by Vivian Gray
“Where is Tyler?” she repeats, ignoring my thinly veiled threat. This time, Blanche doesn’t just look over me, she tries to get through me. She brushes up against my shoulder in an attempt to spin me around. She shouts his name again: “Tyler!”
“Damn, girl. Calm the fuck down!” I shout, grabbing hold of her hips. I pull her in closer to me, my head sneaking into the space between her chin and her shoulder. My lips nearly push against her neck, but I hold back. “He’s not here, but I can tell you’re hot to get to him. Come inside, and let’s work out a deal between you and me.”
“A deal?” Blanche’s tiny hand moves to steady herself on the small of my back.
I press even closer to her, reminding her that all that’s separating us is her clothes and my thin, barely tied towel. “I’ll tell you where he is – even forget some of the debt he owes me – if you let me take a ride on you, cowgirl.”
She tries to pull away, but I’m much too fast for her. Before Blanche can protest, she’s in my arms, wrapped close to me. I turn her towards the outside wall of my apartment, pinning her in place with her back against the siding. She yelps in surprise but remains cool.
“I’m not your fucking ‘cowgirl’!” She protests. “I’m a nurse, and I’m looking for Tyler. I’m not here to make a deal with you, and I’m certainly not going to…”
Her voice gets small and fades away into nothingness as I begin to leave a trail of faint kisses along the line of her collar, moving down her breastbone. Blanche’s grip loosens, and her body leans back on the wall as I move lower, following the opening of her blouse. My hand around her back moves up the curve of her side, resting on the roundness of her breast.
She sighs heavily, clearly trying to take back control, but it’s too late. I see her lick her pink lips and cock her head back as she lets out the faintest moan possible. Everything moves at a snail’s pace and in fast-forward at the same time.
My hands grope and tear at her while my lips take Blanche in slowly, like they need her touch. Her hands move to my damp hair, her fingers twisting in the curls. I feel her heart beats against my chest, her chest heaving, as she wills herself to tell me no. But she can’t bring herself to do it. That’s how I know I’ve got her.
Suddenly, we’re both jolted back to reality when we hear something drop heavy on the wood plank porch outside.
“What the fuck is going on in—Blanche?”
Several footsteps run to my side, pulling me back before I even get a look at the scene. But I already know what the deal is: Tyler’s back. And the little shit ain’t happy.
“Blanche,” he shouts, “what in the name of Christ do you think you’re doing?”
Chapter Three
Blanche
Diesel manages to free himself from the guys who pulled him off of me, and pins me to the wall again, as Tyler comes barreling up the wooden porch towards us.
For a moment, I’m convinced he’s going to take Diesel out – throw himself at us and tear him to the ground. That’s what he’s done to the other boys that have hung around me without his approval. Tyler was always very protective like that, always watching over me like a hawk. A girl like me could have gotten into big trouble if it weren’t for him warning me about the talk in the locker room, or how boys in high school behaved when they saw a decently pretty face or a set of breasts.
But unlike the time he punched out my ninth grade boyfriend, for making out with me in the parking lot of the local hamburger stand, Tyler stops short of making a good run at the enormous man holding me in my place. I can’t blame him one bit though. Diesel stands at least half of a foot taller than Tyler, and where Tyler is lean with lanky legs and arms, like me, Diesel is the exact opposite – hearty and strong with muscles that dominate every inch of his near-naked body.
My cheeks turn fire-red as I turn my head towards the front door. In the time it took me to get out here to California, I imagined every worst-case scenario, every way me finding Tyler could go off the rails. But in all those thoughts, being caught with a man’s hand down my shirt, and my back pinned against a wall, wasn’t even close to my imagination.
But here I am, looking flushed, dumb, and desperate as Tyler rages at me with the force of a Midwestern tornado.
“Blanche! What in the holy living fuck are you doing here? And… what exactly are you doing – with him?”
These are two excellent questions, to be perfectly honest. The first one, I am prepared to answer; I’m here for him. But the other one, well, I don’t have an answer for that, except that I’m not terribly adept at avoiding a man who’s so forcefully coming on to me. I can’t remember the last time someone took control of me like that.
The imprint of his lips are still seared on the curve of my neck, and my knees are still slightly weak. I’m even the faintest bit wet in my panties, almost embarrassingly so – Diesel, the guy with the stupid name, has gotten me aroused faster than anyone ever has before.
“Yeah, yeah, great to see you too there, lil buddy,” Diesel jokes, with a deeper, more breathless voice than he used just a moment before. He unpins me from the wall, but still stays close.
His deep hazel eyes flash a sign of disappointment. What would he have done to me if Tyler hadn’t shown up? Worse yet: what would I have let Diesel do to me?
Scratch that – I already know.
Tyler doesn’t even bother to reply to Diesel’s moment of sass. “How the hell did you find me?” he demands of me. He’s laser-focused on my face, looking straight past his friend or compatriot, or whatever the hell Diesel is to him. If his eyes were daggers, I’d be lucky to not have bled out by now.
I try to keep my cool, but I’m still so windswept by the surprise seduction that I can only muster out, in a tense murmur, “Tyler… you’re alive. You’re okay. I knew it.”
I’m not really sure why I said that last part. Of course he’s alive, and of course I knew it. He wrote Mom the card. But seeing him here, in the flesh, somehow brings up all those times I wondered if he hadn’t gotten himself thrown over a bridge or locked up in someone’s torture basement.
When the communication stopped while he was in prison, I’d looked up every manifesto I could find, called sheriffs and wardens, and even reached out to other inmates to make sure he was still there and still breathing. He’s been a ghost for so long, a thing I could always feel and sense but never touch. Now, all it would take is me reaching a hand out to him...
“How did you find me, Blanche?!” he roars back, making me flinch.
I nearly trip and fall over a potted plant sitting next to me on the ground. A hand reaches out to grab me, but it is not Tyler’s. It’s Diesel’s; he’s still standing next to me with that thin white towel around his chiseled hips. He tugs me around my elbow, then helps steady me on my feet in a manner that would be sweet – if he were wearing more than a towel and hadn’t just tried to take command of me.
“Your letter,” I answer him tentatively. “You put a return address. I asked around downstairs, at the bar, and they said they thought they saw a guy like you in the upstairs apartments. It wasn’t hard to track you down, considering there are only three other doors here.”
I sound convincing, but the truth is, I’m lying through my teeth. In reality, finding Tyler was hell on earth. I figured I’d be meeting some shady-ass characters, especially given Tyler’s activities. I even left my wallet and backpack at the motel room and only took a few bucks, my phone, and some essentials – just in case one of these scummy sons of bitches tried to pull something on me.
I was prepared for just about anything until the reality of it all hit me like a ton of bricks.
The neighborhood where I tracked down the address was surprisingly decent. There were some families out walking around and a few younger men in suits, busting their butts to get to the bus stops – and I didn’t spy any bars on windows or boarded-up doors. A few police officers were patrolling as well, but they were more interested in chowing down on some midday tacos
than paying attention to the streets.
Frustrated I couldn’t find the exact street address, I asked one of the cops to help me find the cross streets. He gave me an up and down look before squinting at me and advising, “The Bad Seed? It’s a bar on the corner about four blocks east of here. But if I were you, I wouldn’t be heading there if you’re new in this town.”
Totally not reassured that I wasn’t about to land in a bad spot, I tried marching down to the bar with my head held high. I wasn’t going to look like a coward, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to turn around and head home because some cop had made me feel unsafe. My mission was the only thing on my mind until I entered The Bad Seed.
The bartender gave me that full look as well, the kind of look that makes any woman want to crawl out of her skin and into a full-on moo-moo. The rest of the customers gave me the same damn feeling as I followed him across the bar to a back stairwell, every single last one of them leering as I passed by.
One I went past even made a move for my ass, but I managed to avoid the grasp by throwing myself straight into the door and up the stairs, towards a bank of squalid and dilapidated apartments hidden on the second floor.
Diesel seems to chuckle to himself as he hears me tell my story of how I ended up on his doorstep. “Ahh. I’ll have to talk to Ray about that. The dumb fucking bartender was never great about keeping his dirty-ass mouth shut when he needed to. These apartments are supposed to be hidden in plain sight. Behind the bar, they look like offices or storage to most people not in the know. And we like it like that. Keeps everyone quiet about what we do.”
I brace myself as I will myself to ask, “And what is it that you two do, exactly?”
Diesel grins a wide, toothy smile that lightens his face. He’s just about to spill when Tyler cuts in.
“Shut the fuck up, Diesel! She doesn’t need to hear any part of this. You tell her anything, and I swear to God…”
“Chill – chill,” Diesel tries to reassure him. He takes a step back into the apartment.
Diesel’s clearly the one in charge of the two; my brother’s outlandish reactions versus Diesel’s serene, almost Zen-like behavior make it obvious my brother is the beta in their relationship. But whatever Diesel’s alpha nature, he also clearly knows when to stop crossing the line.
Tyler, on the other hand, doesn’t know when to quit. He puts a finger on Diesel’s chest as he shouts, “You wanna step at me? You wanna go? You think you’re so fucking tough with all your rules and games, but you’re not. I know you’re not. And don’t you think for a second that I’m going to forgive you jumping my little sister.”
“Your sister?” Diesel looks completely shocked.
Did he really think I was here as Tyler’s ex-girlfriend or – oh God – to screw him? He gives us each another, discerning look. I get it. We aren’t exactly twins. Tyler with his shaved, dark head and tan skin fit in with the California vibe, while my blonde, baby-doll appearance gets me mistaken for a nun from the north. We couldn’t be more different than night or day. The only similarity between us is the bright blue eyes that glitter when we’re angry. Tyler’s are practically shooting off their own stars.
“Look, man.” Diesel tries to defend himself. “I – uh – I had no idea. I thought she was some side piece who was here to collect alimony or child support, or some shit. She didn’t tell me that she was blood. I wouldn’t have pulled my usual shit if I knew.” He glances back at me with a look of complete disbelief.
He blames me. I know it. I should have told him that first. If not, it would have saved him this massive faux pas. Well, it’s not like he gave me much of a chance to introduce myself. I almost laugh at the thought of him stopping, even if I did tell him who I was. It’s clearly a lie, and I’m pretty sure all of us are aware of this.
Even in the ten minutes I’ve known him, I could label him as quite the dog. A pair of tits and ass walks in, and he takes what he thinks is his. It’s disgusting how quickly I fell for him and how far I almost let him get. I’m guessing other girls get caught up in the big hands, wind-blown hair, blazing eyes, and fall to their knees for him. He’s clearly not used to being turned down or cut off before he gets a girl to undress for him.
“And you?” Tyler turns his rage on me again. “What’s your fucking excuse? You come to find me, and you jump into bed with the first asshole who gives you attention? What the hell is wrong with you? I thought you were better than that!”
“I – I don’t know what… Tyler…” My jaw juts from side to side, clearly trying to keep my shit together.
“You don’t know? You don’t know?! He’s a fucking stranger you just met, and he’s undressing you on a porch. What the hell don’t you know?”
I inhale sharply before replying, “Tyler, I know how it looks. I am not some stupid teenager. But it doesn’t matter. I’m here for you. I’ve been trying to find you now for two years. No calls, no emails, no letters. And then you, out of the blue, send Mom a birthday card? You didn’t think any of us would have followed that lead?”
“I sent that card to be nice to Mom. It’s what sons are supposed to do, even when they’re not in the picture. I did not send it to get you guys to come searching for me. I don’t want you anywhere near me.” He brushes the back of his neck with one hand as he adds, “Are they here too?”
“Who?”
“Mom and Dad! Are they here? Did they bring you here?”
“No. It’s just me. They don’t know that I came looking for you. They probably think I’m at work – doing one of my long shifts. I always go dark when I’m working a double at the ER.”
“You’re an idiot, Blanche.” He scoffs. “You think you can just walk in here and pretend like everything’s the same and convince me to go home with you? It doesn’t work like that.”
“Why? Why?!” I find myself shouting, “I’m Blanche. I’m your sister. I’m the same girl you drove to school almost every morning. I’m the girl who used to go to every single one of your basketball games and who took your prom photos. Why won’t you let me help you?”
“I don’t need your fucking help, Blanche! I’m fine. I’m doing fine here.”
“No, you’re not! You’re living in some scummy apartment, and you’re half the man you were when I saw you last. You’re not okay, Tyler! Mom, Dad, and I can help you. We can get you back on the right track. Come back with me to Illinois. We can make this better.” I plead, beg, but he turns away from me.
My heart wants to explode with all the promises to him I’ve planned. I would give the world to have him back to the Tyler I knew before all this happened. I would give up anything for Tyler’s life to be right again. I make a grab for his hand, but he throws it aside. And that’s it. I know it’s over.
My voice whimpers a soft, “Please. Please, Tyler, just come home with me. I know it’s not what you want, but it’s what you need.”
Tyler’s hands shake a bit, balling up just like mine when I get angry or upset. He takes a few breathes before he replies, “Go, Blanche. Get the hell out of here, and don’t look back. Tell Mom and Dad that you couldn’t find me and that you’re giving up. I’ll stop sending cards or checking in. I’ll be the dead brother you need me to be.”
“Tyler…” I glance Diesel’s way for a brief second. But I know that he’s not about to do anything – hell if he’d even try to convince my brother to make the right decision. Family problems aren’t his issue. A guy like him probably doesn’t even have a family to care about. Whatever is going on between him and Tyler, or however they ended up together, it doesn’t make Diesel my savior.
“Blanche. Go. Go before it gets dark.” Tyler leans down and picks up the grocery sacks he earlier dropped on the ground. He’s doing everything in his power to avoid looking directly at me.
This can’t be what he wants. If it were, he’d face me like a man. He’d look me in the eye and tell me that this was over, that our family was over. My lips quiver as my heart races. I feel as if I’ve run a
marathon and gotten nowhere fast.
I say a desperate, “I love you, Tyler,” knowing that it will most likely be the last time I will get to say that to him. “I will always love you. When you’re ready to come back to us, you give me a call.”
I reach back behind me, to the pocket of my jeans. In all my worst-case scenarios, I thought this was the most likely one – that he might not want to come back. I needed to be prepared for that possibility. So, I printed off one of the missing posters I had made about a year ago – when the communication stopped, and we lost all sight of him. I used it to communicate with the few leads I got from the prison.
The poster has a picture of him looking about twenty pounds heavier and much more clean-cut than he is now. He’s smiling in the picture. There are no tattoos, unlike the ones that cover his neck and what I can see of his chest. He’s happy – completely unaware of what he will become in a few months’ time.
