Page 22 of Taken By Sin
“Just a job.” He grins, then orders two brown butter lattes and pays.
We sit beside an old wooden bookshelf near the back exit, one battered and worn from years of use. Max situates himself facing the quiet, near-empty seating area, and I face him.
“I think we’re okay,” I chuckle, panning my hand around the empty chairs.
He relaxes just a little. “You can never be too sure.”
Everyone tied to Sin is nothing but paranoid. “Why are all of you like this? Looking over your shoulder? It gives me anxiety." I sip my latte, savoring the flavor. It’s slightly salty, very sweet, and just the right amount of warmth.
“It’s good, right?” He smirks.
I nod. “Delicious. I usually go for black.” The powdered creamer we had at Saint Mary’s was as bad as it sounds. I peer around, looking at nothing in particular.
Max leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “So, Sin is bothering you, I take it?”
I give a quick nod. “I have no idea why I’m here.”
“Do any of us?” He asks himself this more than me. “What I will say is that Sin doesn’t even eat a sandwich without intention, so if you’re here it’s because he’s taken a liking to you. He keeps his circle close, extremely close.”
We sit in silence for a moment, and I let the information simmer.
“If you didn’t have plans, I know somewhere pretty cool to take out frustration,” he offers.
My eyes widen, wondering if he’s going to invite me to go to one of his ‘jobs’ with him. “What do you have in mind?”
The room has an underground, concrete feel to it. Max and I are dressed in matching white jumpsuits. Honestly, this isn’t quite where I thought I’d find myself today. “We look like painters!" I chuckle, already feeling the warmth building up beneath the jumpsuit that covers me from head to toe.
My hands are snugly wrapped in oversized gloves, and the cherry on top of my new style is a pair of safety goggles perched on my nose.
When we first walked through the doors of Dave’s destruction zone, a man with one eye approached us. It was Dave, and as he went through the rules of our excursion, I wondered if all of the tossing of glass is what made him lose that left eye of his.
“I don’t know about this,” I say quietly as Dave shuts the door and tells us to have a ‘destructive time.’
Max leans in close, handing me a white plate. “I know Dave can be a lot.” He chuckles. “But I promise you, this will be fun. Just imagine that wall right there,”—he points forward—“is Sin’s fac?—”
Before he can finish his sentence, I let out a yell as I hurl the plate like a frisbee towards the chipped gray, concrete wall. It shatters upon impact. A small weight lifts from my shoulders. I give Max a mischievous look before making my way to the table at the other end of the room.
There are stacks of plates along with various ‘destructive devices’ as the sign above them states. Golf clubs, bats, softballs. I decide to grab a long metal rod. It’s heavy, but I’m not turning back now; Max opts for the bat.
“Crowbar, nice choice.” He nods approvingly.
He steps past the yellow caution tape, stacking plates and cups in various locations.
“Have at it,” he smiles, stepping behind the yellow line next to me.
I lift up the crowbar and begin to smash everything in sight, completely losing myself in the way ceramic and glass shatter around me. Breaking from a perfect form into hundreds of tiny little pieces.
Thinking of Bria’s protectiveness towards me at the boutique the other day, I bet she would love this.
I also take delight in knowing I won’t have to clean any of it up. Max takes his turn next, gently stacking a new set of plates and cups. While I could easily go cause some fun chaos on the right side of the wall, where a pair of shiny metal drumsticks rests beside the vertical drums that I imagine you slap, I choose instead to watch Max with a grin.
The way that even through the ugly jumpsuit I can make out his lean muscle’s underneath. How he swings the bat with a force that could crack someone’s skull in an instant. Even so, he seems gentle, so different than Sin... but witnessing this tells me he may be just as dangerous.
The air is on full blast, but I’m getting hot. I reach up to remove my safety glasses and just as I do, a thick chunk of ceramic comes at me full force.
I cover my face, terrified I’ve lost an eye like Dave. Max is in front of me in a millisecond, cupping my hands. “Let me see, Magnolia.”
A tear escapes as he examines my face, nodding when he sees I’m safe. “Just a small cut beneath your right eye. Why did you remove your glasses?”