Blood of Cupids Read online

  I chucked my cut on the floor and pulled a hoodie over my head. I threw on a splash of cologne to hide the oil and exhaust smell, and I left it all behind. Even my bike was staying home. I needed to walk, and I needed to get out of Southwest Philly. Maybe I’d see what kind of girls I could find up in Old City. Not many Mamas hung out there. No one would know who I was. That would be refreshing.

  I wasn’t crazy. While my short walk was exactly what I needed to cool my nerves, there was no way I was walking all ten miles. At least without my colors paraded about, I had no problem getting a cab to stop for me. To the outside world, I looked innocent. Tonight, maybe I’d pretend to be innocent.

  I stepped out of the cab onto a cobblestone street. This part of the city was so different than my reality. These people were living in a dream world. I looked around, both judging and envying the groups of college kids making their way from bar to bar. How little they knew about life. How much…

  Everything stopped. All envy was pushed aside, and the anger that had been building up, melted. I watched her close the door behind her and carefully look over her shoulder as the screams of inebriation began to unfold. She was simply adorable. It was as though she had never before stepped foot outside. She turned toward me, and my first instinct was to duck. Fuck. What? Did I really just hide behind some shrubbery? Smooth. Yet I stayed there. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. There was just something about her that I couldn’t place. She seemed familiar, yet mystifying, and I needed more. I needed so much more. She crossed the street, and then again, looking around before she entered into a little dive bar on the corner. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was making sure she wasn’t being followed. This could be fun.

  I escaped my hiding place with enough ease that I didn’t draw attention. I ran across the street, not caring that I had stepped in front of an oncoming car. I even found a bit of pleasure from the screech of its tires.

  I swung the door to the bar open and quickly scanned the room. I didn’t know anyone. That meant no one knew me. It was different, a good different. I felt oddly safe. But where was she?

  “Looking for someone?” I heard a sweet voice behind me.

  I turned around, fully expecting to see a face I knew, but was instead met by her. The girl that I had followed into this bar was talking to me. I opened my mouth in reply, but my voice was frozen. Her beauty was shocking. She was petite, no taller than 5’4”, and she had deep red hair. You don’t see red hair every day. I didn’t realize how it would make me feel, and as I stared at her, the feeling only grew stronger.

  Her skin was pale and a few freckles were splashed across her delicate nose and high cheeks. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her, not even to look down in embarrassment. She must have noticed, because her eyes got very big. Damn, she probably thought I was an idiot.

  “Are you lost?”

  She looked worried, and I still couldn’t speak. What the hell was wrong with me? I didn’t chase girls. They all came to me. They were always all over me. I’d stopped counting the number of girls I’d fucked when I was fifteen, because the number stopped meaning anything. Club members don’t like to be lonely, and they sure don’t like their own to be lonely either. I was never lonely. I knew how to control a room full of women. I knew how to make them do exactly what I wanted. Then again, I’d never chased one into an unknown bar before.

  “I was lost until I saw you.”

  Oh my fucking God, what did I just say?

  Grace

  I sat at a table by the open window; the breeze of the ending day was relaxing. Was I supposed to order from the bar or would someone come around to ask me what I wanted? Did I look absolutely pathetic showing up to a bar by myself?

  My head swung toward the window as I heard tires screech. There was a boy, a man, who had stepped in front of traffic. Stupid drunk undergrad kids. I tried to look away, but my eyes were locked on him; he looked distracted. I was distracted. I was so distracted that I didn’t realize my gaze had followed him into the same bar I had walked into. And I was blankly staring at him. Now I definitely looked pathetic. I think he was looking for someone. Why was I feeling drawn to help him? Why not? What bad could come from seeing if he needed help? I slid off my chair and slowly took my place behind him.

  “Looking for someone?”

  He turned to me, and my knees locked. My breath escaped my body as I stared into his gorgeous green eyes. He was older than I thought—definitely not an undergrad. He was maybe just a little older than me. I noticed a small scar above his left eye, and what was either a bruise or some grease highlighting his jawline. His hair was dark and thick, begging for fingers to run through it. His shoulders were broad and his presence was encompassing. I fought my desire to fall into his arms, but his scent was intoxicating. I didn’t know how long I could battle my desire.

  It occurred to me that we both were staring at each other in complete silence. Was I that terrible at talking to men? Was it that insufferable? My eyes widened as I thought of the alternative. Or did he know who I was? Could I not escape my family’s reputation? No. It would be impossible for him to know who I was. I was four hours from home, and I hadn’t confessed my upbringing to anyone in this city. Say something, Grace!

  “Are you lost?” I asked.

  And what help would I be? I didn’t know this area at all. I had been here for six weeks and this was the first time I left my apartment with a destination other than class. Please don’t be lost, beautiful man.

  “I was lost until I saw you.” He said.

  Oh my fucking God, did he just use a line on me? That was probably the funniest thing that had ever happened. What was I supposed to say to that? I couldn’t hold it any longer, and my laughter escaped from my chest.

  “I’m sorry, what?” I manage.

  He paused. I would put money on the fact that he hated himself in that moment. His pensive face broke into a small smile.

  “Hello. I’m Ryan, and I’m really fucking embarrassed.”

  His voice was deep. It shook me. “I’m Grace, and don’t be. I don’t think I’ve ever heard something so cheesy in real life,” I teased, “but you made my night.”

  Ryan’s grin widened, and our eyes stayed locked on one another. He didn’t reply, just stared at me. Was I doing something wrong? Should I be talking?

  “So, were you looking for someone?”

  “I… no. I wasn’t.” He stared at me for a second before continuing. “Can I buy you a drink, Grace?”

  Was he talking to me? Was this actually happening? Of course he could buy me a drink. Who could say ‘no’ to that face, those eyes? Okay, Grace, say it out loud. He’s not a mind reader. “Yes.”

  “What can I get you?”

  Why was he still asking me questions? Why was this so difficult? “A beer—an IPA.”

  “Two IPAs coming up.”

  He turned toward the bar, and I made my way back to the window seat, shaking my head at my lack of class. I had tasted beer before, but never enough to know what I liked, and the guys always drank the cheap watery stuff, which I was utterly repulsed by. My Aunt Kathryn always said the first drink you order with a guy should be an IPA. It tells him that you’re easy going enough to drink a beer, but strong enough to handle any “hops” he might throw your way. Lost guy seemed impressed. Good advice, Aunt Kathryn.

  Ryan returned with two pint glasses and a pitcher of an amber colored intoxicant. He poured a glass for me, allowing the foam to spill over the top.

  “A pitcher?” I asked, eyes wide.

  “Too intense?”

  “No. Not at all”

  He smiled and sat down next to me. My stomach tingled as I inhaled his rich musk. Okay Grace, hold it together. His eyes bore into me slightly longer than made me comfortable; yet, I found myself yearning to be uncomfortable with him. That was a strange realization. We each took a sip: a little powerful, definitely bitter, but not too bad. I could get on board with this whole beer thing.

&n
bsp; “Where are you from, Grace?”

  “Central Pennsylvania. It’s a really small town.”

  “I know some really small towns.”

  “Alexandria? It’s fairly close to Altoona.”

  His face changed slightly. That was odd.

  “Do you know someone from Alexandria?” I continue.

  “No, but I’ve heard of it.”

  “I’m shocked. No one has ever heard of Alexandria.” Then again, I don’t normally talk to people who don’t know who I am, who my family is, so I guess I don’t know how many outsiders have heard of Alexandria. “What about you, Ryan?”

  “I’m from here. Born and raised and never left.”

  “Ever leaving?”

  He lightened and slowly nodded his head. “Maybe.”

  Ryan began to pour more beer into my glass. I didn’t even realize I had finished my first.

  “Are you trying to get me drunk, sir?” I coyly teased. It was fun. I never flirted.

  “Maybe.” The corners of his lips slowly upturned, and I had to catch my breath. This was happening. This was normal. My secret cravings to have a normal life were not just a schoolgirl fantasy. This was the real thing. This was what everyone else got to experience, and now it was my turn.

  My phone began to ring. Really Dad?

  “I’m sorry, I have to take this.”

  “No worries.”

  I stood up, but my knees wobbled under my weight. Before I realized what was happening, Ryan had caught me in his powerful arms. He was touching me. My body tensed and my heart rate quickened.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, just a little dizzy.”

  “Can’t handle one beer?”

  “I guess not.” I chuckled. If only he knew that was the first full beer I had ever drank. Wow, I really was pathetic.

  My phone continued to ring. I found my balance, stepped outside the bar, and put the phone to my ear.

  “Hi Dad.”

  “Hi Gracie.”

  “You’re calling again?”

  “Am I not allowed to call my only daughter?”

  I looked up and saw Ryan smiling at me through the window. How much I wanted to forget this other part of my life and find out how this new part might turn out.

  “Twice in one day though?”

  “A hundred times if I’d like.”

  “One day you’re going to be old and forget how to use a phone, and that day I will have peace.”

  “That stings.”

  We both laughed. This hardened man still had some soft spots.

  “I’m coming to visit next weekend. I just wanted to give you a head’s up.”

  “What? Dad. Why?”

  “I want to see you.”

  “I’m not stupid. Why are you coming here?”

  If he was coming to Philadelphia, something was wrong. We all had our territories, and The Walking Shadows were not welcomed here.

  “Relax kid, we’re coming to visit you. We won’t be making any trips to Southwest Philly.”

  “Promise?”

  “You know I don’t make promises.”

  He was lying to me. He was coming to Philadelphia on business. What did he have planned? Why couldn’t I get away?

  “Okay Dad, I’ll see you next week.”

  “Love you baby.”

  “You too.”

  I hung up the phone. Really? Now? I was having such a wonderful night. I met a normal boy in a normal bar. This was just making me mad.

  I walked back into the bar, realizing my buzz had completely disappeared. Thanks, Dad.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, you know.” No, I wasn’t okay. I was teeming with anger. My jaw even jutted forward involuntarily: a clear sign I was really angry.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Right, sorry, it was just my dad. Sometimes he makes me crazy.”

  “I do understand that.”

  He held up his beer asking for a reciprocated “clink”, and I responded accordingly. The act and the sound lightened my mood. I brought the glass to my lips, and let the liquid race over my tongue. The bite felt good. Every gulp gave me a bit more invincibility. I didn’t put the glass down until the last drop was gone. My head spun, and I noticed Ryan had stood up next to me. With his decreased distance, I could not hide from his hallucinogenic scent. As I looked up at him, my neck gave way to the weight of my head. I was immobile, paralyzed by his presence.

  His words were hushed.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi.” I repeated.

  “I can’t wait any longer.”

  “For what?”

  His strong hands grasped the back of my head and brought me inches from his face. Wow. Nice move. I wanted him to kiss me. I had never wanted to be kissed more in my life. What was he waiting for? I parted my lips, asking for his, and I felt his warm breath quiver from his clenched mouth. His hands tightened, pulling slightly at my hair. He looked into my eyes, begging for an invitation. I nodded in return and our lips were forced together. He was slow, at first, allowing his mouth to greet mine for the first time. My chest collapsed, and he answered with his full hand, clutching at the small of my back. His fingers dug as his tongue searched for mine. The last time I had been kissed, a club member punched the guy square across the face. This was different. Not only did I not have to fear for Ryan’s life, but I was so enraptured by the electricity I was unable to fear anything.

  Ryan pulled away, his hands still gripping my head and back. My mouth stayed open, my muscles unwilling to do otherwise.

  “Was that okay?”

  What kind of a question was that? Of course it was okay. It was more than okay. It was… there were no words.

  “Yes.”

  His hand slid around, clutching at my waist. He looked down, taking in the curves of my body. His fingers skimmed the side of my breast and hovered over my upper chest. His hand tensed and he bit his lip. I saw his fingers curl, and find their way into a fist. He sighed and looked up at me, so desperately wanting.

  “Should we get another pitcher?” He asked.

  “Sure.”

  Ryan exhaled deeply, shook out his fist, smiled, and made his way back to the bar. Why were we getting another pitcher? I wanted to keep kissing him. There was no doubt that he wanted to keep kissing me. It was thrilling.

  He sat back down next to me and poured another round. The split second of silence was too much to bear.

  “What do you do, Ryan?”

  “We’re just jumping right in?”

  “I believe we already jumped in.”

  He laughed at my wit. I was witty. Who knew?

  “I believe you’re right.” He answered with another kiss. Was this how all normal relationships started?

  “So do I get an answer?” I press.

  He paused, seeming as though he was calculating his response. “I’m an amateur boxer.”

  That was not at all what I expected to hear. I guess it would explain the scar and the bruise. “Wow,” I let go of my breath, “so you beat people up for money?”

  “Okay judgmental...”

  “No, I’m sorry.” Sometimes I just couldn’t control my thoughts.

  “I’m kidding, Grace. Boxing is not about beating people up. It’s all about strategy. You learn how to read people. It requires quite a bit of training and discipline.”

  Have you ever heard a man say ‘discipline’? It’s surprisingly sexy. His fingers grazed my knee, and I jumped. That was also sexy.

  “Did I startle you?”

  “A little.”

  “Give me your hand.”

  What? It was such a silly request. But of course, I didn’t argue and placed my hand in his. He flipped it over, exposing my palm. With his free hand he traced the lines etched into my skin, refusing to break eye contact. It was unbearable. It was not at all a silly request. What was he trying to do to me?

  “What about you, Grace?”

  “What about me?” My brain had stopped wor
king. I couldn’t grasp thoughts. I couldn’t grasp anything. This man was powerful.

  “What do you do?”

  “I’m a student at UPenn.” I had just a few more words to get out. Then I could go back to this ecstasy. “Education major.”

  “What kind of education?”

  I wanted him to stop asking questions and let me enjoy his touch. “Elementary.”

  “Why do you want to be a teacher?”

  “My mother was a teacher.”

  “Was?”

  And with that simple word, the spell he had over me was broken.

  Yes, ‘she was’, you jerk. What right did he have? Who did he think he was?

  Hold on a second, Grace; there was no need to get defensive. The poor guy did nothing wrong. He simply asked a question. It was unfair to end our moment because he crossed I line I had yet to draw.

  Still, it was too much. Between my head spinning from the beer, my insides stirring from the tracing of my palm, and the personal questions, I was just about to explode.

  “Yes. She was.” I made sure my sentence sounded final.

  He seemed content with that answer, not begging for more. I was grateful.

  “Do you have a last name, Grace?”

  “B…”

  I started to say it, but stopped myself short. What if he’d heard of my family? I knew it was a long shot, but I didn’t want anything to cause this night to end. I didn’t want him to see me as the daughter of Patrick “Bowie” Brennan. I wanted him to see me as Grace—just normal Grace.

  “No, it is just Grace… for now.”

  “Okay just Grace.” He seemed disappointed, but understanding.