Chapter 20: King: Chapter 19

King hadn’t come to bed in days. I still helped him at night in his studio but our conversation never escalated to anything more than him barking orders at me.

On Saturday morning I’d found a box on the kitchen counter with a note addressed to me. The card read:

FOR OUR DATE. BE ON THE PORCH AT EIGHT-PREPPY

Our date? Why would we go out on a date? Inside the box was a short black strapless dress and a pair of matching heels.

Preppy had made sure I had a bunch of jeans and tank tops to wear on a daily basis. He even stopped at a store and let me pick out some underwear and bath stuff one day, but I didn’t have anything like this.

The clock on the stove read only ten am. I was disappointed I’d have to wait so long to put it on.

At eight o’clock sharp, I stood by the steps and fidgeted with the hem of my new dress. I’d spent hours showering, shaving, and blow-drying my hair. I was beyond ready, thrilled to be doing something new and grateful for the distraction.

I had no clue what Preppy had up his tattooed sleeves.

“You ready, Doe?” he asked, bounding out from the door under the stairs.

He draped an arm over my shoulder and ushered me toward King’s truck, which was already parked in front. “I wish I could take you in my car. But you know, it fucking blew up and shit,” he said bitterly.

His usual short-sleeved dress shirt had been swapped out for a dark blue long-sleeved button down that he wore untucked over a pair of dark boot cut jeans. His usual bow tie carefully in place. He smelled like he’d just gotten out of the shower. Like soap and shaving cream.

“Did you shave?” I asked. His beard looked just as long as it had that morning.

“Huh?” he asked, looking down at me.

“You smell like shaving cream, but you still have your beard.”

“It’s a date, baby girl. I manscaped in case I get lucky.”

I laughed. “You’re not getting lucky.”

“I know. King would kill me, and I rather like my life. So, I think we’ll leave that off the table. For now.” He winked. “Besides, you may not let me get my cock wet, but maybe someone else will take pity on me when the night’s over and let me get it in.”

I laughed at Preppy, his smile taking the edge of his crude words.

“You look nice,” I said. If I didn’t know any better, I would say that Preppy actually blushed.

“Thanks. But tonight, I’m not Preppy.”

“You’re not?” I asked. “Then, who are you exactly?”

“Nope, this is a date. So tonight, you can call me Samuel. I would say that you look nice, too, but you look way more than nice. I would say…”

Preppy took a step back and slid his hand down my arm, to lock his fingers around my wrist. He, then, lifted my arm and twirled me around slowly to appraise me. My face flushed with embarrassment when I noticed he was staring at my ass.

“Hot. You look HOT, baby girl. Pancakes do a body good. Real fucking good.”

“Thanks.” I felt my cheeks redden. “I wish you could call me by my real name, too, but I don’t know—”

The roar of a motorcycle drowned out my words. We both turned toward the noise. King pulled up the gravel drive and parked a shiny black bike next to one of the house pilings. It was the first time I’d seen him drive anything other than his beat-up old truck. He swung off his bike and ripped his helmet off his head, tossing it to the ground as he stomped toward us with furious steps. His brows furrowed, and his fists clenched at his sides. His eyes firmly locked on me as he approached, looking me up and down and then to where Preppy was still holding my hand.

My heart beat in a quick, uneven rhythm as he approached. My palms began to sweat. I plastered a fake smile on my face.

“Where the fuck did you get THAT thing?” King roared, pointing to my dress. His gaze darted back and forth from me to Preppy.

Preppy smiled and released my hand. Once again draping his arm over my shoulders, he tugged me into his side.

King’s eyes widened at the gesture, and I thought for sure he was going to punch one or both of us. Preppy, however, seemed unaffected by King’s mood.

“We’re gonna paint the town red, Boss-Man,” Preppy answered coolly. “How do we look?”

Something in the way he asked made me think he was goading King.

“He bought me the dress,” I added, slightly embarrassed that King obviously didn’t like it. It was strapless and form-fitting. Showing off the curves I’d developed in the days I’d been stuffing my face.

“Fuck no, you’re not. I’ve changed my mind,” King said, staring Preppy dead in the eyes. “You’re gonna get your fucking ass back in the house before I put a fucking bullet in your skull. That’s what you’re going to fucking do.”

“Why not?” I heard myself ask before I had time to register the fact that I had also shook off Preppy and stepped to King. He came forward, too. Our feet touched at the toes. Since I was much shorter than him, I had to look up to meet his disapproving gaze.

“Cause I fucking said so, pup,” King growled, his nostrils flaring.

His usual green eyes were now shining black pools of anger. There was a hardness to his features that suggested this was a fight I’d never be able to win.

That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try.

“I’m here because I don’t have any other options! I get that you’re fucking mad at me, or that you fucking hate me. I do. But I just wanted to pretend for one fucking night that I’m a normal girl on a normal date in a normal place!”

Just as I turned to head back into the house, King grabbed my elbow and spun me around, he tipped my chin up.

“Stay. Here,” he ordered, his face still hard and angry. “You.” King pointed to Preppy. “A fucking word. Now.”

He gestured with his chin to the house, releasing me as he stormed up the steps and slammed the front door behind him. Preppy looked amused although I’m not sure how he could’ve been with King steaming in such close proximity.

“Sorry, babe,” Preppy said with a knowing smile. “Maybe, another time?” He bounded up the steps, taking them two at a time. I thought about following them in, but I didn’t want to provoke King further.

I spent the next ten minutes stewing on the porch, wondering if they’d killed each other because I hadn’t heard anything inside. The sun had long since set over the trees, so I stayed under the safety of the light of the porch. I soon got tired of standing. My ass had barely touched the bottom step when the front door swung open, and King came bounding out. I jumped up and held onto the railing to keep from falling onto the walkway.

“Let’s go,” King said, holding out a hand to me. Anger still lingered on his face, along with a bit of confusion.

“Go? Go where?” I asked.

“On a date thing.” His brows furrowed again like my question confused him.

“With you?”

King nodded. Since his hand was still extended out to me and I’d made no move to take it, he reached over and grabbed my hand. That’s when I looked at him, I mean really looked at him.

He was freshly showered and smelled like he’d just put on cologne. He wore his usual dark jeans and a tight black t-shirt. His stubble was still there but neatly trimmed. It’s amazing what he’d done in the ten minutes he’d left me outside.

“With me,” he confirmed, slowly raking his eyes over my body. hid gaze burned into me.

“What happened to Preppy?” King stiffened.

“He’s no longer available,” King spat, obviously put off by the question.

“Oh,” I said, looking down at my feet.

“Fuck. Just forget it. It was a fucking stupid idea anyway.”

“What? No, I just… this was all Preppy’s idea anyway.”

“Shut up,” he said, silencing my rant. King tugged on my hand and led me over to his bike. He handed me a helmet and straddled the seat. He turned the key and it came roaring to life. He turned and gestured to the space behind him.

I shouted over the engine, “I’m wearing a dress!”

King grabbed my hand and tugged me toward him. “I think we know by now that you know how to straddle, so get the fuck on.” I pressed my thighs together, willing the memory of the night in his truck away.

“Why can’t we just take the truck, or we can walk.” I suggested.

King stared me down. “Pup?”

“Yeah?”

“Get on the fucking bike.”

“You’re really are a fucking asshole, you know that?.” I punctuated my words by digging my pointer finger into his chest. King smiled obnoxiously. I didn’t want a smile I wanted a fight. I was beginning to think it was long overdue.

“Took you long enough.” He said, grabbing hold of my finger.

“Long enough for what?”

“To figure out I’m an asshole. Now, get on the fucking bike.”

“Fuck you,” I spat.

King got off the bike and stalked toward me. He snatched the helmet out of my hands and roughly shoved it onto my head. My hair was trapped over my eyes and I was momentarily disoriented. King took advantage of that, by picking me up and setting me on the bike.

I shrieked into my helmet, and before I could protest and jump off, we were in motion. My options were then limited to holding onto King or flying off the back of his bike.

Reluctantly, I wrapped my arms around his waist.

What I really wanted was to wrap my hands around his throat.

We drove for what seemed like only a few minutes but in reality it was more like a half of an hour. The normally stagnant and wet Florida night air blew cool all around us as the bike pressed forward into the night.

My jaw dropped, and my heart sped when the neon lights came into view.

A carnival.

King had brought me to a carnival.

The Ferris wheel overhead appeared so close I thought that if I reached my hands up into the air I might be able to touch one of the swaying carts.

When King brought the bike to a stop in the grass parking lot, my body was still humming from the vibrations of the engine. In my excitement at being at a real live carnival, I jumped off the bike quickly, grazing my calf on one of the hot pipes.

“Shit, shit, shit!” I shouted, bouncing around on one leg.

King set his helmet down and came around to where I was hopping around and wincing in pain. “Come here,” he said.

I was still angry, the twenty minute ride doing nothing to take the edge off wanting to do him physical harm. I ignored his request and bent down to inspect the damage on my leg.

King shook his head and walked over to me, picking me up under my shoulders and setting me on top of a nearby picnic table. “You need to learn to do what you’re told,” he said, lifting my leg to inspect the burn.

I huffed. “Picking me up and tossing me around is unnecessary, you know.”

King leaned down and gently blew across the burn, sending hot chills up my spine. I was all too aware that the dress I wore had ridden up my thighs when he’d picked me up. I caught him glancing at the exposed white fabric between my legs.

“Then, do what you’re fucking told the first time.” He then proceeded to inspect me thoroughly. “It’s not a bad burn,” he said, but I could barely hear him over the memory of his breath against my skin.

“I thought you didn’t do gentle,” I teased.

King helped me set my foot back on the ground and reached for my hand.

“I don’t.” He turned to the gate, roughly yanking me behind him as to prove his point.

King paid for our tickets, and we entered through a turnstile. Once inside, my inner child sprang to life, and my anger was temporarily forgotten. Neon lights, carnival music, corn dog and cotton candy stands.

It was everything I ever wanted in a first date. Well, except maybe for a date who actually wanted to be there. I yanked my hand out of King’s grip, but he grabbed me again and held my hand tighter, pulling me closer into his side.

“What do you want to do first, pup?”

“Everything. I want to do absolutely everything!” I craned my neck to get a better look at the giant Ferris wheel.

“The Ferris wheel is last,” King said, pushing me toward the row of games.

As we moved deeper and deeper into the crowd, the noise level around us increased tenfold. A group of kids whizzed by us, leaving bursts of laughter in their wake.

The carnival workers shouted the names of their games and advertised how easy it was to win one of the big stuffed animal prizes they held up.

King stopped at a game where the goal was to shoot water from a gun into a hippo’s mouth in order to move the baby hippo up the ladder. Whoever shot their gun the steadiest and moved their baby hippo to the top the fastest was the winner.

“You in?”

“I’m so in,” I answered, barely able to contain my excitement. I bounced up on the balls of my feet.

“Two,” King said He removed a money clip from his pocket and plucked out a few bills, handing it to the man controlling the game. King took a seat on one of the ripped leather stools, and I took a seat a few stools down.

“Afraid to sit next to me?” King asked.

“No, but you’re huge and these stools are small. I don’t want to bump into your arm and lose just because you haven’t missed a workout in three years.” I closed one eye and readied my water gun.

King shook his head, “That mouth of yours,” he said. There are several ways I could have taken that statement, but I didn’t have time to think about it because I had a game to win.

“I’m warning you. I’m really good at this game,” King said to me.

Was he being playful?

“Competitive, are we?” I asked, keeping my focus straight ahead at the bulls-eye.

“Oh, pup. You have no idea.”

The bell rang, and the carnie shouted, “GO!”

I squeezed the trigger. Water sprayed out of my gun and directly onto the target. My little hippo shot up the ladder, and just as quickly as it had started, the game was over. I looked over to King who was sitting back smiling. What was he smiling over? I was the one who won.

“Winner! Winner!” the Carni shouted He unclipped a huge stuffed deer from the top of the tent and handed it to King, who received the prize and then started to walk away.

He’d won? How was that possible?

“Hey!” I shouted, chasing after him. “Why did you get the prize? I won. My hippo was so far ahead of yours that I didn’t even see yours move.” King stopped.

“Pup, you didn’t see my hippo move because I was done before you even began.” He was smiling. A genuine, real–life, swoon-worthy smile that reached his eyes. It was a good look on him.

No, it was a GREAT look on him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I shouted.

“Competitive, are we?” King asked, mocking me. “I told you I was good at that game.”

King seemed like any other young man who was taking a girl out on a date. Well, any other six-foot-something tattooed wall of muscle who looked like he could be an underwear model.

I liked playful King.

I liked him a lot.

“You must have played that game before,” I pouted. “Unfair advantage.”

“Yeah, I’ll give you that. This carnival has come here every year since I was a kid. Preppy and I used to sneak in the back. Over there.” King pointed toward a gate in a chain-link fence with a huge padlock keeping it shut. “We’d steal corn dogs from the food stands, right out of the fryer. Although the padlock happened only after they found out how we were getting in.”

I knew Preppy and King were best friends, but this was the first time I’d ever heard any stories from their childhood together.

“I tell you what,” King started. “Since this is a date and all, and guys usually give their dates their prizes, I will let you have my deer.” He held out the stuffed animal.

I didn’t know if he was toying with me. If I didn’t know how to handle ornery King, I certainly didn’t know how to handle nice and playful King.

I snatched it out of his hands like he was going to reconsider his offer, and I tucked it tightly under my arm. King laughed.

“What’s so funny now?” I asked.

“Doe…holding a doe.” Okay, he’d got me on that one. I held my hand over my mouth to contain my laughter.

For the next few hours, we played every single game the place had to offer.

I won none of them.

King made a point of handing me each of his prizes. Soon, I ran out of arm space to carry them all.

“I don’t think we can play anymore,” I told him, gesturing to the huge stack of cheap toys up to my chin.

The bell sounded for one of the games, and I was just about to walk away when King stopped me. “No, wait a sec.”

We watched as a tiny boy tried three times to win a prize against two much older teenagers. After a minute the boy’s dad pulled him aside. “That’s enough, Sam. We can try again another time.”

“But I wanted the stuffed alligator,” the boy complained.

“You’ll get it. Maybe, next year when you’re a little bit bigger.” The dad smiled.

King plucked a stuffed penguin from my arms and approached the boy and his father who were walking away from the game, the boy’s bottom lip set in a pout. Tears welling up in his eyes.

“Excuse me,” King said, getting their attention. The father looked alarmed and pulled his son into his leg.

King ignored the dad’s reaction and bent down to the boy, holding out the penguin. “I know it’s not an alligator, but penguins are just as cool. As a matter of fact, they’re cooler. They live in the snow, and they’re the only bird that doesn’t fly. Did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t know that,” the boy said, with a thumb in his mouth.

“They also slide around on their bellies on the ice.”

“Cooool,” the boy said, staring at the penguin.

“Now, you take good care of him, okay?” The boy nodded and took the penguin.

“Thank you.” The boy’s dad mouthed to King.

He nodded, and they disappeared into the crowd.

King made his way back to me. “You’re up next,” he said as he approached.

We stood behind the games and gave out my prizes to kids who lost their games one by one until all I had left was the deer King had given me first.

We ate cotton candy. We ate corn dogs. We ate fried Oreos. We laughed like kids. We rode a gravity ride that locked you to the sides as it spun, and for ten minutes afterwards, I thought all the food was going to come back up.

“Here,” King said, pushing a cup in front of me. “Grace says that a ginger ale is the best cure for an upset stomach.”

I slowly sipped the bubbly drink, and I started to feel better almost instantly. King grabbed my cup and walked a few steps to toss it in the trash when I noticed a nearby woman ogling him.

I looked around, and it seemed like every woman at the fair, whether she was with a man or not, was undressing King with her eyes.

“Do they all have to do that?” I muttered under my breath.

“Does all who have to do what?” King asked.

“Do all the women have to look at you like they want to jump your bones?” I scoffed.

King put an arm around me. His lips brushed my ear when he whispered, “Unlike some people, they aren’t hiding what they want.” I opened my mouth to say something, but I couldn’t find the words. “It’s cute that you’re jealous though.”

“I’m not—”

“Time for the Ferris wheel,” King announced. It was getting late, and the crowd had thinned.

“Why did we save it for last?” I asked.

“Because it’s the best part,” King said. “You always save the best for last.”

King helped me into the squeaky cart while the carnival worker closed the little door to the bucket. There was barely enough room on the seat for the two of us. When I shoved my deer between us, King picked it up and handed it to the carnie, along with a bill from his pocket. “Take care of this for me until we get down will ya?”

“Sure thing, man!” He set the deer on the chair next to the ride’s control panel.

King rested his arm on the back of the seat over my shoulder.

Then, we were lifting up into the air. Higher and higher we rose, stopping every so often to allow for other riders to board. Once we were almost at the top, we started to move more fluidly. Round and round we went, watching the city lights beneath us flicker and glow.

“Wow,” I said, watching the people scurry around below. “They all look like ants from up here.” I glanced over at King but he wasn’t looking at the lights of the city or at the crowd.

He was looking at me.

The depth of his stare pinned me to the seat. “Pup, what I learned from being in prison is that we’re all just a bunch of ants.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean we’re all scurrying around, doing insignificant bullshit. We get this one life. ONE. And we spend too much time doing shit we don’t want to do. I don’t want to do that anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to be remembered as the notorious Brantley King.”

“Then, how do you want to be remembered?”

“I don’t. I want to be forgotten.”

“You can’t mean that.”

“I do. I used to want to go out in a blaze of glory. Now, I just want to live in my house, fish on a weekday, and tattoo when the mood strikes. And when it’s my time to go, I want to fade out like the ending of a movie and be quickly forgotten.”

“That sounds lonely.”

“Not if you’re with me, it won’t be.”

“Please, you already told me that I’m gone the second you get tired of me.” I laughed.

King wasn’t laughing. “I’m serious. What if I said I changed my mind? What if I wanted you to stay for real?”

I shook my head. “I wouldn’t know what to say to that. I don’t even know if you mean that or not.” I sighed. “It’s just not that simple. You know that I have to look out for her.”

“Fuck that. Fuck HER,” King said, raising his voice. “As I said, we get this one life. One. As of right this fucking second, I’m no longer going to spend it doing anything other than what I want to do. I don’t want to grow old and look back and realize that I may have had a life, but I forgot to live it.” King brushed his lips against mine. “Are you with me, pup?”

“What are you doing?” I asked, my breath shallow and quick. King leaned into me and kissed the spot behind my ear, his lips igniting my skin. I felt the kiss to my very core, and I trembled.

“After everything, you still have no idea. Do you?”

“No idea of what?” I panted.

No sooner were the words out of my mouth than his lips crashed onto mine. His kiss was harsh and demanding. His tongue parted my lips, gaining entrance into my mouth, licking and dancing with my own. I moaned into him.

I was on fire. King’s hand slipped up under my dress and found the place where I was already wet and ready for him. He groaned and pressed a finger into me, his thick cock nudged my thigh. He ran a hand up my neck and fisted a handful of my hair, turning me up to him so he could gain better access to my mouth while his fingers pushed in and out of me. I clenched around him, my orgasm building, when he suddenly pulled away.

“Why did you stop?” I asked, flustered, my legs still parted for him.

“Because, pup, the ride’s over.”

I hadn’t even noticed that we were at the bottom. The carnival worker came over and let us out of the bucket. I adjusted my dress and stood on shaky legs while King retrieved my deer.

We walked to the parking lot in complete silence.

We passed some sort of tool shed on our way to the bike. King suddenly grabbed me and dragged me into the shadows, pinning me hard against the wall of the shed.

“This is the last time I’m going to ask you this, pup. Do you want me?” King asked, his lips finding mine again, asking the same question with his demanding kiss. My skin came alive and danced with anticipation. “I can’t stay away from you anymore. I tried, and I can’t do it. I want you. I need you to tell me all that hesitation bullshit is over and that I can have you. Stop being alive, and start living.” He pulled a hairs’ breadth away and sought the answer in my face.

“Yes,” I answered breathlessly. Because it was true. Every part of me wanted him. I’d been fighting it for too long for reasons that the longer I was around him seemed less and less important. “I want to be alive.”

“I want you so fucking bad,” King said, pinning me to the wall with his hips pressed against mine. His erection hard and ready against my core. My dress was up around my waist. Only his jeans and my panties separated us.

“Why do you call me pup?” I asked breathlessly while he lifted the sides of my dress so his hands could dip into the back of my panties. He dug his fingers into my ass cheeks and I gasped.

“Because when I first saw these wide, innocent eyes, you looked like a lost puppy dog.”

I was disappointed with the comparison to a puppy, especially after Preppy had called me a stray.

“And,” he continued, “I knew at that very moment when you stood in my doorway, that I wanted to keep you.”

He emphasized his statement with a thrust of his hips. I let out a guttural moan, and he laughed softly into my ear, his tongue licking and sucking along my jaw line and back to my mouth.

“Not here” he said, pulling away from me and adjusting my dress back down to cover my ass.

He led me back to his bike, making quick work of putting on my helmet. When I hopped on behind him and wrapped my arms around him, I felt him shudder under my touch. I let my hands slip just under his belt onto the bare flesh of his abs, and I heard him groan over the roar of the engine.

He wanted me.

Whoever that was.

And I wanted him.

As crazy as that was.

At least for the night, I wasn’t going to think about what the girl with the memories would do, the girl who I tried to please on a daily basis. I was going to be selfish, and I was only going to think about what I wanted.

Who I wanted.

I’d made the decision to live.