The Vengeance You Crave by Tracy Lorraine
Peyton
I'm filled with the same trepidation that I am every time I step out of the staff area and out into the main bar, but on a Tuesday night, it's always worse.
I've only been here a few weeks, but I already know some of the regulars, and I’m fully aware of exactly what they expect from me.
My stomach turns at the thought of what I'm going to have to do tonight to get the tips I need.
I feel their burning stares as I step out into the lights and make my way over toward Bry who's working the bar.
"Evening, gorgeous," he says, dropping his eyes down my body. "You on a mission tonight?"
"I'm always on a mission, Bry. To get out of here as soon as possible."
He chuckles at my response as he passes me a bottle of water.
"Your favorite table awaits." I take a sip of the water before stashing it on the shelf at the end of the bar for when I need a breather in about… two minutes.
"Great." I grab my notepad, not that I'll need it, they never order anything different as they sit there and strip me naked with their eyes.
Disgust rolls through me as I make my way over.
"Here's our girl," the most cringeworthy one of them says directly to my tits. He's got the bushiest eyebrows I think I've ever seen and I'm desperate to get a trimmer on them.
"Evening, gentlemen. What can I get for you tonight?" I pop my hip and lean against the booth they’re sitting in, close enough to the least scary one of the group. The scent of his cologne fills my nose and my mouth goes dry.
I fucking hate this.
"You already know what we want, princess," the one with the greasy slicked back hair says.
They're all office workers and turn up on a weekly basis in their suits with their designer watches, but I can tell you that that is where their class ends. I'd put money on that all of them have wives and kids at home, yet they choose to spend their evening here getting their rocks off looking at my tits and ass and making me as uncomfortable as humanly possible with their lewd comments.
"Macallan all around then, boys?" I purr.
"Don't forget our hot wings," Eyebrows adds.
"Would I forget?"
Placing my notepad on the table, I stick my ass out as I write down their order as if I'm some dumb airhead that can't remember two things on the short walk over to the bar.
My skin prickles as they eat me up and as soon as I've finished my little show, I flash them a seductive smile and saunter off. But I don't make it back to the bar before Slick calls for me.
"We're celebrating tonight, princess, and we're feeling generous. Show us a good night and we'll make it worth your while."
My stomach churns at his words but I force a smile onto my face and retreat to the safety of the bar.
"You are aware of how much they'd probably pay you if you took them to the back room, right?" Bry asks.
"I'm not that fucking desperate," I mutter, not even needing to tell him their order. He knows as well as I do.
"Just saying, it would get you out of here quicker."
I want to be annoyed at him, but I can't. He's one of the only people who really seems to understand my need to be here despite the fact we've never shared our stories, there's just something about him that makes me think he gets it.
Helena, one of the other waitresses, approaches us. Her filled lips are painted bright red and her fake tits damn near pushed up around her neck. Resting her elbows on the bar she flashes her cleavage at Bry who pays her very little attention.
"Order's up, sweetie," she purrs, sliding her order over to him. "What's up, girl?" she asks, blatantly running her eyes over me disapprovingly.
I know I don't look like most of the other girls here. I don't have a fake thing on my body. Okay, aside from my eyelashes. I roll my eyes at myself. And while I might try my best to flirt with the customers, it's glaringly obvious that I have no idea what I'm doing and that I'm totally uncomfortable doing it. Bry tells me that that's my whole appeal, that I've got the innocent virgin vibe going on. And while I hate the thought of the men who leer at me thinking about ruining my innocence, I know it's what gets the tips and ultimately what landed me the job here in the first place.
I wish I could have just got a job at a coffee shop like Letty and serve normal people their caffeine and sugar fixes daily.
"Going for the big tips tonight, love?" Helena asks, her eyes zeroing in on my breasts, much like the men.
"Well, I might not have as much as you, but I figure I should work with what I've got."
Bry snorts a laugh, quickly covering it up with a cough, but it's too late, Helena heard it loud and clear.
"Well, enjoy the tips you can get. When you're ready to play with the women, you just let me know."
She spins around with her notebook poised, ready to take more orders from her adoring customers when Bry calls her back.
"Helena."
"Yes," she hisses, clearly done with both of us.
"You've got a little…" He taps the corner of his mouth. "Cum, maybe."
"Oh my God," I cry as her face twists in frustration. She storms off to the sound of our laughter.
"She's going to kill you with the heel of her stiletto," I tell him once she's out of earshot.
"Meh, it would be worth it. She's a bitch. I'd have you over her any day of the week."
"Bry, you're gay."
"Yeah, I'm not fucking blind though." He drops his eyes down my mostly exposed body and I can't help it heating up with his attention.
"Stop it," I snap.
"I fucking knew it. You want a bit of this, don't you?" he says, lifting his shirt to show off his abs.
"Ew, as if. I have no idea where you've been."
"In some really, really fucked up guys," he deadpans.
"Ah, got a thing for the bad boys, do you?" I ask as he continues to put me off, grabbing the glasses I need for my table of assholes.
"Who doesn't?"
My lips part to argue but the words die on my tongue.
Luca was vicious that first night, but fuck if he didn't call to me even more so than he did back in the day. The wicked glint in his eyes, the snarl on his lips. Hell, if I'd have turned him down.
"Yeah, alright. You gonna finish this for me before they expect extras for me being late."
"Yes." He turns his back on me and grabs the glasses before sliding the tray over. "Pey," he says when I take off, holding the tray with one hand over my shoulder.
"Yeah."
"Be careful with those guys, I don't like the way they look at you."
"I've got this, Bry. You don't need to worry about me." I put as much confidence into my voice as possible, covering the fact on the inside I'm a terrified wreck who would rather hide in a dark closet than serve those sleazy jerks. But that's not going to pay the medical bills that are racking up faster than I can cope with.
Throwing my shoulders back and holding my head up high, I make my way over.
* * *
As expected, under the disgusting stares of the regulars, my night drags. Even the banter with Bry doesn't turn my night around, and by the time my shift comes to an end, I can't run out of the building fast enough.
Thankfully, my fan club left about fifteen minutes ago, allowing me to step out of the back door of the club without too much concern about them still being back here. From the amount they all put away, there's no way they should be anywhere near a car anyway.
But as I take my first steps toward my car, I can't ignore the shiver that races down my spine.
The majority of the parking lot is illuminated by the security lights lining the building, but there are still plenty of dark spots that someone could hide in if they wanted to.
My eyes fly around in the hope of seeing whatever it is that's making all my hairs stand on end, but I don't see anyone. The parking lot is mostly empty, just a couple of the regular’s cars who are still inside along with the remaining staff.
Swallowing down my fear, I continue forward. I tell myself that it's just the memory of the way those men looked at me tonight that has me on edge, but still, I don't believe it.
Someone is watching me.
Someone is—
The scream that erupts from my throat when a hot body presses against my back not a second later is cut off when a hand wraps around my mouth.
I'm shoved forward as my heart pounds so hard in my chest that I feel it in my toes.
My entire body trembles with fear.
Stupid, stupid girl,I think to myself. I knew I was playing with fire tonight in the hope of getting more tips, but all I've done is make them think they could take whatever they wanted.
I whimper beneath the hand as a strong arm wraps around my waist and I'm lifted from the ground.
I manage to get a look at the arm around me and even in the dull light, it's clear to see that it's not a suit jacket or even a shirt.
The man who has me is wearing a hoodie.
Oh God.
Together we slip into the darkness and somehow my pulse picks up even more speed knowing that even if someone did come back here, they'd never see us.
The front of my body presses up against a car and his long, hard body pins me in place.
"You didn't think I'd forgotten, did you?" a familiar voice growls in my ear.
The shudder of fear immediately turns into something else entirely as his breath caresses my ear and down my neck. Despite his obvious anger, there's still something there that calls to me, that feels right. Although everything about this is so very, very wrong.
I whimper again, wishing I was able to say something, anything, to get me out of this right now.
"I've been watching you, you know. Watching you leave every night. Wondering exactly who you've spent the night shaking your ass at for some cash."
Emotion clogs my throat, shame washing through me for the depths I've lowered myself to. Only a few months ago, I never would have considered a job like this. But needs must and all that.
"I guess it's true what they say, the apple never falls far from the tree."
No,I want to scream.
I know what people thought of my mom. I spent years having to endure the guys ribbing me over her job. But that's all it was. A job. A job to ensure that her girls had a roof over their heads and food in their bellies.
I don't want to hear anything bad about the woman who gave her life to look after us.
Suddenly, I'm moving. My front leaves the car and I'm spun around until it's my back against the cool metal.
Luca's hand leaves my mouth, his fingers curling around the top of his car and pinning me in.
"Don't even think about calling for help, Little Girl."
A weird mix of comfort and hatred races through me at his use of the name he used to call me all those years ago. It was always a joke because I was a couple of weeks younger than him. But right now, it feels anything like a joke and everything like a threat.
I am little compared to him. I always was. But in our time apart he's grown, both in height and bulk, and I already know that I don't stand a chance against him.
My lips part, but no noise passes them, just a large exhale as I stare into his dark eyes. I know they're the most incredible green, but right now, hidden in the darkness, it's hard to see.
He stares at me as if he can't believe I'm actually standing before him.
His chest heaves, his full lips parted as he fights to keep his cool.
"You shouldn't have come back here," he warns, his voice low and cold in a way I remember all too well from the last time we spoke.
"I-I—"
"No," he barks. "I don't want your pity story, Peyton."
I swallow down the argument that was on the tip of my tongue, although I already know that it was weak at best because there is no way I'm telling him the truth. I'm not giving him any more ammunition to hurt me than he already thinks he has.
"Did you think you would turn up here and I wouldn't find you?"
I stare at him, willing him to see the truth in my eyes.
I didn't have any other option.
"Or is that exactly what you wanted? That I would find you and that I'd have forgotten? Did you think that I'd put all your lies behind me and that we could just pick back up where we left off?" He spits the words as if even saying them disgusts him. "Did you really miss me that much?"
Internally, I scream yes. Yes, I really missed him that much. When we first moved away, I'd have done anything to have my best friend back. Literally anything. But I knew there was no way it was going to happen. Just like I don't think it's going to happen now either.
"Let's see what you've had on offer tonight then. See if we can make all of this worthwhile for me."
"W-wha—"
I'm frozen in shock as he lifts his hand to the zipper on the front of my hoodie and pulls it down.
Unlike last night, this one actually belongs to me. The moment I put it on, I missed the comfort of Elijah's. It's crazy but it's like some weird security blanket.
The cool winter air washes over my exposed skin, making me shiver. That is until his eyes drop from mine and scorch a trail over my skin.
Then I'm burning up. My blood boiling from the inside from the way that he's making me feel.
But it's not for him. It's not lust or my desire for him to touch me.
It's shame.
Red hot shame for the person I've become, the woman he's standing before after all these years and what I've lowered myself to.
It's no surprise he doesn't like me. Every time I come to this place and put in a shift, I hate myself a little bit more.
It's just a means to an end, I tell myself. My family needs me, and this is the best way I can help.
But that knowledge doesn't make it any better.
A growl of disapproval rumbles at the back of his throat before he clicks his tongue.
"You were showing those boys a good time tonight, huh?" he mutters.
Unable to even look at him as he judges me, I turn my head to the side and stare into the darkness, wishing like hell that it would swallow me up.
Why did it have to be like this?
The lump in my throat is so large, it's hard to even breathe as he continues studying me.
"Tell me…" he starts, making my stomach sink for what's going to come next. "Did you make a lot of tips tonight?"
I don't answer him. I don't even look at him. Too mortified by the knowledge of just how much I made from merely showing off a little too much skin.
Not happy with my lack of response, Luca shoves his hand into the pocket of my hoodie, correctly guessing where I stashed the cash.
"Fucking hell," he gasps when he pulls the wad of bills out. "What did you do tonight, you filthy slut?" he growls, leaning in and whispering in my ear.
"N-nothing."
"Bullshit," he spits, moving closer still. We're not touching but the heat of his skin burns. It makes me tingle with my need for him to actually touch me. To know if it's still as electric as it was back then.
When he does finally connect with me, it's not at all in the way I'd hoped, or longed for, after all these years.
I swallow down the whimper that wants to erupt when his hot fingers wrap around my throat.
They squeeze lightly in warning, making my eyes burn with red hot tears.
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,I scream internally, knowing full well that what happened between us was what created—or at least contributed to—the angry, vicious, dark boy who's standing before me. He was always there, hiding under the surface. Whenever someone pissed him off—mainly his dad—he would emerge. But only ever behind closed doors, and only ever alone or with me or Leon. His safe places.
What the rest of the world saw when shit hit the fan was an entirely different person to the one I knew. He was ashamed of the place he went when he was really angry, and I knew why, even without him ever telling me.
It made him like his father.
His temper, his ability to lash out. It was just like Brett Dunn, and Luca hated it.
I got it. His dad was a douchebag of epic proportions. I just always wished he found a way to deal with it instead of hiding and taking it out on those he loved. Me, Lee, his mom.
It makes me wonder if anyone else has been there for him over the past five years with me gone.
My heart aches considering that there might be a woman out there right now who understands this side of him. Who helps him through it much like I used to.
"Don't act like a stupid little girl, Peyton. We both know you're not. And, we both know exactly what happens in there to earn this kind of money. So… What. Did. You. Do?"
"N-nothing," I repeat.
"Who touched you?"
"N-no one." It's not entirely true. Slick did get a little handsy after the fourth bottle of whisky was delivered to their table, but he didn't touch me like I'm sure Luca is thinking right now.
He shakes his head at me, disappointment rolling off him in waves.
"So, all this money just to look, huh? They must really think you're something special."
"I-I'm nothing, Luc. I just… I just give them what they want."
"Trust me. If you didn't let them touch you, if you didn't touch them, I can assure you that you got nowhere fucking close to giving them what they wanted."
I swallow down my response because we both know any argument I might have would be a lie.
"You're a tease, Peyton. Walking around like this, giving guys ideas." His eyes drop to my breasts, and even in the dark, I know exactly what he can see and it makes me want the ground to swallow me whole.
My hands curl into tight fists and I squeeze my eyes closed, wishing that I were anywhere but here right now. That we could have collided again in any other place than this. Any other time than tonight.
"Tell me, P. Were these as hard for them as they are for me right now?"
I gasp when his soft touch brushes over one of my nipples.
His fingers tighten around my throat when I don't immediately respond.
"I-It's the cold."
"Fucking bullshit, P. We both know that if I were to push my hand inside your panties right now that you'd be dripping fucking wet for me."
My eyes fly up to his in shock. His words rocking me to my very core and reminding me that I'm not dealing with a sixteen-year-old Luca anymore. I'm dealing with a man with more anger and hurt than I know how to navigate.
"Wait…" he says before I have any time to fight my corner. "You are wearing panties, right? You're not that desperate for those cunts' money that you've been bending over in this short skirt all night and showing them what's mine."
"Y-yours?" I stutter, ignoring the rest of his statement. My shock at his ownership of my body too much to brush aside.
A low, menacing chuckle rumbles up his throat. A terrifying smirk curls at his lips.
"Yeah, Peyton. Mine."
I swallow, trying to force down the ever-growing lump, but it's pointless. Even long after he releases me, I know it's going to remain.
I hold his eyes, dragging up as much confidence as I can muster while refusing to dignify his question with an actual answer.
That all goes to shit though when he lowers his hand, skimming his knuckles along the edge of my skirt.
"Yes. Yes," I cry. "I'm wearing panties."
Pulling his hand away, he lifts the cash he's still got in his fingers.
His lips curl once more before he pushes it all into the pocket of his sweats.
"Luca, please. I need—"
"What you need is to stop looking like a cheap whore, P."
"It's my job. I need the money."
"Tell me why and maybe I'll go easier on you. Assuming I believe a word that comes out of your lying mouth.”
