by Amo Jones
Gripping onto the corner of the table to stop me from falling, I whisper out, “Wh-at? This—this doesn’t make any sense.”
Shrugging, he swallows the rest of his wine in one smooth movement, his Adam’s apple bobbing softly and his lips glistening from the wine that had slid over them. Placing his empty glass back on the table, he brings his bleak eyes back to mine. “Yeah, that was me. Amongst the others, if you remember anything at all, that is… So here’s the deal…”
I flinch back my tears. I am strong. I am wild. I am a survivor.
I think.
Fuck. Are you still a survivor if you can’t remember the darkest part of your memories? Or does that make you a coward by nature, that even when you don’t realize it, your body is spinelessly burying shit that it knows you couldn’t handle. But even so, all the hard work I put into forgetting that night, forgetting what I’d done and how bad I had gotten, it all meant shit now because all it took was for him to say one little word, one word—Wolf—and all feelings, all the hurt and pain I felt was beginning to all come back tenfold. I bring my cold eyes up to his, a new-found hate, a hate so strong it overpowers my legs wanting to wrap themselves around him. “What?” I snap, grinding my teeth together. “What do you want.”
Bryant’s dark eyes search mine eagerly, a sadistic smirk skimming across his lips. “You marry me, and I’ll make sure no one ever sees the tape.”
“What!” I cough loudly before a spastic of fits erupt from my throat. “Excuse me, but what?” I drop to a deathly whisper, inching myself closer to him. “And what fucking tape are you talking about?”
“You don’t ask questions,” he adds, smiling at another person walking pass as if he didn’t just tell me I was going to fucking marry him and that he possibly has evidence to some very disturbing shit that happened years ago.
“See, that won’t work for me. I’m a question asker,” I retort, my lip curled in disgust.
“It will have to work.”
“Huh.” I shake my head. “If you have anything of that night—”
“—Stop thinking, and I do have shit from that night. You know within yourself that I do. Look into my eyes, Isa.” he comes closer to me, but my hands fly up instinctively, pushing him away.
He ignores my push as if It’s nothing, and cocks his head. “Who am I?” He looks between each of my eyes, a cocky smirk tilting the corner of his mouth. “Who,” he whispers, leaning forward until his warm lips brush over my earlobe. “Am I,” he ends harshly into my ear, his warm breath ticking over my flesh.
I close my eyes. Fight it, Isa. “Fuck you, don’t tell me what to do.”
There. I showed him.
“Great start, baby, come…” he places his hand out to me.
“Nope.” I shake my head. “I need proof that what you’re saying is true, and also! My dad, my best friends, they’re not going to believe I fell in love with your pretty fucking eyes the first time I saw you. They know I’m smarter than that.” This is true, though I can’t see my father arguing it, in fact, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he orchestrated the whole thing—that’s how much he adores Bryant.
Bryant shrugs. “Then just tell them it was my cock. Bet they’d believe that.”
My face scrunches in offense, but then my frown falls. “Actually, they’re probably more inclined to believe that.” Sad, but true. “But I will still need proof. That video, what happened that night, your friends,” my voice drops to a low whisper, “no one can know. Ever.” There’s one part of that night I remember vividly, and that’s the part that I’m guessing Bryant has evidence on.
His eyes search mine. “Oh, I’m well aware how much you wouldn’t want people to know what happened that night. Tell me…” he steps forward until his lips are skimming over my jaw, “do his dead eyes haunt your dreams at night?” My breathing stops, and my lip trembles. Stepping backward, I search his eyes. “I know who you are,” I whisper, searching his eyes. It’s him. It’s Wolf. Even though he looks different now, I will always remember those eyes.
He grins again, his eyelids heavy and his eyes dark. “Say it.”
I open my mouth, but then close it, not wanting to entertain his bullshit games. “Let’s go. I need to see this fucking tape.” Snatching my clutch off the table, I leave my wine. My poor, innocent wine. Just as I’m about to step forward, his hand catches mine, tugging me backward forcefully. “Nah uh, baby.” He steps closer, his arm wrapping around my neck to pull me under his arm. “We need people to start questioning our actions for this to be believable. It starts now.” He kisses the side of my head as we start making our way back toward my father. My skin is crawling from the remnants of memories he’s left floating around me. My whole attitude has changed. I no longer care about the wine or the food, I just want to see the fucking tape.
I plaster on a fake smile anyway, forcing myself to melt into his hard body. Over the years, I’ve mastered the art of the fake smile. “Dad,” I announce as soon as we come near. My father looks between both of us with confusion, but I see the moment when understanding sets in. My dad knows me. Knows I’ve never hidden the fact that I have a healthy sexual appetite so he would think that I’ve just seduced Bryant into some of my shenanigans. That is, of course, if he hadn’t orchestrated this, which if I go by his response to seeing Bryant’s arm around me, is a solid no.
“Yes?” He can’t even try to hide his joy. Cheers, Dad, just another thing to add to your ‘Best Dad Ever’ list.
“We’re going to leave, is that okay?” I continue with that Oscar-worthy smile.
His face lights up, obviously pleased with what he thinks, is going to be my next bed partner.
“Of course. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
Bryant smiles, his hand falling onto my tailbone where he presses down softly. “Thank you for throwing such a successful night, Peter.”
My dad smiles appreciatively and nods in excitement. Idiot. My father is an idiot. Well done, America. “Of course, Bryant. It’s a great cause to contribute my time to.”
We both say our goodbyes to the few people who Bryant wanted to say goodbye to and then walk back through the main foyer, smiles still on our faces and our bodies still twisted around each other. Passing questioning looks from the workers and a few attendees, we push through the large front doors, and as soon as my feet land on the tiled steps, I pull away from him instantly, letting the cold air of the night trickle over my now hot flesh. “Don’t touch me again!”
Bryant chuckles. “Yeah, sure, say it like you mean it next time.” He hands the young valet boy his parking ticket and the young boy looks back at Bryant in adoration, smiling. “I won’t be long, sir.”
Stupid fucking kid.
4
“Isa! Come here for a second!” Brooke yelled from across the field, so I began walking toward her, swallowing what was left of my beer.
“Whatsup?” I slurred, tossing my empty red cup onto the dewy grass.
“So check it.” Brooke chuckled, coming closer to me, close enough for her drunken breath to skim over my cheek. “Those guys there,” she tossed her thumb over her shoulder to indicate where a group of about five guys were standing. All different sizes and heights. I couldn’t see that much because my vision was blurring in and out. I looked back to Brooke, her bright blue eyes glaring into mine with a gleam. “They know where we can really party.”
“‘Really’ party?” I asked, eyebrow quirked. “And what exactly did they say?” Brooke leaned in closer, her lips coming over the lobe of my ear. “Where we can fuck for as long as we need.” I stepped backward, then looked over her shoulder to the guys again, this time focusing my eyes more. Well, attempting to. They were now all similar heights, but different builds. One caught my eye briefly, but I didn’t lock onto him for too long.
“And if we get murdered?” I asked Brooke, a cheeky smile on my lips.
“Then we die happy.”
Shrugging my shoulders, I smirked. “Life was for l
iving.”
Pulling up to a hotel complex, Bryant veers the car into an underground parking area. The silence between us is deafening, and if I wasn’t so fucking confused and mad, it would have made me a little uncomfortable. He switches the car off just as I turn in my seat to face him. “I don’t remember much about that night. I mean, the smaller details I’m not very good at. Some PTSD shit, but…” I trail off, narrowing my eyes onto his. “Wolf.”
Bryant grins, running his hand over his short stubble. “Yeah. I’m sure we can work on getting the rest of your memories back. Come on.” He pushes open the door, getting out and leaving me in the empty car alone. I stall briefly, a wave of panic and distrust washing over me before I decide that I have nothing to lose, and maybe some lost memories to gain, so I push the door open. “Well, lead the way.”
He stops and then stares right through me. Just when I think he’s going to say something, he shakes his head and chuckles before walking toward the elevators. “Well okay,” I mutter under my breath, following him. The doors ding open and I step in, watching Bryant closely.
“So why?” I ask, folding my arms across my chest.
“Why, what?” he pushes the ‘PH’ button and the elevator starts rising.
“Why didn’t you ever turn me in?” He looks at me on the corner of his eyes, his jaw clenching.
Wanting to look away from his penetratingly annoying gaze, I cock my head forward, just as the elevator doors ding open displaying the vast space of immaculate dark marble tiles, red shaggy rugs, and floor to ceiling windows that overlook the bright city lights. The lighting is soft, falling over us in a dark orange shadow. I step forward. “Wow.” Looking toward the kitchen, I turn around to face him again with a small smile playing on my lips.
“Nic—” my lovely view of his apartment is rudely cut short as something is shoved down over my face. A scream erupts out of me from my panic just as I feel a rough hand squeeze over my mouth as another wraps around my head, tugging me backward. Swinging my legs around, I try to kick, scratch, and claw whoever it is that is behind me but with no success.
“Fuck!” The voice growls. “B, knock her out. She’s too feisty!” A thud vibrates against my head just as a dark abyss pulls me into a deep slumber.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I asked Brooke, just as we walked back toward the group of guys. “I mean, I’m drunk, high, and horny, and I’m all for a good time, but…”
Brooke halted, turning to face me as her hands came to my shoulders. “Trust me, it’s fine. They’re hot, a few years older than us, but imagine, just imagine, how good they are in bed!” Brooke’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth.
I ran my tongue over my suddenly dry lips. “Fuck it. Let’s do it.” Brooke and I had been friends since we were fourteen. We both had issues, man issues, we were both addicted to sex. To the feeling and attention, that we got during sex, so it was only a matter of time before we became friends. Even at such a young age, we knew. She has been there for me through some of the loneliest days of my life.
Once we reached the guys, I smiled suggestively toward them, but I’m not sure what it would have looked like because of all the drugs and alcohol that was zipping through my body. I felt like a ten, but I probably looked more like a solid two.
Swiping open the doors of the tent, I shoved Brooke aside with a grin. “You ready for this?” I still haven’t thought really hard about how they managed to have this all set up here. It must have taken a load of men to set it all up.
She shrugged, taking off her shirt and shifting the bottle of Jack from one hand to another. “Born ready, bitch.” I peeked inside the tent and saw the guy I noticed earlier with a smirk on his face. He was handsome, but it was more in an obvious boy-next-door way.
Heading to where he was lounging on an armchair, I wrapped my arm around the back of his neck and lowered myself down onto his lap. Bringing the rim of the bottle up to my lips, I tipped the bottle back and swallowed. “Hey.”
He grinned, two dimples sinking into each cheek. “Hey.”
Looking from his eyes to his mouth, I brought my lips down to his, skimming them over and running my tongue across the rim. “You wanna play with me?”
He tucked his shoulder-length blonde hair behind his ear. “Yeah, I’ll play with you.”
“I’m a little broken…” I added, smirking darkly.
“Broken girls fuck better.”
I laughed, gripping the back of his neck and yanking his lips to mine. Pulling his bottom one into my mouth, I sucked on it roughly all while sliding off his lap. “Yeah, we do.”
My head thuds like a pounding pulse is strumming heavily through every vein inside of it. With blackness clouding my vision like thick fog, the rich scent of tobacco, sweet cologne and leather dominates my senses. Bringing my hand up to my head, I yank the black rag off, tossing it onto the ground. Rubbing the blur from my eyes, my vision catches the rich mahogany wood, deep blood red walls and sleek black side desk that’s hidden in the corner. Walking toward the single bed that’s pushed against the wall, I run my hands over the silk sheets until the material is slipping over the palms of my hands. I’m so stupid. Of course he wanted me dead. I killed his—whatever he was to him—they’d all want me dead. I was so caught up in being in the safety of having my father’s name over my head that I completely lost touch with reality. Of the fact that dangerous, sick guys who liked to do sick things in bed, might want my head. Do I regret that night? Yes and no, but do I regret that night for the reasons I should? No. Why does Bryant want to marry me though? Why? Why go through all this if he’s just going to kill me in the end?
The light from the hallway shining through the opening of the door breaks through my expanding thoughts. Bryant walks in, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks.
“What the fuck do you want from me?” I whisper, though it comes out hoarse.
Pulling out a packet of Camels, he bangs the end onto the palm of his hand until a single cigarette pops out. Bringing the packet to his mouth, his eyes stay on mine as he bites down on it, tugging it free with his teeth. He flicks open a metallic black Zippo, inhaling deeply before letting the thick cloud of smoke slowly leak from between his lips.
I wave it away, trying not to inhale what feeds my addiction for nicotine. Oh, how I could do with a smoke right now. “What I want, is for you to do exactly as you’re told.”
“I can’t do that. Never been the submissive type.”
He chuckles, though it's not a nice chuckle. It's a chuckle that has chills erupting over my spine. Looking to the side while taking another long inhale of his cigarette, he growls, “These are non-negotiable terms, Isa, and from what I remember, you do the submissive thing very well. It just takes a particular type of man to bring your stubborn ass to your knees.”
“Why?” I blurt out because it’s the first thing that pops up in my head. “Why? Why would you need me? Why wouldn’t you just turn me into the police, or hell… kill me?”
His sharp jaw clenches as he flicks the ash off from the tip of his smoke. “The latter is still up for discussion.”
I swallow. “Well, just get it over with then.”
Bryant laughs, dropping his smoke to the ground and stepping on it with his perfectly polished dress shoes.
“Why would I make this easy for you?” He tilts his head. In an instant, his hand comes up to my neck. He runs the tips of his fingers over the curve of my jaw before hastily gripping onto my throat and shoving me against the wall roughly, my head smashing against it. “You killed my brother.”
5
“No… that was—”
“—My brother…” Bryant repeats, his hand closing around my throat again until I can feel the small bones in my esophagus crunching. “You killed him.”
“You were all sick, demented! He killed himself… he… he…” I can’t finish my sentence.
“Fucked filthy?” Bryant answers for me, tilting
his head with a cocky grin on his face. “So tell me, if he had stuck his dick inside you while whispering sweet nothings into your ear instead, would you still have lodged a knife through his jugular vein? Was it just because he didn’t tell you what you wanted to hear? Is it because he fucked you ruthlessly?”
“I said to stop…” I whisper, my throat clogging up from pent-up emotion. “My number one rule was if I said to stop, you stopped...”
“What was our number one rule before you stepped into that tent, Isa?” Bryant edges, coming closer toward me.
I flinch, his grip tightening around my throat. “Answer me!”
“Fuck! That I don’t step inside the tent unless I agree that I have no limits…”
“No. Fucking. Limits.” He releases my throat, pushing me onto the ground. “It wasn’t until he actually fucked you that you decided you had a limit. And then when he didn’t listen, you killed him.” My breathing thickens until I’m reaching for my throat in an attempt to release what feels like fog that has been caught up right at its apex. My chest rises and falls as I look around the room restlessly, trying to find clues. The perfect answer, maybe? I fucked up though. I made the biggest mistake of my life and I’ve lived with the secret since.
“I didn’t…” I shake my head, choking out a hoarse whisper. “Fuck! I didn’t mean to!” A single tear slips over my cheek but I swipe it away angrily. “I didn’t think that would be his kink! Hell, I didn’t even know people had a kink like that!”
“Isa!” Brooke yelled at me and I turned to face her, unlatching from the man’s neck.
I widened my eyes as in to gesture what it was that she wanted, but she ignored me, nudging her head over her shoulder toward the opening of the tent. Rolling my eyes, I swung my leg off his lap before dragging my index finger over the side of his face. “I’ll be back.” Walking toward the door, I muttered, “This better be important,” to Brooke just as I pushed the door open and stepped into the cool air. Brooke walked out a few beats later and started pacing back and forth, her palm pressed against her forehead. “I need more drugs.” Finding out what she needed and that it wasn’t all that important, I shoved her out of my way, ready to walk back inside again. Her hand came out to stop me. “Isa…”