by Brandi Aga
“I’ve never really been one to talk to people online. I’m too paranoid. I don’t want to end up on FOX news.”
“I’m glad you’re careful and all, but how do I know you’re not the serial killer and I won’t end up on the news?” he asks, with a smile in his voice.
I laugh. “You got me. Just looking to seduce and bring all of my prey back to the dungeon in my basement.”
Our banter continues seamlessly, and before I know it, I look down at my phone and realize we’ve been talking fluently for forty-five minutes. This is all so new for me, it feels foreign. I don’t even like talking on the phone.
He laughs a little. “There’s no denying you’re from Texas with that accent.”
“Are you already making fun of me? That’s pretty rude.”
“Not making fun at all. I think it’s hot. Always thought there was something sexy about a southern woman.” He knows I’m kidding, but he’s definitely not.
I try to subtly bring up the obvious. “I have no idea who created this app, but I’m not so sure they know what they’re doing. We’re not even in the same state, yet we’re a top match. Makes no sense.” And I’m married.
“See, it’s a sign. It was meant to be.” That’s all he says, and I think I might die a little inside. On that note, I find an excuse to get off the phone. I need a breather, a moment to think, before I do something I’ll really regret.
“Hey, boss, you got a minute?”
I’m not in the mood to be here today. The shop is busy, and the boys keep bustin’ my balls every chance they get. I’m elbow deep in paperwork and invoices. I’ve got bike parts waiting to be built, and apparently, no one can do anything without my help today. Blaze comes in with a weird look on his face, one that I’m all too familiar with, one that means I’m not gonna like what he has to say.
“It’s about Armillio…” He shuts the door and sits down in the chair across from me. Fuck. Those are the words I’ve been dreading to hear. Nightmare after nightmare of hearing that name, haunting me in my sleep. Blaze has been with me through it all since the very beginning, ten years ago when it all went down—when I lost Emerson thanks to that sick fuck. “Word is, he’s resurfaced, but no one knows where or why.”
Armillio Caballero, one of California’s most wanted drug traffickers. He’s not shy about running guns and women either. He has a “club” called Arcane that deals specifically with trafficking women. Looks like a regular night club with an upscale hotel attached until you go diggin’. You won’t find him there unless he has to be.
Had a few bad run-ins, and I was put on his permanent shit list. A drug run gone bad resulted in him using my baby sister to get to me. I couldn’t help her in time, and he had her killed right in front of me. I was young and stupid, thinking I was the king of the streets. Fucked around and stole over one hundred pounds of cocaine and fifty grand in cash. Drugs, money, girls—it came back to bite me in the ass when he found my mom, Diane, five years later. I had it all, until I didn’t.
At the mention of his name, all the old feelings come rushing back—the anger and the pain at seeing her face bloody and beaten, the cuts all over her body with a bullet hole in her head. I can’t let those feelings take over again. I can’t go back to the man I was.
“Okay, well, keep your head down. Hear anything else, come straight to me. I’m gonna ride. Need to get out of here a while.”
“Want me to tag along?” Blaze is worried. He should be.
“Nah, I’m good. Lock up for me today.” I grip his shoulder. “And, Blaze?” He looks at me with all seriousness in his eyes. “No one else knows about this.”
“You got it, boss.” He gives me a nod, and I’m off to shake this feeling. I need to get a grip before I lose sight of reality.
Riding my bike with no set time or destination makes me free. It’s almost better than sex or any drug out there, and trust me, I’ve had my fair share. Speaking of sex, Blaze talked me into using that damn app. He says I need to relax and get some ass, be a normal dude for once. I thought it was stupid and a waste of time, seeing as I can get real pussy anywhere. I don’t need the Internet for that.
I need more than just pictures and words on a screen. Until I saw her. Long black hair over her perfect round tits. Hidden by an Avenged Sevenfold tank top, tight and tiny as hell. Hugs her body in all the right places.
Leylah. She’s fuckin’ gorgeous. I can’t get her out of my head. She makes my dick hard just talking to her.
“Sup, pretty girl.” I make a quick call to her before I ride out. I’ve only had the pleasure of talking to her a couple times on the phone. Says she likes to text.
“Just left a friend’s house, headed home. Probably going to crash. I have work early tomorrow.”
“All right, cool. Well, I’m about to ride. Just thought I’d say what’s up before I head out.” Fuck. Blaze is right, I’m going soft. But I don’t even give a shit right now. It feels good talking to this girl like this.
“Is everything okay? You sound tense. Don’t get me wrong, I like what you’re saying, but are you sure you’re okay?”
I’m nodding before I can make the words come out. “Yeah, babe. I’m good. I’ll call you later.”
“Text me,” she says. “And be careful.”
“’Night.” I gotta ride. My nerves are rattled, and I need to put an end to it for the night.
Ryan’s been spending more and more time out of town. I’ve only seen him a handful of times in the past couple of months. He’s out of the country for another week, unless they change the schedule. Roman and I have been talking frequently over the past few months. The more we talk, the more my heart grows for him. We’ve even facetimed, and some of those late-night calls may or may not have ended in a happy ending.
Just for the record… they totally did.
It’s been a busy day at the hospital. The flu is going around, and we have beds in the hallway full of sickness. I don’t get a break after lunchtime, and it’s been nothing but chaos. I’m more than ready to take a shower and call it a day when seven o’clock rolls around. I let the hot water beat down on me and wash away the dirtiness of the day. The buzzing of texts coming through has me rushing through the rest of my shower. How he does this to me so effortlessly, I don’t even know.
Roman: Hey, darlin’.
Roman: How was work?
Roman: I need to see you.
Me: Give me a sec. Just got out of the shower.
Roman: I wouldn’t mind the view.
Roman: But nah for real, I wanna see you.
I push my boobs up to the top of my towel and take a pic. I crop my face out of it and send.
Roman: Fuck. Killing me with that.
Roman: And I mean not over the phone. Need all of you, babe.
Fuck, there’s that guilt bubbling up inside my chest. I don’t know why I keep doing this, stringing him along. Stringing “us” along, because he thinks there could possibly be an us one day. He already texts and calls me all the time. I told him to text me, that it’s easier than calling for me, but he does it anyway, and I can’t avoid it, no matter how hard I will myself not to answer.
We’ve been talking for months, and he keeps asking me to visit him. I can only beat around this bush for so long before he starts getting suspicious or just stops talking to me altogether. I’m not sure which one would be worse.
He’s going to get tired of FaceTime sooner than later. Phone calls and pictures only go so far for a guy like Roman. A guy like Roman doesn’t just sit around and wait. I feel guilty as hell when I look Ryan in the eye, in the rare opportunity that I get to tell him I love him face to face—while another guy is texting me how much he wants me. But the problem is I do love Ryan. I just want him to love me like he used to. Maybe I just don't want to hurt Ryan to get what I want. I’m too afraid of hurting him and myself.
But I have these feelings for Roman. It’s something I’ve never felt before, and especially nothing this intense this soon.
Ever. I can’t give him up. He’s my addiction, and I’m scared of the low. There’s the high, when everything is beautiful and going the way it’s supposed to, when you’re so happy there’s nothing else to think about. Then everything falls apart and breaks you—that’s the low. I’m high right now, but for how long?
In case you didn’t know, it is possible to give your heart to two people at once.
Me: When?
Roman: Whenever you can get away. Idc. Just need to see your face.
Roman: If I buy you a ticket, will you come?
I could do what I always do, throw caution to the wind and just go for it. Ryan is gone, and when he is here, he’s not really here. What kind of life is this I’m living? I’m half living in this shell of a person I used to be, with nothing but a bunch of distant memories between me and Ryan.
“Okay” is all I manage to reply. I think my brain is a little behind on what my fingers are saying. Either that or it just can’t handle how fucking stupid I really am.
I find myself going through the motions of packing my suitcase. I look down on the bed and see my clothes folded, underwear off to one side.
What am I doing? I can’t do this.
I pick my phone back up and contemplate my options. My screen is lit up with two missed calls. One from Ryan and one from Roman. Ryan’s text soon follows.
Ryan: Just got back to my room. Tired. Had a hard day. Call you tomorrow. Love you.
I’m a basket case of emotions, and it hits me out of nowhere. I sweep the clothes off my bed and can’t stop the tears from spilling over.
I scroll through my contacts and click on Roman’s so I have his number ready. I reach for the iPad on my nightstand and bring up Google, searching how to block a phone number through AT&T.
The instructions are easy. Too easy. It shouldn’t be this simple to get rid of someone in your life. Each number I type in feels like lead going through my fingertips. When I reach the last number and hit the Submit button, my heart gives out.
I clutch the iPad to my chest, and I can’t catch my breath.
I cry.
And I cry.
The next week is foggy. Reality hits me of what I did to Roman, and I almost can’t bear it. I still feel like I’m suffocating.
“Hey, want to watch a movie?” Ryan asks. He flew in yesterday, much to my surprise. I look up from my massive laundry pile that’s suffering thanks to work.
“Sure, just let me put these up.” He nods and leaves the bedroom. I stop folding and stare at the iPad, just inches away, calling out to me.
I can’t do it.
I’m practically clawing my way to the device. I didn’t even X out of the page last time, and his number’s right there on the screen, sitting in the blocked calls section. My finger hovers over the unblock button as I weigh my options. Block or unblock. Right and wrong.
Unblock.
I’m so weak, I should be ashamed. But when my finger hits that button, I can breathe a little lighter.
Me: Hey
Roman: Hey…?
Roman: Where’d you go?
He’s probably mad at me. Confused at the very least. After I agreed to see him and cut off all communication for so long, he has every right to be.
So, I lie.
Me: Sorry. I don’t know what was wrong with my phone.
Me: Couldn’t text or call out.
Roman: I was wondering. Called you and kept getting a busy signal.
Roman: Even called the hospitals in your area to try and get ahold of you. None of them would tell me if you worked there or not.
Roman: You need a new phone.
I kid you not, my life flashes before my eyes. He called my work. Or he thinks he did. What if he talked to someone who works with me and knows me?
“Ley, you coming?”
Shit. Ryan. I forgot he’s waiting on me. “Yeah, I’ll be right down,” I yell back.
I don’t have time to think right now. I’ll deal with Roman later. I type out a quick response and tell him I’m working, since he knows I can’t talk much while I’m at work.
Me: At work. Ttyl
I turn the ringer on vibrate, turn my passcode on, and join Ryan for our movie.
The entire movie, my thoughts are elsewhere. My phone buzzes a few times, but I’m too scared to look at it sitting this close to Ryan. All I want to do is go pee or get a snack… anything to get a quick glance at my texts. But I don’t. I watch Ryan watch the movie, and I can’t help but feel like the shittiest person. I want him to look over at me, to tell me how much he loves me, to sweep me off my feet for no reason like he used to do. But he doesn’t.
No matter my love for Ryan, it doesn’t stop me from thinking about Roman.
“Hey, beautiful.”
I yawn. “Good morning.” It’s probably not the safest thing in the world, but Roman’s facetiming me while I drive to work. It’s early, and even earlier for him.
“Morning? I haven’t even been to bed yet,” he says, as he crawls under his sheets. The camera is wobbly till he gets situated just right. He’s not wearing a shirt, and I can see down to his stomach to where the camera cuts off. He looks so… inviting.
“Why were you up so late?” I turn into the parking garage and find a spot close to the elevator. I left the house a few minutes early so we could have time to talk before I went in.
“Shop guys had some problems. Met up with Blaze afterward.” He clears his throat and changes the subject. “You gonna wear your nurse outfit for me when you come see me?”
I look down at my scrubs. “Maybe, if you ask nicely.”
He grins. “I’m not nice, babe.”
I look around the parking lot, distracted.
“When are you gonna give in?” He tilts his head, motioning to the bed beside him. “I’ve got all this room here waitin’ on you.”
“I don’t know. I want to.” I bite my lip, not knowing what else to say. I hate when he asks.
“What’s stopping you? Want me to come there? ’Cause I will.”
“No,” I blurt all too quickly. “I want to come there. I need to get away. It’s just finding the right time with work. I told you this.”
“Well, find it. Need you, babe.”
The car next to me slams their door, scaring me. “I need to go. I’ll text you later.”
He nods. “Later.”
I’m exhausted, my feet hurt, and I need a shower. It’s been such a long day. I can’t wait to eat and go to bed. Maybe Ryan will grab dinner with me.
“Ryan!” I call out to a dark house. “Where are you?” I start up the stairs and find him in the bedroom… packing his bags. “What are you doing?”
“Hey. I have to go back to Georgia for a few days. I’m sorry.”
“What?”
His face softens when he sees me. He knows how well this isn’t going to go over. “Come on. Don’t give me attitude, Ley. I don’t have time to do that right now.”
I laugh, and not because it’s funny, but because he’s right, he never has time.
Fuck it.
“I’m going to take a shower.” I leave him standing there, dumbfounded that I’m not arguing back. He can go. I’m not helping him this time.
When he’s done packing, he waltzes into the bathroom and knocks on the door. “I need to get going,” he says through the glass wall.
The water is beating down on me, and I’m trying not to cry, really, I am. But I can’t pretend to not be mad and keep my emotions bottled up; something has to come out. “Okay,” I say and force my lips together.
Ryan stands there, not saying anything. I don’t know what he’s waiting for. For me to say something else, to let him know I’m okay? But I’m not okay.
He turns around and leaves the bathroom. I didn’t think he would ever leave. I rest my back against the cold tile and let the water wash away the tears.
I get my shit together and step out of the shower. Wrapping my towel around me, I walk down the hall to make sure
he’s gone. The house is still dark, just like no one had even been here.
The first thing I do is text Roman.
Me: When can I come?
Forty-eight hours later, I’m landing at the John Wayne Airport in Orange County, California. My heart is going to pound out of my chest or I’m going to pass out, maybe both. As soon as I exit the gate, there is no mistaking him. Roman, in all his beautiful glory, is standing there with his hands in his jean pockets, sunglasses pushed back in his hair. He’s wearing a black wife beater with his iconic skull and swallows, his shop logo, on the front. His tattoos are mesmerizing, even more so in person. His arms are nice too, calling my name like they can’t stand to not touch me. I don’t even think twice as I run toward him, and he catches me effortlessly.
“Well shit, it’s about damn time, darlin’.” He’s got the biggest smile on his face, unable to hide that he’s just as excited as I am. I don’t even know what to say or do. I think I’m in shock that I’m actually here.
He pulls back and looks at me, his brows knitted together. “Can I kiss you?”
I’m still in his arms, his hands locked under my ass. I don’t even question it as I lean forward and crash our lips together. I realize we’re in the middle of a public airport with people all around us, but I don’t even care. I relish in his kiss a little while longer before I get down and make myself calm, or at least appear that way on the outside.
“Hi,” I say with a shy smile, although I don’t know why shyness hit me out of nowhere. I think we’re way beyond proper introductions now that I just rammed my tongue down his throat.
Roman grabs my bags and my hand and leads the way to the nearest exit. “Let’s get outta here.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re pulling up to one of the prettiest houses I’ve ever seen—totally not what I expected from this guy. It’s impressive to say the least. He’s never flaunted his money or materialistic things, besides the shop, in any of our conversations.