Bad Boy Blues(13)

“Never thought doing dishes and mopping floors were part of your life goals.”

I knew he was going to say something insulting. He’s Zach.

But still, I flinch.

Life goals.

What does he know about goals and ambitions? What does he know about what happens when they’re snatched away from you in one blink?

Even though it stings, I keep my voice calm and casual. “Well, you don’t know everything about me now, do you? And it’s called a job. That’s how responsible people buy stuff.”

“Responsible, huh?”

“Yes.”

Straightening up and away from the wall, Zach comes to his full height. Cocking his head to the side, he asks as if he’s so curious, “What else do responsible people do? Besides changing bedsheets for a job and breaking and entering into their place of work.”

My eyes widen. “It was… you.”

Oh God.

So, he is an asshole pervert. He was watching me last night.

“It was. You were cute in your little black outfit. Stupid but cute. Did you really think no one would recognize you?” He chuckles. “As cute as you were, I hate to break it to you though. You’ve got no future in espionage. You’re a little too…” He looks me up and down. “Visible for that. So maybe it’s good that you get to change sheets and mop floors. Gotta keep your options open.”

And there it is. A little dig at my body along with other insults.

Nothing has changed, has it? He’s still the same. Only now, I’m more vulnerable. I have more to lose. Like my job and eventually, my house.

“Thanks for your concern about my career choices.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Right. I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” I say, because I really can’t stop myself. “I wouldn’t expect someone like you, who’s gone through life riding on his daddy’s shoulders, completely wasted and high, to understand what it’s like for the rest of us.”

I stand tall under his scrutiny. I stand tall and firm, even though I’m quaking inside when he takes a step toward me. Then another and another. Until he’s so close to me that I can smell him.

Cigarette and blueberry pie, like the ones Maggie bakes.

Two things I never thought would go together but somehow do and I don’t like that. Not one bit.

Zach’s face is in the shadows now. But the sky and the stars provide enough light that I can see his eyes and his mouth when he says, “Yeah, maybe not. But I do understand one thing.”

Clutching my shoes tightly to my chest, I go for bravado. “What’s that?”

“If you want to keep this job, you’re gonna have to keep me happy,” he drawls.

His threat lingers between us, heavy and dark, just like him.

The soft leaves brushing against the nape of my neck suddenly start to feel sharp-edged and dangerous.

“I’m not your personal slave, if that’s what you think my job is,” I tell him, trying to hold on to the last remnants of my courage.

He leans down and his scent becomes so thick, so pervasive that my lips part. His stare falls to them before he looks me in the eyes. “I think your job is whatever I want it to be.”

Zach fills my entire vision. His dark t-shirt, his broad shoulders. I can’t see anything beyond him. It makes my heart pound faster. With fear. With hate.

So much so that I can’t stop myself from sneering, “You haven’t changed a bit, have you? I bet you still think you own the world.”

He shakes his head, slowly, dangerously. Hypnotically. “I don’t give a fuck about the world. But I do own you.”

Fully knowing that it might make my situation worse, I scoff. “You’ll never own me. Not now. Not ever.”

“Is that a challenge, Blue?”

Blue.

How can one word have such a drastic effect? It makes my inside tumble. My chest quivers as Blue slides down my throat as if I’ve inhaled it like a drug.

“It’s a promise.”

Zach scans my face, as if he’s memorizing my features. As if he plans to dream of me tonight.

I let him.

I let him memorize it, soak it in, so when he sees me behind his closed eyelids, he understands that I’m not kidding. That no matter what I’m not going to play his games. That somehow, I’m going to find a way to put this all to an end.

Getting my house back is too important to me.

“If we’re making promises, then let me tell you one thing,” he whispers, low and rough. “If I want you to be my slave, you’ll be falling to the ground so fast that your knees will bleed along with your palm. So don’t tempt me. I’m very easily tempted.”





Night sky.

I have a thing for it. A blue so deep that it’s almost black and the cluster of stars, trying to light it up.

It’s impossible, but I do appreciate their determination and that they come out night after night only to fail.

The first few months away from this town were hard because I couldn’t see the night sky. It’s practically impossible to see it in the city. Probably that’s why no one sleeps in New York. They don’t have a sky to call their own.

But even then, the lack of sleep, the fact that the world was an unknown void for me, I never thought of coming back.