17
“You sure?” Finger asked, again, buckling the saddlebag on his bike.
“Positive,” Tania replied.
“This is the best idea. It is.” I shifted my weight, ignoring my sudden inability to breathe properly. Ignoring the early morning heat bouncing up off the asphalt of the motel parking lot making me even more lightheaded, even more dizzy.
Finger stared at me and Tania, calculating, regretting.
“You go. You’ve got to go,” I said. And he did, he had some club business to take care of in Nebraska today.
“Go,” Tania added.
My watery eyes hung on his. Something pinched inside my chest and twisted and twisted. This was the first time I’d be alone. On my own, without the framework of the Smoking Guns, without a specific place in a horrible hierarchy which was, of course, liberating, but also oddly terrifying. Now, I would be without Justin.
When I’d first met him a spark had gone off inside me and unspooled everything I’d had rolled up tight. All the long weeks afterward, I’d kept that sparkling thread under my heart muscle and would take it out before I’d go to sleep, right before I’d close my eyes. I’d wind that delicate, vibrant twine around me tightly and burrow my face into my pillow and wish and dream. And the dream had come true. He’d done as he’d said. He’d come back for me. He’d broken me out and given me a new chance at a new life. I wanted that new life with him in it.
But now we had to separate, say goodbye.
We’d had two nights. They’d been priceless. Now they too would become memories to spool and unspool in the dark of my night.
Something dislodged inside me and threatened to slide out from under me. My stomach hardened against it. If I lost it now, got emotional and crazy, all of me would let go and go tumbling into a pit that there would be no climbing out from. I needed to choke it down and carry on without him holding my hand, without him whispering my name against my skin, and laughing softly in my ear.
Tania stepped back from us, and turned to her car, busied herself pushing shit around in the crowded trunk. Finger kissed me, cradling my face in his hands. I pressed into him, my arms wrapping around his waist, and squeezed him hard. My fingertips dug into the taut muscles of his back, memorizing their feel, their curves, how they stretched and tightened against me. How it felt, the two of us together in the world.
Would there ever be a place for us in this world?
“I’ll get you a driver’s license with a new name and date of birth. We got people in DMVs all over, won’t be a problem.”
“Goodbye, Serena,” I quipped.
“Yeah.” His eyes clouded at the sound of that terrible word. Goodbye. He fisted my hair, keeping me close. “I’ll be in touch real soon. You know that, right?” His voice was even more hoarse than usual, that odd, scratchy, husky quality more pronounced now.
“I know,” I said into his chest, breathing in the fresh soapy scent we shared from a shower the two of us had hastily taken together only half an hour ago.
Remember this. Remember how this feels.
He released me and pressed a round hard object covered in a worn suede pouch into my palm. “I want you to have this.” I glanced up at him as I opened the pouch and pulled out an old pocket watch.
He flipped the top. No, it wasn’t a watch.
“A compass?”
“My dad gave it to me. His dad had given it to him. It’s the compass he used in the army in Vietnam. Take it.”
“I can’t. It’s precious to you, it’s—”
He took my face in his hands, his fierce eyes drilling into mine. “You’re precious to me. You mean everything to me.” He swallowed hard. “I can’t explain it, but I have this mess of feelings for you. Actually, it’s not a mess, it’s real clear how important you are to me.” He took in a breath, his brows knitting. “Knowing you have the compass is a solid promise. My promise that I will always find you. I will always come for you, that you and me, we’re connected like the laws of gravity and magnetics and physics that govern this earth. You and me, we’re inevitable.”
My heart pounded in my chest as I held his iron gaze. Urgent faith, sturdy strength for the both of us.
A commitment.
“We’re going to be together one day, Serena. One day real soon.”
“One day,” I breathed, knowing in my gut what that meant.
Things were shit now. Med would be on the warpath, out for blood. He just might figure out that it was Finger who had helped me—or he wouldn’t. Either way, it meant that Finger and I couldn’t be together in plain sight. We would have to lay low for a long time yet.
How long?
“No one’s going to keep us apart.” Finger closed the antique brass compass and put his palm over it, pressing it in my hand. “We will be together, we’ll find a way. We can’t not find a way.”
“One day.”
“One day.” He kissed me hard, and a noise escaped the back of his throat. He pulled me into his chest, kissing the top of my head, burying his face in my hair.
I hung on. This was too hard, too awful. Too everything.
“We should get moving,” came Tania’s soft voice from somewhere behind me.
He let me go and hugged Tania. “Thank you. For everything.”
“You’re welcome.” Tania hugged him back. “This will all work out. You’ll see. She’ll be fine.” She pulled back from him and put her arm through mine.
“You take care of her for me,” he said to her.
“I will. We’ll take care of each other. Now go.”
Finger got on his bike and started her up. That blast ripped the air, making my heart beat even faster. I’d considered it an ugly sound for so long, yet right this second it was a symphony bursting with promise and possibility and glory. He put his gloves on, looking away, on purpose, I was sure of it, as he adjusted himself in his saddle. It had only been a couple of days since he’d been on a bike, but I could tell it had felt like forever for him.
He sucked in a deep breath, his back straightening, and stared at me and Tania. His dark eyes were now shielded by his goggles, but I knew they burned, burned same as mine. One day soon I would be on a bike with him, and we would ride together without hiding, without fear. That longing, that emotion, that determination radiated between us, and I sucked in its heady fragrance through every pore and let it fill me, fill me with courage to face the very next moment without him, and then the next, and the next.
My eyes blinked from behind my sunglasses, and something in my stomach dropped and unspooled, but I pulled it in. Yes, one day soon. I had to believe. I had to be patient.
I had to be careful.
His chest heaved. “Tell me to go. I don’t think I can—”
“Go, baby,” I breathed. “You have to go.”
I clasped the compass tightly. It was the one thing I owned now, the one thing that was mine in all this world. He’d lain his heart and soul in my hands, and I would keep them safe. I would never let them go.
Ever.
We made it to Chicago.
Tania and I got that apartment she’d had a lead on, a tiny walkup in a crap building in Pilsen. The neighborhood’s charming decrepit buildings were slowly starting to turn into lofts, but it was still affordable, plus the area had a lot of ethnic diversity which we both liked.
Within a few weeks of landing in Chicago, Tania got her old job back at a restaurant as a waitress and substitute bartender a few nights out of the week, and an additional job at an art gallery during the day with Neil, a good friend of hers from college. I found work at a vintage clothing store taking in stock and keeping it organized which I was very good at. I dressed the way I wanted to, bought clothes at a big discount for myself and Tania. It was fun.
Finger had gotten me a new name, Social Security number, and driver’s license as promised, but I was nervous about using the number so I managed to get paid under the table. I’d told my boss I’d just gotten a nasty divorce and wanted to stay under the radar for a while, and he was cool about it. I was now “Ashley Wyeth” to the world.
Hello world, hello shiny normal life.
Well. Kind of normal.
Tania and I settled into being roommates very easily. She took the one small bedroom, and I slept on a futon sofa in a corner of the living room. I’d separated my corner from the rest of the room with a broken Asian screen we’d found on the street which we cleaned up, patched, and repainted. I didn’t mind the living room. In fact, I preferred being in the much larger open space instead of that tiny, tiny bedroom. I couldn’t breathe in there.
Tania loved flea markets and rummage sales, and I discovered I did too. We spent our weekends scouring Maxwell Street Market, which was gritty but had loads of character. We always found something we had to have. Tania often brought home odd pieces she’d find on the sidewalks that other people had thrown away. She saw something in each piece, and I loved getting my hands on whatever it was and giving it new life. We made a good design team.
We worked hard on making our living space special. I would scrub a trashed piece of wood furniture clean, stripping it, varnishing, painting it an odd color, then scrub it again to make it seem antiqued. I’d find quirky hardware pieces and use them for handles or as eccentric details. We decorated the apartment with inexpensive tapestries. I made a mini chandelier of sorts out of rusty bicycle chains and the prettiest small bulbs. Tania bought old pillows, and I patched up any holes or tears with contrasting fabric. Each time I opened the front door, the colors, the textures, the lines all sang to me in a bright rich chorus of YES.
On the weekends, Tania and Neil would drag me with them to funky art parties at galleries or artists’ studios or performance spaces. I met people my age, I made friends. Well, sort of. I made acquaintances. I wasn’t ready to let people in, I wasn’t sure when I would be. I stuck to Tania and Neil. They were enough for me for now.
What I really wanted, needed, was out of my reach.
After too many weeks, Finger was finally able to come to Chicago for a visit.
He didn’t come to the apartment. In fact, I didn’t think he ever would. We’d agreed it was best that when he was able to come to Chicago, he and I would meet on neutral ground in case he was being watched or followed.
I headed to the low budget motel in the northern outskirts of town. I knocked on room 103, my stomach churning, my mouth dry. Three sets of two knocks as he’d told me to do.
The door opened, and I held my breath. A threshold to a new life, one with him in it. Would the emotional and physical intensity between us be the same? I didn’t want the heady chemistry between us to change, but maybe it would be different now. Would we still want and need each other the way we had in that motel, or was all that only us being swept up in a life-threatening drama? We still were in a life-threatening drama, but without the immediate fear of death and destruction hanging over us like the last time.
I stepped through the doorway, thrumming somewhere between anxiety and excitement. My skin tingled, my pulse pounded. The motel room was dark, and the door thudded and clicked shut behind me. A deep, ragged exhale released next to me.
I reached out. “Finger?”
Strong arms embraced me. “Baby.”
I held onto him, squeezed him, smelled his skin, sweat, soap, and cedar. I turned and buried my face in his throat, took in his breath, reveled in the press of his body. His lips found mine and we kissed. My heart thundered in my chest, I couldn’t breathe right.
He lifted me up in his arms. The need to touch his bare skin overwhelmed me. I didn’t want to think. Need and desire flung us all around the room like a bottle rocket.
I pulled on his T-shirt underneath his hoodie. I only wanted to consume him, us, before anyone could take it away again. Before I was told to stop, to leave, to not look back. Would this be the last time for a long time? Would it be a disaster and then he’d never contact me again? Would he still want me?
Would I be able to handle all this?
I squirmed away from him and tore off my jacket, my shirt, my bra. He hit a switch, and a dim light further in the room by the bed popped on. He stood there, watching me like a hungry creature of the night, his jaw tense, eyes shining, his built chest rising and falling quickly. Those once ugly scars on his face had become a part of his skin. A short beard now covered his chin and the sides of his face, his hair was still long. He was gorgeous. I lunged at him, pushing him back onto the bed which creaked and squeaked under our weight. I kissed and tasted, I dug my hands in his loose, long hair. He was beautiful, so beautiful.
All mine, all for me.
I sucked on an earlobe, tugging on it while I moved over his body, finding his erection and rubbing a hand over it.
“Baby, wait.”
No, no waiting.
Hands gripped my hips, stopping me. “Serena—”
What?
“Babe, wait! Hang on.” His hands cradled my face, his legs anchored mine on the bed, holding me still.
My breath was tight. My chest hurt. I blinked at the haze. “What? What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Just slow down, honey. Slow down.”
“Why? What are you—”
“Listen to me.” His voice was firm, yet tender. His eyes searched mine. “Are you listening?”
My shoulders tensed, my grip on his flesh tightening. “Yeah?”
He smoothed a hand down the side of my face, my neck, and a small moan escaped my lips at the sudden gentleness.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” he said. “I want you bad, too.”
Heat unfurled inside me at his words, at the care in his touch. “Okay.”
“I want you to know that you don’t have to convince me or rush anything,” he said. “I don’t want to rush. I want us to feel everything. We can stay in this room all day and all night and just fuck if you want, but I don’t want to rush. I want you, not someone you think you have to be for me. I wanted you to know that.”
My chest caved in, a cool shiver raced over my bare flesh.
“You came in through the door just now and suddenly it felt like a first time, a new time,” he said, his voice a rough whisper. “We’ve been through a hell of a lot to get to this very second, and from now on, I want it to be good for you. I need it to be good for you. And after what you’ve been through—”
“And you.”
“Yeah, and me. I know it’s gonna take time, and I want you to know that I’ll listen. I’m going to do everything I can so that this won’t get taken away from us, if that’s what you still want. An ‘us,’ I mean.”
I held onto him tighter. “Justin—”
“You don’t need to prove anything to me,” he continued. “And you don’t owe me anything, I need you to know that. I get you being nervous and wanting to get it over with right off the bat. Is that what this is?”
I swallowed. “Maybe. A part of me was worried about freaking out on you.”
He let out a small laugh. “Look who you’re talking to, baby. I’m the freak.”
“No, no you aren’t.” I pushed up on his chest. “Are you nervous?”
His Adam’s apple plunged up and down in his throat. “I guess, yeah. A little.”
“Justin—”
“You mean a lot to me, Serena. I want—so much. But mostly I want to help you get to a better place, no matter what you choose.”
“There is no choice to make. I want you.”
He lifted his head on a slant, his eyes watery, his lips tipping up in a slight smile, and my heart squeezed. He was relieved. Happy.
I kissed his lips slowly and curled up on his chest. “I missed you so much.” I gave the words to the darkness, to his skin.
“I missed you too.”
We lay there in silence, him stroking my bare back, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath me. He ran his hands through my hair and a few moments later sat up, taking me with him, keeping me steady against his body. “Tell me how much you missed me.”
I met his gaze. “It’s an ache in the pit of my stomach. A thud in my chest.”
“Me too. Exactly.” A hand cupped a breast. “Tell me more.”
His lips took in a nipple gently, and my body sang a delicate melody.
My head fell back. “I think of you every night in my bed, and every morning when I wake up.”
“You touch yourself when you think of me?” He nipped at my flesh.
“Yes, and it feels good, but then I wonder who you’re talking to. If you’re laughing or smiling, if you’re mad, how your scars are feeling, if you’re screwing someone else.”
“I haven’t touched nobody else. Don’t want to. Only you, Serena.” His breath heated my skin, his arms wrapping around me. “You and Tania? Have you two…”
“No. No.” My legs rubbed against his. “No.”
He stroked my thigh. “I don’t want there to be any distance between us during sex. The last time we were real good there, amazing, but we had Tania as a buffer.”
“A buffer?” I asked.
“That night in the motel, the three of us said fuck it to everything. Getting Tania off, getting each other off, was this mutual goal we shared, and it morphed into a whole lot more. It was a perfect ice breaker and an awesome distraction.” His thumb rubbed the corner of my mouth.
“It was.” I flicked my tongue over his thumb.
“But now you and me alone is gonna be intense on a whole other level. I know I’ve built it up in my head.” He cleared his throat. “You know, it’s cool if you’re not ready. We can do other stuff, go slow.”
“I don’t want to go slow.”
“I can tell.” He rubbed my back, a dirty smile enlivened his face. “Whichever way you want it. You call it.”
I’d rarely felt lucky in my life, but I felt lucky now. This wonderful man wanted to give to me, help me reclaim myself, my sense of worth.
His thumb tugged at my lower lip. “You been sleeping through the night? Because I haven’t been.”
“Not really.” I sucked on his thumb and released it, and he let out a hiss of air. “It’s getting better, though. I can’t wait to sleep with you again tonight, after we exhaust each other first, of course.”
His hands pressed over my ass, squeezing. “You feel so good.”
“So good.” My body moved against his again, needing more. I bit his upper lip. “Now fuck me.”
He let out a groan. “You want to stop, you stop. Don’t worry about me, you hear?”
My eyes held his. “I want it to be good for you too.”
He pushed my hair back from my face and whispered, “Right now, I want to make you come.”
Laughing, I raised myself up and brushed a breast across his mouth. “Make me come, baby.”
He licked and nuzzled my nipple, scraping it carefully with his teeth, making my limbs weaken, my insides melt.
“Take my clothes off,” he said, his voice gruff.
My pulse kicked up at the urgency in his command. I moved into action, unzipping his pants, yanking them down his long legs, tugging off his shirt. My hands ran up and down his beautiful, sculpted chest. He found my clit and stroked hard over it as I ground myself against his hand, holding onto his shoulders. The wave built and built inside me.
I wanted to come.
I wanted to come for him.
I wanted to come out the other side and still be me, not some wounded, stiff creature.
He pushed me back on the bed and licked a trail down my body, his eyes on me. “Going down on you.”
“Yes, yes…”
I raised my hips, and his face sank between my legs. He explored me with his tongue, a tight grip on my hips. His hands slid to my inner thighs, pressing them apart, the flat pad of his tongue stroking hard over my clit. The intensity set my every nerve ablaze. There was no escaping his gifts.
My hands clenched into fists at my sides. I held my breath. I fought with memories, shrill laughs, the sound of liquor dripping to the floor from between my legs, a cold, hard table underneath my bare body.
Finger sat up and, taking his dick in hand, rubbed his thick length over my slick pussy. Up and down. Up and down.
“We’re both so wet, baby. Wet as fuck.”
That insane pressure built over my sensitive flesh, electrifying me. My heart went into overdrive. It couldn’t keep up. I couldn’t keep up. I was coming, coming hard.
He clutched at my leg, his hard length continuing its steady and slow pace along my slit.
“Ahh!” My head twisted back. A thumb passed over my mouth, and I tasted myself on him.
He leaned over me, his voice deep, rough. “Say it, say, ‘I’m wet as fuck for you.’”
I raised my head off the mattress meeting his harsh, gleaming eyes. “I’m wet as fuck for you. For you, Justin.”
His eyes gleamed, his mouth curled into a grin. Satisfaction. Utter lasciviousness. The sensations overtook me, and my head fell back again.
The crinkle of plastic. Rip.
My eyes blinked open, and I grinned. Finger fitted himself with a rubber. He yanked me down to the edge of the mattress and spread my legs wide.
“Hold my hands down,” I said, raising my arms over my head.
His eyes narrowed as he bent over me and did it. I brought my legs up high the way I’d always done with Med. That was his favorite first position of any session. Open to him and his assault. Holding my arms down, he’d enter me on one fierce thrust, and jackhammer away at different angles, then take me from the side, then squash my face into the mattress and take me from behind. Always commenting about my jiggling tits, always asking me questions. A constant stream of chatter.
“You feeling it, Reen? You feeling my cock? Take it deep, Reen, Take it. Take it.”
I wanted Finger to blow that all to bits.
Finger entered me slowly, smoothly, his eyes closing. “Oh damn, baby.” He pulsed long and slow, going deeper with each thrust. “You feel so good. So beautiful. Your cunt is smooth as silk.”
Gilded torture.
Again and again.
“Faster,” I said through gritted teeth, fighting that voice, that body from my mind and soul.
He moved faster. My one leg arched over his hips, clinging to him. We were linked together, the bed shuddering underneath us. Sweat glistened on his chest above me. His thrusts became harsher, his kneading my tits more aggressive. Full possession. This perfect combination of rough and pleasure kept me focused on him, on us.
“Shit.” His face twisted in a dark scowl, the curve of his shoulders tense. He grabbed one of my hands and brought it to his chest. “Need you…” he breathed.
He needs me.
I moved my hands over his slick damp skin, down his smooth back to his clenching ass, bringing him closer to me. I held onto him, climbing on him, meeting his every thrust with my own, rubbing my chest against his.
“Fuck me, Serena. You fuck me the way you want,” he said on a grunt, his lips tense.
I pushed him over on the bed, and he slid out of me, his eyes flaring. I straddled him and quickly tucked him back in, my hands planted on his chest, my nails digging into his flesh. I rocked over him, and his hold on me tightened. The pleasure built around us, my head spun, my insides swirling.
I listened, but there was no audience, no hooting, no snickering, no—
“Look at me, Sunshine,” he muttered through short breaths, a hand pinching my ass cheek.
My eyes snapped open at the sting, snagging on his fierce gaze.
“This is you and me, baby. Me and you.”
Yes, yes, you.
His hips rolled into mine, their rhythm quick and steady. “Say it.”
“Me and you.”
His hand went between my legs, the smooth nub of his cut off finger pressing on my sensitive flesh.
Everything shimmered and shattered inside me.
You. You. You.