Garbage fills the ditches on the side of the road, stray cats climb around dumpsters, and there are cars missing wheels or rusted out, decorating vacant parking lots and side streets.
The glimmer of excitement I'm feeling begins to disappear as the bus slows down outside an abandoned factory. Looking around, it starts to sink in that the few people left are immersed in their phones or chatting with the person at their side. No one is getting up, and no one else is getting on.
Phade yawns, fixing his hat and slipping his glasses into the collar of his shirt. Glancing out the window, he starts to stand, but I grab his shirt and pull on it.
We're not getting off here? Are we?
No. This can't be right.
“What are you doing?” I ask nervously.
“This is our stop.”
“Here? You're bringing me here?”
Nodding, he takes my hand in his and braids our fingers together. “It's fine, I promise.”
“I don't know, this—”
Cutting me off, he squeezes my hand hard. “Trust me, Sylvia. Can you do that?”
“Trust needs to be earned.”
Drawing his thumb back and forth over the top of my hand, he arches his brows. “Then give me that chance to earn it.”
Our eyes lock, and I can see the sincerity in his stare. He's not being fake, he's not trying to impress me, he really just wants me to let go, to give him what he's asking for.
Do it, trust him.
The little voice inside my head is strong and loud. I don't know what it is, but I believe him. I feel his truth.
Thinning my lips, I smile and nod. “Alright, I'll give you a chance.”
“Good, that's all I'm asking for. Now let's go before we're late.” Jumping off the bottom step, Phade turns and quickly grabs me around my waist, whisking me off my feet and lowering me to the ground. “It's just a short walk from here.”
Curling his hand around mine, we walk like that up the road a little way. My heart pitter patters in my chest as the pressure in his grip tightens and his thumb circles the nub on my wrist.
My hand feels right in his. I don't want it to, and I'm trying to pretend like it means nothing, but it's there, building a little nest inside my chest as if it were home.
“It's just over here.” Phade's voice gets higher as his eyes light up with excitement.
There's a broken fence to his left, and he slips through the chain links. Keeping my hand in his, he helps me through, never letting me go once.
The way he's touching me, it's softer, more delicate. This is different, a side of Phade I wasn't sure existed. He helps me with care, he holds my hand protectively, as if he wants to make sure I know he's there to keep me safe.
Voices start to echo around us. “What's happening? Who is that?”
“You'll see,” he says, the corner of his lip pulling back into a teasing grin.
Walking up a hill, I see a clearing on the other side as we reach the top. There's a field at the bottom full of people all laughing and chatting.
“Phade, my man, you made it!” A guy calls out as he makes his way toward us.
“Of course, I wouldn't miss this for the world.”
The two men grab hands and give each other a small hug. It's a hug that tells me they've known each other for years. The man looks older than Phade, his hair is gray and there are thick lines around his mouth and across his forehead. But they don't look alike, so I don't think they're related.
“Well, you're busy now, so I'd understand if you couldn't.” The man steps back and looks over at me. “Hi, I'm Dylan.”
“Oh, I'm sorry,” Phade says, wrapping his arm around my neck and pulling me in. “Dylan, this is Sylvia, my girlfriend.”
I stand in shock for a moment, not sure how to respond. He said girlfriend, his damn girlfriend.
What the hell is he doing?
“Ah, so this is the lucky lady.” Holding out his hand, he gives me a warm smile. “Phade told me a little about you, it's nice to meet you.”
Smiling, I shake his hand. “Hi, it's nice to meet you too.”
Really? Girlfriend? What the fuck is he doing?
Phade smirks at me, giving me a little nod with his head. I don't know what he's up to, but I'm surprised, I'll give him that.
Dylan takes a step back and points out into the field. “You guys can start back there, bags and rakes are all set. You need gloves?” Phade nods, and Dylan takes a few out of his pocket and hands them over. “Okay, I'll be over here if you need anything. It was nice to meet you, Sylvia, thank you so much for coming out to help today. It'll mean so much to these kids.”
Kids? Am I a volunteer for something now?
Dylan walks over to another small crowd of people and starts pointing and directing them around the field. Phade's hand comes down on my shoulder as he gives me a little shake.
“Well, let's get to work.” Moving through the field, he heads for the area Dylan directed us to.
Following behind him, I wade through the tall grass.
“So, this is why you asked about my shoes, it makes sense now. A little heads up would have been nice.”
Phade laughs and turns to face me as he walks backwards. “Yeah, I didn't think that part through, but it makes for an interesting story.”
“Right, real funny.”
“Here.” Passing me a pair of gloves, he points to my right. “We're going to start raking over there and work our way down.”
“What is this for exactly? I mean, I'm here, I think you can let me in on it now.”
“This is Bunker Field.” Holding out his arms, he spins in a circle and looks around. “It used to be an awesome baseball field when I was a kid.”
“You grew up around here?”
“Not everyone grew up in a high rise in the city.” Picking up a rake, he hands it to me. “This was my backyard.” Looking past my shoulder, he squints. “See that yellow building back there?” Nodding yes, he says, “Third window on the right was my bedroom.”
“You really lived here?”
“I did, with my mostly absent mother and her revolving door of boyfriends. This field was my escape, it was my sanity, it was my safety. I want to make it better for all the kids that still live here. They need a place to go that isn't an alley to buy drugs. So, every chance I get, I come back and help. A few months ago we repainted the library, and I got a few publishing companies to donate more books.” Peering back over his shoulder at Dylan, he smiles. “Dylan is the guy I can thank for getting me into fighting. He started this after school program to keep kids off the streets, and well, it worked for me.”
“Wow, I had no idea.”
“Most don't.” Pointing a finger at Dylan, I can see the gratefulness in his eyes. “He's the man I owe my life to, the only man I owe anything. I'll always do what I can for him, and for this part of the city, they need people like us.”
Phade grabs a rake for himself and starts to clean up the leaves around his feet. And for the first time ever, I see him in a different light. He's not the conceited asshole I pegged him for.
He cares.
The man I want to hate, the man I'm trying to find any reason in the world not to like—actually has a heart.
We spend the afternoon raking and bagging leaves, spreading fresh dirt for the mound and putting down new bases. A few other volunteers fix and paint the bleachers and the dugout on both sides. Phade even got a local company to donate new fencing.
“Feels good, doesn't it?” Phade asks as he comes to my side and looks out into the baseball field.
“It does, this really is amazing. You surprised me for sure, Phade. You know this would have been good for your image. I wish you would have told me. I could have had a photographer out here for you.”
“That's why I didn't tell you. I don't do this stuff because I want people to pat me on the back. This isn't for them. The tabloids just ruin things that are great. They would find a way to take this and twist it into something
it's not.”
“Not something like this.”
Shrugging his shoulder, he tugs the gloves off his hands and throws them into the trash. “Tell that to the woman who's having my baby after I helped her load groceries into her car. They followed her for weeks after that. Or you can try and tell—”
“Okay, I get it. I know everything can't be controlled, we can't hold their hands and type what we want. But this is something everyone should know about, and not just because you're involved, but because it's for a great cause. Because so many others might have come out to help too.”
“I'll keep that in mind for next time.” Wiping his hands on his pants, he lets out a deep breath. “All right, how about we go have some fun now?”
“Fun? You mean this wasn't it?”
Chuckling, he strokes his jaw. “This was work. I've got something else for you.”
Looking myself over, I have dirt on my skirt, my shirt, my arms and legs. I can feel the grit in my hair and on my face.
“I need to get cleaned up before we do anything. I'm filthy.”
“Are you?” Veering his stare, he takes a step closer. “How filthy are you?”
Slapping his chest, my heart skips a beat. “Stop, you know what I mean.”
“I don't think I do.” Tracing his fingers up and down my arm lightly, I feel his breath across the side of my face. “I'd really love it if you'd show me later.”
I feel myself falling, plunging deeper and deeper into this man.
I should hate who he is. I should hate what he stands for. I should hate where we're heading.
But suddenly, I want it all.
I want to know him. I want to take that jump with him. I want to close my eyes and just let go.
Lord, save me from jumping. . . I want to get off this cliff, but I don't know how.
Is anybody listening?
9
Sylvia
I'm watching him from the corner of my eye as we ride the bus back to the fancier side of the city. I feel different about him now. I don't want to, but his little act of kindness is more than I can handle.
My heart screams, beating with such vigor, I almost can't breathe. Every inch of my being is thrust into this complex equation. Hate, lust, lust filled hate, all of it swirls in my gut, trying to destroy me.
It's like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. I thought I was seeing him clearly. I thought I knew what to expect from him.
I'm wrong.
He isn't a pompous jackass. He isn't a dumb meat-head who only thinks with his cock. It's all an act, an image he keeps up for the ring and the fans that have grown to love the zealous a-hole he's created.
“What?” he asks, looking down at the dirt on his hands. He's slowly brushing one palm over the other, feeling the grit.
“What now?” I'm curious, a little excited, and I can't stop smiling. It feels weird.
Dropping his hands onto his lap, he lifts his eyes to mine. “It's—”
“Don't say it,” I quickly cut in, holding up my hand. “It's a surprise.”
“Bingo.” He points his finger at me and shoots me with his finger gun. “I will tell you it's not work, it's fun.”
“Oh, well, that totally helps.” Giggling, I smile, rolling my head on my shoulders to look back out the window. “It's a good thing you don't get off on being a pain in my ass.”
“Of course not,” he says sternly, grabbing my chin and turning my face back to his. “Your ass is much too fine to hurt. I'd rather hear you beg me to keep going, not beg me to stop.”
My pussy is wet instantly, soaking my panties like he just turned on a faucet. I try not to show him the volatile need he's causing me to feel. I've never felt so unstable in my life. I've always had control of my body around men, but this man seems to take that control and crush it between his large, pussy filling fingers.
“I bet you would.” My voice is weak despite the force I use to get my words out.
The bus slows down, and Phade stands. Holding out his hand, he grins. “We're here, let's go have some fun.”
Taking his hand, I stand. “You sure we can even go like this? Where the hell are you taking me? I mean look at us, we're filthy.” Glancing down at my clothes, I look back up at him.
“We're fine, I promise.” Tipping his head towards the front, he says, “Come on, don't be shy. No one cares what you look like. I bet no one will even look at you twice.”
“I hope you're right.”
His hand is warm, strong, protectively coddling mine as we exit the bus and start walking. He takes us up a few blocks, and after a long straight walk up Center Boulevard, Phade stops us on the corner.
“Now turn around.”
“What?”
“Turn around,” he says, spinning his finger in a circle in the air.
“Why?”
“Can you not ask questions and just do it? Please.” Pouting his lips, he holds his hand over his heart.
“Okay, fine, I'll turn around.” Throwing up my arms in defeat, I turn to face the opposite direction.
“See, that wasn't so hard.”
“Don't push it,” I bark playfully, looking back over my shoulder.
“Okay, I'm sorry, just turn around.” Phade moves my head and slips his hands down over my eyes. “No peeking now.”
“Are you serious?” I'm smiling as I say it, my heart is in my throat and my chest feels heavy.
Phade starts to turn me around, guiding me forward while using his hands as a blindfold. “Almost there.”
As we move, I reach up and grab his hands. My stomach flips, and the feeling that I'm going to fall courses through my body. Taking long, blind steps, I try to feel the ground with my toes before I set my foot down.
Holding onto him tighter, I'm afraid to let go, afraid I'll trip and land on my face. Phade nuzzles his face into my neck and whispers. “Don't worry, I won't let you fall.” His voice is soothing, and I feel my body start to loosen up.
The tension subsides as I pull in a gulp of fresh air and slowly release it from my lungs. Relaxing my hands to my sides, I do the one thing I've never done; I clear my mind and just let go.
“Almost there,” he says. His body presses closer to mine and I find myself leaning back into him.
His arms around me make my heart pound, his chest against my back makes my nerves explode and my pussy throb. Every step Phade takes, his hips shift forward, forcing his cock to press against my ass.
I'm tempted to reach back and touch his bulge. Everything about this is turning me on. I don't hear the traffic anymore, I don't feel the ground vibrate from passing cars or the subway.
I'm caught up in Phade. In his hands on my face. In his breath as he exhales across the back of my neck. In his dick as it brushes my ass, teasing me, calling me to come out and play.
“You ready?” he asks as he stops us, his hands pulling against my face, pressing my head against his firm chest.
“Yes I'm ready.”
“Ta da!” he calls out as he tears his hands away.
I'm still blind for a second, blinking and trying to adjust to the sun going down over the horizon. Squinting, I see a huge ferris wheel, all lit up and spinning. People are screaming as they drop on a roller-coaster, kids are laughing, and there are bells and whistles going off all over the place.
“When was the last time you went to a fair?” Stepping to my side, he proudly folds his arms across his chest.
“Honestly?” I ask him, looking up with a scrunched face.
“Holy shit, you've never been to a fair before—have you?” Shaking my head no, I smile through grit teeth. “Wow, you really have no idea what you've been missing out on.” Grabbing my hand, he yanks me along. “I'm going to show you the time of your life.”
And he was right. After riding the roller-coaster three times, we share a dough-boy covered in powdered sugar. It’s sweet and greasy, and simply delicious.
Licking my fingers, I groan. “Wow, that was good.”
Following his finger, I see a small shack with stuffed animals lining the walls. There are guns sitting in holders, and on the opposite side of the counter are clown faces with balloons for noses.
“What is it?”
“It's game time.” Pulling a few dollars from his wallet, he throws it onto the counter. “Go ahead, you take that one, I'll take this one.”
“So what do I do?”
“Shoot water into the clown's mouth and whoever fills the balloon first and pops it, wins.”
“Sounds easy enough.”
The man behind the counter rings a bell and Phade pulls his trigger. Water is shooting out of his gun, going right into the mouth of the clown. I'm all over the place, trying to aim and not even getting close.
“This thing is rigged!” My voice is excited and loud as I keep glancing from my clown to Phade's, seeing his balloon is almost full.
Pop!
Another bell rings loudly, and the man calls out, “Winner!”
“No fair!” Laughing, I turn to Phade who is lightly blowing air over the end of his squirt gun. “Okay, get it in now, because next round, I'm kicking your ass.”
“I'll take that blue dinosaur right there.” Phade points up, and the man grabs it with a hook, passing it over. “Another round.” Tossing a few bucks down again, the bell chimes.
Only this time, there are two kids next to me, both boys, maybe around the ages of nine or ten. Their parents are behind us, rooting them on before we begin.
Phade glances between us, nodding his head as if to say good luck. I glare at him, with a frown on my face and a stink eye.
“Oh it's going to be like that, okay, I see how it is. You're going down.” He's smirking as he holds his gun up, looking down the barrel with one eye closed.
“We'll see who's going down.”
Another bell rings and we all lay on the trigger heavy. Water is spitting back at my face, but my aim is still horrible. I swear my gun's been tampered with. I'm holding it straight, aiming right at the gaping mouth of the clown. And still the stream bends hard to the left, missing it completely.
Big Bad Boys: A Romance Collection Page 32