by Ellie Danes
Instead of my father’s assistant, Tommy O’Denill sat in his car outside the building when Brittany and I got back home. I flashed him a look as if to say, “Wait here, I’ll be back.”
Sweat broke on my forehead. I walked Brittany up the steps inside the building and to her door, trying to block her view of Tommy and vice versa with my body as I walked beside her.
At her door, she squeezed my hand one last time before letting go and opening her door. She turned around once she was inside and looked up at me, waiting for me to say goodnight or ask to be invited in as she removed her high heels in front of me.
“I had a really good time tonight, I would love to do this again, soon,” I said.
“You know where to find me.”
We smiled at each other, and with a wink she coyly closed her door. I stood there, hesitating for a moment and debating knocking on her door again, ripping her dress off her body, and pressing her up against the wall for another maddening kiss to keep me drunk on her energy.
I didn’t, and instead I went back out to deal with Tommy.
“I want out,” I told him once inside his car. I had joined this gang a while ago, a gang specifically intent on the protection of those who could not protect themselves. It was a group of vigilantes who took it upon themselves to intimidate violent people into cleaning up their act. Lately, though, the gang had been taken over by a younger member, Tribado, and the gang went from mild intimidation to outright torture. We were quickly turning into a group that took part in the very acts we had sworn to prevent. It was no longer something I wanted to be a part of.
“Good joke, kid.” He handed me an envelope. “This one is gonna replace the last one I gave ya, some last-minute changes to the job before tomorrow.”
“I’m serious, I don’t want to do this anymore. I only joined because you guys seemed to make a difference when the cops couldn’t, but you’ve evolved into something dark.” Now that Tommy had seen Brittany, I had to destroy all ties I had to this particular secret of mine. I was putting Brittany in danger, and I was no better than the man who had murdered Brittany’s sister. I was also no better than that man I knew once, long ago, named James Krall. James had been the kerosene on the fire of my rage, the sole reason I joined the ‘protection’ gang to begin with. He’d murdered his girlfriend, a woman I was in love with, and in trying to eradicate evil like his from this world, I had inherited and perpetuated my own evil. “I’m done with this whole hypocritical endeavor.”
Tommy let out a fake laugh, loud and hard. “Boss respected your decision to take on less jobs, he respected your space by giving your apartment building a wide berth, but this is asking too much, Jones.” He leaned over and opened my passenger side door for me. “I’ll see you tomorrow, whether it’s because you’re coming with us as lookout while we tune up a domestic abuser or if I’m coming by to let Tribado pay you and your lover a visit in your gilded nest.”
“You leave Brittany out of this,” I spat.
“Okay, tough guy, then take the envelope.” He practically pushed me out of the car and sped off, his tires peeling loudly. I crunched the envelope up in my hand, knowing I had to obey or risk Brittany’s safety.
I went inside and locked up for the night, removing my shirt for a shower before bed. The name tattooed on my chest burned as I stared at it in the mirror, forcing myself to remember the face of James Krall and how he took the owner of this name on my chest from the world and prohibited me from ever hearing her respond when I spoke her name out loud.
“I’ll protect Brittany like I couldn’t protect you, Talia,” I whispered to myself while clutching Talia’s name on my chest.
Chapter 14
Brittany
I didn’t get a chance to see Dalton before heading to class this morning, which I had come to expect whenever I studied in the courtyard before school. I had abandoned studying beforehand in coffee shops because I found the sight of Dalton in the courtyard woke me up much better. His scent alone was much more invigorating than caffeine. Yet today, I couldn’t find him busy at work like I normally could. Even worse, today was the dreaded day my father had scheduled for me to meet his candidate to be my perfect suitor—Reginald, the ‘not quite a doctor yet.’
I went through my Dalton-less day replaying our date in my head. I had stayed up an extra hour that night, praying that Dalton would break through my bedroom wall, unable to control himself, and pounce on me. While I waited to fall asleep and entertained this fantasy, I absentmindedly put paint to canvas. I hadn’t been focusing on what I was painting, but when I did turn my focus to my work, I was shocked at how good I still was even though I hadn’t painted in months. I’m damn good at this, I thought to myself, and I couldn’t wait to show Dalton. I knew he would love it.
I would show him tonight, after enduring the awful dinner my father had planned.
After class, I met up with my mother so we could catch up before heading to the restaurant my father had reserved to brief me on dinner with Reginald. The first restaurant was only for the three of us, and my father had reserved seats at an entirely different second restaurant for after he had explained everything to me and we were ready to meet the man he had handpicked. The first of my many stops for the night was a bar near the first restaurant where I found my mother sipping on wine and glancing about the room as if ready to flee at any moment. When she caught sight of me, her expression didn’t change much and she stiffly received my hug without putting an effort in to reciprocate the embrace. I knew she cared; she just couldn’t show it very well.
“I was beginning to worry you weren’t going to come,” Mother said, looking into her wine glass as she poured more across her tongue.
“Why would you say that? Of course I came, this is what my father wants.”
“Which is exactly why I thought you wouldn’t come.” She raised a conspiratorial eyebrow at me. I took a step back, hit with a wave of empathy emanating from my mother. It took me by surprise, and my mom took notice. “I know how your father can get. Hell, I married and divorced him so I should know, and he only wants what is best for you. I understand how that sometimes can directly contradict your own desires.”
She ordered me my own glass of wine, and suddenly my mental floodgates opened up and I found myself spilling my guts out to my mom. I told her everything, about Dalton and my frustration with school. I even told her about the painting I had finished the other night after Dalton kissed me for the second time. I had to explain our first kiss as well, and soon I had talked an entire half an hour with only nods and grunts of acknowledgment from my mother.
I shouldn’t have been shocked when it was time to meet up with my father and the first thing out of my mother’s mouth was, “Allen, you should hear Brittany talk about this son of August Jones. He seems quite smitten with our daughter, and she is returning the affection.”
“Mom!” I exclaimed, whacking her on the arm in an attempt to shut her up.
“You need to appreciate what we’re trying to give you, darling,” Mom reprimanded me sharply, and I was positive that in her mind she truly believed that this was best for me. “We’re trying to give you a future.”
My father’s eyes darkened in disapproval.
We were still standing at the table our waiter had shown us, and Mother reached out to give me a hug. Deep down I knew she thought that this was the appropriate way to love me and show me her affection. I pushed away her mechanical embrace.
“Sit,” My father commanded. Both my mother and I obediently sat.
The waiter awkwardly adjusted his shirt while averting his eyes. “May I tell you this evening’s specials?”
“Don’t worry about our order, we aren’t eating tonight.” My father waved away the waiter. When the waiter had made himself scarce, my father turned toward me with acid in his hoarse whisper. “Explain yourself.”
I felt myself getting emotional and I choked back the tears, not wanting to give either of them the satisfaction of seeing
me cry. My mom noticed and spoke up for me, relaying everything I had told her before arriving here. It became a conversation between the two of them, my father and mother, and I started to feel sick to my stomach.
I couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t listen to this, listen to them discuss my feelings for Dalton like it was an ugly, unwanted thing. I stood up and ran outside. Shivering with emotion, I leaned against the cool concrete wall of the restaurant building.
Mother soon came after me, and I could tell my father had ordered her to coax me back into the restaurant. I refused until my father stepped outside, stilling the wind with his eerily calm tone of voice.
“Do you want to ignore our plan and do everything yourself?” he asked. I didn’t respond. “What do you want to do, Brittany?”
“I want to paint.” My pain and tears were solidifying into rage, and I couldn’t think of anything to spit out at him. “I want to paint,” I repeated, unable to think of anything else to respond back with.
“You can do that,” he said, his voice cold with icy rage. “You can paint if you want. You can date all the Dalton’s in the world. You can drop out of college and live in your own apartment off of your own dime, how does that sound?”
“Wonderful.” I didn’t care anymore. Something inside of me had snapped.
My mother scrambled in to fix everything. “Think about it for a second, Brittany.” She patted my arm as she spoke. “How does that sound, dropping out of college and leaving behind a well-paying career? Do you really want to live on your own without our financial support, or are you maybe just stressed out from school right now and in a week you’ll be calm and controlled enough to meet Reginald?”
“She’s showing me that she’s already made her decision.” My father pulled his phone from his pocket and began to type out a message. “I’ll cancel on Reginald and inform Mr. Jones that we will no longer be renting out that room for you. I’m finished with this embarrassment.”
“I’m sorry,” I choked to my father, panicking as I realized I was about to lose everything that I had invested in and endured up until now. “I didn’t mean it. Dalton was a mistake…”
Hearing me trail off, my mother chimed in. “Did he force you?”
“No, Dalton is a good man, he would never,” I said.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Mother muttered.
“I explicitly told you to stay away from the Jones boy.” My father put his phone back into his pocket. “You’re getting one more chance, and you better thank your mother for that because if Nadine wasn’t here, then you would no longer have a successful future right now.”
“Thank you, Mother,” I mumbled.
My father drove me home, informing me how uncomfortable he was with me still staying in the Jones complex.
“Because August Jones went out of his way to help us out in securing you a room so close to campus, I won’t pull you out of here yet, but you avoid his son as if he has a disease. If you need maintenance done, let me know and I’ll hire someone to come in for you.” He waited for my reply, but I never gave it to him. “Honestly, Brittany, I don’t see how you can be attracted to someone so similar your sister’s murderer.”
We’d reached the complex, and I stared longingly at the steps leading in. I opened the car door. “Goodbye.”
“Brittany!”
“Don’t worry, I value my future more than some strange man,” I said, trying to convince myself more than I was trying to convince him. Dinner with my parents had been way too real and had woken me up to the craziness I had gotten swept up in. The beautiful man next door was poison to my career and my relationship with my family, a venom that I loved to drip over my lips. Dalton was that bottle my parents had kept locked out of reach, constantly slapping my wrists whenever I reached out for the forbidden liquid to coat me inside with its warmth.
I wanted him, sure, but he was out of my reach. And the truth was, with me being afraid to turn down my father’s money, I realized that Dalton was too good for me.
I went straight to my apartment without lingering around Dalton’s door. Once inside my own apartment, I put my foot through the painting I had completed after our date. The blue of the ocean I had painted came off on my leather shoes, and I smiled to myself when I recognized them as a gift from my father. I left the painting by the front door, intending to walk it out to the garbage bin tomorrow morning.
I poured myself a glass of wine and tried to study, but all I could think about was that forbidden happiness on the other side of the apartment wall—a wall my father paid for.
Hours passed, and I grew sleepy. My wine was mostly forgotten as my eyes blazed through my textbook. At one point, I reached for the wine but missed and knocked it. It wobbled for a second before spilling forward, all over my blouse.
“Crap,” I said. I was covered in wine. I removed my shirt. My bra was stained from the wine, so I removed that, too. I put on a robe to go down to the basement and attempt to salvage my shirt. Some time had passed since my disastrous dinner, and it was now very late at night, so I didn’t expect to see anyone in the washer and dryer room.
Chapter 15
Dalton
I had made a point to avoid the lower level hallway today, doing my workout from my room and steering clear of Brittany’s new favorite study corner in the courtyard. After my warning from Tommy, I had promised myself not to see Brittany until I had figured out a way to extricate myself from the gang.
Later at night, I noticed a missed message on the request portal. The washing machine was down, and I knew everyone in the building would be angry if it didn’t get fixed quickly. Even though it was late, I headed down to fix it.
The last thing I expected was to see Brittany waltz in wearing only a robe, the opening slit in the front blowing ajar and revealing her cleavage. The sides of her breasts poked defiantly out, showing at least a third of themselves. In my ripped jeans and stained white shirt I must have looked like a degenerate, crouched down behind the washing machine with grease over my hands and forearms.
“Hey, stranger.” I didn’t stand because I knew I had gone stiff in my pants seeing her robe billow open slightly as she jumped in shock at my voice. “It’s just me,” I reassured her.
She dropped a shirt and bra and brought her hands up to her face as if she were hiding tears. She wasn’t crying, but I could tell she was trying not to.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. I stood up, not caring if she saw my stiffness or not, and wiped my greasy hands on my shirt as I walked toward her. I wanted to know why she was upset so that I could fix it. Even if I couldn’t fix it, I wanted to try.
“I just want to live my own life,” she said with exasperation, still covering her mouth with her hands but looking at me so fiercely I thought she was going to bore through me with heat vision. “My father tried to introduce me to a potential husband, and we got into a huge fight.”
I wanted to hug her and calm her down, but I knew I would ruin her robe with the grease all over my fingers. “You don’t deserve this, Brittany, you deserve your own life.”
Without hesitation, she flung herself into my torso and locked me in an embrace. If I had been shorter or had thinner legs, her force may have knocked me back, but I stood solid as she buried her face in my chest. She didn’t care about the grease, I realized.
“I smashed one of my paintings today,” she told me, her voice muffled in my shirt.
“Why’d you do that?”
“I thought it would make me not want to paint anymore, but it was just stupid. Nothing can kill my love for painting, but my father is slowly trying to suffocate it. I feel like I can’t breathe, Dalton.”
I wrapped my arms around her, staining her robe black as I did. I could tell she was panicking, her breath came short and shallow. With a squeeze, I said, “Breathe with me.”
Taking in a deep breath, I let my lungs lift my chest and Brittany’s head along with it before falling back down on the exhale. I did that a few ti
mes while Brittany synced her breathing with mine, prohibiting the hyperventilation she had started to fall into.
The next words I uttered came from deep within me, a place I had blocked off and kept secret even from myself, and I had only said something similar to one other person in my entire life a long time ago…the time I failed to fulfill my promise. “You can do whatever you want, Brittany, and you don’t need anyone’s help. You don’t need your father, you don’t need a man, you just need you. I know I’m a broke apartment manager who isn’t the catch any girl wants to bring home to daddy, but if you want me I will protect you from anyone who tells you that something is out of your reach, and if they try to harm you then I’ll be the wall that stands in their way. I know you don’t need me, and I know you don’t want me—”
“Stop.” She lifted her head off of my chest and looked up at me.
She doesn’t want me, I kept repeating to myself in my head, she only wants me now because she doesn’t know who I truly am. If she knew who I truly was, then she would run quickly away from me.
“You shouldn’t want me,” I said. “If you knew who I truly was—”
“I said…” She started to say “stop,” but her lips froze and remained slightly apart, quivering as she looked up at me. Her robe had shifted during our embrace and it hung loosely off of her right shoulder.
I moved to replace it politely, but she stopped me by grabbing my hand.
“You’re really bad at listening,” she whispered, our eyes locked as we stood together, bodies pressed tightly to one another. Still clutching my hand, she slowly moved it back down to her own arm, making me undress her. When the right shoulder of her robe was fully removed, she took my hand and brought it to the left shoulder. Still staring deep into my eyes, she controlled my hands and made me peel the top of her robe completely off.
Her breasts bounced playfully when the fabric of the robe fell off of them. Brittany lightly moaned, closing her eyes and leaning her head back as I grew harder against her at the sight of her chest. Unable to control my urges any longer, I grabbed her forcefully around the torso and brought her atop the washing machine. My lips found hers, and all the tension fled my body as we moaned in each other’s mouths. Her tongue flit in and out of my mouth before I went lower to taste her neck down to her collarbone. As I went further, I nibbled lightly on her nipple, and she began to paw searchingly at my belt buckle.