by Vienna Vixen
“By acts of terrorism I assume you mean throwing temper tantrums and luring you into a false sense of security by battering their eyes and giving you the crocodile tears?” I raised an eyebrow as I rummaged around for something to put my clothes in since I couldn’t throw them in the hamper with everything else.
“Yes, the evil little geniuses. They know what they’re doing,” Amelia muttered, darkly as she crossed one arm over the other. “I do hope you’re planning on washing that separately.”
“No, I was planning on throwing it amongst our regular clothes because I love the scent so much, I want it to last all day,” I responded, sarcastically as I shot her a look over my shoulder.
Amelia threw her hands up in the air. “Hey, I know we’ve lived together for about two years now, but I’m sure there’s still some things I don’t know about you.”
“Like the fact that the smell of barf just gets to me?”
“You never know, Victoria. I’m just saying to each his own.”
“If I ever do by some messed up twist of fate ending up liking that smell, you have my full permission to not only commandeer the apartment for yourself, but you can also kick my ass out.”
“I see this working out to my benefit,” Amelia commented, brightly as her expression turned thoughtful. “A whole apartment to myself. No random cleaning, no more Star Wars marathons….”
“Also no more good meals or splitting the chores,” I reminded her as I snickered at the expression on her face.
“It was just a thought,” Amelia responded, defensively. “But no, after deliberation, I have decided that you are a good roommate and to keep you around. Good girl.”
“Woof, woof,” I said as I rolled my eyes and shut the door.
*****
Sometimes, I hated being a lightweight. I was two drinks in and already buzzed and going into tipsy territory. Amelia was on her fifth drink, and she looked as clear eyed as she did when she walked in.
Which if you think about it, really wasn’t fair.
It should be spread out evenly, that way, everybody got to have fun. Just once, I would’ve liked to know what it felt like to not have to bow out early because I was a lightweight.
The sound of the music thumped through the speakers, creating a steady bass that seemed to vibrate throughout my body. The name of the club was La Roche. A fancy French name for what was otherwise an ordinary club with the same standard neon lights, dance floor and plenty of dark corners where people snuck off to.
I blinked at Amelia and gave her a lazy grin. “I love Vodka.”
Amelia smirked. “Yes, you said that already, Victoria. You do know that Vodka turns you on, right?”
I frowned as I glared at my drink accusingly. “No, it doesn’t. No, you don’t, right?” I picked up my drink and waved it around, nearly causing the drink to slosh were it not for Amelia’s steady hand on the glass.
“Save it for yourself, Victoria. You don’t want to go wasting all of it.”
“You’re the best, S. Do you know that?” I gave her a grin as I tilted forward precariously.
“Is that the vodka talking, or you?”
“If it were the vodka talking, I think you should be worried because that would mean I’m making a pass at you,” I teased as I waggled my eyebrows suggestively.
Amelia threw her head back and laughed. “I’m not worried about that, Victoria. I’m not your type, nor thankfully, are you mine.”
“Type? What does that even mean? Why do people even have types? Shouldn’t we just be open to accepting people as they are?” I asked as I flung my arms out dramatically.
Amelia quirked her lips in amusement. “Yes, but we can’t help what we like. Just like we gravitate more towards certain activities, or certain types of food. The same applies to people.”
I thought about this for a second before I took a sip of my drink. “I don’t agree. This kind of exclusivity should not apply to people.”
“Shouldn’t and does are two very different things,” Amelia pointed out as she swallowed back a shot of tequila. “Come on, you can’t tell me that you would agree to kiss every guy in this bar just because they’re all human and deserve a fair chance.”
I squinted at Amelia and threw her a challenging look. “Try me.”
“Alright.” Amelia swiveled in her chair and faced the front. “How about that guy?” She pointed to a man of average height, dark greasy hair and dark eyes. He was also very handsy with his date.
Massive turn off.
I made a face, but I tried to swallow back my first comment. “Sure.”
“Liar, I can see it all over your face. You wouldn’t kiss him, and you know it. You’re just saying that because you don’t want to lose.”
“Not true,” I insisted.
“Alright, how about that guy?” She pointed at a sandy brunette in the corner of the room who was standing with his arms crossed over his chest and staring blankly ahead. With his huge biceps and tight shirt, physically, he was quite attractive, but his eyes held no kind of warmth nor any kind of liveliness.
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
Amelia snorted. “Bullshit.”
I wobbled forward. “I’m going to go wash my face, okay? This game needs a clearer head.”
Amelia immediately stood up. “I’ll go with you.”
“Where are a pair of hotties like you going?” A man catcalled as we walked by. We were both dressed in a pair of short dresses that accentuated our curves. After spending the entire work day in jeans and t-shirts, it was nice to clean up and wear something pretty.
Amelia’s dress was black and she had her hair straightened down her back. I went for a red dress, and my caramel colored hair was in loose ringlets. Amelia had insisted that she do my make-up in order to make my gold eyes pop, whereas she did her own dark brown eyes in neutral shades to make them look more enticing.
She definitely knew what she was doing. I knew next to nothing about make-up, but I had to say, she made us both look good.
Amelia shot the man who catcalled a dirty look which made him shrink back slightly before he adjusted his jacket and turned to talk to someone else.
Once we entered the bathroom, I stepped up to the sink and carefully avoided looking at myself in the mirror as I flipped open the faucet. As soon as the water came through, I scooped up a handful and splashed it onto my face.
The ringlets of water coursed down my face leaving a refreshing feeling in their wake as I took a deep breath.
“I look like a racoon, don’t I?” I questioned.
“Pft… I’m no amateur, Victoria. It’s waterproof make up,” Amelia announced as she fixed her hair in the mirror.
I chanced a peek at my reflection, and aside from the fact that I looked a little pasty, I was more or less the same as when I left the house.
We made our way back out there, and to our surprise, our seats were still empty, so we sat down, and I straightened my back.
“Okay, I’m ready to get back to it.”
“I basically proved you wrong, Victoria. Just let it go already. Lose with pride, woman.”
“Never. I will never surrender,” I declared as my eyes scanned the room.
A slight prickling sensation in the back of my neck told me that we were being watched. I craned my head to peer over Amelia’s shoulder, and I was startled when my gaze collided with a pair of stormy gray eyes.
He was nursing a beer, half sitting, half standing off to the side, and his entire body crouched as if he was getting ready to run at any minute. His arms were riddled with tattoos that snaked all the way into his shirt, and I briefly wondered what some of them looked like.
I was unable to look away as he brought the beer up to his lips, parted his mouth and took a long swing. He never once broke eye contact, and I found myself swallowing deeply. His muscles flexed as he placed his drink back on the counter.
The light glinted off his dirty blond hair as he ran his hands through it. I found myself staring
at his lips and wondering what his beard felt like. Would it be scruffy or velvety soft?
It had little strands of red hair, which I could see from here. We continued our little stare down, neither of us willing to back down as I nervously darted my tongue out to wet my lips, suddenly feeling quite parched.
His gaze darkened as he watched me bring my drink up to my lips and take a long healthy swallow.
“Hello? Victoria? Anybody home?”
“Yes,” I mumbled distractedly as I watched the stranger chuckle at something. Some private joke perhaps.
“Really? So you don’t mind if I take over your half of the apartment?” Amelia asked, amusement lacing her tone.
I snapped back to reality as my gaze shifted to hers. “What? Of course I do.”
“Aha!” Amelia pointed an accusatory finger at me. “You weren’t listening. I knew it.”
“Yes, I was,” I muttered, defensively as I tried to avoid looking at the stranger lest I be sucked back into his hypnotic pull.
“Really? What was I saying then?”
“That you love unicorns, and that you want world peace?” I offered, hopefully.
Amelia scoffed. “This isn’t Miss Congeniality. Nice try, James. I can see right through you.”
“Nonsense. You can see nothing,” I insisted as I kept my eyes glued to my drink.
“Please. I wasn’t born yesterday. I can practically feel you and the stranger in the corner. You’re practically undressing each other with your eyes.”
“Not true,” I said as a blush stole across my skin.
“If that’s not true then why are you blushing right now?”
“I am not. This is my natural skin tone, so it isn’t very nice of you to point that out, S. Jeez, racism is an ugly color on you.”
Amelia raised an eyebrow. “Really, Victoria? You want to go there? You can’t pull that stunt with me. I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re trying to deflect.”
“Deflect what?” I asked, innocently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“My ass.”
“What about it?” I asked, seriously.
“If that’s true then you can kiss my ass,” she said, sounding miffed.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not. I’m sure it’s lovely and everything, but as you so astutely pointed out, you’re not my type.”
“Hey, I’ll have you know, I have a great ass,” Amelia retorted as she sat up higher in her chair.
“I’m sure you do, but there are lines we must not cross, and this is one of them. Otherwise, I might just be all over you,” I assured her.
“Bah, you’re just saying that to get on my good side.” Amelia waved my comment away.
“That depends on whether or not it’s working,” I said, cheekily.
Amelia rolled her eyes at me. “Sometimes I think you work with kids so much that you adopt their mannerisms.”
“Pot calling the kettle black,” I retorted, hotly. “Who was it who threw a fit yesterday because the remote was not working?’
Amelia lifted her chin up. “Excuse me I was not throwing a fit. I was merely demonstrating how to keep a remote from working.”
“By slamming it so hard, it fell to the ground and proceeding to hulk stomp all around it while huffing and puffing?”
“I did not huff and puff. I was performing a sacred ritual.”
One eyebrow climbed to my hairline. “What ritual would that be?”
“The err, Sommers ritual to get the remote to work,” Amelia said, lamely.
“I know you know how lame that sounds, so I’m going to save you from the embarrassment of having to respond by pretending I didn’t hear that.”
Amelia pretended to look outraged. “I’ll have you know I can come up with very good comebacks.”
“Yes, we have already proven that,” I gestured between the two of us. “Out of the two of us, you clearly have the upper hand. I’m sweating in my sandals here.”
“Screw you,” Amelia responded, tartly as she stuck her tongue out at me.
“And I rest my case,” I said as I waved my hand with a flourish. I couldn’t help but glance back at the stranger who was standing in a different corner looking like he would rather be anywhere else.
I sighed in disappointment as I realized he probably wouldn’t glance my way again which was a shame. Not that I was going to do anything about it or anything. No, I was much too shy to make the first move.
And too self-conscious. I’d probably overthink it to death before I could even work up the courage to say hello.
My purse began to shake on the counter, and Amelia eyed it in amusement. “I think your purse is alive.”
“I think you’re finally getting a buzz,” I responded.
Amelia beamed delightedly. Her face flushed. “Yes, finally.”
“That’s my Dad. I’m going to go get this. I’ll be right back,” I said, apologetically as I weaved in and out of the throng of people, including a bunch of guys who tried too hard to get up close and personal with me.
I just ignored all of it until I was finally no longer pressed against a swarm of overheated bodies, and I stumbled outside into the cool night air. I frowned as I glanced down at my shoes and decided to slip them off for a second while I stood here.
I inhaled a huge lungful of air, allowing the cool crisp breeze to refresh and rejuvenate as it made its way through my system. The slightly sharp wind was just what I needed after that cramped space.
“Hey Pop,” I said as I smiled warmly.
“Hi, bumble bee, how are you?”
Most people wouldn’t like being called that by their Dad at twenty-four, but he’d called me that ever since I was little, and I loved it. I wouldn’t have it any other way. My father could be just as embarrassing and awkward as any other parent, but I knew that when push came to shove, he was always in my corner.
“I’m good, Dad. How are you? How’s mom?”
“I’m doing good, honey. Your mom is good too, though a bit moody these days,” my father complained, good naturedly.
My parents had been happily married for forty years. They had good days and bad days just like everyone else, but the one thing they taught me was that you stuck by each other no matter what happened.
That was the key to making any relationship work, and they had instilled that within me. They often wondered why I’d never had any strong relationships aside from a string of odd ones here and there that never lasted long enough to be serious.
Then came the day when they asked me if I liked women instead. I laughed at that one and told them that I just hadn’t found the right one.
“I want to ask you something, honey, although I know it might be a bit weird,” My father began, his voice hesitant.
“What’s up, Dad?”
“I thought PMS stopped after you stop getting your period,” he blurted out, sounding sheepish.
I choked back the laugh. “Wow, Dad. There’s things your daughter never wants to hear no matter how old she is, and this is definitely one of them.”
“But we’re close, you and I, honey, and I have no one else to ask.”
He had me there. It wasn’t like he could call up one of Mom’s friends and ask her. Not that I wanted to be the one he came to for advice here, but still.
I grimaced as I pulled the phone away from my ear then put it back. “No matter how close we are, Dad, there’s things I never ever want to hear about. To answer your question though, I don’t actually, no.”
My father sounded like he was talking to my mom in the background. “Your mother says hi.”
I heard them utter dirty things to each other, and I started to make gagging noises. “Urgh, ew, Dad. Seriously, I really don’t want to hear how you still have the hots for mom and can’t wait to get all up in there.”
“If she looks anything like you then I can’t say that I blame your old man,” a voice said from somewhere in the shadows.
Ch
apter Two
I wheeled around with my shoe held up high above my head as I squinted to make out who was talking. A man stepped out of the shadows, tall and slightly imposing with his dark slicked back hair, and his fathomless eyes that watched me hungrily.
An uneasy feeling began to spread in the pit of my stomach as I bid my dad farewell and hung up all the while keeping my eye on the formidable stranger.
I tightened my grip on the shoe as I gazed at him with as much menace as I could muster. “Can I help you?”
The man grinned, a sleazy grin that had warning signals going off in my head. I stepped backwards as I wondered if anybody would be able to hear me scream.
“Yes, firm ass, as a matter of fact, there’s plenty you can do to help me.” His gaze slid up and down my body in a way that made me want to shiver in disgust.
I didn’t like this.
I didn’t like this at all, but the way he was looking at me told me that I needed to bide my time before I did something rash. I couldn’t call for help on my phone because he could see me do that, and the music inside was too loud for anybody to be able to hear me.
Suddenly, I wished I’d stayed inside.
“I think you’ve got the wrong person,” I said with as much courage as I could muster. I opened my mouth to scream for help, but he was in front of me in an instant with his hands clasped over my mouth.
My eyes widened in surprise as I struggled against his grip. His fingers dug into my shoulders, and tears sprung to my eyes, unbidden. I blinked furiously to keep them at bay, not wanting to give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
“If you scream for help, I will hurt you,” he warned, his voice dripping with venom, and the dread in my stomach spread as I saw that he meant it. He didn’t care that he was threatening a complete stranger, and that he had an unfair advantage.
None of that mattered, provided he got what he wanted.
A sick feeling began to spread its way through my veins as I tasted bile in the back of my throat. I had a good idea of what he wanted, and I was hoping I was wrong.
