Shameless

by Maya Rossi

  “Are you all right?”

  Before I can reply, he reaches forward and pulls me to my feet. Suddenly, my aura of safety is gone. I stumble back, conscious of the splatter of come on my jaw and chin. I snatch his t-shirt from the ground and wipe off the mess on my face.

  “Sorry,” he mutters again. “Maybe I can--”

  “It’s fine,” I snap, speaking out for the first time.

  Just then, I become conscious of the ache in my knees, the darkness of the alley, and the sticky state of my face. I want to get out of here. Without asking, I fling his shirt into the dumpster and walked out. Slowly, he follows and I can hear his heavy threads following.

  Outside the bar, two men sat waiting with a torchlight. They stop talking abruptly when they see me. Behind me, the man stops and mutters darkly, “What the hell are you doing?”

  One of them scoffs. “You think I’ll just go home without the gist?”

  “Pete, Christ. There’s no gist.” He sighs. “At least point the damned torchlight down.”

  With a low grumble, Pete puts off the flashlight. I walk past the men, intent on getting my bag and getting out of there. I thank Vetty, grab my bag and walk out. Outside, I take out my phone to call for a cab. The men are still outside, talking. A flash of embarrassment runs through me at the thought of being the topic under discussion.

  It bothers me, more than I thought it would. My mind’s still fixated on it and I’m not watching where I’m going. My heels catches on something and I fall.

  The guys come running to help. I’m even more embarrassed when it is my huge guy that helps me up. My huge guy, really? The one with the flashlight runs it over my legs to check for further damage.

  “Are you alright?” The smallest of them asks. The one with the flashlight moves it to my face, blinding me. As I stumble back, he continues, “Really Grif, if you can handle fifty pound bags of feed, she’s nothing.”

  I feel Grif stiffen. He takes a hurried step back, releasing me abruptly. “Grif?” I ask tentatively.

  At the same time, he says, “Olivia?”

  Chapter five

  The night breeze drifts across the sweat on my skin like icy fingers. I suppose if I’m grateful for something else tonight, the erratic weather cooperating is one of them. I jump off Lex, patting the horse’s neck in appreciation before heading for the barn. I get the lights on and grab a broom. Soon, the silent night is filled with the rough sound of broom brushing up hay stacks. Clark enters and rests by the door, watching me work. Maybe he’s thinking how weird humans are.

  “Huh, Clark? Are you thinking this hoo-man has gone mad?”

  He only barks in response but I imagine is in agreement.

  I slow down the movement of my arm on every pass, I’m in no hurry. I need the work. And unless I start the foundation for the new barn tonight, I will soon run out of work. I don’t want to think, not even a second of my mind empty. Every single second, I’m idle, the memory of the clusterfuck that is my visit into town intrudes. The last thing I want is to think of Olivia and her mouth around my cock.

  “Shit,” I throw the broom down, going on my knees. Jesus. The first break in my solitude. My first taste of heaven and I violate my little girl. Even that sounds kinky.

  How many times while married to Lily did I spend hours by the fire with Olivia on my lap, reading to her or just relaxing? My breath leaves me on a sigh. I’m remembering the last month before the separation from Lily.

  It is during their annual vacation by the lakeside cabin in Maine. Olivia excited for the holidays and happy to be out of school, doesn’t sit still. She ends up begging for a butterfly and I caught one for her.

  Lily tucks her dark hair behind her ears. Her skin is chocolate dark and shiny. “Jeez, Grif you don’t have to give her everything she asks for.”

  I had been just as quiet and awkward then. Christ, was it only twelve years ago? Olivia laughed, scrambling up my thighs to throw her arms around my neck. I grimaced as her knobby knees made as much damage going up as a six-year-old could inflict.

  “It’s because he loves me, mommy.”

  And she smacked a loud kiss on my cheek. Absently, I run a finger over the spot, remembering the sticky, sugary smell from the kiss, the warmth of her small arms around my neck and Lily’s smile. She had been so happy to see her husband and daughter get along.

  What would she think now?

  “Still beating yourself up over it?”

  The voice is so unexpected, my heart jumps into my throat and my legs gives way under me. “Christ, Rick, can you make some noise next time you creep in?”

  Clark rushes over to greet Rick. As he rubs my dog all over he arches an eyebrow. “It’s only in a concert you make some noise.” He glances around and rolls up his sleeves. “I guess work it is.”

  We work side by side for a full hour. My heart is full to bursting and not with good cheer. It reminds of the time after Eric’s death. I want to scream and rage and shout but I can’t. My fingers tingle with it. My hair pores stand on end as my need to vent increases. When the last bag is in the truck, Rick bends over panting.

  “Get it off your chest, dammit, I can’t--”

  “It’s your fault,” I shout, “I was content, I was okay and then you say rubbish about going out and everything went to shit.”

  He unbuttons his shirt and uses it to clean the sweat and dust off his chest. “Is that all?”

  His casual question is so maddening, I stalk over and stab a finger in his face. “I WAS FINE. Forget fine. My business has never been better. I’m even doing deliveries for people in town--”

  “Peter’s under pressure to stop. His parents would rather he never steps foot here at all,” he replies mildly.

  “W-well,” I stammer, “I would have found a way around it. But that’s not the point, everything was fine until you came.”

  Rick slaps my finger off his face. “Is that so, because I recall things differently. My life was perfectly fine. I was going to end it until you stopped me.” He pushes me so hard, I fall hard on the ground. Clark runs over watching us curiously. “Who the hell gave you the right to stop me, anyway? Is it ‘cos I’ve indulged you all these while?”

  “Rick--”

  “Who died and made you god?”

  We stare at each other, chest rising and falling with the force of our emotions. Clark runs over and shoves his head between Rick’s legs. Just like that, Rick let’s go of his anger and starts laughing. Irritated and relieved, I sit up to watch him laugh like a mad man. Soon, he is rolling with Clark on the ground playing. The sight brings a lump to my throat, Rick has so much zest for life, takes so much joy in living, the image of him standing by the noose is an aberration.

  Who died and made you god?

  “I didn’t know,” I mumble.

  With a sigh, Rick shoves Clark off and sits up. “I need you to remember, in fact frame it on your wall. My decision to take my life, it’s my decision. It’s got nothing to do with you. Dammit, you get an idea in your head and you just run with it, you’re like a child, you don’t care to know anything else. Or ask why.”

  The words land like fire in my gut. Memories of being called stupid and big for nothing not too far behind. Suddenly, I ache for my bed. “Right, hmm--”

  “I don’t mean it the way you think.” Rick runs a hand through his hair. He worries his lip with his teeth for a second, looking both frustrated and devastated. “And that’s another thing I hate. You’re so obsessed with the word stupid, moron or anything that implies low intelligence. Not everything about ‘stupid’ is about you.”

  We sit in silence, saying nothing but saying so much. I clear my throat. “I didn’t mean… you know. It’s — I can’t imagine you not being in my life.”

  Ricks clutches his chest in hand. “Awww, Griffy, I know you love me.”

  I grab the broom and launch it in his direction. “Fuck off. I’m serious.”

  He stops laughing abruptly, regarding me gravely. “
I love you, Griffin. And you didn’t have to tell me you didn’t mean it. I know.”

  My eyes drops to my clenched fists. He wouldn’t know. I’ve been so used to having my every move questioned, first by my parents and then Lily. Then Eric’s betrayal. Rick won’t know how much his words mean to me. “Thanks.”

  “Tell me about Olivia.”

  I stiffen at his request. Olivia is the last person I want to talk about. If it is possible to erase my memory of the past six hours, I will. “She’s my stepdaughter --”

  “Didn’t know you’re married,” Rick said.

  I shake my head. “I know what you’re doing.”

  “Do you? Are you still married to her mom?”

  “Lily? Oh, no.”

  “Then ex-stepdaughter then, let’s tell it like it is.”

  Glaring my disapproval makes no difference as he just shrugs it off. “She’s light and beautiful and all that’s right in this world. She’s… innocence and --”

  “Don’t bite my head off,” Rick raises an entreating hand. “In the spirit of telling it like it is, I don’t think the innocence part will hold water.”

  I really want to bite his head off at that, but if I close my eyes, I shiver at the memory of her breath on my cock. When I raise my leg to hide the reaction in my jeans, Rick smirks. “Why are we discussing this again?” I ask in irritation.

  “So we can go to bed.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’re beating yourself up about it. And that’s fine. But you never knew who she was — BTW, we must press Vetty for better lighting at that damn bar. You didn’t know--”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, but it happened. How am I going to explain to Lily that her daughter gave me head? How fucked up is that? I knew her as a child who would believe nothing happened--”

  “Please, stop. You haven’t laid eyes on each other in twelve years. Besides, she has the body of a goddess--”

  “That’s not helping, man,” Grif groans.

  “It’s true, most black women are blessed like that. I was married to one.”

  Though I badly want to ask about Rick’s marriage, I don’t. Most of our interaction is like a dance with a skittish horse. I have to be careful or I’ll send him running. “I feel like I should be punished for it, you know? Atone for what I’ve done.”

  “You did nothing wrong.”

  That sends my blossoming anger soaring. “Look, unless your wife was your sister or cousin or something, our situations ain’t the same.”

  “How about, she was the love of my life? She and our two kids, the perfect interracial family. Then I go to a bar and meet a man.” Rick laughs mirthlessly. He notices my dawning horror and laughs harder. “Yup. You guessed right.” His blue eyes are deep pools of devastation. “It was just one look, I didn’t even think I was gay. The question never came up. I loved my wife, I loved her body. But I carried on an affair for three months.” His voice breaks. “I don’t — you know the worse part? The part that makes me want to take a razor to my wrist every day? In my lowest moments, at night,” unconsciously, he runs a tongue slowly over his lower lip, “I remember those encounters and I come so hard, I see red.”

  Rick’s breathing so hard, I know he’s remembering ‘those encounters’ he spoke off.

  Even though I pushed for it, have wanted to know Rick’s story for so long, it utterly devastates me. My mouth open and close several times before I shut it with a click.

  Rick rises, putting on his dirty shirt with jerky motions. He’s so ashamed, he doesn’t meet my eye. When Clark dares to come close, he pushes him away.

  “Rick--”

  “No,” he breathes in deeply, “say nothing. Since we’re comparing sins, I’m sure you can tell you have done nothing wrong.”

  Chapter six

  I badly need to talk to someone. Like yesterday. If I don’t, I’ll go crazy. Biting my lip, I consider my options. I can’t talk to mom about it and not Dana. Maybe Em. But there’s a well of fear and jealousy in my gut. My time with Grif isn’t something I want to share.

  With my foot, I push the laptop away and collapse on the bed. I stare up at the cracked ceiling of the old motel where I’m holed up. Leaving home, the plan was to spend the holidays with Grif ‘recovering’ from the ordeal with Stanton. I told mom I had no interest in attending college and I meant it. But fuck if she believes me. She would rather think, I want to avoid our social circle in order not to run into Stanton.

  Why do people assume the victim is weaker than the oppressor? I will totally walk past Stanton if we met again. Or worse, offer him a blow job and tear his tiny dick off. The thought of a tiny dick and blow job pushes yesterday's misunderstanding with Grif to the forefront of my mind where I absolutely do not want it. But fuck if he isn’t huge, eight inches if not more.

  It was a misunderstanding, right?

  I cover my face with my hands and roll over in bed, groaning in embarrassment. I was six when mom and Grif divorced. Frowning, I rest my head on my hands and try to piece together the events of that time. My memories are faint and it takes too much effort. But something happened, even if my memory fails, mom’s reaction every time his name is mentioned is a pretty big clue.

  An unwitting smile curves my mouth as I think of Grif. He hasn’t changed from the pictures mom kept. But he still manages to inspire the same feeling of sunshine and safety. I don’t know why he disappeared from our lives, but I know mom still loves him.

  What a mess.

  My phone rings and I cover my ears with my hands. Childish, yes, but I don’t think I can muster up the pretend excitement needed to tell mom about seeing Grif again. About I actually saw him.

  Not that avoiding my calls will solve my problem. I still needed a place to hole up. I’m considering options when someone knocks on my door. I freeze, a bolt of adrenaline shooting through my system and straight into my heart. I sit up to stare at the door; I know who is behind that door and the thought of reliving my embarrassment makes me cringe.

  “Olivia.”

  He’s the only one who calls me Olivia. He signed all twelve gifts for my birthday, Olivia Lee-Sterling. Never Livvy or Liv. Mom jokes that Grif doesn’t belong in this world, he’s too gentle and kind for it. But her eyes doesn’t light up with the memory, they darken with guilt. Maybe I can ask Grif about that after delivering my over rehearsed apology for last night.

  “Olivia? I know you’re in there, open up. Please.”

  Decision made, I move quickly. My feet are soundless inside my socks on the carpeted floor. I pull the door open. One brief exhalation of air and there was Griffin, looking bigger than last night if that were possible.

  A soft exclamation leaves his lips when he sets eyes on me. I want to die of embarrassment. No matter how hard I try, last night glows like a billboard advertisement in my mind. But Grif’s reaction worse. He doesn’t meet my eye when I finally chance a look. His cheeks are full brown red in embarrassment. That settles me somewhat.

  “Come, in.”

  His head jerks up in shock as I push the door wide open. “You shouldn’t let me in.”

  “What should I do then?” I ask curiously.

  He doesn’t hesitate. “Head straight to the Sheriff’s office and report me. Call Lily.”

  I fold my hands and study him closely. “Mom said something about the town not liking you or something, and I kinda got that vibe at the bar.”

  It’s a mistake to mention the bar or even allude to it, I realize when he winces. “Maybe,” he mumbles, scoring the floor with his work boots.

  “So, I imagine things would be worse for you and the farm if I report. Besides, we were both at fault,” I say, “And I’m pretty sure I recall making the first move.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” he insists, “you’re --”

  “Better don’t say I’m young or I’ll murder you,” I snap playfully, trying to put us both at ease.

  He gives me a shy smile and enters. He’s so tall he has to tip his head forward to
enter the room. His huge frame immediately takes up all the space in the room and I have to take over two steps back to give him room.

  “Shit, were you always this tall?” I blurt.

  The side of his cheeks I can see becomes tinged with a darker shade of red. He glances around quickly and makes for the one chair in the room. We sit facing each other, him on the chair and me on the bed. It’s so awkward I want to be as far from here as possible. But I’m fascinated too. Mom speaks of Grif like he hangs the moon. My memories of him are filled with sweets, hugs and sunshine. I want to see if the man in this room matches my memories.

  Mom is right about one thing, he’s a shy giant.

  He doesn’t meet my eye; he takes a long time studying the room. “Christ, this is a dump.” Finally, he fixes a penetrating stare on me. “I apologize. You shouldn’t have spent the night here.”

  Maybe not shy, just quiet. His eyes are the color of new grass, bright and green. Grif is not pretty like Stanton or handsome but he has an arresting face that demands a second look. “You’ll let me stay… after what happened between us?”

  That sickening but kinda hilarious grimace — the one that says he would rather be anywhere but here — steals over his features. “If—if you were my daughter --”

  “I’m not,” I interrupt quickly. The whole situation is already weird without him adding fuel to the flames.