by E. M. Moore
In the other room, the door closes, leaving the apartment empty aside from Johnny and me. I’m still as a stone, but Johnny’s breaths fill the room.
My core is aching. I’m dying to find Brawler again to make sure he knows I’m not doing this by choice. I bite my lip, but the longer I lay there, the more comfortable it is. In his sleep, Johnny pulls me closer, wrapping me in his warmth. By some miracle, it doesn’t take long for me to fall asleep after that.
20
For the next week, Brawler makes himself scarce. I can’t blame him. Johnny is always around, and he’s getting more touchy feely since we slept in the same bed together.
Brawler doesn’t walk me to school like usual. Johnny’s car takes me. If he sees me in the hall, he doesn’t acknowledge me. It’s for the best, I guess. What did we think we were doing anyway? Starting a forbidden romance that could only piss off one of the most influential people in this town?
Not that I don’t think about that moment. The power behind even just the barest touches. In fact, I think about it all the time.
Friday morning, I’m called out of my second period class. The teacher answers a phone hanging on the wall that looks like it’s from the 1990s. “Kyla Samson?” There’s a question in her words, and then she looks around the room like she’s lost.
I roll my eyes, holding my hand up. Bitch didn’t even know I was in her class.
“Oh yes, she’s here,” the teacher says.
For fuck’s sake. Could they at least act like they care even a little?
“She’ll be right down.”
Most people miss the exchange because they’re too busy having their own conversations. The teacher, Miss Frida, was just lecturing from the front of the classroom asking herself questions no one else bothered to answer.
“The principal’s office,” she says as I get up.
If I were in my last school, everyone would be staring, making snide comments and wondering what the hell I did to get myself called to the principal’s office. No one gives a fuck here. Least of all me. I have no idea what this is about, but I’m not that concerned either. For all I know, Johnny could’ve bribed his admin fuck buddy to get me out of school. Not that he’d have to do that. I’d just walk the fuck out if I wanted to. But being here at least gives me some semblance of the real world. All across America, other students are doing this same exact thing. This is normal. And I don’t want to get too far away from normal that I can never go back.
I open the nondescript office door and walk right in. Surprisingly, there are actually people in here right now. Workers. To my right is the woman who gave Johnny a blow job. I give her the middle finger for fun. Johnny came to pick me up from school a couple of days ago, and she tried to get him to come into her office, but instead, he swung his arm around me, taking me out to the car. Regardless of who Johnny is, that woman is a child predator. Fuck her.
“In here, Miss Samson.”
I follow the gruff voice. I’ve never even met the principal. There aren’t announcements in the morning like at every other school I’ve ever been to. I don’t see anyone official ever walking the halls. For all I know, no one in charge is around while we’re here during the day. Hell, I even wonder why a lot of these people bother. Maybe they just want to feel normal too.
I walk into the principal’s office and immediately come to a halt. There’s a gentleman inside with a cheap suit and tie. He has police written all over him. “What’s this about?”
“This is Detective Reynolds. He wants to ask you a few questions.” The principal immediately gets up and leaves the room, closing the door behind him and leaving the two of us in here.
I glare at the closed door. Seriously? “I’m pretty sure this is illegal. I’m a minor,” I say, even though I’m not. I’m eighteen.
“We couldn’t get a hold of your guardians who are on file or else they would be here.”
I snap my mouth shut. I guess I can’t really push this considering the guardians on file here are made up. They don’t exist. Just like Kyla Samson. “Working, I’m sure. You probably know about that,” I say, dragging the lone chair left in the room and moving it a few feet away.
He gives me a fleeting smile that’s more forced than anything. I’m sure he deals with a bunch of damaged, disgruntled kids all fucking day. I’m no one to him. “As your principal said, I’m Detective Reynolds. I work for the Rawley Heights Police, and I want to ask you a few questions.”
“About?” My attitude tells him I don’t give a fuck, but inside, I’m trying to figure out how to play this. This has got to be about the Heights Crew. It has to be.
“Word on the street is that Johnny Rocket has a new girlfriend.”
“Yeah?”
He smiles, for real now. “Is that you?”
“Is that really what you brought me down here to ask? Surely there’s something more important than who’s getting Johnny off every night?”
The police officer shifts in his seat. “Alright, I won’t beat around the bush then. I hear you’re a fighter in one of Johnny Rocket’s underground rings.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” I say. Johnny doesn’t get to have underground fighting rings without the police turning a blind eye, but that doesn’t mean they want it thrown in their faces.
He eyes the soft bruising on my face. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”
I stop myself from squirming. My injuries don’t even hurt anymore. The slight discoloration on my face is the only remnant of what’s transpired. “Then why’d you ask?”
“Glutton for punishment, I guess. Comes with the job description.”
I shrug. “Can’t help you there.”
Detective Reynolds leans back in his seat. He places one of his legs over his thigh, tapping his fingers against his shoe. “Well, let me tell you a few things I can help you with. Big Daddy K and Johnny Rocket—I’m sure those are names you’ve heard of—well, they aren’t the only thugs on the street. They aren’t the only thugs with an underground fighting ring either. They’ve had some territorial fights about it recently. Had one guy show up charred in a dumpster fire. You might recognize him.” He takes out a picture from his pocket, glances at it a moment, and then hands it to me.
I take it from him. Immediately, I know who it is. It’s the fucking waiter from the restaurant. The one who accidentally touched me then showed up at the warehouse the very same night calling me a whore. I hand it back, face stoic. “Sorry, I don’t.”
Detective Reynolds gives me a tight smile like he expected me to say that. “That dead guy’s from Roza Fonz’s underground ring. She sent him to scope you out. Sounds like you put on a show when you fought.”
“Sounds like you don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, even though my stomach twists. For being on the outside, he knows a lot about what happens on the inside.
“You’re new here, so I’m going to tell you some things you don’t know, Kyla. Roza Fonz had the fights first. She had that ‘territory’, if you will, here in the Heights before the Crew was even a thing. Then one day, Big Daddy K took it over and moved her out. They’ve been fighting about it ever since. If you’re on Roza’s radar, it’s not good. I’m here because I care. I doubt anyone’s explained to you how deep you’re in. Not Johnny, Big Daddy K, or any of his henchmen. Roza aims to take the underground fighting ring back. If you’re in her way, she’ll take you out.”
My stomach roils. He’s wrong about one thing though. I’ve been warned about the Crew. Three people have told me just about the same thing Detective Reynolds just did.
The door bursts open, making me jump. I spin in my seat to find Oscar standing there, chest heaving in front of him.
“Goddamn principal fucker,” Detective Reynolds curses, his face growing beet red.
I get it now. The principal’s in tight with the Heights Crew. Of course he is.
Oscar holds his hand out to me, and I take it. He helps me to my feet. “You’re done here,�
� he spits over my shoulder. “They won’t be happy about this.”
“Ahh, Drego,” Detective Reynolds says, recovering quickly. His stare drops to my hand in Oscar’s. “Just in time. I was telling our friend Kyla here about Roza Fonz.”
“Kyla doesn’t have anything to do with that.” He squeezes my hand like he wants to protect me from this.
“I hear Roza’s not too pleased about the hype going on about her.”
“Always nice to see you, Reynolds. As usual, get fucked.”
Oscar drags me away. I glance over my shoulder to find Detective Reynolds smiling our way. He tucks the picture of the waiter back into his inside pocket, and I swallow. Magnum told me it was more than just an accidental touch. I didn’t believe him. I thought they were being paranoid. I thought Johnny was being overbearing. Criminal.
What if they were right?
“Rocket’s so fucking pissed right now,” Oscar growls. He’s still dragging me down the hallway, so I tear my arm away from him. He looks back. “Sorry,” he says. “Word got out that the cops were here and then someone mentioned you being asked to go to the office. I came right away. Johnny’ll be here soon to come get you.”
“I’m fine,” I tell him, rubbing my wrists. “I can stay.”
Oscar shakes his head. “For the love of God, don’t do anything to piss him the fuck off even more. Just go with him. He was trying to keep you safe, but now that Reynolds has outed some shit, he’ll have to explain things.”
Was he trying to keep me safe? He murdered that waiter for me. Or I guess he might not have been a waiter at all. Come to think of it, he kind of sucked. Was Roza trying to do something to me there by sending someone undercover in a public place?
“I only fought once,” I say, disbelieving.
“And people around here love a fucking underdog. Our last two fight nights have been filled up, just hoping you’ll fight. There’s been so much fucking buzz. Of course it got back to her. Goddamnit,” Oscar growls.
Dark shadows sit like sentinels under his eyes. I wonder how much he’s been having to take care of since Brawler said his mom’s back on crack. Couple that with football and having to watch me, I would guess he isn’t getting much sleep. “Are you okay?” I ask.
He blinks. My heart goes out to him. Both he and Brawler should have a better life than this. Worse yet, it sounds like both of them have a way out that they just can’t make work.
“Are you going to be ready for your game tonight? You look exhausted.”
“You know I have a game tonight?”
I shrug. “I may have overheard someone talking about it. I wanted to go, but with this shit happening now, I doubt I’ll be able to.” Football sounded like a nice distraction from everything else going on. Just like going to school every day, it’s normal. It’s what teenagers are supposed to do.
Maybe that’s the downside of what touching Brawler did to me. It made me yearn for normal. For a time where I can just kiss someone because I want to.
Oscar grabs my hand and pulls me down a side hallway. He licks his lips, his expression dark as he leans me carefully against a bay of lockers. “Are you even real?”
I blink at him. It’s nice being ensconced in his embrace.
He reaches up, dragging his thumb over my bottom lip until I bite it, savoring the taste of him there.
My body must be going haywire because at this moment, I’d swear I had feelings for two guys. Two hot, forbidden bad boys.
“You want to come to my game?” Oscar asks. In that moment, he’s not Bat or the Oscar Drego who everyone in school is afraid of. I imagine he’s more like the guy he was when he went to Spring Hill. The guy who wanted more and was going after it.
Tires burning rubber in the parking lot knock us both into reality. He jumps away, shaking his head like he’d been entranced under a spell. But trying to shake it away doesn’t work for either one of us. He reaches for my hand again, squeezing me before guiding me toward the front doors. When we get there, he drops my hand, casting me a sorrowful look before opening the door to usher me out.
Ahead, the car has barely come to a stop in front of the school entrance and Johnny is already climbing out. “Motherfucker!” he screams.
For a second, I’m so paranoid that he knows what’s just transpired between Oscar and me that my heart drops into my stomach. It takes me a moment to realize he’s not looking at me. He’s not even looking at Oscar. He’s glaring past us toward the school.
He holds his arms out to me, and I go into them. He presses me tightly against him, almost rocking me.
Is it sick that I enjoy this? It most definitely is.
The past six years fucked me up. My aunt and uncle were there, but not like this. I wasn’t theirs. How could they hold me like this? How could they tell me how much they loved me when I wasn’t even theirs?
I press my cheek into his chest, not even caring when Oscar gives me an indecipherable look.
Magnum calls out, a hint of urgency to his voice. “Come on, Rocket. We got to go.”
“I want to kill that motherfucker.” Johnny moves me toward Magnum. “Watch her. I’m going in there.”
“No,” Mag says, voice stern. “I know you want to. That’s why I’m getting you the fuck out of here.”
I break away from Johnny to look at Mag. He sighs in relief at the sight of me then pleads with his eyes. Taking the hint, I grab Johnny’s hand. “Come on, let’s go. School was boring today anyway.”
The light-hearted comment doesn’t get any reaction from the gangster’s son. He was disrespected, and he doesn’t like it.
“Come on,” I try again. I’m well aware both Magnum and Oscar are staring. “Hey,” I say, taking Johnny’s face in my hands. “Come on. We’re going.” Reluctantly, he follows me into the back of the car. Magnum closes the door on us, and a few seconds later, he’s in the front seat and pulling away.
“Did he touch you?” Johnny asks, looking me all over like he can find some invisible injury on me.
“No,” I say, incredulously. “He’s the police.”
Johnny’s gaze darkens. “You can’t trust anybody. I don’t care if they are the fucking police.”
“Right,” I say, shaking my head. My origins just showed. I doubt anyone who lives in the Heights trusts cops. “It’s just he did a good job of sounding concerned.”
“Did you tell him anything?” Johnny asks.
“Fuck no.”
He closes his eyes, a sigh of relief passing through his lips. He’s jittery, like he’s hyped up on adrenaline.
I steel my shoulders. “I don’t even know anything to tell him,” I say. “Who’s Roza? Why does she want to take me out? And why didn’t you tell me the waiter was sent by her?”
Magnum lifts his gaze to glance at me in the rearview mirror. His eyes are hard, but he immediately looks away again while I focus on Johnny. “I thought you’d be better off not knowing all the danger you’re in. Why do you think I have one of my guys with you at all times? Why do you think I’m with you whenever I can?”
I shake my head. “That’s not how I want to live. I want to know the things that are out there trying to get me. You understand that, right? You’re the same way.”
Johnny growls. “Nothing’s going to get you.” He places his palms on my cheeks and moves forward, lips pressing into mine. He kisses me like a man being dragged under by a tidal wave. His lips scorch mine. This time, it’s easy to fall into him. I open for him voluntarily, letting him in until he’s making my head spin.
Before I know it, he’s pulled me onto his lap and grinding into me.
“Oh shit.” I break away.
Johnny stills. He lets out a breath and presses his forehead against mine, closing his eyes as if he’s drinking me in. He tips his hips up, pressing his hard cock between my legs.
Magnum clears his throat. “We should take her to Big Daddy. Don’t you think?”
I scramble off Johnny’s lap despite his attempts to try to
hold me there. My cheeks burn. My stomach churns with bile. Tears gather in the corners of my eyes.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
21
Talk about taking a bath in ice water and then crawling around naked in a snowbank after a blizzard.
What the fuck am I doing? Like, literally, what in the actual fuck am I doing? What is it about Johnny that appeals to me? I can hate him one minute but crush my crotch against his the next.
I need to have my head examined.
I know. It’s all Brawler’s fault. I’ve been on edge ever since we had that moment in the apartment. I’ve been jittery, fucking horny, actually. Oscar didn’t make it any better. He only intensified the feelings.
That’s all it has to be.
Johnny adjusts his pants and then scowls into the front of the car. “Yes, we probably should take her to see Big Daddy.”
I blink. The conversation in the last half a minute is coming back to me without all the hot and botheredness. “Big Daddy?”
“My dad,” Johnny says, his voice low and hard.
I almost roll my eyes because who doesn’t fucking know that? Instead, I take a deep breath, my stomach bottoming out. The ice age that consumed my body is melting until my limbs are hot, pulling against me like I’m dead weight. I’m so anchored in this moment. “I’m going to meet him?” I ask like I’m some sort of ditzy brunette with an ultra-low IQ.
“He said he’d meet you when the time was right and considering you had a conversation with Detective Reynolds today, this is probably the time.”
Ever since the night my parents died, I’ve been wondering what this man looked like. This man who took everything from me. In my head, he always looks dark and dangerous. He looks like the kind of guy who would murder people for no fucking reason.
But when I check out Johnny’s profile, I wonder if he’s not like that at all. What if he’s handsome like Johnny? What if he looks like a normal person? We always tend to think of evil people as being able to spot easily. It’s one of those things that make us feel better about walking down the sidewalk at night. Or sending our kids off to their friends’ houses. That guy? That girl? No, they look normal. You know who looked normal? Ted Bundy. They even got Zac Efron to play him in a movie, like what the fuck? If that doesn’t tell you that terrible people can come in all different bodies, I don’t know what does.