Rogue (In the life of the Rogue Book 1)

by KaNeshia Michelle

  “Keep the money out of your arm, Zander,” I told him.

  He pointed his finger and was dangerously close to touching my nose. “I’m tired of everyone giving me shit.”

  I leaned my head out of the way of his finger. “I’m not everyone.”

  Zander stuffed the money in his pocket. “If you aren’t now, you soon will be.”

  The rift between us had been subtle – it had all started the day he almost died on the toilet - but the hole, at times, seemed to be gapping, and just getting bigger and bigger.

  ***

  Lulina’s fingers touched at my tie, her hands grasping the knot. She pulled me forward, her cheek brushing against mine.

  I groaned as I felt her lips kiss the tip of my earlobe. “See,” she whispered, “Just a casual meeting between friends of the family.”

  Lulina ran her hand down the front of my shirt, stopping at my belt then moving further down. I coughed as I pushed her hands away from my crotch and stepped around her.

  I wasn’t having a good day. Sure, it was a meeting among friends of the family, but that friend had been Lulina’s ex husband, who hated her to the point that he almost shot her when he arrived through the front door.

  And he was also Dominique’s father.

  Mr. Almond Lougotti, Miami crime boss, and a long time friend of my Papa more than sixty years, had looked especially pissed when he found out that his ex-wife had been living under the same roof as his precious daughter.

  Sure, it was a casual meeting, a meeting that I had no business being involved in and was not. Papa, my father, Lougotti and Dominique were in the main office while I sipped a glass water with too many ice cubes and danced around Lulina’s advances. We were outside the office, in the meeting area where a table and chairs had been set up for Lougotti’s men. I was given strict instructions to make sure Mr. Lougotti’s hired guns were taken care of, while the meeting was in progress.

  The four young men, with itchy fingers resting not too far from their guns, plowed plates of food.

  One looked up, holding up his glass and rattled it. “More,” he grunted, licking sauce off his lips.

  I did my best not to snatch the glass out of his hand while I poured him more champagne.

  I was playing waiter while Lulina was playing hotress. Or, in other terms, she pranced around the men, sure they were gazing her tight ass through her ridiculously tight, leather, bright red dress.

  A joke was told amongst Lougotti’s men and they chuckled loudly. An elbow hit and knocked off a plate of food onto the floor.

  Before I knew it, I was on my knees with a bottle of cleaner and paper towels.

  It was a wonder how I didn’t have a nosebleed when I looked up to see how low I had sunk.

  Lulina was behind me, her hands touching at my back. “Aren’t you interested in what they’re discussing, Tristan?”

  I stood up, shrugging her hands away from me. I could feel the four men’s stares at my back and didn’t like it. They may have been young, but they were older than me and knew the rules in the family. I wasn’t positive but I’m sure the history of Lulina Wells had been shared among them. They knew just who wife she was, even though my brother was dead, and she was acting way too cozy with me.

  The playful, flirtious banter was making their itchy fingers a little itcher.

  The dishes crashed a little too hard on the tray the maid had wheeled in. I hadn’t thrown the plates but I hadn’t set them down easy either. The laughing stopped and I felt more eyes on my back. I closed my eyes, pinching my nose as I breathed around the headache. I touched at the tie around my neck, wanting to loosen it but instead dipped my fingers between my neck and the tie and tried to let some air in.

  Lulina was at my side again. “Did Dominique talk to you, Tristan?”

  I peeked a glance behind me to see that Lougotti’s men were back to eating and laughing.

  “No, Lu,” I whispered, “Why would she want to talk to me?”

  “You looked like you had become fast friends the last time I saw you two together.”

  This line of conversation was dangerous. No one needed to overhear that the Rogue’s family rebellious son was caught fondling their boss’ beloved and sacred daughter.

  I grabbed Lulina by the elbow and walked her a little further away from the table.

  “Nothing happened,” I said, starting the line of conversation that would consist of mostly lies from my end.

  “Oh I know. I had her check out again.”

  “Checked out?”

  Lulina licked her bottom lip and smiled. “You aren’t very bright, are you? Tristan?”

  “How about you lower your injected ass a little off its pedestal and maybe we can have a conversation that doesn’t fly over both our heads.”

  Lulina threw her head back and laughed. I looked at her long, creamy bare neck that smelled like sweet candles in a beach setting, and wasn’t sure if I wanted to drag my tongue over it or wrap my hands around it.

  She switched gears in the conversation. “Your father wants to merge our families - Lougotti and Rogue, one big family, one big organization. Dominique is the bridge to make that happen.”

  “That’s why we had to grab her from Miami?” I asked.

  “My ex-husband isn’t adapted to change. He needed a little push.”

  “Hey, boy,” another one of Lougotti’s idiots called from across the room, “Move my plate.”

  I pointed at Lulina. “Stay right here, I want to finish this.”

  The man laughed as I approached, knocking his plate on the floor with his hand.

  “Get it,” he sneered.

  My elbow was in his face before I knew what happened. I grabbed the back of his head, slamming his face into the table. My other hand was digging in his jacket pulling the gun and placing it comfortably to the back of his head.

  I looked up to see three separate revolver barrels pointed in my face and I smiled. “How about we not eat like pigs, boys?”

  My thumb pulled the hammer back. “I’m sure your boss wouldn’t like it how you purposely spilled food all over the Rogue’s carpet and shot the Rogue’s boss’ son while he was in the mist of meeting with friends, who are the Rogue, and making a very big deal that could be a lot of money.”

  The guns went back into the holsters and the men sat down. I unleashed my hold on the man who I hit with my elbow. The gun was handed back to him with a paper towel and a bottle of cleaner.

  Lulina licked her lips as I approached her again. “Your father is a fool to overlook how powerful you are, Tristan.”

  I snatched her arm and brought her close to me. “What aren’t you telling me, Lu? I’m tired to fucking death of all your games.”

  “And I’m tired of watching you round second base with my daughter everytime I turn my back.” She pulled her arm out of my grasp. “That’s why the doctor, Tristan.”

  I went for a retort but froze. The gears were slow but they still grinded.

  “To see if she’s still intact?” I questioned, reciting the same words Papa had spoken to me.

  “Oh, he get’s it,” Lulina taunted, “that’s right, Tristan. She’s a virgin, and she is the key to her family and your family merging, and the marriage is the only way that’s going to happen. What better way to have that done if the bride hasn’t been touch?”

  I shoved Lulina away from me. “You’re a peace of work, you know that? Bartering your daughter’s ass like its prime meat in a butcher shop. Why don’t you sale your ass?”

  “It’s already been pounded,” she called out to me as I walked away. “But you know that better than anyone.”

  The main office door opened and Lougotti stepped out of the room. His gray eyes – the same color of Dominique’s but no where near as beautiful – watched me from under the brim of his fedora hat.

  “What’s this about ass being pounded?” He asked, his voice raspy, but still strong.

  Lougotti turned his wrist over, fixing the cuff of his bab
y blue shirt. He was a man pushing eighty but looked well over a hundred. A man dying of prostate cancer who’s foot was firmly planted in the grave, but he still had the power to still a room with one glance.

  Papa joined his side, slapping him softly on the back. “I’m glad we could find common ground, old friend.”

  Lougottie used a hankerchief to wipe away the blood of his palm on his right hand.

  I knew what this meant.

  The deal had been done, Dominique had been sold and the families would be merged because it was now sealed. When a deal had been reached among families, one member from each family had to cut their palms and shake on the new dealings.

  Papa was wiping his palm, smearing the blood over his fingers while Lougotti met my gaze and held it.

  “Is this the grandson you speak of,” Lougotti raised his blood dripping hand in my direction. “Is the one that my daughter has showed favor in marrying?”

  Papa nodded, not looking at me.

  The tie around my neck went back to choking me but there would be no loosening it with these two old men.

  “And that’s the man she wanted to carry the child of?” Lougotti asked, his face darkening.

  Papa: “That is.”

  I looked past the men to see Dominique talking quietly with my father near his desk.

  She looked up and met my eyes. There was no emotion in her face, and I wasn’t sure I convayed anything, myself.

  Lougotti was grabbing my hand, shaking it and dropping blood all over the carpet. “Tell me,” he said, “if I was to give you my daughter, would you be honored?”

  I felt Lulina’s eyes on me first before I felt Lougotti’s men staring at my back. My father and Dominique walked out into the room, walking arm and arm with pocker faces.

  I turned back and glanced at Lulina. It had been the wrong thing to do, and if Dominique had any doubts of our relationship, well, I was sure she wouldn’t have them any longer.

  Lulina’s heated glare was clear: I will tell everything, Tristan, you will never have my daughter.

  I gulped and touched my tie with my free hand.

  “I’m not worthy of her,” I answered.

  My hand was dropped, wet with Lougotti’s blood. The man smiled in my face, happily nodding his head. I looked at Dominique’s crumpling face, her eyes watered briefly before a look of pure stone flashed over.

  Having spent maybe thousands and thousands of dollars in buying women, I had grown a very acute awareness on how some women thought.

  A thought flashed over Dominique’s face. A choice had been made, and I had no idea what choice that was but it had depended how I would act in front of her father.

  “You do have a fondness in her,” Lougotti asked, still grinding me into the ground with his questions.

  “I do,” I said.

  “And you still not plead for her hand. She needs to be married to your family and bare a child to bridge us. That is my terms: that is my payment for not raging war for what you did in Miami. You were there, weren’t you? You helped kill my men and steal my daughter.”

  He touched his daughter’s face, his bloody fingers smearing on her cheek. “She is beautiful and strong and smart and I will not allow a nigger to have her. I will die before she bares a dark baby, but if that man is strong and will advance the family, I could make an acception.”

  “No,” I heard myself saying. Lulina’s stare had gotten hotter and hotter on the side of my neck. “I do not ask her hand.”

  “Good,” Lougotti clapped his hands together. “We will proceed with what we agreed upon.” His gray eyes bore into me, “my daughter will be your new step mother. She will bare the Rogue name, your father’s name.”

  Lougotti pushed Dominique’s hand into my father’s. “Kiss it,” he instructed.

  My father did as he was told.

  My father was the boss of the Rogue, a man who had ran this empire for decades, but he was a child in the meeting. This was Papa and Lougotti’s territory, and my father had no power as of now. He did as he was told, he married who was pointed out and there would be no argument in it.

  I looked at Dominique.

  She did not look back.

  Lougotti spoke, “We drink to this union.”

  Papa chuckled, slapping Lougotti’s shoulder again and leading him away. Instead of being led away just yet, Lougotti made his way back to me.

  He used his bloody hand to grab my shoulder. “I’m an old man,” he said, “And I believe in old ways.”

  He pushed with his hand, guiding me through the few bodies of his men. For an elderly man looking at death’s door, he was stronger than what the eye would determine as weak.

  Before I knew it I was standing in front of Dominique. She was leaning against the wall, her head down, her hair covering over her face. She had her arms crossed and over her chest.

  She lifted her head and her wet eyes were on mine. I gulped and tried to take a step back but her father’s hold on me was tight.

  “I’m a monster,” he admitted and laughed, dryly, “but even monsters have eyes and I see you care for my daughter.”

  He released my shoulder.

  “You can say goodbye,” he said, “Of course while I watch.”

  Dominique dropped her arms. Her finger grabbed at my belt loop and she tugged me forward.

  My body touched hers and my mind flared with images of the night when our skin had touched and warmed eachothers. Lulina wasn’t far away and I could feel her presence amid everyone elses. I felt the hate in her eyes as it scorched my back, but even that wasn’t enough.

  Dominique was looking at me and I didn’t care if the world was too because nothing seemed to exist past her stare.

  My thumbs traced Dominique’s jaw line. I leaned in and kissed the side of her face, softly and tenderly, and I hated it.

  I hated Lougotti and Papa, because what they were making us do was cruel. It was evil, and even if they were men who ordered death on the regular, even this moment seemed beneath them.

  Dominique wrapped her arms around my neck. Her head moved away from my kisses on her cheek. Her lips were suddenly on mine, tight lipped and dry and hard.

  She ended her kiss, moved back and dropped her head again. Her arms were back over her chest.

  Lougotti patted me on the back. “Good, now that’s done, we can get past this. Come, Tristan, share a drink with me, and with your father and your grandfather.” He stopped, licked his thin lips and gave a crooked smile.

  I had wondered all my life if I was transparent; if my family knew how I thought and felt – did they know the words that I wouldn’t dare to say, and could they know the right words that would build me up and tear me down. My age old question was answered as Lougotti eyes lit up with mock respect.

  “Come be one of us, Tristan Rogue.”

  It had been words I had waited for all my life. Of course I had wanted my father or Papa to say them to me but Lougotti was on that level, and him saying it was just as precious.

  And because of that, I wanted to kill the man for his words. He didn’t mean it and I knew it. He didn’t want me to be apart of them or their precious world, just like I knew that respect he had in his eyes wasn’t real.

  If he respected me then his daughter and I wouldn’t have seemed like a personal hocked spit in his face, and that was the way he acted when he caught the look Dominique had given me.

  And maybe he was hipped to the way Lulina had seared me with the stare after Lougotti put Dominique’s hidden looks out into the forefront, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know he didn’t give a damn what his ex-wife did.

  He gave a damned what his daughter did, and his daughter wanted to do me and that was a problem.

  I tugged away from his hold, my eyes on the floor. For an alcoholic, his words like a tune that I would pay all my quarters to have played.

  Let’s have a drink…

  But I wanted no drink with the man. It was blood liquor, just like if he handed me
money, it would be blood money. His drink would represent my departure from his daughter, and his money would too.

  I had let Dominique go, but I be damned if I would share a drink with the man so he could grind that handful of glass in my face.

  *

  The cold air that bristled past my face as I rushed from the compound, too frightened to look back over my shoulder, hurt in a way that words would never explain. I took a deep breath and felt the icy air burn its way down my throat.

  I drove as fast as me and Zander’s car would allow me to go, and the car wasn’t happy about it. The car smoked, gave an angry cough before stopping on the side of the street. My hands gripped tightly to the steering wheel as I waited for the car to turn over.

  It wouldn’t.

  It had lived a very unhappy life before being turned over to Zander and I. The car chose to die right here, no matter what I said, no matter the sweet nothings I cooed into its ear to get it started, it wouldn’t revive for me. The wind whipped past my face as I got out. I clutched my coat tighter around me before pulling the car’s hood up. I had to see if the car would open its eyes one more time to get me home. The smoke and steam burned my face. I fanned away the fumes, knowing that anything I could do for the car would get me no where. Like I said, it had lived an unhappy life, and my last assault on it was the knife plunge in it’s already cut riddled back.

  If I was going to make it home, it wouldn’t be by this car. I was at least forty-five minutes away by driving, and hours away by walking.

  The road was almost deserted but it wouldn’t be as the day was coming to a close. It was the bad side of town and the winos were finally wiping sleep out of their eyes before taking to the nightly walks. I was not afraid, but I elected not to be here when the sun went down completely and the streets came alive. I wasn’t well dressed, but I was dressed enough to be a prime candidate to have a gun shoved under my chin and my pockets emptied.

  I slammed the hood closed, leaned up against it and lit a cigarette. “Shit,” I mumbled as I puffed away.

  I flicked the cigarette away and ran a hand through my hair. My eyes closed tightly for a brief moment. I opened them and the world wobbled before focusing again.