Текст книги "Lead Him Not Into Temptation"
Автор книги: M. L. Steinbrunn
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 11 страниц)
Jen
“You have got to be shittin’ me,” I say as we pull into the gravel parking lot. “You realize we aren’t thirteen, right? We’re adults.”
Casen puts the pickup in park; a truck I think he has the strangest, almost unhealthy, relationship with, and he looks to me with a shit-eating grin. “Just because we’re almost thirty, doesn’t mean we need to act like it all the time. I know you’re not the boring type, sparky. Get out of the truck, we’re having some fun tonight.”
I’m always a girl up for a good time, but I haven’t been to a carnival since I was a freshman in high school. The lights of the death traps for rides brighten the night sky as waves of teenagers fill the fairgrounds, racing from one electronic adventure to the next. None of it makes me want to hop out and run to the Tilt-a-Whirl. Standing in a crowded line with a bunch of horny, zit-faced teenagers is not my idea of a rip-roaring good time
Casen runs around the front of the truck and opens my door. What a gentleman, too bad I’d have just as much chance of needing a tetanus shot whether I went near a carnival ride or his man parts. He swings open the passenger door, and the smell of cotton candy, popcorn, and roasted peanuts fill my nostrils, tickling me with temptation.
“Get your ass out of the truck, sparkplug,” he says, holding his hand out for me to take. “We’re going to have us some fun.”
Smacking his hand away, I jump down out of the truck. “No twisty, spinning rides which may end my life and you’re buying me as much junk food as I can hold down.” I turn to him, looking for agreement.
“You got it, but you owe me one round on the bumper cars,” he says, shutting the truck door behind me.
The bumper cars sound like the perfect way to let out some of the pent-up frustration I have for this man. Instead of admitting my friends are right and I like Casen, I find it easier to pretend he brings out my homicidal tendencies. The bumper cars sound ideal; where else can I act out my road rage fantasies and legally rear-end someone?
Walking side by side, we slowly approach the chaos. I giggle at Casen as the jittery excitement I’m containing spills out. The sirens and screams from the rides mix with the buzzers of the games area and the overwhelming noise begins to crowd my senses. My eyes widen at the sight, which includes carnies ready to swindle me out of a dollar, funnel cakes, and ring toss for a gold fish prize. All I need now is a margarita stand and I would squeal.
“I thought you were too old for such childish things?” Casen asks¸ when he notices my enthusiasm.
I rein in a grin before answering, which probably makes me look even worse. “Well, I figure if I’m going to spend the evening with you and a bunch of hormonal teenagers, I might as well drink the Kool-Aid and enjoy myself. Besides, I could never pass up the opportunity to beat your ass at ring toss.”
“Sure, sure,” he laughs. “Whoever gets the biggest stuffed animal wins. Loser buys the winner a funnel cake. Sound like a fair wager?”
I let my eyes scan over the rows of games, sizing up my best options. “Biggest stuffed animal or the most prizes?” I ask for clarification.
“Biggest.” He folds his arms across his chest waiting for my answer. I stare at the intricate designs of his tattoos splayed across his tanned, toned arms. They are beautiful to look at and for a split second, I think about what it would feel like to have them wrapped around me. Unfortunately, I know his mouth would probably ruin my warm, fuzzy moment.
“And you can’t buy the prize, it must be won,” he adds when he notices my devious grin, albeit for a different reason than he thinks.
“Of course. No cheating. Game’s on, sucker,” I agree, lightly pushing on his stone hard chest. I wonder if those tattoos merge onto his chiseled chest. Fuck, Jen, get your lady parts under control, I tell myself, quickly pulling my hand back and letting it hang at my side.
We both buy a bundle of tickets and rush to the bumper cars. We figure it’s better to get the assault and battery out of the way before we begin hauling around the massive amount of prizes we both plan to win. I’m sure we’re both overestimating our ability to out-play the carnie-folk who learn from birth how to rig a game so no one ever wins, but nonetheless, we are confident.
Handing the operator my ticket, I rush through the gate and select my vehicle of mayhem. “I want the green one!” I shout, jumping into the driver’s seat and buckling the seat belt. It seems like an oxymoron to have safety restraints on a ride in which the purpose is to knock the shit out of the other participants using an electric car the size of a Power wheel. “Prepare for a week of whiplash, Thompson,” I tease as he climbs into a blue car with yellow racing stripes. I can’t help but smile at this man who seems so carefree. He’s not like me. He isn’t hiding; he’s not afraid to truly be with someone. He hasn’t restrained his heart to protect it from the whiplash of love. No, Casen is nothing like me.
The cars are filled with people, but there is only one particular car I zero in on when the operator flips the switch to bring the cars to life. The poles connecting the cars to the ceiling spark and buzz as the cars move around the roller-skating rink arena. I press on the accelerator and turn the wheel in the direction of Casen. Moving behind a group of other riders, I’m hoping for an initial surprise attack; it may be the only good shot I get at him. I swing around the cluster of people, only to realize I’ve lost him in the crowd. I search the cars looking for the blue car with recognizable yellow stripes and I come up empty.
Then out of nowhere, my body lurches forward, my face nearly hitting the foam steering wheel. I now have an appreciation for the harness I mocked not more than five minutes ago. I rub my neck and look behind me to verbally bash the culprit, only to see Casen there. He took a play from my bumper-car playbook and used it against me…asshole.
“Looks like you may need a refresher course on the purpose of bumper-cars, sparkplug,” he says as cocky as ever. “I think you confused it with go-carts.”
“Very funny,” I snap. “You just watch your ass, speed-racer.” I narrow my eyes at him and rocket around him. Turning in a circle, I race toward him and slam into the side of his car, sending him crashing into the side of his vehicle. He frowns at me, almost stunned that I took a shot at him. I pretend to be innocent of any wrongdoing, but I immediately smile on the inside.
We spend the remainder of the five-minute ride evading each other while occasionally bumping into others around us unintentionally. That is, until we notice a teenage boy purposely knocking into all of the younger kids on the ride. He knows none of them and is intentionally broadsiding any kid smaller than him; some have even started to cry. Casen and I look to one another and without speaking, we both know what to do with this little shit. We circle in opposite directions in order to outflank deputy dipshit. Timing it perfectly, we accelerate and slam into either side of the teen’s car, bouncing from Casen’s then to mine like a ping-pong ball. I wanted to yell, ‘Score! Man down,’ but I instead I try to act my age. It’s difficult, but I do my best.
“Young man, are you okay? That was a hard hit,” I ask him, acting as concerned as possible considering my limited acting skills.
He looks pissed at first, rubbing his neck. “Jeeeez, it’s like you tried to hit me on purpose.”
“Dude, you know you’re on the bumper-cars, right? If you were looking for non-contact, there’s a go-cart place just down the road,” Casen interjects. His eyes slide to mine and I try to hide my smile at the same words he used on me.
“Whatever, you guys suck. Aren’t you a little old to be at a carnival without kids?” dingle berry says as he walks away. As soon as he’s out of sight, I finally let out the laugh I’d been holding in.
“I told you we were too old to be here,” I tell Casen through laughter.
“Why, because the teenage bully we just gave a lesson to said so? Yeah, I’m gonna go with bullshit on that one,” he jokes.
Casen places his hand on my back and leads me through the exit of the arena. His hand feels like fire; however, his touch is not a burn I would shy away from. It’s a warmth which makes me want to snuggle into him and seek more of. I fight through the feeling and move away from him. I know better than to get into a relationship, especially with a guy like Casen. I’m great at flings, give me a week or maybe two and it’s a magical time filled with awesome sex. I don’t venture into anything more than that. More would require honesty; it would require sharing the real me with someone. I can’t risk the emotional crippling of rejection; so instead, I sacrifice relationships for casual encounters. They are safer, easier. For the last decade safe and easy is all I’ve wanted.
Casen and I hit game stand after game stand, cashing in our tickets. I say cashing in because that’s exactly what it’s like. We paid for the tickets just to hand said tickets right back to the person running the game, without ever getting anything in return. My luck sucked, but at least Casen hasn’t been much better. He’s toting around a tiny stuffed rabbit he won at the baseball throw.
It’s not until we walk up on the ball toss when I feel my luck turn around. The objective is to toss a ball into wooden baskets. The catch? The baskets are propped up in a way, which favors finesse and not strength. Most of the time the ball will bounce right out.
It’s do or die time. Pulling the hair tie off my wrist, I throw my hair into a messy bun. I need to make this last ticket count. “You want to go first?” I ask, trying not to show my frustration.
“No, you go right on ahead,” he says, handing his ticket over to me. “Here’s my ticket, too. I think you may need all the help you can get.”
I take his ticket and tear it up. “You’re an ass, and now neither of us can use it. You better hope Peter Cottontail can hold up a little longer.”
Giving the carnie behind the booth counter a thorough once over, I hand the little red stub over to him. His grimy clothes, oily hair, and yellowing teeth fit the name plastered across his faded nametag. Bart, like the pirate. A pirate that wants to steal my last chance at victory. The only prizes available are humungous teddy bears. Why? You get three balls and all three have to make it into the baskets to win. A person is lucky to get one in, thus the lure of the big prize. Bart slides the bucket filled with three whiffle balls to me and instructs me to take my time. Yeah, time is what I need to win; thanks for the tip, Bart.
Picking up the first whiffle ball, my fingers twisting into the holes of the ball, I concentrate on the baskets. Taking aim, I delicately toss the ball toward the center and it settles at the bottom of the basket. “Fuck ya!” I shout when I see the ball isn’t going to bounce out. “One down, Mr. Thompson,” I brag.
I swipe ball number two from the bucket and repeat my previous technique. I’m met with the same positive results. Only one ball sits between victory and me. I eagerly pick up the final ball and take my aim. Just as I’m about to release it, Casen leans in and whispers, “Don’t choke.” The jerk even blows in my ear.
“You cheated!” I yell, as the ball bounces out of the basket and rolls across the dirt.
“You weren’t concentrating. If you really wanted to win, you would have,” he explains, turning and walking in the direction of the food carts.
I’m left stunned with anger beginning to roll off me. Realizing I’m being left behind, I race to catch up to him at the funnel cake stand. “That’s a load of shit and you know it.”
“Maybe,” he laughs. “But I couldn’t help it; I couldn’t get beat by a girl.”
I roll my eyes; I know damn well Casen doesn’t care if he loses to a girl. He just wanted to piss on my parade.
Casen takes a look around and finds a little girl nearby and offers her his rabbit. He even asks the girl’s parents first. I’m sure if Carly or Vivian were here, their hearts would have melted and their ovaries would have had a heart attack, but not me. My first thought is, you’re not supposed to take gifts from strangers, little girl. What kind of parents are these to let some random, thirty-something guy give their kid a stuffed animal at a carnival, when said guy doesn’t even have kids with him? It screams Dateline special on how to catch a predator.
“Now neither of us has a prize, we’re even,” he says when he returns from his creepy good deed.
“I guess so. I say we buy our own funnel cakes. You’re without a prize, and I’m not nice to cheaters,” I tell him before filing into the funnel cake line.
After we each take our turn buying our snacks and find seats on a set of nearby hay bales, we both dig into the confectionary goodness, which is no doubt rotting my teeth with every bite.
“So, Stacy, huh?” I ask, shoving another piece of bread into my mouth, powdered sugar leaving a trail on my chin. “You guys all just take your turn passing her around or what?”
He chokes on his funnel cake and it takes him a moment to catch his breath. “I’ve never been with Stacy, not for a lack of trying on her part. I told you, I don’t sleep around, Jen,” he responds and then wipes the sugar off my chin.
“But you hang with Royce and you have to admit that guy has had more ‘tang than an astronaut.” Casen bursts into laughter at my critique of his friend.
“Royce really isn’t that bad of a guy, but I’m nothing like him when it comes to women. You need to understand the difference between him and me. While Royce is looking for a girl for the night, I’m looking for a girl for the rest of my life.” I try to let his comparison sink in, but before I can respond, Casen gathers our trash and once again offers his hand to me. “Come on, I’ll take you back to your car. Thank you for hanging out with me tonight. I hope this means we’ve called a truce and can be friends.”
I don’t say anything. Instead, I smile and slide my hand into his. That’s all I need to show him. My hand tucked in his provides a sense of security that I never thought I could tolerate, let alone seek out. Just for a moment, I can feel those restraints unbuckle and my heart beats wildly at the idea of a relationship with Casen, but then my mind gains control again, and snaps those emotions back into place. The risk is too daunting.
Jen
Shit, shit, shit! I pride myself on my ability to be on time to appointments. Correction; I pride myself on the effort I put into trying to be on time to events. I’m usually late, but I try hard not to be. Tonight is no damn different. It’s only the third show in the tour and I, once again, have found arranging the “perfect” outfit to tease Casen has proven elusive and is now the cause for my tardiness.
Tonight is a bigger show in Colorado Springs with several bands performing throughout the evening. The venue is large, the crowd is supposed to be large, and the media attention leading up to it has been large. Being late is not good.
I manage to find a parking spot in the crowded lot behind the venue, which is filled with tour buses, roadies, and the inevitable groupies/fans who are loitering in the back section of the lot, waiting for their chance to “see” the bands.
Slamming my little Camry into park and grabbing my camera bag, I rush toward the back entrance for employees-only as quickly as my skirt and heels will allow. It’s not until I reach the security gate and the burly guard when I realize I don’t have my crew pass which will allow me on the lot behind the scenes. What a perfect cherry on top to my shit-evening-sundae.
“Sorry, I forgot my badge; do you have a list or something for approved personnel?” I ask as I approach the guard. He’s somewhat intimidating, more large than muscular, but bigger than me nonetheless. He has a bit of a haggard appearance with shaggy hair and a few days’ worth of facial hair growth. As I get closer I smell alcohol on him, which if the guys in the band or Campbell knew about, he would be tossed out on his ass quicker than Royce could charm the panties off one of the girls waiting at his bus.
“Sorry, honey. No badge, no entrance; those are the rules,” he replies as his eyes scan my body, probably appraising whether I’m someone of importance or just some well-dressed groupie. “But you know, with a little persuasion, I’ve been known to bend the rules a little,” he adds, moving closer to me and placing a hand on my ass.
I quickly bat his hand away. “Not interested, asshole. Do I look like the type who would fuck some random limp-dick roadie just for entrance into a small-time concert?”
His breath is warm and acidic, breathing heavily on me as he considers his next chess move. I don’t back down though, not from this fuckwad who thinks he can push me around. However, he surprises the hell out of me when he grabs my hand and places it on his dick.
“I think you look like a slut who’s pretending she wouldn’t fuck anyone who would get her want she wants. And, I would say, right now, you want entrance into this concert. I also think you’ll find there is nothing limp about this situation.”
His other hand once again finds my ass, squeezing and rubbing it so hard that I realize I’m outmatched and I need to back away from the situation. I move my hand away from his less than impressive area, rear my knee back as much as I can in his grasp, and kick him in the junk hard enough to double him over and cause blunt force trauma to his little swimmers.
“I said I wasn’t interested, dipshit,” I say, taking a step away from him as he catches his breath. I refuse to leave, if anything I’ll call one of the guys and have them meet me at the gate to let me in.
When he finally gathers his bearings, he stands and the look on his face sends an uncomfortable chill up my back; rage is radiating off of him. “You bitch,” he roars as he raises his hand and slams it across my face, sending me flying to the unforgiving asphalt. An explosion of pain spreads throughout my cheek and the ground rips open the skin on my knee. I feel the blood begin to drip down my leg.
I’m left on the ground, stunned. I’ve never been struck before and I don’t know how to respond. I don’t want to exacerbate the situation by verbally attacking him further, but I don’t want to run away and let this go as if I accept what he’s done as acceptable. I’m only on the ground for a few seconds, with no chance to make up my mind on my course of action, before he’s picking me up and pulling me by my hair toward a shadowed part of the gate.
I let out as much of a scream as I can muster, recognizing this might be my only chance to call for help. “Shut the fuck up,” he huffs, as he throws me against the fence, pinning me between it and his chest. His fingers are twisted into my hair, holding me in place, my battered face being scraped further by the metal of the fence.
“Please,” I plead. “Please stop.” I try to wiggle out of his grasp but he’s too strong. His acidic, beer breath is hot on my neck and it turns my stomach. I continue to struggle until I feel his free hand moving under my skirt ripping at my panties. My body tenses and panic overwhelms me.
“Women like you need to be taken down a few notches,” I hear him whisper “I plan on teaching you a fucking lesson.”
My brain begins to shut off to the present, making way for the images of the night that changed everything. It was an event I could never truly remember, but the scenes in the photographs are something I could never forget. They flood my head, taking over.
Before his hands can violate my body further, the weight forcing me against the fence is gone and I slide down until I’m sitting on the ground, huddled against the jagged metal, gripping onto it for safety.
My eyes are pinched shut, but somehow tears have managed to escape and are sliding down my face. I feel completely out of control as my body shakes with adrenaline, but still I refuse to release the safety of the chain-link. When I feel hands on my face and then smoothing through my hair, the sensation causes me to yell out and move closer to the fence, even though there is no possible way to get any closer without climbing it.
“Shhh, sweetheart. You’re safe now,” a smooth, baritone voice that has become so familiar to me whispers…Casen. I know it’s him, but I can’t seem to let myself peel away from the fence.
“I’m here, Jen. Let go, baby, I’m here,” Casen continues as he tries to pull me away from the gate.
The blood rushes back to my fingers when I release my grip on the slick metal. My thumbs run along the indentations to soothe the throbbing sensation. Casen immediately slides me onto his lap and I burrow myself into his chest.
“What the fuck happened here, man?” I hear Royce shout.
“What the fuck do you think happened, Royce?” he replies as he begins to stand with me in his arms. “Call the police to get this piece of shit out of here. I’m taking her with me.” It’s only then I finally open my eyes and the sight before me causes a sob to break loose. My attacker is on the ground, unconscious and bleeding. I can’t see them, but I’m sure I would find large gashes on Casen’s knuckles, judging from the damage his hands caused.
“No, no police,” I tell him. His strong stride instantly stops.
“We have to call the police, he needs to go to jail for this,” he says soothingly, holding me close.
I respond by shaking my head adamantly. I may not give a shit about my horrible parents, but I’m smart enough to know not to venture under their radar. “If there are police reports, there will be media attention. Please, I just want to leave.”
Casen dips his head and sighs after an excruciatingly long pause. I know he’s going against his better judgment by respecting my wishes, and if he were calling the shots here there would be about a million police cars circling this back lot.
“Okay,” he finally says before turning back around to face Royce. “Don’t call the police, Royce, just get this shit bag off the lot and see to it that he won’t be working any more venues. Whatever Deputy Dewey badge he has, I want it revoked.”
“No fucking way, we need to call the authorities, and what in the hell am I supposed to do with this guy? What about the show, man?” Royce asks.
Casen tightens his grip on me and takes a deep breath before letting out a bellow, which makes me startle in his arms. “Dammit, Royce, just fucking handle this!” he shouts, taking a step closer to him. “Tell Campbell I had some kind of emergency and she’ll find a stand-in for the night. Either way, I’m leaving and taking Jen with me.”
Without giving Royce the opportunity to argue, he storms off in the direction of his truck. I don’t protest, I don’t request he take me to my car. I go willingly with him, handing over every bit of control I usually demand from a situation. Casen makes me feel safe and taken care of, a feeling I rarely have felt in my life. My parents couldn’t protect me, my friends have never known I needed protection, yet Casen has somehow stepped in and given me what I needed in the exact moment I needed it.
Once in the passenger seat and on the road, the lights of the city begin to fade. As the dark landscape of the mountains envelops us, I allow my mind to finally process the events of the evening. Thankfully, Casen doesn’t bombard me with questions or pepper me with insistent probing into my well-being. He stays quiet, merely holding my hand to show his support; it’s like he knows that is all I need or even want right now.
The darkness and lack of conversation forces my mind to be overtaken by the resurfaced memories of my tainted past and the terrifying events which occurred this evening. I’m conflicted by feelings of appreciation as well as embarrassment that Casen was there to see and save me in such a vulnerable moment. As much as I don’t want Casen to see me struggle, I can’t keep my tears at bay. They slowly run down my cheeks and when Casen hears my sniffles, he squeezes my hand, but continues to remain silent. I’m so emotionally exhausted it soon becomes a challenge to keep my eyes open. It isn’t long before I feel the calmness of sleep pull me under.
