Page 36 of Bound by Desire
As we get to his monstrosity of a truck, he opens the door for me. I can’t remember the last time … Oh, yeah, I can. It was when my parents were alive. My father would always open the door for my mother, and then do the same for me. I always waited for him to finish so he’d do mine next. I felt like a princess in a castle everysingletime.
Damn, I miss him. I miss them. I miss a time when life seemed simple. Everything gets complicated the olderyouget.
I study the man who has captured my intrigue. Nothing about Deke is remotelysimple.
Deke rounds the truck, hopping in and cranking the engine. Thank goodness my deodorant is holding up after that workout. I should’ve gone home and taken ashower.
After a while, driving in silence is driving me nuts. Idle time isn’t something I allow myself. If I’m not at work, then I want to be working out, going out, not remainingstill.
“So, what are we doing, exactly?” I pause. “Besidesdriving.”
“The bag helped clear my head a bit, and I don’t have my bike here, so I’m driving to clear the rest ofitout.”
“You want to talkaboutit?”
“Babe, do I look like the talkin’ about myfeelingstype?”
No, no, he didn’t, but there had to be a reason that I was sitting in his truck with him driving all over theplace.
“Why security?” he asks afterabeat.
“It’s whatIdo.”
“Why is it whatyoudo?”
I think for a moment, never being asked this direct question before, recalling the reason I started in the first place. It’s not a happy memory, but it’s the reality of life. It’s also something that I don’t share with people, or at least, never felt compelled to tellanyone.
“What about you? You’re a fighter?” I ask instead ofanswering.
“Ry, need you to talk to me. Tell me about you and clear my mind ofsomeshit.”
The man seems like a broody type who doesn’t talk much, and for some reason, he’s not acting that way with me. Hell, even with his family earlier, he didn’t say much. It makes me curious to know more. Damn, don’t they say curiosity killed the cat? Hopefully I don’t endupdead.
I look out at the open road before us, watching the yellow dashes go by in a rush. Thoughts of my past invade me, one after another, and before I know it, I’mspeaking.
“Grew up on the streets. You don’t get by without learning to defend yourself. It wasn’t a career path or anything like that. It just turned out that my defensive moves were pretty good and got better with each day that passed. I started as a bouncer at a couple clubs, but they were boring. Then I moved up. Now I do whatIdo.”
“How oldwereyou?”
“When I lived on thestreets?”
“Yeah.”
“Eighteen. Really sixteen because, technically, I had a home. I just wasn’t welcomed in it.” Aunt CB made that a reality at every turn she could, andstilldoes.
“Why?”
“Are you one of those wiz people who’s gonna turn everything I say against mesomehow?”
A slow smirk tips his lip. It’s sexy as all hell. “Nah. Justcurious.”
“Right.” I turn back to the window. “When I was sixteen, my parents were killed, and I went to live with my aunt. She’s a bitch and made sure to let me know how big of one she was every time she saw me. I was never good enough. I didn’t do things the way my mother did. I looked like my mother. I ate my apple just like my mother. Hell, anything I did, she compared me to her sister. Not to mention the fact she wishes it were me lying six feet under and not my mother. Can’t say I blame herthere.”
“Don’t say that shit.” His words come out with a bite that makes bumps rise on my arms. Not much makes me feel this way. I’m surprisedhedoes.
Ignoring it and moving on, I say, “It was easier to live on the streets and not deal with her bullshit allthetime.”
“Not goodenough,huh?”
