I think I’m falling in love. It’s so weird. I know. I mean, we barely know anything about each other. I haven’t told him about you, or what my life was like. He refuses to talk about his family. He’s a fighter, can you believe that? Like a fighter in an illegal fight thing in the bottom level of a parking garage. I’m going tonight… I’m nervous for me. Scared for him. I don’t know what I’m doing.
And the sex… oh my god, Abby. The sex…. I mean, if this was what you were chasing with all those boys I get it. I so get it.
Suddenly typing that made me wonder if my feelings for Jesse weren’t really more about the sex than anything else. That made more sense than me falling in love with Jesse.
Never mind about the love thing, I typed. I think I’m just drunk on sex. But in any case, I wish you were here to talk to. I’m sure you’d tell me to stop overthinking things, and I’m trying.
I sighed and lifted my hands away from the keyboard and then, because I was on some kind of confession roll, I typed:
I really want him to like me the way I like him. Which is scary, you know. Because it seems so impossible. A guy like him and a girl like me…? I mean, how does that work?
“Enough,” I said and pushed away from the desk. I wasn’t going to go down into that basement in some kind of pity party.
I turned off my lights and locked the door behind me and knocked quietly on Jesse’s door.
“Come in!” someone shouted and I entered Jesse’s quiet and dark apartment. In the living room Jesse was sitting on the couch while another man sat on the coffee table, wrapping and taping Jesse’s fists.
“I don’t want to interrupt,” I said.
“You’re not,” the man on the coffee table said. He glanced at me and did a quick double take. “Holy shit.”
I blinked several times, stunned by his reaction. Jesse scowled at the guy. “That’s Charlotte,” he said, like he’d told this guy about me.
“Really?” the guy said and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I just thought you were someone else for a second. I’m David.”
“Hey David,” I said with a wave.
David nodded and went back to wrapping Jesse’s hands, but every once in a while he glanced back at me.
In the dim room, my silver shirt sparkled and Jesse looked at me and smiled.
“That’s for me this time.”
I blushed at the ownership in his voice, and David glanced up at Jesse like he too was surprised to hear that kind of thing in Jesse’s voice.
“Where you from, Charlotte?” David asked as he wove the tape around and around Jesse’s right hand.
“Here.”
“South San Francisco?”
“No. I grew up in Oakland.”
“Family here?”
“What’s with the interrogation?” Jesse asked David.
“Just talking.”
“Talk about something else,” Jesse said.
“Where are you from?” I asked David before he could ask me something else.
“Few blocks from here,” David said. “Me and Jesse and his brother Jack all grew up here. I wrestled with Jesse and Jack,” he said. “I was stuck in the year between them.”
“Oh, I didn’t know…Jack wrestled, too.”
“Well, he sucked,” Jesse said, glaring at David, like he was trying to shut him up with his eyes.
“You set the bar pretty high,” David said with a laugh. “No one was as good as Jesse. Your brother had other talents.”
“Yeah, and how’s that working out for him?” Jesse snapped.
“Maybe,” I said, stepping into the suddenly cold atmosphere between them. Normally I’d shrink away from this kind of atmosphere. Make some excuse to leave, but somehow in the last month of living in this weird place, finding myself in some kind of relationship with Jesse, I found another way to handle the uncomfortable things—which was to just meet them head on. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this.”
“Great idea,” Jesse said.
David nodded, and then to my surprise he turned back to me, tearing the white tape off with his teeth. “What do you do, Charlotte?”
“Besides go to illegal fights with Jesse?”
David laughed, though it was hardly funny. I felt like I was getting trapped in something.
“Let’s go,” Jesse said as if he didn’t want me to tell David the answer.
Whatever, I got it, old friends had crazy dynamics. Jesse got to his feet. He was wearing a pair of skin-tight athletic shorts and a hoodie sweatshirt over top.
“Let’s get your face,” David said and dipped his fingers into a giant jar of Vaseline sitting beside him. He wiped those fingers over Jesse’s eyebrows and over his ears.
“You good?” David asked.
“Yeah,” Jesse said. “Thanks.”
“All right,” David said, picking up his shit like he was leaving. “Go get that asshole. I don’t like the shit he’s been tweeting about you.”
“You’re leaving?” I asked, a little stunned.
“Yeah,” David said. “Jesse doesn’t like people watching him fight. Except… you, I guess.”
That put me in a pretty particular spot and there was nothing to say about it. Jesse turned back toward his bedroom and David stepped up to me. His finger up, his face angry. At me.
“Listen to me, bitch, I don’t know what the fuck your game is but you leave this kid out of it.”
I could only gape at him. “I’m not…there’s no game.”
“Jack’s an asshole, I’ll give you that. But Jesse’s a good kid and he doesn’t deserve any of Jack’s shit falling on him. Got it?”
“I’m not…I don’t know Jack. I’ve never met his brother.”
“Right,” David said, like I was scum. Like I had the power to hurt his Jesse. “See ya,” he yelled at Jesse. “Nice to meet you, Charlotte,” he said loud enough that Jesse could hear me. And then he was gone.
“You ready?” Jesse asked, coming back into the room, this time with sweatpants over the tight shorts and wearing a pair of Adidas shower shoes.
What the hell was going on? I wondered. What exactly had I gotten myself into?
“Having second thoughts?” Jesse asked, like he had been expecting it. And I realized how alone he usually was in this thing. And how hard it must be to have me come. Taking that away from him now would hurt him. Like it would hurt anyone.
“I’m here,” I said. “I’m coming with you.”
I put my hand around his paper-taped hand and together we walked out of his apartment.
The crowd was around the pool again, the two girls drinking wine. The big beefy Irish guys—brothers, Jesse had said—sitting with them, flicking bottle caps into the empty pool.
“Go get ’em, Jesse!” one of the guys yelled. “I got big money on you!”
“Teach that asshole what happens when he runs his mouth!”
Jesse lifted his hand in a kind of salute that seemed to acknowledge and answer at the same time.
The women looked at me with wide, surprised eyes and I shrugged with as knowing a grin as I could muster, which also seemed to acknowledge and answer at the same time. And then we disappeared down into the basement.
It was as terrifying as I imagined, dark and damp. I only barely managed to swallow my scream as a rat or something ran over my shoe.
“Why do you come this way?” I asked as we walked through a big metal door into the bottom level of the parking garage. I could hear people now. Music. It was still dim but there were brighter lights up ahead.
We walked past the cement posts toward the action, which was centered around what looked like an old boxing ring. There were industrial work lights set up around it, creating the only light in the whole basement.
“I don’t need to make a scene.”
“Isn’t that the point?” I asked. I’d watched boxing and grew up with WWF wrestling after school—I knew the entrance was part of the show.
“The point is winning. The rest of it i
s bullshit.”
How entirely Jesse of him to say that.
People started to notice us as we came in, turning to watch us, stepping out of our way as Jesse and I made our way toward the ring. And it was scary, sure, but it was also thrilling. The air in the basement was laced with salt and sweat and blood and lust and it wasn’t air I could live on, but it was exciting to taste it.
“How come last fight you had a guy keeping guard outside my door and now you’re letting me come down here?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“You’re going to be pretty busy, aren’t you? To worry about me.”
“I could be half dead and I’d worry about you.”
That—well, that was something coming from Jesse.
“And you, babe, you’re tougher than I ever dreamt. There’s nothing down here you can’t handle.”
I grinned, beamed really. Because it was true. I was tougher than I ever gave myself credit for.
An old guy met us at the corner of the ring.
“About fucking time,” he muttered. He had a ring of white curly hair around a shiny bald head and he wore an old rain coat like he was Matlock.
“I’m not late,” Jesse said.
The guy swore under his breath and Jesse asked a few questions about security and the profits at the door. He didn’t ask about the other fights or the guy he was there to fight.
“We kicked out a few guys,” the old guy said. “Too drunk.”
Jesse nodded like that was good.
“Who’s the girl?” the guy asked.
“None of your fucking business, Sal. Where’s Hernandez?”
The guy pointed across the sea of white lights to the shadows on the other side of the ring. Another man, surrounded by a lot of people, jerked his chin up at Jesse and Jesse nodded back.
“Don’t move from this spot,” Jesse said to me. “Seriously, stay right here.”
I nodded and then Jesse was gone, up onto the ring, through the ropes to the center where Hernandez met him.
“Where’s the referee?” I asked, looking around for some official-looking guy to give everyone some rules.
Sal looked me over head to foot and said, “Where’d Jesse find you?”
I didn’t answer and his lip kicked up in what might have been a snarl. “There are no referees,” he said. “The only rule is fight until someone goes unconscious or until someone surrenders.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Look where you are, sweetheart.”
Right. Illegal fighting ring in the bottom level of a parking garage. Rules were not appreciated down here. I suddenly understood what Jesse said to me the other day in a whole new way—he was scared he’d get hurt because there were no rules. Nothing to protect him but himself.
And he wanted more. He was tired of being the only thing between himself and harm.
This understanding broke me open.
I spread my feet a little bit wider and rooted myself down to the ground. I would stand here. I would sparkle in these shadows as proof, if he wanted, that he deserved more.
Jesse came back a few minutes later and started to strip. The music quieted down and so did the crowd, everyone gathering closer to the edge of the lights, not quite stepping into them as if everyone had an agreement about the dark being better.
He left his sweatshirt and sweat pants in a heap at my feet. Kicked off his shoes and was about to turn back to the ring when I put my hand against his stomach. Just a touch. I didn’t mean to distract him or ask for anything. But he turned back to me, grabbed my head in his taped hands and kissed me like a man going off to war. He kissed me with his teeth and his violence and the flavor of fear roaring through his mouth.
And then he was gone. Up on the mat.
It took everything I had to keep my eyes open. To witness every brutal punch and vicious kick. The guy Jesse was fighting wore the same kind of shorts Jesse did, but across his butt he had the name of a supplement company. The same name was on a banner draped across the ropes on his side of the ring.
There was a guy standing there too. Yelling advice.
A coach.
Jesse had me in the shadows holding his clothes.
The other guy landed something awful across Jesse’s face, and he stumbled back and then back again as the guy punched him once more.
“Jesse!” I shrieked, my voice lost in the void. I held his sweatshirt up to my face, unable to watch, but then I pulled it down because that was the whole point of being here.
Jesse was backed into the corner, his hands covering his face, his body curled over itself as he did his best to protect himself against the vicious blows being rained down on him. Jesse pushed off the ropes and the guy got him in some kind of hold, swept his feet out from under his, and Jesse went down onto the mat.
“Jesse!” I screamed again. Other people were yelling other things that made no sense to me, so I just screamed. “Fight him! Jesse! Fight him! Don’t give up! Don’t stop! You can do it, Jesse! You can do it!”
I had no idea what happened. No clue. Jesse was on the ground, the other guy on top of him. And then suddenly, Jesse had him flipped over on his back, his arm held in such a way that if the guy moved or Jesse moved it would break.
The crowd around me was completely silent. Still.
The guy pounded the mat and Jesse let him go.
The crowd went absolutely ape shit!
Glancing around at the wild-eyed faces around me, I missed Jesse getting up off the mat and through the ropes to me.
“Oh my god!” I cried when he was suddenly right in front of me. I didn’t know if I should hug him or kiss him or what. He was bleeding, and I didn’t want to hurt him any more than he’d been hurt.
He kissed me. He kissed me so hard I was imprinted with him.
And then he took me by the hand and led me away from the ring through the shadows toward our apartments. I raced to keep up. He was barefoot and half-naked and I was wearing high-heeled booties, carrying his clothes, and still we ran. We ran until we got up the stairs, through the basement door. He unlocked his door and pulled me into his apartment.
“Jesse!” I cried. “Aren’t you supposed to stick around?”
He was stripping my jacket off me, and then my shirt.
“Don’t you have to talk to people?” I gasped as he cupped my breasts in his hands, bent his head to kiss me there, where the mounds of flesh were pushed up against each other.
“No,” he said, sweating and bleeding on me and I didn’t care. I didn’t care at all. “I heard you,” he whispered, glancing up into my eyes. “I heard you yelling.”
He was solemn and serious and I didn’t know what it meant. But it meant something that I’d been there and I’d yelled. And he’d heard me.
“Of course,” I whispered and I opened my arms to him.
He fell against me.
And I fell against him.
With Jesse I lived in a hundred percent of my body. Just like him. I felt him in every inch of my skin. I felt him inside my skin. He was in my skin and bones.
He pushed my leather coat off with his hands that were still taped, and the tape scraped the skin of my upper arms.
“Sorry,” he breathed, panting and wild. He lifted his hands to his teeth and pulled at the edge of the tape, twisting his hand to unwrap it, and I stopped him.
“Let me,” I said, grabbing the end of the tape and unwrapping his hands. Pulling it away from his skin. I did the same to the other hand, my head bent to see what I was doing, but of course—of course—I could feel him watching. I felt him standing there, panting, all his wild fierce desire barely restrained while I untaped his hands.
Once the last bit of tape was gone, he reached for me and I stepped back.
“Wait.”
“Fuck. No—”
I lifted the sparkly shirt off my body, revealing the black lace bra that I thought was pretty fucking sexy and he groaned hard, which I took as agreement.
I unzipped my little booties and undid my pants, starting to push them off my hips.
“Wait,” he said and he turned me, with his hands he turned me and then walked me over to the couch. “Here.”
My back to him, I pushed down my pants, bending over slightly, giving the kind of show I never in my life would have thought I’d give. His hand cupped me, I felt his fingers against the skin of my hip, the heat of his palm against the lace of my underwear.
“Take these off too,” he said, in a bossy mood tonight.
So I did.
“Bend over.”
Oh, fuck. My belly trembled, my pussy was wet. The old insecurities wanted to plead their case, but I blocked them out and bent over, bracing my hands against the couch. I knew what was coming next, thought I was prepared for it, but when his palm hit the skin of my ass I shrieked.
“Shhhh,” he said, stepping up closer to me, his body cradling mine. Heat and comfort. “I can’t…I need you so much, Charlotte.”
“Please,” I whispered, looking back at him over my shoulder. I needed him too. Wanted him more than I ever thought I could want another person. He’d changed all my settings, turned everything up inside of me. “Fuck me. I need you to fuck me.”
He fumbled with the condom, my slutty lover, undone with need for me, and my knees nearly crumbled with need for him. But then he was there, behind me, his hands at my hips, his cock at the entrance to my body and slowly, so slowly, he pushed inside of me.
And it was uncomfortable, it hurt even, because he was big and I wasn’t totally ready. I stood up on my tiptoes looking for relief and it came when he put his fingers between my legs.
His thumb brushed my clit and I bit back a groan.
He didn’t thrust inside me—he was still, his cock impaling me as I stood on my tiptoes. One hand between my legs, his other hand came up to my throat.
I was owned like this. Totally owned by him.
“Come,” he said, his thumb riding my clit, pressing it into my body the way the two of us found out I liked. I groaned again and I knew he could feel it in his hand, the one around my neck, and I fucking loved it. I loved all of it.
“Yes,” I gasped and I worked myself against him, fucking him when he wouldn’t fuck me. The pain vanished and my body hummed and I wanted more. I wanted everything.
Bad Neighbor Page 14
