Attraction
The laws of attraction do not always apply. And when a chemical reaction draws us to the wrong person, we are rendered helpless. The force of the attraction will not be ignored. We can attempt logic to deny the pull toward a person, but we will fail. Opposites attract, and no amount of effort will stop a physical connection from happening.
‘Love knows no bounds’ is a lie. Love has nothing to do with it. It is magnetism that truly bonds us.
SHAME
AFTER A LONG day, I looked forward to club parties, trashy affairs, with liquored-up women. They reeked with desperation. I could take my pick. Only, tonight, I had my eye on the chick who came in with the slut Liam invited. Huddled in the corner like a scared rabbit, she watched me with obvious sexual intentions. I enjoyed the fear radiating from her and the way she chewed her bottom lip, as if knowing I would eventually summon her.
As I lounged on the couch with my thighs spread, I studied her. She had legs that went on for days. And if her skirt were any shorter, I would have caught a glimpse of what I wanted to see. Given the first few buttons on her blouse were unfastened, her tits spilled out over the top and were on full display. I guessed she had D cups that she crammed into a C sized bra. Her long, dark-blonde hair hung to the middle of her back, the perfect length to wrap around my hand once while she sucked my dick. Speaking of my dick, it grew hard, and the time for observing ended. I wanted my hands and mouth on this broad and my dick inside of her.
When I finally called her over to me, she looked around as if assuming I wanted someone else.
You, I mouthed.
As she slowly made her way over to me, my gaze remained on her swishing hips. A smile curled my lips when she quietly obeyed my nod to sit. I appreciated an easily submissive woman.
When she sat on the couch, she left a large gap between us, which felt intentional. Her obvious discomfort as I scooted closer filled me with a twisted sense of delight. It would be a nice change of pace to be with a chick who didn’t throw herself at me the moment I beckoned. She smelled like watermelon, and for a few euphoric seconds, I studied every beautiful feature on her face. A few freckles kissed her creamy cheeks, and she had gorgeous pink, cock-sucking lips.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Breeze.”
The breathlessness in her answer captivated me. My heart thumped loudly, a foreign feeling I normally didn’t experience around women.
Was I nervous?
Nah, I didn’t get nervous. Anxious maybe, because I intended to get in her panties, and the sooner the better.
Her eyes were a mixture of green and yellow, but when the light hit them, her irises appeared to have a blue ring around them. They widened when I slid my fingers through her silky hair and held the side of her face. “Do you know who I am?” She nodded. “Are you afraid of me?”
She shook her head faintly. “Intimidated maybe.”
Her bashful nature and the way she trembled turned me on. My next move included taking her upstairs to steal her virtue. When she smiled, the shiny lip-gloss coating her perfect, plump lips stopped me.
“How old are you, Dimples?” I asked.
Her eyes narrowed, presumably at the nickname I bestowed on her. “Eighteen,” she answered.
After hearing the response I hoped for, I dipped my head and sealed our mouths together. Her lips tasted as sweet as they smelled. The kiss itself though, so innocent, a sweet-natured longing that meant this girl was forbidden.
How off limits was she?
I brought my other hand up and tipped her head back to break the kiss. “How old are you, honestly?”
No way she was old enough to fuck. Those lips had never been kissed. Optimism remained Breeze would be legal soon because my dick hopped on board with taking a chance.
After blowing some hair from her face, she picked up a joint, lit it and inhaled deep. She toked with experience, giving me hope she merely practiced abstinence until she found the right guy, which with any luck would be me. My eyes stayed on her pretty pink lips as she exhaled. “I’m eighteen.”
I grinned, amused as I watched the smoke ribbons dissipate. “Nah, There ain’t any eighteen-year-old virgins in Southie.”
“I’m not a virgin.”
She sounded so appalled I almost believed her.
“I tend to make life unpleasant when people lie to me,” I warned.
A hint of worry shined in her eyes. “You think I’m lying?”
I laughed. “Oh, I know you’re lying, Dimples.”
She narrowed her eyes again. “Why do you keep calling me that?”
I tapped both sides of her cheeks in answer. “Everyone gets a club name and you don’t get to pick.”
“I’m not in your club.” She grinned in a way that challenged me.
“Not yet,” I remarked.
“Not ever,” she shot back with a serious tone, but her eyes on my lips betrayed her.
She was fierce, I’d give her that, but she lied. Everyone wanted to be in with The Bastards and this chick was no exception. “Something wrong with my club?” I challenged.
“No.” She squirmed. “I just wouldn’t look so hot with a beard.”
Her feistiness drew me in, as did how she giggled, and everything else about her. I couldn’t deny my attraction to her. “Funny . . . It’s hockey season,” I explained.
“And?” she asked, lifting her eyebrows.
“And . . . we all grow beards during hockey season. It’s tradition.”
“Tradition?” she mocked me with an indignant laugh.
“Yes.” I combed both sides of my beard with my hands. “Respect the beard.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say.”
“Good. Now, about being in my club.”
“I don’t want to be in it.”
“They why’d you come here?” I shot back. She blanched. I had her dead to rights. Would she admit it, though? “Did you come here to meet me, Dimples?”
“I came with my friend.” She blushed, inserting the tip of her index finger into her mouth. “To play.”
She was cute, too cute. She also put too much effort into flirting, which made it awkward, and I knew why. Clearly, she had never propositioned a man before. The chick was young, and I wasn’t near wasted enough to be manipulated. Her hand lowered to my crotch, but I grabbed her wrist.
“I don’t think so, Dimples,” I scolded, albeit playfully. “You’re kinda like a Barbie doll.”
“What?” She pulled away, insulted. “You think I’m fake?”
“Nah.” I laughed. “I think you’re hot, but I’m far too old to play with you.”
“I’m old enough,” she argued.
Old enough for my younger brother—maybe, but not for me.
Regardless of how strong the attraction, I knew better than to fuck a girl who would eventually land me in the big house.
“Shame, five-o at the door.” Tank approached, glancing briefly at Breeze. “They wanna talk to you.”
“Who is it?” I asked, keeping an eye on Dimples.
“Benson,” he replied.
I smiled, leaning back and draped my arm around Breeze. “Tell him to come in.”
Breeze tensed as her eyes darted around the room. My little Barbie wanted to escape. For a moment I wondered if the cops were there for her. I would find out soon enough.
Tank and Dozer escorted the officers inside. With back up flanked to his sides, Benson kept his eyes on Breeze as he approached. Breeze removed my arm from her shoulders and scooted away from me.
“Where’s my daughter?” Benson demanded.
Why the fuck would I know where his daughter was?
I tried to think if any of the guys had brought any skanks around recently.
“Who?” I asked.
“Pocket,” Benson shouted. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know anyone named Pocket.”
He paced the carpet, looking around.
“That’s Liam’s girl,” Tank informed me, while keeping a worried eye on Breeze.
That fucking kid.
Jesus Christ. He had been banging a cop’s daughter for weeks. Obviously my grip on the kid had slipped, or Liam was getting better at hiding things from me. Either way I didn’t need this kind of heat on the club.
I nodded at Dozer, and ordered, “Go get them.”
“She’s thirteen,” Benson shouted with a firm set to his jaw.
I tossed my hands up. “Hey, I didn’t know.”
His eyes moved to Breeze.
“And so is the one sitting next to you,” he shared with obvious disgust in his voice.
Damn, I knew Breeze was young. I could smell the innocence, but I would never have thought she was the end up in the pen for half-a-life young.
I lifted my hands in the air, again. “I didn’t know that either. They said they were eighteen.”
“You’re losing control of your dogs, Shame.”
“Honestly, Guy. I didn’t know.” I stood and shook his hand because it seemed like the admirable and responsible thing to do.
“Yeah, Guy,” Tank interrupted. “How many thirteen-year-olds have titties that big?” He used his hands to mock boobs in front of his chest. “I mean, seriously . . . wowza.”
I shot Tank a harsh look before addressing Benson again. “They won’t be allowed back in here. You have my word.”
“They better not be,” Benson warned.
My kid brother came into the room with his girl. Their hands were laced together and Benson’s daughter cowered behind Liam, as though the scrawny pussy could protect her.
Liam glanced at me briefly. His eyes were brimmed with fear. He should be afraid. Once Benson left, I was gonna ream his ass.
“Pocket, Breeze, get in the car,” Benson demanded.
“No, Daddy,” Liam’s girl cried. “You can’t make me.”
Benson nodded to the officer at his side, who promptly hauled his daughter away by the arm. Breeze shot for the door to follow her friend with a hesitant glance back to me.
Tank whispered in my ear. “That one’s Clery’s daughter.”
I grinned. With certainty, I would see Breeze again, soon.
“I’m awfully sorry about this,” I said, walking Benson to the door. “I didn’t know she was your daughter. Liam said she was eighteen.”
Benson looked hard at my idiot brother. “Stay away from her,” he warned.
I didn’t doubt he would toss Liam in jail or worse. Liam clearly didn’t hear the threat and stared back at Benson with defiance.
Once the door closed, I shoved Liam down the hall and into a back room. Dusty, one of the youngens, was banging some blonde. They scurried off when they saw us.
“What the fuck were you thinkin’, bro?” I shouted. Liam dodged my hand when I attempted to smack him on the side of his head. “Are you fucking clueless? That dick of yours is gonna land you hard time.”
“I love her, man.”
What would a kid at seventeen possibly know about love?
His hormones were in charge and all they cared about was finding wet friction for his dick.
“You’re four years older than her,” I reminded him. He flinched when I took a step closer to him. “You’ll be eighteen soon.”
“I don’t give a shit,” he yelled.
“Fuck!” I growled, throwing my hands up. “You better give a shit, because poking your dick in a minor isn’t something I can get you out of.”
Before I gave him a beating, I backed away. It took a lot of effort but I wanted to be a different parent than our old man. Berg O’Rilley’s methods weren’t out of any parent handbook, nor were they right. They weren’t wrong either. They were his ideals and beliefs, which stemmed from surviving the tough streets of Southie. Still, I wanted to be a better man. I scratched my beard, unsure of what to say.
Liam sighed. “She won’t tell. I swear.”
His immaturity set me off again. I balled my fists. “Yeah, until you break her heart.” I took a step forward, but kept my distance. “Chicks are these soft and sensitive creatures, but hurt one, and they turn to stone. They aren’t like us. They have feelings. There are mandatory minimums at play here. Pick any other slut in the club to wet your dick, but stay away from Guy Benson’s daughter.”
“You can’t tell me what to do!” he shouted. “You aren’t Pop.”
“Ain’t that the fucking truth . . . If I were, I would beat your ass until you had no face left for that girl to like. I know you think you love her, but stay clear of her. I’m your guardian, which means I’m in charge of doing what’s best for you.”
“You can’t stop me from seeing her,” he protested.
The O’Rilley stubborn gene plagued my little brother more than the rest of us. When it came to getting his way, he feared nothing. As with most kids on the brink of adulthood, he believed himself invincible. His strength and resolve started young, and gave me an excuse to apply for college. Pop thought he would be around longer. He had big plans to train Liam in his shadow. It used to sting a little when he would say because of my integrity the club wasn’t for me. Hindsight’s a bitch. Our old man died, and my integrity kept Liam out of trouble.
“Doze,” I called down the hall. When he appeared, I said, “You’re on bodyguard detail. Don’t let Liam near that girl.”
Liam shoved me. “This is bullshit.”
My little brother punched a hole right through the wall, before he treaded to the front door. Dozer followed him.
Fuck! I did my fair share of wrong in my life, but there were some lines I refused to cross. Liam would cross them in a heartbeat. His immaturity made him careless and protecting him from his mistakes had become a full time job.
When an attraction is forbidden, we are left with a sick feeling in our gut. And when that sickness becomes unbearable, we are forced to make a choice. We teeter on the edge of reason and stupidity. We struggle with morality, not because we are ignorant to the consequences, but because the pull is so strong we ignore them. We choose to believe the rules do not apply to us, and that is when we lose control.
BREEZE
After a painfully tense car ride, Mr. Benson dropped me off at my house. Even he didn’t lecture me about choices. I wasn’t his concern. Plus, I’m sure he thought Pocket influenced me. Granted, she did, but I made a conscious decision to go with her.
My dad snored loudly from the couch. I paused, surveying his ratted T-shirt and dirty, khaki pants. His gray stubble looked to be at least a week old, and the deep lines around his eyes spoke of his struggles.
I walked softly to him and pulled the blanket from the back of the couch. The stench of body odor made me gag a little. I wondered how long it had been since he showered.
After covering him up, I leaned over and placed a gentle kiss to his forehead. Despite my anger with him, he was still my daddy. He would always be the man who used to bounce me on his knee, and wail, “yee-haw,” before he straightened his leg and sent me to the floor.
It was so hard. It wasn’t fair. I hated how through the years, I could recall more tears than laughs. Despite the sorrow, I still loved him.
More than anything, I wanted to see him happy. He had been miserable for so long. Worry always showed on his face. The fine lines and wrinkles were never brought on by joy, rather a profound sadness he never shared with me.
My eyes watered, which brought all of my deep resentment to the surface. I stepped back and shook my head. Maybe he never packed a bag and split, but he had abandoned me as much as my mom. He didn’t deserve my love, and I hated myself for continuing to give it to him.
Wiping at my eyes, I rushed down the hall to the bathroom. I rifled through my dad’s prescriptions in the medicine cabinet. He hated pills. Yet, the doctors kept prescribing them. He had a different vice, which he could acquire from any packie in town. Worked out great for me. He never noticed the pills were missing.
I tipped a Valium into my hand and tossed it into my mouth. My glands protested as I tried to dry swallow the pill. Without a cup handy, I quickly made one with my hands under the faucet, and drank from them. Water rolled down my chin, which I promptly wiped with the back of my hand as I went to my room.
My bed welcomed me to crash. I plopped on it and sighed. All my thoughts focused on Shame. I wanted to meet him for a long time. He represented the bad boy influence I hoped would raise the red flag so high my father would be forced to see the writing on the wall. Accept I headed down the wrong path and he needed to be there for me. I hoped his saving me from a gang would shake him up. After all, it worked for Pocket. My dad, though, he sank so far he would never come back, and after tonight, it no longer mattered. Something unexpected happened when I walked into The Bastards clubhouse.
I felt different, like I finally belonged somewhere. Perhaps my senses were overloaded with fascination, but I changed in an instant. More, I liked Shame. It was wrong, maybe even disgusting since ten years separated us in age. But my body didn’t seem to care, nor did my heart, which still raced. The hopeless attraction held me hostage and banishing him from my thoughts proved difficult.
It felt delirious to be all consumed by desire. I was only a girl, Shame merely an intense crush, which would end in time. I didn’t want it to, because it felt amazing, and more euphoric than any drug I could imagine.
Unfortunately, I also absorbed the heart-wrenching pain of wanting someone I could never have. It felt like a knife slowly piercing my heart. Part of me wanted to push it through quickly and end the suffering. The other part of me wanted to savor the pain as long as possible.
Clearly, I could add yearning for the unattainable to my list of pathetic qualities.
What was one more anyway?
As my body numbed from the medication’s effects, I rubbed my lips with my fingertips and smiled. I could feel Shame’s warm mouth, his tongue gliding over mine, and his strong grip holding my face.
My belly erupted with heat, branching out through my limbs like streams of warm tears. The need to release the intense frustration had me rubbing a hand over my stomach. I bit my lip, letting my hand travel under my underwear, where I proceeded to touch myself. My fingers instantly became wet, and everything felt slippery. It freaked me out. I removed my hand, wiping it off on the sheet, as I considered how I could possibly ask Pocket what the hell happened. She was the only one I could talk too about this stuff. Of course, then I would have to tell her what I did, and that would be mortifying.
A sense of anger and frustration returned, battling the calming effects of the medication. Times like this, a girl needed her freaking mother. She should be teaching me about becoming a woman. Instead she was off wherever with whomever, pretending I didn’t exist.
Why did she leave me?
I had asked that question a million times, but no one ever answered. The shrink tried many times to reassure me, “She had her reasons, but they had nothing to do with you.”
Bullshit.
All anyone ever offered me was bullshit. I hated it!
Not wanting to think about it anymore, I again focused on the feeling of kissing Shame. Right or wrong, he and I had a connection. I felt it. I craved it and I wanted to see him again. It was tough knowing our one encounter was the last. He knew my true age, and The Bastards leader was too smart to risk prison time for a little girl.
I wasn’t aware how much time had passed after I dozed off, but the window in my room rattling woke me up. It took a few seconds to realize the noise came from pounding on the front door. A loud crash forced me up and out of bed. With the bedroom door cracked, I peeked down the hall to see the front door busted open.
Bastards were in my house.
Shame was in my house.
I heard one of the guys say his name. With soft steps, I proceeded halfway up the hall, until Shame came into view. He wore a gray beanie and black gloves and a down coat that made him appear even larger than I remembered.
With a menacing sneer on his lips, he towered above my father. Even from where I stood, I could feel the hostility radiating from him. “Wake up you drunk piece of shit.” My father groaned as Shame shook him. The guy from the party they called Tank came into view with a pitcher of water, which Shame grabbed and tossed on my dad. “Come on, old man, wake up.”
“All right. Fuck!” My father’s arms flailed as he sat up on the couch.
Shame bent over aligning his face so close to my dad’s, he had to be able to taste the whiskey on the old man’s breath. “The only reason I haven’t killed you is because you and my old man were close. You did a lot of favors for the club. But time’s up.”
I froze, unable to digest what I heard. Shame said my father did the club favors.
Were my dad’s years of adamantly chasing The Bastards a mirage to cover up a partnership?
The question would go unanswered. My dad never shared anything with me, and I wasn’t about to ask Shame.
I knew my dad had been gambling. The more he drank, the more he owed had become a pattern I recognized. He must have been into The Bastards for a small fortune if they were making house calls at two in the morning.
“I told you I’d find a way to get the money,” my dad yelled. He then used his T-shirt to wipe his face.
Standing tall, Shame cracked his knuckles. “That was last week.”
“I need a little more time.” My dad’s hands rose and pressed together like a homeless beggar. “Please.”
Shame turned his head toward the hall. And then, my eyes met his. I gulped. His were almost black, his pupils wide with the darkness inside of him. The evil I heard so many rumors about stared right through me. Gone was the playful guy who flirted with me hours ago. No trace of him, only a man owned by his anger. Without acknowledgement, he frowned and looked back at my dad.
“You’re out of time,” he said. It was clearly a warning, one that made my heart race.
“No.” My dad shook his head franticly. “I’m gonna take a loan out on the house. I need time for the application to process.”
“I spoke with Neil at the bank.” Shame wagged a glove-clad finger tauntingly in front of my dad’s face. “They won’t finance you.”
“Give me a few days.” When my dad tried to stand, Shame shoved him to the couch. “Come on. You know me, Shame. I always come through.”
“You’ve always had something to barter. What do you have now?”
“I have nothing left.” My dad’s voice broke as he lowered his head. “Let me work for you to pay off the debt. I’ll do anything.”
My father had truly hit rock bottom. He had been reduced to groveling. He didn’t say what work he would do. I knew. He offered to rough people up, or worse, kill people for The Bastards so he could pay off a debt he earned while a slave to his addiction. I felt sorry for him, truly sorry for a man I knew lost everything, including his dignity.
“I have another way for you to settle the debt.” Shame offered. “All of it . . . Every dime.”
My dad straightened and looked hopeful. I knew better than to feel relieved. The arrangement would be costly. “How?”
“Her.”
I gasped. My gaze met Shame’s again as he pointed at me.
“What?” my dad shouted.
“Breeze.” Shame pointed again with a stiff arm. “I want your daughter, Clery.”
I stared, aware my legs shook, but unable to stop them. Time seemed to pause, and it felt like the room spun around me. My dad’s voice brought me back.
“What do you mean?” My dad stood and tried to shove Shame, but he fell back. “You sick fuck! She’s a kid.”
“It ain’t like that. You know my code. I don’t touch kids, but you’re too old and weak to work for me. She’s young. She can work off your debt at the clubhouse.”
My dad looked at me, but only for a second. “Fine. I’ll send her over after school.”
I took back what I said before. My dad had sunk further than rock bottom, like straight to hell. He willingly agreed to have me pay for his debt, to be a maid or whatever else to a group of thugs. He clearly had no hope left of salvaging a relationship with me. Worse though, and twisted as it was, a part of me felt flattered and wanted to go with Shame. It felt like an opportunity to escape the hell I had been living in. I shook my head, trying my best to clear the guilt. My dad needed me around to take care of him.
“No.” Shame laughed and there was something malicious in his tone. “You’re not understanding me . . . I want . . . your daughter.”
My eyes stung and my vision clouded as Shame’s intent became crystal clear. He wanted me to live with The Bastards.
Did he expect my dad to let him take me?
Would my dad give me up?
Did I want him to?
My dad straightened. “No. No way in hell. I’ll sell the house.”
“Nah. Yesterday, maybe I mighta felt different, but now, it’s too late for negotiations.” Shame sneered. “I want your daughter.”
The frown my dad wore was more somber than when even my mom bailed on us. I faintly heard him say, “But she’s all I have.”
I wished he meant it, but I knew all my dad cared about was whiskey and gambling and memories of a woman who succumbed to her own addictions and left him.
“Either she lives with me until she’s eighteen and works off the money you owe me or Tank and Dozer here make sure she ends up an orphan.”
“Why her?” My dad pleaded. “I can still work.”
“Look at you. You can barely get outta bed, let alone work. You aren’t fit to raise a kid. Did you know she was at the clubhouse tonight, dressed like a whore and telling everyone she was eighteen?”
“Breeze, is that true?” My dad asked with this pitiful tone that made me sad. I nodded, tears wetting my cheeks.
“How would you have felt if one of my guys knocked her up? Or worse, one of The Villains found her and passed her around their clubhouse. She deserves better than to be gang raped, or pregnant, because you’re too loaded to pay attention.”
“Piss off,” my dad screamed. “You’re not any better. You’ll always be a worthless gangbanger. At least I can change. No. You can’t have her.”
I smiled. Maybe my dad was not as far gone as I thought. Hope remained for us after all. My silly plan worked. Or it did, until Shame nodded at Tank, who pulled out a gun. I covered my mouth with my hand. The fear I should have felt all along coursed through my veins, as I finally understood what The Bastards were truly capable of.
Many times I said I hated my father. Maybe I did. But I couldn’t let them kill him. He was the only family I had, and despite all of his faults, I loved him. The scared little girl deep inside of me couldn’t let her daddy go.
“No wait,” I shouted, running into the room. “I’ll do it. I’ll go with you. Please. Don’t hurt him.”
“Princess. No. The gun’s for show. They aren’t gonna kill me.” My dad stood. “I’ll change . . . I swear. I’ll quit drinking.”
It worked. It actually worked. Finally, the attention I wanted from him—the desperation to be a better father for me. Only it was too late. What Shame said before kept repeating in my mind. I did deserve more. I wanted to belong to something that mattered. I wanted to be wanted and Shame wanted me. I wanted a family and The Bastards welcomed me.
“I love you, Daddy,” I paused and swallowed, fighting off tears. “But this is the only way. I won’t let them hurt you.”
My father looked genuinely concerned for me for the first time in years. He actually hugged me. It felt awkward and uncomfortable to have his arms around me, as though I embraced some stranger. There was nothing more he could do. He had nothing left to offer.
“Get anything you want to take with you now,” Shame instructed in a voice so calm and distant I shivered. I realized right then, he didn’t want me. He had simply claimed a piece of property.
I nodded at Shame, holding my shoulders high and trying to appear strong. My dad needed me to be strong.
It took me only five minutes to pack. I didn’t have much of anything and the only thing I had that I wanted was a broach my dad gave me as a kid that used to belong to my grandma. I never wore it, but it reminded me of the times my dad was sober and our family was whole. One duffle bag draped my shoulder, and I held my backpack for school, as I left my bedroom.
When I returned to the living room, I heard my dad talking to Shame. “If you hurt her, I swear I’ll kill you.”
His wanting to defend me brought a smile to my face. Of course I wanted to pretend it meant he would find a way to right his wrongs. I set myself up for disappointment. He would never change, and knowing that made me sad.
Shame didn’t appear the slightest bit threatened by my dad, but nodded. I hugged my dad one last time. He whispered he loved me and let me go. That was it. He sacrificed me, and I let him.
What did that mean?
Which one of us was sicker?
Our mental health hardly mattered. The only thing that had changed in our relationship was where I would sleep at night.
Shame didn’t utter a word as he escorted me from my home and shoved me in the back of a van. Tank slid in next to me. He flashed a wicked grin as he reached over and grabbed my seatbelt.
“I got it,” I said, staring at the gold molar in his mouth and giving him a slight shove.
“Chill, little fighter,” Tank snickered, scratching at his beard. His eyes were dark brown, almost as black as his slicked back hair. Of the guys Shame came with, Tank appeared to be the muscle, yet his face was soft. Perhaps due to the thick row of black lashes that made it look like he wore eyeliner, but he was almost pretty. Actually, he looked a bit like Shame and they were built the same. If I didn’t know better, I would think they were brothers by blood.
On the short drive to the clubhouse, I wanted to cry. It seemed like the appropriate response to being dragged out of your home in the middle of the night, but I didn’t feel sad. I felt strangely optimistic.
Shame escorted me upstairs from the club where The Bastards ran their operations. I didn’t fully understand what went on in the club, but they did bad things. The Bastards were dangerous men, living a dangerous life filled with sex, guns, and drugs. The turf wars in Southie graced the newspapers every day. Not that I read them. Everything I knew about The Bastards, I learned from my dad and Pocket.
Shame opened the door and a large Rottweiler immediately greeted us.
“Heel,” Shame commanded. The dog instantly cowered on its back legs. “Gus, this is Breeze. She’s gonna be staying here, so don’t eat her.”
It was as though Gus understood. He answered with a disappointed whimper, but then wandered away down the hallway.
Nothing in the plain house, with beige walls and wood floors, looked any different than any other home in Southie. I don’t know why I expected it to. I guess in my mind, I envisioned some dungeon Shame planned to keep me in.
A large brown sectional squared off the living room. The table nestled below a serve thru to a small kitchen sat four. On the walls were framed photographs, which I didn’t get a chance to look at because Shame guided me into a bedroom. As drab as the rest of the house, my eyes moved from a single, oak chest of drawers to a queen-sized bed with a green and gray plaid comforter. Of the two doors on the side wall, nothing hung in the closet and the other led to a bathroom.
“It’s not much, but this is your room,” Shame said.
It didn’t feel like my room but I replied politely, “Thank you.”
Afraid to look at Shame, I outlined a square on the comforter with my finger.
“Viv will take you shopping tomorrow,” he said. “You can buy whatever you want to make it yours.”
“Viv?” I lifted my head.
“She kinda runs things.”
“I thought you ran things.”
He smiled and suddenly the dark side of him faded. “Nah, I got the streets, but Viv keeps the clubhouse strait.”
“Who lives here?”
“Me . . . and Gussy boy.”
I smiled, thinking Shame had a soft side, well, at least with his dog, and for my sake, a wayward girl.
“What about Liam?” I asked.
A worry line formed on his forehead. “Liam lives with Dozer.” I made a face, confused. “He and I are full of piss and vinegar . . . It’s best if we don’t live together.”
“Why are you doing this?”
I waited for an explanation that didn’t come. After a while, Shame turned and walked toward the door.
“Viv will show you the ropes tomorrow,” he said, stopping at the door. “Get some sleep and don’t leave this room.”
“You can’t keep me in here forever,” I argued, suddenly feeling like a prisoner, which I guess I was.
Not only did his wolfish grin alarm me, but it also made my stomach flip.
“I own you,” he said sternly and my eyes widened “I can do anything I want.”
My jaw dropped. Then he walked away, leaving me with the same lovesick feeling the night began with.
How sick was I? And delusional?
Shame wasn’t my guy. The Bastards weren’t family. Regret sank in, as did the urge to flee.
What the hell am I doing?
I needed some fresh air, a single moment to breathe. Shame said not to leave. I feared him, but my chest felt heavy, like I would suffocate and die if I didn’t go outside into the cold air for even a few minutes. With trepidation, I opened the door. As I stepped out, Gus rushed up to greet me with a swollen chest and a low growl that stopped me from taking another step.
His head tilted to the side and large black eyes studied me. My heart raced as fear caused heat to race up my neck. If I had to guess, the dog significantly outweighed me.
“Good doggie,” I said in a sweet voice as I attempted to move around him. Gus growled again with enough authority I took a step back. “So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” I swear to you the dog nodded its big old head. “Fine!”
I rolled my eyes before returning to the room and slammed the door behind me. If Shame planned to keep me trapped for the next five years, I would lose my mind.
“Get some sleep.” I laughed.
How was I possibly supposed to sleep? I had so many questions, but I knew Shame wouldn’t answer any of them. As soon as I lied on the bed, remnants of the Valium made the madness in my mind soften until I faded into blackness.
Raw attraction never accounts for human nature. Attraction draws you together and it does not care if you will eventually destroy each other. It does not understand repercussions. It does not take your conscience into account. Attraction is unrelenting. And when attracted to the wrong person, the consequences can be disastrous. It takes tremendous will to stay grounded, and unfortunately most of us are incapable of holding back for long.