by Marie Skye
“I don’t know why you’re trying so hard to save that shitty building. It needs to be bulldozed if you ask me,” I comment as a guy takes a leaflet from me, balls it up and throws it on the floor. I flip him the bird as he walks away. Even he knows it’s a waste of precious time right before she goes away.
“No one was asking you,” she huffs as she keeps handing out leaflets to everyone who passes us by, hoping an investor will jump out from somewhere.
I snort, “Yeah but if they were. It’s falling apart and only geriatrics use it anyway.”
“I’m going to lose my job Sinclair…”
“Yeah but it’s not like you won’t find another one, look at you— you’re a smoking hot dance teacher. You’ll get a job like that,” I say clicking my fingers with a snap.
“Jeeze, you’re a top douchebag. Do you know that?”
I shrug, “I’ve been called worse. Top douchebag is a title I’ll gladly accept.”
“What does that say about you Sinclair?” she looks at me with those sad hazel eyes and it’s like I can feel something inside cracking under the pressure of her expectations. She needs to keep that shit in check, I never promised to be a hero. I don’t know what she wants from me; doesn’t she understand that I will always be a let down? I’m programmed to take care of number one. Survival is all that matters so why does seeing her hurt affect me? Does that mean I care for her? Because I shouldn’t. I learned the hard way that people can’t be trusted; you can only rely on yourself. The guys at the strip are the closest I’ll ever get to having a family and I still struggle to let them in. They see me as the joker; the flippant fuck who sticks his dick anywhere and damn the consequences. But they haven’t seen my dark days. They don’t know about my past, the scars left behind by a life I’d never wish on anyone. Only Betty understands, that old bat knows everyone in town and my momma ain’t no different.
Fuck, I’m willing to bet every bar in a 50 mile radius knows Debbie Beaumont. They’d say she used to be a sweet girl, a pretty young thing that made bad decisions and got caught up in the wrong web. My father Duke Beaumont was a psycho who died over seven years ago. A worthless piece of shit, who drank too much and put needles in places he shouldn’t. And when his rage had no outlet he spoke with his fists, a trait that he’d inherited from his own waste of space daddy. Duke seduced my mother, got her pregnant, hooked on drugs and the rest is history. He took the Prom Queen and twisted her into something that didn’t make him feel so shitty about himself. Her downfall was a symbol that deep down everyone was just as screwed up as he was. He broke her. Made her a reflection of his own depraved nature and I was born out of that cursed union, fueled by hate and selfish needs. I don’t know what love is, I just know that I’m not capable of it.
“This is why we will never work,” she says, shoving the rest of the leaflets back into her satchel.
I stop and stare at her, “Because I don’t care about the stupid community centre?”
“Because I care too much and you, you don’t care at all.” she accuses jabbing a finger in my chest.
“Seriously? All this over a fucking dilapidated building?”
“It’s not about the community centre, it’s about not wanting me to meet your friends, about freaking out over me leaving a toothbrush at your place. It’s about you not wanting to meet my parents. It’s about what all that means— that you don't take us seriously.”
“What.the.fuck! Of course I take this seriously.”
“And what is ‘this’?”
“Uhhh...I ..well…” I can’t seem to find the answer. It was more than just casual sex, but it can’t be a relationship because I don’t do those.
“Exactly. Sin, your head’s a mess. Your heart isn’t yours to give because you don’t know how to love. And I don’t want only a part of you. If you’re with me I want it all. Until you can give me that I think we need some time apart,” Sofia says, pulling her coat around herself tighter. She was building up her walls to keep me out. She was turning me away. No one ever walked away from me.
I don’t know what to say. I can’t find the words she wants, I don’t believe in love. “I want you. Isn’t that enough?” I blurt out, but I see her face soften and I know it’s not. I don’t know how we got here, this morning we were having sex in the shower and everything was perfect and now I can feel it all slipping away.
She looks away to hide the tears I can see forming in her eyes, “I can’t have a relationship built on sex when what I feel for you goes beyond what’s in your pants.”
I need to fix this, turn it around so I go to my default: humor. I stand with my hands on my hips, “But admit it, you love my dick.”
She doesn’t laugh, but instead gives me the saddest smile I’ve ever seen and I know my ship has sunk. That baby is stuck at the bottom of the ocean and I’m marooned.
“Goodbye Sinclair,” she whispers gently as she turns and leaves.
I lash out, punching the nearest wall and this strange noise leaves my lips as the brick splits open the skin on my knuckles but I feel nothing. Just emptiness. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do; I’ve never been here before. It’s like something's been ripped out of my chest and there’s just this gaping hole, leaving a draft in. I feel hollow and all I want is her. I want her to mend me, to wrap her arms around me, rest her head against my chest and hold all my fucked up pieces in place. Without her I’m crumbling.
10
It took me a week of talking with the guys, going back and forth with myself and being miserable to figure out what I needed to do. Now I’m sitting on the steps to our old house, waiting for God knows what. I don’t know what I’m hoping to achieve by being here. Maybe I’ll be able to magically fix myself? Learn to love? Who am I kidding, Lucas isn’t going to welcome me with open arms. This isn’t going to be some special reunion. Damn Sofia, she’s under my skin, making me want to be better and now I’m waiting to have the shit ripped into me for deserting the only family I have left. She wanted me to feel, to love and so I’ve come back to the place where I was taught what love was not. To move on from this rut my life is in, I’ve returned to face my nightmares head on and I’m shitting myself. A rusty looking blue pick-up pulls up outside our old home and the hammering, flipping thing my heart is doing tells me that it’s him.
He gets out and looks at me, not quite sure if he’s seeing things. He looks good. He’s got the same broad built frame I do. He’s tall, with sandy colored hair like mine. His emerald eyes look tired, but he looks okay. Normal. Not like what I was expecting. I didn’t know what he was going to be like but I was just praying on the drive here that he wasn’t some waster crack head.
“Sinclair? What’re you doing here?” he asks, the frown lines on his face making him look like our father.
“I don’t know. I think... I just needed to be here,” I say, brushing the dirt off my jeans as I stand.
He says nothing but gives a small nod. He grabs some boxes from the back of his pick-up and a young girl jumps out. His head bends towards her as he says something quietly and she looks at me, her curiosity clear.
She walks towards me cautiously and I notice how much she looks like my mother when she was younger. Her chestnut curls frame her young face, free from the stress and worries that come with adulthood. Big green eyes, the mirror of my brothers watch me, nervous about the stranger on the doorstep and I don’t blame her. I haven’t slept properly or even shaved in days.
“Uncle Sin, I’m Jessie,” she says in a soft voice as she holds her hand out to shake mine. I don’t know anything about kids but she can’t be much older than Sofia’s nephew Javier and he’s only seven.
“Well, I’ll be damned. It’s nice to meet you Jessie,” I reply, shaking her hand and giving her a smile. No matter what my brother may feel towards me, there’s this strange feeling in my chest at the thought of having a niece and I know instantly I’d never do anything to hurt that little girl.
My brother walks up towards us, h
ands her the key for the front door and gives me the boxes before motioning for me to come on in. The house is bare, there’s hardly any furniture in here― my mother probably sold it to lay her hands on some extra cash. The walls are still papered with the same peach flowers that covered them when I lived here over a decade ago, only now it's faded and peeling everywhere. Lucas has obviously already been here to start cleaning up as there’s no drug paraphernalia or rubbish lying around, just boxes and some other worthless bits.
Jessie disappears outside into the back garden and Lucas hands me a beer, still saying nothing. Now the Beaumont boys aren’t exactly the sharing, caring type but the weight of what I’d done to him almost ten years ago is crushing me. How could I leave him behind like that?
“I am so sorry Luc. So fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have...I wish I’d…”
He raises an eyebrow at me and I stop talking. I don’t have the words for him anyway. I can’t make this go away.
“Sorry for what Sin? You were a kid. We were kids,” he gives a tight smile, and I know that there are pieces of our lives that we’ll never mention because they hurt too much.
“I should’ve kept in touch or come back for you,” I growl, angry with myself for being a selfish coward.
He laughs and I feel myself relax ever so slightly, “Yeah you should’ve. But you’re here now right?”
“Yeah.”
“And are you sticking around?”
I want to, but I don't know if he wants me here. I don’t know how to do this family thing, I mean the guys at the SIX are all I have and Sofia, well she isn’t even taking my calls.
“If that’s okay…” I take a swig and pick at the edges of the bottle label.
Lucas pats me on the back, “Don’t be a dick, of course it’s okay.”
I watch him as he starts opening the kitchen cupboard and pulling out pans and pots, sorting them into two boxes. “You seem alright, y’know―”
“Not fucked up?” he snorts, “I was heading down a horrible path when Frank helped me out. You remember Frank Gambarini?”
I nod, of course I remember him.
“Well after mom tried to set fire to the house not long after you left with dad still inside, the Gambarini’s took me in. Said they wished they’d done it sooner and then we’d both still be together but Frank always knew you were gonna be alright. You were a fighter he’d say.”
I give a tight smile, I know Frank passed away two years ago. I’d seen his obituary in the paper and that was the night I’d gotten blind drunk, broken my own rules and taken that nut job Tiffany home.
“Anyway, they got me to clean my act up and go to school. I mean, I still made mistakes and fucked up every now and again but I graduated and now I run a bakery downtown. I’m a baker. Who’d have fucking thought it Sin? All those years starving, stealing for scraps, being pimped out by our own mother for money we never saw and now I get to make sure my family never goes hungry. If you hadn’t left she’d never have gone off the rails and I’d still have been stuck with her in this house.”
“If you left why are you back now?” I ask gesturing to the grotty tiny kitchen we’d grown up with.
“She called me a few months ago, said she was clean. We met for coffee a few times and it seemed like she was really trying. Then she started flaking out again, asking to borrow money and I couldn’t do it. I walked away, I had to, I had Jessie. When I heard she’d overdosed I knew that I had to get some closure, same as you. So here I am, cleaning up the trinkets and trash that was our mother's life.”
“Closure,” I say repeating the word, letting it roll off my tongue. Is that why Betty had suspended me? Why Sofia said I wasn't able to love — because I didn’t have closure? Either way I felt oddly calm, like being back here on my terms meant that I was finally done with my mother's drama.
I slept on the couch at Lucas’ place, my neck aching from the fact that it was tiny and well... I’m not. We stayed up late, chatting about our lives more. He told me about Jessie’s mother, a bad decision he made that would haunt him forever as she’d disappeared from her daughter's life without so much as a goodbye. I was proud of how he’d stepped up right away and how he’d gotten his life together with Frank’s help.
The smell of pancakes wafts in and I hear my niece giggle as I wander into the kitchen. She gives me a toothy grin and something in my chest pangs as my brother hands me a steaming mug of coffee. I have a family, not just the boys at the club but an actual family. Suddenly I get it. I want Sofia to be mine, and only mine. My family is growing and I need her to be part of it. I want lazy Sunday mornings in bed, slow kisses and snuggling under the blanket. We’re the same, a fucking perfect pair. You know, committed to another human being, part of a set, a team of two. When I look at her, I want it all. She’s my happily ever after and I need to get her back.
I stare at the sleek black and gold invite in my hands. Moving my fingers over the embossed words and I’m impressed. If this doesn’t bring in the crowds I don’t know what will.
Come and join us for a night you’ll never forget at SIX.
All proceeds from ticket sales will go to the Winchester Community Centre.
Luckily Betty agreed to go along with my idea of a fundraising night for the community centre, she’s a softie at heart even though she doesn’t like to show it as she hides behind her cloud of cigarette smoke. The guys have helped with new exclusive dance routines and we’ve even put together a tasteful calendar. Actually I lie it’s not tasteful — it’s not even arty, it’s just as close to flat out naked dudes as we could get without it being classed as porn. Jag had wayyy too much fun in front of the camera for his months, December and April.
I grab the silver pen I bought especially, I mean who the fuck just owns a silver pen, and I write on the back. I falter for a moment, not sure what to say. I miss her. I need her back in my life. She makes me happy and thanks to her, I have my brother back. But I want her to know I’m all in this time. I want a relationship with all its baggage including invading my apartment; she can leave twenty toothbrushes there for all I care. So I quickly write the words I need and tuck the envelope underneath the windscreen wiper of her car with a single white rose.
I decided to keep it simple, three little words: I love you.
About Alice
Alice La Roux is a dirty minded, foul mouthed Welsh author who dabbles in erotica and fantasy. She’s a bookworm who drinks too much Prosecco (is there such a thing?) loves her dog and is addicted to social media.
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/asmadasAlice/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/alicelaroux
Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/aliroux
Copyright 2017 © Dee Garcia
All Rights Reserved
Dedication
This one is for all my dirty girls…
‘cause Jag is a very naughty boy.
Jag’s Playlist
1. Pony - Ginuwine | She Knows - Ne-Yo & Juicy J
2. Late Night Call - Alistair
3. Attention - Charlie Puth
4. Party Favors - Tinashe | The Hills - The Weeknd
5. Sex Therapy - Robin Thicke | Unforgettable - French Montana & Swae Lee
6. You Make Me Feel - Cobra Starship & Sabi
7. Crave You (Adventure Club Remix) - Flight Facilities
8. I Won’t Give Up - Jason Mraz
9. Drink You Away - Justin Timberlake
10. Dangerously - Charlie Puth
Follow this playlist on Spotify
1
Hoots, hollers, and salacious screams echoed around the room as Ginuwine's Pony faded away and the blue-tinted lights above dimmed out, leaving the six of us frozen on stage. Panting. Sweating. Sly grins on our faces. Grins that had the power to shred panties and wreck a woman right in her very seat. But they weren't here for a quirk of our lips. Oh no. They were here to watch us shake our asses, grind our hips against the stage, and hope that along with stripping free of our shirts,
we’d strip free of everything else too.
And who are we exactly, you ask?
The Men of SIX.
I'm Jagger, but the world knows me as Jag. Then there's Sinclair, who the ladies dubbed Sin, Darius better known as Dare, Dallas aka Big D, August whose fireman background quickly earned him the nickname Fuego, and Gio, our resident Guido. Together, we delivered the hottest male entertainment on The Strip, and when I say the hottest, I mean the absolute fucking hottest. Why else would women of all shapes, sizes, and ethnicities pay, not only an obscene cover charge at the door but also hefty drink prices at the bar and an additional fee for VIP should they find themselves interested in a private dance? Truth is, price was irrelevant when the experience was platinum and the ambiance was high-class. At least that’s what the majority of our testimonials said. SIX might have been Sin City’s hidden gem, but even the most well-known club or show within the infamous bedazzled adult playground had nothing on us.
Shielded by momentary darkness, the boys and I disappeared behind the ebony curtain and shuffled into the dressing room for a ten-minute break before making our rounds back in the main room. I went straight to the fridge and pulled out a Red Bull, chugging down half the can as my brothers dispersed through the room and planted their asses in the nearest seat. We weren't blood brothers, of course, but I’d known them long enough to consider them as such.