by Bella Jewel
That’s three for Ciara, and none for Spike.
~*~*~*~*
PRESENT - CIARA
Having no money sucks. It really sucks. Five days in, and I’m living on the cheapest food, and my car is just about out of gas. In fact, it’s so close that I’m fairly sure I’ll only just make it home after my shift tonight, which I might add, is a crappy one. Jenny is moody, Joe is away and the bar is packed. I’ve been here for eight hours, and I’m far, far over it. My shift finished an hour ago, but the girl who was meant to take over is late. Seriously, how do some people hold jobs? I couldn’t afford to be late. Truly, an hour’s worth of pay can mean extra food, an extra few miles in my car - hell, maybe a treat once in a while.
“She’s here,” Jenny grumbles into my ear.
I turn and see Susie coming through the door. She’s hungover, I can see it a mile away. Too bad for her. I’ve been here all day and I need to go home, shower, and snuggle up with my cat and watch a tragic movie. I’m in one of those moods.
“Thank god,” I sigh, turning on my aching feet and heading out back.
I dress quickly, pulling on a pair of old shorts and a tank. I grip my purse, my keys and phone, then I spin on my heel and head back out. I wave to Jenny and Susie, but they don’t notice because Susie is getting her head chewed off by Jenny. Good; the girl needs to learn some better work ethics. I slip past the customers and out the front door. I find my car, slide in and start it up. The cooling kicks in right away, and I sit for a moment, just letting it wash over me. While I do this, I stare down at the little arrow that shows me how much gas is left. It’s gone below empty but my car is pretty good on gas, so I’m almost sure it will make it home without a problem.
I get driving, and am halfway home when the car begins to splutter. That’s fucking Murphy’s Law! My eyes widen and I curse loudly as it begins to slow down. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me? This is NOT happening right now. As she comes to a complete stop, I manage to just get her off the road. I get out, letting off a frustrated bellow. I kick the tire so hard I hurt my toe, badly. Hobbling, I grip my hair and yell loudly to the sky. God dammit. I’m ten miles from home, it’s dark, late and the chances of anyone coming past in the next few hours is slim at this time of the night. Dammit, fuck my stupid mistakes. If I didn’t trash the bar, I would have been paid and my car would have enough damn gas! Fuck.
I get back in, turning the key. She splutters, but doesn’t start. Tears well in my eyes, and my chest begins to ache. Why is this happening to me? God dammit. I had a good fucking life. I get out of the car again, kicking the door closed. I hobble into the trees angrily, hot tears running down my cheeks. There’s little to no cell phone service here, so I have to walk to try to get some. My toe is throbbing, and my heart hurts. When did my life go so wrong? I had it all worked out. I was dating, I was getting ready to go to school, I was finding my happiness...and then Chey died and everything spiraled out of control. I tilt my head up to the sky, and I scream.
“Why did you go and fucking die, Chey? Why? You left so much destruction behind. You left people broken. They blame me, you know? It’s my fault! I was the one who brought Spike home! They don’t smile anymore, he doesn’t smile anymore. Why did you have to go and fuck everything up? You always were so selfish! Everything had to go your way! I had a life, I was going to college, I was going to meet a nice man and be happy but then you went and died. Now everything is fucked up, everything is broken and here I am, on the side of the road, because I can’t afford gas. Damn you, Cheyenne, DAMN YOU!”
I’m screaming so loudly I miss the sound of the Harley-Davidson. When I lower my head, I see him. The light from his bike illuminates him, and he just stands there, arms crossed, watching me scream at nothing. Of course he’d be the fucking one to stop. Of course! Tears blur my vision, but I can see the pain in his face, even through them. My heart hammers, and I hate that he’s seen me like this - vulnerable, angry and alone. He continues to see the weak parts of me. My breathing is heavy, my chest rises and falls dramatically. It takes me a moment to calm myself enough to speak, and when I do it comes out as a broken rasp.
“Fuck off, Spike. I don’t need you here.”
“What the fuck are you doin’ out here, alone, at this time of the night?” he says, his voice raspy, too.
“My car ran out of gas!” I scream at him. “Because you and your friends trashed the bar and I had to pay for it. I can’t even afford to put fucking gas in my car!”
I laugh now, but it’s not a happy, cheerful laugh. It’s a broken, “go figure” laugh. Spike’s eyes scan my body, as if checking for injury. His eyes settle on the leg I’m lifting just slightly off the ground because it hurts so badly.
“You’re hurt.”
“I kicked my car, it’s fine.”
“Get on the bike, and I’ll take you home.”
“Fuck you!” I hiss.
He crosses his arms. “Swear at me as much as you like, I ain’t leavin’ you here alone.”
“Why do you keep coming to my rescue, Spike? You don’t even like me. Stop wasting my time, and yours. Just leave me alone.”
“I wasn’t comin’ to your rescue, I was ridin’ past and saw a car with the doors open and no one in it. Didn’t know it was yours till I heard you screamin’.”
“Whatever. I’m going to call Cade, or Addison...I don’t need your help.”
“Cade and Addi are out of town.”
“Well I’ll call Jackson!”
“What for? I’m already here?”
I throw my hands up and snarl, “Because I don’t want you here! Because I don’t want to go anywhere near you. Because I fucking hate you, Danny!”
He jerks, and his eyes widen, as though I have slapped him across the face. He’s shocked. Well good, I don’t care anymore. I’m sick of fucking caring for someone who just refuses to see it. He’s so determined to push me away.
“This is all your fault!” I continue, my voice sounding choked up. “It’s all your fault! Yours and hers. You two were so selfish, you never thought of anyone else. I have no home, no family, because they don’t want me in their lives because I’m not good enough! Because I’m not Cheyenne!”
“I’m not the only fuckin’ selfish one. You are too, Ciara. You fucked off, you never even gave me a motherfuckin’ chance. We were friends, and you fucked me over as much as I fucked you over.”
“We were never friends!” I bellow. “I was just a way to get to Cheyenne. You fucked me, to get to Cheyenne.”
“That’s fuckin’ bullshit!” he roars. “It’s fuckin’ bullshit! I cared about you long before she came into the picture. What do you call all those times we spent together? I didn’t fuckin’ know her then. We were friends before her, and it didn’t fuckin’ matter to you when you stood in that courtroom and told the judge I was a piece of shit!”
“You are!” I scream, shaking. “You are such an asshole Spike. You saw her, and suddenly I didn’t matter. We were friends, you’re right, but that didn’t matter to you when you fucked me to get back at her!”
“That’s not the only motherfuckin’ reason I did it!” he snarls, clenching his fists.
“Really, well why did you do it then? Did you feel like popping a fucking cherry?”
“I did it ‘cause I fuckin’ wanted to. I didn’t fuckin’ know you were a fuckin’ virgin! God dammit, Ciara. You think you know every fuckin’ thing!”
“You’re such a liar! You lie so much you forget what it is you started lying about. Don’t you dare try and tell me you didn’t know I was a virgin. You knew I wasn’t seeing anyone, we were friends for years. You KNEW!”
“I didn’t fuckin’ know!”
I storm towards him, only to realize my foot is still throbbing. I trip as soon as my weight falls on it and I stumble, going ass over head into the dirt, hurting my toe further. That does it for me. I scream angrily and pummel my fists into the dirt. I am so sick of this hurt, so sick of feeling like everything is
because of me, everything is my fault, everything that went wrong, is on me.
“I was never enough for you,” I rasp. “I cared about you. Fuck Spike, I loved you. But you didn’t fucking see me. You just saw her. I was never pretty enough, never good enough, I couldn’t compare. You didn’t even kiss me! Do you know that? You fucked me, you put your tongue in my pussy, your mouth on my breasts but you didn’t fucking kiss me. Not once. That’s how much respect you showed me that night! NONE!”
He takes an angry step forward and reaches down, gripping my shoulders and hurling me up so I’m flat against him. The emotion between us right now is huge, it’s consuming me, making my heart hurt, making my head ache. I hate that I want him so much. I love that I have him right now. I fucking love and hate everything that’s happening.
“That what this is fuckin’ about? That I never fuckin’ kissed you?”
“It’s about so much more, but you can’t fix what you did now. It’s done.”
“Can’t fix that, can fix this.”
He leans down, and his lips are on mine before I can protest. My mouth opens as a strangled gasp leaves it. I flinch, and a flood of warmth travels through my veins, making my entire body feel like it’s on fire. I shudder as he presses his mouth harder against mine. His lips are soft and full, his body large and firm as he presses himself against me. My hands are limp beside me. I can’t move, I’m like a rag doll in his arms. His tongue finds mine and fireworks explode in my head; I’m almost sure I see stars. Then suddenly, my hands come to life, and I thrust them into his hair, tugging him closer. My mouth is devouring his, my tongue dancing with his in hungry, angry strokes. He growls and presses a hand to my lower back, pressing my body up against his hard erection. I untangle one of my hands from his hair, and run it down his firm back. I slip it under his shirt and feel his hot, hard skin. It’s taut, and his muscles bunch as I slide my fingers up, feeling every inch of his muscled flesh.
Then his mouth is off mine, and I’m stumbling backwards. He’s reeling backwards just as quickly, his eyes confused. He’s panting so heavily I can see his chest is rapidly rising and falling. His eyes are wild, like he’s just made a huge mistake.
I press my fingers to my swollen lips. Did that just happen? Did Spike just...kiss me? I’ve never been kissed like that in my entire life, not once. That kiss, it was a kiss of passion. It was real, beautiful, gut wrenching, soul shattering...but mostly, it was mind fucking. What did it mean? Spike’s fists are clenched, and his eyes are a mix of anger and lust.
“Now we’re even. Get on the bike,” he rasps.
He just kissed me to make it even? My heart falls. Everything in my world stops as pain washes through my chest.
“I don’t want to go with you,” I whisper.
“Get on the fuckin’ bike, so help me god, I’ll fuckin’ put my hand to your ass, Ciara.”
His voice is like ice. Swallowing, I struggle to step forward, but all I manage is a wince of pain. Growling, Spike steps closer and I expect him to hurl me forward and hurt me even further, but instead he scoops me into his arms...gently. He carries me up to his bike and puts me on the back.
I stare down at my clothes: I’m covered in dirt. Spike thrusts a helmet at me, and, with shaky hands, I put it on. He walks over to my car, closing and locking it, before climbing onto the bike in front of me. I wrap my arms around him, not wanting anymore arguing, and we speed off into the night, both of us no doubt as confused as the other.
We pull up out front of my house, and I quickly climb off the bike. I’m limping quite heavily right now, but all I can think about is the pain in my heart.
I’m surprised when Spike gets off the bike too. He has no reason to be here with me, and I don’t understand why he feels the need to continue to pretend like he does. He doesn’t want to be here, I know that as well as he does. I don’t want his pity just because my sister would want him taking care of me. I’m no-one’s charity case, especially not someone that is being forced to look out for me because of guilt.
“You need to let me look at that foot.”
I stop hobbling towards my door and turn, staring at him.
“Why?”
He crosses his arms, and throws his leg over the bike before striding towards me. “’Cause it’s my fault you ran outta gas in the first place, so I’m goin’ to make sure you’re okay before I leave. Don’t bother fuckin’ arguin’ with me, Ciara. It won’t change my mind.”
I open my mouth to argue, but quickly close it again. The look on his face is that of threat. He’s not going to back down. With a deep, defeated sigh, I turn and continue hobbling towards the door.
I unlock it and step inside. Spike follows close behind me. I head into the kitchen, desperate for a hot drink and some painkillers. I hear Spike stop walking, and turn to see him staring at a picture of Cheyenne and I after they were married. I think it was one of their anniversary parties. It was, without a doubt, the hardest day of my life. Seeing the man who stole my heart, celebrating his love with another woman is something I could never live through again. But I did it, for her.
“Remember that day...” he says, his voice gruff.
“Yeah,” I say in a small, weak voice. “Me too.”
Our eyes meet for a moment, before I quickly turn back to the boiling water.
“You need to sit so I can look at your foot.”
“I’m fine, it’s...”
“Sit the fuck down,” he barks.
I turn, giving him a glare. He crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes and challenging me, just daring me to argue.
“I need to shower and...”
“Sit. Now.”
Growling, I hobble over to the lounge and sit down. Spike kneels in front of me and grips my foot, slipping off my shoe. He raises it and inspects it. I can see it’s swollen and purple. Great. Just what I need right now. Something else to stop me from working.
“Lookin’ like it could be fracture, or at the least, badly bruised. You need to keep this up for a few days.”
“You can’t be serious,” I cry. “I have a job I need to go to!”
“Well, you ain’t goin’ to it.”
I start to cry. It’s pathetic, but I can’t help it. Big fat tears stream down my cheeks. Dammit. Why does this keep happening?
“Ah shit,” Spike grunts. “Don’t start cryin’.”
“Can you just leave?” I snap through my tears. “Just go and leave me the hell alone.”
“Hey,” he growls. “Look at me.”
I keep my eyes directed at my lap.
“Now, Tom Cat.”
Hearing him call me Tom Cat has shudders wracking my body. It’s been so long, and the swell of emotion in my chest is nearly too much, but I lift my face, meeting his gaze.
“I might not be a great person, but I’m not enough of a fuckin’ prick to leave a girl who is hurt because of me. I also won’t let her take the fucked up end of the stick because of my actions. You tell me how much you need to cover you for a few days off, and I’ll give it to you.”
“I’m not going to do that, Spike.”
“You don’t get a choice. Give me a number, or I’ll make one up.”
“No.”
“Fine,” he says, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. He grips a wad of cash out and thrusts it at me. “That should cover it.”
I stare at the cash in my hands, and gape. “I wouldn’t make this much in a week.”
“Fuckin’ need to speak with Joe about how much he pays his girls,” he says under his breath, and then he meets my eyes again. “I fucked that bar, ‘cause I took the first swing. It ain’t on you and you shouldn’t have to miss out ‘cause of me. Take it, don’t argue, and we’ll both go our separate ways.”
“Are we ever going to be friends again, Spike?”
He narrows his eyes, and his expression becomes hard. “Don’t mistake this kindness for us being friends. I’m doing it because I fucked up. There ain’t nothin’ more to it. You ain�
�t ever gonna be more than an acquaintance, Ciara.”
Ouch. That burns. It burns me right down to my core. His words affect me in a way I wasn’t prepared for, and I do the only thing I can to cover the hurt. I get angry.
“Get out, Spike,” I hiss. “I don’t need your fucking pity. I’ve lived this long without your ‘kindness’, and I don’t need it now. If you can’t even be my friend, then do me a favor, and get the fuck out of my life. I should have never trusted you, and I should have never wasted so many years of my life wanting something that was clearly never worth fighting for. I’m done, Spike. I’m done trying to fix you. You’re right, there’s nothing good left in you. Nothing at all.”
I get to my feet and I thrust the cash at him. Then I turn and walk off down towards the hall. Just as I reach it, I turn and growl, “You know where the door is.”
Then I disappear into the darkness. I stand there for long moments, just listening. I hear him go - the door slams, his bike starts up, and he speeds off down the street.
My chest hurts. It aches so much that I struggle to get a steady breath. I hobble back into the lounge and my eyes fall on the coffee table. And I stop breathing. My vision blurs as tears well in my eyes. A strangled gasp escapes my throat and I grip my chest, as if that will take the pain away. There on the table is the cash, but that’s not what tears my heart to pieces. It’s the bracelet sitting on top of it. A bracelet made of leather, with silver beads representing friendship.
A bracelet I gave Spike a long time ago.
A bracelet that promised lifelong friendship.
A bracelet that swore my loyalty to him.
A loyalty I just broke.
God, what am I fucking doing?