by Tiana Laveen
“Go on…”
“We practically noticed one another at the exact same time. You zoom in on men like me, and it scares the shit out of you. You’ll probably fall in love with another bad boy because it’s your nature, even though your mind tells you no. It’s your weakness… one of the few you have. You want a fairytale romance, so that contradicts your love for men like me. So, though you feel you can’t fully save yourself, you want to save other women. You don’t believe you’re strong enough to resist, but you hope you can encourage others to avoid the pitfalls. That’s why your outlook is faulty, baby. And let me tell you something else: Not all bad boys are bad to their women.”
“Oh, really?” She smirked as she took another bite of her cobbler.
“A true bad boy knows to keep his shit away from the place he lays his head and the woman who owns his heart. We don’t bring that home to you. That’s a fucking no-no.” He got to his feet. “Thank you for having lunch with me, beautiful. Too bad Allison missed dessert. Make sure you take some back to the room to give to her later.”
“I will. I already thought of that. I will get her one of everything, especially since it’s on your dime.” They both laughed at that. “Honestly, I never texted her, Savage. I changed my mind. I started it, then stopped. I wanted to keep talking to you, alone… just like you wanted.”
He stood there and simply stared at her, loving her beauty, her honesty in that moment. The dark shadow along half of her face was gone… faded like watercolors in the sun.
“Zaire.” He walked around the table and leaned down so close to her face, he could move an inch or two and kiss her. He almost did, but decided to wait… “I’d like to see you later on tonight. It might be my last evening here.”
“Leaving so soon?” Her brow arched as she crossed her arms.
“Maybe. I have some business to attend to. So, before I go, answer a question for me. Is my little rundown about you right? Or a better question is, will you be honest enough to admit that it is? Nothing is sexier than the truth, baby.”
The woman took a while to respond. She didn’t appear flustered or disturbed, but her breathing had accelerated. He observed the rise and fall of her chest, the way her collarbones dipped then rose… dipped then rose again.
“I’d say you were about eighty-seven percent accurate.”
“Well… that’s pretty damn good considering you’ve been rather tightlipped about your own business, but rummaged through mine like it was a clothing rack during a twenty-four-hour sale at Macy’s. Tonight at seven.” He made his way towards the exit, leaving her behind. “Meet me in the lobby this evening. Alone. Don’t be late…”
CHAPTER SIX
Rude Awakening
Caution had been tossed to the wind and she never saw where the bitch landed…
Zaire ran her hand along her arm, the hairs standing on end as a light breeze caused her carefully coiffed hair to blow out of place. Tucking one side behind her left ear, she fought the urge to grin and lost. Her lips curled in appreciation as the god in human flesh approached.
Nice.
Wearing multiple layers of swag and confidence, as well as a black blazer and matching pants and shirt, he stepped close and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into an embrace. A thick gold chain hung from his neck and he smelled like heaven and seduction, lust, and temptation. She shuddered when she felt the softness of his plush lips caress the side of her neck, then land a light peck there. Taken aback, she blinked, her balance compromised as she rocked on her heels. He quickly steadied her by stepping back and pulling her to him with a tug of her wrist, his golden eyes gleaming from the strobing lights right outside the hotel doors.
“You were two minutes early. Perfect. However,” He took a quick glance at his diamonds-on-overload watch, “you didn’t really follow my directions.” He slicked a cigar out of his pocket and quickly lit it. “I asked you to wait in the lobby.” He took a toke and blew out thick swirls of smoke from the corner of his mouth.
“I wanted some fresh air. Besides, you’re not the boss of me.” She grinned. He smiled back, standing tall like some mountain.
“A boss never has to tell you they’re a boss. Their actions speak for themselves.” He took her by the hand and led her down a few steps, to the sidewalk. Suddenly, as if timed to perfection, a shiny black limousine pulled up. A wide man sporting a black chauffeur hat and suit jacket promptly got out of the long luxury vehicle and opened the back door. Without a hitch, Savage led her inside the limo and quickly closed the door behind them. Soft music played—something with a bit of an Indian feel—and the air was cool and sweet. As they pulled away from the curb, she looked around, checking out her surroundings.
A shimmering silver bucket sat before her holding a bottle of red wine and two flutes, surrounded by chunks of ice. To her left was a small silver tray laden with caramel and dark chocolate covered strawberries. The thing was placed on top of a deep red cloth, looking picture perfect. Some were coated in nuts, others with coconut or drizzled with white chocolate.
“Where are we going?” she asked as they approached a light. A crowd of people began to pour onto the street to get from one side to the other.
“We’re going to tour the city, then head over to the Mojave Desert.” He inhaled, then exhaled, the smoke filling the cabin. He cracked the window ever so slightly, allowing beams of vibrant light and street noise to creep inside the private sanctuary.
“The Mojave Desert?” She grabbed a strawberry that was skewed on a stick and examined it. “That’s an odd dating location choice, and it’s over two hours away. Perhaps this would be a good time to call the police. Like, for real.”
“Are you implying that the Mojave Desert, which is a top tourist attraction I might add, is a good place to hide a body?”
“I most certainly am.” She smirked as she teasingly unlocked her cellphone.
“It’s not a good spot… too many people.”
Savage leaned so close to her, she thought he was going to rest his head on her shoulder. And he did.
“I see you have a picture of you and your friends as your screensaver. That’s nice.” He pointed to her phone depicting the three girlfriends, arm and arm in front of one of Kim’s favorite watering holes. She looked down at him, resting on her as if she were some comfortable pillow. He returned her gaze. His eyes went wide and glossed over, jagged bits of hopes and crystalized dreams in their depths, reminding her of a kid wishing upon a star. She could even make out a hint of innocence—something she hadn’t expected to see.
“You have the most amazing shade of eyes… Hazel? Golden chestnut?”
“My mother says they’re topaz.” He chuckled. “Hers are the same color. My father’s are light blue. What’s your first name?”
“Why would you ask that… out of the blue? Like your father’s blue eyes.” She laughed at her involuntary play on words, shaking her head.
“It’s been on my mind.” He reached over to extinguish his cigar in a gold ashtray then leaned back on her shoulder. “Actually, to tell you the truth, I already know it. I just want to hear you say it.”
“I’m not surprised.” She sighed. “You seem like the type to go digging around. And so am I… I know your first name, too…” Their gazes hooked as she ran the pointy end of the succulent red fruit against her lower lip, then popped it into her mouth. The chocolatey sweet flavors and juiciness merged together, exploding in her mouth as she chewed it slow and easy, then swallowed.
“What’s my name?” His deep, husky voice vibrated through her as he now sat up a bit, his mouth close to her ear.
“It’s Maximus.” She picked up another strawberry, this one coated in white and dark chocolate. “There wasn’t a whole lot about you online, but according to Google, you’re a professional gambler, Blackjack being your specialty.”
“Mmm hmmm, what else did you find out?” He crossed his arms.
“Just like you explained to Allison and me, you were b
orn and raised in Vegas but spent a great deal of your time also in California. You’re known for your over-the-top motorcycle collection, some of them quite rare. You seem to own many properties in various states… a bit of a house collector, but overall, you keep a low profile.” He straightened on his seat and ran his hand along his leg, then chuckled. He shook his head, in a pitying sort of way.
“You can’t believe everything you read, Eva.” It was so rare that people referred to her by her first name. Not anymore. “Eva is a pretty name. It suits you.” He rubbed his hands together, and then she noticed how truly huge they were. The left one had a scar that extended from the thumb to the middle finger knuckle.
“Thank you. Zaire sounds edgy though. A better stage name, if you will. That’s why I use it.”
He nodded in understanding. Her breath hitched as he rested his heavy hand across her leg.
“Would you like some wine?” He pulled the bottle of Caymus Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon out of the bucket.
“No, I’m fine. I do enjoy a good sauvignon though. Maybe later.”
The man poured himself a small glass as they passed through the bright and bustling Las Vegas strip. In less than fifteen minutes with him on that ride, her face was flushed with heat and her stomach constricted with laughter. Maximus Savage was a comedian at his core.
“And then the idiot pissed his name all along the sidewalk, right? He turned towards me, his dick still in his hand, going full blast.”
“No!” She lost it, succumbing to pure delirium.
“So now I’m haulin’ his ass home with his fuckin’ piss all over the front of my pants, which means we both look drunk and I look like I peed on myself!”
She slumped over in her seat, her eyes glossing over with tears of mirth.
“I know you wanted to jump on him after that.” She took a few breaths, trying to gain her composure.
“Yeah.” He smiled, showing nice teeth. “But that was a long time ago… right here on the strip. John was my buddy for over twenty years; he lives in Canada now. Those were good times.”
“See? It’s hard when you go out and have a friend who drinks too much. It can ruin the whole day. You can’t become violent with them though—that’s your friend. But at the same time, they make things so challenging.”
“Are you speaking from personal experience?”
“Well, yes.” She sighed, feeling comfortable… a bit too comfortable. Perhaps the strawberries were laced? She pushed the thought out of her mind. “Kim has just recently started drinking too much, at least in my opinion. I’m not too certain what’s driving that. She’s been rather tightlipped lately but in all fairness, when she’s in distress, she rarely shares the details anyway. She keeps a lot bottled in.”
“No pun intended.” They both chuckled at that. “Maybe she’s talking to people, just not to you.”
A pang rang out within her. She tried to keep a straight face, but hell, his blunt words kind of hurt. Especially since she’d already considered it.
“Why’d you think that?”
“Because I think that you intimidate them… You come across as havin’ it all together and even if you’re reserving judgment, sometimes that makes people uncomfortable. You’re a bit of a control freak, a know-it-all. I’m not sayin’ you’re not lovable, but that can be intimidating to someone struggling, not so sure of themselves. Some people wanna talk to people just like them… people who have walked through the fire but survived. You come across like you’ve never even lit a match…”
“I don’t know what to make of you.”
“You’ve been on fire too though, and it’s all right to show that with your friends.”
“How do you know I don’t?”
“’Cause you get a kick oughta feelin’ superior. You wanna be smarter than everyone else. You don’t have to be the most beautiful of your friends, the richest, but you definitely want to be the smartest. What is bein’ smart though, ya know? It’s beyond intelligence. Being smart is also caring about people who give a shit about ya. Fuck everyone else. You’re lucky to have them.”
“I am lucky to have them, as they’re lucky to have me, too.”
“You have to be honest with yourself. You love them, but you like feeling better than them. That’s not cool. You need to stop that shit. That’s how you lose people who care about you.”
“Okay, pause. Hold the hell up Mr. After School Special!” She sighed and put up her hand. “You don’t know me. I’ve let you sit here and tear my character apart.”
“I was just getting started.” He smirked. “That was just a taste.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re sitting here making judgments and you don’t know shit about me.”
“Don’t you do that practically every day on your podcast?” He cocked his head to the side. “What’s the difference? Oh, I know… You’re a woman and I’m a guy, so you somehow think you have the right to be bitchy towards people.”
“That was rude.”
“But was it true? That’s all the fuck I care about: is it true? I wasn’t born to pamper. I’m not the coddling type, and I’m not fake, either. I bet if you relaxed for just one day, your entire life would change for the better.”
They glared at one another then she turned away, mulling over his words.
“Why are you with me on a date if you think so lowly of me?”
“Who said I thought lowly of you? Everyone is fucked up, Zaire, some just more so than others. I am really good at reading people, feeling their vibe and energy. None of this is real. You act stuck up, but you’re really not. You’re the woman who would be just fine getting a buy one, get one free pizza and guzzling soda in front of an old T.V., and making love on a ratty, matted twenty-year-old rug. The problem is, that girl got hidden, the one that was down for her man, the one that loved out loud all because you got hurt. It’s a story lived by billions of women all over the world. What makes you different is that you really are tryna help people, turn your pain into profit and pleasure, but it’s still a struggle for you. You’re with me right now because you figure what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, and after this weekend, you can just walk back into your ‘real life’, and forget all of this ever happened. But I don’t want to make it so easy for you, Zaire. I want you to think about me long after tonight. I want you to imagine me being that motherfucker you can fuck on that old rug, tell your secrets to and just relax with. The one to help you get the stick out of your tight ass.”
She sighed again and shook her head.
In her time being alive on Planet Earth, she’d never been so enraged by someone, yet so captivated with them, too. Zaire didn’t get angry easily, and yet right now, she was seething…
But why am I mad? Is it because some of what he is saying is true? It’s possible. These are not things you say on a first date. This is just wrong on so many levels! I should demand to be taken back to the hotel. But do I really truly want to leave? This man is blowing my mind… He’s crazy. He’s a mystery, too. Where in the hell did he come from? It’s like he fell out of the sky and landed right on my ass….
“Did I hurt your feelings?” he asked, his brow slightly raised.
“If I said yes, would you care?”
He shrugged. “I’d care, but I wouldn’t apologize. The rare times I’ve said sorry to someone, I meant it. An apology holds power to me. It has weight. I’ve done nothing but tell you the truth. Anyway, this was initially about your friend Kim, her drinking… You know, we all self-medicate, Zaire, some just more so than others.”
“Self-medicate? You’re a doctor or a therapist now, too?” she teased. “Wow! But I’m the know-it-all. Okay then.”
The man looked out the half-rolled-down window.
“Nah, not anything like that. I just know a lot about people is all. I don’t know everything though, never tried to pretend that I did. If I actually did know everything, I wouldn’t have my own shit to sort through. The bottom line is, we all have our demons
.”
“I hear that a lot, Savage, but I don’t think everyone has demons. Now sure, there are temptations and bad decisions that come along in life. No one is perfect, but we have a choice. We can either do the right thing or not. The choice is ultimately ours.”
“Who or what determines what the right thing is though?”
“It’s connected to our moral compass.”
“Not all of us have the same standards and ethics. Not all of us have a moral compass, period.” His eyes grew dark.
“Do you have one?” He turned away, looking straight ahead, and took a sip of his wine. “Yes, but I doubt it’s like everyone else’s. My idea of right and wrong might be different from yours.”
“Hmm, interesting.”
“And who determines what that moral compass should be anyway? The government? Religion?” He raised his hands. “Who’s in charge of what I should and should not be thinking and doing?” He pointed to himself. “No one can govern that but me.”
“But when you cross the line between what you perceive as your rights and my safety,” She shrugged. “It’s no longer about who is in charge of what you should do and think. It’s now about the justice and protection of my existence and wellbeing that you’ve violated.”
“That’s good.” He shook his finger at her as if she’d passed some sort of test. Polishing off his wine, he set the empty glass down in the bucket. “That’s the starting point of what you’ll accept and won’t accept. It opens the lines of communication… just never stop asking, ‘Why?’ Always question the rules and the people who make them.”
They sat there for a bit, taking in the sights.