Rising (Vincent and Eve Book 1)

by Jessica Ruben

  He chimes in. “But sometimes, things happen to us that propels us toward a different destiny. And I think that when Malcolm X goes to jail and makes a conscious choice to refrain from eating pork, that one small act was the catalyst in changing the entire course of his life. So, change is possible, right? If, of course, you can survive long enough to get to that point.” He’s staring at me seriously, and this time the feeling goes way beyond the physical. I’m gazing into his dark eyes, and somehow, his presence makes me want to rise up in all senses of the word.

  I swallow again. His expression turns thoughtful, as if he’s really waiting to hear my reply. I want to show him what I think; I feel as if I don’t have to hide with this man. I push my worry in the back of my mind again, and allow myself to speak freely. The alcohol is definitely helping the situation, shutting up my nerves and loosening my tongue.

  “I hear your idealism. And I know it seems possible to believe we can all change, especially when reading about a man like Malcolm X. But for most people, experiencing a world outside of their poverty is near to impossible. I mean, it’s easy for a rich guy to believe that a kid from the ghetto can turn his life around if he just stopped with the violence, or picked up a book, or got into religion. But, you can’t protect yourself from violence with a book. The streets are dangerous, Vincent. And most people do the best they can to protect themselves. And when protection is on your mind, and feeding your family—or when other basic necessities are at risk—there is no time for introspection or higher knowledge. That makes changing really, really difficult, although not impossible.”

  “Well, jail is certainly a place where you have nothing else to do but think and reach higher knowledge, huh?” He exaggerates his shrug, and I start to laugh.

  A flicker of amusement passes through his face at my reaction, but his stare somehow intensifies. I feel my face growing red.

  He continues. “Well, let’s get real for a second. If you’re willing to die to get out of your circumstances, that may be the answer. I mean, you can easily say, fuck it. Forget protection and basic necessities. Forget being smart on the street. My goal is getting out, even if I may die trying.”

  I’m in a state of utter shock right now and I’m sure my face shows it, because he’s smiling like he just won a game. I’m not sure if he realizes that he just pegged me, but he did. He hit my nail on the head.

  I take another huge swallow of my wine. “Well, what do you make of the fact that once Malcolm X finally found peace, he was assassinated?”

  He leans forward, even closer. “I think that America likes to claim that in this country, there’s mobility within the classes. But in reality, even if you transcend your upbringing, there’s someone who will push you back down again. Maybe in reality, change is actually impossible.”

  “No!” I exclaim, dropping my fork onto my plate. His eyes widen in surprise at my outburst, but I can’t believe that what he’s saying is true. “Change has to be possible…” I turn my head down, trying to process my thoughts.

  “Eve,” he starts. “It’s not just people in poverty who suffer from this… I mean, shit, there’s always someone controlling all of us. None of us are really free, are we? In every single realm from impoverished up to Arab Sheiks, we’re all victims of how we were raised. Did you read The Short and Tragic Life of Robert Peace?” I nod my head.

  “He may not have been assassinated, but he was brought back down and into the rabbit hole of his upbringing, regardless of the Ivy League college he attended and all the schooling in the world combined with incredible natural brilliance. Because change is—”

  “No,” I stop him. “Change is not impossible. It has to be possible! And yeah, I see what you’re saying. But Rob didn’t have to sell drugs. He chose it in the end, and that was his downfall. His bad choice. His refusal to let go of where he came from.”

  “So, you’re saying that if you want to change, you need to cut ties with your past?”

  “Yes.” I nod vigorously. “I do. I think that sometimes you need to burn bridges. I think that in order to transcend a life of poverty, you’ve got to do just that—leave the hood behind.”

  “But what if your past isn’t necessarily bad blood? Like, maybe you’re poor and live in the ghetto, but you’ve got a huge amazing family. You still want out, though. Do you have to leave all those people behind? It’s not always one-dimensional.”

  I immediately think of some friends from the Blue Houses, with huge but loving families. “Well, yeah. I think you can bring them into your new life, but I don’t think going back to your old life is smart. You’d be surprised at how impoverished cultures aren’t interested or supportive of people breaking out of the mold; it’s almost as if they feel like if you leave the community, you’re denying their value. Like, if you leave, it’s because you don’t think they’re good enough or worth staying for. It’s offensive to them. Maybe your own family is supportive and proud. But the community as a whole, not so much.”

  He stops and we get quiet, looking at each other. My chest constricts from the intensity of our conversation, and he looks at me with all the interest a set of eyes can convey. Deep down, I feel angry and upset. He doesn’t know that I’m that person. I’m that girl with nothing and a shitty upbringing. I’m the one who is willing to die trying.

  “Eve, look at me.” I bring my gaze back up to his. “I wasn’t trying to say that it’s impossible to change. I mean…” he swallows. “I’m not poor by any stretch,” he admits. “But, I’ve been raised in a certain way. I’ve also made choices that were in line with expectations placed on me. I’ve also picked a path that maybe, under other circumstances, I wouldn’t have chosen. But now I’m here. In that life. And there’s no way out.”

  I’m surprised by his admission, but assume that he’s talking about being forced into grad school or something. A man like him doesn’t have real problems. I mean, look at the place he brought me! Everything about him screams confidence and money.

  “But Vincent, you don’t have to live that way if you don’t want to. You can wake up one morning and leave. You aren’t behind bars or dead. You aren’t in some gang where the only way out is in a body bag.”

  He pulls his head back, looking as if I’ve slapped him. Maybe I said something that touched too close to home. I want to say more, but before I can continue, dish after dish comes out of the kitchen and onto our beautiful table. I can’t help myself as I dig into the delicious food. He watches me quietly as I eat my dinner. We’re silent, and I’m glad for that. The silence with him is comfortable and somehow, full of warmth. We went from challenging each other to enjoying each other.

  I’ve never eaten a filet steak in my life, and the meat melts in my mouth like butter. I moan from the taste, and he gives me a heated look.

  “What?” I ask him, smiling with my mouth full, taking another sip of the cold wine. I look at my glass and realize that somehow, despite how much I’ve drunk, my glass is still full.

  He leans closer to me. “Watching you eat is... let’s just say that I don’t usually see girls enjoying food like you do. I like it.” His voice is a whisper, and I feel it straight down into my core.

  I put my fork down and lick my lips, feeling the urge to engage him once again. “Yeah, you’re probably used to girls picking at their salads, huh? No butter, no salt, no pepper, no taste?” I reply, starting to laugh. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying the hell out of the moment. Apparently with Vincent, I can go from serious conversation to banter in a matter of minutes.

  “Oh baby, you have no idea. Between my usual clean food diet and these super skinny girls I’m normally with, we’re like a restaurant’s worst nightmare.” Realizing he’s making fun of himself, I can’t help the giggle that erupts from my mouth. He chuckles with wonder when he sees my face.

  “So, are you saying I’m not super skinny?” I raise my eyebrows, daring him to call me fat.

  He drinks me in with his eyes, staring at me from my fac
e down to my chest and back up again. “You’re perfect; that’s what you are.” I open my mouth and then snap it shut.

  “You know, when I saw you enter the ring, I was afraid for a few seconds. That meathead was practically foaming at the mouth.” I cut up another piece of steak.

  He snorts. “Yeah and that name Jack the Ripper?” Putting his fork into his food, he takes another large bite.

  “Yeah,” I nod enthusiastically. “That name is too ridiculous to take seriously.” I roll my eyes, putting the meat in my mouth and moaning again. He looks at me incredulously as if I’m groaning for his sake. I ignore him and keep eating; nothing is going to stop me from enjoying this incredible meal. Just a few hours ago, I was sitting in my shitty apartment, eating Dominos with my sister. And now here I am, eating a however-many-course meal with the most gorgeous and intelligent man I’ve ever laid eyes on!

  My mouth is full, but I continue, “I mean, I can think of a hundred better names than that stupid one.” I swallow, clearing my throat. “If I were a fighter, I’d call myself the Raven.” I can’t help the smile that forms on my face.

  He chuckles. “Is that your alter ego?” He’s joking around with me and I…well, I freakin’ love it!

  “Oh yeah, that’s me…poverty-stricken-book-nerd by day, pecking on people’s windows by night and scaring the crap out of them,” I deadpan.

  He laughs out loud and the sound fills up a spot inside my chest. The table next to us turns around, but I barely register them. All I can see is the man sitting in front of me.

  “Or you can go really wild and call yourself Poe’s Raven.” He’s waiting for me to catch his drift and I’m squealing for joy inside. I want to scream, I’m nerdy too! I know the poem!

  I can’t help myself but recite it. I’m just really dorky like that and apparently, drunk enough to show it. “Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary…”

  He stops me, a look of shock passing over his chiseled features. “Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—”

  My eyes widen and he guffaws. We’re quoting poetry right now and my heart is so full I want to jump up and down and scream. Who the hell is this man? No, really. Who? An MMA fighter from an underground fighting ring? A poet? A few seconds pass. Or maybe it’s minutes. But we’re quiet, staring into each other’s eyes. We’re not even waiting for someone to talk. We’re just staring. Glowing. Something is passing between us that I can’t rationally explain.

  Before I can stop myself, my subconscious blurts out, “Do you see me?” I immediately drop my head, shocked I just said that out loud. I’m not even sure what I meant! I turn red again, embarrassment blazing. I risk a glance at Vincent only to see him grinning, apparently pleased by my word vomit.

  He moves forward in his chair, leaning closer to me. “Yes, Eve. I see you. And for the record, I like what I see. A lot.” His eyes actually twinkle with his words. It dawns on me that this may be the first time I’ve ever been truly looked at. I never knew how much I ached for this feeling, until now.

  “How did you get the name the Bull, anyway?” I’m smiling so wide that my cheeks are starting to ache.

  “Well, you want the true story or the story I tell people?”

  “Hmm.” I press my lips together and stare at the ceiling, as if deep in thought. “Give me the truth.” I stare into his eyes. “Always the truth.” I drop my elbows on the table, not wanting to miss a word.

  “How about I tell you both. And you tell me which one is real and which is the lie?” I nod my head, excited to play along.

  “All right,” he clears his throat. “Once upon a time, Zeus sees Europa. The second his eyes are on her, he knows he wants her. But he also knows she would never come to him out of her own free will. So, one day he disguises himself as a beautiful white bull. After a few minutes of petting the bull, she decides to sit on him, expecting him to be as gentle as he is beautiful. But as she sits on the bull’s back, he runs away, stealing her and bringing her to Crete.” He takes another bite of his food. “So basically, Zeus saw what he wanted, and he found a way to take her.” After swallowing, he lifts a glass of water to his lips.

  “Um, doesn’t the story go that he steals and rapes her?” I ask, my eyebrows furrowing together.

  He’s silent until bursting into laughter, clapping his hands like my response was the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “You little genius, huh? When can I watch you on Jeopardy?” His smile is blinding me. He’s playing with me, but he isn’t being condescending. I’ve never had more fun in my entire life.

  I roll my eyes. “I do know a ton of useless shit. I gotta call them and get on that show.” He’s shaking his head incredulously, and I can’t stop myself from smiling. Gah!

  “Well,” he clears his throat. “Some people say it ended in a rape. But I don’t believe that. He just took what he wanted and didn’t let anyone stop him.”

  I smirk. “All right. So, you’re the bull who looks all perfect, but really, you’re a selfish god? Totally possible for you to believe that about yourself, cocky bastard you obviously are. And what’s the second story?” He’s staring at me as if I’m something special. My heart warms. No, it’s not warming. It’s actually on fire right now. I feel like a side of myself, which I’ve never dared to show, has been brought out of me. I wish it would never end.

  “Well, believe it or not, I wasn’t always this big.” I make a face, ready to call bullshit. I can’t imagine him ever being small.

  “Just listen. I was in second grade, and I was getting picked on at recess. This kid, Jack Ford, kept pushing me around with some of his friends. At first, I tried to ignore them. But somehow a shadow came over me and I went berserk. I fought the kids and took them all down, breaking one of their noses in the process. Not that I knew any fighting skills, but I was an angry little shit. Apparently, everyone who watched me said I looked like an angry bull. The name stuck.”

  I sit back in my chair, looking at him intently. “I don’t know which story is real. Both seem kind of plausible.” I’m about to take another bite of the steak, but stop before it reaches my lips. “Stop staring at me, Vincent! I’m sorry for the moaning and groaning, but it’s just too good! You have to try some.” I hand him my fork. He takes it from my hand, placing the meat in his mouth. He lets out a grumble as he chews, the sound coming from deep in his throat. All kinds of signals are sent straight from my ears down through my body.

  His eyes move above my head and he squints, looking surprised at whatever he sees. I turn around, wondering what it is he saw. A group of men have come into the restaurant, all in dark suits. Most of the people eating turn around to stare at them; their presence is noticeable.

  “We should go,” he tells me abruptly, standing and waiting for me to grab my purse off the back of my chair. Without even asking for the check, he lifts my hand into his and we jet through the restaurant, still completely filled with people. I’m confused, but too nervous and uncomfortable to ask what the hell is going on. I guess he did say he knows the owner—I assume he’ll pay later.

  While Vincent hails another taxi, I look behind me to see the line for Lemon Bar has doubled. I know how weird it is that I’m born and raised in New York City, but never went to a nightclub. Maybe I’ll go soon with Janelle. I turn my head, ready to abandon thoughts of dancing when Vincent moves next to me.

  He looks back and forth between the door of the club and the restaurant. “You want to go inside?” His smile is infectious and before I know it, I’m nodding my head yes. It seems whatever had him running isn’t following us out. Looking at some people handing their ID’s to the bouncer, it dawns on me this club is probably for twenty-one and over.

  “I don’t have an ID. You need that to get in, right?” I’m not even sure how old Vincent is, but he definitely looks older than I am.

  “You don’t need an ID when you’re with me.” His smile is so warm. “Come on, let’s go have some fun.”

  Before w
e move, I ask, “How old are you, Vincent?”

  He grins, as if my question amuses him. “I’m a junior in college.” My heart skips at the word college.

  The bouncer notices Vincent and immediately stops, opening up the velvet rope for us to pass through. I hear some people grumble with annoyance, but Vincent struts forward like he owns the place. We get inside the club and walk straight to the bar. The room is completely packed, but he easily slides himself between two people to get a spot.

  He turns to me. “You want water or another drink?” I’m already feeling more than buzzed from the wine at dinner. “Um, just water, please.” He nods his head, seemingly happy at my response. The bartender trips over herself to get to Vincent, and I grimace.

  After I take a few sips, he drops my glass on the bar and takes my hand, bringing me to the center of the dance floor. I start to move, but I’m relieved to see that he’s kept a slight distance. The music is amazing and I can feel the bass in the center of my chest. Throngs of people surround us, and it’s easy to just get lost in the mix. Before I know it, I’m completely letting go and dancing with my whole body. His hands move around my waist, but he still isn’t bringing me flush against his chest like I wish he would. A few times I try to move closer to him, but he’s in total control. I want to be upset that he doesn’t want to feel me against him, but I’m too happy to let myself pout.

  I touch my shoulder, feeling the dampness on my skin. Looking up into his face, I notice he’s hot as well. I’ve never had fun like this in my life!

  He puts his hand in his back pocket, pulling out his phone and looking at it closely. “I’ve got to make a quick call. Wait for me, okay?” he’s yelling over the music, and I hear him clearly. He leads me back to the center of the bar. “Don’t move!” He winks, giving my hand a squeeze before walking off. At first, I see his dark head over everyone else, but then he’s gone. I’m standing and minding my own business when a man I don’t know slides up next to me.