Wrong Side of Town wm-3

by Komal Kant

  I was holding a girl’s hand; so fucking what?

  Still, I didn’t want Estella getting dragged into the middle of the chaos that was my life. It’d been hard enough convincing her to stay for Dylan. I had a feeling she wouldn’t be giving me many more chances.

  I just hoped Conor hadn’t seen her face properly before she’d left. It worried me that I’d unknowingly exposed her to the Allbrooks.

  Shooting Conor a look of indifference, I flipped my middle finger at him and climbed onto my bike. A broad grin spread across his face, and he gave me a thumbs up before pulling on his helmet and riding out of the parking lot at high speed.

  Asshole.

  * * *

  That night, I got drunk with the boys.

  We sat by the creek behind our house, celebrating Ryder and Tyson’s return. Dylan wasn’t feeling too great and I hadn’t wanted to leave him home by himself, so we’d decided to stay on the property instead.

  The guys were all talking around me, but I was only half-listening to what they were saying. My mind kept drifting back to Estella and why she affected me like this. It kept drifting back to Conor and how much he’d seen this afternoon.

  I finally paid attention when Cohen started talking about Allbrook’s new fighter; some young guy who was slowly working his way up the ranks and being trained by Troy himself. Normally, Troy let his thugs coach their fighters, so if he was getting involved then he probably thought this new kid had a good shot at beating me.

  “He any good?” Harris asked, taking a swig of his beer.

  Harris was the oldest in the gang—he was thirty-one—and he always got to the point. That’s what I liked about him—he didn’t play games, he didn’t mess with you; he just gave it to you straight.

  “They’re saying he is, but I haven’t laid eyes on him yet,” Cohen said with a shrug. Cohen was our recon guy. He found out all the dirt about the rival gangs, but especially the Allbrooks. “All I know is, they reckon this new boy could beat Vin.”

  Everyone turned to gauge my reaction, but I didn’t even react at the news. I had other things on my mind; like why Estella had touched me like that. And why the hell had she said she cared about me?

  “Then they’re fucking idiots.” Ryder’s voice broke above everyone else’s, loud and clear. “No one can beat Vincent, and those Allbrook fuckers know it.” He gave everyone a hard look as if daring them to contradict him

  No one was stupid enough to disagree with Ryder. At least to his face.

  Then Ryder’s eyes shot to me and a cold smile formed on his mouth. “No one can beat you because you don’t have a weakness, isn’t that right, little bro?”

  To everyone else, it might’ve seemed like Ryder was showing his confidence in me, but I knew better. That’s not what he was doing. He was exercising his power over me.

  When I spoke, my mouth felt dry. “Yeah, that’s right.”

  Ryder gave me a curt nod before his eyes snapped back to the other guys. “This is such a cock-fest. Let’s get some pussy down here.”

  The guys cried out in agreement, and I watched Todd and Tyson pull out their phones and start texting furiously. They were usually the ones who knew the easy girls that got a thrill from hanging out with bad boys. These girls wanted to be seen with us; they wanted to be associated with power, that’s why they came to us.

  An hour later, about ten girls had shown up. You had to give Todd and Tyson credit—they knew some pretty hot girls.

  A few of them had bee-lined straight for me. They knew who I was and they wanted to connect themselves to me somehow, even if it was just through a one night stand.

  The only problem was they were kind of pissing me off tonight.

  About three or four of the girls had tried to unsuccessfully strike up conversation with me, but had eventually wandered off to the other guys when they realized they weren’t going to get anything from me.

  I sat in a chair close to the dock, staring out at the creek, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me. Maybe I was sick. Maybe I had brain damage. There was something not right with my head.

  My thoughts kept drifting back to the day I’d been here with Estella and how good it’d felt just to hold her. Yeah, there was definitely something wrong with me.

  Before I could try and diagnose my sickness, a girl planted herself in my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck.

  “Viiiiinceeeent! I haven’t seen you in soooo long!” she slurred in an irritating high-pitched tone.

  Shit. It was Sarah, and she was one of the clingiest girls I’d ever had the misfortune of sleeping with. Don’t get me wrong. She was hot as hell—long legs, tanned, big boobs—but she wanted way too much from me. She wanted a relationship from me even though I’d made it clear that there was never going to be anything between us apart from sex.

  Taking a gulp of my beer, I shot her a look of disinterest. “Not long enough.”

  She tilted her head back and let out a roar of laughter, swatting at me with a hand. “You are suuuch a tease, Vin!” Her eyes were too unfocused and her words were jumbled together. She’d been having something other than just alcohol—that’s why she was acting extra crazy tonight.

  “What are you on?” I muttered, trying to push her off me, but she held on.

  “I’m on you.” She lowered her voice, probably in an attempt to be sexy, and planted a kiss on neck where my ‘M’ tattoo was. “And I want you.”

  Her lips felt good against my skin—she knew how to turn me on—but it was also annoying me. I pushed her away again and stood up.

  Sarah almost tumbled to the ground, but managed to grab onto my arm before she lost her balance completely. Straightening up, she shot me an annoyed look. “What the hell is up with you, Vin? I’ve been calling you for two weeks and I don’t hear anything back.” She placed her hands on my chest and leaned in. “That’s two weeks wasted that you could’ve been fucking my brains out.”

  I rolled my eyes and took her hands off me, placing the beer bottle on the chair. “I’m sure you found someone else to keep you busy.”

  “Don’t call me a whore, you asshole!” Sarah tried to push me, moving sluggishly, and I easily grabbed her hands, finally paying attention long enough to see how red her eyes were. She’d definitely taken something before she’d gotten here; that’s the only reason she had the guts to talk to me like that.

  “Sarah,” I said, surprised by how calm my voice was, “you’re talking crap right now. You’re drunk and God knows what the fuck you’ve been shooting up. When you calm down, and you want to go home, let me know and I’ll give you a ride.”

  As I turned, I saw that everyone was watching us, like we were some sort of fucking spectacle. For a few seconds, I stared around at everyone in disgust—they were all drunk, drugged up, and the girls were happy for the guys to do whatever they wanted to them. It made me sick.

  Estella was right. We chose this life for ourselves. We didn’t have to do any of this, but we did. There was no way I wanted Dylan to become like us.

  “Vin, I’m sorry!” Sarah clung onto my arm, her nails digging into me. “I’m sorry! Let me make it up to you! Let me make you happy!”

  Her idea of “happy” was to proceed to undo the zipper of my jeans. And, yeah, it probably would make me happy, but what the hell was I going to get out of a girl who was so drugged up, she didn’t care about giving me a blowjob in front of thirty other people?

  That was a huge turn-off.

  “Look, stop.” I forced Sarah to her feet and zipped up my jeans. “I’m not doing this with you in front of everyone.”

  Sarah glanced around, her eyes glazed, and giggled as though she’d only just noticed everyone around us. She leaned in to whisper to me. “Then let’s go somewhere quieter. Maybe your room…”

  I jerked away from her, pushing her back. “You need to find someone else to annoy, because there is no way in hell I’m taking you back to my room tonight.”

  Ignoring her cry of pro
test, I turned and began walking past the other guys. My eyes locked with Ryder’s, and his expression was hard as he watched me. I didn’t bother trying to figure out what was running through his mind. I was pretty sure everyone was wondering what the hell was wrong with me tonight. I’d spend a good amount of time trying to figure out the same thing.

  Weaving my way through the trees, I finally ended up at the clearing behind our house and trudged up the dirt path, going into the house through the back door. Once I was inside the house—leaning up against the wall in the kitchen—the noise from the creek was faint. At least Dylan wouldn’t be able to hear most of what was going on.

  Turning out of kitchen, I walked down the hall and knocked on Dylan’s door.

  “Come in.”

  When I pushed the door open and walked in, I found my brother sitting on his bed surrounded by books. God, my brother was a saint. That’s what was so great about him; he went into his room and lost himself in his books.

  He seemed surprised when I took a seat at his desk chair. “Why aren’t you at the creek?”

  I shrugged. “Dunno. Not in the mood.”

  “Oh.” Dylan began placing his books into a neat stack. “Um, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, Kid.” I leaned forward, wondering what was bugging him.

  “Do you think Estella will really come back tomorrow?” His expression was serious as he regarded me, biting his lower lip.

  Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair, not really sure what to say. It seemed like Estella would come over tomorrow, but I didn’t want to get Dylan’s hopes up only for him to be disappointed if she didn’t show up. He didn’t need another woman coming into his life and messing it up.

  “I don’t know.” I stared at the floorboards, feeling like a total jerk for not having a better answer to his question. Why give him hope only for him to be let down over and over again?

  “I think she’ll come,” Dylan stated, picking up his books and walking past me to put them on the desk. “She’s my friend.”

  Hearing him say that Estella was his friend made me cringe. Yeah, she was a nice girl, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to let him down. “That’s great, Dil, but that doesn’t mean that she’s gonna see you tomorrow. I don’t want you getting excited for nothing.”

  The truth was, I didn’t want to see how devastated he’d be if she didn’t show up. But after what’d happened with Ryder, I couldn’t blame her if she didn’t. Sometimes I wanted to get away from this life too, but it was too late for me.

  “Vin, why don’t you trust anyone?” Dylan asked, returning to the bed and sitting on the edge.

  I didn’t know what to say to that. There were so many things wrong with me that I couldn’t even begin to explain them to a ten-year-old kid. So instead of answering his question, I stood up and headed to the door.

  “Get some sleep, kid. It’s late.”

  Dylan got under the covers, his eyes searching mine. “You can trust Estella. She’s not like Ruby. She cares about me.”

  There was nothing to say to that. If my kid brother could trust women even after Ruby continued to fail him, then why couldn’t I?

  Letting out a breath, I gave him a weak smile. “Night, Kid.”

  Dylan knew not to push the topic further—he’d get nothing else out of me.

  “Night, Vin.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Estella

  ~ Two Years Ago ~

  When I got home, no one was there except him.

  The look in his eyes disgusted me—it made me sick to my stomach the way he stalked my movements with his eyes.

  My blood ran cold and my heart accelerated, like it was trying to tell me to run away. But I didn’t run—I stayed exactly where I was because I didn’t want to make him angry. If he got angry, he could do the same thing to Savannah. I didn’t want him to ruin Savannah’s life the way he had ruined mine, so I let him do this to me.

  When I didn’t move towards him, he stood up from his seat on the couch and approached me; his clothes were wrinkled, his hair was untidy, and when he spoke, his breath reeked of alcohol.

  “I’ve missed you.” He pulled me close, burying his head in my neck. “I’ve had a bad day, Estella, and I need you.”

  Here I stood, Estella Markson, and I let him say these things to me. Here I stood, Estella Markson, and I let him run his hands over my body. Here I stood; frozen, broken, dead inside. I stood here, letting him ruin me once again.

  He lifted his head and stroked my cheek with a finger. “Make me happy, Estella, the way your mom used to.”

  My stomach dropped and I had an urge to throw up. “Please don’t make me do this.” My voice was soft, coaxing. I didn’t want to make him mad.

  His eyes sparked and he straightened up, grabbing a fistful of my hair and tugging it so hard that tears stung my eyes from the burning of my scalp. “You know I don’t like it when you make things difficult for me. Be a good girl and do what I say, or you know what’s going to happen.”

  “I’m s-sorry,” I whispered, lowering my gaze.

  I knew his threat well. If I didn’t do as he said, he would start using Savannah to keep him company. There was no way I was getting my baby sister involved in this. I had to keep her safe.

  As he released my hair, a smile that sickened me formed on his lips. He grasped my arm and slowly lifted up the left sleeve of my coat and stroked the fabric of my sweater underneath. It made me sick that he knew my secret; that he knew I was disfigured beneath that sweater.

  “You are such a good girl,” he said as his eyes drank me in greedily, “and I’m going to show you how I treat good girls.”

  And, because I was frozen, and broken, and dead inside, I let him lead me to my room.

  * * *

  He hadn’t done this to me in a few months, but the memory of how to behave was ingrained into my skull. Once he left my room, I took a shower to wash his scent off me. I loved the way the water felt against my skin, as though I was cleansing myself of what he’d done to me. Sometimes I stayed in the shower longer than I needed to, just thinking about how my life had turned out.

  I knew what he was doing to me wasn’t my fault, but I was powerless to stop it. I was trying so hard to be strong and to hold my family together, but when it came down to it, I was a weak person. I was weak physically and I was weak mentally. I couldn’t stop this from happening to me—it was my fault.

  Once I’d showered and changed into clean clothes, I went out to find that Savannah was home. Ignoring them where they sat at the table, I set about making sandwiches for us to eat. When I occupied myself with something, it almost made me forget the disgusting things he did to me.

  Almost.

  * * *

  ~ Present Day ~

  When I walked out of school the next afternoon, I was surprised to find Vincent parked at the bus stop again. I’d just been about to cross the street with Mariah to go to her car when I saw him standing by his bike waiting for me.

  As usual, he was dressed in that way that bothered me—his jeans, shirt, and jacket all hugged his body in a way that made me stare for too long. It was like when you knew something was trouble, but it just looked so darn good that you couldn’t stay away. That’s what Vincent did to me.

  “Oh my God,” Mariah said, her voice high pitched. “Vincent Madden is here.”

  She said it as though I’d gone temporarily blind and couldn’t see the huge anomaly in my life. Vincent stood out like a Goth at a Justin Bieber concert—he wasn’t very hard to miss.

  “Yes, I know, Ray,” I said, trying to get a firm hold of my emotions. Vincent had a way of making me feel things I didn’t want to feel. “I didn’t expect him to be here.”

  That was the truth. I know he’d come to see me here yesterday, but I thought that that had only been a once off thing. I honestly didn’t think he’d come all the way to Statlen just to pick me up.

  “He is so hot,” Mariah chattered on as we crossed the stre
et together and approached Vincent, “in an I’m-going-to-pull-a-gun-out-on-you kinda way or a mess-with-me-and-I’ll-kick-you-in-the-phalange kinda way.”

  Rolling my eyes at her, I lowered my voice so Vincent wouldn’t hear me. “You are so deluded by hot guys, it’s not even funny. You need a reality check. That is not hot.”

  “Oh, come on, Estee! He’s hot in a dangerous, bad boy way. Even you have eyes. You’re the one who needs a reality check. I don’t see how you control yourself from ripping his clothes off.”

  I let out a breath, feeling irritated that a part of me agreed with her. “Yes, okay, there might be a part of me that finds him attractive, but it’s not enough to make up for his mental imbalance. Therefore, my logic declares that he is not hot.”

  “That’s not what your friend thinks.”

  My face went hot at the sound of Vincent’s voice, and I turned to find him watching us with a knowing smirk on his lips.

  Darn! He’d heard us! As if I needed another reason to feel awkward around him.

  Quickly recovering, I flipped my hair over my shoulders and tried to control the heat that I could feel pooling in my cheeks. “My friend has brain damage. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. Therefore her comments aren’t valid.”

  Vincent took off his aviators and hung them on the front of shirt, the smirk still playing around his mouth. “Let me get this straight; your friend has brain damage, I’m mentally imbalanced, yet you hang around with us, so what does that make you?”

  “Clinically insane, obviously,” I blurted out without really thinking.

  Vincent let out a laugh which sent tingles shooting through my stomach in ten different directions. This was not good. My body must be clinically insane for reacting to Vincent like that.

  “I kinda figured that the first night I found you talking to yourself in a British accent.”

  From beside me, Mariah let out a snort. “You speak to yourself in a British accent?”

  Trying my best to ignore her, I gave Vincent a flippant look. “Well, I knew you were trouble the first night we met.”