Losing Enough
Page 2
“Only if you want it,” she says cheerily. “Hey, it solves your problem about losing your drink. By the time you’re done with him, I should be finished with my stuff and we can actually hang out.”
She has a point. She probably feels bad that she couldn’t get off work earlier on my first night in town. It doesn’t matter to me either way if I’m alone or not, but Elle is fairly prone to guilt complexes.
Plus, neither guy is hard on the eyes. And I do love to dance. The throb of the bass continues to draw me in and tantalize me, and Elle is still standing by waiting for my answer.
My sights hone in on the guy with the ink.
“Challenge accepted.”
2
Connor
I’m not in the fucking mood to be here right now. But Elle called me right as I was getting off work and told me to swing by the club. Should have known that the Friday night crowd would make it impossible to find her. I don’t feel like talking to anyone but her, and I already had to get into a near-conversation with some redhead who got her panties in a twist over her drink spilling at the bar.
The bartender, Tucker, always makes it clear that he doesn’t like me. Elle says he’s being protective of her, but I’m her cousin for chrissakes. He’s just a bartender at some club where she happens to work, so I don’t even pretend to get that. I order a Guinness from him and ask if he’s seen her.
“Haven’t for a while, Con. Maybe she took an early break. Or maybe she knew you were coming and clocked out early.”
The way he calls me “Con” rakes against my nerves, but I shrug it off. I didn’t expect him to give me a straight answer, knew he’d feed me some bullshit line.
My gaze flicks over people as I walk through the bottom floor of the bar in search of Elle. Overall, the crowd looks pretty harmless. Lots of goths and emo types. A few tourists that stick out like beacons. Still don’t see Elle, but she could be out on the floor, working the upstairs, or maybe Tucker was actually telling the truth and she’s on break. I grab my phone and call her, but it goes straight to voicemail.
Out of anyone in my family, Elle’s the only one I have any connections to. She grew up in Albuquerque in the same crap neighborhood as me. Our mothers are sisters, only hers stuck around and mine left when my brother and I were kids. Elle’s three years younger than me, and I was always secretly jealous that her family wasn’t nearly as dysfunctional as mine. They were as poor as we were, but she’d at least had a mom and dad that gave a shit about her until she was seventeen. As soon as she graduated high school, she moved to Vegas to try to make it as a singer. By then, I’d already finished my SEAL training and was on active duty.
Elle and I were the same in that respect. We both jumped on the first chances we had to get out of that hellhole where we grew up. My twin brother Cruz hadn’t. He got mixed up with a bad group back home, claimed his stake in the world of criminals.
There. I catch a glimpse of her by the dance floor, but when I get closer, it’s some other chick with short dark hair that only vaguely looks like Elle. Even if she is out in that mess somewhere, she’s only five foot two, and the bodies in front of me are so densely packed that there’s no way I’d find her.
I’m turning away when I get a glimpse of the redhead from the bar again. She’s tall and stands out in the crowd, and I don’t know why, but I stand and watch her. Watch as she sways to the music with her eyes closed, her lips parted, her arms lifting over her head. I can’t tell if she’s dancing with the blond guy in front of her or if he’s trying to move in on her. He’s wearing a white t-shirt and jeans, and she’s in a black dress. If they are here together, my guess is that they didn’t come here that way.
He closes the distance between them, his hands landing on her hips, and she doesn’t miss a beat as she pushes his hands off her and turns away. But he comes at her again from behind and grabs her waist, pulling her close so he can grind into her like an animal.
I’ve seen it a million times at these clubs. But for some reason, it reminds me of Cruz…
and Laura, a voice grits out in my head
…and my anger ignites to see it, to see this guy push the boundaries with this girl. The redhead makes this sort of shimmy move to get away from him, though, and I feel some of the edge wear off. I’m glad she can take care of herself, but still, it pisses me off.
It pisses me off even more that I even give a shit enough to watch. I try and tell myself that I’m doing what I always do, watching and waiting. Looking for signs of trouble.
The redhead suddenly leans close to him and says something in his ear, and he nods and takes her hand before leading her to the bar. Just goes to show that I was imagining the whole situation. She wasn’t being harassed on the dance floor, which begs the question – what the fuck is my problem?
I walk away too, to check the back room to see if Elle’s waiting on any of the tables there. I get ten steps through the mess of a crowd before a woman slams into me. She staggers back, a shot held high to save it from spilling.
“Watch it, frat boy!”
I’m as far from a frat boy as she is. She’s blonde, has a pretty face, and is wearing expensive jewelry. Quality stuff all around and just my type, but I’m in too shitty of a mood to do anything about it.
I cock an eyebrow and say half-heartedly, “Fuck me, and all is forgiven.”
Her eyes grow almost comically wide right before she shoves her way through the crowd to get away from me. I hear her yell over her shoulder, “Dickhead!”
I laugh then, some of the tension finally easing off of my shoulders. I feel a hand on my arm at the same time.
“Hey, dickhead. Is that your new fab way of hitting on women?”
I turn around and grin when I see Elle. She slides her empty serving tray under her arm and shakes her head in disgust, but I can see the gleam in her dark eyes that reveals that she’s glad to see me. No one would guess we were cousins aside from the fact that we both have dark brown hair. But Elle spikes hers, and with her large tribal ear piercings, heavy eye makeup, full tattoo sleeves, and destroyed black tank top and pants, she looks like she walked straight off the stage from an emo band.
Her expression changes to one that’s more serious, and she steps forward and slides her arm around me. “Sorry to drag you away from work.”
I wave it away. I have an hour before I have to get to the airport to pick up a client. Pimping myself out to high rollers as a private security guard was never on my list of dream jobs, but opportunity struck when I moved to Vegas two years ago. While it isn’t something that I can see myself doing for the long haul, for now, I’m too good at what I do to want to stop.
When you grow up shit-poor with a dad who was high on meth half the time, it’s hard to want to let go of anything that’s even remotely good.
I grab Elle around the neck in a hug. I haven’t seen her in almost a month because I’ve been working my ass off, as always.
“It’s okay. I have a short break now,” I say. “What’s up?”
She glances to the back of the bar where I was heading anyway, toward the booths and tables shrouded in darkness and a semblance of privacy. “Let’s go back here for a minute,” she says, leading me to the shadows.
The booths are oriented like they’re in a theater for a Vegas show, curved and facing outward with a small table fixed in front. I gesture toward one of the free ones, and she moves to slide in first. She gives me a smile before she sits, but it’s a nervous one. Shit. If this turns out to be about Cruz, I might bust something.
The last time I’d seen Elle, she’d invited me out to lunch and then proceeded to tell me her unwanted opinion that I should seriously think about reconciling with my brother. My anger fills me now like a slow burn to think about it. Elle knows what kind of person Cruz was and what he did before I left for the military. She knows. And she knows how unforgivable it is.
She draws in a breath. “Cruz is here. He’s in Vegas, and he wants to meet with you.”
I can feel Elle’s eyes probing me as though they’re desperate for a response, but I don’t know what to react to first. I rake my fingers through my hair, my thoughts jumbling together in an angry mess. Cruz. Here. I haven’t heard from him or my drug-addict father for seven years. Not since Cruz did what he did to Laura… I cut off my own thoughts before they become too murderous.
“He’s here,” I repeat flatly, dangerously. “You invited him?”
Elle’s posture is tense, and I see my own anger reflected in her eyes. “No, I did not. He decided to come all by himself. And the last time I saw you, I was trying to warn you about this possibility, but if you recall, you threw a hissy fit and stormed off.”
More like I’d gotten up from the table at the restaurant and walked away before I exploded. I think about walking away again, right now, but if Cruz is actually here, I need to know details. Like if he’s here to see me or Elle. If he’s going to be parked outside my house when I get home tonight. And even if Elle hadn’t initiated this visit, I also need to know how much she said to him, what she told him about me and my life.
My life is private, and I need to keep it that way.
“You talked to him already?”
“Just on the phone. Right before work tonight.”
Fuck.
Her expression softens, and she lays her hand on my arm. I stare down at her fingernails that are black and decorated with little skulls as she goes on. “Hun, I know you don’t ever want to think about that hellhole we grew up in…”
She has it all wrong. The place hadn’t been the problem – it was the people who’d made it hell, and now one of them is here. I look away from her, into the darkness.
“… but Cruz told me he’s been making changes. Good changes.”
I look at her incredulously. Sometimes her level of blind faith in people could be staggering. I don’t understand it. “People can’t change that much. People can’t come back from evil in seven years, let alone a lifetime,” I growl.
She raises one of her pierced eyebrows. “I understand that you’re still angry with him, but Connor, this is your twin brother. This is your blood, like I’m your blood.” She attempts a smile, but it’s weak. “And I’d like to think that you wouldn’t ever tell me to fuck off and die.”
Yeah, I get it. That was essentially what I’d told Cruz before I left town. Because he deserved it.
“Don’t,” I say coldly. “Don’t compare yourself to him.”
Elle purses her lips. “The least you could do is talk to him.”
I glower at her, my fury threatening to cloud my head. Elle had raged with me when I told her what happened between me and Cruz. She tried to help me work down from that so I could walk away from it, but some things you can’t forget. She’s the only one in the world who gets me, who understands where I come from. Or at least I thought she understood, but now I’m starting to wonder.
“No,” I snap. “And if you tell him where to find me, you can fuck off, too.”
She works her jaw, her eyes flashing angrily. “You don’t have to be such an asshole.”
I shrug and meet her glare with one of my own. “Maybe not, but at least I’m not a meddlesome bitch. I have nothing to say to him.”
“Coward.” She abruptly stands up, still glaring down at me.
I stand up, too. “You don’t understand,” I grind out. But in actuality, I know that she does understand, which is exactly the reason why I’m on the verge of raging.
She lifts her head high. Fighting me, challenging me. Elle is my cousin, and I love her like a sister, but she doesn’t have the right to tell me what to do. If Cruz is here and she wants to see him, fine. That’s her business. But she’ll have to do it alone.
She looks at her watch and curses. “I need to get back to work but I have a break in fifteen minutes. We are not done. Do not go anywhere.”
I don’t say anything back, and I watch her weave through the crowd with her tray, anger and resentment burning through me. I raise my beer bottle, but it’s empty. And fuck it all because I need a drink, but I have to get to the airport soon.
I grit my teeth and head to the bar for another one.
3
Alex
I’m way drunker than I should be.
My heart thuds in synch with the heavy thumping bass of the music, my head spinning and putting me off-balance. Maybe the drinks tonight are just stronger than what I’m used to. Maybe it’s the effect of being kissed for the first time in forever.
An Adelita’s Way remix is playing, and the hot blond boy and I are sitting in one of the booths in the back room of the bar. Everything is more muted back here – the room is dimly lit in purple hues, and the shady corners are full of silhouettes.
Usually the music isn’t as loud back here either. But it keeps thumping into my head like I’m drowning in it.
He has his arm around me and his other hand on my knee. My head tilts back, and he kisses me, his tongue going at it in a rhythm that’s a little too regular. Like a metronome.
In, out. Tick, tock. No clue how long I’ve been here.
I open my eyes, going cross-eyed because of how close his face is to mine. He pulls back and gives me a slow smile as he trails his fingers along the back of my neck. Across my shoulder. Back again to fondle the nape of my neck, his fingers threading through my hair. I close my eyes, feeling myself float into a haze. Elle. Elle told me to go for him or his friend. And his friend had been with some other girl. So this is okay. Even if Elle hadn’t told me to go for him, this would still be okay.
Except I don’t feel like myself. My limbs feel disconnected, and my head is all floaty like it’s not attached to my body at all. What’s happening to me?
“Here. I ordered you another drink.”
Thank God. It’s like a million degrees in here. I’m dying and I need that drink. I lean away from the pretty surfer boy and take another sip of my third – or is it the fourth? – Manhattan. He’s been paying for all of my drinks, which means I won the challenge.
Elle’s challenge. Where is Elle, anyway?
“What’s your name?” I hear him ask over the music. I realize I don’t know his either but don’t really care.
I have to think for a second.
“Alex Lin.”
He looks at me dubiously, and I sip at my drink. “Yeah, I know. Sounds like an Asian guy, right?”
So I prefer being called Alex instead of Alexis. And I don’t look as Chinese as my surname. My dad’s only half-Chinese, and I have my mom’s overall build – five-foot-ten and big-boobed. What my mom calls “well-proportioned” but what the boys in high school used to call “Amazon.” Surfer boy’s eyes trail down the front of my dress. He seems to like the boobs.
“Where are you staying, Alex?”
Too many questions. I pull my hair back as his gaze roves from my chest downward. I think hard, my head throbbing from the effort, but I can’t remember the name of my hotel. I can’t remember, and it bothers me more than the fact that I don’t know the name of this guy who had his tongue almost down my throat.
“I’m staying with my mom and dad,” is all I come up with. My words run together, but it still feels like it takes me forever to get them out.
He barks a laugh, and it sounds uncomfortable. “Here on vacation with the ‘rents, huh? For how long?”
I don’t want to answer his question because I don’t want him to know. I don’t want him to know me. I almost wish he would kiss me again, not because he’s that good at it, but because then he won’t be able to ask me any more personal questions.
I shift to get closer to him, and he grabs my face and kisses me again. His tongue plunges into my mouth, almost making me gag. His fingers shove their way up my skirt and touch me through my panties, but I can hardly feel it. It’s like my brain is dissociated from my b
ody, and I shiver.
He starts rubbing me too roughly, and I can feel that but not in a good way. I flinch, and he pulls away from me as my vision swims to get him into focus.
He treats me with that lazy smile again. “You wanna go somewhere?”
Do I? The question repeats itself in my brain like a distant echo. I tear my glance away from him and look around the room. For a second, I can’t remember where we are.
He moves his hand down my thigh so his palm rests on my knee, and I briefly close my eyes. I feel dizzy.
“I need to find my friend. She might be worried about me,” I mumble. The room wavers in my view again, and I blink until it stops.
“Relax. Your friend knows you’re with me. She knows you’re okay.”
I try to muddle through how that’s even possible, but surfer boy’s face gets closer to mine again, and the room starts to spin. I let my head fall back, my eyelids fluttering shut as his lips graze against me. His breath tickles my ear, and I giggle in spite of myself.
“Stop it, Chase.” My own voice sounds like it comes from far away. I hear just the music for a while and then a short humorless laugh.
“Chase, huh? Is that your boyfriend? I won’t tell him if you don’t.”
I don’t answer. Chase was my last real boyfriend, but that was so long ago. Almost three years ago. I don’t even know why I thought about him.
Surfer boy kisses me again, harder, hungrier, tasting like beer mixed with smoke. Song after song plays as I sit with his tongue in my mouth and my fist knotted in his hair. His hand tugs at my panties, fumbling inside. I feel numb. I feel nothing. This isn’t right.
“C’mon. Let’s go.”
His voice sounds like it comes at me through a long tunnel, but when I drag my eyes open again, he’s right there. He takes my hand and tugs at me to come out of the booth, and my feet and legs automatically follow. My head is really spinning now, the floor tilting under my feet as the bass-line of some remix pounds into my head.