Chapter 3
"I don't know if I'm allowed to drill holes into the walls," Lara mumbled as a man, no taller than her, bald with a long, thick brown beard and full of face tattoos, pulled a 55 inch TV box across her living room floor.
This man just showed up four minutes ago, right after Rio texted her: TV is at the door mama.
He was quite intimidating. Leather cut and big, silver rings, and chains rattling off his pants. "I'll take care of the super if ever he gives you trouble, miss," the man said, producing a boxcutter from his pocket and gutting the box.
"Right," she mumbled back, closing the door to her apartment with a swing. "Sooo, what's your name?"
The man cleared his throat, pulling the box apart. "Mick."
Lara nodded. "Well, Mick, are you the man who Rio put in charge of...looking after me?" She fumbled with her fingers, drawing up onto her tiptoes to drop back down nervously.
Mick slowed, looking up at her with a smile crawling across his face. "Yes."
Her heart stuttered. "So," she continued. "What does that...entail?"
Mick resumed his machinations with the box. "It means tailing you wherever you go," he started. "Making sure no one comes in here. Making sure you've got everything you need."
She held her hands in fists. "So you follow me?"
"Yes."
"But why?"
"Because the boss asked me to."
"Yes, but," she sighed through her nose, curling up on the couch as Mick gently pulled out the TV from its box, foam and packaging nuggets spilling out like guts. "What does he think will happen to me?" She was almost asking that question to herself, leaning her chin into her palm.
Mick got the drill out of his bag and shrugged. "You're a girl."
"Thanks for letting me know," she groaned.
Mick smiled. "I should rephrase," he said, giving the drill a test run, letting the sound echo in her almost empty apartment. "You're his girl."
Lara licked her lips, swallowed, feeling the lump scraping down her dry throat. His girl? But they were just friends.
She watched as Mick drilled the rack into the wall and then installed the TV, handing her the remote once it was up and running. "Rio said he'd give you all his subscriptions," he informed her as he packed up the empty box to throw out. "He should be round here in a minute."
Lara nodded, lost in thought, hearing the closing of her door like a distant sound, cut off in water. She sat there for a long time, feet curled up under her, teeth shredding the skin of her thumb. She expected a knock, but it never came. It seemed Rio, who was supposed to come by apparently, had gotten caught up.
So Lara took a shower, washed her hair, exfoliated every inch of her skin hoping she could shed this sour feeling that enveloped her. She liked Rio, of course, because he represented a time in her life where she had had a very, very close friend whom she'd shared everything with. Rio had been her best friend until she was fifteen. He'd shared her secrets and he'd shared in the things she'd loved. He'd become more than a friend, more like a second part of her.
And then they'd been separated by youthful ignorance and immaturity.
And now, with Rio part or running or partly running a street gang and Lara expelled from college and working full-time at a bookstore - it just felt off that they were...paired. Even as friends.
She felt like she knew him but also, as if he was hiding behind a sheet. Like he was playing a grand ole trick on her.
She slipped into a long t-shirt and underwear, turning off the lights in her apartment as she went. She grabbed her towel in her hand, squeezing it through the leaking tips of her hair.
She screamed when she walked into her room, watching as the figure folded in her papasan chair stretched his long legs and giggled.
"Rio!" she chastised, holding a hand to her chest, her heart beating like a raging bull inside her ribs. "What the fuck!"
He was lit only by the pink lamp on her night table, the edges and dips of his face shadowed, giving the arch of his brows a sharp, prominent look. She gripped the doorway, willing her heart to slow down, as Rio got to his feet. He was wearing a dark navy blouse, buttoned up to his neck, and black trousers. His white-tipped converse shoes made a shuffling noise against her carpet as he took a step froward, slithering closer to her like a snake.
"Ma, you're killing me," he whispered.
She frowned.
He raked his eyes down the length of her exposed legs, down to where she was wiggling her little toes, and then back up to where the shirt cut off, right where he wanted to see.
"Oh," she mumbled, trying to cover her legs with her wet towel.
He frowned mockingly. "Oh no, don't do that," he rasped. "You're taking the fun away."
She swallowed hard, beelining for her drawers, carrying the scent of her shampoo - raspberry - right to Rio. He smirked wickedly, watching her fumble with what she thought was pijama pants but they turned out to be shorts once she put them on.
"Oh."
"Leave them," he said, laughing, showing her his perfect teeth. "It's no big deal."
"Oh, yeah," she said, closing the drawers with a bang. "How'd you get in here, anyway?" She jutted out a hip, watching the pink light play on his face.
"That's not important," he said, and she remembered she never locked the door when Mick left. "You ready to watch a movie now?" He gestured towards her living room with slender fingers, which she lingered on for too long.
She pushed her wet hair behind her ears and walked into her living room. Rio took the remote, plugging in his subscription to Netflix and selecting the first thing that appeared on screen: Love is Blind.
"Really?" she said.
"Yeah, why not?" he answered, absent-minded, as he got up and retrieved a bag from her kitchen counter. She frowned. That hadn't been there before?
Rio rushed back, producing popcorn and chocolates, tossing them on the floor between his Converse shoes and Lara's socks.
She wanted to ask him so many questions. About the "you're his girl" moment. About what he does for a living. About why he wants to keep an eye on her. Why he came in here so late. But the only thing that came out of her mouth was, "I have work tomorrow morning."
He shrugged, opening the bag of popcorn. "That doesn't matter, ma," he answered, turning to her with a smirk.
She opened her mouth to ask him more, but then she curled her legs under her and thought twice.
"How was college?" he asked, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth.
"It was... nice," she answered timidly.
He swung his head back into the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him, fully relaxed. "Did you get with anyone?"
She laughed nervously. "What, why are you asking me that?"
He turned to her, rubbing buttery fingers together, and gave her a side smile. "Because it's college," he answered, matter-of-fact.
"Yeah, but..." She looked down, bringing one knee up to rest her chin on it. "I was neck-deep in studies and it's not like I was...looking for it."
This caught his attention, and he fully turned his body towards her, ignoring the TV. "Well, why not?" he continued, looking at her from under his brows, smiling like he just won a million bucks. She heard him liking his fingers dry, dropping the bag between his knees.
She played with the band of her sock. "I just didn't want...to."
The harsh truth was that she wasn't someone who college guys looked at. Her friend, Annie, was the girl they looked at; blonde with blue eyes and that all-American laugh. Lara was more on the quiet side, the kind of girl that wanted to be the life at the party but when anxiety decided to walk through the threshold with her, she always felt like she was out of her own body; walking in a trance.
Rio frowned, leaning down until his elbow touched the couch seat. "You didn't want to have sex?"
Lara's eyes widened at the big word, THE word, and she glanced at him, watching him giggle with his perfectly straight teeth. "Mmno."
"Mmno," he imitated, dropping lower, pressing a warm, large hand on her bare thigh. The contact made her stone still, blood roaring in her ears. The warmth of his hand zapped up her veins like lightning, squeezing in her belly until her abs were tight. "Move this leg, mama," he said, absent-minded, unaware of the pandemonium living under Lara's skin.
She straightened her legs until both her thighs were plush against the couch and he lay his head there. Like old times. When he was so young that neither had thought more of it. When his head of curly black hair had flopped to one side of her criss-crossed legs.
But now he was much older, much bigger. His shaved head weighed heavy on her thighs, his left arm dangling over the edge of the couch, a warm hand gripping her ankle.
Lara's heart was like a skinny little eel in her ribs, trying really hard to slither its way past her bones and into her throat.
She saw him smile, she thought, but Rio had always had a permanent grin etched on his face. Even now.
He sighed, satisfied with his new position. "So," he said, loudly, eyes now cast towards the glow of the TV. Lara put a hand on his shoulder, hesitant. "If there was no one in college, was there anyone in high school?"
She scoffed, taken aback by his questioning. "Yeah, a bit."
"Ooh," he laughed, grabbing her right hand and dumping it on his head, so now she had both hands on him. She swallowed hard at the way his slender fingers circled her wrist so effortlessly, but she let him guide her anyway. "Tell me, please!"
She laughed, but at this point, her cheeks were on fire and her heart hammered like a wild goose in her chest. She splayed her hands against his skull, watching the inch of hair part momentarily. "Do you remember Mike Genshing?" she asked, watching as his brow lifted.
"You got with Mike Genshing?" He half turned, watching her from the corner of his eye. "You?"
She frowned. "What's wrong with me?"
He scoffed and went back to the TV. "Let's just say that back in high school," he started on a laugh, "you weren't well...Mike's type."
"You know jack shit, Rio," she mumbled, pinching his ear.
"Aye!"
"You left when I was fifteen," she reminded him. "You have no idea if I became his type."
He grumbled something under his breath and she let go of his ear. "Alright," he groaned. "Tell me how you got with Genshing."
"Do you remember Claudia Causin?"
"I fucking hated her," he mumbled as an answer.
Lara exclaimed, "You had sex with her!"
He frowned. "I did?" Then a slow grin. "Oh yeah - wait - she told you?"
"Yeah." Lara pinched his ear again. "Her and I were best friends when you guys got together, remember?"
Rio snorted. "She wasn't your friend, ma." He tapped her hand with his, freeing his reddened ear from her sneaky fingers. "She just wanted to get in my pants. Use me."
"Oh yeah, Rio," Lara scoffed back sarcastically. "I so bet you were used by Claudia Causin, the one girl everyone wanted to be with back then."
He laughed wickedly. "Don't blame me, mami," he defended. "She was the one clawing at me that one time we all hung out at her house!"
"Okay, whatever!"
"You started it!"
"You're the one reliving a sexcapade with my ex best friend!"
"Get to your fucking story, Lara," he groaned, gripping her right hand, the one going to pinch his ear again, and bringing it down to his mouth, where he bit into her forefinger. Hard.
"Asshole!" she squeaked, wrenching her hand back, watching his shoulders jump as he laughed. "Anyway." She sighed, examining the half moons on her knuckles. "Claudia had another party, and this time, I went alone. And it was really embarrassing, so I brought my old man's bourbon, you remember the one?"
Rio nodded, his hair scraping against her thighs and it made a hot, zapping fire crawl up to her crotch. "Yeah, I got you drunk with it once and had to hold your hair back in your basement bathroom."
"So that one," she finished. "And I got lonely at the party, just standing around, feeling...anxious." She wasn't sure a gangster or street dweller or gangbanger would understand or validate anxiety, but it came out of her anyway. Rio's only response was a purse of his lips. "So I went by the pool. Somehow, the party moved out into the yard by the time I was really wasted. And I fell in the pool."
Rio's hand tightened on her ankle, but that was all. His eyes were staring straight at the TV.
She swallowed and continued, "When I woke up, Mike Genshing was kissing me. Well, he was technically giving me CPR, but his mouth was touching mine."
There was a moment of silence until Rio exploded in laughter, gyrating against her as he threw his head back, laughing with his entire body. "You're telling me," he gasped between bouts of laughter. "That you... got with Mike...because you almost died!?"
"It still counts!"
"Yeah," he chuckled. "When you're fifteen!"
"I was sixteen!"
"Oh my lord!" he stretched back, rolling onto his back and looking up at her. From this angle, his eyes looked so sleepy, long, dark lashes fanning against his cheekbones. "Don't tell me that was your first kiss, ma."
Lara shrugged. "Like I said," she mumbled, "it still counts."
Laughter echoed in the room as Rio fought another fit, curling up against her like he did when he was so young; knees to his chest, hands on his face. When he was done, he lay on his back, smiling, eyes closed, hand on his stomach like he was asleep. His voice was deep when he spoke next. "Tell me more, ma."
"Like what?"
"Who else got to...be with you?" He opened his eyes, the black swirling under the light of her one lamp.
She clenched her teeth. "Like, the other times I kissed someone?"
He cocked his head. "Yeah?" His grin split his face. "You actually kissed someone or you had to pretend to die to get someone to - hey!" She batted a hand onto his stomach, hitting him right under the ribs. He laughed, coughed, rolled off the couch and onto his knees. Lara laughed satisfyingly, watching him catch his breath. "No fair, ma!"
He climbed back onto the couch, sitting right next to her, and he slung his arm over her shoulder, like that first day of high school. It was heavy and warm and smelled just like him, so intoxicating. His mouth was right next to her ear when he said, "Go on. Tell me."
She fought back a shiver, letting him pull her entire body against his. He fell back on the couch, dragging her with him until she was splayed over him like a blanket. That was definitely something they'd never done when they were kids. She was rigid against him, and she knew he knew, but he sighed against her and dug his fingers into her shoulder.
She splayed one hand onto his chest, watching it rise and fall with each breath. She caught herself wondering what his skin felt like under that checkered blouse buttoned up to his neck.
"There was Luke Montgomery," she mumbled, settling her cheek against his chest. His heart beat, normally, easily, into her ear. Like a steadying drum. "He fully kissed me at formal. Like for real."
"No doubt."
She smiled into his shirt. "We made out but it was no fun."
"I bet, that kid had braces."
She hummed. "Then there was Archie Turner." She stopped, fiddling with the button of his blouse, right where his sternum kept rising and falling.
"And what'd you do with Turner, ma?" His voice was like silk grating on charcoal, luscious but smoky. A shiver raced down her spine like a twirling snake.
"He...um, touched me."
His fingers froze on her shoulder, where they'd been imprinting little circles into her skin. "Touched you?"
She swallowed.
"How, ma?"
"Why do you want to know?"
He shifted under her, almost uncomfortably. "Because I wanna make sure he was a gentleman with you."
"Oh?" She sat up halfway, one hand on his chest to push herself up. Her wet hair, curling and drying, fell to one side of her head. She watched his eyes dilate, his lashed droop, his mouth open to answer her, but she was quicker. "It's not like you were there to do anything about it, Rio."
She went to sit back to where she'd been before, but he snatched her wrist in one of his hands, tugging her slightly back to him. Her eyes found him in a flash, and when they did, he was grinning. "I can still do something about it now," he said, brow raising. "So tell, how did he touch you?"
She felt the blush creep up her face, slowly, curling around her chin, staining her cheeks in bright pink. She knew he saw it too by the way his lips stretched into an equally slow, saccharine smile.
"He touched me," she said, gesturing with her eyes to down there.
Rio's smile widened. "Did you like it?"
She nodded.
"And did you finish?"
She shook her head. His lower lip pouted slightly.
"That's a bummer," he sighed, wrapping his arm around her shoulder again, bringing her cheek back to his chest. "Gentlemen will make you finish."
She swallowed hard, trying to make her face cool down.
"Anybody else?" he asked.
Lara shook her head. Before he could put two and two together, she jumped on the occasion the silence was offering. "And you?"
He laughed loudly, the sound echoing strangely in his chest. "Me, darling?" He continued to snicker by himself, as if Lara wasn't privy to an inside joke that he was. "I've been here and there."
"What's that mean?"
"That I'm a gentleman." She could practically hear the shit-eating grin splitting his face right now.
She was about to say that he was probably a man-whore, but his pocket buzzed. And buzzed. And buzzed until he sighed frustratingly and fished his phone out of his pocket. "Dang," he mumbled. He typed something back and closed it, sighing hard against her. "Ma," he whined, lowly.
"Yeah?" She sat up, looking at him.
He sighed again. "Damn it." Then he grabbed her face with both of his large hands, dwarfing her head. She thought he was going to kiss her, the way his eyes widened, but he planted a chaste kiss on her forehead. "I have to go. Work."
His statement was so ominous, but she knew what it meant. "Okay," she mumbled, getting off him.
He got to his feet swiftly. "Hey." He grabbed her chin with his thumb, redirecting her gaze up to him. "I won't be long."
She nodded, watching him slither back to the door and leave her alone in her apartment, with nothing but Love is Blind blaring on the TV.
