by S. Ferguson
Jake’s head snaps up, and he glowers as he walks toward me. “We had this conversation, Declan,” he seethes almost under his breath. “That nickname is dead.”
“Right, but as you're my only blood related family member left, it is my job, nay my privilege, to make sure that the truth is passed on throughout history, from generation to generation.” My smile is all teeth.
Jake’s face is getting redder by the second, and I am absolutely delighted. I turn to look at Bree, who walks closer to where we are standing. I’m leaning down on the bar, resting on my elbows, and Jake is standing directly in front of me on the other side of the bar. His face is pink, and his eyes are sending me all kinds of telepathic death threats, which I am completely ignoring. I steal another quick glance at Bree and that same left corner of her mouth starts to twitch and I know I’ve almost got her. It’s now or never.
“Does anyone here know how you got that nickname?” I ask, putting on the most innocent face I can muster.
“That’s my private business. I had crazy friends when I was younger,” Jake snaps, looking around, before giving a nervous chuckle. As if I didn't know that would be the first excuse he pulled out of his ass.
“Bullshit. 1. You never had friends. 2. I distinctly remember you making that name up for yourself and feeling the need to tell everyone. I’m pretty sure you wrote it all over your backpack,” I counter.
“You’re gonna pay for this,” Jake says. He’s so cute when he thinks he’s intimidating.
“When the illustrious Jake ‘Lord Pussy Magnet’ James here was in high school, he discovered the wonders of the female anatomy,” I begin, as I notice a few more of the guys gathering around. Clearly, this is a story that hasn’t been shared before. “My mother and I were in agreement that the girls must have been blind or drunk, but apparently Jake had somehow tricked some poor innocent girls into giving it up.” I shoot Jake a condescending look, and he narrows his eyes at me.
“The first time ‘Lord Pussy Magnet’ made an appearance, it was on his backpack. It was written across one of the straps. I’m pretty sure our mother tore her rotator cuff trying to scrub it out. But the greatest and most noteworthy appearance of ‘Lord Pussy Magnet’ was when I caught Jake making out in the driveway of our house with yet another innocent victim.” I’m flat out laughing now, the guys around Jake are cracking the fuck up, and even Jake is chuckling.
“So the car is a-rocking, as they say, and I hear the girl moan out Jake’s name. Then, suddenly everything stops and I hear Jake say,” I mimic his stern tone of voice from that night, but raise my voice a few notches. “No, baby, Jake isn’t making you come. That’s Lord Pussy Magnet,” I finish, and turn to look at Bree.
All the breath leaves my body. She’s smiling. She’s not laughing, but she is full on smiling. She is magnificent.
A man could write songs about her smile. She looks at me, and shakes her head, before walking off to help a customer. I don’t miss the fact that her shoulders are slightly shaking. Everyone around us is laughing their asses off. Even Jake has a huge grin on his face; his eyes are watering from trying so hard to keep his laugh in.
Everyone starts to walk away, laughing, and a few of the guys slap Jake on the back. He gives me a wry smile before glancing in Bree’s direction. “That right there,” Jake says his face now serious, “was worth it.”
In this moment, I know I want to see her smile again. No, I need to see her smile again. I also know I will do anything in my power to make Bree not only smile more often, but to realize that her life is worth something. She is worth something.
14
Bree
It’s only been a few days since my first session with Ze, and I’m already back for more. The man is ruthless.
He is determined to push me past my limits. What scares me the most is, I don’t think he means that just physically. He reminds me of Declan in a lot of ways. He’s always watching me, and looking deeper into me than I would prefer. Right now, he has me in a plank, and the timer is set for two minutes. That doesn’t seem so long, but have you ever done a plank for two minutes? Try it, then come back and tell me how easy it is. I’m a little nervous because Ze seems to have decided he wants to talk to me when I’m in a position like this, unable to move.
“You want to talk about it?” Ze asks nonchalantly. I grunt. Suddenly, the sweat breaking out all over my body has nothing to do with the workout.
“I know you don’t want to talk, so I’ll talk,” he continues. “This kid, he was bad for you, yeah?”
I keep my head down. How does Ze even know about that? Ron has a big mouth. How do I even explain this? Alex wasn’t bad. I was. I was the one who wasn’t good enough for him, the reason he had to leave. We wouldn’t have been in any of this mess if it weren’t for me. The homelessness, the bar… that was all on me. Alex had run away with me to save me from Mother.
Ze doesn’t seem shocked at all that I’m not answering him; he just keeps right on talking. “You think you’re the only one who’s had it, rough? My old man beat my ass every day until I left. He was a lot like Jake and Declan’s dad. Granted, I think their old man was worse in the end. But your mother, she was a special kind of evil, wasn’t she?”
This catches my attention for more than one reason. I’ve never told a soul, except for Alex, about Mother. Not one person. I’ve also never heard anyone but Declan on the night of… the night of the incident, talk about he and Jake’s life before working for Ron. Before learning some of the story, Jake always seemed so normal. I couldn’t have imagined him having had it too rough. But I do know that all of Ron’s business isn’t on the up and up, and the kinds of men who choose that lifestyle haven’t always had the best life growing up.
“You know, I love my wife. I love her enough to take a bullet for her. If we were hungry, I would make sure she ate before I did. If we needed shelter, I would sell everything up to and including my own body to make sure she had somewhere safe to rest. Your boy… he didn’t do any of this for you, did he?” Ze continues, following me as I finally finish the plank, and make my way to the punching bags. I can tell by the way he asks the question he already knows the answer.
“This boy, he fucked with your head and made you think this was your fault. The fact that he didn’t love you enough to properly take care of you, if at all, the fact that he’s the reason you were in that whole damn mess, he just let that all fall on your shoulders. He knew what your mother did to you, and he used that to his advantage. You were vulnerable, and he used that to try to finish you off. He was fucked up, but you and I both know this started before him. You were just ripe for the picking. That’s what these assholes do.”
“That boy saw how vulnerable you were, because he wasn’t the first person to hurt you, was he? Not even close. No, he just wanted to deal the final blow.”
I’ve had enough at this point. I keep hitting the bag, angry tears falling down my face, and my form goes to shit. My hands begin to hurt, but I don’t stop, until I just can’t take it anymore.
“It was my fault. You have no idea what you’re talking about. It was on me!” I pound my chest angrily. It hurts, and part of me hopes it leaves a bruise, so the outside can match the inside. “I was the one that had to run away. You don’t know what my life was like. You don’t know anything about me.”
I stand facing him, my chest heaving, tears continuing to fall, and I swipe the back of my hand across my face. The mixture of sweat and tears on my face causes my knuckles to sting, and I realize I’ve split two of them open on my right hand, where blood and sweat are mixing together, running down my fingers.
“But I do know you. I know more than you think. I’m actually thinking I may know more than you do. You think you’re the first kid I’ve helped that had a shit life? Look around, baby girl. Everyone you know has had one. You think Ron was always happy and successful? You think Jake and the other boys didn’t have a reason to start working for Ron? You think I had a good life? Why, beca
use now, at fifty-five, I have my shit together? Everyone has a story, and their stories can help you, if you’ll stop feeling sorry for yourself long enough to hear them. If you would listen to the truth, not this ‘everything is my fault’ shit you keep spoon-feeding yourself.”
Ze’s words are like a slap in the face. I want to be mad. I want to keep crying and… feeling sorry for myself. Realizing he’s right, I only get angrier.
“Fuck you!” I shout, turning around and stomping to the women’s locker room. Once inside, I sit down on the floor, just inside the door, and pull my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. Then, I lower my head. I want to cry, but my tears have mysteriously disappeared. I can’t tell what makes me angrier: the fact that he’s right, or the fact that he’s taken away the only way I know how to deal with this. If I’m not feeling sorry for myself, then what am I supposed to be feeling? Am I supposed to be okay with Alex walking away from me? With my own mother hating me?
My life has been nothing but impossible choices. Always being forced to choose the lesser of two evils. My reality is far too much to bear. Accepting my life is impossible. Numbing things the best I can, and being cocooned in my sorrow, are the only ways I can keep my head above water. I know this because I’ve done it for years now. I don’t know how to be any other way. There is safety in the familiar. My sorrow keeps my pain away. But that’s a lie. I spend every single day in pain, my heart mourning for what it’s lost, what it never even had in some cases.
What if everything you’ve been telling yourself is a lie, just like that one?
The thought comes unbidden, and I immediately push it aside. I can’t fathom a world where anyone but me is to blame. My mother abused me because I was me. Alex left me because I was me. This is my truth.
I hear a light tapping on the door, followed by Ze’s voice coming through the door. “This is the first step, baby girl. Tomorrow, we start really training.”
I lift my head, and it hits the wall behind me with a thud. I shake my head and give an angry sigh. He’s right because I don’t know if I can go back to my pity party after this.
He’s right that I’m going to come back tomorrow. He’s right because somehow, even in the midst of my anger, I know things will never be the same after this.
15
Declan
Something is wrong. Something is off with Bree. I didn’t think she could get any more quiet, but apparently she can. Ron seemed unconcerned when I mentioned it in passing as I first got to work. Now, I can see he is watching her a little more intently than normal. I try to stop myself from asking her what’s wrong.
I made it longer than I thought I would be able to, but as the bar is winding down and I’m on hour five of another Bree-is-acting-stranger-than-normal shift, I notice she has bruises and some split knuckles. That does it for me.
The idea that someone is hurting her causes a rage I’ve only ever felt once before in my life to flow through my entire body. I clench my fists and decide now is the moment I confront her. Is there another asshole bothering her now? Did her douchebag ex make an appearance? I will fucking end whoever did this to her. I know without asking that Jake would have my back on that move. I’d be willing to bet money Ron would as well. It takes every ounce of strength I have, but I wait until the night is a little closer to being over before snatching her arm and pulling her through the doorway into the dark kitchen. I spin her around to the wall beside the doorway, leaning down so we’re face to face, eye to eye.
“You’re gonna tell me what the fuck is going on, and you’re gonna tell me right the fuck now. Is someone hurting you? Why are your knuckles all bruised? You been fighting?” I fire off everything at once, realizing I sound like a nagging girlfriend, but I need to know she’s okay. I NEED to get this off my chest.
Bree sighs deeply, her warm breath fanning across my neck, making me aware of our proximity. I have her pinned to the wall, my left hand is still gripping her shoulder, and my right hand is on the wall above her head. I’m being a bastard, and using my size to cage her in. I watch her closely for signs of fear, but she almost looks bored, and mostly just annoyed. I know she can still refuse to answer, but I’ll be damned if she gets away from me until I have my say.
She raises her eyes to give me an angry glare and I feel my dick twitch. Seeing fire in her eyes as opposed to the sadness they always carry makes her ten times hotter. Fuck, I’m an asshole. Something is seriously wrong with her, and I’m standing here getting turned on.
“I’ve just had a lot on my mind. I’ve been…training. You know exercising and punching a bag. That’s why my knuckles are bruised.” She raises an eyebrow at me, daring me to question her more. I smirk down at her… she has no idea who she’s messing with.
“You need to wear gloves then. You’re going to ruin your beautiful hands. You’re not actually sparring are you?” I ask, my voice deeper than I intended. I’ve never been this close to her before, and my dick is currently trying to punch its way out of my zipper to reach her.
She glances down, and I have a moment of horror when I realize there is no way she’s going to miss my erection. I’m a healthy boy, and my jeans were already on the tight side. Her breath hitches, and she jerks her eyes back up to meet mine.
When I see the heat in her eyes, I swear I almost come in my pants like a teenager. Bree is fucking turned on by me. I can work with this. Letting go of her shoulder, I put my hand on the wall, completely closing her in, and lower my head towards hers.
“I don’t fool around with Ron’s guys,” she says softly, making no move to avoid my quickly approaching lips.
“Good thing I’m not one then,” I say, my mouth forming a smirk. I’m now so close to her lips I can feel their warmth on my own.
“YO BREE, where ya at?” I hear Jake yell from outside the door. His voice is like a splash of cold water, causing me to jerk back, and the moment is gone.
“My brother is an asshole,” I grumble, lowering my hands to adjust my erection, and backing further away from her.
“Your brother just stopped me from making a stupid mistake,” she says, before walking out of the door.
I hear her call out to Jake as the door closes behind her. I stay back a few minutes, willing the jerk in my pants to calm down. I can’t remember the last time I was this turned on. Shit, Candice was swallowing my cock and it wasn’t this hard.
Once I feel like I won’t traumatize anyone, I make my way back to the bar. Jake is talking to Bree, wildly gesturing with his hands.
Before I can get to them, I hear a screech and I grunt as something small and hard slams into my body. I actually stumble back from the impact.
“Oh my God, baby, where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Candice whines into my chest.
I look around, once again thinking this has to be some sort of prank, but considering Candice has not stopped her incessant calls and texts, despite me never answering or acknowledging them, added to the fact she’s now shown up at the bar, it’s becomes clear to me that she is really is bat shit crazy.
As gently, yet forcefully, as I can, I extract myself from her death grip and look down into her crazy ass eyes.
“Look, this whole thing has really gotten carried away. I’m sorry if I did anything to lead you on, but I’m not looking for a relationship or anything really. I had a great time that night, but that’s what we need to leave it at. You understand, right?” I say, and immediately regret it.
Candice’s brown eyes turn dark with fury, and I see her chest begin to move quickly as she takes several gulps of air before unleashing on me.
I tune out her screaming, catching the occasional “asshole” as I look around frantically for someone to help me.
Most of the guys are ignoring the situation; it's not the first time some crazy bitch has shown up screaming at a guy here. Definitely won’t be the last. Jake is doubled over in laughter, and Bree is standing there staring at me with her eyes wide. Help, I mouth
at her. She makes an annoyed face before marching towards us.
“….and you just threw it away!” Candice slaps my arm, bringing my attention back to her. I’ve never hit a woman, and I definitely never will, but I find myself wondering how much of an asshole it would make me if choked her. Maybe I could just push her out of the bar?
“Look, he’s moved on. You’re embarrassing yourself. Just stop.” Bree’s voice is firm as she comes to stand next to me. I don’t know if her intent was to imply she is Candice’s replacement or not, but I’m rolling with it. I grab Bree and bring her to my side, tucking her under my arm, and kissing the top of her head. She brings her foot down hard on top of mine, but I ignore it. It feels like she broke my toe. So worth it.
“WHAAAAAAAT???????” Candice screeches, and, I swear to God, nails on a chalkboard are a more pleasant sound.
I don’t have to look down at Bree to know she’s giving me a death glare. “She’s right. I was just trying to let you down gently. Please, have some self-respect and let’s just walk away.” I give Bree a squeeze to help make my point.
I should have seen it coming. As a man in general, especially as someone who’s dealt with more than one angry woman in my lifetime, I really should have known what Candice’s next move would be. Her eye twitches, and then pain radiates in my lower stomach. That crazy bitch just kneed me in the balls. I fall to my knees, cupping my boys, tears welling in my eyes. I hear some scuffling and more screeching from Candice, but I’m in far too much agony to bother looking. Kill me. Kill me now.
16
Bree
