by K. S. Adkins
Motown Throwdown
K.S. Adkins
Copyright © 2015 K.S. ADKINS
Published by K.S. Adkins
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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Published: K.S. Adkins 2015
Other works by K.S. Adkins:
The Detroit After Dark Series: Available now!
Brutal
Brawler
Berserk
Ballistic
8 Mile & Rion
Convincing Bet
My hair wasn’t frizzy, check.
My makeup was subtle but classy, check.
My outfit was tight but not hooker chic, check.
My breasts were, huge, okay skip that one.
My ass was big but showcased nicely in these jeans, all systems go.
Which brought me to the begging, I hated begging. It’s very unbecoming but I had to do it. It took a lot of negotiating which included a month of laundry duty to get my friend Brandt to agree to this. Believe me, this was a huge concession for me too because I really hated laundry. Especially a guy’s laundry because…gross. He didn’t want to come because he hated the host and wasn’t shy about calling me a tool for showing. But Roman Peterson had asked me and there was no way I would miss it. We had some challenges, his personality being all of them but, I feel like we’ve found our common ground. I was proud of how far we’ve come together. I’d been tutoring and spending time with him all year but had dreamt of him long before that. Honestly, I don’t think there was a single girl on campus that didn’t.
Here Roman was a God. (Roman, God, get it?)
Between a heavy class load, studying and tutoring for extra money, I always looked like shit when we met up. He’s seen me decent a few times but for the most part I was always a hot mess in glasses. Tonight, I wanted him to see me when I was at my best. Not the nerdy tutor but the girl underneath, the woman in training. The one who didn’t have time for makeup, guys, and parties right now but came because he finally asked. Because he wanted me where he was, in his world. Because he was proud to be seen with me. Walking in, we weren’t there ten minutes before Brandt bailed refusing to be a part of this and I couldn’t blame him.
Chaos, pure and total chaos and in the center of it all was Roman.
A full hour passed when I finally saw the opportunity to say hello and to thank him for the invite before leaving. And I was leaving too, I didn’t belong here, I could feel it. He was talking to his teammates and for once no girls were hanging on them so I saw my chance. Tapping him on the shoulder, when he turns I liked the fact that he didn’t have to look up at me. Roman was exceptionally tall at six foot seven and I liked looking up at him, a lot. “Um, I just wanted to say hi and thank you for the invite,” I stumble. “I sent your work in and you really pulled through. Oh and congratulations on being drafted! Again!” I managed to get out all in one breath.
“Rome,” says Matthew Baker his defensive end, “You know this bitch?”
“Bitch?” I counter, getting riled up. “Listen cocksucker, I’m his t---“
“She’s fucking lost is what she is,” he says moving me away by taking my arm. Despite his tone, his grip was gentle and that upset me too. “The library is that way Einstein.”
“What in the hell is the matter with you?”
“Me? The fuck is the matter with you thinking I want you here. You see these bitches I get to choose from? You think you measure up? You don’t. Not even close.” At that they all laughed like sheep do.
“I dunno man,” says a player I didn’t recognize. The same one that’s been watching me all night, like stalker watching me and it creeped me out. “She could be hot in like ten years and a fuck load of alcohol.”
“Yeah, well she isn’t hot right now is she?” he says sneering at me but never letting go. Just then Michelle Porter saunters up to his side and joins in the fun at my expense. I really thought he and I were past this but I was very wrong and very pissed. Knowing it was time to go and before I lost it, I give him my parting jab while staring Michelle down. The girl was dangerous and he needed to proceed with caution. Since he’s never listened to me before I didn’t expect him to listen now, but he should have.
“She’s trouble, Roman, remember I said that.”
“Bitch, are you still here?” it sounded more like bith are woo til ear but I got the gist. Pulling his arm around her to keep her standing she put her free hand on his dick and smiled. With a look I swore was regret, he took Michelle and turned away from me. That night my heart broke but with time, I recovered.
Roman Peterson however, did not.
I’ve been coming to Lush every Thursday for three months. Thursday is karaoke night and quickly it had become my favorite night of the week. Between the hospital and dodging my dad’s attempts at hooking me up with a compatible male, singing was my only solace.
Okay so I had an ulterior motive for going every Thursday.
Him.
Ten years later I found him when I least expected it, when I wasn’t even consciously looking. The first night I saw him, I almost fell off the stage. One second life seemed fulfilling then I saw him and realized I wasn’t fulfilled, I was empty, that he was what had been missing from it. He was still impossibly tall, still deliciously dark and even more stunning than I remembered. Roman was the doorman for Lush now and was still the largest man I had ever seen. I didn’t know he worked here when Jules invited me to come. Since finding out I can’t stay away and I always come alone hoping he’ll approach, he doesn’t. One look at him and you could see he was a changed man. The all-star quarterback that could make me laugh or reduce me to tears was long gone. His arrogance had evaporated, his cocky attitude vanished. In its place was a man wanting to stay hidden.
He used to be quite the whore. Attention whore, man whore, football whore. The Roman I remember lived for the spotlight, often doing heinous things to stay there. He could be reckless, mean or charming depending on his audience. The guy manning the door didn’t want attention of any kind, he wanted to be left alone. But he was impossible to hide with the layers of muscle, tick in his jaw, the tattoo that encompassed his entire neck and throat. The man I see today was as lost now as he was then, only he’s older and angrier. Given the circumstances, he was allowed to be.
My memories had preserved him forever as the clean-cut football God not the ripped, tatted-out ex-con. But the second I saw him I realized both worked for me. I liked Roman period. Like no time had passed, like life hadn’t severed our connection, it was him that I would sing to, it couldn’t be helped. His presence gave me the courage to sing tracks that were deep, soulful, most times lusty and all aimed at him.
At first I didn’t think he noticed me with all the women vying for his attention (trust me, they always did). However, in between manning the door and pushing them away, when I sang, he listened to me, saw only me. This was thrilling considering the
last time we were in a crowd together he singled me out to humiliate me. That humiliation cut me deep and a decade later I still couldn’t shake it. In college our routine had been keep Kandace hanging and confused, if I were a class he’d have aced it, he was a pro at it.
Now in the present our routine was each Thursday I would come in sing to him, then feel his crystal eyes on me as I drove away. For those few precious minutes I had him to myself again, it was just us. No words were exchanged but I spoke to him through song wondering if he understood that I’d never forgotten him. I hoped he knew but would never get the chance to ask.
There was this tiny incident in the lot behind the building a few weeks back. Two men thought it would be fun to attack me on a school night. It started like most attacks do, catcalls, hey baby’s and when I brushed them off they became aggressive. I was prepared for aggressive when he appeared from the shadows and in seconds had both men on the ground stealing my thunder. I watched as he literally beat them down like he was trained for it which let me say was hot and unexpected. I’ve never known him to be that aggressive or to fight at all, but I didn’t know him anymore. My biggest mind fuck was that he threw down over me in the first place. Last time I checked, Roman Peterson couldn’t decide if he liked me or hated me. Unfortunately for me, when it came to him I always knew how I felt.
Discarded.
Coming over to me he opened my hand and laughed at me. “The fuck were you planning to do with an Exacto knife, Einstein?” Oh yeah, this was going to end well. Name calling, very mature and, very Roman.
“It’s a scalpel thank you very much and it’s self-explanatory.”
“Why the fuck do you even have a scalpel?”
“How about you just shut up and help me hide the bodies.”
“They’re not dead,” he said looking at me like I’m an idiot.
“Had you stayed inside they would have been.”
I hadn’t spoken to him in ten years. The last time I tried, he managed to reduce me to tears and a lifetime of doubt. Some people never changed I supposed but the thing was, I had changed. I wasn’t that girl crying behind the frat house anymore. I was a God damn medical doctor with degrees and everything! So when he ordered me to leave, I refused, staying put to wait for the police with him. This was my problem not his and I wanted to make sure he didn’t violate his probation. His job was inside of the building not outside of it and I knew he had intervened for me although I couldn’t figure out why. That was Roman for you, say one thing and do another. Funny how even with ten years without him I hadn’t forgotten that. Also funny how he was and still is the only person I have ever allowed the power to hurt me repeatedly. He was also the only person who ever got me too, which made it impossible to hate him. He was a double-edged sword that even after all these years I knew would slice me, I still wanted to play with anyway.
Anyone who knew Roman’s tragic story knew he was fresh out of prison. Leaving him would have been wrong after he not only defended me but quite possibly violated his probation. Jules Allen, the head of security, my friend and the owner, Max’s wife, came out directly after ordering Roman back inside. With one nod he followed her order because when Jules spoke, you obeyed. Well other people did, I didn’t work for her.
“Kandy Kane,” she said just before the police arrived, “Are you hurt?”
“No,” I told her searching the shadows for Roman, “I’m not hurt. It would take more than these two and you know it.”
“What will you tell the police?” she asked giving me that smile. The one that says she had my back.
“That these two crackheads tried to roll me and I kicked their asses.”
“Great answer,” she said on a laugh. “I’ll wait with you until it’s over, alright?”
“I won’t drop his name if that’s what you’re worried about.” I told her bluntly. The man may have starred in my fantasies ten years ago but I would never let him lose his hard-earned freedom over this shit. Back then my presence embarrassed him and I wouldn’t be surprised if it still did today.
“So you know about his situation?”
“We went to school together,” I explained giving nothing away. “I was his---, I mean, I was a fan of his.”
“He’s trying hard to start over,” she said while keeping an eye on the two jackasses on the ground. “It hasn’t been easy for him.”
“I can’t imagine it has been. He’s a good man, Jules, I don’t know him well but I do know that.” After lying, because I had no idea if he was good or not, I touched my nose hoping it hadn’t grown. It hadn’t, so I focused on getting out of here quickly.
“He enjoys watching you sing,” she said smiling. “I think you may have a fan yourself.”
“I’m pretty sure he only watches out of boredom,” Jules doesn’t know old Roman, she knows rehabilitated Roman. The Roman I remember was a self-righteous dick that I wasted a year and my heart on.
Hauling the two men up and stuffing them in the car first they came back to ask questions second. Clearly Jules was a pro at this and totally streamlined the process for me. Thanking her and the police for actually showing, I headed home knowing I wouldn’t be back.
I was big into routine and this back alley brawl just fucked that routine right up. I needed to face the truth and the truth was Roman didn’t want a reunion with me. Also I didn’t have the balls to remind him that I’d always been there, that he was the first, the only, to break my heart. That despite our rocky past, I always waited.
For the guy who didn’t want me.
“Here,” I say tossing her a t-shirt. Acting like it was no big deal, that I had hundreds of them taking up space I tossed it at her like it annoyed me. “I’m your tutor,” she says holding it up. “If you want your laundry done that’ll cost extra.”
“I’ve got plenty of females in line to wash my drawers, for free.” I offer stupidly. Every time we meet, I throw the notches in her face and I couldn’t figure out why I did it, but I did. “Then you may want to consider paying them in cash instead of cock because you are one big wrinkle.”
Blinking at her I wasn’t sure what shocked me more, her back talk or that cock came out of her mouth. She was always throwing me off my game and for a baller, game is who I was.
Working six nights a week was rough but it was better than a cell.
The only bright spot in the week is when she showed up on Thursdays to sing. The first night I spotted her I swear the earth stopped moving. When she saw me she stumbled up on the stage but righted herself and it took everything I had to stay put. She was still tall, still built thick and gorgeously pale. Her hair was longer now, a deeper brown but her eyes were still a soft green. Her fingers were so long and slim when they wrapped around the microphone, I still wanted to feel those fingers on my skin. She was the one who got away, the one you never forgot and the one you treated like shit because you were afraid of her. Back then I thought her voice, like her, was beautiful and now when she opened her mouth the entire club went silent, myself included. For three and half minutes every Thursday she would remind me of what we used to be, what I would never deserve and then she would leave.
No bullshit, she sang to me. I wasn’t hallucinating either, those eyes of hers would seek me out. When they landed on me it was just the two of us again, we were kids and I had her to myself. One song was never enough either, I wanted more time with her. Because for those few minutes all the bullshit in my life ceased, I wasn’t an ex-con and I still mattered.
To her.
Since the throwdown in the lot she hasn’t been back. We had a routine, I counted on it, lived for it. Every week I would listen to her sing then watch her leave from the front entrance making sure she was safe. So when those two dickbags made a grab for her, I lost my mind. No one touched her, no one. It was a matter of time before someone made a move on her and I watched to make sure it didn’t happen. Old habits were hard to break and the need to keep her safe had never left me. Giving no thought to my probation or
the rules of the club, I only wanted one thing, pain, theirs. Jules said I fucked them up so bad it may take her some time to work it out in her head before she came back. Deep down I know my behavior disappointed her, it always did. I had a habit of fucking things up with that woman. You’d think not speaking to her for ten years I’d break the cycle and be polite but that would be too easy. I yelled at her when I saw her holding that scalpel. A fucking scalpel…. she was going to use to defend herself. But when I went back inside she didn’t look scared, she looked unfazed. That was the thing about her, nothing ever got to her. Not even me.
I’ve been trying to muster up the nerve to talk to Jules about it but still haven’t done it. They knew each other but I wasn’t tight enough with her to start asking questions. When she and Max hired me they made it clear I was there to work, not get laid. Ten years ago getting laid was what landed me in prison and I wasn’t looking for a random fuck even though I just got out. Pussy was attainable, that wasn’t the issue. The issue was my cock got hard for one woman, a woman that has every reason to hate me.
I needed this job, this fresh start and if it meant forgetting about her, so be it. Now I can add liar to my list of convictions too. Because she was, not now or ever would be a random anything to me.
In fact, all these years later she was still everything.
“Maybe she’ll show,” says Jules leaning against the door smirking at me. Damn but the woman had a lot of red hair. Max called her Blue because of her eyes but that flaming red hair was a sight to behold.
“Who?” Playing stupid seemed the safest route. I didn’t want to give away too much and Jules was chatty, maybe she’d spill.
“Cute,” she says rolling her eyes. “Kandace, you know the tall woman who looks like an angel but promises devil-like things when she sings. The one you keep hoping will come through that door. The one who knows who you are and promised your name wouldn’t be mentioned to the cops. You know, her.”
