Bullseye

by Monica James

  Standing on tippy toes, I glare at him with nothing but spite. “Are you seriously asking me this?” When he doesn’t reply, it’s apparent that he is. “I don’t know what your problem is. You’ve been nothing but an asshole to me since we met. I don’t know what I did to piss you off, but I don’t appreciate being treated this way.”

  “Treated what way? Are you angry because you want to spend the night with me?” He appears genuinely confused, but I don’t care. It’s time he gets unconfused.

  “Oh, get over yourself!” I exclaim, my temper mounting. “I don’t want to spend the night with you.”

  “Good,” he replies firmly, insulting me further.

  “Yes, good. Great. Fucking perfect. Now get out of my way so I don’t take up any more of your precious time.”

  “Tiger—”

  “My name is Lily,” I bark, cutting him off. “I know you probably only see me as some whore, shaking my ass for cash, but I’m a lot more than that.”

  “I don’t think that,” he chides. Clearly offended, he’s flaring his nostrils, but screw him.

  “I don’t care what a sorry sack of shit like you thinks of me.” He clenches his jaw, but I continue. “We’re not friends, and we never will be. I’ve never even seen you smile. You have permanent resting bitch face, but in your case, you are a bitch.”

  He purses those sinful lips, mulling over my outburst that has come out of left field. I wait for him to prove me wrong and show me that what I feel isn’t imagined and runs both ways. I want him to acknowledge me as someone special because just once in my life, I want to be someone’s destination and not merely a layover.

  But he doesn’t. He is just another asshole I need to forget.

  “Resting bitch what?” he questions, making me feel like a fool.

  Charring whatever obsession I feel for him, I promise myself here and now never to allow this man to get the better of me again.

  Standing tall, I disregard his distaste for intimacy and press my chest to his. When he flinches, I rejoice. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t matter. Now move.”

  Bull’s heavy breathing blows wisps of my hair from my cheeks. He’s barely holding back. I don’t know whether he wants to fight or fuck me, but I don’t stick around to find out. I shove against his chest, not looking back as I turn the door handle and leave his brand of trouble behind.

  Bull just did me a favor. So why do I feel so hollow inside?

  Bull

  Reading over the description for resting bitch face on Google for the third time, I don’t know whether to be insulted or amused that Tiger thinks this of me.

  Last night was strange, to say the least. For one, why the fuck was she wearing my T-shirt?

  Once she left in a huff, I took a shower—a cold one. Her smart mouth and constant need to defy me had me barely holding on. She is playing with fire, and she knows it. But that doesn’t stop her. If anything, it spurs her on.

  I don’t frighten her. I infuriate her, which is something I have fucking zero experience with. Around her, I feel like a blind man whose sight is slowly returning. I didn’t mean to reach out and touch her hair, but everything about this woman leaves me curious. It’s as if I’m experiencing everything for the first time. And I suppose in some ways, I am.

  When locked up, you adjust to the dismal sights and sounds. You become institutionalized, and the violence, the screams at night become your norm. I still remember the squeak of the guards’ shoes as they walked the halls. And the buzzing of the light that never switched off. I remember everything, but what I don’t remember is how to be normal.

  So when I offered to call Venus, it wasn’t because I didn’t want Tiger to stay with me. It was because that was exactly what I wanted. And that cannot happen.

  Tiger is a distraction; one I can’t afford. I’m here to get my vengeance, not fuck around. Someone is out to get her, and if I hadn’t heard her scream last night, that fucker would have killed her. And that infuriates me more than it should.

  I can’t get involved with her problems. I have enough of my own. But staying away from her is proving to be harder than I thought. Her touch both subdues and provokes my demons all in the same breath. I’ve never had that happen before.

  Her small body pressed to mine shouldn’t have felt so good, but it did. The fact our exchange was heated, and she was mouthing off, only had me wanting to punish her all the more. Pain is what I get off on, and each time Tiger proves to me that she can hold her own, the need to discipline her only grows stronger.

  I’m not the good guy, I know this, and being around Tiger only wants me to prove just how bad I can truly be. Prove it to her, and me, because I can never lose sight of what I am.

  “Remind me why I bother.”

  Shaking my head, I look up from my cell to see Lotus standing in the bathroom doorway, holding two bottles of beer. She looks like shit.

  I’ve been in here fixing the leaky taps and toilets. Pocketing my phone, I wash my hands and accept the beer she’s holding. “Bother with what?” I ask, throwing back my Budweiser.

  “With all of this.” She gestures with her hands to the club. “Andre is off sick for the week, so are you okay to work his shifts?”

  “No problem.” Here’s to hoping he never comes back.

  “And Lily won’t be in for a few days,” she goes on to add. “I know about last night. I told her to take all the time she needs. That leaves me short my best girl, but this place is already up shit creek without a paddle. So what’s another drama?”

  She doesn’t mention my involvement, which has me guessing Tiger didn’t reveal I was there.

  Something lingers on her tongue, and when she closes the door, hinting she wants privacy, I guess it has something to do with what we discussed the other night. “I wanted you know that I’ve made the call to my friend. Nothing is set in stone,” she says quickly, “but I have to think of this place.”

  “You don’t owe me an explanation, Lotus. This is your club. You do what you want,” I state bluntly. “I appreciate the heads-up, though.”

  She sips her beer, gauging what to say. “I know you can’t be here because of your parole conditions. You’re straight-up, no bullshit, and I like that. I’m glad I went with my gut.”

  I arch a brow, confused.

  She clarifies a moment later. “My gut told me to take a chance on you because beneath all this…” She uses her finger to gesture up and down my body. “There is a good man.”

  Before I have a chance to argue that she’s very, very wrong, she smiles. “You may not see it, but I do. Maybe one day you will too. Come see me when you’re done. It’s payday.” She turns the way she came, leaving me speechless.

  Although I appreciate what she said, she’s wrong. So fucking wrong. She has no idea of the extent I will go to find those motherfuckers and end this once and for all. I will sacrifice anything, anyone to get what I want.

  Something itches beneath the surface, but I don’t know what it is. Whatever it is, I squash it down deep, just as I do with this obsession I have with Tiger. The knuckle tattoos are a reminder of what I am.

  A lone wolf, ready to tear apart anything that stands in my way.

  The bathrooms are fixed, but they are in desperate need of some paint. The scribble on the walls dates back to the 80s. I know Lotus can’t afford to do that. She can’t afford to do anything. This place will go bust in a couple of months if things don’t change.

  As I’m walking toward Lotus’s office, I hear some voices inside the club. One of them is Lotus, so I’m about to turn the corner, but what I hear has me stopping dead in my tracks. She seems to be talking business.

  “I can’t get caught, Stevie. If I do this, you have to promise me that won’t happen.”

  “Lotus, we both lose if that happens.” A man who I’m presuming is Stevie says.

  Lotus hesitates before she replies, “I suppose you’re right.”

  “See, it’ll be easy. Let’s help one another. Yo
u need money, and I need a club. I promise you; it’ll be fine. I have been doing this for years, and not once have I been caught. I’m smart. The location is never the same. We move around to keep the cops off our asses.”

  Deciding to sneak a peek at who Stevie is, I quietly peer around the doorway and see Lotus talking to a man in a flashy suit. He looks like a soulless businessman in the midst of a transaction.

  However, the other man, whose back is turned to me, evokes something dark, something feral in me. My palms begin to itch, and I suddenly have déjà vu. Everything is heightened. My breathing is amplified. The blood thunders through my veins.

  As a huge motherfucker, there is no doubt he’s the muscle for Stevie. I don’t believe in God, ghosts, or anything I can’t see, but I see this asshole. When you’re locked up, you immediately got a sense of who you liked, and who you didn’t, and there is something about this fucker that I do not like.

  I can’t go out there because I have the element of surprise on my side, but I need to see his face. I’ve only felt this way one other time, so I need to be sure I’m just tripping balls, and he isn’t one of them.

  “Kong,” Tawny says with a smirk as she enters the bar.

  The muscle has a name, but he still doesn’t have a face. He turns in her direction, but I can’t see jack shit, thanks to the angle. When he speaks, however, I don’t need a face because that voice…is burned onto my soul.

  “Hey, sweetness. Lookin’ good.”

  Tawny says something in response, but I don’t hear anything. It’s like my brain is shut off to any other stimuli because all it can process is that standing a few feet away is the man who’s haunted me for the past fourteen years.

  The man who held me back and forced me to watch as my brother was beat to a pulp is here, and he has a name…Kong. He was the muscle who restrained me when I was kid, and he’s muscle now. But the difference is, I’m no longer a kid, and I have muscles of my own.

  The urge to kill him where he stands is almost unbearable, but I breathe deeply through my nose to calm myself. To ensure I don’t end up back inside, I have to watch and learn. I have to be smart.

  Bunching my fists by my side, I watch as Tawny flirts with this motherfucker, and he reciprocates. When she walks past him and squeezes his bicep, I am struck with an idea that will not fail. I never believed in fate or destiny, but maybe Tawny can change that.

  I will do what I must to get what I want. If Tawny knows who Kong is, then I have to use her in any way that I can. Jaws and Kong both have a thing for strip clubs, it seems. I wonder if they both have a thing for Tawny?

  Lotus wraps the meeting up, not wanting Tawny to know why Stevie and Kong are here. “You staying for the show?” Tawny asks Kong, which confirms she knows him because he’s a customer.

  “Not tonight, sweetness. Another time, though.” He bends forward to whisper something into her ear, and when he does…I finally see it.

  Him.

  “Sorry, no can do. It’s time you became a man.”

  His words have played on a loop in my mind for fourteen years. How can a single sentence have the power to ruin one’s life? But it has, and now it’s time to return the favor.

  It takes every ounce of my strength to keep from going out there and stabbing Kong in the jugular. But all in due time. He’s already dead. While me…I’ve never felt more alive.

  Letting Kong leave was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do in my life. I wanted nothing more than to end him where he stood. But my vengeance will come, and when it does, it will be painful and slow. For that to happen, however, I need Tawny.

  She seems awfully friendly with him, which means she can fill in the blanks. I need to know any and all information she has on him. From the sounds of it, Lotus has agreed to work with Stevie, which means I will be seeing Kong very soon.

  But I need the upper hand before that happens. So when I hear Tawny’s heels clicking down the corridor, I put my plan into action. Grabbing the bottle of beer I stole from some creeper asshole in the club, I deliberately spill it all over the front of my T-shirt. When Tawny approaches, I quickly roll the bottle under the lockers and slip the tee off over my head, so when she enters the dressing room, I’m shirtless.

  I have my back turned to her as I busy myself looking for a towel on the shelf. The moment her heels stop clacking, I inhale in victory.

  “Oh, hi,” she says in a low voice.

  Turning over my shoulder, I nod curtly, not wanting her to sense something is amiss. “Hey. Sorry, I’ll be gone in a second. Some asshole spilled beer all over me. I was looking for a towel.”

  Grabbing a towel, I begin wiping down my chest. My T-shirt is tossed over the back of a chair. Tawny saunters into the dressing room, eyes watching my every move. Before I was locked up, I was told by many that I was good-looking. I took their word for it.

  From the way Tiger ate me up last night, which fucking threw me, and now Tawny, it looks like I haven’t lost my appeal. But none of that matters to me. It’s just a means to an end. I will use whatever I can to get what I want. And nothing will stand in my way.

  Once I’m “clean,” I meet Tawny’s heated stare. “How’s it going out there?”

  Making small talk isn’t my thing, but I can’t go in guns blazing, even though I would very much like to—literally.

  Tawny must have just come from a private dance because she’s in a dress, which means she’s going on a break soon.

  “It’s going all right. The crowd is slow tonight, meaning the tips are too,” she replies, fingering over my T-shirt. “Your shirt is soaked.”

  “I know,” I respond, running a hand through my hair.

  “You could always wear no shirt,” she suggests with a slanted grin as she admires my biceps. “I wouldn’t mind.”

  Hook, line, and sinker.

  “The dude you were talking to earlier today might not agree.”

  Tawny should never play poker because she has zero ability to mask her emotions. “Who? Kong?” she asks with a playful scoff. She’s pretending to play dumb, but she is thrilled I noticed.

  Shrugging casually, I fold my arms across my chest. “Is that his name?”

  “Yes, Kong, although his real name is Ethan Da Silva. But don’t tell him I told you that. He has an image to uphold.”

  And the bastard has a name.

  “How do you know him?”

  Tawny wets her lips. “He’s been coming in here for a while now. He tips real well. Most married men do,” she adds with a wink. “They think if they tip big, it’ll somehow excuse the fact their cock is hard for someone other than their wife.”

  “How do you know all this stuff about him?”

  She strides toward me while I stand rigid. “I know a lot of stuff,” she replies flirtatiously, running a fingernail over my bicep.

  This is getting off track. I need to redirect her. “I bet you don’t know where he works. Where he trains. Who he runs with,” I add for good measure.

  This is a test, and Tawny has passed with flying colors. “I bet you I do. Why are you so interested in him anyway?”

  Deflecting her comment, I grip her wrist, but instead of pushing her away, I drag her toward me. Her pupils dilate as her cheeks flush. “I wanted to know if he’s competition or not. That’s all.”

  A gasp escapes her. “Oh, really? I didn’t think you were interested in playing the game.”

  Oh, I am so interested in playing. Just not the way she thinks.

  “What gave you that impression?” I ask coolly.

  “I thought you were interested in Lily,” she explains. The moment Tawny says Tiger’s name, it’s like I’m doused with a bucket of ice-cold water.

  What I’m doing or, more accurately, what I’m prepared to do, suddenly feels like a dick move. It doesn’t take a genius to see Tawny’s interest in me. If she propositions me and, in exchange, she gives me everything she has on Kong, I will gladly fuck her into next week.

  She doesn�
��t seem like the type of girl who’s into relationships, but even if she were, she’d be shit out of luck. I’m no one’s happily ever after. No strings is fine with me, but something niggles in the back of my mind, and that thing is Tiger.

  I don’t have a conscience. I will happily fuck up Kong’s family, dog and cat included, but the thought of Tiger finding out about Tawny and me has me feeling…guilt? Is that what this feeling is? I honestly don’t know because I haven’t felt it before.

  As the product of a justice system that taught me how to switch off my emotions in order to survive, this is new territory for me. Tawny wants to fuck me, but Tiger…what does she want? I don’t know.

  Is she just being nice to me…stitched me up because she’s a good person? Or does she have an ulterior motive? But more importantly, why the fuck do I care? I haven’t cared about anything or anyone in so long. This feeling is foreign, and I feel like I’m about to freak the fuck out.

  Shaking my head, I need to snap the hell out of this, which is why I walk Tawny toward the wall and smash her up against it. Her panic soon transforms before my eyes.

  “I’m only interested in having a good time,” I reply to her comment. But by good time, I mean cutting Kong up into tiny pieces while he’s still alive.

  Tawny is oblivious to my perversion, however. “He works as personal security. He trains at Gumbo’s Gym.” She smirks. “Let’s just say he’s at the gym more than he’s at home.”

  I have no idea how she knows this, nor do I care, but she’s just given me my golden ticket. And when she leans in close, peering up at me from under her fake lashes, it’s evident she wants payment.

  “See, I told you I know stuff,” she purrs, her gaze dropping to my mouth. “How about I show you what else I know?”

  This was the price I knew I had to pay, but when she balances on tippy toes and presses her lips to mine, I freeze up. Every muscle in my body tenses and not in a good way. Her lips are like tentacles, and she’s everywhere, forcing me to open up to her in every possible way.