Cut

by Bry Ann

  His rough, sandpaper hands keep stroking, ever so gentle. After several minutes of this, I peek my eyes open. I’m met with the eyes of a very confused man.

  I grab his thigh and let my body melt into the hard comfort.

  I’ve known hard. I’ve known a version of love. But this.

  I’ve never known it. Never had it.

  And I really, really like it.

  14

  “Why do you call him big guy?” Rose asks, swinging her feet on the bed, while I pop aspirin and hold my sunglasses to my face. I’m so hungover. After falling asleep on Cut’s lap, he apparently drove me back to Rose’s house. I have no memory of the interaction. When I woke up, though, Rose was hovering over me with a goofy smile on her face, telling me Cut carried me to her door. Carried. Me.

  I’m sure I’m going to be deathly humiliated by this later, but I’m too miserable right now to care.

  “I’m not gonna call him Cut.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s cruel.”

  “I guess I never really thought of it that way. He wants us to call him that. It’s all I know him as.”

  “I’m not judging, I just can’t do it, personally.”

  “Now I feel shitty.”

  “Hey, even Lacey calls him Cut. Don’t feel bad.”

  Too late. I pushed the button on Rose’s guilt monitor. Girl is an angel who can’t stand knowing she may have offended someone.

  “Where’s Sven?”

  I decide to change the subject before I send her spiraling even further. She opens her mouth, but as if on cue, Sven appears in the doorway with a smirk on his face.

  “You alive? You were out cold last night. Your own personal hero had to come deliver you to us.”

  “Oh, shut up, Sven. I’m sure you could put it down back in your day.”

  “Still can. I’m just smarter than that now.”

  “Oh yeah, you’re a real genius,” I grumble, lying back.

  Sven rounds the bed so he’s beside us, leaning against the dresser.

  “You should have seen yourself last night, Maria, all snuggled up against Cut’s chest, sighing dreamily.”

  “I was not sighing!”

  Sven smiles and starts to make light sighing sounds. I can’t even imitate them, they are so ridiculous. I throw my sunglasses off, grab the pillow out from under me, and chuck them across the room at him, starting with the sunglasses and adding the pillow for good measure.

  He throws his head back and laughs, deep and full, dodging the pillow with little effort.

  “It’ll be a lamp next, then maybe a butcher knife it you don’t shut up.”

  “You’re taking to this fresh-out-of-the-mafia-house life well, I see.”

  Before I can respond, Rose’s delicate hand is covering mine.

  “I know you’re embarrassed. Ignore him. He’s just being a dick,” she calls over her shoulder as he leaves the room. “That’s just his way of saying he was worried about you and he’s glad you’re okay.”

  I snort. “Yeah, and I’m sure he wants to kiss my wounds and make them better, too.”

  Her expression goes soft. “He cares. I promise. He’s just immature. It’s like he’s growing up twenty years too late. Think of it that way.”

  I cock my head to the side. “Alright, I guess. I just need a good fuck. It’s been too long, and Frances kind of broke my hand last time I had sex, sooo…. yeah. Maybe that’s what has me so off.”

  “You should have seen yourself last night, Maria, all snuggled up against Cut’s chest, sighing dreamily.”

  UGHH! I literally don’t even talk to the guy much, except for when he’s saving my ass, apparently.

  “I don’t think you’d fuck anyone right now, Maria,” Rose says softly.

  “Oh, I so would! You know that.”

  “What are you trying to prove? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this out of sorts before, Maria. Honestly, before this week, I was beginning to wonder if you even got upset.”

  ‘Cause that’s how it should be! Take me to freaking Albany. Set me straight, geez.

  “I’m not upset, but my reputation is on the line here!”

  “I don’t think this is about your reputation.”

  “Then what is this about?”

  “I think you like Cut, and you don’t want to just ‘fuck’ him. And I think that scares you.”

  “I need to fix this.”

  Rose’s eyebrows pull down immediately. “Fix what?”

  I wave my arm around the room, then down my body. “This situation. I was not snuggling him, okay? I was drunk.” I glance at my friend. “Plastered, actually. The bar owner is the one who set me up with him. I was too drunk to turn down a source of comfort. Okay? Sue me. Geez, tough crowd.”

  “Why were you getting drunk?”

  Shit. “Lacey’s husband is an asshole.”

  Her eyes narrow. I’m sure her therapist senses are tingling all over the place. I know mine would be. Hell, I was doing the same shit she is not even a year ago.

  “He certainly can be,” she says warily, “but it’s not like you to be affected by men like him.”

  “Yeah, yeah. We’ve already established I’m off.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “Nothing of importance.”

  She snorts. “Yes, that’s why you broke your cardinal rule of being an ‘in-control party girl’ and drank your ass off.”

  I decide to keep my mouth shut. I have nothing to say that won’t dig me into a deeper hole. Not to mention I have no clue how to explain something to her that I don’t even understand myself.

  Rose sighs. “Look, let’s get presentable.” Her eyes flicker to my sunglasses. “And we’ll go see Lacey.”

  When I tense slightly, she amends her statement. “I’ll text her first, of course. We have lots of people in that house we need to avoid now, apparently.”

  She raises her eyebrows before climbing out of the bed in one of Sven’s white button-downs.

  “I’m assuming you can’t go to Albany, right?”

  She spins around, jaw slack. “Albany?”

  “You know what, never mind. Forget I said anything.”

  “No, Maria, I can try—”

  “Forget it!” I snap. “I mean, forget it, babe,” I say more sweetly.

  “Maria, are you okay?”

  I faintly remember Cut asking me the same thing last night.I shrug.

  “Who knows?”

  Rose looks so worried now. “Okay, let’s just go see Lacey.”

  Like that’ll fix it. I need my dad. You can do this alone, jefe. That’s what he said after he was diagnosed, before things got bad.

  He was so, so wrong.

  I spent the whole ride to Lacey’s figuring out how I was going to fix this.

  I have to talk to Cut.

  I don’t know what I told him, but whatever it was, I don’t want him telling anyone. I can’t shut my stupid freaking mouth when I’m drunk.

  Rose and Lacey can talk and gossip about me while I call him. Yep, that’s what I’m going to do. Lacey has his number. I’ll just get it from her.

  “Hey, Rose,” Enzio calls as we pass the dining hall. He pushes the chair back and jogs over to us. He’s dressed in a full suit. It seems off on this guy, I don’t know. He seems like a genuinely good fellow. Too good, though. Too good for here. I’ve suspected for a while that he has ulterior motives for joining the mafia, but I’m not a part of this life at all, except for knowing Lacey. It’s not my place to say anything.

  He drops his voice. “How’s Sven?”

  “Good as ever. You know him.”

  She rolls her eyes. How he and Rose still manage to have a love-hate relationship is beyond me. That usually fades once you’re engaged. But hey, good for them.

  “Where’s Lacey?”

  “Last I saw her, she was in the recovery room.”

  “Recovery room?”

  “Come on,” Rose says, grabbing my hand and pulli
ng me toward this apparent ‘recovery room.’

  I’m led down a series of halls and stairs up to a set of double doors, not far from her boxing space. Rose knocks.

  “Who is it?” A quiet voice calls out.

  “Rose and Maria.”

  “Oh, give me a second.” There’s shuffling. “Okay, come in!”

  Rose pushes the door open. A soft laugh bursts out of her.

  “Catch you at a bad time,” Rose teases.

  I look over and see Lacey standing beside an ice bath, wrapped in a towel with a Roxy sweatshirt haphazardly thrown on on top. She’s shivering head to toe.

  “Wanna talk in the sauna?” I laugh, taking a quick glance around room. The room is a professional athlete’s dream. No wonder they call it the recovery room. I’m no expert on this stuff, but it seems to have everything: an ice bath, a sauna, foam rollers. I’m surprised it doesn’t come with its own built-in chiropractor. No, he’s probably on call.

  “I’m f-f-fine,” Lacey stutters, with chattering teeth.

  “Na-aw,” I tisk.

  I grab her hand and shove her into the sauna. Then I grab Rose and pull her in, too.

  “Okay, now that that problem is solved... Do you have Cut’s number?”

  Lacey’s eyebrows shoot up, but she quickly recovers.

  “Uh, yeah, I…” She frowns. “I don’t, actually. I’m sorry. That’s awful. I should have it. My husband always schedules, and I see him every day so I’ve never had a need for it. Wow, I should really have that.”

  While she’s busy being disturbed by the fact that her husband has that number and not her, I’m off. I sprint out of there at full speed, like this is a life or death situation. Like I haven’t spent the whole morning being hungover at Rose’s house versus handling this.

  I don’t know where I’m going, but if her husband has that fucking number, I’m getting it. I don’t care how I feel about him.

  “Maria, what the—”

  A hand wraps around my bicep, halting me.

  “Let me go!” I snap without turning around. I have somewhere to be. When the hand doesn’t peel off of me, I spin around with an eye roll. “Seriously, I told you…”

  I freeze when I see who it is. My blood turns to ice.

  “Frances, seriously, if you’re gonna—”

  “Oh, shut up. Just hear me out and you can go. I’m not going to hurt you. God, I thought you were so different. I’m disappointed.”

  I scowl as he releases my arm. “What, then? What the hell do you want?”

  I take in Frances’s battered face. He’s taken a beating lately. A bad one. Because of me? He looks down and then back up again. This time, his jaw is gritted.

  “I wouldn’t have done it, you know?”

  “Done what?” I say, like I don’t already know.

  He glares at me. “Don’t be a bitch. You know.” Yeppp. “Break your bones, sure, I’ll do that. They’ll heal, whatever. But I never would have raped you. That’s permanent shit.”

  This dude is twisted, but I knew that from the start. I really don’t think he would have raped me, though. I saw it in his eyes when he asked me if I was joking when I fought back. I don’t respond right away, though. I make him sweat a little.Finally, I respond, being sure to pull my shoulders back and stand tall. I may be a mess at the moment, but right here, right now, I’m strong. I’m Maria Vasquez, and I’m damn proud of that fact.

  “I know,” I say simply. “But fuck you for breaking my hand.”

  His lips curl up in dark amusement. “It’s such a shame you’re not as tough as you seem.”

  I fight the urge to react. “It’s a shame you won’t be getting laid for a while with your face all jacked up at my hand. I may not have physically done it, but it’s because of me you look that way.” I lean in real close. “So next time a girl rejects you and you’re jacking off to the memory of our night together,” I trace his cheek gently and then slap him. “Remember me.”

  “What the hell is going on here?”

  Both of us spin around to see the boss standing there, his dark eyes taking in the scene in front of him.

  “Oh, just telling Frances here how sorry I am his face looks like it went through a meat grinder.”

  I feign innocence as I smile cruelly at the man in front of me. He pinches the bridge of his nose and looks to the floor.

  “Do you bring trouble everywhere you go? And I thought Rose was annoying.”

  “No trouble here.” I smirk. “Right, Frances?”

  He thinks for a moment, then nods in agreement. “No trouble, Boss.”

  He knows, despite all the bossman’s grumbling, Frances would take the fall for this, not me. It’s in his best interest to go with what I’m saying.

  No matter how much it bruises his fragile ego. Frances trots off after that. Good riddance.

  “Just the man I was looking for,” I say with a smile.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He says flatly.

  “I need Cut’s number.”

  Much like Lacey’s did, his eyebrows shoot up.

  “Unless you want to revoke your condition about me needing somebody to go to Albany with me, that’s all I need for now.”

  “You give me a headache.”

  “Phone, dear.”

  He glares at me. Aww, he doesn’t like the endearment. I was trying to be nice, since I want to smack his face too.

  “What the fuck do you need his number for?” He snaps as he digs in his pockets for his phone.

  “None ya. What is it?”

  I pull out my cell phone and hold it in front of me, fingers hovering over the digits.

  “957-2408. You know the area code. If not, ask someone else.”

  He shoves his phone back in his suit pocket and stalks out of the room without another word. Alrighty then. I type the numbers into my phone and run out onto the patio. It rings one time. Which is insane. My phone has to ring at least six times before I answer it, if I even answer it at all.

  Cut’s gruff voice rings out over the speaker.

  “Cut.”

  I guess that’s how he answers unknown numbers. Friendly.

  Not.

  God, I’m so nervous. What did I tell him last night?

  “Hey, it’s Maria.”

  “Maria?” Actual shock is evident in his tone. “How did you get my number?”

  “Bribing people who had it.”

  “How would you bribe the boss?” His tone is flat.

  “I get out of his face if he gives me your number. It’s a win-win.”

  A sound echoes through the phone, but it’s muffled. Like the speaker was suddenly pulled away.

  “Were you laughing?” I tease. “Oh my gosh, did I just make you laugh? Do I get a trophy?”

  My eyes are shining and my heart is light. I can literally feel it, and a deep part of me feels sick about that.

  “Stop, Maria.”

  “Aww, you’re embarrassed.”

  “Maria. Why are you calling me?”

  “Right.”

  My laughter dies in an instant as reality floats back to the surface. My fingers tingle with the urge to fidget, but I won’t give into that. My dad would literally knock me upside the head for showing that kind of cowardice. Stand tall, jefe, be strong, be brave. Don’t show them you’re scared. That’s when they hurt you.

  “I wanted to talk about yesterday.”

  A dull throbbing in my head serves as a not-so-subtle reminder of what happened. There’s a silence on the other end, then…

  “Maria, you don’t have to do this. I’m not judging you.”

  “No, I do. I’m a grown woman. I screwed up, and I have to own up to it. I’m no saint, but I don’t pull the kind of shit I did last night. I’m a responsible drinker, despite what people may think. I had my reasons, which I’m sure I told you.”

  I wince, and it shows in my voice.

  “Can we meet for coffee so I can apologize properly?”

  “You w
ant to meet me for coffee?”

  His voice is equally mocking and confused.

  “Yeah, a latte. Quit acting like I just propositioned you.”

  The second the words are out of my mouth, I want to suck them back in. Using sex as a defense is habit for me, but I don’t like that I just did that with him. I don’t at all. It’s leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

  “Fine.” His voice is harsh. “I’ll meet with you, but I’m busy all week. Starting tomorrow, I have clients back to back. It’ll have to wait.”

  AKA, he has more important things to do.

  “What about tonight, then?”

  “Maria,” he groans. “You said coffee.”

  I roll my eyes. “Tea, then.”

  “Jesus Christ. I don’t give a shit that you were drunk and lonely. We all have our days. You seem like you have it handled. I’m over it.”

  Why does that hurt?

  I try to catch my bearings, but for some reason, I’m struggling. A few incoherent sounds come out of my mouth. I don’t know what to say. It’s humiliating. When I continue to struggle like an idiot, a soft sigh echoes on the line.

  “Maria, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  “You did, but it’s fine. I get it,” I say quickly, trying to recover and failing. “Anyway, I’ll see you around. Have a great night and rest up for the week.”

  Rest up for the week? What the hell is wrong with me?

  Albany. Albany. Albany.

  “Maria,” his voice is commanding, but not dominating. A tone I’ve only ever heard from him. A combination that could make any person submit. “My favorite spot is Bagels, Tea, and More off 3rd. Does that work for you?”

  “Yes,” I whisper, feeling oddly vulnerable.

  “Six o’clock?”

  “Perfect.”

  “Alright, then. I’ll see you soon.”

  He clicks off.

  And I’m nervous. Freaking nervous. Rose comes out onto the patio, walking slowly.

  “Maria, what are you doing?”

  Her voice is soft, delicate, like I may shatter if she says them too loud. She didn’t hear my conversation, but still, I look at her, panicked.

  “I don’t know, Rose. I really don’t know.”

  15