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Only show them what you want them to see.
I hear his voice as I slip my hands in my jacket pockets and keep walking down Lincoln Street with my heart pounding in my chest and anxiety coursing in my blood. Two more blocks and I’ll wait there. The alley is the perfect place to wait and collect myself.
Until then, my blood will pound in my ears, my veins will turn cold and my muscles will stay coiled. But I won’t let anyone see that. Never.
I remember how my father gripped my shoulder when he looked me in the eyes and gave me that advice.
His dark stare was something no one ever forgot. It was impassive and cold. I lived many days wondering if my father loved me. I know my mother did. We were family and his blood, but he would never show any emotion and after that night, neither would I.
I was fourteen years old. And standing only a few feet away from the body of someone I once knew. I don’t even remember his name. A friend of my father’s. He worked in the business and gave the wrong person the wrong impression.
When you reveal that fear, that anger, that emotion, you give someone a hint of how to get to you. And that’s what my father’s friend had done. When someone gets to you, you end up dead.
My shoes slap on the concrete sidewalk as I slow down at the intersection, as if I’m merely waiting for the cars to stop at the red light so I can cross. It’s not a busy night, so only a few people are walking down the street. A man to my right lights up a cigarette and leans against the brick wall to a liquor store.
I make my way around the block, replaying what happened in my head. It was supposed to be a simple, easy night. Another night of waiting for Marcus to show for the drop-off or waiting to hear word about what’s going on with the deal between my brother and the cartel.
She caught me off guard.
Addison Fawn.
She’s always been able to do that. She gets to me in a way I despise.
She makes me remember.
She makes me weak.
Another step and I see her face. Her high cheekbones and piercing green eyes. I love the way her hair falls in front of her face. There’s always something effortless about it, like she doesn’t put an ounce of work into looking as fuckable as she does.
The cool night air whips past me as I round the corner. The next alley will take me where I want to go. Directly across from the lot where her car must be. It’s the only parking lot on this street for three blocks.
I swallow thickly, checking my phone again. It’s been three minutes since I’ve left.
Three minutes is more than enough time for her to pay the tab and walk off.
I don’t know if she will though.
It’s been years since I’ve felt like I’ve known who she is.
Years since I’ve heard her say my name.
The corners of my lips turn up in a smirk as I hear the hesitancy in her voice replay in my memory and I let it. Like she was scared to say my name out loud.
It echoes in my head as I lean against the wall of the dark alley and gives me a thrill I haven’t felt in a long time.Too long.
The alley is narrow, the type of passageway built decades and decades ago before the world knew better. Before humanity realized they were inviting sins in the night with small spaces like these.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I take a quick look around me before pulling it out.
There are four cars parked in the dirt lot. The streetlight on the right side illuminates the area easily, as do the headlights of a passing car.
My eyes flicker to the text on my phone and the amusement from only moments ago leaves me instantly.
Who’s the girl?Jake texted and I’m reminded that I upped and left as if she mattered. As if her existence would cause an issue.
And of course it does. More than anyone could know.
My shoulders rise as I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly, releasing the anger from letting her get to me and I focus on regaining control. Control is everything.
