Sophie was someone who was easily pushed into the defensive, closing up and lashing out at those who mattered, when trying to protect herself, and being drunk escalated it tenfold. She had always been that way and very few had his skill at knowing how to handle her. Too stubborn to think logically or realize she was cutting off her nose to spite her face sometimes.
He upped his speed, putting his new car through its paces to get to her a little quicker as the tension in his body escalated. It was late, almost ten p.m. and the city was aglow with the usual never-ending illumination of New York, as his sleek steel gray Mercedes slid through the night effortlessly. He was biting his lip as his eyes roamed the traffic impatiently, checking his mirrors as he shifted in his seat.
She always made him feel anxious when she was like this, so many scenarios running through his head of what could happen to her, and his inner body twisting the tango of uptight anxiety. Sophie was naive at the best of times, but drunk, she was completely oblivious to danger, considering her past, and seemed to have a knack for attracting it.
“I’m sorry … Arry?” She started to sob, and he just felt worse. He hadn’t even yelled at her this time, so he had no idea why she was crying. He had stopped yelling at her months ago when he realized it no longer had any effect on her behavior, and he hated Sophie crying; it made him feel like a shitty human being when those hurt doe eyes hit him, right in the stomach.
He had seen enough of her tears over the years in connection to what her sick perverted father had done to her and that’s all he saw now. That vulnerable broken face, racked with scars and pain from a childhood that could have destroyed her. Arrick stiffened as that stab of rage spiked inside like a fiery hot spear.
Whenever he thought of that asshole he wanted to kill him; the fact he could take someone as innocent and sweet as her and ruthlessly abuse her for years made him want to rip the guy’s spine out and ram it down his throat. He was fiercely protective of her, knowing everything he knew, being there for every therapy appointment and tearful outpouring when she needed to talk.
Sophie had let him in in ways that no one else had been allowed, and the depth of her dark confessions ripped his soul out repeatedly, at the misery she endured. Listening to it almost ended him, so he had no idea how she ever endured it and stayed sane. He vowed long ago that he would always protect her, that he would destroy any guy who dared to ever lay hands on her against her will again, and it was an oath he would uphold for an eternity.
Sophie was his warrior! Despite all of it, she had risen through the memories like an invincible flame, and she had blossomed despite that asshole. He had never known anyone as strong as her; pride washing through him at her achievement as he thought of how much she overcame in a bid to move on. Arrick inhaled heavily, calming his outward persona as affection for her reigned supreme.
“Come on, Sophs. Don’t. You know I can’t handle it when you cry. I’ll be there in twenty minutes or less. Go, be a good girl and get back in the club for me.” He could make out the noise of the street around her and the tell-tale shake of her voice that she was shivering. Frowning hard again, at something else she was doing to herself with zero care for her own wellbeing-, and it just angered him crazily. She had probably come out without a jacket again, wearing something way too short and skimpy, and not giving a crap that it was late in the season and exposure was something that could kill her.
The girl needed constant supervision. Her love of current fashion irritated him when trends were all skimp and skin. Right now, women were wearing less and less, and he hated that Sophie followed the trend of leaving little to the imagination. She was a complete fashion addict; clothes were her life, even when they were barely scraps of fabric on her.
She had a body that attracted eyes, long legs, and a perfect petite frame with curves that even someone like him couldn’t ignore. She was growing up way too fast and seemed to hit puberty from the second he met her. No matter how hard he had tried to not see the changes and ignore how much she was becoming a head turner, he had to admit, Sophie was irresistible to most men. He could only imagine how many sleazy perverts had been scoping her out already.
“Okay … I’ll be at the back, in the booths lying down.” She sniffed some more, gaining control again, and he cursed internally, frustration biting hard and stilling him from snapping. Biting down to curb the urge to yell at her as anger bristled.
“Don’t lie down near the back, stay up front.” He ground out through gritted teeth, fighting to sound normal and cool. He knew only too well what kind of men preyed on young girls like her in the shadows at the back of Randy’s club. It was a place he used to frequent with Jake, his older brother, a long time ago, and had completely gone downhill in recent years with the clientele becoming seedier. The crew Sophie hung around with seemed to favor it, despite both Arrick and Jake telling her repeatedly to steer clear, and it only made him flatten metal to the floor in a bid to get there faster, his pulse quickening. He didn’t care if he got a ticket; he couldn’t stand the thought of her passing out in a dark corner of a club that was notorious for women being assaulted.
“I’m tired, I need to lie down.” She slurred again, all tears gone, and he could recognize the noise of the club approaching as though she was walking back inside. Arrick’s panic rose in his throat at her complete lack of any sense in this, heart hammering and dodging cars on the road as he drove a little erratically.
“You can sleep in my car, Sophie. I’m warning you. Stay out near the front where I can find you, and on your feet. I’m almost halfway. Do not lie down!” He was stern; his tone less controlled and huskier at the thought of anything happening to her, praying to God she listened tonight. Trying to keep his temper because he knew she could be a boiling pot of childishness like this, and the last thing he needed was her telling him to fuck off and disappearing on him. She had a habit of up and running when she couldn’t deal with something, and it had spurred her to leave home months ago.
Sophie sighed dramatically and then was obscured by the sudden thumping noise of the music surrounding her before it was disconnected. The club had an awful signal inside and he had just lost her as she went back to the dance floor.
Shit.
Arrick flinched with the cold pulse that ran through him, anxiety, and fear colliding with every worst-case scenario in his head. He tried her cell again quickly, but got nothing but her answer machine, cursing out loud this time.
He would lecture her when he got there, shake the shit out of her. No doubt he’d have to carry her out like last weekend and this time he was sitting her down for a serious heart-to-heart. He was done with whatever this was. Done with the drunken calls, putting herself in constant danger, the argumentative stroppy behavior and difficult attitude of late. He understood that her past sometimes meant she was hard to handle, even at her best she had always been hard to handle, but this lately was beyond a joke. His nerves couldn’t take much more of this and his relationship with Natasha was falling to pieces because of it.
Tonight, she was coming home with him and sobering up to get the third degree. Enough was enough, and if anyone could get through to her and convince her to go home to her family, then it was him. He had been avoiding this conflict for too long and he couldn’t avoid it anymore; that stubborn mindset hitting him hard that he wasn’t going to keep going through this anxiety over her safety anymore. The agony.
She had up and left home a few months before, after a heated fight concerning her drunken lifestyle; another night he scraped her off a sidewalk and taken her back from the city to the Hamptons. Her family had lost all control by then, and Arrick had been the only one left she still clung to in any way. He had been treating her with kid gloves ever since, in fear she would cut him loose too, and that had been his biggest mistake. He had listened to Natasha over his own gut; he should have trusted that he had always known how to handle Sophie and not gone for the softly, softly approach at her bidding. Natasha only knew the bare facts and nothing more, she only saw Sophie as a broken child and had convinced him to go against his own reasoning in every way. Arrick should never have listened, he knew her better than anyone. She needed his stern side back.
Sophie needed real help and understanding, someone to reel her in a little before she got herself into a situation that only ended badly. Arrick knew, that despite Natasha’s feelings on the matter, that the only person with a chance of pulling his girl back out of whatever this was and bringing back some of the girl he missed crazily, was him. His way.
Sophie and he had a bond like no other, and even though the past months had seen them changing towards each other, he knew his girl was still in there somewhere, and he needed to find her again. For his own sanity, as well as hers, as all of this was slowly killing him. He hated seeing her messed up and unhappy, and he knew he had to do something before he lost her too. Despite always calling on him, he felt like he had been losing her for a long time and was the root of his stress for months now. The possible stomach ulcer too.
Arrick picked up his cell phone and scrolled to his most recent calls, hitting Natasha’s name, laying it back down in the console, eyes glued to the road, frowning. He hated driving in mid-town traffic past eight p.m.; the hustle and bustle of people hitting the nightlife always made it a headache to navigate.“Hey, Darling, are you almost here?” Natasha had a soft feminine voice that made her sound like a child most of the time, and he was hit with that pang of guilt at the fact he was doing this to her again.“Hey, Tash. Look … I’m sorry, but I need to cancel our plans tonight. You go and meet everyone and enjoy dinner. I need to go deal with Sophie.” He waited with paused breath at the long silence which stretched between them, zero response as she took it in, and he could already picture the hurt expression on her face. Knowing that she was taking a moment to choose her words wisely and think about her reaction. Natasha wa
Sophie HuntsbergerI drag myself heavily through the crowded club once more, everything moving and tipping like I’m at sea, disorientated and foggy, although I’m less drunk than I was. My phone is still glued to my ear, even though I seem to have lost Arrick and hear nothing but silence. Pulling my cell down to look at the blank screen I realize my battery has died and I just sigh in complete deflation. Fed up with how my life is turning out lately as nothing seems to go right anymore.Taking a long deep breath to try to center myself into sobriety, my body sagging, drying my face halfheartedly with the back of my hand now that my tears have once again subsided, and my heart has resorted to numb emptiness. I don’t even care if my makeup is smeared or even cried off. Arrick has seen me worse so many times.I let my cell drop in my hand, beside my body and hold it loosely, too disconnected to really feel anything bu
Dionne played the role of girly best friend for weeks. Looking back, I now see that she was milking me for anything she could get; a never-ending stream of money on tick with promises to pay it back. My clothes, my shoes and now my man. Luckily, my cell was in the back pocket of my denim skirt, a habit Arry drilled into me from an early age. To always keep my cell phone on me in case I ever need him … no matter what. My lifeline to my boy.My other friends seem to have vanished as quickly. As soon as I stumbled out of the ladies’ room, tear-stained and lightheaded to find them, I realized I’d been abandoned. We all came here to get drunk before our main event; a huge party in some exclusive bar across Manhattan, and my time in the bathroom was long enough to get ditched. Again.This isn’t the first time they have all gone on to the next place and left me to it. None of them cares about me, they only care that I pay my share, or more, of t
I dropped out of school because I didn’t see any point in it, none of what I was learning interested me, and I sat drawing clothes, coloring in doodles of shoes in every lesson. My head on getting out and going to max my credit card on whatever hit the boutiques that week, daydreaming over the outfit I wanted to try out when I got home. Besides spending money on clothes, the only other thing which brought me joy was matching outfits for new looks, searching out shoes and accessories that made it all pop. Fashion is everything to me. I adore every aspect of it and love nothing more than customizing things with my own style, teaching myself to sew in my spare time. It’s one of the few genuine joys I seem to have.I broached the subject of fashion school only once; my parents dismissed it as frivolous and pointless and told me that I have the brains to do so much more. As much as I love them, and I really do, it crushes me in a way that they dismiss something I have
Arrick’s aftershave surrounds me like a sudden familiar haven, a solid shield of pure muscle and a beacon in the dark. That wave of cold turns to tingles and internal shakes of sheer relief, my body instantly slumping and falling forwards to lean into him as the adrenaline turns me into a mess of jellified uselessness.“I swear if you don’t turn around and walk off right now, then you’ll be taking all meals from a tube, Dickhead.” Arrick snarls in that husky Carrero tone of the most perfect male voice I’ve ever known. My boy! Like familiar soothing music that just makes you whole. Bristling with aggression and dwarfing the other man with his sheer build of alpha intimidation in all his glory.Arrick is hitting the six-foot-one mark, maybe more nowadays, and his build has gotten a lot wider and stronger since he matured and started professional fighting. He’s a vision of physical perfection that goes so well with the face of mal
Uncertainty sends my already fragile stomach into a washer-like frenzy, hating that being in tune with him means I am so sensitive to exactly this kind of thing.His car has been deposited on the sidewalk neatly, all four gleaming wheels on the concrete, of a sleek gray Mercedes he bought only weeks ago to replace his electric blue sports car. Arrick is growing up, leaving behind that young fast life, and settling down, and I don’t know how to feel about it. He’s changing, has been for a while, and I guess it’s one of the reasons we are not as close as we once were. He’s growing up and I’m too far behind him.We move to the car, where an exceptionally large black-coated bouncer is leaning against it casually, with a beaming smile as he sees us approach.“Arrick, my main man!” He grins and fist bumps him as we close the gap, still holding me firmly, heating up my body despite the chill around us and my lack of jacket. I s
“Arrick?” I glance his way again, hating his ignorance, the silence making it almost unbearable to continue being so quiet. I lean over to let my fingertips trail down his arm, over his black jacket meekly as the little tiny eruptions of anxiety play off inside me like fiery tingles. Trying to attract his attention and knowing he won’t ignore physical touch.I catch that tiny tensing of his jaw deepen, muscle twitching under his cheekbone, and know for certain he is more than just a little mad with me. He’s in closed off, livid as hell mode. My stomach sinks again, breathing slowly to push back the effects of the night’s drinking and the new waves of hurt that are directly connected to him.“Leave it alone, Soph
“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” Arrick lifts my chin back to him with soft fingers so that we’re nose to nose as he ducks into my much shorter height and bridges the large gap as best he can. He frowns hard at me and studies my expression for a second, before that boyish face completely calms to that softer expression I know and love. His genuine calm.Hints of a face that is so achingly familiar, and for a moment I forget why I am even crying, why I’m mad at him. He sighs slowly as though to reel back and comes at me with a new tactic that is less devastating to my soul.“Sophie? Talk to me,” he whispers, and it only pushes me that little bit further into remorse and hopelessness. I burst into painful heartfelt tears and bury my face in the open front of his jacket, against that expanse of hard chest as his arms come around me protectively, the warmth of his body heat encircling me along with the smell of him that could alw