Manik

by Amo Jones

  “You done?” he asks, his eyebrows shooting high. My eyes drop to his lips and then back to his eyes.

  “Not even close,” I snarl, trying to snatch my wrists out of his grip but they’re still pinned above my head.

  His knee comes between my legs. “You hate me?”

  “I despise you,” I answer quickly.

  His smirk deepens, then he lets go of my wrists and licks his lip. “Good. Channel that feeling, Amaya, because that’s the only thing you will ever feel while being around me ever again.”

  The words stung as they left his sharp tongue and sliced me in the heart, but I didn’t show it. I have too much pride to give him the satisfaction. “Name’s Beatrice.”

  He laughs, turning and disappearing into the kitchen. “Nah, boo. It’s Amaya now.”

  I wrap my arms around my body as I slide to the ground.

  I really hope this tour doesn’t last as long as I feel it’s going to.

  I refuse to go to the show, flat out putting my foot down.

  Manik is leaning against the doorframe to the master bedroom of the suit, his arms probably crossed. “You’re not coming, cool, I fucking get that, but I’ll be tying you to that bed and just so you know, there’s a party happening here after—so don’t expect to sleep.”

  He goes to walk out of the room when I say, “You’re going to tie me up again, Manik, so I can be at anyone’s disposal? I mean, why not. It’s not like I have anything else left inside me since you’ve taken everything I ever had and made it dirty.”

  He must’ve flown across to me so fast because in a blink, his body is hovering over mine and his hand is buried in my hair. He tugs on it so my face tilts up to his, his eyes frantic.

  Holy hell.

  “One?” he asks, baring his teeth. “Don’t ever fucking go down that road, Amaya. You having a fit because you didn’t ask for this life is fucking bullshit. No one asks for the fucking life that they have, but we work with it.” He breathes in and out, his chest pressing against mine with every intake. He closes his eyes, his fingers clenching again, somehow getting a stronger grip on my hair. “Zvet is what my dad called me because I’m a beast, Amaya, I’m not a monster.”

  “There’s a difference?” I challenge him softly, my eyes going between his lips and his own eyes.

  He searches mine, and his face is so close to mine that I can feel his warm breath fall on my lips. I can feel the heat radiating off of him and pressing into the pores of my flesh. “Yes,” he finally answers. “There’s a difference.”

  I keep quiet, wanting him to carry on.

  He doesn’t.

  He jackknifes off the bed and stomps toward the doorway. “Changed my mind. I won’t lock you up, I’ll just keep one of the boys here to keep an eye out, and Amaya?”

  I crawl up the bed, tired of fighting him on the name issue. “Yeah?”

  “You might want to crash in the spare room tonight.”

  “What?” I answer quickly, just before he takes another step. “Why?”

  He tilts his head back. “Because I’ve got a lot of anger to work off.”

  He leaves, shutting the door behind himself and leaving me to obsess over his final words.

  Does that mean he’s going to…?

  I tilt my head on the headboard and bang against it softly. It means he’s going to be bringing someone home tonight.

  I shouldn’t care. I don’t care. But the thought of him touching another girl makes my skin crawl and my stomach ache.

  I need to get out of this hotel. I need to run. I’ve run from him before, I can do it again. My life, since meeting him, has been a series of me running. Maybe I could go to an internet café and log into my Facebook and message Kat and Kyle.

  I slide off the bed and tiptoe toward the bedroom door, cranking it open softly. I step out into the small hallway and lean over the railing, just slightly, enough so I can see who is downstairs. The TV is on, commentators screaming about a football game. I inch farther until the cream couch comes into view and the top of a head. Black hair, big body, black slacks and traps that could give bodybuilders a run for their money, I instantly know it’s Lenny.

  “Shit,” I cuss under my breath, quickly scuttling backward when his head leans up as if he’s heard something.

  He probably has. Lenny is always alert. He’s always aware of what’s going on around him, which is why Manik probably left him with me.

  I chew on my lip, crawling backward into the bedroom again and diving toward the end of the bed.

  I’ll have to wait until an opportunity arises. Even if it’s not tonight, I now have enough of a plan brewing inside of my head to start a plan of action.

  I just really hope that he doesn’t sleep with anyone tonight.

  An idea pings in my head. Lenny and I have always been on good terms. Actually, if I’m being honest, I’ve always felt like he understood me more than even Manik.

  I smirk to myself, going to Manik’s suitcase and taking out one of his shirts. I haven’t worn this shirt since we were together. I shuffle out of my own clothes, leaving my little black boy-short panties on, but ditching the bra. The shirt is a plain white crew neck with the words MANIAK scrawled out on the front, then on the back it reads, Raise Fucking Hell.

  Basically, Manik is apparently a god to these people. I tie the front in a little knot, so my stomach is displayed, and then I tiptoe out of the room, taking my hair out of the high ponytail.

  “Lenny?” I ask, making my way down the stairs. “Why are you here?”

  He clears his throat when he sees what I’m wearing, his arms twitching a few times. “Ah, Beat, you might want to put some clothes on?”

  I laugh sarcastically, ignoring him and going straight for the alcohol that’s on the bench. There are already bottles and bottles of hard liquor sprawled out across the counter, with juices, sodas and all sorts of red cups.

  Snatching the tequila, I brush my hair out of my face and plonk onto the sofa beside Lenny, ignoring the TV and looking straight out of the large glass window directly ahead of us.

  “I need to drink, Lenny.”

  I don’t turn to face him, but I can sense his unease. He shuffles in his seat and then turns to face me. “Fuck,” he murmurs, and then turns to face me. “Why?”

  I crack the lid and then whack it off with the palm of my hand. I catch him giving that movement a questioning glare, and before he can ask me what the hell move that was, I add, “I went to college.”

  His shoulders slacken slightly, but then they straighten again. “You don’t drink.”

  I roll my eyes. “As I said, Lenny, I need to drink. That’s the difference with me. I’ll only do it when I need to do it, and Lenny?” I whisper, my eyes coming to his as my lips wrap around the rim. I take a long pull and wince as the hot liquid burns the back of my throat before it settles deep in my belly. I swipe my mouth. “I should add that I can be a bit of a bad drunk, so, will you please join me? It’s sort of not fun if I do it alone…”

  He looks at me warily, as if he’s having an internal battle with himself. I know Lenny likes me deep down, but not just likes me, but I think he respects me, too. I just hope that after tonight is over that his perception of me won’t me too warped.

  He takes the bottle and drinks. “What happened with Ae, Beat? He won’t talk about it.”

  I chuckle, taking the bottle back and hitting another long pull. “Oh, he didn’t tell you? Hmm, I wonder why that is.”

  The bottle continues to shift between the two of us.

  “I don’t know. That’s what I keep asking myself because he tells me everything.” Lenny pauses, his eyes zoning in on me. “But whatever happened, is something he won’t talk about, and trust me, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen him at his worst.”

  The adverts start playing on the TV, pizza coming on. My stomach grumbles, but I snatch the tequila bottle. Have I not eaten today? Shit.

  I press my knees up to my chest, laying my head against them. I need
to slow down, or this plan isn’t going to work. I look at Lenny. “Something bad happened.”

  “Bad as in bad or bad as in…really bad.”

  “Mmm.” I close my eyes. “Not sure I know how to scale those two options, Len.”

  He laughs, rubbing his hand over his chin.

  I don’t want to talk about it either, in fact, I’d really love to never think about that again.

  “So, you’ve known him for a while, huh?”

  “Who?” Lenny asks, his eyes glazed over and heavy.

  Hello tequila.

  “Manik!” I laugh, hitting him with the back of my hand.

  He clears his throat, laying backward on the sofa until his head is resting on the top. “Oh, yeah. I’ve known him since elementary school, but we became best friends in high school.”

  “Ah, I see. You were both the untouchable cool kids?” I quirk an eyebrow at him.

  He snorts. “Hardly. I mean, Ae? Yeah. No one messed with him. He was always the dark, brooding bad boy that everyone just loved, even though he did bad shit. Me? I was a fucking nerd. Me and the toilet were on a first name basis, ya know?” he murmurs, and I take another drink.

  I really should slow down, but truth be told, I’m quite enjoying the talk with Lenny.

  “Sorry, no, I don’t know.”

  “You were a cool kid?” he asks, smirking.

  I scoff. “Nah, I just didn’t really care. I lived right near the beach in Australia. If I wasn’t dancing, I was surfing. I had a best friend, Bindi, and that was that. We did everything together. When I moved back here to the states, we obviously lost touch. I’d really like to catch up with her one day,” I whisper off aimlessly.

  “You were doing all of that before you were eight?” He doesn’t believe me, and I guess a lot of people wouldn’t.

  “Yeah,” I murmur, setting the tequila on the coffee table. I need to cut myself off before this ends badly. “I carried on when I got here, too though. I don’t get out as much as I’d like, but dancing is my number one.”

  He nods his head, his eyes searching mine like he’s truly interested.

  His arms stretch out, just as he reaches for his phone in his pocket. He puts it to his ear.

  “What?”

  There’s silence, and then his eyes come to mine. “No.”

  Silence.

  “Kat, I’m leaving now.”

  I have two options. I could yell and say that he has me here, enough to get her attention, or I could leave it. I decide to leave it, because if Lenny is really going to chill out and open up enough to relax, he’s going to have to believe that I’m not trying to run away.

  He hangs up his phone, watching me carefully. “You didn’t want to out yourself?”

  I bite my lip, looking away from his penetrating eyes. “No.”

  “You got Stockholm Syndrome or some shit? Like I ain’t gonn’ lie, baby girl, you and Ae have a twisted bond.”

  I run circles around my knees with my fingertip. “Do you think it’s possible to feel something for someone, but really hate them at the same time?”

  Lenny laughs, standing, stretching his arms above his head. “Yeah, Beat, I do, but that’s not what this is that you both have. I don’t think he hates you.”

  That earns a full rumble of laughter. “You are kidding, right?” My eyes go up to him.

  His face is serious. “No, Beat, I’m not kidding. I’ve known him for a long time, and the thing about Ae is that he doesn’t give a fuck. Drama going on? No fucks. Clingy bitch that won’t get out of his bed? No fucks. His dad sending him off on hunts? No. Fucks. Breaking girl’s hearts? Zero. But you?” He pauses, and my feet ache. I need to stretch them, run, or just walk out of this hotel. “You’re different, you always have been. I called it the second I saw him look at you in the parking lot.”

  “Interesting,” I murmur. “I don’t believe you.”

  He snorts, walking to the kitchen. I hear him rummaging around in the cupboards before he comes back into the lounge with a bag of chips and some cold pizza. He places them on the table, taking a handful and sitting back beside me.

  “You don’t have to believe me, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less true.”

  “You have a good point.” I lean over to grab some chips, slowly eating them. When I notice him watching me still, my eyes go up to his. “What?”

  “What happened, Beat?”

  I scoff the chips into my mouth and then pick up the tequila again, taking a long swig and swallowing. Mmmm, Cheetos mixed with tequila—nope. “Something bad happened to me and I don’t want to talk about it.”

  He pauses, and when I peer up at him, I see his face soften. “Was it taken care of?”

  My mind flashes back to the blood, the…all the blood. I gulp, clearing my throat. “Um, yes, he took care of it.”

  “I rest my case,” he mutters, taking another drink. “Listen, I’m sorry that that happened to you, and if Ae didn’t take care of it, I sure as fuck would, but that further proves my thoughts on Ae and you.”

  “What do you mean?” I tuck my legs under my butt and his eyes fly to them before he closes his eyes, as if he’s in pain, and opens them again.

  “I mean, him being your knight in shining armor.”

  I laugh, shaking my head. “No, that wasn’t it, either. That’s not what that was. He just did something I guess any human would do if they walked in on—” I freeze, my fists clenching together. Sweat thuds down my temples and my breathing slows.

  “Beat?” Lenny’s voice is echoing somewhere in the back of my brain, but all I can hear are his words. His voice. “You’re so beautiful. I’m going to make love to you.”

  “Beat!” Lenny barks through, his hands clenched tightly around my upper arms.

  “What?” I ask, coming back into the now.

  “Jesus.” He shakes his head, his eyes searching mine. “Maybe I should put you to bed.”

  I pull my arms out of his grip. “I already have Aeron telling me what to do, I don’t need you doing it too. I thought we were friends.”

  He exhales, pulling at his hair and leaning back into the sofa. “You’re right. Fuck it. Let’s get drunk. But as I was saying, little Cub, you’re different with him. And no, he wouldn’t usually help girls.” He pauses and then whispers, “He’s done far worse.”

  I ignore it and drink.

  We’ve turned the music on and now I’m so far drunk that even just staring at the main door has my mind fuzzy. It’s spinning in circles that I can’t seem to catch.

  “I’m so drunk,” I murmur, massaging my head. The song switches to something else and we laugh, dance, drink. Lenny whispers sweet words into my ear that makes me cringe.

  Why do they make me cringe? Usually, that would make me blush. Too drunk to touch that right now, I lace his fingers with mine and cling onto his chest. “Lenny,” I sigh into his shirt. His arms wrap around my waist, his nose diving into my hair.

  “You’re going to get us killed if you carry this on…”

  I chuckle. “You’re so silly. He doesn’t care, Lenny!” I yell, just as the song goes to change and the front door slams open, displaying a very angry looking Manik.

  I laugh. Again.

  Then I stop laughing because crowds of people push past him, yelling, hollering and carrying drinks. Manik doesn’t move from his position, his eyes focused on me. He’s wearing no shirt, loose dark denim jeans, white sneakers, and a gold chain that’s glistening against his rippled chest.

  My mouth waters.

  No seriously, my mouth is watering. My hand flies up to cover it and I dash quickly for the bathroom downstairs, kicking up the toilet bowl and emptying all of the Cheetos, pizza, and tequila into it.

  Pushing my hair out of my face, I groan, sinking onto the floor. Tears gather in my eyes.

  “Really? You don’t drink but you get drunk with Lenny?”

  I let out a harsh laugh, standing to my feet—I almost drop back to the ground when Manik’s han
d flies out to steady me. “Fuck you’re a pain in my ass.”

  I shove him away, grabbing the mouthwash that’s on the counter. “Well, that could be solved if you just let me live my life.” The lid isn’t opening, and I get frustrated, pulling it and tugging it.

  Manik snatches it out of my hands and opens it on the first go. He hands it back.

  I take it from him, ignoring the spark of fire that passes between our touch. He quickly backs away.

  I gurgle some mouthwash, feeling a little better. “How was the show?” I ask, dabbing a towel over my mouth. I try hard to focus on his face, but I can’t. Everything is spinning around me in a blur and for the life of me, I can’t take him in.

  “You need to go to bed,” he answers, pulling me into his chest where I relax instantly. I’m annoyed with myself on levels I didn’t know that I had.

  “You need to go to hell,” I answer through a slur, while leaning into him as he takes me out of the bathroom.

  “Been there, got kicked out.” He continues to lead me toward the stairs, and then pauses. I try to ignore all the people who are in the lounge, dancing and chatting. I will no doubt one-hundred percent regret this in the morning.

  “Up the stairs, Cub, don’t make me throw you over my shoulder again.”

  I take the steps two at a time. If he even tries to do that, I know I’ll spew everywhere and what’s worse than famous people seeing you in your underwear? Famous people seeing you in your underwear, ass in the air and spew coming out of your mouth and nostrils.

  I start walking toward the spare room when his hand catches mine and he tugs me back slightly. I turn to face him, confused. If he needs space to do whatever the hell it is he was wanting to do, there is no way I’m going to stop him. I know when I’m not wanted, or needed, and aside from the mere fact that he does have a hit on my head, he did see me get…

  Get… well, he witnessed it.

  He brushes my hair out of my face, his eyes narrowing. “Why do you fuck with my head so much? I’m sorry, Cub.”

  “Hmmm?” My own head starts spinning, his face fading in and out, smudged with a complete blackout, and then I’m out.

  “I like it”—Cardi B