Chapter Eleven
Six shots of tequila and two beers later, Dom was feeling good. In fact, he didn't feel a thing. Christian sat next to him, nursing another beer. It was his third, but it usually took six or seven for him to catch a buzz.
Still nothing was said. Dom had been in his own little world, thinking. Christian had let him, knowing it was the only way Dom would calm down.
In the background, Hank Williams Jr.'s "Family Tradition" was playing. Some asshole country buff had picked it from the jukebox. It was a good drinking song, but that was about it.
Irene didn't have many customers, just the usual regulars that came in. Christian and Dom were the only two at the bar.
Christian looked over at Dom, whose expression hadn't changed. He wondered what Dom was thinking. Better to leave that one alone.
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Damn you, Madison, he thought. Even when he was pissed at her, he thought about her. There was just something about her that he couldn't shake. Something about the way she looked at him with contempt and respect all in one. Something about the fire in her personality that complimented everything about him.
Then there was the way he needed her. The way he wanted to hold her in his arms, to look into her eyes, to run his hands through her soft brown hair…
Damnit, he couldn't think that way. But it wasn't like he could stop. There was just something about the mysterious Madison Steele that captivated him. Then he realized he knew nothing about her. Nothing at all.
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She was listening to what Brian was saying at the beginning, but then her mind wandered to Dom.
Sometimes she wanted to knock the shit out of him, whereas other times she wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him. She had never met someone who could make her hate and want him at the same time.
"You still there?" Brian asked.
She shook her head, returning back to the conversation.
"Yeah," she answered. "Tell me about Los Angeles."
"Well, that's a long story and a lot of history."
She criss-crossed her fingers, putting her hands together, propped her elbows up on the table and gave Brian her full attention.
"I've got plenty of time," she said, nonchalantly.
He looked at the serious expression on her face and leaned back in his chair. He cross his arms over his chest, took a deep breath, and began.
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Kyra was back at the house when the cell phone rang. Expecting it to be Christian or Dom, she answered it.
"Yeah."
"Toretto there?" It was a guy. He had a gruff voice, one that was very pronounced.
"Naw, man. He's out. There a message?" she answered.
"Just tell him V called," he replied, then hung up.
"V called," she repeated to herself, hitting the clear button.
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Shit. He had hoped Dom would've been there. That must be the regular cell that was for the house. Dom must have his own private one. He dug through the papers that cluttered the table until he found Dom's emergency cell number. He committed it to memory. If he didn't hear from Dom by tomorrow night, he would call this number. But otherwise, there would be no need to use it.
He got up off the couch quickly and winced as pain shot through his left leg. Although it had been two years since he'd been shot, he still felt the pain if he got up too quickly or if he moved the wrong way.
It was 12 o'clock in the morning, but he wasn't tired. He walked to the fridge, opened it, took out a Corona and headed back to the couch. Sitting down, he turned on the TV to a Jackie Chan/Jet Li movie and popped the top on the beer. It was going to be a long night.
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Two hours and a margarita later, Madison and Brian left the restaurant. As they left, she looked around and noticed they were the last ones there.
Her mind was reeling from everything Brian had told her about Dom. She was slowly, but surely, beginning to understand why he did the things he did. Dominic Toretto was a complicated guy, that was a given. But now Madison had more insight into who he really was.
They said goodnight and went their separate ways. The whole way home, she was thinking about Dom. And Jesse. Dom must've felt like shit. Damn, the world was right: what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
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Christian was still nursing his beer when Dom looked over at him with glazed eyes. It was time to go. He pulled out his wallet, paid Irene, and helped Dom out the door.
Christian knew Dom was okay to drive, he had been fucked up a lot worse before. However, he chose to follow Dom just to make sure.
They pulled out of the parking lot and drove off, Dom in front. Ten minutes later, they pulled up into the driveway of the house. Dom got out of his car, still buzzing, but able to walk straight now.
Kyra came out of the house and shot Christian a look, to which he shook his head. He knew Kyra was pissed, but Dom didn't need to hear her shit right now.
He walked up the steps to the porch and walked right past her. She grabbed Christian's arm as he started to pass her and stopped him.
"He's alright, right?" she asked out of concern.
"Yeah. He just needs his space, that's all. That shit with Madison earlier tonight really tore him up. He just needs time," he replied, calming her fears.
They both walked into the house to see Dom heading upstairs.
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Not wanting to deal with Kyra's shit, he headed upstairs to his room. Once there, he headed for the bathroom. He needed a shower. He started the water, got it to the temperature he wanted, stripped, and got in.
Feeling the lukewarm water run over his face, he ran his hands over his head. Life was a bitch. Nothing ever seemed to go his way. He was done with Madison. She would have to make the next move for communication. He was tired of her shit. He didn't need that in his life.