Scarred: A New Adult Romance (The Anderson Brothers Series Book 1)

by Long, Marie

  Nodding, I dangle the keys. “Yup. Should be good to go now.”

  She beams and springs up from the couch. “Oh, thank you so much!” She scoops up her books and papers and hastily stuffs them into her bag.

  I hold the door open, and she brushes past in a hurry, snatching the keys from my hand. For a split second, I catch her scent. Pear.

  She tosses the bag in the passenger seat, climbs into the driver’s side and starts the car. “It works!”

  I grin. “’Course it does. I fixed it.”

  She gives a little hollow-sounding laugh.

  Things suddenly feel awkward. What happens now? She leaves and I never see her again? I don’t want her money, and she did thank me for fixing her car, so what else would I expect?

  Maybe the club. Or a movie. Or—

  “So, dinner?” she says.

  My heart stops for a second. My mouth goes dry. I try to speak, but my voice cracks.

  Denise smiles at my apparent idiocy.

  “Dinner,” I finally manage to mumble.

  “Tomorrow?”

  I swallow again. Oh shit! This is real! “Y-yeah, tomorrow’s good.”

  “How does Jade Fusion sound? We can meet there, or I can come get you, if you want.”

  I take a deep breath. This is ridiculous. I know how to do this. “No. I’ll pick you up around seven. That okay?”

  She pauses, then nods slowly. “Okay. I’ll be waiting.” She turns and fishes through her purse, then pulls out a small pocket notebook. She scribbles on a page then tears it out. “Call me tomorrow when you’re about to leave,” she says, handing the paper to me.

  I take the paper, which carries a hint of her alluring pear scent. Her name and phone number are written on it. Her handwriting is gorgeous. “Thanks, Denise. I will,” I say, smiling.

  She backs out of the lot and drives off.

  I sigh, watching until her taillights are gone.

  I got her number! I got her fucking number!

  My heart does flip-flops. I fold the paper in a neat square and place it in my wallet. Damn right, I’m gonna call you.

  I re-coil the light cord, gather the tools from the toolbox, and return them to their proper places in the shop.

  “She’s quite a catch,” Larry says from behind me.

  I wheel around. Larry’s still under the hood. “Huh?”

  “The girl. What? You think just ’cause I’m under here that I don’t know what’s going on?”

  “I was just doing her a favor.”

  “Pretty big favor.” Larry pulls his head out from under the hood. “Repairing alternators ain’t easy. You charge her?”

  I frown. “No.”

  His face goes rigid. “‘No’? Look, Dominick. This is a business. Don’t do that again.”

  “I couldn’t charge her, man. I knew she didn’t have that kind of money on her. Besides, I didn’t use any shop parts to fix it.”

  “You used these lights, didn’t you? And those tools?” Larry frowns. “Look. I won’t say anything to Frank, but next time, you need to either treat her as a customer, or do that shit at your own house, got it?”

  I nod once. “Yeah, man. Sure.”

  Larry sighs and rubs his forehead. “Sorry, kid. I’m just tired from having been here all day trying to get caught up with these repairs. It sucks being short-staffed.”

  “It really does,” I mutter. “I wish Frank would hire more help already.”

  “Hopefully soon. But for now, we’ll manage like we always do. This ain’t the first time this shit’s happened.”

  Larry is always optimistic. Part of the reason I always look forward to coming to work. In his eyes, there’s always hope no matter how bad it gets.

  It was the attitude of a father—a real father, like I always wanted, but could never have.

  Chapter 4

  It’s almost eleven thirty by the time I get back home. I’m surprised when I go inside not to hear any women’s voices. Maybe Chris went to the gig. But when I enter the living room, I find Chris on the couch in a T-shirt and boxers, playing one of his football videogames on the big-screen TV.

  “You’re still here?”

  Chris says nothing and doesn’t take his eyes off the TV.

  “So where are all these girls you went on about?”

  He finally pauses the game and glares at me, his feathered brown hair whipping across his flushed face. “Gone! They got tired of waiting.”

  I frown. “Well, I got more condoms. Here.” I toss a few packets from the box at him and they land on his lap. Sometimes it’s fun messing with him like that.

  He growls, brushes them away, and resumes his game. “You’re such an ass, you know that?”

  “Hey, I’m just paying you back for the shit you pulled earlier. Going into my room without permission and using up all my condoms like that. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “I have needs, you know.”

  I roll my eyes. “So do I.”

  “Whatever, man. I know and you know those weren’t getting used. Last time you had a girl was, what, two months ago? And that lasted all of, what, half a day?”

  “Felicia?” I curl my lip. “Good fucking riddance. She was begging to go down on me within five minutes of meeting me.”

  Chris shakes his head. “Dude, I still can’t believe you rejected her over that. She had a perfect ass, perfect tits … she was gorgeous!”

  “Gorgeous, but not my type. Anyway …" I pin him with a glare. “We going to my brother’s gig or what?”

  Chris pauses the game again and looks back with a raised eyebrow. “What? You still wanna go? It’s almost midnight, and I gotta get ready. By the time we get down there it’ll almost be closing time.”

  I shrug and head for the stairs. “Well, if nothing else, I can see my brother again. Look, if you don’t wanna go, that’s cool.”

  “Ehh …"

  I give him time to think about it while I hop in the shower, shave, and go through my closet for some decent club wear—a gray button-down shirt, black pants, and some matching shoes. Returning to the living room, I find Chris still on the couch in his T-shirt and boxers. There’s a ticket on the arm of the couch with a sticky note with my name written on it. Frowning, I swipe it and head to the kitchen. Guess he made his decision.

  “Later, man,” Chris calls as I grab my motorcycle jacket off the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

  * * *

  Downtown Seattle, at Club 88, cars are parked everywhere, including in the designated overflow lot. I glimpse the hood of Kevin’s black hatchback sports car, which is parked behind the building. It’s great to see that Big Bro has a full crowd tonight. I park in a space far too small for a car, but perfect for my bike. I take off my gear, set it atop the bike seat, and smooth out my clothes. I don’t know why I got this dressed up when I only intend to see my brother. I haven’t seen him in a couple of months.

  Approaching the entrance, I hear Kevin’s house music thumping. I show my ticket and driver’s license to the bouncer standing outside, and he lets me in. Strobe lights and fog welcome me as I enter. The place is packed. People are dancing amid the swirling, sparkling lights of mirror balls. Off to one side is a bar with hot chicks in skimpy outfits serving drinks. I look beyond the dance floor to the stage, where Kevin is manning his deejay station. He has a pair of thick headphones around his neck, and he’s busily working the upbeat house tunes, spinning vinyls like the pro he is. He’s one of the few deejays around these days who still works in vinyl.

  As I watch my brother do his thing, dancers bump and jostle me. Some apologize, while others are completely oblivious. I’m not mad; it’s a club, after all, and I’m not in the mood to start a fight.

  I head to the bar and order a rum ’n Coke. Drink in hand, I weave through the crowd and find a vacant seat on a white couch against the wall. The couch faces the stage, giving me a pretty good view of Kevin. I take a long sip of my drink and bob my head to the music.

 
; From the corner of my eye, I see a group of girls start to meander toward me. I don’t acknowledge them. One of them, however, gets bold and walks by me, bumping my leg with hers, probably deliberately. She’s dressed in a short, skintight, cherry-red dress with a neckline that shows off every bit of her big tits. I’m sure if Chris were here, he’d be all over her.

  Though Red is still near, I casually swirl my drink as I watch the stage. She finally plops down next to me on the couch. She smells sweet, like roses. But while she looks and smells good, I’m not interested.

  Red crosses her legs, and the bottom of the dress hikes up her thigh about five more inches. “What are you drinking?” she asks.

  I take another sip, pretending to be oblivious to her bait. “Rum ’n Coke.”

  She leans over like she’s about to whisper in my ear, but I can tell it’s really to show off her goods.

  And I can’t help but look. Are those even real?

  “You should do a boilermaker,” she says.

  “Naw, I gotta drive tonight.”

  Nearby, Red’s group of girlfriends giggle and talk to each other, all the while taking turns looking in my direction.

  “Can I help you?” I say to her, annoyed.

  “Well, I was going to ask you that.” She winks.

  I am so ready to blow her off, but then I think about Chris. I hate to say it, but I think this girl would be perfect for him. She would surely get him out of his funk. I down the rest of my drink. “Give me your number, and I’ll let you know.”

  Red gives me one of those satisfied kinds of looks. I’m sure she’s probably bagged plenty of guys this way. She scribbles her number down on an unused napkin, then her name beneath it—Adrienne. She has nice handwriting. Might actually be a smart girl under that painted-on dress. Chris could certainly use one of those types for a change.

  Smiling, I fold up the napkin and stuff it in my pocket. “Thanks.”

  Red—Adrienne—is still gawking. “You’re going to call, right?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  The music fades to silence, and the crowd cheers. I check the time on my phone—almost two a.m. Adrienne hops up from the couch and rushes to her friends. I get up as well and head to the stage, snaking my way through the sea of people in hopes of losing Adrienne for good.

  The club’s emcee comes out on stage. “Last call for alcohol, folks! Next Wednesday we’ll be having DJ Trype on the ones and twos for an old school trip-hop night. As always, ladies, dress to impress!”

  Much of the dance floor crowd thins as people head to the bar to get their last drinks. I hop up on stage and make my way to Kevin, who’s packing away his vinyls and equipment.

  “Hey, what’s up, man?” I pat him on the shoulder.

  He flinches and starts, looks up at me, and then beams. “Yo, Dom!” He sets down his records, and we do our secret handshake followed by a shoulder bump. “I thought that was you I saw out there in the crowd.”

  Other than my uncle Adam, Kevin’s the only family I’m really close to. He’s the only one who truly understands the shit I went through.

  Then, as now, he’s the only one I ever trusted.

  We break off the hug. “What’s going on, man?” Kevin asks.

  “Nothing much. Working like a motherfucker.” Without even asking, I begin helping him pack up his equipment. I’m the only one he ever allowed to touch his stuff. All along, he trusted me as much as I did him. He’s always there for me to talk to.

  “Yeah, I hear that.” Kevin sets his sleeved vinyls in metal crates. “Sorry I haven’t called lately. I’ve been busy with a bunch of shit for the past month.”

  I unplug a wire from the main mixer and begin wrapping it in a neat coil. “What happened?”

  “My girlfriend fucking backstabbed me. Because of her, I’m about to get evicted from my apartment.”

  “What?”

  “I got called to do a gig to fill in for one of the DJs that got sick, and I let my then-girlfriend, Justine, stay at my apartment. Rent was due, but the landlord had gone out to lunch by the time I had to leave, so I gave the money to Justine to give to him when he got back. She left with my money and never came back. Now the damn landlord has charged me double for being late. It’s utter bullshit. I owe the landlord almost two thousand dollars now! If I can’t pay up in four days, I’m gonna get evicted.”

  Frowning, I set the coiled cord in a milk crate with the others. I hate seeing Kevin so miserable. “Damn. That’s messed up, bro. Anything I can do to help?”

  Kevin shakes his head. “Naw, I’m straight. I think after tonight’s gig, I’ll finally have enough to pay the bastard. This whole ordeal has been such a fucking pain. Here’s a tip, li’l bro. Don’t get famous, else the crazy gold-digging bitches’ll come crawling outta the cracks like roaches. They think I’m banking just ’cause I’m supposedly a “famous deejay” or some shit. Well newsflash! I make just enough to pay the bills and not much else.

  “I’m not nearly as ‘famous’ as some of the guys down in Cali or over on the East Coast. Hell, there’s even international sensations out there. I’m a nobody compared to them. What the fuck did I ever do to deserve this?”

  “Don’t worry about it, man,” I say. “You know I got your back.”

  Kevin gives me a small smile. “Yeah, yeah, I know. So, who was that girl you were talking to?”

  I snort. “What girl? I came here to see you.”

  “Kinda hard to miss T and A dressed in red.” He laughs.

  I punch him in the shoulder. “She wasn’t my date. But I do have a date tomorrow—or should I say, later tonight. Her name’s Denise. And man, is she amazing! Smart, smells like pears, dresses so sexy …"

  Kevin whistles. “That’s great, man! How long have you two been dating?”

  “I just met her. But I’m a little scared of what might happen if she were to ever find out about—”

  “Hey.” Kevin puts a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t let that shit get in the way of your own happiness. That’s exactly what he would have wanted. Remember that. Don’t let that sick motherfucker get into your head.”

  Biting down on my bottom lip, I exhale through my nose. Kevin’s right, of course. But sometimes, some nights, I can’t control that demon in my head. “I just … You know how sensitive some girls can be. What if she gets grossed out by that shit?”

  “Dammit, Dom. What did I just say? You’re a damn good man, and the honeys would kill to have someone like you. You’re nothing like Pops, and never will be. Get that shit straight right now.”

  I stuff the headphones and microphones into a duffel bag and zip it closed.

  “Remember what Uncle Adam said to you at that dinner for your high school graduation? ‘You have to keep moving through the dark tunnels of life no matter what. Because at the end of that tunnel, you’ll eventually find light.’”

  I smile. “Yeah, I know, man. I try every day.”

  Finished packing, I help Kevin carry the stuff out to his car. Kevin arranges the equipment in the cramped backseat and trunk so that everything fits perfectly. Satisfied, he hops in the driver’s side and starts up the car. He cranks down the window and asks, “You gonna be around next week?”

  “Should be. Got an electromagnetics test next Friday, so I’ll be studying for that.”

  Kevin nods. “Well, we’ll have to catch up on things before then.”

  I look at him a little more seriously. “Have you decided whether or not you’re gonna finish school next semester?”

  “No idea.” He shrugs. “I’m just trying to worry about my current shit first. Need to get that straight before I worry about school.”

  I sigh but don’t press the issue. It bothers me that he’s only seven credits away from graduating but isn’t following through. “All right. But don’t let me graduate before you.”

  Kevin ignores me. “I’ll call you later, li’l bro. Take it easy.” He plugs his music player into his sound system and cranks up the volume. Fami
liar house music blasts through the speakers, making his entire car vibrate.

  “You too,” I say, though he probably can’t hear me. I watch him drive off, his tires screeching around a corner. Even when he’s out of sight, I can hear the deep, thumping bass.

  Chapter 5

  I wake up refreshed, after having a dream about Denise. I grab a set of clothes from the closet and head downstairs to the shower. I don’t hear the TV on in the living room and wonder if Chris is still sulking in his room. He must be miserable, not having been able to sleep with a girl for a change—and on a Friday night, even. Serves him right for messing with me.

  Leaving the bathroom, clean and dressed, I discover Chris lazing around on the couch in his T-shirt and boxers, munching on cereal while he watches Saturday morning cartoons.

  “Hey, man, you just gonna sit there all day?” I ask, heading to the kitchen.

  Chris munches loudly, but doesn’t reply.

  I pour myself a bowl of cereal and join him on the couch. “You should’ve come with me to the club last night. Ran into some hot chicks that would’ve loved to take you home.”

  He glares at the TV, still chewing.

  I wave the napkin Adrienne gave me in front of him. “I even got one of their numbers.”

  Fuming, Chris slams his plate down on the coffee table, milk sloshing out of the top. “What the fuck, Dom? Gonna rub that shit in my face now?”

  “Nope. Not my type. Got nice tits, though.” I let go of the napkin and watch it flutter onto his lap.

  Chris picks it up and stares at it. “‘Adrienne’ … You managed to get her number?”

  “Yup. Got it while thinking how to help your sorry ass yet again.” I smile a little at the shock on his face.

  Chris gets a hold of himself. “Dude, you did this for me? I … thanks. Sorry for being such a dick about things.”

  “Mildly speaking.” I finish my cereal.

  “You said she’s got nice tits? What’re her measurements?” Chris’s eyes widen with intrigue.

  “Uh … I dunno. Forty inches, maybe?” I throw some random number out there. I’m definitely not a boob connoisseur.