by Jc Emery
I am.
Duke shoves Jeremy back in the chair and clears his throat. “Prospects don’t normally get this kind of shit. Because you haven’t earned it. But this fucking prick,” he says and points to Jeremy, “is family. The only thing his dad asked in return for his daughter is that I make sure this asshole gets a pleasure Butch has been denied for too damn long.”
I can’t stop the smile that overtakes my face when Duke shoots Jeremy a huge smile and then winks at Chel. Forsaken really is a family. I crane my neck, ignoring Daniel’s irritated grunt to get a better view of what’s going on. Chel takes the attention away from Duke when she lifts one of her legs to expose the large slit in the crotch of her G-string and places her heel-clad foot on Jeremy’s leg. She purses her lips, her attention wholly on him.
The smile slides off my face, and I’m back to feeling like total shit. It’s not a punch to my gut this time. It’s not a twisting of my heart. It’s more like the breath has been sucked right out of me and has been replaced by acid. The only thing keeping me from running out in this moment is Daniel, who is still bucking at my ass and trailing soft kisses up and down my neck. He’s moved to the other side now and has slipped my bra strap off my shoulder as he peppers every inch of my flesh he can find.
Chel drags her index finger along Jeremy’s jaw and smirks. Then she drops down so quickly that I barely follow her movements. Her fingers work at his jeans, and before I can convince myself that she’s not about to do what I think she is, her head disappears and then bobs right back up. Jeremy’s neck looks like it turns to Jell-O as it flops backward. He moans loudly, his mouth trying to say something. It seems like he can’t form a coherent thought much less vocalize it. Duke’s laughter brings me back to the room. This is happening in front of so many people. Why? Why would anyone do this?
I focus in on Duke, whose laughter dwindles to nothing. Ruby’s voice can’t be heard across the room, but her face has morphed into a scowl. She points at Jeremy, shakes her head, and then points at Duke’s chest. By the time she turns around, I notice that Holly and Alex are already near the door. Dad lumbers after Holly and does his best to ignore Ruby as she walks beside him, still obviously displeased with Duke’s “gift” to Jeremy. Good. I’m glad somebody is as disgusted by this as I am. Uncle Jim is shaking his head and barking something at Duke. Then he leaves the room, hot on his wife’s tail. Duke’s just lucky Nic isn’t in here, or they’d end up in an epic fight. She’s going to find out eventually, and the best I can hope is that I’m far away when she does.
A couple moves away and crosses the room to grab a few beers. In their absence, I have a clear shot of Jeremy and Chel. Her hands link together around his shaft, effectively blocking the crowd’s view of his dick.
I guess there are some things even Dad and Uncle Jim aren’t cool with here. I’m not surprised that Holly and Aunt Ruby take issue with it, though. The problem certainly isn’t nudity, nor is it sex that has set them off. But Jeremy is practically a baby to them. So even though he has his cut, seeing him get his dick sucked in the middle of a crowded room.
My fingers tingle, and soon enough, so do my arms and legs. A cramp starts in my stomach that travels up to my chest and forms a lump in my throat. It’s not sorrow. It’s not tears. I clamp my hand over my mouth and hunch forward. Daniel’s hands are on me in an instant, helping me stand upright. Maybe I drank my beer too fast, or maybe the sight of the boy I’ve convinced myself could be mine getting his dick sucked in a room of strangers is just too much to take.
Daniel whispers, “Oh shit,” into my ear. He disappears for just a moment before he’s back with a plastic red cup. It’s full of something, but he dumps it out on the floor and places it below my chin just in time for me to relieve my stomach. I gag over the cup for a moment, just frozen in place and terrified that Jeremy is going to turn around. He can’t know I’m here, much less that I’m freaking yakking because he’s such a stupid boy and Chel is a worthless whore.
I never knew why Elle had a problem with Chel.
Now I do.
Whore.
Idiot.
I hate them both.
CHAPTER 12
December
16 months to Mancuso’s downfall
Daniel leads me out of the room and into the hallway, where I finally stop gagging over the cup. Pushing the foul thing away, I turn toward the brick wall and press my face against it. Daniel awkwardly holds the cup before gently placing it on the floor beside me. Somebody is going to run into it, but I can’t bring myself to pick it up and move it to save them the trouble. Maybe Chel can clean it up.
Whore.
My foot slides to the side and accidentally tips the cup over.
Stupid cocksucking slut.
“You okay?” Daniel asks.
“Perfect,” I mumble into the brick. Tears prick at my eyes, and frustration overtakes me. I pull my head back just a few inches and then let it fall forward against the brick. It takes Daniel one more head slam into the wall before he realizes what I’m doing, and he pulls me back, spins me around, and forces me to look at him.
“What the fuck is your problem?” he snaps. His attention is on my forehead as his fingers slide over the sensitive skin.
“No, what the fuck is your problem?” I snap back. “You guys think shit like that is funny? It’s cool to watch a guy get his dick sucked? Really?”
“This is about that fucking prospect,” he says and lets go of me so quickly that I stumble back to the brick wall. The back of my head throbs with the impact, but it’s nothing compared to the intensity of my heart beating in my chest. I say nothing in response because there’s nothing I can say. A tear falls down my cheek as I try to regroup.
“Your head hurt?” he says, the frustration obvious in his tone. His blue eyes fall to my brown ones as he cups my chin in his hands. I shrug my shoulders and refuse to verbalize my pain. “That guy is a fucking asshole whether he knew he was going to get blown in that room or not. He’s a child. I don’t give a shit that you’re the same age. You’re too good for him, too mature for him. Too beautiful and too everything for him.”
He reaches out and takes my hand, leading me down the hallway to the bathroom. He yells at the people inside and gives them a minute before clearing them out. Once the bathroom is empty, he opens the door and I step inside. Maybe I misjudged him and he’s not really as much of a perverted jerk as I assumed a few weeks ago. Maybe Daniel and I could be more than friends and I should put more effort into him.
Inside the bathroom, I clean up as best I can. I rinse my mouth out several times until I realize that my breath isn’t going to get any better and, without an aid, I’m still going to be tasting my own vomit.
When I leave the bathroom, Daniel is nowhere to be found. My phone chimes in my pocket. I pull it out just enough to see he’s sent me a text.
HAD TO GO. SORRY.
Being alone here—again—puts me on edge. I stare down the hallway to find it’s completely empty save for me. With Dad and Uncle Jim already dealing with Aunt Ruby and Holly being on the warpath, it’s probably a bad idea for me to be so out in the open. There’s no telling what kind of hell I’ll have to live through if Dad knows I saw what happened in there. With that whore.
I eye Ian’s door at the end of the hall, bouncing from one foot to the other before I blow out a heady breath and decide that he’s my best bet to get out of here. I haven’t seen Tracie since she disappeared into the crowd with Diesel, and since we took her car, I’m kind of stuck. I would have opted to take my Bug except that if Grandma did happen to wake up, she would freak if she saw my car gone. So Ian it is.
My feet carry me to the doorway quickly. I curl my hand into a loose fist and knock on the heavy wooden door and wait. And wait. When the door swings open, a bleached blonde stands before me. She raises her eyebrows and looks me up and down in clear disdain.
“You’re not his type,” she says with narrowed eyes. Her eyes are rimmed with purp
le bags, and they’re glassy and red. She looks drunk. Or high. Maybe both. I don’t really know. Dad always kind of looks drunk and high, so there’s no telling.
I have so freaking had it with whores in this place. I just want to go home. Now.
“Ian,” I shout as loud as I can without screaming.
“Shit,” he says in a ragged voice that’s followed by a grunt.
My eyes fall shut as I bow my head. There’s nothing but sex and drugs everywhere, and I want none of it anymore. I don’t want to be someone’s old lady. I don’t want to help the Lost Girls during special occasions. None of it.
A minute later and Ian steps behind the chick in the doorway. His brows crinkle, and his lips form a flat line. He says, “We’re done here,” and reaches into the pocket of his jeans. His bare chest stares at me, full of scars that are laced with tattoos that depict bloody scenes of revenge and torture. He produces a few hundred-dollar bills and hands them to the skanky blonde in front of him.
“Don’t fuck it up,” he says. She pushes past me, shoving me into the doorframe, and then disappears from view. With his attention back on me, he says, “You’re going home.”
I nod, wanting to tell him what I saw and what happened with Daniel. For some reason I even want to tell him I knocked over that red cup in hopes that Chel would have to clean it up.
With her fucking tongue.
But I don’t. Because Ian isn’t the kind of guy who seems like he shares his feelings or bitches about petty stuff. His scars practically jump from his flesh and smack me across the face. Some of them are muted by the surrounding tattoos, while others seem to be accented by the ink surrounding them.
He slides back into the room for a moment and grabs a shirt and his cut. Another woman slinks out of the room. She doesn’t meet my eyes, and she clings to a large piece of fabric that is larger than a robe but smaller than a sheet, I think. Ian disregards her as he pulls the shirt over his head and then slides the cut on. I back up and give him room to lead me out of this horrible, disgusting place.
“You look like you could use a pick-me-up,” he says, leaning down so I can better hear him.
“Unless you can erase my memory of the last few months, I doubt anything will make me feel better.”
“Trust me,” he says, and I swear I can practically hear a smile in his voice. “And don’t worry, I won’t let you get busted.”
“Thanks.” Realizing how pathetic I sound, I try to force myself to lighten up a little. I got myself in this mess. I’m the one who decided it was a good idea to come here. I wanted to see what Jeremy’s birthday party would be like. Now I know.
Ian leads me through the main room, careful to disguise me from his brothers as we pass, and into an offshoot that’s only half-enclosed and holds a large, worn pool table. Ryan is standing against the far wall with his hands raised in the air. He’s shaking his head at the woman in front of him—the same bleached blonde who just left Ian’s room—as she drags her hands up and down his cut and then presses herself up against him.
“I will run your skanky ass over with my fucking bike if you get me in trouble with my woman,” Ryan says with narrowed eyes. The blonde laughs and tosses her head back. “Seriously. Move, bitch,” he orders loudly.
But she doesn’t move. “Come on, baby. Let me suck your dick, and then I’ll let you fuck my ass.” Her voice is practically purring. She sounds pathetic, but this is kind of funny.
Ian elbows me, and when my attention briefly turns to his face, he’s almost smiling. He nods his head to the back entrance of the room. Alex and Ruby are standing side by side, both wearing grim expressions.
“Oh crap,” I say, my eyes darting between Ryan and the skank and Ruby and Alex. Aunt Ruby is a freaking bulldog when it comes to her boys. She takes a step forward, and Alex reaches out and places her hand on Ruby’s arm.
“No,” Alex says softly. “I got this, Mom.”
Ruby nods her head and smiles at the sight of her daughter striding toward the blonde. She doesn’t look angry, nor does she look like she can do much damage. Alex doesn’t particularly carry herself with confidence, and she’s definitely not assertive.
“Look what you’ve done,” Ryan says with an irritable expression on his face. He shakes his head at the blonde, his hands still raised in the air.
“Excuse me,” Alex says a little louder than I expect as she stands next to Bimbo Barbie. The blonde looks her over, purses her lips, and turns up her nose.
“Come on, Trigger,” the blonde says. “Let’s have some fun.”
Alex looks back at Ruby, who gives her a nod. Alex smiles softly at her mother before turning back to the blonde and placing her hand on the bimbo’s wrist. The blonde looks at her wrist blankly and smirks at Alex. I almost miss the movement, it’s so sly, but Alex’s fingers slide further around the blonde’s wrist as her grip tightens and her knuckles turn white. Realizing the trouble she’s in, the blonde turns to Ian with a fearful expression on her face. I sneak a peek at him to catch the subtle shake of his head.
An order of silence.
Holy crap.
“If you bust this up, I’m going to hand deliver you to Daddy,” Ian whispers to me.
“I wouldn’t—” I protest, but he cuts me off.
“She’s my sister,” he says. “He’s my brother, but it’s different. I just want to make sure he’s going to be good to her.”
“That’s actually really sweet.” My voice betrays my mood, sounding so light and soft. Happy almost.
The blonde regains her confidence and leans in toward Ryan, her lips pursing like she’s going to try to kiss him. Alex’s white-knuckled grip pulls the blonde away from Ryan in a scary-fast and effective move that I can’t believe she’s managed. Her face is calm, but her chest rises and falls rapidly as she uses the force of her grip to back the blonde up to the pool table. Alex continues to twist her wrist until the blonde’s knees give out and she’s fallen on the floor. Even then she doesn’t lessen her grip.
“Please excuse my poor manners,” Alex says a little louder now. She’s inches from the blonde’s face and practically spitting on her. “My name is Alexandra Mancuso, and this one belongs to me.”
“Okay, I’m sorry,” the blonde shrieks and pulls back. She jerks away, breaking free, and scrambles underneath the pool table. When she stands on the other side, she’s holding her wrist, and tears fall down her cheeks.
Ian crooks his finger, summoning her, and pulls out three more hundred-dollar bills. His eyes are focused on Ryan as he hands her the money and tells her to go to urgent care to get her wrist checked. I eye Ruby to see that she looks not only happy but relaxed as well. I haven’t seen that in a while. Ryan’s gaze could cut glass he looks so pissed at the realization that this was a setup. Alex ignores his mood as she grabs ahold of his cut and drags him away.
“Damn, baby,” Ryan says, his voice trailing off in the distance. “That was hot as shit. I so want to fuck you right now.”
I smile at the lovebirds. This is what I like about this world—the love, the super intense, awesome, passionate love these people have for one another. Grandma says she thinks they fall in love so fast and so deeply because they’re all suffering PTSD or something because it always seems to happen during the worst possible time. Like Ryan and Alex and their crazy love story that only makes sense if you bore witness to it yourself. Or Dad and Holly—two people who make no sense on paper but are like magnets when they’re together, either pushing each other away or totally inseparable. Duke and Nic are so cute together that it sometimes makes me sick. There’s this way he holds on to her baby bump whenever he can, like he’s thanking her or something. And Nic? She’s just perfect for him. Before tonight when I had delusions of becoming Jeremy’s old lady, I wanted to be like Nic. Even Uncle Jim and Aunt Ruby who have been together forever find small ways to stay in physical contact. It’s beautiful, and I want it.
More than anything.
“Cheyenne Grady,” Ruby s
houts. My back straightens, and I look up at Ian with wide eyes, intent on avoiding Ruby’s gaze.
Ian mouths, “Run,” and I take off without another thought. I can still hear Ruby shouting in the distance as I bob and weave around as many people as I can. My feet are killing me as I force them into action on these stupid heels, but I don’t slip, and I suppose that’s something. Dad and Holly nearly catch sight of me, but I duck behind a burly man before curving behind a table and out the front door. Once out of the clubhouse, I take a deep breath and thank God that I made it out of there alive. With much slower steps, I walk to Ian’s bike and plan to wait until he comes out. A second later, he bursts out of the front door. With a wicked smile on his face he says, “She’s pissed,” and climbs on his bike. I climb up after him, and he starts her up.
I catch sight of movement on the picnic table. A mess of shaggy blond hair hangs in his face as his hands grip the shoulders of a half-naked woman he has bent over. His jeans have been slid down just enough, and her skirt is tossed over her ass as he rocks himself into her. I already knows it’s him—Daniel—so when he lifts his head and grunts, I’m not surprised. No, what surprises me is the look of pure satisfaction he has on his face as he grabs ahold of the woman’s hair, and without breaking eye contact, he slams into her hard. His lips part, and his eyes roll back in his head just a moment before they’re back on me. Just as we pull out of the parking lot and peel out, I let my face rest on Ian’s back and close my eyes.
