Out of Control

by Sarah Alderson

  His hand curls then around the nape of my neck, slowly, tentatively, and my breathing stills for a beat before abruptly speeding up. When I make no move to pull away, he draws me against his chest and my body responds instantaneously, everything inside coming undone. All those things I’ve been keeping caged in the dark come tumbling free, rising up inside me, frantically scrabbling for an exit point, and for one hideous moment I think I might collapse to the floor and start sobbing, or worse, screaming. My fingers curl into Jay’s T-shirt, bunching it tight, desperately clutching at him – at something solid to hold on to.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Jay whispers, his voice trailing soft against my skin, making it even harder to keep everything contained.

  His lips press down on the top of my head and stay there. And there’s that connection I keep feeling between us again – something magnetic, not just electric – holding me to him. And suddenly I’m not thinking about anything any more. My head empties of every single thought. His thumb traces a line down my neck and all I’m aware of are the sensations taking over my body, raiding every cell. Fire flies through my veins, burning through my bones, searing the underside of my skin. And with it comes a barely controlled desire to slide my hands under Jay’s T-shirt and press my palms against his stomach, to trace the lines of muscle with my fingertips.

  I fight the urge to loop my arms around his neck and pull his head down so I can feel his lips against mine. Jay’s arms tighten fractionally around me and I feel him take a breath. He holds it and one of his hands slides down to my waist, comes to rest on my hip. I grip his T-shirt tighter and hear the sigh that falls from my lips. And that’s all it takes. Jay’s hands move quickly, and suddenly he’s holding my head, tipping my face up to his, his thumbs stroking along my jaw. I glance at his face and see the light in his eyes – the intensity of his stare, like I’m the only thing that matters right now to him. And I’m staring back at him, unblinking, my breathing coming faster and faster. His lips part and he leans down. I close my eyes.

  But then Marisa clears her throat behind Jay and my eyes flash open. I dance out of Jay’s arms and the white heat dissipates, leaving me reeling and unsteady on my feet. My heart is still fluttering and I’m breathing like I just ran a marathon. Marisa bustles past us, carrying the rest of the things from the table, giving Jay an unmistakeable glare as she passes.

  ‘I’ll make up the sofa in the living room. It turns into a bed,’ Marisa says over her shoulder. ‘You can take that. Liva, you can sleep on the floor in my room.’ She gives Jay another pointed look and I turn away, my cheeks throbbing. Now Jay’s no longer touching me my brain has switched back on and started processing what just almost happened. Were we really about to kiss? My stomach flips over at the thought. I can still feel the ghost pressure from his fingers against my jaw, can remember the look in his eyes as he leaned down to kiss me – the fire in his eyes, like he needed me as much as I need him right now. And God, how much I wanted to kiss him too. Still want to kiss him.

  Jay starts to say something about helping Marisa, but he’s interrupted by the sound of someone pummelling their fist against the door. I jump and my hand moves instantly to my gun. I glance at Jay as I step into the living room. He’s beside me, his gun already in his hand. But then Marisa barges past us both, screaming, and stands blocking the door with her hands on her hips, looking like she might be about to breathe fire.

  ‘¿Qué coño? What do you think you’re doing?’ she demands. ‘It’s only Yoyo! Put the gun away,’ she yells at Jay.

  Through the door we hear a guy shout, ‘Risa? Open up! What’s going on?’

  Marisa yanks open the door.

  ‘What the hell’s going on?’

  A guy in his early twenties, built like a refrigerator, fills the doorway. Marisa tugs him into the apartment and slams the door behind him, bolting it. The guy’s face lights up the instant he sees Jay and he crosses the room in two big strides and pulls him into a massive man-hug. Jay’s shoulders relax. The guy Yoyo is at least six four and almost as broad across, and from the way Marisa is staring at him with a mixture of fondness and annoyance, I’m guessing that he’s her boyfriend.

  Yoyo (is that really his name?) pulls back and slaps Jay on the back. ‘Man, where you been? We’re hearing all sorts of shit.’

  Jay glances at me quickly over Yoyo’s shoulder. ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘He’s in trouble, Yo,’ Marisa says, coming to stand beside him.

  His eyes flash to Jay. ‘Popo?’ he asks.

  ‘Yeah, the police. But that’s not the half of it,’ Marisa answers, clutching his arm.

  ‘You don’t want to know the other half,’ Jay interrupts, before Marisa can get started. I’m grateful because I’m pretty certain that in her version I’d be the one shouldering all the blame, never mind the fact Jay got caught behind the wheel of a stolen car, and never mind the other fact that we’re the ones being chased by stone-cold killers.

  ‘This is Liva,’ Jay says, nodding at me.

  ‘Hey,’ I say as Yoyo’s gaze travels the length of me.

  He turns to Jay and smiles slyly. ‘Only you, Moreno.’

  Jay gives him an almost imperceptible shake of the head, warning him not to go there, though I see the smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

  ‘Where’d he find you?’ Yoyo asks, offering me his hand, which is the size of a small ham.

  ‘In a police station,’ I say.

  ‘What were you being booked for?’ Yoyo asks, appraising me anew.

  ‘She was a witness to something,’ Jay answers for me.

  Yoyo steps away, still considering me. ‘Well, nice to meet you. Any friend of Jay’s . . .’ He lets the sentence trail off and I note the inflection on the word friend.

  ‘Did you find him?’ Marisa suddenly interrupts.

  Yoyo turns to her. ‘Yeah. Someone’s seen him at a party.’

  ‘Who?’ Jay asks, his head jerking up. ‘Teo?’

  ‘Yeah,’ says Yoyo, his brow creasing. ‘Risa asked me to keep an eye out for him after we heard what happened. I’ve been all around the neighbourhood trying to find him.’

  ‘Where is he?’ Jay asks, impatient.

  ‘My friend Mike’s seen him at a club on Roosevelt. He just called.’

  ‘Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go,’ Jay says and moves straight towards the door.

  Marisa scoots in front of the door, resting her hands on her hips. ‘Jay, you can’t go out there,’ she says. ‘Not with everyone looking for you.’

  ‘It’s all the way up on Roosevelt. No one from the Blades will dare step foot in Kings territory,’ Yoyo says, putting his hand on her shoulder and trying to move her aside.

  ‘Well, what’s Teo doing up there then?’ Marisa shoots back, shrugging off his hand. I can’t see even Yoyo managing to get past a stance that firm.

  ‘He’s hiding,’ Yoyo answers. ‘Look,’ he says, ‘I’ll go with Jay. You two girls stay here.’

  My eyes fly to Jay. I’m not staying here without him.

  ‘We’ll be fine,’ Yoyo continues. ‘Anyway, I see he’s packing these days.’ He nods at the gun sticking out of Jay’s waistband. ‘Where’d you get that thing?’ he asks.

  ‘Stole it from a cop,’ Jay answers, leaving out the dead part.

  Yoyo’s eyebrows rise up comically in his head, almost meeting his hairline and then he shakes his head. ‘You’re right. I don’t want to know the half of it.’ He grimaces at Marisa. ‘You going to move out the way?’

  ‘Nope,’ she answers, tilting one hip and pursing her lips. ‘Why doesn’t Yo go on his own and find Teo and bring him back here?’ she asks Jay.

  ‘He’s not going to come if Yoyo asks him,’ Jay fires back. ‘I know him. I’ve got to speak to him face to face. After tomorrow, I’m not going to have another chance.’

  Marisa’s face crumples at that. Yoyo looks between them both confused.

  ‘OK,’ Marisa says, moving aside.

  Jay
moves to unbolt the door.

  ‘I’m coming too.’ The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

  Jay looks at me. He opens his mouth but then shuts it and nods.

  ‘You sure?’ Yoyo asks him, his brow darkening.

  ‘Yeah,’ Jay says, without taking his eyes from mine. ‘She’s coming with me.’ A buzz sweeps through me at his tone – there’s no debate on this one. He feels it too then – that unspoken agreement between us – where one of us goes, so does the other. And maybe there’s something more too in his tone, in his expression. After what just happened in the kitchen, I can’t tell. I’m not sure I trust my own feelings or intuition any more. I’m not sure that I want to either.

  ‘Well then,’ Marisa says, looking annoyed, ‘I’m coming as well.’ She narrows her eyes at Yoyo, ‘And don’t you even think about trying to stop me.’

  Yoyo and Jay exchange a look and then Yoyo shrugs at her. ‘Woman, you want to zip my balls in your purse too?’

  ‘They’re there already, aren’t they?’ Jay asks, before dancing out the way of one of Yoyo’s fists.

  ‘Give me five minutes,’ Marisa says, ‘I just have to get ready.’

  ‘Oh man,’ Yoyo says, tipping his head back to the ceiling, ‘Mami, we’re going to find Teo, what you need to get dressed and put on make-up for?’

  ‘I’ll be five minutes,’ Marisa says, ignoring him and closing herself in her room.

  Yoyo rolls his eyes heavenward. It’s clear he’s been here many times before. Jay’s eyeing the door anxiously. I head to the go-bag and root through it, wondering what I should take with me. I pocket the credit card and some more cash, but leave everything else. Is it safe to take the gun? But the thought of detaching myself from it is not an option, so I just make sure it’s well hidden beneath the sweater wrapped around my waist.

  I stash the bag underneath a sofa cushion and when I turn back I find Jay watching me. ‘You sure you want to come?’ he asks. He’s giving me an out, just like the one I gave him, but I hear the slight waver in his voice.

  Yoyo looks once between us and then makes a beeline for the kitchen, clearly thinking we need some space to talk.

  ‘I’m not staying here by myself,’ I tell Jay, when he’s gone. ‘I need to get out. Sitting around here’s . . .’ I break off. What I want to say is that if I stay here, locked in this apartment, then there’s nothing to distract me from the contents of my head. And I’m not ready to deal with that. I can’t. So I need to keep moving. And, I think to myself, as I register Jay’s relief, I need to be near him too.

  ‘Yeah,’ Jay says, nodding, ‘I hear you.’

  Suddenly Marisa appears in her bedroom doorway. She’s wearing a blue dress that’s cut so low over her boobs that from the kitchen I hear Yoyo start choking on the leftover chicken stir fry. Marisa ignores him and arches an eyebrow at me. ‘Get over here,’ she orders.

  I don’t move.

  ‘Listen, I’m not going out with you looking like that,’ she says, her nostrils flaring. She has a look of distaste on her face that’s normally reserved for when meat’s gone bad. ‘You want people to stare at you, then at least have them stare for the right reasons.’

  ‘Marisa,’ Jay says, ‘give her a break. She looks fine.’

  ‘Did you see what she’s wearing?’ Marisa asks. ‘We’re going to a club.’

  ‘On Roosevelt,’ Jay points out, rolling his eyes at her. ‘I don’t think there’s a dress code.’

  ‘She’ll stand out like a habanero chilli in an ice-cream store if she goes dressed like that,’ Marissa snaps back. Then, resting one hand on her hip in a posture I’m beginning to understand is the equivalent of a judge slamming a gavel, she says, ‘Look at it this way. Everyone will be so busy looking at us girls, nobody will notice you.’

  Jay considers that and then looks at me grinning, ‘You know, she does have a point.’

  I doubt that very much, considering that Jay could probably wear a paper bag over his head and still turn most heads in a six-block radius. But I acknowledge that Marissa does have a point. Standing out isn’t a good idea.

  29

  Marisa has her head buried in her wardrobe. I stand in the doorway, glancing nervously around and over my shoulder at Jay, who gives me an apologetic shrug. I can tell he’s thinking rather me than him.

  Marisa straightens up and tosses something towards me before marching to the door and slamming it in Jay’s face. I shake out the thing she threw at me and discover it’s a little black dress.

  ‘That should fit,’ she says, scrunching up her nose as she sizes me up. ‘Even though you’re what I would call sardina.’

  ‘A sardine?’ I ask, put out.

  ‘Skinny,’ she answers, not bothering to hide her distaste for my lack of fat cells.

  ‘I’m not skinny,’ I answer, annoyed. I’m lean.

  ‘Just put it on,’ she says, already moving to her dressing table and starting to sort through a pile of make-up.

  I turn my back, pull the gun from my waistband and place it on the bed, and then start easing off my shorts and tank top.

  ‘Ahh,’ Marisa hisses. ‘What did you do?’

  I realise she’s staring at the bruise on my shoulder.

  ‘I fell,’ I tell her, reaching quickly for the dress as I feel her eyes raking the rest of my body. I tug the dress down over my hips and twist to face her. I catch her wincing and hope it’s not the sight of what I look like in her dress.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she says, surprising me. ‘Jay told me what you went through.’ She shakes her head. ‘It’s awful,’ she whispers. ‘I can’t even imagine.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say, dropping my eyes to my feet. Awful doesn’t quite cover it and I wouldn’t want her to imagine any of it.

  ‘What size are you?’ she asks me suddenly, forcing a smile, maybe sensing I don’t want to talk about it. ‘I can lend you some heels.’

  ‘I can’t walk in heels,’ I tell her. Let alone run in them.

  ‘Well, what about sandals then? I’ve got these.’ She rummages in the bottom of her wardrobe and comes up with a pair of tan leather sandals. ‘Will these fit?’

  I take them and hold them against my soles. ‘Yeah,’ I say, sitting to put them on. Really I feel stupid, and more than a little guilty, dressing up to go out to a club. It seems wrong. But it’s not like we’re going out to have fun. We’re going to find Jay’s brother. Marisa comes over and starts brushing my hair and pinning it up without even asking me if I mind. I don’t have the energy to argue so I just let her.

  ‘Listen,’ she says to me, her fingers busy pulling and yanking at my hair, ‘I didn’t mean to be rude earlier. It’s just – I’m worried about Jay. He’s always helping people out and it only ever seems to get him into trouble.’

  I don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t say anything.

  ‘He’s a good guy, you know. He doesn’t deserve to take the rap for Teo.’

  ‘I’m going to get him as much help as I can,’ I tell her. ‘I promise. My father knows people. We can argue his case. I don’t want to see him go to prison any more than you do.’

  Marisa’s hands stop whatever they’re doing to my hair. I glance up and see myself reflected in the mirror opposite. Marisa nods at me. ‘There,’ she says, smiling weakly. ‘All done. Let me just . . .’ she grabs hold of my chin and sweeps a brush over my cheekbones before dapping something on my lips and swiping some concealer over the cut on my cheek. Then she stands back to appraise her handiwork. ‘Yeah, you’ll do,’ she says.

  I stand up and take a quick look in the mirror. I don’t look like me. The dress is not something I would ever wear. It’s short, showing off my grazed knees, and though it covers the top of my arms it reveals a length of collarbone and a shadow of cleavage. She’s done something to my hair, sweeping it up off my neck and pinning it in a loose fifties-style chignon. The make-up is barely there but the spots of colour on my cheeks and lips do more to make me look alert and alive th
an my previous attempts in the bathroom managed to.

  I contemplate the gun lying on the bed. The dress has no pockets.

  ‘Do you have a purse I could borrow?’ I ask Marisa.

  Marisa flips through several hanging off the back of the door and hands me a black leather one with a gold chain for a strap. It’s way more bling than I’d normally go for, but I can sling it over one shoulder. I take it and shove my money and the credit card into it. Marisa makes a disapproving grunting sound when I pick up the gun and slide that in too, but I choose to ignore it. She’s not the one who has people chasing after her, trying to kill her.

  Yoyo pounds on the door. ‘Y’all coming or not?’ he asks.

  Marisa rolls her eyes as she pulls on her shoes. ‘Si, we’re coming,’ she yells back, opening the door.

  I catch Jay’s expression as I walk out into the living room, the quick once-over he gives me, and the way his eyebrows shoot up in surprise and then darken with a look I can’t read – irritation, anger, or something else maybe? I look away and catch Yoyo winking at Jay.

  It’s only then that I notice the tension, a thin, prickly layer, which has settled over the room. It’s almost palpable, and I take a guess that Jay has told Yoyo about the situation he’s in and how he’s going to hand himself in to the police tomorrow. As I glance at Jay again, who’s looking tense and wired, I realise that this is his last night of freedom for what could be a very long time. Is that what he’s thinking too? Or, like me, is he just focussed on getting through every second as it occurs and not dwelling too much on what comes after?

  ‘We ready then?’ Yoyo asks.

  Jay’s already by the door.

  I walk over and join him.

  30

  We take Yoyo’s beat-up old Ford. Jay climbs in the back with me, not even trying to call shotgun, and I breathe a sigh of relief. His hand rests a few inches away from mine and I’m intensely aware of his thigh stretched across the seat, his knee almost touching mine. Is he as aware of me as I am of him? Of every movement and every breath?