Tendra

Brex circled my legs, meowing incessantly, and I nearly tripped over him on my way to the kitchen. “Shit, shit, shit,” I mumbled. I was running late for work, and after all the time I’d missed recently, I was in danger of getting fired.

It wasn’t like I loved my job waitressing at a bar in the shit end of an already shitty city, but it paid well thanks to my cleavage-baring clothes.

“Can’t have that, can we?” I said to my cat as I peeled open the top of his food can. “Who else is going to buy your”—I glanced at the label—“tuna with cheddar?” I made a face, and Brex sat on his haunches, giving me a death glare. I bought his food by the case at the local discount grocer, and would have loved to give him something a little bit healthier. My mom used to laugh at me. “Tenny, he’s a cat. He was born in a barn. He’s fine with whatever you feed him.”

I still felt bad. He was the closest thing to family I had anymore.

“When I win the lottery, I’ll buy you gourmet salmon and you can eat out of a crystal dish like those cats on TV.” I ripped off the rest of the lid. The flimsy tin flung back and sliced into my thumb. Pain lanced up my forearm and I growled. “Damnit.” I sucked at the cut, tasting iron and a little bit of tuna. Gross.

Brex offered no sympathy, as he was already scarfing up his food. I didn’t have time to grab a Band-Aid, so I ripped off a small square of paper towel and stuck it on the already clotting scrape. I ran a hand down his black and gray tabby stripes, and he gave me a soft meow before resuming his meal. We understood each other somehow—Brex and I. After Mom died, he didn’t leave my side, like he knew I needed the companionship. After a sorrowful glance at my couch, the afghan my mom had hand-knitted me, and a pair of comfy sweatpants, I was out the door on the way to work. “Bye, Brex!” I called over my shoulder.

My heels thumped on the stained carpet of my apartment building hallway, and the fluorescent lights in the ceiling flickered. They hadn’t worked properly since I’d moved here five years ago. I pushed open the front door and began the mile walk to The Rose. I tightened my jacket around my waist, because the winter chill still stretched its long fingers into the start of spring. Tonight seemed cooler than it had been all week, and I wished I was wearing something on my legs. Instead they were bare to mid-thigh, so I walked quickly, head straight, eyes scanning my surroundings like I’d learned in every self-defense class I’d ever taken.

I wasn’t sure why Mom had brought us to Mission City. I’d been in worse places, and I’d also been in a hell of a lot of better ones. But Mission in northern New Jersey was a change of pace from our previous rural living situation, so I hadn’t complained. I always went where Mom moved us. Now that she was gone…My eyes prickled and I blinked rapidly, the streetlights blurring as the tears pooled in my eyes. I wiped them discreetly, not wanting to draw attention to myself. I couldn’t do this, not tonight. I’d missed too much work the last month while lying on my couch paralyzed by grief.

A shadow skittered across a dark alley as I passed by, and my steps faltered. I cursed under my breath, heat rising up my throat to flood my face. There wasn’t much I hated more than fear. It clogged my throat and messed with my brain. No matter how much I’d practiced defending myself, there was no simulating real, actual terror. I told myself to keep walking, but I didn’t want some jackoff creeping up behind me. I squinted down the alley, then flinched when a cat trotted out of the darkness to scamper across the street. A damn cat. Not a stranger waiting in the shadows to steal what little money I had in my pocket.

I breathed out, closing my eyes for a minute to get myself under control. Get your shit together, Tendra. My nerves were exposed since Mom died, like her life had wrapped me in a protective layer, and now it’d been stripped away to reveal raw skin. Vulnerable was a feeling I loathed, and I’d felt nothing but that for weeks. I glanced up at the buildings on either side of me, my chest constricting as I swore they bowed in toward me. Great, so now I was experiencing claustrophobia. Maybe I had to get the hell out of this town sooner rather than later.

With Mom no longer around, it was up to me to decide to stay in Mission or move on. I knew how to start over; I’d been doing it my whole life. I was allergic to laying down roots, to allowing myself to be beholden to anyone else. I always had an escape route. And right now my skin was itching, my inner voice telling me to take that route.

Usually when we moved, there was always something to kick us into gear. My mom used to say we were always given cues when it was time to move on. One time the house we were renting burned down, and another time we came home to find our entire place ransacked. For a long time I thought moving frequently was normal. It wasn’t until my preteen years that I began to question why we could never stay in one place. Why we had such bad luck. Why when I’d seen odd slashes on my wooden bed frame after our home was ransacked, and asked Mom about them, she’d gone pale but never explained. Then there was that fateful school field trip right after I turned sixteen, which was the reason I started taking self-defense classes, because over my dead body would I be that helpless again.

I never got a chance to ask her if there was a time we could settle down. Sometimes I had moments of jealousy when we’d enter a town, visit a store where the cashier had been born there, and so had her mother, and great-grandmother. What would it be like to have a home like that where everyone knew you? Now, I wasn’t sure I had it in me to settle. Five years was the longest we’d ever lived anywhere. Maybe Mom’s death was my sign now to move on. After my shift tonight, now that my head was finally clearer and wasn’t fogged with mourning, I’d have to sit down, think about picking up with Brex and getting out of Mission.

The streets were quieter tonight, only the occasional car. No more shadows lurked in the darkness of Mission, but that creepy feeling didn’t leave until I stood outside the door of The Rose.

Inside, Kev was behind the bar, serving some regulars. He gave me a chin tilt, his eyes holding a little bit of concern, but I waved and forced a smile. I didn’t want to deal with sympathetic looks. I wanted to serve beer and get tips, then get home and take off these heels. T-minus six hours.

After shoving my things in my locker and double-checking my mascara hadn’t run, I tied on my apron and grabbed my notepad and pen. The fear I’d felt out on the street had subsided. That was the great thing about working—especially at a busy bar like The Rose. Not only did I make money, but it also took my mind off everything. Out on the bar floor, Ruby was standing near a crowded table that was already a little rowdy. As if she had a sixth sense, she glanced back at me.

“Sorry,” I mouthed, knowing me being late affected her the most.

She smiled and mouthed back, “You’re fine,” before turning back to her table.

And then I got into Tendra work mode, where I smiled easily and was charming, rather than actual Tendra who was a reclusive cat lady with a killer roundhouse kick. That all worked well for a couple of hours until Drake and his friends came in, and then the night started to get weird.

A couple of times—admittedly weak moments—when Drake had raised his eyebrows and gave me that little chin jerk, I’d taken him up on a quickie at his one-bedroom apartment despite the loud neighbors and questionable dead bolt. But that had been months ago and my sex drive was at ten below zero since Mom died.

I set the pint of stout in front of Drake and turned away from his table of friends. I’d taken one step in my four-inch heels when he spoke up. “Hey, Ten.”

I barely heard him say my name over the poor acoustics in the bar. A rowdy group was shooting pool in the corner, and some other guys were watching basketball on the fuzzy TV screen located behind the bar. The Rose was packed with the usual regulars. When I looked over my shoulder, Drake’s hand was raised as if to touch me. I raised an eyebrow, and he dropped it into his lap. “So, uh, how’ve you been?”

I slowly turned to face him, knowing his friends were watching closely. Drake was a horn dog and kinda slow, but not an asshole. Usually. But with his friends listening to every word, waiting to dog him when I turned him down, he might not be too happy with the rejection. I’d learned that the hard way a couple of times with other men. I flipped my hair over my shoulder. “Doing all right.” Lies. “You?”

Drake took a sip of his beer. “Great since I got to watch you walk around this bar in that short skirt.” Another chin jerk.

Goddamnit. I leaned in, curling my lips in a smile that felt as fake as my charm. “Glad you’ve enjoyed the view. But I got plans tonight. Swing by next week.” I could hope it was on the one night I didn’t work.

Drake seemed appeased by that, the postponed date doing the trick. “Sure, Ten.”

I flashed him another smile. “This round is on me, boys.”

They whooped, Drake’s rejection forgotten, and I discreetly licked my forefinger and swiped the air. Score one for Tendra.

With my tray balanced in one hand, I made a sweep of my half of the bar to collect empties. Ruby was on the other side, standing close to a man who was most definitely appreciating the skimpy uniforms we wore. Ruby had recently buzzed her hair down to her scalp, and all it did was show off her amazing cheekbones and perfect face. The dim lighting in the bar reflected off her smooth, dark skin. All of that made her a favorite among the regulars.

A table along the far wall cleared, the men stumbling toward the front door to head out into the dark streets of Mission. I glanced at my watch. About fifteen minutes until close. Not much longer until I could go home and pass out in my bed with my cat.

My job at The Rose had originally been a temporary one. I’d planned to work here until I found something better—a career—but Mission was not a city where dreams were made. At least, not for people like me. Yet I had a place to live, and could pay my bills, and had a couple of friends I trusted. Mostly I hung out with Ruby and her friends—on the fringe of her close-knit circle. Having moved so much as a kid, I was always an outsider, and I’d grown so comfortable in that role, I wasn’t sure what it felt like to be fully accepted. Home was an ever-changing variant to me. When I wasn’t working, I was at home with my cat. Ruby joked I was a crazy cat lady at twenty-five, but I told her I needed at least three cats for that title.

She responded that Brex weighed enough for three cats, and I told her to quit fat-shaming him; he was just big-boned.

I spent the rest of my time watching cult classic movies and lurking in their online fandoms. Maybe one day I’d actually make friends here, but just like in real life, I was on the fringe.

I resigned myself to the fact that I’d always feel like that. Maybe we weren’t all meant to belong somewhere. Or to someone. So other than that, things weren’t too bad. Life would be better if Mom was still alive, but I couldn’t change that.

Swallowing around the lump in my throat and blinking back the sting in my eyes, I focused on clearing the table in front of me. After all the dirty glasses were on my tray, I was passing a damp rag over the table when the hair on the back of my neck rose.

I didn’t stop cleaning. I trusted my instincts, but didn’t want to alert whoever was watching me that I noticed. Not yet. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a man in the corner booth. He was alone, a full draft of beer in front of him. His brow was so prominent that his eyes were in shadow, but I was sure he was watching me.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I’d never seen him before, and this was a neighborhood bar, which rarely saw new people. We were in the section of Mission where most buildings were full of squatters with needles in their arms rather than reputable businesses. That same fear I’d felt early that night tightened my chest, but I was curious, too. That was the only reason I didn’t haul ass away from him. Plus, this bar was my territory. He was on my turf.

My heart pounded while I wiped the table over and over again until I could see my reflection on the surface. I could ignore him, but now I wanted him to know that I’d seen him. Sometimes when men were confronted head-on, they were less likely to see me as weak. Sometimes. I flipped through everything I’d been taught in all the self-defense classes I’d taken. I decided to act normal, see if he needed to place an order, as if the gaze on my back didn’t freak me the hell out. I took a deep breath and turned around. As I began to make my way toward his table, and he lifted his chin slightly, I knew that this might have been a mistake. A big one.

His eyes were so dark, they looked black; his jawline so sharp, it could draw blood. His black hair was pulled back at his nape, but several strands hung over his eyes, and his entire presence was like a fog that made me a little dizzy. He wore all black from what I could see. A long leather trench and black shirt underneath that did nothing to hide the breadth of his chest. Jesus, this man looked like he could pick up the entire length of the bar and toss it over his head.

The only bouncer we had was Kev, and he weighed a buck sixty and could carry fewer cases of vodka than I could.

Deep breaths, Tendra. Just act cool. I pointed to the man’s beer. “Need anything with that? A water? Kitchen is closed but I could wrangle up something for you if you’re hungry.” Ugh, why was I being so chatty?

He shifted slightly, his hands flattening on the top of the table before relaxing again. He shook his head, then studied me for a minute, and when his gaze dipped to take in my body, I felt it on my skin like flames. When he met my eyes again, a fire ignited in my belly.

This was when I decided to get turned on? Some stranger who could probably snap my neck with one hand?

I was demented. Or losing it. There was absolutely no reason for me to be turned on by him. But yet…those dark eyes held me. Ensnared me.

I snapped out of it, breaking the connection with a jerk of my head. “Right, well, I’m Tendra. You need something, just holler.”

Then I walked away from that mountain of a man as fast as my short legs would take me. If Drake hadn’t left, I might have gone back on my previous decision to reject him. Except I was sure that if I let Drake touch me, I’d be imagining larger hands, darker eyes, rougher sex.

Wow, I needed more sleep or something.

At the bar, Kev was starting to shoo the drunks toward the door. “You don’t have to go home, but you—”

“Can’t stay here!” a trio of regulars answered, then dissolved into cackles.

I set the tray of empties on the bar, and Kev went to work washing them while I leaned on the bar with a hand on my hip.

Carl turned to me. “Hey, Sugar.” He puckered his lips in a fake kiss, and I blew him one back. I knew his wife, daughter, and grandkids, so he was the only man who could call me Sugar. He and his brothers came in most nights, hats resting on the bar so the lights gleamed off their identical smooth, dark heads. “How’s Sasha?” I asked. His youngest grandchild recently broke her arm.

“Bah,” he said, slapping a hand on the bar. Well, he kinda missed the bar, but I got his intention. “She’s fine. Cast on, and she’s still jumping off the bed.”

“I’d take it away and make her sleep on a mattress on the floor,” I said.

Beside Carl, Michael laughed. “Harsh, Sugar.”

Okay, so Michael would call me Sugar, too.

“We’ll see how you are one day when you have your own rug rats,” Kev said.

“Who says I want kids?” I picked up my tray and leaned over the bar to slide it on the shelf underneath.

Kev raised an eyebrow, but didn’t answer.

I didn’t have any living relatives left that I knew of. My mom said my dad left when I was a baby, and later she’d heard he died in a car accident. So part of me yearned for a family of my own, but I hadn’t met a guy yet who I wanted to mix genes with. And I’d have to think long and hard about whether I wanted to bring a baby into this world. It hadn’t always treated me so well.

“Come on, guys,” Kev urged again. “You can’t go home, but—”

“You already said that!” Michael yelled, trying to grab his hat three times as he stood up. I picked it up for him and placed it on his head. He muttered a thanks and followed his brothers toward the door. “Bye, Sugar!” Carl yelled.

“Get home safe!” I yelled back.

I glanced at the corner quickly, but the large man was gone. He must have slipped out while I was talking at the bar. I shivered, hoping he never came back. And then kinda hoping he did.

“You all right?” Kev’s brows were knit in concern.

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You looked like you saw a ghost or something.”

“Just felt like someone walked on my grave,” I said, watching as the last customer walked out the door. Ruby immediately sat down on a chair, took off her shoes, and stuck her feet in a pair of flip-flops. She was a petite black woman, and her flip-flops were child-size, which I teased her about a lot. She gasped and wiggled her toes. “I don’t know how you walk in those things all night and then the whole way home.” She glared at me, then nudged her red heel and scrunched her nose. “I hate them. Devil shoes.” She crossed her fingers and hissed at it.

I shrugged and began to clean up the tables and lift the chairs. “I don’t know. They don’t bother me. And they are awesome weapons.” Mom was always big on self-defense. I was like MacGyver in a fight. Hell, I’d find a way to use a paper clip to rip open a jugular.

We cleaned up the bar in record time, and I plunked down on a stool at the bar to down a glass of water before the mile walk home. Ruby stood next to me and rested her head on my shoulder. “How are you? I feel like we haven’t talked in forever.”

I shrugged her off me with a laugh. “You’ve been busy with your woman.”

Ruby sat down next to me, nibbling her lip. “I know, but you’re my friend. I should be making time.”

“Stop, it’s a new relationship. You just feel bad because you know I don’t have any other friends.” Ruby sucked in a breath. Maybe I hadn’t meant to say that out loud, and not so bluntly, but it was true. I sighed. “It’s fine, really. I’ve been catching up on some k-dramas. I don’t mind being alone.”

Ruby rubbed her bare shoulder. “Maybe the three of us can hang out.”

I shrugged.

“She said she might stop in sometime next week when I’m working. If you want to meet her.” Ruby was a peacemaker. She liked everyone happy and okay with each other.

I was a little too cynical for that, but I’d make it work for her. “Sure, that’d be nice.”

Ruby’s face brightened, despite the tired lines in her face. “Great. I’ll tell her. I want you two to like each other.”

Classic Ruby. Wanting a get-along gang. Which was not a bad thing, so I needed to get over myself. “I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”

She squeezed my hand, then stood up. “I’m going to get going. Kev, you okay closing down?”

“Got it handled, ladies,” he said, pausing as he counted the money in the drawer. “Go on home.”

After saying good night to Kev and Ruby, I slipped on my leather jacket, turned up the collar, and began my walk home. The night air was cool, but a comfortable cool, a slight breeze lifting my hair and cooling my neck and clammy skin.

When Mom was alive, she’d wake up just to come to the bar to walk me home. I’d told her I could handle it myself, but she said she enjoyed it. We’d talk about everything and nothing in the darkness, and it ended up being some of my best memories.

I was depressing the hell out of myself right now.

I didn’t hear his footsteps, I didn’t see him, but I felt his presence, that same overwhelming fog that spun my head. I’d always prided myself on my instincts, but this was on a whole other sixth-sense level.

I slipped my hand into the pocket of my jacket and fingered my switchblade. Ruby asked me one time why I didn’t carry pepper spray like a regular person. But my mom had always insisted I learned how to physically defend myself. She hadn’t expected me to jump at the chance to take a class on weapon training, but I had. So a switchblade was my weapon of choice, and I was never without it on my walk home from work. Whether this man wanted to rape me, rob me, or kill me, I was going to be prepared. And then I was getting the hell out of Mission.

He was drawing closer now, the air thick with him, and I struggled to breathe, to keep my wits about me. I would not be beat today.

Keep it together, Ten. I counted in my head, knowing he was gaining on me, that I wouldn’t be able to outrun him, no way. Not a man that size. Not when I was wearing heels.

Five. I closed my fingers around the handle of my blade. Four. I adjusted the grip. Three. I pressed the small button to flick out the blade. Two. I took a deep breath.

One.

I whirled around, crouching down while at the same time swiping the knife in an upward arc across my body.

I’d been right; he was there, inches behind me, and he reared back, narrowly avoiding the blade from slicing across his neck. In a fluid motion, I brought the blade back down and went for the gut, the vulnerable area between the sides of his unzipped jacket.

I didn’t even see his hand until his fingers closed around my wrist, squeezing my pressure point immediately, forcing me to drop my blade. With a frustrated yell, I reached behind me, slipped off my shoe, and tried to stab him in the face with my stiletto. But he knocked it out of my hand with ease, sending it flying into the street.

My heart beat a panicked rhythm and as he tugged me to his chest, I struggled to stay on my feet, to focus on getting away from him alive. I had one last defense, so I brought my knee up with a jerk to slam his groin.

I didn’t get anywhere near my target, because he was no longer in front of me, and in the next second I was airborne, His arms wrapped around me from behind, and my legs dangled uselessly as he crushed my back to his chest. I tried to fling my head back to head-butt him, but his monstrous height and my shortness rendered that move ineffective.

My last resort, the only thing I had left, which would get me nowhere in this part of town, was to scream.

So I did. I screamed my fucking lungs out and flailed like a wild animal. He muttered, his voice a deep rumble along my spine, “I’m sorry to do this, Tendra,” before passing his wrist in front of my face.

I inhaled something sweet, sickly sweet. “What the…” The last word didn’t come. My lips and tongue wouldn’t move. My vision darkened at the edges, and the last thing I remembered was fingers brushing my hair off my forehead before everything went black.