Motown Throwdown

Motown Throwdown

K.S. Adkins

Copyright © 2015 K.S. ADKINS

Published by K.S. Adkins

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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Published: K.S. Adkins 2015

Other works by K.S. Adkins:

The Detroit After Dark Series: Available now!

Brutal

Brawler

Berserk

Ballistic

8 Mile & Rion

Convincing Bet

My hair wasn’t frizzy, check.

My makeup was subtle but classy, check.

My outfit was tight but not hooker chic, check.

My breasts were, huge, okay skip that one.

My ass was big but showcased nicely in these jeans, all systems go.

Which brought me to the begging, I hated begging. It’s very unbecoming but I had to do it. It took a lot of negotiating which included a month of laundry duty to get my friend Brandt to agree to this. Believe me, this was a huge concession for me too because I really hated laundry. Especially a guy’s laundry because…gross. He didn’t want to come because he hated the host and wasn’t shy about calling me a tool for showing. But Roman Peterson had asked me and there was no way I would miss it. We had some challenges, his personality being all of them but, I feel like we’ve found our common ground.
I was proud of how far we’ve come together. I’d been tutoring and spending time with him all year but had dreamt of him long before that
. 
Honestly, I don’t think there was a single girl on campus that didn’t.

Here Roman was a God. (Roman, God, get it?)

Between a heavy class load, studying and tutoring for extra money, I always looked like shit when we met up. He’s seen me decent a few times but for the most part I was always a hot mess in glasses. Tonight, I wanted him to see me when I was at my best. Not the nerdy tutor but the girl underneath, the woman in training. The one who didn’t have time for makeup, guys, and parties right now but came because he finally asked. Because he wanted me where he was, in his world. Because he was proud to be seen with me. Walking in, we weren’t there ten minutes before Brandt bailed refusing to be a part of this and I couldn’t blame him.

Chaos, pure and total chaos and in the center of it all was Roman.

A full hour passed when I finally saw the opportunity to say hello and to thank him for the invite before leaving. And I was leaving too, I didn’t belong here, I could feel it. He was talking to his teammates and for once no girls were hanging on them so I saw my chance. Tapping him on the shoulder, when he turns I liked the fact that he didn’t have to look up at me. Roman was exceptionally tall at six foot seven and I liked looking up at him, a lot. “Um, I just wanted to say hi and thank you for the invite,” I stumble. “I sent your work in and you really pulled through. Oh and congratulations on being drafted! Again!” I managed to get out all in one breath.

“Rome,” says Matthew Baker his defensive end, “You know this bitch?”

“Bitch?” I counter, getting riled up. “Listen cocksucker, I’m his t---“

“She’s fucking lost is what she is,” he says moving me away by taking my arm. Despite his tone, his grip was gentle and that upset me too. “The library is that way Einstein.”

“What in the hell is the matter with you?”

“Me? The fuck is the matter with you thinking I want you here. You see these bitches I get to choose from? You think you measure up? You don’t. Not even close.” At that they all laughed like sheep do.

“I dunno man,” says a player I didn’t recognize. The same one that’s been watching me all night, like stalker watching me and it creeped me out. “She could be hot in like ten years and a fuck load of alcohol.”

“Yeah, well she isn’t hot right now is she?” he says sneering at me but never letting go. Just then Michelle Porter saunters up to his side and joins in the fun at my expense. I really thought he and I were past this but I was very wrong and very pissed. Knowing it was time to go and before I lost it, I give him my parting jab while staring Michelle down. The girl was dangerous and he needed to proceed with caution. Since he’s never listened to me before I didn’t expect him to listen now, but he should have.

“She’s trouble, Roman, remember I said that.”

“Bitch, are you still here?” it sounded more like bith are woo til ear but I got the gist. Pulling his arm around her to keep her standing she put her free hand on his dick and smiled. With a look I swore was regret, he took Michelle and turned away from me. That night my heart broke but with time, I recovered.

Roman Peterson however, did not.

I’ve been coming to Lush every Thursday for three months. Thursday is karaoke night and quickly it had become my favorite night of the week. Between the hospital and dodging my dad’s attempts at hooking me up with a compatible male, singing was my only solace.

Okay so I had an ulterior motive for going
every
Thursday. 

Him.

Ten years later I found him when I least expected it, when I wasn’t even consciously looking. The first night I saw him, I almost fell off the stage. One second life seemed fulfilling then I saw him and realized I wasn’t fulfilled, I was empty, that he was what had been missing from it. He was still impossibly tall, still deliciously dark and even more stunning than I remembered. Roman was the doorman for Lush now and was still the largest man I had ever seen. I didn’t know he worked here when Jules invited me to come. Since finding out I can’t stay away and I always come alone hoping he’ll approach, he doesn’t. One look at him and you could see he was a changed man. The all-star quarterback that could make me laugh or reduce me to tears was long gone. His arrogance had evaporated, his cocky attitude vanished. In its place was a man wanting to stay hidden.

He used to be quite the whore. Attention whore, man whore, football whore. The Roman I remember lived for the spotlight, often doing heinous things to stay there. He could be reckless, mean or charming depending on his audience. The guy manning the door didn’t want attention of any kind, he wanted to be left alone. But he was impossible to hide with the layers of muscle, tick in his jaw, the tattoo that encompassed his entire neck and throat. The man I see today was as lost now as he was then, only he’s older and angrier. Given the circumstances, he was allowed to be.

My memories had preserved him forever as the clean-cut football God not the ripped, tatted-out ex-con. But the second I saw him I realized both worked for me. I liked Roman period. Like no time had passed, like life hadn’t severed our connection, it was him that I would sing to, it couldn’t be helped. His presence gave me the courage to sing tracks that were deep, soulful, most times lusty and all aimed at him.

At first I didn’t think he noticed me with all the women vying for his attention (trust me, they
always
did). However, in between manning the door and pushing them away, when I sang, he listened to me, saw only me. This was thrilling considering the last time we were in a crowd together he singled me out to humiliate me. That humiliation cut me deep and a decade later I still couldn’t shake it. In college our routine had been keep Kandace hanging and confused, if I were a class he’d have aced it, he was a pro at it.

Now in the present our routine was each Thursday I would come in sing to him, then feel his crystal eyes on me as I drove away. For those few precious minutes I had him to myself again, it was just us. No words were exchanged but I spoke to him through song wondering if he understood that I’d never forgotten him. I hoped he knew but would never get the chance to ask.

There was this tiny incident in the lot behind the building a few weeks back. Two men thought it would be fun to attack me on a school night. It started like most attacks do, catcalls, hey baby’s and when I brushed them off they became aggressive. I was prepared for aggressive when he appeared from the shadows and in seconds had both men on the ground stealing my thunder. I watched as he literally beat them down like he was trained for it which let me say was
hot
and unexpected. I’ve never known him to be that aggressive or to fight at all, but I didn’t know him anymore. My biggest mind fuck was that he threw down over me in the first place. Last time I checked, Roman Peterson couldn’t decide if he liked me or hated me. Unfortunately for me, when it came to him I always knew how I felt.

Discarded.

Coming over to me he opened my hand and laughed
at me
. “The fuck were you planning to do with an Exacto knife, Einstein?” Oh yeah, this was going to end well. Name calling, very mature
and,
very Roman.