by Ari Reavis
“I got it to remind myself that I could fly. That I could be free.”
“Free of what?”
“Of my past, of my childhood, of all the things my so-called parents told me I was.”
His fingers freeze on my skin at my answer.
“And what was that?”
“Hmm?”
“What did they tell you you were?”
“Nothing and nobody,” I state. “Someone who could never be more than the environment I saw around me.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.
“Don’t be. I flew, didn’t I?”
“Were they always like that? Bad parents?”
“My dad, yeah always. Abusive as far back as I can remember.”
“Abusive to you?”
“All of us,” I explain. “My mom, my brother, and me. Although my brother tried to take most of my beatings, he couldn’t always protect me.”
“And your mother?”
“She became a drunk, maybe because of my father, who knows. But she started drinking when I was eight and ended up becoming just like my dad, except where he hurt with his fists, she hurt with words.”
“And you left when you were fourteen?” he inquires.
I nod. “My brother got a piece of crap apartment that really cost way more than it was worth, but it was ours. Right before my fourteenth birthday, my brother came home to find my dad beating me up, so he stepped in. My brother is a big guy, even back then, so when my dad couldn’t beat him up, he started throwing liquor bottles around.”
I reach up and touch the slash on my eyebrow. “That’s how I got this cut. Piece of glass damn near took my eye out. I think that was the last straw for my brother. He got the apartment a few days later.”
“And they never looked for you?”
“Not that I know of. They didn’t know where we’d gone, but they never reported me missing or anything. I still got up and went to the same school every day and never heard a word from them. My brother worked and paid for everything, and really sometimes I know he went without so I could have things.”
“He sounds like one hell of a guy.”
“I can never thank him enough for everything he’s done for me.”
“I know the feeling. That’s how it is with my parents.”
“What do you mean?” I put my chin on his chest, so I can look at him.
“When I say I was a bad kid, I mean I got arrested eight times. I had no business being in the streets. I didn’t come from a broken home, or even have that element in my life until I invited it in. I know my parents had to have felt so hopeless so many times, but they never gave up on me. Always saw the best in me.”
“So why did you? Turn to the streets when you didn’t have to?”
“Just the crowd I was running with. Doing dumb things to impress people that I hadn’t figured out yet, didn’t mean shit in the long run. People who had no love or loyalty for me. But I was a kid, making all the wrong choices and not listening to the people who really wanted what was best for me. So I stole, did drugs, shit, sold drugs.” He shakes his head. “Just to make fast money I didn’t even need. Like I said, a real dumbass. The last time I got arrested was for selling drugs. I was seventeen, and they wanted to charge me as an adult. My parents practically begged the prosecutor to give me one last chance. So, I took a deal that got me a year of community service, and there’s where I learned about construction. The owner of the company, Mr. Roberts, had the ones who were old enough helping to build a house, teaching them an actual life skill. He became my mentor, even after my community service was over.”
“And you worked for him after?”
“Yeah. He even helped me start my company.”
“That’s sweet. And I’m glad your parents didn’t give up on you either. It really sucks on a whole nother level when your parents do give up, or didn’t think you were ever worth much to begin with.”
His arms tighten around me. “Well, I’m glad you always knew they were wrong.”
“Me too. So,”—I smile at him, more than ready for a change in subject—“If I let you sleep over, will I be rewarded with breakfast?”
He laughs. “It won’t be five star or anything, but I can toast the heck out of some bread.”
“Deal.”
Chapter 4
I can’t get Mariah out of my head, not even for an hour, and that’s a dangerous thing when you’re on a construction site. The guys had a real good laugh at me when I made a rookie mistake and damn near took my eye out with the nail gun. After that, I went into the trailer, pretending I had paperwork to do, and left the heavy work to them. I do some actual paperwork, just so I don’t feel like some lovesick pup, twiddling my thumbs while I think about a woman, but damn, what a woman she is.
My mind goes back to her tattoo again and again, and how I want to trace the outline of it. How I want to hear her sounds again as I make her come. But more than anything, how I just want to see her again. She had to cancel our date last Saturday, so it’s been a week since I saw her. Just as my mind starts delving into what we did the last time we were together, my phone rings. When I take it out of my pocket, I see it’s my mom calling.
“Hey, Mom,” I answer.
“Hey. What have you been up to?” Her always cheerful voice comes through the phone.
“Nothing much. Working on this apartment complex.”
“And your father tells me you have a girlfriend.”
“Subtle as ever Mom.” I chuckle. “Now I see why you called. And I told Dad I was going on a date. I didn’t say she was my girlfriend.”
“Oh, you kids. If you went on a date with someone when I was your age, you were dating. She was your girlfriend.”
“Well it doesn’t work that way now.”
“Girlfriend or not,” she says lower. “Your father is walking around here talking about if you guys get married on your one year anniversary, you could have a nice summer wedding.”
A laugh bellows out of me because I can picture it exactly how she’s explaining it.
For most people, it’s their mom who asks these questions, gets into their love lives; for me, no, it’s my dad. He treated every high school girlfriend he found out I had like she would be the love of my life, and he’s the one who constantly reminds me that he’s impatiently waiting for grandkids.
“And if I know you, you’re feeding right into it.” I chuckle.
“Of course. He’s a romantic to his core, and that’s always served me well, so I make sure to indulge it. So tell me, how did the date go?”
“It went great. We’ve been on two dates now actually.”
“I didn’t hear about any second date.” My dad’s voice cuts in.
I shake my head as a smile forms. “So sorry I didn’t keep you up to date, Dad. Yes, two dates. Hopefully another one soon.”
“So that must mean you really like her, right?” my mom inquires.
“Of course he does,” my dad is quick to state. “I taught him better than to lead someone on.”
“Maybe he can answer for himself.” My mom lightly chuckles.
“I do. More than I’ve liked anyone. She has a fighter’s spirit and is funny as hell.”
“Hmm, sounds like your mother on that one,” my dad says.
I can hear the smile in his voice. I’ve never seen my father be anything less than head over heels for my mom. His world revolves around her, and she eats it up.
I hear the doorbell ring in the background, and my mom begins to excuse herself, instructing us, “Don’t talk about anything good while I’m gone.”
But I take advantage of the brief moment of privacy anyway, asking my dad, “Did you think about Mom all the time when you first met her?”
“I still think about her all the time.” He laughs. “Even when we’re in the same room. But yeah, I did. It was how I knew she was a woman who I definitely needed to know more about.”
“Yup, that’s about right where I am.”
&n
bsp; “Well Son, I’d say that’s all she wrote. The only question now is when are you bringing her to meet us?” he asks.
“We’re not quite there yet, Dad. Maybe I can go on a third date first.”
“Hurry up then. I’m not getting any younger over here.”
“Dad, you’re not even fifty,” I deadpan.
“Forty-eight is close enough. I feel oldness starting to creep into my bones.” He gives a fake groan.
“Yeah, I’ll believe that when you stop jogging five miles every morning.”
He laughs, and I savor the sound. There was a time when I gave my parents nothing to laugh about, so having the relationship we do now, despite all the suffering I’ve put them through, means a lot to me. It would’ve been easier for my parents to just let the streets have me, hard as I tried to stay in them, but they always fought for me, even when I’d stopped fighting for myself.
“I’m back. I’m back.” My mom huffs. “What did I miss?”
“Thanks, guys ,” I blurt out. “For always being there for me.”
“Of course,” my mom says softly, while my dad states, “It’s our job.”
“We’ll let you get back to work,” my mom tells me.
“You call that girl and tell her she’s on your mind. You can never go wrong with that.”
“Okay, Dad. Bye, guys.”
My dad has the romance thing down to a science, so I take his advice and text Mariah.
Me: Hey. Just wanted to let you know you’re on my mind.
I pocket it and leave the trailer, letting the guys know we’re done for today. My phone vibrates as I’m getting into my car.
Mariah: And just what are you thinking about?
Me: How I miss you and that beautiful smile. I wish I could trace the lines of your tattoo again. And about how you’re deep under my skin, and I don’t know exactly what that means just yet.
Mariah: I’d say it means we’re both developing feelings for each other, and I don’t know about you, but I like it.
Me: Oh, I definitely like it. How was your first day?
Mariah: Long, but good. The kids have so, so much energy.
Me: You have a favorite student yet?
Mariah: I plead the fifth. All I will say is one of the little boys gave me his apple from his lunchbox.
Me: Oh, no...do I have some competition?
Mariah: I’ll just say it wouldn’t hurt to throw a little fruit in with the next breakfast you make me.
Me: As long as we get another breakfast together, I’ll make you whatever you want.
Mariah: Good, because you’re the only one I want to have breakfast with... If you get what I’m saying. So, no, you don’t have any competition.
Me: Neither do you.
Mariah: Good to know.
Well, I guess that’s one way to say we’re not seeing other people. Even as simple as it was, I still feel a certain ease in my heart at knowing this woman is mine, only mine. Stopping at a red light a few blocks from my apartment, I hurry to type out a reply.
Me: I need to see you in your teacher outfits. I’ve got some wicked visions in my mind.
Mariah: Hmm, in my teacher outfit, or you want me bare and seeing my tattoo?
Me: Teacher outfit and then bare, that tattoo moving with our bodies.
Mariah: Well go ahead, lay the scene out for me, and I just might let it come true.
It’s a good thing I just stepped into my apartment because my dick is now straining against my jeans. I throw my bag and hard hat to the side of the door and kick my boots off before sitting on the couch.
Me: I slowly peel your nice, dressy clothes off, kissing every inch of skin as I expose it until you’re standing in front of me naked.
Mariah: So, I’m naked, nipples hard, pussy wet. What are you gonna do with me?
Holy shit, this woman.
Me: I undress too. My dick is way too hard to keep in my boxer briefs. Then I turn you around so I can see that tattoo while my dick slides through your wetness, hitting your clit every time I flex forward.
Mariah: I moan for you to give me more.
Me: I walk us over to the bed and bend you over the end of it, running my fingers over those wings, over the smooth skin of your back until they reach your hips and grab on there.
Mariah: Have I told you how much I love the feel of your hands on me? Your rough against my soft. The way your callouses scratch against me when you touch me.
Me: Now that I know, I will definitely have my hands on you even more.
Mariah: I’m bent over, your hands on my hips. Barely breathing as I wait for what you’ll do next.
I know what I want to do right now. I reach down to push my pants and boxer briefs down, freeing my dick and wrapping my hand around it. Giving it a few strokes, wetness already comes to the tip before my other hand types out the next message.
Me: I drop down to my knees behind you and grab your ass hard, tilting your hips up so I can get my first taste of you on my tongue. Just as I remember, it’s like heaven. I tease your opening before I slide my tongue inside, holding your body tight to my face.
Mariah: I circle my hips, trying to get even more of your tongue, chasing the high I know only you can give me.
Me: And I give it to you when I bring my finger to your clit and rub circles into it. My tongue thrusts into you fast and hard while my finger works you. I hear you gasp my name. The soft, sweet sound that’s etched into my brain from our last time together. Before you’re even done coming, I stand up and slam into you, looking down at that tattoo move as I pound into your tight pussy.
My hand tightens on myself as I wait for her reply. I close my eyes, imagining her warmth wrapped around me instead of my hand, remembering how good it felt to be inside of her. I jerk faster, a heavy sigh leaving me as Mariah’s message comes through.
Mariah: I can barely stand from my orgasm, but you hold me up with your hands on my hips, slamming my body back into yours. Your dick hits the right spot again and again while my tattoo moves with each arch of my back.
Me: Those wings are all I look at. The base of my spine begins tingling, and my balls get tighter in my need to come inside you. I reach around and squeeze your nipples, making you spasm around me. I can’t hold back anymore. I come, groaning out your name as those wings move under me before I close my eyes, and my cum is finally inside you.
Mariah: I come a second time, just knowing your cum is filling me, that I have this effect on you. Because those hands are scraping against my breasts, and your dick is making me crazy.
The image is enough to make me spill myself all over my hand, groaning as I slouch back on the couch, rereading the message while my dick empties itself. Putting the phone down, I go into the bathroom to clean myself up. When I come back, the phone vibrates against the coffee table. More relaxed than I’ve been all day, I fall back on the couch and pick it up.
Mariah: Were you cleaning yourself up like me?
A laugh bursts out of me. I love that she has no problem with speaking her mind, even about this.
Me: I sure was. How dirty did you get?
Mariah: Dirty enough that I don’t know how I’m supposed to be patient until the next time we see each other now.
Me: And when will that be? Soon, hopefully.
Mariah: Saturday?
Me: Sure. Bowling and dinner?
Mariah: It’s a date.
I’m getting ready to reply to Mariah’s much tamer text a few days later when the door to my trailer flies open.
“I think you should get out here.” Carlos states, nodding his head towards outside.
Fearing someone’s been hurt, I’m quick to get out of my chair and run out of the trailer. Relief fills me when I see the situation’s not at all what I thought it was, but then it’s quickly replaced with confusion as I walk towards where a man is talking with Stanley. It changes to anger when I hear what he’s talking to him about.
“What the fuck are you doing here, playing construct
ion worker like you don’t know exactly where you belong,” the man says.
“Come on, man.” Stanley gives him a smile, but I can see the uneasiness in it. “I’m just trying to keep my ass outta jail.”
“And in the meantime, you’re fucking with my money.”
The edge to the man’s voice makes Stanley’s forced smile disappear as I reach them.
“Everything okay here?” I ask.
Stanley begins to nod, but the man waves me off. “This isn’t your business.”
“You’re talking to my employee, at my work site, so I would say you made it my business.”
The man’s eyes go from Stanley to me then. I don’t miss the warning in them. I just choose not to heed it.
“This is private property.” I continue. “See yourself off of it.”
“Or what?”
“Xavier. Come on.” Stanley cuts in. “Don’t bring trouble here. This has nothing to do with him.”
“Apparently he wants it to though.”
“If it needs to, then...” I shrug.
Xavier smiles, pure ill intent held within it. “Careful what you ask for.”
“Xavier!” Stanley snaps. “Knock it off. This is where I work. You have no reason to be here.”
Xavier’s head whips around to look at Stanley again. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? Something on this piece of shit site must have fallen on your fucking head for you to think I’m gonna let you get away with talking to me like that.”
“Leave. Now.” I demand. “I’m not gonna say it again.”
He licks his lips and slowly nods. “Okay, boss. You got it. It’s not like I won’t see you around anyway, right Stanley?”
I can hear Stanley’s nervous swallow at Xavier’s words.
“Maybe I’ll see you around too, boss man.” Xavier grins while beginning to turn around.
When he reaches his car, he looks over my site before leveling me and Stanley with one last stare. I don’t stop watching him until his car turns at the end of the block.
“You wanna tell me what that was all about?” I ask Stanley.
“Oh, that was nothing, just...” he begins, but I cut my eyes to him, and he falls silent. His eyes cast to the side before he quietly continues. “That’s someone I used to...deal with before I got arrested.”