My Heart be Damned (30 page)

We were in a dingy hallway now. I took a wild guess at what door they’d gone through, and walked into a smaller room filled with about twenty or so guys. Prospective fighters. Some were dressed in shorts with protective padding. Others were in street clothes. Every one of them was psyching themselves up somehow. I scanned the faces and found Marshall, still arguing with the same guy in one corner of the room. I stormed over to him, ready to give him a piece of my mind.

“Go home!” the man shouted at Marshall.

Marshall shook his head, dejected. “You have to let me fight.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t let my fighters go out there drunk. You’ll be annihilated.”

“I...I just...”

“Marshall, what the hell?” I shouted.

He whirled around, his eyes narrowing in confusion. “
Amerie
? What’re you doing here?” His words slurred, and his breath reeked of alcohol.

“I came to get you. Come on, let’s go.”

“Listen to your friend,” the man agreed. “You’re not fighting tonight.”

He walked away, and Marshall made to follow him, but I reached out and grabbed his arm, holding him still. On any other day, we were evenly matched. Today, I was stronger. Marshall tried to pull away, stumbled, and fell into the wall next to him.

“Get off me!”

“Marshall, it’s over. Let’s go.” My fingers tightened around his wrist.

“You’re always involving yourself in my business,” Marshall shouted. He finally pulled his arm away. “I’m over this. Over you. You’re not that special.”

He turned and marched away, storming through a metal door marked ‘Emergency Exit Only’ and I followed him. It had led us right outside into a dark alleyway. The rain still poured, and Marshall stumbled away, bouncing into walls, bins, crates. I caught up to him quickly.

“Marshall, stop.”

“Piss off,
Amerie
.”

“No, Marshall. Talk to me!” I grabbed his hand and pulled him to a stop. Without my hood protecting me, the rain pounded down against my hair with a fury, soaking me. “I know you’re upset about Albert...”

“You don’t know shit.”

My eyes widened. “I don’t know shit? How the hell can you say that? My mother died Marshall. Or had you forgotten that?”

Marshall rolled his eyes, his dark hair stuck down to his forehead. “Oh blah, blah. My mum’s dead. Boohoo. At least you have a dad and a brother who love you. Who the hell do I have? I’m so sick of your self-righteous bullshit.”

Anger burned through me like my blood was on fire, boiling and bubbling beneath the surface of my skin. It was the kind of anger that hurt - that really came from the core. I clenched my fists at my side and then...

I punched him straight in the face.

He staggered back, grunting, and then shoved me. Hard. The force knocked me off my feet, and as I hadn’t seen the blow coming, it hurt lot more than it should have. He knelt over me and grabbed my upper arms, shaking me.

“Leave me alone. Don’t you get it? I’m done. Done with you. Done with rituals and figuring out how I feel. I don’t care anymore.”

My face crumpled though I tried hard not to show it. “And what about me? Don’t you care about me?” Without letting him answer, I pushed him away and sat up.

Marshall sat too and ran a hand through his wet hair. He scooted back to lean against the wall behind him and drew his knees up, resting his arms on them. “It hurts so much.” He tapped his chest and buried his head in his hands. “I just wanted to feel something else. Even pain.”

I bit down on my lip and then crawled over, kneeling in front of him. I reached out and took both of his hands, so I could see his face. His eyes brimmed with tears.

“Marshall. You have to trust me. This will get better.”

“But it won’t be better right now,” he argued.

“Then let me distract you.”

He didn’t answer, and I took that as permission. I shuffled to kneel between his thighs, and tentatively moved my right hand up to stroke his wet cheek. His eyes caught mine and then he threw himself forward, catching my lips with his own. He started slowly, imploringly, giving me time to back away if I changed my mind. Then when my hands cupped around the back of his neck, he deepened the kiss. His kisses were frantic, as if I would disappear at any minute. His hands found my waist and yanked me closer, holding me against his broad chest. I moaned against his lips, the sensation pure ecstasy. It was better than I could have ever imagined. I expected to taste the alcohol on his breath, but there wasn’t a trace of it. His lips moved down to suck on my neck, and I bit down on my lip, rolling my head to the side. When he moved back to my mouth, it was as if I’d died and gone to heaven. Now that I’d kissed him once, I wanted to kiss him forever. Suddenly he pulled away, and I drew back, staring at him in confusion.

Then he leaned to the side and threw up all over the concrete.

It was just the perfect way to end such an amazing kiss.

“Guess we should get you home,” I said with a heavy sigh.

He groaned, and I stood up, helping him to his feet. I slipped my arm around his back and walked with him back to the main road where I called him a taxi and shoved him inside it. Just as I was about to close the door, he grabbed hold of my hand.

“Thank you,” he said, eyes half closed. “You know what for.”

“No problem,” I replied, though I wasn’t actually sure at all.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Mission Maybe Impossible

The next morning, I woke up to my phone
signaling
I’d gotten a text. It was pretty late in the morning and the sun poured through my window, basking my room in a beautiful golden glow. If I hadn’t known exactly how cold it was outside, I would have thought it could be springtime. I stretched in the bed, remembering my kiss with Marshall last night. It was totally unexpected but, despite the violence and vomit, completely perfect.

I snatched the phone off my bedside table and opened the text message. It was from Marshall. My heart thumped a little anxiously in my chest. What would he say? Now that he was sober, and maybe a little embarrassed about throwing up. As my eyes scanned through the message, my smile dropped bit by bit.

Sorry about my
behavior
last night. When I get drunk, I get stupid. Let’s not mention it? Call me when you wake up and we’ll arrange to meet. M.

He could not be serious. However, I wasn’t one hundred percent sure what he had referred to. Let’s not mention what? The kiss? His begging to fight? Him throwing up? Him shoving me? I deleted the text message. Instead of assuming, I’d let him explain what he meant.

I showered and dried off quickly, but took my time styling my hair and applying minimal makeup on my face. Then I found some leggings, a long jumper, and my
Ugg
boots. Once I was totally ready, I turned on my iMac and began to search through the web for information about tonight’s auction. I found the location: a huge mansion in the countryside. The only problem was that we had no idea where in the mansion that they would keep the statue - let alone how to steal it.

With nothing left to do, I picked up my phone and
dialed
Marshall’s number. I chewed at the skin from around the edges of my nails – a habit I’d had since I was little. In a way, I hoped he wouldn’t answer. What if it was awkward?

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi.” Oh, damn. It was awkward.

“What’re you doing?”

“Shearing a sheep. It’s cold outside, and I need a new hat.”

He paused. “You’re joking, right?”

“Yes, Marshall.” I gnawed on my fingers some more and sunk back in my chair.

“I’ll come get you if you’re ready. We’ll go get some coffee or lunch and plan out tonight. That okay with you?”

“Sure. Ring when you’re outside. Technically I’m still grounded so I’m probably gonna have to sneak out.”

He agreed and hung up. Just as I turned to check my email, there was a soft knock on my door. The door swung open and my dad, not waiting for permission,  stepped inside, looking a little worse for wear. His hair was a mess and his shirt dirty. He squinted past the sunlight through red-rimmed eyes.

“
Amerie
.”

“Dad.”

“I came into your room last night to talk to you. Imagine my surprise when you weren’t here.” He stumbled slightly and placed a hand on the wall to steady himself.

“I worked late. Double shift.”

He grunted, but didn’t argue. “I hope you know you’re still grounded.” His eyes drifted to down to my booted feet. “Not planning on going out, are you?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

I was either way too good at lying, or he was too hung over to argue with me. He nodded once and turned to amble out of my room. In any other circumstance, I would have felt ashamed that I was deliberately ignoring his punishment – no matter how unfair or unjustified. In this case, it was kind of a necessity.

I watched the clock for the next ten minutes until my phone vibrated on the table next to me. Without answering it, I jumped up, shoved it into my bag, and headed for my window. Sneaking out was getting easier and easier every time.

“How’re you feeling?” I asked, as soon as I climbed into the passenger seat.

He shrugged. “Like I really, really need a coffee.”

“I don’t like coffee,” I mused, trying exceptionally hard to keep things light between us. “Too bitter. I like things sweet in my mouth.”

Mentally, I groaned. I’d just walked straight into receiving some kind of crude remark from Marshall, but he said nothing. Finally, we pulled away from my house. The radio was set at such a low level; I barely noticed it was on. At least Marshall looked a lot better.

Not another word was said until we pulled up outside of a small Starbucks a little way away from my house. I was about ready to pull my hair out from the awkwardness between us. He got out without saying a word, and I followed him, feeling like a bumbling girl with a crush running after the guy who doesn’t know she exists.

Being Saturday, there were quite a few kids inside, as well as adults. I scanned the room, making sure there was no one I knew. Only a couple of kids from my school, but they weren’t in my year.

The line was long, and I used my time to pick out something from the menu. Finally, we were up, and Marshall dug around in his jean pocket for cash while he rattled off his order. I didn’t want to assume he was paying for me, so I stayed quiet.

“You not ordering?” Marshall asked, raising an eyebrow at me. “That’s not like you.”

I shrugged. “I,
er
, I didn’t know if...” I paused, knowing there was no sensible thing to say. “I’ll just have a hot chocolate. Extra whipped cream.”

“What about a double chocolate chip muffin?” Marshall suggested, pointing to the display cabinet. “Looks good.”

You look good, I wanted to say. I wanted to reach up, slip my hands around his neck, and kiss him frantically. Just as I had last night.

“Sure,” I said instead.

Marshall paid for our order, and we stepped to one side to wait. We didn’t say a word. I couldn’t breathe around him, and when our drinks finally came, I made too big of a deal about adding chocolate flakes onto my whipped cream. Just to give me something to do.

“So,” Marshall began, leading us to an empty table at the back. “Let’s talk plans.”

I cupped my hands around the hot mug and stared down at it. “Got any ideas? I mean, this is my first time stealing from an auction house. I don’t know what you get up to in your free time...”

“If this had been about how to bed a girl, then I’d be your guy. But much like you, I’m pretty much a virgin at this.”

I blushed and kept my gaze down. A virgin as in the traditional sense? Or a virgin in the sense of being new to theft? I didn’t want to ask him to explain.

“I had a look online at the place it’s being held,” I offered, my voice steady enough to speak.

“And?” He took a long gulp of his coffee. It stunk.

“And, it’s a pretty huge place. I’m also guessing there’s gonna be tight security. Especially with things worth millions of pounds on offer. This will make it a little hard to sneak in and grab it without anyone
realizing
.”

Marshall cocked an eyebrow. “If only we had someone who could get us inside. Whoever could that be,” he said slowly and sarcastically.

“Oh, right.” Sam. Of course

“Think you can get lover boy to bring you as his plus one?”

Frustration flared up inside of me. If Marshall could avoid the elephant in the room, then so could I. “I don’t think. I know,” I said with as much sass as I could muster.

“You’d better get ringing then.” He smiled and took another sip of coffee.

Asking if I could be Sam’s plus one had been easier than I’d expected. After our mini argument last night, I expected him to be annoyed at me. If I were him, I’d be pissed off. But he sounded relieved when he answered the phone, which
kinda
made me feel guilty that I was only ringing to use him.

“It’s a black tie event,” Sam said. “Means you need to be in a ball gown. I bet you’d look stunning all dressed up like that.” He sounded wistful and a little embarrassed.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” I played along. Although, secretly I was panicking about where I’d find a dress from in such short notice.

“You want me to pick you up at eight?”

“No, I’ll meet you there,” I answered, as instructed by Marshall.

“Okay. I’ll wait for you outside.” He paused. “Oh, and
Amerie
? I’m really glad you’re coming. Maybe this auction won’t be so boring now.”

After I’d hung up, I turned to Marshall with an ‘I told you so’ smile on my face. He shrugged and sipped his coffee. Then we got talking about tactics. Should he try to sneak in? Should I steal it, myself, and try to sneak it out? Should he meet me outside and then I drop it out of a window to him? I mean the statue wasn’t terribly big, (the picture online had been life-size) but we had no idea how much the thing weighed. Just another point to add to the list of things we didn’t know. The day seemed to fly past us, and we were still utterly clueless as to how to get this done.

“Not to mention I need a dress,” I suddenly remembered. “Oh, shit. Where am I gonna find a dress? I don’t have things like that anymore!”

Marshall leaned back in his seat with a small smile. “You leave that to me. I’ll get you a dress.”

“How?”

“I’m just gonna call in a
favor
.”

I didn’t get a chance to ask him what he’d meant by that. He changed the subject too quickly and we were back to talking tactics.

When the clock on the wall told us that it was a little past six in the evening, we decided to head back to Marshall’s house, a concrete plan in finally set in motion. My heart pounded the whole journey back. This was going to go oh so wrong,
I just
knew it. It was bound to with my luck.

Marshall’s house was pitch black when we got there, but with one flick of a light switch, every bulb blazed to life. He led the way into an open-plan kitchen and living room. One side of the room was exposed brick, but the other three walls were painted a lovely red
color
. He had two leather sofas creating an L shape around a widescreen TV on the wall. A large black cabinet was filled with DVDs rested next to the TV. Across the way, the kitchen had black counters with silver appliances, but the whole thing looked so...sparse, clean.

No clothes were strewn about anywhere. No cups on the countertop or plates in the sink. I wanted to pull open his fridge and see whether there was anything inside. This looked more like a show home than a bachelor pad. The only thing that pinned Marshall to this house was one lone picture of him and his sick mum – the same woman I’d seen in the alley. That night seemed like a lifetime ago. Why he didn’t live with her if she was as sick as she’d seemed then?

I only noticed Marshall was on the phone, talking in a hushed voice, when I turned to confront him about his too clean habits. He spotted me staring, and then rushed the person off the line before sliding it back into his jean pocket.

“You want something to drink?” Marshall asked.

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“Okay, well, wait here and I’m gonna go upstairs and collect whatever I need for tonight.”

“Wait – what about my dress?” I called after him, but he had already disappeared from the room. I sighed and flopped down on the hard, leather sofa.