Steel My Heart

by Vivian Lux

  He nodded and handed me a shot glass filled to the brim with amber colored liquid. "This shit burns, Emmy" he warned, and raised his glass.

  I looked at J., who nodded encouragingly. I brought the glass to my lips and winced.

  "It smells like gasoline," I complained.

  "Tastes worse too!" Case grinned. "Cheers!"

  I was suddenly looking at myself from the outside in. Me, Emilia, the fianceé of Robert Whitestone III, heir to the Whitestone fortune and the toast of Philadelphia high-society, drinking cheap whiskey with bikers. I had to laugh.

  Then I knocked back the shot in one swallow, just like my dad taught me.

  The bourbon hit my throat like wildfire, burning a savage trail all the way down into my stomach. I felt my eyes water and squeezed them shut as I tried to suppress a cough behind my hand.

  "Need a chaser?" J. was right there when I opened my eyes, wiggling a pint of beer invitingly. Case was already pounding his.

  I lunged for the beer wordlessly and poured two-thirds of it down my open throat before I quenched the burn.

  Case whooped and J. raised his eyebrows in approval. "So you've done some drinking before, huh?"

  The burning settled into a dull, pleasant warmth that radiated out of my stomach and made my limbs droop.

  "You could say it's a family tradition," I replied airily, then immediately regretted it.

  No one wanted to hear my self-pity. Robert had drilled that into my head just as often as he had grilled me for stories of my dad's drunken rampages. It was almost as if he liked picking at my pain.

  "Heh, I hear that," J. nodded, and I saw the telltale knowledge behind his eyes. He knew what I wasn't saying. I braced myself for the questions, readying my lies.

  But instead of poking at me, he just sighed. "Want another?"

  I leaned forward slightly, testing my limbs. "I'm going to need some food in my belly if I'm going to keep drinking," I realized.

  "Let's fix that then!" Case shouted. "Rosie!"

  "Case?" J. asked.

  "Yeah?"

  "Go away."

  I cringed, ready for Case to take offense. I had never heard someone speak so plainly before.

  Case only nodded.

  "Got it. Probably my shift with the bikes anyway. Crash is most likely in a pretty foul mood about missing the party." He stepped between us, but stopped just over my shoulder. He bent towards me, his pale blue eyes bloodshot and unfocused. "Wish I had gotten to you first, Emmy. You're fuckin' gorgeous, you know that?"

  "Uh," I stammered, ducking away from the hot stench of whiskey on his breath. "Thank you?"

  He looked at me a second. "You don't know it," he realized, widening his icy eyes. "Well you are." He stood back up. "I'm an expert."

  "Go the fuck away, Case," J. called out amiably.

  "Going!" The huge blond biker staggered to the door and pushed it open, letting in a blast of heat from the summer night.

  "Fuckin' idiot." J. shook his head. "Hope he didn't freak you out."

  I was still blushing, but I hoped he couldn't tell in the dim light of the bar. "I'm okay," I realized. "He wasn't saying anything mean."

  "He wasn't saying anything untrue, either."

  I blushed again, but this time I was saved by the appearance of Rosie at the bar. "Hey there J. You still need me?" she asked in a broad South Philly accent.

  J. swiveled in his chair. "Is the kitchen still open, Rosie?"

  The bartender wiped her hands on her apron. "It is if you ask me nice."

  "Ain't I always nice to you, gorgeous?" J. flashed his dimples again and I could see they had the same effect on the older woman as they did on me.

  She grinned and leaned forward, treating us to perfect view of the deep valley of her cleavage. "Cheese fries sound good? I still have some bacon crumbles."

  J. turned to me. "How's that sound Emmy? You said you were hungry."

  I opened my mouth to protest. Cheese fries. All those carbs.

  My mouth watered. "That sounds great, thanks Rosie."

  She smiled at me, "No problem, doll. Anything for these guys." She headed back to the kitchen and I heard her bark something at the staff.

  "What does she mean?" I turned to J. "Why will she do anything for you?"

  "Heh," J. drummed the bar with his fingers. "You remember the flash mobs last summer?"

  "Of course." It had been all over the news. My mother had praised God that I was home for the summer as we watched the breathless newscasters describing the packs of roaming teenagers who overran South Street. Muggings, random beatings and huge acts of vandalism were reported. I got an email from school about it, even though I was home for summer vacation.

  "Those groups of kids who got together and just went wild. That was down here wasn't it?" I realized.

  "Right down the middle of the street,' J. nodded. "There must have been fifty of them, maybe even a hundred. Well Teach," he gestured to an older black man sitting on a stool in the corner, "he saw them coming. The Sons of Steel, we were down here for another celebration, uh..." he paused for a second, "the uh, end of my semester, and Rosie was terrified. A smaller group of kids had come through the weekend before and she was still waiting for her replacement windows. Friend of hers had gotten his store trashed so bad he was thinking of closing."

  "So what happened?"

  J. looked at me. "We stopped 'em."

  "You stopped them?" I looked around. "Is this everyone?" I had counted six men dressed in black leather.

  J. sipped his beer. "What punk kid's gonna go up against bikers? Not a smart one, I'll tell you that." He gestured to Teach again. "He stood in the doorway with his arms folded. Rest of us stood behind him. Told the kids to keep moving. This place was left untouched."

  I was impressed. "They didn't fight you?"

  "Didn't even try. Crash was ready to beat some asses." J. chuckled and took a long pull of his beer. "I think he was kinda disappointed."

  I laughed out loud, and was shocked at myself. "I'm sorry to hear that."

  "Don't be. Sons of Steel eat and drink free here ever since. Teach doesn't want us putting Rosie out of business though, so we only come here for special occasions."

  "Like tonight?"

  "Like tonight."

  I was curious. Finals weren't over yet at the University of the Arts. This was early to have graduated already. "Where did you go?"

  J. drained the last of his beer. "Some place upstate you never heard of."

  "I'm from upstate. Carbon County. Maybe I've heard of it."

  "Trust me you haven't. Let's shut up about me, whaddya say?" The emerald shards in his eyes glinted at me. "I want to know your story. How'd you end up here at Rosie's?"

  I hesitated, groping for a plausible story. "Fighting with my roommate," I blurted.

  J. nodded. "Living with other people is tough."

  I looked at my hands. Lying usually came so easily to me, but his eyes made me want to tell the truth. I was suddenly ashamed of how quickly I could spin stories.

  He watched me. "Hey there, sorry if I touched a nerve."

  I realized I had been holding my breath, waiting for him to press the issue. "You didn't know," I replied.

  "No I didn't know, but I know living with people is tough," he repeated.

  "Why, where do you live?"

  He chuckled ruefully. "At our clubhouse, behind Teach's shop."

  I was taken aback. "You live with them too?"

  I saw his fist clench and shrank back, but just as quickly as I saw it, it was gone again. "I needed a place to crash after I...graduated."

  I was suddenly filled with the intense need to touch him. I pressed my hand against his leather clad back, “I'm kind of dependent on my roommate too. It sucks."

  If he noticed my touch, he didn't comment. He didn't call attention to it. He just accepted my comfort with grace.

  "A man should stand on his own two feet," he muttered, and I wasn't sure if he meant for me to hear.


  Just then Rosie plopped down two full shot glasses and a huge platter of fries in front of us. J. handed me a glass and held his aloft. "What would you like to toast?"

  I thought for a moment. "To the start of something new," I decided.

  His huge grin as he took the shot made me instantly sputter. "I mean, your graduation and all. A new start." Once more the lie sounded so plausible that I decided to believe myself.

  "Gotcha," J. agreed without protest.

  I knocked back my shot to hide my embarrassment. I didn't want to lead him on. I had a boyfriend. No wait, he was my fiancé. The man I was going to marry. I shouldn't be doing shots with a biker, no matter how captivating his eyes were. Or how smooth his skin was. Or how delicious his dimples looked. The whiskey didn't burn me nearly as badly this time. The fire in my belly was caused by something else.

  "Are you going to eat?" I interrupted my thoughts before they gave me away.

  "You go first, Em."

  The fries were smothered in a lake of bright orange cheese. Wafts of fragrant steam hit my face and my mouth immediately watered. "Holy shit, that smells good."

  "Be my guest," J. gestured, pushing the plate towards me.

  I paused. This would blow my diet to hell and back again. It was greasy and nutritionally void. And it definitely wasn't organic. If Robert knew, he would never speak to me again.

  I slid a fry out from the side of the plate and nibbled giddily. "Wow."

  J. was watching me quizzically. "Have you never had a French fry before?"

  I grabbed three more and shoved them into my mouth. The scorching hot cheese seared the roof of my mouth, but I didn't care.

  "It's been a long while," I explained, blowing out my cheeks to cool my mouth. I closed my eyes, tasting the grease. I waited for the guilt to hit me. This was undoing all my hard work all these months. But for some reason, J. made me feel like it was okay. Like there was nothing wrong with just enjoying myself.

  I opened my eyes to see him watching me. His lips were curved into the most beautiful, openhearted smile I had ever seen. I felt a rush of something inside of me, something that couldn't be denied. The whiskey and beer made me bolder that I had ever felt before. I leaned towards him, drawn closer by instinct. He made no moves, but let me slide off my stool in a trance.

  I lifted my lips towards his. He bent his head slightly, and his lips brushed mine as if by accident. It was a soft as the flutter of moth wings, and yet it sent a jolt of pure electricity down my spine. I pressed into him and he folded me into his strong arms. As he kissed me, I could feel the bulge begin to rise in his jeans. The feeling inflamed me.

  He wanted me.

  I could feel it. He wanted me as much as I wanted him. I parted my lips, letting him taste my tongue with his. His lips were soft, but the stubble of his cheeks rasped against mine. His breath quickened and the bulge in his jeans pressed into my stomach. Dazed, I lifted my arms and pulled him closer. I was definitely drunk, both on whiskey and on him. I felt a dull, persistent throbbing inside of me.

  He ran his fingers through the length of my hair, letting the strands flow through his hands like water. Then he smoothed it back, exposing my neck. I gasped to feel his lips press into the sensitive flesh there.

  "Sorry," he murmured without pulling away. "I've wanted to do that since I saw you walk in."

  "You wanted to kiss my neck?"

  He brushed his lips upward, his hot breath in my ear. "No, I wanted to get my fingers in your hair, then kiss your neck."

  I heard myself make a sound, soft and small like a wounded animal. It was halfway between a gasp and a sob. Need rushed in to fill the hollow place inside of me.

  "J.," I whispered from somewhere outside of myself. "J. can we go somewhere? Can we go somewhere, right now?"

  Chapter 11

  J.

  It took everything in J.'s power not to throw her onto the bar and have her right then and there.

  Her lips were just as soft as he had hoped. He pressed himself into her, the blood rushing painfully to his groin. Letting his tongue circle hers, he pushed that kiss deeper and she responded with a soft, kittenish noise that inflamed him. He tasted the soft cream of her skin and it was a sweet as he'd hoped it would be.

  Then she asked him to do the only thing he wanted to do.

  J. pulled back from the kiss, ready to move. Rosie had a back room. Or they could go to the clubhouse. Or fuck, they could do it right here on the bar. He didn't give a shit, he needed to have this woman right now.

  Her eyes fluttered at him, unfocused and dazed. She pitched forward, stumbling into his lap.

  "Oh shit, Emmy? You okay?"

  Her head lolled as she looked up at him. She raised her arms sleepily. "Come back," she slurred, eyelids half-closed.

  J. punched himself in the thigh, hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. She was drunk. He wanted her, but not like this. "Hey Emmy, you need to eat some more. Can you eat some more?"

  "Noooo," she pouted, but opened her mouth obediently to allow him to feed her a few more fries.

  Doctor D. was suddenly at his side. "How much did she have?" the older man asked. You could hear the medical training rushing back to him.

  J. racked his brain. "I don't think that much. Two shots and a beer maybe?"

  "That'd be enough for someone who doesn't drink much." Doctor D. looked at him with his sharp eyes. "She needs to go home, J. You okay to ride?"

  J. stood up from his stool, testing. He slid his arms under Emmy, catching her before she slid to the floor. "Yeah I think so. Emmy?"

  "Hmmm?" She smiled sleepily up at him.

  "Can you tell me where you live?"

  She pouted. "You're taking me back to him?"

  "Him? Your roommate?"

  "Not...roommate. Fiancé."

  J. felt his heart sink. Fuck. Of course she was engaged. If he had met her earlier he would have snapped her up too. He punched himself in the thigh again, willing his desire to cool, but her soft, yielding body against his was not helping.

  Doctor D. picked up her pocketbook and pulled out her leather wallet. "Damn, her ID says she live on Rittenhouse."

  J. looked down sharply. She was engaged and she was rich. He felt like a complete fool. Angrily he hauled her to her feet. "Let's go Emilia. You need to hold on to me, okay?"

  "Mmmm," she hummed, but followed him out the door. He deposited her on the back of his bike without a word, then screeched into traffic without checking his mirrors.

  He was a fool. A damned fool. She was a spoiled little princess who just wanted an adventure. All those feeling he had had while they talked, that connection, it had all been in his head. She just wanted to come down out of her palace and slum it for a while.

  His anger made him ride faster. But when he felt her grip loosen, he willed himself to slow down. He was angry, but he didn't want to kill her.

  But when he turned onto Walnut St. he had no choice but to come to a screeching halt. Traffic was still snarled in spite of the late hour. Posh customers were still pouring out of the clubs and high-end restaurants. They milled about on the sidewalks and spilled into the crosswalks. J. could feel their eyes on him and saw himself through their frightened eyes. Big black biker with a slumped over drunk white girl draped on his seat. It was his first day as a free man and yet he felt like a criminal all over again. He revved his engine at some gawkers in anger and three of them jumped back in terror. He was debating just pulling up onto the sidewalk and plowing through them when the light finally changed.

  Emmy's building was right on the square, overlooking the leafy expanse of Rittenhouse Park. J. had grown up in Philadelphia, but this was not his Philadelphia. This was a paradise made only for the rich.

  It hurt more than it should have to know Emmy was one of them.

  "Okay girl, this is your stop, time to get off." Emmy was slumped against his back. He could feel her soft breasts pressing against his back but was too keyed up to enjoy it. "Emilia, wake the fuck up,
" he growled.

  She moaned a little, but stayed plastered against him.

  "For fuck's sake." J. turned around. Grasping her around the waist, he half wrestled, half carried her across the wide sidewalk in front of her building.

  "Outta the way," he growled at a startled looking old man who nearly walked into them.

  The lobby doors slid smoothly open and he felt the blast of air conditioning hit him in the face. "Who are you? Is that Miss Hawthorne?" a voice boomed across the marble hallway.

  J. saw the badge first, then the pistol second. "Stay right there and put your hands up!" the guard called. He was aiming at J.'s head.

  "If I put my hands up, I'm gonna drop the girl." J. knew he needed to keep calm.

  The guard seemed befuddled for a moment. "Then move slowly."

  "Where do you expect me to go?" J. saw the guard wasn't moving to call the cops, so he relaxed slightly. "Hey look man, I'm not looking for trouble. This girl's ID says she lives here. You recognize her?"

  "Of course I do," the guard spat, but lowered his gun slightly.

  "You know where she lives?"

  "Yes of course."

  "Then why don't you come over here and help me make sure she gets home okay. Sound good?"

  The guard looked at him suspiciously. Then he sighed and holstered his gun. "What happened to her?" he asked, with some concern.

  "Had a bit too much to drink."

  "She was drinking with...you?"

  J. bristled. "Look asshole, I got her home in one piece, didn't I?"

  The guard stepped back and looked him up and down. "Sons of Steel, huh? I remember you guys from back when I was on the force. How the fuck did Miss Hawthorne end up with one of you?"

  J. had had enough. "Guess you'll have to ask her that, won't you." He dragged Emmy over to the bank of elevators. "Get her up to her place. I'm done here."

  "Yeah, I think you'd better be." The guard took Emmy into his arms and pressed the button. "Get out of my building and stay out."

  "Not a fucking problem," J. spat.

  He felt the guard's eyes on him through the door and all the way out to where he had parked his bike on the sidewalk.

  "Fuck all of you," he growled to the people crowded around it.