Till The Sun Dies: Checkmate, #2

by Finn, Emilia

  Jess snickers and turns my statement into something much more sexual than I intended.

  Turning, I grit my teeth when I find Laine’s face fire engine red. “I’m so sorry. That’s not what I – I didn’t mean it like th–” Fuck. “You know what I meant.”

  “It’s girls versus boys,” Jess presses. “I can’t beat him if I’m on his team, and winning is important to me.”

  Stepping closer, Laine places a soft hand on my forearm, sending electricity rushing through my blood. Looking up through long lashes, she meets my eyes and makes me hard as steel.

  “You already owe me fifty because of the manual, and Alex’s baby. You sure you can handle this heat?”

  She’s stepping up. She’s challenging me. “Okay. I’m doubling down – the bet’s already at fifty, let’s make it a hundred, and,” a lifetime together, “you’ll write a song with me if you lose.”

  “Write a song?” she chokes. “Really? Why?”

  Because I love you. “Because I love writing new songs, and collaborating with you would be fun. It’s like writing a book, but with three hundred words or less, and a whole bunch of feels.”

  “But I don’t… I’m not part of your band. I don’t know how to write a song.”

  Liar. “You know music. The rest will work out once we get started.”

  Her eyes narrow the way they used to whenever Mr. Smythe would walk by. “Okay… If you win, you get a shitty song, but if we win, I want the hundred, and a month of driving your Charger.”

  “Oh, shit!” Jess hollers. “Baby’s digging in hard. A whole month?”

  “A whole month?” I grit between my teeth. “A month is a long fucking time, Laine. What will I drive?”

  Flashing a wicked grin, she shrugs and turns. “You’ve got a bike, or you could borrow Wanda if you ask with your manners. This is vacation, so I’m going hard or going home.”

  “She’s going hard,” Kane adds obnoxiously. “Jesus, we’re all gonna die today. Drinks in; we have our wager.”

  Our group of four stand shoulder to shoulder, Laine’s hip pressed to mine, Jess’s to Kane’s, and when he hands Laine a new daquiri, we tap them together and chug like we know someone’s gonna regret this night.

  “Ugh!” Jess throws her head back and swallows. “Alright, Bish. I love you.”

  “I love you, t–”

  “But go away.” She grabs Laine’s hand and drags her away from me. “Go talk to whoever you have to talk to, tee it up so we get two songs in a row. Then we prepare for war. You pick who goes first, we don’t care, we’ll win either way.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Kane groans when the girls rush to a dark corner and draw eyes with each step they take. “Tell me they can’t sing, Ang. They’re selling sex, and we can’t compete with that.”

  “They can sing. They can dance and play instruments, too. You think they didn’t nag us to teach them over the years?”

  “Fuck. I won’t lose, Alesi, so fix this shit. I want… that thing. Twice. And then once more for her insubordination.”

  Jesus. I’m over here worrying about saying anything that might scare Laine, meanwhile the tatted-up thug is talking insubordination and demanding BJs in a public bathroom.

  34

  Laine

  Karaoke

  “Why did you do this, Jessie? I don’t wanna get up there! Jesus, a month ago, I didn’t wanna talk to anyone, at all. Now you want me to shake my sugar on a damn stage while guys ogle and throw singles at us.”

  Sitting at a tall table, she pulls me down and rolls her eyes. “Jesus, Baby. We’re at karaoke, not a strip club, and don’t for a second think that the guys will tolerate anything more than a holler from anyone watching. I’m not even sure Kane will tolerate that much, but he won’t get much choice.”

  “Is this part of your ‘making him jealous’ plan? Because you could have sung without me, dammit!”

  “No. This is part of my ‘make Ang pant like a dog’ plan.”

  I groan. “Jess.”

  “You won’t make a move, so I’m doing it for you.”

  “I did make a move.” I drop my eyes and avoid her gaze. “I asked him to kiss me last night.” My heart slams against my chest until it hurts. “I asked him to give me a new memory.”

  “You what!?” She grabs my jaw and brings my eyes to hers. “Are you kidding me right now? Why didn’t you tell us? Why aren’t we celebrating alrea… Ah, screw it. I can’t pretend I don’t know.”

  “You know?”

  “Of course!” she laughs. “We saw you. Your space got awfully quiet after a while. We were swimming, we looked up, and whatdoyaknow, my baby sister is lying in Angelo Alesi’s lap.”

  “I wasn’t lying in his lap,” I huff. “I was… snuggling.”

  “Okay,” she snorts. “Whatever you wanna call it. We saw you kiss, we said a silent halle-fricken-lujah, then we made ourselves scarce. We figured the wait was over and everyone would be happy, but nope, back on the beach today, I see no touching between you and Ang, no snuggling, no kissing. You’re a pain in my damn ass, Baby, so now we dance for them because I want to see what they do about it.”

  “I already know what they’ll do about it! Kane will pick you up at the first wolf whistle and take you away. That’s it; end of night. Then Ang and I can get back to talking without your loud mouth interrupting us.”

  She rolls her eyes and takes a long sip of her drink. “We’re singing Britney, by the way.”

  “We are not!”

  “We absolutely are,” she returns. “We choreographed that song a decade and a half ago, we know the words, and we know the moves. As if we’re not doing it.”

  “You’re gonna get someone shot tonight, Jess. It’s not fair to everyone watching.”

  She shrugs, and ten minutes later, drags me toward the stage when our names are called.

  We pass the guys and play our part – noses in the air, shoulders back, extra swing to our hips – and we don’t react when Kane slaps Jess’ ass with a resounding crack.

  We climb the three steps to the stage and collect our microphones as the crowd sit up and pay attention to the clones. I move past the unoccupied drum kit and smile. If my brother was here, he’d be smashing away and making a bunch of noise already. I trail my fingers over the neck of an acoustic guitar resting in a rack, then past a keyboard that makes me think of the man I’m about to dance for.

  He sits on a silver stool in the center of the room, his stylish haircut constantly catching me off guard with how different he looks. His stubble is neat and short, trimmed before coming out tonight, his hair styled, and his necklace reflecting the bar lights. His thick arms flex and move, as though he’s angry I’m up here, angry I’m on show, but the bands around his wrists remind me of the best friend bracelet Jessie brought to me in the hospital.

  The old me wouldn’t second guess this. The old me would’ve left Ang with a riddle whose answer was probably something like ‘kiss me’.

  But I’m not that girl anymore, and although I’m scared, I am fucking proud of myself for attempting it anyway.

  I bypass the instruments – they’re useless to us tonight – and stop at the front of the stage, letting my gaze drop to my shoes to shield myself from the hoots and watchful eyes of every man in the club.

  This isn’t like Infernos, this isn’t even close to the same, so don’t go there.

  Finally bringing my eyes up, I allow my heart to give a hard thump when they meet Ang’s. It’s almost like my dreams: I’m on show, and he’s watching.

  I turn to her and wait for her to focus. She’s wired up, playing the game that Kane expects of her.

  “Jessie?” Our music hasn’t begun yet, since the crowd are still hooting and we haven’t given the green light. “Hey, Jess?” I have to shout over the crowd to get her attention, but when I do, her smile is wiped free.

  She rushes the few feet between us and grabs my hand. “You okay?” She knows what she’s done tonight, she knows the games w
e’re playing and the innocence behind it all. But she doesn’t forget the broken girl from not so long ago. She doesn’t forget how far I fell down. How hard I fell. “Is this too much, Baby? We can stop it.”

  “It’s okay. It’s not the same as the club.”

  Smiling and silly just minutes ago, her eyes now turn emotional. “I didn’t think this through that far, I didn’t mean to turn this into something like… ya know?”

  “It’s okay.” I pull her in until we stand chest to chest. Wrapping my arms around my sister, I breathe in a little more freedom – ignoring how the crowd goes crazy once again – and exhale another shackle that Graham had me bound by. “I love you, Jessie. I love you so much, you have no clue.”

  “I do have a clue.” She pulls back with a wobbling smile. “I do know, because I love you, too. Best friends forever.”

  I nod. “And ever. And ever. And ever.”

  “You’re okay to do this?”

  “Yeah. It’s just a stupid song. It’s not the same.”

  Glancing to her left, Jess’ smile amplifies. “And your bodyguard is here. Nothing’s gonna hurt you ever again, Baby. Can’t you just kiss him again and live happily ever after?”

  I follow her gaze and stop on Ang’s intense stare. Kane watches too, but Ang’s eyes are a whole other ballgame. His chest is expanded, as though ready for a fight. His jaw ticks, his eyes watch every tiny move I make.

  When I stare for an entire minute, he lifts a questioning brow that speaks just as easily as words.

  Are you okay?

  I nod, but he doesn’t back down. His stare sets my blood on fire, it sends tingles right to my toes and a strange pulse in my underwear. It’s been so long…

  Turning back to Jess, I lean in a press a kiss to her cheek – innocent, a sister kissing a sister, but porn worthy to the strange men watching us and shouting their approval. Laughing, I pull back and shake my head. “Kane’s for sure gonna shoot someone tonight.”

  “Probably.” Holding her thumb over the on/off button on her microphone, Jess nods. “You ready for this? We can’t lose, so I’m gonna need you to leave your inhibitions in Ang’s pocket for a minute.”

  Laughing, I turn away and wave at the guy in charge of the music. “We’re ready. Turn it up.”

  Standing at the center of the stage and closing my eyes, I pull in deep breaths and pray I don’t fall on my ass.

  Funny, not so long ago, my fears about being on show were entirely different. But now I worry about tripping in my heels and tolerating years of teasing from my future brother-in-law.

  The deep bass of Britney Spears’ Slave 4 U slams through the bar and forces my heart into overdrive. The crowd’s yells turn feral when they realize what we’ve chosen, but ignoring them, I’m transported back to high school – back to when Jess, Britt, Kari, and I choreographed our own dance to this song. It was forever ago, a bunch of silly teens with nothing better to do during winter break – we stayed holed up in our bedrooms, screwing around and playing this song so many times, I won’t ever forget a single word.

  I had an amazing upbringing, amazing family, and the best friends anyone could ask for, and it saddens me Graham almost broke that. He took me away from them until I was so sure they hated me.

  I feel Jess prowl the stage behind me, around me; she slides her hand over my back, around my hip, and sets the bar on fire.

  Opening my eyes and smiling, I see her first, I see her grin and the trouble in her eyes as she brings her mic up and starts singing without me, then my eyes meet Ang’s and a lance of electricity slashes through my chest.

  He knows this song. He knows this routine.

  As if we didn’t perform it for our families a billion times, but back then, Jess didn’t hump my leg or slide her hand over my chest. Back then, we weren’t trying to turn anyone on.

  I jump when Jess circles around my back and slaps my ass, scoot forward a foot, and just as quickly scramble back when dudes start flashing dollar bills like this is a strip club.

  Watching Ang, I bring my mic up and join in when Jess reaches the first chorus, and when the timing is right and we add our moves, when we thrust our hips and men get a little overexcited, Ang stands from his stool. Men try to get closer to us, drunk dudes who think we’re dancing for them, but I don’t panic.

  Ang’s silver eyes watch every single move I make. They anchor me to his safety. They slide over my chest, my ribs, my belly, as much a physical caress as Jess’ hands.

  On show and surrounded by men, I focus on singing for Ang, relief swamping my body at the knowledge that I’m safe.

  It’s Ang, and he’ll make it so I never hurt again.

  Hungrily, he watches and runs a hand over the short side of his hair as though he forgot it’s not there anymore. He attempts to step closer to the stage, but Kane dives forward and pulls him back.

  Ang’s eyes follow me, but his body is involved with Kane’s as they wrestle for freedom. I wonder what Ang would do if Kane let him go? I wonder if he’d truly come up here and carry me away to somewhere that we can be together without fear. But – just as we choreographed back in high school – Jess and I turn on the crowd, dip down low, and pop our asses. Panting, we watch over our shoulders while the crowd go bananas and the guys are struck still.

  They’re half hugging, their shirts skewed and messed as they clutch each other mid-fight, but their mouths hang open, their eyes slaves to us.

  Snickering and giving her game away, Jess shakes her head and stands for the final verse. Complete with twirls, boob grabs – her own – and a little white girl twerking, I simply stand there and sing while Jess puts on a show that’ll get someone shot before the night’s out.

  “Alright, alright, alright.” The guy controlling the music stands when our song ends and money is inappropriately thrown onto the stage. He snorts when a condom packet is thrown up, then a pair of ladies panties follow it and force him to choke on his laughter. “Jesus, ladies. I think we have a clear winner.”

  “No we fucking don’t!” Kane clears a path and moves toward the stage. Ang follows in his wake, much less conspicuous as women sit up and take notice of the two men getting ready for their turn. “You know our song, man. Tee it up while we take care of this.” He grabs Jess’ legs and pulls her over his shoulder. Squealing, slamming her fists against his back, her laugh turns to a groan when he slaps her ass, most of the bar starting to pant as they hope for a show.

  “Laine?” I turn to find Ang just two feet away with his hand extended.

  I take it, because this isn’t the regular world, and I can be brave tonight. His large hand closes around mine as he helps me step down off the low stage, but then he tugs me forward and pretends it’s an accident when I slam again his chest. Smiling down at me, not pulling away when I feel something hard resting against my belly, he shrugs and presses a long kiss to my jaw, freezing the breath in my lungs.

  “That was…” he pauses long enough to make me nervous. Horrible? Tacky? Whorish? “Sexy. That might’ve been the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  Warmth floods my face and kills whatever smooth comeback the old me would’ve delivered. Instead, I choke out a stilted ‘thanks’ and trip my way to the table Kane deposited Jess at. Winking, he turns back to the stage and brushes roaming hands from his jeaned ass.

  “Jesus, Baby.” Panting, Jessie laughs and pushes one of the guys’ beers toward me. “Have a drink. I’ve gotta cool down before I explode.”

  A clearing throat draws our attention first, then a perfect smile that no doubt cost the dude an easy five grand. “Ladies…”

  Jess belts out a loud, howling laugh when a man – kinda preppy, but with a strange tattoo on his neck – extends a hand in expectation.

  Jess patronizingly pats his chest, but that’s all he gets. “Please go away. There’s no way in hell you’ll survive if you say another word.”

  Nodding toward the stage, the three of us stop on an almost black stare as Kane watches
our table. He’s so complex; the joker, the thug. He can switch them on and off so easily, you forget how dangerous he can be until someone is hitting on the love of his life right in front of his eyes. “It’s best if you raise your hands in surrender, perhaps drop your eyes in submission, then run away. Trust me, I’m trying to save your life, but we appreciate the compliment.”

  “He can’t possibly get both of you,” the guy snaps. “Two?”

  “Not both of us,” Jess concedes. Then she nods back to the stage and a silver pair of eyes. “But I get the feeling he has claim on her before you. You don’t want this war, guy. You can’t win.”

  Biting off a curse after a long inspection of the stage, he lifts his hands, lowers his eyes, and backs away until he disappears into the crowd.

  “You’ve picked up your intimidation game since knowing him, Jessica. You wield Kane like a sword.”

  She sips at his beer and shrugs. “He’s mine forever, so using his stare is better than using his gun. I told the guy no. He needed more, so he got my sword instead.”

  “Alright, Millennials.” Walking onto the stage, the music man brings his mic up and quiets the crowd. “We’re sticking to the nineties, so if you have a problem with boy bands, you’re gonna need to step out for five. I’m told the dancing girls have a friendly competition with our next up. There’s a lot at stake, and the winner is decided by us. Although the next guys aren’t nearly as pretty, let’s stay classy, stay objective, and give these guys a fair shot at losing.”

  The crowd heckles and points drunkenly as Ang moves Kane around the stage like he’s an elephant with a mental deficiency. They stand by the drum kit… talk… consider… At Ang’s instruction, Kane sits on the stool and picks up the drum sticks. He slams them down once – one single time – before Ang grabs his shirt and pulls him away.