by D. M. Burns
Rounding the corner to the girl’s shower stalls, I peeked my head around the wall. What I saw was like a real-life sexual slap in the face. It was a free live Pornhub treat starring none other than Slade Carter himself. A shirtless but blue jean ass covered Rampage had the completely naked cheerleading captain, Candy, firmly pinned up against the tiled wall of the shower. Both legs were thrown over his sturdy forearms and he was plowing out her pyramid thoroughly.
If any of the sounds coming from her mouth was an indication of how much she was enjoying his form, then let’s just say she was fucking thrilled. Her excitement didn’t stop my heart from bottoming out though. For the most part, I knew the rumors were true but seeing it with my own eyes was a totally different reality altogether, earth-shattering. Much like her whispered cries were confirming.
Visual death was the artistic memory painting of the day. It was scrolled out in blood at the right-hand corner of my mind’s eye memory bank. Right underneath that was the creative artists' stamp in time. I filed it accordingly under Rampage’s inspired daily destruction along with so many other works of art he’d given to me.
At first, I thought that I could back away unnoticed until he tilted his head and smirked at me. Even though the cheer-whore had no idea I was present because she was too caught up in her pretzel-like position, Rampage did. Oh, he knew.
“How does that feel, PRETTY GIRL?” His eyes were locked on mine as he growled those words and his smile grew sadistically.
Dead… I felt the slow drain of blood from my body when I heard those words. Ramp’s voice was a low rumble as he slowed his thrusts down to a crawl in and out of the pom-pom bitch. He was talking directly to me not the shower slut. That much was clear. She moaned his name and chanted out how much she loved him.
“Oh, yes. You know how much I love it, Rampage. I love you.” She whispered yelled.
Candy’s voice echoed throughout the walls infusing my veins with liquid ice. I was caught between mauling Ramp’s face or fainting, probably the latter. My soul melted out of my toes expelling all the warmth from my body. I whimpered when he winked then tore his eyes from mine to finished out his penis pumping performance. That was the kill shot, intentional chest devastation.
Her declaration of undying love for him or his dick should’ve been enough but no. The stupid girl that I am needed the words along with the wink, a confirmation of sorts. Was there really any truth behind her statement? Hell, if I know. It’s a tossup because Candy’s vag loves a different dick each week. Everybody shops at her candy shop.
That was the sendoff that I needed. I moved my ass out of there and went straight to the office. The fib flowed from my lips easily after entering the front door. I needed to leave. Telling our school receptionist, Mrs. Frost, whose hair incidentally looked blue with helluva hints of silver, that I wasn’t feeling well only added a little more get up and go to the speed of my futuristic straight shot to hell.
Monroe High’s granny helper is nearing her late eighties. So, at the mention that I wasn’t feeling well and the fact that she used to be my mom’s high school teacher, Mrs. Frost slow turtled her shell out from behind the counter placing a hand over my forehead for verification purposes like my generation does have those awesome things called thermometers.
Needless to say, my mom came and picked me up. It wasn’t a total lie. I was sick. Sick to death of Rampage. It was like he set that entire shower sex school scene up just to hurt me. Which he was brutally successful at.
Add that Candy shop set up with my dad’s bookbag bullshit, plus my locker full of used condoms, and I was done. I’ve been holed up in my room ever since Wednesday of last week. I bet one of those disgusting rubbers came from that shower sex stunt. Jesus. At least he believes in safe sex, asshole prick. The thought of having to clean that shit out of my locker makes my stomach turn. I’ve been pulling another stay out until you cry it out protest. There’s been way too many of these here lately.
When I hear something like a pebble bounce off my window I sit straight up in my bed. My ears perk up and I wait. For what? I’m not even sure. Then I hear another repeat noise. I crawl on my hands and knees off my bed. I know it’s not Paige. She’d just come barging through the front door.
Now, what? Flinging the curtains back I look out into the dusty dark night to find none other than Mr. Dick Dipping Picasso himself. He really is a pretty whore though. The moonlight provides just enough light so I can see my permanent artwork, the slash through his eyebrow. He wears it beautifully like everything that is him. It’s been years since he’s been to my house. Why?
I prop my elbows on the window seal, rest my chin in my hands, and simply stare at him through the transparent barrier that divides us. One of the many obstacles that aren’t seen but stand in our way. Makes me wonder if he watched me knock on his front door every day for six months through a windowpane but decided to remain silent.
Rampage smiles sadly at me and grips the back of his neck. He looks nervous but those grey eyes never waver from mine. My curiosity at why he’s here is monumental but after losing him, my dad, and top it off with all his evil bullshit, I’m torn. The bookbag blunder burned a hole deeper into my soul than Rampage’s sexing stunt.
With that thought, a tear that I wasn’t even aware of slips out and I swipe at it angrily. I shake my head slowly from side to side. I can’t do this. I take a step away from the window, away from Rampage. I let the curtains drop from my hand and fall back into place against the wall.
“Come on, Lena. Please talk to me.” He grits out. I can tell his voice holds an unspoken edge to it. “Shit. I’m sorry, okay. So, fucking sorry, Len.”
“Don’t call me that,” I whisper mainly to myself. My feet keep moving me backward until my knees hit the bed and I fall into a seated position on my mattress. I can’t do this anymore with him.
“Len… I just want to talk to you. Make sure you’re alright. Shit.” His hand slaps against the window causing my body to jolt. I’m so far from okay, Slade.
“DON’T CALL ME THAT,” I shout out into the bedroom like a maniac.
I bury my head into my palms, silently rocking myself back and forth. My ass slips to the floor and I hug my legs to my chest burying my forehead into my knees. I can’t take much more especially not here at my house. This is my only safe place. Ramp can wait to torture me come Monday.
When everything goes silent and I think the coast is clear, I take a deep breath only to hear my bedroom door creep open. Shit, he remembered where my dad kept the spare key at out on the back porch. There’s no sense in arguing because he’s already in my bedroom. I go completely still in my crouch and tiger position. Assuring myself that this guy wouldn’t basically break and enter my house only to taunt me, right?
Next thing I know, I’m lifted off the ground and laid out on top of my soft bed with everything Rampage firmly tucked into my back. His strong arms are enveloped around my body. His heat filters out all the cold places that I’ve felt were drowning me for the last two weeks since burying my dad.
“I’m sorry about your dad, Len.” His chin is propped on top of my hair and I can feel his whispered words brush across my hair. “It’s just another rabbit hole in life, baby. It’s okay to fall and wait it out for a minute. But it’s time we get you loose, brush the dirt off, and keep moving, yeah?”
“Yeah.” I can barely come up with words. My chest hurts from his reference and acknowledgment to life’s shit situations. “Why are you here?”
“Cause you need me.” He says. I want to tell him that I needed him long before now, but I don’t.
“I really didn’t mean to scar your eye, Slade.” I’ve told him that a thousand times at school, but he ignored me. I want to make sure he knows it was an accident.
“I know that. You’re going to be okay. I promise. Shhh, go to sleep, Len.” He says.
My mind calls out that it’ll never be okay, but I remain quiet because after all the tears over the weeks, I’m completely
exhausted. He pulls the covers over me and protectively tucks me closer into him.
Even though his words from my first day in high school haunt me on repeat, “That’s how it feels in my chest, every motherfucking day, Len. Unlike the last slash to the soul, this is a clean cut.”
I want to ask so badly what I’ve done to wrong him, but I don’t. I shut that off. Too much has happened. After everything that he has done and the idiot girl I’ve become, I swallow those thoughts so I can appreciate this moment with him. Desperate is my current wardrobe.
There’s no explanation for why he’s here or what’s taking place other than my dad’s accident. I don’t care to try and figure it out nor do I have the energy right now. Sleep is a luxury I haven’t been afforded in weeks.
With him here it feels like it’s within reaching distance, so I close my eyes giving into the myth that the first boy I ever kissed is here, again. Not, the Rampage way that bulldozes and steamrolls my heart while shitting on my feelings, no. Slade is back. Only I know too well that this is temporary. He’ll be gone as soon as I open my eyes in the morning.
chapter 19 - rampage
When my footfalls hit the Roulette gaming floor, my eyes take in the sight and the familiar sounds. Most of the employees in range look up and silently nod their heads as a hello with a slight look of what the fuck and why. It’s not uncommon to see me sporadically throughout the day.
My employees know that I generally have a welcoming vibe. I’m approachable, but my strained features don’t convey that message today. They see it. They feel it. I’m walking aggression and no matter how hard I attempt to tame the Chaos that’s thriving inside of me, it’s on display.
Rounding the tables, I proceed to the lounge where I spied Crellan saunter his suited-up ass less than five minutes ago. It’s not lost on me that this guy prefers the Russian Roulette thrill ride. Hell, he lives that life day in and day out but I’m a sure death sentence of a different kind. The only difference is Lena is no game. She is mine, period. A decision I’ve made for the both of us.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot RJ. I turn to him and nod my head. He knows to shut the lounge off as soon as I step inside. Privacy is needed. With him, in motion, I step into the lounge and head to the VIP section in the back. The walls of the room are coated in a deep blood red. I’m picking up on a theme here.
The clicks of my thousand-dollar kicks sound out with every step I gain on the charcoal black tile. And the bold embedded, golden letters of Aces Down scrawled out in elegant script under my feet shine brightly off the freshly waxed floor. It settles my soul somewhat.
The assigned door meat, Smitty, is standing front and center in a soldered stance barricading the entrance doors but quickly moves to the side when he spots me. He nods his acknowledgment while swinging the door open so I can enter.
“Thank you, Smitty,” I say as I pass by.
“Do you care for a drink, sir?”
“Not now but thank you,” I say.
Smitty quietly shuts the door and I wait for it… When I hear the lock click, I smile, discretion is key. I proceed to the back where I know Crellan is seated. Making a sharp turn, the slicked haired mobster comes into view. Lounged back in the red plush seating with his ankle propped on his knee eyeballing me.
Chaos meet Craze.
The minor tick in my jaw from clenching my teeth catches his eye and he zooms in on it. I zone in on the toothpick that I’d love to stab his eye out with. Crellan doesn’t miss any details. Mobsters will sniff out the slightest chinch in your armor. Their perceptive motherfuckers. Like sharks circling their prey. An evil smirk creeps across his face and he arches his eyebrows at me.
“Well, Rampage, there you are.” He looks at his fifty-thousand-dollar watch then back at me while twirling the whittled stick of wood around with his tongue. “Running late, yeah?” I don’t punch a clock with this asshole, so I bypass a response to that shit. He lifts his pricey glass of bourbon off the table and swirls it before indulging himself.
I take the available seat directly across from this deadly degenerate and cross my arm over the back of the cushy high back booth while relaxing my ankle over my knee. We almost mirror each other. Except I look way more refined in my fabulous fashion attire, fuck Rage. I know I look damn good.
“I must say that I was surprised to hear that you weren’t staying here at Aces Down during this little visit.” I spit the lie out while running my palm over my tie. He smirks and nods his head. His choice not to bunk up here under my roof has everything to do with self-preservation. “Tell me why that is, Crellan. All the Royal Diamond Club members never miss a chance to lap up the luxury provided to them here whenever they can.”
“The laws surrounding Aces Down don’t suit me. I prefer to follow my own set of rules. Believe me when I say it’s not personal.” That’s bullshit. He tilts his glass back clearing the contents. “But I’ll tell you what I did take personally and that was how you cock blocked me a few weeks ago with the lovely Lena.” His voice holds venom. I knew I pissed him off but fuck him.
“Crellan, you’re a smart man.” I smirk and twist my neck from side to side popping it in the process then continue, “So, I knew you’d pick up on my silent middle finger up in your face where Lena’s concerned. She’s not a part of the club benefits.” He’s crossed several lines. Insulting my intelligence, disrespecting my club but worse of all is his persistence in pursuing his twisted fixation with Lena. “What I don’t fucking appreciate is you hacking my damn company files, harassing my staff, or demanding a sit down with me. And since you seem to be ignoring a lot of subtle hints let me be very fucking clear with you, LENA IS MINE. Anything her is very god damn personal to me. You have a job and she’s not a part of it.”
His dead eyes are swarming with dark intent. Anyone else who’d dare talk to a man of his caliber and profession, in this manner, would be laid out on this floor. Dead on contact and bleeding out from a bullet to the brain. I know this is a turning point for me.
Many things are about to change.
My role in the underground.
My future here at Aces Down.
My future as a whole.
“I know what my god damn job intel’s and I answer to men much higher than you. Let’s get something straight, Rampage. You’re nothing more than a glorified accountant. Your skills are that of a basic bitch bookie balancing the checkbook for the MEN of the house. Know your role, asshole. You can be disposed of without so much as an afterthought.” He says.
His kind of crazy shows through his calm disposition. He plucks the wet stick out of his mouth and tosses it out on the table in front of me. What the fuck is that? Is that a new move for a mobster stand-off that I’m unaware of?
“I take that back, Crellan.” I shrug my shoulders while smiling. This sadistic bastard is probably thinking I’m backtracking, far from it. He’ll take the bait, wait for it.
“Exactly what is that Rampage?” Much like his eyes and demeanor, his voice is void of any emotion.
“I said you were a smart man. Apparently, if a glorified accountant is what you believe me to be then I was very wrong in my assessment of you. And a basic bitch to anyone, least of all the likes of you, is a god damn insult.” I chuckle because the sadistic little fuck in me apparently likes to taunt the devil’s sidekick. “I assure you that things are not what they seem, Crellan. Don’t let the haze fog up the reality of how things truly are because I’ll surprise you.” I wink at him.
“Let me ask you something.” He leans forward. I look down at my watch seemingly press for time and it also insinuates that he’s not important enough to waste mine on. It pisses him off because he holds himself in high regard. I glance back at him and wave my hand out as if to say continue. “Is she worth your life? Because everything is about to change my friend.”
This is a trick question. If I say no, which I never will, he’ll take it as an invitation to fuck with Lena. If I say yes, it’ll only flue his fucked-up
infatuation for her. No matter how I answer this, things are going to end badly, for him of course. Honestly, I’m looking forward to it.
“Is she worth yours?” I smile wide and arch my brow.
Crellan sits back in his seat and drops his head back in hearty laughter. I simply stare at this motherfucker. He thinks this is a game. He’d be very fucking wrong.
“That’s funny, Rampage. The way she talked about you led me to believe you were nothing more than her employer. Had she insinuated otherwise I might have a different mindset.” He stands and shrugs his shoulders then adjusts his coat sleeves. “I think I’ll take my chances. Something tells me the fiery redhead is worth it. Plus, I’ve never been much for threats especially from guys who are only lethal with number crunching.”
Standing to my full height, I have a good five inches on this fatal fucker in front of me. Smirking at him, I take my time in buttoning my coat then nod. He tucks one of his hands into his coat pocket producing another toothpick and shoves it in between his lips with a smirk.
“Then I guess our dealings are done here. Regardless of your misperception of me or my relationship status, since you’ve chosen to take this route, you know that the bosses are going to want an explanation.” I’m about to make a risky move but one that I damn well know will get his attention. I’m not a threat to him. He doesn’t know me which works to my advantage.
“I’m not following you.” His head tilts to the side and he’s studying me with those hollow black holes.
“Since you’ve chosen to go after my woman, which is worse than an open hand slap to a mob brother’s face but none-the-less death sentence territory, Aces Down will no longer cater to the family as a whole. I’m not blood-related such as yourself. So, that explanation should come from you. In the meantime, I’m closing the doors to the underground operation altogether. Have a meaningful evening, Mr. Haze. Smitty will show you out.”