In Too Deep

by Fox, Harley

But even as I think that, my mind goes to the times we’ve slept together. Three times. Not once. Three times. I shake my head.

  What the fuck is wrong with me? Why did I … why did I kiss her back in that alleyway, when we were fighting? She was obviously just using it to distract me. But I let my cock get the better of me. And then in the office? That one was … different. It felt closer. It felt good. I mean, the other times felt good, but that time felt good.

  I shake my head. No! Stop thinking about her!

  I only sleep with any woman once. That’s what I promised myself.

  So then why am I making exceptions for her? What’s so special about her? It’s not like this is some drunken weekend somewhere and Trista’s the only pussy around for miles. There’s plenty of other chicks out there, and I know I could have any of them at the drop of a hat. I’ve got a reputation, and women know what they can expect of me.

  So then why her? Why have we slept together three times already? And not one right after the other, either. Over the course of days! I shouldn’t be doing this. I know I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t be getting too close. I’m just going to get hurt again.

  But I can’t help myself. There’s just something about her that makes me want more.

  I have to stop this. I have to either figure out what’s going on with me—with us—or do us both a favor and call it quits before it goes too far.

  Giving my body a stretch I get up off my bed and pad naked to the bathroom. There I grab a towel and turn on the shower, giving my teeth a quick brush while the water warms up. I step in and feel the warm water rushing over me. Grabbing the soap I lather myself up, washing the cum off my belly, giving special attention to the large tool down between my legs. Even when I’m not hard, it’s pretty freaking big. My mind wanders to Trista, thinking of her in this shower with me, and I can feel myself start to get hard.

  Stop it, not right now. You’ll never leave this apartment.

  I finish up showering and step out, towel myself dry, go back into my bedroom and get changed. My jeans fit snugly and I pull on a red T-shirt, my leather jacket going on over it, and finally my boots.

  My armor.

  Grabbing my keys by the door, I leave my apartment and step outside, walking down the street to where I parked my bike. It’s a bright day out, and I have to squint against the light, blinking until my eyes have adjusted to it. I swing a leg over my bike and start it up. Starting out and turning onto the street, I head north toward the warehouse.

  It’s late afternoon—I slept in a while. Lately there hasn’t been much to do, so I guess people—and myself—have gotten lazy. We’re all just waiting for more word from Maddox, who in turn is waiting for more word from Will. What that guy has in store for the Bullets I have no idea, but it better be good. We’ve been patient enough, but you can only ask your gang to wait for so long before they get restless.

  Arriving at the warehouse I see a bunch of bikes already parked outside. Pulling mine up at the end of the line, I turn it off and head inside. Once again I have to blink to adjust my eyes to the difference of light, but I see almost everybody hanging out, chatting. And to my surprise, there’s Trista! Sitting up on the stack of wooden pallets, bottle of beer beside her, hanging out with the rest of them.

  She smiles as I approach, as do the others, but my eyes are only for her.

  I shake my head. Stop it! Remember what you promised yourself!

  I turn and acknowledge everyone else too, then look around for a chair. There are none left—but there’s space on the pallets beside Trista. It would be weird just to avoid her, right? Sitting beside another Bullet, that’s what any other friend would do. So I walk up to the pallets and hoist myself up beside her, giving her what I think is a friendly smile as the conversation continues.

  “I fucking hope we get some good work to do soon,” Alyssa says. “Sitting on our fucking thumbs is insulting. We should be out there, fucking up the Chains or trying to rally up the Pig Boys or something.”

  “This truce is stupid,” Tyrone chimes in. “Does anyone know why it happened, anyway?”

  Everybody shakes their heads.

  “Will just said we’re not to fuck with the Chains. But that was fucking months ago! Did he just lose his balls or something?”

  “You know who should’ve told us something?” Jackie chimes in. “Fucking Maddox.”

  I look around but Maddox isn’t here. Lord knows Jackie would never say something like that in front of him.

  “He’s become a pussy lately,” Alyssa agrees. “He doesn’t know anything, and he’s too afraid to get answers from Will.”

  “Have you ever tried talking to Will?” Chloe asks. “He’ll kill you and not even think twice about it. I don’t blame Maddox for not hounding him.”

  “But what’s the point of having Maddox as a leader?” Jackie asks. “If I were leader, this type of shit wouldn’t happen.”

  Several of the Bullets voice their agreement, and my heart starts beating a bit quicker.

  “Guys, listen to what you’re saying,” I say. “Do you want to start a mutiny just because you’re bored?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure Maddox—or Will—has his reasons for keeping the truce in place,” Trista points out. “And with new developments underway, maybe it’s best to just lie low.”

  “What new developments are those?” Jackie asks, and Trista’s mouth hangs open for a second before she closes it. “Maddox hasn’t told us shit. We gutted one building. We got stopped selling at the college campus because you told us it was unsafe. And the stuff we have managed to sell has been sending people to the hospital, so that’s been put on hold. Everywhere you look, there’s nothing going on. So what’s the fucking point of us being here?”

  Again, more voices agreeing.

  “This is bullshit,” Matthias says. “You guys aren’t thinking about all the good stuff Maddox has done for us. Our pay. Our protection. Have any of you had any problems with the police? No. Have any of you ever worried about getting fucked up on the streets late at night? No, and do you know why? Because the Bullets have a reputation. We’re the kings around this town, and everybody knows that. And sometimes kings have to wait things out, and get bored, but it’s all part of the plan.”

  People mutter, nodding their heads—some the same as before, but mostly it’s others. The group is almost divided.

  I see Trista leaning back on the pallets, her hands spread out behind her, and I do the same, getting more comfortable as the debate rages on. But as I do, my hand inadvertently lands on Trista’s. I freeze, not having meant to do that, and immediately I want to move it … but I don’t. And Trista doesn’t move hers either. I turn my head slowly, glancing over at her, and she turns her head too, looking back at me. Our eyes meet, but neither of us smile. So we keep our hands the way they are, and return to the conversation.

  “Look,” Jackie says, “the bottom line is that I think our efforts are being wasted. We should be doing something. We should be helping out Will, at the very least. But he doesn’t trust us—or maybe Maddox doesn’t trust us. And I think that’s wrong.”

  “Maddox cares about us,” Chloe counters.

  “Oh yeah? Then why isn’t he here?”

  “I don’t know, and it’s not my business to know. He’s our leader, and if he wants to hold information back from us, that’s fine by me. I trust him.”

  “So what do we do?” Tyrone asks. “I mean today? What do we do today?”

  “Maddox was saying he wanted the warehouse tidied up,” I suddenly remember. “We could all chip in and do that.”

  But groans of annoyance are the response I get.

  “He can clean his own fucking warehouse,” Tyrone says, getting up. “I’m going to the bar.”

  “That’s the best fucking idea I’ve heard all day,” Jackie says, getting up too as others follow. “Maybe you should be the leader!”

  Tyrone smiles. “Maybe I will be,” he says to her.

  Everyone’s getting up
, but my hand is still on Trista’s and I don’t want to move it. Chloe looks over at us.

  “You guys coming?” she asks.

  “I think I’m going to do some of the tidying Maddox wanted,” I tell her. “This place is pretty messy. But maybe I’ll see you guys there.”

  Chloe nods. “Trista? You coming?”

  I look over at Trista.

  “No, I think I’m going to help Flynn with the cleaning,” she says, and my heart skips in my chest. I tell it to calm down, but I can’t stop the smile that forms on my face.

  So everybody leaves but Trista and me, her finally sliding her hand out from under mine as she drops from the pallets. I do the same, landing on my feet on the concrete foundation.

  “So what’s the cleaning we have to do?” Trista asks, shrugging her shoulders.

  “Well, probably tidying up the shelves, and doing some sweeping,” I say. “Getting rid of the garbage.”

  “Okay,” she nods, and she turns to head toward the shelves. I watch her retreating back for a moment, then go to grab the broom.

  The two of us end up working in silence, Trista on one end of the warehouse, myself on another. I thought when she volunteered to stay that maybe she wanted to talk, or maybe even have sex again. I know I told her about my policy, but that didn’t stop us in the alleyway, or in the office building.

  But none of that happens. Instead we just work, actually cleaning the place up. It takes a couple of hours, but it’s good to get it done. I get the floors swept, and when Trista’s done with the shelves she comes over to help me bag up garbage, sorting out old beer bottles so they can be returned. We get a couple of full bags and each of us grabs one, carrying them outside and throwing them into the bin.

  “That’s good,” I say, blinking in the bright light. The sun is just starting to set. “I think that’s mostly what Maddox wanted us to do—”

  “Flynn, what exactly are your intentions with me?” Trista asks me. I stop, blinking again, hardly seeing her in the blinding sunshine.

  “What?”

  “I mean, I’ve been trying to figure it out. We have sex at the bar and afterward you tell me you have some rule where you only sleep with the same woman once. That’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine, but I don’t know you and it is what it is. But then we have sex two more times, and the last time was really … it was really intense.”

  “Um …”

  “And then in the bar, four days ago! You held my hand. And again, when we were sitting with the others. I just … I’ve been thinking about it and trying to figure it out, but I just don’t know what you want. So I thought I’d ask you: what exactly do you want out of this?”

  The sun is so bright, and I can hardly see Trista.

  “Can we go inside? And talk in there?” I ask.

  Trista nods and we walk back to the warehouse, stepping into the relative coolness of the building, my eyes finally able to open all the way, allowing me to see properly.

  I turn to face Trista and she’s staring at me, expecting an answer. I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Finally I shrug my shoulders.

  “I don’t know,” I say, hearing how lame that sounds as it comes out. But it’s the truth. “I’m sorry I can’t give you a better answer, but I honestly don’t know.”

  “Why don’t you know? Have you not thought about this at all?”

  “Of course I’ve thought about it, Trista. I just … it’s hard to put into words.”

  “Do you have feelings for me?” she asks, and I look at her. My jaw clenches shut. I don’t answer, and she drops her gaze. “Okay, so you don’t.” She sounds hurt. My heart cries out and I want to comfort her, but I don’t know what to say. “Is it just about the sex then?”

  “Trista,” I begin, and she looks up at me. “This is hard for me to go into. It’s hard because I … because I haven’t had to talk about this before.”

  She nods, not saying anything. I take a deep breath and let it out. I want to tell her. Inside I know it’s what she deserves. But still I can’t. Not now, at least. Instead I glance at the door. I get an idea.

  “I want to show you something,” I say. Trista blinks.

  “What?”

  “Come on, I want to show you something,” and I grab her hand, leading her to the front, out the doors to where our bikes are waiting. I only let go of her hand when we reach ours. I swing my leg over, getting on.

  “Where are we going?” Trista asks, not moving from beside me. I flash her a smile.

  “It’s a secret,” I say. “But we have to hurry. I want to show you my favorite place in the city.”

  I kick my bike into life and stare at Trista, the engine rumbling between us. Finally she walks over to her bike, getting on it and turning it on. I lead the way, the two of us riding away from the warehouse, back in the direction I came from just a few hours earlier. The setting sun is to our backs as we ride east. I can hear Trista’s bike trailing behind mine. Finally we reach my apartment building and I park my bike on the side of the street. Trista does the same. We both kill our engines.

  “Where is this?” she asks, but I only smile in response.

  “Come on,” I say, and I lead the way inside.

  We go in through the front door. There’s no one at the elevators as I press the button to go up, and soon the doors ding open and let us inside. I press the uppermost button and the doors close.

  “We’ll have to walk up a few flights of stairs,” I tell a silent Trista. “The elevator doesn’t go up high enough. I hope that’s okay.”

  She doesn’t say anything as we ascend. Finally we reach the highest floor we can and we get out, taking a right down the hallway. I push the door open to the stairwell and start to climb up. Luckily it’s only two more floors, and I take the steps two at a time, Trista just to the side of me as we climb. The door at the top is supposed to be locked, but that lock was busted a long time ago and no one’s ever fixed it. I push it open and the two of us step out into the brilliant sunshine—on the large, flat roof of my apartment building.

  We’re seventeen stories above the ground, the expanse of the city almost entirely to the west of us where the sun has just started to touch the horizon.

  “Here we are,” I say to Trista as we walk closer to the edge of the building, stopping before it. One of the advantages of being in an apartment so close to the edge of the city is the difference in view. Behind us is the desert—the vastness of dried sand humbling at the best of times. But personally, I like the view of the city as the sun is setting. The hues of red, orange, yellow, purple all coat the tops of buildings, the trees, the cars, the people out walking. The only downside is that monolith of a building, PharmaChem, that’s planted smack in the middle of the city. It stands like a sentinel tower, watching over all of us, all metal and glass and power and control.

  “Wow,” I hear Trista say in a breath, and I look over from the view to see her staring out at it. “Flynn, this is … this is beautiful.”

  “I know,” I say, and I return my gaze out to the city.

  We stand together, drinking in the ambient noise from below, the relative peace from above.

  “This city can be an incredible place,” I say to her, the both of us still looking out. “It can be a real shithole too, but there are times … well, it can be the best place in the world.”

  “It was always a shithole,” I hear Trista say. “No matter where you went, there were people in poverty, people vying for jobs that PharmaChem controlled. It’s got potential, but it’s still got a long way to go.”

  I furrow my brow.

  “Didn’t you move here from Pasadena?” I ask, looking at her, and Trista turns to look at me. She opens her mouth.

  “Oh, yeah,” she says. “But I mean, I’ve talked to people about Santa Espera. And besides, the story about PharmaChem is pretty famous. This place would have been a ghost town were it not for Will Silver.”

  I nod, turning back to the view. “That’s true. We all o
we him so much.”

  “Do we?” she asks. “He’s not a good man.”

  “Sometimes you need somebody bad to make the choices a good man wouldn’t,” I tell her. “Besides, he helps people out. He’s like the father of this city, the one who hits his kids as well as hugs them. He can help you out. Even through the bad times, he can be relied upon.”

  “What kind of bad times?” she asks, and my heart skips.

  “Nothing,” I quickly say. “I just mean in general.”

  We watch the sun slowly descend, painting the city with an incredible array of colors. Even though I’ve watched this so many times before, every time it fills me with awe. A strange sort of courage comes over me. Seeing everything before me, it’s like seeing my future laid out. And having Trista standing beside me … it’s like she’s looking out over my future as well. Or we’re looking over our future together.

  And even though I told myself I need to stop this, there’s something about it that just feels so right.

  I reach over and take Trista’s hand in mine. We talked about it. She wanted to know why I held her hand earlier, and I told her I didn’t know. But I did know why. I knew but I just didn’t want to tell her. Not at that moment.

  She looks down at our hands as I lace our fingers together, and then she looks up at me. Her eyes meet mine and I’m looking at her, looking at her eyes, at her face, at her entirety. At her beauty. This feels so right. This feels so perfect.

  “I don’t know if I can explain it with words,” I say to her as the multicolored light paints us both, “but there’s something different about you. Something that you have that no one else I’ve ever met has. I don’t know what it is … but it makes me want to be with you. Not just sleep with you—be with you. I want to be beside you, Trista. I want to protect you and know that you’re all right. Before I met you … well, that policy was there for a reason. It was there to protect me from getting my heart broken again. But you … make me want to open up. You make me not afraid anymore. That’s why I’ve broken my policy for you, Trista. Because of who you are. And because of what you do to me. How I feel when I’m around you, and how I feel when I think about you. That’s the reason why.”