by M. N. Forgy
I slide my finger over a picture of Travis’s brother, Grant, who looks identical to him. I never saw much of Grant; he was always away, hardly ever at family gatherings. What Travis said about Grant led me to believe he was the problem child of the family. From what I gathered, it was because Grant didn’t want to follow the family’s footsteps into medicine, but I had no idea what the truth was. I look the box over, images of being dragged into that basement and screaming for remorse fire in my mind like a collage. My heart races, making me inhale sharply. I grab the lid and slam it back on the box, walk back over to the closet, and push it in its spot.
“Shit, what time is it?” I mutter, looking at the clock on my phone. I notice I have been sitting in the same spot for hours. It’s already three in the afternoon and is time to pick up Addie.
7
Bobby
I’m sitting at the club, watching the news and drinking a beer, thoughts of Jessica reeling through my mind. The way she opened up and took charge was beyond my expectations. The display of her riding me is an image I swear I’ll never forget. The look of her flushed face, the stray hairs hanging over her face, and her parted mouth as she rode my dick, makes my cock ripple with eagerness just thinking about it. I close my eyes, and shake my head to clear the image, taking a sip of my beer.
Hearing giggles, I glance over my shoulder, seeing Juliet, a tattooed redhead pull Tom Cat down the hall. Looks like someone is getting lucky tonight. I pull my phone out and lay it on the table, contemplating calling Jessica. I want to call her, but after the boundaries we crossed today¸ I’m not so sure if that’s a good idea. She might want space and shit.
“What’s up with you?” Lip asks dryly, sliding onto a stool next to me.
“Nothing.” I bring the tip of the beer bottle to my lips. “Where’s Cherry?” I question, keeping my eyes on the TV.
“Dunno. She’s not at the house, and I can’t get a hold of her. Seems to be a trend with her since I got out of the joint,” he grumbles, running his hands through his hair. I bite my lip, wondering if I should bring up her wanting me to go to that shitty trailer park. I think better of it and decide not to. I don’t know if Cherry is cheating, or what is going on, but I know I don’t want to be in the middle of it.
My phone vibrates, catching my attention. Reading the name on the screen has my eyes widening.
Cora.
I haven’t heard from her in years. She only calls when she needs me to boost a car. My tongue darts and licks along my bottom lip at the thought of a little action, making me answer it.
“Cora,” I greet casually.
“Bobby, baby, how are you?” Cora answers, her voice holding a sense of authority and class. Which is exactly what she is; she’s just an educated, classy outlaw.
I met Cora when I was around sixteen. I saw a Corvette sitting in an empty parking lot, located right next to some docks, and decided to take it for a joy ride. Twenty minutes later, Cora, her father, and their men pulled me from the car violently. Apparently, they had just stolen the car and were in the process of loading it on a shipping container before I took it. She was impressed with how I hotwired the car, no damage to the ignition. She threw me a wad of cash and became my mentor for years.
“Good, what’s up?” I ask, getting to the point.
“I need you for a boost. You’re the only one I trust for the job,” she breathes into the phone.
“When do you need it by?”
“Tonight,” she clips quickly. I sigh. This is why she is calling me. She needs someone quick, and efficient. That would be me. I can boost a car and get it where it needs to be without a scratch and in a blink of an eye. Been practicing since I was a kid.
“Text me the details of the car’s location and all,” I request, taking a sip of my beer.
“The location is wherever you can find me a black Lamborghini,” she informs, her tone giving off a hint of sass.
“A motherfucking Lambo?” I shriek, wondering if I heard her right.
“Is that a problem?” she asks, her voice silky as she speaks through the receiver.
“No, I’ll find one,” I answer, hanging up. I haven’t stolen a car in a while. I’d be lying through my teeth if I said stealing cars was not one of the biggest rushes of my life. The feeling of being caught at any moment, and the luxury your ass is sitting in when you’re going 100 mph. My heart is slamming against my chest in excitement just thinking about it.
I look over and see Lip staring at me with a huge grin on his face.
“What?”
“I want in brother,” Lip remarks, nodding.
“No,” I laugh, shaking my head. “I work alone,” I inform, watching my phone.
“I know where to find a Lamborghini,” he show tunes, reaching over the counter, and swiping my beer.
“You and Cherry are perfect for each other. You’re both a pain in the ass,” I sneer, making Lip laugh. “Fine,” I reply exasperated, grabbing my beer from his hands.
“The Ivory Gentlemen’s Club is full of those arrogant fuckers driving nice ass cars, with fly-ass women hanging off them. Not sure how you are going to get the car being as busy as it is though,” Lip informs, shrugging. I smile and take a sip of my beer.
“I’ll figure out a way. I always do,” I smile wolfishly.
***
Lip parks his car in a garage around the back and follows me. I head toward the back of the gentlemen’s club, smiling at everyone who walks past.
“What the fuck is the plan, man?” Lip whispers, jogging to keep up with me.
“Shut up and follow me,” I whisper back.
We make our way through the kitchen, nobody even noticing we are in the damn place, even after Lip steals a fry off someone’s tray in passing. We travel to the back of the club until we come across the employee lounge. I slowly step in, making sure it’s empty before continuing in. I notice a TV in the corner and gray lockers along a wall, stickers slapped on a few of them. I start opening lockers and searching through the coat racks.
“What are you looking for?” Lip asks, opening a locker beside me.
“A valet jacket,” I mutter, opening another locker.
“Like this?” Lip asks, holding out a red velvet jacket.
“Perfect,” I whisper, grabbing it from his hands.
“There’s two in here,” he mutters, grabbing the other one.
I slide the velvet jacket onto my shoulders, the fit very snug.
“You look ridiculous,” Lip laughs.
“It’ll work,” I state, pulling at the fabric bunching tightly around my biceps.
Lip pulls on his jacket, and shuts the locker. “Now what?” he asks, adjusting the collar.
“We find us a Lambo and hope it’s black,” I mutter, heading out of the lounge.
“Hey, Mike is going on break,” a guy in a matching red jacket says, entering the room, mistaking us for working here.
“Yeah, we’re on it,” Lip responds, not missing a beat.
We head down the hall, finding a steel door with a sign reading Valet.
“Could they make it any easier,” Lip chuckles, opening the door.
We walk out, finding a tall brown-headed kid standing behind a podium.
“We’ll take over, Mike,” I inform, slapping him on the shoulder.
“Thank God, I gotta piss,” he groans, running toward the door.
“Go find me a Lambo,” I instruct Lip, as I open the box on the wall full of keys.
“We got a little problem,” Lip sputters, his voice high pitched. I close the box and eye him quizzically.
“Cameras,” Lip remarks, pointing to a camera in the corner of the garage.
“Fuck,” I whisper, eyeing the beady camera pointing in the opposite direction of us, a small golf cart sitting under it. I shrug the valet jacket off, and stride toward it. I climb on top of the golf cart, ducking my head so the camera doesn’t catch a glimpse of my face, and throw the jacket over it.
“You bett
er find us a car fast; they are going to notice this pretty fucking quick,” I inform, jumping off the cart. With that, Lip sprints down the garage, and I head back to the keys.
A few seconds later, Lip is running back toward me.
“I found one, and it’s black or at least it looks black,” Lip yells, huffing out of breath.
“Lot number!” I yell, knowing our time is running out.
“Lot 41A,” he pants. My hands grab the keys and run. I follow Lip, passing some high-end cars along the way, before he stops right in front of a sleek black Lambo.
“Fuck, she’s beautiful,” I whisper, trailing my hand along her body.
“Holy shit,” Lip mutters, eyeing the detail.
“I have a hard-on,” I laugh, unlocking the car.
“Me too. Me too, brother,” Lip chuckles.
I slide into the seat; its luxury overwhelming me. The seats are black with red stitched in the middle, and the dashboard and console lined in chrome.
Lip slides in with me, his eyes devouring the beauty of the craftsmanship .
“What now?” Lip asks, looking at me for direction.
I take my eyes away from the buttons and knobs, and look at Lip with a wolfish grin across my face.
“We joyride.”
I put my foot on the brake, and press a button on the console, causing the Lambo to start with an intoxicating purr. The car reverberates with power as I put it into gear.
“I love it when she talks dirty to me,” I laugh, referring to the glorious roar of the motor.
I put the car in reverse and back out. I put her into first gear, her mechanisms switching flawlessly and slowly pull out of the garage. As soon as we are out of the garage, I throw her into the next gear, and let her loose.
Lip grabs onto the door as we are thrown into our seats from the horsepower.
“I think the plan is not to draw attention to ourselves,” Lip bitches, making me roll my eyes.
I turn the wheel, my foot pushing on the accelerator as we slide around a corner as if we were on ice.
“What fun is that?” I chuckle.
We race past a cop sitting in an alleyway. Looking in my rearview mirror, I notice him pulling out, turning his lights on, but by the time his car is straightened out to take the chase, we are long gone.
“Woooo!” Lip yells as we fly onto the freeway toward Cora’s drop location.
“How long have you been doing this?” Lip questions.
“I’ve been stealing cars since I was a kid,” I inform, looking in the rearview mirror for any boys in blue, but there is nothing.
“Ever get caught?” he asks, running his hand over the console.
“Couple times when I was younger, got thrown in juvie, but all that did was teach me how to get better at stealing cars,” I laugh, pulling onto a side road.
I pull up to the dock, with a huge boat parked next to it, and get out.
“I knew you wouldn’t disappoint. You never do,” Cora chimes, climbing out of a black BMW, buttoning up her suit jacket. Her hair, short and curly, flutters with the wind. Her porcelain skin illuminates in the night as she walks toward us, her heels clicking against the broken asphalt.
“Who’s this?” she questions, tilting her pointed chin toward Lip.
“This is Lip,” I inform, shutting the door to the Lambo.
“Here’s your cut,” she states. One of the guys standing behind her tosses me a yellow envelope.
I open it eyeing a large sum of cash.
“One of my men botched this boost, and is sitting in jail, the car wrecked. I owe you one for your eager participation on such a short notice, Bobby,” she remarks, her voice strong and sure.
I nod, dipping my hand into the envelope pulling out half the cash.
“Yeah, I haven’t heard from you in a while,” I state, walking around the car toward Lip.
“I only use my good resources when I have to. My other men are not as good at getting the job done, but cheaper,” she answers, crossing her arms. I hand Lip half the cash, and close the envelope.
The guy with his hair braided down his back whispers in Cora’s ear, making her nod.
“I have to go, but I’ll be in touch, Bobby,” Cora warns, her lips quirking into a smirk.
“So, how do we get home?” Lip asks, looking around him.
“You can take one of the junkers off the lot,” the bodyguard with the long hair suggests, pointing toward a broken down Neon, the paint nothing but primer.
“It ain’t no Lambo,” Lip chuckles.
We make our way toward the car as I stuff the envelope in my back pocket.
“Please tell me you banged that broad,” Lip laughs.
“Once. She’s just as uptight in the sack as she seems outside of it,” I inform, getting into the passenger side of the car.
“Gee, thanks for letting me drive something tonight,” Lip laughs, climbing behind the wheel.
“What can I say, I’m a generous kind of guy,” I shrug, sliding into the ripped passenger seat.
8
Jessica
It’s been three days since I last saw Bobby. I usually don’t count the days in between seeing him, but every day since, I have thought about him, about the sex we had in my room. When I go to bed at night, I smell him, his manliness lingering on my blankets. I’m glad he is giving me space, letting me cope with the progress I’ve made. Being on top was scary on so many levels. Just thinking about it makes my body tingle and my head dizzy. I close my eyes, trying to steady myself.
“Do you hear me talking to you, Jessica?” Travis hissed from beneath me. I gritted my teeth in anger, my neck aching painfully as he gripped my neck.
“I am in control. Not you,” he grunted, taking his hands from my throat to my thighs, pinching incredibly hard. I yelped, trying to grab at his hands to stop the piercing pain riddling up my thighs, only to find my wrists jolted against the handcuffs. I looked down at Travis, my eyes welling up with tears at how broken I was.
“Don’t look at me. Look at the wall,” Travis ordered, replacing his hands around my throat as he drilled into me hard.
I peel my eyes open and gasp as the hard memories vanish. Sometimes they’re hard to snap out of they feel so real.
I don’t know how I did it; how I just let go. Losing control with Bobby frightens me more than anything.
I walk into the main lobby of my apartment building and notice a man shampooing the carpets, and the smell of lavender masking the smell of musk. I lift an eyebrow, a little shocked someone is actually cleaning this place. I head up to my apartment door, playing with the keys in my hand when my phone buzzes in my purse. I fish it out, unlocking the door at the same time.
Bobby: I think you need therapy ;)
I smirk.
“Mom, can I stay over at Izzy’s?” Addie asks, walking into the apartment from Bree’s.
“Why? I thought we were going to have a mani-pedi night?” I ask, setting my purse and phone on the counter.
“Mom,” Addie says dryly, her eyes looking up at me under her lashes.
“Fine, but they have to come get you and you need to be back by tomorrow morning,” I reply, grabbing a water from the fridge.
“Yay!” she yells, running off to her room.
My phone buzzes sitting on the counter.
Bobby: You don’t want to ignore me.
I shake my head and do just that.
After Addie has left with her friend, I opt for a big bubble bath in my porcelain claw tub. I walk in my room and inhale the sweetness from my soap in the hot bath, inviting me. I turn on the stereo, and head toward the tub. I put my foot in, testing the water before slipping myself all the way in.
The hot water makes my skin sensitive, causing it to turn red. I breathe in deeply, taking in the scent of honey as I lather the water and bubbles up my chest. The feel of my hands along my skin makes me think of Bobby. I slide my hand lower down my abdomen, and my core clenches with tension. I’m horny. I should hav
e just told Bobby to come over, but I want to make sure we have distance between us. I don’t need anything more between him and I, and having sex constantly will complicate that. I may have sold my soul to a Devil, but I won’t fall in love with one.
I spread myself with my fingertips, running my hand back and forth over my sex. My mouth parts as my body begins to spark with recognition causing my breathing to hitch. Bobby’s skilled fingers play in my mind as I glide my free hand up my chest, tweaking my nipple, causing desire to tremble down my body and making my knees bend involuntarily so I can fully reach my clit with my other hand. I thumb my clit, causing my head to fall back on the side of the tub, and my eyes close as I swirl the sensitive bundle of nerves.
“You could have just invited me over you know.”
My hands fly from my clit and nipple and quickly grasp the sides of the tub, pulling myself upward. My body heaves as I eye Bobby standing in my doorway, a sly smirk playing across his face.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” I shriek, lowering my body under the bubbles for cover. He runs his hand through his shaggy blond hair, and stares me down without remorse. His eyes look at me with hidden promise; warmth igniting behind them as he devours my wet body covered in a mass of bubbles.
“I told you not to ignore me,” he retorts coolly, looping his fingers into his jeans pockets, an evident bulge protruding through the fabric.
“I ignored you for a reason. Now get out!” I yell, pointing at the door. My cheeks warming from embarrassment that he caught me during such a private moment.
“No,” he replies.
“No?” I question, frustration rising through me.
“Your classic routine is to bang me, then not talk to me for weeks at a time. Not happening anymore,” he answers, shaking his head.
I scoff and turn my head toward the spout. “How did you even get in here?” I ask, not looking at him.
“Your door wasn’t locked.”
I shake my head at his response. I must have forgotten to lock it after Addie left.
Bobby’s boots thud against the tiled floor as he makes his way toward me. I turn my gaze from the faucet to him, his hand holding a white towel.