The Secrets We Keep

by Hannah Davenport

  Just as the waitress sets the drinks down, I grab my glass, gulp, swallow hard. I look all around, taking note of my surroundings. The music pumps loudly. I can hear my heartbeat echo in my ear. The air electrifies. My eyes strain through the low light until I spot the source of my unease.

  There he stands. A stranger with dark hair and piercingly intense eyes. He stands against the far wall with his arms crossed, staring straight at me. He radiates power, arrogance, authority. I doubt anyone ever tells him no. My heart beats wildly in my chest. My breathing grows rapid, shallow. I need to leave. Right now! I have to get away.

  “Ariel,” Jimmy places his hand on my lower arm, “are you okay?”

  I reluctantly tear my eyes away from the mysterious man who is staring at me. “What?” Did he just say something? Oh, yeah, he asked if I am okay. “Yeah, sure,” I say distractedly. My head swivels back toward the stranger. He’s gone.

  The strangeness never leaves, neither does the feeling of being watched. Have they found me? After all these years, is my ruse up? I clutch my drink tighter, wrapping my fingers around the glass, and finish it. Standing, I say my goodbyes, and get out of there as fast as I can.

  Chapter Three

  Luca

  Standing in my office in front of the floor-to-ceiling, one-way mirror window, I look down at my club and watch everyone dance, their bodies swaying the seductive dance I see every night. It’s always the same. Women dressed in expensive clothing looking for their next victim. Men looking for someone to take home, just for the night.

  Jimmy, my cousin, walks in with two women, one hand on each of their lower backs. One of them I recognize; she comes with him often. But the other one . . . I narrow my eyes and wonder why Gino let her in. I tug on the cuff of my suit, annoyed, as I watch the three of them take a seat around the small round table.

  As much as having someone dressed like her in my club irks me, I can’t look away. Her hair shimmers under the flashing lights, and I wonder if she’s a true blonde. She coughs when she drinks her shot, which elicits a tight-lipped smile from my lips. Her actions intrigue me more. The more I watch, the more I know she is innocent, not used to the club scene. Why is she here? Why is Jimmy with her?

  I raise my right hand and snap my fingers.

  Tony steps forward. “Yes, boss?”

  Without looking at him, not wanting to tear my eyes from the woman, I say, “Get Jimmy. Bring him to me.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  Jimmy and I have history, and as I watch his expression change when Tony whispers in his ear, my lips twitch. I know Jimmy doesn’t care for me, not after I took over the club. Jealousy runs deep, even if he doesn’t admit it.

  I hear them walk in, but I don’t turn around. Not yet. I just stare at the blonde sitting at the table. When the drunk guy staggers in her direction, my eyes narrow on his hand as he pulls her to her feet and drags her to the dance floor. My fist clenches tight, but she keeps her distance, and when the song ends, she bolts back to the table. Inside, I relax and focus on the others inside my office.

  Silence fills the room. I can feel Jimmy standing behind me, his gaze burning a hole in my back, but I never turn his way.

  I wait.

  After a few moments of causing uncomfortable silence, I slowly turn and face my irritated cousin.

  “Jimmy.” I give him a slight nod, finally acknowledging his presence.

  No smile, no warmth in his voice when he says tight-lipped, “Luca, you wanted to see me?”

  One side of my lips tips upward, barely. I can see that he still has hard feelings, even though his fight is not with me. It is rumored that my grandfather cheated Jimmy’s father out of his inheritance. Something about Jimmy’s dad being a bastard son, born to the beautiful Latina down the street. Oh, Grandfather was still married at the time, and there lies the problem, the reason for his jealousy and bitterness. Hard feelings run deep between our families.

  “Who is the blonde with you?”

  Jimmy folds his arms across his chest and takes a defiant stance. I know he doesn’t want to tell me; he doesn’t like me meddling in his business. But he still enjoys the benefits of my club, which I allow. For now.

  “Just someone I work with.”

  “Someone special to you?”

  Jimmy narrows his eyes at me before he speaks. Cautiously and slowly he says, “She’s a friend—-a good friend—-so leave her alone, Luca.”

  We square off. “I want to meet her.” I cross my arms, set my jaw, and stare at Jimmy. What I want, I get. He knows that.

  Jimmy shrugs. “Then go meet her. I don’t want any part of this.”

  The tension thickens. There is nothing more to say between the two of us so we just stand there staring, neither willing to look away first. It is clear he won’t help me. He won’t bring her to me.

  “Fine. You go have fun and enjoy my club.”

  Jimmy’s eyebrows pull close together as he shoots me a death glare. Defiance is not tolerated in my circle, but he is family and he knows he can get away with it. For now.

  I turn my back on him, and then hear his retreating steps fade as I stare down at the blonde-haired beauty. I will know her. I will know everything about her, and before I’m finished I will know every inch of her delicate body.

  I watch her for a minute longer before deciding to get a closer look. I snap my fingers again.

  “Yes, boss?”

  “I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  Tony steps to the side and laces his fingers behind his back. I walk past him to the end of the hall, take the steps down, and head to the main floor. With my arms folded across my chest, my left hip resting against the wall, I have a clear view of the woman sitting at the table with Jimmy.

  She doesn’t belong here, that’s easy to see. Her face is too innocent, too delicate. She looks uneasy and out of place with her ordinary clothes and soft features. But it only adds to her beauty, her natural charm. I can use many different words to describe her.

  Radiant.

  Refreshing.

  Beautiful.

  Uniquely different.

  And I want her . . .

  She knows I’m watching. I can see her uneasiness as she searches the room with her beautiful eyes. When they lock with mine, my cock hardens instantly.

  I watch her for a minute longer before heading back upstairs to the safety of my office. I run a legal club . . . mostly . . . but there are some who would love to do me in, put me out of business, and watch me fail. That’s why I have Tony, who’s normally always with me. My protector. My bodyguard.

  Back in my office, I walk straight to the window and peer back down at the blonde beauty. It’s unexpected when I see her stand, clutch her bag, and wave goodbye. My pulse races at the thought of never seeing her again.

  I snap my fingers. “Tony, have someone follow her. I want to know everything there is to know about her. Her name, where she lives, where she works, everything.”

  “Yes, sir.” I hear Tony leave as I watch the lovely lady head to the front door of the club, and then out of sight.

  Ariel

  When I reach the front doors, the noise dies down and I feel instant relief as I walk away from the club. I don’t know who mystery man is, but his presence was overpowering, even from across the room.

  Who is he? Did my stepfather send him? Have they found me? Oh shit! I quicken my steps, needing to put as much distance as possible between me and the club, and the man with the intense dark eyes.

  The chilled air stings my cheeks, and every sound, every blaring horn makes me jump. I constantly look over my shoulder, expecting to see someone following me.

  You’re just paranoid, Ariel, I chide myself. Instead of feeling like a brave woman, my sixteen-year-old-self has returned and all I want is to run to the safety of my apartment and hide under the covers.

  I shut the door behind me and shoot the bolt home quickly. My heart hammers away in my chest as I rest
my forehead against the door. What a terrible night this has turned out to be.

  I hurry to my bedroom, jerk off my clothes, and slip into my nightgown. Grabbing my laptop, I head to the couch and switch the computer on.

  Altruist, are you there? I watch impatiently until the laptop says he’s online.

  I’m here, is everything okay?

  I’m not sure! I swallow hard, still shaken from the events of the night.

  What happened?

  After those drinks at the club, I know . . . I know I shouldn’t be talking to him. Loose lips sink ships and all that, but . . . I can’t tell you. I wish I could but we promised no personal stuff. Remember?

  Fuck that! What’s going on?

  My face splits wide as tears gloss my eyes. A jumble of emotions zings inside my body, my self-control almost non-existent. But I shouldn’t. I should just tell him goodnight until I can think with a clear mind. I surprise myself when I start to type.

  My friends and I were at the club, I was not dressed appropriately, and felt out of sorts. And then, I felt someone staring at me. I’m not even sure how that’s possible. Anyway, when I finally spotted him . . . his eyes . . . his eyes were so . . . intense. With his hip leaning against the wall, he looked so powerful. Oh, God! I think they’ve found me. Oh, shit! I don’t know what to do!

  Wait!!! What do you mean they’ve found you? Who’s found you?

  I can’t say anymore. I’ve already said way too much. I’m sorry. At least I have enough sense to not blurt everything out.

  I wait, my hands trembling as I stare at the blinking cursor. His response pops up.

  Okay, what did the man at the club look like?

  I crinkle my nose and wonder why the hell that matters. Why?

  I just want to know. Tell me.

  I can feel the alcohol working its way through my system. The fuzziness is still there, and my barriers are down a little. Any other time and I’d say goodnight and be done with it. But not tonight.

  It was dark, lights flashing so I couldn’t see him very well. I could make out a dark suit. He had dark wavy hair that blended into the room. When the dance lights flashed, I could see intense eyes that locked with mine. Dark eyes. Powerful eyes.

  Anything else?

  This will sound crazy, but I swear he radiated power.

  Okay, I know the type and you do not want to cross him. Stay away. Don’t go back to the club.

  Don’t go back to the club? It’s sound advice, but why is he giving me orders?

  What type is that?

  Men who are used to getting what they want at all costs.

  I scoff as I read his words. Funny. (SMH) That man didn’t want me. All the women there wore short dresses, high heels, perfect makeup. What did I do? Show up in a pair of jeans. JEANS! Can you imagine how out of place I felt? No, that man was staring at me for other reasons.

  Because they found you?

  Yeah, because they may have found me. I’m not sexy or alluring. I’m plain Jane. Nothing stands out and the man with the intense eyes . . .

  Or maybe he wanted me out of the club, me and my jeans. A bit unnerved that I told him so much, I type a quick Talk to you later. Goodnight Altruist and then snap the laptop shut without giving him a chance to respond. I said too much.

  ~~~~

  The next morning, after a restless night’s sleep plagued with dreams of men chasing after me, I climb out of bed and head for the kitchen. I run my fingers through my messy hair. Visions of the man from the club dance through my mind like an old movie I can’t shut off.

  I grab a pot, fill it with water, and set it on the stove. Maybe a good hot cup of tea will calm my frail nerves. After the last three years, why is this happening now? I have been so careful. The only money I’ve spent—splurged—was for this apartment and for the falsified records. Besides that, I live a meager life hoping to stay under the radar.

  When the pot whistles, I pour the water over the teabag, add a teaspoon of honey, and head for the couch, hoping to watch an episode of House before work.

  Nursing is something I have always been interested in, dreamt about, and maybe one day I’ll get my degree. Who knows. I got my GED last year after two years of online studying and some very impressive fake documents. I take a sip of my tea, switch on the TV, snuggle into a soft blanket on the couch, and watch House for the next two hours.

  That evening, I dress and head for work. It’s busy as always, but I don’t mind. It helps keep my mind off the guy at the club and the way he stared at me.

  I’m covering for Jimmy behind the bar when someone sits down in front of me. Without looking at him, I ask, monotone, “What can I get for ya?” as I grab the dirty glasses sitting next to him and put them under the counter.

  “Bud Light,” says a deep masculine voice with a southern drawl.

  His accent surprises me and my head snaps up. I lock eyes with his soft brown ones. I stare at his handsome sun-kissed face, the splatter of light freckles across his nose. The dimple that shows in his left cheek when he smiles at me. My heart skips a beat.

  I catch myself, turn, grab a glass, and top if off with Bud Light. “Here you go.” I slide the glass in front of him.

  “I like your accent.” He smiles, showing his perfect white teeth, and then takes a sip.

  “I like yours too.” I flash him a smile. “You new here?”

  “Yep. Just came up to help a buddy finish up a construction job. He’s afraid he can’t make the deadline.”

  “That’s awful nice of you.” I swallow even though my mouth is too dry. “How long you here for?”

  “I’m not sure, but I’ll stay as long as he needs me to.”

  The way he holds my gaze, even as he takes a sip of beer, makes my insides quiver.

  Jimmy comes walking back from break. “Thanks, Ariel,” he says as he places his smokes under the bar.

  “Ariel. That’s a nice name,” the handsome stranger says with a flirty smile. “I’m Matt.”

  “Thanks. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

  Two days later

  When Matt walks into the bar, Alina taps my shoulder and says, “Look at that eye candy.”

  I turn and see Matt slide onto a barstool. He’s dressed in a pair of jeans and a light blue short-sleeved shirt that shows his muscular arms. Wanting to be friendly, I head over and lean my hip against the edging. “I see you came back. How’s the big city treating you?”

  “It’s certainly a lot different than what I’m used to.”

  “I’ll bet. Where ya from, anyways?” The bar is slow tonight, so I carry on standing next to Matt while Jimmy works behind the bar.

  “What can I get for you?” Jimmy asks.

  “Bud Light.”

  Matt turns his attention back to me. “Atlanta, Georgia.”

  “So you’re used to the city life.”

  “It’s nothing like this.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  We chitchat for a few minutes, nothing consequential. I just know how lonely it is when you move to a new city and don’t know anyone, or almost anyone.

  ~~~~

  Saturday night is booming, every table in the restaurant, every seat at the bar is filled. People stand in line outside waiting their turn to get in.

  My feet ache as I carry drink after drink to various tables within the bar area. That’s my assigned station tonight. Saturday nights are always busy, but tonight, Standing Backward will perform live, which makes us work our asses off all freaking night.

  Just as I serve a round of drinks, Jimmy yells from behind the bar. “Ariel! You’re up!”

  That’s my cue. I head over, relieving Jimmy for his fifteen-minute break. I watch as he grabs his smokes and heads for the back door. When I turn around, I glance at the guy leaned up against the bar, seeing him standing there, but not really noticing.

  “What can I get for ya?” I ask as I wash one of the glasses in the sink under the bar.

  When he never answers, I finally glanc
e up and see Matt standing with a grin a mile wide. A smile stretches my face.

  “Matt,” I say. My night just got so much better. “I’ll get your beer.”

  He’s been here every night, and he always orders the same thing. Bud Light. And he’ll nurse one drink for hours and never order another. He never uses cheesy pickup lines, just normal conversation. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to spend time with him outside the bar.

  I place the mug in front of him.

  “Thanks, Ariel.”

  “Welcome.” I take a mini break and lean against the counter, resting my elbows on the bar and interlacing my fingers. “How’s work?”

  “Busy as ever, but we’re almost finished with the job.” He takes a sip of beer.

  He has the muscled arms and sculpted chest, noticeable through his tight pullover black t-shirt, to prove how hard he works. I stare at his handsome sun-kissed face and inwardly sigh, lost in some fantasy world where I’m not in hiding and I have a somewhat normal life.

  Fingers snap in front of my face, breaking the trance. I jerk then stand up straight. “What?”

  “Where’d you go?” He’s grinning like he knows exactly what I was thinking about.

  Him.

  “Huh?

  “I was asking you what you’ve been up to, but you were somewhere else.”

  I laugh. It’s more of a nervous sound, forced and unnatural. “I don’t do anything but work and sleep.”

  “Seriously? You’re a good-looking lady. I figured you go out all the time. I’m sure you’re asked.”

  I scoff. He’s right, I do get asked out, but it’s usually by the men I meet here at the bar. And there is nothing sexy or meaningful about getting asked out by someone who slurs his words or stumbles when he stands.