Prepped For Love: BWWM Pregnancy Romance Novel (17 page)

She felt clumsier on her feet than she had with Sam. She chugged back the Hennessy and suddenly felt like she was going  to throw up.
I should not have done that…
Genevieve mused. But perhaps she would be alright despite having had too much to drink. All she needed to do was keep her eye on Greta. That was her ride home and as long as Greta was in her line of sight, everything would be okay no matter how much she had to drink.

Genevieve whipped her head to the spot where Greta had
just
been standing. She felt her tummy turn even more. Greta was nowhere to be seen. Genevieve scanned the salsa club over and over again. There was no sign of Greta or Erwin.

Where on earth were they…?

Genevieve was starting to panic. There was no sign of her friend anywhere; she was starting to feel suddenly claustrophobic. She knew she should have never agreed to go out with Greta like this. This totally wasn’t her scene and now Greta had obviously gone home with some guy and abandoned Genevieve here.
Why didn't I expect this.
Genevieve thought to herself. She didn’t even know exactly where she was, or how much a cab home would cost. Genevieve’s heart was racing and the room was closing in around her.  The bright lights suddenly felt like flashing sirens. The melodic music became the steady thump of an ominous drum.

Greta and Erwin were no longer in the bar; that’s why Genevieve couldn’t spot them.  Of course, Greta had totally forgotten she had arrived with someone else. With her new boy toy in tow, she was completely distracted. Greta wasn’t exactly the most caring person to go out with. While she provided the fun, you had better hope you another ride home. She was well known for ditching her friends in bars, clubs and various other locations around the city. Of course, Genevieve didn’t know this so she was panicked and searching around for a woman she would never find.

Things were only about to get much worse.  Genevieve whipped around to look for Greta in another part of the room when someone grabbed her wrist.  Genevieve felt the sweaty hand touch her skin and then it gripped her like a vice. Genevieve could sense the ill intent of the hand's owner. She felt the hair on her skin stand up. All rational thought escaped her and all Genevieve could think of was getting this person to let go. She whipped around and looked the man who had grabbed her in the eye. Genevieve was frightened, but she tried to stand her ground.  Instinctively, she tried to pull her hand away with only caused him to hold on tighter. He was a man on a mission and he had picked her as a victim specifically. He had the look of a hunter who had just caught his prey.  Genevieve’s tummy turned.

The man was tall, not particularly ugly nor handsome. His accent plus the flag pinned on his lapel told Genevieve that he was Colombian. He had dark, copper toned skin and beady black eyes. While Genevieve’s black eyes seemed to glow with her overall warmth, this man’s eyes were cold and nearly lifeless. He smiled widely as if to say “gotcha”.  The man knew that there was very little chance for Genevieve to escape his grasp. Genevieve’s heart was beating through her chest. Why wouldn’t this guy let go of her? What could he possibly want from her? She couldn’t think. All she wanted was for him to let her go without causing a scene.

Genevieve couldn’t say a word; she was frozen and waiting for this man to speak and reveal his intent. She knew screaming would do her no good; the music was far too loud for anyone to hear her over the beat or over the loud conversation and cackling of the others in the room. This was the perfect place to be trapped; her assailant knew it.

“Hey, Senorita,” The man slurred.

As he slurred his words, Genevieve smelled the whiskey on his breath. He had to have had no less than an entire bottle of Jack Daniels. It was putrid. Genevieve was instantly nauseous. She heaved and tried to hold it in. Throwing up wouldn’t help her now. The man still held onto her wrist, gripping it like a vice. 

“Please… Let go of me,”  Genevieve said. She tried to make her voice sounded strong as possible to hide her fear. She wasn’t sure if she was doing a good job of it. The man was unfazed.

He ignored her plea. He was starting to cut off the blood flowing to her fingers. The prickly tingling in Genevieve’s fingertips added to the unpleasantness.

“Pretty lady… You’re so sexy…Whaddya say… Want to go out back and fuck?” He said. 

The man grinned afterwards as if he had made an appealing proposition that Genevieve would gladly accept. Genevieve tried to step back, but the bar was in her way. She was trapped, unable to move, escape or to get anyone’s attention. She didn’t even know if this guy had a weapon. The man was still gripping her arm tightly too.  Her hand already lost all feeling.

Genevieve tried again to use her most powerful voice when she replied, “I don’t think that sounds like a good idea.” She hoped that then when the man saw her disinterest he would leave her alone. All she wanted was to get the hell out of this bar. Genevieve also didn’t want to instigate further so she tried to keep her language neutral but strong.

Of course, this asshole didn’t take the hint. So she tried to pull her hand away again but his grip on her wrist grew even stronger. Her mind was racing. Sometimes in situations like that, the right answer and the right course of action seems obvious to everyone else. But actually thrust into a tricky situation, your ability to think gets turned off. In panic mode your rational self is left behind. All that is left is instinct, and if your instinct fails you, then you have nothing.

But this man didn’t need to be instigated to act aggressively. He was a man on a mission and he didn’t care about Genevieve’s protest. He had hunted her down and he knew he had her within his reach. The man moved closer to her and groped her ass. He squeezed it tightly, massaging her thick flesh. He pulled her close to him as if he were about to kiss her. The smell of whiskey on his breath was all Genevieve could take in. He was too close for her to even get a whiff of clean air. Genevieve was beyond disgusted. This time she had no choice but to scream. She hoped someone would hear her even if it was likely that they wouldn’t.

“Leave me alone!”  Genevieve screamed. 

Again no one heard her, but at least, someone saw what was happening. Genevieve was surprised to see Sam walking towards her with a determined look on his face. He hadn’t
heard
her, but he was looking for another dance partner when he saw her standing over there looking visibly uncomfortable. He snapped into action.

Sam tapped the drunk man on the shoulder and said, “Hey are you bothering this nice young woman?”

He puffed out his chest in Genevieve’s defense. He needed to let this assailant know he wasn’t to be messed with.

“She’s mine asshole… Back off!” The man slurred.
 

That was a big mistake. While Genevieve might not have had the strength to take this man, Sam most certainly did. He pulled the guy off of Genevieve  and landed a right hook square in his face. The man hit the ground. A few people in the bar screamed. When a fight broke out, no one knew who had thrown the first punch and everyone’s immediate instinct was to panic.  There wouldn’t be much time before a bouncer would arrive and would likely cart Sam off if he was lucky enough to not have the police called.

The drunken man sat on the ground clutching his bloody nose. He was crying out as people started to crowd around him. While most people fled the bar, some were drawn to the scene like moths to a flame. These were the types of people who just thrived on drama. Cameras flashed and a few cellphones were raised above the entire scene as some people tried to record a video of what was happening. These days, hope of having a video go viral was high. The right hook had its intended effect; it also had the side effect of drawing way too much attention to what had happened. Sam knew he had to get out of there fast. The last thing he wanted was to end up in trouble and leave this beautiful woman vulnerable to being bothered again.

Sam realized that a bouncer was going to show up pretty soon if he didn’t leave. Sam figured Genevieve wanted to get out too. She still had a shaken expression on her face. Sam grabbed Genevieve’s arm and led her through the crowd to the back of the bar. They exited into an alleyway escaping any more trouble. Sam shook his fist out once they got there. Punching a guy in the face really hurt.

“Are you okay?” Genevieve asked.

“I’m the one who should be asking you that…” Sam grumbled. He was right. Genevieve was quite shaken from being groped right there in public. She couldn’t believe that man had the gall to assault her in a room full of people. He was clearly practiced at doing such things. He knew the bar would be too loud and too crowded for anyone to notice. Why had he chosen Genevieve as the victim? She just didn’t feel safe in that place…

“I’m all right… Just a bit shaken up,” Genevieve answered.

Sam looked at her and noticed that she seemed a bit chilly.

“Well do you want to get out of here? We can go grab a coffee or something… Warm you up, get you calmed down and all of that,” Sam offered.

Genevieve wasn’t quite sure she was ready to accept his offer. It was nice of him, but more than anything she wanted to go home. She felt that turning him down though, after all he had just beat up a guy for her.

“A little coffee sounds nice… I know a place that’s closer to my apartment if you don’t mind driving there,” Genevieve answered. She was starting to feel the evening chill and perhaps a little coffee wouldn’t be so bad. She was wound up from the events of the night. Maybe she had misjudged Sam as being a pompous asshole a bit too early. He was certainly kind enough to stop another man from assaulting her and he didn’t seem to have any nefarious intent in asking her out for coffee.

Sam led her to his car in the parking lot of the bar. Genevieve couldn’t hide her surprise. Sam drove the nicest car out of anyone she’d ever met. Most of her friends drove cars like the 2003 Nissan Almera or even older cars. Sam was driving a brand spanking new Dodge Charger. The car was sleek, all white and looked like a rapper’s Bentley. When Sam opened the door for Genevieve, she was met with the fresh “new car smell” and stunning leather upholstery. When she sat down and Sam got in the driver’s side, he turned on her seat warmers.

Genevieve didn’t even know cars
had
that feature. (But she didn’t know very much about cars except some weren’t very fancy and this one was stunning in comparison.) Genevieve directed Sam to the coffee shop close to her apartment, but besides her directions, they didn’t speak much at all. There was nothing to say… At least that’s what Genevieve thought. Although this man was treating her nicely, she still worried that they didn’t have very much in common. What could a black Southern girl have in common with a white man from the north?

When they pulled up at the coffee shop, Sam got out first and then opened the door for Genevieve. He linked arms with her as they walked inside and he ordered them two cups of black coffee. That was exactly how Genevieve liked her coffee, and she wondered how Sam had intuited that.  When the barista finally gave them their piping hot mugs of French Roast, Sam led her to a booth at the far end of the café.

He sat down next to Genevieve in the booth. Strange… But it felt oddly comforting to have him so close. After what she had been through, Genevieve enjoyed that feeling of protection and safety. Over their coffee, they got to talking. Sam didn’t reveal very much about himself, but Genevieve didn’t care. For once, someone was actually taking an interest in her and she began to tell him about her life. It has been a long time since anyone had expressed interest in Genevieve. Sure, she had Greta, but Greta was far more interested in partying using Genevieve as a token black friend accessory than having an actual relationship with her.

Genevieve found herself opening up to Sam even more than she expected. She told him about her move to the city. She told him about her parents and what it was like for her growing up culturally different from everyone around her. After all, her name was Genevieve Mauricette. People made fun of her name, the way her parents spoke and pretty much everything about her.  Genevieve talked about her college experience at length too. All the while, Sam listened intently asking her probing questions. For some reason, Genevieve felt comfortable baring her soul out. It as if she had finally met someone actually understood her. Most people just raise their eyebrows and Genevieve’s various difficulties in life, but Sam actually understood.

While he didn’t reveal much about himself, Genevieve soon gleaned that Sam had grown up having a difficult life himself. He was born and raised in the rough-and-tumble streets of Philadelphia. His parents rarely had any money. His father was an addict and his mother was mentally ill.  Sam understood what it was like to be on the outside. He had spent most of his childhood ostracized as well. For what, Genevieve still had no idea, but it was nice to know that someone at least knew what it was like. She was surprised by how much they had in common.

By the time their coffee was finished in the evening was winding down, Genevieve realized she had more questions than answers about Sam. What did he do for a living? Why had he moved here? Why was his “hangout spot” filled with people of a different ethnicity? Why was he such a good dancer? Why did he jump to her defense so quickly?

The  evening was almost over and asking one of those questions would have opened a can of worms that Genevieve wasn’t sure she was ready to open. Plus, she was tired and all she wanted was to drop down in her bed and forget the entire night had ever happened. Meeting Sam was nice, but it didn’t make up for the loneliness and fear she’d felt in the bar after Greta had abandoned her.
Shit. Greta!
Genevieve had forgotten to tell Greta she had left the bar. She wasn’t even sure Greta cared. Sam gestured for them to leave, but Genevieve took pause to at least text her friend that she was going home with someone else.