Twisted City: (Twisted City Book 1)

by Rebekah Vasick

  One corner of his mouth hitches up and he turns his face away. He clears his throat and I chew on my lip.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, who took care of you? Grandparents?” he asks.

  The dreaded question I hoped he would never ask.

  As I lower my head, my hair cascades around my face, creating a set of curtains for me to hide behind. “No. I lived in a foster home,” I admit.

  “Guess Frankie and I were lucky Sofia and Vincenzo took us in.”

  I part the curtains and lift my gaze to meet his. “How did your parents die?”

  He rubs his chin with his fingertips. “My father was shot when I was six. Mama died of cancer when I was eight.”

  My eyes widen. “Your dad was shot?”

  He rests his hand on the table and drums his fingertips. “Yeah. Occupational hazard.”

  I furrow my brow. “What do you mean?”

  He arches one eyebrow, and it hits me. His dad was in the mafia.

  “Oh,” I say.

  I reach for his hand on the table to caress his fingers. “You were so young.”

  He turns his hand over, allowing my fingertips to dance along his palm.

  “Guess that gives us something in common. Orphaned at a young age,” he says.

  “There’s more. We both like Mustangs.”

  He arches his eyebrows. “You like my car?”

  “I love your car. Your driving is a little terrifying though,” I tease.

  He roars with laughter. “You’re not the first to mention my driving abilities. Never had an accident, so I can’t be that terrible.” He eases his hand from mine to slide his sleeve up his arm, revealing his Rolex. “I suppose I should let you sing. We’ll have a riot on our hands otherwise.”

  I release a heavy sigh and gather my bag. Despite his relationship with Alice, I still revel in our time together.

  “Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll still be here when you’re done.”

  Maybe he does too.

  There are no clear differences about the club when I enter the front doors the next night. The heavy scent of cologne continues to pervade the air. The lights remain dim. Clyde immerses himself in his duties behind the bar. But the unsettling awareness of something missing continues to gnaw at me.

  Of course. It’s Angelo’s absence. I hadn’t fully realized the weight of his influence in this club before now. It’s such a strange sensation, like someone removed the heart from the shell, leaving it lifeless. Does anyone else sense this, or only me?

  Without my consent, my feet guide me towards the bar, to the seat Angelo occupied at our first meeting.

  As I approach, my mind drifts back to the first memory we share. Only, in this version, Frankie doesn’t obstruct my view. As Angelo turns in his seat, our eyes lock. He mesmerizes me, hypnotizes me, draws me closer to him.

  Once I reach his seat, my fingertips caress the back of the stool, trying to capture his body heat. I inhale deeply. His aroma cuts through the thick cologne. His essence remains here even though he does not, and I find it comforting like he left a part of himself behind specifically for me. I ease myself into his seat and allow his essence to devour me.

  “Hey, Eva.” Clyde breaks the enchanted spell.

  “Hey, Clyde. How are you?”

  “Pretty good. Yourself?”

  “Can’t complain,” I tell him.

  “How long are you staying tonight?”

  “Only until the girls know what they’re singing, then I’m off home again.”

  “I’m off when Mary and Chad get here.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Would you accompany me for a drink tonight?”

  From the first moment we met, Clyde has shown his desires for me, but I never felt I could accept them. Maybe the time has come for me to try at least.

  Though my heart continues to yearn for Angelo, I know I need to try to move on. After all Alice has done for me, I owe it to her.

  “Sure,” my lips say without my full consent.

  At least I’ve pleased Clyde with my response as his honey-brown eyes glimmer. “There’s a bar on the corner of this road. Being a weeknight, it shouldn’t be too busy.”

  I acknowledge him with a single nod, as the first sting penetrates my fragile heart.

  As we stroll into the bar, the odor of fried food intermingled with alcohol imbues my nostrils. My nose wrinkles involuntarily. The interior décor consists largely of wood, from the hardwood floors to the wooden beams running along the ceiling and down the walls. Even the bar, the tables and chairs are all made from the same wood. Paintings of all quirky varieties hang in cramped clusters on the walls with cream paint seeping through the cracks of the frames. Several spotlights shine down from the ceiling, keeping the surroundings bright.

  A friendly young lady with short blonde hair and a warm smile greets Clyde as we approach the bar. Her soft brown eyes gleam. “What can I get you?”

  “Bud and a...” He peers over his shoulder, waiting for my order.

  “Coke, please.”

  “Coming right up,” she says. Her smile diminishes the moment she acknowledges we’re together. I’d like to inform her we’re just friends, but for now, I keep it to myself.

  Clyde leans his hip against the bar, resting his elbow on the top and clasps his hands together. He watches the young woman prepare our drinks while I scrutinize his face.

  I’ve always thought of Clyde as an attractive man, with his square face and a strong jawline. Everything about him is perfect, from his full lips to his curved eyebrows. Along with his year-round tan, his complexion remains flawless. No imperfections anywhere. It’s little wonder many of the girls he interacts with become infatuated with him.

  But maybe his perfection is the reason for my aversion towards him.

  In the twelve weeks I’ve known Angelo, I’ve noticed the imperfections on his skin. A small scar beside his right eyebrow, another under his bottom lip, and permanent scratches on his left cheek. These small imperfections create something real, and even more alluring.

  Clyde, however, resembles a living Ken Doll. He’s just too perfect for me.

  But at least he’s available.

  Maybe Clyde can sense my gaze on him as he turns towards me. One corner of his mouth hitches up as his alluring eyes travel the length of my body.

  I’m used to Angelo staring at me. However, Clyde’s stare makes me uncomfortable. It’s silly, considering I’m a singer at a club. People stare at me all the time. Nevertheless, his relentless ogling causes my cheeks to flush; I feel like I’m standing here naked.

  I ignore him as best I can and glance around the bar.

  To my right, three older gentlemen sit hunched over their beers in silence. The man closest to me appears tired, wearing a matted, graying beard and a haggard, navy-blue baseball cap over his graying hair. His rounded face matches the rest of his round body. His poor posture and baggy clothing enhance his size. His features remain hidden within his beard or under his low fitted cap, but what peeks out amongst the hair, appears sunburnt. From this position, I can only tell the other two men share similar traits to this man. Though strangers to one another, they each share a sorrowful aura.

  My gaze drifts further around the bar to a happy couple sitting close together. The young brunette woman expels love to pervade the air within their private bubble. The dark-haired man gathers her hand to raise it to his lips, leaving a kiss behind. They express their love for each other through gentle caresses, whispered words and light laughter.

  Further away from the couple, five men gather around a table to engage in rambunctious banter, though quiet enough as to not disturb anyone else. They appear to be the same age. Maybe college students. Their joy intermingles with the love and sadness which saturates the room, creating a uniqueness that intrigues me.

  “Here we are.” The girl’s voice draws my attention back to her. She leaves a glass and bottle in front of Clyde before sashaying away.

  After accepting my glass,
Clyde leads me to a table in the far corner.

  As a gentleman would, he slides out a chair for me to sit. I shed my leather jacket and rest it over the back of my chair. The short sleeves on my red dress do nothing to protect me from the chill that raises goosebumps on my arms, and I wish I had left my jacket on a little longer.

  Before Clyde takes a seat, he removes his jacket and hangs it over the back of his chair. As he sits, he closes the gap between us, close enough for me to absorb his body heat and to inhale his fragrance. It’s not intoxicating like Angelo’s. However, it is a sweet scent, combined with coconut and woodland. I also detect a hint of leather, but this could be because of our leather jackets. He wears his black work trousers but has removed the vest and bow tie and opened the first few buttons of his white shirt, revealing a little of his tanned chest.

  “It’s kind of strange not seeing you behind the bar,” I say.

  He smiles. “I’ll admit, it is a little odd not having the bar between us.” He leans towards me until our shoulders kiss while drawing his face closer to mine and whispers seductively. “But I like it.”

  I clench my jaw and lean away. I’m still not used to his flirtatious advances and remarks. Even though I’ve decided it was time to move on from Angelo, I’m not sure I’m ready to date Clyde.

  “What do you do outside work?” I ask.

  Oblivious to my evasion, he keeps his body close, but his voice returns to its normal pitch. “Hang out with friends, mostly,” he tells me. “I game, listen to music, but most of all, I love sports. Watching them, playing them. Do you like sports?”

  “Can’t say I do.”

  “So, what do you do?”

  “Mostly hang out with Alice when she’s not working,” I admit. “I don’t know enough of the city to explore it by myself.”

  His honey-brown eyes glimmer and the seduction in his voice returns. “Maybe I could take you out sightseeing sometime?”

  Warmth stains my cheeks and I gather my glass to consume great gulps to hide my glow.

  Is this his manner with all the girls or does he reserve this particular flirtation for special occasions such as this? I’ve paid no attention to his rituals before even though he spends all night flirting.

  After I return my glass back to the table, he stretches his arm along the back of my chair. He leans close, leaving a sliver of air between our faces.

  I continue staring at my glass.

  “How long have you lived here?” he asks.

  I swivel my eyes sideways. “Six months.”

  “There’s a little more action here than Cinderwoods, wouldn’t you say?”

  “In several ways, yes. Cinderwoods was quiet and doesn’t have the nightlife we have here.”

  “Crime rate’s lower too, I would expect.” He reaches out to gather his beer.

  I shrug. “I wouldn’t know. To be honest, I never watched TV there.”

  He leans away slightly. “You never watched TV? How is that possible?” He takes a sip of his beer. “I grew up on TV since my parents were too busy to watch me. So they parked me in front of the box, and that was that.”

  “Are you a TV addict now?”

  “Nah, barely watch it.” He takes another sip before returning the bottle back to the table.

  A corner of my mouth curves as I tuck my hair behind my ear. “I’m the complete opposite. I could sit for hours watching TV. Sometimes, I flick through the channels when there’s nothing on. Probably from television deprivation.”

  “Another reason for us to date. There’s more to Twisted City than what’s on the box,” he chuckles.

  As our eyes lock, I discover the awkwardness of his gazes and flirtations have faded. Though the hummingbird stays her wings, my heart flutters a little.

  “Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer,” I say.

  As the night progresses, we continue our evening with joyful banter. The more I learn about Clyde, the more attracted I become. However, it’s still not enough to go further than friendship, even though he clearly wants to. His lingering stares and soft caresses reveal all his desires.

  Once inside the taxi, he gives the driver my address.

  In the darkness, his warm hand slips in mine, interlocking our fingers, and leans in close. “I’d like to take you out again sometime,” he whispers. “I work until closing the next two nights, but maybe we can arrange something in the next few days?”

  “I’d love to,” I tell him.

  I’m unable to see his reaction but I sense the joy radiate from him.

  “Thank you for taking me home,” I say, once the taxi idles outside my building and exit the car.

  “Can you wait here for a minute?” he asks the driver before stepping out to join me.

  As I amble over to my building, I fumble with the zipper of my jacket. I have no idea what to expect next.

  “I had a fantastic time tonight,” he says as we reach the building door. “Thank you for coming with me.”

  I lean against the building as he stands close in front of me. “Thank you for inviting me.”

  As I look into his eyes, my heart flutters.

  He lowers his face closer to mine as his eyes slide closed, though mine remain open until our lips connect.

  No electricity dances along my skin, but an emptiness consumes me. Not what I expected at all. In fact, I’m relieved when he pulls away. But he doesn’t seem to notice.

  A wide smile dances along his lips as he rubs his chin with his fingertips and lowers his gaze to his feet. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he says.

  Not knowing how to respond, I stare down at my shuffling feet.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks.

  I muster the courage to look up at him. “Yes.”

  He uses the back of his fingers to tenderly caress the side of my face, though I find I’ve become numb to his touch.

  “Bye, Eva,” he says before returning to the taxi.

  I watch the taxi depart before entering my building.

  As I ascend the stairs to my apartment, I scrub at my lips with the back of my hand, while my heart begs Angelo to forgive me for my infidelity.

  “You’re late,” Alice says as I stroll through the front door. She sits at the breakfast bar reading the newspaper, still decked in her work clothes.

  Before I answer her, I occupy the empty stool. “I went out for a drink with Clyde.”

  She abandons the paper and looks at me with an excited smile. “Ooh, details.”

  I tuck my hair behind my ears. “He kissed me.”

  Alice’s eyes widen and her mouth hangs slightly agape.

  I shrug. “It was okay.”

  Her face relaxes once again. “Was he a sloppy kisser?”

  “No, nothing like that. It felt strange. Like I was cheating on someone.”

  “Who?”

  “No idea,” I lie. “Has that ever happened to you before?”

  “Can’t say it has. I’ve had crap kisses before and knew the guy wasn’t for me.”

  “Maybe that’s it,” I sigh. “Clyde’s not the right guy.”

  “Could be. Did he react strangely afterwards?”

  “No. He seemed to like it and wants to take me out again.”

  “What did you say?” she asks.

  “I said it would be okay.”

  She rests an elbow on the bar and parks her cheek against her fist. “Even though you hated the kiss?”

  I bury my face in my hands. “I know. But I like him as a friend. Maybe it can grow into something more?” I ask, peering through the gaps of my fingers.

  “I can’t say, babe. Maybe. Just take it slow and see what happens,” she suggests.

  As I stroll through the doors of the club, the same emptiness from the night before imbues the atmosphere. The entire club is desolate. Not even Clyde stands at his usual position behind the bar.

  Once again, I find myself drawn towards Angelo’s stool, though this time, the memory of our first encounter doesn’
t play in my mind. His fragrance and essence continue to linger in the air like he is close by. Though I know he’s absent, I search for him, nonetheless.

  As the hole in my heart opens wider, I slide onto his stool, resting my palms on the coolness of the bar, and allow my eyes to close as the images of his face materialize. His mischievous grin, the way he cocks his head and gazes at me through his lashes, his lingering stare as I perform on stage.

  I chose to wear the black dress I wore two nights ago because his scent lingered on the fabric. Oh, how I miss him.

  “Eva, you’re here,” Clyde says.

  I open my eyes to find him sauntering down the corridor wearing a wide smile. I readjust my posture to hide the sorrow within. “Hi, Clyde,” I reply.

  He swaggers towards me, swooping in to plant a kiss on my cheek.

  My hand flutters up to my cheek, holding the kiss in place, as my eyes lower and I force my lips to curve.

  “I had a great time last night,” Clyde continues.

  “Me too.” My eyes flutter up to greet him where we become locked in one another’s gaze.

  Despite my love for Angelo, I enjoyed my time with Clyde.

  “Are you two going to do something other than standing there with dopey looks on your faces?” The booming voice of Frankie startles me.

  I dismiss Clyde and lower my face in shame.

  “Are you jealous, Frankie?” Clyde goads. “Miss me already?”

  “I’ll miss you more when Ange fires your ass for not working.”

  The two men laugh.

  Once again, I feel I’m cheating on Angelo and this time, his brother is here to witness my infidelity.

  As I watch their joyful banter, my hands grip the sides of the stool. The essence of Angelo slips away, leaving the thick cologne to saturate my nostrils, causing me to gag.

  Neither Clyde nor Frankie acknowledges my existence, nor do they notice as I slide off the stool and slip away to the office. My plan is to absorb myself in my work, to repress the expanding sorrow within my heart.

  As the door closes behind me, shutting out the clamor from the two men, the satisfying silence saturates my ears.

  Angelo and I have comfortable silences. I can’t help but wonder if he has those with Alice too.