Fighting for Flight (19 page)

“That motherfucker!” Blake jumps up from the couch
to pace the room.

“I have a plan, but I need your help. I know
Dominick is part owner of Zeus’s. I need you to get with one of the
girls and find out when he goes in there.”

He’s still pacing and hasn’t acknowledged that I’ve
said a word.

“Blake. Can you do that?”

He stops and turns toward me.
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Grabbing his phone, he takes his seat back on the
couch, this time not slumped over, but tense and leaning forward.
“You’re not meeting with that asswipe alone. I’m going with
you.”

“No, I have to do it alone. I won’t drag you into
this.”

He pins me with a glare. “Drag me into this?” His
arm shoots out to point a finger to his wall window. “That girl’s
cool as shit.” He points at me. “She’s your girl. That makes her my
responsibility too.”

“Blake, anything could happen. You sure you want to
get messed up in all this?”

He coughs out a laugh. “Let me ask you something.
What’re you going to do when Morretti makes some comment about
Raven taking cock for cash, huh?”

I suppress a growl. A low vibration in my spine
amplifies to a buzz. My teeth grind together and I scowl at
Blake.

“That’s what I thought. You’re going to flip the
switch on that dicklick and he’ll shoot your dumb ass and claim
self-defense. And where does that leave Raven, hmm?”

I narrow my glare on him.

“Exactly.”

The cocky ass is right. Dominick will most likely
try to get me riled up, and I can’t be responsible for what happens
if he disrespects Raven.

“You’re right. I’ll need you there. How soon can we
get the ball rolling?”

Blake already has his phone to his ear. “Selena,
baby, it’s me. I got a question for you.”

Raven

The bay doors slamming shut pulls me from the wiring
of a ’57 Chevy. The halogen lights of the garage replace the sun
that shone in when I started this project.

Where did the time go?

Drowning myself in work is a good distraction from
the chaos in my head, but I’ve lost an entire afternoon.

The awareness of time brings pain to the gaping void
in my chest. I haven’t heard from Jonah all day. I didn’t expect
him to contact me, but I hoped he would. I check my phone again.
Nothing.

“Wrap it up, Ray.”

I grab my tools and find Guy in the back, putting
things away.

“Who’s on tomorrow?” I ask, tossing my set on a
workbench.

He doesn’t look up from an assortment of wire
terminals. “Cane. Why?”

“I thought I’d come in, you know, um, help out—”

He bangs closed a metal toolbox. “What’s goin’ on,
Ray?” He studies my face. “You’ve been zip-lipped all day, and from
the look on your face, I’d say someone died.”

That’s what it feels like. I shrug and pick grease
from my nails, avoiding his eyes. “Nah, just thought I’d get some
extra hours.”

“You hurtin’ for money?”

“No, it’s not that.” I just need to stay busy so I
don’t have time to . . . feel.

His bushy, gray eyebrows drop low, making the
wrinkles around his eyes more pronounced. “You and the boy havin’
problems?”

I exhale, annoyed at my transparency.

“You could say that. He has a lot on his plate with
the fight coming up.” Guilt washes over me as I lie. I can’t tell
him the truth. It’s too real.

He leans against a workbench and crosses his ankles.
“He tell you that?”

I shake my head. “Our lives are too different.”

“And different is a bad thing?”

“You don’t understand,” I mumble to my feet.

“I’ll tell you what I do understand. I see a boy
who’s lived his life in the public eye for just shy of ten years.
He’s made his taste in women obvious: quick, easy, and disposable.
You step on the scene, he drops it all, stands toe to toe with me,
and makes his intentions clear. Differences be damned. The boy’s
crazy about you.”

“Some differences are too big.”

“You listen here, Ray. I’m no expert on
relationships. Only been in love once. That was over thirty years
ago. But I know it when I see it.”

“You were in love?” I stare in shock at the
self-proclaimed, lifetime bachelor.

“Yep, fell in love with an angel.” His eyes get
soft. “But she was engaged to someone else.”

I don’t know what to say, but I want to hear more. I
nod for him to continue.

“You know what I did to mess it up?”

“What?”

“Nothin’. And that’s how I lost her.” He reflects in
silence for a beat, studying the garage walls. He shakes his head.
“I didn’t fight for her. I could have fought, tried to get her out
from under her obligation, but I didn’t. Biggest mistake of my
life.”

“But she was engaged to someone else. How do you
know she would have left her fiancé?”

His face falls, eyebrows low, and he studies the
floor. “I’ll never know. That’s what kills me.”

The pain in his voice has me blinking back tears.
“Was there never anyone else? After her?”

“I love her. She’s it for me.” He’s not speaking in
past tense.

I can’t decide if that’s the saddest or the most
romantic thing I’ve ever heard, and yet I’m destined for a similar
fate. There will never be another love for me, not like Jonah. I
can see how Guy would close himself off, subject to a lifetime
sentence of loneliness for one girl. But the difference is that
Guy’s love was worth the fight. He didn’t fight for her, but he
lives with the regret because she was worth that. Not me.

“Not everyone’s worth fighting for.”

He steps close and places his hands on my shoulders.
His blue eyes look deep into mine. “I’ve seen you two together: the
way he looks at you when you’re not looking, like you’re the sun
and he’s happily stuck in your orbit. Never seen you with a boy
before so I can’t be sure, but seein’ you messed up in the head
about it, I’m guessin’ you feel the same way. You guys got
something special, Ray. Fight for it. It’s worth that.”

His words rock me to the bone. Something deep and
instinctual recognizes Guy’s words as truth, but I can’t get past
my head: Jonah’s conversation with Owen, him pushing me off on Eve,
not calling all day. All arrows point to a broken heart.

My head throbs, and I have an overwhelming urge to
be alone. “Thanks, G.”

“You’re welcome. You don’t want to be me, lookin’
back on your life, wishing you could have another shot at something
sweet.” He ruffles my hair then steps back. “Now, go get some
sleep. You look like hell.”

He throws his arm over my shoulder and walks me to
the foot of my stairs. Departing with a wave, I watch him until he
disappears around the corner.

The weight of today pressing down, I drag my body up
the stairs. A hot shower sounds better and better with each step.
The motion light above my door flicks on, and I freeze as my foot
hits the top step. Holy crud.

The old door to my apartment is gone, and in its
place is a solid, dark wood one with an enormous platinum handle.
My jaw falls open as I study its features: a peep hole and three
gleaming locks. I grab my keys and finger through the set to find .
. . Yep, there it is: a shiny new silver key. Jonah must have
slipped it on my key chain this morning. The corners of my mouth
lift as I examine the product of his overprotective nature, and
just as quickly as the smile comes, it fades. How will I live
without him?

I’m able to get myself inside before the tears start
to fall. Crawling onto my bed, I bury my face in the pillow and
sob. I have to believe there is a tiny chance that Jonah doesn’t
want to end things. I can’t go on any other way.

But hope is such a dangerous thing. My heart dared
to hope that Dominick would one day come banging on my door,
begging for forgiveness. But instead, he killed every dream of a
future I had. Hope. It has sustained me through my darkest days,
but it also lifted me up only to drop me, breaking me into
irreparable pieces. Could I live through that kind of fall
again?

Crying jag over, I pull myself up and into the
shower. I move through the motions, numb and absent. Dressed in
drawstring fleece pants, a tank, and flip-flops, I check my phone.
No missed calls.

I haven’t heard from Eve all day, and although I’d
planned on ignoring Jonah’s request that I stay at Eve’s, I could
use the company. It must be the new boyfriend that’s keeping her
busy. Except for the occasional text message and a couple morning
phone conversations this past week, she’s been unavailable. The few
talks we’ve had have been one-sided. She asks me about Jonah, and I
talk forever, but she never talks about herself outside of what
she’s up to at work. Just thinking about her now is making me miss
her terribly.

I dial her number and listen as her voicemail tells
me to leave a message. With nothing better to do, I decide to drive
over and drop in on her. If she’s not there, I can always try her
work.

Grabbing my keys, I head to my car with the hopes of
finding Eve and keeping my mind off Jonah. I relax as the hum of my
Nova and the warm air that whips my hair envelop me. Elton John
blasts in my ears, and in that moment, I’m just some girl, not the
daughter of a prostitute and a pimp, bred for— Ugh! I slam my hand
on the steering wheel and focus on the crooning voice of Sir Elton.
I punch the gas, singing at the top of my lungs and hoping to chase
away the worst of my demons.

As I pass a strip of fast-food restaurants, I’m hit
with the smell of hot oil and french fries. My stomach rumbles its
complaint. With everything that’s been going on today, I’ve
forgotten to eat. I try Eve’s phone again. Voicemail. I redirect my
car to hit my favorite drive-thru.

Turning left towards the lights of the Vegas strip,
I head down Tropicana. The flashing neon of a club up ahead gets my
attention. There’s a line of people wrapped around the building. I
recognize it immediately as Zeus’s Playground, one of the high-end
strip clubs in town. Stuck at a stoplight, I look at the club,
shaking my head at all the men who are about to drop a week’s pay
down the panties of a stripper while the little woman is probably
home taking care of the kids. Pathetic.

My gaze moves back to the road in front of me when
something catches my eye. In the parking lot of the club, I would
recognize it anywhere. I squint hard. My head gets light, and the
blood drains to pool in the pit of my empty stomach. I fight the
impulse to vomit or pass out.

Jonah’s truck.

I blink, hoping to clear the optical illusion. The
honking of a car horn startles me and causes me to look ahead. The
light’s green, and I need to drive, but I can’t get my limbs to
cooperate.

He said he had a meeting.

A quick shot of anger brings my body around, and I
press the gas to get through the intersection. With trembling
hands, I pull off to the side of the road. I take another hard
look. Blake had mentioned this place at the barbeque. It was where
he met the girls he brought. All of them, including Candy.

Jonah’s in there with Candy.

And just like that, hope has dropped my sorry butt
off a cliff.

Panic floods my veins. My breathing is labored, like
I’m sucking air through a straw. I shake out my arms, trying to rid
them of the numbness taking over, but movement only pushes the
sensation into my torso. My heart beats fast—too fast. Terror
spreads through my body. I squeeze my eyes shut.

“Oh please, God, not now.” I pray aloud with hopes
of divine intercession.

An anxiety attack grips my body. Tears stream down
my face, and I struggle against the lost feeling that threatens to
overtake me. I push against my sternum, willing my heart to
slow.

“Come on, Raven. Talk yourself down.” I take a
breath. “I’m in control.”

My eyes fly open at my pitiful lie. Control? That’s
the last thing I have. My hands grip either side of my head and I
rock back and forth.

Of course, he’s there. Why would he want to be with
me, the future hooker? I close my eyes tightly. The daughter of a
pimp. My body shakes. The grease monkey, tomboy. My head pounds.
The virgin.

I need to calm down. Stop acting like a helpless
little girl. I breathe in deep through my nose and out my mouth,
until my mind slows enough for me to think straight. I need to
decide what to do now. Should I go confront him? Why? So he can
tell me to my face, with Candy straddling his lap, that he doesn’t
want me? I pull back into the street, almost hitting another car,
and speed to Eve’s.

Throwing my car in park at the curb outside her
house, I walk up the front path. I’m shaking, but still. Pained,
but numb. Bleeding, but alive. Consumed with confusion and
contradictions.

I reach her door and knock as hard as I can. After a
few clicks of the lock, the door opens to expose a very skimpily
dressed Eve. Through the small crack in the door, I can see lit
candles in the background.

“Raven, what are you doing here?”

“I called. You didn’t answer.” It’s all I can manage
without breaking out in a full-body sob.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I’ve been . . . busy.” She looks
guilty and a little ashamed.

Her eyes seem sketchy as she looks over my shoulder
to the street behind me. I look to see what’s stealing her
attention. There, parked in the street, is a black H2. My eyebrows
pull together.

I must have missed it when I pulled up. I guess
seeing my boyfriend’s car at a strip club where his ex-hook up
works when he told me he had a work meeting made me unobservant. My
arms wrap protectively around my chest and my shoulders curl
forward, holding myself together. I might dissolve completely at
the slightest breeze of pain.

“Eve, who’s at the door?” a deep voice beckons from
behind her. My wide eyes lock with hers in shock and silent
apology.