by lesley,allyn
She faces me. “Hear me out. That day, we began to really become a family. And that’s why I want you to say yes to Chuck’s gift.”
“Hell no!” I shout, disentangling our fingers to stand. I turn back to the building, using a broken glass pane to center me.
“Son, the day your brothers came to your defense was the first time you let them in for real.”
“What’s your point?” I kick a small rock toward the old building where Chuck had his start.
“My point, Dyllan Sterling, is that you don’t need to fight us on this. If you’d stuck around, you’d know that the company will be shared between the three of you. However, you’re going to be the one in the decision-making position. You get the final say so.”
“Then it’s settled?”
“Yes. I just settled it. You’re family, Dyllan. You’ve been our family...” Her voice catches. “My family since I saw you at Blair and the picture you drew of your mother’s eyes.”
I bristle at the pity I hear in her tone. I know Ma loves me, but sometimes the fact she knows about Jess and MeMaw rubs me the wrong way. I hear her footsteps crunching loose gravel as she joins me. Our clasped hands reflect through the windows ahead.
“You aren’t a charity case, son. You saved us. You saved this family.”
I know, because Chuck told me so.
Chapter Nine
It’d been two weeks since the fight at school. EC and JC had their suspensions cut short, because a few kids came to their defense. No one had given me the same courtesy, so I had another two weeks to ride out.
I was bored out of my mind with nothing to do and nowhere to go. EC was at the batting cage, and Anna had dragged JC to help her at the supermarket. Getting up from my bed, I decided to practice at my half-assed jump shots so maybe the next two-on-two wouldn’t end with me and Chuck losing to the twins, who gloated like two laughing hyenas.
“Damn it.”
Just as I reached the front of the house, I saw the garage door was up, and a pair of legs in dark blue jeans stuck out from underneath our car. A greasy hand patted the ground in search for something on the ground.
“Hand me the wrench.”
I froze. Part of Anna and Chuck’s punishment was that I only left my room to eat, piss, or shit. Maybe I could backtrack, and he’d never know I was ever there.
“We’re the only two home,” he said with laughter in his deep voice. “And I can see your feet.”
I’d always left Chuck alone, and he’d done the same to me too. Our interactions were limited, and when we were in the same room, we had this unspoken thing that worked for us.
“The wrench, Dyllan. It has a circle on one end and is open on the other.”
I entered the garage, spying the item he described then dropped it into his palm.
There was some heavy breathing and the twisting of metal before Chuck grumbled, “For the love of God!” He slid out so fast he almost knocked me down. When he got up, I saw the front of his shirt was stained with oil. “Thanks.”
He didn’t need to thank me. I hadn’t done anything. I turned to leave, but his mutterings stopped me. Most times, Chuck confused the hell out of me.
He threw up his hands in the air. “I don’t even know why I bother. I knew one day Anna’s father would be proven right about me.” He kicked the front tire then slammed the hood. When he faced me, his eyes were red. “Sterling Auto Center is failing, Dyllan. And, there’s not a shit thing I can do about it.”
This was news to me. I stepped closer to the car.
“Anna doesn’t know, but she will, and soon, too. I had to let go two of my best mechanics last week. I just don’t know what the fuck to do.” His shoulders sagged.
Chuck’s words became giant boulders on my heart. I started to imagine all that could happen to the Sterlings, to this family... to my family. My head spun with my wild thoughts.
“You know, I was just like you. People thought I was a dumb ass, because I didn’t do a whole bunch of talking. But, back then, I’d rather people-watch than say much.” Chuck leaned on the car. He was silent for a while before he told me, “I grew up in Dunsmuir, California. I doubt you’ve ever heard of it. My old man skipped out on my mother pretty early on, and my mother drank so much she’d forget stuff. She’d forget to pay the electric bill, to take me to school, and to buy food. One day, she forgot to come home.”
My mouth flopped open, hearing his story.
“I was sent to foster care. I did my time there and hit the road as soon as I was legal. I never knew what family was until I met Annaliese Cohen. A person like me, no money to my name, no education, should’ve never met her. But, I did. I was a shit security guard for a construction company. I hadn’t been in the Bronx long, and still got lost trying to figure out which train would take me where.” He chuckled. “And there she was, the prettiest girl walking. She was on her lunch break, told me I was on the wrong side if I was heading to 34th Street, and then held my hand, pointing to where I needed to be. We’ve been holding hands since ’77.”
All I thought was, Wow, as lame as it sounded.
“Our relationship caused a ruckus with her uppity folks. Everyone questioned why an Ivy League graduate was messing with a two-bit nothing like me.” He’d pointed to his chest, and the laughter that came sounded off... stiff. “Right after she gave birth to your brothers, she convinced me to open my own garage, since that’s all I talked about.” He blew a breath that ruffled the front of his gray hair. “When we married, I made her a promise that if she came with me, she’d never miss what she grew up with, and because I’m a stupid fuck, I’m ruining it.”
I tapped the side of my pants in my nervousness. My gut felt too full, but not with food. Whatever was in there was pressing its way up to my throat, because I felt sick at Chuck’s words. I had to do or say something. This was all new to me. I didn’t even know if my voice worked anymore. It’d been forever since I said a word.
“I...” My voice had sounded dumb, all garbled and weird. I tried again, parting my mouth, mumbling.
Chuck looked over at me with a frown and a raised eyebrow. “What’d you say?” He stood in front of me with his blue eyes sparkling, and I hadn’t understood what he was so happy about. He was losing his business, but there he was smiling, just like the day I came to live with them. “Son, did y-you say something?”
The idea in my head was clear as day. I hung my head, second guessing if he’d like to hear a dumb kid’s idea. “Rappers,” I finally said.
“Dyllan, you’re talking.” He pulled me toward him, all rough and rugged, into his embrace. “My son is talking.”
Chuck was so damned happy that all I got out for an hour was that one word: rappers. EC saw us in the garage, and not knowing what was going on, joined in the hug fest. By the time Ma came home, Chuck, EC, and I were in the basement, cheesing and talking up a storm. Of course, she and JC burst into tears; I don’t let my brother forget I saw him cry either.
“That’s the day a seventeen-year-old boy saved Sterling Auto Center,” Ma whispers. Then, she turns us away from the dilapidated building and waves her hand at the new, pristine buildings before my eyes. “Had you not spoken that day, son, God knows where we’d be. Look at your handiwork.”
“Aww, Ma.” I pull away from her, hating being placed in the spotlight for something another person would’ve done. That day, Chuck’s problems became mine, and though I didn’t have the words back then, my family was hurting and I had to act. Simple as that. That doesn’t deserve a pat on the back or a parade thrown in my honor... it’s what families do, and being with the Sterlings taught me that lesson. “I didn’t do anything.”
She snorts at my protest. “Stop being modest. It was your idea to go into the luxury rental business.” Ma pats me on the back. “You suggested he reach out to some local, um, what do you call them again?”
“Rappers, Ma.” I smile how she trips up on what to call entertainers.
“That’s right. It was your suggestion t
hat he contact the Bronx rappers who were popular and wanted to support their community.”
I snicker at the way Ma says rapper. I hear her upper-crust upbringing now. She jabs a sharp elbow to my side instantly stopping me. Sobering up, I say, “At first, Chuck looked at me like I was crazy.”
She giggles. “What does a middle-aged, white man from Dunsmuir knows about rappers? But, then you had another stroke of brilliance when you encouraged him to branch out to people who purchased high-end cars.”
I get warm at Ma’s compliments, ducking my head low.
“Right after those meetings, I was glad Chuck took you under his wing, teaching you the family business,” Ma tells me for the first time. “You single-handedly pushed us into a new lucrative business venture we didn’t know about. You saved this family, Dyllan.”
I throw my arm around her neck. “Fine, you’ve convinced me. I’m sure you already told Chuck I was going to say yes.” I know Ma. When she wants something, she goes after it with gusto.
“Family is forever, Dyllan. Happy twenty-fifth birthday, son.”
Chapter Ten
“Thank you for making my son a better man. I wish you nothing but success in your upcoming marriage. Ladies and gentlemen, raise your glasses as we salute Emma and JC.”
I can’t believe I’m here.
Chuck clinks his wine glass with Emma’s then JC’s as I raise mine, in mock salute, toward the happy couple. On Emma’s right is the person who’s not looked my way since the night began.
“Who’d think we’d be spending four days before Christmas at a fucking wedding rehearsal dinner?” I ask, but EC isn’t paying me any mind. Seriously, I have better shit to do, like sleep or scratch my ass. It’s not that I don’t like Emma or her and JC together; I think they’re perfect for each other. But, when I see them, especially tonight, as they make kissy faces and are so happy, I don’t know. I get tense all over. It’s doubtful that kind of happy will happen for me. I look back over to the place where I know I should avoid, and groan.
She’s right there, on Emma’s right. The longer I stare at Chelsea, the more relaxed my facial muscles become. It’s easy to feed of her buoyant emotions, which radiate from her. The two sisters lean their heads together, exchanging whispers and grins. Lowering my gaze from her face, I notice she and I are dressed alike in black leather. It’s reminiscent of our first date over sixteen months ago when we both wore head-to-toe white. That bullshit of a travesty, I think as I linger on the way the material clings to her body. Shifting in my seat, I will myself not to get aroused.
It doesn’t work.
Now, my fingertips are tingling as they too remember the feel of her naked back. I close my eyes, reliving how I’d trailed my hand over Chelsea’s toned, smooth legs and had played with the dip at her waist that night after she’d fallen asleep. It’s rude to stare as I’ve been doing since dinner began, but try as I might—to be honest, I’m not trying that hard—I can’t look away. From the way she thanks the servers who attend to her, to the way she uses her palm to prop up her chin from time to time... I’ve watched her every move.
At the start of dinner, our gazes had locked, and it looked like she was having a hard time breathing before she shook her head then looked elsewhere. However, for the last hour, she’s been using the techniques women rely on: lowered head, staring at people only in her line of sight, and strumming her fingers on top of the table.
She’s trying so hard to appear unaffected. But, she gives herself away when she lowers her head and peeps at me through the shroud of her hair. When she spies I’m still hyper-focused on her, she says something to Emma, who nudges JC’s side. My brother spins toward where I’m sitting and silently pleads with me. I’m no mind-reader, but I know he’s asking me to cut it out. I don’t give a fuck. I hope I’m making Chelsea sweat, because she’s been haunting me every fucking day.
JC’s head drops to one side then he mouths, “Chill out.”
But, I don’t feel like it. He grimaces at my now slouched pose in the seat. And, now we’re both clear on where I stand on him telling me what to do. JC looks to my left, resting on EC as if he can stop whatever is lurking in my brain for his soon-to-be sister-in-law. After that peeking move, my plan is simple: she’ll know what it’s like to be left.
I brought her to my home.
I cooked for her.
I kissed her.
Me. I did that to her... for her. For only her. Things I’ve never done for any other woman. Yet, after all I gave—even though she gave me her virginity—she disappears in the early morning.
I’m salty, but, more than that, I still crave her. Even after all this time and the other pussies I’ve been in and out of since her. She’s the best I ever had, and I only had a few hours inside her tight, clenching walls. For making me addicted to her pussy, she’ll pay. I swallow more of my beer.
“Whatever you’re thinking, un-think it,” EC says, interrupting my plotting.
“Huh?”
It’s like Chelsea’s baiting me with her hand gestures and eye fluttering. Maybe she wants me to think she’s still innocent. But, that’s long gone by now. She’s probably given it up to every Tom, Dick, and Harry up at her school. I frown at that distasteful thought. The weird shit in my stomach starts again when I think about another man touching her, bringing her to pleasure, or God forbid, her mouth one someone else’s lips.
“Knock that shit out,” EC says, coming closer to my ear so I smell the alcohol on his breath.
I’d give him a flip answer if I wasn’t over here struggling to catch a breath and my heart wasn’t about to gallop out of my body. Flashes of Chelsea under another man... on top of some faceless jerk... kissing someone other than me. My breath is coming out short and harsh now.
“Fuck,” I whisper, rubbing the middle of my chest and hoping the burn goes away. In my mind, I can hear her moan, maybe bite her lip when she’s close to coming...
I don’t like this. I don’t like any of it, feeling so out of control. I look over at Chelsea just as she laughs out loud at something. She’s mine. I marked her the night I took her virginity. That makes her motherfucking mine.
“Dyllan!”
EC’s right in my ear, but I have to do something. I spin in her direction once more, silently commanding her to look at me. Just so I can see those eyes of hers. But, I get nothing. Not for what seems like forever.
Until, she does.
Just like when we played that corny joke game, she pulls me into the deepest part of her soul. Safety, security, and comfort... these are things radiating from her being as I hold her stare. And then, I see it: her desire for me. It almost knocks me off the chair.
And, I’m back in.
“Get that shit-eating grin off your face,” EC tells me, hitting me in the ribcage. “Dyllan Sterling, I’m warning you to stop.” He sounds serious but I don’t put more weight on his words. After all, he knows nothing of the shit she’s put me through.
Having accomplished my mission, I release Chelsea’s gaze and face my brother. As far as I’m aware, no one knows what took place between Emma’s sister and myself. The only way I know that is because JC has never approached me with any questions and EC hasn’t thrown out any jokes at me. Not for nothing, I’m too embarrassed, something I rarely feel, to reveal what went down that night between Chelsea and myself.
“If you don’t stop staring daggers at Em’s sister, I’m calling in the big guns.”
That gets me shifting about in my seat. “Big guns?” One of my eyebrows raises quizzically.
He points to the tall woman with brown hair who’s stopping by each table.
“You’d pull a pussy move like that?” I swallow, hoping he doesn’t see me sit up in the seat, because he’s pointing at Ma.
“Hell yeah. As co-best man, I have the right to tell you when you’re being a dick.” He shrugs, taking a sip from his glass. “And you, my little brother, are officially being a dick. I just don’t know why.”
&
nbsp; “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” I push out of my chair when Chelsea gets up.
His loud chuckles follow me, but the tantalizing sway of her hips overshadow the pissed off feeling EC’s crude laughter evokes. It’s like she knows I’m behind her. She bobs and weaves guests then crisscrosses around those who’re standing. Is she just stepping out for some air, or trying to escape the party before its ended? I wonder as I keep up with her easily.
“Stop.”
Her hand hovers over the door handle.
It’s freezing outside and all I see her wearing is that fucking dress I want nothing more than ripping from her body. “Are you leaving without a jacket?” Without saying a word to me, again?
Her shoulders move up and down. “I don’t know,” she says breathlessly, like she’s just crossed the finish line at a marathon.
Then, she’s faces me, and now I’m breathless. I admit she can bring me down to my knees, even after the fucking stunt she pulled. I can’t let that happen to me. I can’t get lost in her, because she’s proven she’ll leave... that she has no qualms about leaving me.
Chelsea squares her shoulders, maybe to force me to leave her presence or intimidate me. “Is there something you needed?”
You.
My eyes follow her as she makes a left, going toward the lounge area JC told us about earlier. The only sounds are the clicking our boots make on the tiles. All parts of her in this leather dress are fucking gorgeous. The front, the side, and the damn back. The dress is like a second skin, and I find myself getting angry that she has the balls to wear something like this when others can see her body.
Once we’re both inside the room, I press my back to the door, locking it. Neither of us moves nor speaks. I use the time to control my raging emotions and pray my hard-on goes away. Finally, she turns to me. Instead of anger, I see confusion and hurt. I’m so lost, because I’m the injured party.
When she parts her lips, all I can do is fantasize running my tongue over her lush lips again. “What is it you want?” She sounds like she’s tired of our conversation, when we’ve just begun.
