End Game (14 page)

Where to take her? That’s the question, really. Something tells me that a fancy restaurant would bore a rich girl like her. She won’t give a fuck about being wined and dined. Her expectations will be higher, so I’ll take her to do something that’s the complete opposite.

Coney Island.

Yeah, I know. It’s a bit ridiculous, but ever since I saw those slippers in her apartment, those god-awful things, I knew I was dealing with someone different. She’s not like most broads. All those arcades, the bumper cars, the juvenile, mindless fun—that’s what she likes. It’s what she wants.

That’s my hunch, anyway.

I’ll give her what she wants, so long as I get what I want.

I park my car into the visitor section of her apartment and take the elevator to her floor. My heart beats a slow throb as I walk towards her door. I’m not nervous—I’ve dealt with girls like her before. Somewhere, though, there’s anxiety. Jack wants me to use her. Maybe I should. I don’t want to be a soldier forever.

And let’s face it; I’ve never been a good guy. I was good to my sister, but that was about it.

My fist knocks on the door.

She opens it a moment later in a whirl of perfume and silk. Marisa wears a colorful silk tank top over dark jeans. Her dark blonde hair is teased into curls. Pink cheeks darken when she sees me dressed up for her.

“Joe, come inside for a minute.”

Marisa doesn’t let me answer. She turns around and walks as if she expects me to come.

We’re going to have to change
that
.

I don’t get women. You give them a time for them to be ready, and they never are. They invite you in, they offer you a glass of wine, and they tell you that they’ll be ready in “just a minute” when it never really is.

She gives me a shrewd look. “You didn’t tell me you were going to show up in a suit.”

I look down at myself. “So?”

“So? That changes everything. I’ll need to change clothes.”

“You won’t want to where we’re going,” I warn her.

Marisa shrugs. “If you’re wearing a suit, I’m wearing a dress.”

A smirk flits over my face as I watch her disappear into her bedroom. “Can I at least watch?”

Her roar echoes in the apartment. “No!”

“Why not? I’ve seen it all, already.” I laugh to myself as I imagine her face flushing in embarrassment. I inch closer and closer to her bedroom door, which she didn’t quite manage to close. The ruffling sounds of fabric hitting the floor makes my cock stiffen in my pants. I can still picture her quite clearly in my mind. “Ironic isn’t it?”

“What?”

She rips open the door, surprising me. Marisa chose a bright orange-red knit dress, which clings to her curves and shows off her creamy-white tits. A gold necklace dangles around her throat, the delicate chain disappearing somewhere inside her rack. I try to remember what her tits looked like and I have to swallow hard and remind myself not to touch her.

Let her come to you.

Marisa raises an eyebrow.

“It’s ironic that I’ve seen you naked, but I haven’t had sex with you yet.”

As I expected, she blushes violently. It’s endearing, really. Cute.

“No, what’s ironic is that I’m going on a date with you in spite of everything.”

“In spite of? Or because of?”

The red in her cheeks deepens under my gaze. Her eyes keep wandering. They fix on the lapels of my jacket, my hair, and my chin—anywhere but my eyes. I take her delicate hand in mine and pull her gorgeous body closer to me. I can see her bed. It’s
so fucking tempting
to just push her back into the room and rip off her clothes.

“Maybe both.”

Her hand shakes in mine.

“What are you so afraid of? You gave me head, for Christ’s sake.”

A laugh shakes out of her throat as she shakes her head. “I don’t know. I’ve never really done anything like this before.”

I squeeze her trembling hand and that seems to still her somewhat. “Just enjoy it while it lasts.”

She blinks, her eyes finally meeting mine at last. It’s then that I sense her vulnerability. Her fragility. A shaky sigh leaves her lips as her pupils disappear into tiny dots. She’s just barely hanging together.

“Okay.”

Then she lifts herself onto her toes and her hand grasps my shoulder. Her red lips touch mine and she sighs into me, as if she’s waited for this all day. I kiss her back, devouring her sighs as heat pounds in my heart. Her body fits into mine like a glove, and somehow that comforts me. Holding her just feels good.

I pull away, my blood racing at that sudden realization. I don’t like seeing the pain in her eyes, the ache of solitude, because it’s like I’m staring at myself.

You just want to fuck her, that
’
s all.

“Where are we going, Joe?”

I clear my throat, her question distracting me from my thoughts. “I had a place in mind, but it’s a surprise.”

Her eyes light up at the sound of that, and then I know I’ll have to take her there. Fuck.

“All right. Should we go?”

My face inches closer, until her lips part and a shaky exhale leaves her mouth. I kiss her lightly and she tries to pull me back as I lift my head. She looks at me, cheeks burning, already hot for me. Poor girl didn’t stand a chance. I probably could make the arrangement Jack wants me to have with her work. She looks at me with that starry-eyed, infatuated expression that I’ve seen on so many girls. I’ve used so many of them; taken what I wanted and tossed them aside like a bad habit.

I don’t know why, but I can’t do that to her. She’s a lost girl trying to navigate through a minefield. I’m just trying to guide her.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

She takes her purse and slings it over her shoulder, and then takes my hand again. I feel it again—an electric current that makes my hand squeeze hers. We leave her apartment and take the elevator down in silence, Marisa refusing to let go of my hand. I don’t want her to let go. That’s the strangest part.

But finally, she does when I lead her to my Mustang. I open the car door for her and she slips inside. I enter the driver’s seat and the car vibrates with a throaty growl as I turn the keys. She casts me suspicious looks as I drive out of her garage.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere fun.”

I pull into Manhattan traffic and take 11
^th
avenue down, with the Hudson River on my right. At this time, it’s pretty much stop and go. Fucking traffic.

“So, tell me about yourself. I hardly know anything about you.”

Shrugging, I give her a glance. “What’s there to tell?”

“Oh, come on. Where did you grow up? How did you get mixed up with a guy like Jack?”

Ah
.

“A guy like Jack? What does that mean?” I say it mildly, but I hope she senses the warning in my voice.

Don
’
t criticize my boss.

She either doesn’t sense it, or ignores it. “He’s a bastard.”

That he is. “We’re not that different, really. Cut from the same cloth. You say you don’t know much about me, and that’s true. Well, here’s the truth: I’m a bastard.”

I took advantage of so many people in my life, I’ve lost count. I murdered. I stole. I cheated on girlfriends, on tests, you name it, and I did it. And yet, I was always there for ma and my sister.

Not always.

My fingers clench over the steering wheel.

The sound of a sharp intake of breath makes me glance at her.

“When you’re working for the devil, how good can you be, really?” I grin at her, but she doesn’t return the smile.

“You helped me with my brother twice, even though you didn’t have to.” She reaches across the seat and takes my hand, which rests on the parking brake.

I let out a humorless laugh. “He had his hands wrapped around your throat. If I didn’t intervene, you’d be dead.”

Her face pales. “He wouldn’t have killed me.”

Shaking my head, I drop the subject. I don’t want to argue with her, but I know I’m right. The things I found out about him would turn her stomach, if she doesn’t know already. Jack would want me to shut up, to let her believe that I’m some sort of Prince Charming sent to save her, but I can’t do it. Part of me wants to warn her to stay away from me.

“Why are you trying to make me into some kind of hero? I’m not, sweetheart. I’m sorry, but you’ve got me all wrong—”

The fading sunset bleeds a vibrant orange, casting Marisa into a shining silhouette. Her gold necklace glows.

“I know that. None of you can be trusted. I feel like I’m barely staying afloat, and you—you’re everywhere, watching me.”

The car lurches as I stop at the light. “Then why did you want to go on a date with me?”

Marisa stares straight ahead, the golden light making it impossible to see her features. “I’m tired of being alone, and I can’t seem to get you out of my head.”

Her words, or mine?

I force my face into a smile. “So long as you don’t expect anything from me, we’ll be fine.”

“I do expect one thing.”

What?

She turns her head, and finally I see her smiling face. “Fun.”

We don’t say anything else for a while, until Marisa catches a glimpse of the Ferris wheel in the distance. “You’re taking me to Coney Island?” she says in an excited squeak.

“Yeah.” I park the car, eager to get out and stretch my legs.

A sudden intake of breath and a whimper makes my stomach cave in. I look at her in horror as her face screws up in pain. She’s obviously trying to hold back tears.

Jesus. What did I do?

I get out of the car and walk to her side. She opens the door and I kneel down beside her. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s nothing!” she gasps. “It’s just—my dad used to take me here all the time.”

Oh, fucking hell.

“We can leave if you want—”

She shakes her head violently. “No! No, I don’t want to leave. It’s perfect,
really
.” She slides from the seat and stands up with me, wiping under her eyes.

Seeing her cry like that stirs a tinge of sadness inside me. “How are you doing with that?”

I close the door behind her and take her hand.

She shrugs sadly. “I haven’t really had time to think about him. I’ve been so overwhelmed with everything else. I’m really afraid of messing up—doing something wrong and paying dearly for it.”

Why is she confiding in me?

“Keep your head down and do as you’re told, and everything will work out.”

The wind almost takes away her bitter laugh. “I almost believe that.”

We walk together towards the boardwalk as the sun drops down. It gets noisier as we walk down the brightly lit boardwalk. The
clunk-clunk
of the roller coasters, the obnoxious chip-tune music of arcades, and screams of children fill the night. Her face lights up in delight when we pass by the Ferris wheel. We stop for a moment, taking it all in.

My blood races when she turns around and grabs my tie, pressing her face against my neck.

“So? What do you feel up to?”

I wrap my arms around her waist, my hands lowering down her curves to the small of her back. She pulls my tie, and I bend my head—lower and lower until her lips touch my ear.

“Air hockey.”

We go inside the noisy arcades and exchange a few bucks for chips. The pimple-faced attendant doesn’t bat an eyelash as we exchange money and head for the air hockey tables. I have a ton of memories playing these games. I try to remember the last time I played. It’s been years, no doubt. A painful image of a younger Janice running through these arcades makes my heart clench.

“I’m going to beat your ass.”

Harsh laughter cuts through all the noise as Marisa looks at me, a challenge in her eyes. “Yeah, right. I played this game when I was in college. Every Friday.”

She’s a lot better than I thought she’d be. Her hand strikes the disk without hesitation, sending it flying in my direction so quickly that I can barely keep up. She beats me three games out of four, which boils my blood, but I don’t show it. Marisa rubs it in as we walk out of the arcades.

“You lost three out of four,” she hisses in my ear.

“Oh, good. You can count.”

We exit the arcades, out of the stifling box of video game music and screaming children, and into the balmy night. She takes my hand, leading the way onto the beach.

“You’re wearing heels,” I remind her.

So she takes them off, grinning.

Crazy girl.

The beach is quiet, compared to the boardwalk and the roar of waves crashing on the damp sand. She kisses my cheek and runs ahead of me, her feet leaving a trail of footprints as she runs into the surf. She turns around and beckons to me.

“Joe, c’mon!”

“What are you, five? I’m wearing slacks!”

“So what?”

A sudden wave smashes into the back of her legs and she squeals as it soaks through the bottom of her dress. The foam hisses as it spills forward. Laughter shakes from my chest as I watch her chase after her heels. Oh, fuck it.

I bend down and unlace my shoes, leaving them behind along with my socks, and then I join her. The water crashes into my shins, soaking right through my slacks. It’s cold as fuck. Marisa bends over, looking at something in the sand. Behind her, I chop the water with my arm and a wave of freezing water splashes into her back. She whirls around, hair flying. I laugh my ass off as she kicks through the water, trying to get me.

“You jerk!”

She launches into my arms, and we grapple each other, but then another wave of freezing water hits us both and she screams. Her hair drips as she clings to my arms, teeth chattering. Then suddenly, we’re both laughing. My arms wrap around her and I hold her against my chest. I haven’t laughed this hard since—since months ago.

“Let’s get out of this fucking water.”

My legs are soaking wet and probably won’t dry for hours. The suit’s probably ruined, but oh well. It’s not like I don’t have a half a dozen other ones. She nods and we walk back to my shoes. I sit down on the sand, giving up completely on trying to save my clothes, and she sits down with me. I pull her body between my legs so that her back rests on my chest. I bite my lip as her freezing, wet dress presses against my chest.