(Sequel to Two Gangs and a Golden Girl)
***
"If you even think about touching me, I will literally rip off your arm," I growl when Xavier prowls closer. He doesn't stop. His poison green eyes drill into mine.
"I will have you, Marigold, and we will...
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I guess, like most people eventually getting mixed up with gangs, I didn't have the white-picked-fence life growing up. I'm still growing, hell, I'm 19, but childhood was short lived.
My mother died when I was too young for my father to explain how. And after that, my father became a drunk. My only other sibling, Mathew, left me to deal with my father as soon as he was 18.
But because I still loved my father, still remembered how he let me dance on his feet when mother was alive, I stayed. Dad quickly lost his job and I had to take on being a waitress at the only place that still needed a waitress. Resulting in shady customers.
At 16, I learned how to deal with brutish men thanks to google and when the day came that I numbed a customers entire body when his hand had slid up my skirt too high, I got fired.
Nobody wanted to hire me after that.
I was desperate for money. Besides feeding my father and myself, I still had to pay school fees and fail at saving money up for university. I was smart. Really smart, so I at least got somewhat of a bursary from my school; I didn't have to pay too much.
One day, I found myself wondering in a bar. I made sure to have lots of makeup - which made me look older. And I ordered a drink. A handsome guy, slid closer to me and offered a kind smile. He had slicked back black hair. I made sure to be polite in conversation and when he asked my age, I lied and said I was eighteen.
We chatted for a while and I explained my lack of employment, when suddenly, he said he has the perfect job for me. Since I was talking about waitressing, I thought he meant something similar.
But the next night, I discovered it wasn't waitressing at all.
Of course, he wouldn't let me go that easily and what happened that night, will be scorched into my memory forever.
Unfortunately this proved to not be the only example of me falling for a guy that's clearly wrong. I somehow always end up with one. Like a magnet.
The next notable incident occurred when I was seventeen. Again, involving falling for the wrong guy. This one however, saved my life. How could I not fall for the mysterious stranger who fired at two men who cornered me in an alley.
