Bottom Feeder (25 page)

“
Too close?” he asks. I
shake my head and look down. His fingers gently tilt my chin until
our eyes meet.

I force myself to blink. “How many
tattoos do you have?” Good. Semi-intelligible.

“
I’m not sure. I got most
of them really young.”

“
Can I ask you about
them?”

His hesitation is a clear sign that he
thinks I’m afraid of him. It takes a lot more than tattoos to scare
me. I tell him as much.

“
Some of them represent a
part of me that I like to keep in the past. I’ve only known you a
few hours. I don’t want to scare you away just yet.”

I nod in understanding. My
past would scare
him
away from
me
.

“
Tell you what,” he says.
“The next time we go out, I’ll tell you about them.”

I’m leaving tomorrow. This is his way
of telling me he doesn’t want to tell me. I have secrets of my own
and tonight is about doing things differently.

His face is within centimeters of
mine. He is going to kiss me. My eyes close in
anticipation.

What if I didn’t practice enough with
Dixon? What if I suck? I don’t want to suck. Maybe I
should—

“
You smell
amazing.”

“
Thanks.” I don’t bother
to mask the disappointment. He laughs softly.

He lifts my hair away from my
shoulder. “I’m not going to kiss you unless you say yes.” He wraps
his arms around my waist. His gentle touch sends shivers throughout
my body. “Please say yes,” he whispers.

“
Yes.” With his eyes
locked on mine, Dom leans forward.

The door bursts open. “At ease,
Private!” a short, dark-haired guy shouts.

“
Really,
Dominguez?”Against my will, Dom releases the grip on my
waist.

“
What’s going on here,
Beraz?” Short, dark-haired fellow asks. “Since when do you bring
females to the room? Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“
Maddy, Dominguez.
Dominguez, Maddy.”

Dominguez crosses the room and extends
his hand. “Terrance Dominguez,” his voice becomes deeper,
smoother.

“
Maddy,” I reply. Instead
of a hand shake, he kisses my palm.

Seriously?

Terrance grunts loudly and spins me
around. A low growl erupts from Dom’s chest, instantly reminding me
of Dixon.

“
What?” I ask, feeling
self-conscious.

“
Girl you are
thick
!” Terrance
exclaims. Dom tenses.

“
Er, is that . . . I don’t
know . . .”

“
Mami,
that is a very good thing,” he says, licking his lips. “Did
you get that dress on sale?”

“
Um.”

“
Because if you were with
me it would be one hundred percent
off
.” The embarrassment begins in my
toes and spreads up to my cheeks. “Where did you find her,
Beraz?”

“
I didn’t
find
her anywhere.
Monroe’s BMW is hers.” Dom shifts nervously and adds, “But they’re
not together or anything.”

I stop the scowl from seeping onto my
face. I know Jackson told him to say that last part. I hate that it
upsets me.

“
He didn’t say anything
about her looking like
this
.” Terrance grunts
again.

“
Are you always this
bold?” I ask.

“
Only when I’m looking at
something I want.
¡Me encantaria navegar
tus curvas! ¿Usted me desea mami?”

“
Dominguez,” Dom says his
name like a warning.

Ha! I told Dixon my Rosetta Stone
hobby would come in handy.

I may not have the
vernacular correct, but I reply, “
No,
papi. Yo no creo.”
Terrance gapes. Dom
looks a little smug. Well, I shouldn’t be talked about as if I’m
not in the room, and I tell him as much.
“¡No hable como si yo no estoy en el cuarto!
It’s rude.
”

Terrance throws his hands
up in surrender, laughing. “If he doesn’t give you what you
need,
mami
, you
come find me. I’m one bed over.”

I roll my eyes. “You, sir, are an
absolute charmer.”

“
We’re leaving anyway.”
Dom’s voice is quiet, angry.

“
Pacific or
Lackey’s?”

“
Why would I take her to
Lack—? Pacific. And no you can’t ride with us.”

“
I don’t need a ride.
Morris and the girls from the first floor are going. Monroe already
took that girl from Lackey’s in her Beemer.” He snaps his thumb
toward me. “I’m pretty sure he’s put some miles on it—and in
it—this week.”

I feel a grimace slowly creeping
across my face. Terrance notices and adds, “You’ll probably have to
clean the seats.”

Ew. I make a mental note
to
definitely
clean the seats tomorrow.

Dom and I exit the barracks, but not
without a few appreciating stares from the guys at the
desk.

Dom has changed clothes
and I look a hot mess after being almost-kissed and finding
out
The Deed
has
been performed on my car seats. Great. Just great.

“
I know you’re angry, but
Dominguez doesn’t mean any harm. He’s naturally an ass.”

I silently stir over assumptions and
dirty car seats. “I don’t get angry.”

“
Everyone gets
angry.”

“
I just don’t like that me
being in your room is implied.”

“
Well,” he says after a
moment of silence. “
We
know the truth. It doesn’t matter what they
think.”

Dom’s statement reminds me of the
million pep talks from Dixon throughout our friendship. An ache in
my chest makes me realize how much I miss him. He has been my only
family for a long time. Dixon knows almost everything there is to
know about me. Secrets, flaws and all. And he still loves me
unconditionally.

“
You’re right,” I
admit.

Dom switches his playlist to a mix of
blues and soul. I rest my head back and hum along with Big Mama
Thornton talking about how sometimes she has a
heartache.

Dom eyes me suspiciously. “You like
blues?”

“
Mmm-hmm,” I reply between
hums.

“
Can I hear you
sing?”

“
No.”

The parking lot to Club Pacific is
jam-packed. I spot the BMW a few parking spaces from the front door
and something like angers flares in the pit of my
stomach.

A short, burly bouncer
double-checks my license and wishes me a bored “Happy Birthday”
while marking each hand with a large
X
.

The club is sectioned into several
rooms, the largest being where hip-hop and trance are blaring
through speakers taller than me. The smaller rooms are divided into
karaoke, a game room/sports bar with a boxing match playing on a
large-screened television, and a country-themed room with Zac Brown
Band telling me to jump right in. Dom also mentions a cigar bar in
the far back, past the game room.

Um, no thanks.

Fluorescent lights radiate bright
streams in various directions across the dance floor. The smell of
stale alcohol, sweat and mixtures of colognes and perfumes fill my
nostrils as we edge our way through the thick crowd. Dom’s hand at
the small of my back reminds me of his earlier promise not to leave
my side.

He leans into me, shouting over the
music. “You’re going to dance with me, right?”

Quick pep talk.

All right, Carrington,
you’re never going to step foot in this town again. These people do
not know you or your father. This guy is hot and wants to kiss you.
Put your big girl panties on and dance like no one else is in the
room.

We dance. Actually, he stands behind
me like a body guard, nodding his head to the beat through the next
four songs.

“
Let’s sit down for a
few,” he shouts when a melodic techno track begins.

I nod and follow him to the karaoke
room. A beautiful blonde, who appears to be straight off the pages
of Maxim with legs that seem to go on forever, is singing off-key
to one of my favorite classic rock songs. Clad in a short,
stretch-knit black dress with a skinny red belt draped around her
tiny waist, the magnetism radiating from her is enough to give a
swift roundhouse kick to my self-esteem. She has the undivided
attention of everyone in the room.

“
I’m sure Ronnie Van Zant
would turn over if he heard how she was battering this song,” Dom
says.

I laugh. “At least she has
the courage to get up there.” Maybe one day I might be bold enough
to stand on a small stage, in an insignificant nightclub in front
of all these strangers and sing my heart out. Even if I
did
maul the song to
death.

“
Good point,” he says. He
tucks a stray curl behind my ear. This simple act leaves me
speechless. He tilts his head, scrutinizing my expression. “I’ll be
right back.”

“
M’Kay.” I feel oddly
exposed as soon as he leaves my side. Like my blanket of protection
has been ripped off.

Gah, I’m such a weenie.

The beautiful blonde ends
her rendition of
Sweet Home Alabama
while the entire male populous gives her a
standing ovation. She smiles at the round of whistles and catcalls.
Not a trace of pink stains her cheeks. I wonder what
that
feels
like.

Immediately after she is helped off
the stage, a group of guys follow and begin rapping to an old
Outkast song.

“
What?” I ask when Dom
returns with a mischievous smile.

“
Tell me something,” he
says. “Do I still have permission to kiss you?”

“
Depends.” I purse my
lips, pretending to pout. I’d like more than anything for him to
kiss me. There’s no need to sound desperate. I straighten my
shoulders to increase the effectiveness of my bluff.

He raises an eyebrow. “On?”

“
On why you’re smiling
like you just stole Christmas.”

Dom laughs. “How did you
know?”

I try for a sexy smile. Goodness,
that’s a grueling task. “You have my permission.”

He bites his lip, which sends my
hormones into overdrive. “I’m going to hold you to
that.”

An enthusiastic voice booms loudly
over the speakers. I turn to the stage to see a middle-aged man
dressed in a bright Hawaiian-style shirt, plaid shorts, and flip
flops.

“
You!” He points in my
direction.

Please let him be pointing
to someone else.
Please
let him be pointing to someone else.

“
The pretty dark-haired
girl: Come on now, don’t be shy.” He gestures to me again, causing
everyone within a few tables’ radius to follow his
fingers.

I want to hide beneath the table. I
lower my head and fervently pray for him to go away.

The man is relentless. “The gentleman
there has requested a song from you.”

I snap my head up.

“
Please?” Dom
whispers.

Jackson

The Pacific is wall-to-wall with
people. I’m waiting at the edge of the game room for a pool table
to free up. In order to tolerate a crowd of this magnitude, I am
sitting with my back to the wall. Observing.

The charcoal-haired waitress makes her
rounds, frowning at my underage drinking. I slip a fifty into her
waist apron. The frown forms to a smile.

Maddy shouldn’t be too upset that
Vanessa drove her car. Especially if she knew I was a little tipsy.
Responsibility is key. Responsibility is me. Or
whatever.

“
JB, sing with me!”
Vanessa tugs weakly on my arm. Her ridiculously short black dress
makes every guy in here want her. She even got us inside the club
for free tonight. “Come on,” she insists.

“
You go ahead,” I smile,
gently pushing her hand away. “I’ll watch.”

Vanessa bends to kiss my ear, my neck,
and eventually my lips. I don’t dig the sticky lip stuff she wears,
but I kiss back anyway. She walks away with an exaggerated swing to
her step.

The waitress places my
beer on the table, along with an alcohol swab. She waits until I
wipe the two large
X
marks off my hands before snapping a fluorescent green
bracelet on my wrist.

“
Do
not
get me fired,” she
warns.

The music to
Sweet Home Alabama
begins to play. A few riffs later, an off-key voice
reverberates throughout the room. I peek around to see Vanessa
butchering a beloved classic.