Twisted Desire (The Twisted Series) (12 page)

She smiles and walks off.  “Good night.”

The cool evening air rushes her when she steps
outside.  The sky has already turned dark and shadows are lurking around
the private parking lot.  She hurries to unlock her door, and instantly
relocks it after she drops into her seat.  She rubs her eyes with both
hands, smearing the black mascara under her eyes.

Aliah holds one of her hands over her face and starts to
laugh, but it’s not out of humor.  She has totally blown off a sexy bad
boy, who also seems to have the desire to wine and dine her.  Oh
well.  He probably would have paid for her dinner with drug money
anyway.  She drops the pouty face and snickers to herself, as she starts
her car.

What is this guy’s deal anyway?  He plans all this
while still believing that she’s a trashy bartender.  It is likely for the
best that she didn’t call him.  He’d get the hint in a hurry when she
didn’t show.

Can you even say you stood up a man when it isn’t a date?

Yes.  Because that’s exactly what she did.  And it
was
a date.  Her realization only makes her feel like the piece of
shit that she is.

As she turns toward her home, she contemplates why she had
even agreed to go out with him in the first place.  She could have dropped
the act and caught a cab the other night.  But a part of her, the one
hiding deep down inside of her, secretly wanted to see where things could go
with him.  She wanted it to be a date.  Why did she want it to be a
date?

Instead of calling Harley to apologize, or calling a friend
to confess, Aliah drives straight to Riley’s to drown herself in a few
shots.  She convinces herself it was a good thing that she never made it
to dinner with Harley, since then they would have went back to her house for
more sex.  A bitch could get addicted to a man like that.  It’s best
this way.  She keeps telling herself that repeatedly, hoping that it will
make it feel more true.

After whirling her car around, she speeds to Mitchell’s bar
and wheels into the parking lot.  She climbs out of her car, shrugs out of
her stifling suit jacket, and then tosses it into the backseat.  Still
feeling overdressed, Aliah pulls her blouse over her head and readjusts her
tank top to make sure she is showing the most attractive amount of cleavage.

With her tight shirt tucked into her high-waisted pants, she
reaches for her purse and pulls out a wad of cash, leaving her baggage in the
car.  She checks her reflection in her mirror and once she is satisfied
that she looks fuckable, she makes her way across the road to Riley’s.

She hates that the place is packed.  Monday night wings
never fails to fill the place.  She knows though, that it is only a matter
of time before the happy hour crowd clears out and returns to their families,
to settle snugly into their beds for the night.

Usually Aliah is content to go to bed at ten, snuggle in
with a good book, and save the drinking for the weekend.  But usually
Aliah isn’t asked on a date by a man who she is very attracted to.  Then
for her to stand him up without an explanation even when she has a perfectly
good one.

She has issues.

As the bar quickly clears out, Aliah makes herself more
comfortable, kicking a heeled foot up onto the barstool next to her.

“Bartender!” she shouts, though he’s only a few feet
away.  “Another tequila shot, please.”

“Sorry, Aliah.  But I won’t do it.  Mitchell would
have my neck.”

Aliah looks at the row of empty shot glasses in front of
her.  It was only three drinks.  But she did just drink one – two –
three in a row.  She could easily handle a couple more.

“What the hell?” she shouts, frustrated more with herself
than the poor bartender.  “I’m barely even buzzing and you’re cutting me
off?”

She becomes more pissed when she realizes that she’ll have
to face her troubles soberly.  “Maybe I’ll just have to take my business
elsewhere.  Why don’t you go tell Mitchell that?”  She shouts it loud
enough for everyone else in the place to hear.

Not only does the owner hear, but she manages to drum up the
attention of a certain individual who had been collapsed in a booth, drowning
himself in liquor.

Mitchell comes out of the back room and steps right in front
of Aliah, as Harley pulls himself out of the booth and onto unsteady feet.

“Ally.  It’s a work night.  You really shouldn’t
be drinking like that.  What’s with you tonight?”

“Who are you to decide how and when I should be
drinking?  I’m my own woman, Mitchy boy.  If I want to drink, then
I’m going to drink.”

Harley steps out from the crowd, unbeknownst to her, but
Mitchell notices immediately.  He points his next words at him.  “I
just want you to be safe.”

Aliah catches the evil eye and knows she has company. 
Company who Mitchell apparently doesn’t like very much.  She spins around
on her stool.  There’s someone standing there, looking tall and dark and
sexy, but it can’t be her Harley because he is wearing a suit!  Her eyes
bug out of her head as she takes in such a sight.  Now she feels like an
even bigger douche.

Harley gives Aliah a pointed glance, but his voice is
casual.  “You have some nerve showing up here.”

Aliah sighs.  “Let me explain.”

“No need.  I get it.  I’ll keep my
distance.”  He turns away and stumbles down a step and back toward his
booth.

“Wait!  Harley!”

Shit.
  He’s really drunk.  And that’s
because of her.  With a few insignificant glances, he disappears back
inside the confines of his booth.  He manages to make her feel like a
horrible person. 
She is one.

He had gotten all dressed up, wearing a tie and
everything.  A god-damned tie!  By the look of the quality, he had
visited a tailor too.  And she’d stood the guy up.  He is clearly
trying, and she has to admit that seeing him dressed like that had her heart
swelling with an unguarded desire.  Oh, she loves the bad-boy, biker look
on him, but the fact that he could pull that shit off too just does something
to her insides.

What is wrong with her?  Why does she even care?
 
She isn’t supposed to care like that.

“Ally.  Don’t do it.”  Mitchell’s voice comes out
of nowhere.  All of his statements lately have had her on the defensive.

She hadn’t noticed until now, but Mitchell has been watching
her.  She rests her back against the bar, giving him the cold shoulder,
her voice turning snappy.  “Don’t do what?”

He points toward Harley’s booth with his eyes, as Harley
waves a finger at a waitress to get him another drink.  Harley’s eyes catch
onto hers for not more than a second, but she feels it in her bones.  He
acts like she is a nobody; a piece of garbage beneath his polished shoes. 
She feels like trash.

“Don’t do it, Ally,” Mitchell repeats.  “He’s not the
type of guy you should be hanging around.  Especially alone.”

“Is that right?”  Aliah twirls around and stands there
surfing momentarily, waiting for her balance to catch up with her.  “Who
exactly do you think is the type for me?  I’d really like to know.”

Aliah raises her voice, catching Brandee’s attention and
every other nobody sitting between them at the bar.  It was no secret that
Mitchell has always tried to protect her.  He has ever since high
school.  He has always been a great friend.  But he also has a thing
for her.  And by the way Brandee watches her, Aliah knows that she knows.

Mitchell grabs onto her arm, to keep her from falling, and
apologizes.  Mitchell is a lot of things.  But a cheater is not one
of them.  Aliah knows he is a safe bet as a friend, since she will never
settle like that and he will never grow the balls to make a move beyond
friendship.  She just isn’t attracted to the big, beefy type.  Unless
of course that beef is solid, grade-A, Harley.

“Thank you for looking out, Mitch.  But I don’t need a
babysitter.  I can manage fine without you.”

Aliah slips to the floor, suddenly feeling very sober. 
She stills for an extended moment of truth, before taking a step in the right
direction.  What is she doing?  If she doesn’t want to date Harley,
then she has already gotten that point across.  Her intentions were voiced
loud and clear by her silence.  But now it is something else drawing her
to his table.

As she grows closer, something in the back of her head nags
her to stop.  But she can’t stop.  And she doesn’t stop, until she is
standing across from him.

What a mistake!

Her heart rams up into her throat and cuts off her air
supply.

Poor, little Harley… my ass!

He’s sitting there with a sexy little slut smiling up at
him.  Her dress has a deep v neckline and her youthful bust is exposed for
every man in the place.  But it is Harley’s eyes that she is concerned
most about and they seem to be concentrated on the girl’s chest.

Before Harley even notices that she’s standing there, the
girl slides across the bench and rests her hand on his, leaning into him.

Slut.

Aliah overhears the girl’s confession.  “You know I’m
here for you, David.  For whatever.”

He’d lied to her about his name.  Smooth move,
Harley
.

The girl senses that Aliah’s standing behind her and glances
over her shoulder.  It isn’t long before they’re scowling at each
other.  Aliah watches the girl slide out of the booth and walk away,
giving a pointed glare at her, as she passes.  Once she rejoins a guy
across the room, Aliah clears her throat.

Harley only just then notices that he has company, as Aliah
slips onto the seat across from him.  His sigh is exaggerated, like it’s a
bother for him to deal with her.  Then he lowers his voice.

“It’s you,” he mumbles.

“Don’t sound so excited about it.”

“Because you give me good reason to be.”  The rude tone
he uses with her hits like a shock to her system.  All warmth has left the
building, along with their unforgiving chemistry.

“Can I say that I’m sorry about that?”  She reaches out
for his hand to show him some sort of affection, but he pulls his hand away
before she can even touch him.  She pulls her hand back and clutches onto
her belt loop, feeling scorned.

“You look sorry.”  Even when he tries to scorn her, his
eyes take a suggestive inspection of her body.

It doesn’t stop her from reacting to his attitude. 
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You didn’t even bother to pick up a phone.  I waited
for you, you know.  For close to an hour.”  He lifts a pitcher of
beer to his lips and guzzles it down, like he has an overwhelming need to
quench his thirst.

“When you didn’t show, I’d figured I might as well enjoy a
peaceful dinner. 
Alone.
  And I did.  Without your big
mouth there to ruin it.”  The slur in his voice is the only indication
that he is the one who’d polished off the many pitchers of beer cluttering his
table.

“Nice.”  She doesn’t know how else to respond to him.

“What?  You think you’re the only one allowed to act
like a jerk?  It works both ways, darlin’.”

“You know what?”  She pauses, carefully considering her
words.  “Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, too.”

She scowls at him and leans over the table.  “I came
over here to apologize for being such a bitch.  But now I almost want to
take it back.”

“That was hardly a worthy apology anyways.  You
should
take it back, and do it right this time.”

Aliah flips him the bird.  There’s no sense in arguing
with him when he’s in this state.

“What?” he shouts.

She narrows her eyes, preparing to rip him a new one. 
“You can’t just shut your mouth long enough for me to tell you how fucking
sorry I am for ruining your night.  I would have even added how nice you
look, but you reek like a case of beer, which is not incredibly attractive.”

“Fortunate for me, that isn’t the look I’m going for
tonight.”

He could have fooled her.  He had loosened his tie and
unfastened the top three buttons on his shirt, showing just enough flesh to toy
with her imagination.  His tie is flapped over a broad shoulder and it
looks like his facial hair is making an early appearance.  Everything
about him screams sexy and she can’t even deny it.

When Aliah notices that the girl from earlier is returning
to the table with a fresh pitcher of beer, she shuffles to the edge of the
bench seat.  Aliah supposes she’s the reason why Harley’s bombarding her
with ignorance.

“Again, I apologize,” Aliah snaps, as the girl slides up
next to Harley.  But no one would believe her, with the anger in her
tone.  “You and your girlfriend can have fun.  I’ll get out of your
hair.”

She hurries away from the table, before she shares an
emotion that she prefers to bottle up and save for the privacy of her own
lonely bedroom.

Why is she reacting so strongly to this dude?

She doesn’t want to care.  But to see him with that
other girl has her feeling royally rotten.  She can’t stop the hesitation
in her breath, and that just barely allows her to maintain her cool. 
Aliah stops at the bar and grabs onto it for support.  She leans over and
whispers in the ear of the college-aged guy next to her.  He gladly orders
a pair of shots for her.  She tucks a bill in his pocket and he smiles,
crushing the bill back into her hand.

“It’s on me.”  He licks a smiling bottom lip, as if
that generosity might have earned him another sort of reward.

He looks sweet, with his ball cap pulled low over his
glimmering eyes.  She smiles sideways, taking in the way his shoulders are
broad like Harley’s.

“Thanks.”

When the bartender turns away, and Mitchell disappears into the
back room, she takes the first small glass from the guy’s extended hand. 
As she edges it closer to her parted lips, a large, strong hand cups around
hers.