Stripped From You

by Marissa Carmel

  “I really need to go.” Her voice sounds small and wavering.

  “When can I see you again?” I ask, a little too eager.

  “Um,” she dithers. “I was going to go to the beach tomorrow. Do you want to meet me?”

  HELL YES.

  “Sure, which beach?”

  “Can we go back to the one that has the view of the city?”

  “Absolutely.” I put my hand on her neck and caress her skin with my thumb. She’s so unbelievably soft.

  “Ten o’clock good?”

  “Whatever time you want,” I say delicately, nuzzling my nose in her hair.

  She exhales like I’m breaking her down. I hope to God that I am. Then I hear the car door open. I’ll give it to her, she has one hell of a resolve.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, slipping into the front seat without even a peck on the cheek.

  Alana turns on the engine and the A5 purrs to life. She shoots me a cutsie glance right before she pulls away, leaving me in the dark, and the dust.

  This girl is going to be my demise.

  Over the last three weeks I have learned that Alana loves caramel iced lattes from this little breakfast place on the promenade, she speaks French, was the salutatorian of her high school class, and secretly wants a tattoo. She hates black olives, snakes, and anything that sounds remotely related to Phish. Also, her favorite ice cream flavor is dulce de leche. Whatever the fuck that is.

  What's more, I still can’t figure out what her definition of casual is, because we've spent every day together in some way, shape, or form.

  Not that I’m complaining.

  The time I’ve spent getting to know her has been amazing. She’s amazing, but there’s this wall. She has no problem sucking my face off for hours on end, leaving me starving and wanting more, but as soon as I try to get closer, her guard goes up. It’s incredibly frustrating, not to mention confusing. I know she likes me. More than likes me. I just can’t figure out what the issue is.

  I knew she was going to be a challenge from the very first day. It’s like she was egging me on, and I walked right into her trap. Because now she has me. She owns me. It’s no secret. At least not to me. And at this point I’m not sure if I like the chase or hate the hunt. All I know is every little crumb she gives me only makes me hunger for more. More of her. More of her body and more of her heart. And I’m pretty sure she’s not going to hand either of those things over to me that easily.

  Doesn’t mean I’m not going to fight for them.

  I’ll even fight dirty if I have to.

  I pull into the parking lot of Tradewinds. Work has been awesome to say the least. I never leave with anything less than three hundred dollars in my pocket, and the job is cake. Minimal set-up and minimal break down. Mac is already behind the bar when I walk through the doors. He’s pouring ice into one of the bins. I hop over the bar top, grab the other bucket, and fill up the last station. The club looks different with the lights on. You can catch the colorful patterns in the dark rug and see the ocean clearly through the huge windows. When the sun goes down it’s just a black void beyond the outside lights.

  “Nice of you to show,” Mac digs sarcastically.

  “Isn’t it?” I smile.

  “Oh how I missed those pearly whites.”

  I smile wider to give him a better looksee.

  “Is your girl coming in tonight?”

  “She’s not my girl,” I huff.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, the chick you hang out with every day who doesn’t give you any ass.”

  “That would be more how I would describe her.”

  “My head would be ready to explode, I don’t know how you do it. Especially with her.”

  “It isn’t a cake walk,” I grumble as I pull the plastic wrap off the bottle tops. It keeps the fruit flies out of the alcohol. “But I like her, what can I say.”

  “I think you looove her.” Mac bats his eyelashes at me.

  I punch him in the arm. “Shut the fuck up.”

  “Ouch.” He rubs his bicep. Puny thing that it is. “Is she coming in tonight or not?”

  “Yeah, she is, why are you so interested?”

  “I want to hook up with her friend.”

  “Which one?”

  “The one with the short blonde hair, she’s cute.”

  “That’s her cousin, and I’ll see what I can do. No promises though.”

  “Please, when has a women ever resisted me?” he asks arrogantly.

  “Do you want just dates and times, or places too?”

  “Whatever, dude.” He snaps my leg with a bar rag.

  The club is packed. There’s some celebrity DJ spinning tonight, and people have come out of the woodwork. I haven’t stopped moving since the doors opened at eight. This will be a five hundred dollar night easy. I'm mixing two Red Bull and vodkas when I look up and see Alana and Emily standing there watching me. I wink then finish making the drinks and hand them off to the customer. I lean over the bar and kiss Alana hello. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” she responds with a cute little smile; her shy smile that dissolves my insides.

  “Hi Ryan,” Emily says over the music, “Can I have my usual?”

  “Of course.” I grab a plastic cup from the stack and flip it into my hand. Before I even scoop the ice, Mac is by my side leaning over the bar flirtatiously. I can't hear what he's saying over the music, but I can imagine. I pour Emily's usual, a Grey Goose and tonic with a splash of cranberry, and hand it over to her. She tries to give me money but I wave her off. "On me."

  She takes a small, appreciative sip. "Thanks." Then throws a twenty on the bar. She’s a big tipper regardless if I give her drinks for free or not. Must be nice to have money to burn.

  “So, what are you guys talking about?” I pin Mac with my eyes, knowing he's up to no good.

  “I was telling Alana that my uncle's beach house is unoccupied next week, and I want to get the crew together to go. I told her the two of you should come.” Then he looks at Emily. "You're invited too." He pops his eyebrows at her, and she curls her lip.

  She’s clearly not Mac’s number one fan.

  I clear my throat. "Time, nine forty-seven PM, place Tradewinds, date June twenty-seventh."

  Mac elbows me. "Whatever, it will be a good time. Consider it," he says to Alana and Emily, then he walks away to help a customer.

  “What was that about?” Alana asks.

  “Mac is into Emily, he wants to hook up.”

  “Oh yeah?” Emily scoffs. “He needs to work on his Slick Rick impression if he wants to get anywhere near me. You can tell him I said that too.” She bites on her straw.

  “I'll relay the message.” I laugh and take a drink order from a guy fighting his way through the crowd. People are ruthless tonight.

  “We're going to go dance,” Alana tells me, as the guy and I exchange a double O seven and some money.

  “Have fun,” I yell. “Stay out of trouble.”

  “I'll do my best,” she flirts. “But I can't make any promises for Emily.” Then she's gone, swallowed up by the masses. I miss her already.

  Alana's been dancing the night away. And I watch her every chance I get. She's again dressed in tight little shorts and hot high heels. She never looks slutty though. She always carries herself with grace and poise, like a princess under a microscope. She’s definitely under my microscope. Especially in here, where all the guys notice her, try to talk to her, lust after her. It drives me out of my fucking mind. I have her under surveillance, every bouncer is watching her. If someone so much as looks at her the wrong way, it’s over for them.

  I’m pulling beer out of the cooler when I see her snaking her way through the crowd. She's coming straight towards me and when she reaches the bar I notice she’s breathing heavy and glistening with sweat. It’s not the time for dirty thoughts, but I can’t control it. I secretly wish I was the one making her look like that. I picture myself licking off every single salty droplet. I shake the
fantasy off when I realize she’s staring at me strangely. She knows I was daydreaming. She can read me so well, it’s scary.

  “What was going through that head of yours?” she asks with this subtle little look.

  “Nothing,” I respond as nonchalantly as possible as I crack open a bottle and hand her some water. She gives me a skeptical look. I only smile at her in return.

  "Where's Emily?" I ask.

  “Not sure, at the back bar with Tara maybe?” Tara is another bartender who Emily happened to go to high school with. She and Alana usually split time between our bars when they're here.

  “I'm going to dance,” she announces after slugging some water. She’s getting pushed and shoved like cattle standing at the bar.

  “Hey,” I call her back before she disappears onto the dance floor. "I don’t like you being alone."

  She shoots me an indescribable look. “I'm not alone. I know you have every eye in this place watching me.”

  Oops, busted. I can’t tell if she’s pissed about it or not. I don’t really care if she is.

  “Guilty. But better safe than sorry.”

  She raises an eyebrow at me impishly without another word. Man, what I wouldn't give to live in her head for five freaking minutes. Then she disappears.

  The night is moving so quickly, by the time I have a chance to look up it’s closing in on one AM. I hadn’t even noticed that Alana was back at the bar, and now that I have, I don’t like what I see. She’s being harassed by some dickhead who's been prowling the floor all night. He’s one of those assholes who gives every guy a bad name. And now he's shouting in her face.

  Fuck. That.

  I cease whatever it is I’m doing as a lick of rage shoots through my insides. All at once I stalk over and slam my hand down on the bar top repeatedly taking both of them by surprise. “Beat it buddy, she’s spoken for,” I growl.

  “Piss off,” he barks at me. “It’s not her I'm interested in. Where the fuck is Emily?"

  “She's not here.” Alana seethes.

  “Bullshit. The two of you are practically inseparable. Wherever you are, she is.”

  “Not tonight.” Alana stands firm.

  I watch their interaction and when he goes to grab her I snap. “That's it.” I snatch his arm over the bar. “Either you leave on your own or I'll have the nice fella with the thick neck escort you out. And believe me, if that happens, it'll hurt.”

  The douchebag growls under his breath before he rips his arm out of my grip. I stare him down, indicating he’s fucked if he causes any trouble.

  “You better run for your goddamn life.” He glances at Alana then back to me. “Remington girls are nothing but a disease.”

  He disappears deviously into the crowd after that, while the strobe lights dance overhead. I stare out into the mob then draw my eyes down to Alana; she’s gazing at me impassively. I think maybe I’m the one who’s fucked. Proclaiming we're an item may have been a step over the line.

  “Who was that?” I ask.

  “Some guy Emily dated last summer. I don't know what his problem is, they went out for like a month. Then he went all Swimfan on her.” She peers at me coolly. “I need to go find her.”

  “Probably a good idea,” I agree collectedly, even though the look she's giving me is tying me in knots.

  She turns to leave, but I grab her hand before she goes. "Are we okay?"

  “We're fine,” she replies unconvincingly, looking down at our entwined fingers. Then she slips her hand out of mine and goes to look for Emily.

  Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

  I reluctantly serve drink after drink, scanning the crowd for any sign of Alana. I don’t know how long ago she left, but every single second that ticks by feels like agony. I just need to see her, gauge her reaction, hope there’s something in her eyes that tells me what we have isn’t over. Then, just like I wished it, she's standing right in front of me.

  “Have you seen Emily?" she asks a little panicked.

  "No, she hasn't been here.” I stop scooping ice.

  Alana looks around again. “I can't find her anywhere.”

  A little streak of dread bolts through me. I suddenly regret not tossing that asshole out of here with my own two hands.

  “Okay, we'll find her. I'm sure she's around.” I try to placate her. I hop onto the bar and scan the club. Emily's boy short blonde hair should be easy to spot. After a few minutes of searching, someone is shining a light in my eyes. It's Kris, one of the bouncers. "Everything alright?" His low timber vibrates up to me.

  I hop off the bar. “Looking for a girl. Really short blonde hair. Tiny little thing. Seen anyone like that?”

  “I haven't. Want me to look?”

  “Yeah, I'm going to check outside. She had an ex looking for her earlier.”

  Kris nods his head in understanding. The muscles in his rock solid neck ripple as he tenses. Situations like these are nothing unusual in this environment. I start for the door with Alana on my heels. “Stay here,” I tell her.

  “Ryan, no,” she argues. “Emily is my cousin.”

  I turn around and glare at her. “Please, Alana, just stay inside so I don’t have to worry about you too.” I try to say it with as much composure as possible, but the very worst is running through my mind. That guy had the balls to touch Alana in public, so it's easy to imagine what he's capable of doing to Emily in private. The thought turns my stomach. When I get outside the first thing I do is scan the parking lot. It's packed with cars and dimly lit. I jog out onto the pavement looking and listening. Then my body erupts in chills when I hear Emily's rattled voice. I zigzag through the cars following the sound until I find her pinned up against a black F-150 with her hands defensively in front of her face.

  Motherfucker!

  “Hey asshole!” I sneer, and they both snap their heads in my direction. “You wanna put your hands on someone, try me.”

  “I thought I told you to piss off already? This has nothing to do with you.”

  “I guess I don't listen very well.” I step closer dauntingly. “And it has everything to do with me.”

  The douchebag lets go of Emily and stares me down. If he wants to go, we’ll go. Then without any warning he lunges at me. In a knee jerk reaction I body check him into the side of the truck. He hits hard, the sound of steel crunches from the force. It leaves a dent. The guy just shakes it off then comes at me again. This one is tougher than he looks.

  With my heart hammering in my chest, I unload my fist, landing an uppercut square beneath his jaw. I hear his teeth clamp together on contact. Then he drops like a sack of potatoes. How fucking pathetic. One stinkin’ punch? I only get one stinkin’ punch? I guess my assessment was wrong. He isn’t as tough as he looks.

  Loser.

  I gaze down at the dimwit wearing a dark blue baseball cap and plaid shirt as he groans on the ground, holding his mouth. Adrenaline is coursing through me like an electrical current. I want to pick him up and hit him again, but I don't. I don't touch him. I know if Sean were here he’d kick him while he was down. Sometimes I wish I had a more sinister side.

  But I don’t.

  Then Emily does something that takes me completely by surprise. She boots him right in the gut. She clearly has a sinister side. “You're a fucking asshole!” she spits. “I told you before, and I'll tell you again. Stay the hell away from me!”

  I hear Alana gasp behind me as she rushes to Emily’s side. “What happened?”

  “Todd happened." Emily sighs, hugging her. "Then Ryan happened." She looks over at me gratefully.

  “No biggie.” I try to brush it off with my hand still tingling a little from the punch.

  Emily walks past me with Alana on her arm. "Biggie," she asserts.

  A few seconds later Spiro, Kris, and two other bouncers find us. This is turning into a spectacle.

  Kris and Adam pick the guy up off the ground and haul him away. No doubt into Spiro’s office to get a few good punches in for themselves.

 
; “Are you okay?" Spiro asks Emily.

  “Fine, you need to give this guy a raise.” Emily backhands me on the stomach. "I just need to get drunk."

  “You sure that's a good idea?” Alana pulls at Emily's arm.

  “It's a spectacular idea,” Emily says, hauling Alana back towards the club.

  “Well, your drinks are on the house.” Spiro informs her as we walk behind the girls.

  Emily glances back and bats her eyelashes. Mac may not have a chance with her, but Spiro might.

  “So you're a bartender and a superhero?" he asks as he cranes his head, blatantly checking out both their asses. If he wasn't my boss, and Alana was actually my girlfriend, I'd loosen my fist on him too.

  “I think superhero is a little too strong of a word.”

  “I think it's the perfect word," Emily announces still facing forward. Alana looks back at me with an unreadable expression on her face. And now a thousand worries are cluttering my mind. She's mad. I know she's mad; mad that I said she was spoken for and mad that I ordered her to stay behind. Maybe she's determined I've become too attached and is deciding at this very moment things need to end. The thought rips a hole right through my stomach.