing, but moving fast enough that he might as well have.

  A moment later, Lawton was at my side. "You okay?" he asked.

  I nodded. "Yeah, sure."

  "Who was the guy?"

  There were so many things I could've said. He's Brittney's second-choice squeeze. He's a pig. He's one of the worst customers I've ever had the displeasure of waiting on. But what I did say was. "He's no one. Just some guy who's had too much to drink."

  Like I was in any position to talk.

  Lawton's eyebrows furrowed. "So you don't know him?"

  "Not really." Sure, I'd met him before, but honestly, I didn't even know his name. And hopefully, I never would. Besides, I didn't want to talk about him. I wanted to be with Lawton.

  I wrapped my arms around him and said, "I looked for you earlier." I smiled. "You weren't trying to run off on me, were you?"

  "Never, baby," he said, pressing his lips to my forehead.

  "Then where'd you go?" I didn't want to be nosy or anything, but the whole thing did seem kind of odd.

  "I ran into someone." He frowned. "No one you'd want to see."

  I had a pretty good guess who that someone might be.

  Brittney or Amber. Probably both.

  From what I could figure, Lawton had somehow hustled them
off to avoid a potentially awkward scene. It was thoughtful, really. Or at least that's what I told myself, in between wanting to give them a piece of my mind – or worse – for all the trouble they'd brought me over the past few weeks.

  Lawton pulled my close and whispered in my ear. "How's my birthday girl?"

  I liked being his girl. Somewhere in the foggy recesses of my brain, I realized that things were moving scarily fast. Somehow, in the span of just a couple weeks, I'd gone from being his friend or whatever, to his girl, or his baby.

  I loved it. And it scared me half to death. This wasn't me. I'd never been one to get carried away. Too late for that, I thought.

  "Wonderful," I said, pressing close to him, half because he looked so delicious, and half because, well, I wasn't exactly steady on my feet. "But you know, I still haven't shown you my birthday suit."

  Five minutes later, we were heading out the door.

  Inside the limo, I tumbled back onto the leather seat, laughing as one of my shoes slipped off and fell somewhere on the floor. Suddenly, I stopped laughing, a horrible thought occurring to me. "Oh my God," I said, turning to give him an intense look. "I'm not one of those girls." I gripped him by his jacket. "I'm not, am I?"

  I might've been slurring, just a little.

  Lawton was grinning at me. "What kind of girl?" he asked.

  "You know," I said. "The sloppy drunk kind who laughs too loud and isn't half as cute as she thinks she is. I hate those girls." Brittney was one of those girls. As for me, I wasn't. Or, at least I wasn't usually.

  Lawton studied my face, one eyebrow raised. "Well, you do appear to be drunk," he said, a grin flashing across his face as his gaze dipped lower. "But baby, you're anything but sloppy."

  I glanced toward my shoe, lying on its side next to my little black beaded purse. "I'm kind of sloppy," I said, giggling just a little.

  "Come here," he said, pulling me into his arms for a long, deep kiss. When we came up for air, he whispered in my ear. "If this is sloppy, I think I can suffer through it."

  I gave him a mock shove to the chest. "Suffer through it? Just for that, I'm not picking up my shoe." I gave him a lurid smile. "Or," I said with the tiniest lick to my lips, "the rest of my clothes either." I gave a quick glance to the glass that separated us from the driver. "He can't see us, can he?"