by L A Cotton
I lost it.
“You fucking slimy piece of sh-” I pulled my fist back and swung at him, wanting the satisfaction of hearing my fist connect with his face. Of busting his nose wide open and seeing the blood splatter on his cheap-as-fuck suit. Soil the white shirt he was wearing. But I was pulled backward at the waist before any of that could happen.
“Leave it, Dawson,” Lex said in a hushed voice in my ear. His tone flat and deadly serious. I knew that tone. He’d used it on me too often, trying to calm me down and talk me out of beating the shit out of someone. He hooked an arm around my shoulder and pulled me away.
“Troy. Barkley.” Donnie clicked his fingers at the two men standing just behind him. “See Mr. Spencer, his brother, and friend out.” He gave me one last long look before he turned, his arm still around Joy, and walked away through the club. With a ramrod straight spine, she went with him and didn’t even turn around as she walked away from me.
The two heavies stepped forward as I shrugged off Lex’s arm and marched toward the entrance. I kicked open the door with the sole of my foot and got some satisfaction when it smashed off the wall behind and splintered at the hinge. They waited until we were outside.
“And don’t bother coming back.” One pointed his finger at us and Lex burst out laughing.
“Yeah, like being banned from here is the worst thing in the world. You’re doing us a favor,” he shouted as the door slammed shut.
I started to pace. I couldn’t stand still. My brain scrambled to keep up with what I had witnessed. Mikey and Lex watched as I paced back and forth in front of Shakers. I kicked an empty bottle propped up on the curb. It shattered against the wall, but it did little to ease my rage.
“Dawson,” Lex shouted, but I waved him away. “Dawson, man, calm the fuck down.” I stopped in front of him and he laid his hands on my shoulders.
“I can’t believe it, Joy with Donnie.”
“Told you we shouldn’t have come here,” Mikey muttered from where he was leaning against the wall. I moved to stand in front of him.
“You knew,” I gasped as it all started to make sense. “You knew about Donnie and Joy, and you never said anything.” His dipped head and his refusal to look at me were confirmation enough. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It wasn’t my place to say.”
“Not your place? I’m your brother.” I shook my head unable to understand why he wouldn’t tell me.
He snorted at me.
“Are you still pissed at me for not coming home?” I asked.
“No. But it was up to Joy to tell you. I meant it when I said things have changed.”
“That’s a fucking understatement.”
“What is the deal with Joy and Donnie?” Lex asked.
With a sigh, Mikey pushed off the wall. “Let’s go. There’s no way Donnie will even let you have a glimpse of her now.” Mikey started down the street, Lex and I following.
“He wanted this. Why else would he ask us here and bring her here on the same night?”
“You’re right.” Mikey lifted his head to look at me. “I know Donnie, and he’s a sneaky shit. He planned this. He wanted you to know about him and Joy. He wanted to get a reaction and warn you off.”
“You need to be smart, Dawson,” Lex warned and clapped a hand on my shoulder. He was right; I needed to keep my cool around Donnie. Because one thing was certain; we would run into each other again. I would make certain of that.
The three of us walked in silence, but I couldn’t keep quiet for long.
“What the fuck is she doing with him? I don’t understand it.”
Lex groaned. “Maybe she loves him.”
“Fuck off,” I barked unable to accept that.
“I wouldn’t put it like that,” Mikey mumbled, and I put out an arm to stop him.
“What do you know?”
“From what I hear, Donnie can be … intense.”
“Intense how?”
“Shit, Dawson, I don’t know. It’s up to Joy to tell you.” Mikey shoved his hands in his pockets, end of conversation.
“I don’t trust Donnie,” Lex reiterated what we were all thinking.
“You don’t say,” I muttered.
The remainder of the walk home was in silence, and once inside, we all muttered ‘good night’ and went off to bed. The evening had not turned out how any of us had imagined. In fact, the whole fucking day sucked. Even later, when I was lying in bed, I couldn’t switch off. I still couldn’t get my head around it. One thing was for sure, she was far too good for him. If she loved him and he made her happy, I’d like to say I would be man enough to step aside. But I can’t say for certain that I would. It still didn’t explain why in the hell she was with him. In what alternative universe did Joy end up with Donnie DeLuca? It was my worst nightmare come true.
I couldn’t ignore the fear in her eyes or the way she readily let me shield her. I saw the regret in her eyes when she went to him and the shiver of revulsion when he touched her. Hell, I couldn’t ignore any of it. As far as I was concerned, unless Joy could convince me of her undying love for Donnie DeLuca, then I wasn’t going to stop until I found out what the fuck had been going on with her since I left.
“Don’t you think you should take it easy?” Sherri eyed me warily.
“No,” I said bringing the glass to my lips. “The burn helps.” I gulped down the clear liquid. My throat exploded with heat as it slid down. The burn was better than remembering the disgust twisted into Dawson’s features as he realized I was with Donnie.
“I can’t believe he was going to make you dance.”
“Really?” I replied unable to hide the sarcastic bite to my voice. Donnie had planned the whole thing. He knew Dawson was going to be here tonight—probably invited him along, and I walked straight into it.
Sherri hissed through her teeth. “He took it one step too far.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t do it, did I?”
The pathetic thing was that I was going to. I was ready to step up to the podium and dance. Not for him—no, never for him, but for my last shred of self-preservation. Or desperation. I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Except for the constant emptiness in my stomach.
My chest.
My heart.
When Dawson left me, he ruined me. Even though he didn’t want to, didn’t mean to, he ripped open my chest, tore out my heart, and took it with him. Donnie comforted me. We comforted each other … and he helped me forget. The first time was just supposed to be a one-off. Donnie said it would numb the pain, and it did. Until the high wore off and I slipped back into the black void consuming me.
“Joy,” Terry, one of Donnie’s right-hand men leaned close. “Donnie wants to see you.” His hand hovered above my arm, a look of regret shining in his eyes.
I gave him a terse nod ignoring Sherri’s pleading glare.
I’d made my bed.
Now, I’d have to lie in it.
I found Donnie standing at his desk. Had it really only been a couple of hours since we were last in here? It felt longer somehow. A different night.
“Baby, come over here.” Donnie’s hardened glare tracked me as I moved across the office.
“Why?” The word tumbled out. I hadn’t realized until I saw him standing there with a smug look on his face that I was going to challenge him, but something Sherri had said to me kept replaying in my mind. He took it one step too far.
“Shh.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and buried his face in me, his alcohol-tinged breath licking my skin.
My eyes clamped shut. “Why, Donnie? Just tell me why?”
Donnie’s hands tightened on my shoulder, biting into my slick skin. “You know why,” he breathed against my neck raggedly.
Overcome with something I hadn’t let myself feel for a long time, I felt the tears build behind my eyes. Don’t cry, don’t cry. Don’t give him the satisfaction.
“Tell me you’re mine, baby,” Donnie’s voice was softer this time,
but his grip didn’t loosen.
I drew my lip between my teeth, biting down the urge to scream or cry or pound Donnie. How could he embarrass me so openly? Behind closed doors was one thing, but parading me in front of the whole club. In front of Dawson. I didn’t ever doubt Donnie’s sick and twisted streak. He loved power, got off on it, especially when exerting it over others. Over me. But making me dance in front of his friends, business associates, the girls … it was different. Even for Donnie. He flaunted me, wore me on his arm like a trophy, let men watch me with him in his back room, but he never allowed his men to look or touch in public. It was his golden rule, and tonight, he’d almost broken it.
“Joy, say it,” Donnie’s voice was harsh. Impatient.
I chewed harder, biting down on the soft flesh inside my lip. Air rushed from my lungs as Donnie’s body slammed into me knocking me back against the desk, the edge of the wood cutting into the backs of my thighs. “Tell. Me. You’re. Mine.”
I refused to look at him. Anger and fear coursed through my veins, fueling my defiance. Or was it Dawson’s face imprinted on my mind? The look in his eyes. He wasn’t supposed to see me like this.
“You would defy me? After everything I’ve done for you?” Rough fingers dug into my hips. “I was the one there for you after he left. Me. No one else, Joy. Me. I saved you. Gave you everything.”
You broke me. Ruined me, I wanted to scream. I wanted to pound my fists against his crisp white shirt and hurt him, just as he constantly hurt me. But you let him hurt you.
“Look at me, baby. Look. At. Me.” Donnie’s fingers drifted up to my chin and tilted my head up. “Be a good a girl and I’ll reward you.”
No!
Yes.
The deep craving stirred in my stomach growing like a rapid until my whole body hummed with need. Donnie fumbled between us and drew his free hand up, holding a clear baggy. The white powder stared back at me. Taunting. Calling.
“No.” My voice sounded detached. A plea on the lips of someone else.
Yes, my body screamed.
“Tell me you don’t want it.” Donnie waved the clear bag back and forth in front of my eyes.
Dawson’s face flashed in my mind again. What would he think if he knew? Shame washed over me but did little to quell the urge to tear the bag from Donnie’s hand.
Donnie forced his knee between my legs, crushing me further against the desk. His thumb pressed hard against my bottom lip and dragged it down. “You. Are Mine.” He leaned in close, brushing my cheek with his lips. “Don’t forget who owns you, Joy.”
He threw the bag down onto the desk, pressed a hard kiss to my lips, and withdrew his body. I crumpled down onto the floor as I watched Donnie leave the room. He strolled out in his perfectly tailored suit as if it was just another day at the office. My eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to stop the tears from falling.
Minutes later, the door creaked open, and Sherri’s form appeared in the frame. “Joy, darlin’, are you okay?”
Head lowered, I shook it back and forth. Sherri rushed over to me and dropped to her knees, enveloping me in her thin arms. “There, there. Don’t cry. Don’t give him the satisfaction, darlin’.”
I swiped at the black river staining my cheeks. Sherri smiled weakly; it wasn’t the first time she’d witnessed this. She’d found me like this one too many times. But never had I felt like this. Dawson’s return had thrown me for a loop—spun my world on its axis and left me reeling.
He isn’t supposed to be here.
“He wasn’t supposed to come back, Sherri.” I sighed.
“I know. Lord knows, I know. But he’s here, and darlin’, he looked ready to kill when he saw you ready to get up on that stage.”
Shame stabbed through me again. At one time, Dawson Spencer was my everything—my world—and he’d just watched me teeter on the edge of giving Donnie DeLuca the last shreds of my soul. And for what? Because I was too scared, too desperate, to stand up to him.
Foolish girl, you don’t stand up to Donnie DeLuca. Nobody does.
“What the hell am I supposed to do now? What do I do?” It wasn’t a question for Sherri. There was no answer. I belonged to Donnie. He owned me. Dawson’s return changed nothing.
It changes everything.
Sherri pulled us both up and brushed off her skintight pants. Her eyes zeroed in on something behind me and her eyebrows knitted together. “You stop using that shit, for starters.”
“Sherri-”
“No, Joy. Listen up and listen good. I know you had it bad after he left. What with your grandma and losing the house, but this …” She snatched the baggy off the table and thrust it in my face. The reality of my life stared back at me. “This shit is not the answer.”
Silent tears fell freely now. I couldn’t stop them if I tried. Couldn’t she see that, in a strange way, getting high was my salvation? It blocked out the pain, the darkness. For a brief moment in time, it allowed me to be free.
“I- I need it.” I stared at my friend begging her to understand.
Her frown deepened. “For fuck’s sake, Joy, listen to yourself. This is not the answer. Get help. Go see Doc Anderson and get a script. Do something. Anything. This …” She waved the bag again. “This is skewing things, messing with your head. He’s back, Joy. Dawson is back. He can help.”
“No! No!” I rushed out. “He can never know. I can’t, he wouldn’t, no. Promise me you won’t tell him. Promise me.” I reached out for Sherri’s blouse. “You have to promise me.”
Sherri sighed heavily and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, drawing me to her. “Okay, okay, I promise. But, darlin’, you need help. This shit will destroy you.”
The rest of the night passed in a blur. After breaking down on Sherri, I forced the baggy into her hand and told her to get rid of it. Tonight, I would remain clean—from that shit, at least. But I needed something else to take off the edge and help me make it through the rest of the night. I chose vodka coolers. Lyla joined us and the three of us spent a couple of hours at the bar letting Shaun keep our glasses topped off while Shakers came to life around us. Girls rotated around the podiums dancing for men from every corner of Chancing. Donnie didn’t approach me again, but I felt his eyes on me. A couple of the other girls joined us and we moved things over to one of the corner booths, like our own private party. Men tried to muscle their way in with offers of drinks and promises of a good time, but Sherri kept them at bay. She knew the last thing I needed was Donnie beating on some guy who was thinking with his dick and not his brain.
“We’re heading out,” Lyla announced with a slight slur to her words. “A couple of the guys are driving us.”
“Who?” Sherri barked seeming far too sober for the number of drinks we’d consumed, but that was Sherri—she rarely let her guard down and always made sure the girls got back safely.
“Stu and Barkley. Stu has a thing for Paula, I think.” She giggled nudging the petite girl next to her.
“Ours or theirs?”
“Geez, Sherri, lighten up. They’re okay guys, better than some of the pigs Donnie sends our way. Let us have our fun, will you?”
“Okay, okay.” Sherri held her hands up. “You call me if there are any problems. Now, get out of here. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
Lyla grabbed Paula’s hand and pulled her in the direction of two guys I recognized as some of Donnie’s men. Stu, the taller one with dark hair, was around a lot. He seemed okay, but so did many of the guys, until shit went bad and then they morphed into hard-fisted men that you didn’t want to mess with.
“What about you, Joy, you heading out?”
I snapped my head around to meet Sherri’s questioning eyes. “Hmm, I-”
A deep voice said, “No, she’s sticking around. Right, baby?” Donnie’s hand snaked around my waist and tugged me back. My body hit a wall of muscle and dread pooled in my stomach.
“She’s pretty wasted, Don. I’ll get her home for you, that way you can stay and take care
of things here?” Sherri’s eyes flickered to mine full of concern.
Donnie tensed behind me. “I’ll take care of her now. You can go. Thanks, Sherri.”
Silently, I pleaded with Sherri to walk away. She pursed her lips ready for an argument, but I shook my head discreetly. Leave it.
“Okay, I’m out of here. Call me tomorrow, darlin’. Night, Don. You take good care of my girl.”
“My girl,” Donnie growled as we watched Sherri walk away. His warm breath brushed my neck causing my body to shudder. “Let’s get out of here.”
I didn’t have a chance to answer as Donnie’s hand pressed firmly against the small of my back and he guided me through the room to the private exit reserved for staff only. Troy was already waiting at the Escalade. He nodded curtly as he opened the door and we slipped inside.
We traveled the short distance to Donnie’s apartment in silence. The beat-down buildings of Chancing passed by in a hazy blur as I leaned my head against the glass while Donnie’s hand gripped my knee. He was still angry. I could sense it in his brooding mood, the way he dug his fingers into my skin a little too tightly. I was beginning to regret asking Sherri to get rid of the coke. At least, if I were high, my mind would be somewhere else.
Troy parked the Escalade in front of Donnie’s building, and Donnie leaned forward to whisper something in his ear. I inhaled deeply trying to clear the vodka fogging my brain. If I weren’t high, maybe I could try to appeal to Donnie’s less vicious side.
Unlikely.
Troy exited the car and came around to open the door for us. I climbed out and waited for Donnie. He wasted no time ushering me into the building. It was one of the nicer buildings in town. No boarded-up windows or broken doors. No hookers hanging around on the corner of the block. Donnie didn’t like to eat or shit where he did business.
