by Kar, Alla
“Aren’t you going to tell her where we’re going?”
He shakes his head, looks back and reverses out of the driveway. “No way, she will tell Mom. Then I’ll get in trouble for corrupting you.”
Well, that makes me feel better. “Corrupting me? What exactly are we doing? We’re not going to any kind of swingers’ party, are we?”
“What the hell? No. You think I’d let another guy put his hands on you? What universe have you been in during our relationship?”
That’s the truth. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going then?”
Taylor reaches over and turns up the radio. I guess that’s a no. The drive is about ten minutes. We’re heading downtown, and I’m not sure where we could be going. Taylor sings along to absolutely every song on the radio and drums his fingers against the steering wheel. When we stop I notice we’re on the square downtown. There are a few restaurants, but I’m not sure what else.
Taylor opens my door then ushers me toward the square. This is the first time I’ve been out with Taylor openly on a date since the incident. It’s nice. Taylor’s arm is wrapped around my waist, his laugh cascading in the night.
“I’m on pins and needles, where are we going?”
Taylor gives me a crooked smile and points in front of him. We stop in front of a tattoo shop. Johnny’s is says. “Are you getting a tattoo?”
Taylor shakes his head slowly. “No, but you are.”
A laugh escapes my throat, louder than I thought it would be. Me? Get a Tattoo? It’s not that I had never thought about it. What sixteen year old girl doesn’t want a fairy tattoo? “Taylor…I’m not sure—“
“Come on, baby. I have…” he counted off on his finger… “about twenty two tattoos. You can handle one. I figured you would want one.”
“Why is that?”
“You’re a hustler. Hustlers need tattoos.”
I pop my hip to the side. “No, we don’t. All women hustlers need are breasts.”
Taylor lets out a hearty laugh. “And that my dear…you have plenty of.” He laughs but his face turns serious. “I drew something out for you. I thought you may want to get it. But, it’s perfectly fine if you don’t want to.”
Did Taylor just get hotter? “You drew it for me? You drew a tattoo for me?”
Taylor nods, licking his bottom lip before pulling out a folded piece of paper from his jeans pocket. He unfolds it and hands it to me. My breath catches in my throat. There in the center of the paper in cursive writing is a quote.
Sometimes you have to fall,
Before you can fly .
The “Y” in fly fades into several tiny birds. Tears start to threaten my eyes, and I wrap my arms around Taylor’s neck.
“Wow,” he holds me closer to him, “I’m guessing you like it?”
Glancing up, Taylor wipes a runaway tear from my cheek. “Thank you. I love it.”
He winks, bends his knees and waits for my answer. “Let’s do this.”
After thirty minutes of debating where I’m getting this tattoo, we finally decide on my forearm. Taylor suggested my shoulder, but then went on a rant about not having everyone touching my shoulder. Whatever.
An hour of squeezing Taylor’s hand and Toni finishes my tattoo. He lets me look at the red sensitive skin before he wraps it up. It’s fucking gorgeous. My heart is pounding from the experience. Taylor pays the man and escorts me out into the night. The air is breezy, and it smells like Thai food and makes my stomach rumble.
The drive back is peaceful. Taylor hands me a light leather jacket, despite the heat, to cover my arm. Apparently Taylor’s mom isn’t big on tattoos. So, I slid into the warmth and snuggle into his sent. We pull up a little after six. His mother’s car is in the driveway.
“Thank you for this,” I say, before Taylor can grab his door handle. “I really mean it. This is beautiful.”
Taylor grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles, making my knees weak. “For a beautiful woman.”
The night goes by quickly. Amy and I watch more videos, while Taylor and Trent play XBOX Live. His mom thanks me for cooking and heads to bed. After everyone is finally in the bed, Taylor has me pressed against his bedroom wall, trailing kisses down my neck.
The scorch of his touch is almost too much to bear. His tongue ring slides across my skin, lighting me on fire. His calloused hands cupping my ass, keeping me pressed against the wall and my legs enfolded around his waist. “If you keep up that moaning Trent is going to hear you. I swear he hears girls coming a mile away,” Taylor whispers into my ear.
I let my head fall back and laugh. “He is your clone.”
Taylor smiles. “What can I say? I’m too irresistible not to keep my legacy going.” Taylor stops laughing, and his mouth turns down at the corners.
“What’s wrong?”
Taylor presses his forehead against mine and walks us over to the bed. Grabbing me, he wraps me in his arms and runs his fingers through my hair. “I hate that you’re constantly worried and hiding. You don’t deserve this.”
Circling my finger against his stomach, I shrug. “Everything happens for a reason, right?”
He nods. “I guess. I just wish we could go back home. I’m not even sure what to do now. We’ve taken it to the cops, and they seem to not help at all. They have no evidence but a shirt and a note. How are we going to prove that Damon is in on this?”
A big hit of reality smashes into me, and I come back down from my high. I sit up in the bed and hold my face in my hands. “We can’t stay here. We need to go back Monday. I can’t keep you from living your life. Missing classes and work. This can’t be my fault anymore. I have to end this.”
Before I can get up, Taylor pushes me down on the bed and straddles me. He is a lot heavier than he looks. “You don’t need to do anything, because you don’t take care of yourself when you’re trying to save the day. I’m not losing you like I almost did last time. No runaways to Damon house or trying to surprise your attacker at home. You stay with me until we figure this out, okay?”
Damn. I want to fix this. I want to ease all of this pain and problems I’ve caused my friends. But, because I know Taylor is never going to let me do anything on my own again, I nod. “Okay. Let’s just get this figured out.”
Taylor nods. “I promise, we will.”
Chapter Twelve
Taylor
This sun is damn hot. I swear I should have lost ten pounds sweating this much. But, since Mom is letting us stay here without bugging us for an answer why, I’m definitely cleaning out these gutters. I scoop up the soggy leaves and toss them to the ground below. If Trent was in school I’d have his ass out here helping me.
Tossing my shirt to the side, I wipe my dripping forehead with the back of my hand. Layla is inside taking a nap. She has fell into the “house wife” stage easily. She cooks for Trent and Amy before they go to school, she fixes lunch for us and then we do some online homework for school before she starts dinner for the kids. Not to mention the naps she takes throughout the day to keep going. I want her to rest and enjoy herself while we’re hiding. I don’t want her stressed any more than usual.
I’m about finished with the damn leaves when I hear the roar of an engine. I turn and glance down at the driveway. Fuck. Heath Livingston is getting out of his car. I haven’t seen the asshole since high school. He looks just the same, only his walk is a little more arrogant. His brother is in some kind of Dirt Bike Hall of Fame, who the fuck knows. It just gives the smartass something to gloat about.
“Taylor Fucking Jacks. I never thought I’d see you again,” he yells from the ground.
“Wish I never had to,” I whisper, climbing down the latter. When I get down he pats me shoulder and gestures toward me.
He is a bigger guy, not as big as me, but always put on a show for the girls in high school. I’m sure he’s never really been in a real fight in his life. “I see you’ve still be fighting. I keep up with it online. Still kicking ass, I see? What are you
now 10-0?”
Scratching my neck, I nod. “Sure, something like that. What’s up? What brings you over here?” Get to the point, so you can leave.
He laughs, squinting his already narrowed eyes more. “You’re kidding, right? You don’t know why I’m here?”
I shrug, getting aggravated with his bullshit game. “No, so tell me.”
“Some guy is posting comments on your fan blog about—“
I stop him. “My what blog? I don’t have a blog.”
Heath leans on my shoulder, acting as if we’re the best of friends. “It’s your fan blog. A person keeps up with your stuff and posts your next fight information. Probably some horny girl. But, some guy has been commenting challenging you to a fight. You’ve got to take it, bro! He says he can whoop your ass. I tried to call you, but I’m guessing your number isn’t the same from high school.” He digs around in his pocket and pulls out a paper. “Here is the URL. You can check it out yourself. But, bro, you’re going to want to fight him. He is talking some major shit.”
Just great. Because, this is exactly what I need right now. And it’s fucking creepy that he keeps up with me this much. I push my hand through my hair and sigh. When I look back up at Heath is staring behind me. I glance over my shoulder and see Layla walking toward us. She has bed hair, her lips pouty from her nap, and her long tanned legs shining beneath her soffee shorts.
“Mother of God,” he whispers.
I turn toward him and give him a I’ll beat your ass to the moon and back look. He puts his hands up in surrender.
“Taylor, who is your friend?” he asks, taking Layla’s hand. I want to smack the smirk off the little trouble-making face.
“This is Layla,” I say lowly. “And this – is Heath.”
The exchange greetings, and then Heath turns back to me. “So, you check that out. I really think you’re going to want to take this fight.” He waves bye to Layla and gives me a corny ass salute before he gets into his truck and leaves.
Layla grabs my arm. “What fight? I thought your mother doesn’t like you fighting? You’ll have to be sneaky if you want to take this.”
I shrug. “I don’t know if I even want to take it. Some loser is challenging me to some fight. They do it all the time.”
Layla grabs the piece of paper and reads it. “Let’s go check it out.”
The website is a freaking shrine to me. I have no idea who the administrator to this site is, but whoever she or he is, they are obsessed. There are pictures of me from random fights, my high school year book photos and a place for comments. That’s where we find the challenges. Normally I hear the challenges through people at school. I didn’t realize that this is where they are finding them.
“Jesus. I think you have a stalker of your own, Taylor,” Layla snaps. I can see the jealousy rising in her eyes. It’s too damn cute.
“Awe, don’t be jealous. You know you’re the only hustler for me.”
She rolls her eyes and scans down the comments. It isn’t long before we come across an anonymous comment threatening to beat my ass. It’s not a very nice comment and definitely not for younger readers.
“Whose girlfriend did you sleep with? That guy is pissed off.”
I nod and scratch my jaw. “I have no idea. But there seems to be a lot of hype to this comment. It’s probably some football guy from school wanting to fight me.” I shrug. “I guess I can take it.” I type in my response and it isn’t ten minutes later I get one back.
“Friday Night. Seven. Football field at Harmony High School.”
Layla lets out a long whistle. “It looks like this guy is ready to fight. Whoever he is knows you’re here, because he wants to fight at a high school. That’s your old high school, right?”
I nod. “Yep, that’s the old place. I guess I’ll see him then.”
***
After Trent and Amy get out of school, we go into the back yard. Layla lays out with Amy on the deck, while Trent and I pass the football around for a little while. Trent is good. Mom tells me he is getting his grades up and that means a better chance at a scholarship. Any scholarship is good for Trent. Mom doesn’t have the finances to pay Trent’s way, and he doesn’t need fifty thousand dollars in student loan depth, either. Even though I can tell girls are going to be his weakness. He loves them. He gets it honest, at least.
“Go long!” I yell, snapping my arm back and releasing.
Trent screams, running as fast he can, catching it with the tips of his fingers and slamming against the ground. “That’s what I’m talking about,” he screams, doing a victory dance.
I laugh and wait for him to run back to his spot. It isn’t until I’m catching his next pass that I notice something at the edge of the woods. We live in a suburban area but there is a patch of trees behind us, leaving a giant field for the neighborhood kids to play. At the edge of the woods a dark figure was standing facing us. A shiver of dread ached down my back. I’d know that man anywhere. He doesn’t seem to care that I’m looking back at him, but after a few minutes he disappears into the shadow of the forest.
Hoping no one noticed, I glance back at Layla. Her eyes are wide, mouth ajar and a fearful expression deep in her eyes. “You gonna throw that to me?” Trent yells.
Rolling my shoulder, I throw another long pass. “That’s enough for right now. I need to speak with Layla, guys.”
Trent shrugs, and Amy whines. Not that Layla has listened to anything Amy has said in the last five minutes. Waiting until they get inside, I shut the door and grab Layla. Tears are in her eyes and her bottom lip trembles.
“He knows we’re here. He is going to kill them…it’s all my fault…we should have never came here—“a sob cuts off her sentence. Tears are flowing down her face in two streams.
“No, shhh, we’re going to be fine. I’m going to go to the police station and see what’s going on. I need you to stay here with the kids. My mom should be home shortly, don’t tell her anything. Make sure the doors and windows are locked. I doubt he’ll try and break in. I’ll be back in just a little while. Okay?”
Layla shakes her head as I wipe away the tears. I make sure she has stopped crying before we go back inside. I double check the locks and go toward the police station.
***
Layla
Obviously the police can’t do anything since the guy wasn’t on our property. He was only observing? Yeah, right. Observing the right way to kill us. Taylor looks exhausted, and I know it’s because of me. It’s because he wanted a nice, normal relationship with me. That can never happen. This is why my dad made the rules. This is why he started them.
I can see it now. But, I’m too deep to leave. I can’t leave Taylor alone. He is the one for me. The one person I can’t live without. He is mine.
His arm wraps around my mid-section, and he crawls into bed with me. “Are you okay? I’m sorry I don’t have better news. I did get a number of a detective. If the guy shows up again we can call him and he’ll come over.”
I nod into the side of my pillow.
“Baby, don’t worry about it, it’s only going to make you feel worse.”
I close my eyes tightly. Maybe if I stay here long enough everything will go away. My stomach growls, making Taylor laugh in my ear. “Did you not eat enough? I’m stuffed from that spaghetti, which was great by the way.”
I sit up in the bed. “I was a little too nervous to eat. I feel a little sick to my stomach, too. I guess all this stress is making me sick.”
Brushing my hair out of my face, Taylor leans in and kisses my forehead. “It’s going to be okay. Let’s get a good night’s sleep. My mom gets home early tomorrow. I’m going to step out for a few minutes, and I promise I’ll make tomorrow much better.”
Not being able to help my smile, I kiss his cheek. “Hold me until I fall asleep.”
“Always.”
Chapter Twelve
Layla
Taylor did make the next day better. After a day of looking out the wi
ndow several times a minute, he took me to a restaurant downtown for dinner. We laughed at the drunk couples dancing and even danced a little ourselves. The night air was cool, almost inviting us into the night. Taylor took me to a few secluded spots and to “make-out” hill, which was every guy’s dream to get a girl out there. According to Taylor at least. After holding each other all night, we fell asleep in the backseat of Taylor’s Hummer, the sunshine waking us up the next morning.
It’s been close to a week since our night out. Since our one night of blissful ignorance. We both knew someone was probably watching us. We both knew that nothing we did from now own would be secret. Until he was caught. Until he was dead. Taylor has been locked in his room all day preparing for his match tonight. We still have no idea who he is going to fight, or even if he will show up. But, Taylor intends to go and then we’re going to sit down and figure out what to do about Damon.
It’s getting close to six fifteen and almost time for us to go. I pack Taylor’s gym clothes into his bag and sneak it out to the Hummer. His mother is working but Trent and Amy are both home. Amy has been trying to spy on Taylor, I have a feeling they know what he is going to do. I just hope they keep it to themselves.
I’m locking the Hummer doors when I feel a tap on my shoulder. Frightened, I turn around and kick my leg out, making contact with Taylor’s stomach. He catches my ankle just in time. Lifting a brow, he pulls me toward his chest. “Remind me to never piss you off. That was some round-house kick, hustler.”
Letting out a huge breath, I glance behind Taylor. “Where is Trent and Amy?”
Taylor tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, cradling my face in his hands. “Are you okay? If you don’t feel like going to the fight, you don’t have to.”
I grab his hand and lean into his calloused hand. “I’m fine. I need to get out. All this hiding is making me miss outside.”