Chapter 3
EVER
Live for me, Ever—Carlos’s words to me during two moments of life and death. I should’ve asked him for the same promise.
Instead, I’m left with an ache of regret in my chest whenever I think about our last time together.
It’s been two years since his death. I should’ve said “I love you.” A kiss on the forehead with a soft “I’ll call soon” was what he’d left me with, only for me to find out on waking the next morning that he was gone.
Ty gave me the awful news. He’d come over, and I couldn’t understand why he’d made the two-hour drive to the rental I shared with Gage.
They’d found Carlos’s body in an abandoned warehouse in East Alexandria with a gunshot wound through his back and out his chest. He’d died instantly.
Ty knew I was close to Carlos, and he wanted me to hear it personally from him.
Brushing my fingers over the words tattooed in Spanish along my left side, concealed under my bandeau, I stare at the front door of Crimson nightclub from the safety of my car.
My attention is torn between the line that stretches down the sidewalk and the couple making out beneath the parking lot lights kitty-corner to where I’m parked.
She’s lying on the hood of the guy’s expensive-looking car with her white-blonde hair spread out and her head bracketed by his muscular arms. One of her legs is hooked on his thigh, and the other is wrapped around his waist. Their kiss is passionate and all-consuming.
Nothing exists for them except each other.
I’ve been kissed like that—thoroughly, completely, tenderly. In anger. With hurt in his voice and regret on his face. Carlos had kissed me like that and more. So much more. I look away from the couple and pour my attention on the line stretching from the front door.
Live for me, Ever.
Live for him. That’s what I’ll do tonight.
After doing a once-over of what I’m wearing, I exit my car and make my way across the lit-up parking lot to the traffic light and crosswalk.
Traffic is heavy, and there’s a lot of foot traffic.
I’m not the only lone woman out here, but I stay aware of my surroundings.
I don’t want to get in trouble and alert Ty to my whereabouts before I can do what I came to Alexandria for.
While I wait at the traffic light to cross the street, I take in my surroundings.
Bright lights from the businesses that line the sidewalk remind me of when Carlos surprised me with strung-up lights and a trail of rose petals leading to my gift for my eighteenth birthday.
I inhale, and there’s a lingering hint of jasmine in the air.
Large, blooming jasmine grew on a trellis outside Carlos’s bedroom window. To wake up in his arms was heaven.
The flashing red “stop” changes to a white “walk,” and I blink away the memories.
They come out of nowhere, and I’m grateful for them, though my chest aches.
I hurry across the street and get in line.
The women look down their noses at me and snicker or roll their eyes.
I shove my hands into my pants pockets and stare at the ground.
Getting looked at like I’m unworthy of the air they breathe and the space they take up would’ve never happened at Red Dahlia now or when Carlos owned it. Customers knew my brother and I were close with the owner and his sexy younger brother, José Santiago.
But it’s nice to eat humble pie every now and then, a reminder of where I came from—a housing development synonymous with loser trash.
The line takes forever to move. With each step closer to the entrance, I eye where my car is parked. It would be easy to cross the busy street, get in my car, and drive back to Dumas. Except Arie’s words pick up volume in my head.
Let’s make our last year count. Let’s throw caution to the wind and live fully.
Louder.
Whatever challenges come our way, we’ll face them head-on. Whatever trials and tribulations we face, we’ll say bring it.
Bring it.
Be stronger for it.
Live for me, Ever.
Tears burn the back of my eyes, and my throat tightens.
I stare at the Chucks Carlos gave me for learning the bachata.
I have to do this. I want to do this. Blinking back the tears, I put one foot in front of the other until I’m staring at the bouncer’s hardcore boots.
I glance up and suck in a breath. The bouncer manning the entrance could be my unofficial bodyguard’s doppelg?nger.
He has dark hair with a few strands falling into his onyx-colored eyes, a metallic right brow piercing, and a full beard. His facial features are a mix of sharp angles and grim lines, making him look lethal and menacing, just like Gage. I wouldn’t want to run into this man in a dark alley.
Gage never mentioned a brother. Huh. Maybe a cousin? I can’t ask Gage, though. He’ll get suspicious and ask a ton of questions at a rapid-fire pace.
Overwhelmed and ready to be done with the verbal reaming and interrogation disguised as concern, I’d blurt out that I saw his likeness at a nightclub I’m not supposed to be at. Then all hell would break loose.
Mr. Snarly Face sweeps his gaze over me from the top of my head to my skin-tone bandeau, blue jeans ripped at the knees, and teal Chucks. “ID,” he barks.
I involuntarily step back.
Jesus, who kicked his puppy? He used his nice man voice with the person before me and hadn’t asked for her ID.
I pull my driver’s license from my back pocket. He crowds my space with a grunt and snatches my ID from my fingers before I have a chance to hand it over.
Wow, he’s impatient. Just like Gage. Hmm . . . He looks from me to the ID and flicks the plastic on my shoulder. “No entry.”
What?! This can’t be happening. I drove two freaking hours. My mouth opens and closes. My gut knots.
The person behind me steps into my space, bumping into my back, before leaning into me and staying there. A whiff of cheap cologne, sweat, and body odor wraps around me like a heavy, musty blanket on a hot, humid day.
I step forward, away from the frat boy’s hot breath and gross body heat. He and his friends leered at me when they walked by before taking their spots behind me in line.
“Give a girl a chance to dance her heart out,” I plead in a low voice, not wanting anyone else to hear the reason I’m here. It’s too personal. “It’s the anniversary of my boyfriend’s death, and I’m here to dance for him.”
Carlos is either smiling or smirking up in Heaven. He did a lot of good that many people weren’t aware of during his twenty-nine years.
The bouncer glares and shoves my ID in my face. I pocket it and start to turn around, but to my surprise, he removes the rope across the entrance and waves me through. I squeeze by him with a grateful, “Thank you.”
He tips his head but doesn’t let up on the death glare. The moment I step inside the nightclub, I forget about Gage’s likeness.
The club is crowded, and the music is loud.
I smile widely and sweep my gaze around the room.
Disco balls hang from the ceiling. Booths, tables, and bar-style tables with bar stools line the periphery of the dance floor, offering club-goers a vantage point to observe the dancers from their seats and allowing dancers to catch the attention of those who aren’t dancing or who simply enjoy watching.
Either way, it’s a win-win in my opinion.
Smiling, I make my way past the crowded bar and onto the dance floor.
The guys don’t give me a second glance. Who can blame them for ignoring me? They’re not here for plain and understated. They’re here for sexy and stunning. A thick coat of mascara is my only attempt at impressing someone.
The music’s beat is fast and upbeat. I jump, nod my head, and swing my hair as I’m jostled against other dancers.
Laughter escapes my lips. My worries about Braxton getting out of prison and my brother finding out soon, as well as my anxiety that I’ll forget Carlos’s scent and the sound of his laughter, fall to the wayside.
The other dancers and I pump our arms and tap our fingers to the beat. I scream the lyrics at the top of my lungs. I’ve missed this. I’ve missed the joy of being with like-minded people who don’t have a care in the world other than to feel the rhythm of the music down to their marrow.
I’m ready to belt out the chorus when muscular arms wrap around my waist from behind and tug me back against a solid body. A surprised gasp slips from my mouth. I stop dancing and look down.
Large hands. Thick fingers. A sprinkling of dark hair on his knuckles. I don’t need to turn around to know he is all man, unlike the guy who intentionally leaned into me while we waited in line to get in. This man doesn’t smell like cheap, generic cologne, sweat, or body odor.
What do I do? Do I shove him away? Or do I give in to the temptation of his muscular arms, his masculine scent, and his solid body?
After Carlos’s funeral, I stayed away from Red Dahlia.
Ty and I talked, and looking uncomfortable because I was bawling, he patted my back and said he and the crew understood why I was staying away.
It must be difficult to return to the place where I spent a lot of my time with Carlos.
Then we reminisced. First, about how we celebrated with Carlos and the crew when I received the letter saying I had a full-ride scholarship to DU.
“You are one smart fortune cookie,” Carlos had said before he grabbed me by the waist and swung me around.
My laughter echoed in the club, and each guy in the crew gave me high fives or a fist bump. They knew Carlos was my favorite, and his form of celebration was reserved for only him.
The next thing Ty and I spoke about was when Carlos surprised me on my nineteenth birthday. He’d said he needed to swing by the club to grab something he’d forgotten. The crew and their families were there, and we celebrated with dance and music into the early hours of the morning.
It’s about more than the memories. Red Dahlia holds our love story within its walls, halls, and dance floor.
Carlos had given me my first kiss inside Red Dahlia.
The kiss started innocently before quickly turning into something hot and forbidden with our ten-year age gap.
Red Dahlia had meant more to me the longer our relationship lasted.
Then he was murdered, and I never looked at the place the same way.
I stayed away because stepping inside Red Dahlia would make our secret relationship tangible.
I couldn’t touch Carlos’s laughter, tears, and passion, but I could dance across the dance floor and skim my fingers along the walls and floor of the building.
I would smell the sweat that stuck to the walls when he pressed my body against it, my legs wrapped around his waist and my fingers threaded in his silky strands while our mouths fused in a never-ending kiss and heat coiled low in my belly.
I would feel the hard floor beneath me from when he kissed me breathless before he worshipped my body from head to toe in the darkness when we stayed behind after everyone had left at closing.
Carlos was my ride home, so of course I’d wait for him. That was what I told anyone who asked.
I will never give up our secret. My brother and the crew will be mad at Carlos, and I never want him to be on the receiving end of their anger.
His memory deserves only their respect and loyalty.
I’m not ready to dance at Red Dahlia, but being here is different.
I’ve never set foot inside Crimson. No man has made memories here with me.
No man has made memories here with me. The words echo in my head, and suddenly it’s like I have permission to do something about the heat between me and the man who has me firmly in his hold.