Read Online A Little Too Much by Lisa Desrochers - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lisa Desrochers
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spins, pacing away from me in the direction he came. But then he turns back and looks at me with hard charcoal eyes. “I don’t know! I don’t know why I do anything anymore! I don’t know what I’m supposed to do to make this right,” he says, flinging his arm between us. “I don’t know how to fix any of it.”
He finishes his rant by dropping his chin to his chest and rubbing his forehead, and that’s when I realize it’s not me he’s pissed at. He’s angry with himself. Very angry, based on the way his face twisted in disgust as he said that.
I catch myself feeling sorry that I yelled at him, but then I stop. I’m not going to feel sorry for him. After everything, he’s got no right to my sympathy. “Just go home, Alessandro,” I say, turning for the subway.
I hoof it up Ludlow Street as fast as I can in my killer heels . . . which isn’t all that fast. I hate that I’m wearing them. I hate that I’m wearing this whole outfit. What was I even thinking? This was such a stupid plan.
Despite my vow not to look back, I do as I round the corner onto Broome, toward the Grand Street station, and see Alessandro following behind, half a block back. I start walking faster, but I’ve only gotten to the end of the first building when someone says, “Hey!” from very close by.
I turn and see a pair of white kids, maybe eighteen or nineteen, hanging in a dark doorway. One of them has his hoodie up, shadowing his face, a lit cigarette pinched between his thumb and finger, all dark and brooding. The other one is a tall, blond, grinning fool.
The blond kid steps out of the doorway. His eyes rake over me and I pull my jacket closed. “You looking for a good time?”
I am so not in the mood for this. “I am so far out of your league, honey, that you wouldn’t have the first clue what to do with me.”
The one with the cigarette glares at me, but the blond laughs. “I’m sure we could think of a thing or two.”
“Not in this lifetime.” I start moving again, but the kid with the cigarette springs like a snake and grabs me. I start to scream, but I fall off my heels as he spins me against the door in the alcove and pins me with his body. He slaps a hand over my mouth and holds his cigarette ash up to my face, just an inch from my cheek. “You scream again, you fucking whore, and I’ll take your fucking eye,” he hisses.
“Dude!” the blond kid says. “Chill. She’ll do it.” He looks at me, his eyes wide and pleading. “We’ve got money. How much do you charge?”
They think I’m a hooker. Perfect.
With the other kid’s hand over my mouth, it’s not like I’m going to answer. I just glare at him.
“You’re going to want to let the girl go.”
I can’t see Alessandro, but there’s no mistaking the voice. The attention of the kid holding me snaps to his friend, who’s staring, wide-eyed, at where I’m sure Alessandro is standing, just around the corner of the alcove, out of my line of sight.
“Dude,” the blond kid says again to his friend without taking his eyes off Alessandro. “Let her go.”
He doesn’t. He presses the cigarette closer to my eye. “You’re going to want to mind your own fucking business, man.”
Alessandro steps into view, just a few feet from the blond kid, and, if looks could kill, the kid holding me would be vaporized. His face is dark and tight, his laser gaze trained on the kid with the cigarette. His hands twitch at his sides and he’s got that half-crazy look Lorenzo always had, like he’s coiled tight, ready to snap.
The blond splits a glance between Alessandro and his buddy, then takes off at a sprint. The dark-haired kid’s grip on me loosens as he watches his friend bolt. The momentary distraction is all I need. I bring my knee up hard into his crotch and he cries out and falls to his hands and knees, holding his junk. It only takes him a second to find his feet and he staggers off.
Alessandro steps into the alcove, the rage in his
He finishes his rant by dropping his chin to his chest and rubbing his forehead, and that’s when I realize it’s not me he’s pissed at. He’s angry with himself. Very angry, based on the way his face twisted in disgust as he said that.
I catch myself feeling sorry that I yelled at him, but then I stop. I’m not going to feel sorry for him. After everything, he’s got no right to my sympathy. “Just go home, Alessandro,” I say, turning for the subway.
I hoof it up Ludlow Street as fast as I can in my killer heels . . . which isn’t all that fast. I hate that I’m wearing them. I hate that I’m wearing this whole outfit. What was I even thinking? This was such a stupid plan.
Despite my vow not to look back, I do as I round the corner onto Broome, toward the Grand Street station, and see Alessandro following behind, half a block back. I start walking faster, but I’ve only gotten to the end of the first building when someone says, “Hey!” from very close by.
I turn and see a pair of white kids, maybe eighteen or nineteen, hanging in a dark doorway. One of them has his hoodie up, shadowing his face, a lit cigarette pinched between his thumb and finger, all dark and brooding. The other one is a tall, blond, grinning fool.
The blond kid steps out of the doorway. His eyes rake over me and I pull my jacket closed. “You looking for a good time?”
I am so not in the mood for this. “I am so far out of your league, honey, that you wouldn’t have the first clue what to do with me.”
The one with the cigarette glares at me, but the blond laughs. “I’m sure we could think of a thing or two.”
“Not in this lifetime.” I start moving again, but the kid with the cigarette springs like a snake and grabs me. I start to scream, but I fall off my heels as he spins me against the door in the alcove and pins me with his body. He slaps a hand over my mouth and holds his cigarette ash up to my face, just an inch from my cheek. “You scream again, you fucking whore, and I’ll take your fucking eye,” he hisses.
“Dude!” the blond kid says. “Chill. She’ll do it.” He looks at me, his eyes wide and pleading. “We’ve got money. How much do you charge?”
They think I’m a hooker. Perfect.
With the other kid’s hand over my mouth, it’s not like I’m going to answer. I just glare at him.
“You’re going to want to let the girl go.”
I can’t see Alessandro, but there’s no mistaking the voice. The attention of the kid holding me snaps to his friend, who’s staring, wide-eyed, at where I’m sure Alessandro is standing, just around the corner of the alcove, out of my line of sight.
“Dude,” the blond kid says again to his friend without taking his eyes off Alessandro. “Let her go.”
He doesn’t. He presses the cigarette closer to my eye. “You’re going to want to mind your own fucking business, man.”
Alessandro steps into view, just a few feet from the blond kid, and, if looks could kill, the kid holding me would be vaporized. His face is dark and tight, his laser gaze trained on the kid with the cigarette. His hands twitch at his sides and he’s got that half-crazy look Lorenzo always had, like he’s coiled tight, ready to snap.
The blond splits a glance between Alessandro and his buddy, then takes off at a sprint. The dark-haired kid’s grip on me loosens as he watches his friend bolt. The momentary distraction is all I need. I bring my knee up hard into his crotch and he cries out and falls to his hands and knees, holding his junk. It only takes him a second to find his feet and he staggers off.
Alessandro steps into the alcove, the rage in his
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