Still, I can’t push it. After four weeks, calling Gavin would unthinkable. What would I even say to him? What could he even do? From what I could hear eavesdropping on my brother’s phone conversations, Gavin’s been demoted to some low-level runner. And my brother is giving him a hell of a time of it by sending him out on long runs into the desert with impossible deadlines or forcing him to clean the headquarters all in one day. He is taking punishment for both of us, and I don’t think I can find the words to apologize for that.
The other number, Alice’s, was even harder to dial. I hadn’t forgiven her for ratting us out, even though I didn’t know the circumstances. For all I knew, she was tortured and beaten. Or, she saw an opportunity to get in with the leadership and keep her power spot and told on us like children on a playground.
With no one to call or to trust, I let the phone go black along with my room. I let myself have another night of dreaming about Gavin while forcing myself to keep it together. One more night. One more minute at a time.
Another week passes until my father comes into my room and gives me the news that I have been waiting on. He stands in my door, looking over my room inch by inch, as he says passively, “You can go back to school this week. Your mother says the summer semester starts tomorrow. She’s already got you enrolled.”
I sit up in bed, tossing the book I was reading to the side. “Are you serious? Do you mean it?”
“Do you think I am joking? I said you could go, but that’s it. You will come home as soon as you are done. You won’t go out for lunch. And if I hear you step foot off of campus, you’re back to being locked in your room.”
“That’s—that’s fine. I can do that.” Any price for my freedom is worth it. I’d give up bathroom breaks if it meant being able to leave this house and see the outside world again.
He turns to go, but not before adding one last thing, “Brock will be picking you up and dropping you off. He’ll also be there around lunchtime. He is under my orders, so don’t try anything with him. You got me?”
That little bright spot dims, as I think about my chaperone. How was I supposed to explain him away to my classmates? I mean, I did just say I’d do anything, but I also understood my dad’s secondary plan here. Getting Brock to take over the control was basically handing him the reigns and saying: “Here you go! She’s your problem now. Don’t mess this up.” I didn’t know if I should just accept it and be happy, or protest and be disgusted. For now, I was going to give Brock the Ogre a shot.
The next day, I’m up, dressed, and packed for school before my father can even unlock my door. It’s almost like Christmas with me sitting on top of my made up bed, counting down the seconds impatiently. When he finally releases me, I launch downstairs to the kitchen where my mother is serving up scrambled eggs and toast to my hungover brother.
He bristles at me, as he spots the backpack swung around my shoulders. “What the hell is that for?”
“School. I’m going back.”
“Like hell you’re not,” he shoots back, looking up at my dad who is watching the morning news from his chair.
“She is. Brock is chaperoning.” My dad doesn’t even bother turning. He just lifts his hand up in a show of power.
“This is bullshit! She should be strung up for betraying the Barber family, and you’re just letting her run free? You know she’s going to try it again.” His whiney voice practically echoes over the table to where I sit, staring at the mushy, bright yellow food before me. I can’t eat a bite of it.
“It’s done, son. Let it go. She can’t pull anything past us with Brock watching out for her.”
Martin takes a huge forkful of eggs and stuffs it into his wide mouth. Under his breath, he mutters to himself, “Unless she spreads his legs for him, too.”
No one says a word in my defense. My mother goes back to scraping the pans while my dad has his eyes on a robbery that some local reporter is on the scene for. He points at the woman with the microphone and laughs as he says to Martin, “What idiots. What freaking idiots! These dolts call themselves reporters? I can see the tire tracks from Marco’s ride from way over here. Idiots!” Martin takes his plate and joins our dad at the end of the table.
I watch the television mindlessly, as it goes from the local news to some shopping-themed game show until I hear the doorbell ring over the overly tan, overly enthusiastic show host. My mother races across the room to get it with my father following a few steps behind. Martin looks back at me and snickers, “Have fun.”
I stand reluctantly and head towards the door. Suddenly, the backpack seems to weigh a million pounds, despite not carrying the usual textbooks. My legs don’t seem to work either as I work to lock my knees in place with each step. When I finally see the bulky figure of Brock, I can’t even muster up a smile. I nod in his direction, as he leads me towards an old, red Ford truck he brought for the ride.
“Do you know where you’re going?” I ask, trying to be polite. He’s already driving at breakneck speeds through our sleepy neighborhood. The music from his stereo is blasting some horrible hairband rock song I vaguely recognize.
“Yes, I do. Your dad gave me some pretty detailed instructions about your day.”
I sit back in the busted up leather seats and close my eyes. Everything has been spinning since I last stood, and now the smell of the diesel engine is starting to bother me. I roll my head to the side as I look towards Brock. Nothing I want to say seems to come out, but he seems to get my drift as he asks, slightly panicked, “You okay, Vanessa? You’re looking super pale.”
“I…I…I think I need a bathroom. Can you pull over?” My stomach begins to twist and turn into knots as the taste in my mouth changes from bad to worse.
“I’m not supposed to. I’m on orders from your dad.” He stares straight ahead, as if it will help the situation.
“Look, it’s either at some gas station or in your truck. You decide, but I need to get to a bathroom. NOW.” I’m minutes, if not seconds, from hurling, and Brock is finally getting the picture. He takes my threat seriously, as he pulls across two lanes of traffic to get me to the nearest Go-Go-Gas. I don’t wait for him to turn off the car, as I grab my bag and run into the station in search of the nearest women’s room.
As I turn quickly towards my left, I pass a section I haven’t had any need to use in a while. The women’s toiletry section is full of feminine items, but nothing stands out more than the row of boxes of pregnancy tests. Something comes over me, other than the feeling in my throat and stomach, as I stop in my place and grab one of the boxes hanging from the shelf.
CHAPTER 20
It’s been five weeks—five long, agonizing weeks since Vanessa and I were caught out in the middle of the desert by her brother. My mind tries not to think of it too much these days, but it’s almost impossible to forget. The scars on my face, the cracked rib, the broken nose, they’re all there to remind me what happens when I cross a line and what I can do with the information I hold.
But mainly, they remind me of Vanessa. It’s been radio-silence from her. Knowing her father and brother, me initiating contact is nearly, if not totally, impossible. They are keeping her under lock and key, according to her friend Alice who has been my only way of knowing anything about Vanessa since the getaway gone wrong.
Though these days, she’s isn’t full of information either. After Alice found out that her boyfriend Moses ratted Vanessa and me out to Martin, she’s been cut off from most of club affairs. And that included talking to Vanessa. Each and every day the two of us send one another the same texts:
Anything yet? I text first thing in the morning.
By the evening she answers: Not a thing.
And it goes on and on and on until it’s almost a joke at this point. Both of us know that Vanessa is going to have to find a way to contact us, but neither of us want to give up hope that it could ever happen.
Still, there are signs that Vanessa is alive and well. Her brother seems to love teasing me
with little details he thinks will just serve to bring me down. Just yesterday he was in earshot of me when he loudly mentioned that Vanessa was going back to school and that she had asked Brock to bring her and pick her up. In Martin’s world, they even had lunch together.
I should be angry. I should be livid at the thought. But I’m not. His words translated into Vanessa being alive, Vanessa going back to school, and Vanessa having a bit of freedom again. None of those things could get me down regardless of who was with her or who was letting her go or stay. He was giving me hope.
I went home that night feeling so much lighter than I had before. My mind was square on Vanessa, so much so that I missed the ring of my phone from Alice’s nightly text. Hours later, I checked it as I got out of the shower. As I read what she wrote, the phone slipped out of my wet hands and dropped onto the tile floor. She texted: I heard from Vanessa. She needs to talk to you. Can you be at the Sunset at one o’clock? Don’t bring your bike. Go on foot. Don’t tell a soul.
I typed back furiously that I would be there and that I understood. The rest of the night, my eyes are glued to my ceiling, as I try to think of all the things I want to say to her. Why now? How is she planning on doing it? What hell had her parents and brother put her through that it took her more than a month to get ahold of me?
My studio goes from light to dark as the sun sets. I remain plastered to my bed.
By the time the sun rises the next morning, I’m already dressed and ready to go. I managed to change my shift from the afternoon to the morning in exchange for some smokes. And I’m grateful for the grunt work Martin assigned me. Unlike most days, running shipments back and forth actually keeps my mind off of the time moving by at a snail’s pace.
I’m out the door and already on my bike at noon, completely forgetting to clock out. I send a quick text to Thad asking him if he would come down from his ivory tower on the top floor of the headquarters to punch my card. He doesn’t even bother asking me why I couldn’t do it. I’m free and clear.
I park my bike at another bar about five hundred feet from the Sunset and then walk through the dank alleys behind the businesses. It reeks of trash and urine, as I run as quickly as I can through the mess and the lines of bums eating their lunches. When I make it to the Sunset, I sneak in from the back way and head towards the room where we had met up earlier.
To my surprise, the room is already unlocked with a small light passing through the crack in the door. My muscles tense and the hairs along the back of my neck shoot up, as I wonder if I had just walked into a trap. But it’s a risk I am more than willing to take, as I step lightly into the room, locking the door behind me.
“Gavin?” a voice calls out from behind the bar.
“Vanessa?” I peer into the darkness over to a small table lamp she has managed to turn on. Her beautiful, light skin is illuminated so that I can make out all the marks and damages to her body. She runs out from under the light into my outstretched arms. I kneel slightly as her body hits mine, and I pick her up so that her face meets mine.
Our lips collide into one another, pulling and pushing rapidly as we try to remember one another’s body. She grips wildly to my collar, as I walk her around the nearly empty room until I find a chair to sit us down. She remains in my lap, as she presses both hands to my face, feeling the warmth of my skin in her cold, shivering hands.
I want to pull away and ask her my questions, to see where she has been, but I am too wrapped up in this singular moment, where we are finally together despite it all. She, too, seems to almost fall into me. Her arms wrap around my neck and linger down the top of my back. The tips tickle at the skin through my light t-shirt.
My hands grab hold around her waist. The cotton button-down shirt she is wearing slides up around me as I feel her curvaceous hips move slightly from my touch. I push the shirt up even higher, slipping my hands towards the front of her body near her stomach. Her frame gives me just enough space that my hands touch from her bellybutton to the lace of her bra.
When she feels me at her chest, she pulls away slightly, her eyes dancing in anticipation. Her arms raise above her head, and I lift the shirt off and over her, through the cascading curls of her hair. It falls softly to the floor next to us, as she unhooks the strapless bra slowly. Her hands cup her naked breasts, as she waits for me to undress myself.
With her free hand, she pushes off of the chair and steps back a few steps. In the light, I watch her as she drops her hands slowly. They move down the top of her chest towards her nipples as she teases at them gently. Vanessa’s tiny fingers pinch at the small pink tops before twisting around the circumference of her round nipples. Her ruby lips curl to open slightly, as she sighs in pleasure.
I lean back and watch her, the growing urge within my pants pounds against my legs. Vanessa moves her arms and hands down towards her stomach and to her black, pleated skirt. With one slide down to the floor, past her black riding boots, it slips off of her with ease. She’s left standing before me in a pair of black panties.
I can’t take it anymore. I reach my hand out to her to grab her. She falls back towards me, landing square on my lap. I press my head between her breasts, as she lets out a surprised gasp of air. Using my hands to massage at her perky tits, I move them around my face and neck. My mouth opens to lick and nip at each nipple as it passes on by in its circle.
Vanessa rests her hand between her legs on my crotch. As I massage her with more force, she does the same to both her and me. Her thumb and her pointer finger work her own body while her other three fingers work the slit of my jeans. I stare up at her momentarily to see the new Vanessa take over. The softness of her is gone, as she goes dark, her entire features changing before my eyes.
I push her off slightly, giving me just enough room to remove my pants. The jeans wrap around my ankles, but I still have enough room to maneuver. She kneels before me, her knees resting on my shirt, as she removes the rest of my pants, socks, shoes, and underwear. With everything on my body stripped away, her hands move to my ankles, my shins, my knees, and then my thighs. My breath hitches in my throat when I finally feel the first fingertip wrap around my hardening cock.
Just like I taught her nearly a month ago in this very same room, she works my cock over with the palm of her hand. She remembers every move from the slow move upwards to the rush downwards. This time though, her strokes are long, confident, and totally independent. I let her take over the entire time, as I just sit back and watch her in complete amazement. This isn’t the Vanessa I met nearly two months ago. This is someone completely different.
Her brown eyes fire amber sparks, as she feels my cock grow in her own hand until it’s primed and ready for her. A smile comes across her face, as she leans over slightly and plants a few singular kisses on the tip. My head cocks backwards from the wet and warm sensation of her light touch. There’s nothing like her lips, no matter where they are on my body.
Vanessa places her hands on my thighs and pushes up to stand. She almost towers above me as she moves closer to me, unsure of what to do next. I take control, pulling her tightly. She lifts slightly off of the ground, enough that I can use my hands to spread her legs so that she again straddles me on the bar chair. Her feet don’t even touch the ground, so she holds on tightly to my neck as I return to massaging her tits.
After a moment of studying our bodies together, she looks up at me with wondering, wanting eyes. Her body relaxes, as I feel her hips begin to softly grind against my hard cock. “Like this?” she whispers. I nod affirmative as she moves her pelvic bone up and down the length of me. Her grinding is so deep that I can feel her wet little slit open slightly as it presses up against my shaft.
I stop her mid-stroke, my hands wrapped around her thick waist. “This is what I want,” I say, as I lift her off of me so that she floats slightly in the air. I position my cock so that it stands up straight right under her, a rod waiting to be sculpted. Vanessa bites her lip as she looks down. A bit of fear is a great thi
ng, especially for a virgin like her.
“Gavin…” She purrs, as I push her hips back downwards. Her wet pussy opens for me like a flower in bloom, as my cock pushes straight into her. A small cry escapes her lips, and her thin hands clasp around my biceps as she squeals. I can feel her nails cut through my skin, the pain and pleasure of feeling her flesh tight against my flesh mixing with her pain.
My thick, long cock fills her. It’s a perfect fit, like a leather glove. She’s wet, only getting wetter as we remain in position, feeling one another from the inside out. And then, she moves. It’s awkward at first. I can tell she has no idea how to maneuver in this position. But every little twist of her hips, her face goes from unsure to wanting more.
BABY FOR A PRICE: Marino Crime Family Page 72