Chapter 70
Seventy
THEN | SISK
“Istill don’t get why you wanted to come here,” Lou says, kicking a crushed beer can out of his path as he sidesteps a puddle. “Look at this shit.”
A few feet away, a girl with pink hair is spray-painting a massive, dripping eyeball on the wall.
“It’s perfect,” I shout back.
Lou snorts, pointing with his chin toward a corner where a couple is practically devouring each other against the wall. “You need therapy. Or a job. That’s your alternative.”
A group of guys are arguing over a half-finished mural on the far wall, their voices getting louder. One of them shoves the other, who stumbles back into a stack of empty paint cans that clatter to the ground.
Lou watches them. “Ten bucks that turns into a fistfight.”
“Only if someone runs out of paint,” I counter.
“I give it six minutes. Max.”
A real grin spreads across my face. “This is why I brought you.”
“You dragged me here,” he says, raising his voice.
“You were bored.”
“I was comfortable,” he insists, but his eyes are scanning the crowd, already engaged.
I bump his shoulder. “You love me.”
Lou sighs, but it’s lost in the noise. “Unfortunately,” he mouths.
We move deeper into the tunnel, weaving through clusters of people. The stench of spray paint, smoke, and whatever new chemical is making its rounds this week starts clinging to our clothes.
“You still look like hell, by the way,” he says, covering his eyes from the cheap strobe light someone set up.
“Thank you.”
“I’m serious. You look like you haven’t slept since you got back.”
“I filled out two job applications today,” I say, a little defensively.
“Two,” he repeats, letting the number hang in the air.
“Yes, two.”
Lou stops, turning to face me fully, forcing a guy with a giant mohawk to squeeze past us. “That’s barely trying, Sisk. That’s not even a warm-up.”
“It’s hard, okay? Every place wants experience. Or references. Or someone who doesn’t look like they might steal the silverware.”
Lou studies me. “You know that opportunity you left behind was insane, right? A career. Hell, a dream. I think I’d kill for that. No—actually, I know I would. I should’ve killed you and taken your place.”
“Lou.”
“I’m serious, Sisk.”
“I know.”
He sighs, shaking his head as the fight across the tunnel finally breaks out, a flurry of shoving and yelling that no one else seems to care about.
“I was pissed when you left. Then pissed when you dropped everything and came back. And now I’m pissed that I’m actually happy you’re here. It’s exhausting.”
I lean back against the cold concrete wall. “Told you,” I say quietly. “My family needs me.”
Lou’s whole demeanor shifts. “How’s your mom?”
“Bad day yesterday.”
“Pain?”
I nod, my throat tight. “Her meds are starting to stop working again.”
Lou winces. “And your dad?”
“Still forgetting things,” I say. “Keys. Conversations. The usual.”
“Pitfire. I’m sorry, Sisk, it’s not fair.”
“Yeah.”
I know I threw away a dream leaving the ballet, but standing here, I’m not so sure it was a mistake.
Yes, there’s a guy waving a spray can like a weapon.
And yeah, there’s a girl crying while her friend tries to comfort her, just smearing paint all over her hair.
But then I look at the walls, and I see it.
Real shit. Someone painted a blue heart cracked open, leaking black tar.
Another piece shows a gun shooting the word “hope” right into the concrete.
This is Tar City. As fucked up as it is, we’re all down here in the dirt together, and the way we fight to breathe is its own kind of beautiful.
Do I miss dancing? More than anything, but I’d be lying if I said I belonged anywhere else.
The sound of someone puking nearby shatters whatever good mood I was trying to build. I hold my nose.
“Five minutes!” someone screams over the music. “Best piece wins!”
I watch the two guys hurry to add their final touches, their chests puffed out, and nudge Lou with my elbow. “Left or right?”
He knows what I mean. I’m not asking him to judge the art—the pieces are actually sick. I’m asking him to play our game. He doesn’t even hesitate.
“Oh, that’s easy. The one in the ripped t-shirt. He’s got that ‘I just got out of bed and I’m still this hot’ thing going on.”
I squint, tilting my head. “Nah. I’m going with the tall one. All that intensity. He’s probably pissed about his dad’s disapproval. You can tell he needs someone to take it out on.”
Lou snorts. “You and your tortured artist fetish. I’m giving ripped t-shirt a solid eight. Tall one is a six, maybe a six-five if he knows how to use those hands for more than just art. I mean, look at the horse’s ass. That’s a man who pays attention to detail.
“Fair,” I concede. “But ripped t-shirt is trying too hard. Points deducted. Tall one gets a seven for authenticity. Plus, I bet he’s the type to bend you over the hood of his car and make you watch your reflection in the chrome.”
Lou leans closer. “Speaking of being bad, you ready to move on yet? Because I bet I could find a volunteer to help you forget all about your ‘self-work’ in about thirty seconds.”
“I’m good.”
Lou grabs my shoulders, turning me to face him properly.
He looks me up and down, then shakes his head with a dramatic sigh.
“No. You are not just ‘good.’ You are a fucking vision. That top, those tits, you are on fire tonight. Now own it. I bet Jax would drop to his knees if he saw you right now. So stop moping.”
“Hey, you broke the rule!” I say, forcing a lighter tone.
“Shit. Sorry. He who shall not be named.”
I can’t help but smile.
A girl I recognize from somewhere walks by, tapping a little plastic bottle against her palm. She stops near us, her eyes a little too wide. “Anyone need a boost?”
Lou groans. “Pass.”
I take the bottle.
“Sisk.”
“Relax, grandma. It’s not an ash pop. And it’s not poison.”
“You don’t know that. Think of Millie.”
“It’s half the size of a vitamin. And this has nothing to do with Millie.”
“You should know better.”
I turn the tiny pill between my fingers, then shrug. “Bad decisions keep things interesting.”
Lou sighs as I swallow it dry. “I hate this city.”
“But I’m back.”
That makes him laugh.
Someone shakes a bag of spray cans like poker chips. The music gets louder. Paint drips down the wall in long, colorful streaks. The whole place loosens another notch.
A new guy wanders over to us with a crooked grin and a shirt covered in paint. “Lou, right?” he says.
Lou squints at him. “Andy?”
They look at each other like they’re trying to remember something blurry and fun. Andy grins wider. “Oh yeah. Definitely you.”
Five minutes later they’re making out against the wall.
I’m happy for Lou, but whatever the fuck I took is spinning my head, making me horny and pissed off at the same time. I take a few steps away and some guy makes eye contact. He’s not bad, and honestly, what else am I gonna do? So when he leans against the wall, crooking his finger, I go to him.
He sticks his tongue out and I see a piercing. Fuck. Maybe Lou’s right, maybe I do have a type. But the second our tongues touch, all the fun evaporates. The kiss is dead. Which makes no sense, because this guy should be exactly what I want.
I pull back, already planning my escape, and my eyes land on someone else. Jax is leaning against the wall watching me, once again. He looks bored, amused even. I look away. Fuck him and his can’t do the boyfriend thing way of life.
The guy against the wall says something I don’t hear. I simply smile and lean in, kissing him slow and deep, making a show of it for the asshole staring at me.
I pull back and the guy’s hands are already on my ass, thinking he’s won. Unfortunately for him, my head is fuzzy and I can’t help but be done with it all. “Sorry, I gotta—”
He yanks me back against him, his grip tight. I try to pull away, but he just holds on tighter.
“Don’t be a tease.”
The guy’s hands are still on me when Jax appears out of nowhere, slamming him back against the wall.
“Apologize,” Jax demands.
The guy tries to laugh, but it comes out as a choke. Jax slams him into the wall again.
“Apologize.”
“Sorry,” the guy gasps.
Jax buries a fist in the guy’s stomach. The guy doubles over, gagging, and Jax doesn’t hesitate, planting a boot in his ribs. “Go fucking bleed out somewhere else.”
The guy scrambles away.
“Are you following me?” I practically spit the words at him.
He doesn’t even have the decency to look surprised. “Don’t flatter yourself, Sisk. The world doesn’t revolve around your drama.”
“Then why are you here?” I step closer. “In this specific tunnel. At this specific time. Don’t you dare say ‘for a good time’ or I swear I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” He lifts a brow. “Tell me how much you hate me while you’re grinding on some stranger? I’ve seen the show. It’s getting repetitive.”
My face gets hot. “I’ll grind on whoever the fuck I want. I owe you nothing. Now, go and find someone else to play and throw away.”
He lets out a low chuckle. “Play and throw away? That’s your story for what happened between us?” He leans in. “Now drop the act. What’s it going to be? Punch me? Or try to fuck me? It’s always one of the two with you.”
“You’re such an asshole.”
“See? Repetitive,” he says as he leans in.
“I’m leaving,” I say, turning on my heel.
Before I can take a step, his hand is on my arm, yanking me back. I stumble and crash against his chest.
“Let go,” I snarl, trying to pull away.
“Not until you stop acting like a drunken brat.”
I glare up at him. “I’m not drunk.”
“High then.”
“Still not your problem.”
His eyes narrow slightly. “You sure about that?”
I yank my arm free. “Yes.”
He tilts his head slightly. “Come on.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
His mouth curves faintly. “Wasn’t a question.”
His grip on my arm tightens like a steel cuff, and he starts moving again, dragging me toward the tunnel exit.
“Jax!” I twist, trying to slow him down, but it’s like arguing with gravity.
We pass Lou and Andy, who are still pressed against the wall like the rest of the world stopped existing.
Jax pauses long enough to say, “Taking her.”
Lou straightens up. Recognition is instant, and a slow, knowing grin spreads across his face. “About damn time.”
“Lou!” I shout, my voice cracking with betrayal.
He just waves a hand at me, his eyes on Jax. “She needs it,” he says, winking. “Go get ‘em, tiger. She’s been a nightmare.”
“Lou!” I scream again, but he turns his back on me, grabbing Andy and pulling him further down the tunnel like his work here is done.
“Have fun, babe!” his voice echoes back, dripping with smug satisfaction.
“What the hell is your problem?” I spit, trying to get my feet under me as Jax pulls me out of the tunnel.
“You are my problem. You’re my problem when you’re in my city, and you’re my problem when you’re not.”
“This needs to stop,” I snap the moment we’re a few steps away. “You and me. Right now. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“I’m serious,” I say, stumbling a little. “We’re not together. Next time you run into me in this stupid city, you walk the other way. Pretend you don’t know me.”
He finally stops and turns. “Finished?” he asks.
Something about his voice makes the heat already spreading through my blood grow.
“I hate you,” I say.
“Yeah,” he says calmly. “You’ve mentioned that.”
I shove him in the chest. “Stop acting like you get to control everything.”
“I don’t,” he says.
I shove him again and his hand snaps out. Suddenly I’m moving backward, my shoulders slamming into the cold brick wall beside the tunnel entrance. His hand catches the back of my head at the last second, stopping me from hitting the brick.
“You done?” he asks quietly.
“Get the fuck off me.”
He tilts his head, waiting, and the words just—dissolve. Because his other hand comes up and wraps around my jaw, his fingers pressing into my cheeks, forcing me to look at him.
“That foul mouth,” he says, his thumb dragging across my lower lip, “is going to be the thing that gets you in trouble tonight.”
“Go to hell,” I grunt but the warmth under my skin has turned electric now.
He studies my face for a second like he’s deciding something, then he leans in and kisses me.
I shove his shoulder and pull back, gasping. “You’re—” I say, my voice shaking but my hands are already gripping the front of his shirt. I pull him back down.
His mouth curves like he knew that was coming.
I open my mouth to protest but his hand slides between my legs. Two fingers shove past the fabric of my underwear and sink into me, deep and unapologetic.
I glance down the street.
“Just what I thought. Soaked. Fucking dripping for me.”
“It’s the drugs,” I lie, my voice a shaky mess. “You’re just… taking advantage.”
He laughs, a dirty sound this time. “Sure, rabbit. Keep telling yourself that.” He curls his fingers, hitting a spot that makes my whole body lock up. “But I know you. I know this pussy.”
“I hate you.” My hips buck against his hand.
“Yeah?”
He adds another finger, stretching me, and I have to press my lips together to keep the sound in. My body betrays me, my hips grinding down against his hand, seeking more.
“Look at you. So fucking greedy. Can’t even help yourself, can you?”
He looks down, and his thumb shifts, pressing hard against my clit.
“I could help you,” he says, his mouth brushing my ear. “Fuck you so hard you forget every single thing that’s been eating at you. Do you want me to make this whole city go quiet for a little while?” His thumb moves again and my knees go soft.
I don’t answer but my head falls back against the brick.
“Do you want me to make you forget why you hate me?”
The sound that escapes me isn’t dignified. “Please.”
Before I can recover, his arm hooks around my waist and he’s already moving, pulling me with him into the narrow alley like the decision’s already been made.
“Where are you—”
“Somewhere I can take my time with you.”
I don’t argue.