The Tempted Series: Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  He’ll take me anyway I am.

  Imperfections and all.

  And maybe that’s because he’s full of imperfections himself.

  Sometimes perfect can be found in imperfections, just like it’s hidden in the word it’s hidden beneath the flaws. It just takes one person to claim those imperfections and deem them perfect. Blackie is a drug addict, he’s a drunk, a self-loathing man looking for a way out. He’s the definition of imperfect. But you know what his perfect is? The hidden beauty of him? It’s his heart.

  His heart.

  That’s his perfect.

  And I want to be the person who claims it.

  I had escaped the Pastore women and found my way upstairs to Blackie’s room. I laid on his bed and thought I’d take a nap but, the scent of his cologne on his pillow made it impossible for me to close my eyes and not think of him.

  Everything in this room was a reminder of the one night we shared. The one never to be spoken of again. It wasn’t how I thought I’d lose my virginity, not that I gave it much thought. After sixteen my v-card became more of a nuisance then some sacred thing I needed to hang on to. I’m not sure who is to blame if its society or my parents who sheltered me and made me think I was too good to give it up to just anyone. As a young girl I believed I needed to be in love with someone, that the person who took my virginity needed to be some perfect man I would spend the rest of my life with.

  Then I became sixteen and found out I was the only fucking virgin left, or at least that’s what it felt like. All my friends had done it, raved about how great it was and how many orgasms they had—then there was me, the president of the Satan’s Knights daughter. I was crazy and still a virgin. It was unheard of.

  Yet still I couldn’t do it.

  I couldn’t just give it up to anyone.

  My best friend, Noah knew my dilemma and even offered to rid me of my problem.

  And as tempting as the offer was, I turned him down.

  I think it was my subconscious guiding me, making me wait because the one who eventually took it was the only person to ever see me. It may not have been a fairytale, and it hurt like hell, but I wouldn’t take it back.

  None of it.

  Not waiting until I found the perfect man.

  Not waiting until I was nearly nineteen years old.

  I didn’t let anyone else take it because only one man deserved it.

  He might regret it; he might be bothered by it but for me it was perfect. Perfect in an imperfect way. The hidden perfect in a shit load of flaws.

  Just like the both of us.

  Demons and addictions.

  Leather and Lace.

  Imperfect yet perfect.

  My thoughts are interrupted by the commotion coming from the other side of the door. I heard Riggs shout at my father, then call for help. I quickly threw my legs over the edge of the bed and ran to the door. Pulling it open I peeked my head out as my father stalked towards the stairs. The look in his eye was ferocious and I knew even his medicine wouldn’t help him. The maker has taken residence and the crazed look in his eye was the look of a man trying to balance reality and the poisonous fiction his mind was trying to make him believe.

  I understand your pain dad.

  I see it.

  I live it.

  “Stop him,” Riggs hollered as he skidded to a halt at the stairs. “Pipe! Wolf!”

  I stepped out of the room, tip-toeing the length of the hallway before leaning against the wall as Riggs ran down the stairs, stopping mid-way. I could see my dad trapped on the stairs, his brothers barricading him.

  “Get out of my way,” he ordered.

  “Jimmy sent the video,” Riggs explained in a huff, handing his phone over to Pipe. What video? I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat, pushing back the grim thoughts of what may be on the video.

  Anthony Bianci, one of the mob guys, took Pipe’s place blocking my dad from moving and Pipe hit play. I heard the unmistakable voice that belonged to Jimmy but being on top of the stairs, I could only make out every other word—by the way my father lurched for the phone I knew that motherfucker couldn’t have been delivering good news.

  “Jesus Christ,” Pipe said, as Jimmy’s voice sounded stating his demands and threats.

  “I will kill him and I’m going to smile as I do it,” my father hissed.

  It was so weird to watch my hero of a father turn into a monster of a man. What I was witnessing was different from the manic episodes of the past. I think that’s because this man my father was morphing into wasn’t controlled by the crazy but instead, by the criminal.

  “Chapel, now,” Pipe ordered, sternly.

  “There’s no fucking time,” my dad yelled.

  I closed my eyes, sliding against the wall as the men continued to argue.

  “Oh, so you have a plan? Because you’re right we don’t have a lot of fucking time and without a plan we’re fucked. So pull your fucking shit together and grab your gavel,” Pipe replied.

  I glanced down at the watch on my wrist, watching as the second hand ticked away and felt fresh tears sting my eyes. For the first time the numbers on the clock weren’t just numbers they were a lifeline.

  I know now why people say time is precious, for when it runs out there is nothing and you’re left wishing of all the things you could’ve done, could’ve said…if only you had just one more minute.

  Tick.

  Tock.

  Tick.

  Tock.

  Chapter Nine

  My father stormed out of the clubhouse after they disappeared into the chapel and concocted a plan of attack. They looked like a pack of wild animals running out of here. The whole lot of them, the men in leather and the pretty boy mobsters with the tight t-shirts that promoted a gym called Xonerated on their backs.

  I tried isolating myself, staying locked up in Blackie’s room until the dreaded news came but, the door flew open and Nikki Pastore came barging into the room. She froze in her tracks once she spotted me on the bed, and smiled sheepishly—which was comical since it was obvious this girl didn’t have a shy bone in her body.

  “Shit, sorry, I didn’t know anyone was up here,” she cocked her head, glancing around the room. “Is this the Bulldog’s room?” she questioned as she walked over to the dresser and started to search for something.

  “No, it’s not,” I said, throwing my legs over the edge of the bed. “Is there something you need?”

  I started towards her, as she shamelessly moved things around on Blackie’s dresser, pausing to lift a picture frame. She turned around, holding up the frame as her eyes questioned me.

  “Why is it all the hot guys are either married or gay?” she asked as I stared at the photo of Blackie and Christine on their wedding day.

  “Where did you find that?”

  “Right there,” she tipped her chin at the dresser. “Under the mountain of black clothes,” she replied, glancing down at the picture. “As my Aunt Gina would say, that’s a fine piece of ass right there,” she added.

  “Blackie doesn’t like people touching his shit,” I informed her.

  “Blackie?” she turned around and placed the frame on the dresser, standing it up so that the happy couple was rightfully displayed.

  “The guy whose room you’re ransacking,” I explained, tearing my eyes from the photograph to meet hers.

  “Does Blackie smoke?”

  What?”

  “Look, Lacey right? I’m having a nicotine fit,” she stuck her arm out toward me, lifting up the sleeve to expose her nicotine patch. “This shit doesn’t cut it, so again, does this Blackie character smoke?”

  “Sometimes, but not usually,” I crossed my arms. “There are no cigarettes in here.”

  She raised an eyebrow as she stared at me for a moment then walked over to the bed and dropped onto it.

  “Bummer,” she said. “I guess it’s up to you then.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I need a distraction,” sh
e explained, rubbing her arm where the patch was.

  “What? No. What’re you doing?”

  “Who’s the hot guy with the bride?”

  “Shouldn’t you be downstairs helping your mother and that other lady turn this place into a trattoria or something?”

  She smiled.

  “A wise ass just like your dad,” she mused.

  “Did you just call me a wise ass?”

  “I did,” she affirmed.

  “How do you know my dad?”

  “He helped me and my boyfriend out one night. My ex-boyfriend shot up my father’s nightclub and your dad took me and my Mikey to a safe house,” she explained, leaning back on the bed. “Good times.”

  “Your ex-boyfriend shot up a night club?” I asked, wide-eyed as I sat next to her.

  “Yeah, that prick bastard,” she snarled. “Anyway, your pops… he came riding to the rescue, and drove me and Mikey to a cabin in the middle of nowhere. He slipped me a pack of Marlboro’s and became one of my top-five favorite people.”

  That caused me to smile. There weren’t too many people around my age that genuinely liked my father. Growing up me and my friends didn’t spend much time around my dad, they barely knew him. They heard of him, knew his name, his club and made assumptions. Some of them feared the big bad motorcycle man—others thought it was cool to have a dad who was a biker but, they didn’t get to interact with him. Nikki was the first person to tell me she was fond of my father and not because of the patch but because he was just a cool guy who helped her out of a jam and gave her a pack of cigarettes.

  “So, who is Blackie and why are you here hiding out in his room?”

  I was pulled from my thoughts, turned my eyes to her and shrugged my shoulders.

  “He’s the vice president of the club,” I answered, looking away. “He came to get me, to take me here, when your father’s pal showed up and took him,” my words trailed.

  “I didn’t see the girl in the picture downstairs,” she said, tipping her chin to the frame.

  “Because she’s dead,” I lifted my eyes to the photograph, staring at the smile on Blackie’s face and realized even the few times he smiled at me, his smile differed from the one in the photograph.

  He was different back then.

  He was happy.

  “That’s fucking awful,” Nikki whispered, looking back at me.

  “Yeah,” I replied, lifting my eyes to her. “Nikki? You know Jimmy pretty well don’t you? Do you think he can pull it off?” I paused, swallowing hard before I continued. “I guess what I’m asking you is—do you think he’s going to kill Blackie?”

  “Jimmy’s a pussy,” she answered. “No match for the men that walked out of here today,” she paused, taking a deep breath before she continued. “You know not that long ago I was in your shoes, waiting for my father to come back and tell me everything would be okay. I did something foolish, something you shouldn’t, I lost faith in my father and his capabilities,”

  “My father is different than yours,” I interrupted

  “Not really. Different clothes maybe, mine preferred silk over leather. We’re being real with one another, right? Both men are leaders, they are badass motherfuckers, that won’t hesitate to lay it all on the line to protect the people that matter to them. My father used to don a fitted suit while yours wears a leather vest, but the values are the same. He will bring Blackie back,” she assured me, laying her hand on my knee. “So, stop worrying about Mr. Drop Dead Gorgeous over there in the photograph and start worrying about how you will break it to your old man you’ve got it bad for his biker buddy,” she warned, winking at me.

  “What? No, you— “

  “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” she lifted a strand of my hair, twirling it around her finger. “We should do your hair. Maybe dye it…I think ombre would look amazing on you! But I’m going to need a cigarette before I mess with your hair,” she pulled her hand back and smiled at me.

  “And stop sitting up here by yourself. There’s a bunch of crazy women downstairs pretending the men in their lives aren’t criminals… it’s like a goddamn support group down there,” she winked and I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. She held out her hand, looking at me expectantly until I stood up, placed my hand in hers and followed her out of Blackie’s room. We made our way downstairs and were immediately summoned by Grace and Maria to set the table, the table being a pool table with a checkered plastic tablecloth draped over it. These women weren’t the support group, they needed the support group. My father was going to flip his shit when he came back, especially, when he saw his prospects who were supposed to be guarding us had become Maria Bianci’s bitches and were slicing and dicing pepperoni behind the bar.

  It was a real shit show.

  But it was a good distraction from my heart that was breaking and my mind that was trying to shunt me.

  I was beginning to set the table when the door to the compound opened and my father and Riggs stepped inside. I blinked my eyes, making sure they weren’t playing the same tricks my mind was trying to, but he stood there looking around his clubhouse with the eyes of a remorseful man.

  “Dad?” I screeched, dropping the plates on top of the pool table, making my way over to him. He turned his head, his eyes found mine, and he smiled half-heartedly.

  “Have you heard anything?” I asked.

  “No baby, I haven’t. You ladies have been keeping busy,” he muttered.

  Nothing.

  The clock is ticking.

  He’s running out of time.

  He knows it and now it’s time you do to.

  I swallowed, closing my eyes briefly picturing Blackie’s face, and it was enough to shut down the voice of my maker.

  “It was Grace and Maria’s idea,” I tried to explain. “They said when you guys bring Reina and Blackie home, you deserve a meal. Well, that’s what Grace said—Maria said you all should starve for being scoundrels. Though they both agreed, that Reina and Blackie would be hungry so they decided to do all this to welcome them home,” I rambled nervously, stopping myself from begging him to promise me he was going to bring back Blackie.

  He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as Nikki walked up to us, pounding her fist playfully against his chest.

  “Can I grub a cigarette, Bulldog?” she asked, flashing her killer smile and without hesitation my father reached into his cut and produced a pack of cigarettes.

  “You’re my hero,” she exaggerated, pulling one from the pack. “If my mother looks for me tell her I’m slicing a salami or something,” she whispered, before sneaking out the door.

  “Nikki’s going to dye my hair,” I said looking after her. “I like her a lot and she might just be your biggest fan. She has faith in you so if she does, it’d be a shame that your own daughter doesn’t,” I paused as he continued to stare at me blankly. “I don’t doubt that you’ll save him…them,” I corrected, before he pulled me against him, wrapping his arms tightly around me.

  My eyes filled with tears as we held onto one another. All the things we never said to one another when I was a kid, was wrapped in that embrace. The fear of not being good enough resurrected. My insecurities of not being the child he wanted but was stuck with resurfaced. I couldn’t shake the thought, the unexplainable fear he would do anything in his power to save Blackie and Reina, only for him to be reunited with Jack Jr.

  It’s hard to take your own life, but it’s relatively easy to allow someone else the privilege.

  “Dad,” I said, pushing against his chest, lifting my eyes to his, and my fear became my reality. His eyes were his truth. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to save Blackie and Reina, and if that meant his life or theirs, he’d most definitely choose theirs.

  “I see that look in your eye and it scares me, scares me more than any man charging into my house, more so than Blackie telling me I need to hide in a closet because they’re coming for me.”

  I took a breath, biting dow
n on my lip as the memory of Blackie kissing me washed over me. I wonder if I will always think of that kiss when I think of Blackie instructing me to shoot anyone who messes with me.

  I do that…associate things with poignant moments in my life.

  “They say we associate things with our childhood; scents, songs, even toys. They’re supposed to help us remember when our minds grow old with age and we are trying to hang onto our youth. I saw that look in your eyes my entire childhood and I’ll never forget it. I hate that look because it’s a reminder that for the last thirteen years, since Jack died, you didn’t want to be here anymore. I remember looking into your eyes and wondering if that day was the day you wouldn’t come back, to me, if you’d lose the struggle and end up with Jack.”

  I stopped for a moment, studying his features, wondering if anything I was saying would stick with him.

  “You always came back,” I smiled sadly, knowing he came back because he didn’t find the will in him not too. “I told myself it was because you realized I was still here and I still needed you, that you knew how much I loved you and how it would break my heart if I lost you,” I cried, wishing for it to be true.

  “Lacey…” he interrupted but his sentence fell short, his mind was working him over taking him some place dark. Some place I was fighting not to go.

  “Dad?” I said, trying to bring him back to me. “I know you miss Jack, but I’m still here,” I whispered. “And I need my dad. I’ll always need you so please promise me you’ll come back to me.”

  Just bring him back with you.

  “I love you, Lace,” he whispered, pressing his lips to my forehead before bringing me back against him, his strong arms enveloping me. “And I promise you a pack of wild horses couldn’t stop me from coming back to you. We’ll make good memories, I swear it.”

  I closed my eyes, relished in his words and fought back the voice telling me they were a lie, choosing to hang on to his promise with everything inside of me…even my mind.

  The door opened behind me and my club members walked inside.

  “Bulldog,” Pipe called, signaling it was time for them to leave again.