Tainted Love (Book 1) (7 page)

“Yeah. I knocked him out,” she brags, hugging herself.

“Oh, honey. He’s amazing!” she gushes, spinning and landing in the black couch. Looking up from it she speaks, “I think I like him.”

“Rae, you don’t even know him.” I gawk at her. After overhearing that conversation, I really think she needs to step back a little.

“We talked a lot last night. We like a lot of the same things. He’s gonna take me for a Sunday drive to see the Pennsylvania countryside today,” she tells me.

“Today? Babe, don’t you think you should get to know him first before taking trips with him?” I try to reason.

“Can’t I just have fun this once? Just go with the flow like you do and not have to worry about defining anything?” She stares at me with pleading eyes and I feel bad. She just wants to live, she just wants to have fun, who am I to stop that? I just don’t want my girl hurt.

“But Sunday’s our PJs and romantic comedy lounging day,” I remind her, feeling a little sad.

“Honey, we
can
miss one Sunday. Come on, please?” she begs, batting her long lashes. “Pwitty pwease?” She clasps her palms under her chin and continues batting those long lashes. I can’t turn down that pathetic face of hers.

“Ugh, you know I can’t turn down that pathetic face of yours when you start begging. I hate you,” I give in. “You’re gonna have to make it up to me, you know?”

“Oh, definitely.” She jumps up and runs toward me. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She throws her arms around me and kisses my cheek repeatedly. “I’ll definitely make it up to you.”

“You owe me big time, Rae,” I tell her, a little bummed that she was gonna leave me alone.
“And hey, no matter what, I love you and support you, okay? And I will protect you always.” I mean every word.

“I know
, babe, I know,” she agrees, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze before releasing me. “I’m gonna go wake Dark and Mysterious. His name is Ryan by the way, Ryan Baylor.” She skips to her room.

“Ok sweetie, go wake your guy. Ryan Baylor,” I mock his name.

I turn the stove off, not wanting tea anymore. Something about that guy just rubs me in the wrong way. He seems dark and mysterious in every sense of the word, but as long as Rachel is keeping him as an occasional fuck, I have no problem. Anything deeper and I may have to investigate.

I prepare cheese and crackers with grape soda instead. Crossing my legs on our couch, I start flipping through channels and munching down c
rackers. I stop it on cartoons.
I love cartoons.

As I sit on the couch watching Timmy Turner try to gain Trixie Tang’s attention, I can feel Dark and Mysterious’ presence.

“Good morning.” I turn to stare up at his statuesque figure. He has his hands in his pockets and stands by the wall of the kitchen.

“Good morning.” His voice is rough, matching his rugged appearance.

He looks like trouble, I know it, and I know Rachel is clueless.

“So, you’re taking Rachel out for a countryside drive,” I say, turning my attention back to the TV.

“Yes, I am.” I can hear him shuffle into a different stance.

“Keep her safe,” I command.

I hear him chuckle and I cast a swift gaze upon him, my brows knitting in annoyance. “You’re laughing at me? You think I’m joking?”

“I just think it’s cute how protective you are of your friend.” He shrugs his shoulders, amusement marring his face.

He pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket with a lighter, lighting it up. He puffs up and I have a sudden itch. Haven’t smoked in years and I don’t plan on starting back
any
bad habit.

Stone-faced, I re-focus my attention to cartoons. As I speak to him, my tone is icy. “If anything happens to Rachel, you won’t find me
cute.
”

He bristles. I know he’s frowning. “Excuse me?”

“I know you heard me.”

Rachel breaks the icy atmosphere as she enters the living room. “Ready, Ryan?”

I turn to see her looking stunning, as usual, in tight blue jeans, tight white t-shirt, and white platform heels.

“Yeah, I’m ready,”
Mr. Dark and Mysterious answers, circling Rachel’s hips then pulling her in for a hard kiss on her lips. He stares at me as he massacres her mouth and rubs his palms over the cheeks of her ass.

I scoff, turning around. Already I know that this guy and I won’t be getting along.

“Have a great day, Rae,” I bid as Rachel leaves with Ryan. He gives me a curt nod and I respond with pursed lips and darkening eyes.

I swear to God if he lets anything happen to her, I’ll be on his ass like
flies on dead carcass.

Silence fills the apartment, despite the cartoons running on the TV. I am alone. I have to busy myself before I start thinking. I hate being left with my thoughts. My past always resurfaces and I’m always left feeling lousy. I turn the TV off and carry the empty plate and bottle to the
kitchen. I stare at the living room from the kitchen as I drain a half bottle of water I had taken from the refrigerator.

I think I’ll do some cleaning.

Pushing off from the kitchen counter, I go in search of my iPod. If I am going to clean this place, I’ll need some tunes. I find the iPod already in the dock, so I turn it on, boosting the volume on the speakers. I select my 60s playlist, my usual Sunday tunes. It’s all Motown.

“I know you wanna leave me, but I refuse to let you go,”
I sing as the music comes on. I strut into my room, bopping my head to the beat, to start my cleaning spree there.

After an hour and a half I am throu
gh cleaning the entire apartment and, as tired as I am, I resolve to do some laundry.

“I’ll be there. With a love that will shelter you,”
I croon, taking the iPod from the dock and plugging in my earphones.

I grab my cell phone and the duffle bag with Rachel’s and my dirty laundry, as well as laundry detergent and fabric softener. I head to the elevator, locking the door behind me – the Laundromat across the street being my desired destination.

The Laundromat is uncharacteristically empty.
Thank God for small miracles.
I load a few washing machines with clothes, slipping my tokens in. That way I’ll be done quicker and will be able to sleep the rest of the day. I perch on one of the washing machines close to the entrance, flipping through a
Seventeen
magazine I’d seen on a chair when I first came in.

The Supremes drones on in my ears
singing about their love and wondering where it went, making me wiggle my bottom, ready to dance. I just love Oldies soul. Rachel would always say that that was the black in me. Before my birth mother got arrested, she had told me that my father was black; Jamaican actually. He was a drug dealer and was shot and killed by the police as he tried to escape being arrested. It had been his third strike, so they’d have put him away even longer that time.

I shake off the memories of my past, not wanting to drudge up anything that would spoil my Sunday alone
, and step outside the Laundromat to get the morning paper from the newsstand, declining to get a gossip magazine. Mr. Farzani always tries to get me to see who’s on the latest cover, who’s dating who, who’s cheated on whom. I tell him the same thing every time, “Not interested.”

I’ve found myself in those magazines a few times too many as a socialite, and I don’t intend to make any further appearances. Those were dark times; times where I’d brought my family much shame. So I give him a smile and walk away, reading my newspaper as I go, and head back into the Laundromat.

Just before the door closes, I hear the screech of tires. My eyes pull up from the paper to see a sleek black Rolls Royce Phantom. Everyone’s attention is staked on the beauty. Throwing the door open and springing from the luxury vehicle is Ben Hayes. My stomach does a nosedive as I realize he is heading straight for the Laundromat.

My mind seems to register everything seconds after they happen. I can’t even move, though my brain is telling me to run and do it
fast
!

Stopping as soon as he enters, green eyes pierce through me. I am his target, no doubt. That’s why the Rolls Royce had made such a sudden stop. He’d spotted me.
Holy shit.

He looks delectable. I can see his chest heaving in his white tee and leather jacket. He looks every bit the bad boy in his worn blue jeans and black Timberland roll tops, his tousled hair falling to his face. My lips part as I drink him in from head to toe. I swallow, my mouth watering at the sight of him.
Jeez.

Walking stridently over to me, he grabs me close to him, cupping my ass and gripping the back of my neck. Before I can form a
coherent thought, he dips me and seals his lips over mine. He inhales at contact, breathing deeply. When he grabs my hair, tugging it almost painfully to send sinful pleasure zipping down between my thighs, my mind finally catches up with reality, registering what is happening.

Running my hands through Ben’s hair, down to his neck, I moan eagerly into his mo
uth. His tongue invades, intertwining with mine and igniting fire through my bones, turning my legs to jelly. Holding my face in place, he licks inside my mouth like he’d found something sweet inside. The soft whimpering sounds he makes causing my legs to further weaken.
Damn it.

“What are the odds?” he whispers breathlessly against my lips.

“Huh?” My brain has checked out again.

“God, even in sweat pants and oversized sweatshirts you look hot.” He circles my behind and grips it firmly. Pulling away from me, he grabs my wrists to him. “Come. Have lunch with me.” It isn’t a request.

“I’m doing laundry, Ben,” I answer weakly.

“How long will that take?” He looks down at his watch.

“I just started.”

“Damn it,” he curses. “What if I came up to your place when you’re through here?”

“Ben…” I sigh.

As electric as the chemistry is between us, I really don’t want to do this with him. I was hoping to never see him again.

“Just so you know, I don’t take no for an answer.” And I believe him.

I sigh yet again, trying to think of something. I was always good at ditching guys but I see ditching Ben will prove to be a challenge.

“Fine,” I concede.

“Wonderful.” He is fiddling with his cell phone. “I’ll just swing by the country club to see my parents then come back here. How does half an hour sound?”

“Yeah, I think I’ll be finished by then.”

“Good.”

Ben steps to me, brushing a hand down my cheek. “Please don’t run off. We have some things to discuss.”

He leans in and plants a chaste kiss on my lips, making me yearn for more. He then leaves the Laundromat and boards the waiting car.

“‘Things to discuss’?” I bite my lip thinking about what those “things” can be.

What if he found out who I really am? Or worse, what if he found out about my past?
Shit.
My heart is pounding a death rhythm.
Shit!

Twenty minutes later, I
am done with Rae’s and my laundry, and within five minutes, I have them folded and packed in the duffel.
I can very well ditch Ben now since he doesn’t know where I live
, I think to myself. Sounds like a good plan.

I pick the duffel up and set out to leave.
Exiting the Laundromat, I step onto the curb, ready to cross.
Crap.

He’s already waiting for me.

“Were you running again?” He steps from the car and takes the duffel from me.

“Um, running?” I squeak.

“Maybe,” I confess, looking away.

He cups my chin and brings it to face him. “Why do you insist on never seeing me again?”

I nibble my bottom lip and knit my brows together, evaluating his question. I really have no reason to not want to see him again. My entire Saturday night was spent fantasizing about him. I need a replacement benefactor and, to top it all off, he seems really interested in me. What is scaring me at the moment, though, are those “things to discuss”. What on earth are they?

“What “things” do we need to discuss?” I ask,
avoiding his question.

“Come. We can’t discuss that out here. Please, lead the way,” he commands
, straightening away from me.
I’m not your employee, Mr. Hayes.
I scowl at him, and like a petulant child, he scowls right back. It makes me smile, thawing me a bit.

As we enter the lobby of my apartment building, all eyes turn to Ben. Susie, the receptionist, is in complete shock; open-mouthed.
Get a grip Susie, jeez.
I wave to her and she barely raises her hand in response. I see her finally release the breath she had been holding when the doors of the elevator we’d entered start closing.

I am hyper-aware of Ben
as he stands next to me. I fiddle with the back of my sweater to distract me from his obvious gaze. Why am I so nervous? Oh, “things to discuss”.
Damn it!
What does he know?