by Amo Jones
I can count on one hand how many people I give a fuck about.
My mom.
My dad.
Katiya—even though she likes to use my patience as her skipping rope.
And Lenny—who shares that same rope.
Everyone who knows me knows this. In fact, you don’t even need to know me, because my reputation speaks for itself. But there’s something Lenny doesn’t know and Katiya just never talks about.
There actually was a girl once.
I don’t know if my feelings were like that for her, and I definitely know she never got my dick hard like Amaya does, but nevertheless, there was a girl.
“Yo!” Lenny tosses a drink toward me as I walk down the stairs after putting Amaya to bed. Yeah, I’ve started calling her Amaya, because it helps silence whatever things her mere presence raises inside of me.
My mind plays tricks on me when it comes to her, and I’m fucking lost to its games.
I catch the drink and twist the cap off, taking a long gulp. “You and I need to talk.” I’m not fucking happy with whatever the fuck I walked in on tonight, and I know it’s going to bother me until I get to the bottom of it.
“Figured as much.” Lenny rolls his eyes and then gestures to the room he’s staying in. I follow him through, dodging all the handshakes and hellos on my way. The party is full of people who work behind the scenes on the tour, their girlfriends/boyfriends, a few little Maniaks and some A-lister stars who were invited.
I shut the door behind myself. “What the fuck did I walk in on tonight?”
Lenny sobers. “It was harmless. You know I’d never do that to you—”
I laugh, cutting him off. “Lenny, that’s not what I’m talking about. Yeah, I know that you wouldn’t do that to me, but I also know that girl, and she isn’t some easy, dramatic slut that throws herself into anyone’s arms when she doesn’t get her own way.” I pause because the fucker is smiling at me.
“What the fuck are you smiling about?”
He chuckles, leaning back on one elbow on the bed. He’s putting distance between his face and my fist. “Oh, just that you really need to quit playing games. You like her, she likes you, why the fuck don’t we just move on from that? This family will be a much better place to be around.”
I tense, stepping backward until I’m leaning against the door. “I don’t have feelings for her.”
He shakes his head, glaring at me. “Wanna try that again? Maybe with a bit more conviction.”
I take a long pull of my beer. “I don’t.”
He rolls his eyes. “So, if you don’t, then why did you kill some fool who messed with her the other night?”
I still again, my hand clenching tightly around my beer bottle. “Don’t fucking repeat that again, Lenny. Ever.”
Lenny raises his eyebrows at me.
I flip him off. “Fuck you. I said I didn’t have feelings for her, I didn’t say I wasn’t fascinated by her.”
“Define fascinated?” he asks, sitting up and crossing one leg over the other.
“The fuck is this? A fucking therapy session?”
He bats his eyelashes like the little fucker that he is.
I flip him off again. “Regardless of how we used to be, or how we could be together, it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t.” Dad caging me up to bring out Zvet lasted fine—until I saw her. Not only does she not run from my beast, but she pets it, caresses it, and soothes it.
Fuck. This is dangerous ground.
“Why? Because the Bratva?”
I glare at him. “That, yeah, and I don’t know, the fact that I slaughtered her parents? Yeah, that could be it too. And then there’s my dad, her background with the Italian mafia, which she still hasn’t asked me about, and that’s just scratching the surface, so no, Lenny, I don’t have feelings for her.”
“Do so.”
I let out an exasperated breath and pull the bedroom door open. Before I leave, I turn my head to look over my shoulder and pin him with a glare. “Don’t get too close to her.”
He replies with a bored expression.
Lenny is like a toddler in a big body.
I head into the kitchen and grab another drink, flipping it open. The show blew up tonight. I love what I do, but being on tour sets off fires inside of me that I didn’t know were there. They last for the entire time I’m touring, almost like a blur.
This time is different. Everything moved fast. Usually it takes me two years to pull out an album, but this one poured out of me and there was no stopping it. Three months and we were done, ready to tour. It’s surreal, but also unnerving how much power a girl can have.
I’ll give credit where credit is due, and she inspired eighty percent of this album.
I unlock my phone and open up iTunes, the cover staring at me as it continues to sit at number one. F L U K E by MANIK is number one in album releases. I bet if I opened Spotify, my shit would be blowing up there, too. But everyone’s favorite song? Methodical Madness. Which just so happens to be the song that Amaya is in.
“Manik?” A voice swerves in behind me, arms snaking around my torso.
I tense, and then turn to face who I know will be Stella Jay. Stella is an actress and just so happens to jump on my dick every time I’m in New York. I don’t remember inviting her tonight, but whatever.
I brush her hands away. “Sup, girl. How you been?” I keep it friendly, because as much as I am known to be an asshole to people in general, I don’t really want to be one to Stella.
She waves me off, turning to jump onto the counter, her legs dangling off. “Same old, same old.” Her brown eyes peer at me, and then drop down my chest. “Who’s the girl?”
“What girl?” I ask, teasing her with a wink.
She laughs, shooting back her drink. “Aw, that’s not a very gentlemanly thing to say…”
“I think you and I both know I’m no gentleman.”
“True!” She raises her finger. “But, who is she?”
“A girl,” I add, feeling fucking tired. I’m not up for the partying tonight and would rather just climb into bed with that crazy fucking raven.
“You’re being cryptic.”
I shake my head. “Nah, I’m not. Hey, I’m going to shut this down soon, so you might want to collect all your shit.” That could have come out a lot harsher than she took it, if I’m going by her flinch.
“So, she’s a girl who you’re kicking me out for?” She flips her blonde hair over her shoulder and jumps off the counter. “Must be some girl.” She bounces off and I have to fight the urge to fuck her just to prove a fucking point. Just because I don’t want to fuck someone outright doesn’t mean there’s a special girl. It just means that I can’t be fucked.
Not long after the encounter with Stella, everyone leaves and it’s just me, Lenny, X, and Bo.
X blazes a joint, handing it to me. I take a long hit, holding the smoke in my lungs before slowly blowing smoke rings out of my mouth.
“Where’s the little Cub?” Bo asks, taking the J off me and putting it to his mouth.
I cough, clearing my throat while flicking a lighter between my fingers and reaching for my pack of smokes on the coffee table. I bite one out of the packet, blazing it up. “Asleep. This fucker got her drunk.” I gesture to Lenny, who was dancing with his J in his mouth until he figures out we’re talking about him and he feigns innocence.
“Hey! It was her idea. She came downstairs looking all sexy and grabbed the tequila.”
“Ohhh,” X mutters, chuckling. “The girl doesn’t even drink and she hit the worm?”
“My point exactly,” I reply, puffing on my smoke.
“What’s the go with her?” Bo asks, which is valid because Bo hasn’t been around much. He’s never around much anyway, usually only when we’re touring or working on an album.
“We don’t even have the time to explore that shit. That’s a whole ocean of issues that you don’t want to hear about,” Lenny chuckles.
&nb
sp; I flip him off again.
This time his lip curls and gives me one back.
Fucker.
“It’s complicated,” I say instead, brushing the subject off.
“I like complicated,” Bo adds, lining up the coke.
I laugh. “Ho, no, not this kind. Trust me, brother, you don’t want to know.”
“—Or can’t know?” Bo asks, eyebrow raised. He leans forward and takes the line.
I like Bo, enough to keep him around. He’s fairly new, jumping in with us a few years ago. Whereas Lenny has always been here and X was my boy who I used to shoot bars with in the garage of his house in Compton. I ran away from my home a lot, and X was who I used to stay with. It was a place I could be myself without having the shadow of being a Romanov cast over me.
X and Bo have known each other since they were kids, it’s how Bo got in with us, through X’s reference.
My eyes connect with his. “Bit of that too.”
He nods, shrugging. “I can respect that.” Which is exactly why he fits in with us. He never asks questions about some of the shady shit he sees, and he respects my blood and loyalty to the Bratva—which I have been ignoring since leaving New Orleans. Dad is going to want an update on how I’ve been making Amaya pay, when truthfully, I personally fucking haven’t. I had every plan to do all sort of dirty things to her. I wanted to fucking ruin her, make her despise her life so much that she knew I was the only one who could give her any power.
But when I walked in on Jesse raping her, that all flew to shit, because I realized something that I’m not man enough to look into right now.
I just have to burn time with my old man.
I stand up, declining the line of coke. “Nah man. I’m going to hit it. Got another late flight tomorrow night.”
They all roll their eyes and shove me away. “Yeah, sure that’s why.”
I flip them all off this time.
“Pick it up”—Fat Joe, Dre
I can feel it in my soul. I feel what has happened to me every single time I breathe. When I breathe, I can hear his deep sounds, his words being whispered into my ear and his thick thrusting.
I launch off the bed, running straight for the bathroom. I kick the lid up and spew into the bowl.
“Ahh, I feel like shit.”
After one last power chuck, I flush and then shut the door, hitting the shower on. I don’t know what time it is, and I don’t care. I feel, and no doubt look, like shit.
I can wash away the dirt on the outside, but I can’t do it for the inside, and the inside is what is haunting me most.
My soul is tired, soiled and worth nothing. No one will want me after that, and furthermore, I don’t want anyone.
I slip under the pelting hot water, pouring soap into the palm of my hand and spreading it over my skin.
After doing a once over on my hair, I slip out and grab my towel, wrapping it around my body. I push open the door, hoping to tiptoe out to grab some clean clothes, only I’m met with Manik’s bare muscled back. The tattoos that cover the entire canvas warping under his movements.
He inches his head to look over his shoulder. “You good?”
I squeeze the towel. “Feel like shit, actually. Sort of reminded myself why I don’t drink.” I step deeper into the room. The large glass wall has one big blind that’s shading out the morning—or afternoon—sun.
I go to my bag and rummage through it, taking out some new panties, some yoga pants, and a ‘I’m a f*cking feminist’ shirt. I skip the bra because I’m in such a hurry to put clothes on.
He shifts off the bed, his ass tightening in his brief shorts. I gulp, drying my hair with the towel. “Where to after this?”
He turns, a smile on his face. “You talk like you’re not here against your will.”
“What can I say,” I mutter, unable to hold back the sass. “I’m getting used to it.”
He tugs on his jeans, leaving the button undone and all thoughts evacuate my brain.
This isn’t fair.
He killed your parents
That did it.
“What time are we leaving?”
He pulls his smokes out of his pocket and lights one. “In about five hours.”
“Here comes the rain again”—Hypnogaja
Detroit
“You’re coming to this one?” Lenny asks, his eyes going over my body.
I shrug. “What else would I do? Hang around here? No thanks. Detroit is no New York.”
Lenny chuckles. “Do you know where we’re touring?”
I shake my head, adjusting the lace crop top I’m wearing and running my hands over my jeans. They have little rips across the knees and look slightly washed, despite the fact that I bought them early yesterday before we left New York. I took Lenny with me, and I also dipped into the account I really didn’t want to dip into, but I knew I needed clothes, tampons, and all that sort of stuff, and I have more pride than sense. There was no way I was going to ask Manik. ‘Oh hey, captor, so can I spend your money too?’ No.
I run the wand of my lip gloss over my bottom lip, pushing my boobs up higher. Lenny’s eyes narrow. He’s slouching on the bed that Manik and I share. Penthouse everywhere we go with at least four bedrooms, but Manik is always just tossing my stuff into his room so I follow. It doesn’t bother me as much as it should, and annoyingly, I get a good amount of sleep when he’s in the bed with me.
“Ae knows you’re coming?” Lenny confirms, his eyes locking with mine in the full-length mirror.
I don’t meet his eyes. “Yup.”
He doesn’t.
“Alright,” Lenny says, slamming my book closed. Yes, I stopped at a bookstore too, picking up a Stephen King novel. “You have ten minutes then we need to roll out. We’re going through the back entrance, but expect all the cameras and shit—” he pauses, then smiles. “But I guess you’re used to that by now aren’t you, Cub?”
“Wait!” I say, annoyed at his jab. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He raises his eyebrows and then clicks his fingers. “You don’t have a phone. Hold up!” He pulls out his iPhone and taps it a few times. He grins and then passes it to me.
I look down at it and my cheeks flare instantly. Thousands of photos of Manik and I together.
“How? What? We weren’t parading around in public that much?” I go back to search results instead of photos and read the headlines.
Mystery girl has been seen with the infamous Manik, named
I scroll again.
Manik’s new love interest Australian girl with US roots!
MANIK has fallen for a girl from down under…
She’s a well-known dancer, her YouTube channel has over twenty-thousand subscribers! No doubt this will triple overnight—if not break YouTube!
WHO IS THIS BEAUTY? We must admit, the Australian beauty is a catch, but this is MANIK!!
I throw his phone back to him like it has a disease. “Shit.”
Lenny laughs, tucking it back and putting it into his pocket. “Shit is right, but nevertheless, your subscribers have skyrocketed.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, tilting my head.
“Well, you had two-thousand, and now you have…” He pulls his phone out again, tapping on it a few times. His eyebrows shoot up in shock.
“What?” I go to grab the phone, snatching it out of his grip.
289,546 subscribers
“No way…” I whisper, throwing it at him again, this time hitting his face.
“Ouch, Cub!” he scolds me, but I’m already stepping backward.
“That’s insane!” I whisper-yell.
Lenny shrugs. “You just need to remember the influence you have now. You’re not playing with an underdog, baby girl, you’re in bed with the fucking alpha.” He casts a glance at the bed. “Literally.”
I shiver. “Is that supposed to make me feel better, Lenny?”
He sighs. “I’ve been feeling so much like a damn therapist lately. If only you both
just stopped the bullshit and talked about it.” He sinks into the bed. “Keep getting ready.”
I do, turning back to my mascara. I love makeup, but unfortunately, I have no idea what to do with it. I flick it through my lashes.
“How do you feel about Ae?”
I snort. “I feel like he’s supposed to kill me, because he slaughtered my parents in front of my eyes then he kidnapped me twice and then, some ass-fuck raped me. So, I don’t know, Lenny, how am I supposed to feel about him? Oh, and he’s a Vor, Lenny. As in the shitting mafia! As in his father is the most feared individual walking this earth!” Tears I didn’t know I had slipped from my eyes falling onto my collarbone. I swipe them away angrily.
Lenny’s mouth opens and then closes, and then opens again. “I’m done. You both need to sort your shit out because I have nothing else to say here.”
He leaves, and by this point, I’m ready to drink again. But I don’t, because I can still taste the after effect of the tequila coating the back of my throat.
Gross.
I walk out of the bedroom, landing directly in the sitting room where another man is. He’s in a dark hoodie and dark jeans. His eyes come to mine and I almost lose all train of thought.
He’s… hot. More than hot, I think. Not quite on the level of Manik, but close. He has dark skin, dark eyes, and thick eyelashes.
Then he smiles, and his white straight teeth radiate in the room.
Holy cow.
He nudges his head. “Hey, baby girl, you must be Cubby.”
I cringe at the stupid nickname Manik started, but nod. “I am.” I start walking toward him.
He takes my hand. “Name’s Bo.”
We shake hands and I watch as his big hands cover mine. I’m quite brown because of—now I know—my ethnicity. “Nice to meet you, and you can call me Beat if you like.”
“You’re from Australia?” he asks, shocked.
I shake my head. “Well, I moved there when I was small and then left when I was eight. I guess it still hangs off some syllables.”