Rylan
“These words are gibberish,” I tell Callen from across the table.
“They aren’t gibberish. They are French.”
“It might as well be Latin because I can’t read it.”
Dim lighting sets the mood. We’re seated at a cozy nook for two. A candle sits perfectly in the center between Callen and me, basking us in its glow. The linen tablecloth is pristine, and there is more silverware than I know what to do with.
Why do I need so many forks for one meal?
My red dress is too tight, too short, and too bold for this place. Other couples throughout the room dine in perfect comfort.
This isn’t us.
“I feel guilty,” I confess.
Callen sighs and sets down his menu. “Honestly, I do, too. I hate to admit it, but that old man weaseled his way into my life, and now, I’m pissed at myself that he’s locked away. Why the hell did he do this?”
I set down my menu as well. “We need to get him out.”
Callen sips his overpriced craft beer before he answers me, “It won’t be that simple. He went in. He confessed. He had the murder weapon. Anything we do will look suspicious.”
My drink sours on my tongue, but I don’t think there is anything wrong with the grapes that made the wine. Guilt is curdling on my taste buds. His answer is the truth, but it isn’t what I wanted him to say.
With a heavy sigh, I pick my menu back up and stew in the dark thought of Willy dying in prison because of me. The French words piss me off. The hard rock on my bread plate taunts me. The whipped butter has a stench. A couple next to us kisses over their table, and I imagine stabbing the woman’s jugular with one of my three forks. Our waiter approaches and rattles off specials I don’t understand in a thick accent. I picture choking him with his own black tie. Willy is serving my punishment, and I’m still selfishly picturing more blood on my hands.
“Why are we here, Callen?”
The startled waiter blanches at my outburst, and after a beat or two of uncomfortable silence, he excuses himself and strides away.
“You don’t like the restaurant?” he asks in a lowered voice.
“It’s fine, I guess.” My voice is anything but low. “You know what? No, I don’t like it. It’s stuffy and so totally not our style. The perfection bothers me. I’d rather fuck on this beautiful table than eat off of it.”
The woman who I imagined forking a few minutes ago shoots me a dirty look for my vulgarity.
My hostility aims her way. “Don’t act like you and your date weren’t fondling each other under the table. That much was obvious, you stuck-up, prissy bit—”
Callen interrupts my tantrum, “Willy told me to take you on a proper date.”
Suddenly, my tantrum seems unjust. I am a total raging bitch. I am a cunt of a bitch.
I take my focus off the woman next to me and concentrate on my own table. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Rylan, you’re passionate about everything you do. Truthfully, that’s the nice word to describe what I’m thinking. You lash out when you have to deal with emotions that you don’t want to handle. I get it. Sometimes, I wonder if forever with you will come to a sudden halt because you’ve chopped me up into a million pieces in my sleep.”
“Callen!”
“I’m kidding, sort of, but what I’m trying to say is, we’re not proper, and we definitely are not old school. The things in life we take pleasure in are dark and anything but traditional. You’re right. This date isn’t us. It’s Willy and Louise. French food and romantic ambiance aren’t how we connect. I was trying to respect Willy’s wishes, but we need to make our own romance.”
My dark soul soars. Cheesy has never looked so good on a dangerous man, on any man.
The employee from up front approaches our table. “Sir, we’re going to have to ask you and your date to leave.”
The manager eagerly offers Callen’s jacket to him. The woman who was seated next to us returns to her table with a snide look on her face.
Kicked out of the club and now this fine-dining establishment. We’re really racking up the places we’re banned from in this town. We might have to leave town for that reason alone.
“We were just leaving.” He pushes from the table and stands. After taking his jacket, he grabs my hand in his.
We leave quietly. Okay, that’s a lie. We leave with our middle fingers raised high. Our loud voices and profane words are amplified in the stuffy room. Our heavy footsteps disrupt the quiet rumble of soothing music, and customers stare with slackened jaws as the manager follows us out to the front, where the valet has Callen’s truck waiting. We say our final good-bye when we peel out of the parking lot.
“I ruined date night.” Shame is fused in my words.
“You didn’t ruin anything. You saved it. Now is when the real fun begins.”
His truck drives down the road at an accelerated speed.
“Where are we going?”
“Someplace a little more our style.”
The music plays while we drive. I sing along to the words, and Callen shakes his head at me. My dress rides up while I relax in the leather seat, and I can’t help but tease him a little. My hands brush my inner thighs while I spread my legs as far as my legroom in the truck will allow. His eyes drift from the road far too often until he pulls into our destination. The Treasure Breast, or so the neon sign tells me, and by every indication, it’s a strip club.
“You must have mistaken me for some other broad. I’m far too classy for a strip joint.”
“Okay, then we’ll go.” He puts on an act and shifts the truck into reverse.
“You go! I’m going inside!” I speak through a smile.
“Good luck getting in without me.”
“What do you mean?”
“They don’t let women into places like this without a man on her arm.”
“What? That’s sexist!”
“Blame the pissed off girlfriends of men who spend too much time in places like this. Are we going in?”
“Fuck yeah! A titty bar beats French food any day.”
Inside, there are sexy girls everywhere and hordes of men drooling over them. The lights are low but in a totally different way than the restaurant we just left. The music pumps, and glitter shines on every surface. We take a seat off to the side, and my eyes can’t get enough.
This is date night done right for Callen and me.
“Good choice, Mr. Bailer.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
He pulls me into his lap, and my ass presses against his thickening cock.
The music changes, and a voice booms through the area. “Please welcome Vixen to the stage.”
Vixen prances out in nothing but a very tiny black G-string. Her tits are huge and sway with each step she takes. The men around us grow excited, and a few holler things that would make your mother blush. She uses a tremendous amount of upper body strength to climb up the pole. Her legs wrap around it seductively, and her body swings in a circle. The men closest to the stage throw money at her performance.
Vixen crawls around the stage. Her legs go into the air, forming a V, and her long blonde hair fans the floor. She’s confident, and she owns the room.
Callen hands me a fistful of one-dollar bills, and I’m a very happy girl.
Five new girls took the stage in the last twenty minutes. Each girl was different and unique, and each captured my attention for a different reason. Vixen was bold. Scarlett was innocent. Candy was seductive. Kimber was playful. Chrystal was exotic. And Diamond was edgy. I want them all.
“I think I’m in love.”
“With which one?” Callen asks, rubbing his hand up my thigh.
“With them all. With this place.”
He laughs at my enthusiasm.
“No, really. Could we get private time with the last six girls who danced? They have VIP rooms for that, right?”
“Do you have any idea how much something like that would c
ost? You’re asking for half the girls in the club at your private disposal.” He balks at me.
“I bought you, didn’t I?”
“You didn’t buy me. You contracted me.” His fingers pinch the inside of my thigh.
“I prefer to think I bought you.” I try to pinch him back, but there isn’t any loose skin over his abs.
“What the hell am I going to do with you?” he asks, biting his lip.
“Love me and get danced on by strippers with me.”
“You don’t do anything small, do you?”
“Not a chance.”
Fifteen minutes later, a very persuasive Callen has convinced the manager of the club to bend to my wishes, and we’re moving to the back, through a flimsy curtain, and down the hall to a private room. Six beautiful women, who are wearing practically nothing, are lined up in front of me. The music playing pumps me up. My lust is driven by greed, and the girls look eager. Each thing I love about each one shines even more brightly in our private room. Waiting for what’s next has me hyped up like a junkie preparing their rig. I can’t take my sight off them, and my panties are more than a little damp. The strippers begin to sway to the music, and I’m practically salivating.
Callen’s voice breaks through my haze. “Uh, how far do you want to take this, Rylan?” he speaks softly, nibbling on my ear.
“I want to play. I want to be danced on and adored. I want to flirt with the danger of temptation. I want to experience this with you. Always with you.” I brush my lips against his and offer myself over to him.
“Same boundary rules as when we brought Elena up to the hotel room?”
“Same rules. You’re mine only, and I’m only yours.”
Hands. Lips. Tongues. Attention. Stimulation comes at me in abundance.
I guess I can check sex in a strip club off my sexual bucket list.
Our date nights might be way outside the box, but normal would never satisfy me anyway. The thought of a life of extremes with a man who encourages everything I love about myself is the greatest gift I could ever ask for. When I moved to Maplefield, all of my attention was focused on revenge, but somehow, along the way, I fell in love. I fell hard for the man who killed for me.
Rylan
Sometimes, you meet the type of people who not only don’t judge, but also care. They empathize with what you’re going through and help you believe it’ll get better. Your words and your experiences matter to them. Those people want the best for you.
Tatum and Callen are those people for me.
But there is still a conflict inside me.
When I moved to Maplefield, I was selfish and closed off. Honestly, I still am and probably always will be to some extent. But I’ve learned that there is more than pain and darkness. There is joy, friendship, and love, too. This journey brought me Tatum and Callen. Willy, too. I might not know him as well as Callen does, but no person has ever made as big of a sacrifice for me as he has. My own mother couldn’t even see past her own pain enough to give me the things I needed as a child. But Willy gave to me without hesitation and without strings.
They have changed me. I’ve learned that my past doesn’t have to hold me back from anything. I can have a future with all the great pleasure life can offer. Those things for me might not be the same as anyone else, but my life can be good. It can be full, through my friendship with Tatum and my love for Callen. What he and I share consumes me every second I’m awake and doesn’t waver a bit when I’m asleep. I have people in my life that I love and that love me. I never thought I’d have that again.
But I’ll always be a monster.
The sudden loss of my father, the selfish death of my mother, and the senseless death of my best friend changed me forever. I can heal, but I’ll never be the same. I’ll try to remember my dad as the man who taught me to catch a ball, my mom as the woman who made my friends and I laugh till our sides hurt, and Aria as the dreamer who worked endlessly to vanquish my real-life nightmares,
But, as for me, I’ve finally settled into the person I was meant to be.
Obsessive. Emotional. Thrill-seeking. Chaotic.
Selfish.
Loving.
Cruel.
Kind.
Unapologetic.
I am who I am.
I want to grow with the people I’ve let into my life. I want to live the way I need to, content with the good and the bad about me. Most of all, I want them to love me, despite my darkness, too.
Because the darkness will always have a piece of me, and it’s pulling at me once again.
Callen
“I love her,” I confess to the only other person who also loves her.
“I know you do.” Her tone is stiff, and she doesn’t look over at me.
Tatum and I stand in the parking lot outside the bar where we’re meeting Rylan.
“And she loves you,” I say.
A small smile lifts her lips this time.
“So, you and I, we have to fix this between us,” I finish.
The smile just as easily dies on her lips.
“Are you going to kill me if I don’t agree?” She braces her hands against her hips, turns to face me, and holds her head up high in defiance.
“I’m sorry you got caught in the middle of this.” I pluck a flower from a bush near us and offer it to her. “Truce?”
“I wasn’t too harsh when I met you, Callen, and my judgment of you was pretty spot-on.” She reaches out and takes the flower from me. “But I believe I was also right about you being exactly what Rylan needs. You get her, all the parts of her. The good, bad, and twisted.”
“And? Where does that leave you and me?”
I’m cautiously optimistic about her response.
“I won’t lie. If you weren’t in Rylan’s life, you probably wouldn’t be someone I’d choose to be around. Our only connection to each other is that we both love that girl. Always be the man that’s good for Rylan, and we won’t have any problems. Truce.”
I nod, and we both walk toward the bar in quiet comfort.
Inside, the place is empty, save for a few day drinkers. We find Rylan at a table near the bar. Her face scrunches up as we sit and relax in the padded seats.
“The two of you came together?” Rylan looks back and forth between us.
I shrug while Tatum answers, “Happy coincidence. The important thing is that there are drinks to be drank.”
“Whatever you say.” Rylan gives me a skeptical look before turning to the waitress and ordering a round for the table.
When we are alone again, Tatum addresses Rylan with a hushed voice, “How does it feel? Now that it’s over, is there any relief?”
I’m surprised by the serious tone in Rylan’s voice as she answers, “There is.”
“Tell us about it, baby.”
There is something off about Rylan tonight.
“I came to Maplefield for revenge. In the beginning, I only wanted to end my pain. I hoped that, when it was all over, I’d be normal, and the rock on my chest would be gone,” she tells us as the waitress brings over our drinks.
Tatum and I don’t say anything in response. Rylan’s speech appears to be headed somewhere.
“I’ve changed but not in the ways I thought I would. Everything I came here to accomplish, I’ve done, but the weight is still there. When I think of Aria, my heart still painfully constricts. I’m responsible for a lot of death.” She subconsciously hides her face from Tatum when she continues, “I don’t regret any of it. I’d do it all over again. I discovered a little piece of who I am when each of those men stopped breathing. I’ll never be normal.”
She and I both. I let Tatum respond because this part of Rylan never bothered me. It never will. It’s part of our attraction to one another. We connect through our ruthlessness.
“You’re my best friend, Rylan, so I won’t lie. I’ll probably never understand your pain or the life you’ve lived, but I’m sure that, despite what you’ve done, you’re a good person. Yo
u’ve never been anything but kind to me, and I’ll always give you the same in return. I promise you that, no matter what.”
The girls share a look, and Rylan shows an ounce of relief. All is good. I sit back and take a pull on my beer.
“I know we’re here to celebrate the end of this for you,” Tatum starts, “but I have an announcement of my own.” A smile lights up her face, and nervous energy fills the empty seats around our table. “I’m leaving Maplefield.”
“What do you mean? Where are you going? You’re leaving for a break or for good?” Rylan speaks as she sits up, moving closer to Tatum.
“I don’t know about forever, but I’m leaving for now.”
“What about your place? And your photography?” Rylan’s concern is in the forefront.
“I ended the lease at my place, and I’m leaving for my photography.”
“What do you mean?”
“I couldn’t get your voice out of my head after that day in the coffee house when I told you about the things I wanted to accomplish for my photography. A few days after, I started a website and put some of my more artistic pieces up on the site. I started out small, showcasing eight photos, and they’ve all sold.”
“Tatum, that’s great!”
She blushes at Rylan’s compliment. “People have been contacting me for more. This website isn’t a photography studio yet, but it’s a step. I got a small, used RV. I need to leave Maplefield if I want to take all kinds of beautiful pictures. And, with my connections, I can get freelance work almost anywhere if I need to.”
“I’m so proud of you, Tatum.” Rylan takes her friend’s hand.
“I’m happy about it, but…”
“But what?”
“I won’t leave if you need me, Rylan. I can postpone leaving for a while.”
I’m anxious for Rylan’s response. I have plans to leave, too, and I want Rylan with me. With Tatum leaving, she has nothing left in this town, and her job doesn’t keep her here either.
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