Masquerade

by Nyrae Dawn

  “No.”

  I push off the wall so I’m standing right in front of him when he speaks again.

  “Do you want to leave with me?”

  “We go to a hotel, not a house. And it’s only one night.”

  “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” He smirks. It’s the first time I’ve seen him do anything except scowl.

  “I’m all about equal opportunity, remember?”

  “Are you drunk?”

  “No, just had the one beer.”

  Maddox gives me a simple nod, then tells me the name of a hotel and says he’ll meet me there.

  To be sure, I walk over to a different bouncer than the one who talked to him and confirm Maddox works here. You never know what kind of scams people will come up with and I need to confirm he’s legit.

  A few minutes later I’m in my car and driving to the hotel. Just one night. It’s been crazy and stressful getting everything ready for Masquerade, and I really want to let go and have a little fun, with someone who’s safe because I’ll never have to see him again.

  Chapter Two

  ~Maddox~

  The roar of my motorcycle helps block out my thoughts as I cruise to the shitty hotel where I told Bee I’d meet her. It’s not often I take a woman somewhere for the night. After dealing with Mom and taking care of my sister, Laney, for the past four years, I stay the hell away from woman drama.

  Not that I really do shit for Mom.

  But I owe Laney. She’s the only person in this world I give a shit about, but she doesn’t really need me anymore either. She’s living in our old apartment with her boyfriend, Adrian, who I still don’t know if I like. If he fucks with her, I’ll fuck with him and he knows it. They’ve been together a while and started college together this month. He’s good to her. Not that I admit that to her.

  The tatted-up blonde was too hot to walk away from, though, and it’s not like I have anything else to do. I haven’t talked to Mom since her last suicide attempt in January, work can’t last forever, and I just lost the only other thing I gave a shit about besides my sister—tattooing.

  I take a right turn before pulling into the parking lot. Three lights are out in the VACANCY sign.

  The bike rumbles underneath me and my body is all jacked up, knowing it’ll soon be with a woman. It’s probably been eight months since the last time I met someone here. It wasn’t long after Laney and I moved to Brenton.

  “Don’t let your dick get you into trouble,” Dad told me when I was thirteen before he tossed me a box of condoms. “It’s your own business, so I don’t want to know if you need them yet—just make sure you use them when you do.”

  I wonder why he didn’t take his own advice about trouble. Was it his dick that betrayed him, making him need some chick on the side, or did the greed come first—the money and gambling that led to her? If he’d been stronger, he wouldn’t be in prison right now for getting drunk and running down Adrian’s son with his car. My sister wouldn’t feel guilt because her dad killed her boyfriend’s kid, and Mom never would have tried to kill herself.

  And I wouldn’t be sitting here lying to myself because it’s really me who could have been stronger. I could have told my mother and sister about the affair before things went too far.

  “You coming?” Bee’s silky voice says over the sound of my bike. I didn’t even hear her walk up.

  Pulling the helmet off my head, I turn to her. “Eager?” Standing under the streetlight makes it so she can see my wink.

  “I’m ready to go in or go home. Decide quickly before I do it for you.” She crosses her arms and there’s no doubt in my mind this girl will walk away. She’s tough. One look at her tells me that and I respect it. I don’t have room in my life for dealing with anyone else’s shit.

  I turn off the engine, slide the kickstand into place, and climb off my silver and black bike. It’s old and needs some work, but it’s mine.

  “Come on.” I nod toward the building and start walking.

  “Why here?” she asks.

  “You’re the one who said a hotel.”

  “And you just happened to know the perfect place close by.”

  I shrug, not willing to sugarcoat anything for her. “Anonymous works for me. If that’s not what you want, say so right now.”

  “I wouldn’t have said a hotel in the first place if it wasn’t what I needed.”

  I don’t call her on the use of the word need instead of want. Not my business.

  Gripping the handle, I pull open the glass door and signal for her to go inside. She walks right up to the counter, with me behind her. Less than three minutes later, we’re using a key to open the door to room 57. As soon as we’re inside, I hit the lights.

  “Condoms?” she asks.

  “Obviously.”

  “You don’t have to be a jerk. I just wanted to see if you had them or if I needed to grab mine.” Bee tosses her purse onto the chair.

  For some reason, the side of my mouth almost tilts up into a half-smile. This girl doesn’t fuck around and I like that.

  Pulling my wallet out, I grab a foil package from inside and toss it on the bed. Bee stands there, a little flicker of something I can’t read in her eyes. My mind stumbles on it, making me pause.

  “We doing this or not?” she asks.

  The words are what I need to keep me on track. “Oh yeah. We’re doing this.” These are the nights that are only about me—well, and whoever I’m with, but I don’t let any of the shit from my life bleed in.

  Bee grins and a mixture of need and maybe a little bit of what almost looks like selfishness and then she’s on me.

  Her lips come down hard on mine, my hand cups her ass. I pull her against me, push down the back of her pants, and slightly lift her off the ground. The curve of her ass fits perfectly in my hand, but it’s not enough. I need more.

  Jerking away, I grab the bottom of her shirt and pull it over her head, giving me a better view of the tats on her shoulders.

  She’s breathing hard, her chest heaving. My hand moves toward her, my finger tracing the edge of her bra as I study her—the ring in her belly button, the edges of what I think are more stars going up her side, close to her back.

  I’ve never been with a woman with so many tats. She’s not covered in them, but enough decorate her skin. I get the closest I ever come to any kind of pillow talk when I grit out, “Fuck, you’re hot.”

  “You don’t have to sweet-talk me. I’m already here.”

  “I don’t sweet-talk.”

  “You next or what?” She quirks a brow at me and damned if I don’t almost smile again. Before I get the chance, her hands are on me, shoving my shirt up. They stop on my chest and I help her by pulling off the material covering me.

  I don’t have as much ink as her. I can see her looking at the few pieces I have and it’s like she’s dissecting them.

  This strange sort of fear spikes inside me because of the way her eyes are eating me up. Yeah it’s only sexual, but I need to make sure it stays that way.

  “We have way too many clothes on.” I push the button on my pants through the hole, unzip, and kick out of them.

  Bee’s crawling onto the bed and I’m right behind her. “These have to go.” I get rid of her pants just as quickly, getting a brief look at a sunflower on her calf as she lies beneath me in nothing but a purple pair of panties and a bra. She’s sexy as hell, all that creamy skin with bursts of colorful artwork.

  Her nails are painted black, I notice, as she pushes my boxer-briefs down, my erection springing free.

  Her hand wraps around me and I groan, trying to focus enough to get her panties down. When I do, she slips free of them.

  She’s stroking as I push the cups of her bra down so her breasts spill over.

  “This is going to be over before it starts if you don’t stop with that,” I tell her.

  Bee lets go, for the first time letting out a real laugh that turns into a loud moan when I drop my mouth to one peak.<
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  My moves are scripted, my body on autopilot as I get her ready—fingers and mouth teasing each mound. I grind against her, feel her wetness, wait for her little gasps and moans to increase before I’m rolling the condom down and pushing inside her—taking my quick, anonymous pleasure and hoping I’m giving her what she’s looking for too.

  It’s not long before her nails are digging into my back and sounds fall from her lips quicker and louder. When she tenses under me, her body shaking in aftershocks, I give in. My release immediately follows, and then I’m rolling off her, our sweat-slicked bodies side by side.

  “Wow . . .” she pants between breaths.

  I take that as a compliment, not sure she gives many of them out. “No shit.” For now, all the tension is gone from my body.

  “I should go,” she says, and I don’t argue. It’s exactly what I need it to be. We both got what we were looking for.

  “Thanks,” tumbles out of my mouth as I watch her get dressed.

  “You don’t have to thank me for sex. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t what I wanted too.”

  For only a second, a thought climbs its way into my head, making me wonder why she’s okay with this. I mean, I’ve obviously done it before, but it was never this simple. The girl usually isn’t the one leaving. Before the questions get their claws in, I slam the door on them.

  “See ya later,” she says before walking out.

  I make a quick trip to the bathroom, get rid of the condom, and clean up. I consider getting dressed to head home. It’s not like I have anyone there who will wonder where I am, so I grab my cigarettes, turn off the lights, and spend the rest of the night alternating between sleeping and smoking.

  I reach into the bag on my bike and pull my sketchbook out. Before going in, I flip through it, again making sure I marked my favorite pages.

  A thrill of excitement strums through me like I haven’t felt since sitting in the tattoo parlor where I apprenticed for a few months. Before that, I hadn’t felt it since I played football in school. Before I quit. Before I realized what a bastard my old man is. Before I stopped giving a shit.

  Shaking my head, I head toward the building, hoping like hell this is going to work out. I left a message this morning, telling the owner that I’m interested in apprenticing here, left my number, and said I’d be down later. Then I sat around like a pussy, hoping he’d call back before I came down.

  He didn’t.

  I pull open the door but don’t see anyone inside. There’s only one workstation, a desk with a computer, and then a small hallway leading to another room.

  “Hello?” I call out.

  “Yeah?” a female voice replies.

  What the fuck? She could at least come out here. The urge to walk out hits me. I don’t have time for this shit. It’s probably a waste of time anyway. Still, I reply, “I called earlier. Lookin’ for a place to apprentice.”

  “Sorry, just opened up. I don’t need to take on any scratches right now.” As soon as the last word clears her mouth, she steps around the corner.

  Motherfucker.

  Bee’s eyes widen in shock, but she recovers quickly, making me do the same.

  “Don’t call me a scratch.” My fist tightens on the book in my hand; disappointment takes control of me. Jesus, what are the odds of sleeping with one of the only tattoo artists in town? The only one left who hasn’t already told me they’re not looking? Especially when neither of us wanted to see each other again.

  “I’m not trying to be a bitch when I say it, but it’s what you are. When I first started, I was a scratch too. If you can’t handle getting shit, you really don’t belong here.” She sits in the chair behind the desk.

  Anger fills me, banging against my pride.

  “You don’t know me or what I can handle.” Shut up. Chill out, man. She’s your last opportunity.

  I don’t want it anymore, if it has to be with her. I don’t see women again after I’ve had them. It’s too fucking close.

  She sighs. “That doesn’t change the fact that this wouldn’t work out. Let’s focus on me not needing to take a scratch under my wing right now. I have too much going on.”

  I almost hand her my sketchbook. Almost mention she wouldn’t be saying that if she saw my stuff, but fuck it. Putting myself out there isn’t something I’m about to do for anyone, especially not her.

  Without a word, I turn and walk out, the door pushing open so hard it slams into the wall as I go.

  “Jesus Christ, Laney. What are you doing in my house?” I’m tense, my insides going a million miles an hour as I throw the sketchbook onto the couch beside her. “I’m telling you right now, if your boyfriend is here, I’m probably going to lose my shit.”

  She doesn’t answer that and says, “So it didn’t go well, huh?” My sister stands and walks over to where I’m leaning against the table, talking to me in the voice Mom used to use when we were kids. Before we realized she loved Dad more than us and that she could quickly turn love into anger. I hate it.

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  I’m not surprised when she moves closer to me and drops her head to my shoulder. She’s always been like this. Sweet and innocent, trying to see the best there is in the world. We couldn’t be more different, and even though she’s the only important person in my life, I heft her head off me and walk away.

  “Did they look at your drawings?”

  “No.”

  “You shouldn’t take no for an answer, Maddy. Go back and keep trying. They’ll respect your dedication.”

  I can’t help it—I laugh. “I’m not trying to get a job at a Walmart or something. It’s a tattoo parlor. If they tell me no, I’m pretty sure they mean it.”

  “Want me to ask Adrian? Or Colt? They might know someone who—”

  “Nope.”

  Laney sighs, making guilt ease its way through my anger. I’m a shitty brother to her and I know it.

  “Maddox, you want this. You haven’t wanted anything in a long time. You deserve it, but you might have to fight for it.” She’s quiet for a second before adding, “I want it for you.”

  I know exactly what she’s trying to say. She wants to fix me. She doesn’t think I fight for anything and that part is true.

  It’s about all I can handle today. Sometimes she believes in shit so much, she makes me want to do the same, but then I think about how I let them all down. How I knew Dad was gambling and knew about the money, but for selfish reasons kept my mouth shut. How Laney was alone when she found Mom the first time she tried to kill herself. I should have been with her. So she’s wrong. Maybe I don’t deserve something good.

  “How do you know they’re not saying no because I suck?”

  “You forget I saw your book. Not that you even told me you draw. I had to find it by accident!” she yells.

  Definitely time for me to get out of here. “I gotta go. I forgot I have something to take care of. Lock up for me when you leave, yeah?” I tell her. I never should have given her a key in the first place. I don’t even know why I did.

  “Maddy . . .”

  “How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?” And then I close the door and leave, just like I walked away from Masquerade. Like I walk away from everything that matters.

  Chapter Three

  ~Bee~

  I’ve never been the type of person who sits around and dwells on life. Bad things happen all the time and overthinking them has never done shit to change anything. I remember when I went back home—or to the place I should consider home—I didn’t really understand what was going on. At thirteen I should have, but people who are kidnapped are supposed to have been hurt. They’re mistreated and locked away. They aren’t happy and loved the way I had been, so the whole thing was hard to wrap my head around.

  For about a week after they sent me home, that’s all I thought about. The people who raised me and the people who lost me. How they both loved me even though I didn’t know quite how to feel abou
t any of them. Didn’t know how I felt about that screwed up word love at all. Rex and Melody had always told me they’d loved me but now I knew they’d stolen me. My real parents said they loved me but they didn’t really know me. I wasn’t their little girl anymore. How can you love someone you don’t know?

  It hurt and I cried, my chest feeling hollow and broken, knowing I should feel so many things I didn’t know how to.

  Nothing changed.

  I didn’t hurt any less. My real family was still broken-hearted and confused, and I’d lost who I considered my mom and dad.

  That’s when I decided I wouldn’t lose myself in the past anymore. I wouldn’t stress and dwell on things I couldn’t change or even things I could, because if I made that decision the first time, there was a reason. I would stick with my choices, even when someone didn’t get them or I got shit for being closed off or hard. And I wouldn’t worry about love or try to figure it out.

  Girls aren’t allowed to feel that way, I guess.

  This is why I’m pissed that I haven’t stopped thinking about Maddox since he walked out of Masquerade. I’m not daydreaming about the sex, though it was good. No, better than good. I keep seeing that look on his face when I told him no about apprenticing with me.

  I recognized the expression because I’ve felt it before. It’s more than disappointment. It’s loss.

  I’ve been lost since I was four years old, even though I didn’t know it until I was thirteen. Being found didn’t help that feeling of being misplaced, either.

  It pisses me off and makes me feel soft.

  With a towel, I wipe away the excess ink on the tat I’m giving before studying the daffodil. The girl has her hair over her opposite shoulder as she leans away from me while I work on her shoulder. She told me when she first came in that it was her first ink and she looked like she would dash at any second. She didn’t and she’s hardly made a peep besides to answer questions I ask her.

  “What’s it mean?” I ask as I put the gun to her skin again. You can always tell those people who come and get something that’s forgettable. They pick a design off the wall or something like that. It’s obvious when people get tattoos because they mean something. The one this girl brought in means something to her.