Coming back into my room with a towel wrapped around me, my hair is still wet as it hangs in waves over my shoulders. Clenching the towel tighter, I reach over to the middle of my bed picking up my phone. Swiping the icon across the screen, what stares back at me has my jaw on the floor. He really did message me back.
Derrick: Hey Blake, I’m so glad that you decided to use my number. My day was busy. How about yours?
Before I can talk myself out of messaging him back my fingers are already responding to his message.
Me: Sorry to hear that. I went to the city with Dean.
Derrick: Thanks, but it’s all part of the business. At least your day seems to have went a lot different than mine.
Me: Yeah, we went to a restaurant called Vinnie’s and then to Chinatown.
Before I can even send my message, another pings in at me:
Derrick: What are you doing tonight?
I contemplate answering that question. I don’t know why he wants to know. It’s not as if I can do anything anyway, or that I would do anything.
Me: Working.
Derrick: Okay, well do you mind if I come in tonight?
Do I mind? I don’t know. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, I reply.
Me: No, I don’t mind.
Leaving it at that, I throw the phone back on my bed and go through the motions of getting dressed for work. I haven’t done anything different from what I normally do. I’ve left my hair down in its natural wavy state. I haven’t pulled my top down or anything trying to expose more cleavage than I normally would. The only difference that I did make was that I actually put on eye make-up this time. I normally go for the natural look, with only a little eyeliner and mascara, but tonight I have the whole smoky eye effect going on.
Picking the phone up off my bed I tuck it into my back pocket, walk out of my room and into the living room where Dean stands putting on his jacket.
Dressed in a pair of dark denim boot cut jeans and a black V-neck t-shirt that’s taut against his sculpted chest, I know he probably has other plans as well. Shrugging into his jacket, the material of his shirt tightens even more, showing off the indentions of his stomach. Yep definitely has other plans.
Walking over to the coat rack, I pull my coat off the hook, and begin shrugging into it. Looking up at Dean as I pull my hair out from inside the jacket and over the collar, I say, while waggling my eyebrows at him, “You look nice tonight.”
Lifting a shoulder, he shrugs and says, “Thanks.”
“You have other plans later on?”
“Well I was going to come hang out with you for a bit, and then go to a party I got invited to last week over by campus.”
Nodding, I say, “You know you don’t have to come and keep me company. You could go to the party now if you wanted to.”
Opening the door for me, I pass by him and onto the top landing before descending down the stairs as he continues, “Naw, it’s all right. I’m going to come hang out with you for a little while and then head over to the party.”
The bass of the drums vibrates through my arms as I pull open the doors to the bar. “Grunge” is playing tonight, which I’m sure will have the place crowded in no time. They play your typical rock music, but sometimes they change it up and showcase some metal. Walking towards the hallway where the office is, I look over to the bar and wave at Frankie. Pointing towards the hall and my jacket, he nods his head in understanding, knowing I’m going to hang my jacket up. Seeing Mike standing behind the bar, I wave over at him too. I remember Frankie telling me he was going to see if Mike would work tonight since “Grunge” was playing. He’d said it would be nice to have an extra set of hands to help us out.
Walking through the cut out of the bar, Dean’s already sitting on a stool at the middle of the bar. Walking over to the beer cooler near Frankie, I smile at him as he nudges my arm. “It’s crazy in here,” he yells at me over the music looking around the packed bar.
Scanning the crowd, I lean in closer to Frankie so I don’t have to yell, “Yeah it is, but you know it’s only going to get more packed, it always does when they play.” I nod my head in the direction of the band.
Looking back over at the band he says, “Yeah you’re right.”
Leaning down into the beer cooler, I pull out a Heineken for Dean. Pulling the bottle opener from my back pocket, I pop the top off his beer. Turning around and handing it to him, another man who sits next to Dean, grabs my attention.
“Excuse me Miss,” he says.
Smiling at him, I say, “What can I get for you?”
Yelling at me, he says, “How about a Sam Adams Lager?”
Nodding, I say, “We only have that on draft. Is that all right?”
“Yeah,” he answers.
Pulling the tap down, I say, “That’ll be three dollars and twenty five cents,” while I pour his drink. Sliding me a ten-dollar bill, he tells me to keep the change.
An hour passes by when I look over to Frankie. He’s pouring shots for a group of guys who keep talking about this being the best bachelor party ever. I walk over to him, tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention. He looks up at me with a smile as I say, “Hey I got to go to the bathroom real quick.”
Turning his attention back to the shots he’s pouring he says, “Yeah okay, just hurry back.”
Hurrying off from behind the bar, I make my way to the bathroom. Finishing up, I step out of the stall and wash my hands. Looking at myself in the mirror, I can’t help the twinge of disappointment that runs through me. Derrick said he was coming tonight, but he still hasn’t shown up. I haven’t really had time to think about him because I’ve been so busy. Shrugging my shoulders, oh well, I give myself a once over in the mirror and head back out to the bar.
Coming out of the hallway, I turn to go back behind the bar when suddenly I’m jolted backwards onto the dance floor. With hands around my waist holding me flush against his body, I scramble to break loose from his hold. Pulling the person’s fingers backwards while trying to pry my body out of his grip, panic seizes me. The person leans in close to my ear and slurs, “I like it when you fight me.” The smell of liquor coming from his hot breath has bile rising up in my throat.
Lifting my foot, I stomp down with the heel of my boot on his foot. A low menacing growl rumbles from deep within his chest when he hisses in my ear, “Don’t. Fucking. Do. That. Again.”
Fear paralyzes me as I turn my head slightly, looking out of the corners of my eyes. I see that the asshole who won’t let go of me is Ryan. Anger swells up in me as I lose all control of my emotions. Clawing at his arms that have a death grip around my waist, I yell at him through gritted teeth, “What the hell are you doing Ryan? Let. Me. Go!”
Squeezing me tighter to the point that my ribs start to hurt, making it harder to breathe, he says in my ear, “Blake baby, I’m sick of you being such a tease. You know that I want you. Hell, I’ve wanted you ever since I started coming into this bar. You’re the only reason that I come here now. Don’t fight it; you know that you want me too.” Trailing his nose along the curve of my neck, my skin breaks out in goose bumps from revulsion.
Arching my head further away from him, I can see Dean, but he’s talking to someone else right now. Old memories flash before my eyes as warm tears fill my eyes. In a calm and even voice, void of emotion, I say, “Ryan, I’m only going to say this one more time, Let. Me. Go. Now.” His grip becomes crushing and reality dawns on me that he doesn’t intend to let go.
As panic seizes me, I slam my head back with crushing force straight into Ryan’s nose. The snapping of bone sends another round of bile up my throat. Black spots fade in and out of my vision. I feel his arms disband from around my waist. “You fucking bitch!” he roars at me. He’s holding his nose and raising his head back. Still seeing spots, I turn to make a run for it when suddenly I get pulled behind someone’s back. I can’t see whom it is because of the black spots that cloud my vision, but I hear him. It’s Dean.
&n
bsp; I reach out to clutch the back of his jacket as he moves with stealth speed, charging Ryan. Falling to the ground in a scuffle, Dean lands fist after fist in Ryan’s jaw, gut and ribs. Before I know it, Frankie and Mike are pulling Dean backwards off Ryan. I’ve never seen Dean so pissed. His fists clenched tight with white knuckles and the veins in his neck bulge as he shakes from rage. Frankie turns on Dean, putting a hand on his chest, holding him back, “Calm down Dean,” he says in an eerily calm voice.
With a quick nod from Dean, Frankie turns around lifting a barely coherent Ryan off the ground. Holding him up off the ground by the collar of his shirt, Frankie tells Ryan through gritted teeth, “Get the fuck out of my bar and don’t ever come back. If you ever come near Blake again and I find out about it, I swear to God you’ll be hoping that it’s only your nose that gets fucking broken.”
Dean looks back at me shaking his head and then shrugs out of Mike’s grip, walking away from the situation, from me. Silent tears stream down my face as Frankie, tells me, “Go to my office and wait for me in there.” Nodding, I turn to walk away just as someone grabs my arm stopping me.
Blake’s whole body shudders when I touch her arm. Tension radiates from her as her body becomes rigid from the contact. I know something has happened, but I just don’t know what. Looking over to Frankie, he gives me a brief nod, just as Blake rips her arm out of my grasp. She won’t look at me as she reaches back and caresses a spot on the back of her head. Rushing around to stand in front of her, closed eyes greet me as tears flow freely down her beautiful face.
“Blake, it’s me, Derrick,” I say in a soothing tone, coaxing her to open her eyes. Slowly they open as she searches my face. More tears well up in her eyes as she stands there staring at me. “Blake, what happened?” I see the recognition click when she realizes it’s me in front of her. Gasping, she flings herself into my arms, wrapping them around my middle in a vice like grip. Burying her face into my chest, I can feel her body shake from the sobs that silently wreck her.
Cautiously, I lower my arms over her, rubbing slow soothing circles up and down her back. I look over to see Frankie escorting some guy out of the bar. Turning my attention to a guy whom I’ve never seen before, I ask what happened. With his hands on his hips and his head hanging, he takes a deep breath before looking up at me. “Frankie wants her in his office. Come on, I’ll show you where it is,” he says, nodding in the direction of the hallway.
Nodding, I lean down and whisper to Blake, “Hey, we have to go to the office now.”
Taking a deep shuddering breath, she drops her arms from around me and wipes the tears from her face. Hanging her head, her hair falls around her face acting like a shield as she walks to the back. Following behind her, we walk into Frankie’s office as the other guy shuts the door behind us. Extending his hand out to me, I take it as he says, “By the way, I’m Mike.”
With my eyes locked on Blake leaning back against the wall resting her head, I watch as she snaps her head forward, her eyes screwed tight as she winces. “Mike, can you get me some ice please?” She asks.
“Sure thing, I’ll be right back.” He replies.
Stopping him as he opens the door I ask, “What happened here tonight?”
Lifting his shoulders in a shrug he says, “I have no idea. I mean, I honestly didn’t see it. When Frankie told me to get Dean off that guy, that’s exactly what I did.”
Nodding, I ask, “Where is Dean?”
Shaking his head, he says, “I don’t know, but I do know I’ve never seen him that pissed off before.”
“Thanks. Can you just bring me the ice and I’ll make sure she gets it?” I ask.
Mike nods as he leaves out of the office shutting the door behind him. My eyes fall back to Blake who has now slid down the wall and onto the floor. Laying her crossed arms on her bent knees, she rests her chin on top and stares blankly at the adjacent wall. Crouching down in front of her, her eyes don’t falter. Raising my hand, I tuck a piece of hair that has been stuck to her tear stained face behind her ear and softly whisper, “What happened Blake?”
I sit patiently waiting; waiting for her to tell me what all went down tonight. I don’t push her to answer me, knowing that will only push her away. A lone tear escapes her as she whispers, “Why?”
Brushing the tear away with my thumb, I feel her flinch, but she doesn’t pull away. “Why what?” I ask.
Closing her eyes, two more tears break free, falling like rain drops onto her arms. Her bottom lip trembles as she opens her eyes. Swallowing, she says in a thick raspy voice filled with emotion, “Why me?”
Cupping my hands over her arms, my thumbs move back and forth over her soft delicate skin caressing her, soothing her. Leaning my head further down, locking eyes with her, I say, “I don’t understand Blake. You’re going to have to explain it to me for me to be able to help you.”
She opens her mouth to speak, but quickly closes it. I know she wants to tell me something, but there’s something in her, something deeper, that makes her hold back. Just as I’m about to ask her where Dean is, the door opens with Frankie walking in. Glancing down at Blake and me, he walks over to us, lifting Blake up off the floor and out of my grasp; he pulls her into a fierce hug.
I stand back and let them have this moment. He murmurs his apologies to her for not being there sooner, for not watching out for her, for letting her down. Releasing her, he rubs his hands up and down her arms with a sad smile. Clearing his throat, he looks over to me and says, “Thanks for taking care of her for me Derrick.”
Nodding in acceptance of his gratitude, I say, “It’s no problem.”
Walking around his small oak desk, he takes a seat in the leather chair. A bookshelf sits along the wall behind him with a small filing cabinet next to it. Waving at the two green cloth chairs with minor rips and tears in the fabric, he motions for us to take a seat.
Sitting in front of Frankie with Blake in the chair next to me, I look around his office. The dull gray painted walls are bare of any artwork. His office is quite the opposite from the rest of the bar. A digital clock sits on the corner of his desk while a picture of what looks like the whole Frankie’s Tavern crew sits framed on the opposite corner.
He turns in his chair pulling a drawer open from the filing cabinet. Reaching in, he pulls out some papers. Turning back around and laying the papers out in front of him he says, “Okay Blake, I know you don’t want to do this, but I need for you to tell me exactly what happened between you and Ryan.”
Listening to Blake recall what happened between her and that motherfucker Ryan has my hands balling into tight fists. My arms begin to shake as anger begins to swell inside me. Where the fuck was everybody when this was going on? Why did Frankie not have enough staff working to accommodate a crowd like this, and why in the fuck is Ryan not in jail right now? I can feel the veins in my neck swelling as I sit here silently seething from the anger that has now turned into full on rage.
Taking deep breaths, I try to calm myself down because Blake doesn’t need me to freak out right now. It’s bad enough that Dean left her. I may not know her that well, but every time I’ve seen her, she’s been with him. Obviously, they’re close, and he’s vital to her.
Breaking me from my thoughts, I barely catch Frankie telling Blake that she can go on home and that he and Mike have it under control. Standing up from her chair, I stand with her. Not thinking before I speak, I blurt out, “I can take you home if you’d like.”
Walking over to the coat rack, she shakes her head and says,
“No, that’s fine. I’ll be all right.”
Frankie interjects and says, “No Blake, I think that’s a good idea. I mean you know we couldn’t call the cops because Dean beat the shit out of Ryan. Although, I could care less if Ryan’s sorry ass went to jail, but we can’t have our boy Dean joining him.”
Sighing, she says, “Okay. Thanks Derrick”
Opening the door for her, I ask her where she lives. As she points up at the ce
iling, my eyebrows furrow from confusion. A slight chuckle escapes her as she says, “Dean and I share the apartment upstairs.”
Lifting her coat off the coat rack, I tug it out of her grasp, opening it to her and helping her put it on. Looking at me over her shoulder, a slow smile pulls at the corners of her lips as she says, “Thank you.”
Smiling back I ask, “You have everything?”
“Yeah,” she answers back nodding.
“Okay then, let’s go,” I reply, waving at the open door of Frankie’s office.
Stepping out of his office, she puts her hands in her jacket pockets, hanging her head as we walk to the entrance of the bar. I know she can tell that people are looking at her. Wrapping my arm around her shoulders, I tuck her into my side, shielding her from prying eyes.
Walking out into the brisk cool air that late October brings, Blake steers me in the direction of her apartment. With my arm still wrapped around her shoulders, she peers up at me and says, “Thanks for that. You know, for trying not to let everyone see me back there.”
Coming to a set of stairs, she pulls out of my embrace as I tell her she’s welcome. Turning back and looking at the set of stairs behind her she says, “Well this is me. Thank you for tonight Derrick. It means a lot, really.”
“Sure, it’s no problem.” I reply.
With a quick nod, she turns and begins to go up the steps when I say, “Maybe I should come up with you?”
Spinning back around and narrowing her eyes, she says, “Excuse me?”
Laughing at the fact that she took my request entirely wrong, I hold my hands up in surrender. “Not like that. I was thinking I should check out your apartment,” shrugging, I add, “You know to make sure it’s safe.”
I watch as her shoulders sag with relief, and then I see the faint color of red creep up her face. I know she’s embarrassed, but I won’t comment on it, not yet at least.
She clears her throat, squares her shoulders and trying to shake off her chagrin, and sighs. “Well all right, I guess you have a point.”
Luck of Love Page 9
