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“You can do better, Car. You know you can. I’m not asking you for anything you’re not capable of.”
“Uh-huh. I know. Believe me, I’ve heard your
speech before.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?” I asked, desperate for more confirmation that my sister wasn’t screwed up like I was. Hopefully her boyfriend would be quiet and steady and safe. A nice boy. Those still existed, right?
Kenny Talerico had been my first and only boyfriend. At thirteen, the occasional kiss and group date had seemed daring. We’d broken up a while before I got into Darren’s car. Maybe things would have been different if Kenny and I had stayed together. I wouldn’t have been as innocent when Darren had flashed that wide smile and asked how far I had left to walk. Perhaps I would’ve realized that no one got something for nothing, not even a ride from a good-smelling, handsome stranger on a sweltering sunny day.
I hadn’t been on a real date since Kenny. It had also been almost six months since I’d taken any money from one of the guys at the bar who wanted a backroom BJ. The first time a man offered me money, I was shocked. But that guy had interpreted my desire to pleasure him as part of a menu of services rather than my pathetic attempt at control, and I hadn’t refused the cash. How could I? Back then I was living on tips while I tried to get respect at the gym.
Eventually, it got easier. I stopped crying after. Stopped wanting to throw up. Eventually I started insisting on a strict condom policy. Now no one got in my mouth—or any other part of me—at all. I liked it that way. After I beat Fox, I’d never have to barter my flesh again.
Carly’s long sigh brought me back to the conversation. The pauses between us were becoming more frequent, the silences more telling. She was my best friend, the only family I really counted as mine, and I’d be damned if I lost her too.
“No, Ame. No boyfriend.” She swallowed audibly. “Not anymore.”
Aww, shit. I bit my lip and cursed at the new trickle of blood. In the light of day I didn’t look as bad as I’d feared. My new concealer had helped big time, but the cut lips were a problem. The top one had a shallow scratch. The bottom? Hurt like hell.
“What happened, honey?” I asked softly, my throat aching
“Nothing happened. We got together, we hung out for a while, he got back with his ex. I knew he wasn’t for real but I liked the way he made me feel.” She sighed again. “You know?”
I didn’t, but I figured she wanted me to agree. “Yes. I’m sorry. He doesn’t deserve you.”
She laughed. “You don’t think anyone deserves your little sis.”
“Damn straight. If he doesn’t treat you like gold, show him the door.”
“How about you? Who deserves you?”
My teeth approached my lip but I dug my nails into my palm instead. As bad as I felt for her, I’d gladly escape into her high school romantic tragedy rather than deal with my own reality. “I’m happy on my own.”
“No, you’re not.” Carly’s voice choked up, and for a second I thought she was crying.
My heart clenched but I didn’t speak. Couldn’t. For some reason I didn’t understand, I glanced at the beat-up leather jacket on my couch. It smelled so good. Rich, masculine, fresh like a sunny day on the beach. Like a life I’d had so long ago for such a brief slice of time. Even back then, I was never the girl with the hot, protective boyfriend, the one with eyes like jewels and big hands to keep me safe. I’d lived in the shadows for so long, seeking out punches so that at least I could control which direction they came from next.
Now I wanted him to hurt me, so I could hurt him right back. Fox had given me his jacket, and I wanted his blood.
A few minutes later, Carly told me she had to get back to study hall. And I had to get back to…nothing. I’d already visited the gym and spent an hour sparring with Kizzy. She was the only friend I had except for my sister, who had no choice but to be friends with me. Okay, so that wasn’t true, but sometimes I almost believed it when the familiar fear of her vanishing from my life surfaced. She wouldn’t leave me, voluntarily or otherwise, and I wouldn’t leave her.
One way or another, we’d find a way to be happy.
Since I didn’t have anything better to do and I needed cash, I decided to throw myself on Carmine’s mercy. I was one of the hardest working bartenders he had and I didn’t call in sick. Surely he’d cut me some slack for yelling at him and calling him a dickhead. And giving him the finger. Twice.
I changed into my black capris and snug black T-shirt with Vinnie’s across the front. There was no Vinnie, just Carmine, but he thought Vinnie’s was a more accessible Italian name for a bar.
I’d been scheduled to work that afternoon and would be showing up a full half hour early. See, I had employee of the month written all over me.
On the way out the door, I looked at the jacket again, sitting so innocuously on my shit-brown couch. A tapestry of scars marred the supple leather, an irresistible invitation to run my palm over the sleeve. The inside was thickly lined with a silky fabric that made me want to rub my cheek over the material. I wasn’t ready to return it. Or to see him again.
The next time we met, I intended to convince him to fight me, and now was too soon. I was too raw from the power of his aqua blue eyes drilling into me, right through flesh and bone.
Next time I would be prepared. No opponent caught me unaware twice.
I pulled out the handful of mail I’d shoved in the jacket’s left pocket last night and tossed it on the side table. Bills mostly. Those would wait. My fingers drifted over a slight thickening in the collar area and I felt around until I found a small, almost undetectable zipper. I opened the strangely placed pocket and came up with a shiny penny, which I promptly put on the coffee table.
Look at that. I’d only known Fox for less than a day and I’d already made some money.
