Annoying Pest...

by K. S. Adkins

  I can bite my tongue…

  As she sang she shredded me. The lyrics were the soundtrack to her life. Her struggle to make me happy—everyone happy. Fighting her way through it all while hiding her pain. Taking on too much, needing too much, and not having me there to catch her when she falls. On and on she went purging her system of the hurt she keeps locked inside.

  Her sadness beat at me like a pair of fists. From the floor, her voice tore me down and rebuilt me all at once. This wasn’t a threat or ultimatum. No. She was done trying to convince me to the truth of her words, the reality of her world. I wanted to scream I got it, that the truth was right in front of me, but I had no voice.

  Because the truth didn’t just hurt, it was crushing me under its weight, leaving me speechless, helpless. This was proof my Pest wasn’t okay. Her struggle was silent and real. She’d been trying to tell me, and I refused to listen because I thought if she just tried harder, mind over matter. Fuck. Like a punch in the gut, Guy’s words beat at me.

  I’d suggest you pay close attention to Tempest now versus a year ago. Since you left, she’s different, Chevy, and I’m not talking progress. I’m talking deterioration. She’s going backward.

  The look of despair when she said, ‘I’ll never be who you need me to be.’

  That wasn’t true.

  I was hers, would always be hers, and she needed me, I needed her. That hadn’t changed even if the circumstances had. Throwing her head back she wailed, ‘I’m only human’, and I couldn’t hold back my own tears as I watch her grate out the lyrics. ‘I can take so much, ’til I’ve had enough.’ Dropping her head, she sniffled, ‘‘cause I’m only human’, and I knew deep in my heart it was time for me to do better by her, whether we worked out or not.

  Tempest wanted to be everything I needed her to be. All she was asking is that it be enough. Why did I ever let her think otherwise? How did I ever think otherwise? Forcing myself to my feet, I wait to see what she does next. When she closed the lid, pushed away, and exited the stage, I left the way I came as well.

  Those changes started now.

  

  Yeah, when I’m returning from so far away she gives me some sweet lovin’ to brighten up my day…

  I was in and out of sleep, but I heard him strum the guitar, singing Van Morrison to me.

  After yesterday’s purge, I came back to the room to find Chevy eager to talk. Confused at the about face, it took me a bit to realize he wanted a true discussion and not a fight. We kept it light, but I knew he was looking for something. I just didn’t know what it was. I also wasn’t inclined to ask. We continued through dinner and fell asleep talking. Although, I think I clonked out first.

  Opening one eye, I take him in sitting cross-legged, holding the guitar like it’s precious. Two years of arguing over his lessons and yet he’d learned. And he played flawlessly. Countless nights, he’d strut out on stage to play Crowbar with me. No matter what shit we were dealing with at the time, it faded while we played.

  Music always healed us.

  Turning to face him fully, I joined in the chorus.

  She gives me love, love, love, love, crazy love

  Finishing the song together, he set the guitar down and crawls into bed next to me. Pulling me into his arms, I went without a fight because I was always happiest here. Part of me wanted to ask about the status of the RV, about Guy, or even the Antichrist, Claire; anything to keep it light. But my mouth had other plans.

  “Did the break help?”

  “What?” he asked, tilting my chin up.

  “The break from me, did it help?”

  “Pest—”

  “I don’t want to fight,” I promised him. “I just need to know.”

  Sighing, he tightened his grip and said, “No. It didn’t help.”

  “Okay.”

  “It’s a lot of things, but okay isn’t one of them. Cowardly, impulsive, fucking stupid, yeah. Okay, no. But it took me leaving to figure that out, Pest. We weren’t us, hadn’t been, and you gotta know, I regretted it.”

  “I used to sit by the window,” I whispered. “Just stare out into nothing, hoping if I sat there long enough, you’d come back.”

  “Pest—”

  “You never came back, Chevy.”

  “I wanted to. I did.”

  “Because I have a stalker.”

  “And because I love you.”

  “What happens when I don’t have a stalker?”

  “Why didn’t you call me?” he asked quietly.

  “I didn’t know what to say.”

  “Felt like I lost you, Pest. Like you didn’t need me around.”

  “I needed you,” I promised him. “To leave the lid up, clothes on the floor, dirtying up the dishes.” At his silence, I sat up and balanced my upper body on his chest. “I needed the reminders. That was us, Chevy. The day-to-day. The three of us. Taking care of you that way, I needed it. When you took that with you, I didn’t call because I literally didn’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t cry,” he said while wiping my cheeks. “Please, Pest.”

  “You hate when I cry,” I mumbled.

  “I hate being the cause of it,” he corrected.

  “You know what I hate?” I asked, knowing I had to make some changes. Holding onto the past wasn’t doing either of us any favors. Coming up to my knees and straddling his waist, I planted my hands on his chest and smiled.

  “What do you hate?”

  “Showering alone.”

  When a smirk appeared, he dug his fingers deep into my hips, and took me to my back. Kissing me once and placing his head on my chest, I sank my fingers into his hair and held on. God, I never wanted to let go.

  “Shower,” he said, trailing a finger down my cheek. “And you can wash me first.”

  “Annoying,” I said with an eye roll.

  “I prefer gentleman.”

  Giving my belly a raspberry, he jumped from the bed to start the water. Stretching while the it warms, I was about to sit up when Chevy screams. Flying out of bed, I slammed into him as he stumbles from the bathroom. My ass hit the floor while he tripped over the chair taking it with him.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked quickly, and when his face went red, I rolled my eyes again. “Seriously?”

  “You know I hate spiders,” he said on a shiver. It’s true, he did. Was terrified of them.

  “Baby,” I teased.

  “Kill it,” he said, pointing at the door. “And flush it. I won’t let you wash me until you do.”

  Like I’ve done a hundred times before, I balled up some toilet paper, squished the spider and flushed it down the toilet. Reminders.

  They meant everything to me.

  

  “Behind you,” I demanded, and without missing a beat she got up on all fours, lifting her ass in the air. Wrapping her hair around my fist and giving it a tug, she arched up while moaning in pleasure. In this, she never said no. Not when I turned her skin pink, not when I sought to push her limits, and certainly not when I wanted it rough.

  Tempest loved rough.

  For her, it was never rough enough. She never held back. If she felt the urge to bite, she did. Score me with her nails, she did that, too. Tie her up? She’d get the rope. Gag her? She’d open her mouth. Dirty talk? She was filthier than I was. Fuck in public? She’d ask where. We’ve broken beds, furniture and probably even the sound barrier. My Pest was loud, she loved screaming her orgasm and my name. She loved my cock. She loved to fuck.

  And she was magnificent at it.

  Sliding inside of her, I paused to enjoy the snug fit. Resting her cheek on her forearm, she peeked up at me and sighed, relaxing her entire body.

  Tempest loved it from behind. Loved me taking her where she needed to go. Another thing I loved about her; she didn’t get off easy. Her build up took time and finesse. Building her up to it was my most favorite thing to do. Because when she came, the reward was worth the effort. When she came, I felt like a conqueror.
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  Running my hands over her hips, she watched with glazed eyes. I knew what she was waiting for, what she craved. She wanted the crack of my palm, the sting it left behind. Too bad she wasn’t going to get it.

  “Pest.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Love you.”

  Closing her eyes, she sighed my name. Since I’ve been back she’s talked about loving me. But she hadn’t given me the words. She had no idea how badly I needed them.

  “Took us for granted,” I said, starting a slow grind. “Missed annoying you.”

  “Chevy…”

  “Just needed to say it.”

  “Okay,” she said softly and added, “I think I needed to hear it. too.”

  Yeah, I’d get an I love you out of her. I’d start with making her come first. Without warning, I pulled out a bit before surging back in.

  Moaning “Fuck me,” I did exactly that.

  As I thrust in and out of her, I watched for signs that she was getting close. Gripping the sheets, biting her lip, and reaching between her legs to play with her clit.

  “That’s it,” I praise her. “Get it, Pest.”

  “Harder, Chevy,” she begged. “I’m—”

  “Fuck yeah, you are,” I growled, pounding into her and when she clamped down, I caged her in, giving her all I’ve got. Fire blazed up my balls, my back locked and when she screamed, I followed.

  Rolling to the side and careful not to crush her, she curled up and placed her head on my chest. Ready to say I loved her again, we were interrupted by a knock on the door. Letting her know I’d answer, I got out of bed, pulled on my jeans, and opened the door to none other than Claire.

  “What the fuck do you want?”

  The way she eyed me was fucking odd. Like she was only pretending to enjoy the view. Arching a brow, she said, “I can see why she took you back.”

  “Again, what the fuck do you want?”

  “Tell you what,” she said, leaning against the jamb. “Next time you leave town, stop by and see me on your way out.”

  “Do you like your job?” I asked her directly and my anger was a living thing.

  “It’s a job,” she shrugged, scrutinizing my chest.

  When Tempest’s arms slid around my waist, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to groan or grin. It wasn’t until I looked down to see she hadn’t bothered to dress that I chose to grin. Pest was buck ass naked and making a point.

  “Oh, it’s you,” she said in a bored tone. “What now?”

  “Since you’re too busy reuniting to answer your phones, Guy sent me by to tell you that another letter came. I’m told you’ll know what that means.”

  “He say anything else?” I asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Good,” then I slammed the door in her face.

  “Asshole,” she said to the door. Wasting no time, I reopened that fucker.

  Taking her by the elbow, I stopped her retreat and set her ass straight. “You fuck with her, you fuck with me. When this tour’s over, you’re gone.”

  “Huh,” she said staring at my grip. “And here I was thinking the same about you.”

  “Wanna try that again?”

  “You don’t have any staying power and we both know it. The press knows it, so do her fans. Hell, even she knows it. The real story isn’t you being back, Chevy James. It’s what your leaving will do to her a second time. This job may end when the tour does, but I’d bet my meager earnings that’s when her nightmares start.”

  Releasing her, I don’t give the crazy bitch another second of my time before I head back inside to Tempest.

  Frowning at her phone, I had to call her name three times before she looked up, and when she did it was to hand me the phone. What I saw I did not like. This letter, and the sick fuck behind it, was no joke. Now the motherfucker had her number, too.

  

  There was no hiding the fact I was rattled.

  After reading the letter Guy sent us and the message on my phone, I was in a bad place. Scared, nervous, and paranoid at the forefront. I couldn’t sit still or focus on a specific task. Basically, I was close to shutting down.

  Sensing this, Chevy pulled me into bed and started storytelling. Listening to him reminisce about our lives together made us sound fantastical and old.

  “You were seventeen, told them you were twenty-one. That was the worst fake ID Guy and I had ever seen. You sure as fuck didn’t look Spanish, no way it would work. But I promised I’d get you in to see Sebastian Bach, and I did,” he said linking our fingers together.

  “Watched my girl close her eyes and let his voice take her away. Watched the music flow through her, felt how happy she was, and then she sang. So fucking perfect and loud the show stopped. He knew my girl couldn’t help herself and he brought her on stage.” Rolling toward me, Chevy caressed my cheek and whispered, “You sang with Sebastian Bach, baby.”

  Leaning into his palm, I whispered back, “I sang with Sebastian Bach.”

  “And you killed it.”

  It was true, I did. I giggled at the memory.

  “Then he flirted with you.”

  Biting my lip, I couldn’t help but smile. “And then we left.”

  “Before I had him singing soprano.”

  “Technically, he's a falsetto range that can reach soprano notes.”

  “My girls a smart ass,” he winked at me.

  “Did I ever say thank you?” I asked sincerely. “For what you do for me. Do I say thank you? Because I don’t remember if I do or not.”

  “Pest…”

  “Do I?”

  “Pest…”

  “Chevy, answer me.”

  With his body covering mine, our foreheads pressed close, and nothing but breath between us, he said, “Every time you look at me, kiss me, fuck me, sing for me, play for me, defend me, wake up next to me…Tempest, there is thanks in every-fucking-thing you do.”

  “But do I say it?”

  “Yeah,” he said gently. “With words and without them. Never doubt it.”

  “What’s your dream, Chevy?”

  “Looking at it.”

  “No, your dream. Yours alone. What is it?”

  “Said I’m looking at it.”

  “I can’t be your dream.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  “Chevy—”

  “Tempest, the first time I touched your hand you were ten-years-old. I took one look into your eyes and I knew where you went I’d follow. You gave me purpose. You still do. Always will. A little while back, I lost sight of that. So it’s me who needs to thank you.”

  “For what?” I asked as tears roll down my face.

  “For giving me my dream back.”

  “Shit,” I cried harder.

  “For loving me, for being you.”

  “Stop,” I begged.

  “I’m sorry I left,” he said wiping my cheeks. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

  “You came back,” I choked out.

  “Soulmates, Pest. You and me, no matter what.”

  “No matter what,” I repeated.

  “This is me thanking you now.”

  “Chevy, you don’t—”

  “I said, this is me thanking you now, Tempest. Tell me what I need to hear.”

  Sniffing and rolling my eyes, I gave it to him, “You’re welcome.”

  “We good?”

  “Yes,” I nodded.

  “Can I finish saying thank you now by fucking you hard?”

  Using his fingers to gently wipe my eyes, I cut the tears and whisper, “Yeah, Chevy, you can fuck me hard now.”

  

  As she practiced I stood to the side, noting that she tugged on her ear piece when she was nervous. But for every minute she spent on that stage, those nerves lessoned. She played her violin perfectly, the guitar, too. Her voice was sure and anyone watching would see a professional.

  But when I looked at her, I still saw the young girl I walked to and from school since she was ten-years-old. Hell, I was still
a kid myself, but I’d always taken protecting her seriously. Tempest was my girl before she was my girl. Even young, I went where she went. Junior high, guys started noticing her. Not just her face, but her body and her talent. Guy and me, well, we busted a lot of skulls in her honor. Tempest was ours.

  In ninth grade, her already absent parents divorced and neither noticed or cared that she spent most nights with me. My old man bounced years prior and mom was too busy drinking to give a shit. When she did notice her, she was too grateful for Pest cooking and cleaning to bitch. No adults gave a single fuck that she was thirteen years old at the time.

  As kids we learned how to keep a house, together.

  She was fourteen when I kissed her for the first time, sixteen when I told her I loved her, and seventeen when we lost our virginity in my trailer. Eighteen when I taught her how to drive, nineteen when we tried drinking, and twenty when we made enough money to get the duplex.

  With Guy moving in, the three of us spent the next several years becoming a stronger unit. Through it all, Guy and I worked while Tempest spent all her free time honing her skills.

  She’d spend hours watching videos, going to shows, and practicing.

  Tempest wanted to be the best.

  Was the best.

  And yet my girl still struggled with anxiety.

  It wasn’t fair.

  Nothing Tempest has ever set out to do has been easy. She has fought, scraped, and saved to get ahead, we all have. We’ve watched her, supported her, and rooted for her from day one. Maybe there was a lesson in this for the three of us. Maybe that lesson was, no one can have it all without sacrificing something.

  But goddamn, she’s sacrificed enough.

  I’d take on her anxiety happily if it meant she could just play. Because all Pest does is sacrifice. Her privacy, her time, and her fucking emotions. This life was constantly taking from her. For once, I’d just like to see it give.

  Tonight the auditorium was packed; every seat was full. Giving her time to get her head right, I found myself getting nervous on her behalf. Fact was, the second she found her place on stage Tempest ventured to another time and place. Her safe place. The place where she could be free.