Dragon: A Bad Boy Romance (8 page)

But first, I have a night off to enjoy. It's been so long since I had any time to myself. I could go and see Paddy, I guess, or go down to the gym and train, catch up with my buddies there. It's been an age. But that's not what I
really
want to do, because they'll ask me how it's going and I really don't want to tell them.
Oh yeah, I've been babysitting some rich bitch that I was banging, while her douchebag fiance smirks and speaks to me like shit. I can't punch his lights out, and I can't quit, because her gangland father will have me killed. You catch the game Sunday?
Hardly.

Instead, I have a different plan. Go to some shithole bar and get righteously wasted. Shoot some pool, and maybe pick up a skank and fuck her until Honey is just a distant memory. It's petty, I know, but I hate the fact that she's the last girl I fucked, and Carl's the last guy she fucked. Even saying it to myself makes me feel like a pussy, but there you go. I guess I am.

~~~~~~~

I've not been in this joint before, but it has a reputation as being a total dive where they don't call it a night until there's been at least four nights. After trailing round every fancy restaurant in the state with Honey and Carl, I want to get down and dirty. It reminds me of who I am, and where I came from. Dumps like this don't intimidate me – I know I can handle myself in a fight – and if I'm honest with myself, I'd welcome the chance to beat someone's brains out. I need the release.

I order a beer with a whiskey chaser and settle into a corner. It's still early, and the place is just warming up. There's a few good ol' boys propping the bar up, and a couple of girls sitting at a table, watching the door. They look like working girls to me. One of them catches my eye and sidles over.

“Looking for a party, handsome?”

“Sorry darlin', I'm just here for the beer,” I say. I don't do paid-for pussy, but I see no reason to be rude to her. She's just trying to scratch a living, same as anyone.

“You change your mind, hon, I'm right over there,” she says, dropping a wink as she returns to her friend.

The bar starts filling up, and I'm feeling pretty buzzed. There's a few hot girls here, and I'm getting some looks, but somehow I can't be bothered. The effort of going over, making conversation – it just feels like too much hassle. Instead, I stay in my corner, watching the night unfold.

One of the hookers has disappeared off into the night, and I notice the other one, the one who came over earlier, is being joined by a guy. They exchange a couple of words, and then he gets up, heading to the john. It takes me a moment to recognize him, because seeing Carl in a place like this is like seeing a dog ride a bicycle. I should probably leave it alone, but with the beer humming in my veins, I can't resist tweaking his tail a little. Smirking, I follow him into the men's room.

Predictably, he's feeding change into the condom machine, his back to me.

“You're going to wrap it, huh? Sensible boy,” I say.

He turns round, and his face falls when he sees me. I can tell that he wants to be his usual asshole self, smug and superior, but he's on my turf now, and he doesn't have the courage.

“Fuck off,” he says, dropping eye contact.

“Seems like you're the one doing the fucking this evening,” I say. I've positioned myself so that he can't leave without having to push past me, which I know damn well he won't have the balls to do.

“What's it to you? My relationship with my fiancee is none of your business,” he blusters.

“No,” I say, grinning. “My business is to keep an eye on Honey and report
everything
I see to Mr Freeman.”

Truth is, I'd never go running to Tony with this story. Firstly, it
isn't
any of my damn business and secondly, I don't know if Tony would care. Word has it that our Mr Freeman is quite the pussy hound himself. But Carl doesn't know that I'll keep quiet, and I'm enjoying watching him squirm.

“Look, Dragon,” Carl says, in a friendly, we're-all-guys-here tone that he's spectacularly failing to pull off, “You know how it is.”

“Do I? Maybe you'd better explain it. I don't have your level of education,” I say. He swallows nervously, clearly regretting some of the barbs he's thrown at me over the past few weeks.

“There's girls that you marry, and girls that you fuck,” he says. “Honey's a nice girl, but a man has needs, you know? So what if I pick up a woman from time to time. There's no ring on my finger just yet.”

His tone is almost a whine, and he actually sounds like he's asking for my permission, but that's not what spikes my interest.

“So, you and Honey,” I say nonchalantly, “you've never...”

“Are you kidding?” he says. “You've seen her, she's not like that.”

“Really?” I say, composing my face into an expression of sympathy.

“Yeah, she's not into it at all, man. Not until she's married,” he says. He seems relieved that I'm being so friendly.

“You're getting a virgin bride, huh? Ain't too many of those around,” I say, smiling. I want to laugh in his douchebag face, but somehow I manage not to.

“I'm a lucky guy,” he says, filled with fake humility.

“Yes, you are,” I say, stepping aside so that he can leave. “And don't worry, I'm not going to say anything to Mr Freeman. Like you said – a man has needs.”

He reaches into his pocket, and I see the flash of a five dollar bill.
Jesus Christ, is he going to give me a tip?
I raise an eyebrow, and he hurriedly stuffs the note back into his pocket. He can give it to his hooker, god knows she'll have earned it with that prick.

He scuttles out, and by the time I've taken a piss and gone back to my seat, both he and the hooker have left the bar.

I sit for a while, mulling over this new information. I'd always assumed that Honey was sleeping with him at the same time she was fucking me – those crazy few weeks between her reading those damn letters and getting engaged. I never asked, though, because I didn't want to hear the answer.

But now it seems that I was wrong. I wondered why – god knows, she's no virgin, and Carl seems more interested in her father's money than what kind of wife he's getting. He barely speaks to her when Freeman's not around to hear it.

Knowing that Carl has never touched her, and I have touched every last inch of her, puts me in a fantastic mood. My cock twitches, and I realize that I
do
want some pussy, in fact I want it so bad I could cut through glass with my hard-on. But I don't want any of the girls in the bar. I want
her.
I toss back the rest of my drink and head on home.

~~~~~~~

For the next couple of days, I feel like a kid with a crush. I'd been avoiding her, but now I find myself making excuses to follow her around. I even sit though a session of wedding planning, although it bores me shitless. I don't understand how anyone can even distinguish between the twelve identical bunches of flowers she shows me, let alone have a preference. But we're never alone. It's probably for the best – I know I shouldn't try it on with her, after all, it was her that ended with me the night she got engaged. She's given me no sign that she wants to pick up where we left off. I'm just enjoying spending time with her. But then, something comes up.

“You need to choose your dress,” Tony says at breakfast. “I've made an appointment for you at the boutique downtown. I had to crack a few skulls to get you in at such short notice, but they're going to see you this afternoon.”

He's smiling, expecting her to smile too. And she should, the place he's talking about is booked up for months. She does smile, but not right away. First, she casts a nervous glance at Carl, who seems to be very deliberately not looking at her. Strange.

“Great, Dad,” she says. “Carl can take me there, can't you?”

“What?” Tony cuts in before Carl can answer. “You can't take Carl. It's bad luck.”

“I'll just go on my own, then,” she says.

“Nah,” Tony says, chewing on his toast. “Dragon will take you.”

“He'll be bored,” she says.

“It's fine,” I cut in. “I won't be bored.”

“There we go, problem solved,” Tony says. Honey gives Carl another worried look, but he's still staring fixedly at the newspaper. There's something going on here, but I'm damned if I know what it is...

~~~~~~~

In the car on the way to the dress store, she's nervous and jumpy.

“What's up with you?” I say. “Do you have wedding dress phobia or something?”

“It's not that,” she says, staring out of the window.

“Then what?”

“It's nothing. Stop
interrogating
me!”

She looks like she's going to start crying, so I drop it.

Inside the shop, she's ushered off to a changing area by a couple of heavily made-up women. I'm left to sit in a waiting area – no fashion parade for me. I notice that the two women are glaring at me as they hustle back and forth with different dresses for her to try on. I guess I'm not their usual clientele. Honey, of course, has her daddy's inexhaustible credit line going for her, so they're falling over themselves to kiss
her
ass.

“How's it going?” I say to one of them as she clacks past.

“I think we've found the right dress for her,” she says frostily. “It has
sufficient coverage
, in any case.”

I get to my feet, trying to ignore her tone, and move towards the changing area.

“I suppose you may as well take a look,” she sniffs, “since I don't see her luck changing any time soon.”

How fucking rude!
“I'm not the groom,” I snap.

“Oh!” the woman says, flusters.

I leave her behind as I stride into the the changing area.

“Let's see this dress, then! It to-”

The words die on my lips. Honey is facing away from me, in the middle of taking off the dress, her arms and back exposed. Our eyes meet in the mirror.

“I'll fucking kill him,” I say.

“Dragon, wait, just calm down,” she says. She pulls the dress back on, to cover the mess of yellow and purple bruises that marble her skin.

“I... I fell-”

“What?” I roar. “You fell down the stairs? Walked into a door? You have an
iron deficiency
now? That's what they always say, isn't it? I'm a boxer, remember? I know what a fucking punch looks like.”

She's shaking now, and crying. I take her my arms, and try to act calm.

“Shhh, shhh. It's OK,” I croon, stroking her hair. Inside, though, I am still screaming. I want to find him and tear him limb from limb.

“Get dressed,” I say soothingly.

With shaking fingers, she takes off the dress and reaches for her street clothes. She's only wearing panties, but there's nothing erotic about seeing her body. There are more bruises on her legs – in fact, everywhere that doesn't show is marked up in some way.
No wonder she didn't want to go trying on clothes with her father,
I think.

Fully dressed now, she's managed to stop crying.

“I can't marry him, can I?” she whispers. “My dad, he'll be so upset...”

“Don't worry about that now,” I say. “It will all be okay. Let's just go.”

When we step out of the changing area, the two women are hovering. I realize that they thought it was me who had beat the shit out of Honey, and I feel sick.

“Are you-” one of them begins.

“Not today,” I bark.

Honey doesn't need a wedding dress. She needs something to wear to a funeral.

~~~~~~~

I barely remember the drive home. I know I'm speeding – beyond speeding – pushing the car as fast as it can go. This time, it's Honey trying to talk to me, and me shutting her out, refusing to reply. When I pull up outside the house, I have to peel my hands off the steering wheel. I've been gripping it so tight that the stitching is imprinted across my palms.

I fling open the front door and pace through the house, only dimly aware of Honey behind me, pleading. And then there he is.

He knows. I can see it in his face – his usual smug, bored expression has been replaced with terror. He backs away, palms raised. The cowardly retreat of the bully who finally met his match. My first punch hits him square on his jaw, and knocks him flat on his back. In the ring, I think, I would wait for my opponent to get back on his feet. In the ring, I fight fair. But this isn't the ring, and I have no intention of fighting fair. I fall on him, slamming my fist into his face, his chest, his soft paunchy belly, over and over again. I can hear screaming but it sounds like it's coming from a million miles away.

I don't stop until a boot
slams
into my temple, knocking me away. I lie on my back, dazed, and see the barrel of the gun pointing at my forehead.

“Stay the fuck down,” Tony roars. “What the fuck is going on here?”

I don't move. All the fight is draining out of me, and suddenly I just feel tired. Sad and tired. I keep my eyes fixed on the gun.

“I'll tell you what's going on,” Carl screeches. His voice is mushy. “I'm leaving! Fuck you and fuck your daughter, you gangster piece of shit!”

Tony's face is like stone. “You're fired,” he says softly. His boot connects with my temple again, and this time everything goes black.

Chapter Six - Honey

It takes three days before my father agrees to let me go to Dragon's apartment and check that he's alive. Three long days where we do nothing but argue, cry, apologize and then argue all over again. Carl has gone, and good riddance to him. He ran for it as my father was kicking Dragon into unconsciousness, and hasn't been heard from since. So I guess the wedding's off, then.

I told my father everything. Well, not everything – I didn't tell him about my affair with Dragon. But I told him about Carl, and how he had been hurting me. My dad is devastated.

“Why didn't you come to me?” he keeps asking. And then I try to explain about how pressured I felt, how he'd twisted my arm into getting engaged.