Silk

by Heidi McLaughlin

  He laughed loudly again. “I’ll need a play-by-play on that one.”

  “Well, I figure that it won’t be that hard to convince them to get naked. And once they’re naked, I’ll coerce them into letting me handcuff them. After that, it’s just cuff’em and stuff’em,” I said, proudly.

  “I don’t hate it,” he said. “How exactly are you planning on transporting them ... seeing that you don’t drive.” He was referring to our earlier conversation.

  I took another drink. “Cab, of course. Don’t worry. I’ve got an answer for everything.”

  He ran his hand through his hair, and I thought that I would die on the spot. Before I succumbed to death, however, I again noticed the small rope tattoo that circled his left wrist which was reaching for his beer. Without thinking, I reached out and ran my finger across it.

  The sparks that flew from that simple touch probably singed the eyebrows of the people at the table next to us. “Tell me about this,” I said, rubbing it gently.

  His breath hitched, but then he answered, “It’s a friendship bracelet.”

  He looked down at his wrist with an expression that almost sucked the wind out of me. The change in his mood was jarring, and I wondered if I had made a huge mistake in asking about it.

  “I remember those,” I said in a quiet voice that matched his mood. “I used to trade them with my friends.”

  “I used to make them with my little sister so she could trade them with her friends, and she made me one. It lasted for over a year, but one day it ripped in half. I got the tattoo to take its place. This way, I’ll never lose it.”

  Adam was a guy’s guy, and the thought of him wearing his little sister’s friendship bracelet tugged at my heart. “She must be pretty special to you,” I said, hoping he would tell me more about her.

  He didn’t. His face was suddenly totally unreadable, and I could tell that the conversation was over. “So I’ve shown you mine, where’s yours?” he asked changing the focus of the conversation back to me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Tattoos. Do you have any?”

  I took a drink of my mojito. “No, I don’t. But I assumed that you already knew that.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked grinning.

  I smiled and shook my head. I wasn’t going to spell it out for him. “I’ve never wanted one. I can’t think of a single thing that I would want on my body for the rest of my life. I like yours though. It means something.”

  He just nodded in response. I wanted to know more about his sister ... about anything that made Adam who he was, but I wouldn’t push him any further. It was obvious that he had more closed doors than open ones. Cracking him open was going to be a challenge, and, though I was mystified by him, I wasn’t sure that was something I wanted to take on. I had my own issues to deal with.

  At some point during our conversation about tattoos, Sexy Lexie had delivered our food. As we ate, the conversation returned to easy, benign topics. I marveled at the fact that, at times, talking to Adam was completely effortless like I had known him forever. And, at other times, it felt like I would never really know him at all.

  As he talked about a class he was taking, I thought again about his little sister and felt a pang of jealousy. I wasn’t jealous of the devotion that he had displayed toward someone that he obviously loved dearly. Rather, I was jealous because, as an only child, it was a relationship that I would never experience or even understand. Thinking about the adoration that had been evident, I suddenly felt like I had missed out on something monumental.

  I was disappointed when the check was delivered. The time had flown by, and the organized part of our date was now over. Adam stared down at the little black tray and tapped his finger on top of the paper receipt. He seemed to be mulling something over, looking internally for an answer to an unasked question.

  Finally, he raised his eyes to mine. “A friend of mine is in a band, and they are playing down in Tribeca tonight. Do you want to go?”

  Ahhh, he had been trying to figure out whether or not he wanted to introduce me to his friends. The thought of it unnerved me a little. It seemed like such a big thing for our fledgling relationship. Yet I felt like the night was over if I didn’t say yes.

  The two mojitos coursing through my veins spoke for me. “Sure. I would love to.”

  Adam paid the tab, and we caught a cab and headed south. Our cab pulled up in front of a dark building that was marked with an almost unlit sign that said “The Shelter.” It was not the hip Tribeca bar that I had been expecting. In fact, it looked like a total dive.

  In stark contrast to the restaurant that we had just come from, there were no inviting windows allowing the people inside both to see and be seen. There were no people milling around outside on the sidewalk in front of the bar. Aside from a sticker that said that entry was prohibited for anyone under 21, the painted black door was unmarked. In fact, it was completely plausible that one could walk by The Shelter without even realizing that they had missed it. Adam looked right at home.

  He held the door open for me, and we walked in together. I stood just inside the door while my eyes adjusted to the darkness. It was amazing how this many people could fit in such a tiny space.

  Before I could totally get my bearings, he grabbed my hand and began to pull me toward the back of the bar. Since we hadn’t touched since the tattoo conversation, the electricity that passed between us came as a shock. I shivered and wondered again if Adam had melted the soles of my shoes. I hoped not. After all, I was wearing my Manolos. His expression remained stoic. If touching me had the same effect on him that it had on me, he didn’t show it.

  Adam was clearly a frequent patron of the arts offered by The Shelter. As we made our way through from the front of the building toward the back, it seemed like every person we passed acknowledged him. The men greeted him with a gruff hello, a slap on the back, or a clap on the shoulder in the way that guys do. More than a few women also expressed their happiness, if not glee, that he had arrived. Almost everyone called him by name.

  Despite the welcoming committee, he didn’t pause to talk with anyone. He smiled and nodded, but continued pulling us through the throng of people. His hand remained wrapped around mine, and I continued to hope that I didn’t spontaneously combust before I could get a drink.

  We passed a long bar being worked by three hustling bartenders. The throng around the bar was so thick I doubted that we would be able to get a drink before midnight. Rather than fight that crowd, Adam directed us to a second bar that was much smaller and shockingly less crowded. It was almost as if it served as a personal bar for the four guys crowded around it.

  Or it could be that they were just so intimidating that no one else dared get in their way. Between them, they sported more tattoos on their arms alone than an entire biker club. Each was dressed in black, as if it was some sort of dress code. Three of the four had long, unkempt hair. Theirs were longer than Adam’s and didn’t have quite the same effect as his perfectly tousled locks. The animated discussion between them was resulting in a lot of pushing and name calling.

  The fourth guy stood slightly apart from the others. He was casually leaning with his back against the bar, propped up by his elbows. Each of his arms was entirely covered with sleeve tattoos that extended all the way down to his wrists. Unlike the other guys, his black hair was short and spiky, artfully angled in all different directions. He had on a black t-shirt that said, ‘I Am Amazing Covered in Awesome Sauce.’ I wondered if he had a t-shirt collection to rival Adam’s.

  Mr. Awesome’s eyes jetted around the room, surveying the crowd appreciatively. A lazy smile overtook his face as we approached. “Hey. Thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule,” he said sarcastically to Adam.

  Adam rolled his eyes. “Whatever, man. It’s not like I wasn’t here last week. And the week before.”

  Mr. Awesome turned to me. “So are you going to introduce me to your girl,” he asked, doing a full body scan
and undressing me with his eyes. His unbroken gaze left me feeling a little filthy.

  “Yeah, sure,” Adam said. “Burke, this is Alexis. Alexis, this is Burke.”

  Adam leaned in close to Burke and muttered in his ear, “Dude, stop eye-fucking my date.” His voice was so quiet and the bar so loud that I just barely made it out.

  Burke smiled slyly and then stood up straight and proper. He held his hand out to me, formally. “It’s nice to meet you, Alexis.” His eyes narrowing, he finished, “In a minute, I am going to knock your pants off.”

  This guy was over the top. I had to assume he was with the band.

  “It’s nice to meet you, too,” I said, without blinking. I felt like I was being tested by this Burke person ... like he wanted to see if he could make me squirm. I shook the hand extended to me and, after he gave mine back to me, resisted the urge to wipe it on the back of my dress.

  Burke gestured to the others and said, “Allow me to introduce you to the three stooges. This here is Brian, Dirty Dirk, and Barnacle.” I couldn’t help but laugh at the last two. There had to be at least one good story here.

  Brian and Dirty Dirk each gave me a faint smile and a nod. Barnacle gave me a toothy grin and an unexpected hug.

  Adam turned toward the bar and said hello to the well-endowed brunette who appeared to be the band’s personal bartender. “Hey, Adam,” she said huskily. “What can I get you tonight?”

  Her tight, low cut t-shirt was boldly printed with the bar’s name. She leaned forward on the bar, providing a ridiculous view of her cleavage, while she waited for Adam to tell her what he wanted. I hoped sullenly that his order didn’t include her.

  Adam smiled warmly at her. “I’ll have a Shiner, and she’ll have a ...” He looked to me, realizing that he had no idea what I would want.

  “Bud Light,” I finished.

  The attractive bartender turned around to pull our beers out of a cooler. “Really, a Bud Light?” he asked with an incredulous smile. “I had you pegged as more of a vodka- and-soda kind of girl.”

  “Why is that?” I asked.

  “You just look like one of those girls,” he said. “You know the ones that drink vodka because it’s more civilized than beer and soda because it’s lower calorie than tonic.” There was a definite mocking edge to his tone, and it matched the smirk on his face. He was making fun of me. It was the first time all night that this side of him had shown through, but I wasn’t really shocked by it. After all, it wasn’t the first time that I had seen his mean streak.

  “I can enjoy a beer as much as anybody,” I said haughtily. “It’s all about the environment and my mood. This,” I said gesturing at the room around me, “is definitely a beer joint. However, my mood is quickly headed toward tequila.”

  His mood visibly shifted, and he gave me a sexy smile. “Well, tequila is not necessarily a bad thing.” He brushed a finger across my cheek.

  His touch completely rearranged my thinking. I’d just been wondering why I was in this semi-terrible place with this strange, unreadable guy with even stranger friends. But the finger lingering on my cheek rendered it a moot question. I met his dark hooded eyes and wondered if we really had to stay to watch Burke and his merry band of men play.

  As I contemplated our exit, a tiny brunette bounced up to Burke and threw her arms around his neck. She kissed him on the cheek. “Hey, baby,” she said. “I’m sorry I’m late. Jillian is sick so I had to close.”

  She was a fraction of his size. Whereas he was probably at least 6 feet tall, she barely rose above 5 feet. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail that, when considered in combination with her small size, gave her an innocent, childlike look. However, there was no question that she was classically beautiful with small dainty features. Because there was no way that Burke could score such a sweet looking girl, I considered whether she could be his sister. The tongue that he stuck down her throat indicated otherwise.

  She kissed him back with the same gusto that he showed her, and then she pulled away and planted a kiss on the tip of his nose. Burke looked around to make sure that no one had witnessed the display of affection and then patted her on the backside. I liked her instantly.

  Turning to me, she said sweetly, “I’m Carly. Are you with Adam?”

  “Yes. I’m Alexis,” I said, suddenly shy after witnessing such an intimate moment between Carly and Burke.

  “Awesome,” she said brightly. “Be good to him, he is a total sweetheart.”

  Adam actually appeared to blush, but then his eyes flashed ominously. Looking down at the floor, he said, “Don’t be fooled, Alexis. I am not a sweetheart.” It felt like a warning.

  As I took a sip of my beer, a large burly man walked up to us and told Burke that the band was up. Burke turned and shrugged at us. “Duty calls. Gotta go make magic happen.”

  “Knock ‘em dead, baby,” Carly said with genuine enthusiasm, kissing him again on the cheek. She was like Burke’s personal cheerleader.

  Burke and his three stooges made their way toward the small cramped stage set up against the back wall. Brian, Dirk, and Barnacle jumped up on the stage first and began tinkering with the instruments, amps, wires, and microphones that littered the crowded stage. After Burke talked to some of the girls who had already staked a claim on the real estate immediately in front of the stage, he also climbed up and took his place at the front of the group.

  The band led off with a song that everyone else in the bar seemed to recognize. In fact, most sang along with Burke and his boys. In light of their rough exteriors, I hadn’t been sure what was about to happen, but their music was more mainstream than the thrasher that I’d expected.

  Burke was magic on stage. He really knew how to work the crowd, engaging them and creating an explosion of energy. As he sang, he squatted at the edge of the stage, holding his hand out to the girls crowded in the front. Brushing their fingers lightly, he caused small heart attacks all around. In fact, his stage persona was so charming that I completely forgot about the asshole that had been standing 6 feet from me just a few minutes before.

  Carly, who had left us during the first song, was squarely in the middle of the throng of front row girls. Her arms were raised over her tiny body, and her ponytail bobbed to the music. Her eyes never left Burke. She seemed completely enamored by him. Unfortunately, she wasn’t alone. Every other girl in the bar also had their eyes rooted on the life force on stage. I wondered how she could stand it.

  By the fifth song, the dance floor was calling my name. Adam must have read my mind because he placed his hand on the small of my back and pushed me toward the middle of the room. I felt my body temperature rise 10 degrees in response to his hand on my bare back. And even though I was becoming acclimated to his warmth, I lost my breath for a minute. I couldn’t help but wonder if his fingerprints were still intact.

  We worked our way into the crowd and began to move with them. The music pulsed around me, and I let myself go. Totally swept away by Burke’s sexy, lulling voice and the thumping beat, I danced without inhibition. My hips shook to the music as I raised my arms above my head and moved in rhythm with the sea of bodies around me. I felt freer than I had in years, and I danced and screamed like I was 21 again.

  The heat generated by everyone on the dance floor combined with Adam’s proximity caused the air around me to be stifling. I pulled a hair band out of the purse that was slung across my chest and swept my hair up into an impromptu ponytail. Even though I was probably a sweaty mess, I didn’t care. It had been forever since I’d let loose like this.

  The crowd pushed and pulled on us, causing Adam to end up behind me rather than beside me. As the band began a slower, more intimate song, a pair of strong hands grabbed each side of my waist, pulling my backside firmly against him. His hot breath on my ear nearly gave me a coronary. “Are you about ready to get out of here,” he asked with his sexy voice.

  I cocked my head to the side. I was having such a good time that I was hesitant to leave. Howe
ver, his burning gaze assured me that a better time was to be had elsewhere.

  CHAPTER 7

  Adam

  My vantage point directly behind Allie gave me a perfect view of her tight little ass. And because I couldn’t see her face, I could almost forget for a minute who I was dealing with.

  Her hips listed back and forth in perfect rhythm with the music. She seemed lost within herself ... oblivious to me and everyone else around her. She ran her hands through her hair, pulling it up into a ponytail and exposing her bare back. That dress practically invited me to run my hands across her skin.

  Finally, I gave in. I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her back into me. Guilty conscience be damned. I was ready to leave. After she nodded her assent, I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door with one thing on my mind.

  If I could forget her name and her face, I knew I’d be able to separate what I wanted to do from what I should do instead.

  Alexis

  Adam was still holding my hand when he pulled me through the front door of The Shelter and out onto the sidewalk. As my eyes and ears adjusted to the brighter and quieter street, he flagged down a cab. I fell into it, and he slid in beside me, slipping his arm casually around my shoulders.

  “Where to?” the cab driver asked.

  Adam and I looked at each other, puzzled, both of us grinning. My apartment wasn’t an option. Bringing him there would be too much. It made my stomach tie up in knots. Thankfully, he spoke up first, rattling his address off to the cab driver.

  The 15-minute drive through West Village and Gramercy was excruciating. I was incredibly aware of his presence next to me though I refused to look at him. However, even with my eyes fixed outside the window, my mind was solely focused on the arm wrapped around my shoulders and the thumb that was absentmindedly rubbing my arm. It was an act of familiarity though there was none between us yet. While I formulated a plan as to how I was going to put out the fire when his thumb burned a hole through my dress, Adam remained composed, making small talk with the cab driver the entire ride.