Fair Play (15 page)

“Good girl,” he commends.

When a petite blonde hurries in and rushes behind the bar, I assume she’s Loose’s replacement.

I can see
Loose whisper something to the blonde then she looks over at me with big wide blue eyes. Loose says something else, which makes her smile but she’s still eyeing me. It makes me wonder if she’s got a thing for him or maybe they’ve been together before.

“Let’s go,” Loose says as he makes his way around the bar and stands next to my stool.

If I think Loose will put out an arm to help me, I’m clearly mistaken. He crosses his arms over his chest as if he’s waiting for me to hop down.

I slide off the bar stool as carefully as I can in my tight skirt and heels. Loose seems to be enjoying watching me struggle because he’s got a smirk on his face.

“Ready” he says when I’m off the bar stool and on my feet.

I nod and he takes off. I follow but it’s not easy in my heels because he’s a fast walker.

I’m falling behind and it isn’t until Loose takes a quick look back at me that he slows down.

“Nice shoes,” he says obviously making fun of the fact that I can’t keep up with him in six inch stilettos.

“I’m right over there.” When he points to a cherry red Camaro, I’m not surprised at all.

I stand at the passenger side door but
Loose is no gentleman. Instead of opening the door for me, he gets into his side of the car and waits for me to open mine and get in.

Without a word, he revs the engine and takes off with a screech of the tires. The guy is tough and has absolutely no class and I wonder what I’ve gotten myself into this time.

“I want to make a stop first,” he says. “Get a drink. Is that okay?”

Do I have a choice
? I shrug.

“Come on, Princess. You could use another drink or two. You won’t be so uptight.”

I never considered myself
uptight
but I’ve never looked at myself from the perspective of someone like him. I might seem uptight to someone whose name is Loose.

“Whatever,” I say as casually as I can but inside I’m starting to freak out a little. This guy is big. I have no idea where we’re going. I don’t even know his real name. And I agreed to spend the night with him.

What the fuck was I thinking?

I’m supposed to be an Ivy League graduate. I’m supposed to be
smart
. But this could be one of my dumbest moves I’ve ever made.

If I believed in God this is the point at which I would prob
ably start praying.

Instead, I start to panic. I have a cell phone. I could call someone to pick me up but I have no idea where he’s even taking me other than south. And even that’s just an assumption based on the fact that he called himself a
Southie.

When he finally stops the car, we’re in the middle of a neig
hborhood that could pass for a war zone. Most of the buildings are boarded up, vacant and covered with graffiti. The street is lined with shattered beer bottles and assorted trash. When we get out of the car, I nearly gag at the odor, which seems to be a cross between urine and rotting garbage.

I try to discretely place a hand over my mouth and nose to block the stench, which doesn’t seem to bother Loose a bit.
Maybe he’s used to it? I don’t know how anyone could get used to a smell that foul.

I want to get inside as quickly as possible—until I see the place he’s taking me.

It could be the scariest place I’ve ever seen in my life. I have no idea why the place hasn’t been condemned. Half of it looks like it was damaged in a fire and the other half is shot up with bullet holes. The front
windows
are barred and the steel door actually has several dents and bullet holes.

The bouncer standing at the front door looks like a skinhead and I avoid his gaze when we stand next to him.

“Hey, Loose,” the bouncer says as he gives him a slight nod. “Who’s the bitch?”

“She’s with me,” he replies.

The skinhead gives me the once over and shakes his head, confirming what I already know, that I don’t belong here. But he steps aside and I follow Loose into what can only be described as a hellhole.

The inside of the place makes the outside look good. It’s dark
, filthy and the walls are stained with what could be blood and feces. The layer of smoke that hangs near the ceiling makes it clear that the Clean Air Act has no bearing in this place. My lungs protest and I actually let out a cough.

Loose glances back at me and
laughs. I’m not sure if he says anything because it’s hard to hear over the music, if you can call it that. It sounds like screaming over a bass beat so heavy it makes my chest rumble.

As I look around, I realize there are a lot of very scary people in this bar and they are all men. I suddenly feel queasy.

What the hell am I doing in Hell and how do I get out of here?

I follow Loose to the back of the bar, where three outlaw biker types are standing. The guys each shake
Loose’s hand and then stare at me like I’m from another planet, which I clearly am. Even wearing my most risqué outfit, I still feel like a church girl in this place.

Rough would be an understatement. This place is terrifying.

As Loose talks to his friends, I scan the place for any kind of an exit or other means of escape but don’t see any. Not even a fire exit.

Then I notice a very large, very heavily tattooed guy a few seats down and he’s staring at me. The guy is
a mountain of flesh, easily 50 pounds larger than Evan. And his entire body is a mass of tattoos, including his bald head, which is covered with an
intricate black tattoo that resembles a raven.

I try my best to avoid the massive man’s eyes but he won’t take his eyes off me. He’s almost gaping at me. And it frightens me to my core when I realize
that if the massive guy wants to do something to me, there’s not a person in the entire bar who would probably be able stop him.

And I
also
realize I have never felt so completely vulnerable in my life.

“These are my roommates,” Loose says finally. He points to the first guy who is decked out in black leather and has a large scar running the entire length of face, from the corner of his eye down to his chin.

“That’s Scarface.”

Obviously
, I think.

Loose points to a heavyset guy with lo
ng hair pulled back into a ponytail. He’s wearing one of those fancy biker vests that probably signifies he’s in some kind of outlaw biker gang. When the guy grins at me, I can see he’s missing a few of his front teeth.

“That’s Big Fella,” he says.

“Did Loose tell you how he got the name?” Big Fella asks.

I shake my head.

“After he got out of the pen, his ex said:
Look what the state finally let loose
. It just stuck.”

So, not only am I in a scary biker bar, in the shittiest part of town
, but I’m here with an ex-con. There’s so much wrong with this picture I’m completely overwhelmed by all of it.

The last guy in their foursome is tall and thin and he’s got a crazed look in his eyes. I’m not sure if he’s amped up on drugs or just, for lack of a better word, crazy. I can see he’s got his fists balled tightly, like he’s trying his best to keep them under control.

“That’s Snap,” Loose says and I think
: I sure hope he doesn’t
.

The guys Loose lives with are beyond scary and I feel the need to escape this awful place and get back to my end of town. Does that mean I’m a
Northie? Is there such a thing? I just know I don’t belong here.

Loose’s
roommates are ogling me like I’m raw meat and they’re starving lions.

Scarface steps close to me and places his calloused hand on my face. As he moves his rough hand down my cheek, I feel
my skin crawl and my stomach clenches
tightly.

I know I’m going to be sick.

A bead of sweat runs down my face and Scarface wipes it off with his thumb.

“Nervous?” he asks. His eyes are dark and lifeless
. I get the feeling he may have killed the guy that did that to his face.

I don’t respond. I just shoot a look at Loose, who is actually grinning. He’s got his arms rest
ing over his chest and he’s leaning against the back wall like he’s enjoying the show.

Scarface scans the length of my body and licks his raw, cracked lips. “Looks like you came here for a little action. We can show you a good time.”

I gulp at his use of the word
we
.

Scarface lets out a hard laugh. “Didn’t
Loose tell you? We share everything.”

Oh, God. What have I gotten myself into?

The thought of being with four men at once is repulsive enough but the thought of being with
these
four guys makes me want to die.

“No,” I say. And it’s not just in answer to his question. It’s no to everything these guys think is going to happen.

The guys all laugh as if the word
no
is funny and that makes my stomach clench every tighter. Can I just have a heart attack and get it over with? Is that the only way I’ll be able to get out of this massive mistake of my own making?

Scarface gets even closer to me. He’s so
close, I can feel his stale breath on me. He smells like a mixture of cigarettes and beer.

“We never had a girl like you before,” he says as he closes any space that was left between us.

He has me pressed against the bar and I can feel his erection hard against me. The other guys are watching like it’s a show.

When I look over at the bartender, a middle-aged guy with a moustache, he turns away like he doesn’t want to get in the middle of anything. A wave of panic overtakes me as I realize I’m on my own.

I try to wriggle free but Scarface is big and muscular and
wanting
. The look in his eyes is so cold, it sends shivers through my body. I know if I don’t do something,
fast
, these guys are going to gang-rape me, or worse.

So I use the only option available, I knee Scarface in the groin as hard as I can.

“You fucking bitch,” he screams and he slaps me hard across the face before he grabs his crotch and goes down.

My cheek stings with pain but I know there’s no time to wo
rry about it. There are three more guys, who still want a piece of me and now they’re angry about what I did to Scarface.

I make a move to escape but Big Fella grabs for me and ma
nages to rip nearly the entire sleeve from the shoulder of my blouse. Snap tries to grab my other arm and I manage to wriggle free but not before that sleeve gets torn as well.

I barely get away from the foursome when I run right into the massive guy with the tattoos, who was staring at me from down the bar. Standing, the guy is even bigger and more menacing than I estimated. My head is just barely to his chest.

I think he might do something even worse than Loose’s roommates but instead, he stands between me and the foursome in a protective way.

“I heard the girl say no,” he says to Loose and his friends.

The four look like they do not want to mess with this massive guy. As big and tough as they are, this guy would swat them away like flies.

“She’s going to walk out of here and you’re going to let her go.”

Loose and his roommates all give the massive guy a nod of understanding.

The massive guy
leans down and whispers in my ear. “There’s a small convenience store down the block. It’s closed except for a walk up window where you can get cigarettes and gum—whatever will fit through the slit. Tell the guy you’re a friend of Massive Mike and that you need him to call a cab. Don’t try to call one yourself. You’ll never get one to come down here, especially not at night. He’ll be able to get one for you.”

“Thanks,” I say.

“Just get out of here,” he replies. I don’t look back but I can feel the tension of a fight brewing as I hurry out the door.

I tell the man at the convenience store window what I’ve been instructed and he calls me a cab without question. The way he looks at me, almost with horror, gives me the sense that I must look awful.

The man instructs me to wait right in front of the window and not to move from that spot. I think it’s a little strange until I realize there are two cameras pointed right at me. He’s obviously worried for my safety and knows that no one will attack a girl with two cameras pointed directly at her.

When the cab finally arrives and I feel like I’m headed t
owards safety, I let out a sob that doesn’t stop until we pull into the driveway of Evan’s condo.

“Are you going to be okay?” the cab driver
asks as I pay him.

“I am now,” I tell him.