Sinners & Saints (Sinners & Saints #1) (30 page)

           
“I
thought you were a bullshit artist.”

           
“It’s
not bullshit if it’s truth. I let women know what I want and what I want to do
with them. I don’t make promises, Cody. You like this girl. I planted the seed.
I let her know that you are a sap and you basically lie awake imagining her
adorable little smile. She likes that.”

           
“How
do you know that?”

           
“Our
English Rose pointed it out to you. She looked back. No one looks back unless
they are curious.”

           
“I
think you should just go up there and talk to her. She’s right there at the bar
waiting on drinks. Just go,” Juliet suggests.

           
“You
sure?”

           
“Yeah.”

           
I
look back at Anika and my anxiety hits an all-time high. Every doubt is running
through my head. If I do this it will only end badly. She’ll think I’m lame and
a geek. My parents will disapprove and force me to break up with her and I will
end up in a loveless marriage for the rest of my natural born life!

           
“Hey
Cody,” Hugo snaps me out of my thoughts. “If you don’t go up there and talk to
her… I will.”

           
“Excuse
me?” I make sure I heard that right.

           
He
leans over the table and crosses his arms together. “If you don’t talk to her,
I will.”

           
“Hugo,
piss off,” Juliet snaps.

           
He
doesn’t. He just continues in Hugo aka Satan fashion. “It will probably take me
about three weeks to get her in my bed. Since we arrived she has looked at you
in that way like ‘oh there’s that cute guy again’ then she saw me and was like
‘oh he’s cute too’, but she doesn’t want me. She’s wondering if you’re
interested, but you don’t make a move. So when I will, she can’t say no
because… why the hell not? He’s cute. He’s interested. Then when I do, my
predictions will be confirmed that she likes to get fucked from behind and she
likes her hair pulled. Maybe a smack on her tight, round ass. She probably has
a mouth like a vacuum and probably isn’t too keen on fucking in other parts of
a house full of people, but once I get my hands on her, she won’t be able to
say no. She will scream my name and you will hear it and be reminded that you
were too much of a pussy to go after what was yours.”

           
I
feel a slight burning sensation in my hand; I realize I’ve been squeezing too
hard on the butter knife. My heart is beating fast and I feel like it’s going
to explode and all I want to do is bash Hugo’s face on the table and stab him
with a knife before he ever can even blink at Anika. She is mine. She is mine,
damn it! And I’ll be damned if I let Hugo fucking Mandrake, of all people, have
her. He always gets the girl, especially the good ones. He doesn’t deserve
them. He doesn’t
—
I do. I
deserve what I want.
 

           
I
stand up, still glowering over Hugo. I’ll show him. I’ll show them all. I turn
around and take a deep breath before heading towards the bar. I have no plan,
just an agenda and my agenda is to get what I want.

           
“Can
I help you?”
Shit.
I’m so busy in my
head I don’t even realize I’m standing right next to her. She looks at me
nervously. I should retreat.
 
The
damn thought of Hugo having sex with her doesn’t allow me.
 
Fuck it, I’ll just blurt the first thing
that came into my mind from the first moment I saw her.

           
“You
are really beautiful.”
Shit.
I panic.
“Shit.”

           
Suddenly,
all my worries wash away once her smile appears. I close my eyes in relief then
regain my composure. “I’m sorry.”

           
She
shakes her head, still that gracious smile blitzed on her face. “No, it’s
fine.”

           
“Listen…
I come here all the time with my parents because… I hope to see you.”

           
Her
face softens some more. I’m on the right track.

           
“I
just wanted to know… if I could have your number and maybe text or call or
both… sometime? Take you on a date? Get to know you?” Stop talking Cody.

           
Light
laughter escapes from her and she nods her head. That’s a yes, right?

“Yeah… sure,” she confirms. “I would
really like that.”

           
“Okay,
yes. This is excellent.” Okay, I’m beginning to sound like a nerd again.

           
“Let
me hurry before my manager notices,” she says and I pull out my phone and she
gives me her number just like that. This is the first time I have ever gotten a
girl’s number on my own before. Usually it’s through my parents when they’re
trying to set me up, but I got this one
—
this sexy
and beautiful girl’s number
—
all on my
own.

           
“Hey
Cody.” I look from the number to her. “I’ve always looked forward to seeing you
here too.”

           
And
I physically want to smack myself for not always going for what I want.

21

HUGO

“Holy shit. He didn’t choke,” Jordana
says.

           
Juliet
looks at me from across the table with those knowing green eyes. “What?”

           
“Nothing,”
she softly says, but I know what she’s thinking. The difference between her
staring at me now and before is there is a current passing through us and I
feel as if I’m becoming less… I guess you can say I’m becoming less
discouraged, scared… by this connection we have formed.

           
Cody
comes back to the table, grinning from ear to ear with his hands behind his
back and standing tall and proud. The girls applaud him.

           
“Well
done,” Jordana congratulates him.

           
“Thank
you.” He looks at me, now frowning. “I guess thank you to you to.”

           
I
nod my head.

 
“You guys ready to go?” Cody asks.

           
“Yeah,
I have a hair appointment,” Poppy says, finishing her water. “You should leave
her a tip, Cody.” She suggests and Cody gleefully pulls out his wallet and
throws a tip on the table.

           
“I
need a nap.” Jordana puts on her sunglasses.

           
“I
think I want to go for a walk,” Juliet says, standing up.
 
She glances at me. “Anyone want to join
me?”

           
No, Hugo.
“I’ll accompany you.”
Damn Hugo.

           
They
all, of course, give us funny looks. Poppy even makes kissing noises.
 
We part ways; they get in the Rolls
Royce while Juliet and I stand outside the restaurant.

           
“So,
where to?” I ask.

JULIET

We walk along the mall in Central Park.
The elm trees surrounding it provide shade from the scorching sun.

           
“God,
it’s hot.” I fan myself.

           
“Yes,
if only I had my sunglasses to block out the cancerous sun,” he deadpans.

           
I
laugh and roll my eyes. “First, sunglasses won’t protect you from cancer.”

           
“They
might possibly protect me from eye cancer.”

           
“I
doubt it and if the sun doesn’t get our eyes, it will be the screens on the
cells, lap tops, and tellys we bore them into every day.”

           
“This
coming from a girl who Instagrams selfies.”

           
“There
is nothing wrong with a good selfie or usie here and now. I just started
following you too. You don’t post anything; you have probably under twenty
photos yet you have thousands of followers.”

           
“You’d
be amazed what one shirtless picture would do and that is one of the reasons
why I weep for society.”

           
“What
else do you weep for when it comes to the peasants beneath you, oh King?”

           
“Let’s
see, the fact that most people don’t know a difference between a continent and
a country and the fact that most rather watch reality T.V. instead of daily
news. People know the sex of an unborn Kardashian baby months before they know
of a terrorist attack. Although, the government is indeed full of corrupted
souls.”

           
I
stop mid walk. “In defense of the public, you should understand that the news
is literally depressing.” I laugh a little as he looks at me with his arms behind
his back. “I mean ninety percent of the information being flooded into our
brains is depressing as shit. We need a little humor to balance ourselves out
and sitcoms and reality television is that, except
The Voice
and
Catfish
. I
take those very seriously.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” he says and
we start back walking.

“No,
The Voice
is quite inspiring and
Catfish
clearly sends a message about insecurities and
self-loathing caused by media’s portrayal of beauty. I mean, yes, they’re
fucking idiots for dating someone through the internet for a year without
questioning why they never Skype or Facetime, but still you can’t help but feel
horrible for these people.”

           
“I
blame television for your behavior then.”

           
“No,
blame my mormor,” I smile proudly.

           
“
You’re
Swedish?” he asks, knowing the meaning of mormor.

           
“My
gran was. She was very vibrant like Ms. Eleanor, which doesn’t shock me that
they were close friends. She told me and my cousins to always call her gran or
mormor. I always found it lovely to say mormor.”

           
“That
diamond bracelet you’re always fidgeting with… it was a gift from her, wasn’t
it?”

           
I
stop walking again and my gaze drifts to his eyes, making sure I read him
right. “How would you know that?”

           
“When
you’re happy… really annoyingly happy…” He always has to throw in an insult to
keep it from being too sincere. “You play with your very enchanting, I might
add, bracelet. You just smiled
—
lit up, in
fact
—
talking
about her. She must have given it to you.”

           
“You
know… for a person who prides himself on not being a sympathetic human being,
you sure do dare to say the most invigorating and enchanting things.”

           
“I
unfortunately retain useless information.”

           
I
sigh and tilt my head to the side. “You amaze me,” I smile. “I know what you
were doing back there with Cody.”

           
“What
do you assume I was doing?”

           
“You
were trying to give him courage by pissing him off. You knew she already liked
him. You knew that the fact that Cody despises and in some way envies you meant
that describing the filthy things you would do to her would finally get him to
crack.”

           
“Well
that’s your theory.”

           
“It’s
a good one too because I believe that if Cody didn’t take the chance… you
wouldn’t of made a move.”

           
He
leans in, his eyes strained like he’s trying to convince himself. “See that’s
where you get things misconstrued. I would have gone after her. He would need
to be taught a lesson.”

           
Never
mind, I think he means it.

           
“And
what is that?” I ask.

           
“That
you must always go for what you want. No one is ever going to just give you
something… well unless you’re filthy rich like us.”

           
 
“And what about when you told me about
your mum? Was that the start of getting what you want? ... which is me, if you
haven’t realized by that statement.”

           
The
corner of his mouth tries to turn up. “I don’t know yet.”

           
“Okay.”
We start walking again. “Confusion is normal in the beginning of change.”

           
 
“You are a persistent one.”

           
“And
you are a complicated one… I think I’m going to be able to crack you now.”

           
“Just
like I cracked you a few nights ago.”

           
“Ha!
There it is. I was wondering when you would bring it up. You didn’t crack me,
Hugo. What you did was just hit my sweet spot. You didn’t crack me because…
there’s nothing to crack.” He stops walking now and looks at me, curiously.
“See that’s the key. My mormor always taught me to just put myself out there.
Waste no time being mysterious.”

           
“She
didn’t understand that men liked mystery?”

           
“Oh,
no she did, but she always found mystery to be depleted. Mysterious is only as
good as a one night stand with a prince
—
her words,
to be exact. Now, I don’t mean just put every detail of your day’s schedule or
what type of dental floss you like to use, but just be bold
—
say what you mean, mean what you say.
Jessie too, the girl from the roof you know about. She doesn’t care what she
says now and neither do I. Life is too short, it’s an old, used saying but it
truly is true. It’s too short when you waste time and too short when you try to
speed things up, if that makes sense. I think if you go with the flow, it can
seem like forever… close to it anyway. We’re surrounded by liars, why join them
when you can shock them?”

           
“You
certainly add shock value,” he says softly. He stares off into the park and I
join him. People are everywhere on the green field, some reading, some playing
with their dogs, others with each other. I see a couple having a picnic and I
wonder what it would be like to go on a picnic with him. I never even knew I
was into picnics. I sort of find them annoying, but now seeing and being this
smitten with Hugo changes a lot of my initial beliefs.
 
“Where else would you like to go?” he
asks me.

           
“I
want to go to a museum.”

           
“The
Met?”

           
“No,
the Brooklyn Museum.”

           
“Traffic
is going to be a bitch getting there,” he says annoyed.

           
“I
know, which is why we are taking the Subway.”

           
“What?”
His eyes widen.

           
“Are
you scared?”

           
“No,
I’m just not interested in riding in a crowded train full of bums and thieves
and sick children.”

           
“Well,
I guess you will have to hold on to that watch then and pack hand sanitizer.” I
grab his wrist and drag him to our destination.

Once on the Subway, we sit across from
each other. It is indeed crowded. A few bums, a few coughing and sneezing
children. I’ve been on the Subway with my dad a few years back. I actually
enjoyed it. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I glance at Hugo who is
watching me. With each stop the train continues to get more crowded. An elderly
woman boards; I look to see if anyone would give up their seat
—
of course none do. I guess I will do
it, but before I do, I look to Hugo who is also staring at the elderly woman
with a cane, a purple t shirt with a kitten on it, light blue jeans and a white
hat that with a pink flower on it. His eyes look strained as he stares at the
old woman hard. They then soften. He throws in an eye roll before standing up
and offering his seat.

           
“God
bless you, young man.” The old woman smiles and rubs his arm before sitting
comfortably and relieved.

           
I
smile up at him as he reluctantly holds on to the pole in front of me. He
stares down at me and shrugs it off. Maybe life is sending me a test on
hypocrisy because a woman with three little children and groceries in her hands
just stepped on the train. Hugo eyes the stressed woman then me. He semi
smirks, silently saying, ‘Your turn’ and I stand up without hesitation.

“Here, you go mam.” I gesture to my
empty seat. She smiles broadly.

“Thank you so much.”

 
While the woman settles, I hold on to the
same pole as Hugo, facing him. The crowd of people surrounding us pushes our
bodies closer. We’ve kissed and he’s had his hand down my trousers, but for
some reason just standing here this close and staring at the eyes of Hugo feels
different. Maybe it’s the fact that this time he can’t look away. People cover
us and there is nowhere for him to run. He stares at me with anguish, but
care.
 
More people enter the subway
car. I should move out the way, but Hugo isn’t letting me. He confines me to
our perfect little imperfect space by wrapping his arm around my waist,
pressing his hand against my lower back, pulling me in to him. I slide my hand
up the pole and wrap my fingers over his. I gaze up into his one blue, one
green. I’m starting to see deeper within the ocean. Somehow through that cold
exterior it’s starting to crack and the need in his eyes pleads for me to both
stop and push. I will choose the latter over and over again. I want to push through,
bring it down with a sledgehammer and live in what’s inside.