Authors: Natalie Barnes
Chapter Nineteen
Tristan
I’m going to kick this guy’s ass. Standing, I crack my knuckles but then feel Caleb wrap his hand around my wrist. Breathing in deeply, I watch the fucker open a box.
No!
I scream on the inside. Sophia’s eyes widen as if she’s waiting for someone to do something. Then, within a second, she runs out of the damn room.
Benny yells after her, but she doesn’t stop. She keeps going and my nerves begin to cool down. Not by very much, though. I still want to break this guy’s hand for touching her.
“Fucking eh?” I hear Roger mumble.
Glancing down, Caleb removes his hand from my wrist, shock etched on his face. Benny takes off after Sophia and I want to follow, to tell him to fuck off. I need to leave. I need to get the fuck out of here.
As I storm out, I hear Caleb mumble something and then he’s on my back.
“Wait up, bro,” he calls out.
But I don’t. If I stick around, shit is gonna get ugly. Some dude tries to open the door for us. I shoot him a look and the guy steps back as I push my way outside. I feel cool air hitting my heated skin.
“Hey, hang on!” Caleb calls after me, but I keep walking. Fucking lights start flashing at us, but I keep my head down and my mouth tight.
“Let me get someone over so we can get a lift,” Caleb says. “Where do you wanna go?”
“I don’t fucking care,” I spit out.
Thirty minutes later we end up somewhere in Hollywood. Not where we were going to go in the first place; some little dive bar. It’s dark inside and right now they have a local band playing. Caleb grabs the first table he sees when he walks in with me sulking in behind him. It’s closest to the bar, which is good with me. I don’t really give a shit right now about catching the live show. Must be their first time. It’s only around nine and they’re playing their set. Usually the beginners that start making a name for themselves only play on certain nights and at later times.
Pulling out the flimsy, cheap wooden chair, I slump down in it. Our waitress spots Caleb and me and immediately comes rushing over. We’ve been here a couple times before because it’s the kind of bar that’s usually for, I guess you would call it, the “rougher crowd” of Hollywood. Not at all like where we just came from.
When the waitress comes over, she squats down between us, on her knees like them Hooter’s waitresses. I check her out, my head tilted down. Yep, she looks like squatting down in front of strange dudes is her fucking forte.
Nasty bitch. Black hair is piled up on her head with so much fucking makeup on that I can’t even tell what she might really look like . . . just a fucking illusion. And, Christ! Her top. It’s a ripped, white tank top with no bra underneath, and obviously the air conditioning is on high in here. Once a upon a time, I would’ve been checking something like this out with interest, but now? Hell no. Caleb, on the other hand, makes no effort to look away.
“What up?” He tips his chin at her, which makes her giggle. I roll my head side to side on my shoulders, cracking my neck to relieve some pressure. Caleb takes the fucking clue and orders our first round.
“Uh . . . yeah,” he smiles at her. “Two pitchers of Genesis and a couple of shots of whatever bourbon you have.”
He runs his tongue over his lip ring after he orders. I look toward the stage to catch a glimpse of whatever band is playing. Kids . . . just jamming out, having a good time with only a couple people out there head banging and dancing. Even in my funk, this sight brings the corner of my mouth up. I remember starting out like that. Shit . . . Fucking sixteen years ago, right when I turned eighteen, I came out here, met Caleb, and a couple weeks later we started Undead.
“There’s that pretty smile,” Caleb cackles at me, causing me to turn my head over to him and off the stage. Raising an eyebrow, I huff at him as I roll my eyes.
“What, dude?” Caleb shrugs. “Just loosen the fuck up a little. I don’t think Sophia is going to say yes to that dude.”
I narrow my eyes at him. The waitress appears back with our shots and beer. Caleb winks at her before grabbing the shots off her tray.
“Here, let me help you with that.”
They’re giving each other ‘fuck me’ eyes. I start pouring the beer into our glasses and slide Caleb his, causing it to splash up on the table a little.
“Oh, no. Let me go get a towel,” the waitress says, but Caleb takes hold of her wrist.
“No need, babe. We like things a little dirty.” He grins over at me before looking back up at her. “And wet.”
Jesus. I start slamming my beer, blocking out whatever the fuck they have going on. Caleb all of a sudden pulls out his phone, ending their conversation. I don’t know how he could tell it went off. Must have it on vibrate because between the band and the shitty equipment this bar has, you can’t hear shit.
Resting my empty glass down, I begin to pour my second. Caleb’s shit smirk is back on his face as he texts someone. When he’s done, he sets his phone in his lap and folds his arms over the table.
“So, anyways . . . what were we talking about?” he yells a little louder, over the noise.
Shaking my head at him, I hand him his shot and then take mine.
“Nothing important,” I yell back, throwing back my shot. Caleb’s still looking at me, holding his shot in his hand.
“What?” I ask him.
“Don’t give me that ‘what’ shit, bro.”
I stare at him until he finally slams his shot. Turning the glass upside down, he sets it down on the table.
“Nothing important?” he says to me sarcastically.
“Guy, just fucking let it go,” I shout exasperatedly over to him, but he shakes his head ‘no’ at me.
“Dude, she told him no.”
My beer is already up to my lips, so I just huff at him as I take a long drink.
“How do you fucking know?” I ask, setting the glass back on the table.
Caleb’s shit eating grin slowly morphs into a Cheshire cat grin.
“Cause Roger just texted me. They’re trying to get her to come out with them. I guess she’s pretty freaked right now. He said they should all be meeting up with us here in an hour, maybe two.”
What Caleb just fed me piques my interest. I wouldn’t have let her marry him anyways, unless deep down, she really wanted to. But I know that would’ve been just a bullshit excuse. I fucking told her that I love her and I know that she feels the same way about me, too. I feel like whatever weight was pressing on my chest has lifted some, but not completely.
A little over an hour passes and we’re on a third pitcher now. I cooled down on the shots. I don’t need that shit in my system when Sophia shows up . . .
if she does.
The band has finished their set and regular jukebox music is playing now. Caleb keeps coming and going, chilling at the table with me for some time before going back up to the bar to hit on our waitress. Fuck. I just know she’ll be coming back tonight if he doesn’t seal the deal here before we header.
Leaning back in my chair, I stretch my arms out over my head, starting to feel the comfort of my buzz finally kicking in, when I see Roger busting through the door. He’s already buzzed off his ass. I sit up straight as they all come in, one by one. Then my heart fucking stops at the sight of Sophia.
She’s last, with Frankie’s arm around her, almost looking like he’s dragging her in. I want to go over there and pull her into my arms, but since she wants us to be on the ‘down low,’ I resist the urge. She’s still wearing the same thing she had on earlier at dinner. She’s fucking beautiful.
Sophia fucking knows I’m here, but keeps her eyes zeroed in on the bar. She probably doesn’t want to face me over what happened earlier. It kind of pisses me off that she’s not even bothering to look at me. What the fuck?
Frankie comes sauntering over to my table with one hand placed on his bony hip.
“Hey there, Tristy!” he greets me as he pulls up the chair right next to me.
I hate it when he fucking calls me that. Giving him a quick nod, I wave for the waitress to come back over here.
“Francis,” I growl back at him.
Frankie does this closed mouth smirk at me, making his eyes turn into splints. A different waitress comes over this time since the first one is now busy with Caleb over there. This one has a ‘don’t fuck with me’ look . . . short and stocky and covered in tats with her orange hair cut close to her scalp, the top pieces spiked. I like her.
“Yeah?” she asks as she approaches Frankie and me.
“I’ll have a Bud in a bottle and . . .?” I glance over at Frankie, who’s giving me fucking goo-goo eyes. I roll mine back at him. He looks up at the waitress.
“Hey, there, um . . . I guess I’ll just have a Cosmo.”
He bats his eyelashes up at her, but she pops her hip out, placing her hand on it.
“We don’t do ‘Cosmos’ here, kid.”
She’s annoyed, you can tell. She just wants to get our orders and be done with it.
Frankie glances over, trying to check out the bar.
“Ah . . . I guess . . .”
He waits for another minute and the waitress grunts at him, causing me to cackle at them.
“Whatever. Fuck it! Since this bar is fucking dirty, just give me a dirty martini.”
Fucking Frankie. The waitress spins on her heel and makes her way back over to the bar.
“This place is dirt.” He does a quick scan of the bar. “And we’re in Hollywood. This is something that you see in like . . . I don’t know. Backwoods America, or some shit.”
“Frankie, what do you want?” I grit out.
This is the most I think we have ever conversed in five years of knowing each other, except about work shit, of course.
“You see,” he waves his hand in the air, motioning over to Sophia. “You have a great girl. I say YOU, because you and I both know that she wants you. So anyway, I’m gonna make this little chat quick.”
He smirks at me, rubbing his hands down his pants legs and picking at invisible lint before looking back up. His eyes narrow in on me as he leans over to me.
“You do her wrong in any way . . . any fucking way, especially like the last fucking time . . .” He quirks his dainty eyebrow up at me and waves his hand over the length of my body. “I don’t know much about kicking ass, so to speak,” he says, leaning so far into my personal space that I actually smell his minty breath, “
But what I do have, is a very particular set of skills, skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. If you hurt Sophia, that’ll be the end of it. I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you.”
My head falls back as I laugh in his wimpy face. Frankie is still glaring at me, waiting for me to respond. I run my hand over my face, trying to wipe off my grin.
“Did you really just quote fucking “Taken” to me?”
I’m trying my damndest not to break out laughing in his face again. He cocks his head to the side and puckers his lips. With both hands on his hips, he starts tapping his foot.
“Well, Tristan?”
“Frankie,” I say back to him, so low that he has to bend over again to hear what I’m about to say. Looking straight into his eyes, my grin slips away.
“She’s mine, and I’m never letting go of her again. I love her.”
I don’t feel embarrassed or as if I’m pussying out for saying it. Actually, it’s the opposite, it feels fucking great the more people I let know that Sophia is mine, and I’m hers. His glare fades as he smiles at me, all misty eyed and shit. Come on. The waitress steps in between us as she lays our drinks down.
Frankie ignores her and keeps staring at me. Placing his hand on his heart, he looks up at the ceiling, smiling even wider now. Reaching over, I take my drink. Frankie lets out a sigh and looks back down at me.
“Right answer,” he says before picking up his glass, scowling at it for being in a regular glass and not a martini glass. “Fucking figures,” he mumbles to himself as he walks away.
After he’s out of my way, I lean back in the chair, spreading my legs out. Theory of a Deadman’s “Make Up Your Mind” starts playing on the sketchy jukebox.
Nursing my beer, I watch my girl standing at the bar talking with Jared and now Frankie. She’s not smiling though, and those beautiful eyes of hers are lowered. Tilting my head to the side, I check her out. She’s definitely had a rough couple hours, I get that, but she’s just putting herself through more shit when she doesn’t need to.
The more I think about it, the angrier I become. If we fucking love each other, then why the hell not just be together? I did that whole hiding shit last time; I’m not going to do it anymore. I slam my drink down and it starts to foam up the neck, spilling on the table. The chair behind me tips over to the side as I stand up abruptly and make my way over to her.
Her eyes hesitantly look up at me as I approach. Her breathing picks up, pushing them breasts of hers up and out in the tight confines of that fucking dress. I don’t give a shit who’s around or if she tries to pull away. I need her.
Stepping into her, I wrap one hand around her delicate neck, using my thumb on her cheek to tilt her head up. I place my other hand on the small of her back, crashing my lips down onto hers and tasting the sweet pine that’s on her tongue from the gin. Her chest pushes into mine and she wraps her arms up and around my neck, opening her mouth further for me.