Only Skin Deep (13 page)

“I
didn’t think you drank. Been here over a dozen times and never once seen you
order a stiff one.”

“Times change.”

“You
look like you need a friend.”

“Thanks
but I can handle it,” Derek dismissed him without looking up.

“Enough to fall off the wagon?
I know an alcoholic when I
see one. Is whatever that’s pushed you this far worth losing your sobriety? If
you want to talk I’ll be around. If you need a lifeline, don’t let your pride make
you regret your actions come morning.”

Derek
gave a perfunctory nod.

Deja’s
haunting words affected him, had the power to
destroy all he believed in. As a man, he never believed anyone could hurt him,
let alone on the scale of which she had. If anyone had told him ten years ago,
there’d be times when his control would slip, he wouldn’t have believed them.
He prided himself on composure under the stress of any circumstance. To think,
he’d come so far. That one small woman possessed the power to knock him on his
ass bothered him. Just thinking her name instigated a rage he felt powerless to
control. He knew if unleashed, the repercussions would be staggering.

“You drinkin’ or not?
My friends would like to sit down and
you’re occupying space.”

Derek
turned his attention to the man speaking to him. “Drinking or not, I’m sitting
here, go find another place to sit.”

“Fuckin’ prick.”

Derek
clenched his jaw but ignored the asshole attempting to draw him into an
altercation. Self-discipline won. He pushed the shot glass back and pulled
money out for the bartender, tossing a few bills on the bar.

The
asshats
remained close to the bar, hitting on any
skirt walking by. He picked up his keys, knowing they were none of his
business. Taunts met his ears as he made his way past the group of guys
blocking the only exit.
“Comin’ through.”

They
didn’t budge.

Derek
flashed a look of impatience as they continued their conversation, ignoring
him. The urge to plow a fist through the man separating him from the door
appealed to him. Instead, he spoke above the raucous music.
“Move.”
They shoved and he returned the sentiment pushing his way forward, his shoulder
striking frat boys. The sound of beer sloshing hit his ear.
Fuck it
. He made his intention to get by
politely the first time. A little spilled brew didn’t hurt anyone.

“
Yo
.”

Derek
didn’t look back but continued his way out.

A
hand gripped his shoulder. “Get your hand off me,” he said, in a low gravelly
voice.

“Dude,
you owe me a beer and you’re not leavin’ until you get me one.”

“Go
get it yourself, you should have moved.” Derek knocked the arm from his
shoulder and smoothed his jacket. “Any other problem, if not I’ll be going.” He
didn’t back down.

“Not
‘til I get my drink.” The stranger shoved him.

Derek
scrutinized his opponent for a moment, and took in the close proximity of the
guy’s buddies. “I’m not looking for trouble, just leaving.”

“Looks
like trouble found you.” A punch was thrown that didn’t make its mark.

Derek
snarled, struck hard and fast, hitting the college boy square in the jaw,
taking him down. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Micah, Tomas and
Donato
heading his way. Deflecting the buddies worked for
the first few blows, not for all of them. He took a hit in his lip. A metallic
tang met his taste buds and he saw black.

Three
on one he could take, but four on one?
Over bullshit?
Derek engaged delivering steady blows, receiving a few dealt his way. He
grinned when one resounding crunch of a hand breaking met his ears, the
bastard’s hand swelled instantly from direct contact to the metal plate in his
skull. Derek didn’t go down. Instead he braced himself, widened his stance,
plowing straight through them, until the bouncers arrived—he delivered
punishing blows and kicks, ignoring the burn in his ribs and his screaming
bloody knuckles. Adrenaline pumping, he stayed poised, ready to strike again,
but security engulfed him.

“Damn.
Want a job?”

“Odd sense of humor,
Donato
.”
Derek swiped his hand over his bloodied lip.

“You
took down four guys. It’s either that or hand you a tissue.”

“A
napkin would be appreciated.” Derek reined in the beast that glorified in being
let free.

“Take
a sec to calm down. When you’re ready we can go to my office for a minute.
Tomas, get the man a wet cloth and some ice.
Micah head on
back to VIP.”

“Boss.”

Derek
watched the men leave to do his boss’s bidding. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“You
handle yourself well under pressure.”
Donato
accepted
a towel filled with ice chips from Tomas a few minutes later and handed Derek
the ice pack.

Derek
shrugged.”It’s nothin’ just self-defense.”

“Bullshit.
Only street fighters and trained fighters have such quick responses.”
Donato
led Derek to his office and took a seat, motioning
for Derek to take the other. “I’d offer you a drink but we both know you don’t
need a drink. What you need is a friend.”

“Yeah…”
Derek struggled to reply.

“You
got my interest.
Nadja
and
Deja
are best
friends,
hell might as well add
Taleena
into the mix. I know Jason, but you, there’s
something different bout you that doesn’t match with the picture you present.”

“Not
much of a talker.”

“All right.
Satisfy my curiosity. Where’d you grow up?”

“Los
Angeles.”

“What
part?”
Donato
leaned back in his chair.

“The hood.”

“Yeah?
Barrio?”

“Something
like
that.” Derek remained vague.

“Damn
man.
Must’ve been hard being a white boy stuck in a
neighborhood of nothing but a majority of Latinos and blacks.

“I
survived.” Derek didn’t appreciate having his privacy invaded. “Look. I don’t
talk about where I’m from.
Nothin’to
say
.
Outgrew my life then.
Moved forward.
Thanks for not calling the cops.” He rose to
leave.

“I’m
not your enemy,”
Donato
said, rising himself.

“So
we’re good?”

Donato
nodded.
“If you want to join my
staff, call.
If you want to spar, just to kick the shit out of someone,
call. We’re always geared to hire more muscle with brains.”

“And
ruin my white boy corporate persona? No thanks. That lifestyle was a few
lifetimes ago. I’ll stick with ruining people by bankrupting them. Feels so
much better to exact revenge the new way or at least making sure they have a
difficult time staying out of the red.”

“Coldhearted.”

“Bastard.
Yeah. Later
Donato
,
and thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Derek
left the office and headed out of the club, colliding with a waitress who
dumped a pitcher of beer on his chest.
“My fault.”
He
dug in his pocket to give her some cash.

“No.
I’m sorry Sir.”

The
waitress’s panic became abundantly clear as she tried to mop up his soaking wet
shirt. “It’s all right Miss. No harm.” Irritated, but careful not to make her
feel worse, he peeled off two large bills and tucked them under her pad.

“Thank
you.” A smile lit her face. Maybe she’d have a better night with his
generosity, he was sure she’d seen her fair share of assholes like he’d once
been.

Derek
laughed at the irony of the situation as he exited the establishment. Cold air
broke through his barriers, chilling him to the bone in addition to hardening
his shirt. He made a quick jog to his four wheel drive and entering to get out
of the frigid below zero temperature. No sign of the trouble makers outside
meant he didn’t have to worry about fighting off property.
Donato
must’ve kept him in the office while the college boys were escorted off the
property. As his car warmed up, he felt around in his back seat for his gym bag
and hefted the duffle over the divide to check for another shirt. Unfortunately
he hadn’t repacked. The contents included a bottle of water and basketball
shorts. Irritated, he snorted at smelling like stale beer. After looking both
ways, he carefully pulled into traffic.

Three
miles from home, the whap of sirens sounded. Thinking an accident must be
close, he pulled to the side of the road, to a rolling stop. He kept the car in
idle while waiting for the cruiser to drive by. Instead of passing, he looked
out his rearview mirror to see the cruiser stop behind him, the flashing lights
blinking like mad.

Derek
clenched his jaw, clearly not needing the added aggravation. He dug in his back
pocket to grab his wallet for both his license and insurance cards. When the
uniformed officer tapped on his window, he pressed on the automatic button,
flinching at the frigid cold hitting his face.
“Sir.”

“Going a bit fast for the weather.
License
and registration, please.”

In
the silhouette of the high beams, the officer stayed one hand on the butt of
his revolver. “Just want to get home, is all. Wasn’t aware I was breaking any
laws going the speed limit.” Derek punched the dome light on to retrieve the
insurance from his wallet. “Here you are.”

“I’ll
be right back with you.” The officer trekked back to his vehicle.

Derek
raised his window up and put his car in park. When he looked back, a second
cruiser pulled up. Minutes turned into what felt like an eternity before the
officer returned.

After
he lowered the window a second time, the officer peered down at him.

“Step
out of the car please, Sir.”

“What’s
this about? I haven’t done anything illegal.” A bounding tick formed, telling
him his ire was dangerously close to exploding.

“I
need for you to step out of the car.”

Derek
cut the engine off and opened the door, following the officer’s instructions.
“Can you tell me why I’m freezing my balls off?”

“Routine Breathalyzer.”

“I
haven’t had a drink in seven years.”

The
officer doubted him, if his expression was any indication. He pieced together
the instrument, advised Derek of the use and handed it over.

Derek
waited and blew on command.

“Anything?”

“No,
you’re clear. You may return to your car, drive careful and have a good night.”
The officer returned his license and insurance card.

“Thanks.”
Derek slid back into the driver’s seat and buckled up, waiting for the two
vehicles to pull away before starting his engine. His anger dissipated a few
minutes later. Once clear, he entered traffic again.

* * * *

Home sweet home.
Derek unlocked the key to his place, glad
the remaining drive home turned out uneventful. Darkness surrounded him. After
taking the time to secure his place, he flipped on the dim light in his office
and tossed the keys on the counter in a haphazard manner. Exhaustion washed
over him, threatened to pull him under. A hot shower called to him. He toed off
his shoes and pulled his shirt over his head. With no one in his home, he’d
pick up later. His hands ached and head throbbed.

If
he remembered correctly, he’d tossed a bottle of aspirin in his top desk
drawer. Shuffling around the desk, he extracted the bottle, and popped the lid
open as he walked through to the master bath. A lump lay in his bed. With a
frown, he backed up to take a second look.

Fuck
. She hadn’t left. Was he glad?
Sad?
Maybe she’d had a change of heart and wanted to recant
her hasty words. A man could only hope.

Derek
pulled the blanket over her. She slept peaceful, lightly snoring. A vibrating
sound drew his attention away from her. In the dark of his bedroom, he moved toward
the noise and ducked down. Under the bed her phone fidgeted on the carpeted
floor. Derek flipped the phone open. Katrina’s face flashed on the screen. He
hit talk and walked into his bathroom, setting down the aspirin bottle.
“Hello?”

“I’m
sorry I must’ve hit the wrong number.”

“
Deja
is sleeping.” Derek reached to turn on the shower to
heat up.

“Oh.
You must be the guy I met at the hospital. She’s okay then? She left a message
for someone to come get her. Mama’s working double shifts, and I just got out
of school.”

“
Deja
called you earlier but no one made time to pick her
up?” It seemed to him she did more for her family than they did for her.

“Yeah.
Our brothers are normally incommunicado and our
parents both work two jobs. Like I said, I was in school and my younger sisters
aren’t old enough to help.”

“She
just got out of the hospital. You’re telling me no one could rearrange their
schedule to take care of her?”

Silence.

“Tell
your family not to worry.
Deja’s
in good hands, she
will stay here with me and I’ll make sure she’s taken care of.” He had to until
she made a decision, no matter how pissed off he was, she carried his seed and
every moment with her gave him the power to help her change her mind. Not that
he’d grovel or ask to be with her.

“That’s
really kind of you but you’re a stranger. I can cut classes tomorrow afternoon
to come get her.”