by D. M. Burns
“That information comes with a minimum requirement of a six-month friendship and loads of alcoholic shots later,” I say while shaking my head in protest.
“But you two do know each other. I knew it.” She slaps her hand on the table and laughs out loud.
Chancing a look around the place to make sure people are not staring. My eyes come to a complete halt when they land on Rampage nestled into the far back corner with his hand across the back of a cushy leather seat that currently holds the ass of a dazzling blonde. She’s exactly the type of Instagram model perfection he’s normally captioned with.
The only thing about this that strikes me as odd is that his gunmetal eyes are slicing through me. It’s unnerving. Intrusive even. I give off a weak ass smile that probably causes the onset of soon to be ulcers in the pit of my stomach and take my eyes away from the corner couple. FAKE the happiness Lena.
Clearing my throat, I turn my attention back to Jules only to find it’s too late to play it off. She follows my line of sight and then her eyes slowly peel back to me.
“Okay. That’s awkward and complete bullshit.” She shakes her head in annoyance. “The bullshit part, I’ll figure out later with him because he told me he was in New York but you… You’re holding out.” Jules says.
Her dark brown eyes are imploring me to tell all but I just can’t. Those are shared secrets for only him and me. I hold those close to my heart even if they poke at that organ like a thorn bush spilling the toxic waste out into my system.
“Jules…” I start but have a loss for words.
“He’s been acting off ever since the sexable Wallstreet God sent you out here all those months back, but I get it. Just know that if you want to talk, I’m here.”
“I appreciate that really I do.”
“Tell me… Do you know Brogan? Now that’s one man I wouldn’t mind slicing and dicing off all my options for.”
Jules makes scissor fingers and pretends to cut the air with them. I raise my brows at her and she shrugs then laughs out loud. It’s contagious because I laugh too. I’m glad she fake scissor chopped the tension from the atmosphere. We decide to call it a night and when I stand, I can’t help but look back over to where Ramp was seated but he’s gone.
chapter 11 - Rampage
Having Len show up at La Veiner was bound to happen because she works here, and the place is pure bliss. Tonight, was not a part of the plan though and when those ice blue chambers fell on me, I damn sure wasn’t prepared for the impact. I wanted to toss Tosha or Natosha, whatever her fucking name is, away from the table.
Len’s shit attempt at a smile was just that, an epic fail. Much like my dinner date that was supposed to replace my dirty thoughts of Len and lead up to mind-blowing sex but that shit’s not happening either. Ever since that kiss my dick has been on permanent protest unless the image involves a certain blue-eyed redhead. One god damn kiss, really? This must be dick Karma of some kind. Probably a yeti voodoo curse done alongside a campfire with a Rampage look-a-doll in hand by YOU KNOW WHO.
To make matters worse, the text message from Jules threatening to crush my balls for lying about being out of town didn’t set a promising outlook for the upcoming week either. When did Jules and Len start hanging out anyway? I’m knocking it out of the park all the way around today with the ladies in my life.
The thing about it is that I needed the time away to see the criminal masterminds off before returning to my normal day-to-day routine. After Len’s show of face at the mobster mascaraed less the costumes, I had to contend with countless queries that left an unsavory flavor floating around in my taste buds.
Not that I wasn’t already licking my lips from the deadly deeds that were coursing through my head for Mr. Haze. Which he had conveniently disappeared by the time I return from orchestrating a tonsil tune-up in Len’s mouth. I’ve had my eyes on Len ever since. There’s no fucking way I’d leave her unattended with that crazed asshole lingering around.
Until I can personally square things away with him myself, I won’t feel right. Crellan didn’t check in at Aces and I’ve not been able to locate him either. My instincts never lie. It’s led me to become the successful bastard that I am. A one-on-one is required.
If I were a smarter man, I would’ve provided vague answers to the high-ranking gangsters. Showing any type of interest only cultivates an in-depth curiosity from the wicked. But when it comes to Len, I’ve never been that wise of a guy.
Instead, I answered their inquiries with one response and zero fucks for the blowback. Without blinking or hesitation for the inquiring monster minds, I growled out, “She’s mine.” Does that shit sound familiar?
My demeanor was not one to be fucked with and those surrounding me knew that and heeded the warning. I’m not a loud threat known throughout the streets; unknown is more my style. A calm silence from me is much worst and those in attendance knew that. I’m the sly king snake of sneak attacks eating my way through even the most vicious vipers.
When Archer approached me and held his hand out in greeting, I gladly accepted with a vice-like grip as I jerked him close with a snarling response to follow. I don’t recall my exact words, but I vaguely remember calling him an uneducated and unequipped motherfucker that had better stay the hell away from Lena.
While he smiled, brushing our encounter off, desperately trying not to look like the pussy he truly is, my intentions were loud and clear. It was a hasty decision. One that’ll probably come back to haunt me in the form of a certain redheaded, flesh-eater. Admittedly, I’m looking forward to the matchup as long as she doesn’t have any floor plans in hand.
“Who is she?” Tosha or Natosha asks as we step into the elevator.
Punching the ground level button, I casually lean back into the mirrored wall tucking my hands into the pockets of my pants, eyeballing the random hookup that’s clearly not going to happen tonight.
It’s on the tip of my lips to tell her the truth. That being, it’s not her and never will be. But the fact remains that it’s also not her nameless fault that I can’t get Lena out of my head. Old habits die hard or in this case, never.
“Natosha…” I start but get cut off.
“It’s Nicole, Jesus. What an asshole.” She snaps.
“I got the N part right at least,” I mumble on a smirk.
Just as the doors start to close a hand snaps out halting the progress and in walks Len and Jules. For fuck sake, really? The surprised look on Lena’s face is a mixture of dread and hesitation. Jules crosses her arms over her chest and arches her eyebrow at me. I know what that means.
“Mr. Carter.” Jules' snarky voice fills the steel box as the doors slide shut closing me in with three unhappy women. What are the odds? Thanks, Big G.
“Miss. Banister.” I hold my hands up and say, “Surprise, I’m back.” I shrug.
“Right…” Jules says.
She clucks her tongue on the roof of her mouth. Then those assessing brown eyes slide over to Natosha, or whatever the fuck her name is, promptly returning that hypocritical glare back to me. I’d introduce the chick if I could remember her name, maybe-not.
Deflecting the bullshit from Jules' eyes, I look over to Lena whose gaze is fixed on the floor. She has on another sexy power suit today. A silky cream button-down shirt with a black skirt that ends right above her knees. Paired off with provocative sexy black stilettos screaming to be wrapped around my waist right about now. Those kicks with sticks balance out her business beauty, bridging it evenly with the fuckable fixations playing on the porn projector in my head.
When I get assaulted with Len’s floral calling card, I’m done with the bullshit. Doing the math in my mind and planning my next move, I crossed my arms over my chest and chuckle at myself. This is insanity. This is going to end badly, Rampage. This is also going to fucking happen.
No matter how I break this equation down or how I stack the deck, one thing is definite. SOMEONE IS GOING TO LOSE BIG TIME. Whether its Lena or me, probab
ly both, I simply don’t give a fuck anymore. Jules is going to kick my ass for what I’m about to do but it’ll so be worth it.
“So, are we going back to your place?” The chick whose name starts with an N asks. I shake my head slowly no and quirk my eyebrows at her.
“Didn’t you just call me an asshole?” I ask the obvious.
My eyes take in this clueless chick’s expression while I let my question filter through the tin box and absorb into her blonde existence. In my peripheral vision, I see Len’s head rise slightly out of intrigue for blondie’s response. Not that I need the side view because I can see all of her in the mirrored box surrounding us. Jules doesn’t even try to hide her curiosity as she blatantly stares awaiting no-name’s answer.
“Well, you forgot my name.” She grits out.
Len covers her mouth to keep from laughing out loud and quickly returns her gaze to the elevator floor where she appears to be studying her badass heels. Jules simply busts out laughing while mumbling out an apology. Blondie’s eyes have turned into slits and her glare has a great deal of hate simmering in the depths. I need to set her up with Mr. Haze. Their crazy probably matches.
Considering all of this, it leaves me wondering why she’d still want to be anywhere near me. Then I remember that the almighty dollar is a powerful thing for a materialistic woman such as this one. When it comes to finding real substance in a significant other, stacks of the greenbacks produce a smokescreen. Not that I’ve ever looked for more than a sexual release but those are facts that can’t be denied.
“I don’t entertain at my home, ever. But thanks for accompanying me to dinner.” I say then finish the sentiment with a wink. If looks could kill my throat would be an open wound.
Inching my way closer to Lena, when the door divides, blondie bolts out first, clipping my shoulder on her exit. Then Jules makes a move forward while shaking her head disapprovingly at me.
When Lena starts to trudge forward, I latch onto her hip at the last second as Jules clears the opening. I’ve successfully thrown Len off balance long enough to tug her back inside with me. I hook my arm around her waist getting another good whiff of her floral fuckery then I quickly smack the close door display button while holding strong to my strawberry sidekick.
“Let me go, Mr. Carter.” Len hisses out from behind clenched teeth, but I ignore that
“See you bright and early, Jules. Love ya, girl.” I say. Jules flips me off and I feign a shocked face then poke my bottom lip out. “That’s uncalled for,” I whine.
As the door slides shut, I wave bye to her. I open the secret compartment beside the electronic keypad, enter in my code on the display then close it back, and let Len go. I smirk at my shocked little redhead as she crosses her arms over her chest. Those ice crystals frantically bouncing back and forth between mine.
“What are you doing?” She asks.
“Something we should’ve done years ago, pretty girl.”
chapter 12 – lena
age 14 - monroe High School
Finally, I made it to high school, and well isn’t that the ultimate goal. No wait, that’s the college thingy. Yeah, that’s the next step. Hold up, there’s still that whole craze with obtaining a job and turning it into a career. I really need to slow the hell down. One leap at a time you feisty little redhead. I’ve started giving myself random pep-talks throughout the day. It’s a morale booster for when my insecurities start to creep in.
Sitting in the auditorium with my bestie, Paige Bishop, my knee bounces impatiently waiting for the principle to speak. I heard that this new principle likes to welcome all the newbies into the school. Something about wishing us well into this phase of life letting us know he’s here to help us map out our flourishing futures, whatever. I just want to get my locker squared away and then figure out where all my classes are.
“So, you heard about that new guy Rage, right?” Paige asks.
Listen, I love my best friend but the beautiful blonde barbie type that she is, loves the male species, all of them. I’m not here to judge her. Hell, it’s none of my business what she does with her cooter. She’s a straight shooter and would fight an army for me, that’s loyalty in my book. As far as I’m concerned, she’s a keeper.
“Uhm, yeah. I’ve heard of him but never actually heard from him. He’s not much of a talker, more of a middle finger flinger.” I say.
“Huh?” Paige looks mildly conflicted. I shrug. “Yeah, whateve’s. Anyway, his name is Rage and he moved in with the Carter crew of brother’s after his momma passed, something about a car accident.” She whispers.
“Oh my gosh, that’s awful.” I pretend not to know because I’ve never shared my bullshit about Rampage with her. It’s a need to know basis kinda share and Paige doesn’t need to know. Hell, at times I wished I didn’t know anything about him either and at other times I pray to God to allow me to forget.
It’s been a little over a year since I saw Ramp. Being a year behind him in school put me at a disadvantage. Considering how things turned out with us maybe it was a blessing. At any rate, he advanced out of middle school to walk the halls of high school and I was left behind.
Not that it made much difference because he ghosted me right before summer ended last year. Then I heard through the grapevine that Ramp and Ren got into a massive fight that redefined their history of matchups. All because Rampage supposedly slept with Renegade’s girlfriend, Isabella. I couldn’t wrap my brain around it, and I needed to know what was happening to Ramp.
For six months straight, I walked three miles one way to his house every day just for a chance to talk to him. Each time there was a different story laid out for me. Even under crappy circumstances, I sorta liked his crazy family members though and found myself looking forward to seeing them, kinda.
One day I managed to catch Rampage’s father in the garage tinkering on his old truck. He had the best excuse though and was more than willing to share. He said that his son was about to go into high school, and he had other things to see about. Of course, I didn’t let it go at that, oh-no. I asked like what because when it came to Slade, I desperately craved insight and understanding to the riddle of Rampage.
Get this, the man actually told me that Rampage was focused on his bankable future. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought the man was a little off. What kind of boy at that young age worries about their bankroll? I’ll tell you who… Rampage that’s who.
Crazy enough, I sat with his dad for hours handing him different tools as needed while he talked about all kinds of crap. It was something to do and I didn’t mind.
Drilling his little brother, Rebel, got me nowhere because on more than one occasion his response was simple, “BRO’s before Ho’s.” Then he’d shake his head and stare at me like I was his next freaky Frankenstein project to dissect. It gave me the cold chills. Rebel’s a beautiful boy but even I can tell that his mind is one wickedly warped nightmare, Freddy Krueger style.
It was Renegade that I found could get a little creative with the tall tales though. He was a riot and dove right in every chance he could get at kicking dirt in my face. He was already feeling a little raw at me for not covering for him and my cousin’s summertime fling. When the hell I got designated as their bump and grind hall monitor is beyond me.
My cousin, Cathleen, comes to visit a week out of every summer with us. Her parents seem to think it’s good for her to get out of New York and see how the southern folks live it up, experience the country culture they said, right? Personally, I think her parents just wanted a damn break away from their kid.
Last summer when Cathleen and her God-given inflated chest showed up, I inwardly cringed. Cathleen is gorgeous and I wasn’t particularly psyched about sharing my time with Rampage. Especially with someone like Cathleen that resembles a freshly baked Kardashian sporting a natural C-cup for added funtime. Yeah, insecure should’ve been my middle name. I’ll pray about my attitude later though.
How my C-cup carrying cousin
managed to hook up with Renegade in less than a twenty-four-hour timeframe is beyond me. Then again Cathleen is from New York, the girl’s resourceful. So, when I walked into my bedroom to find Renegade making out on my bed with Cat, I flipped out.
At first, I thought it was Rampage rolling around in my bed with my cousin. My aunt and uncle's desire for a kid less lifestyle was suddenly looking up after all. I was about to make that happen for them, dirty south style. When I flipped on the light, Renegade’s head bobbed up and that longish hair was a dead giveaway. My Slade likes a clean cut. Pushing the door shut behind me, I whipped around and glared at them.
Hand’s on my hips and bent over at the waist like a rooster, all up in his grill. I barked out that he had less than five minutes to get the hell out of my room the same way he got in or I was going to get my dad. Ren didn’t hesitate in moving his ass. All that led him to despise me and I seriously didn’t give a shit. So, when he got the opportunity to shower me with shit, he let the evil rain down on me, no mercy.
For instance, after walking the three-mile trek through flaming hell, in ninety-eight-degree weather, Ren swung the door open smiling with a Jokers victory. His mask was firming in place. It was payback time for my cock-blocking cousin ways, and he was going to enjoy the job.
He told me that Ramp had a mythical unicorn and I was disturbing the jerking rhythm of his magical horn. Another walk to remember was when Renegade explained that Rampage recently joined a band and he was staging a penis pulling performance for anyone that would COME except for me. I left Renegade on the front stoop as he doubled over in a fit of hysterical laughter. I mean, what do you even say to shit like that?
It was Rage’s explanations that I preferred though. They weren’t very creative at all. Quite the opposite but he was to the point and amazingly effective. That guy never spoke but he didn’t have to. His silent communication was heard loud and clear coming out in the form of sign language.
