Ripped Read online

  Contents

  Title page

  Legal matter

  Books by Olivia Rigal

  Part One - 1978

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Part Two - 1979 - 1980

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Part Three - 1981 - 1983

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Review

  About the author

  RIPPED

  by

  Olivia Rigal

  This book is a work of fiction.

  Even if some locations depicted do exist

  and some collective events did occur,

  this story is totally fictitious

  The names, the characters, and the events described

  have been imagined by the author.

  Any resemblance to reality would be a coincidence.

  ©2014 Lady O Publishing LLC

  www.ladyopublishing.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  For permission requests, write to the publisher at the address below.

  contact / Lady O Publishing

  www.ladyopublishing.com

  Books by

  Olivia RIGAL

  - Jaded (2013)

  - Ripped (2014)

  Learning curves

  - Learning Curves 1: French Cooking 101 (2013)

  - Learning Curves 2: Advanced French Kissing (2013)

  - Learning Curves 3: Detention (2013)

  - Learning Curves 4: Graduation (2014).

  Eve Trilogy

  - Naughty Christmas Eve (2012)

  - Sexy New Year's Eve (2012)

  - Spicy Valentine's Eve (2013)

  Part One: 1978

  Chapter One

  Manhattan is so pretty around the holidays, I'm happy Ten was able to whisk me away. I still can't believe my mother said yes and let me go with him. But then again, it's hard to say no to a Clark, especially to Tennessee Charles Clark when he puts on his charm. Ten and I have known each other forever, since my parents moved to Long Island and opened their diner. I was so young then, it seems like forever.

  In the summer the entire Clark family sets up residence in the Hamptons. It's a tradition and the Clarks are all about traditions. One of those is that the entire clan goes out for brunch on Sundays and wherever they go becomes the trendy place. My parents were lucky; James Tennessee Clark, the patriarch, stopped at their diner and liked it enough to create a new tradition. James Clark put the Main Street Diner on the map, so the Bitch knows better than to refuse anything to a Clark.

  Sometimes I think she's actually entertaining the fantasy that there could be something between Ten and me. Seriously. If she had some grip on reality she would see that I'm not his type at all. All the girls he dates are flat. They're the no-butt-no-breasts sort of girls, so androgynous looking you would not know they were female if you were standing behind them.

  I'm just the opposite. There's nothing flat about me. I'm all curves. Objectively, I know I have a pretty face but the rest of me is not fashionably thin. I'm obviously not the flavor of the decade but I try to make peace with it. Furthermore, now that Ten's in college, he dates older girls. I'm the kid sister he's never had. We're buddies.

  We ride Ten's Superglide to Manhattan and have lunch, his treat, at Rockefeller Center, looking at the enormous tree. We walk around Central Park and in the west village and go to a concert in the lower East side. I'm so excited, it's ridiculous! But then I seldom go anywhere so this is a real adventure. Manhattan is like a different universe. Even the food doesn't taste the same. I just look up at the Christmas lights and smile at Ten.

  "Enough with this stupid Christmas spirit," he says with good humor, "there's this club on Bowery. Really exciting things are happening there. That's where we're going now."

  He's so passionate about music. If it were not for his influence the only thing I would know about is what plays on the radio. That's not fair to our school music teacher. The poor man is trying to broaden our horizons. He started with Chinese opera and seriously, it was like torture. A few weeks later that Oriental fiasco, he introduced us to African drums and that was fun.

  Anyway, I love soul, I enjoy pop music but I'm curious about other types of music and Ten's a walking musical dictionary. I tease him and ask him when he's finally going to admit that 10CC actually stands for Tennessee Charles Clark and that he wrote I'm Not In Love. He's insulted, that's way too mainstream for him!

  As Ten parks the bike I look around and realize we're in a really crappy part of town. I'm happy I'm not here alone. I'm happier when I see there's a huge bouncer by the door. Ten asks this mountain of a guy to keep an eye on his ride. I wonder if the man's armed because the street boasts a few crazies talking to themselves or yelling at the world. One of them is ranting about Vietnam. A veteran, I guess. The poor soul seems to be haunted by ghosts. There are also bums sleeping off their poison of choice on the pavement despite the cold weather. I see empty bottles of beer and cheap liquor. Those men are different from the Long Island drunks we have. They seem more damaged. As I remove my helmet I try not to stare but I can't, it's a morbid fascination. It's difficult to tear my eyes from them but I finally do to thread my fingers through Ten's hair to repair the flat I-just-removed-my-helmet look.

  Ten lets me do it and smiles back at me. I think he likes that I baby him a bit. His mom's a notch colder than mine. I never thought it possible before I met the woman. My mother's the Queen Bitch while Ten's mum is the Ice Queen.

  When I'm done fixing his hair we walk in the club. It's dark and busy and loud. Ten walks through the crowd with ease. I hold on to his hand and follow in his wake until he decides we're close enough to the stage. He's doing this for me. He's six three so he could probably watch the stage from the other side of the room. He pulls me in front of him. I take one step and then I become star struck.

  Actually I think Ten and I are both star struck. I freeze and Ten bumps into me. I turn around and see he's gawking at this guy standing on the dance floor a few steps ahead of us. He's like the modern version of a classical Greek god. He must be around Ten's age, somewhere in his early twenties, and he's built like Ten. He's tall, broad shoulders visible under a leather jacket, slim waist in 501 jeans, and biker's boots. Funny, Ten and he are dressed just the same. He also has the very same biker's flat hairdo that Ten and I wore a minute ago. The more I look at him the more I realize that they could be brothers with identical square jaws and chestnut hair, except that Greek God's eyes are a light shade of blue whereas Ten's are so dark they look black.

  But there's a major difference between them. Ten's got this good-boy look that makes all respectable mature woman want him to date their daughters. Ten looks safe and reliable. Ten actually does make me feel protected. When I'm with him I don't think about most of the dangers of the world. Greek God is in a totally different league. I can tell just by looking at the way he's moving around that he's anything but safe. He's seductive dange
r. He's attractive trouble. He's hot as hell.

  My heart rate has quickened to the pulse of the rock song played by the performing band. I put my hand on Ten's shoulder and stand on my toes to whisper yell in his ear, "I think I'm in love."

  He smiles at me and bends to whisper yell in mine, "So am I. I love bad boys." He laughs looking at the expression of my face as I process his statement. "Come on, Lovey. Don't tell me you hadn't figured it out before. Surely you know I swing both ways," he laughs.

  I shake my head and smile. Of course at one time I did have questions about his preferences. I had noticed him staring at some hulk that caught my eye but when he started dating his flat girls, I thought that when he looked at guys he was just being protective of me. I believed he was just keeping an eye on who I was checking out. Okay, so now I know better, he looked too because we like the same type of guys.

  "Well I kind of suspected," I admit. I want to ask him why he did not come out to me earlier. Did he not trust me enough? As far as the rest of the world is concerned, I understand the pretense. I guess he dates girls but keeps the guys a secret because he fears his grandfather's reaction. He would probably be banished from the family circle if they knew.

  Greek God stares at us, turns around and walks away. We both watch him. Ten stands right behind me and says, "I have no idea which way this guy swings but there was a bulge in his pants as he looked at us. I wonder who sprouted it."

  I laugh. Boys! How was he able to spot the other guy's hard on while I never saw a thing? There's an easy answer to this question. I was looking at the guy's eyes while Ten's gaze went south of his face.

  We dance. Well Ten dances and I kind of sway to the beat while the band plays. It's not my kind of music but it's not unbearable. Soon enough the winter cold is forgotten and I'm really warm. I think the place is getting so crowded it's raising the temperature a notch. "Can you get drinks in this place?" I yell. I'm getting really hot and sweaty!"

  Ten yells back in my ear, "Ok, Lovey, save my spot, I'll be right back." He leaves me to get us some drinks. I'm waiting for him to get back when Greek God comes over to me. He says something but the music's so loud I can't make out his words.

  I shake my head and make a hand gesture to indicate I have no clue what he just said. He wraps a hand around one of my arms and pulls me closer to him. I look up to his face and I'm lost. It takes all my willpower not to raise my free hand up to trace his jawline or the contour of his lips with the tip of my fingers. I want to touch such perfection to check that it's real. I think my heart has stopped and I can't do anything else but gaze into the deep sea of his eyes. He bends over to me and asks, "Lost your boy friend?"

  I take it what he's really asking is, "Are you guys together?"

  Let's not get too excited. The question can be understood one of two ways. One, he's into Ten and wondering where he's gone. Second, he's asking if the coast is clear because he's into me. Oh my god, I think he may be into me because his face stays so close to my ear even after he's finished talking. He closes his eyes and I think he's breathing me in. It's so hot when he does that. I think I'm melting. My bones are no longer solid and I almost lean into him for support. Could I have on him the effect that he has on me? I don't know the guy and I feel so pulled to him it's frightening. I steady myself and remember I have the power of speech. Conveniently I don't have to yell since he stayed bent over. His ear is next to my lips.

  "My friend went to get us drinks."

  He pulls up his face and does not even try to hide the smile from his face as he says, "So, he's just a friend."

  I can't tear my eyes from the curve of his lips. Before I make a fool of myself, I'm saved by Ten's return. Greek God's face turns to him giving a chance to see how nicely etched a profile he has. This man is so perfect it's scary.

  "Hi, I'm Alexander."

  Ten smiles and says, "I'm Ten and I see you've met Lyv."

  "Like Lyv Ullmann?"

  I nod and I'm impressed. Most of the time I have to repeat my name and explain that, no, it's not short for anything else. It's just Lyv. My mother is an Ingmar Bergman groupie but saying this would be a stupid explanation since no one in my age group knows about the Swedish director and his star. Now Alexander's got a smug look on his face.

  His hand is still on my arm and he pulls me closer to him. It's my turn to breathe him in. There's lavender and something else that could just be him. He looks tentatively at Ten as if asking permission for something. Ten raises his eyebrows and shrugs. I look back and forth between the two of them. Their silent communication baffles me. Those two did not know each other two minutes ago and they seem able to read each other's mind. I guess it's a guy thing.

  The first band programmed for the evening show stops playing and the light brightens a bit. A bunch of guys get up on the stage to help pack up the gear of the exiting band and get the set ready for the next band. Ten and Alexander start a discussion about music. They seem to be on the same page from Blue Oyster Cult to ZZ Top. I listen to them without putting in my two cents. It's really not my type of music, I'm into mellow stuff. These days I listen to America but my two favorite songs are King Harvest's 'Dancing in the Moonlight' and Van Morrison's 'Moondance'. What can I say? I'm a moon girl.

  Alexander's hand moves from my arm to my waist and it feels perfectly natural. It's like I belong nestled against him. Guys, probably the members of the next band to play, get on stage. The bass and the guitar players fine-tune several instruments. The drummer adjusts his seat and on his signal the lights get dim again. I watch them settling in until Alexander lets go of my waist and places a knuckle under my chin to turn my face to him. He brushes his lips against mine and says, "See you in a bit, Love."

  I almost swoon as he walks away and climbs on to the stage as the band begins to play. It's not like he's the first guy that ever kissed me. I've done some more serious kissing activity a few times with boys at school but this light brush of our lips was something else. It was a tease and a promise of better things to come. Or not ... maybe it's all in my head.

  He picks up a guitar from a stand and places himself in front of a mike. They play the intro to the song and he winks in my direction. A second later he opens his mouth and blows my mind away.

  His voice is unlike any other I've ever heard. First it's smooth and velvety and sinfully tender when the band starts with a ballad. The lyrics are about sorrow and lost love. But then a hard rock piece follows and his voice turns raspy and angry. A voice like that could lead a revolution and bring a crowd to riot. Then there's a happy sexy love song and I want to be the one he sings about. Hell, I look around and everyone is in love with him. His stage presence is magical. They do five songs and when they stop the entire audience goes wild.

  They do one more but no further encore despite our cheering. I guess it's because the club has a busy schedule for the night. The crew reappears to get everything ready for the next band while Alexander and his guys walk away back stage.

  "I think a star is born," Ten says to me. "And the star has the hots for you my little Lovey."

  I grin. Yep, he did kind of kiss me. It was sweet but I don't want to get my hopes up because... because I'm so insecure I can't believe someone like him could fall for me.

  We hang around for a while listening to another band and Ten gets us another drink. We dance to a few of the songs of the third band but my heart is no longer in it. I'm crestfallen because Alexander does not come back. I try to hide it but Ten sees right through me.

  "You wanna call it a night?" he asks.

  "Yep, let's go."

  We step out of the club and Ten tips the bouncer who's kept an eye on his precious baby. The man thanks him and jokes, "Can you tell which one is yours?"

  Ten and I turn around and understand the question. Now that there are a few less motorcycle parked, we can see two perfectly identical Superglide bikes on the street.

  Ten smiles and admits, "Nope, without looking at the license plate I can't."
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  "The one on the left is yours, the one on the right belongs to Xander. He's one of the regulars who's playing tonight. When I saw you I thought you were his cosmic brother, dude. You look like him, you dress like him and you have the same bike."

  I don't know about cosmic brothers but I do know they now have something more in common. The two of them have found their way under my skin.

  Chapter Two

  It's eleven. I'm late. My shift is starting and I'm still a ten minutes walk away. It's Saturday, one of the busiest days and the Bitch is going to kill me.

  I want to throw my bicycle into a ditch, sit down, and cry. The chain has derailed again and I can't seem to fix it properly. My hands are covered with black greasy goo. I'm sure I've put some on my face as well.

  Today I hate my life. I hate my lousy high school, I hate the Christmas holidays, I hate my shitty family, and above all I hate my crappy self. I take a deep breath and plow ahead dragging the stupid thing along. Maybe when I'm calmer I'll find a way to fix it again.

  I'm in a tunnel. I've been living in a tunnel forever and I can't wait for my life to begin. I want to run away and start living. I could do that now but I know it's harder to get ahead in life without a minimum of education. So I need to finish high school. If I don't I'll never be able to go to college. I've never talked about my dreams with my family. I know better than that.

  "Don't let your grades go to your head, Lyv," the Bitch always says. "You're 'As' are nothing more than evidence of the mediocrity of the American education system."

  I gave up on her a long time ago. I've let go of hope about my father as well. He's just an empty shell. Some days I look deep into his eyes for a glimmer, but no. No one is living inside the wimp. I wonder if there ever was someone in there. He's her yes-man and he must like it that way. If he didn't he'd do something to change it, right?