by Cole, S. Ann
You wanted to see more
You wanted to be more
I’ve been trying to hide my soul
Too afraid to show more
Too afraid to want more
Too afraid to accept more
But, baby, now I’m fallin’
With every kiss, every breath
And I’m not complainin’
No, not yet
‘Cause my walls are crumblin’
Liberty belongs to me
Ooh, my walls are crumblin’
Baby … this is me.
Long after I completed the song, we just stood there staring at each other through the glass. Trevillo’s face was still serious, but I couldn’t tell if he was still angry or not. After an eon of stare down, I saw his lips move, along with a wave of his hand and Carlos and Mark left the studio. Trevillo walked across the room, opened the door to the sound room, and entered to resume his stare down from a closer vantage point.
Finally, he said, “You have the most angelic voice.” His eyes smiled, but his lips didn’t.
“What in God’s good name happened out there?” I asked, because he was standing there complimenting my voice as if there weren’t two — or even more — people outside nursing injuries I was quite sure he inflicted.
“Did I forget to tell you you’re perfect?”
“Trev — ”
He cut me off by cupping my face and slamming his lips down to mine, kissing me as if it were the first time. Like he’d never kissed me before and just needed to know how I tasted. I moaned into his mouth at his attack, and he moaned back.
“I also forgot to tell you, you drive me wild,” he mumbled.
Despite the situation, I smiled. “Nope. You haven’t forgotten to tell me either thing.”
“Don’t talk against my lips, Krissy,” he scolded against mine. “It travels down to my cock and makes me want to fuck you really, really hard … and I can’t fuck you right now.”
Prying my lips apart from his, I laughed this time. “You’re so romantic, Trev.”
“Credits to Shakespeare.”
Before I could ask him again to explain what just happened, Mark’s voice came through the speakers in the sound room. “Limo’s here for the girls, Trev.”
Trevillo turned his face to the glass and shot Mark a withering stare. Mark was clearly not his favorite person at that moment. How did he even know Mark? And why was he here?
Lifting my guitar over my head and setting it aside, Trevillo wrapped his fingers around my wrist and turned with me out of the sound room, from the studio, up the stairs and out of the basement. With firm, purposeful strides, he navigated through the house and straight out the front doors.
There was a white Hummer limousine sitting out front with nine girls standing alongside it, including the ones I’d seen earlier. They were all flawless, polished, with perfect boobs and asses and blemish-free skin.
Trevillo released his hold of me and gave me a look that said “stay put”, before walking down the limestone steps to stand in front of the girls.
“You can tell I’m fucking pissed, right?” he directed to all of them in general.
Not one of them looked directly at him, they just traded ‘uh-oh’ glances with each other. “Yeah, two different cohorts flew in last night — one all the way from Europe — to see your asses.” He singled out a girl standing on the left end. “Especially you.”
She was taller and curvier than the others, with long, black hair flowing past her hips. She looked Indian, but I couldn’t tell for sure. Now that I took notice of her, she indeed stood out among the other girls, possessing more striking features.
“Yet, now I hear the club only had seven fucking girls last night because all of you dumb fucks decided to spend the night here partying with this fucking jackass?”
Without turning around, he pointed his thumb over his shoulder, and I thought it was at me, but I became aware of Mark standing next to me, still holding the icepack over his eye.
“I don’t like having unsatisfied business partners. It’s a bad look, and it hinders me from having those big guys signing deals without a second thought, because Mr. Nelson always takes care of them. In other words, you take care of them. Therefore, when you’re doing dumb shit like this instead of ‘taking care’, it’s fucking with my money. And if I’m not breaking big deals, how do you expect to live like this?” he asked, his hand waving at the Hummer limo, indicating luxury. “So, you know what, unless it’s your time of the month, none of you are allowed to skip nights at the club without permission. Have a problem with that? Then hop on a plane and head back to wherever the fuck you came from.”
None of them seemed to have a problem with that. From where I stood, they appeared terrified at the thought of going back to … wherever they were from.
Trevillo made a shooing gesture with his hand, and the girls quickly shuffled into the limo and left. Turning, he made Mark the subject of his glare. “You’re banned from the club for a month. You lure my girls out of the club again, I’m done with you. I pay you to work, so you should fucking work.”
Mark nodded in acceptance, but gave me a side-long glance and complained, “You blackened my eye and broke my little brother’s nose for something we’re not guilty of, and you’re not even gonna say you’re sorry?”
Trevillo’s shoulders jerked with a shrug. “Consider that black-eye a punishment. But give Carlos my apologies.”
Marked peevishly muttered something under his breath, then turned and narrowed his gaze at me. “You know, KK, you could’ve told us you are with this fucker. Because then I would’ve taken precautions in keeping you as far away from my house as possible.”
“I didn’t even know you two were acquainted, Mark!” I defended.
“Bull,” Mark spat, shooting me one last accusing glare before whirling and stomping back into the house.
Looking irritable, Trevillo nodded for me to come along with him, as if I didn’t just watch him berate a string of flawless women, called them his girls, and talked about some club I didn’t know about. What the goddamn hell?
Planted where I was on the top of the steps, I stared down into his impatient gaze. “You’re into human trafficking?”
Indignation flashed across his face as his jaw clenched. “You serious? Did any of those girls look like they’re being forced to do shit against their will?”
Aside from a few chagrined expressions, none of the women, should I be honest, looked like hapless women who were being forced to live a life they didn’t want. “But … you called them your girls. What do they do for you?”
“They don’t do anything for me, or anybody, but themselves, Krissy. They live a free, luxurious life without a worry in the world. When they’re ready to quit it, they quit. No one stops them.”
I shook my head. “I don’t understand.” I really didn’t.
“Should we continue having this fucking conversation like this? Here?” he snapped at me. Then he raked his fingers back through his hair and his voice softened. “Please, Krissy, come with me. Anything you ask me, I’ll answer with the truth.”
Remaining where I was, I wagged my head no.
Trevillo sighed and took a few steps forward, stopping at the bottom step. He looked up at me and locked me in his gaze. “A few breathtaking minutes ago, you showed me you. You, singing, has got to be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. You’re precious to me, Krissan. So I promise, I won’t hide anything from you. ‘Cause I’m falling, too.”
After heading back into the house to check on Carlos’ well-being and showering him with a profusion of apologies for something I couldn’t even explain, I fetched my handbag and headed back outside where Trevillo was waiting for me in his car. He assured me he’d have someone pick up the V12 and sped out of Mark’s residence.
“It’s a pleasure club,” he explained, before I could start shooting questions. “Not a business, just for pleasure. Private, exclusive, confidential, iden
tities concealed. I, along with a close friend whose name I can’t disclose because he’s a celebrity, own it.
“For the girls, it’s their choice to be there. It’s their choice if they want to fuck the members or just tease and play roles. No one forces anyone to do anything. They only need to make sure they’re on the floor every night. That’s all. They’re given their own high-end apartment, their own high-end vehicle, monthly allowance, and basically live like fucking rockstars.
“No druggies, though. No kind of drugs whatsoever. Got to stay clean, or they get the boot. And there’s a long list of girls on standby, waiting for someone to get kicked out so they can slide into that spot. It’s all just for fun. For pleasure. For the underground enjoyment of my business partners. That’s all.”
Having spewed all that out in one breath, he inhaled deeply when he was done. And I nodded. Because I believed him. Mark always had these hot, sexy women running around his house like playboy bunnies, and, as aforesaid, they were all flawless and seemed quite content. So I didn’t have a reason to doubt his words.
“For your pleasure, too?”
“Not sexually.” He glanced over at me for a brief second before shifting his eyes back to the road. “I told you: you’re the first younger woman I’ve ever been with. The only one I intend to be with.”
I decided to ignore the latter of his sentence … for now.
Even though I knew the answer to my next question, I fired it anyway. “Did you hit Mark and Carlos because of me, or because of ‘your girls’?”
Trevillo dragged his eyes from the road and gave me a look I couldn’t fathom. He shook his head slightly and redirected his eyes to the road.
“I went there to set Mark and those girls straight, but I saw my Aston, and knew you were there. Only, I didn’t know why you were there. At my friend’s house. The worst of my friends, at that. The friend who fucks any damn thing that breathes. Even though I couldn’t piece together how you even knew him, I just assumed you were screwing him.
“So, the second he opened his door, my fist connected with his face. I demanded to know where the fuck you were and, if he was fucking you, I was gonna kill him then decide what to do with your ass later. He swore he didn’t know any Krissy, but that if I were referring to KK, then she was down in the basement with his brother.”
He chuckled as if now realizing how thoughtless and impulsive his actions had been. “Yeah, that made me see red. I stormed down to the basement, saw you behind the glass with your eyes closed, strumming your guitar, and then, I was breathless.” Smiling appreciatively, he added, “You’re fucking amazing, Krissan Kingston.”
Flattered by his compliment, but still confused about Carlos’ broken nose, I asked, “Then why on earth did you hit Carlos?”
“Oh, that.” His face got serious again. “I saw him looking at you and licking his lips like he was picturing you naked, while you sang words meant for me. I didn’t like it. So I broke his fucking nose so he’d know never to look at another man’s woman like that again.”
Appalled, I gaped at him, instantly remembering his words: ‘With me, things are usually insane, fast, and dangerous’.
“You’re a bit frightening sometimes, Trev.”
“Good. Never cheat on me.”
His voice held so much austerity and threat, cold sweat from fear washed over me.
“Why do you think I would?” I whispered.
A reminiscent shadow passed over his face, and several minutes went by before he decided to answer. “Every woman I’ve ever screwed belonged to someone else. They were all taken: married 0r otherwise, yet they willingly gave themselves to me. Sometimes without a second thought, and sometimes with a half-hearted fight that was more submission instead of true resistance. It’s always so easy. I fucked them and sent them back to their husbands or whoever. Women are … women: Weak and fickle. And weak. And fucking faithless. They can’t be trusted.”
That was when it all became clear to me. “So that’s the reason you never bothered finding someone for yourself? Someone to call yours? Someone close to your age, that you might fall for? Because you think they’ll cheat on you just like the women you’ve slept with cheated on their significant others?”
Trevillo sucked in his cheeks and kept his eyes trained on the road, seeming deep in thought. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, I couldn’t help admiring how boyish he looked when he did that.
“Don’t cheat on me, Krissan,” was all he offered.
And this time, it wasn’t just a threat, it was also a plea.
Chapter 20
T. Nelson
The First Wife
“C’mon, Trev, just one draw,” Nardo pressured, thrusting a huge joint in his face.
Trevillo was hanging out at his buddy’s home, lounging by the pool, talking shit, and swigging beers. While Mark and Nardo smoked pot, Trevillo didn’t, so they were constantly trying to talk him into it, being the epitomes of peer pressure.
Nardo’s home was the one place they could get away with underage lawbreaking shit, such as smoking and drinking alcoholic beverages, because Nardo’s father smoked pot, too. He was cool, and he understood guys needed to be guys, so he allowed them free reign. Thus making the Lewis’ residence their weekend chill spot. For Trevillo, it was a break from the overwhelming pretentiousness at his own home.
For about the hundredth time, Trevillo declined. “Nah. I’m good.”
Nardo shrugged, pulled a long draw, and resumed his pointless chatting. As usual, Trevillo only half-listened to the gibbering, as his attention was directed up to the third-floor balcony of the Mediterranean-style home. There, Mrs. Lewis, Nardo’s mother, was lying face-up on a lounge chair, sunbathing in a red bikini. She wore huge sunglasses and had a paperback open in her hand. Maybe she was reading, maybe she was checking him out behind those sunglasses. Who knew?
He chose to believe the latter, though. Mainly because the woman always swam or sunbathed on the days he and his buddies decided to hang by the pool. And she suffered no uncomfortable awkwardness sashaying around in those flimsy scraps called ‘bikinis’.
It had to be him who she teased. It couldn’t have been Mark, because he had a gap in his teeth that was so wide, you could see his tonsils when he smiled.
The flaunting might not have bothered Trevillo if the woman was wrinkled and unattractive with flab here and there, saggy tits or a flat, shapeless ass.
That, however, wasn’t the case with Mrs. Lewis.
Mrs. Lewis was a blond bombshell who was polished to a T, buffed to the D, and curvier than video vixens.
Trevillo didn’t watch porn. Porn was for suckers. All his fantasies consisted of Mrs. Lewis and him in various positions, and he would fist himself into orgasm many times imagining his cock in her mouth, between those copious breasts, inside her … Shit. The woman was a fucking tease, and she was going to get fucked. Soon. Real soon. He just needed an opening, narrow as it may be.
Soon came sooner than he ever imagined it would be.
As the heat of the sun pelted down on him at the poolside, Trevillo squinted his eyes against its glare and watched as Mr. Lewis walked out onto the balcony, twirling his car keys around his fingers, formally dressed, looking like he was about to leave. His lips moved as he said something to his wife, and she gave him a bright smile and nodded. He leaned down to drop a kiss on her forehead and disappeared back into the house.
Trevillo kept still, blocking out the chattering of Nardo and Mark, as he keenly listened for a specific sound.
That sound came three minutes later: the roaring of Mr. Lewis’ Ferrari.
Delighted he finally had his opening, Trevillo turned to Nardo and held out his hand. “I’ll take that draw now.”
Grinning, Nardo passed him the joint and Trevillo sucked in a long draw, held it in for a beat, and let it escape through his nostrils. Passing the joint back to Nardo, he stood up from the lounge chair he was sprawled out on, and told his friends, “Gonna take a p
iss.”
More than familiar with the Lewis’ residence, Trevillo navigated his way from the pool area, straight into the house, and up the stairs to the third floor where he knew Mrs. Lewis was.
He stopped at the French doors leading out to the balcony so that Nardo and Mark wouldn’t be able to see him. Quietly standing there for a minute, he studied Mrs. Lewis’ gold-tanned skin glistening under the sun, her nipples hard and pressing against the thin fabric of her bikini top. Was she turned on, or did she just have those kind of tits? He took note of the book she was reading and instantly understood. She was actually reading, not checking him out.
His arrogance needed to be subdued.
Guising his voice as weak and vulnerable, he tapped his knuckles against the French door and called, “Mrs. Lewis?”
Startled by his voice, she jackknifed up from the chair and turned, her cheeks flushed, looking as if she’d been caught doing bad deeds.
This was such a wide opening.
When she saw him, she relaxed and smiled. “Oh, hi, Trev.”
With feigned diffidence, he slid his gaze to his friends down at the poolside, then back at her. “I kind of … need your advice on something. Girls.”
Mrs. Lewis looked to his friends down at the poolside, too, then nodded with a knowing expression. “Ah, you don’t want your friends to know you’re seeking girl advice.” Closing her book and setting it aside, she stood up from her chair and walked into the house.
Stilling faking, he made a timid chuckle. “No. How em-embarrassing would that be?”
Mrs. Lewis gave him a benign smile as she stopped in front of him, placing a hand on one hip provocatively jutted out to the side. Even though he was a mere seventeen years old, he was already six feet one inch in height, and Mrs. Lewis was shorter than him at around five feet eight. It drove him wild when women had to tilt their head back to meet his eyes. The ultimate turn on.
Fighting to keep his eyes on her face and not her cleavage, he asked, “You know about relationship stuff, right?”
