Adonis Line: Filth series

by Dakota Gray

  I shrug again, but we all know what his mother is capable of. “It’s up to you.”

  He considers that for a second. “I’ll drop it, but I saw the way you looked at Nina. I saw the way she looked at you. Why would you give that up without a fight?”

  I’ve had two weeks to dig through my every action with Nina, and with all the women who came before her. I’ve spent most of my adult dating life trying to make sure everyone around me was okay. I tried to be everything someone would need. To be worthy of love again. I had myself convinced if I could make one woman love me, it would be enough. I would be enough.

  My chuckle tastes bitter. “You can’t fight a losing battle.”

  Duke leans forward. “But if you could?”

  If Nina were to walk back into my life, my world would feel right again. “I wouldn’t let her go, but she’s not coming back, and I have to live with the reasons why. I have to be a better man for me. I have to do what I’ve done for everyone else for me.”

  Neither of my friends offer any advice after that, but as they leave, they let me know they’ll be back. And I know they’ll keep coming back until I’m fine. That may take some time, but I’m not filling that hole inside me with anything else but hope.

  TAREK

  * * *

  THE SCENT of cornbread hits me as soon as I walk into Mom and Pop’s home. And then I think of her. The start of my smile fades. It’s been a month, the longest month since I’ve seen Nina. I’ve been working and attending Sunday dinners with the family. It’s not enough, but it’s what I have now.

  “Ooh, what’s that face?” My sister rises from the couch. Erica’s cut her hair again, so it’s just shy of a little ‘fro dyed platinum. Short like our mother, she raises on the tips of her toes to hug me.

  When she finally steps back to frown at me, I hold up the black grocery bag. “I brought the liquor you requested.”

  Her face lights up. “Rum?”

  “That, and brought Pop some of that old man booze he likes.”

  “He would disown you if he heard you call Crown Royal that, but you’re not wrong.” She takes the bag and I follow her past the living room where my nieces and nephews have sprawled over the furniture. Five in all, and most pre-teens or teens, they barely wave at me as they play on their phones.

  We pass family portraits, wedding photos, and a few candid shots my mother recently put up in the hallway. Most of those same people sit around the kitchen table.

  My mom and baby brother, Lorenz, sit on one side. My dad and my sister’s husband, Mike, sit on the other. Given the way Reese sits at the head of the table, shaking his head, they’ve been at this Spades game for some time now. He’s the second oldest and knows too well how things shake out when my mother plays.

  I mutter to my sister, “I see why you asked for liquor backup.”

  “Right?” She pats me on the back then heads into the kitchen, most likely to make cups.

  I move over to my mother to give her a sideways hug. “Hey, baby,” my mom greets me with her attention still on the game.

  I take in her cards and laugh. “Hey, Ma.”

  I give everyone else a what’s up and get back various grunts, which means I guessed right. My mom’s team is winning as usual. My oldest brother was dumb enough to bet on the losing side.

  “Isn’t the food ready?” I ask in hopes of breaking the tension a bit.

  “After this round, we can eat,” my mom says and puts down an ace.

  My dad stares at my mother, glares at Lorenz, and finally pushes away from the table, disgust on his face. He’s used to winning because he’s always on mom’s team. I don’t know why he had a lapse in judgment today, but he’s never going to live this down.

  “Lorenz,” my brother groans. “How? You’re sitting right next to her.”

  Lorenz shrugs with a boyish grin and leans over to give mom a cheek kiss.

  I say, “What did you expect? He’s always been a titty baby.”

  He reaches over to hit me. Since I knew that would be his reaction, I’m ready to scoot my chair out of his reach.

  “Oh, now he’s smiling,” my sister says. She’s managed to bring in four red cups. She gives one to everyone but Lorenz. To him she says, “You were sitting right next to her.”

  I take a sip of my drink and blink from my eyes watering. My sister is heavy-handed. I put the alcohol down to wait for some of the ice to melt.

  Erica clears her voice still standing next to Lorenz. “Congrats by the way.”

  I frown. “For?”

  “Winning the contest.”

  My frown deepens. “What?”

  She gestures to Mike. “Didn’t you see it on Facebook or something? That hiking contest he went on.”

  Mike snaps his fingers. “Yeah. Now I remember. That woman you went with.” He runs a hand through his dreads like that will help him. “What was her name?”

  It’s hard to speak. “Nina.”

  “Her,” Erica says, “There was like a video of her accepting a check.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know.” Pride fills me though. “She won. That’s good. Damn good.”

  And because my sister is my sister, “She didn’t tell you?” Her tone implies both anger and concern.

  “We haven’t talked in a while. Not really since we came back.”

  Her eyes narrow on me. “Hmmm.”

  I pick up my drink and stand. “I’m going to make me a plate.”

  She adds, “You do that.”

  Yup. I’m fucked. I try my best to avoid being alone with her. It ain’t easy, and I know she gives me some kind of reprieve because Sunday dinner is boisterous, fun and chaotic. I demolish the greens, cornbread, and fried chicken and then make an escape outside with my drink for a moment of peace.

  That was my mistake. She finds me on the back-porch swing. I finish my drink. To my surprise she says nothing after sitting down beside me. It’s late, but summer is officially here so there’s sunlight. Pops hasn’t taken the cover off the pool yet, but I’m sure in a few weeks Sunday dinner will be barbequed. When everyone’s full and mellowed, someone will turn on the music, and at some point, he’ll ask my mom to dance.

  Maybe this summer, I won’t feel like I don’t deserve them or those moments. I sigh and throw my arm over my sister’s shoulder. “Hey, sis.”

  She shakes her head. “You go off with this stranger, a woman, alone. We don’t see you for weeks. When you pop back up you’ve got…this expression.” She motions at my face. “I know your friends so it can’t be them. I know it’s not work. So do I have to snatch this Nina girl?”

  “Absolutely not, mama bear. Calm down.” I drop my arm to push her then laugh. “I know you think I’m perfect.”

  “I know you’re not, but you’re my brother.”

  “And that makes you biased.” I glance down at my empty cup. “I hurt her in a way that I can’t fix, because what hurt her was who I am.”

  She frowns. “What does that mean?” I just shake my head. Her brows knit. “Do you think you have a problem?”

  That puts a pang in my chest. “Yeah.”

  “Then do what you did before.”

  “If I recall right, you told me Black people don’t do therapy.”

  “I was an ass and wrong. Go. You’re looking depressed as shit, and I can’t worry about you. I don’t like it.”

  “Oh, you don’t like it?”

  She smiles. “Nope.”

  I put my arm back around her. My family don’t know the ugly details. They just thought I went to therapy because the crash was traumatic for me. It was, but it kind of paled to everything else.

  Erica looks at me and sighs. “You love her?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you think she loved you?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  She sighs again. “But it does.”

  It hurts for me to say, “I don’t deserve it.”

  “Well, I love you anyway. Everyone in the house does. Your frien
ds do. We can’t all be wrong. I know for sure I’m not. The problem clearly is that you don’t love you.” With that, she pats my thigh. “I’m going to get you another drink, so you have something to keep you company while you pout.”

  “Thanks?”

  “Oh, that reminds me. I have a book for you.” She pushes out of the swing and leaves.

  I just laugh. She’ll be back with my drink. She’ll do her best to fix my life as best as she can. And now that I’ve told her the truth, she won’t let me be, either. Big sisters, man. And then I’m thinking of Nina again. The smile fades.

  26

  Nina

  * * *

  “What do you think?” I say to my sister.

  The room is dimly lit from the afternoon sun. My voice echoes on the empty walls, and because I’ve searched every inch of Hartburg to find this business rental in a decent neighborhood, I know there’s a bathroom, and a place I can turn into a changing room. It’s well within my budget now that I’ve won the contest. Yeah. I won, but it was bittersweet. Whenever I look at my winning photos all I can see is my time with Tarek.

  We haven’t talked in close to a month. Our circles connect, but like before I knew he existed, I don’t run into him. He didn’t leave physical scars, but I still hurt at the thought of him. I ache. At least I’ve stopped crying.

  My sister moves to my side. “Will it be enough?”

  “I have enough money to cover rent for a year, advertise and I’ll still be doing events when someone needs it. But here, I’ll be able to do what I’ve always dreamed. I can do shoots for people and see them, really see them and they’ll be able to do the same.”

  Almost as though my sister can see that vision too, she glances around the space. “But is it enough?”

  Little sisters are such assholes. I throw up my hands. “Just say it. You’ve been dying to say it for a month. Since the moment I told you Tarek and I were no more.”

  But to be slightly fair to my sister, I didn’t tell her for a week or even give her the gory details of that Tarek admitted he was Captain Save a Ho. Didn’t matter. Layla, in a show of shocking restraint, hadn’t asked a single question or offered any cryptic advice. Even after I told her the simple truth: Tarek admitted to something that made me feel used, small, stupid, and like I will never be loved despite my past.

  Layla shrugs and stuffs her hands in her back pockets. “If I say anything, you’ll never arrive at the obvious.”

  I scoff. “And I was just thinking you hadn’t tried cryptic advice yet. Lucky me. So what do you think of this place?”

  “I love it, and I’ll be your first customer. I need a decent family photo where no one is covered in spit up.”

  “I wouldn’t have anyone else as my first customer, and you know that.”

  Layla grins. “I know.” She sighs. “Duke called me.”

  I try to process the sentence and I can only shake my head. “Who did what?”

  “Tarek’s little lawyer friend called me.”

  Okay. That man is shifty and likely knew I would have hung up the phone once he announced himself. I try to act interested in the dust along the front window’s sill. “And what did he say?”

  “Nothing, really. He just wanted to know what happened, so he could help his friend.”

  I turn slightly and squint at her. “What does that even mean?”

  “Tarek only told them it was over, but Duke was worried.”

  I try to picture Duke worried about anything…and I could see it. A man that intense would make sure his friend would be okay. That said a lot about Tarek.

  I purse my lips for a moment, hoping that would quell the words. It doesn’t work for long. “What exactly did he say?”

  “A lot, but most of it came down to he wanted to know what I knew because Tarek wasn’t acting like himself.”

  That ache with his name on it, pipes up. “He’s fine.”

  “Sure,” Layla agrees without a single comment.

  I know what she’s up to. It won’t work this time. I walk her through the rest of the tour. She gives me one-word approvals. By the end, when we’re back in the main room, I’m ready to shake her.

  “Just say it,” I push through my clenched teeth.

  “Do you honestly feel like Tarek fetishized your pain?”

  Heart punch. “This is why you shouldn’t tell little sisters shit.”

  “Or is it possible he just identifies with women who don’t feel like they are enough as is?”

  “I wish I could believe that, but he wasn’t raised—”

  “In a broken home? He had parents who loved him. He had siblings he could count on. What could have possibly happened to make him look at himself and think I’m not enough? Could he have fallen in love with someone that gave him front row seats that horrible humans exist? Once you see that you can’t unsee it. But I’m sure anyone after that experience would be just fine. They wouldn’t do shit that looks questionable. At all. Nope.”

  Once her words sink in, my throat feels like someone rubbed it with sandpaper. Little. Sisters. Are. Assholes. “Did Duke tell you to say all this?”

  “I’m using that MBA to parse through what I learned from him and what you told me.”

  See. This is what I get for meddling. I should have let my sister figure life out on her own and kept my damn mouth shut. But I’m me. I’m stubborn as shit when I want to be.

  “So,” I spread my arms and do a little twirl, “this is my new place of business. I’m not sure what to call it yet. I have so much I need to put together, now that I have an actual address.”

  Layla laughs at my attempt to ignore the real conversation we’re having. “I’m not saying you should forgive him. I’m saying maybe you guys deserve a second chance. You’re not stalking him to find out if he’s okay one minute, and then falling and landing on his dick. He’s not wanting to be with you because he thinks your broken bits fits his, and then falling and landing on you doggy-style.”

  I want to be annoyed, but she’s not exaggerating. We fell into bed, trouble, and heartache. Neither of us were ready to leave the past in the past. Only a month had passed but it felt like eons. I can’t remember what my life was like before him.

  He told me an ugly truth. He told me after I had confessed I was looking for anything to end things between us. Tarek could have lied or omitted part of his answer. Instead he told me the truth. He’d showed me the ugliest part of himself.

  And that part didn’t intentionally hurt women to make him feel like a better man.

  I glance at my sister. “You going to help me name this place?”

  She closes her eyes for a second then steps into my space. “Nina, I will be with you at every step of the way. If you’re not ready…to name this place…then I’ll help you. I’m your sister, so you can’t get rid of me anyway.”

  My heart softens. “You’re about as subtle as a brick to the head.”

  “I am …” She shakes her head. “You don’t sound like you are sure you did the right thing.”

  I sigh. “Do you truly think I’m safe with Tarek?”

  “Safe? The man climbs cliffs as a hobby. Do I think you guys should get a second chance? Yes. After that though, I’m de-balling the fucker.”

  I rush toward my sister and throw my arms around her. “You’re an asshole but I love you.” I drag myself over to the window sill. It’s thick enough for me to sit. “I wasn’t ready, Layla. I don’t know if I’ll ever be. I have to be open, trusting.”

  “You have to be prepared to get your heart broken. The thing is, does it hurt any less when you walk away from something that could be good because you’re scared?”

  I look out the window. The past few weeks have hurt like a bitch. “What if I wait too long? What if he's moved on by the time I’m ready?”

  “Then he’s not the one.”

  “But I want him to be,” the words leave my mouth before I can stop them. Layla smiles as though I’ve finally tripped onto the obvious. I s
hake my head. “I can’t stand you.”

  “I’m saying be kind to yourself. This is new. But you love him.”

  “It’s not always enough.”

  She crosses the room to me and cups my face in her hands. “That’s why you work on the rest.”

  Her words settle on me. I clasp my hands over hers. “Give me time, okay?”

  “Can’t I just harass you? That’s more fun.”

  I laugh, feeling loved. And I deserve it just because I am. “Deal.”

  We shake on it.

  27

  Tarek

  * * *

  I’m pretty sure my mind is playing tricks on me. Why else would I catch sight of a woman with neon stripes on her black tights in the London-Berg gym? It’s not Nina, though the way my heart stopped, I thought she was. It’s been two months since I’ve last seen her. She’s not coming back.

  I scowl and work my way around the room, helping who I can. I don’t have a client today, but sitting in my house, alone with my thoughts isn’t good for me. My new therapist has told me so. Takes about an hour for me to reach the treadmills and then I’m sure my mind is fucking with me. It is Nina. Or a woman who is Nina-like. She has dimples. Lipstick that doesn’t smear. This woman has to be some kind of clone to haunt me.

  Except the woman meets my eyes and broadens her smile. Even in this cramped room, hot and humid, I can pick up the scent of cocoa butter and vanilla.

  “Eight weeks, six days, and a handful of hours,” I say ‘cause that’s all that I can think at the moment.

  And Nina’s here. In my gym. On my floor.

  “Hey, Tarek.” She punches buttons until she hits the right one to get the treadmill to stop.

  I hate how that makes me ache. “Do you want me to show you how to turn the treadmill on and off?”

  She turns to lean on the handlebar then straightens to pluck at invisible lint on her tights. “It goes off eventually.”

  Takes me a second to recognize her fidgeting for what it is—nerves. I don’t want to get my hopes up. I don’t.