SAVAGE: The Kingwood Duet

by Scott, S. L.

  “It’s good to see you, too.”

  She laughs. It’s light, but I’ll take it. “I’m sorry.” She wraps herself around me, and I put my arm around her. “It’s good to see you.” Lifting up on her toes, she kisses my neck. “Now where are you going at nine sharp?”

  “You really shouldn’t eavesdrop on people’s private calls.”

  “I wasn’t. You were speaking loud enough to be heard from where I was standing. Now stop evading and answer the question.”

  When the elevator dings, I escort her, leading her to the car. “If you really want to know, I’m meeting a drug dealer from the lower four quarters who apparently sold to a woman I met the other day. When Cruise saw her today she remembered this guy once used to work for some Kingwood execs.”

  “And what do you expect to learn from this meeting?” We reach her car and the alarm clicks off. I open the door for her, but before she gets in her expression changes. It’s different, a shrewdness knotted in her brows adding to the expectations building between us. She leans against the car and turns to me. “I’m a part of this now, Alexander. I want to know where you go and who you’re meeting. I want to know everything.”

  I touch her cheek, searching for signs to see just how serious she is. “I never thought you’d accept this so readily.”

  “I haven’t, but you have, and I support you.”

  “That simple?”

  “No, completely convoluted and complex, but I know you’re doing this so that means I’m doing it.”

  “Remember when I said I’m in too deep?”

  “Yeah.”

  Kissing her, I let my lips remain long after and then whisper, “So are you.”

  She leans back to look in my eyes. Touching my cheek, she replies, “I always was.”

  When I get into the car, the need to touch her is too strong to deny. I reach over and take her hand. Bringing it to my lips, I kiss the top. “I want you to move in.”

  “Alexander—”

  “I’m only asking that you think about it. You’re there most nights anyway.”

  “We’ve been here before.”

  “You weren’t quite twenty last time.”

  “Alexander.”

  “Please consider it.”

  Her gaze disappears like her hand from mine. “I don’t know about the manor.”

  “We can look around for a new place if you want. It’s not about the manor, it’s about me.”

  She’s quick, her eyes pleading like her words, “I would for you. I would do anything for you. Haven’t I proven that already?”

  “You have, but you don’t have to prove anything to me, Firefly. You’re here, and that’s enough if that’s all I get. But please know I want more with you.”

  The add-on at the end makes her smile. “I want more with you too. I promise I’ll think about it.”

  “That’s all I can ask. Oh, except, what do you want for dinner?”

  “I’m thinking Italian food.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  At the restaurant, I love when she orders with big eyes and a hearty appetite. It’s entertaining watching her scarf pasta down like someone’s going to steal it from her. “So good,” she moans in pleasure.

  The sound does things to me, my body awakening for her. “It was good, but not as delicious as you. I think I’ll have you as a midnight snack later.”

  “Are you ever not horny?” She bumps her shoe against mine under the table.

  “Not when it comes to you.”

  “I hope you always feel that way.”

  “I have no doubt I will. You get more delectable with each birthday.”

  Her fork is set down, and she sighs with an amused grin. “You know how to work me over too easily. I need new tricks.”

  “Your tricks are fine. I just know you.”

  The plate is pushed away. Resting her chin on her anchored arm, she smiles. “What’s my favorite color?”

  “Blue, like my eyes,” I reply with a wink.

  She rolls hers. “What’s my favorite movie?”

  “The Notebook because you like sappy love stories where the protagonist dies.”

  Sitting back, she laughs. “What’s my dream car?”

  “A black Range Rover. Loaded—sunroof, automatic, Bluetooth, leather seats, dark tinted windows. I’m batting a thousand.”

  “You’re not doing too shabs.” Her tone turns more serious. “Where’s my favorite place?”

  Shit. My mind searches for the correct answer, but I’m left with nothing, so I try for charming her. “In my bed?”

  She shakes her head. “I love it there, but I was thinking of somewhere else.”

  “Are you going to tell me?”

  “No. I think despite all that we’ve learned about you lately, it’s good for me to have a few secrets of my own.”

  “So you’re going to keep it from me?”

  “No, I just want us to get to know each other again. Do more than have sex and eat dinner together.”

  “I’m quite partial to those,” I say, reaching over and taking her hand.

  “Me too, but you’ll find out where I go when you need to know.”

  “I think you like having secrets.”

  “Don’t we all?” She pushes away from the table. “I need to get going. I’m already going to be late.”

  In the car, holding hands with her reminds me of more innocent times. We used to do this a lot, and I’d almost forgotten. When did life become so hard?

  It doesn’t take long to get to campus. I wish it were longer as I’m not ready for this ease to stop. On the drive over, she says, “If you’re going out tonight, I’m going to stay at my place. I pay for it, and I’m never there.”

  “Because I’m not there.”

  “You’re not at the manor much either, so this should make no difference.”

  My eyes flicker to her. “We just had a good time. Are you starting a fight?”

  “No fight.”

  “I would like to come home to you.”

  “I’d like that too.” Her hands tighten around her seatbelt and I turn back, gripping the steering wheel when she adds, “You know where I live.”

  “This isn’t going to become a habit, is it?”

  “It might. Sometimes I don’t feel safe at your place.”

  “It’s a fortress. Way safer than your apartment, and it comes with cleaning and room service.” When she stares out her window in silence, I say, “That was supposed to be funny. Although it’s true.”

  “I’m sorry.” She puts on a smile that feels put on for me, and shrugs. “The perks are nice, but . . . I don’t know.”

  Pulling to the curb in front of the library and putting the car into park, I ask, “Why do I feel like you’re keeping something from me?”

  “I don’t have anything clean over there anyway.”

  The distance seen in her eyes spreads between our bodies. I hate it. “I’ll return to your place tonight.”

  Her hand moves to my thigh, her whole demeanor lightening. “You will?”

  This time the smile I wear is put on just for her. I need to give her this comfort. “I will.”

  Leaning over, she kisses me on the cheek. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  The passenger door is opened and she steps out. Before it closes, she leans back in and says, “I’ve been thinking about why you think I like The Notebook. You’re right that it’s my favorite movie, but you’ve got the reasoning all wrong. It’s not about being sappy or the protagonist dying. I love it because they fought to be together. Against all odds, they made their way back to each other and loved with every fiber of their being.” Her gaze falls as her chest rises quickly. When she looks back at me, she adds, “I didn’t love it because of the ending. I loved it because of the journey. Every love story has its burdens to bear. It’s how they survive it that makes it great.”

  The meaning in her words isn’t hidden, but I don’t want to
leave on a heavy note. “Maybe we can watch it this weekend.”

  A soft smile appears on her gorgeous face. “I’d like that.”

  “I’ll bring popcorn.”

  Her smile grows. It’s a smile I’ve missed. “Don’t forget the chocolate-covered raisins.”

  “Never.”

  When she exhales, a few of the demons holding her happiness hostage escape, and her eyes catch the setting sun. “I’ll catch a ride from Shelly since you’re borrowing my car.”

  “Thanks for loaning her to me.”

  “Take care of her, and I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Tonight.” I nod and she steps back. I watch her as she walks away, my hands gripping the wheel tightly. I want to keep that promise of the movie this weekend. I love her so fucking much and want to give her that true love ending she wants so badly. The alternative would only cause her more pain.

  “Every love story has its burdens to bear. It’s how they survive it that makes it great.”

  I desperately want ours to survive.

  17

  Alexander

  Kingwood Manor is portentous with its ivy-covered walls and black spires reaching for the dark skies. The red brick masonry was laid years before we took up residence, but remains pristine. I skid to a stop, trying to leave a mark before I park next to a familiar beat-up, forest green Maxima. The car is parked, but idling.

  When I get out, I tap on the waiting car, and tilt to look inside. The window is rolled down and Chad looks over. I say, “I’m going to change clothes. I’ll be right out.”

  When I get back in, I tease, “Your car is a piece of shit. You know that, right?” Reaching over, I lock it just in case it decides to fly open while we’re driving.

  “Not all of us can live in the splendors and spoils of wealth.”

  “They call me King for a reason.”

  He backs the car up, and we head into the world where it’s always felt easier than living behind these brick walls. “And here I always thought it was just a coincidence with your last name.”

  “Ha.” I click my seat belt into place because Sara Jane would kick my ass if she found out I wasn’t buckled in properly. She’s cute like that.

  Reading my mind, he asks, “How is Sara Jane after last night?”

  “She’s fine,” I reply. “She adapts well to change. Anyway, I don’t think anything I do anymore surprises her.” I laugh.

  “She made valid points.”

  Looking at him, my brow furrows. “Not you too, Chad. I need your help. No one’s better than you.”

  “Sometimes I wonder if what we’re doing is right.”

  “It’s not legal.”

  “I didn’t say legal. I said right. There’s a difference. I’m not hurting anyone by digging up information. It’s what is done with that information that keeps me up at night.”

  “Don’t worry.”

  He looks over at me. His hair shaggier than usual, the wire arm of his glasses slightly bent. Shifting eyes between the road and me. “I’m worried. Shelly’s involved—”

  “I won’t keep you if you don’t want to be a part of this anymore.”

  “I need the money.”

  “Shit, Chad. I get it.” My temper flairs, but it’s hard to be mad at one of the nicest people I know. He never argues, so this conversation surprises me, but I get it. “This is not your battle.”

  “You’re my friend. I want to help you.”

  The high-rise looms ahead. “I’ll give you the money you need for school whether you stay or not.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  Staring out the window, the misery I’ve dragged my friends into envelops me. “You can.” Taking a deep breath, I calm the anger that could be unleashed too easily these days. He doesn’t deserve to bear the brunt of it. “We’re friends, Chad. You’re one of my best friends. If I can help, I will.”

  When the car is stopped and I notice my bike alongside it, I turn to Chad. “You do what’s best for you.”

  “Thanks. Hey, good luck,” he says when I get out.

  “I don’t need luck. I have this.” I flash a wad of bills and a snarky smile.

  He shakes his head in disapproval. “Like I said, good luck, King.”

  “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Anytime.”

  Once I’m on my bike, I drive out of the nicer part of the city and meet Cruise by the bridge.

  Word got out.

  The welcome wagon is waiting for us when we arrive at the dilapidated building where April has taken up residence.

  Four bikes and a car.

  Fuck.

  Why do I have a strong suspicion this isn’t a friendly welcome?

  We stop at the other end. To my left, Cruise waits for me to make the final call. I ask, “Do you think we were set up?”

  “I don’t think we’ll know unless we go for it.”

  I’m hesitant to drag him into a situation that shouts danger. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

  “We’ve come this far.”

  Nodding, I say, “We’ve come this far.”

  We held our own . . . in the beginning, but being outnumbered and with a gun to our heads, we both fell fast. I protected my ribs and head the best I could. The large beef-heads converged and just enough damage was done to send a message. It’s times like these that I wonder if they know who I really am. They must. If I weren’t under the Kingwood name, I have no doubt we’d be dead. My ears are still ringing from a blow to my right side. I spit pooling blood from my mouth, and squat down, my side hurting. “Fuck, Cruise. What are we doing?”

  “We’re getting close.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because if we weren’t, they wouldn’t have been hiding behind their fists.” His head rolls to the side and he spits. “It will only get worse the closer we get to the answers.”

  Pushing myself to my feet, I walk over to him. “They’re trying to keep us from finding out more than we have.”

  “Yup. Ow.” He grabs his side.

  When I reach him, he’s lying on his back and looks like he’s in a lot of pain. He takes the offered hand, and I pull him to his feet. Our hands flip into our regular greeting, our fingers anchored together. “Thanks, brother.”

  “Got your back, man.”

  “Yeah. Got yours, too.”

  “Yeah, let’s not get mushy over this shit. My jaw fucking hurts.” He wiggles it back and forth so I know it’s not broken. Thank fuck.

  I help him lift his bike off the ground, and he does the same for me. They kicked in my exhaust, denting it. Fuckers. They’ll pay for that, and I don’t mean monetarily. Picking my wallet out of a puddle, I see they took five hundred dollars and my credit cards. I don’t worry about that shit. Those cards have trackers, and they can’t use them without a fingerprint to activate them. Kingwoods aren’t going to let their black cards be used by just anyone.

  After picking up the pieces of my phone, I toss the remains in a dumpster. “Fuckers will pay for this.”

  “Shit, they scratched the paint. Stupid fucks.” He swings his leg over and starts his bike. “Looks like the ties between them go back to before April, but we need her to get the details. You think she’ll show?”

  Settling onto the leather seat of my bike, I smile though it hurts. “I’m sure ’cause you’ll make sure of it.”

  He moves forward until he’s even with me. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”

  “We can’t back down now.”

  “One way or the other. But no matter what, we’ll be prepared next time.”

  Reaching out, we fist bump. “Let’s get out of here.”

  We take it slow to analyze the damage done to our bikes. I think they got it worse than we did. Fuck the blood. I’ll heal, but damn, my bike. That pisses me off.

  I just hope my face isn’t too bad or Sara Jane will freak out and my dad will kick my ass tomorrow night. We clean up and buy a Gatorade at a gas station. Fighting always wear
s me down, which is why I never did it unless necessary.

  Tonight it was necessary.

  We hit an all-night diner, needing fuel. “I’m starving,” I say when we slide into a booth across from each other.

  Cruise laughs. “Damn this light is not flattering. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your pretty boy face look so fucked up before.”

  “That’s because I usually win.”

  The waitress pours coffee for each of us without saying a word. She takes our orders, and when she finally looks us over, she asks if we need ice.

  “Is it bad?” I ask.

  “Nah, but I’ll bring it anyway so you don’t swell.”

  We eat our eggs and bacon, pancakes, and potato wedges with one hand, holding icepacks to our cheeks with the other. When she brings the ticket, she asks, “What do the other guys look like?”

  Cruise works his charm and lies, “Worse than us.”

  “Good for you.”

  * * *

  Midnight.

  When I open the door to her apartment, Sara Jane is asleep on her couch. Some old sitcom is on the TV and her kitchen light is on. Taking the remote, I flick the TV off and hit the light switch off, too. I kneel down in front of the couch and watch her. She’s troubled, a little wrinkle in her forehead giving her worried mind away. Her body is restless, and I count her breaths. Every third breath is punctuated with a sigh.

  Her eyes slowly open, but she’s not scared. She actually looks more at peace looking into my eyes. “When did you get here?”

  “Only a minute ago,” I reply as I stroke her head gently.

  Reaching out, she touches the corner of my mouth. I thought I’d cleaned up the blood, but her peace turns to turmoil, and she lifts her head. “What happened? Why are you bleeding?”

  “It’s no big deal. We should go to bed.” I start to stand, but she grabs hold of the sleeve of my jacket.

  “Alexander, what happened?”

  “It was handled, baby. Don’t worry.” I twist my arm so my palm is open to her.

  Her gaze goes from my hand to my face, and then she accepts the offer. When she’s standing, all five feet four inches, bare feet, and tiny pajamas, she wraps her arms around my middle. “I always worry about you.”