Losers: Part I

Morning greeted me with the sun warming my bare legs and the twittering of birds. I lay there for a while and watched them flutter through the tree outside my window, eyes half-lidded with comfortable sleepiness, warm and drowsy in my blankets.

I had a vague memory of being carried to bed last night. Lucas cradled me up the stairs, and Manson’s hand cupped the back of my head so it wouldn’t get knocked on the wall in our narrow hallway. I wasn’t sure how late it had been. I’d tried to stay awake, but the moment I settled on Lucas’s lap, my eyes grew so heavy that no amount of willpower could have kept them open.

I’d had more sexual partners in my life than I could count, but I’d never had two men at the same time. Out of all those partners, no one had ever gotten it quite right when they fucked me. Some had come close, sure. But my casual flings and one-night stands still left me with an unscratched itch. A need for something more intense.

But Manson and Lucas played with my mind as much as my body. They wound me up, building the tension, taking their time to set a scene. Breaking into my house, hacking the security system, hiding in my closet…and the way Lucas had begged for Manson’s permission to fuck me, looking at me like he wanted to rip me apart…

God, why was that so hot? The way Manson exercised control made it feel like the most natural thing in the world to submit to him — natural, except for the fact that everyone I knew would judge me for it if they found out.

Normal people didn’t do that.

Maybe normal people were boring.

But as I sat up in bed, sighing contentedly at the sunny day outside my window, my satisfaction was shaken. I’d felt this perfect sense of fulfillment before, after that Halloween party almost three years ago. But I’d thrown it all away. I’d decided it wasn’t worth taking risks for.

Was it any different now? The only reason I’d agreed to do this was to get my car fixed, or at least, that had been the most readily available excuse. And that was what I needed, an excuse, something I could point to and blame. Something I could hold up in front of nay-sayers and say, See? There’s not really anything wrong with me! It was only because…

I shoved back the blankets and got up. I wasn’t going to ruin a perfectly fine day with an existential crisis over a good fuck. I was heading for the bathroom when I noticed the creepy lipstick message had been cleaned off my mirror, a sticky note left in its place.

I’ll buy you a new lipstick.

Manson’s handwriting was sharp and precise, but this note was written much smaller, messier. It had to be Lucas.

I folded the note and set it down beside the aforementioned tube of lipstick. I’d seen a side to Lucas last night I hadn’t known existed, a side of him that crept out after the viciousness had dissipated. He’d looked so out of place, nervous and uncertain. As if being in a normal suburban home was too much.

Maybe it was. No one had ever known much about Lucas’s home life except vague bits and pieces. He’d moved to Wickeston with his dad — a hulk of a man with the same permanent scowl as his son — after his parents separated. They’d lived in the trailer park on the west side of town, keeping to themselves until they had an explosive public brawl at a local diner.

I don’t think Lucas lived with his father after that, but I wasn’t sure. I could only imagine that once you got to the point of fighting your own dad, things probably weren’t going well at home.

I hopped in the shower, taking my time to wash my hair, exfoliate, and shave. When I got out and wiped away the steam from the mirror, I couldn’t help staring at the marks all over my body. Brushing my fingers across my neck, I pressed my skin here and there to feel the subtle pain of the bruises they’d given me.

I liked how they looked, how they felt dirty and beautiful at the same time.

By the time I left the bathroom, I only had ten minutes before I had to hop on a video call for work. Dressing up quickly, I got in front of my computer just in time, only to realize I’d been in such a rush I’d failed to do anything to cover the hickeys on my neck.

I spent the entirety of my meeting with my shoulders scrunched up like a turtle, hoping the marks weren’t obvious. If anyone noticed, at least they didn’t say anything. Thank God it was almost Friday. Hopefully they would fade over the weekend.

A text from Lucas was waiting for me when I finally closed my laptop. Send us a photo. I want to see our handiwork.

I stripped down to get a good photo for them. I wasn’t ashamed that I loved being a tease; who wouldn’t want to feel desired, to flex your own power to seduce? I sent the photo I took to the group chat and wasn’t disappointed by their response.

Fuck, you look sexy covered in bruises, Manson said.

Damn it, one sec, I dropped my jaw on the floor, Vincent wrote. Shit, I knew should have called out of work and gone with you fucks.

Jason’s text came next. God, Jess, how am I supposed to work with a hard-on?

I hope you know I’ll be getting the locks and security system replaced, I responded. I did need to do something about that, unless I wanted to feign ignorance to my parents about why the system had stopped working. So good luck catching me again. I’m a faster runner on open ground.

Are you? Manson said. We’ll have to test that out.

Lucas was far less subtle. A goddamn lock won’t stop me, fucktoy. I’ll have you whenever I want.

Maybe we should let her run, was Jason’s suggestion. I think it would be fun to go for a hunt. We could use our paintball guns and bag ourselves a fucktoy.

Thank God they couldn’t see my face. I was red as hell as I imagined being hunted like an animal, shot down and gutted. What the hell was wrong with me? This was hopelessly perverted.

The group chat didn’t stop their teasing, but when another text came through from Lucas, it didn’t come through the group.

I’ve got a task for you. What’s your work schedule like during the week?

I lounged on my bed, feet up as I replied. A task? How exciting. Better make the instructions clear so I can’t fuck it up.

I couldn’t resist pushing their buttons; it was too fun to see them getting worked up. I gave him my schedule; I worked only until noon during the week, except on Mondays when I had a full day.

Fuck this up and your ass will feel the consequences, Lucas wrote. Although I’m sending a chaperone with you to make sure you don’t. Last night wouldn’t have been possible if Jason hadn’t disarmed your security system. We owe him, and obviously, so do you.

So it was Jason who’d gotten past the security system. I wasn’t surprised; he’d always been absurdly smart.

Lucas went on. Vincent will pick you up on Tuesday after work. You’d better behave yourself unless you want him to bring a paddle along with him.

I’ll skip the paddle, thanks, I said, even though the thought gave me that twisty feeling in my stomach again. I’ll be perfectly behaved, so tell him to bring something to reward me with instead.

Oh, he will. Don’t you worry about that, fucktoy.

The next few days were spent trying to get back into my routine. I woke up early and took my mom’s car to the gym — thankfully, she didn’t mind me borrowing it while she and Dad were gone. I warmed up on the treadmill before I moved to weights, and by the time I was done, I was dripping sweat. The burn felt good. There was something about the pain that made me feel alive.

Unfortunately, while in the middle of my workout Sunday morning, a familiar face approached me in the middle of a set.

“Oh…hey, Alex.” I took my earbuds out as he stood beside me, regarding him cautiously. What the hell did he want? I hadn’t seen him at this gym before, but maybe he usually came at a different time. He had his shirt off, showing off muscles that were chiseled to perfection worthy of a Greek god.

But those muscles didn’t do shit for me when they were attached to his backstabbing face.

“We missed you at Billy’s the other night,” he said, almost too casually. “I wanted to check in. Make sure we’re good.”

“Good?” I stared at him in surprise, then lowered my voice as I said, “You broke into a private garage and fucking abandoned me. Why the hell would we be good, Alex?”

“Things got a little out of hand; I’ll admit. I thought you were gunning for those losers, Jess. The same guy who busted my head open…” The look he fixed me with left me no doubt this was a warning. “I’m just saying I’d hate to see you get mixed up with the wrong people.”

I smiled tightly. “Thanks for your concern. Now if you don’t mind…” I put my earbuds back in, dismissing him without a word. He gave me a forced smile before he walked away, and I felt his eyes on me until I finally walked out the door thirty minutes later.

I had no idea if my relationship with my old friends was repairable; frankly, I didn’t want it to be. Maybe it was better to be a loner.

My nerves were high as Tuesday rolled around, and I distractedly got through work, knowing Vincent would be showing up soon. I still had no idea what this ‘task’ was, but I’m sure Vince had something unexpected up his sleeve.

It was just after noon when his blue WRX pulled up in front of my house. I’d been pacing around, trying to convince myself I wasn’t nervous — why the hell would I be nervous? It was Vincent Volkov, the guy who’d always been a class clown, who used to get invited to the popular kids’ parties because they knew he’d have drugs to sell. He didn’t have the same dark, vicious aura that the others did, but there was something about him that severely disarmed me. His teasing nature meant people usually underestimated him, including me.

I had a better idea of what he was capable of now, but I still didn’t know what to expect. As I watched him step out of the car through the kitchen window, my heart sped up and I rubbed my sweating palms on my jeans.

God, he was hot. Way sexier than he had any damn right to be. He strode up to the front door with Ray-Bans on, his long hair loose and wavy around his face, wearing tight acid-wash jeans and an oversized tie-dye shirt with a flaming skull on it. The colors clashed, but it weirdly worked for him.

Anything weird worked with Vincent.

I was already on my way to the door before he rang the bell. When I answered it, he was lighting up a joint dangling from his lips.

Had he lost his mind? He was smoking here, in the middle of the day, in this neighborhood?

“Are you really smoking weed on my front porch?” I said, completely incredulous.

He pulled the joint from his lips, blowing the smoke away over his shoulder. “Damn right, baby. Want a hit?”

I wasn’t going to think too deeply about the way him calling me baby made me feel. I was going to ignore the fact that it brought my heart stuttering to a stop before it flew off again at a gallop.

I shook my head at his offer, and grabbed my bag from its hook, locking the door behind me as I stepped outside. “Nope, thanks, but I’m not trying to go through the rest of my day paranoid.”

“Paranoid?” He blew a loud raspberry, wrapping his arm around my waist after I’d locked the front door. “What do you have to be paranoid about? I’m with you. I’ll make sure you don’t go running off naked into the woods.” He lifted his eyebrows suggestively. “At least not without me.”

I laughed despite myself as we walked down the driveway. “I’m not afraid of a spiritual awakening, Vincent. More like paranoia about the fact that it’s illegal.”

He stopped on the opposite side of the WRX, staring at the joint clasped between his fingers. “Weird how a little rolled up herb can get you locked behind bars,” he said. “Legality is just a bunch of old dead folks telling you what to do.”

I shook my head at him as I slid into the car, huffing in surprise when I sank into the strangely deep passenger seat. The seatbelt was weird too, a three-point harness that I had to slip my arms through and then clip into place between my legs.

“I’m surprised you don’t have cuffs in here,” I said, squirming around as I adjusted the harness.

“Right there.” He pointed, and I looked overhead, finding a cage of metal bars installed around the interior of the cab. It reminded me of the dune buggies I’d ridden in when I went out to Nevada for a bachelorette party. Sure enough, a pair of leather cuffs dangled from the bar above my head.

“Perfect for wrists or ankles,” he said, his grin widening. “But I think that harness will be enough to keep your ass in the seat for now. My rides can get a little rough.”

I had no doubt he was right, in more ways than one. The WRX shuddered as he started it; the rumble of its engine not as deep as Manson’s Mustang or the El Camino. It purred low and steady, and Vincent turned the music up loud as we pulled away from the curb. He sang along to the lyrics about choking and sodomy as we picked up speed, flying past my neighbors’ houses. He earned us more than a few odd looks from folks out watering their lawns and trimming their rose bushes.

“What are we listening to?” I shouted, praying all the while that no one was going to mention to my mother that they’d seen me drive away in a loud car with a long-haired stoner.

“You’ve never heard System of a Down?” He practically gaped at me. “Oh, we need to get you to expand your musical horizons, Jess. What do you usually listen to?”

It didn’t take long to realize that Vincent’s musical knowledge went significantly deeper than mine. But he wasn’t restricted to one genre. His playlist changed wildly as we drove, from screaming metal to melodic electronic and classical orchestra.

“I’ll make you a playlist,” he finally insisted. “We’ll start with more approachable shit and then work our way deeper.”

For as long as I’d known Vincent, he’d always managed to put other people at ease and now was no different. We drove through town with the windows down, and I dangled my arm out in the breeze.

I’d known him longer than the other boys. I’d met him in first grade, if he threw dirt at me could qualify as a “meeting.” He’d gotten quieter as he got older, going from the loud class clown in elementary school to an extremely introverted kid in middle school.

But in high school, he was known as the guy who always had drugs to sell. Marijuana, prescription drugs, Molly — unless people were looking for really hard shit, Vincent was their guy. Even if they thought he was a freak, a Satanist, or whatever else people whispered behind his back, he was simply hard to hate.

“Your car looks…better,” I said, carefully broaching the subject.

“Jason and I took care of that over the weekend. Got the windows replaced and the dents repaired. We still need to do something about the paint, but I might hold off on getting mine touched up.” He chuckled softly. “With the way I drive, my paint doesn’t stay in good shape for long anyway.”

“Is that your way of telling me you’re the worst driver in the house?” I teased. “Should I strap in a little tighter?”

“I said my driving was rough, not bad.” He shot me a sly smile and reached across, his hand sliding along my leg to tightly grip my thigh. The touch of his fingers was like dropping a lit match on kerosene. “Before I take you home today, I’ll show you. We’ll take the long way home.”

“Dirt roads? In this car?” I looked at him skeptically.

“You’ll see,” he said. “Not all fast cars are built to stay on asphalt.”

“What are we doing today anyway?” I said, trying not to let my flaming arousal affect my voice. The effect these men had on me wasn’t fair. “And why did Lucas send you as my chaperone?”

“Because I’m the only man for the job, obviously,” he said. “Mr. Grumpy Face wants to give Jason a thank-you for helping out, and I happen to know exactly what Jason likes.”

I burst out laughing. “Mr. Grumpy Face? Oh my God, I’m calling him that next time I see him.”

“Please do, I’ll be right there to watch him spank you for it.”

We pulled into a parking lot, apparently having reached our destination. I narrowed my eyes at the buildings nearby as Vincent parked, trying to figure out where we were headed.

“Wait a minute…is that Satin Novelties? There’s a sex shop in Wickeston now?” I stared at the shop in disbelief. The windows were covered with black paper, and the door had a big red sign on it that read, No One Under 18 Permitted Entry.

“Yep, they replaced the old tire shop when it went out of business,” he said, taking his keys from the ignition as he opened his door. “Pretty sure there were protests when the place opened up. It really got some panties in a twist around here.”

We met at the back end of the car. We couldn’t have looked more like polar opposites — his tie-dye and long hair in comparison to my carefully preened ponytail, heels, and a white blouse. I hadn’t been sure what to wear, but my rule was always to overdress, just in case.

To judge from the way his eyes were roaming over me, he liked what I’d chosen. I couldn’t see his eyes beneath those sunglasses, but I noticed as he licked his lips and subtly adjusted himself.

He held out his hand, nodding toward the shop. “Shall we, fucktoy?”