Under the Influence

Home > Other > Under the Influence > Page 8
Under the Influence Page 8

by L. B. Simmons


  I watch in the rearview mirror until the car turns the corner, then flip the key. As soon as my engine roars to life, I press the gas pedal and execute an illegal U-turn right in the middle of the street.

  Rat shakes his head as we gain speed. “This wouldn’t be happening if you would just ask her out instead of stalking her like a fucking creeper, brother.”

  Gaze locked on the road in front of me, I turn the corner and tag the Beamer. “I just needed to make sure she was okay. That’s all. I wasn’t planning on following her anywhere until I saw Jase. That changed everything.”

  I glance at Rat, who eyes me unconvinced. “Shut the fuck up,” I snap, tearing my stare away from his and signal left.

  Rat’s shoulders shake as he chuckles under his breath. “I didn’t say anything. I don’t have to because you sure as shit know I’m right.”

  He points to where the BMW swerves into the right-hand lane. My knuckles whiten as I grip the wheel when the person behind them is forced to slam on their brakes. I stay in my lane, privately declaring that Spencer will not be getting back into that car if I have anything to do with it.

  Rat releases a breath. “Mark my words, shit’s going to hit the fan tonight and I’m not even gonna bother with the I-told-you-so later because I’m calling it right the fuck now.” He grips his door handle as we veer into the left lane at the last minute before taking a sharp left turn. My foot stomps the gas just as he concludes, “Keep your temper in check, D. That’s all I’m going to say.”

  I don’t respond as I ease off the pedal when the BMW pulls into the legendary Indigo Lounge, where nothing good ever happens and bouncers are paid to look the other way. I’m sure whoever’s on duty tonight will be making a shit ton, seeing as though all occupants within the BMW are well below the required entry age of twenty-one.

  Purposely, I pass the entrance to the parking lot, deciding it’s less likely we will be seen after another pass around the block. Once completed, I pull in and park a couple of spots away from the entrance. As the engine dies, I reach behind my seat to grab my trusty NY Yankees cap and pull it onto my head, making sure the bill is low enough to shield my eyes. After tugging my hood over the cap, I throw a quick glance at Rat, then we both exit the vehicle.

  I don’t bother pulling out my ID as we approach the front of the club. “Moose.”

  Moose’s meaty fingers give me a salute before he opens the door. “Greer.” The light reflects off his shaved head as he dips his head in Rat’s direction. “Cherry.”

  “How many times do we have to go over this?” Rat bites. “It’s Marchione, asswipe. As in Italian, not the fucking maraschino cherry.”

  The sides of Moose’s light blue eyes crinkle with humor and the scar on the right side of his cheek dips into his dimple as he smiles. “Eh, semantics.”

  Rat looks to me, cross and confused. “What the fuck did he just say to me?”

  Regardless of my foul mood, I find it impossible not to laugh at his baffled expression. A chuckle escapes and I grin. “We really need to look into getting you a dictionary, man. Or maybe just subscribe to one of those ‘Word of the day’ email lists or something.”

  His eyes narrow on me as I turn, clapping Moose on the shoulder when we pass to enter the club. The door slams shut behind us and the light around us dims along with my previous amusement. My eyes strain to swiftly scan the smoke-filled air for Spencer as the bass of the music pounds through the speakers by my side, the sound reverberating in my chest as I search.

  After a few seconds, my vision finally adjusts and I spot all four sitting in a circular booth tucked into an unlit corner. My jaw ticks as I watch Spencer tense when Jase slings his arm around her shoulder, forcing her to lean her body snug against his.

  Blood begins to boil as my heart rate picks up, each beat pumping fiery rage through every part of my system. I tense and my hands curl into fists as I watch her press gently away from him and offer him a slight smile, shyly tucking her hair behind her ear as she straightens.

  “D, you’re going to have to chill,” Rat shouts above the music as he struts up beside me. “You’re staring at her like a fucking psychopath, man.”

  He shoves my shoulder, breaking my attention from their table. I tear my glare away and pin it on him. “I’m not staring at her. I’m staring at him and his fucking hands on her.”

  His brows rise in response, then he leans in close to speak without having to yell. “All the more reason for us to take a seat, brother. You don’t need an up close and personal view to make sure she’s okay. We can do that sitting over there.” He breaks to gesture at a table in the distance. “Plus, we should probably stay outside of reaching distance. Otherwise you’re going to clock him for no reason and shit will go south real quick.”

  Out of frustration, I reach up and curl my hands around the bill of my cap, bending it until the sides practically touch before nodding my approval. Rat steps in front of me, and I look nowhere but at the heels of his Nikes until we arrive at the table of his choosing…clear across the fucking bar.

  I move to take a chair opposite Spencer’s location, but Rat knocks me away before taking the seat for himself.

  With a huge grin on his face, he looks up and jerks his chin toward the chair directly across from him. “I’ll watch. You pout.”

  I narrow my eyes, but when he doesn’t budge, I reluctantly take the seat as directed. My knee bounces nervously as a result of having absolutely no control over this situation.

  Glancing at Rat, I try to gauge what’s going on by his reaction. He maintains a blank face but offers commentary randomly as the time painfully drags along.

  “They’re getting drinks. Those crazy kids.”

  “Man, I forgot how fucking hot Cassie was.”

  “Since when does Spencer wear heels?”

  “More drinks.”

  “And shots. They should probably slow down. Amateurs.”

  “Okay, now they’re dancing.”

  My body clenches and I pinch my bill with the palms of my hands. Rat disengages his attention and redirects it to me. “Spencer and Cass. Boys are still at the table.”

  He looks again over my shoulder, and I watch as his mouth draws tight.

  “Cancel that. Fuckers are on the move.”

  I twist quickly in my seat, my eyes frantically seeking out any one of the four. The dance floor is packed, the crowd having increased exponentially from when we arrived.

  After a couple of seconds, my eyes find Spencer, whose face is nothing short of panic-stricken as she searches for Cassie. I then locate Cassie about five feet away, pushing against the chest of Jonathon as he forces her through the mass of people now separating her from Spencer. My stare darts back to Spencer to find her pressed against the wall, shoving desperately as Jase buries his head in the crook of her neck. Our eyes lock over his shoulder and my entire body trembles uncontrollably as I hear her silent call.

  Help me.

  The flame in my chest explodes into a raging inferno and I leap to my feet, already on my way before the chair even hits the ground.

  Fire.

  It’s everywhere.

  “Shit,” is the last thing I hear from Rat before the blood roaring in my ears prevents all other sound from entering.

  I have no idea how many people are physically removed out of my path on my way to Spencer. I push, I prod, I sling, I manhandle.

  Bodies continue to fly until I get to the one person in which I fully intend on releasing my wrath. I will its blaze to surface and the corners of my vision begin to blacken as my mind prepares to go to that place. The deep, dark place in my mind where rage soothes and conscience ceases to exist.

  Spencer’s frantic, glistening blue eyes meet mine right as I reach forward and fist the back of Jase’s shirt, wrenching his body upward before slamming him to the ground.

  “Dalton! No!”

  Spencer’s voice is muffled as it barely filters through the thundering in my head. My fists clamp shut and
my knuckles snap in succession in preparation for the blows to come. I inhale deeply, reveling in the solace of this place, temporarily relieved from the constant ache in my chest as I make good on my promise, allowing my rage its freedom. Once I’ve released the reigns and allow it to flow freely, unconfined…

  I see nothing.

  I’m bound securely within the comfort of my darkness as everything fades to black, with the exception of the motherfucker in front of me.

  A malicious smile spreads eerily across his face, instigating me further as I rear back, ready to knock him along with his smug grin into fucking oblivion. Just before I move to strike, two hands gently wrap themselves around my straining bicep and Spencer’s voice breaks through my trance.

  “Dalton, please. Don’t. He’s not worth it.”

  I glance back over my shoulder, harshly plucked from the hollows of my mind by her troubled expression. Her beautiful blue eyes shimmer with unshed tears as she moves her head from side-to-side. Spencer unlatches her grip from my arm and reaches forward, cupping my cheek in the palm in her hand. Her touch is warm and soft, full of unspoken sorrow as she breathes barely above a whisper, “This isn’t worth it.”

  I watch her chin quiver slightly as she mouths, I’m sorry.

  “She’s right.”

  My neck twists in the direction of fucking Jase Williams, whose eyes fill with loathing as he presses himself off the floor. Our traded glares remain unbroken while he tugs at the hem of his shirt before concluding, “Neither of you is fucking worth this shit.”

  I lower my arm and curl it around Spencer’s petite waist, trying to gently usher her behind me, but she remains rooted where she stands. After another failed attempt to move her, I give up and square my shoulders in his direction. Cocking my head to the side, I inquire with brows raised, “Come again?”

  My voice is harsh and my tone daring. I feel the back of my shirt draw taut as it’s fisted inside Spencer’s hand, her version of a silent warning, but my eyes trained on him.

  Watching.

  Waiting.

  He snickers before answering, “You don’t scare me, Greer. I know what you do and who you do it for. I also know why you were there that night, who you were looking for, and what you were planning on doing to him once you found him.”

  My jaw clenches and my hands ball into fists. His eyes temporarily break from mine, glancing downward before his face splits into another wide, vindictive grin. “That’s right. One word from me and your precious Spencer will never look at you the same again.” He tsks. “And wouldn’t that be a shame? To ruin your fucking superhuman status in her eyes?”

  I feel Spencer turn to look at me, but I don’t dare break my forward stare. I know without a doubt that the questions in her eyes would absolutely break me.

  Jase shakes his head and his voice rises in anger. “You think you can waltz in and humiliate me over some fucking freshman? Ruin my reputation over some whore you probably already fucked six ways from Sunday? Well,” he gestures to Spencer, “I guess it’s time for you to know how that feels.”

  I move to step forward, but Spencer’s hold tightens and she draws me back.

  Jase, in turn, just scoffs. “You two are fucking pathetic.” His eyes narrow on Spencer before he continues. “You reek of his filth, you know that? Of hand-me-downs and shelter meals. Of deprivation, of poverty, of trash.” He shakes his head. “It’s a shame really, that he’s purposely marked you with his stench so no one will come near you. I really think I deserve some kind of reward for being the first person in four long years brave enough to endure it.”

  He licks his lips and his eyes scour her body from head to toe. As he does, the air tangibly heats and swelters all around us, but surprisingly, the main source of the rising temperature is not me. It’s seeping from Spencer like molten lava. Her cheeks enflame and her eyes burn holes through Jase’s skull before she steps directly in front of me. I reach forward to grab her, but with absolutely no warning, she launches a closed fist across her body, clocking Jase right in his jaw and snapping his head clear to the side.

  “Well, you reek of assholishness!” she shrieks at the tops of her lungs. “Don’t talk about Dalton like that!” Just as he regains his bearings, she expertly slams her knee right into his groin and concludes, “And don’t you ever put your hands on me again!”

  His body knifes toward the floor and I almost shed a tear, it was that fucking beautiful. Unfortunately, Rat and Cassie break through the crowd right at that moment. Without thinking, I rip my gaze away from Spencer’s magnificence to glance their way. Cassie’s eyes widen before she’s gripped around the waist by Rat, who lifts her off the ground and slams the back of her body into his chest. Frantically, she points and screams, “Dalton!”

  My eyes fly back to Spencer, then all the commotion is silenced and everything pauses.

  The image of Jase’s arm crossing his body in preparation to backhand Spencer’s face is the last thing I see before my vision fades once again and I finally allow myself to disappear into that peaceful place in my mind.

  And that’s the last thing I remember.

  “SO, UH, INTERESTING NIGHT?” I remark to no one in particular from the passenger’s seat of Dalton’s car.

  Dalton’s reply? The same forward brooding stare that’s been present on his face since we began this lovely drive home.

  Rat’s reply? “Fuck yeah it was!” along with a beckoning high-five in the direction of Cassie perched next to him in the back seat.

  Cassie’s reply? Giggling and answering Rat’s high-five request while taking another long draw from the flask of whiskey she pulled from her purse a couple of minutes ago.

  I twist back to the front, my eyes grazing over Dalton’s swollen knuckles before falling onto my own. I wince as I curl my fingers then straighten them, but I’m relieved nothing is broken.

  Dalton inhales deeply next to me and I glance back to him, watching as the muscle in his jaw ticks steadily. My lips scrunch to the side as I decide on another tactic.

  “Moose seemed nice,” I state, again to no one in particular.

  “Fucker,” Rat growls and I swear I spot Dalton’s mouth barely lift at the corners before he quickly voids his expression.

  “You know, I didn’t even realize that club ran underground until he led us down there,” I continue, referencing our escape route. “I don’t even want to know what happened in that room where they took Jase and Jonathon.”

  Dalton twists his neck and his eyes are fierce as he finally breaks his silence. “No, you don’t.”

  As he turns away, my lips draw tight at the severity in his tone and my brows raise, only to be drawn together as my eyes narrow.

  Rat laughs. “Whatever. They can’t do much more than we already did, D. I took that other fucker out right before we found you, and well, we all saw that Jase kid when you were through with him. Plus, Moose gets paid to handle all that stuff, so I’d be more worried about Sila—”

  “Rat,” Dalton interrupts, his tone full of warning.

  Rat says nothing else, just clears his throat.

  “Look,” Dalton continues before breaking his eyes from the road to meet mine. “That part of the club doesn’t exist. Understand?”

  “It does. I saw it.” My voice is firm with my answer and I watch as Dalton’s expression hardens.

  “Then unsee it.”

  My mouth draws taut and my stare tightens at his insistence.

  I don’t think I like brooding Dalton.

  Cassie, however, breaks into a drunken giggle. Her head pokes between the space separating us, then apparently deciding it’s too heavy to hold up on her own, she perches it on the edge of my seat. Her unfocused stare slides slowly from me to Dalton and then back to me. A hiccup escapes her as she gestures between the both of us before she speaks.

  “I don’t know why you guys can’t just screw each other and get it over with. It would definitely relieve the sexual tension that’s making this car ride incr
edibly uncomfortable for those of us in the back seat.”

  “Preach!” Rat exclaims.

  Blood rushes straight to my face and I return Cassie’s stare, wide-eyed and dumbfounded.

  Another hiccup. “What?”

  Even if I could find the words, I would still be unable to reply because utter mortification has lodged itself in my throat. After a couple of seconds of nothing but speechless gawking between the two of us, I finally find the courage to peek at Dalton, who seems outwardly unaffected as his menacing stare remains focused on the road in front of us.

  I glance back at Cassie, whose eyelids have become too heavy for her to manage. She blinks sleepily a couple of times before tears begin to surface.

  Her chin quivers as she whispers, “I’m so sorry, Spence. Tonight was my fault. I promised I would stay by you and I didn’t. And that asshole cornered you…”

  Her words become an unintelligible string of curses and sobs before I place my hand gently on her cheek and whisper, “There was nothing you could have done, Cass. Don’t blame yourself. Shit happens sometimes.”

  I lean forward and add with a wink, “Plus, that Jase Williams got exactly what he deserved. Twice.”

  She nods, then gives me a weak, drunken smile in return. “Love you.”

  I grin back. “Love you, times two.”

  Her lids finally lose their battle as they slowly shut and the sound of her flask hitting the floorboard announces that sleep has finally found her. Rat leans forward, gently eases her backward, and curls her into his body. With her cheek on his chest, she smiles peacefully before snuggling closer and wrapping her arm around his waist. He lifts his hand to stroke her hair and the tenderness of the gesture seems odd, yet surprisingly genuine.

  My eyes rise to meet Rat’s and I tighten them into a threatening glare while shaking my head, just in case. He laughs quietly but flashes me the thumbs up sign to let me know he gets the message.

 

‹ Prev