FIVE
Scotti
"Whoa, wait," Nixon said, looking at me like I sprouted another head and it was speaking in tongues. "What the fuck do you mean you have a date with the only guy around here who could pick you out of a lineup as an armed fucking robber?"
So they weren't taking the news well.
Which was expected.
Honestly, their reaction was even valid.
"Yes, I, a grown ass woman, have a date with a man who has known our crash pad for over a week and hasn't called the cops on us. Which might have something to do with the fact that he is a criminal himself and doesn't do shit like turn other criminals in."
"Christ, Scott, I know you're hard-up for a guy lately," Atlas piped in, always the least delicate of all my brothers, "but this is a shit where you eat kind of situation, don't you think?"
Again, a somewhat fair point.
See, I knew they would flip.
Because if the tables were turned, I would have flipped too. Actually, my fit would be a lot more dramatic to be sure.
Though, on the other hand, a part of me didn't want to hear it. Because as misguided as it may have been to feel this way, I was so excited that I felt like I was buzzing. Which was silly, but I was going on a real, live date. I hadn't had a date in years.
"Look, what do you want from me here?" I tried, going for trying to trick them with reason. "You want me to turn him down and piss him off? We don't know him. For all we know, he has a huge ego and wouldn't tolerate that."
"So, what?" Atlas asked, looking almost offended. "You're going to whore yourself out to keep him from maybe, possibly going to the cops about us? Scott, we'd never let that happen. We would rather leave."
Damn him for being so level-headed.
"Oh, for God's sake. I wasn't going to sleep with him to keep him from turning us in. Jesus. Do you really think that low of me?"
"So what, then?" Nixon asked. "You're just going to lead him on? Because that will end so well."
"Okay. I've had about enough of this," I declared, standing, putting my coffee cup into the deep sink. It was about ten in the morning. I had kept the news to myself mostly because they had been out late and I had pretended to be asleep when they got in to avoid telling them, knowing it would go this way. And I had wanted to hold onto my excitement as long as possible. "I need to go get done. He's going to be here at noon. If you want to give him the third degree or chain him up in the garage, that's up to you. But I need to get myself together in case you decide it might just be the smartest decision to let me spend the afternoon with him and get a feel for where he's at."
If all went to plan, there would definitely be some feeling. And I needed to do a good exfoliating and shaving and lotioning session in preparation for it. While I wasn't going to whore out myself for anonymity, I was more than willing to whore myself out for my own damn enjoyment.
Twenty minutes later, there was a soft knock at the bathroom door. This knock was followed by a pause. Which told me exactly which brother it was. Because Nixon, Atlas, and Rush would have just charged in after the knock, completely negating the social customs following a knock.
Kingston always tried to make sure he gave his only sister the privacy she always desperately wanted in a sea full of men.
"Come in, King," I offered, wiping the condensation off the mirror as he came in, closing the door, then leaning back against it. His chest expanded wide as he took a deep breath, head ducking to the side, watching my reflection.
See, the thing about Kingston was, he could see right through me. It was something that insured I never got away with shit once I was fully in his care. No sneaking out. No skipping school. No dates with boys. Nothing.
Even as I aged up, I never could figure out how to keep him out.
"Level with me, kid."
"King, I don't want to keep..."
"Look, I get it, okay? Trust me, Scott," he said with a smile, "I fucking get it. This life has had some good times, but it has just as much, if not more, sacrifice and disappointment. I think, in a lot of ways, you have been the one who has needed to give up more. These fucks," he said, waving a hand out to indicate the living room where our brothers were still talking loudly, likely hyping each other up about the upcoming interrogation of Mark Mallick. "They don't want things like picket fences and wives and kids. Yet. They're young guys. They like the action, the connection-less sex, the ability to up and leave when life gets stagnant. They're not there yet, but you are. And you have been for a while. And it sucks that you haven't been able to have it yet."
"King, no one is forcing me to..."
"No, not forcing. No one is forcing any of us. But I think you, like all of us, have this need to see it through. And there's nothing wrong with that. But it's taking longer than any of us has ever planned. And you have been putting everything you want on a back burner and it's been there long enough that it's starting to finally fucking burn. You think you've been hiding it well, kid, but I've been watching those smiles become harder, the laughs become forced, and the frowns become more prominent. And it's been fucking eating at me."
"Kings..."
He shook his head at me, watching my eyes carefully in the mirror. "A couple minutes ago, that was the first real light I've seen in your eyes in months, Scott. I don't know this Mallick guy, though I think you know me well enough to know that I will be getting to know him and well..."
He wasn't wrong.
Kingston put most dads to shame with his 'scaring away the guys' game. It wasn't that he didn't want me to date. He was progressive enough to understand that I was going to date, that it was healthy for me to date. But that being said, I was his little sister, and he wanted to make sure that I was safe in the hands of whatever man I left with.
"I get that, King."
"But I know that he put some life back into you with this offer. That means something to me. And I am not going to try to deny you something that has you excited. I'm not going to tell you that it's risky. You're not stupid. You know what the risks may or may not be. I'm not even going to say that it is dangerous because if you're this excited this early on, that you might get over your head only to have to leave. You know that. Instead, I'm going to say this instead," he went on, giving me a small smile, "I want you to have a good time. And I hope he's even the least bit worthy of you, kid."
With that, he pushed off the door, opened it, and disappeared.
And that, well, that whole thing left me a little teary-eyed.
Whenever I thought I had all them pegged, one of them always came around and surprised me.
So as I went back to my hair and makeup and clothing choices, I felt even more excited for the day, having permission from someone who was, for all intents and purposes, my only parental figure.
Sure, I didn't need any of their approval, but it was nice to have it regardless.
By the time it was ten to twelve, I was as ready as I was going to get. I had no idea what Mark had planned for the day. So I slipped into pretty baby pink lace panties and bra, then slid on simple black skinny jeans and a nice soft, lightweight white sweater, spritzed on some of my perfume, and got my feet into some black booties and called it a day. It was both casual, but fancy enough for eating out if that was the plan at some point.
It had been so long since I had a date that I actually forgot to clarify the parameters of the date.
But whatever.
I wasn't going to focus too much on that shortcoming.
I was going to focus instead on the excitement of the unknown.
Usually, in my life, the unknowns were terrifying, best to never allow to happen. That was why we planned everything out into godawful, painful detail. It was to save us from any unforeseen circumstance that could lead us to a cell or a casket.
And sure, maybe my brothers were right, maybe Mark was dangerous. But my gut told me otherwise.
So whatever unknowns he had planned, I was going to try my best to enjoy them.
"Yo, your boyfriend is here!" Rush called, making me snort as I shoved money into my purse, and grabbed my most recent burner cell and headed out of the bathroom just as a knock sounded at the door.
I didn't even bother to try to get to it first. It would have been a futile effort. Atlas and Nixon were pretty much waiting by the door.
So I went ahead and leaned against the closed bathroom door and waited to watch the show play out.
"Mallick," Nixon greeted, moving backward in a way that suggested Mark was meant to step inside. And, maybe given that he was expecting an interaction like this, Mark seemed completely comfortable as he moved inside, dressed casually in jeans and a long-sleeve blue tee, making me glad I hadn't gotten too gussied up.
"Scotti," he greeted me, giving me a small smile before facing up my brothers.
"Quick introductions," I offered, staying where I was. "That one breathing down your neck is Nixon. The one looking you over for possible weapons is Atlas. The one giving you a death glare from the living room is Rush. And the one looking at you like he will gut you if you put so much as a scratch on me which, I might add, he will, is my oldest brother Kingston. And as all you guys know, this is Mark Mallick."
"Gotta wonder why you have such an interest in my sister," Atlas said, brow raised.
To that, Mark's smile stretched wide and amused, his eyes dancing. "We're doing this, huh?"
"Doing what?" Nixon asked.
"The 'what are your intentions toward my sister' thing. I respect it. I'm just surprised she's cool with it is all."
"You know, it's easier just to go with the flow," I said, giving him a smile. "Plus, it weeds out the guys too lily-livered to go out with me in the first place."
"Easier for you, maybe," he said, giving me a wink before turning fully to face all my brothers. "Alright, let's do this."
And then they did.
I just stood and watched with growing respect for a man I knew so little about. It said a lot about your character if you could stand your ground when faced with four men intent on trying to scare you off your interest in their little sister. Maybe he fared better than any before him for the sole reason that he himself had many brothers, was likely used to shows of masculine confrontation, chest-beating, and testosterone-seeping.
Sometime in the middle of all of this, Kingston moved across the room to lean back against the door with me, arms folded across his chest.
"Gotta say, I kinda fucking like this one."
That was actually a pretty big deal. While he hadn't ever actively tried to keep me from dating, he sure as hell made it clear when he thought someone I brought around was beneath me. Which was every single man.
Kingston wasn't a difficult man to please. In fact, he was definitely the most laid-back of them all, likely because he had given himself ulcers about us for so long. He knew when he needed to just let things roll of his back.
But he mistakingly placed me up on a pedestal.
Maybe because I reminded him of our dead mother.
Actually, that would explain a lot.
"Kinda a shame we only have a week left here, huh?" he asked, giving me a sympathetic smile.
Agreeing perhaps too much with that given that I hadn't spent more than five minutes alone with the man, I deflected. "Let's not get too ahead of ourselves. He might chew with his mouth open or make me take off my shoes before I get in his car."
"Both capital offenses in your law book."
"Exactly." Though, I doubted he was the shoes-off kind of guy, given his general rough and tough and often work-dirty appearance. The chewing thing, yeah, that would be an immediate turnoff.
"You have your cell, right?" Kingston asked, always paranoid about my safety. "And your pepper spray?"
"Gee, you know, I might have left that on my dresser, right next to my chastity belt." At his unamused brow raise, I laughed. "Relax. You know I can handle myself."
Thanks to the five years of various self-defense classes he had forcibly enrolled me in, claiming it would save him from having to follow me when I went out at night to make sure nothing happened to me. I might have been pissed at first, but there was no better feeling in the world than knowing I could safely walk down the street at night and literally murder anyone who tried to touch me with my bare hands.
I about zoned back in when I actually heard Rush utter the words, "And when do you think you will have her home?"
"Okay, okay," I said, pushing off the wall with a smile. They might have been nut jobs, but they were my nut jobs, and I loved them. "I think that is enough interrogation."
"You know," Mark said, letting his hand slide from my hip to settle at my lower back despite the looks my brothers were giving him about touching me in their presence, "if the whole armed robbery thing doesn't pan out longterm, I think you guys might be able to get a gig in counter-intelligence." With that, he pressed a little harder into my back. "Ready?"
"Depends," I said, shrugging.
"On?"
"If you're going to make me take off my shoes before I get in your car."
"First, it's a truck. As in a work truck. So the floor has a quarter inch of concrete dust, sand, dirt, sawdust, grass, and any other number of crap. If you want your feet in that, be my fucking guest. But I think you'd prefer keeping your shoes on."
I shouldn't have, but absolutely did get mildly turned on by the words concrete dust, sand, dirt, sawdust, and grass. What can I say, I'm a freak.
"Alright. Let's go then."
"Seriously," Kingston called, making me look over my shoulder at him. "The pepper spray?"
To that, Mark chuckled, turning to face my oldest brother. "She won't need it. Damn near broke my fucking foot at the store when I met her." Then, his face went a little more serious, likely picking up on how important this was to him and respecting that. "Your sister is safe with me, Kingston. I know you will, but you don't have to worry about her."
Then with that, and the warm, squishy feeling I had inside from it, he led me outside and around the building.
"I know they can be a little... much," I offered as we rounded on his work truck which looked new, but a little busted-up already.
"It's good they care, baby. I'm not going to fault them for that."
"Kingston likes you," I blurted out as he opened the door for me, completely unsure why the urge was even there to say it in the first place.
"And I'll do everything in my power to not fuck that up," Mark said, face serious for a second before a smirk started pulling at his lips. "You gonna hop that pretty ass up, or do you need help?"
I looked up into the truck, then back down at him.
"First, I want to know where we are going."
"The food store," he informed me, casual as can be. And before I could even untwist my tongue and ask what, I felt his strong hands sinking into my hipbones and yanking upward, lifting me clear off my feet, and depositing me inside the truck. The door slammed, and I was alone in the cab for a moment.
I'd been to a lot of strange places with men before: pool halls, bowling alleys, shooting ranges, the back ten of a farm.
But this was a new one.
Why the hell was he taking me to the food store?