Wrong Side of Town (9 page)

Chapter Nine

Estella

My arrangement with Vincent continued for the next two weeks like a strange routine I couldn’t bring myself to break.

Every Tuesday and Friday afternoon, I would wait outside the Penthill library for Vincent to pick me up. We never spoke except for a generic greeting before Vincent rode me over to his house.

The silences that stretched between Vincent and I were bizarre. It wasn’t an awkward silence and it wasn’t a silence that came about from having nothing to say to each other. On the contrary, there was so much I wanted to say to Vincent, so much I wanted to know about him. I wanted to ask him why he had so many tattoos. I wanted to know about their mother. I wanted to understand his reasons for being in a gang.

Most of all, I wanted to know if he still thought about that first night we’d run into each other.

Similarly, I felt like the silence Vincent directed towards me was forced, like he was intentionally trying to stop himself from saying
too
much. It was weird how we were both in perfect sync when it came to avoiding communication.

So, for two weeks we stuck to the same routine. We’d get groceries and then Vincent would drop me off at his house. I would start dinner and tutor Dylan while I cooked in between. Then, once our hour was up, I would turn on the radio to the jazz station, and Dylan and I would dance.

I had no idea where Vincent disappeared to during this time, but exactly an hour later he would return and eat dinner with us. After Dylan and I did the dishes together, Vincent would take me home. We would not-communicate some more and when he dropped me off, I would thank him and say good night and he would say nothing.

I kept waiting for something to go wrong, but everything continued in this weird, normal routine. Well, as normal as it could be when you went to the house of the Madden gang leader twice a week.

The two older Madden brothers had yet to show up. Dylan had informed me that they were away for a couple of weeks on business. I didn’t want to consider what the word “business” implied in their line of work. It was probably best if I didn’t know.

To be honest, the Madden’s property was pretty peaceful. They had a large block of land just off the main road and a creek ran just past their house. I hadn’t even sensed the faintest hint of trouble since I’d first started coming here, and I had a feeling that it had a lot to do with Dylan, and Vincent’s determination to seemingly want a better life for his little brother.

The most disturbing thing about the entire place? Believe it or not, it was how at peace I felt there.

Today, I’d driven straight to their house because it was one of those days where Dad hadn’t gone to work because he’d been passed out drunk. I’d taken that opportunity to drive his station wagon to school with me and then to the Madden’s house afterwards. I didn’t like depending on Vincent to give me rides; I preferred to take care of things myself.

As I pulled into their dusty driveway, a popping sound nearly made me jump out of my skin. With a sinking feeling, I recognized that the popping sound had been me getting a flat tire.

I climbed out of the car and rounded the side, checking for the flat as I went. Once I reached the back, I easily spotted the deflated tire on the left.

Great. Just what I needed. I wasn’t really in the mood to be changing a tire.

I mean, I was pretty sure I knew how to change a tire. Sure, Nathan and Savannah had helped me on both occasions, but I’d paid attention as they’d changed it and was pretty confident in my tire-changing abilities. Sort of.

With a sigh, I popped open the trunk and pulled out the spare, the jack, and the tire iron before crouching down and putting the jack into position and elevating the car so I could start undoing the lug nuts.

Feeling pretty pleased with myself, I tried to unscrew a lug nut but only met resistance. Was I turning it the wrong way? Frowning, I tried to turn it the other way but nothing moved either. I put a little more effort into it, but my hands began to hurt from the strain.

What the heck? Nathan and Savannah had made this look so easy. I could cook, I could clean, I could sew, and I could quilt better than anyone’s grandma, but I couldn’t unscrew a darn lug nut!

“Oh, you piece of tosh!” The British accent I often adopted when I was alone slipped into my tone as I became frustrated at my below average tire-changing abilities.

There was a snicker from behind me, and I spun around, my cheeks flaming up at the sight of Vincent standing behind me.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that none of his tattoos were visible. He was dressed all in black with a white t-shirt visible through his half-zipped leather jacket—his jeans fit him in a way that made the heat pool in my cheeks.

His hair was styled messily as usual and a couple of strands fell into his obsidian eyes as he watched me. Those full lips of his were curved in a smirk and for a brief second I wondered what it would be like to kiss them.

“The weird British girl is back again, huh?” he asked, casually shoving a hand into the pocket of his jeans.

“I-I-” I spluttered for a while before regaining my composure and learning how to speak again. “I’m changing a flat.”

Okay, so that was a ridiculous thing to say since it was pretty obvious what I was doing, but honestly, sometimes I lost the ability to speak around Vincent, especially when his dark eyes studied me as though they were searching my innermost thoughts.

He had an effect on me that I wasn’t quite sure how to explain—it was kind of like my body was on fire but being mildly electrocuted in water at the same time. Yes, that sounded painful, but there was no other way to describe the strange way he made me feel.

“Oh, is that what you’re doing?” The smirk spread across his mouth, pulling it into the sexiest half-smile I’d ever seen; it was like being slapped across the face. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you might need some serious help.”

I wasn’t sure why Vincent’s words had gotten to me—maybe I was embarrassed that I couldn’t change a tire, or maybe it was because I was embarrassed about the way I felt around him—either way, irritation had become my primary emotion.

“This might surprise you, but I’m not some damsel in distress. I know how to change a tire.” My voice came out harsher than I’d intended and for a second I actually felt guilty for coming across so rude.

Sure, Vincent had been pretty cold towards me the last few times I’d been here, but there was no reason for me to be acting the same way. It frustrated me how he brought out this whole other side to me. It was a side I wasn’t sure what to think of.

That guilt quickly vanished when Vincent’s lips turned upwards in a smirk. “Was that why you were turning the lug nut the wrong way?”

My face suddenly felt hot again, like I’d doused it in lava. I dropped the tire iron and rose to my feet, looking Vincent squarely in the eyes. “Look, I know what I’m doing.” My voice faltered at the intense look in his eyes. A heat was radiating from his body and seeping into mine, making it difficult to think. “I just-uh find your annoying eyes on me disturbing.”

“I have annoying eyes?” He cocked a brow that made my stomach twist into knots. “Well, let me just step aside with my eyes and I’ll have a word with them about their annoying behavior.”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” Yes, that was the best retort I could come up with at the moment. I was so annoyed and embarrassed and mortified that I couldn’t think straight.

Vincent held up his hands in a way of surrender. “Hey, hey, no need to get so mad now, Stelle.”

“I’m not mad,” I protested, even though I wanted to stamp my foot like an insolent child. I forced a smile onto my face. “See, I’m smiling.”

“Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.”

“That’s because you annoy me!”

Vincent cocked his head to the side, looking thoughtful. “No, your smile never quite reaches your eyes. It’s like it’s trying to get there but there isn’t enough to really light you up.”

I stared at him stunned, not really sure what to say. Where was this coming from? How often did Vincent watch me? He had clearly watched me enough to notice something so personal about me. He had found a piece of my truth that no one else ever saw.

We were doing that thing again—where there was complete silence and we were simply content to look at each other. We hadn’t looked at each other like this since the first night we’d met and now I knew that I hadn’t imagined anything—something really had changed in me that night. Vincent had changed me somehow.

Our silence was suddenly disturbed by the sound of engines cutting through the air. The sound of approaching motorcycles was unmistakable, and I barely had a second to glance at Vincent and gauge his reaction before eight bikes pulled up into the large, dusty area that I always called the “driveway” for lack of a better word.

“Fuck,” Vincent growled in an undertone.

Apprehension sank into me as I took in the intimidating men while they climbed off their bikes and moved towards like a pack of well-coordinated wolves on the prowl.

Oh no. If Vincent was worried then we were in trouble. Was this the rival Allbrook gang I’d heard so many bad things about? Had they come here to start trouble with Vincent?

One of the guys walked right up to Vincent and stopped, but instead of looking angry, his face broke into a smile. “Vin! We thought we’d come to you today!”

Doing a double take, I looked between Vincent and the guy in surprise. Vincent gave me a reassuring nod—these were friends; they were in the Madden gang.

The guy that’d spoken was tall, broad shouldered, and a lot bigger than Vincent. He had a goatee and a faint moustache. The tattoos on his bare arms were large and intimidating images of skulls and serpents. I immediately felt uncomfortable and turned away as the skin on the left side of my arm began to prickle.

The rest of the guys from the Madden gang began speaking at once and my eyes began to swim from the sight of their tattoos. I felt suffocated; trapped.

Just as I was just about to take a step back, Vincent slipped his hand into mine. The feel of his calloused hand against mine both thrilled and terrified me. I wasn’t sure why he was holding my hand, but I knew that I didn’t hate it as much as I wanted to.

There was something about Vincent that made me feel safe. He was the kind of guy who would protect you or die trying. There was something about that notion that I found intriguing.

A hush fell across the guys as their eyes darted between Vincent and me, like they couldn’t quite believe what they were seeing.

“Vin, who’s this?” the guy with the goatee asked, fixing me with a hard look.

Vincent released my hand and I felt a twinge of disappointment. “She’s the kid’s tutor Estella.” Vincent nodded at the guy. “Stelle, this is The Goat, but you can call him Goat.”

My eyebrows shot up as I took in the burly man in front of me. Despite my anxiety at being around nine members of the Madden gang, my curiosity got the better of me. I’d always wanted to know more about these people and now I had a chance.

“The Goat? You don’t look like a goat; more like a bull or a moose, but not a goat.”

Goat continued to stare at me, and I suddenly felt nervous. I’d just called a member of the Madden gang a moose. I was so dead.

Then something flashed in Goat’s eyes and a grin broke out across his face. I glanced at Vincent and found him trying to fight a smile. Relief flooded me when I realized that Goat probably wasn’t going to kill me today.

“I like her, Vin.” Goat continued grinning at me. “She’s not like the trash you usually hang around with.”

“Trash?” I wondered out loud. What kind of girls did Vincent usually hang around with?

Goat nodded, a smirk on his face. “More trash than a garbage dump. There was this one girl who had the biggest-”

“Cut it out, Goat.” Vincent elbowed him, and Goat let out a peal of laughter that made me want to join in. He really didn’t seem very intimidating anymore.

“You gonna introduce the rest of us or what?” A guy with spiky brown hair and bright blue eyes stepped forward. I was sure he had tattoos, but because he was wearing a leather jacket none of them were visible, thank goodness.

Vincent rolled his eyes, but it was clear that he was far from annoyed. “Stelle, this is Three.” My eyebrows shot up again, and Vincent let out a low chuckle which caused the tiny hairs on my arms to rise. “He’s the third William in his family, so we call him Three. That’s Todd, Topher, West, Hudson, Riley, and Cohen.” Vincent pointed out each guy in turn and they either waved or nodded at me.

I was trying to match the names to the faces and was pretty sure I had them all memorized when Three spoke again. “We thought we’d come see you first and say hi to the kid before we leave.”

“Leave?” My eyes shot to Vincent in question. “Where are you going?”

“We go riding for an hour every Tuesday and Friday,” Cohen supplied. “It’s a new thing we started doing a couple weeks ago.”

The pieces clicked together in my brain. So this is what Vincent did when he left Dylan and I for an hour—he hung out with his friends. This newfound knowledge annoyed me. Was hanging out with his friends more important than sticking around for an hour to support his brother?