Page 3 of Friar
“Church girl’s got some steel in her after all,” he said, his voice lower now, intimate despite the noise around us.His fingers traced a path from my wrist to my elbow, leaving goosebumps in their wake.“What else are you hiding under that good-girl exterior?”
The heat from his touch spread through me, mingling with the warmth of the alcohol.I leaned closer, emboldened by the whiskey and the way his eyes darkened when I moved into his space.“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
He laughed, the sound vibrating through me.“I would, actually.Very much.”His hand found the small of my back again, fingers splaying wider this time, possessive.The leather of his cut was smooth beneath my exploring fingers, worn and real in a way nothing in my uncle’s house ever felt.
“Friar!”a voice called from across the room.“Phone call.Sounds important.”
He cursed under his breath, reluctance clear in his expression.“Don’t disappear on me, church girl.We’re just getting started.”His lips brushed my ear as he spoke, sending shivers down my spine.Then he was gone, moving through the crowd with the easy confidence of a man who knew his place in the world.
I turned, feeling adrift without his anchoring presence, and found myself face-to-face with Nugget.
“Ever played pool?”he asked, nodding toward the table in the corner where a game had just finished.
I shook my head.“Uncle Pete says it’s a game for gamblers and sinners.”
Nugget’s laugh was genuine, his eyes crinkling at the corners.“Then you’ve come to the right place, darlin’.We’re all sinners here.”He took my hand, leading me through the crowd.
The pool table was bathed in a cone of light that cut through the haze of smoke, making it seem like a stage.Nugget racked the balls with practiced precision, the click of them settling into the triangle oddly satisfying.He selected a cue for me, testing its weight before placing it in my hands.
“Like this,” he said, coming to stand behind me.His chest pressed against my back as he guided my hands into position.“Left hand forms a bridge for the cue.”His fingers arranged mine on the green felt.“Right hand holds the cue, nice and loose.”His breath was warm against my neck, his body solid and strong behind mine.“Now pull back, smooth and easy, and follow through.”
I tried to focus on his instructions, but all I could feel was the heat of him, the slight roughness of his palms against my skin, the way his body enveloped mine.I struck the cue ball, sending it careening into the others with more force than finesse.Balls scattered across the table, none finding a pocket.
“Not bad for a first try,” Nugget said, not stepping away.His hands stayed on mine, adjusting my grip for another shot.“You’ve got natural talent.Just need a firm hand to guide you.”
The double meaning wasn’t lost on me, not even through the haze of alcohol that was making everything soft and warm.I leaned back against him slightly, feeling his sharp intake of breath.“I’ve always been a quick study.”
The game continued, each shot an excuse for Nugget to stand close, to touch, to whisper instructions that sounded more and more like suggestions of another kind.Every time I bent over the table, I felt eyes on me -- Nugget’s, certainly, but others too.Men watching, women assessing.I was a novelty here, fresh meat as the bartender had said.
The thought should have frightened me.Instead, it thrilled me, this power I didn’t know I had.
“Drinks for the pool sharks,” a new voice announced.A young man with a Prospect patch on his cut approached, carrying two glasses of something pink and fruity.“Compliments of the house.”
Nugget nodded in acknowledgment.“Cheri, this is Nigel.Newest Prospect, still earning his keep.”
Nigel’s smile was eager, his eyes hungry as they took me in.“Pleasure’s all mine,” he said, handing me the drink.Our fingers brushed, and his lingered a beat too long.“If you need anything -- anything at all -- you just say the word.”
The drink was sweet, masking the alcohol beneath, dangerous in its deceptive ease.I drank deeply, the sugar coating my tongue and the liquor warming my blood.The room had begun to spin slightly, colors blurring at the edges, sounds overlapping in strange ways.Nigel remained by the pool table, watching as Nugget and I finished our game, quick to refill my glass whenever it emptied.
The music changed, something with a heavy beat that I felt in my bones.“Dance with me,” I said to no one in particular.Nigel took my hand, leading me to the area cleared for dancing.
I moved without thought or plan, letting the music guide my hips, my arms lifting above my head.The drinks had dissolved the last of my inhibitions, leaving behind a girl I barely recognized -- wild, free, desirable.
When I opened my eyes, Friar was watching from the edge of the crowd, something dark and hungry in his gaze.Without breaking eye contact, I moved more provocatively, a silent invitation.A challenge.His jaw tightened, a muscle jumping there, his eyes never leaving mine.
Nigel was saying something in my ear, words lost to the music, his hands becoming more adventurous.I laughed, the sound strange and distant to my own ears.Was this what freedom felt like?This reckless abandon, this disregard for consequences?
I was dimly aware that I should be careful, that I was in over my head, but those thoughts were drowned by the alcohol and the heady rush of being wanted.
The next drink came from a woman with a snake tattoo -- the same one who had glared at me earlier.Now she smiled, something knowing in her expression as she pressed the glass into my hand.With the way she was dressed, I thought she might be what one of the women here to party.“Welcome to the family, honey,” she said, her voice cutting through the haze.“They’ll eat you alive.”
I should have been warned by her words, but instead, I took them as acceptance.I drank deeply, the room tilting dangerously as the liquid hit my already saturated system.
Through the fog, I was aware of Friar returning, of his hand displacing Nigel’s on my waist.“I think you’ve had enough, church girl.”
I turned to face him, my movements clumsy now.“I haven’t had nearly enough,” I said, my words slurring slightly.“I’ve been good my whole life.Tonight, I want to be bad.”
Something flickered in his eyes -- concern, desire, calculation.“Be careful what you wish for.”
