by Jc Emery
Holly purses her lips, her face turns red, and she looks away. Her shoulders shake, giving away her silent laughter.
“I said you could go out with the kid. I’m not saying you can’t, but I want you to understand that he’s not just some mouthy eighteen-year-old. He’s a prospect. You should know what that means.”
“Dad, I do know what that means.”
“I don’t think you do.”
Dad is obviously uncomfortable, and I can’t really blame him. I’m not exactly comfortable either. But he’s not going to let this rest until he’s sure I know what I’m doing. Even though I might be eighty and he might be in a nursing home by the time that happens.
“Dating a prospect means I’m dating the club. I get that. I know he might have to leave at any time, and sometimes the stuff he has to do for the club is dangerous. Give me a little credit.”
“You will never come first,” he says. “I don’t want that for you.”
“But you want it for Holly?” I fold my arms over my chest.
“Don’t want it for Holly either. But I’m a selfish prick,” he says with sorrowful eyes.
That I can agree with.
“I’m going out with Jeremy,” I say.
Dad stands in an awkward silence with an obviously uncomfortable stance. His shoulders are slightly hunched forward, with his hands on his hips and his head tilted down but his gaze to the side. I know that stance. He’s recognized defeat. The thing is I know what he really wants to say. What he really wants to say is that dating a club member, even if he’s still prospect, is a commitment to more than just a man. I’ve heard the speeches, and I know how this goes. The thing he needs to understand is that I’m ready for this.
I’m not sure exactly what happened, but I used to think there could be nothing more attractive than a man in uniform. You know, like the football uniform with the tight spandex pants. Or even the baseball uniform with the cup and the hat. Hockey uniforms aren’t really all that hot, because you can’t see anything. But I sure don’t mind watching them body-check each other up against the Plexiglas in the rink.
But that was before. Because once things started getting dangerous for whatever reason with the club and the prospects started hanging out here, I started to wonder what it would be like to date a club member. If Dad knew the thoughts that have gone through my head, he would have a coronary and fall to pieces on the floor right now.
“You’re starting to act like an adult, and I don’t like it,” he says.
I offer him a sad smile and shrug my shoulders. “And you’re starting to sound like a sane person.”
He lets out a brief chuckle before he shakes his head, points his finger at Holly, and directs her to the open door. He does a lot of pointing with her, and she does a lot of eye rolling with him.
As Holly walks past Dad, his hand comes down and smacks her on the butt, creating a loud slapping sound in the room. She gasps and turns around, giving him a dirty look. But I’m starting to figure out what Holly’s dirty looks mean. She gives them constantly. To me, to Grandma, but to Dad most especially. Holly’s look right now is one more of disapproval than of actual anger. When she’s really angry, she doesn’t even give him a dirty look. She just kind of looks past him blankly. It’s a little intimidating, and I don’t want to ever be on the receiving end of that look. So I shut my mouth, stay in the corner, and decide if she’s happy getting spanked in front of her boyfriend’s teenage daughter, then who am I to judge?
The doorbell rings loudly from downstairs as Holly is leaving my bedroom. But I can’t let her get to it first, so I push past her, offering my apologies on the way down the stairs. By the time I get to the front door, I have to pause for a moment to stop myself from hyperventilating. Did I put on lipstick? Jeremy said no lipstick. I press two of my fingers to my lips just to make sure I didn’t and thankfully find a pair of dry lips. I guess Jeremy just doesn’t like the look of lipstick or something. I don’t know, really.
Dad moves slowly but purposefully behind me, his heavy footsteps getting closer and louder with every moment.
I open the door and am met with a smiling Jeremy on the other side. My face flushes, and I lose my breath for just a moment. He’s that good-looking.
With his strong jaw, straight nose, and dark navy-blue eyes, Jeremy Whelan is hot as hell. He’s what Holly keeps calling a heartthrob. He’s what grandma called a babe. But I’m not old and I’m not prehistoric, so I’m not using either of those terms. He’s the kind of hot you can’t manufacture with expensive clothes or arrogance. No, Jeremy is the kind of hot that radiates out of his skin and infects everyone around him.
“Looking good, babe,” he says. A breathy sigh escapes me, and my face reddens. I might not survive the night if he keeps looking at me like this.
“I wore pink,” I say.
He nods and grins. “Yeah, you did.”
THE FIRST PLACE Jeremy took me on our date was the arcade. Dad didn’t make an appearance inside, thankfully. I think Jeremy chose it because he knows that it’s busy enough that we can get lost in the crowd but not so bad that we can’t even talk while we’re in there.
We are leaving the arcade when I spot Holly waving at me as she climbs out of Dad’s truck. She’s frantic, with wild eyes and her hands flinging around. My heart drops. It’s not like I didn’t know they followed me, but I don’t know why she’s out of the truck. Normally he stays put inside the truck and doesn’t bother me too much when I’m on a date. I think his objective is just to let the guy I’m with know that my dad is always watching.
Jeremy spots them and grins down at me. “We could put a show on for him.”
“You’re not funny,” I snap. “He’s such an ass.”
With an amused chuckle, he pulls me into his side and throws an arm around my neck. Our steps falter slightly as he bends down and places a kiss on top of my head. I give him a weak slap to his stomach but can’t help the budding smile that threatens to overtake my face and the blush that shows my excitement.
“What?” I mouth to Holly while looking her way. She points at the other end of the bushes where Dad is standing, his back resting against a tree. His arms are crossed, and he’s shaking his head. The fact that he’s not happy doesn’t tell me anything, because for the most part, he’s always unhappy. I narrow my eyes at him and shake my head. He’s been worse this time because it’s Jeremy. No doubt.
What an asshole.
Jeremy places his hand on my lower back and leads me toward my father. My nerves shoot to the roof, and I start to panic. I knew he would see Dad by the bushes, but I didn’t think he would approach him.
We’re barely five or six feet away when Jeremy says, “Sir.”
“Prospect,” Dad says. Holly slides up beside him and jabs him in the ribs. He doesn’t budge or even acknowledge her arrival. His eyes are hard as they fixate on Jeremy’s arm around my neck. I’m mildly uncomfortable with the attention until Jeremy clears his throat.
Dad folds his arms across his chest. “You remember the rules?”
“Yes, sir,” Jeremy says. “Gave you my word.”
“Dad,” I hiss. He doesn’t even look my way. Holly gives me a sympathetic pout and shakes her head.
“Where we going next?” Dad asks, his eyes still on Jeremy’s arm around my neck.
“Hell,” I shout in annoyance. “We’re all going to hell!”
“Chey, it’s cool.” Jeremy tightens his grip around my neck and places another soft kiss to my hairline. His voice is quiet and soft when he says, “Your dad just wants to make sure I’m doing right by you.”
Dad straightens and nods his chin at Jeremy as if he’s pleased with him. But Holly and I both know what total bullshit this is. Jeremy’s kissing Dad’s ass, plain and simple. It just so happens Dad enjoys a good ass-kissing every now and then, so he’s not calling him on it.
“Well, we better get going. Once traffic picks up, it gets harder to follow you two in the truck,” Dad says, claps
his hands together, and smiles deviously.
Holly’s face turns beet red, and she looks away in obvious disbelief that Dad’s actually acting like this. She never did believe me when I told her that he’s batshit crazy. Well, she’s stuck with him now.
“Yes, sir,” Jeremy says. He’s starting to sound like a fucking robot. It’s making me want to give him a titty twister or something just to see some emotion from him. I duck out from beneath his arm, grab his hand, and give him a tug toward his bike. He follows silently. After he straps on his helmet and climbs on the bike, I get on behind him and try to ignore that Dad and Holly are behind us watching our every move.
WHEN MY AND Jeremy’s date comes to an end, it’s not nearly as romantic as I had been expecting it to be. I got a text from Daniel halfway through our date, which I ignored but Jeremy caught notice of. It took a good five minutes for the scowl to leave his face after that. I didn’t even see what it said before I clicked the screen off. And despite Dad and Holly’s following us, I didn’t think he would be so cruel as to watch our every move while Jeremy tells me goodnight on the front porch. I don’t even get a chance to ask him why he was adamant that I not wear lipstick.
I lean in for a quick kiss but find that Dad’s already clearing his throat and telling Jeremy if he doesn’t get going, then he won’t have feet to move with. As Jeremy leaves and Dad starts commenting on how well the night went, I decide it’s for the best to just head upstairs and plot my escape from this loony bin. If I stay down here with my father, he and I are going to have a huge fight, and nobody, especially Holly, is ready for that.
I’m up in my room less than a minute when my phone chimes from my back pocket. The overhead fixture above casts a warm glow of light around my room, illuminating the hot pink and black tones that have been used to decorate my personal space. Shutting the door behind me, I pull my phone out and smile at the message on the screen from Jeremy.
U SHOULD HAVE KISSED ME.
With a deep, happy sigh, I shuffle to my bed and plop down. My fingers work swiftly over the touch screen. IF U WERE HERE I WOULD.
I have barely sent the message by the time I hear the quiet clink, clink, clink of small rocks hitting my bedroom window. My phone chimes again.
OPEN WINDOW.
I can’t stop the blush that comes to my skin from just the suggestion that Jeremy might be outside. I shuffle to the closed window and peek down at the grass below, surprised that Jeremy made it past the security alarm. Dad has the entire property pretty well alarmed, especially these days. But I suppose that’s the benefit of dating a prospect—he knows where the alarms are and how to avoid them.
Anticipation builds in my gut as I drag up the aging wooden window casing, clearing a path for Jeremy’s entrance. I look down alongside the house and realize one of Dad’s ladders is already propped up.
I cast a look at Jeremy and shake my head ruefully. He planned this. And I couldn’t be happier. I place my index finger to my lips and make a shushing sound, hoping he gets the gist of it. And he does, because when he climbs up the ladder, it’s in near silence.
At the top of the ladder, he smiles widely, his blue eyes gleaming in the artificial light. I take a step back and gesture with my hand to welcome him in. Part of me can’t believe I’m actually inviting a date into my room. This has never happened before. Not that I never wanted it to happen, but with how overbearing my dad is, no other boy has had the balls to do something like this.
“You planned this,” I whisper accusingly.
He shrugs his shoulders, tilts his head downward, and crooks his index finger for me to come closer. His feet are placed shoulder width apart, and he stands with such confidence that I can barely believe he’s only eighteen.
As if I have no choice, my feet carry me forward until I’m practically pressed up against his muscular frame. We’re so close. We’ve never been this close before. My hands find their way to the still-fresh leather that hangs off his shoulders. When I look up and catch the devious smile on his lips, I instinctively press myself into him. His face moves closer to mine, slowly and purposefully. My chest constricts, and it’s difficult to breathe. I reach up, even going so far as to stretch on my tiptoes, and lightly drag my desperate lips against his.
As if reading my mind, he whispers, “This is why I didn’t want you to wear lipstick.”
He takes over then, slamming his lips to mine. My hands reach out and wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to me, so desperate for more. I peek my tongue out and drag it along his lip. Eagerly, he opens his mouth to me, and our kiss moves from sweet to sinful. Kissing Jeremy is everything I thought it would be and more. I’ve waited for this for so long that actually having it makes me feel as though I’m about to combust.
His hand reaches out and cups my ass. With a firm grip on my pliant flesh, he pulls me hard against him and bucks his hips. I’m not prepared for it, and I stumble backward. Jeremy stabilizes me, pulls in closer, and resumes his handsy and deliciously sexy ways. My body yearns for his touch and attention, but in the back of my head, something doesn’t feel right. He’s being too aggressive. Still, he walks me backward until my knees hit the edge of my bed, and I’m forced to bend at the knee and sit down. Bending down and parting my legs with his knee, he covers his body with mine, leaving me little choice but to lie back and allow his heavy frame to cover me. His leg further parts mine as he rocks himself into my core.
His lips command my heart, and his body commands my attention, but it’s all too much too soon. We’ve only been on one date, and it wasn’t like we got any time alone. This doesn’t feel like the start of a relationship. It feels like a hookup, and I don’t like that so much.
My hands press into his chest as I try to force him off of me. He’s insistent in his attempts, but so am I. With every ounce of strength I can muster, I push him off me and take his surprise as an opportunity to slip away and scramble off my bed.
“What is your problem?” he asks quietly but with as much malice as if he had screamed it.
“No, what is your problem?”
I was the one being mauled, not him.
“You let me in your bedroom. What did you think was going to happen?”
I’m left speechless. I don’t know the code for making out with guys in your bedroom, so I’m caught off guard by the suggestion that I’ve done something wrong. Jeremy’s hard stare redirects to the window. His feet follow, and before I know it, he’s out the window and staring at me in annoyance. He opens his mouth, but I have no desire to hear anything from him right now. I should have believed the rumors that float around school about how he’s only ever interested in one thing.
“Don’t open your mouth,” I warn him, “or I will push this ladder to the ground and then scream for my dad.”
CHAPTER 9
December
16 months to Mancuso’s downfall
“Behave yourself,” Holly says as she stands in the middle of the open front door. Dad’s on the other side slowly making his way to the edge of the porch and toward his awaiting bike. He smiles softly—as softly as Dad can, anyway—and gives her a wink. “I’m not kidding.”
On my left, Tracie huffs quietly. Her arms are folded over her chest, and her brows are knit together. I let out a heavy sigh, and my body slinks into the wall beside me that separates the kitchen from the family room.
“Define that,” Dad says and steps closer to Holly. He places his hands on her hips and pulls her flush against him. They’re so in their own world that neither of them sees Tracie and me watching their exchange.
“God, I hope he doesn’t screw this up,” I whisper-shout. Dad normally asks Holly to come with him to the clubhouse parties, but he didn’t this time. It’s put me on edge just waiting for him to ask her to go. She always says no, but that’s not the point. If he’s always asked before, he should ask now.
Tracie’s brown hair is pulled up in a messy bun, just like mine, and her face is makeup free, also just
like mine. Sometimes, when we do our hair similarly or wear our makeup a certain way, I swear we look so much alike we could be sisters. Hell, if Tracie had been born in town, with the way Dad used to get around, I wouldn’t have put it out of the realm of possibility. But Tracie wasn’t born here. Her fancy-pants douchebag father lives somewhere south of San Francisco with his new wife and new kids. Tracie’s mom is kind of loose, so they had a paternity test done. Wishful thinking. I guess I’m just sick of being Sterling Grady’s sole focus for torture.
Holly places her hands on Dad’s chest and pushes him back just slightly. “I love you in ways I can’t explain, but if you have to ask me to define cheating, then whatever you’re thinking is okay for you to do isn’t. Got it?”
“It was just a question, babe,” Dad says. “Parties like this can get wild. Bitches walk around naked, they jump into laps. Tits gets shoved in faces. Shit happens. I’m not looking for an out. I’m just asking what’s going to get me into trouble.”
“That’s it,” Holly says in a loud voice. She throws her hands in the air, turns around, and heads for the staircase that leads to her and Dad’s bedroom.
“What the hell?” Dad snaps as he follows her with one grouchy as hell look on his face. I’d never shoot my own father, but suddenly the handgun that’s tucked into the back of my jeans feels heavier, like its presence is more obvious and uncomfortable all of a sudden.
“You want to know what’s going to get you in trouble? Leaving this house without me is going to get you in trouble. Give me five minutes, baby. I’ll be ready!” Holly’s voice trails as she descends to the lower level.
