Saving Abel (Rocker Series) (12 page)

“Come.” He grabbed my hand and escorted me back into the club. I noticed the security at the entrance keeping a watchful eye, but he never acknowledged them. I walked by them with my head held down. I was beyond mortified. Of course, they knew what we had been doing. Hmm, I wondered how often they did that for him. My chest squeezed at that thought. It made me sick to think of him with another woman. Fuck. How many women had he been with? And being the dipshit that I am, I had not used protection. Though, come to think of it, that would be a nice little surprise, wouldn’t it? In no way was I ready to become a mother—
but
. Maybe I was, maybe I could do it—if the child was his.

The club was packed with wasted dancers. Billows of smoke from the fog machine clouded my vision, yet added a little mystique to the vibe. Maybe I wouldn’t get ribbed too badly, considering how hazy it was in here. Could I possibly be that lucky? Abel walked ahead of me, proudly holding my hand as we made our way back to our friends. It felt nice and made me smile. People parted as we made our way to our table. I wasn’t surprised to see Cindy locking lips with Woody, doing a thorough tonsil check.
Get it, girl!

Now, the giddiness started to take hold. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing like an idiot. I was elated and possibly cray-cray with the kind of pent-up girly energy only a man can give a woman. Finally, Cindy and Woody came up for air as we approached. Yeah, Cindy would know for sure any second now …

“Well, here comes Abel’s boner-garage,” Cindy leered, smacking the table and spilling Woody’s drink. They all had a good laugh, including Abel. I wanted to die right there. We were all adults, but this was extremely embarrassing. A
boner garage?
Who even says that shit? She was my chick, but her mouth was getting reckless and she was wasted. I decided not to ruin the night with a verbal throw-down, figuring it would be wiser to join in and vault right back at her.

“It wasn’t like that, Cindy,” I replied coolly. “Abel just gave me a thorough beard ride, that’s all.” This I said straight-faced while picking my nails. When I looked up, her mouth was shaped like a perfect O. I smiled and we fell apart laughing.

“Atta-girl.” She high-fived me. I rolled my eyes and felt like a sixteen-year-old instead of the twenty-four-year-old that I was. But whatever. I just wanted to change the subject quickly, before the rest of the crew got back to the table.

“Drinks, please,” I said to no one particular. Woody shimmed out of the booth to stretch his legs. He hailed blonde Barbie, the whore waitress. Abel decided to take a trip to the bathroom. So I scooted in next to Cindy and reached for my purse. I needed to refresh my make-up.

“And?” She nudged me, smiling maniacally. She looked like the deranged joker from
Batman
. Anyone could see she was happy for me, even if deep down she was hesitant. She meant well. She just didn’t want to see me get my heart broken. Neither did I. Which had me pondering.
Fate.
That word had never entered my mind—ever. Now it swirled around in my head like a wind-blown leaf. I didn’t believe in fate. However, I did believe in happenstance. This plan was an enormous gamble, my royal flush in life. It was all about how to win the top prize—Abel.
Fuck
.
What was I doing?
I dropped my head hard on the table, feeling defeated already, then proceeded to thump it a few times, thinking,
what the fuck am I doing?

“Hello? Come in, Tokyo. What the fuck did he do to you, chick?” Cin asked, brushing my hair out of my eyes. She didn’t know my plan. Yeah, she was my chick. But she would never be on board with this level of scheming. I needed to throw some chick bull-shit at her quickly. So I plastered a wild smile on my face, as I slowly picked my head up off the table.

“I’m still having an out-of-body experience, Cin. I mean … talk about being worked over. You have no possible fucking idea. True story.” I held up my hand, swearing. She looked at me warily for a moment. But she took the bait.
Bingo.

“Okay. Okay. Okay. Holy fuck.” She bounced up and down, fanning herself. “Tell me already,” she panted.

“Let me put it simply. With Abel, fucking is not the answer. Fucking is the question. Yes is the answer,” I said matter-of-factly.

“What the fucking fuck? English please, not Giabonics. Give it to me straight, chick-slit.” She seized my arm, shaking me.

“He’s a tatted, pierced God,” I said—which still didn’t come close to fully describing him. I contemplated this for a moment. She pinched my leg under the table.

“Ow! Seriously? Pinching. Really?” I rubbed my leg. Perfect timing. The blonde train-wreck Barbie was back with a bottle of Jameson, a Fireball, and a few pitchers of beer.
Perfect.
I immediately grabbed the bottle I wanted.

“Shots?” I held up the Jamo bottle to Cindy. Yeah, she wanted a glimpse into what I’d like to hope was mere foreplay. I needed more of Abel. Now was not the time for girl-dishing. It was party-fucking-time. And I felt as if it were New Year’s Eve.

“I’ll let it go for now. But you know you’re spilling your shit tomorrow morning, right?” Smiling, she grabbed the Fireball bottle. We did a couple of shots beer-chased. We needed to catch up to the rest of the guys. Abel had fucked me straight, fucked the effects of the alcohol right out of me. If Cindy’s condition was any indication, the rest of the boys were probably loaded as well.

Speaking of Abel, where the fuck was he? I was getting itchy and punchy thinking about what he could be up to or into. Woody walked up behind Cindy, squeezing her waist. She giggled and returned a drunken grin.
Oh, hell.
I decided to go on an exploratory and check out the dance floor.
Hmm
. Where were the rest of the boys? The dance floor looked like a mosh-pit.

But there was something going on in back, in one roped-off corner. Lethal Abel’s security team was back there in force. What the hell was going on? Nosy, I moved down the marble steps carefully for a closer look. I could see Ender’s distinctive tatted arm fist-pumping to Jay Z’s “Show Me What You Got” alongside some brunette amazon. She was showing him what she had, too. Huh? Who knew that dude even danced? He was Spanish, though, and Spanish people were a passionate culture. Made perfect sense he had natural rhythm. And Ender seemed to be a very passionate man. From what I could see, security was having a tough time containing the crowd around him. He was doing some form of modern salsa-style break-dancing, which didn’t help crowd control. Girls cheered him on. Dudes left the dance floor in defeat. There was no use competing with Ender. There was no contending with
that
boy’s moves.
Damn
. The ladies certainly adored him. It didn’t surprise me that he was a gifted dancer. He mastered everything he tasked.

People-watching was one pastime Cindy and I enjoyed together—especially when we were drinking. The more trashed people got, the more idiotic they behaved. It was just more goofing material for us. I turned to see if Abel had come back to the table—but he had not. What I did see was a very lip-locked Woody and Cindy.
Good for her
. And I meant it. She was a good girl. A fucking fantastic friend. They started mixing “Clarity”
^video2
into the song. Before I could turn around to get Cindy, she managed to slam into me—which sent my drink sailing all over the poor guy next to me.

“Gavin!” Cindy cried, hugging me and screaming drunkenly over the music. “It’s totally Gavin’s and Em’s song,” she said, leading me onto the dance floor. We always danced to this song.

“OMG. Remember last summer when Gail McHugh’s
Pulse
 came out? Best summer ever!” Cin squealed.

“Let’s pay tribute,” I yelled back. We were book nerds. Fucking glammed-up hot smutty-book-nerds. We had decided “Clarity” was Gavin’s and Em’s song last year. We were enraptured by that book: fucking
Gail
. She had killed it. It had been an awesome action-packed summer. Nostalgia hit me hard. She led the way to the dance floor. I happily followed. We found a small piece of real estate and danced our asses off. Not a care in the world. We were wrapped up in the adoring girl love we had for each other. My hands were in the air waving back and forth.

Then, during mid-sway, I felt strong arms wrapping around my waist.
Abel
. He pulled me against his hardened cock.
Oh, my
. He was insatiable. I loved that. I closed my eyes, relishing the feel of his toned body grinding my ass into his hard-on. I was thrilled that he was dancing with me. Thrilled for everyone to see that I was his. I went for my signature move, “dropping my eagle.” I pulled out the whole fucking repertoire of dance moves. Yep, I was going to show him what he would be getting later. Some would say my moves could make a stripper blush. But move I could, and I liked to show it.

The song changed to a slower song. I needed another drink, anyway. That’s when I noticed Cindy’s wide-eyed expression.
The fuck.
I grabbed Abel’s hands to keep them on me while I turned around. Searching the crowd, I saw Abel standing on the steps to the dance floor. My breath caught. My stomach churned in angst.
What in the fuck
. I released the hands I was holding and whirled around to throat-punch the fucker whose hands were on me. It was Ender’s face I saw. He caught my fist mid-punch.

“Ah ah ah, little girl. Violence never solves anything. Weren’t you taught that?” He winked at me, continuing to dance. This was no dancing situation. My body stiffly moved on its own accord towards Abel. The expression on his face was a mixture of anger and something else. I picked up my pace, slamming into people to get to him. I needed to explain. I thought it was him. I would never do that. Ever. Ever. Ever.

“Get the fuck out of the way, people!” I shrieked, panicking.
Oh fuck, this was bad
. My legs felt shaky and weak. I was probably going to faint: my heart was pounding so hard it echoed in my ears.
Oh Christ
… please, please, please, God. I never asked you for anything. Please let him forgive me, let him at least listen to my explanation.

However, it was not meant to be. Some fucking stunning motherfucking bimbo twat was coiled around him like a snake. My fists balled. She was going to get a fistful of wrath when I got hold of her. I was going to rip her fucking hair out—every last strand. I went to lunge at her when Ender and Cindy thwarted me.

“Don’t do it, Gia,” Cindy pleaded, yanking me towards the booth.
Oh, fuck
. The room was out of focus. Could you actually see pain—physically see it? Fire pushed through my veins. The air felt thick. I couldn’t breathe. My hands gripped my head for fear it would explode. This was too much.

“I need to talk to Abel,” I insisted, as I stood up holding my head, ready to pull my hair out. Yep, it was that bad: I felt like I could actually rip my own hair out. God, my neck felt tight and my throat swollen. Ender and Cindy just stared at each other, their gaze heavy with meaning.

“What the fuck?” I screamed. “I’m going to find him.” I started off in the direction I had last seen him, looking for that head-turning twat.

“He left, Gia,” Cindy said. Ender nodded in confirmation.

I rubbed my eyes with my fingers. They were burning. Or was it the tears? I never cried. I didn’t think I could. But I had the living proof running down my face right now. Maybe if I rubbed my face hard enough I’d be a new person—one worthy of Abel. I needed to rub
something
, even if it meant I hurt myself. Fat tears ran torrently down either side of my cheeks. This was bad … real fucking bad. My body was numb. I couldn’t feel or hear anything. I wanted to die. Just die. Anything to get away from the pain …

And that thought only made me cry harder. After all, I was the person who had found my twelve-year-old brother hanging from the bathroom shower rod. His jerky movements had left an undeniable mark on my psyche. What fourteen-year-old girl would ever be the same again after seeing that? The 911 operator had instructed not to touch him. But over the years, the constant replaying of that event in my head had left me wondering: maybe I could have helped him had they let me cut him down. However, at this very moment, I wanted to trade places with my brother. I wanted to be dead. I was the one who deserved it. Not him. He was innocent. A good boy. I was the doppelganger to my mother, and, as such, I deserved this apocalyptic shit. And this was apocalyptic. My world as I had known it was over. Steepling my fingers, I took a deep breath and contemplated my next move. My eyes focused on the swirls in the carpet. Depression was seeping in. I could feel the cold isolation already. All around me was the sound of nothingness. I was scared for the first time in my life. Would I ever feel him again?
Abel.

“I’m so sorry, babe,” Cindy whispered, stroking my hair.
So was I.
“You want to leave?” she asked carefully. She didn’t know what to expect: she had never seen me like this.

“Wait a minute!” I exclaimed. “Ender, can’t you talk to him? I mean, it’s totally your fucking fault.” I drove my index finger into his chest. He just smirked. He thought this shit was real fucking funny. Fury was taking hold.