Where Souls Spoil (82 page)

This is just who Holly is. She doesn’t care how many muscles he has or how tough he acts in front of everybody else. She knows him in a different way than I do, but she knows that beneath all the angry rants and grumpy stares he’s actually a lovable guy. But I won’t let him catch me telling anybody that.

“What are you two up to?” he asks.

“Nothing, baby,” Holly says. She smiles softly and reaches her arm out toward him. It’s the only invitation he needs. His face covers hers, and he places a big sloppy kiss right on her lips. When Holly starts to giggle, Dad smiles wide. I’m smiling, too, before I decide I’m officially grossed out and turn away. I can still hear the swapping of spit, which is just plain disgusting but at the same time kind of not.

We had a way things worked around here for a long time. Dad went out and took care of club business whenever he needed to and partied with my uncles whenever he felt like it. He spent enough time at home, and he was always good about making sure that I knew I mattered. But he’s never been much of a homebody, and as far back as I can remember, he’s never been a one-woman man either.

Not that he couldn’t be. It’s just not who he has been. And Holly has obviously changed that. I love having him around more, and I love even more that he’s happy. But even better than that, I actually like her, and that’s saying a lot. Because as much as my dad thinks that nobody’s good enough for his little girl, his little girl thinks that just about nobody is good enough for her dad.

“Well, you two kids have fun. I’m gonna go upstairs and do something that’s not watching you guys make out like teenagers.” I stand from the couch and cross the room. At the foot of the stairs, I turn back and realize they haven’t even paid attention to the fact that I’ve gotten up. I’d like to think they heard me, but Dad is still bent over the couch trying to inhale Holly. And that’s when I realize that, despite the thinking I’m mature for my age, I’m still not mature enough to have to watch my dad suck face with my school secretary. Even if I do adore her.

I trudge up the stairs to my room and close the door behind me, trying to forget that they’ve christened the entire house like a couple of teenagers.

I’ve been kind of bored lately because, unfortunately Holly has ratted me out to Dad about every time I’ve been absent from class this semester. I agreed to be on my best behavior, and part of that means actually getting my butt to class, but girl code takes precedence over relationship code. Whatever that is anyway. So now I’m grounded. That means staying in the house with the horny twosome, with little else to do. Thankfully my grounding is coming to an end in a few days, and it can’t come soon enough. I’m just grateful there’s an entire floor between my room and Dad’s room. Tracie, the bestest best friend ever, says she can hear her mom and her new boyfriend going at it at least twice a week. And Tracie’s really screwed in the head, so I’m thinking that having an entire floor between my room and my dad’s room is going to save him on some serious therapy bills for me in the future.

I pull up the legs of my sweatpants, kick off my socks, and throw myself into bed. I grab my cell phone and wonder if anybody called while I was downstairs. As it turns out, my friends have been kind of silent ever since I got put on restriction. But that text—that one from Daniel—is still there.

But an idea comes to me. I can call Jeremy. I think on it for just a minute before I decide not to call him. I’m at home and Dad’s here, so I can’t really use the whole “I’m in danger” excuse to get him here or talk to me. Plus, if Dad found out what I’d done, he would kick my ass. And not in the way where his eyebrows wrinkle and he gets all grouchy and tells me that I’m going to see the end of kingdom come if I ever do it again, because that’s a total joke. No, Dad would get the kind of pissed at me where he calls Aunt Ruby and she kicks me in the ass. She’s not the tallest woman I know, but her boot definitely reaches my behind.

So if I can’t call Jeremy, I can probably send him a text. That’s less intrusive, right? I don’t know if I should. I mean, either he’s going to respond back and talk to me for a little bit because he wants to, because maybe he likes me as much as I like him, or he will respond back because my dad is the club’s sergeant at arms. That may not mean a whole hell of a lot to the other guys I’d be interested in, but it means the world to Jeremy. As a prospect for my dad’s club, Jeremy’s ass, testicles, and every other part of him belong to Forsaken. And Dad never lets him forget it.

HEY, I text. I shouldn’t be texting him considering he ignored me earlier.

God, that was stupid. What a lame message. It’s not like I’ve never talked to a boy before. I don’t even know why I’m getting so flustered over trying to send him a text message. I’ve sent guys text messages before. I’m no chicken. I’ve even sent Jeremy text messages before. But this feels different. I’m texting with a purpose. Plus, I am a total feminist. I can take the lead. I can ask guys out. There is nothing wrong with being a strong, independent woman.

But what if he does think I’m stupid?

He thinks I’m stupid.

As time passes, I become convinced he’s going to forever ignore me and think I’m a dumb little girl. Well, maybe I should give up on him and put on my big girl panties and redirect my attention to Daniel.

After five minutes, I decide he’s out with another girl. Maybe she’s giving him a hickey right now. Because unfortunately I’ve seen him sporting them before, so I know he’s gotten further than I have. And even worse, maybe he’s with a Lost Girl at the clubhouse getting his dick sucked. Because as much as Dad doesn’t want me to know that that stuff happens there, people talk and I’m not a baby. Besides, what kind of stories did he think Ryan was going to share with me when he used to babysit?

My phone chimes, half frightening me. I grab it and check the screen.

WHATS UP? the text reads from Jeremy.

I let out a little squeal before I realize how stupid I sound. How can I ever convince anybody I’m not a baby if I’m squealing like a fourteen-year-old? Because really, that was so three years ago.

Pull it together, Cheyenne.

NOT MUCH, I text back.

This time, I don’t have to wait long for response. WHERE U BEEN?

What the hell does he mean where have I been? It’s more like where has he been. For three weeks straight Dad has had him on what the guys call “bitch duty” here at the house. But ever since that one night where Dad came home to find us on the porch talking, Jeremy’s been MIA. After a while I became convinced that he just had better things to do or the guys put them on another detail. I’ve only seen him a few times since his detail changed. He’s been flirty, dismissive, and even downright territorial. But has he asked me out?

No, he hasn’t.

Pussy.

Oh man, I’ve spent so much time in this house I’m starting to think like my dad. I need out. Now.

HERE, I text back in irritation. I’m not going to argue with him or call him on it. There’s no way around not sounding like a pathetic, jealous girlfriend if I ask him where he’s been. But how dare he ask me where I’ve been when I have been right here and he hasn’t shown up. I got used to having him around, and his absence is pissing me off. It’s pissing me off so bad that Daniel is looking better and better every day.

REASSIGNED.

Well, that explains it.

FIGURES, I say.

HOW SO?

DAD IS A HELICOPTER.

WHY? the text reads.

BOYS. HE’S NUTS.

U TRYING 2 TELL ME SOMETHING?

Okay, so maybe getting my flirt on in a text message isn’t that hard after all, but still, my hands are practically shaking. What if he’s just tolerating me because he’s afraid to reject me? Maybe he thinks Dad’s going to break his fingers or whatever the hell he does to scare and intimidate people he doesn’t like. I don’t know the specifics of Dad’s “job” with the club—only that it’s half-illegal and he’s not afraid to get his hands dirty.

DON’T PLAY DUMB, I text back.

God, for some reason this is harder with him than it is with anybody else. Maybe it’s because he’s not playing the game like the other guys have. Daniel plays the game really well. Hell, he’s so good at it he might have invented the damn game. Normally when I try to flirt with a guy, he flirts back by taking my innuendo and running with it. But not Jeremy. No, Jeremy Whelan is the kind of guy who makes you spell it out for him and then tells you exactly how it’s going to be.

He’s a total motorcycle brat through and through. Bossy, self-assured, and a wee bit narcissistic.

He’s perfect.

NOT PLAYING, CHEY. TRYIN 2 FIGURE U OUT.

Oh. My. God.

He is insufferable. Still, the grin that spreads across my face is totally ridiculous. Because if there’s anything that’s hot about a guy like Jeremy Whelan, it’s the fact he can basically do what he wants, how he wants, and when he wants. And he knows it.

ASK ME OUT. I am so nervous that my toes could literally fall off my feet, roll away, and end up in my cereal tomorrow morning, and I wouldn’t even notice. And I know how gross that is, but that’s how screwed up I am over this stupid boy. That’s the big difference between Jeremy and Daniel. Daniel just exists and does as he pleases but invites me along for the ride. Meanwhile Jeremy is growing and learning. He’s moldable, but not Daniel. I don’t want to be with a man who has all his life figured out. I barely know how to wash my own clothes.

NO, his response reads.

My stomach drops, and I toss my phone beside me and then bury my face into my pillow. I can’t believe I just got rejected. By a prospect. This is humiliating. My phone beeps, letting me know that I have a message. Very slowly I drag my face from the center of the pillow and try to breathe normally. It’s hard, though, because my heart is beating a million miles a minute, and I think I’m about to die.

U ASK ME OUT, his text reads.

I shove my face back in my pillow and squeal maniacally. I’m done with being gentle with this boy.

WE R GOING OUT. FRIDAY, I text.

Holy crap.

PICK U UP AT 7. WEAR PINK. U LOOK HOT IN PINK. NO LIPSTICK.

Holy crap.

I’m going out with Jeremy Whelan.

Holy crap.

I stare my phone down, unable to figure out when I got the lady balls to do that. Only one thing perplexes me, though. Why the hell doesn’t he want me to wear lipstick?

CHAPTER 8

December

16 months to Mancuso’s downfall

“Are you excited?”
Holly asks. I’m looking in the mirror, and she’s standing behind me. Her reflection is partially covered by mine, but I can see her well enough to tell she’s smiling.

“Yeah, I am,” I say. Because I am. I
so
am.

I would be more excited if I didn’t know that Dad and Holly were going to be tailing me tonight. Because Dad always tails me.

And I mean always.

At first I think he really thought I needed him to follow me on my dates, but now I think he just enjoys it. Before Holly came along, he would come in my room as I was getting ready for a date, and he would be smiling in this really unnatural way—it’s really creepy—and he would just say, “Hey there, are we ready for our date?”

The first time it happened, I thought he was joking. The second time it happened, I thought he would calm down eventually. Now I know he’s just a little bit demented. It’s all those special brownies he likes to eat.

“Is there any way that maybe you could distract Dad? Enlist some of your super special awesome girlfriend powers?”

“Girl, I don’t have enough special powers to convince your dad not to follow you tonight. Sorry. You’re going out with
Jeremy Whelan
. Of course your dad’s going to tail you.”

Well shit. If Dad’s being totally in love with Holly and Holly’s living here now can’t get him off my back even a little bit, then what good is this whole them falling in love thing anyway?

“Then at least keep him at a reasonable distance.”

“I will see what I can do.”

Sure enough, Dad walks into the room. His dark brown hair is greased back, and it looks almost black from where I stand. His dark eyes are gleaming, and he’s smiling that same maniacal smile I know so well. He’s wearing dark jeans, a long-sleeved flannel shirt, and his Forsaken cut. Because even when I go on dates with regular boys, Dad makes sure to follow us and let everyone know whose daughter I am.

“Are we ready for our date?” he asks. He actually is looking at me like he thinks I’m going to respond positively. I won’t do it to his face, but the moment he turns his back I am flipping him off. Asshole. I swear he deserves something bad to happen to him, like maybe he’ll walk into a wall. Nothing truly horrible because, despite how I feel in this moment, I still love my father. But, man, do I want him to suffer just a little bit.

“You’re not funny. Nobody else is smiling. And there is a part of me that thinks you hate me,” I say.

One would think that if your child tells you they’re convinced, even a little bit, that you hate them that you would stop smiling. One would think it’s the courteous thing to do. One would think they were talking to somebody other than my father. He stands there full of smiles and laughs.

I turn away from my reflection in the mirror and decide not to worry about the way I look anymore. I’m just wearing a plain pair of jeans, knee-high flat-footed boots, and a pink long-sleeved top. Jeremy asked for pink, so I’m giving him pink. And he’s so right. I do look hot in pink. The long-sleeved top is courtesy of Dad’s orders. I believe the exact words used were “if you’re not actually charging for it, then don’t act like you are.” I came close to telling him that he should take his own advice. Because before Holly, he and I both know he was no saint. The chicks he used to “spend time with” at the clubhouse sure dress and act like they charge for it. Thank God they don’t, or I wouldn’t have a college fund with how much Dad used to like their company.

“You know,” I say to Holly, “I wouldn’t blame you for ditching this one and finding somebody less crazy.” As the words leave my mouth, I realize that’s the last thing I want. I couldn’t handle it if she left. I’d track her down and refuse to leave her side. I can’t go back to the way it was before. She’s a part of us now, and I’ll do anything to keep her.

Even if that means figuring out what happened to her and Mindy on my own.

A guilty smile spreads across her face as she tosses her head back in laughter. It’s really awesome seeing her smile and laugh like this. But what’s even better is that she’s laughing at Dad’s expense. He deserves it.

Dad rolls his eyes. He looks ridiculous and like a total drama queen. If we didn’t look so much alike, I could totally ignore the fact that perhaps I probably look like a fool when I do it. But I’m a girl, and it doesn’t look as stupid on me as it does a grouchy biker. At least I hope.

“Well, out with it. I know you want to say something. First up, it’s always the speech. The speech about respecting myself and how I shouldn’t let boys take advantage of me. But I know you’re going to have an even better speech prepared because I’m going out with a prospect, so let’s not pussyfoot around it. Just say what you got to say so I can go, and just follow me like you always do, you creeper.”

Holly purses her lips, her face turns red, and she looks away. Her shoulders shake, giving away her silent laughter.

“I said you could go out with the kid. I’m not saying you can’t, but I want you to understand that he’s not just some mouthy eighteen-year-old. He’s a prospect. You should know what that means.”

“Dad, I do know what that means.”

“I don’t think you do.”

Dad is obviously uncomfortable, and I can’t really blame him. I’m not exactly comfortable either. But he’s not going to let this rest until he’s sure I know what I’m doing. Even though I might be eighty and he might be in a nursing home by the time that happens.

“Dating a prospect means I’m dating the club. I get that. I know he might have to leave at any time, and sometimes the stuff he has to do for the club is dangerous. Give me a little credit.”

“You will never come first,” he says. “I don’t want that for you.”

“But you want it for Holly?” I fold my arms over my chest.

“Don’t want it for Holly either. But I’m a selfish prick,” he says with sorrowful eyes.

That I can agree with.

“I’m going out with Jeremy,” I say.

Dad stands in an awkward silence with an obviously uncomfortable stance. His shoulders are slightly hunched forward, with his hands on his hips and his head tilted down but his gaze to the side. I know that stance. He’s recognized defeat. The thing is I know what he really wants to say. What he really wants to say is that dating a club member, even if he’s still prospect, is a commitment to more than just a man. I’ve heard the speeches, and I know how this goes. The thing he needs to understand is that I’m ready for this.

I’m not sure exactly what happened, but I used to think there could be nothing more attractive than a man in uniform. You know, like the football uniform with the tight spandex pants. Or even the baseball uniform with the cup and the hat. Hockey uniforms aren’t really all that hot, because you can’t see anything. But I sure don’t mind watching them body-check each other up against the Plexiglas in the rink.

But that was before. Because once things started getting dangerous for whatever reason with the club and the prospects started hanging out here, I started to wonder what it would be like to date a club member. If Dad knew the thoughts that have gone through my head, he would have a coronary and fall to pieces on the floor right now.

“You’re starting to act like an adult, and I don’t like it,” he says.

I offer him a sad smile and shrug my shoulders. “And you’re starting to sound like a sane person.”

He lets out a brief chuckle before he shakes his head, points his finger at Holly, and directs her to the open door. He does a lot of pointing with her, and she does a lot of eye rolling with him.

As Holly walks past Dad, his hand comes down and smacks her on the butt, creating a loud slapping sound in the room. She gasps and turns around, giving him a dirty look. But I’m starting to figure out what Holly’s dirty looks mean. She gives them constantly. To me, to Grandma, but to Dad most especially. Holly’s look right now is one more of disapproval than of actual anger. When she’s really angry, she doesn’t even give him a dirty look. She just kind of looks past him blankly. It’s a little intimidating, and I don’t want to ever be on the receiving end of that look. So I shut my mouth, stay in the corner, and decide if she’s happy getting spanked in front of her boyfriend’s teenage daughter, then who am I to judge?

The doorbell rings loudly from downstairs as Holly is leaving my bedroom. But I can’t let her get to it first, so I push past her, offering my apologies on the way down the stairs. By the time I get to the front door, I have to pause for a moment to stop myself from hyperventilating. Did I put on lipstick? Jeremy said no lipstick. I press two of my fingers to my lips just to make sure I didn’t and thankfully find a pair of dry lips. I guess Jeremy just doesn’t like the look of lipstick or something. I don’t know, really.

Dad moves slowly but purposefully behind me, his heavy footsteps getting closer and louder with every moment.

I open the door and am met with a smiling Jeremy on the other side. My face flushes, and I lose my breath for just a moment. He’s that good-looking.

With his strong jaw, straight nose, and dark navy-blue eyes, Jeremy Whelan is hot as hell. He’s what Holly keeps calling a heartthrob. He’s what grandma called a babe. But I’m not old and I’m not prehistoric, so I’m not using either of those terms. He’s the kind of hot you can’t manufacture with expensive clothes or arrogance. No, Jeremy is the kind of hot that radiates out of his skin and infects everyone around him.

“Looking good, babe,” he says. A breathy sigh escapes me, and my face reddens. I might not survive the night if he keeps looking at me like this.

“I wore pink,” I say.

He nods and grins. “Yeah, you did.”

THE FIRST PLACE
Jeremy took me on our date was the arcade. Dad didn’t make an appearance inside, thankfully. I think Jeremy chose it because he knows that it’s busy enough that we can get lost in the crowd but not so bad that we can’t even talk while we’re in there.

We are leaving the arcade when I spot Holly waving at me as she climbs out of Dad’s truck. She’s frantic, with wild eyes and her hands flinging around. My heart drops. It’s not like I didn’t know they followed me, but I don’t know why she’s out of the truck. Normally he stays put inside the truck and doesn’t bother me too much when I’m on a date. I think his objective is just to let the guy I’m with know that my dad is always watching.

Jeremy spots them and grins down at me. “We could put a show on for him.”