Chapter 8 – Andy
Chapter Eight
ANDY
We’re quiet as we walk down the sidewalk. I suppress a laugh when I see a few people quickly step out of our way or cross the street altogether. It might be the blood still on Niki or merely his size and the tattoos.
Pam knew he was a Rider the second she entered the diner.
I never paid close attention to what tattoos meant to different people.
I try to keep my head down and not get involved.
Now here I am walking hand in hand with what most people consider a bad guy.
What’s nutty about it is I’m not scared of him.
I’m having the exact opposite reaction, actually.
Those two creeps had been, well, freaking creepy all night.
They were looking to cause problems, and if Niki wasn’t there, I fear I would have been their target.
I don't want to think about that possibility.
Tonight, I don't have to worry about my walk home.
My hand isn't wrapped around a can of mace; instead, it's in Niki’s, and I have no fear. For the first time in a long time, I feel as though someone is looking out for me. That I don’t have to worry for at least the distance to my place.
"Your coworkers didn't scare you off?" Niki asks after a few blocks.
"They tried." Both Bob and Pam had given me an earful. They weren’t shy about doing it either.
"But you didn't listen."
"I listened." They're my friends and simply care about me. They don’t want anything bad to happen to me.
I took in what they had to say, but it hadn't swayed me. There is something about Niki that has me gravitating toward him. Some sort of pull that I can’t explain.
"But can a walk home really hurt anything?
I bet you already know where I live." Niki grunts a response, making me smile.
“Will there be an issue over what happened back there?”
“No, they’ll be too embarrassed to run their mouths.”
“Embarrassed that they got their asses handed to them?”
“Yeah.”
“They should be embarrassed if they thought they could even take you.” I’d felt this strange excitement when I’d seen how easily he’d taken them down.
“I thought it might scare you.” His hand that’s holding mine tightens a fraction. I'm not sure he's aware he did it. This gesture indicates to me that he doesn't want me to be afraid of him. That he cares what I think of him.
“No.” I shake my head. I’m not going to tell him how it made me feel. I’m still trying to unpack that myself. "If I ask you a question, will you be honest with me?"
"As honest as I can be." Not sure I care much for that response, but I suppose that is honest.
"How about if I ask anything you don't want to answer, you just don't. No lying."
"I can do that," he agrees with a firm nod.
"Are you trying to sleep with me?" He's quiet for a long second. "You don't want to answer that one. Cause it kind of answers itself if you don't." I go to tug my hand from his, and I think he's going to release it, but instead he threads his fingers through mine.
"You're beautiful; who wouldn't want to sleep with you?" I scrunch my nose. "But there is more to it. There are lots of pretty people anyone can sleep with. I’m not walking them home or worrying about their shoes."
"What?" I bark a laugh. "You're worried about my shoes?" I wiggle my toes inside of them. Niki pays attention to things around him, even the small details. That’s obvious based on his observations of me and the way he fought those two men.
“I’m kind of worried about them too, but the tip you left should more than cover a new pair. I might go down to the thrift store tomorrow and check out what they've got.”
“You need new shoes. You’re on your feet at work.” His worry over me is endearing. If you would have told me this morning that this big, scary, tattooed man would be concerned about my busted shoes, I would have laughed my butt off and said you were looney tunes.
"You're rather interesting, Niki." I bump him with my shoulder.
"And you don't only want to bang me," I tease.
Niki isn't wrong. I don't think it would be hard for him to get laid.
He could likely pay for it or simply walk into a bar.
I push that thought to the back of my mind, not wanting to think about him with anyone else.
He doesn't release his hold on me the whole way to my apartment. I hate the embarrassment that rushes over me when he holds one of the broken doors open for me to enter. There is a buzzer system, but it's never worked.
We bypass the elevator that only works half the time, but I never use it.
I don’t care for how unpredictable it is.
You never know who might step on with you or the floors it will be stopping on.
Not every floor is safe here. Well, I wouldn’t classify any of them as being safe, but some are safer than others.
Then there are a couple you stay clear of altogether.
Unless you are in search of drugs or a variety of other unsavory things.
"Shit," I mutter when he pulls open the door to the stairwell to see the lights are out.
"Are they always out?"
"No," I huff. Thank God he's here. I would have peed myself running up them as quickly as possible. Niki pulls out his phone, turning on the flashlight.
The light hits his face, his expression hard, making him appear more menacing. That’s when I notice the cut on his cheek. It’s not gushing blood or anything, but there is definitely a gash.
I want to reach up and touch it, but now is not the time. I have no clue how he took that hit and kept on fighting. What the hell were those two men thinking when they tried to start crap with him?
“Stay a step behind me.” He shifts, going in first, still keeping a hold on my hand. I do as he says. Niki moves slowly. I would have run, but he takes his time, I'm sure scoping things out.
Niki suddenly stops walking, tilting his head. I do the same, hearing a whimper and then a moan. Subsequently, the sound of slapping flesh reaches my ears. I'm thankful for the lack of light so that Niki can’t see the heat rushing to my face.
"Out!" Niki barks so loudly that the sound echoes through the stairwell, causing me to jump.
I start to slip off the step, a small scream leaving me.
Niki's arms somehow manage to wrap around my waist, pulling me into him, dropping his phone in the process with the flashlight facing up. "I got you."
"Holy shit." I grip the front of his shirt, staring up into his face. I am sure I was about to fall down half a flight of concrete stairs.
"I got you," he repeats again. I nod, my heart still racing. He's got me. I'm not used to anyone having me. Usually I only have myself.
My mom might try to act like a caring mother at times, but her efforts never last long. Even tonight, when she texted to check up on me, her message felt strange. I didn't think for a second that's what she was really doing. I'm just not sure what her angle was.
I thought she would have been avoiding me. I texted her this morning when I realized she wasn't home about rent and other money owed. She knew what I was talking about, and I haven't told her that it's been covered. I'm not sure I will.
"Thank you," I tell him. "For having me." He gives me a nod, and his fingers on my side flex against me.
“They’re gone.” He leans down to grab his phone, and then he puts his arm back around me as we head up the stairs to my floor.
I find myself leaning into him, enjoying the sense of comfort and safety he brings me.
I don’t want tonight to end. In fact, I want to push more into his warm body; he even smells good too, and boys never smell good.
I turn my face to brush it against his side.
"That's your apartment." I pull my attention away from him to see my door is partly open, the wood frame split.
"Mom!" I shout, rushing toward the door, but Niki pulls me back.
"Don't."
"Please—"
"Stay behind me," he whispers. "Not leaving you out here." I nod my head quickly, wanting him to go.
My mom drives me insane, but I don't want to think about anything happening to her. Hell, that's why I'd gone and gotten her drugs. I couldn't watch her lie there and suffer.
Niki slowly pushes the door open, stepping inside, right into my small living room. He glances around, each step he takes calculated as he moves through my home, opening all the doors and checking anywhere a person could be.
"Is your mom's room always this messy?" he asks quietly. I know what he's getting at; it appears ransacked. I nod. The last door is to my room; he pushes it open. My stomach sinks; my room is destroyed.
I step back, not wanting to see it. It's too much. I pull my phone out of my back pocket, calling my mom. She doesn't answer. I try again and again. Niki disappears through my bedroom door.
Finally my mom texts me back saying she's busy and the bar is packed. That she'll see me later. I'm relieved that she's fine. It could have been a junkie searching for money.
"You're not staying here," Niki says, his hands fisted at his sides. His reaction is making me think my room is a whole lot worse than I realized.