PLAYED - A BRITISH BAD BOY ROMANCE (7 page)

“A little,” I told him modestly.

He nodded, and the silence resumed between the two of us. I was starting
to regret coming back here and seeing him again…

“I was given an academic scholarship for painting when I was younger,” I
eventually added. “Had the opportunity to go on an artist’s retreat… holed
myself away in a cottage in Finland for a year to study myself and my craft.”

“That’s interesting,” he replied, turning his gaze to face me. “You must
be plenty good to score something like that.”

“Maybe I am,” I confidently told him. “I’ve been selling my own
paintings since I was fourteen. A couple of years later, I was supporting
myself entirely through my artwork.”

“Have anything up in the galleries?” he asked.

“Lots of my older stuff. My work is hanging in a dozen galleries here in
town, including some of the more respected museums. I’m a little harder to find
outside of Louisiana, but some places carry my work. Some state museums in New
England, a few places out west… last count? Upwards of a hundred galleries
carry at least
something
of mine.”

Lex considered this. “That’s impressive, Riley. Now that you mention it,
I can see you sitting in front of an easel… You’re good with your hands…”

“Thanks,” I answered noncommittally, giving him a sideways glance and a
bit of a smirk.

“So, what do your parents think of that?” He asked, casting me a
studying glance as he sipped his glass of beer.

“My parents… aren’t exactly part of the equation,” I shrugged, holding
back the emotions.

“Oh,” he commented. “I’m sorry to hear it. I don’t want to drudge up any
painful memories…”

“My mother left when I was very young,” I told him, surprising myself.
“As for my father, he died in a motorcycle accident a couple of years later.

“I can’t possibly imagine,” he sympathized.

I continued on. “I passed through foster care for a while until a family
took me in. They supported my art, and were proud of me… but they were Ivy
League material, and I wasn’t. When I decided to not follow in their footsteps,
things got a bit… messy. So, when I came back from Finland, I was able to
scrounge myself up a decent place to live, worked on my art, and here I am.”

He nodded, reflecting on these words. “You’re not in contact with them?”

“I have a phone number for my mother that may or may not work,” I
offered. “My biological mother, I mean. The last time we chatted, it turned
into a massive argument. I haven’t bothered with her in years.

“As for my foster parents, no. I burned the bridge. I’m on my own… just
how I like it. Not having to rely on anybody but myself.”

“You enjoy your solitude.”

“I enjoy being in control of my life,” I clarified. “It’s a rewarding
feeling to not need to depend on the kindness of others. I get what I need from
people, offering them a little of myself in return, and then that’s that.
Besides my couple of friends, of course.”

“The two from the other night. The Japanese girl and the thin, skittish
guy.”

“Yeah, Reiko and Will. I’ve known them since we were kids… since before
I began supporting myself. The two of them have been there from the beginning.”

“They sound like strong friends.”

“The only people I can rely on.”

I ordered another drink on his tab, and we drank together in silence for
a few minutes.

“What about
your
parents?” I
asked him.

Lex stiffened in his barstool. “House fire. Took ‘em both when I was
fifteen. I wound up on the streets, just a year shy of being a legal adult in
England. I learned some street smarts, how to fight, things like that. Learned
how to survive. If I hadn’t been mindlessly dedicating myself to football, I’d
probably still be there…”

“You were homeless?”

“For a while, yeah. Streets of London are a cold place…”

I thought on this carefully. “I couldn’t possibly imagine what that’s
like, either.”

“It’s
bloody
tough, is what it
is,” Lex grumbled. “But I made it out, and with an appreciation for earning
things. I’ve
earned
where I am in the
world now. You might think that I’m just off globe trotting, but I’m here for a
particular reason… and just enjoying my time while I can.”

“And what reason would that be?” I asked.

Lex’s lips curled into a mischievous grin. “Keeping myself out of
trouble, little lady.”

I couldn’t ignore the fact that he was intriguing… or that the sex had
been amazing. What I was doing here, I wasn’t exactly sure… but I felt drawn to
him.

Lex had a special kind of magnetism to him, and whatever it was, it cast
a spell on me, tugging me closer and closer…
Is this a mistake? Should I just get the fuck out of here right now?

I felt as if the decision was a conscious one, a fork in the road laid
out ahead of me. I couldn’t seen what lay down either direction, but something
kept pulling my attention down one in particular…

Lex seemed to sense this.

“Listen,” he murmured, turning to face me quietly. “Last night was a lot
of fun, and I’m glad to see you back again. I want you to come home with me
again.”

“That’s rather forward,” I observed over the lip of my drink, taking a
small swig.

“I thought you preferred to cut to the chase after last night,” he
reminded me. It was true, and I couldn’t help but recognize how he was taking
charge, sensing my apprehension.

“I can’t offer you stability right now. I don’t represent consistency or
firm, solid ground. But what I
can
offer
you is this: if you accompany me back tonight… if you choose to spend more time
with me… you’ll never have a dull moment. Whatever boredom is in your life, I
can make that all disappear.”

I eyed him silently.

His lip curled up into a smile again. “Well?”

I downed the rest of my drink and sat it down in front of myself,
sliding my thumb and index fingertip along the glass, rotating it lightly
beneath my touch.

“…Alright. Let’s get out of here.”

His smile turned practically devilish, and he clicked his fingers for
the bartender. A few minutes later, and we were wandering down the streets of
the French Quarter again, sauntering arm in arm towards his hotel room.

Until…

“
Bloody hell
,” Lex muttered to
himself, patting his pockets. “Dammit. I think I left my card in the bar…” He
glanced over at me sheepishly. “Would you mind coming back with me for a
moment?”

“I can wait here,” I answered.

He sized up the surroundings for a moment. “Are you certain? This
doesn’t seem a fantastic part of town…”

I threw him a sideways glance.

“Okay, okay then,” Lex grinned, his palms held up. “You live here, you
can take care of yourself. I get it. Just wait here… I’ll be right back.”

The English gentleman grinned, shaking his head lightly before wandering
back towards the pub.

I leaned against the wall of a nearby stoop, crossing my arms and
tapping my foot. My mind wandered, wondering how I might paint my surroundings.

Effortlessly, I took in the details of the French Quarter. Not a whole
lot of people were out; the few stragglers along the pavement were isolated
into pairs or small groups from one another, with the odd speck of a person
wandering around between them. None of them had any major defining features,
which pleased me.

That would make for broad
strokes,
I considered to myself.
Put the emphasis on the buildings, and paint some ghosts to meander
alongside them…

The overall lighting was dim but poetic, casting bright bursts of light
in front of bar fronts and under the occasional streetlight. I enjoyed the darkness
that stretched between these parts, hoping to encroach across the area… but it
was never enough to blacken the French Quarter.

There was such history here, and so many drunken escapades that no book
could ever hope to properly catalogue them. New Orleans was such a wistful
place, so full of life and light, even in the dark…

Lex still wasn’t back. I was starting to grow somewhat impatient.
He said that he’d only be gone a couple of
minutes… what’s
taking
him?

That’s when I felt the firm hand, clasping over my mouth. Before I could
even scream, I was being dragged backwards into an alley, away from the light,
and a cocked gun pressed into my temple.

“Scream, and you die,” a gruff voice told me. “Do you understand? Not
even a fucking peep.”

I nodded, and the hand slipped off of my lips… only for someone else to
shove a gag into my mouth, tying it around my head.

Purely out of fear, I started trying to smack or punch whoever my
aggressors were. I saw a quick glance – there were two of them, both dressed
like thugs. My hands were restrained, and a blindfold was tied around my eyes.

“Mmmf!” I exclaimed, but it was useless.

I was being dragged backwards through the alley, stumbling blindly along
with them. They were leading me away from the street, forcing me to follow them
into the dark…

Oh god, no, not like this,
I sobbed in my head.

Suddenly, my palms were slapped against the brick wall, and my legs
spread. A pair of vicious, hungry hands tugged at the bottom of my dress,
whipping it up over my hips…

“Mmm, such an uptight little bitch,” one of the thugs chuckled. “Wonder
if that pussy is this tight, too…”

“One way to find out,” the other commented directly into my ear. He was
the one assaulting my dress, and I just waited for the sound of ripping fabric
as I struggled to fight my way out of this.

This can’t be happening,
I pleaded into my head.
I should
have just fucking gone back with him to the bar. Oh god, they dragged me back
here, he won’t find me…

“Oh shit, this bitch is wearing a thong!” The aggressor holding me
pinned chortled quietly. “Well,
luck be a
lady tonight
…”

I felt my thong being ripped down my thighs, and I realized that I was
totally, resoundingly fucked…

“Hey, who the fuck is–”

There was the sound of scuffling shoes, and a hard blow. The other thug
went down, crumpling into some boxes. I felt the guy holding me down release
his grip and take a step back.

“Who the
fuck
do you think you
are?” He snarled. I ripped at the knot of my blindfold, desperate to free
myself and see what was really happening.

Whatever was going on, it was a brawl. Fists flew, shoes scraped against
the uneven pavement, and grunts of pain were exchanged.

I finally tugged the blindfold free, just in time to watch Lex Lambert
dig his knee into the gut of my would-be rapist, dropping him to his knees and
palms. Lex paused to check me, and I saw someone rise up behind him – the other
asshole, by the looks of it.

With the gag in my mouth, I couldn’t shout at the danger or untie my own
wrists, so I bobbed my head. Lex turned, just in time to take a walloping blow
to the side of his cheek. He slipped, steadying himself against the wall,
before bouncing free and headbutting the guy in the nose.

“God
dammit!
” The thug
screeched. “By dose!” Blood was gushing from his nose, which was unnaturally
bent and partially flattened. “You broke by dose, you fucking biece of shit!”

“I’ll break more of you if you touch this fucking woman again,” Lex
snarled, digging the heel of his boot into the guy’s balls.