Scarred: A New Adult Romance (The Anderson Brothers Series Book 1) (8 page)

Why should I even
care?

Because there’s something about Denise—something
genuine—that draws me to her.

I swipe the screen on my phone and check my email. Buried
within the notices and announcements sent by the university, I spot a
newsletter from one of the local nightclubs with the subject, “Don’t Miss
DJ Kevitron!” and quickly open it. Kevin is scheduled to be the featured
deejay there tonight from ten till two. After last night, I feel like confiding
in my brother. He’ll help me get out of my funk.

The house is quiet, even when I leave the bathroom, showered
and dressed, but based on Chris’s shut door, he’s still home. He and Adrienne
must’ve went on pretty late last night.

I’m too pissed to worry about it. My stomach growls, and,
deciding to leave my depressing shit at home, I head over to Loriano’s, my
favorite pizza joint in Seattle, and one of the few local eateries open on
Sundays. The place is not as crowded today as it is during the week, but it’s
still busy. I buy a giant slice of their famous “big-as-your-head” pizza and a
beer, and then head to an unoccupied booth near the back of the restaurant. I
stare at my cell phone screen—again—and think about Denise—her perfect smile,
ebony eyes, cornrowed hair, and pear scent.

Her number stares back at me from the call log. I shove the
phone back into my pocket.

If she wants to talk
to me, then
she’ll
call.

My gut sinks. What if I freaked her out? So many scenarios
run through my mind that I can’t concentrate on lunch. I force a bite of the
hot pizza and relax as I savor the truly authentic, New-York-style taste. My
eyes drift up to the ceiling where a TV hangs showing the sports channel.
Professional basketball scores scroll across the screen along with highlights
of last night’s games.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I reach for it. I whip
out the phone and pray it’s Denise, but I hesitate to look at the lit-up
screen. I inhale, finally take a peek, and exhale.
Damn.
Just a text from Chris.

Adrienne’s a keeper! :)

I’m glad to see that Chris found some stability for a
change. It’s about damn time. And yet, here I am, wallowing in self-pity, deep
in a love funk that would rival one of Chris’s past episodes. As I polish off
my beer, someone slides in my booth and sits across from me. It’s Alonzo, my
M/C club’s road captain. His girlfriend, Lindsey, works here as a waitress.

“The hell you doing here, Genius?” Lonz says with a bright
smile.

I cringe.
Genius.
I’ll never get used to that nickname my club brothers gave me once I became a
full-fledged member. The guys always get on my case about how crazy I was to
major in engineering. But still. “Genius” is the last thing I consider myself.

He folds his arms and rests them on the table. The short
sleeves of his white T-shirt hike up his thick forearms. The Chinese dragon
tattoo on his left forearm gave him his nickname, Dragon.

I pocket my phone. “Nothing much. Just having a late lunch.
What’s up with you?”

He arches a salt-and-pepper eyebrow. “Alone on a Sunday
afternoon? What the hell’s going on with you?”

Lonz is about the same age as Larry, and like Larry, it’s
always difficult to hide things from him. Damn old guys. I lower my gaze to my
half-eaten pizza. “Nothing, man. Just thinking and killing time ’til tonight.
Gonna see my brother.”

“You two ain’t tired of each other yet?” He laughs.

I try to laugh as well, but it’s hard. “Who the hell do I
talk to about personal shit?”

“Well, you
do
have
other family besides your brother.” He pats the embroidered patch of the club’s
grim reaper emblem on the left side of his leather vest.

I shake my head. “I’d rather discuss it with blood.”

“Suit yourself, but if you intend to live out the rest of
your life in this social funk, well, it’s not healthy, I tell you.” He motions
Lindsey over, and she brings us a pitcher of beer and two frosted mugs. The two
of them kiss, and she goes on her way.

“I’ll be all right, Lonz,” I say.

Lonz tops off both mugs and slides one my way. “So Darryl
says he saw you last night downtown carrying a girl on your bike.” He takes a
long swig.

I frown. “Eh, I was just taking a chick home. Her date had a
little too much to drink.” I reach for my beer.

Lonz eyes me from over the brim of his glass. “Bullshit. Who
is she?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” I say, my shoulders slouching.

“Trouble already?”

“I told you, man, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Lonz sets down his half-empty mug, leans his head in close,
and lowers his voice. “If it really
is
true and you finally found someone, then that’s great. It’s about damn time.”

I’m not sure if he had meant that as a joke or compliment,
so I stay silent.

“You’re bringing her to the cookout in June, right?” Lonz
asks.

I shrug. “I dunno.”

“You should. She’ll have a good time.” He picks up his beer
and chugs the remaining contents.

“I don’t think so.” I tighten my grip around the handle.
“Anyway, it’s only been one date.”

“So take her out on more dates.” Lonz looks at me a little
more seriously, though a hint of a smile is still eminent. “You’re a good man,
Dominick. She’s lucky to have someone like you.”

His words are comforting, but he has no idea what happened
last night. “I don’t think she’s interested, Lonz.” I look at him sadly. “She
doesn’t trust me.”

Lonz stares at me a moment, then shrugs. “Then let her get
to know you better so she can.”

“It’s not that easy. I wanna take things slow, but I’m not
sure she wants that.”

“Stop overthinking things, boy. You know, I thought that
about Lindsey, too, when I first met her, but we talked little by little. And
now, I wouldn’t trade her for nothin’.”

“That’s all well and good for you, man, but that’s not the
norm in this fast-paced college life.” I tip back my beer and finish every last
drop.

“No, you haven’t met the right one yet. That’s college life.
Enjoy what’s out there as much as you can, while you can, so you can settle down
later.”

“I don’t want to settle down until I find a girl I know
won’t end up breaking my heart.”

“You’re living that make-believe shit. You twentysomethings
are all about taste testing. Seeing what’s out there. That’s what it’s all
about, right?”

I rub the back of my head. “I guess.”
So maybe it’s just me who’s not normal.
I think about Chris and the
many different women he’s brought home almost every night. Why did that shit
always piss me off?

Instability, like
Pops, that son of a bitch.
He broke Mama’s heart. Bad. Drove her insane to
the point where she didn’t even care about us—about
me
. And frankly, I stopped caring, too.

My phone vibrates again, snapping me out of my thoughts. I
pull it out and check the screen. Disappointment fills me when I see it’s
another text from Chris.

Goin 2 another house
party tonight with Adri.

u and denise wanna
come?

Grimacing, I stick the phone back in my pocket without
replying. I look across the table at Lonz, who lifts an eyebrow. I shake my
head and say, “It wasn’t her.”

He slides out of the booth. “Whatever, man. I expect to see
you and your girlfriend at the cookout. No excuses.”

“She’s not my girlfriend. And honestly, I don’t know what’s
going to happen in two months.”

“Well, you better show. Come up with a reason to bring her.
Trust me, it will do you both a bit of good.”

Before I have a chance to respond, he turns and leaves,
stopping only briefly to pay for the beers and to kiss Lindsey goodbye.

I remain in my booth alone, staring at my now-cold, unfinished
pizza and wonder if perhaps I still do have a chance with Denise after all.

Chapter 8

I head downtown to Club Riyze. It’s after ten, and the
line out the entrance nearly wraps around the block. I’m glad to see my brother
has a lot of fans. Standing on line, I can feel the familiar thumping beats of
Kevin’s house music. “DJ Kevitron” posters are plastered all over the walls
outside the club. Across the street, a bus stops and lets off a group of people
who are dressed for the club. Spread on the side of the bus is an advertisement
for a new action movie that looks pretty good.

Denise loves action movies.
I’d love to take her to see it.

The
line shuffles along quickly, and I soon reach the front. After showing the
bouncer my ID, I head in and push my way through the sea of well-dressed bodies
toward the large raised platform forming the stage where Kevin’s set up at his
deejay mixer. The smell of alcohol mixed with sweat, cheap perfume, and cologne
hangs in the air. There’s barely room to walk, much less dance, in the tight
confines of the dance floor. After several minutes of squeezing my way through
the crowd, I finally make it to the foot of the stage and gaze up at Kevin.
He’s wearing an oversized red hoodie with the words “Urban Fantasmic” written
in graffiti-style letters across the front. A black baseball cap is flipped backwards
on his head. With one hand, he holds one end of a pair of thick headphones to
one ear, and with the other, he messes with the mixers. His head bobs in time
to the bass beat, which vibrates the floor. The pumped-up crowd cheers and
hollers at the stage, some of them raising their hands—sloshing drinks and
all—in the air while they move in place to the music. I keep my eyes on Kevin,
hoping he will notice me, but with all these people around, that’s unlikely.

I
make my way to the bar for a drink. After several minutes of inching my way
through the jam-packed area and waving down one of the scrambling bartenders,
I’m finally sipping on a rum ’n Coke. I look for a spot where I can stand against
the wall, but it’s impossible, so I head upstairs to the Blue Room. The room is
literally tinted with blue lighting and has a huge glass window overlooking the
dance floor and stage. There are three couches in the room, all of them occupied
by couples. I cringe at the sight of one of the couples making out. Makes me
remember my fucked-up date with Denise.

Fortunately,
there’s standing room. I wander over to the window and peer out at the people
below. The music’s not as loud up here, but the thumping bass still vibrates
the room. As I nurse my drink, a group of girls nearby starts giggling. Then I
hear a familiar voice and fix my gaze on the opposite corner of the room.

“I
know! Can you believe he just surprised me like that all the way from Chicago?”

Denise!

Butterflies
swarm my stomach when I hear her beautiful voice. She doesn’t notice me as she
talks among her girlfriends, who all have drinks in their hands. Denise is
dressed in a short—but not too short—backless, silver, sparkling dress that
shows off her long legs. She truly has a beautiful body, and I want her. But
then I replay last night’s ordeal and realize I can’t.

Maybe
she’s just here for girls’ night out. I can at least go say “hi,” right?

I
gulp the rest of my drink and wander over to her. Her pear scent immediately
triggers my senses. The girls stop talking as I draw near, and look to me,
their eyebrows raising. Denise’s mouth opens slightly, and her eyes widen a little.

“Hi,
Denise.” I smile, locking my gaze on her.

“Dominick!”
she says, then looks around nervously.

“You
look nice tonight.”

She
smiles. “Thank you.”

Her
girlfriends continue to watch me carefully, and I nod politely at them. But I
keep my attention focused on Denise. “Hey, I saw there’s a new action flick
playing next week. Would you like to go see it with—”

A
figure suddenly looms behind Denise and places both hands on her bare
shoulders. She flinches and turns around. “Oh! You scared me.”

A
guy steps into a pale blue light that filters down from the ceiling. He looks
about my age and height, physically fit, with a goatee on one of those pretty
boy faces that girls fawn over. He’s dressed sharp in a navy blue button-down
shirt, crisp pants, and shoes that look brand new. He leans over and kisses
Denise on the cheek, then casts a charming smile at her girlfriends.

“You
fine ladies need a refill on those drinks?” he asks, and then his eyes cut to
mine and his expression hardens. “Oh, sorry, man, didn’t see you there.”

I
clench my jaw. The sweet taste of my drink lingering on my tongue turns bitter.

Denise
steps aside while hooking her arm with Prettyboy’s. “Dominick, this is William.
William, Dominick.”

“Hey,”
William says, lifting his chin a little.

“’Sup.”
I return the gesture. My gaze flits to Denise, who’s now huddled up against
him, seeming to enjoy that closeness a little too much.

The
butterflies get stronger. I hope to God this isn’t what I think it is.

William
glances to Denise. “What are you drinking, baby? I’ll get you a refill.”

Denise
grins and downs the rest of the amber-colored concoction. “You mean you’ve
forgotten my favorite drink?”

Running
a hand through his short, twist-out ’fro, William returns the grin. “Hmm. Long
Island Iced Tea, right? Ain’t been
that
long.”

I
stiffen.
That long? Since what?

William
leaves, and I feel inclined to do so as well. This feels too awkward. “So, uh …
I guess I’ll see you around campus sometime?”

Denise
nods, her beautiful smile never faltering. “Sure.”

“Okay,
well, I’m gonna go downstairs for a while.”

Her
smile fades.

I
turn away from the group and head downstairs.

It
has to be true that they’re together, because the truth is supposed to hurt,
right?