TAT Box Set

by Emjay Soren

  “Give it Noah, make this pussy milk.” She said, and that filthy mouth of hers, always, fucking always made me cum. I pulled back slowly, making sure she felt the pop,pop,pop of my ladder and then slammed into her…and off she went.

  “Fuck yeah babe, so fuckin’ easy to make you pop. Mmmm, that pussy sucks me in like a hungry mouth.” I said all of this just beneath her ear against her neck and used my hand to slide her back and forth on me.

  “Fill me up Noah.” She was screaming and the flutters her pussy made had my dick splashing a fuck ton of cum inside her, right where I liked it.

  I loved making her sit with my cum inside her so that when I got her in bed again she was fucking soaked with me inside her and I could pound into her hard and fast soaking her even more until my cum spilled down her legs and all over me and my sack.

  I am a sick fucking bastard and wear that badge proudly.

  “I love you.” I say and nuzzle into her neck, knowing she is and will always be the only woman who will ever let me be sweet with. I can promise her the world and know I’ll deliver.

  I trust her.

  “I love you too.” She pants against my mouth and giggles like always. She told me once that the giggles were because she was so happy she couldn’t contain it. I pull her to my chest and wrap my arms around her, my fingers lazy as they stroke her spine to the crack of her ass. Only when I feel her shudder at my touch do I move them up just to slide them down again.

  “Take me home Noah.” She says and places a kiss on my neck. It is the one place I have yet to tattoo and she always kisses me here saying it’s the only spot of me that she can make hers and no one else’s.

  I know she means my tattoos. I have only a few spots of my body that aren’t inked…but my neck…I don’t know. It’s hers and it will stay bare until she is a Beckett and then our last name is going there…so it’s always hers.

  I am just about to tell her this when I see the brightest fucking light charging my fucking car. It’s literally a second when I realize what is happening and I don’t think. I roll until she is beneath me and I am shielding her…then pain so fierce makes everything disappear…

  Present Day

  I stare at the window when I see the limo pull up. This is it. I look at the striped candy in my hand, attached to a small photo booth photo of me and Candey from the fair a few years ago the night I finally kissed her the first time.

  She and Carrie had come home for a weekend from school and because it was the fourth of July we didn’t have any gigs until right before the fireworks display.

  I’d been trying to get inside of her like a mad horny dog for a year straight. It was my luck that Carrie was dating a douchebag named after a car that she was able to con me into the photo booth.

  I looked at the picture and for the millionth time the same thought came flashing to my mind.

  I want you back here…with me.

  She had kissed me in the booth to keep me distracted from breathing down the guys neck if he even thought of touching her. Candey True had no idea how fast I would move but she learned that night.

  She was mine from then on. She fought it at first. I fought it when it started to matter. But in the end, even the darkest hour, we both knew she was mine.

  I want you back here…with me.

  I walked to the kitchen to pop a few pills, like five and slammed three fingers of Skyy Vodka when I heard Shame shut the door. Like usual, I didn’t say anything. Just waited for him to tell me it was time and like usual he wouldn’t move a muscle until I was ready. He was the only mother fucker who didn’t talk to me, coddle me or demand shit of me. He was there and nothing more. I didn’t want to be alone, as long as it was Shame there. I wanted everyone else to shut up and go away.

  I hated their pity, despised the sorrow I knew they felt. I wanted my girl back. Only one person I knew who had lived a few years without the woman he loved and that was Shame.

  I know it isn’t the same, but the loss is.

  The sound of feet on the hard wood floor are not a man’s. My back is turned, and I assume its Cass with him…until she speaks.

  “Bubba?” God damn it. The sound of raw pain in her voice is one I have heard so many times in my life that even deaf and blind I’d have known my sister was behind me.

  I go stiff hearing her voice and the tap of her shoes as she walks until she is beside me. I close my eyes and turn away from her. Only then can I take a deep breath and let my mask fall into place.

  “Ready?” I ask, and I pull on my strength hidden beneath the bitterness and the pain and I sound like the Noah she needs right now.

  “No, and I don’t know if you are either.”

  I pause in my steps and I look over my shoulder, putting my aviators on so she can’t see my eyes. “Don’t. Just don’t. Let’s get this over with.” I hear her ask me to wait but I don’t. I open the front door and walk right to the limo and climb in taking a seat beside Shame.

  “Better get the wifey.” I say to Chad and pull the small metal flask from my coat pocket and take a swig, handing the candy pin thing to Cassa.

  I pay no mind to anyone. Not Cass pinning the candy, not Carrie who is outside the limo crying to Chad that she needs a second to calm down…and not to Shame who is watching me closely.

  I let Shame see too much and right now, he knew I was a live wire. “Let’s go.” He yells and like the boss I have made him, in come Carrie and Chad and we are off to end the final chapter.

  Like a robot, I get out of the limo and wait for it to empty. Tayla had explained that there would be local news as well as MTV, VH1 and TMZ there. Sadly, this was a show for the world. I understood. I did. Of all the fucked up, twisted sadness I understood this. I along with a couple hundred million watched as Courtney Love read Kurt Cobains final words to the world. I felt my soul split in two when fans were informed that Layne Staley was found dead after an over dose. I watched every report I could when it happened. So, this…this I get and am okay with.

  I don’t have to talk, but I can’t act psychotic either. Good thing Oxycontin takes the pain away. I am numb. Everyone knows it, they all know why the glasses are staying on.

  Dilated pupils and a bit of a slur.

  I have my reasons.

  I am a robot.

  For now, they accept this.

  I just want you here. With me.

  I wait until Sev climbs from the limo and then, I fold my hands in front of me, stand straight …and proceed.

  Step, step, step, I tell myself this because right now my feet feel like lead and every foot I cross is one step closer to goodbye. Carrie is on my right and I pause to wait for the rest of them. Shame to my left and Cal and Mike all at my back… I fight each step like it’s taking my breath from me.

  I am inside the church and people are everywhere. Like a lost fucking child I turn to Shame. I don’t want this, and thank fuck he knows it. Security at the door is the only detail I trust and I acknowledge Drake as he leads me to a small room with two guards at the door.

  “Mr. Beckett.” One beast of a man says, and he opens the door. I am ushered in and followed Drake until I saw a chair I needed desperately. I could see the pink coffin from the corner of my eye and my stomach caved. There was my girl.

  I hadn’t seen her in weeks, and though I knew they had preserved her body for this, saving her for me. I couldn’t see her, but I knew she was there.

  Unable to keep away I stood and waited for no one to follow. I walked, each step bringing me to the only thing in my life that made sense. A large photo of her beautiful face was placed over the top and I kept my eyes on hers, pulling from her strength until I was touching the cold metal bar lining the bright pink coffin. I fell to my knees.

  I here Carrie behind me gasp and I know she is going to make her way to me, but it is Chad that stops her.

  “No. He needs this.” His voice is demanding but she doesn’t argue him. None of them say a word. I hear the music playing softly in the backgroun
d and I knew that this room, this tiny room packed with people, parted like the red sea when I came to my girl.

  With the people who loved her the most watching I fell apart for the hundredth time in two weeks. “I miss you baby.” I say and rise to run my fingers along the black metal rail. Even the coffin suits her, and the thought turns my stomach to bile.

  Flowers, so many fucking flowers are covering the casket with her photo in the center. I knew Carrie and Cassa made sure there wasn’t a scrap of ugly in this room. Candey would have died just from the thought of a carnation resting over her grave.

  That thought makes me smile because that is who she was.

  I hate the sight though of those flowers.

  I rub the petals of the bright purple roses, the petals soft and in no way do they compare to the feel of her skin under my palm. I trace the ribbons and see the outline of …something beneath the flowers.

  I lift the spray and see something that could only have been painted, specialized, and I don’t care who is watching. I lift the photo and use my arm and swipe the floral arrangement from the casket and care less as the spread goes flying.

  I grip at my chest when I see the beautiful airbrushed design on the casket. Hot tears spill from my eyes and I fall over the top and cry. I knew the work of the artist as well as my own work, because it was my work. Like the old school design of tattooing, I had doodled one day a banner that said, ‘Noah and Candey forever’ and surrounded it with ever type of candy and ribbon. I hadn’t thought much of it until Candey brought it to me as a gift for valentines on year. She had taken the scrap that I had doodled on and painted it for me.

  That painting was now the mural on the top of the casket. Through tear thick lashes I turn and look at my closest friend. Chad knows I know he did this and I see the look of pride in his eyes.

  “Thank you.” I say, and my voice is thick with pain.

  He nods and makes his way toward me, and they all follow. I know they all knew, and I know this was his gift to me. I don’t think they intended that I saw it until after the graveside services, and even through the mess I made I am glad I see it now.

  Candey’s dad passed a few years ago, so her mother wanted to hold the graveside services at his plot where she will be buried beside him.

  I once again step and step and step until I am at a small shade tent surrounded by flowers with little glittery ribbons on them that say daughter, friend, niece.

  I ponder the flowers. More fucking flowers.

  People are giving me the condolences as I make my way to the ugly ass green velvet covered chairs and wait to sit. People keep talking to me and I am nodding, ugh, hugging a few of them and I even make the idle chit chat of ‘thank you so much for coming.’ ‘Yes, Candey was a darling girl.’

  Through all this all I can think about, is the fact that flowers are dumb waste of money at a funeral. I decide then and there that I want a band, a live band, and AIC band playing. I don’t want anyone to talk for me. What’s the point? So, they can say, “Oh he was never the same after that True girl died in his mother fucking arms, while his dick was still inside of her no less. No wonder he was so fucked up.”

  Well no, that wasn’t all they’d say. “Don’t forget the years of mental and physical abuse at the hands of their father. He did a number on that poor kid, the things he saw and the suffering, shudder to think. No wonder he went off the deep end and died alone. . .”

  Yeah no I would much rather have a band and a party. No flowers. Death is ugly. No amount of Iris, Lilly, Orchid or rose can change that. Might as well get a bag of dog shit, light it on fire and call it decoration because nothing can make this beautiful.

  I notice that people are walking back toward the tent, and I see Pastor??? Well fuck, his name escapes me. But Pastor Ya-dee-da stands by a podium and an enormous picture of Candey.

  I want you here…with me.

  I shake my head… I am so fucking high right now. I don’t know how I am going to stand up there and make sense, but I am Noah Beckett and the world must see me grieve.

  A moment of clarity comes through and I am hit with the overwhelming sadness that I am so desperately trying to smother under my high. I had turned to take my ugly green covered chair and saw that still standing behind me … was, well everyone. They hadn’t moved from my back. I am reminded of the scene a while back when Jerry James died. Pops were everywhere snapping flashes at Howie’s trying to get a picture of Shame in mourning. We had climbed from that limo and followed his every move and his back the entire time.

  Now they had mine.

  Oh …fuck…. No…. I felt tears burning my eyes.

  I looked to my lifeline, but Shame couldn’t see my eyes. I had no choice but to drop the shades down enough. That did it, he stepped up close, bringing security detail in close, and now I had a wall of friends and security blocking me. I reached in my breast pocket and grabbed my flask and chugged the remaining liquor.

  “You going to be able to talk?” Shame asked me, and I shrugged my shoulders.

  “Gonna try bro. It’s all I got yeah?”

  “Yeah Noah.” He says and doesn’t leave my side. Cassa is on his other side and his security as well as my own, make it impossible to see me. Never mind the misfits behind me.

  “We need to sit Noah. The Pastor isn’t going to start until you’re seated and we all ain’t sitting until you do.” Shamus was clasping my shoulder guiding me to the ugly velvet green nightmare.

  Pastor whatever started talking right as my numb came back and my pain pills were helping. I knew the numbness wouldn’t last long, but long enough to get me through this nightmare.

  It’s finally my turn to speak on behalf of the love of my life, and I will do it because I owe her that much. I hate this though.

  Hate it.

  I just wasn’t you here. With me

  I know I can do this though. I have had to stand before thousands and let them judge me. I care when I am on stage. I give a million percent. Here though, I don’t give a fuck if they like what I say. She was mine and she is gone, and this is all I have left to give her.

  “I lost Candey once before. I had been dumb and living the dream and made stupid choices. She came back to me though, and I swore that from then on I’d never let her go again.”

  I look out to the people watching me shed my emotions like a new skin. There are fans, family, industry reps and friends. But I am focused on the green chairs and one person in them. Just like my entire life, I seek her out to find my strength.

  I have tried to protect her in this. I am destroyed, not broken but destroyed and I need Carrie happy. I have always accepted my pack with the devil to keep her safe, and now, with me ruined… I just can’t let her see. I keep myself from her on purpose and shut her out. I know it’s killing her that I have turned my back on her, but in this moment, I am weak and it’s her that has always kept me fighting.

  I need to fight this, I know I do.

  So, I look for her and she sees me.

  My sister is my rock, even when I am pushing her away. “My little sister has given me some pretty amazing gifts, but Candey Love True was by far the greatest one next to her trust in me to raise her. The one time I lost Candey, my little sister was there reminding me to fight for her. I wish that this was just a fight. That I had pissed her off royal and she dumped my sorry ass. I would take that, and though I would be miserable I would rest knowing that her light was still burning.”

  I want you here. With me.

  “I miss her, so fucking much.” I pause when a collective gasp is audible from my ‘F’ bomb. But I am me and Candey knew that. “Sorry for the language, I’m not on point right now but I will try to be careful.”

  A few laughs, mainly from the TAT side but those laughs remind me I’m not on my own. Alone yes, but only by choice. “I miss her, but if I could take the loneliness and the missing her for my entire life, I would just to know she was here and that her love and passion for life and family and art
would be here making the world a little less drab.

  “I think of her now and I see how fitting her name was. She was sweet, sometimes too sweet and sometimes she was those fireballs burned you so bad, but God they were so good you just kept wanting more. She was taffy, sweet and soft and mushy at times. She was hard and determined to make you fight for a taste of her sweet. Candey was sugar. She was colorful too, so damn colorful. She would brighten a room with her presence and spunk. And if you couldn’t see how bright and full of life she was, then she would paint you a picture until you could see it in front of you.”