Dalliance in Darkness ( Dalliance #1) (4 page)

Susannah nodded.

“But is there anyone who has been hanging around here a while? Because I was supposed to uhm,” I hid my face and paused a moment giving me a moment to flesh out the lie. “Well you know craigslist right?” I sighed. “Stupid, stupid, of course you do – anyway,” I clicked my tongue and glanced over my shoulder a moment. “I was supposed to meet someone here and I ran… well a bit later than late I guess,” I nonchalantly sipped my shake.

“Don’t really know what to tell you hon,” she said before pointing behind me and to my left. “He’s been here a while,” she apologized then and wished me luck before carrying on. Her words were less than convincing but I turned my head and looked at the man dressed in a dark blue hoodie. I could see his skullcandy earphones and that his eyes were clearly fixed on his smartphone.

I mentally and emotionally resigned myself to failure. No chest fireworks going off for that one either. It was all too vague a task anyway, some kind of impossible task given to me because Carina happened to be a sadist for a living for all I knew. Speaking of her, I still hadn’t seen an inkling of her presence. Through the windows I failed to spot James, I was alone and feeling even more the fool now than ever. But I hadn’t come this far to not try.

I grasped my drink and walked over to the man taking a seat on the other end of the table. I set my drink aside and laid down leaning against the wall. His face was young but at least a couple years older than me, maybe twenty six.

Sky blue eyes locked on me like a determined hawk circling prey – his mouth thin and the structures of his face subtle but beautiful. If I had to guess he hadn’t shaved in almost a week. I mouthed to him ‘mind if I sit?’

He shifted in his seat and looked back down at his Smartphone as though he had acknowledged me precisely enough to file me away as unworthy. I could feel my chest writhing at that. He then mouthed a very simple response without looking at me, his brow rising in turn. ‘If.’

His brevity irked me equally as much as I seemed to annoy him. Still, there was something about him that I felt I had to probe him further. I drank some more of my shake, trying to get his attention by generally existing in his immediate area. That was my usual plan of action for getting one’s attention. All he did was read. I should have worn something more revealing, or maybe that wouldn’t have done me any good anyway. Figures.

Hesitation gripped me, I knew that I was being annoying – but sometimes life calls for such things. I took the length of white wire coming from his ear between my fingers and immediately his eyes darted towards me, silently warning not to do so. It was only a few seconds but it felt like minutes, I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to go through with this – a part of me desperately just wanting to forget it all and go home.

I pulled slowly on the wire of his earphones until they came out.

It was then that he grabbed my wrist before taking out the other bud in his ear. “Persistent quim,” his grip was tight. “You’re really the type to put your foot in the door aren’t you?” he forcefully let go of my wrist and fiddled with his phone.

“Do you always ignore pretty girls that try to get your attention? I’ll have you know some people find my qualities endearing,”

“Your words not mine,” warmth assailed me. He leaned forward his eyes intense but impossible to look away from. “You do know people lie – right?” He grabbed my banana shake and casually took a sip. I immediately shot a hand forward in protest but he was just as quick to stop me. “If you’re going to be so rude then don’t act surprised,” he sipped and insisted before giving it back to me.

“Very charming,” I extended my hand to him. “Trish.”

His grip was firm. “Dean,” he informed. “I take it you don’t handle rejection well,” he surmised.

I scoffed. “Yeah,” I said. “It’s not something I’m used to but I guess you wouldn’t know about that,” I lashed out. Knots and excitement fluttered.
 
“So what are you here for? Just to loiter?” His lack of plate or drink seemed suspect.

“I come here once a week,” he admitted. “It’s usually peaceful,” he paused. “Quiet even.”

I nodded. “I’m supposed to be looking for someone important but all I ended up with was…”

“Some might take that as insulting,” he remarked.

“Some,” I replied brushing back the tresses of my hair.

“This person you’re looking for,” he leaned in closer to me, I could make out from his bangs that he had hair black as jet shrouded beneath his hoodie. “What does this person look like?”

“I’m not sure. Probably a handsome man in his mid thirties – definitely rich.”

“Nothing else?”

“What do you mean?” He smiled as I asked that.

“I mean,” he smacked his lips and wet them with his tongue. “What kind of person is he? Is this a good guy or some kind of scum from the streets?”

“I wouldn’t know,” I spoke slowly wondering if there was anything more to the curiosity. “If I had to guess, I’d say he’s got to be a control freak.”

“Why?”

I tilted my head slightly to the right and leaned in closer to Dean so that his face was only an arm’s length away. A wolfish grin escaped me as I looked into the blue of his eyes and whispered in his ear. “Because he’s going through an awful lot of trouble just to fuck me,” I could smell a fancy shot of cologne on his neckline. “Hopefully wherever he is,” I looked over my shoulder. “That sometimes playing hard to get ends up stopping you from getting who you really want,” I murmured before letting out a sigh and getting up. I then took my leave immediately before the man could process what I’d said. He could have stopped me, but he didn’t.

Dean Underwood. Had a nice ring to it.

Further Down, Alice.

Darkness, aside from the soft green night light, was all that comforted me as I read the letter over and over again hoping that each new pass over would undo all the misgiving and suffering that I associated with it. I was going to go out tonight with friends, what little I had left, but it wouldn’t feel right – there would have been a weight on my shoulders invisible but there. Always there.

I didn’t know what to do, all I knew was what I didn’t want to keep feeling – but it washed over me time and time again and I would lounge in this lagoon of memory and misery like it were the sickly comfort of an old friend that caressed me with one hand and pressed the blade to my throat with another. Guilt. That’s what it was. Drowning me drop by drop.

I was so quiet, as I had always been; for fear that someone might hear me – that by some off chance a stranger or a neighbor might hear my sniffles. The doorbell rang and I flinched. But my lethargy wrapped itself tight around me – not much different from my blankets. I ignored the airy ring for several minutes before a familiar voice called out to me.

“I know you’re in there,” James said. It had been almost a week since I heard anything from them. But I had lost my interest in what they had to offer, I didn’t want to be here anymore – I couldn’t bring myself to wake up another day when I left so much behind that day. Still, I got up dressed in my jeans and shirt – my hair still a mess – and unlocked the front door.

 
James was illuminated by the lights of the apartment above him, with both hands in pocket and a withering smirk on his face. He could plainly see that my eyes were red. “You okay?” He asked.

“Fine,” was my curt response. I hated looking weak. “What do you want,” my voice was dry and tired, I wanted nothing to do with anything.

I could tell he was concerned, though why exactly… it’s not as though he knew me. He shifted slightly in his place. “It’s not what I want,” he corrected.

“Well I don’t give a shit,” I tried closing the door but James persisted, putting his foot in the way. James put his hand on the door and didn’t say a word, simply looked into my eyes. They reminded me of memory’s forgotten, enthralled me with a warmth and a danger. I had gotten myself involved too deep with something I thought I could outsmart.

“Darlin I was told to be pushy,” he swept a hand through his curls. “Insistent,” he said. “But not force anything on ya, not that I would even if he told me to,” James looked down at his feet and raised a brow. “Others would,” he assured and looked back to me. “I’ll tell you right now from experience that whatever it is…” his eyes scanned across my room briefly. I felt paralyzed, not wanting to interrupt with a single word.

“... Whatever it is you want or you need Dean’ll help ya get it,” James briefly touched his face as I gave him a defeated sigh.

“Everything that once was?” I said. “It can’t be anymore.” I tried not to let the quaver in my voice break through, but it came unwanted regardless. “I can’t just spin the wheel and win; I can’t just wake up and have it back. Nobody can bring that back.” I looked away and sent myself further away inside, not wanting to feel the sting of coming tears.

James put his middle and index finger on my cheek and nudged me back in his direction. “I’m not here to sell ya lies,” the words came from him strained. “They tell ya to let go of grief, like it’s something you can put down or back up on a shelf. But it’s not like that, no, it’s not like that at all,” his voice darker and pain laced in the last of his words.

He brought his fingers away from my cheek. “You live with it, you endure it – it’ll color your character and not just a part of it but all of it. Makes you something you’re not.”

“What if it just—“ I covered my face and sniffled. “What if it just, just I don’t know reveals something that you are?” I pressed. “How could you know that? How could you live with that?”

James cleared his throat and stepped back a half step before folding his arms. “Our truth is what we make it,” he turned his head and uncrossed his arms, reaching into his pocket pulling out a small notebook and pen. He scrawled something down quickly. Putting the items away, he handed me the piece of paper. His number. James then turned away and walked his way back to his car.

“Wait,” I called out, seeing him swivel on his heel before I turned around to put on my shoes. I wiped my eyes discreetly and grabbed my keys before locking and closing the door behind me. I walked over to James. “How many more hoops am I going to have to jump through?”

“No more. Tonight’s the night,” he said.

“For?”

“Tonight’s the night you’re either in or you’re out. Ya won’t hear a word from us again if you say no…”

“Tell me more,” I insisted before moving past him and stepping down the stairs of the complex, waiting for him to saunter down to me. He led me over to what I assumed was the same black SUV that picked me up two weeks ago.

“I know from the way she talks about you,” he was talking about Carina, I presumed, as we approached the back of the vehicle. “And from the questions we asked you that the job we’re offering is a bit surreal… a number of the people we work with and employ have acquired tastes,” for once he was really trying to side step a more direct explanation.

“Acquired tastes,” I repeated.

“Yes,” he put a hand on the car and leaned, looking away from me occasionally. He was uncomfortable talking about it for some reason. “Bondage, submission, exhibition, domination,” “It goes with the job not just for pretty little things such as yourself, but for lots of us,” he admitted.