Stripped From You: (Stripped Duet #1)

by M. Never

  She just shakes her head with her face still buried against me.

  “Tell me.” It’s a plea.

  She finally looks up, and I am half expecting to find her face soaked with tears. But there are none.

  “It’s just... I don’t think I will ever be able to find the words to tell you how you make me feel.”

  She just stunned me stupid.

  “You tell me you love me,” I immediately retort.

  “It doesn’t feel like enough.”

  “It is for me.” She has no idea what those words mean. They’re like magic and spun gold. “Say it.”

  “I love you,” she doesn’t hesitate.

  “Those are all the words I will ever need to hear.”

  Mother of Mine

  Alana is now the planet I live on. Her body the land, her smile the sun, her kisses the water I drink.

  It’s close to six a.m., and I can’t sleep. I’m wired beyond all belief. Alana is dreaming peacefully against me. She’s warm. Her body heat is combating the cool summer breeze blowing through the windows. I cautiously slide out of bed, careful not to wake her. I need to burn off some of this energy. I throw on my tan cargos, walk outside, and plant my ass in the sand. A guy could get used to this. The sun is just starting to rise over the horizon, a round fireball lifting slowly above the water’s edge.

  After last night, I am positive I would do anything for Alana Remington.

  Be anyone she wanted me to be.

  She makes me believe that even though I have nothing, it doesn’t mean I am nothing.

  I’m going to talk to her about going back to school. About mapping out a plan. If anyone can put me on the right path, it’s my organized, structured, brilliant-beyond-belief goddess.

  But before we get started on all that. Coffee.

  I hop up and dust the sand off my pants, then scurry inside for my keys, shirt, and shoes. Alana is still out cold. She’s lying on her stomach. Her blonde hair is falling down her back and over her arm hanging off the futon. I notice her shoulders are sunburned. I stare at her a little too long. Like I’m unconsciously trying to commit this moment to memory. Maybe I am.

  It might just be my next mindless sketch on my breakfast napkin. I wonder if she’d keep that one too? She keeps all my little drawings. I wish I knew why.

  I grab my stuff then lean down and give her a drawn-out kiss on the forehead. I’ll only be twenty minutes. She’ll never know I was gone. It doesn’t look like she’ll be waking up anytime soon, anyway.

  I make my way back out the security gate, hop in my Jeep, and head for the promenade. Alana always gets her coffee at this little café that’s usually cluttered with people and has ridiculously long lines. It’s just a short drive away. There’s barely a soul out at this hour, just a few bike riders and runners keeping me company on the side of the road. I make record time getting coffee and breakfast. A blueberry muffin for me and some yogurt and granola for Alana.

  The sun has risen completely. There are more people out and about, but my thoughts are lost with a naked blonde who’s completely and utterly mine. I’m anxious as hell to get back to her. I’m not five minutes away from the beach club when I see flashing lights in my rearview. Come on. Not now. The cops around here are notorious for being jerks. They pull you over for the slightest BS. I pull onto the shoulder and grab my license and insurance card. This is just what I fucking need.

  When the officer approaches, he has the usual all-business, detached demeanor.

  “License and registration please.” He eyes me up. I hand him my stuff, wearing my seatbelt like a good little boy, so at least he can’t bang me for that.

  “Where ya going in such a hurry, son?” he asks, still holding my documents. “You were doing fifty in a thirty-five.”

  “Girlfriend,” I smirk, nodding to the brown bag and coffees sitting on my passenger side seat.

  The officer grunts and not in a bad way. In an I completely understand way. That’s when I notice his name tag, Officer Valentine.

  “Well, Mr.—” — he glances down at my license — “Pierce. I would advise the next time you drive through these parts you slow down and wear your seatbelt.”

  I glare at the officer. He smiles slyly. “Don’t worry, Mr. Pierce, a seatbelt violation isn’t any points.” I realize immediately he’s going to cut me some slack.

  “I’ll be back.” He heads back to his cruiser, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I’ll take a seatbelt ticket over a speeding ticket any day. I just want him to hurry up and write the damn thing. I need to get back.

  I continuously glance in my rearview, shaking my leg impatiently as the seconds tick by. Come on. Come on already.

  I see Officer Valentine get out of his car. He can’t be more than forty. He has dark black hair and a clean-shaven face. He looks like he works out too. I’d bet money he’s one of those playboy cops who uses his badge to get a kaleidoscope of women into bed.

  When he makes his way to my window, he’s frowning. “Mr. Pierce, I need you to step out of the car.”

  “Is there a problem, Officer?” Could that line sound any more cliché?

  “Yes,” he pronounces as I open the door. “You’re under arrest.” He grabs my arms and turns me around, forcing me up against my car.

  “What?”

  “There’s an outstanding warrant for your arrest.” He slaps a pair of cuffs on me.

  “It’s a mistake!” I turn and glare at him.

  “According to my computer, it’s not.” That’s when it dawns on me like the sun.

  “Sean,” I growl. That motherfucker never took care of whatever he needed to take care of. Officer Valentine places me into the back of his police car with my heart racing and my blood boiling in my veins. I’m going to kill him. I’m going to put my hands around his neck and choke the life right out of him. I kick the back door in uncontrolled anger.

  “Hey! Cool it back there,” the officer gripes.

  “Sorry,” I grit out. I feel murderous right now.

  As we drive to the police station, the only sound in the car is the police scanner and the crackling of my rage.

  Once there, Officer Valentine starts to in-process me. He takes all my possessions, fingerprints me, then sits me down at his desk and records all my info while I’m handcuffed to the chair. I feel like a disobedient dog.

  “Can you tell me what the warrant is for?” I finally ask. I’ve been an angry mute for the last twenty minutes.

  “Possession, kid. Heroin. And plenty of it. You must have been pretty loopy not to remember that arrest.”

  I grind my teeth and pull at the handcuffs.

  “How much?” I swallow a lump in my throat.

  “Half an ounce.”

  My stomach rolls.

  “Can I get my phone call?”

  “In just one sec.” He finishes typing something on the computer. The police station isn’t very busy. It’s all white walls and wood furniture. Nothing I haven’t seen before. Or anything I ever wanted to see again.

  He slides the phone over to me, then continues with his paperwork. I just stare at the black and silver receiver. I debate calling one of three people. I pick up the phone and dial. It rings repeatedly as I say a silent prayer for her to pick up. Then on the fourth ring I hear her voice.

  “Hello?” She’s groggy, no surprise. It’s seven a.m.

  “Ma.”

  “Ryan?”

  “Yeah. Where’s Sean?” I am not fucking around.

  I hear her shuffle on the other end. Then the clicking of a cigarette lighter. “Not sure. Where are you, and why are you calling so early?”

  “I’m chained to a fucking chair at the Sea Bright police department because of him.” Officer Valentine gives me a funny look. Yeah. You heard me right.

  There’s silence on the other end.

  “Mom,” I snap. “Fucking find Sean. Get his ass down here and make him fix this. Now.”

  “All right,” I hear her concede just befor
e I slam the phone down. I may just die from a fury overdose today.

  Once he’s finished with whatever he was doing on the computer, Officer Valentine takes me into holding with a look on his face that says either I’m full of shit or I’m in deep shit. I can’t quite decipher.

  Holding is a tiny six by six cell, with gray walls, a bench, and nothing more. The confined space is maddening.

  I pace incessantly, practically pulling out every strand of hair on my head. I’m lucky I have a lot. Sean has to fix this. He has to fix it and fix it now. I’m going to kill him. Literally, decapitate him. Misdemeanor my ass. I should have opened that stupid letter. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. Now I’m paying for it. Big time.

  A half ounce of heroin.

  What. The. Fuck.

  I have no idea how long I’ve been in here. There are no windows, and it’s stuffy. I’m confident either one of two things is going to happen. My mother is going to come through and show up with Sean, or I am going to be transferred to county. It’s only a matter of time until I find out which. I know the drill. I’ve traveled down this road before. When I was eighteen, I got popped for possession. A small amount of X. It earned me community service and probation. Hey, I never professed to being perfect. A few months later, I found Sean in withdrawal for the first time. You could say that chunk of my life changed my whole perspective on drugs. Both use and abuse.

  I grab hold of the bars and drop my head against the steel. That’s when I realize I forgot about one very important person. Oh shit. I’ve been so busy counting all the ways I want to kill my brother I completely forgot I left Alana sleeping, alone, without so much as a note or a text saying I’d be right back. I’m sure she’s probably counting all the ways she wants to kill me right now.

  I have to call her.

  I can’t wait to suffer through that conversation. Hey baby, it’s me. Yeah, you know, your deadbeat boyfriend. The one who took your virginity last night and is now locked up behind bars.

  I inwardly groan. My stomach is rolling. I think I need some Tums.

  “Pierce,” I hear someone call my name. I look up and see Officer Valentine standing there with my mother beside him. “Visitor.”

  I look between them anxiously and wonder where Sean is. Officer Valentine leaves as my mother walks up and stands in front of me.

  “Where’s Sean? Is he fixing this shit?” I spew.

  My mother doesn’t answer right away, which makes my anxiety level skyrocket through the roof.

  “Well?” I urge, grabbing tighter onto the bars.

  She’s fidgety as hell, looking everywhere but at me.

  “Mom. What’s going on?”

  “Ryan, Sean needs you!” she blurts out.

  “What?”

  “He’s sick.”

  “I know he’s sick. You don’t have to tell me. I’m the one who takes care of him!”

  “He can’t go to jail.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Ryan, please.”

  “Please what?” I stare at her dumbfounded.

  She’s quiet, but her eyes are pleading. A stretch of jagged-edged silence passes between us.

  “What are you asking me?” The question dangles dangerously in the air.

  “Ryan, please,” she repeats pathetically.

  I realize then. It hits me like a battering ram right in the chest.

  I start to pace furiously. Why does this not surprise me? I’ll tell you why. Sean and my mother have always had a different kind of relationship. A relationship I’ve never been a part of because they share one very big similarity. Addiction.

  “You know he’ll never survive in that environment.”

  “Oh yeah?” I seethe. “And I will?”

  “You’re stronger than him. You always have been.”

  I’m not so sure that’s true.

  “What happens the next time he falls off the deep end, and I’m not there, huh?” I argue heatedly.

  “I’ll take care of him.”

  “How?” I snap. “You fall apart the minute he does!”

  “I’ll change. I’ll stop drinking,” she pleads desperately.

  I halt. “What?”

  She has never in my life attempted to stop drinking. Ever.

  “You’re just going to stop? Cold turkey?” I accuse.

  “For Sean, I will.”

  But not me? I want to spit back bitterly.

  “You know if he goes away, we’ll lose him one way or another.” She’s imploring me. And begrudgingly, I agree. Drugs are easy to come by on the inside, and I have no doubt my smart, fast-talking twin would get his hands on some in record time. But, even above that, it’s the possibility that one of his episodes would hit him so hard, he’d choose to end it all.

  And that thought is unbearable, devastating, and incomprehensible.

  I shake my head furiously in my hands. “I can’t believe you’re asking me to do this.” My voice is barely a whisper.

  “Ryan, it’s his life we’re talking about.” Her voice cracks.

  “What about my life?” I explode, throwing myself against the bars. My mother instinctually jumps back. She’s lucky there is impenetrable steel between us.

  “Do you understand I have a chance to actually be something? To have a future with someone?”

  Someone who means more to me than my own life.

  My mother blatantly scowls. “Honey,” she says in that condescending Brooklyn accent of hers. “Do you sincerely believe that? That a girl like her would ever end up with a boy like you?”

  “Why can’t she?” I demand.

  “Ryan,” she mutters my name like I’m stupid. “You’re nothing more than a good time. The story she’ll tell about the guy and the summer she spent slumming.”

  I actually feel fucking tears sting my eyes. I don’t believe that. I don’t want to believe it, but a very deep, very dark part of me knows it might be true.

  I may want to keep you for a very long time. Alana’s words rattle me like chains. Shackles that will encumber me for the rest of my life.

  I drop my head against the bars. I can’t look at her. My whole existence feels like it’s being crushed in a vice.

  “Ryan, think about Sean,” my mother whispers somberly.

  I am thinking about him. And about Alana, and myself.

  I want to be selfish.

  I want to say no.

  I’m still and silent for a very long time. Clutching onto the steel bars for dear life. Getting used to the way they feel. They’re not warm or loving or embracing. They’re nothing like what I’m walking away from.

  They’re the exact thing I’ve always known.

  “Fine.” I pull the trigger and commit emotional suicide.

  The last three weeks have been a blur. A gray, steel-barred blur.

  I shuffle into the visiting area along with the other inmates clad in dark blue. I see Mac sitting behind a piece of glass. He looks the same. Blond, curly hair, alert, green eyes, and a stupid shirt that reads This is what awesome looks like.

  I sit down in front of him. I haven’t slept in days. I feel withdrawn. Alone. Abandoned. And I have no one to blame but myself.

  He picks up the receiver, and I do the same.

  “Did you do what I asked?” I croak.

  “Yup, all done. I have the money waiting. Got a good price for it too.”

  That’s painful to hear. I loved that car. It was the first thing I ever had to show for myself.

  “You see the judge tomorrow?”

  “Yup.”

  “What’s it looking like?”

  “It’s looking like three and a half years.” I bemoan.

  “Shit, man.”

  “I met with my public defender the other day.” A guy who doesn’t look much older than me and is way more discombobulated. “He said he could’ve probably gotten me sixteen to eighteen months and probation if I was going in front of any other judge. But because I am going in front of the biggest douchebag in t
he Monmouth County judicial system, and because I have a prior arrest, he’ll probably give me the max.”

  “You’re fucking kidding me.”

  “Nope.”

  “Who’s the douche?”

  “Remington.”

  Mac looks at me funny. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

  I sigh. “Because it’s Alana’s last name.” My chest tightens at just the mere mention of her name. My heart and soul, who I gave up to be here.

  “Her dad?”

  “Yup.” My life is a fucked-up reality TV show.

  “Speaking of her.” Mac clears his throat uncomfortably. “She came looking for you.”

  “When?” I nearly jump through the glass. “What did you tell her?”

  “Nothing! Just like you told me to. I told her nothing. That I hadn’t seen you, and I had no idea where you were.”

  “Good.” I sag in relief. Yes, I am the biggest dirt-bag asshole on the face of the Earth. You don’t have to tell me. I am fully aware. I did the worst thing imaginable to the one person who means the most to me in this entire universe. But I did it for good reasons. At least, that’s what I keep trying to tell myself. I miss her every second. There’s a chunk of me missing without her. I’ll never deny it. Giving her up has been the most excruciating thing I’ve ever had to endure.

  “Are you sure you want to go through with this, Ry? I will go out there and drag Sean back here in a headlock if you want me to. I can’t stand you doing this to yourself.”

  “It’s the way it has to be.”

  “I’m not so convinced. At least let me tell Alana where you are. That you didn’t just abandon her.”

  “Didn’t I?”

  “Sort of, but it doesn’t mean she won’t forgive you. Especially under the circumstances.”

  “How can you be so sure of that?”

  “Because that girl loves you. You didn’t see the look in her eyes. She’s broken. And I know you feel the exact same way.”

  I do. Yes, I do!

  “She’s better off without me. She’s going to college. She has a future ahead of her I will never comprehend and shouldn’t even be a part of. She should be with someone like her.”

  “And who’s that exactly?” Mac contends.