by Alex Abbott
Romy looked crestfallen with that news, but put aside his drink and came down the stairs.
“I’ll take you back,” he said, though she knew if he did that, he’d likely worm his way into more than her apartment.
“It’s fine,” she said as she leaned in, kissing his cheek. “I’m just gonna grab a cab. You celebrate with your friends. You deserve it.” Angela ran her finger along his cheek and jaw, forcing a tight smile.
“Just... call me tomorrow,” she added on.
Romy kissed her back and nodded, looking down at her concerned from his higher perch.
“You take care of yourself babe, I’ll check in on you tomorrow, you bet,” he promised, offering a warm, reassuring smile.
She was so grateful he didn’t fight her as she walked back into the cool night air, sucking it in. She moved just beyond the door, enough that she could still hear the music, but she was shrouded in darkness. She settled onto the pavement, a chill going through her.
She let the cold air cleanse her lungs, her body, and took a few minutes before finally punching in the number for a cab company.
Instead a deep, husky voice broke the quiet she enjoyed.
“Let me drive you home,” Jamal said, sounding sympathetic in his own way. He extended a hand to her, that thick, exposed forearm lined with jutting veins as he offered to help her up. “I owe you that much at least, right?” he said.
She startled as she ended the call just as the dispatcher picked up, brushing her finger under her lower lashes instinctively.
“You owe me a lot more than that,” Angela hissed, a tremor in her voice that she loathed. He was her first love, and just broke it off as if it were nothing. As though she didn’t matter.
“Yeah, I do,” he said simply, his hard, masculine face etched in sympathy. An expression she just was not used to seeing upon that handsome face of his. He tilted his head to the side, gesturing to the road. “Lemme give you that ride, and anything else you might want too. I owe you after all,” he said apologetically in that deep, gravelly voice.
And despite herself, she was tempted, moving towards him just a little as she looked up at him with wide eyes, tucking some dark hair behind her ear. She felt just like she did when she’d first met him a decade ago when she was so young and naive.
Ten years of fast living, of prison, of redemption and pain, and still he made her heart flutter.
“Fine, but it doesn’t mean anything,” she finally said as she stood.
“Of course,” Jamal led her along the sidewalk just up the road, to his black car. It was a nice vehicle for him having just gotten out of prison, though not exactly mind blowing. He unlocked and opened the passenger door for her.
Still a gentleman, she thought, inwardly rolling her eyes as she sat herself down on the leather seat. She rested her head back against the seat and let out a sigh as he slammed her door shut and rounded the car to slide into the driver’s seat.
“Corner of Dundas and George,” she said, not in the mood to talk. If he wanted to apologize for how he’d wronged her, he could go ahead, but all he was doing was saving her the cab fare.
Jamal took his time pulling out of the parking space and onto the busy Toronto streets. Silence reigned between them for a while, the man quiet as his thick arms moved the steering wheel, until finally…
“I’m sorry you’re still hurting,” he said at last. “I never thought you’d cling to what we had for this long.” He stated it all so simply, his voice a little softer than usual.
“Oh fuck you,” she hissed, all venom, her words slightly slurred.
“I was so fucking over you. I am so fucking over you,” she corrected herself quickly. “So get over yourself.”
His handsome, stoic expression never showed a flinch at her verbal assault. He just looked so damn cool through it all. So damn unfazed by her—
“I never could get over you,” he said firmly. “Never went a day without thinkin’ on you. It made prison both easier and harder,” he remarked, turning the wheel and taking them down another road.
That was unexpected, and she glanced towards him, her eyes narrowed as if he were pulling the wool over her eyes. Trying to trick her into admitting things she’d long ago settled.
The well of tears in her emerald eyes threatened once more to overflow and she instead looked back outside at the neon glow of Toronto at night as they went through the busy entertainment district.
She didn’t know what to say. What could she say?
She swiped along the lower rim of her eye once more, begging herself to hold it in just another couple of blocks.
“Just got out?” she managed through a mumble.
“Just today in fact,” he responded with a slow nod. When last she’d seen him, his hair was short and styled in an intimidating manner. Now it was long and luxurious, framing his broad face so wonderfully. “Had to pick up some of what I was owed. Then I was intending to track down someone I missed. See if things might be okay again. I guess not.”
“You broke up with me, Jamal. I’m not sure, like, how this was supposed to somehow be okay. You just left me, and dropped off the face of the planet. You don’t—” she had to stop herself, her voice cracking dangerously. It took her a few breaths to calm herself down, to make her voice cold once again. “You don’t know what I’ve gone through.”
“I know I don’t,” he said to her calmly, driving her towards her place. “But I was going to have to do some time, and I didn’t want you to have to pay it with me. I know you better than you know yourself, or at least I did,” he said, pulling up to where she told him to take her. “You’ve got needs. And I didn’t want you feelin’ obligated to me, holdin’ on to a love for me while I was away. I wanted you to go out and fuck your pains away guilt free.”
“And besides,” he added, putting the car in park, “if you knew I was gonna take the fall for someone else, you’d find a way to talk me out of it. And then we’d both be on the run from the consequences forever.”
He laid out all that information so plainly, but it still seemed to take him some effort to look her way. That handsome face fighting against the emotions that awaited beneath the surface, yet a knowing glance from her was enough to show the emotions that bubbled up beneath.
She couldn’t fight the tears forever, the fact that she’d lost him over something so stupid. He was right, she would have talked him out of it. And she would have gone on the run with him, without a second thought, and probably been happier than the four years she had spent since.
Fucking her pain away? Sure, but it never went away. It only grew, her anguish and self-loathing never lessening. She looked up towards her apartment, leaning towards the door as if it’d protect her, hold her as she trembled just like a school girl.
“And how much did you get, huh? How much was four fucking years of your life worth to those jackasses, huh? A few pats on the back and a wad of cash for your silence?” Anger and anguish mixed, her voice still slurred from the drinks.
“Not enough, you’re right,” he said to her, but she could see him shift uncomfortably, clearly the desire in him to reach out and comfort her was high, but he kept himself in check. “But the alternative was rattin’ out the only people I had connections with. And then what? We go on the run? Yeah, okay. And do what? Not exactly a big country when it comes to my line of work. Gettin’ hooked up with new suppliers and—”
He stopped abruptly, and looked at her with concern, lifting one thick arm to reach out and rub at her shoulder tentatively.
“I didn’t wanna burden you with this shit back then,” he said as if that was final.
Her head jerked at him with such force her hair slapped across her face as she glared.
“You don’t even know what you did to me!” she cried out, the alcohol loosening her tongue. Her fist connected with his arm, though not enough to hurt. “I went to prison too, asshole! What the fuck was I supposed to do without you, huh? Fucking two years gone. And you kno
w what I’ve gotten since? Nothing. You think you can ever walk away from that shit, you got another thing coming.”
Her punch against that hard muscle did nothing to faze him, but her words… they clearly cut to the bone. His expression melted instantly, and he looked devastated by the notion of her in jail, destitute.
“I thought you’d just go back to dancin’ when I was gone,” he muttered dumbly. “Shit, I mean… fuck, how’d they get you?” he asked, then shook his head. “Fuck I’m so sorry Angie,” he said, looking away and down, sounding crushed by that revelation.
“I got fired from dancing because I was too fucked up for the fucking coke-head owners and all the asshole bouncers,” she hissed, her mascara running as she desperately tried to fix it, to regain some control. But it was futile. Her life was a mess, and she was right back on the same path that got her there in the first place.
Jamal waltzing back into her life, talking about trying to protect her, that was just the last straw.
“Dammit, Angie,” he said, not condescendingly as he might’ve done years ago, but so regretfully. “I owe you for this, I’m so fuckin’ sorry,” he said, his strong fingers rubbing into her shoulder as he leaned over to wrap both arms around her and pull her into his embrace.
She couldn’t resist him, or how good it felt to have another person care about her. Someone she didn’t always have to be ‘on’ for. Someone who had seen her at her best and her worst and could bring out both of them in her.
It was just so nice to let herself feel all of the things she’d been trying to hide, to suppress and deny.
“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, trying to push him away. “I should go.”
Jamal resisted that push at first, still squeezing her form in his thick arms, but he relented, and loosened his grasp as he looked at her with wounded eyes. More sadness in him than she’d ever seen in all their years together before.
“I mean it, Angie,” he said to her in a low, strained voice, “I’ve got so much to make up to you. And I intend to make good. You’re due a share of all I’ve got for my time,” he said to her, unlocking the doors from his side for her.
“I don’t want your money,” she whined, fumbling with the door handle as if something within her wanted so desperately to stay. Finally she got out, looking up at her apartment building, at the peeling paint around the windows, the buzzer that was hanging off half broken.
She couldn’t even feel happy about her own score, the money she’d ‘earned’ that night.
Not now.
But as she turned to slam the door shut, the momentum sent her off balance and she stumbled backwards, falling rather unceremoniously on her ass.
From walking bombshell to stumbling fool, all because Jamal had come back into her life.
He was already climbing out of the car then, and made his way to her in a hurry.
“You okay?” he asked with concern, his brow furrowed as he reached down, taking her arm in one hand and scooping her up with the other arm. He lifted her with such ease, his prison-built-body able to hoist her with no issue. He was hard and warm, cradling her against his chest.
“I’m fine,” she said as she reached down to take off one of her too-high shoes, then the other, lowering her a half foot and making her have to stare up even higher at him. At least she was stable on her feet, though.
“You don’t just get to waltz back into my life after four years and expect everything’s okay,” Angela cried, her green eyes glossy as she stared at him, her lower lip trembling. “I can’t handle this right now. This week...” She rubbed her forehead then shook her head.
“I know,” he said to her, his voice sounding wounded but understanding.
“I’m fine. I’m home. Just go,” she said, trying to move away from his warmth and inwardly begging him not to listen to her.
He stood there, letting his hard fingertips trail along her arms as she began to move away from him, his grasp not loose enough to let her escape entirely without more force.
“I never thought it’d be easy,” he said to her in a low husk. “But know that I didn’t spend four years longing for you to give in easily either,” he said to her with a stubbornness that fit his new, towering masculine form. “And know that I know I owe you even more than I thought, I’m not about to ever let it go unpaid.”
His broad face was contorted with pain, his brows furrowed, his dark, almond-shaped eyes glimmering in the street lights as he released her fully at last, only keeping his hands positioned in case he needed to catch her.
“I’m with Romy now,” she said, though she didn’t know why. It wasn’t something that could ever go anywhere. Sure, she burned hot for him. But she’d already resolved that she’d have to end it — more than once — and that she couldn’t get caught up in his world. She so desperately wanted to, but the things she wanted to do for him were dangerous.
So stupidly dangerous.
“For now,” he said, as if agreeing with her. “But we both know boys would never hold your interest for long. And Romy’s just that: a boy.” He reached a hand up to lightly brush his thumb over her cheek, gazing at her so lovingly as he let it graze her lower lip. “We had somethin’ special, Angie. I was able to keep you happy like you’d never been before. And I owe you that and more now.”
He spoke with such certainty, as if everything he said were absolute truth.
The worst part was that she knew it was. For four years, she’d been searching to fill that void he’d left in her heart. Drugs, sex, and prison had all done more harm than good, though, and she looked up at him with wide eyes as she pushed herself away from him.
It killed her to do it when all she wanted was to feel his mouth against hers, for them to find what they’d both lost so long ago.
But she couldn’t, and she forced her gaze downwards. Everything within her was so frayed, rubbed raw and exposed.
“We can’t take it back,” she said, trying to sound strong but that little quiver gave her away.
“I was never the type to worry about takin’ things back, regrets are not my deal,” he said to her. “I made a bad choice years ago, yeah, but all I can do now is make up for lost time. And I intend to do just that,” he stood his ground, refusing to retreat, but not advancing either. Not without her say so. She knew well enough from when they first fell in love he’d not be the one to cross that line unbidden.
“I love you more strongly now than I did before it all went to shit,” he professed in the cool night air. “Four years were spent thinkin’ about you. Thinking of how I’d mend the damage I’d caused, and how I’d make you happy again. I hope at least I had a few good ideas.”
Tears stained her cheek and she wiped them away. Her entire body pulsed with such life.
Everything she’d been searching for, everything she’d been so desperate to feel, stood before her in one package of messy, terrible, amazing love. She’d never gotten over him, not for a second. No matter how enraged she’d been, no matter how off the track she’d gotten, she still thought of him in the dead of night, wondering what she’d done wrong. How she’d chased him off when things were going so good.
She stepped in towards him once more, drawn like a magnet to her first love, her tear stained face raised towards him.
“This isn’t fair,” she whispered.
Jamal lifted his arms and went to embrace her, but their moment was interrupted by the loud, loathsome roar of a motorcycle. No, several. The rumble tearing through the street, echoing off the buildings and making all sound die except for their cacophonous racket.
As the three hogs pulled up nearby to a halt, Jamal pulled her into his arms and leaned down. His deep, heavy voice piercing the air only by virtue of being so close to her ear.
“Lemme escort you to your door,” he said, a suspicious eye upon them.
She leaned against him with a nod, their beautiful, sad moment torn away from them by those assholes once more.
“You’re not coming in,” she
whispered as they moved.
“I know,” he said simply, no judgment in the words, no bitterness or sense of loss. He was focussed on the big, leather-clad thugs just down the road as he led her to her door. There he even stood between them and her, as they watched from beneath their helmets, as if blocking her from their view made all the difference.
“They’re always around,” she said with a sigh and a shrug. “Welcome to my glamorous life, Jamal.”
He gave them but one final look before offering her his sympathetic expression and resting his hand on her shoulder.
“We’ll work somethin’ out,” he promised her as she unlocked her building door. “You deserve much, much better.”
“Yea, well, tell that to all the people who won’t give me a job because of my criminal record. Just got fired, too, so it’s pretty much been a slam dunk of a week.”
“Meet me tomorrow for dinner,” he said bluntly over the purr of those bikes. “A simple dinner. Just you and me, and we’ll solve your problems,” he said to her, so confident and sure of himself. Just as he did when he’d solved so many of her other problems in the past, relieving her of all responsibility so she could just be… herself.
“Nowhere fancy,” she said, her arms folding beneath her chest as she looked up at him, her eyes still wet with tears. “And only so we can figure this out. Are you done with that? With them?”
He never used to lie to her, that time he broke up with her was the only point he’d ever told a falsehood by her accounting. So when he took a moment to think about it, she knew his shrug meant that he’d not decided.
“I wanna work for nobody but myself goin’ forward,” he said to her with firm certainty. “So how about I pick you up tomorrow here, at six?” it was a question, and that was peculiar for him. In years long ago he’d just set the agenda, and she’d keep to it. Relieving her of having to fuss over it. But they’d become estranged. And everything was starting anew.
So she nodded, opening the door further and slipping inside, her eyes working their way up his body. Finally, she bit in her lower lip and when she let it pop back out, she said, “I’m glad you’re okay.”
