Ballistic (4 page)

Sitting in the principal’s office with a bloody nose and skinned knees, I wasn’t worried about the pain. The pain was nothing compared to
how I would feel once my father showed up. Mary was a mean girl, plain and simple. When she went around telling anyone who would listen that she kissed Mikey, I told everyone she was lying. Because she was! I knew it, Mikey knew it, and now everyone else did too. Mary didn’t like to be called a liar so she punched me in the nose really hard. I wasn’t lying. She was, so after I got the gravel out of my knees, I beat her up good.

Now I’m trouble even though she hit me first. Keeping the tissue up there hurt
, but taking it away got blood on my clothes so, I sucked it up. When he walks in he looks at me and yells, “Now what did you do?” Knowing better than to say anything, I kept my head down and my mouth closed. After he visited with the principal he stomped out, grabbed my arm really hard and dragged me from school then shoved me into the minivan.

“Your mother is going to be furious!” he shouts
.

“Mary punched me in the nose
, Daddy,” I tried to tell him.

“Why would she do that
, Halina?” he asks me in a calm voice. His calm voice scares me.

“Because I called her a liar,” I whisper then he slapped me so hard my nose opened up and the tissue couldn’t stop it from getting
blood all over my clothes. Pulling me into the house, my mother looks at me after he explains what I’d done and how he lost two hours of work because of me. She throws me into my room and locks the door.

“You can wear those fucking clothes to school again tomorrow too!” she screams from outside of my door. Crawling into my bed
, I wanted to cry because my nose hurt really bad, but I knew crying would only make it worse. I don’t care what they say. Mary shouldn’t have lied and I don’t feel bad about making her cry.

My life isn’t better than anyone else’s. I work hard, play hard and if I’m lucky, I even get fucked hard once in a while too. I am not prepared for Anthony mentally, physically or emotionally. I keep to myself as a rule, not seeing my friends nearly as much as I’d like to because when we’re together, we either end up in jail, a fight, or a combination of both.

Those girls are my best friends
and my only real family and there is nothing I wouldn’t do for them. They are also extremely honest, but even they throw a lie out sometimes and I get it, it’s human nature and it’s not easy being around someone who knows you’re doing it. To make our lives easier, I keep my distance. It’s hard enough when strangers lie to you, but when it’s people you love, it actually hurts worse. Even if they lie in an effort to spare you the truth. My friends, like me, aren’t perfect. They are fighting battles just like I am. They don’t want to burden me anymore than I want to burden them. They don’t understand that by sparing me the truth, it physically pains me. They don’t need to know that. That’s another burden I won’t put on them. They each have enough.

When Venessa lost her family
, we essentially lost Venessa. After a while, we were introduced to Kharma, but it was clearly her defense mechanism. Every time I’d ask her how she was her answer would be “fine” and I knew she was lying. That girl refused to burden anyone. Instead, Kharma took her anger out on criminals. Personally, I still think it’s fucking awesome, but I wanted to be her back up every one and a while. Macy is all beauty and brains and the girl excels at everything. Almost everything. Brigg was a bad call. Word is when Rafe is around she can’t walk straight either because she’s too busy staring at his ass.

Macy
and Venessa are tight like Jules and I are. Jules though, she’s my world. Smart, funny, forgiving, protective and notoriously vicious. She keeps me in line when I start to float. Which with me happens,
a lot
. Venessa does this weird screaming thing when she’s reached her limit. Macy gets quiet and studies. Jules blows shit up, and I float away. It works for us. I don’t give a fuck what any professional thinks about us either. If I have to hide out in my head for a bit to calm the fuck down, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.

The second
Anthony says their names, I need to know more. How does he know them? Are they in trouble? Jules hasn’t said anything more than what I already know. My friends were finally happy, dammit. I can’t stand the thought of something being wrong now. Jules and Max may be having a tough time, but those two have the real deal and I know it will work out. So I panicked and agreed to meet him out front because he was telling the truth. He was also really smug about it and I’ll admit I want to know what he knows. Yes, I want to be near him but, I won’t be disclosing that nugget anytime soon. This guy is an opportunist. He’s just waiting for my game to slip.

Throwing on my Chuck’s
, I don’t bother changing. The guy has already witnessed me being accosted, naked, and as of a few hours ago, sans shirt. Grabbing my bag, I make my way out and see him leaning against my truck. Unlocking the doors I toss my bag in, grab my smokes and wait for him to speak up.

“May I?”

“Knock yourself out,” I tell him, handing him my pack and a lighter. Watching him inhale, close his eyes and exhale, has me following suit. He’s sexy when he smokes. Hell, he’s sexy regardless. He probably makes taking a shit look sexy too. Let’s face it, some people are just blessed like that.

“
Are you fucking your artist?”

“
The girls, explain how you know them and stop staring at my tits. That’s why I’m out here instead of in there working on my mojo.”

“After you answer my question.”

“No,” I say,rolling my eyes. “Happy now?”

“Have you ever fucked him?”

“Is this a joke? Get me out here by dangling them in front of me then play twenty questions?” Leaning in, I notice he smells good, like Tom Ford good. “I don’t play games, Anthony.”

“Neither do I.”

Seeing that he’s dead serious, I decide to cease with the threats, give the man what he wants to get what I want in return. “I’m not now, in the past or in the immediate future, fucking him. Notice I didn’t say it wasn’t a possibility someday but, I wouldn’t want him doing revenge ink on me if things didn’t pan out either. But if you’re looking for honesty, the truth is the only man I need in my life is a bartender. Now, answer my fucking question or I’m gone.”

“I met them at Lush,” he says
, annoyed with my response. “I’ve been present for each threat, all the dramatics, and every hospital visit. I’ve heard about you a lot over the years, which made me wonder why you weren’t there when
your friends
needed you. Your ability could have spared them a lot of pain, Lina.”

Throwing my butt down
and putting it out with my foot, I push him away from my door in an effort to leave, but not before I run him over with my truck first. He puts his arm around my waist and pulls my back to his front, then whispers in my ear. “Have I struck a truth that upsets you?”

“You struck a nerve,” I growl
. “There’s a difference.”

“Your friends
still need you,” he whispers. “I need you.”

“My friends do
not need me,” I mumble. “And you need counseling.” I slam the door shut but Anthony knocks on my window refusing to take the hint.

Reluctantly, I roll it down when he says
, “Here’s my number, when you’re ready to act like an adult, use it.”

“Excuse me
, Mr. Presumes A Lot,” I throw out at him. “You may know them now, but you sure as fuck didn’t know them then. I have always been around when they needed me. Quit trying to guilt me. I’ll do you one better. When you’re ready to act like an adult, fuck yourself.”

“Namaste,” he says
, attempting to correct me while smirking.

“You ruined it,” I growl
. “Now I have to come up with another word.”

L
ighting up another smoke, I put the truck in drive and ignore his existence. Blazing down the streets I crank Eminem up as loud as my Bose system will allow. Jules always asks me why I don’t date, what was I waiting for? The answer was easy. It wasn’t a ‘what’; he was a ‘who’. I’m positive if I could just meet Marshall Mathers he’d write songs about me. I wouldn’t even care if he stuffed me in a trunk or lit my house on fire. I just want to meet the guy and share lyrics with him, (and maybe a lap dance too). The man keeps me grounded and doesn’t even know that he does. My ability is knowing the truth. His is speaking it. It helps he’s also as crazy as I am. Let’s face it, my kind of crazy is hard to find. That’s soul mate shit for me. Years of trying to get on set with him has been one failure after another but, I chalk it up to timing. I’ll meet him when the time is right and not a moment sooner.

Changing the track to
Rap God
isn’t even helping right now because no matter how hard I try, I can’t get the JJ Fad part down. Instead of banging my head off my steering wheel at my lack of skill, I find the first bar and stop at it, intending to get fucking hammered and forget ever meeting Anthony Gallo and his straight teeth.

Sitting there on another barstool in another shithole bar
, I throw back a shot of Jameson, pissed off that he was telling the truth. Jesus, I can’t win for fucking losing. Okay so, I am carrying
some
guilt about it. Mostly it’s hurt, because if they did need me, all they had to do was ask. But they didn’t. I got the breakdown from Jules and even though I did the part of acting unaffected, I was. As usual, the three of them try to shield me from everything. I hate when they pull that shit. He was right, I could have spared them a lot of pain but they wouldn’t let me.

Four shots later
, I’m rewarded for stopping in when a very large, very hot biker takes the stool next to me, sliding a shot in my direction. All thoughts of my friends, the guilt and Anthony Gallo leave me in an instant. It looks like my night just improved and if he plays his cards right, so will his.

But
an hour after that, when I decide to make my move, it’s not the bikers face that seduces me, it’s his.

And here comes the fucking guilt again.

Perfect.

“We are all looking for someone whose demons play well with o
urs”

The problem was
, she had enough demons for both of us. If you look, you can see it. Hell, she might as well wear a sign that says ‘doesn’t play well with others’ or ‘I have daddy issues’. Will any of this stop me? No. She may let her demons out to play, making bad decisions but, I keep mine hidden. I keep them hidden for a reason.

Finding myself in a bar parking lot in the shit part of the city is not my idea of a productive evening. I pushed her too far. I also said some things I shouldn’t have. Those were my opinions, not those of the girls, but she doesn’t know that. Bottom line was, I crossed a line. The girls love Lina. If she wasn’t around, there was a reason. If I had to guess, I’d say they were protecting her. Venessa told me everything there was to know about this woman, and I thought I had the advantage. Turns out, Venessa doesn’t know nearly as much as she thought she did and that was proving problematic for me. I sought her out for my own selfish reasons¸ to use her, to get leverage, and I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve made a mistake. There’s just something about her. When any of us question the girls about Lina they got very protective. As in, tear your face off protective. I once asked Venessa why she doesn’t contact Lina for help and her answer was simple.

“Lina won’t stop until she uncovers the truth, even if it takes getting submersed in lies to do it. She is hilarious, generous and fucking great at her job
, yeah? But it comes at a price and she pays for it, dearly. None of us are willing to put her through that, not for anything. When it comes to putting us first Lina goes all in. Asking her to fix my shit wouldn’t be right. My girl has enough of her own problems. There’s always someone who wants to use her. I’m not willing to be one of them, not even for a righteous cause.”

So why am I here wanting to drag her further into a situation Venessa will
kill me for bringing her into? Because I want what I can’t have and I need only what she can give me.

Let’s call it t
he truth for now.

And I know t
he second I step in that joint, I’ll be noticed. This is not the type of spot I belong in. I cannot afford to be on anyone’s radar right now. God dammit, I just need to get her alone to explain things so she’ll help me. Knowing she’s in there unprotected has me opening the door to find her anyway, damn the consequences. The woman has made it clear her own safety meant little. That meant it was up to me to protect her. But when I walked in and saw her in another man’s lap, drunk off her perfect ass with her tongue in
his
mouth, I realized tonight is going to have severe consequences.

For
her
.

I vowed to protect her from others, but who would protect her from me?

The weeks I’ve been watching her, I made one rule. When she went inside of a bar, I wouldn’t follow her in. I didn’t want to know what she was doing inside; knowing it didn’t include me troubled me enough. Often she was working, I knew that but more often than that, she wasn’t. Single women don’t usually just hang out in dive bars alone, but she does. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why. I knew it. I just liked pretending I didn’t.

Now I’m
seeing
it. Seeing her like this makes something inside of me snap. I’ve lost so much time with her because of my fears—mainly the fear of her seeing I’m not half the man I pretend to be. I may not be willing to tell her all my secrets yet, but at least I know who I am. Watching her pretend to be into this guy tells me little miss truth seeker doesn’t know who she is at all.

The man
has his hands all over her, no doubt thinking he’s about to get lucky. If I leave him breathing, that’s luck and that’s the only boon he receiving from me. Approaching the pair, I tap the man on the shoulder waiting for him to address me, only he doesn’t. If her tongue was in my mouth I’d be oblivious too. Tapping him harder, he grunts, pulling away from her mouth, but not releasing her. “Fuck off,” he says, wanting to get back to her.

“My woman seems to have
mistaken your mouth for mine,” I tell him casually. “If you would be so kind as to release her, you won’t be an accessory.”

“
Oh yeah?” He laughs, pulls her closer. “Accessory to what?”

“Murder
,” she says, growling at me and moving away from him. “What he’s trying to say is if you don’t run along you’ll be an accessory to murder. His. Because I’m going to fucking kill him and steal his watch. Twenty bucks says he got it at Shinola too.”

“I don’t need this shit,” he says
, standing u.p “You got a man and you didn’t say anything?”

“
I’m sorry, are we sharing life stories? Were you close with your grandmother? Did your dad love you enough?”

“
We’re leaving,” I say, cutting off her speech. Picking her up and carrying her out the door, I expected her to protest or scratch my eyes out, but she doesn’t. Instead, she grabs my forearms and tries to bite me. Odd woman. Getting her into my car, buckling her up and turning up the heat, I look over at her staring out the window. “He could have hurt you,” I tell her, pulling out of the lot. “He was a stranger, Lina. Have you no concern for your own safety?” When she stays silent, I can hear my jaw crack in anger. “You have about as much common sense as a child. You certainly act like one. I told you people need you, yet you spend time in tattoo shops, roller skating with a bunch of overgrown clowns. Drinking your problems away, while offering it up to strangers in bars. It’s sad and it’s childish. You are not who I thought you were.”

“Stop the car,” she says quietly and when I don’t comply
, she reaches for the handle.

Slamming the brakes
, I reach for her to keep her inside with me. “What in the fuck is the matter with you? Are you insane?”

Turning toward me
, she goes from quiet to outright mean and I was in no way prepared for it, even though, in truth, I knew I deserved it. I’d do whatever it took to get a response from her. “You do not know me,” she says, getting in my face. “Neither do they, not anymore. I owe you nothing. You are nothing to me. My skin, my skates and my fuck buddies are
my
choices. You want a little Lina in your life? Well get in line, mambo #5. I choose when and how I get used and had it not been for you, I’d be getting bent over a fucking bike and gotten used on my own terms right about now. Stay the fuck away from me, in case you aren’t processing this, He-Man, that means game over.”

“You will watch your mo
uth when speaking to me,” I growl, gripping her arm. “You’re pushing me and you will not like it when I push back. Don’t try and bullshit me into thinking you wanted that guy. Tell me, when you allowed him to use you, who were you thinking of?”

Reaching for the door
, she gets it cracked open when I make a grab for her other arm. “If you insist on this game you will not like the ending, Anthony. I’ve been a peach so far and that’s a record for me because I don’t even like fruit. Take your manicured hands, your fake sophisticated attitude you
think
impresses everyone, and forget you met me. You, Anthony Gallo, are not who you pretend to be. Maybe you have them fooled, but you aren’t fooling me. Shit you aren’t even fooling yourself and it shows. Here’s a freebie, grab a pen to write it down because it’s a doozy! I’ve got your number and it isn’t 69, feel me?”

Her rant immediately
shuts me up. The way she speaks confuses me and it takes me a second to catch her meaning. Before I can say anything else to possibly defend myself or even apologize, she slumps down further into the seat and starts blinking.

“What’s wrong?” I ask her
, moving her hair from her face.

“I’m
toast,” she says, closing her eyes with a smile. “Finally.”

“Finally?”

“Mmm,” she says, relaxing as I pull her into my arms. “Nothing better than being drunk. No one matters and I don’t have to listen anymore.”

“Listen to what?”

“It doesn’t work when I’m tanked, thank fuck.”

“You mean Namaste?”

“No, I gave up that pipe dream. I like ‘fuck’ too much. Why did you come here? You’re setting yourself for failure, Anthony. You’ve had enough failure don’t you think?”

Then before I can rapid fire
any more questions, she slumps over into my lap and starts snoring. Christ, I’m too old for this shit. Throwing my car in drive, I pull back out, weave onto the freeway and decide to bring her home with me to my side town, to my territory, and get her to bat for my team.

Twenty minutes later we’re at my home. Parking in the garage and coming around to her side
, I gather her up and carry her in through the back door. Taking her upstairs, I lay her down in my bed, then strip her down to her panties. Reaching into her bag, I get out the ointment she needs, and take a very long time massaging it into her newest piece of art. I’ve never been a fan of ink on women in general. I’ve always felt like it takes away from the natural beauty when a women’s skin alone is a work of art. I never understood why any woman would cover it, but turning on the lamp next to the bed, I take the time to inspect Lina’s new ink. The art etched into her is not hearts and flowers. No, it’s dark and troubling. Skulls, wafts of smoke, bullets, clouds, a Bible, a depiction of heaven and hell as well as various other non-descript pieces all intertwine into a very menacing tribute. Looking at her newest addition, I can’t help but wonder what the script means. Knowing the tiny woman in my bed, she won’t offer me up the information willingly.

Shutting off the lamp, removing my own clothing
, I crawl in next to her and, needing her, I pull her to me. She throws an arm over my stomach and digs her nails into my side softly, like she’s testing their resting place. Opening her eyes I see she’s still smashed, but that doesn’t stop me from appreciating our current position.

Touching my face with her free hand she whispers
in perfect polish, “You can’t be trusted, it’s in your eyes.”

“You may not trust me now, but you will.”

“I trust no one.”

“You will trust me,” I whisper to her
. “I’m not giving you a choice.”

“
You think you need me.”

“No
,” I whisper, touching her face in return. “I
do
need you.”

“
You understand me?”

“Yes piękno, I understand you.”

“Shit
,” she mumbles. “You called me beauty. Good to know I’m not the only one who’s drunk at this frat party.”

Chuckling to myself I watch as she closes her eyes and snuggles deeper into me. As she
is dosing I also caught her mutter “being used sucks” as it came from her mouth and promised myself that I wouldn’t use her any more than necessary, even though she expects me to. Then I lay here wondering why she expects me to use her at all. I don’t see how asking for help is using her. But before I could make heads or tails of it, she goes stiff in my arms, then the thrashing starts, followed by a string of words in polish I can’t make out, ending with her hands around her throat and her waking gasping for air.

“You’re safe,” I tell her
, noticing her eyes aren’t clear. “You’re in my bed, my home. It was just a bad dream.”

“No,” she says
, miles away. “That’s just reality.” Then she lies back down, promptly falls right back to sleep, holding onto me like a lifeline. To make sure she stayed that way, I did what I had to do. I cuffed her to the bed in case she woke before I did.

She said she didn’t play
games. I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t either, but I will manipulate the hell out of a situation if it suits me.