by C C Monroe
“How you gonna ask her?” her dad questions, taking a general interest, and to me, it’s a bit foreign since we never really talk. Unless we’re insulting each other...or fist fighting.
“Saturday night, I was thinking you and Becky could watch the little man, and I will have her meet me at my studio, make her think we’ll be going to dinner after a late night of working. I wrote her a song and recorded it, so I’ll play it, and then propose there.”
“We can do that.”
I nod, taking another swig.
“Daddy, come in!” Lana yells up at me.
“Just a minute, queen.” Turning to her dad, I nod. “Thank you for your blessing.” I don’t say more, knowing I don’t need to. We said enough to one another for the day and I got what I wanted. Leaving him standing there, I head upstairs to change into my suit. I’m gonna marry my fucking queen.
“Shooting? You wanted to bring me shooting?”
Jumping out of the truck, I face Lana. “Yeah, your dad and I thought it would be a good idea.” Shutting my door before she can respond, I watch her parents climb out of the back seat as I round the front of the truck to let her out.
“You know I’m terrified of guns. I’m too clumsy to wield one.”
Taking her hand, I help her out, pulling her against me when she lands on her feet. Fuck, she looks edible today. Tight skinny jeans hugging every inch of those long, thin legs, cupping her ass deliciously. She wore an off-the-shoulder top, and it shows me all the skin of her neck, her thin collarbone, and an inch or two of those sexy hipbones. She curled her hair in that way I like it and put on a light stitch of makeup, like her dad and I prefer. Lana is fucking stunning; she can throw on some blush, with that black shit for her lashes, and some chapstick, and you would think she spent hours doing it.
Seeing her parents are busy talking on the other side of the truck through the glass, I push her up against the door, no space between our bodies. “Pretty baby, your skin is making me hungry,” I whisper, biting that sexy little dimple that comes with her smile. She gasps as I pull away. Reaching up to soothe the bite with the swipe of my thumb, I groan.
“My parents are here, so control yourself,” she scolds me, doing a terrible job as she smiles again, placing her hands on my hips. “But really, why a shooting range?” she inquires, her fingers sailing around my back to connect with one another.
“Your dad and I think you could use some gun training. I want you to feel as safe as possible.”
She goes from curious to alarmed with in seconds. “Why? You think Jo— he’s coming back?” Her breathing starts to come out in deep shudders and her chest rises and falls too fast. I realize I shouldn’t have brought up her safety, but I didn’t want to lie to her, and knowing Jeffery, he would have told her before I did. I didn’t want to upset her by not telling her first. Talk about a head-trip.
“Lana, we never know. But I don’t think it’s a bad idea to be prepared in case he does.”
She shakes her head rapidly, fearfully in denial. I think up something quick, peering around the truck at her parents as they watch us from afar, giving us space. I appreciate her father letting me handle my family instead of stepping in when he doesn’t need to.
“Remember in therapy last week, how you said you want to always be prepared to protect your own, to protect this?” I pause, clasping her hand in mine and delicately laying them against her stomach. “Protect our little one and Prince?” She nods, still a little shook. “Then what about this?” I lazily pull her hand to just above my heart and firmly lay it against my chest. “You don’t want me to ever lose you, do you? You don’t want to break my heart and leave me here without you, do you, my queen?”
Hurrying, she shakes her head and steps into me. “No, I don’t. Never.”
My eyes soften and I almost whimper, growing weak for her. “Then let’s make you unstoppable. Let’s take back your power and make the shadows afraid of you. I want you to always know you are safe, that you are the powerhouse behind that safety, Mama.”
Gulping, her forehead connects with mine and her eyes flutter shut the moment my hands cradle the sides of her neck. “Give me back my power, Kingston,” she whispers.
“Forever.” We stay in this position for prolonged seconds, breathing each other in and out, letting the wind around us carry away the last of her resistance.
“Baby girl, come on. Let’s get some shooting out of the way,” Jeffrey interrupts at the right time. Lana leans up and kisses my cheek then walks away, leaving me in place to watch her sashay away.
Just like every day, Lana in her purest form, just simply existing, steals my breath, and the ironclad grip on my heart nearly stops it from beating.
The metal in my hand feels foreign, heavy, and cold. My sweaty, shaky hands seem to be warming it up with each passing second. I know we’re here so I can learn how to protect myself, but with that knowledge also comes another revelation—this is all for the possibility of one day having to defend myself from Joel.
In therapy, we have focused so much on rebuilding my belief that Joel won’t ever come back that now it feels like mistaken false hope. Truth of the matter is, when I really logically think about it, Joel may always come back—unless he’s dead. But even then, he may haunt me in the night. How pathetic is it to think that even in his death he may still have the power to take me over?
Kingston said I have the power, that I am the force behind my road to recovery, but right in this moment, I feel like I’ve taken three steps back.
Daddy and Mama are in the stall next to me, already through one round while I stare blankly at the target off in the distance.
Hands on my hips and a warm chest at my back bring me out of my fog. “Grip it tight, like this.” Moving his hands to mine, he helps reposition my hands on the semiautomatic black pistol. I gulp, as it feels even more heavy and real. I really hate guns; they have always made me uneasy, which makes no sense since daddy has always had guns.
“Like that.”
He drops his hands back to my hips, and the second he does, my hands go limp and falter. I cuss under my breath, dropping my head. “Damn it.” My parents look to me, and they try to soothe me with words of affirmation. But it’s Kingston who I want to help me. It’s his words I need to hear to center me.
“Here, baby.” Grabbing the gun from my hand, he flips on the safety and lays it on its side.
I shake my head and tuck my hair behind my ear. He doesn’t move me or spin me; he stays planted in place, bending to my ear. He speaks loud enough for me to hear him clearly over the buds in my ears, but quiet enough my parents only get the gist. “Close your eyes.”
Gulping, I look over to my parents and search them for approval. They both nod, watching Kingston and me.
“Okay.” Closing my eyes, I wait for his next demand.
“Do you trust me, Lana?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“No, baby, I need you to really trust me, to dig deep inside you and trust what I’m about to do.”
Scared, I open my eyes and attempt to turn, but he keeps his hands firm on my hips and forces me to stay.
“Eyes closed and tell me you trust me.”
Waiting a beat, I debate what to say. I see his face in my mind, smell his scent, and feel his grasp on me, and I know I can. “I trust you.”
“Good. Now take a deep breath, and count to three when you need to, baby.”
“Okay.”
“All right, do you feel my hands here?” He clenches my hips a little tighter.
I nod. “Yes.”
“Good, what about here?” He moves his hands to my upper arms and squeezes my biceps with more force.
I wince a little and cry out. “Ow, yes, they’re tight,” I chuckle, not sure what his MO is.
“What about here?” Moving his hands up, I’m not prepared for what happens next. Gripping my neck, he squeezes, and I hear my dad release a deep breath through his nose as I seize up. And when I struggle a bit,
Kingston tightens his grip, making a soft cry bubble to the surface. My body heat skyrockets, and the pit of my stomach plummets along with my heart rate.
“Kings!” I shout.
And he whispers in my ear, “He’s not here, baby. It’s me, Lana.”
“Kingston, that’s en—”
“Back off, Jeffery!” he yells, and I start to tremble, flashbacks coming at me, like the many times Joel’s hands found my neck and nearly took the life out of my body.
“Kings! Stop!”
“You aren’t good enough. You’re weak!” he shouts, and I grab his hands on my neck, ready to tap out, because this is too much.
“Please stop!” I yell louder, but my eyes never open, too scared I’ll see the person in my nightmares.
His one hand stays on my neck, and I hear the sound of him grabbing for the gun and flipping off the safety. I struggle more and call out to my father. “Daddy! Make him stop, please!” I don’t hear his response, and Kingston’s grip on me isn’t tight at all, meaning I could get out if I wanted, but honestly, I’m too afraid. “Please, Kingston!” I cry, the tears falling from my closed eyes.
“He can’t save you. No one can! You will never see them again. You’re mine now, Lana.” His voice sizzles like the end of a blowtorch and I shudder, never hearing him like that before. “You’re weak!”
I cry.
“Pathetic!”
I choke and shake my head, my heart rate faster than a speeding car.
“You can never escape me!”
Before my brain can catch up to my body, my eyes fly open and I wail, grabbing the gun from his hand and pointing it at the target. Pulling the trigger before Kingston can stop me, I unhinge and lose myself.
“No!” I scream, pulling the trigger over and over again, my vision blurring through my tears. I don’t see anyone around me, just the target ahead. I have lost his touch, lost the voices, lost everything but the goal of fighting for my life.
When the gun empties and the clicks of an empty magazine sound, I take deep, chest-caving breaths and stare at the now damaged target. Joel fades from my mind and I feel every ounce of blood pumping through me, hot and steady, like lava fresh from an erupting volcano. I am that steaming, lava-pouring, and damaging volcano.
My breathing begins to even out and my surroundings come back into focus. Kingston’s tatted hands close around mine, and he slowly pulls the gun away from me. Turning with steady movements, I face my parents and Kingston, who all wait silently for me to speak.
I blink a few times, and as if I was possessed, I feel something leave me, a darker more brave side of myself that I never knew existed. It all hits me too fast, and I become an emotional wreck.
“Kingston,” I cry, falling into his arms and sobbing into his chest.
“You are strong, Lana James,” he coos, petting my hair and whispering in my ear. I can hear my mother crying alongside me, and I feel my dad’s hand on my back as he sniffles. I even made him cry. And little do they all know, even though that terrified me, it also revived me. It awoke a stronger side of me that never had the courage to defend herself. It awoke the Donovan in me, and God, does Kingston have any idea what he has done for me?
I want to be his. I want to be a greater version of me. I don’t want to be Lana James, the scared, abused victim, but instead Lana Donovan, a better version, a stronger version, a fighter in her new skin.
As I peer up, Kings holds my cheeks and whisks away my fast-falling tears with his thumbs. His eyes search mine and I see how afraid he is, how unsure over what he just did to me. In attempt to soothe him and make him release the breath lingering in his heavy chest, I whisper, “Thank you.”
Kingston smiles, but it never reaches his eyes, and I assume he is just coming down from the high of it all. That was the most intense situation he and I have ever been in together. We wandered into dangerous territory, but came out liberated, washed clean from it all—at least I know I did.
My dad doesn’t say much, and my mother keeps to herself the entire car ride home. Everyone seems put off by what happened, except me. I want to speak out, but I can’t find the appropriate words, because I still feel outside my body.
We may have been doing that to prepare for Joel’s return, but if that day never comes—which I pray it never does—today was the day I faced my demons and defended myself. Took upon myself the revenge I’ve silently wished I had all those years ago. I was vindicated.
“Where do you guys want to go for dinner?” I finally break up the cloud of tension.
“Wherever you want, baby girl. You pick,” my father answers, coughing through the frog in his throat. God, is it really that bad? I thought they all felt what I did, but I guess I was way off.
Reaching out when Kingston doesn’t even budge, I touch his thigh. “Kingston? Want to go anywhere special?”
He keeps his eyes forward and his lips drawn in a tight, straight line. Lifting his shoulders, he puts the choice back on me.
“Um, maybe we can go to that nice steak house on Fifth? Downtown, we can meet Trey and Shayla there? We just need to go change. It’s a bit upscale.” I look over my shoulder at my parents, and they both nod.
“Sounds wonderful. I love steak,” Mama answers, slowly coming back to the here and now with me. Let’s hope Kingston and Daddy get the memo.
As I look over at Kingston one last time, he stays concentrated on driving, shutting me out for the rest of the car ride.
I watch everyone chat at the dinner table, but I’m in an alternate universe up in my head. I feel sick, my hands feeling dirty, even after Lana and I showered to get ready. These hands wrapped around her neck in a way they shouldn’t have. An act of disgrace, instead of lust and passion. My intentions were to help her, when really they fucking betrayed me, ended up backfiring and working against me.
She looks stunning tonight, small and delicate, fragile and elegant in her white off-the-shoulder dress. It hits her knees, but has a large slit lining the side of her leg, stopping mid-thigh. The form-fitting attire is striking against her tan. I look boring in comparison to her, with my nice dress pants, white button-up top, and thin tie, ending with my black suede shoes. Lana is enthralled in the conversation everyone is having at the table, but her hand never leaves my thigh as the other one occasionally takes residence on her lemon water.
The upscale restaurant is lit with dim chandeliers and intricate sconces along the walls, the elegant setting worthy enough to surround my queen. Our son sits next to Lana, his hand in his mouth as he sucks on his fingers covered in banana. Shayla and Lana are in conversation, as Trey looks busy chatting up her parents and Kathy.
I don’t pay much attention to anyone else, other than Lana. My fingers touch the skin of her exposed neck, thanks to her curly, messy, yet sleek ponytail, clearing me a path. I watch the motion of my thumb lightly tracing over the faint, soft blue veins under the thin column of her neck, and I almost lose myself, replaying the image of my hands gripping her neck again in my head.
I couldn’t stop the torture on my own, and almost don’t even attempt to, but then she speaks, turning and smiling at me. Her fancy earrings make a sound, and the smell of her flowery perfume hits my senses. “Kingston? Daddy asked you a question.”
Looking at her with a haunted expression, I wait a moment while my brain plays catch-up.
“Sorry, what was that?” Blinking a few times, I give my attention to Jeffery.
“I just asked what time you and Lana were going out tomorrow. I was thinking of picking up some pizza and having a night in with Becky and Prince.”
I told Jeffery my plans for tomorrow and how I’m proposing to Lana, but he plays doltish.
“We’re going out tomorrow?” she questions, leaning in to me.
“Yeah, I was thinking of taking you out to a movie or something, let your parents brush up on their grand parenting skills.”
“Oh yeah, that would be nice.” Lana looks delighted.
“Yeah, I have to
work a little late, but maybe you can meet me at the studio?”
“Of course!” I have no clue how she’s acting unaffected by what happened earlier, as if she has stored it deep in her subconscious mind. It would make sense, I guess. If I were her, I would want to lock that shit away too.
“Good.” I’m not in the talking mood, and I think the gods are raining mercy on me, because our food comes in the nick of time. I pick at my food, my appetite long gone, where it stays the rest of the night.
Prince went down fast, exhausted from all the attention he received today, and Lana stayed downstairs to hang out with her parents. I took a shower when we got back, and now I’m sitting up in bed, watching the flat screen above our bedroom fireplace.
“Hey, handsome,” Lana calls to me, and I have no idea when she joined me. She stands in front of the bed, completely naked except for a pair of lace panties. She looks incredible, stunning in the dim lighting, and if I weren’t so fucked up in my head right now, I would be all over that.
“Hey.”
She eyes me curiously, assessing me for a brief moment. “Okay. Do you like my new panties? I think they fit nicely.”
As she does a full three-sixty, my mind stays in the twilight, but my cock wakes up. Her lean legs, stemming from the apple of her ass, beckon to me before she starts climbing onto the bed on all fours. I’m trying to control my thoughts, raging a war between my desire and the logical side of me that knows I fucked up today.
“I think you like them.” When she trails the tips of her fingers in a scissoring motion up my leg, I start to feel her presence closing in on me, and the guilt grows more prominent. Lust-filled eyes and cheeks suffused in a light blush, she straddles me. I don’t know how she’s even able to look at me, let alone seduce me. Maybe this is all a show and she plans to torture me in the least expected way.
“Make sure you’re really gentle with me tonight. Don’t want my screams to wake my parents.”
“Lana, baby, stop.”
Just before her lips make contact with my neck, her hands stop their movement on my bare chest. Sitting back quickly, she shakes her head. “What? Kingston, what’s going on? You’ve been like this since we left the range today.”