Something’s not right. I know it. I can feel it. The hair on the back of my neck is practically standing up as I scan the darkened room for the cause. There’s gotta be a reason why Vanessa left me here alone, waiting for her.
What just happened between us wasn’t a fluke. It couldn’t have been. She wanted it more than I did—and I really, truly wanted it. Seeing her face twist in pleasure was one of the greatest, sexiest moments of my life. And it’s a memory I don’t plan on erasing for a long while. But then she just disappeared before the action started to heat up? From what little I know about her, that doesn’t seem right.
Then, another, probably more sensible, voice in my head points out that she is a virgin and virgins are basically cold fish when it comes to this stuff. At her age and in this club, she’s an old maid. Most girls lost their v-card way back in high school—or at least fooled around. But she’s fresh meat, totally untouched. And while I was certainly impressed, I could tell by how she wanted me to take over that there was part of her that was unsure.
And that’s the problem when you take on a virgin: they can turn on you. They fear guys like me with our muscles, position, and rough exterior. It’s intimidating to most, even the experienced ones who spread their legs for anyone. I wouldn’t blame her for running.
But this was Vanessa. This was the girl who bandaged the hand of a guy who just broke a glass table with her fist. This was the girl who invited a man she just met to have lunch with her father. She was more fearless than I could ever be for things like this. And I wouldn’t peg her as the type to run away.
I walk over to my jeans, which are still lying on the floor where we discarded them, and find my cell in the back pocket. There are few text from the boys in the bar asking me where I am and why I’m not enjoying a drink. There’s even a photo from Thad posing with some hot piece of ass I haven’t seen before. But there’s nothing from Vanessa.
There’s nothing else for me to do but call it. Wherever she went, whatever she had to do, I would have to find out later. Right now, I just had to get back to the bar before any of the Barber boys grew suspicious. Despite everything, I could still turn this night around by getting into my guys’ heads about what was going on with upper management.
The bar is more crowded than when I last left it. It seems like half the club and their women are crowding around the bar, ordering off my tab. As I waltz back in, Silva the bartender holds up my credit card with a look on his face that says he isn’t quite sure what he should do. I holler out as loudly as possible, “One more round, boys! Then this guy is tapped out!”
There’s a rush of burly men towards the bar, each with their hands and glasses eagerly raised. Silva fills up their empty cups one by one until all the guys in the crowd return to their stools and chairs. Through their part, I spot Martin Barber. He’s stewing in the corner, a glass of golden whiskey sloshing in his hands. He’s flanked by a few of his men from earlier in the day, including Brock, my new partner.
I suck in deeply, puffing out my chest, as I grab a glass of some cheap beer and head over to where a group of my friendlies are sitting and chatting. Thad pushes the little blonde bimbo off his lap to greet me, his arm pulling me in for a large bear hug. He’s already good and drunk as he shouts to the rest of the group, “To the best man I know. May he always reign as the one, true leader!”
I pull his arm down and sit him back on his chair. His body sways against mine, and I can tell this just ain’t the alcohol talking. What he just said could get him in deep shit with the Barber family, let alone killed by Martin if he took offense. I glance over to him, but Martin doesn’t seem to even notice. He’s too busy gesturing over to Alice Dugger, who is practically screwing her boy, Moses, on one of the booths.
I turn my attention back to Thad, as I reprimand him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I demand. “You can’t say that shit anymore.”
“Whatever, Gavin!” he says, practically incoherent. “Everyone in this bar knows who our real brother is, and it ain’t no pussy like Martin—”
My hand shoots up before he can say it, covering his mouth and pushing him in for another hug to drown out his shouts. The rest of our group watches with wide, shocked mouths. No one is sure what to say, but a few nod their heads in agreement. It seems that Thad has been doing all the talking while I’m away, and it’s actually working.
A big man we call Crush leans over across the table and whispers lowly, “Don’t worry about it, Gavin. We got your back. The Barber kid pulls something like he did today, they all have hell to pay.”
Another kid, maybe only eighteen years old, chimes in, “He’s right. Not a man in this bar who ain’t willing to put it on the line for you, Gavin. You say the words, and we’re there.”
I’m honestly touched. I mean, I had a hunch the guys felt this way, but hearing it said out loud was a whole different story. Loyalty and brotherhood were the reasons why I wanted to be a Bloody Pagan despite all the shit with my mom and being a bastard child. Now I’m finally being accepted, and not only that, revered. Maybe Martin and Jonah Barber did have reason to worry about me. My army was clearly already assembling right before their eyes.
I sit with that little bit of confidence the rest of the night, as I listen to the men talk about their weeks, their runs, their women. They want to know about the incident with the Midnight Kings, and I gladly (and very loudly) recall how we managed to just barely escape near-death with a whole lot a cash and an even bigger stash. The entire bar with the exception of Martin and now Jonah seem to be totally wrapped up in my every word.
Despite the attention, it’s the quiet moments that are eating me up on the inside. It’s the time when a woman walks by, her shirt almost completely open, her ass hanging out of a pair of denim shorts, that I have a moment to think about Vanessa. Just the smell of another’s perfume sends me back to her, when I leaned her back and took a plump pink nipple to my mouth.
It ramps up as I suck down even more drinks. And by last call, I’m wasted on the thought of her. I can’t let this be it. Before Jonah and Martin can get up to cover their bills, I’m already racing out the door, my feet huffing it to my bike. It roars on my command before taking off down the road, back towards the house I shouldn’t be within a thousand feet of. The death wish that awaits me just makes me ride harder and faster towards Vanessa and her castle.
I park my bike a few blocks from the Barber home in a parking lot of an all-night fast food place. It’s well hidden from anyone passing by, but I yank a few garbage cans in front of it just in case. Then I take off towards her home. The whole time, my ears were perked and listening for the sound of the boys beating me back to their homes and to Vanessa.
From their neighbor’s yard, I spotted my way in. A large oak tree leaned against a window where one desk lamp was still illuminating a bubblegum pink room. It had to be Vanessa’s. My only shot up there was to scurry up the tree like a little kid and hope that the branches would hold my weight so I could leap up and over to the second floor bedroom’s window.
Climbing the tree is easier said than done. As soon as I’m past the trunk, the limbs begin swaying and cracking from my weight. I know that any wrong move could mean I’m a second away from sending me crashing down to the ground. And the last thing I want is for whomever is inside to notice me sneaking up to a bedroom at two or three in the morning.
But I have bigger problems than that. Right before I’m ready to start knocking on the window, the sound of the Barber choppers comes roaring up the block. I pull in closer to the tree’s center, praying that I’m concealed enough. When the boys pull in, their headlights aim right at me, blinding me with the sharp white light pointed directly in my eyes. I hang on even tighter.
Yet, they don’t seem to even notice me. They stammer in drunkenly, talking about something one of Martin’s boys did that night. I can hear the conversation continue well past their front door being closed and locked. I wait, watching the lights of two of the rooms spark and light up. And through the curtains, I can see Martin Barber flop into bed without even undressing and the outline of Jonah Barber moving up through the hallway straight towards Vanessa’s bedroom.
Vanessa’s room flashes bright yellow as a door flings open. Jonah walks in and pulls off a cover from Vanessa’s bed revealing Vanessa curled up around a pillow. I can just make out her red, swollen eyes and her terrified glances, as he surveys her room. He checks in every crevice and hiding spot but comes up empty, almost disappointedly so, before leaving the room without even helping her tidy it back up. Another light pops on, and Jonah undresses behind a curtain and then hops into bed.
I’m still focused on Vanessa and her shaking hands. She rushes over to the closet door he has flung open and a few coats he removed from a hanger on the door. She moves tiredly through the motions, as if she is resound in the fact that she deserves to be terrorized like this. I have to make my move. I can’t stand to see her like this.
I reach over to a smaller branch and slide my legs across the line of the bark till I’m at the windowsill. With one hand holding onto a limb above my head, I lean over and tap gently against the window. Vanessa turns towards me, completely frightened. Nothing in her even softens when she recognizes me lingering among the branches. Still, she walks quickly to the window and lifts it up and open for me to slip in.
I begin to speak, “Vanessa, what the he—?”
Her hand flies up to my mouth, covering it quickly. She places a finger to her lips, as she guides me over to the side of her bed facing away from the door. I slump down onto the lumpy mattress before turning back to her, waiting for her to make the first move. Her warm, soft hand slides down the length of my bare neck, her fingertips sweetly caressing at my stubble and dry skin.
Those fairy tale eyes lock in on mine, as she asks as quietly as possible, “What are you doing here, Gavin?”
And in that moment, I don’t know what to say or how to answer. I have no idea why I am here, risking both of our lives. So I give her the basic answer, the answer that just scratches the surface of what I am feeling. “I had to know what happened to you. Why the hell did you leave me?”
A small smirk crosses her face as she explains, “I didn’t leave you. My dad caught me outside the bathroom. He doesn’t know that we were together. He thinks I snuck out to see you so I could apologize for what happened at lunch.”
“Shit.” I finally notice the way she is turning her cheek away from me. My thumb reaches up to spin the other side to face me. Before I can see it, I already know what it is. The stormy colors of a large bruise take up nearly half of her cheek. And that’s not even half of that. As she lifts her chin, I spot the brown, dim finger marks around her neck.
Something in me bursts, as I immediately stand, my hands knotting into thick fists. Motherfucker, I think to myself. I don’t say that out loud, though. Instead, I look down at her as I command, “We have to go. You can’t stay here anymore. That fucking bastard is not allowed to do that to you.”
She follows me yanking me back down. Her voice raises slightly, as she points at the wall her bed leans up against, “Gavin, no. You don’t understand. If I leave, he will kill my mom.”
“You can’t stay here, Vanessa. I’m not going to let that twisted son of a bitch do this to you.”
I pull her into my arms, cradling her against my chest. She rocks slightly, and I can feel her holding back the tears threatening to fall. As she pulls up and away, I reach out towards her, gently pulling her in for a long, drawn out kiss. I don’t want to hear her protests. I don’t want her to tell me no. I just want to protect her for as long as I can in this embrace.
Her small hands find their way to my chest and gather up the material of my t-shirt in her fists. She pulls me in tighter as the waves of our body hit us again. Her tongue slips into my mouth, exploring and plunging head first into our union. As she comes closer to me, I can’t help but hook a finger under the strap of her tank top, the same one she took off for me hours earlier. The material slides down easily over the curve of her tan skin.
She pulls away and watches helplessly as I trace a line along the top of her breasts from shoulder to shoulder. I reach out to one of her hands to place it on my thigh so that she is mere centimeters from my crotch. She turns away from me, so I trace the nape of her neck with my nose. She shudders, and I can’t tell if it’s out of pleasure or pain. Probably both. Weakly, she bats me away. “We can’t, Gavin,” she insists, though it’s not the kind of tone that tells me “no.”
I continue to kiss her, making my way around the bruises of her neck to behind her ear. “Then come with me,” I whisper. “Even if it’s only just for tonight. I’ll get you back home before they know you’re gone.” I feel like a goddamn kid again, like a teenager trying to sneak in a quick bang before I hear the door open to signal Mom and Dad are home.
But with Vanessa, it’s different. I want her to come with me not so that we can continue with what is happening in her own bedroom, but so that she feels safe and wanted. I want to make her feel what I am feeling when I’m with her, no matter how murky and unclear that was for me.
She pauses, the air stopping in her throat. A hand presses against me and pushes me away as she says firmly, “No. I can’t. I can’t do this. Gavin, this is not going to happen, and I can’t let it happen. There’s too much at stake.”
I wonder if she means my life. The way she peers at me makes me think that she’s more concerned with me getting out of this alive than anything else, but she slowly says, “He’s going to kill us if he catches me, and I can’t let that happen. Please, just go.”
“But you want this.”
“But I can’t have it.” She looks up at me with pleading, terrified eyes. “Please, just make this easier on me and go. I can’t do this anymore.”
In what feels like someone fast-forwarding my life, I walk backwards towards the window and out into the tree. My hands scrape against the bark as I don’t look back. My feet hit the ground, and I give myself just three seconds to look back up at her as she closes and locks her window. In those three seconds, I watch as she hesitates before closing a pair of pink blinds on me for good.