Into The Fire (4 page)

“Why didn’t you just get a real girl to do
this?” I asked. “I’m not cheap.”

“And use her then toss her aside when I’m
done with her?” he asked incredulously.

I assumed that was something he did on a
regular basis.

“No, that’s not my style. Hiring someone is
much easier.” He rose from the seat. “I’ll call the office when I
need you.”

“Uh…where are you going?”

“They’re having a sale on acoustics at Guitar
Center. I was going to check it out.”

He was such a scatterbrain. “Well, we aren’t
done here.”

“We aren’t?” He sat down again. “What else do
you want to talk about? The weather?”

“I need to get to know you so I know how to
behave in front of your parents. If I know nothing about you,
they’re going to know it’s all an act.”

He released an irritated sigh. “I’m not that
interesting.”

“Then it shouldn’t take long.”

He drummed his fingers again as he tried to
think of something to share. His hair was slightly messy like he
ran his fingers through it often. On him, it looked sexy. He had
such nice features he could get away with pretty much anything.
Even in t-shirt and jeans, he was a nice piece of eye candy.

I took the reins since he was taking so long.
“You play guitar?”

“Yeah, I’ve been playing for a long time. I’m
pretty good.”

“Do you play the drums?” I could only assume
so since he kept drumming the table.

“Yeah. And I play the keyboard but that’s my
least favorite instrument.”

“You like Led Zeppelin?”

His eyes narrowed. “How did you know
that?”

“You were drumming it on the table.”

“You recognized the song?” His eyes lit up in
interest.

“Yes.”

“Wow, that’s cool. Most girls I know listen
to Taylor Swift and shit.”

“I listen to Taylor Swift.” I rested my hands
on the table. “I listen to everything.”

“Taylor Swift isn’t music. That’s just some
girl whining about every boyfriend she’s ever had.”

“How would you know?” I asked. “Have you
actually listened to her? Because she writes about other things
besides that.”

“Like what?”

“Like being happy. Being alone. Stuff like
that.”

He didn’t seem convinced.

“Anyway, yes, I listen to Led Zeppelin.”

“What else do you listen to?” he asked.

“Aren’t we here to talk about you and not
me?”

“Just answer the damn question.” He held my
gaze without flinching.

“I really like folksy stuff like Mumford and
Sons.”

“I prefer rock music but they’re good,” Ash
said. “I’ll give them that.”

“I’m glad you approve.” My voice was full of
sarcasm. “I also like the classics like The Rolling Stones, The
Beatles, and The Doors.”

He winked. “Excellent taste, sweetheart.”

“Could you stop calling me that?”

“What?” he asked innocently.

“Sweetheart. I have a name.”

“I’m afraid to use it,” he said. “It’s too
sexy.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s just a name.”

“Alessandra…” He shivered visibly. “See, it
makes my spine wiggle.”

I continued on like he hadn’t said anything.
“And I like modern stuff too, like Katy Perry—”

“No!” He covered his ears like he was in
pain. “That’s not music. That’s just noise.”

“Well, I like her and I don’t care what you
think.”

“Thank god, you have some good taste. Shit
like that poisons people’s minds.”

“Just because I have different taste than you
doesn’t make your preferences superior to mine.”

He seemed to realize his mistake. “You’re
right. I’m being snooty.”

“You’re being a dick, actually.”

He smiled slightly. “I have a bad habit of
doing that. I’m surprised my parents didn’t name me Dick instead of
Ash.”

“You can always go down to the courthouse and
change it.”

He chuckled. “Discreetly insulting
me…nice.”

“So, back to you. You like guitar?”

“Yep. It’s my favorite instrument.”

“What do you care more about?” I asked.
“Music or inking?”

He cringed. “Baby, don’t make me choose.”

“Don’t call me baby. It’s Alessandra.”

He growled quietly. “Fine. I can’t choose.
It’s too difficult.”

“Why do you like inking?”

“What kind of question is that?” he asked.
“Why does an artist like to paint? He just does. Inking is artwork
and I love it. I create something that stays on someone’s skin
forever. What’s cooler than that?”

“It is interesting.”

“Do you have ink?”

“No.” I’d thought about it a few times but
never had the courage to go through with it.

“Good.” He released a sigh.

“Why is that good?” I assumed he would want
me to have ink.

“My parents don’t approve of tattoos. It’s
better if you don’t have any.”

That made sense. “When did you get your first
tattoo?”

“On my eighteenth birthday. I would have done
it sooner but my parents wouldn’t sign the permission papers.”

“Is there any particular taste you have in
ink?”

He rubbed the back of his neck as he
shrugged. “Whatever looks cool.”

“Do you have any piercings?”

He stuck out his tongue. A black metallic
ball sat in the center of his tongue. He retracted it and shut his
mouth.

I’d never known a guy with a tongue piercing
so I never had an opinion about it before, but Ash made it look
sexy. He was oblivious to other people’s feelings and he was full
of himself, but he was still hot. “Did that hurt?”

“No.”

He seemed like the type of guy who would lie
about it just to be macho. “Any other piercings?”

He grinned in a wicked way. “I would show you
but that would endanger the professionalism of our
relationship.”

My neck and cheeks suddenly felt warm. “Now
that had to hurt.”

“A little,” he said. “The healing part of it
hurt the most.”

“Why?”

“Because I couldn’t have sex for three months
until it healed. I couldn’t even jerk off. It totally sucked.”

“TMI…”

“Hey, you asked.”

I’d never known a guy with a dick piercing
either. Was it uncomfortable for the girl?

“And I doubt my parents are going to ask you
about it since they have no idea.”

“Why did you pierce it?”

“Girls like it.”

“They do?”

That arrogant smile came back. “You obviously
haven’t tried it. I highly recommend it.”

“Doesn’t it tear through the condom?”

“Not if you know what you’re doing.”

Talking about him having sex with a dick
piercing was giving me ideas I shouldn’t think about. “Anything
else I should know about you?”

“You’re blushing.” He kept grinning and
wouldn’t stop.

“I’m not blushing.” I lowered my face in the
hope that would help.

“I’ll show you if you’re interested.”

“Let’s change the subject,” I said
quickly.

“Whatever you want, Alessandra.” He said my
name slowly and rolled the R.

I ignored him.

“I was in the army for four years. They’ll
expect you to know that.”

“Really?” I blurted. I didn’t expect that
from him.

“Don’t think I’m honorable,” he said quickly.
“I enlisted to piss off my parents. I would have enjoyed it more if
I could have actually seen them pissed off more often. I was
overseas for fifteen months.”

“Why would that piss them off?”

“They kept telling me they wanted me to be a
better person so I decided to pledge my life to keep my country
safe. But I risked my life in the process so I made them eat their
own words.”

“Wow…that’s a big deal.”

He shrugged. “I don’t regret it. It gave me a
lot of perspective. Now my tolerance for bullshit is even lower.
When my parents bitch about my immaturity and stupid life goals, I
think about all the men in my tour that never came home. They spend
so much time caring about something so stupid instead of just
letting me be who I am. Maybe they should go over there so they can
grow the fuck up.” He shook his head then looked out the
window.

Ash was more complex than he seemed. He was
an asshole sometimes, but there was a lot more to him than what he
projected. “What did you do over there?”

“Grunt. When I took the exam, I had really
high scores. They wanted to put me in other areas of the field that
wouldn’t land me on the ground. But I told them I wanted to be a
soldier.”

“You’re so brave.”

Instead of saying something cocky or
arrogant, he didn’t say anything at all.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that.

“I’ve never been so scared in my life. I can
sit here and pretend like there weren’t times when I thought I
wouldn’t make it back home, but that would be a lie. I’m not
ashamed to admit that.”

I held his gaze and felt my heart ache. “You
wouldn’t be brave if you also weren’t scared. That’s the whole
definition of it.”

“And the scariest part of all is something
you’d least expect.”

I didn’t ask what it was.

“Coming home. After being over there for so
long, I was constantly on my guard. Anytime I heard an unusual
sound, I grabbed for my gun. I had nightmares for a long time about
the things I’ve seen. I dreamt of the faces of my dead comrades. It
took me a long time to finally integrate back into society. My
parents never understood that. The second I was on American soil,
they tried to get me to change my life and take a better path than
I was on before.” He removed his gaze and looked out the window.
“I’m sorry…I’m rambling.”

“I asked. And I’m very interested.”

He turned back to me. “I don’t want you to
think I’m a broken soul or something. I hardly think about my time
over there. I never let myself think about it.”

“Well, thank you for your sacrifice.” I meant
what I said and wasn’t just giving him empty words. “I love having
my freedom.”

He smiled slightly. “You’re very
welcome.”

I stared down at my hands because I couldn’t
hold his gaze any longer.

“Anyway…they’ll expect you to know that about
me.”

“I’m surprised you can’t get a VA loan.”

“I destroyed my credit when I bought a bike.”
He shook his head. “I bought it even though I couldn’t afford it
and then I crashed it. It was right when I came back from the
military and I was a little reckless.”

“Were you injured?”

“In the military?”

“I meant in the bike accident…” But I
wouldn’t mind hearing the answer to that question too.

“Oh, no,” he said quickly. “Just a few
bruises and no one else was hurt. But I was shot in
Afghanistan.”

My eyes widened. “Oh my god…are you okay?” It
was a stupid thing to ask since he was obviously fine.

He touched the left side of his torso. “A
bullet grazed me from the side. It didn’t hit any organs so I
recovered quickly. But I had a really bad scar there.”

“Had?”

“I inked over it. I ink all my scars so you
can’t see them.”

“Oh…” He had more than one?

“I had a cut on my forearm but I covered
that.” He pointed to the area where a tattoo of a dog tag sat. But
his name wasn’t on the metal. “That’s my buddy’s name. He died over
there.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“He was a good guy. Had a wife and
everything.”

“That’s terrible…”

“She’s really nice,” he said. “I’ve been
paying her rent for a while now. That’s also why I don’t have much
cash right now.”

“You pay her rent?” It was the sweetest thing
I’ve ever heard.

“She didn’t have a job when her husband died
and she had no way to get by. If I had a wife and I died, I know he
would have done the same for me. And she’s a really sweet person.
She has a job now but it doesn’t pay much. She’s looking for
something better.”

I didn’t know what to say. His layers were
endless. “That’s really sweet of you.”

He shrugged and looked out the window
again.

Maybe I got a bad first impression of him.
There was obviously more to him than his arrogance. “Is there
anything else?”

“Like I said, I’m not that interesting.”

“Do you have siblings?”

“Only child.”

“I’m surprised you aren’t spoiled
rotten.”

“I used to be when I was younger. But when I
started listening to rock music and playing my guitar, my parents
assumed I was on the way to drugs.”

“Have you ever done drugs?”

“Hell no. My parents are just paranoid
people.”

I hadn’t even met his parents but I didn’t
like them. They had a wonderful son who was just rough around the
edges. Underneath all of that, he was a great person. “You deserve
better.”

“There are times when I wish I had different
parents, but they did raise me and put a roof over my head. It
wasn’t always bad like this. I do my best to get along with them,
but sometimes I feel like they aren’t giving me that same effort.
In the end, I do love them—even when I want to murder them.”

“They’re lucky to have you.”

“I don’t know about that…I was a handful.
They deserve a medal for raising me.”

I chuckled. “I’m sure you’re
exaggerating.”

“I wish I were.” He crossed his arms over his
large chest. “So, anything else you want to know?”

“I assume you didn’t go to college?”

He just stared at me.

“That’s a no…”

“I’m not college material.”

“I’m sure you could do anything you put your
mind to.” I made a few notes in my notebook.

“What’s your story?” he asked. “Why are you
an escort?”

I spun the pen in my fingers. “We’re here to
talk about you, not me.”

“We can’t be friends?” he asked. “Don’t I
have to know something about you before I bring you home to my
parents?”

“Well, I need to create an alias. What do you
think your parents would like?”