Losers: Part I

Jess grimaced as she tugged her jeans up over her reddened ass. She sniffled angrily as she pulled up her zipper, looking between the four of us with a pouting lip and watery eyes.

As if she hadn’t literally asked for this.

“Don’t you give me that look,” Vincent said the moment her gaze slid over to him. “I’ll bend you back over so fast it’ll make you dizzy.”

For once, she had the good sense to stay silent. God, she made me feel insane. Every time I looked too long at the Mustang — tires slashed, windows broken, paint keyed, dents in every panel — I wanted to spank her again. I wanted her to learn. I would have felt better if I’d thought it would do her any long-term good, but lessons weren’t learned in a single day.

Why the hell had she asked for this? And better yet — why had I given in to her? I was fucking infuriated, yes, but I usually avoided shit like this when I was so angry. It felt a little too close to losing control.

But she’d asked for punishment, and who was I to deny her? She’d chosen to face our wrath rather than running off. It was an unspoken show of trust that I hadn’t expected, but it left me more confused than anything else.

Why did she have to push me? She knew exactly how to infuriate me. She knew all the right words to prod my temper. It had always been an unending tug of war between hatred and longing with her. She was selfish, spoiled, and completely self-absorbed, but she was also faking it constantly. Faking the confidence, the smiles, faking that she was a good, well-behaved girl.

Good, well-behaved girls didn’t get dripping wet when they were punished. Behind that angelic blonde hair and innocent green eyes was a masochist who undeniably craved the pain. I’d already known it and yet it still felt unbelievable.

That was what kept drawing me back in, that was what had intrigued all of us. Jessica went through life wearing a mask, but beyond that mask was a wild, twisted woman, aching for a way out. She hid it, and then she made foolish decisions to avoid admitting what she wanted.

I couldn’t make that my problem. I’d made that mistake before.

“I need to get back to my car,” Jess groaned, rubbing her hands over her face. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes a little reddened and swollen. If it was up to me, if she were actually mine, this would have been only the beginning of her punishment. If she were mine, she would have been standing in a corner, bare-bottomed, while she waited for her next spanking.

She wanted that — consequences, order, control, someone to pull her out of her attitude and bring her back down to reality. But unless she chose it, unless she chose us, what more was I supposed to do?

“Where are your keys?” I said. She dug around in her dress’s front pockets, finally pulling out a small set of keys on a pink lanyard. I snatched them from her hand.

“Hey! You can’t —”

“I can smell alcohol on your breath,” I said. “You’re not driving anywhere. Where’s your car?”

She folded her arms, looking off to the side as if that made her defiant stance any better. “Back at the bridge,” she said.

I sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of my nose as I looked at the cars again. Flat tires. No windows. At least they’d been scared off before they could start fucking around under the hoods. We had one client’s car in there too, but luckily it had been spared.

“I’m too damn tired for this,” I said. “I’m not dealing with it tonight. You can sleep here. We’ll take you back to your car in the morning.”

“What?” Both Jess and Lucas gaped at me in unison. Lucas was trying to keep his anger reined in, but a vein in his neck was throbbing with buried fury as he said, “You want her to stay in our fucking house?”

“I want to get some damn sleep,” I snapped, and his mouth shut. “I’m not driving anywhere tonight, and I’m sure as hell not walking her ass home.”

Lucas grumbled, turning away from me and pacing to the other side of the garage. I didn’t blame him for not wanting her here, but we were all tired. Things probably wouldn’t feel any better in the morning, but at least then, I’d have the energy to deal with it.

Jason, who’d been sitting next to Vincent against the back bumper of the Mustang, said, “She can sleep in my room. I’ll be in the attic anyway.” He took a drag on Vince’s vape as he stood, the cloud of vapor curling from his lips as he told Jess threateningly, “If you touch a damn thing in that room besides the bed, I’ll spank you again.”

Her blush deepened. It drew my attention to the freckles on her nose, and I looked away from her, trying not to stare. How could she make me so angry and then…then make me feel like this? How was it possible to look at someone and feel simultaneously enraged and attracted?

“I won’t touch anything,” she said.

“Come on, then.” I jerked my head toward the house. “I’ll show you upstairs.”

She followed me quietly, her head down and her arms folded. I snapped my fingers as I opened the door, ordering the dogs to step back. Jojo was already wagging her tail, eager to make friends, but Haribo regarded Jess suspiciously, making small, uncertain barks toward her.

“They won’t bite,” I said as Jess nervously squeezed behind me through the door. “Unless I tell them.”

“That’s not very reassuring,” she said. The dogs stayed in the entryway as we ascended the stairs, her footsteps soft behind me. When I took a glance back at her, her eyes were wandering around, taking in everything she could. I would have been so ashamed if she’d seen this place when we first moved in. It had been filthy, damn near condemned. Now it looked like something worth living in.

I abruptly looked away from her, mentally scolding myself. Sigmund Freud could have developed a whole new complex around me being so obsessed with someone so unreachable. Then he could develop another one around the fact that I didn’t only want Jessica for me, I wanted her for us.

Bringing the woman I wanted into the family we’d built, intermeshing our lives and growing a relationship together, felt natural to me. But to most people, it didn’t. Society wanted things to be labeled, to fit into neat and tidy boxes. Sex was meant to be exclusive, romantic, and flawless. Friends were only friends and never lovers, nothing could grow or change. Who you used to be could never be separated from who you’d become.

I hated it, rejected it. I wanted nothing to do with that outlook, that moral posturing. I’d struggled with it like everyone else. The world was sure to always remind me I didn’t fit. If I hooked up with a girl, I was straight, but if I dated a guy, I was gay. If I wanted sex to be rough, I was violent. If I wanted to choose my own family and build relationships in my own way, I was perverted. If I wanted to defend myself, to stand up to those who would harm me, I was dangerous.

Reject the boxes you’re offered and people will keep trying to shove you into them. They’ll put their labels on you and demand you adhere to them, and then if you don’t, it becomes your own damn fault that life is difficult.

That was where Jess and I differed. I’d given up on trying to fit in a long time ago and she was still clinging to the dream of societal acceptance.

Jason’s room was at the very end of the hallway. I opened the door and motioned her inside, watching as she stepped in and looked around. His bed was small, but he rarely slept in it, shoved into the corner on the right. His desk and computer took up the rest of the space, three wide-screen monitors stretching from one side of his desk all the way to the other. His window was blocked out with a heavy curtain. Blue LED strips in the corners and along the ceiling bathed the room in a neon glow.

Jess turned to face me, her lips pressed tightly together. The neon made her hair appear almost white, glowing ethereally.

“The bathroom is right next door,” I said. “The dogs won’t bother you. They stay downstairs.”

She nodded in understanding, swallowing hard. I couldn’t blame her for ghosting, or for letting down her guard with me for one night and then retreating the moment the sun rose. Boxes were safe and easy. Leave the shelter of the box and the world becomes significantly less friendly.

She was probably wiser for trying to fit in. She was following the rules the world had handed her, shitty as they were.

I closed the gap between us. She looked away at first, but slowly her gaze came up to meet mine. I caressed my fingers over her cheek, tucking her blonde hair back over her shoulder. Part of me still felt so angry, fury pulsing in my chest. But it was impossible to look at her without my heart softening. I was weak as hell for this woman. She could stab me in the heart and I’d probably still forgive her.

“So…you and Lucas?” she said, curiosity in her uncertain gaze.

“Are you surprised?” I’d understood her jealousy over Veronica — she had a grudge against that woman going back years. It was a sore subject. But I wasn’t sure how she’d react to this. If Lucas and I being intimate with each other was going to make her jealous too, it was a red flag I wouldn’t be able to ignore.

But a tiny smile came over her face. She hid it quickly, forcing her expression back to seriousness. “No, not surprised at all. It makes sense.”

“Does it? Why’s that?”

“You’ve been best friends for years,” she said. “You’re calm and he’s…not…but I think you help him be. He looks at you like he wants to listen, and I didn’t think Lucas wanted to listen to anybody, so…yeah, it makes sense.”

The expression on her face when Lucas had taken me into his mouth had been so damn sexy I’d almost come on the spot. She’d looked enraptured, torn between longing and fascination.

The silence stretched between us. She almost turned away but then hesitated, as if there was something more she wanted to say.

“Why’d you do it, Jess?” I said. “Why did you come with them?” I believed her when she said she hadn’t caused all that destruction. But she’d still broken in, she’d been right there with them the whole time.

Her eyes darted away, regret making her lips tightly draw together.

“I-I don’t know. Everyone else was going. They didn’t tell me what exactly…” She shook her head, cutting off the excuse.

I wanted to shake her. I wanted to beg her to think, to stop trying so damn hard to please everyone else that she disregarded her own mind.

But I couldn’t make it my problem. Not again. I knew better.

I leaned down and kissed her forehead. She leaned into me, eyes closed, a soft sigh escaping her. I hoped she still felt the tension of her ruined orgasm. I hoped it kept her awake, the desperate desire to touch herself overwhelming every other thought until all she could do was fantasize and ride the edge.

“You’re not allowed to touch yourself tonight,” I said, and she stiffened. “Bad girls don’t get to come.”

Defiance flared in her expression. For a moment, even exhausted as I was, I almost welcomed the opportunity to bend her over again. But then she sniffed, rubbing her backside tenderly before she said, “Fine.”

“I expect a better answer than that.”

If she got to push me, then I was going to push her too. Her expression tightened as she struggled with herself, doubtlessly weighing the risks and rewards of any further snappiness.

Finally, she managed to grind out the words, “Yes, sir.”

The others were on the porch when I stepped back outside. Jason and Vincent were seated on the bench beneath the window, their faces drawn. Lucas was on the front step, a cigarette between his fingers as he stared toward the garage.

I sat down beside him, nudging against his side. The night air felt good, swiftly cooling me down. But frustration still sat on my chest like a lead weight.

None of us spoke for several long minutes. We’d dealt with this shit almost all our lives, in one way or another. We were accustomed to it. But some days, it all became too exhausting. The pure spiteful energy that had kept me going as a teenager was running out of steam, leaving me bitter and impatient.

I wanted to fucking live. Why was that too much to ask for?

“I have a competition in two weeks,” Jason said, his voice numb. “Two fucking weeks, man…”

“You’ll be ready,” I said, turning to look at him over my shoulder. “We’ll get the Z fixed in time. I can promise you that.”

“We need to get Alex back for this,” Lucas said. He held the cigarette toward me, and I took it, relishing the burn as I inhaled. “We need to hit back and hit hard.”

“Damn right we do,” Jason said. “I should break that motherfucker’s fingers for this.”

We didn’t need to start taking risks when we were so close to getting out of this town. But not responding to this was a bigger risk than doing nothing. Alex didn’t need retaliation to keep coming for us. He’d come anyway, and he’d keep escalating things if he thought he could get away with it.

We had to make it clear he couldn’t. There would be hell to pay.

Vincent sighed, and the bench creaked as he got to his feet. “All right. I think I’ll go to bed and have some real nightmares as opposed to this shit. Wake me up early. I’ll help get the garage cleaned up.”

But I shook my head. “Go ahead and sleep in. Jess can put in some work in the morning to earn that ride back to her car. Just try to get some rest.”

His and Jason’s footsteps faded away as they went inside and trudged up the stairs. I wondered if Jess was already asleep, or if she was lying awake, disobeying me…

Or if she was awake, adhering to my orders and suffering for it. That was a nice thought.

“Are we really getting wrapped up in this again?” Lucas said. His shoulders were hunched as he stared across the yard. I passed the cigarette, wrapping my arm around his back.

After a moment, I said, “No. We’re not getting wrapped up in anything.”

He hunched a little more. “Yeah? Why is she sleeping in our house, then?”

“Because I’m not sending her walking home alone in the dark, Lucas. You wouldn’t either.”

He grumbled something, flicking what remained of the cigarette into the dirt and stubbing it out.

“Look, Jessica likes to pretend her life isn’t going to be the dull suburban dream her parents set her up for,” I said. “So she riles people up, gets the reaction she wants, and dips. That’s how it goes. That’s how it’s always gone.”

“Might go differently if we were a little pushier about it.”

I looked over at him in surprise, but I’d thought the same thing. None of us had ever pursued Jessica — we simply ended up thrown together, clashing like billiard balls knocked aimlessly around a table. It wasn’t from lack of desire, it was from simple realism. She wasn’t meant for us. She didn’t exist in our world; she visited it, had a look around like a tacky tourist, and left the moment it got too real for her.

She was the girl we couldn’t have, no matter how close she got. Despite the games we played, the decision was hers in the end. It was her choice.

And the choice was never us. It couldn’t be us.

“There’s nothing to push for,” I said, as if it were really that simple. “She’s going to get out of Wickeston and move on to bigger and better things. She’ll find some good-looking dumbass who fits her aesthetic, get married in a flashy ceremony, and spend the next twenty years having boring sex and becoming best friends with her vibrator, before she divorces him in a mid-life crisis. She’ll be that chick who moves to Vegas for a fresh start and constantly tells everyone about who she was in high school. That’s it. No us involved.”

His chest rumbled slightly, and when I looked over, he was chuckling. “You’ve got it so bad. You have a whole fantasy life laid out for this woman and you can’t even manage a little self-insert? You can’t add a little what-if in there?”

I was too tired for this conversation. “I thought you didn’t want to get involved, so why do you care?”

“Because I can’t stand to see you so fucking torn up over it,” he said. “You can’t let it go. It’s been years of this shit, and you still can’t stop.”

In the illumination from the porch’s light, I noticed something on his neck that I hadn’t earlier: scratches. Long red scratches, doubtlessly from someone’s long pink nails.

I traced my finger over one of them. “You get into a fight with a cat today?” I said, and he scoffed.

“Don’t start.”

“Hey, I didn’t start anything. You’re the one who drove her off in your car and fucked around.”

“We didn’t fuck around. Much.” He added that last word with a sardonic glance in my direction. “At least I didn’t carve a damn heart into her finger.”

I shoved the back of his head as I got up. “I’m going to bed before I carve you up too. Don’t stay out here all night.”

“I won’t.” He waved me away, and I had my hand on the door when he suddenly said, “Hey, Manson?”

“Yeah?”

“What if she wanted to?”

I turned back, my hand still gripping the doorknob. “Wanted to what?”

“What if she wanted to…you know…” He was trying so hard to sound casual. “What if she wanted to get involved? With us?”

I took a deep breath.

“What if she wanted to get involved with us…” I repeated the words slowly, mulling them over as I had so many times. Too many times. “What if she admitted she’d been wrong all along and wanted to give this a try? What if she said she’d been hiding her true feelings because she was scared of rejection, but she was ready to throw all that away? What if she woke up tomorrow and changed her whole life to be with us? Damn her mother, fuck her friends, forget her plans. What if?” I shook my head, wrenching open the door. “That’s way too many what-ifs for me.”