I stepped inside her office, taking a seat on the leather sofa as she closed the door behind me.
“I’m sorry my last patient ran a bit over,” she apologized, taking the seat across from me, reaching for her notebook. She settled back against the chair, making herself comfortable, eyes firmly assessing me.
“No worries,” I mumbled, turning my head to glance at the framed degrees that lined the wall.
Fancy.
“This is a nice change,” she probed. And there it was. “You’ve been my patient…for what is it now…two, three months?” “Sixty-three days,” I said, lifting my eyes to hers.
“Okay. In sixty-three days I’ve never seen you wear anything other than sweats.” She remarked, staring at my face. “You have lipstick on.”
“So what?” I asked, shrugging my shoulders. “I didn’t have a chance to go to the laundromat.”
“And the lipstick?”
“I ran out of chap stick,” I replied, sighing heavily, tempted to wipe the lipstick off my lips with the back of my hand. She remained silent, her gaze worked me over as she tried to pick apart my inner thoughts. I squirmed uncomfortably in my chair, wishing like hell I’d disappear, snap my fingers and just vanish. It worked for Barbara Eden.
“I have a closet full of nice clothes,” I whispered. I don’t know what it was about this woman, how she managed to make me confess my deepest thoughts with just a simple glance. I think a part of me believed if I didn’t speak my mind she’d still know everything I was thinking and I’d only be lying to myself. I was very hesitant about therapy at first. I naively believed that speaking to a shrink meant I was crazy. But I learned that it did help, especially for a person like me who had no one else to talk to. I left every session feeling a little less broken and took comfort in the shreds of clarity I gained from my time with Dr. Spiegel.
“Go on,” she encouraged, causing me to stare into her hazel eyes.
I took a deep breath, shrugging my leather jacket off my shoulders and laid it across my lap. It was a splurge I had indulged in before the fire, trying to keep with the latest fashion trends and all that. Dr. Spiegel never met ‘the Reina’ who used to love pretty things. She never got to see the girl who would wake an hour early just to curl her hair or went for weekly manicures. No, she never met ‘the Reina’ who had stock in Macy’s shoe department. Vince Camuto, Michael Kors, Sam Edelman, I had them all: high heels, low heels, boots, booties, even shooties. They all sat in my closet collecting dust in clear plastic bins.
Dr. Spiegel only knew the Reina after the fire, the one who moved to the Projects hoping to hide from the rest of the world. It seemed like a good plan at the time, ditching the sweet life of the suburbs where status mattered, where the neighbors talked shit about you if you walked out of the house without makeup. No one looks at me now. I’m just another struggling soul living amongst the rest of the world, fading into the crowd.
“I had a momentary glimpse of my life before the fire, of the person I was before I became…well…me, I guess,” I frowned because the truth was that girl was just a memory and the girl that hid from the world was who I was now.
“You aren’t two different people, Reina. We’ve discussed this before. There is you, before the traumatic experience, and you now, who is trying to evade that person because of what you’ve been through. They are one and it’s up to you to merge them,” she explained. “What’s happened that has provoked this epiphany?”
“Remember when I mentioned the man that comes into the diner night after night?” I asked, watching her glance down at her notes.
“Jack,” she declared. His name instantly bringing me back to the night before, feeling his body against mine, the soft touch of his hand when he cared for my burn. My hand subconsciously touched the sleeve of my silk blouse that covered the gauze bandage I had placed over it this morning.
“I had an accident last night at work. Johnny, the cook, had gone out for a cigarette and asked me to take the food off the grill and plate it for my customer. I don’t know how I did it, but somehow my arm snagged a burn from the grill. I lost it,” I confessed. “I felt the sting of the burn and all I kept seeing were flashbacks of being trapped in that house, the flames chasing me, lapping at my skin.” I paused, shuddering as I remembered. “I felt like I was there, like I was begging the firemen to help us, even knowing that Danny was already dead,” I continued, lifting my eyes to Dr. Spiegel. “I don’t know if I mentioned that before,” I said.
“You mentioned that you didn’t want to leave Danny. You told me you fought the firemen off at first, begging them to rescue the both of you,” she commented, reading from her notes.
“He was dead,” I whispered. “I came home from dinner with my girlfriends and found him dead in the living room.” I closed my eyes picturing Danny lying face down on the floor, surrounded by his own blood. “I went to check for a pulse, turned over his hand and screamed.” Even now remembering that night, my own screams still echo in my ears. “Whoever killed him had cut off his pinky finger.” I continued, as tears slipped down my cheeks. Quickly wiping them with the back of my hand, I tried to keep talking. “Danny was brutally murdered before the fire started. I didn’t realize at the time that the fire was already on the second floor because I was in shock.” I threaded my fingers through my hair and kept going. “I begged the firemen to take us both because he had suffered enough. He had been brutalized and tortured. He should’ve been spared being burned too.”
Dr. Spiegel leaned over handing me a box of tissues. I plucked a few from the box and wiped at my face.
“Thank you,” I cried, trying to pull myself together. “Anyway, Jack came into the kitchen when I was having my meltdown. I don’t know when he came into the kitchen or why but I remembered hearing his voice and it pulled me out of my thoughts, out of the memories. I don’t know what it is about that man. I mean it’s crazy I barely know him. I can count on one hand, and that’s being generous, the facts I know about Jack.”
“What are they?”
“His name. How he likes his coffee is another. His club is called the Satan’s Knights and the only reason I know that is because when I was on the back of his motorcycle I was staring at his patch on the back of his leather jacket.”
“He’s part of the Satan’s Knights motorcycle club?”
“Yes,” I answered, narrowing my eyes toward her. “You’ve heard of them?”
“It sounds familiar,” she said passively. “So, what you are saying is that you feel safe with Jack? Am I right?”
I pondered her question for a moment before nodding my head.
“Yes amongst other things.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“I don’t feel like a freak. I know I hide from myself, from the world, but somehow he sees right through that. I feel like he sees me, who I was before the fire. It sounds ridiculous but the moment I wrapped my arms around him and held on tight, I felt alive. I didn’t remember what it was like to enjoy something until the moment he revved his engine. He took me away from the darkness, no questions asked, and brought me back to life,” I whispered. “He calls me Sunshine,” I said, my words more of a realization than a declaration. “Ironic isn’t it? Since he’s the one who brought light into my life, even if it was just for a short while.”
“Sounds like there is a connection between the two of you,” she said softly. “Maybe he sees something in you he can relate to.”
“Maybe, but it doesn’t matter. He hates me,” I said, leaning back against the sofa, my shoulders slumped in defeat. I was up half the night kicking myself for being so rude to Jack. I had no business insulting the man who helped me. But he was going to kiss me and I had to stop it. I had to stop it because I wanted it too. Jack not only breathed life into me with a ride on his motorcycle but with his mere existence. He made me feel things. With his touch, he jumpstarted those feelings I thought had died. He made me question if I could live again, really
live and not just exist. I had forgotten every sensation, completely consumed by the numbness inside of me, until last night. And that scared me more than anything.
“Why do you say that?”
“I pushed him away. I insulted him and asked him to leave,” I cringed.
“And why did you do that?”
“Because I was scared if I didn’t push him away, I’d let him in. He has the power to unravel me, all of me, my secrets, my scars, my sorrows, everything with just one look,” I admitted.
“I don’t think that would be such a horrible thing,” she expressed, her eyes traveling the length of me as she looked at me thoughtfully for a moment. “It’s a nice change, Reina. Real refreshing to see,” she said, with a smile. “I think you owe the man an apology.”
I remained silent, leaving out how the napkin he had given me with his contact information felt as if it was burning a hole in my pocket.
My time was up so I shrugged my jacket on and thought about apologizing to Jack. I was never one for apologies, always tasted bitter in my mouth, but Jack deserved an apology. The thing was, after the way he left my apartment I wasn’t sure he’d even want to hear me say the words that always seemed to choke me up.
After I left Dr. Spiegel’s office I wandered around the city for a while. Today was my day off and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t want to stay in my apartment. I bought myself an overpriced cup of coffee and walked around aimlessly. I forgot how colorful New York was, how entertaining it was to just watch people live their lives. The hustle and bustle of the city, the constant rush—I missed it.
I stopped in front of a bakery, watching as a worker filled the display window with freshly baked goods, and then it came to me.
Cherry Pie.
Chapter Seven
I paid the cab driver, carefully balancing the pie in my hand, and climbed out of the car. I expected a house, or maybe even an apartment building but the address Jack gave me was to a large warehouse. I made my way past the fence that lined the perimeter of the property and crossed the parking lot. I don’t think I had ever seen so many motorcycles in one place before. Each of them were meticulously kept as they lined the front of the building. I felt the pangs of desire creep inside me, wishing I could get on the back of one again.
As I got closer to the men that were huddled around outside laughing, I could feel their eyes settle on me. I wasn’t sure if it was my heart that was pounding so loudly in my ears or if it was the music blaring from inside the warehouse.
“What do we have here?” A big burly man drawled as his eyes inspected me, violating me with just one stare.
My feet stilled, and I stared back at the man, my mouth agape, taking him in. He smiled creepily as he elbowed the biker beside him. “Look at what I found, Pipe. Hot damn, what a pretty little piece of ass.”
“Aye,” the beast called Pipe said. What kind of name was Pipe? I shook the ridiculous question from my head and licked my lips. “How you doing little lady?”
I felt like I was Baby from Dirty Dancing carrying a pie instead of a watermelon, and instead of the cool dancers making me feel uncomfortable it was a bunch of drunken bikers. I should’ve turned around. I should’ve run but my feet were stuck.
“Looks like Little Red Riding Hood lost her way. It’s okay sweet thing, we don’t bite,” the beastly biker crooned. “Unless you’re into that kind of shit.”
“Wolf, you’re scaring the girl,” Pipe said, laughing.
Wolf? How fitting.
“Blackie, get your ass over here,” Wolf called out over my shoulder, before diverting his eyes back to mine. “You don’t mind if we share you little lady do you? More fun for you. You came here looking for some fun didn’t you?”
“Picked a hell of a night too. Maybe we should let Riggs ride the train too, since it’s his party and all,” Pipe said, ignoring me as he spoke to Wolf.
Ride the train? I needed to get the hell out of this place. I glanced at the two men before me, the ruckus from the warehouse filling my ears, and couldn’t help but think how I truly knew nothing about Jack. If these people were any indication of the man that came into the diner, then I didn’t want to know him and I was better off keeping my apology and my pie to myself.
“What are you two assholes doing?” Questioned a voice from behind me. I slowly turned around and my eyes met his. He was taller than Wolf and Pipe, broader, harder. He crossed his arms against his chest bringing my attention to the leather cut he wore. It was similar to the one I had seen on Jack but instead his patch declared him the vice president of these hooligans. I swallowed, trying to wet my dry mouth and continued to stare at him blankly.
“Look what stumbled into our territory,” said Wolf, laying a hand on my shoulder. I flinched, taking a step closer to Blackie.
He looked down at me, his eyes searching mine for a moment before glancing back to the two men standing closely behind me.
“Piss off you two,” he growled.
“Hey, fuck that, finder’s keepers brother,” Wolf exclaimed.
He fixed his eyes on Wolf, delivering him a deadly glare. Wolf mumbled a slew of curses, some pretty vulgar, before walking around me. He treated me to a wink before pulling Pipe beside him and walking away.
“How’d you get in here?” He asked roughly.
I didn’t know if that was a trick question, there wasn’t exactly a guard at the gate or anything like that.
“A girl like you don’t strut into the Dog Pound because she made a wrong turn. So, I’m going to ask you again. How’d you get in here?”
“I made a mistake,” I stammered. “I don’t belong here.”
“Well, you’re here now so you’re going to tell me why,” Blackie demanded, his voice rising.
“Jack,” I blurted out. “I’m looking for Jack.”
Confusion settled over his features as he raised an eyebrow, assessing me in disbelief.
“You’re looking for the Bulldog?” He took a step back, grazing the stubble that shadowed his face with the back of his hand.
“Is that Jack?” I questioned.
Blackie didn’t answer at first, tearing his eyes from me to look back at the building.
I was seriously contemplating turning around and running while his attention was focused elsewhere but then his cold stare washed over me.
“You want a piece of the Bulldog,” he said. It wasn’t a question, he said it as if it was a stone cold fact. “Let’s see if you got the chops, girl.” He tipped his head toward the door. “After you.”
His voice hung in the air like a dare, taunting me until I accepted and started for the door. I nearly toppled over as the door pushed open and a scantily dressed woman emerged swaying on her six inch heels.
“Watch it,” she hissed, lifting her eyes to Blackie. “Moved on so quickly did you Black?”
Blackie ignored the woman but I couldn’t help but gawk at her. Her hair was a mess, her make-up smeared across her face, and her clothes were in disarray. She looked like a prostitute.
“Keep it moving,” Blackie whispered against my ear, as he held the door open for me.
I exhaled, wishing like hell I never came here. I stepped inside the warehouse and was immediately hit with the foul stench of stale smoke. I blinked through the haze, my eyes finally focusing and I let them travel around the large room. I wasn’t sure if I had walked into a frat house or a brothel. There were people having sex right there in the open for anyone to see. They were smoking pot in the corner and ripping lines across the bar.
I had miscalculated and misjudged the man I came here seeking forgiveness from. I don’t know what I was thinking or what I expected but this, this wasn’t it.
In a world as dark as the one I live in, sometimes I can’t help but crave sunshine.
If this was the world Jack inhabited, then he was right, it was a dark one and sunshine, definitely didn’t fit amongst all this dark shit. I didn’t fit in.
Not me, before the fire and certainly not who I was now.
“There’s the Bulldog,” Blackie said, his arm stretching over my shoulder as he pointed toward the far left corner of the room. I followed his finger, choosing to block out the people surrounding me and focus on the reason I was here.
Jack leaned back against an old black leather sofa, his arms stretched wide across the back of the couch. I watched, mesmerized as he threw his head back against the pillows and closed his eyes, his ruggedly handsome features twisting and contorting in pleasure. His lips, shadowed by the scruff of a day or two's growth, lifted in the faintest of grins. He was beautiful in a lethal sort of way. I stared in awe as the man who always seemed so intense, unraveled before my very eyes.
He dropped one hand to his lap, threading his fingers through the hair of the woman positioned between his thick thighs. I couldn’t tell what she looked like as she was on her knees with her back toward me and her face buried balls deep between Jack’s legs. He fisted her hair, arched his hips and fucked her mouth.
It was vulgar, and it was obscene but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. I think I even took a few steps further into the room, hoping to get a better look. I felt something dormant awaken inside of me. A burning for something I didn’t realize was missing from my life. Something I didn’t know I was still capable of feeling.
I clenched my legs tightly together, trying to dull the ache that stirred between my thighs, the need that ripped through me, screaming for relief. Jack was oblivious to his surroundings, fixed on getting off, working for it like his life depended on it.
Uncontrollable Temptations (The Tempted Series Book 3) Page 5
