Scarred: A New Adult Romance (The Anderson Brothers Series Book 1)

by Long, Marie

  “It’s two months away, but I will try and make plans to be there.”

  A quick check of my phone shows 9:52. I slide out of my chair and extend my hand to her. “I might as well take you home. Let’s do a movie next time.”

  She takes my hand as she stands. Hers feels soft, smooth, and warm. “Next time sounds good.”

  We leave the restaurant and get back on the bike. She doesn’t seem afraid this time as we ride through town and back to her house. She gets off, shrugs out of the jacket, and stands at the curb.

  “Thanks for dinner. And the motorcycle ride. It was nice.”

  I put the jacket on and become engulfed in her warmth and cocoa-pear scent. I smile from underneath my helmet, but realize she probably can’t see it, so I give her a thumbs-up instead. “Anytime. Maybe I’ll see you Monday?” I wonder if my voice sounds muffled to her.

  She nods, my only indication that she can still understand me. “Yeah, sure.” She gives a little wave of her hand, though I can see from the look on her face that she’s troubled about something. “Hey, Dominick, I—” She looks away. “Never mind. Bye.”

  Before I can say anything more, she turns and heads for the front door. I frown. Bye, Denise.

  I wait until she’s safely inside before I leave. Her troubled look remains etched in my mind. I know that look. She wants to trust me but doesn’t think she can.

  * * *

  He haunts my dreams again.

  “Turn around.”

  I shudder and feel my eyes burn with fresh tears, but I hold them back. I’m not gonna let them fall. Not in front of him.

  “Only little pansies cry,” he says. “If you’re going to be a little pansy, then I’ll treat you like one.”

  He spanks me on the ass. Hard. I yelp, but I hold the tears back. He pushes me face first to the floor and kneels down behind me. I just want it to end.

  * * *

  The sound of the front door slamming downstairs jerks me out of my sleep. Staring blindly at the darkness, I lie still in bed and listen to the sounds of two sets of footsteps. I check the clock on my phone. 4:45. Damn, way too early. I recognize Chris and Adrienne’s low voices, which are suddenly cut off by the sounds of Chris’s bedroom door closing. With a sigh, I get out of bed and retrieve my music player and noise-cancelling headphones from the desk. The walls are thin, and once they get going, I’ll hear every moan and groan from their fucking. Slipping the headphones on, I lie back in bed. I start up the player to a random hip-hop song and close my eyes, letting the music take over while I try to relax. I mull over my dreams—nightmares—and my date with Denise.

  That look of doubt on her face. Like tonight didn’t even matter.

  Who knows if I’ll see her on Monday? Maybe by then she will have forgotten all about me. Just my luck, she will have moved on to someone else. Like they all do.

  Chapter 7

  I wake up late, despite my trouble sleeping last night. I couldn’t stop thinking about Denise all night, and she remains on my mind even now.

  I totally fucked up last night.

  I check my phone, curious if she’s called, but there’s nothing. Not even a text. I know I shouldn’t be worrying about it. I mean, it’s too early to tell whether or not she’s interested in me. But even as I think the words, my heart aches at the thought that I might never see her again.

  Why should I even care?

  Because there’s something about Denise—something genuine—that draws me to her.

  I swipe the screen on my phone and check my email. Buried within the notices and announcements sent by the university, I spot a newsletter from one of the local nightclubs with the subject, “Don’t Miss DJ Kevitron!” and quickly open it. Kevin is scheduled to be the featured deejay there tonight from ten till two. After last night, I feel like confiding in my brother. He’ll help me get out of my funk.

  The house is quiet, even when I leave the bathroom, showered and dressed, but based on Chris’s shut door, he’s still home. He and Adrienne must’ve went on pretty late last night.

  I’m too pissed to worry about it. My stomach growls, and, deciding to leave my depressing shit at home, I head over to Loriano’s, my favorite pizza joint in Seattle, and one of the few local eateries open on Sundays. The place is not as crowded today as it is during the week, but it’s still busy. I buy a giant slice of their famous “big-as-your-head” pizza and a beer, and then head to an unoccupied booth near the back of the restaurant. I stare at my cell phone screen—again—and think about Denise—her perfect smile, ebony eyes, cornrowed hair, and pear scent.

  Her number stares back at me from the call log. I shove the phone back into my pocket.

  If she wants to talk to me, then she’ll call.

  My gut sinks. What if I freaked her out? So many scenarios run through my mind that I can’t concentrate on lunch. I force a bite of the hot pizza and relax as I savor the truly authentic, New-York-style taste. My eyes drift up to the ceiling where a TV hangs showing the sports channel. Professional basketball scores scroll across the screen along with highlights of last night’s games.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I reach for it. I whip out the phone and pray it’s Denise, but I hesitate to look at the lit-up screen. I inhale, finally take a peek, and exhale. Damn. Just a text from Chris.

  Adrienne’s a keeper! :)

  I’m glad to see that Chris found some stability for a change. It’s about damn time. And yet, here I am, wallowing in self-pity, deep in a love funk that would rival one of Chris’s past episodes. As I polish off my beer, someone slides in my booth and sits across from me. It’s Alonzo, my M/C club’s road captain. His girlfriend, Lindsey, works here as a waitress.

  “The hell you doing here, Genius?” Lonz says with a bright smile.

  I cringe. Genius. I’ll never get used to that nickname my club brothers gave me once I became a full-fledged member. The guys always get on my case about how crazy I was to major in engineering. But still. “Genius” is the last thing I consider myself.

  He folds his arms and rests them on the table. The short sleeves of his white T-shirt hike up his thick forearms. The Chinese dragon tattoo on his left forearm gave him his nickname, Dragon.

  I pocket my phone. “Nothing much. Just having a late lunch. What’s up with you?”

  He arches a salt-and-pepper eyebrow. “Alone on a Sunday afternoon? What the hell’s going on with you?”

  Lonz is about the same age as Larry, and like Larry, it’s always difficult to hide things from him. Damn old guys. I lower my gaze to my half-eaten pizza. “Nothing, man. Just thinking and killing time ’til tonight. Gonna see my brother.”

  “You two ain’t tired of each other yet?” He laughs.

  I try to laugh as well, but it’s hard. “Who the hell do I talk to about personal shit?”

  “Well, you do have other family besides your brother.” He pats the embroidered patch of the club’s grim reaper emblem on the left side of his leather vest.

  I shake my head. “I’d rather discuss it with blood.”

  “Suit yourself, but if you intend to live out the rest of your life in this social funk, well, it’s not healthy, I tell you.” He motions Lindsey over, and she brings us a pitcher of beer and two frosted mugs. The two of them kiss, and she goes on her way.

  “I’ll be all right, Lonz,” I say.

  Lonz tops off both mugs and slides one my way. “So Darryl says he saw you last night downtown carrying a girl on your bike.” He takes a long swig.

  I frown. “Eh, I was just taking a chick home. Her date had a little too much to drink.” I reach for my beer.

  Lonz eyes me from over the brim of his glass. “Bullshit. Who is she?”

  “I don’t wanna talk about it,” I say, my shoulders slouching.

  “Trouble already?”

  “I told you, man, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

  Lonz sets down his half-empty mug, leans his head in close, and lowers his voice. “If it really is true
and you finally found someone, then that’s great. It’s about damn time.”

  I’m not sure if he had meant that as a joke or compliment, so I stay silent.

  “You’re bringing her to the cookout in June, right?” Lonz asks.

  I shrug. “I dunno.”

  “You should. She’ll have a good time.” He picks up his beer and chugs the remaining contents.

  “I don’t think so.” I tighten my grip around the handle. “Anyway, it’s only been one date.”

  “So take her out on more dates.” Lonz looks at me a little more seriously, though a hint of a smile is still eminent. “You’re a good man, Dominick. She’s lucky to have someone like you.”

  His words are comforting, but he has no idea what happened last night. “I don’t think she’s interested, Lonz.” I look at him sadly. “She doesn’t trust me.”

  Lonz stares at me a moment, then shrugs. “Then let her get to know you better so she can.”

  “It’s not that easy. I wanna take things slow, but I’m not sure she wants that.”

  “Stop overthinking things, boy. You know, I thought that about Lindsey, too, when I first met her, but we talked little by little. And now, I wouldn’t trade her for nothin’.”

  “That’s all well and good for you, man, but that’s not the norm in this fast-paced college life.” I tip back my beer and finish every last drop.

  “No, you haven’t met the right one yet. That’s college life. Enjoy what’s out there as much as you can, while you can, so you can settle down later.”

  “I don’t want to settle down until I find a girl I know won’t end up breaking my heart.”

  “You’re living that make-believe shit. You twentysomethings are all about taste testing. Seeing what’s out there. That’s what it’s all about, right?”

  I rub the back of my head. “I guess.” So maybe it’s just me who’s not normal. I think about Chris and the many different women he’s brought home almost every night. Why did that shit always piss me off?

  Instability, like Pops, that son of a bitch. He broke Mama’s heart. Bad. Drove her insane to the point where she didn’t even care about us—about me. And frankly, I stopped caring, too.

  My phone vibrates again, snapping me out of my thoughts. I pull it out and check the screen. Disappointment fills me when I see it’s another text from Chris.

  Goin 2 another house party tonight with Adri.

  u and denise wanna come?

  Grimacing, I stick the phone back in my pocket without replying. I look across the table at Lonz, who lifts an eyebrow. I shake my head and say, “It wasn’t her.”

  He slides out of the booth. “Whatever, man. I expect to see you and your girlfriend at the cookout. No excuses.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend. And honestly, I don’t know what’s going to happen in two months.”

  “Well, you better show. Come up with a reason to bring her. Trust me, it will do you both a bit of good.”

  Before I have a chance to respond, he turns and leaves, stopping only briefly to pay for the beers and to kiss Lindsey goodbye.

  I remain in my booth alone, staring at my now-cold, unfinished pizza and wonder if perhaps I still do have a chance with Denise after all.

  Chapter 8

  I head downtown to Club Riyze. It’s after ten, and the line out the entrance nearly wraps around the block. I’m glad to see my brother has a lot of fans. Standing on line, I can feel the familiar thumping beats of Kevin’s house music. “DJ Kevitron” posters are plastered all over the walls outside the club. Across the street, a bus stops and lets off a group of people who are dressed for the club. Spread on the side of the bus is an advertisement for a new action movie that looks pretty good.

  Denise loves action movies. I’d love to take her to see it.

  The line shuffles along quickly, and I soon reach the front. After showing the bouncer my ID, I head in and push my way through the sea of well-dressed bodies toward the large raised platform forming the stage where Kevin’s set up at his deejay mixer. The smell of alcohol mixed with sweat, cheap perfume, and cologne hangs in the air. There’s barely room to walk, much less dance, in the tight confines of the dance floor. After several minutes of squeezing my way through the crowd, I finally make it to the foot of the stage and gaze up at Kevin. He’s wearing an oversized red hoodie with the words “Urban Fantasmic” written in graffiti-style letters across the front. A black baseball cap is flipped backwards on his head. With one hand, he holds one end of a pair of thick headphones to one ear, and with the other, he messes with the mixers. His head bobs in time to the bass beat, which vibrates the floor. The pumped-up crowd cheers and hollers at the stage, some of them raising their hands—sloshing drinks and all—in the air while they move in place to the music. I keep my eyes on Kevin, hoping he will notice me, but with all these people around, that’s unlikely.

  I make my way to the bar for a drink. After several minutes of inching my way through the jam-packed area and waving down one of the scrambling bartenders, I’m finally sipping on a rum ’n Coke. I look for a spot where I can stand against the wall, but it’s impossible, so I head upstairs to the Blue Room. The room is literally tinted with blue lighting and has a huge glass window overlooking the dance floor and stage. There are three couches in the room, all of them occupied by couples. I cringe at the sight of one of the couples making out. Makes me remember my fucked-up date with Denise.

  Fortunately, there’s standing room. I wander over to the window and peer out at the people below. The music’s not as loud up here, but the thumping bass still vibrates the room. As I nurse my drink, a group of girls nearby starts giggling. Then I hear a familiar voice and fix my gaze on the opposite corner of the room.

  “I know! Can you believe he just surprised me like that all the way from Chicago?”

  Denise!

  Butterflies swarm my stomach when I hear her beautiful voice. She doesn’t notice me as she talks among her girlfriends, who all have drinks in their hands. Denise is dressed in a short—but not too short—backless, silver, sparkling dress that shows off her long legs. She truly has a beautiful body, and I want her. But then I replay last night’s ordeal and realize I can’t.

  Maybe she’s just here for girls’ night out. I can at least go say “hi,” right?

  I gulp the rest of my drink and wander over to her. Her pear scent immediately triggers my senses. The girls stop talking as I draw near, and look to me, their eyebrows raising. Denise’s mouth opens slightly, and her eyes widen a little.

  “Hi, Denise.” I smile, locking my gaze on her.

  “Dominick!” she says, then looks around nervously.

  “You look nice tonight.”

  She smiles. “Thank you.”

  Her girlfriends continue to watch me carefully, and I nod politely at them. But I keep my attention focused on Denise. “Hey, I saw there’s a new action flick playing next week. Would you like to go see it with—”

  A figure suddenly looms behind Denise and places both hands on her bare shoulders. She flinches and turns around. “Oh! You scared me.”

  A guy steps into a pale blue light that filters down from the ceiling. He looks about my age and height, physically fit, with a goatee on one of those pretty boy faces that girls fawn over. He’s dressed sharp in a navy blue button-down shirt, crisp pants, and shoes that look brand new. He leans over and kisses Denise on the cheek, then casts a charming smile at her girlfriends.

  “You fine ladies need a refill on those drinks?” he asks, and then his eyes cut to mine and his expression hardens. “Oh, sorry, man, didn’t see you there.”

  I clench my jaw. The sweet taste of my drink lingering on my tongue turns bitter.

  Denise steps aside while hooking her arm with Prettyboy’s. “Dominick, this is William. William, Dominick.”

  “Hey,” William says, lifting his chin a little.

  “’Sup.” I return the gesture. My gaze flits to Denise, who’s now huddled up against him, seemi
ng to enjoy that closeness a little too much.

  The butterflies get stronger. I hope to God this isn’t what I think it is.

  William glances to Denise. “What are you drinking, baby? I’ll get you a refill.”

  Denise grins and downs the rest of the amber-colored concoction. “You mean you’ve forgotten my favorite drink?”

  Running a hand through his short, twist-out ’fro, William returns the grin. “Hmm. Long Island Iced Tea, right? Ain’t been that long.”

  I stiffen. That long? Since what?

  William leaves, and I feel inclined to do so as well. This feels too awkward. “So, uh … I guess I’ll see you around campus sometime?”

  Denise nods, her beautiful smile never faltering. “Sure.”

  “Okay, well, I’m gonna go downstairs for a while.”

  Her smile fades.

  I turn away from the group and head downstairs.

  It has to be true that they’re together, because the truth is supposed to hurt, right?

  So my suspicions about last night were right. None of it mattered to her. It was all a lie. How could I have been so fucking stupid?

  I’ll vent my frustrations out on Kevin. He’s the only one who will listen. The only one I can trust.

  I remain downstairs until closing time. The crowd starts filing out of the club, Denise and William nowhere in sight—probably long gone by now.

  Thank God.

  I hop on stage to meet Kevin, who’s busy breaking down his deejay equipment and setting it back in the carrying cases.

  “Great show tonight, bro,” I say, slapping him on the back.

  Kevin pauses from wrapping up a cord. “Hey, Dom. Thanks.”

  I slip a few used records back in their sleeves and place them in the crates with the rest. “I got an email saying you were going to be here tonight. Of course I wouldn’t miss this shit for nothing, especially when it’s at one of my favorite clubs in Seattle.”

  “Aw, thanks, man. Yeah, it was pretty packed tonight. I’m sure I’ll be back here again real soon.”