Unfortunately though, I now realize why a "No Duchess Day" was a bad idea, because that woman is capable of anything in twenty-four hours. I run by the house under the pretense of asking Joseph to clarify something in one of the contracts and learn from Juliette that Elizabeth went out of the fucking country to meet some investor, without so much as a single word to me.
After that my brain and my body went on autopilot. Juliette fixed me something to eat, and I have zero idea of what was on the plate. I just wolfed it down while I thought about a hundred ways to get on a plane to the Bahamas with a non-registered gun. I asked Joseph about clause number twelve in one of the contracts, but I'll be damned if I have any recall of his explanation.
Not that it mattered.
It was all a front to get in the front door and put eyes on Elizabeth anyway. I just needed to know that she was okay. That she didn't hate me. I wanted to know if she had been thinking about me or about what we did. I'd know if I saw her. Elizabeth is easy to read. Those expressive eyes of hers tell the truth even when she does her best to lie her ass off. Especially to me.
Now she's gone.
When I finally made it home, and I definitely don't remember exactly how I got here, I sat down with my old friend Jack Daniels and drank myself into a coma and then later into a violent rage. That thing, that monster inside me, which I desperately try to keep at bay was rearing its ugly head. That thing telling me I'm not good enough. That I'm trash. That I can't be trusted. I start tossing shit all around the place, destroying my own home; my crowning achievement. Because it doesn't mean shit if I don't mean shit to the one person that is starting to matter to me.
So now I'm sitting on my couch, the same couch that I spread Elizabeth across and fucked her thoroughly on just a day ago, and I'm staring at a blank flat screen. Wondering when the hell did I turn into a complete pussy and what I'm going to do about it– because this shit sucks.
"What are you doing here?" I ask Jade in a very annoyed voice like the prick that I am.
"You didn't return my call or text for over eight hours, homie. You know the protocol. You created it. You could have been in jail or dead in an alley somewhere. What is going on? And don't tell me nothing, because we both know that's a bunch of bullshit. Is this about Joseph?"
"No, Jade."
"Your mom?"
"No,” I snap. Talking about my mother has always been off-limits.
"Then what?"
"Elizabeth is gone."
Jade's eyes grow wide with fear, and I know instantly that she knows something that I don't. Why would she react like that?
"What is it, Jade?" I ask with little patience in my voice. "What."
"Do you know where she went?" she asks nervously.
"To the Bahamas. Why?"
"Oh shit." Jade rubs the palms of her hands nervously up and down the front of her jeans. "You asked me to look into the ex."
"AND!"
"Well the boyfriend Ethan …he's not in rehab."
My chest constricts. I'm not liking this. I'm really not liking this.
"When did he get out?"
"He didn't. He was never in rehab. At least not in Arizona like Elizabeth thinks."
"So where the fuck is he, Jade?"
"I'm ninety-nine percent sure he's in the Bahamas."
♡ ♡ ♡
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”What the hell is wrong with you?"
I should notice Jade in the room, because she's basically standing directly in front of me with her legs shoulder width apart, both hands on her hips, and her miniature skull cocked to the side; but I'm so inside of my own head right now, it's almost as if she's a silhouette blending into the background with the rest of the furniture.
I should also probably hear everything Jade is saying to me, because she's popping her usual wad of god-awful gum in her mouth while talking completely at me, but even her voice is like white noise to me right now.
I don't hear shit.
I'm sitting on the floor of my living room, methodically taking apart and reassembling my Beretta 92FS while separating and scarfing down yellow peanut M&Ms. If a stranger was a fly on the wall inside my apartment right now, he or she would probably be staring at me as if I was completely certifiable; basically how Jade is looking at me at this very minute.
What I've never told her or anyone for that matter is that I was taught by a school counselor, who I was forced to meet with in the twelfth grade (by Joseph's request I suspect), that I needed to create rituals for myself in order to self soothe.
In other words, to calm the fuck down.
When my insides are dark and stormy, this is what I do. I either create a new ritual on the fly or fall back on one of my old standards, but whichever method I select, they always have to mean something to me. And only me.
I was barely six years old when my mother woke me up on a weekday at five a.m. and announced that we were going to walk all the way from our house to Walmart (which was at least two miles away) and wait for them to open. She had purchased a vacuum cleaner from there that she wanted to return immediately, because the power cord would not automatically wind back inside its compartment, and she was livid. This is what it could be like living with my mother. She acted on every impulse, every whim, and every emotion. Many times at my expense.
After the time it took to get there, we waited another two hours for Walmart to open that day, and then she told me to sit on the walkway in front of the store with the vacuum cleaner while she made a run to the bank. I didn't understand at my age that there were no banks open at seven a.m., at least not in our neighborhood, so I did as I was told and waited.
It was cold that day and the longer I sat on the concrete, and the longer she was gone, the more anxious I became. I was shivering with my arms around a vacuum cleaner box as store employees pulled inside the parking lot to begin their workday. Most of them gave me inquisitive but brief glances as they continued their labored marches inside the building. Everyone except a cashier named Caroline. A round, robust woman with little to no hair on her head (my guess was due to chemo) but a huge smile, and she stopped to speak to me when no one else bothered to that day.
"Why are you sitting out here all alone son?"
"My mom's vacuum cleaner doesn't work."
"Where is your momma?"
"At the bank."
"The bank? Which one?"
"I don't know."
"Hmmm … what's your name?"
"Roman. What's yours?"
"See my name tag? Can you read it?"
"Yep. It says Caroleene."
"That's Caroline."
"That's what I said. Caroleene."
She flashed me another one of her warm smiles.
"Are you in school yet, Roman?"
"Sometimes." I said not realizing what was very wrong with that answer.
"You want to come inside with the vacuum cleaner and wait for your momma there, Roman? It's chilly out here, and you'll get hemorrhoids if you stay sittin' on that concrete."
I liked the looks of Caroline. Even though she was missing a lot of hair, she still looked kind and fluffy like someone's grandma should look. But I could hear my mother's voice in my head, warning me to avoid all strangers, especially kind ones. My mom didn't trust many people and even when I really wanted to, I didn't either.
"I'll wait for my mommy out here."
"Fair enough, but here's a little something while you wait. Free of charge."
Caroline smiled when she handed me a small unopened bag of M&Ms. It was the first time I had candy since I could remember, and even though I had been warned about accepting food,
gifts, or kindness from strangers, I made an exception that morning.
"It's my only guilty pleasure. I have plenty more at home unfortunately. You take these," she offered.
"Thank you." I said as I ripped the bag open almost immediately. Not realizing how hungry I was.
"What good manners, and you're welcome darlin'. But listen, Roman, make sure to eat each one of those candies one by one and very slowly. It will help pass the time until your mom gets back. Okay?"
"Okay."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
Time passed longer than I ever anticipated that day and now that I'm older and wiser, it's obvious that sweet, old Miss Caroline figured that it was going to be a long morning for me. It was the first time that my mother had ever left me somewhere and then completely forgot about me. She usually came back within at least an hour.
This time she didn't.
I was still sitting outside Walmart three hours later, when the tears started to roll down my face and the realization hit me that my mother wasn't coming back for me. I knew then that I had a decision to make. Should I try and look for my mother? Should I try and make my way back home? Or should I go inside and ask that sweet old woman for help?
I ate the last of my M&Ms while I thought things through and was able to arrive at my first of many future big boy decisions. I was going to figure out my way back home, with the vacuum cleaner in tow, and hoped that my mother would remember her way back home too.
Almost five hours later she did.
I'm lining up the peanut version of my favorite candy side by side on my smoked glass coffee table, then eating only the yellow ones. Eating M&Ms to calm myself down is one of my go to rituals thanks to the kind woman I met many years ago. Making it yellow M&Ms is something I'm doing on the fly. Something that reminds me of the very person that has my insides all twisted in knots. Yellow is Elizabeth's favorite color.
And she's all I can think about.
Her mouth.
Her breasts.
Her laugh.
That spectacular ass.
I don't especially like that images of her are creeping around inside of my head, consuming my thoughts, but the fact remains that I brought all this shit on myself once I put my hands and mouth on her and especially my damn dick inside of her. I have no one to blame but my fucking self.
It's like a switch has been flipped on inside of me that I couldn't power off even if I wanted to. What I think I hate most about how I'm feeling is that it's all so new and foreign to me. This desire to always know where she's at, what she's doing, and how she's feeling is actually a big pain in my ass. That shit is for weak pussies. Not for men like me.
My old school counselor would probably say I'm having an issue, because I don't know how to interpret and control unfamiliar emotional responses or some such nonsensical shit. She was right about one thing though. I do like control. I definitely like knowing exactly what I'm dealing with at all times. I don't like surprises, and I don't like chaos. And while I'm sure it's no big deal in many circles that I have hooked up with a family member who is only my cousin by marriage, in my world it's a big fucking deal.
It's messy.
None of my friends or family would ever understand this. In our world, she's still very much family. They'd probably come up with many creative names for what I am: perverted, distorted, warped, depraved, pathetic. I know this because I would probably think the same thing.
Problem is right now … I just don't give a fuck.
And the only reason why I've been holding back as much as I have with Elizabeth is because I know that she definitely does give a fuck.
I've swallowed four Extra-Strength Excedrin and drank at least three highballs of Jack Daniels over the last hour, but my head is still fucking pounding and my gut is still wickedly churning. Probably because over the last twenty-four hours the same questions have been running through my head, gnawing at me.
What is Elizabeth doing? Who is she talking to? Why hasn't she returned my texts or calls? Is she okay? Has that prick Ethan slick-talked himself in between her legs right now? Does Joseph have enough pull to be able to bail my ass out if I kill a motherfucker in the Bahamas?
I'm checking and cleaning the slide and barrel of my gun for the third time now, because it's one of my rituals, and also because I really want to figure out a seriously creative way to transport an unregistered gun across international waters and into Paradise Island.
I'm not fucking playing.
It's a good thing federal laws are in place to prevent me from actually acting on it. Of course no law will stop me from breaking Ethan's jaw. I am already pissed that Elizabeth left the country without even as much as a good-bye to me, but now that Jade told me that Elizabeth's ex-boyfriend could possibly be in the exact same place, I've moved into I want to kick someone's ass mode. I want to break some shit the fuck up.
I just have to be very careful about how I approach this. No one can know just how twisted up I am. I'm going to have to rein my crazy in, or it's going to look like I'm going ape-shit over my cousin, which I am, but that's besides the point.
"Earth to Roman." Jade speaks to me with the tone of a perturbed elementary school teacher as she taps me on the forehead. "I asked what the hell is wrong with you?"
"Why are you still here, Jade?" For a minute I forgot she was even in my house.
"I literally just told you that your cousin who's over a thousand miles away may be in some trouble. I've watched you zone out on me, play with your gun, and eat more yellow M&Ms than any one person should be allowed to over the last few minutes. What gives? You should be going all bad ass right about now. Calling in the troops. Making shit happen."
"All I said was research her ex for me. I never said that she was in any trouble."
Jade looks at me incredulously. I can't even blame her. I sound like a complete liar.
"Are you freaking kidding me? You didn't have to say it. It's a given that if we're looking into someone that they may be a problem. And all I just said to you was that the Ethan kid may be in the Bahamas, and now you look like you want to kill somebody. I mean look at you. What don't I know? Why did you trash your apartment, and why are you acting like a complete nut-ball right now?"
"I didn't want–" I stop myself from saying the words.
"You didn't what?"
I grunt and shake my head no, so that Jade will shut the fuck up, but she isn't the type to take a hint. She's like a tiny little Chihuahua that latches on and doesn't let go until she gets what she came for. Blood.
"I don't know."
"I've known you a long time, Roman, and I've never seen you like this. So agitated. So indecisive. You do realize that there's no room in your world for whatever this is that you're going through? There are no days off for you."
"I know that, Jade,” I say with tension in my voice.
I'm ten seconds away from pinging a yellow M&M at her annoying little head. They're both about the same size.
"I'm not indecisive about shit, Jade. Elizabeth's a big girl. If she decides to hook back up with her ex in the Bahamas then that's her business. She'll call home if there's any trouble."
Jade gives me a lengthy sidelong glance.
"Is that what this is about? You're mad that she may be hooking back up with the ex?"
I turn my head and glare hard at Jade. I already know that she knows about my unhealthy attraction towards Elizabeth, because of how I was acting at the club, but saying that shit out loud is a whole other matter.
"Don't give me the stink eye, boss man. I get it. I had a crush on one of my cousins when I was in high school and had no problem letting the whole entire family know about it either. I used to follow him all over the house during family dinners like a little puppy dog, but being attracted to your cousin is just like having the hots for your best friend's boyfriend. It's completely fine and totally normal as long as you don't act on it; and you haven't acted on it right?"
I
don't answer her, because I know that she means that as a rhetorical question. One that she wouldn't like the honest answer to. She takes my silence and my blank face to mean that I haven't crossed any lines yet and continues on with her spiel.
"I don't see how you can just sit here playing with guns and scarfing down candy knowing that her douchebag ex may be knocking on her hotel room door right this minute. You asked me to look into him and I did. I know he has some drug issues, and Elizabeth doesn't seem the type to tolerate someone like that. So why aren't you doing anything about it? Imagine Joseph's reaction if something does happen to her, while you sit here paralyzed with some sort of misplaced guilt. What a fixer."
Okay now her sarcastic ass is fucking pushing it.
"Watch it, Jade." I growl.
"Do you want me to book your ticket to the island or not?"
Of course I do.
That little fucker is there.
I can feel it.
Once Jade said the words, I knew right then and there that it was true. And if he's there, he could only be there for Elizabeth. There's no fucking way it's a coincidence. I know sneaky, lying drug addicts. I grew up with and around a shit load of them, and he is definitely one. He just goes to fancier schools and dresses better.
I lock the magazine clip of my gun into the receiver for the final time, lay my piece down on the table with a quiet thump, and swallow my last yellow M&M. I'm the hell done with self-soothing. I work better with an edge to me any fucking way.
"Book me a one-way ticket to Nassau and a room at the Atlantis."
I practically roll my eyes at the smirk that spreads across Jade's face. She loves it when she wins.
"How do you know she's staying there?"
"Juliette mentioned it."
"So you want one of the penthouse suites?"
I usually get the best that my money can buy when I travel, but not this time.
"No. Find out what tower she's staying in and book me the best room they have on her floor. It has to be on the same floor."
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