Chapter 39 #3
“You can go hang out with your chick for a while if you want. First time she’s been here,” I say, attempting to keep myself distracted with small talk. “Give her a quick tour if you want.”
“Yeah, I told them they were welcome to come in. I figured it might help the bar,” Viking replies.
“Huh?”
“You know, like that saying... ‘If there’s bitches, they will come.”
He actually manages to pull a chuckle out of me. “The logic is there, but that is absolutely not the quote you’re thinking of.” The humorous moment is short-lived when I scan the room and spot Legion, kicked back in a leather couch near the jukebox like he owns the place.
“He’s gotta go,” I mutter.
“What did he do now?”
“He’s plotting something, I can feel it.”
“Not to play devil’s advocate, but he’s been a team player since he got here, and he really came through for the Jokers.”
“Look at him, sitting there all fuckin’ smug with that fuckin’ grin…” A grin that broadens the moment the opening riff of Layla begins to play. Legion raises his beer, just enough to make sure I know this is personal. A message. A taunt. Maybe even another promise…
“Son of a bitch.”
“What?” Viking asks.
“ Fuckin’ Layla.”
Viking quirks a brow at me. “ So? It’s a great Clapton hit.”
“Legion selected it… Clapton wrote this song about Harrison’s wife. He was in love with her. She wound up leaving him for Clapton.”
“No shit?” Viking lets out an amused huff. “Gotta hand it to him, Dean…his mind-fuckery is on another level.”
I waive a patch-chaser down to grab me a beer, though I probably should’ve asked for something stronger.
Legion’s had time to contemplate this dance.
The song he’s chosen will be presented to her as a confession of his love…
Though there’s no other way for me to take it than a quiet declaration of war.
I f Layla is a slap in the face, the song I chose for our dance will take the wind right out of him, like a kick in the balls…
And I’m fairly certain, despite her promise, there will be no second dance tonight.
At least not with her… Keegan and I may end up in the parking lot , however.
Perhaps she’ll grant me one last rain check…
The final few moments of Layla play through the speakers as Vanna steps out from behind the bar and crosses the room to me. I wonder how she will react to the song I’ve chosen for us… She’ll know it’s deliberate because she knows me…
Music has always lent a helping hand in the way of conveying the things we can’t say out loud. Half the barflies in this joint have no doubt bared their souls through the jukebox, cuing up confessions one tune at a time. Love, regret, betrayal…there’s a song for all of it.
Layla ends as Vanna reaches me with a curious smile, just before our song begins to play. When it does, and its significance registers, her smile drops. Her lips part slightly, as if she isn’t sure whether she wants to say my name or curse it.
I offer her my hand, but she hesitates, her gaze flicking to her husband. I know Keegan’s leaning against the wall like a storm waiting to break. I can feel his stare burning through me. When she peers back up at me, her dark eyes reflect a war of emotions.
She’s furious. Conflicted. Afraid… Though not of me…no, never of me…
The moment she places her hand in mine, I pull her into my arms, close…
intimate…like I’ve got a right to. Her body tenses, but she doesn’t deny me.
She adjusts her hand in mine, cool but compliant.
My other hand finds the curve of her waist as her palm rests against my chest, right over my racing heart.
When she swallows, I know she can feel it, and when her wedding rings catch in the light above us, I ignore them.
“ You’re playing with fire,” she whispers, her sweet, warm breath against my throat.
I close my eyes for a moment and breathe her in, memorizing her scent and the feel of her in my embrace. “ Then burn with me...”
The world falls away with each step, each sway, each lyric of Bryan Adams’ Please Forgive Me, drifting through the speakers. I watch her eyes, waiting to see if she’ll soften…
“ This song, Legion…” She takes a quivering breath. “ He’s watching us.”
“ It’s not your wedding song.”
“ It’s close enough!”
“I didn’t choose it to hurt you,” I murmur, “I chose it so you’d understand, so you’d know what I carry with me, so you’d know there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”
Something flickers behind her gaze. Something deeper than guilt. Her hand trembles in mine, and I hold her closer still, allowing her to feel every beat of the song through me, every word I can’t say out loud.
“ Damien… I can’t give you what you want ,” she whispers, just before our song ends. The sadness in her tone, the bittersweet longing we both know she’s too loyal to him to ever do anything about… They still soothe another broken part of my soul.
“You already did. You gave me this.” I hold her a moment longer, and when she steps back, I let her go, despite feeling as though I’d rather peel off my own skin than let her slip away.
We stare at each other, and I can still taste her perfume in the air, on my person.
Some other song is playing now, but the echo of the one we claimed still vibrates in my chest… steady, punishing…
When I hear the heavy sound of his boots rapidly approaching, I know I’m in for more punishment.
The tsunami of his anger hits me, and I’m certain his fist is about to do the same.
The room thins out around us, voices dip, conversations pause.
Despite the skull and wings embroidered on my back, no club brother will be intervening on my behalf.
Keegan’s crew knows better than to get between him and the man who just slow-danced with his wife to a love song that cut too close to the bone.
To my surprise, the blow never arrives.
“You think you’re slick?” Keegan growls, tone as sharp as the knives concealed on my body.
“No,” I say, breaking my gaze from her to spare him a glance. “I think I’m in love with your wife… I daresay I will be until the day you put me in the ground for it.”
The words hang between us, raw and unapologetic.
His jaw ticks, palpable rage a blazing fire held behind clenched teeth and muscle, but I don’t flinch. I’m still wrapped up in the euphoria of what I’d just had in my arms for three and a half minutes of borrowed time.
“You and me. Outside. Now,” my president commands.
“Dean, please…” Vanna nervously begs of him on my behalf, her hands slipping around his bicep.
“You stay here,” he mutters, barely looking at her.
“Dean… Please don’t fight ,” she anxiously presses.
“Enough!” Keegan steps away from her to get in my face. “Outside, of your own fucking accord, or I’ll drag you the fuck out of here.”
I could use a smoke, anyhow. I shift my gaze to Vanna. “There’s nothing for you to fret over, sweet one. I will always keep my word to you.”
“Should I come out there?” Viking asks as Keegan and I approach the steel door to the lot.
“No,” Keegan growls. “Don’t let anyone out here.”
“Got it,” Viking shoots me a taunting sneer. “ No witnesses...”
When we step outside, I light up a cigarette as Keegan comes to stand before me.
“What promise were you referring to?” he demands.
“The same one you made. That I wouldn’t harm you.”
Keegan leans into me, an intimidation tactic he means to emphasize his greater size.
I’m well aware, with his honed skills, his brute strength, his ability to decipher body language to anticipate an opponent’s next move in a battle.
Dean Keegan could, and eagerly would, kick my ass in a fair fight.
If he were anyone else, I’d slice him to bloody ribbons for the disrespect.
However, I expected this reaction, and this arrogant prick has a forcefield of impenetrable protection around him, rendering me unable to even lay a fucking finger upon him, let alone a blade , in wrath or even self-defense.
A beautiful shield of blinding, white light.
Protected by this promise I made to the love of both our lives…
I pull a long, leisurely drag, letting him know neither his posturing nor his proximity fazes me in the slightest. I meet his scowling gaze with a stoic expression of my own.
You don’t scare me, Savior. I’ve had the fear fucked out of me long ago…
“I’ve never claimed to be a hero,” he tells me. “You’d be wrong to think I’d ever put anything or anyone above Vanna and my son. You’d be dead. Fucking. Wrong .”
“Noted.”
“ Note this, too, asshole. When Vanna comes home with me tonight, I’ll be making love to her. I’ll be inside her. I’m the only man she wants. The only man she loves.”
“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”
“I mean it when I tell you, I will do more than hurt you, Legion, if you fucking cross me again. Especially when it comes to my wife.” He glares at me for a silent moment, as if deciding what to shove in my face next.
“Maybe you should know exactly what I mean. Maybe a glimpse of what could be your final resting place will put things into perspective for you,” he goes on, equally unreactive to the smoke I exhale in his glowering face.
“And where might that be, pray tell?” I sneer back at him.
“You might want to take this down.” He eyes the cell in my pocket. “This is both a warning and a kindness that would be detrimental to your existence , should you mistake it for weakness.”
“ A kindness? I’m intrigued.” I remove the cellphone from my cut pocket to punch in the coordinates he impressively rattles off from memory. “ Drear Swamp…”
Keegan nods once. “Consider leaving the rest of your black roses at the end of the old pier you’ll find there.”
A slight chill forms in my solar plexus as I realize what he’s just given me…
The kindness of closure, shrouded within the far more prominent threat of death…