Chapter 23
Vince and I sat side-by-side outside Dominic's room. It was taking him longer than normal to come out, but the nice, middle-aged doctor had told us there was no cause for concern yet; everyone reacted differently. And, out of nowhere, Vince started talking to me.
"I know it seems bad, that she's not here. But her...her parents died in a wreck. Her kid brother, too. Parents died right away in the emergency room, and they put her in the same room with Ruben. Both of 'em were banged up bad, about the same chance of recovery. They thought stickin' 'em together would be good, they'd get better. Let got better and Ruben died. Whole family went into the hospital and only Letty left alive."
"Ssshit," I said, shaking my head and running my fingeres back through my hair. "No wonder."
"Dom got hurt once before. Engine dropped and just smashed his arm. She was the only one with him, so she drove him to the hospital, to the parking lot. She got up to the sliding doors with him and passed out. Woke up with smelling salts and they tried to take her in to let her lay down. They're lucky they're still breathin', the way she flipped. God forbid anything ever happens to HER." He shook his head. "Like a switch goes off in her brain. There's no rationalizing that shit for her. She can't come here. She cannot. Jesse had alcohol poisoning once, and same thing happened. She's only one sober. Drives him up, passes out, flips out when she comes to." Vince shrugged. "She can't help it."
"Of course she can't help it," I said softly.
Dom's doctor came out of the room then, with a wide, bright grin.
"He's waking up. Go on in to see him. Probably disoriented, so move slow and talk quiet and you'll be fine."
I returned her smile. I liked her.
He WAS confused and disoriented at first, blinking up at us unseeingly, and then he smiled and croaked,
"Sheeit."
Vince and I both laughed.
"Welcome back, dawg," Vince said, in that friendly, growly voice of his, and I felt awkward, out of place somehow. I crossed the room to the window to give them some privacy and peered out.
"Speak of the devil," I mused, and there was Letty, pacing like a caged animal, back and forth in front of that beautiful Nissan of hers, massaging the small of her back and pausing every once in a while to glance up at the hospital.
"Be right back," I said, and ducked out of Dom's room.
The wind had shifted, and outside it was cool and tense, as if it would storm, as if it wanted to storm and couldn't make up its mind. The electricity was thick in the air, and the breeze was damp as it licked at my arms and legs. Letty stopped mid-pace and looked up at me.
"Hey," she sighed, and looked pale and ill, exhausted, and I opened my arms to her, embraced her.
"He just woke up," I said, into her shoulder. "He's doin really good right now. Came through just fine."
"Yeah? Is he better?"
"He's much better. He's not hurting at all anymore."
"God, I want to see him."
"Come in, then. I'll catch you if you faint."
"You think I'm stupid, don't you." She pulled back and ran her hand back through her hair, rings on every finger.
"Nah, I don't think you're stupid. Vince told me the deal."
"V's here?"
"Yeah," I said.
"And you're not goin' anywhere?"
"No, I can stay here with him if you want to."
"Yeah," she said, and studied my face. I tore my gaze away from her, stared down the body of her car. "I just can't do it. I can't go in there."
"It's okay, Letty," I assured her soothingly. "I'll tell him you were here. He understands, I'm sure he does."
Letty nodded.
"Yeah. Still feel like shit, though."
"He'll be home tomorrow morning, porbably, and you can take care of him then. He'll need you."
She nodded once again.
"Okay. Thank you, Izzie. You're the shit for doing this."
"No prob." I felt like a shit, all right.
"See ya, Mizz Iz. Tell him I love him and I'll see him tomorrow."
"Sure. Get some sleep, Let. You look like hell."
"Letty was here," I announced, and Dom cracked a warm smile.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. She says she loves you and she'll see you tomorrow."
"Hey, that's a step, though, right? The parking lot?" Dom said, and Vince nodded. "How did she look? Was she okay?"
"Tired, but she's gonna go home and get some sleep. She'll be all right."
Vince and Dom dicked around with the remote, and a nurse brought Dom supper, but Vince ate it, even the quivering gelatinous mass that was supposed to be rice pudding.
I dozed off for a while in a really uncomfortable, vinyl-upholstered armchair, and when I woke, Vince was gone. The room was silent but for the steady beep of a heartrate monitor. The TV was on, but it was muted, and Dom was propped up on some pillows, staring at it unseeingly. I yawned and stretched, and when I stood to rub my back, he turned that lazy black gaze on me.
"Hey, Isabel," he said, the husky rumble of that deep voice cutting the quiet in two.
"Hey, Dom," I said, my voice still airy and light from sleep. "You should get some rest."
"Nah, I can't sleep. Don't sleep, usually."
I smiled a little.
"No? Then what do you do, usually, at night?"
"Work out," he replied, without hesitation. My eyes ran over his body involuntarily and he saw, but didn't call me on it. I cleared my throat.
"How do you feel?"
"I been better. I feel shitloads better than I did three hours ago though, that's for damn sure."
I smiled.
"Good."
"It was so weird. They put this needle in my arm and I watched the drip come down the tube, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up."
"I told you it would be easy."
I went to the window and tugged absentmindedly at the curtain. I stared out, but it was dark, and the image I saw was in my mind's eye: Letty, pacing, worried and sick, and me in here, playing house with her boyfriend.
"Izzie," Dom said, and I nearly sprang from my skin.
"Yeah?"
"What's wrong."
I shook my head. "Nothing."
“Bullshit, nothing. What's going on?"
I swallowed hard. Don't cry, you big fuckin' baby.
"Isabel, look at me," he commanded with gentle insistence, and I shook my head again.
"She says I'm the shit," I whispered. "For staying here with you."
"This again," he said, flatly. "Isabel Adams. LOOK at me." And I looked at him, eyes filling with tears against my authority. "Aw, Izzie," he said, and his voice was so soft and soothing, so full of care and understanding. "Izzie, don't cry babe." He reached out a tube-laden arm to me.
I went to him, sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, and he pulled me in close to his body. If he was sore from surgery, he didn't show it.
"Izzie, I've said it before and I'll say it again. You've done nothing wrong. Letty knows how you feel about me, and she knows I'm attracted to you, and it only proves how much we both care about her that we aren't acting on those feelings."
"She asked you?"
"Yes," he said. "She did."
"And what did you say?"
"I said something almost happened in the hotel lounge but nothing did and nothing's going to."
I remembered that night...my birthday. At the piano. Shaking. His lips on my shoulder. And as I remembered it, I cried. I cried because that memory remained so beautiful in my mind, and what we had done had been so, so wrong. I cried bitterly and he held me, rocked me a little, and he kissed my forehead. I felt my body stiffen as his mouth touched my skin, and pulled back and stared up at him. He licked his bottom lip. Nervous? I wasn't sure. But his ebony gaze was intense, focused, reading me like a book.
"It's gonna be okay," Dominic said, barely above a whisper. "Relax." And he brushed my mouth with his, every-so-briefly, like he was kissing his sister. But then something changed in him. Some live flicker crossed his features, and he came back toward me.
The words 'Holy shit' barely had time to dart through my mind, and then we were kissing. For real. I wrapped my arms around his neck cautiously and opened my fingers over the velvet stubble on the back of his head, my heart kicking violently at my ribs. I wanted to devour him, felt as if I'd been waiting my entire life to really kiss him, but I was hesitant. I was shaking, and just held onto him, my head spinning out of control, and let him kiss me.
His lips were soft and full, not too dry and not too wet, and he exhaled slowly through his nose, gentle breaths caressing my upper lip, eyelashes tickling my forehead, an easy, steadying hold on my waist. His kiss was deep and slow and long, careful not to hurt himself or scare me, exploratory, eternal, it seemed, and eventually I moved my hands to his face and kissed him back, and then he was still, just let me taste him, let me discover the curves and contours of his mouth.
And Letty, and Jackson, and Leon, were the furthest possible thoughts from our minds.
When I tried to pull away, he took my head in his hands and brought my face back to his, and I let him. This time he didn't kiss me, though, just pressed my forehead to his and stared wordlessly into my eyes for a long, long while. I could feel his chest rise and fall against my breasts with each deep breath he drew. I felt tiny there with him, weak and small, but so, so safe.
Finally the corner of his beautiful mouth tugged upward in a dazed, cocky grin. It was contagious, and I followed suit before I even knew what I was smiling about.
"Think that'll hold us for a while?" he asked, and I laughed softly. My body was humming, mind reeling, and there was no guilt. Yet.
"I hope so."
I drove Dom home the next morning and helped him onto the couch, into the tender loving care of Leticia Garcia herself. I handed her the paperwork on Dom's meds and read through it with her, translated it into layman's terms. Amoxicillin three times a day with food, and two Percs every four hours. No booze. Easy enough. I gave her the keys to the car and walked home.
Jackson must have heard the muscle engine roar by, because he was waiting for me at the front door, holding it open, wearing a blue polo and new chinos and a soft smile.
"Everything all right?" he asked, and I nodded.
"Everything's fine.”
It was a strange two weeks. I was awful to Jackson, and he met my aggression with unwavering self-control and kindness. Quiet, gentle soul. Nice to a fault. And I tried my damnedest to make him angry, to get under his skin and start a brawl. But he'd have none of it. He did not want to fight with me. The most I got out of him was a wounded silence or two, but he never left my side unless I demanded that he do so, in which case he would tag along golfing or swimming with my parents, and I worked on independent study courses. I had three months worth of work to do and six weeks left of vacation, and I sincerely regretted picking up the classes. Not that it had been my idea, or even my choice. My father had insisted that I would not be wasting my time sitting through rudimentary textbook classes that could be completed in spare summer time by way of correspondence. He'd directed me to get some of my requisites out of the way so that I could begin actually learning in the fall.
So I pounded myself into my textbooks. English, Algebra, Geography, and Latin. And Jackson would lie on my bed and watch me, or read, or sleep, or do sit ups and pushups. When I'd look at him, he would flash his blinding white American golden-boy smile, which I usually responded to with a Letty-riffic scowl. I studied full-time, eight or nine hours a day, and when I laid down in bed at night, Jackson beside me but not ever touching me, Dom and Leon and Letty and Vince and Viri were there. The cars, the hotel, the night Dom had smashed that little Mexican's face in, the words and laughter, glimpses and glances of my time with them, an aching wish for more time with them, and a fear that my wish would come true. And yet, I heard nothing from the house three doors down for weeks.
Jackson had been gearing up to it for days, so, as I put my pens and papers away for the night and he asked if we could talk, I knew what he was going to say. He loved me, he needed me, yadda yadda yadda.
"I didn't just come here to annoy you, Izzie, or rub your face in what I did. I'm sorry about the way I broke it off. I was panicking. I was scared. It was me I was angry at, not you."
I fixed him with a look of bored apathy and folded my arms over my chest. I was not, in the least, in the mood to hear all this. The steady, distant thump of a party rang out down the street, and I'd have given my mother's hope of Heaven to be there. But I wasn't. I was stuck. With this:
"I know what I did was wrong. As soon as I was sober, I regretted it like crazy. It was bad. It didn't even FEEL good."
"That has nothing to do with anything, Jackson."
"I know it doesn't," he said quickly. "I'm just telling you, I completely regret it. And I am so, so sorry. We were good together. I wanted to marry you. And I messed up, compromised myself and my morals. In my eyes, in your eyes, and in the eyes of God."
"Oh, Jesus, Jackson," I snapped. "If you start talking church to me, I will fucking go off."
He winced and stared with no small amount of disbelief at my harsh words. There was an awkward silence, and it was not broken until the phone on the desk rang. I swiveled, relieved beyond belief, and picked it up.
"Isabel, Isabel." It was Letty's voice, singsong and thick with booze. "Whatcha doin', girl?"
"What am I doing?" I looked at Jackson. "Absolutely nothing. Why?"
"We're partying down here," she said. "Biiiig party. And we're just getting started. Why don't you come on over?"
"Oh, I dunno if Leon would appreciate that."
"Man, fuck Leon. This is my house too, and Dom's, and Vince's. And we never got to thank you properly. So get dressed, come on down, and let us get you drunk."
I was quiet for a minute. Debating this. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Come on. There's a bottle of Cuervo with your name on it, lady."
I laughed.
"All right, Let. Gimme a few."
"Sure thang," she said, and the line went dead.
"What's going on?" Jackson asked, his eyes following me as I crossed the room to the closet.
"I'm partying," I replied. "And you're staying here. That's what's going on."
I pulled out a few choice articles and placed them on the bed beside Jackson, standing almost directly before him. His eyes were glued to the clothes I'd laid out, and I couldn't help a smug smirk of self-satisfaction. Emboldened by his shock, intoxicated by this newfound, nasty control over him, and desperate to prove that I was no longer even remotely the girl who'd been his Izzie, I grasped the hem of my sundress and peeled it up over my head. He was going to watch the transformation, and it was going to hurt him, as badly as he had hurt me, and I was going to enjoy it.
So I stood before him in my boring white cotton underwear and sports bra, and my new body, and smiled. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't tear his eyes away from me as I tugged the bra up and off and discarded it. I hooked my thumbs in the waistline of my panties and drew them down over my hips, down my legs, torturously slow, stepping out of them with an almost comical daintiness. I kicked them aside and reached for the top item in the ridiculously small pile on the bed.
As I pulled the black g-string up and on, I kept my eyes locked on his. He had a two-fisted, white-knuckled grip on the bedspread, lips slightly parted, a red flush of arousal in his face. But I completely refused to admit to myself how devastatingly good-looking he was as I reached for the $150.00 black lace scallop-edged miracle bra.
It seemed like it took an eternity, and I felt like a goddess, the center of his universe, slipping the no-waist black leather mini up around my hips and rasping up the zipper, pulling on the skin-tight white ribbed tank, with its dangerously low neckline, cut just low enough so the scalloping of the bra peeked over.
Then I sat next to Jackson, nearly in his lap, my upper arm brushing his, as I put on the thick white socks and black combat boots. I brought my makeup out of the bathroom and applied it in front of the full-length, the dark lipstick, the shimmery white eyeshadow, the thick, glossy mascara. I gelled my curls into wavy submission and, making perfectly clear to him what I was doing, I fished around in my top drawer for a condom, sliding it into the tiny hip pocket of my skirt.
"See ya when I see ya," I said, blowing him a kiss, and shut the bedroom door behind me with a soft click.
The party was pounding . Letty met me at the door, already well on her way to blissful oblivion, and embraced me, kissing my cheek.
"I missed you, Mizz Iz. Dun be a stranger like that no mo'."
I laughed at her goofy dialect, and when she released me from her arms, I found myself facing Dominic Toretto's massive chest. I looked up at him and smiled, and he just barely looked at me, caught me in a brief, chaste hug.
"Welcome, welcome, welcome," he said, voice gravelly and booming, and I grinned. "Welcome to my party."
Vince was trashed and happy about it, and even he wrapped me sloppily in his arms and kissed me loudly on the cheek.
"Hello, darlin'. Hey, hey, hey," he said.
“Hey, hey, hey yourself."
Dom seemed to have fully recovered, because he and Letty sparred at the center of a raucous crowd, everyone bowling over with laughter as he allowed himself to be pummelled mercilessly, WWF-style. The place was packed, sweaty, and smelled pretty ripe, but it was a happy party. Letty saw me standing by myself and shoved Dom off of her, grabbing a bottle of tequila from a nearby coffee table and snagging me by the arm. As she dragged me toward the kitchen counter, which was serving as a five-star bar, I caught a pair of cool green eyes from across the room, only briefly. I stopped a minute, wanted to call out to him, his name stuck in my throat. Leon. But he only looked at me for a fraction of an instant before turning away.
"Wha'smatter?" Letty asked, searching my face, and I shook my head.
"Nothing. Let's go."
Shot after shot, with an audience, on a stomach that had been empty for two days. It was maybe fifteen minutes before the liquor hit me like a ton of bricks. I lost track of Letty; she went off somewhere, piggybacking on Dom. She told me where they were going, but I was hearing her from beneath a rolling sea of tequila, and whatever she said never registered. I stood at the counter for a moment, watching everyone and wallowing in the Pool of Enhanced Emotions, better known as drunkenness. My clouded, practicality-free mind dredged up all sorts of wicked shit to torment me with.
I spent five minutes playing and replaying my first orgasm. My shamefully accurate steel trap of a memory didn't let me escape from a solitary detail. I was assaulted by the soft leather of the Escalade's seat beneath my thighs, the easy urgency of Leon's lips, the steady, stroking rhythm of his hand between my legs, and the delicious explosion as a result thereof.
And tonight he won't even look at me, I thought bitterly.
I spent another five recalling the string of sins directly related to one Dominic Toretto--the booming down-and-dirty booty shake at the club in Mexico City, the easy elegance of moments shared at the keys of a Steinway grand, and the sublime oral exploration of and with him at the hospital.
And tonight he won't even look at me.
I was yanked from self-pity by an arm around my waist, and I turned to ascertain its owner, struggling to focus belligerent, booze-bleary eyes.
"Hey," the boy said, and I flashed a cheesy, inebriated grin.
"Hey. Who are you?" I did not know this guy from Adam.
"Trent," he said. His eyes were baby blue and his hair was bleach-blonde and he looked to be about my age.
"I'm Izzie."
Trent was a sloppy kisser, but I couldn't really hold it against him. He
was at least as fucked up as me, as I sat with him on the loveseat
against the wall in the midst of the festive chaos. He gave me a pill to
swallow, and suddenly, within minutes, I was not thinking anything, only
feeling.
The colors in the room were bright beyond belief, so bright that they hurt my eyes and I had to keep them closed. I don't remember climbing into Trent's lap, but I remember being sprawled there, my ass on his legs, my head on the arm of the sofa, my arms hanging limp at my sides, and his hand up my skirt, between my thighs. The fact that we were in public never entered my mind. Every sensation was amplified ten fold, and each time his fingers hit me, it sent bolts of pleasure rocketing through my core. He was going to make me come. I didn't know his last name, even, and he was going to make me come...I was so, so close...
And suddenly, someone grabbed my arm and jerked hard, so hard that I was on my feet. My shoulder throbbed and my stomach lurched and my heart pounded. My knees gave way, and I sagged in this person's arms.
"Stand up," came the gruff command. I knew that voice. Who...? I hung there, trying to figure it out. Each time I came close, I was distracted by his shirt. It was waffle-textured, and I had to touch it, running my fingers over it in bemused wonder. "Izzie, STAND THE FUCK UP." Startled into complacency, I locked my knees and looked him in the face.
Shit. It was Leon.
"Can you walk?" he asked me. I nodded mutely. "Good. Let's go." He took me by the elbow and dragged me through the jumping, pulsing crowd, out the front door and into the breezy Puerto Vallartan night. I was upset that he was angry with me, but was uncontrollably inclined to touch the siding on the house. He spun me to face him and held my jaw in his hand so I would listen. Behind us, the door was open and someone was watching. Vince? Letty? I didn't know.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he exploded, a mixture of pain and rage plainly displayed on his features.
"I dunno," I answered honestly.
"Just what the hell do you think you're doing? This isn't you, Izzie. This SHIT isn't you." He snatched a bottle of beer out of my hand that I hadn't even known I was holding and smashed it on the street. I jumped at the noise. "You're fucking up. You got shitloads to live for and you're fucking everything up. You're too good for this, Izzie. Too good for me, too good for Dom, too good for this house, too good for this fucking party. Getting jerked off by some asshole, doing shots, popping X...Don't you fucking THINK?" He was quiet for a moment while I pulled my chin away from him and puked at his feet. I rose then to face him again, and he shook his head, just absolutely leveling me with that glare of his. Cold. Green. And when he continued, he was eerily calm. "You don't belong here, Izzie. I don't want to see you here anymore. I don't want to see you like this ...anymore. Go home. Go home and be with Jackson. That's where you belong." He turned me around by the shoulders, pointing me in the direction of my house and giving me a gentle shove. "Go home and be with Jackson."
My eyes were dry, and my face was hot with a defiant flush. Every nerve was still humming, but my head was surprisingly clear.
Jackson was sleeping on his side, in a tee shirt and boxers, and I entered the room, closed the door, and locked it quietly. Leon wanted me to be with Jackson? That was where I belonged? Fine. I did not give a shit anymore. I unlaced my boots, cool and calculated, and climbed in under the sheets with him. I pressed my body up against his and he stirred. Dropping one hand between us, I reached into his boxers, took his dick in my hand.
He jolted and woke, blinking at me, wide-eyed with disbelief. "Izzie!" he hissed. "What are you doing?"
"I want you to fuck me," I said, fearless, and his expression changed. He looked at me, unsure, scanning my face for any hint that this might be a game.
"Are you serious?"
"As a heart attack."
He was fully hard now, and took me by the wrist, pulling my hand out of his pants. He rolled over on top of me, between my legs, and sought my mouth with his. I jerked my face away. "I don't want you to kiss me, Jackson. I just want you to fuck me."
"Come on, Izzie," he sighed. "You don't want it to be like this."
I locked my eyes, sure and steady, on his. "Don't I?"
He said nothing as I shoved his boxers down around his knees and hiked my skirt up around my waist, scrounging the condom out of my pocket and pressing it into his palm. He drew a long, shaky breath and looked at it for a moment. The room was wheeling out of control, but my thoughts were clear.
Jackson frowned a little, sitting back on his heels and meeting my gaze
as he tore open the little gold package. "
You're sure," he said incredulously, and I nodded.
"I'm sure."
Chapter 24
I could feel tears welling in my eyes but I forced them back, and my heart was pounding. My GOD, my heart was pounding. I watched as he rolled the condom down the length of him, watched as the dark, blood-filled skin became chalky latex, and I felt sick to my stomach. I knew this wasn't how it was supposed to be, but I just wanted to get it over with. Enough bullshit. I just wanted it over with.
"Izzie-"
"Jackson, if you ask me one more time-"
No," he said. "Listen. Someone is calling you." I opened my eyes and frowned up at him. I heard nothing. "This is wrong." He yanked the condom off and threw it. "There's someone standing outside calling you," he pointed at the window, "And this is wrong."
Over the roaring rushing blood in my ears, I heard nothing. "I don't hear anything," I said dumbly.
Jackson held up one finger for me to wait and threw open the window. A deep, rumbling roar came through with the night air: "ISABEL ADAMS, DON'T YOU DARE !"
I moaned and flopped back into the pillow. Jackson gave me a lingering look, a mixture of shock, disgust and confusion, and then zipped his pants and left my room, shutting the door behind him with a panicked, emphatic BANG.
I stood slowly, my entire body shaking, and went to the window. When I peered out, I saw Dom coming toward me, scaling the side of my house like Spiderman.
"Go home," I said.
"Don't you do it, Izzie," he said, quickly, breathlessly. "Vince told me what Leon said to you and I know what you're thinking, but don't you dare go through with it."
"You're gonna fall and kill yourself," I said flatly, and I stepped back away from the window so he could climb over the sill and into my room. He stood before me in a wifebeater and blue Dickies.
"Ah, shit !" he said, staring at the floor and running one hand back over his head. "Too late, huh? What the hell did you do that for, Izzie? Jesus."
I could not believe the amount of pain in those words, and I followed his line of vision to the condom Jackson had discarded. I laughed, and he looked at me as if I'd gone mad.
"I didn't do anything, Dom. Dun worry." My legs gave out and I slumped against the bed on the floor at his feet. "Don't you worry. You got here just in time. And I'm gonna be a virgin forever, just like everybody wants." I picked at the fringe of a peach-colored throw-rug, loving the way the tassels felt as they slipped between my fingers.
What are you on?" he asked, head cocked to one side, watching my morbid fixation with the carpet.
I gave a contented sigh, "Tequila and Xtasy."
"Jesus Christ."
I glared up at him, suddenly annoyed with him, for reasons beyond my comprehension.
"I was just about to fuck Jackson, you know."
"I know. As soon as Vince told me what Leon said to you, I knew that's what you were going to do. Why do you think I climbed up your drainpipe?"
I laughed mirthlessly. "I can see the headlines now: 'Gallant Hero Narrowly Preserves Rich-Girl's Virtue.'"
"You don't love Jackson."
"No," I said soberly, and stared up-WAY up-into Dom's face. "I love you."
Dom stood frozen a moment, and I was beyond humility, just staring up at him. Finally he cleared his throat. He dropped to his knees before me and took my face in his hands, and his gaze was so intense I felt as if it were burning me.
"Izzie," he whispered. "I don't know what's going on, but I feel something for you, too. I wish I could tell you what it is. Shit, I wish I could tell mySELF what it is. It's not like anything else...It's not this steamy thing, like I can't keep my hands off of you, so it's not...It's not the same as with all the other 'other girls'. But I want to touch you. And when I'm around you, I feel...It's almost like I feel nervous. Like I care what you think of me, of what I say and do. That never happens. And I feel like you see me . For me. Not for the cars or the body or the image or the money, or for my relationship with Letty, or any of that bullshit. Just me. And that is priceless to me. That fucking never happens." He paused and searched my face a moment before continuing. "And it scares me, that I won't live up to what you see. I'm doubting myself, you know? It's scary because it would be so easy for me to say, 'Fuck it, Iz, let's go for it. Fuck Leon and Letty and everything else and let's just go off somewhere.' Because I know that look in your eyes. You are different, but I've seen that look before...You'd do anything for me. Anything. I know that if I picked you up and put you on that bed and I wanted to fuck you, you'd let me. You'd tell me, 'It's yours, Dom, take it.'" I nodded.
"Take it," I said softly. "It's yours, Dom, take it. I don't want it anymore."
"And see?" He threw his hands up in surrender. "That's a crying shame. Because you're pure, and that's a beautiful thing, and everyone jokes about it, Izzie, makes you feel like an idiot for holding onto it. Like being a virgin is a social flaw. Fuck that. It's not. The second I heard Letty say that you were a virgin at the picnic table a long, long time ago, that put you on a pedestal in my mind. That moved you up on my list, set you apart."
"I'm sick of it, though, Dom," I said, my voice cracking on his name, and I began to cry. "I'm sick of being set apart. I'm so sick of it." I gripped the front of his wifebeater in two fists for support. "I want to feel it. I want to know what it's like. I don't want to be a baby anymore. I don't want to wait any longer. I want to do it. I want you to do it." I let my eyes fall away from his and he released my face, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me in close.
"God, you have no idea how much I want to."
The words stunned me. All the hundreds of words he'd just dumped on me had stunned me. Dom Toretto wanted me as much as I wanted him.
"But?" I prodded.
"But I can't , Izzie."
"Because of Letty?" I fought to free myself of his embrace, but my efforts were fruitless.
"No," he growled softly, frustrated. "Because you're fucked up. Because you're shitfaced and you don't want to do it that way. And I don't want to do it to you that way. And...You're too good for me, Izzie. I don't deserve to do it."
"Christ," I hissed, and then just sobbed. "I'm just a girl, for Christ's sake, Dominic. Who the hell cares who my parents are and where I live?" I looked up at him, and he just stared solemnly down on me, dark brown eyes sad, brows furrowed.
"I'm gonna get you into bed and I'm gonna go," he said, finally. "Because I don't trust myself. And you're gonna go to sleep. Come on." He hauled me gently to my feet and sat me on the edge of the bed. I was so fucked up that it took every ounce of strength to keep from flopping back onto the mattress. He took my huge hoop earrings out and laid them on the bedstand, and unlaced one boot and tugged it off of me, and as he did so I lost my balance. I hit the comforter hard and just laid there.
I could see his clean-shaven crown between my knees as he squatted there, and swallowed hard. The unexplainable compulsion to touch anything and everything was going to get me in trouble. The urge to touch Dom was incredible, overwhelming. And as he undid my other boot, squatting at the side of my bed, focused on my foot, I realized that his head was centered directly between my knees. I had made note of it before, but now I realized its sexual implications, and when I propped up on my elbows to get a better look, I got a little jolt of a shiver, betraying my thoughts. Dom raised his head slowly, and when he looked at me, I knew he'd been aware of the same thing, even before I'd shuddered.
His eyes were smoldering, reflecting the pale blue of the tropical moonlight, and his gaze was steady, unwavering. I broke it, finally, and glanced at the black leather hem of my skirt, then drew a deep breath and dragged my eyes back to the limitless plummet of his lust. I caught a brief glimpse of his tongue as he licked his lips and lifted his hands, slowly, to my knees. With an almost humorous caution, he slid them up to rest on my thighs. My gaze fell tot he sensuous dampness of his beautifully expressive mouth, and I sighed shakily. I could tell he read my thoughts, and that they coincided with his own.
"Can I taste you, Izzie?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper, but so, so deep. I felt like I would faint.
Yessss! my mind screamed. Yes, you sexy bastard. Yes.
But I only nodded meekly, so nervous. My skin was humming, my heart was racing. My nose was cold and my lips and fingertips tingled, and I wondered how many of those strange sensations were due to drug and how many were due to Dom.
He rose slowly to his feet without moving his hands from my legs, towering over me, just staring down at my body lain out before him, and I wondered what he saw, what I looked like to him. He turned from me then and crossed the room with easy, graceful strides, locking the door, and then returning to me, and I was shaking like a leaf. He reached out and took my hips in his hands, the muscles in his arms and shoulders shapeshifting as he lifted one knee to the bed beside me and then another and pulled me with him, positioning me with an intoxicating gentleness. It was as if he knew what I was feeling, what I needed, and he helped me into the mound of white pillows, the second man in 10 minutes to sit back on his heels between my legs.
Dom was trembling. I noticed that his hands were trembling as he dragged the zipper down on the skirt and slipped it down and off of me. He came back up to me then, and hooked his fingertips in the slutty little g-string's waistline, ridding me of it quickly. He knelt before me and I didn't realize that my legs were clenched together until he eased them apart with one practiced (but shaking) hand.
"Relax," he said, all throaty baritone, and I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or to himself, but I obeyed, falling open for him. "You are so beautiful, Isabel." His gaze dropped, then, and I closed my eyes, so I sensed, rather than saw, and I felt the side of his face, rough and needing a shave, graze the inside of my thigh.
Good. God. Almighty.
Dom put everything he had to good use, and I lost track of what was his mouth and what was his hands. From the waist down, I was in flames, crashing and burning beneath him, nervous at first and then completely outside of myself, giving the last remnants of my self-control over to Dominic Toretto. When I came, it was nothing like what it had been with Leon. It was insane, it was powerful, consuming, rapacious, ravaging my body and drowning my mind, and it seemed to last forever.
At first, upon opening my eyes, I was blind. Lights and colors ran rampant across my mind's eye, and his image came to me slowly. He was blinking, dazed, and sober, his face almost in a frown, as if he were worried he'd done something wrong. He licked his top lip, then pulled the bottom one into his mouth and sucked it clean. I was gasping for breath, felt completely drained, and all I could do was reach for him. And then he was beside me, crushing me against him, and I was crying and he was not shushing me, only holding me, only letting me know that it was all right, and at one point he kissed my ear and told me again that I was beautiful.
I must have fallen asleep in his arms, because I don't remember him leaving. I didn't remember him leaving, didn't remember him saying goodbye, and when I woke, I wondered if perhaps it had been a wicked, drug-induced fantasy, but there was a note on the nightstand, written in surprisingly neat penmanship.
It's all OK, Isabel.
Love, Dom
I started to shake and dropped the note into my top drawer. Jesus Christ, what had I done? But the panic passed as quickly as it had come, and a deep, easy calm set in. An alarmingly calm calm. I had to find Jackson and apologize, and no one would ever know anything about what had transpired between myself and Dominic. Not Letty, not Leon, not Jackson. No one. I dressed slowly, in blue jeans and a nondescript tee shirt, and walked out into the hallway, yawning loudly. There were voices in the kitchen and I stumbled drowsily toward them.
My father, my mother and Jackson, the happy family. Everyone was all dressed and pressed and brushed, and as I glanced at the clock, I realized why. It was two o' clock in the afternoon, and they were eating not breakfast, but lunch. Jackson did not meet my gaze, but my father did, with a dark reprimand.
"Nice of you to stumble out of bed," he said, and my mom rested a hand on his, in an attempt to silence him, but it was for naught. He shook his hand free of hers and continued. "I don't suppose you were at that party down the street last night." I looked at him, a look of feigned shock.
"Why, Dad. Are you... sober ?" I smirked and plucked an orange from the fruit bowl at the center of the table. He was not amused.
"Answer the question, Izzie."
"You didn't ask me a damn question. You said 'I don't suppose...' That is a statement." I slumped into a chair and kicked Jackson beneath the table. He jumped and looked up at me, and I grinned. He glowered back at me. "Sheesh. What a party crowd."
"Were you at Toretto's house last night or were you not? How's that for a question?"
"I were not," I lied. "Not that it's any of your business."
Jackson shook his head and let his fork clank down onto his plate, shoving his chair back and standing up and stalking out the front door. I laughed a little.
"Temper, temper."
My parents glared at me, stone-faced, and I sighed and went after him, bare-foot, hair a mess, in my awful clothes. He was standing in front of the house with his hands in his pockets, and when I came up beside him, he refused to look at me.
"Jackson," I said quietly. "Let's go in the back and talk." I took his arm gently, and he looked down at my hands on his skin. I felt awful suddenly, looking at his face. I'd punished him enough. Too much. He'd made one uncharacteristic mistake and he'd panicked and for two weeks I'd been nothing but awful to him, and then I'd demanded that he fuck me, and now...Now he looked so confused. So alone and so confused, almost as if he would cry. He was only a baby, after all. Just barely eighteen years old. He wasn't a big man like Leon or Dominic. He was just a boy, and he was hurting very badly. "Come on."
We sat side-by-side in lawn chairs facing the ocean.
"I'm gonna be real honest with you, Jackson," I said. "I still love you, but I don't think we could be together again. Ever. This has been a really crazy summer for me, and last night I was a total witch to you. I'm really sorry for rubbing everything in your face. Who I was last night was not me. But, Jackson, who I was for those three years that I was with you...that wasn't me either, you know? I don't know, but I think that who I am and who I want to be is somewhere in between. Somewhere between the mealy-mouth little snob I was with you and the crazy, shit-faced drunk I was last night. I'm still trying to figure out who I am. I'm not like you. I don't just know who I am and who I want to be. I thought I did, but then this whole thing with Ashley came up and it's not necessarily bad that it did. It's making me think about a lot of things that I didn't think about before. And I'm trying new stuff and I'm being a little dangerous and it's fun, Jackson. Some of it hurts, but most of it is so damn fun. And it's only for the summer, you know? I'm not going to live in Mexico my whole life. I'm sorry about last night. Really I am. I was waaay fucked up. I just want to say sorry for last night and thank you for not fucking me."
Wow. Sentiment dump. Dom-style.
He nodded briefly and turned to meet my gaze, and his eyes were shining with tears.
"I love you, Izzie. I don't think that will ever change."
I didn't know what to say. I just reached out and squeezed his hand.
"This is all my fault," he said. "The clothes, the parties, that big guy climbing the wall last night...The drinking and the drugs...It's all my fault. If I'd have kept my dick in my pants, we'd have been together forever."
"You don't know that, Jackson," I said. "Nobody does. I think all it would have done is prolong it. We would have been together LONGer. Maybe we would have gotten married, and then, two years into a marriage, or five years, when we had good jobs and money and kids, I would do this. Sow my wild oats. Drink and do drugs and hang out with dangerous men. Would that have been better? To get that far and then watch it all fall apart?" He blinked, and I knew he could see my point.
"I'm gonna leave, Izzie," he said. "I was going to stay all summer, but I think I'm going to leave. I can't stay here and watch this."
I nodded. "I'll be all right, Jackson. You don't have to worry about me. I'm not going to destroy my life. You know me better than that."
He pressed his lips together and pulled his eyes off mine, staring down at the sand.
"Aren't you going to try to get me to stay?"
"No," I said softly. "I think you should go." I cleared my throat. "For my sake and your own, I want you to go."
So he left. My parents were crushed, but he left. And as the plane lifted off, my father turned to me and said,
"I hope you're happy."
I wasn't. I was very confused. And when we got back from the airport, I laid face-down on my bed and sobbed. It had been three days, and I'd heard nothing from Dominic, or Leon, or Letty, and I'd given Jackson a remorseless, million-mile push right out of my life. I was afraid that everything had been destroyed on all fronts, and that I would spend the rest of the summer alone. Or worse, with my parents.
I must have dozed off, because I woke to the phone ringing. And ringing. And ringing. The sun was just beginning to set, and the house was quiet. I hoped my parents were gone for the night, lifting the telephone to my ear and blinking blearily.
"Hello?"
"It's Letty. The boys are gone, and I'm bored. Getchass down here."
Letty was in sweatpants and had a bowl of popcorn and a beer, sprawled out
on the couch, when I walked in.
"Hey," she grinned, and I smiled too. I'd been nervous, had thought that maybe she'd know somehow. That somehow I'd walk through the door, she'd take one look at me, and immediately know that her man's face had been between my thighs. But her smile was genuine and she was happily on her way to inebriation.
"Vince told me what Leon said to you at the party. He went about it in an asshole way, but his intentions are good. He loves you and he thinks he's no good for you. Poor bastard. He'll get his head out of his ass, though. I have faith in him."
"Where are they now?" I asked, sinking into an armchair.
"I was gonna get drunk," she said, "But then I decided to call you. So now I'm just gonna finish this beer and then I'm gonna make you a blonde."
I snorted.
"You're gonna what?"
"I got a kit. Earlier. I was lookin' at your highlights at the party and I think your hair would be great blonde."
"All of it?"
Letty looked at the box. "It's a chunking kit. So some would be blonde and some would be brown. But not stripes or anything. And I got auburn dye for mine. So it will be reddish-black."
"Letty. There's no such thing as reddish black."
"You read it." She tossed me both boxes, and I perused them briefly, shaking my head.
"I don't think it's a good idea. Either one of 'em."
"Aw, c'mon. Have a few beers."
So, a few beers later, I was all but blonde, and Letty's hair was reddish black. Very dark brown with a reddish hue. It made her eyes look huge and inky, her skin dark. She had an angry, exotic beauty that I was incredibly envious of.
I stood a long while in front of the mirror and looked at my hair and realized that I liked it. It wasn't a cheesy, bimbo blonde and it did look good with my eyes. I thought I had lost probably twenty pounds. I did not recognize myself. I was definitely not Jackson's Izzie anymore.
"Where did everyone go?" I asked again, walking back into the living room and sitting beside Letty.
"Out. Dom's not with the other three. He had to run...Somewhere. I don't know where. Oh. He had to run to see Torlone. Out to dinner with Torlone. And Vince and Mia and Leon went to dinner and then bars."
"And you stayed home?"
"I haven't been feeling so good," she said. "Been tired. And Dom doesn't want me within fifty yards of Torlone anyway. I'm a fucking embarassment, you know."
"Oh, that's right," I chuckled. "You cracked him so hard across the face."
She laughed with me.
"Asshole deserved it. What time is it?"
I looked at the clock.
"Twelve."
"Sonofabitch!" she exclaimed, and I jumped at the unexpected outburst. "He said he was gonna be home at ten. The fuck am I supposed to do NOW?"
I felt a stab of fear in the pit of my stomach. He was two hours late home from a date with the Mob. The fuck were we supposed to do now?
We put a movie in and were quiet. Quite sobered by concern, we watched the stupid comedy flick. But Letty didn't stay quiet for long. She became pissy and agitated, drumming nail-less fingers on the arm of the couch.
"He is so dead when he gets home," she said, and I didn't doubt her for a second.
The movied ended and we started another. I heard Dom's voice in my mind: You are so beautiful, Isabel. My brain played wretched tricks on me. I had seen the movie "Casino." My head was fucking with me in a bad way.
Intermittent recollections of my Xtasy-enriched moments under Dom's ministrations freckled the morbid stretch of nightmarish horror-flick material my mind's eye was conjuring.
I saw him sitting at the bar in the lounge in Mexico City, his tie undone, drunk and exhausted. I saw him sitting in the sand at the beach in cargos and a black tee-shirt. I saw him squatting at the side of my bed, and then kneeling between my legs. I heard my shaking voice as I told him I loved him, and felt his arms around me as I cried.
"Where the fuck is he?" Letty fumed. My sentiments exactly. As if on cue, the front door creaked open and he lumbered through. He glanced at me, and then at Letty, and laughed.
"Hi."
I gaped at him, and it took even Letty a moment to find her tongue.
"Where the fuck were you?" she demanded, crossing her legs and folding her arms over her chest.
Dom swallowed, struggling to sober under her glare.
"I was out with Torlone!"
Drunk within an inch of his life. He sounded like a kindergartener defending a Crayola masterpiece on the white carpeting.
"'I was out with Torlone,'" Letty mimicked, exaggeratedly. "Fuck that. You were supposed to be home at ten o' clock. Do you have any idea what time it is?"
Dom lifted his wrist to just under his nose and squinted at his watch.
"Bout three, I think."
"About three. You don't say." Letty rose and crossed the room, standing directly before him. His lids were so heavy that his eyes were almost closed, and he scanned her battle stance lazily.
"Shit," he laughed in the face of her anger. "I'm gonna need a beer for this one."
"The last fucking thing you need is a beer. The fuck were you DOing. You smell like a woman."
He flashed a cocky grin.
"'Least one of us does."
"Oh, you are SO not in a position to be making fun of me right now." She took a step closer, scrutinizing. "Your lips look a little rosy, Dom."
"Chapped," he said.
Letty raised an eyebrow. "Chapped?"
He nodded, sucking both of said lips into his mouth and releasing them with a comical 'pop'.
"Yup. Chapped."
"You are so full of shit sometimes it is unbelievable."
"Got something to say to me, Letty? Or you wanna just hit me and get it over with."
"What was her name, Dom?" Letty was unrelenting in her pursuit of the awful truth. I had to wonder why she wanted to know the particulars. I sure as hell didn't.
"Oh, Jesus Christ," he sighed. "Can I get a beer please?"
"You need a beer like you need a bullet in the brain," Letty spat, and then paused, as if reconsidering the validity of that analogy. She shook her head. "Go sit down."
"I'm thirsty."
I loved the way his mouth formed the word 'thirsty,' and felt guilty in doing so.
Letty stalked to the kitchen, reached into the fridge, and pulled out a plastic bottled water. She held it up for his approval, and when he nodded, she wound up and fired it at him, full-hilt. The water hit him square in the gut and the air rushed out of him in a shocked hiss. He backpedaled to absorb the blow and lost his balance, landing on his ass with an impressive crash.
"You fuckin' bitch," he slurred, doubled over, and I rose to leave but couldn't, standing there frozen.
"You are drunk as shit," Letty said, coming to stand over him, and he chuckled.
"Yah."
"It's not funny. I thought you were dead."
Dom shook his head, struggling to his feet.
"No such luck."
"Nice, Dom."
"Can I get that beer now?"
"Why don't you get the fuck out, huh? Why don't you just get the fuck out. Go out and drink yourself to death, if that's what you wanna do. Then I don't have to watch it. I'm expecting company anyway."
"Oh, yeah?" He stepped toward her, and she retreated.
"Yeah."
"Who might that be?"
"Abe," she said. I was torn between letting Letty get her revenge and telling Dom that she was fucking with him. I sat cross-legged in the armchair and pretended to read the newspaper.
"Abe who?"
"Cortez," she said, flippantly defiant and foolishly fearless.
"Don't start." Dom waved a hand dismissively.
But she had started already. And showed no sign of stopping.
"You remember him, Dom. Big brown bruiser from the party? The one who had his hands on my ass?"
I watched Dom's whole frame harden, his face dark and stony.
"I told you I don't want him around here anymore."
"Yeah, well. I like him. And I need male companionship. I sure as shit ain' gettin' it from you."
"The FUCK is THAT supposed to mean?" His voice was so deep and so loud that it rumbled in my stomach, and I was a good ten feet away. I jumped, and felt like I was going to cry. I didn't like what Letty was doing to him. At all.
He cocked his head to one side and moved in, his nose nearly touching hers. But she never flinched, and her tone was cold and level as she spoke,
"It means that twice a month just ain't cutting it for me. And this shit," she indicated his present state of being, "Is getting so, so old."
He had his lips pressed together in a tight white line, breathing in short, fast blasts through his nose. He reminded me of a bull. And when he spoke, it was through clenched teeth.
"Twice a month?"
"You heard me."
He nodded shortly and staggered back out of her face, as if he didn't trust himself to be in close proximity.
"So you're gonna have Abe over. Let him pick up my slack. That the plan?"
Letty shrugged. "Why not."
"Oh, that's fucking lovely."
With a black fury, he stormed past her, into the guest room, and slammed the door behind him with an unnerving force.
Letty stood, fists clenched, nose flared, and stared at the closed door. A band of light appeared across the carpet, and shortly thereafter came a loud CRACK! and a frustrated, baritone roar:
"SonofaBITCH!"
Letty approached the door slowly and stood a moment with her ear to it.
"You all right in there?" There came no answer, so she repeated the question. "Shit, Dom, are you all right in there?"
Hesitantly she swung it open, and I craned my neck to see. Dom was sprawled across the floor, holding his face.
"You idiot," Letty sighed. "You split your lip? Let me see."
"I tripped on that fucking thing, hit my face on the bed."
"Let me see," she said.
He spoke softly, but his voice was deep and carried well.
"Shouldn't you be making hors d' ouvres or something? I mean, since you're going to be entertaining."
Letty stood up, wiping her hands on the seat of her pants. "You are such an asshole, you know that?"
Dom grunted his way into a sitting position.
"It's more than twice a month, you know, Letty."
"Who was it tonight? Did you know her name?"
"No," he said dumbly, then quickly added, "But I didn't fuck her, either."
"What a shame. Struck out, huh?"
"Ah, Jesus Christ. No I didn't 'strike out.' I told her I had a girl-"
"Who would be more than happy to finish the job, only it's boring fucking her, she's a little bit ghetto, and you're a man of cultured tastes all of a sudden."
The underwritten meaning of those words struck home immediately, and I looked up. Dom met my gaze for just an instant, then tore his eyes away. Houston, we have a problem.
"Don't even start," he said, in a low, flat voice. "That's fuckin' cruel."
Mayday. Mayday.
"It's true, isn't it? I was an innocent little virgin too once, Dom, only you changed that, and now you're sick of me."
He looked absolutely ill.
"I never said I was sick of you."
"Please. When it comes to me, you've got the sex drive of an 80-year-old woman."
Dom went at her then, taking her waist in his hands and lifting her to his eye level, pinning her to the wall with his pelvis, grabbing her thighs and wrapping her legs around his waist. He gave a rough thrust upwards and glared down into her face. I had a painfully clear view.
"You wanna fuck, Let? Is that what this is about? You in heat, you fucking hellcat? Need to get laid?"
His words were wracked with anguish, and a broad grin broke out across her face, eyes flashing, unafraid. No fear in her anywhere. Only triumph. I realized with a shudder that this is what she'd wanted...to break him. Make him slave-like and humble. And she seemed to find his violence delicious even as he found it shameful and desperate.
"Hell yeah," she said, licking her full upper lip. "Let's go."
Let's go is right. I left, closing the front door softly behind me.