by Leo, Cassia
I climb into the driver’s seat of my car and shoot her a text that works with most girls, even though I have a strong suspicion that Senia is not like most girls.
Me: I was thinking about you while I was in the studio today.
It’s not a lie. I was thinking about her while I was hurriedly scrolling through the contacts on Chris’s phone searching for her number. I tuck the phone into my pocket then peel out of the Reverb parking lot. By the time I pull into the driveway in front of my house in Cary, I’m certain that I’ll have a response to my text.
I slide out of the driver’s seat and slam the door before I activate the alarm. Slipping the phone out of my pocket, I see the notification that I have four text messages. I smile as I unlock my phone and navigate to the messaging app.
Molly: Grandma said you don’t have to come over tomorrow. Her insurance company is sending a van.
Me: Tell her to cancel the van. I’ll be there at 11 like I said.
I open the next message and I’m not surprised to see it’s from Jenny.
Jenny: My roommate is visiting family in Vermont. Want to come over?
I met Jenny at the show we played in Durham last month. Her roommate hates me, which makes Jenny perfect. This means she has to keep me at a distance. Plus, she can do some pretty amazing things with her mouth. Normally, I’d jump on the chance for an easy fuck like Jenny, but something about waiting for Senia’s text makes me hesitate.
Me: Maybe some other time.
The next text is from Chris, threatening to feed me to Rachel’s Aunt Maddie if I text Senia. Rachel is Jake’s girlfriend who became his fiancée last week. Not many people know that Rachel and Jake met in high school band class. Of course, Jake played the snare drum. Though Rachel grew up playing the piano, her mom made her attempt to take up the saxophone that year. Jake told me that he once caught her practicing a Kenny G song in her bedroom. Rachel threatened bodily harm if I ever tell anyone about this.
I take it, from Chris’s text, he must have found the selfie I left on his phone today. The last text is from Rachel warning me that if I’m late to tomorrow’s recording session she’ll poison me slowly. Considering Chris rolled into the studio later than I did, he probably received an even more colorful version of this text. I don’t know why the fuck Jake lets her be such a bitch to everyone. I would never allow my girl to bust my friends’ balls like that.
The one time I called Jake out on this, it was Chris who answered for him. “Rachel is only saying exactly what we’re all thinking.” Chris may be like a brother to me and he may be the wisest asshole when it comes to charming the ladies, but he doesn’t know shit about controlling them. Whether they admit it or not, women want to be dominated. They want to be owned.
Except for Senia, it seems, because she still hasn’t responded to my text.
When I enter the house, Lily the cleaning lady is just gathering up her cleaning supplies and her vacuum cleaner to leave. I walk past her without acknowledging her presence and head straight for the kitchen. It smells like that lemon-scented cleaner she uses. I walk past the dining area and through the French doors onto the veranda.
I bought this house in September because I wanted to be far enough from Raleigh that I wouldn’t have to worry about running into Elaine. Also, I wanted to be far enough that Grandma Flo and Molly wouldn’t try to track me down and pay me any surprise visits. I’ve been living in this house more than two months and I can’t decide what makes me feel worse: the fact that Molly and Grandma still don’t know where I live or the fact that they haven’t tried to figure it out.
I head past the outdoor dining table where I’ve made at least a half-dozen girls come until they were practically unconscious. Removing the metal grate from in front of the stone fireplace, I reach my hand inside and feel around over the rough stone. My hand hits the screw jutting out the inner surface of the chimney and my fingers follow the chain that hangs loosely from the screw. I pull the necklace off the screw and ball up my fist around it before I take a seat on one of the cushioned deckchairs.
My fist closes tightly around the gold chain with the heart pendant as I gaze out across the vast expanse of green grass behind the house that stretches out farther than my eyes can see. It’s been four years since Ashley admitted to cheating on me and threw this necklace at my face. I don’t know why I’ve kept it, other than to hold on to a reminder that relationships aren’t worth the trouble. And the sickening suspicion in the pit of my gut that I’m just as worthless.
Leaning forward in the chair, I slowly open my fist. The gold is covered in soot, which coats the palm of my hand in dark striations that crisscross my skin. I stand up and chuck the necklace out onto the grass, so far that I’m certain it lands on my neighbor’s property.
Good. It’s someone else’s trouble now.
Chapter Five
Three days later
“Elaine called this morning,” Grandma says as she drops the thawed turkey carcass into a bucket filled with ice and her special brine; a mixture of water, white wine, honey, salt, and various spices, which she drowns the turkey in the night before Thanksgiving. The tinny sound of Christmas music is playing from a clock radio on the counter as she leans over to pick up the bucket, which must weigh over forty pounds now with the turkey in it.
I reach down and take the bucket out of her hands. “You shouldn’t be cooking. You should be resting.” I don’t bother acknowledging her comment about Elaine calling. She already knows how I feel about that. I don’t want to know about anything to do with her.
“I’m not dead yet. I can’t just lie there and feel sorry for myself. Put it on the counter.”
I heave the bucket onto the quartz countertop and watch as she begins pulling ingredients out of the fridge and the cupboards to make apple pie. She’s wearing one of the many checkered blue and white aprons she makes by hand. Grandma Flo hasn’t worked in twelve years, since Molly and I came to live with her. She used to live modestly off her savings and the life insurance money she received after Grandpa Ivan passed. Now I support her, though she refuses to buy or use more than she needs.
She grew up with very little in a different time when nothing was wasted and people helped their neighbors. It wasn’t until she got married and Elaine was in school that she decided to get a job and be a bit more independent – less traditional. Grandma insists that the reason Elaine turned to drugs shortly after I was born was because she worked outside the home and Elaine spent a lot of time alone. It’s a decision she has never stopped regretting. She never wanted Molly or me to feel like she was too busy for us. Now, all I can think of as I watch her sifting the salt into the flour is that she’s been too busy for herself.
I pull a chair out from the kitchen table and move all the ingredients she just placed on the counter onto the table. She shakes her head as I hold the chair out for her, but she reluctantly takes a seat. I grab the bowl of apples and she smiles as I begin peeling them for her.
“Don’t forget to squeeze some lemon juice on the apples so they don’t brown,” she warns me.
“I can’t believe I’m making a damn apple pie.”
“You should put on an apron. I’m sure you’ll catch some girls if you post a photograph of that on the Facebook.”
I grab a lemon out of the fruit bowl on the counter and cut it in half to squeeze some juice over the peeled apples. “You’d better not tell anyone I did this,” I say as I kiss the top of her head. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Do you need me to bring anything back?”
“Bring me some brown sugar and one of those bottles of sparkling cider Molly likes.”
“Will do.”
I hurry out to my car, eager to get out of the house before Molly gets back with her friend Carissa. Thirteen-year-old girls with crushes are not as cute as they seem. Most thirteen-year-old girls these
days have been exposed to enough internet porn to think they know what they’re doing. Carissa’s crush on me only seems to grow stronger the more I avoid her, but the alternative is making friends with her and that’s just plain disgusting.
I pull out of the driveway and head to the local pub where Chris and I use to chill out every Wednesday night, before he decided to go solo last year. Everything’s changed since then. We’re only twenty-one, but look at us. Chris has a kid he’s fighting to know. Jake is getting married. We’re fucking adults. And what am I doing? I bought a fucking house.
I enter the bar and immediately take the second-to-last stool from the end of the bar. Chris used to sit in the last seat and old habits are hard to break. Link, the bartender, nods as he finishes pouring a beer for a guy with a long gray beard. I don’t recognize the guy, but I haven’t been here in over a year. He could be a new regular.
Link slides the beer in front of the guy then heads over to me. “What’s up, bro? Long time no see.”
Link has more tats and piercings than Chris and I combined, which is saying a lot considering Chris is fucking addicted to ink. I only have nine tats. I’ve been holding off on getting the tenth one because I’ve convinced myself that it’s going to be some fucking special occasion.
“Get me a Pliny,” I say as we shake hands. “I’m so fucking over this holiday shit.”
“You need some pussy,” Link says as he reaches into the fridge under the bar and pulls out a cold Pliny the Elder. “You remember my girl Tara? Her friend Chrissy is coming in to pick up something in just a few minutes. You should hit that.”
As easy as that, he’s just pimping out his girlfriend’s best friend, like he’s so sure she’s just going to do whatever the fuck I want. Well, she probably will, but the point is that I’m not the only one who does this. I’m not the only one who thinks of a woman as a means to an end. Fuck Chrissy and feel better about myself, maybe relieve some stress. Is it normal to think of another human being as a tool to be used as a fucking form of therapy? I don’t know. But after five beers and two shots of whiskey, when Chrissy walks in with her pink scarf wrapped around her neck and her tight jeans hugging a luscious ass, I don’t fucking care.
I stare at the way her breasts rest on the bar when she leans over it as Link reaches into a cup next to the cash register and pulls out a set of keys. He hands her the keys and she squints at me as she turns to leave.
“Make sure you keep the fire going until we get there tomorrow morning,” Link says to her. “That cabin is cold as fuck right now.”
She nods without looking at him, her eyes glued to me. “You’re Chris Knight’s—”
“Bassist,” I say, trying not to let her see how annoying it is that hardly anyone knows me as anything other than Chris’s bassist. “And you’re Chrissy. I’ve heard all about you. You need some help getting the fire started in that cabin?”
She smiles shyly and for a moment I think she’s going to turn down my offer, then she nods.
I plunk down a hundred-dollar bill and my car keys on the bar. “Bring my car tomorrow?” I ask Link and he nods, then I slip my hand under her scarf and her blonde hair to grab the back of her neck as I lead her outside. I do this partially because I’m unsteady on my feet from the alcohol and partially because girls love when you grab them by the neck. It all goes back to that ownership thing. It’s fucking ridiculous how predictable women are.
A dull pang of guilt registers in my belly. I should be driving to the grocery store to get Grandma’s Thanksgiving goods, but I can’t drive drunk. Might as well burn off this alcohol with my favorite kind of cardio. I’ll be back at Grandma’s tomorrow morning in time to help with whatever she needs for T-Day dinner.
When we reach the parking lot, I’m a little put off by her white Lexus. Either this girl has money or she’s driving someone else’s car. As if she can read my thoughts, she blurts out, “This is my mom’s car.” She hits the key fob to disable the alarm and I seize this small moment of distraction to grab her face and kiss her hard. She whimpers as I push her against the car and press my body against hers.
She tastes like black licorice and it almost triggers my gag reflex. I hate licorice. I pull my face back and stare at her for a second as she attempts to catch her breath.
I feel nothing.
Everything is exactly as it should be.
“Let’s go,” I whisper and she hastily sets off to the driver’s side.
I slide into the beige leather passenger seat then lean my head back and close my eyes as I try not to reach into my pocket for my phone. No drunk texting tonight. Tonight, I’m going to fuck Chrissy into a stupor. I’ll worry about the rest tomorrow.
Chapter Six
I wake up just after 7 a.m. with Chrissy’s cheek resting on my abdomen just above my dick. She’s lying crosswise on the bed and my hand is on her back. Her ass is even nicer with her clothes off. My head is killing me and I have a vague memory of Chrissy telling me that Link, his girlfriend, and Link’s family would be here in the morning to celebrate Thanksgiving. It’s 7 a.m. We still have time for one more goodbye fuck.
I slide my hand over her ribs and reach over to grab her breast. She groans softly as she turns over to face me, her head still resting on my abdomen. Her make-up is smeared all over her eyes and her lips look a little swollen, but definitely still fuckable.
“Sit up,” I order her and she looks confused.
“What time is it?”
“Seven o’clock. Sit up.”
Her eyes widen as she sits up on her knees. “They’re gonna be here in less than an hour!” she cries. “We have to clean up.”
Her eyes dart around the dimly lit bedroom in the cabin, which isn’t really a cabin. It’s a tiny house on a farm forty-five minutes outside of Raleigh. Though it does look like a cabin from the outside, there isn’t a mountain in sight.
“Calm down. An hour is plenty of time.”
I sit up and grab the back of her neck. She looks me in the eye as my other hand slides between her legs. Her panic melts as I stroke her clit. I tangle my fingers in her hair and pull her up until we’re both standing on our knees on the mattress facing each other. She whimpers as I plunge two fingers inside her wet pussy to unearth her moisture. I hook my middle finger inside her, using my thumb to keep pressure on her clit as I massage her g-spot. Her shoulders begin to curl inward as she gets close to climax, but I tighten my grip on her hair and pull her head up.
“Do you want me to finish you?”
“Yes!” she cries, panting between gasps. “Yes, please.” I ease the pressure off her clit and her mouth drops open as I remove my finger from inside her. “No, no, please. Please finish,” she begs as she reaches for my hand.
I grab her hand and force it behind her back as I lean in and whisper in her ear. “I’ll finish you, but first you have to sit back and do what I say.”
She nods her head and immediately obeys when I instruct her to lie back with her shoulders against the headboard. I’m out of condoms so I’ll have to make do with what’s available. I straddle her chest and her eyes widen at the sight of my cock in front of her face.
“That’s … that’s kind of big,” she whispers.
“Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on you.”
I slide my hand behind her head, to control the movement and to protect her head from the headboard, then I slide into her mouth. I go slow at first, to let her adjust to my girth, but she soon reaches around to grab hold of my ass and push me farther inside. The pressure of her lips and the warm wetness of her tongue are perfect, but her teeth are killing me.
“Open your mouth wider,” I groan and she mutters something I can’t understand with my cock in her mouth. “Fuck.” I can’t fuck her. I’m out of condoms and I’m not making that mistake again, but I can’t take the scraping. I pull
out of her mouth and her lips look red and stretched. “Turn around.”
She quickly turns onto her belly and I grab her waist to pull her hips up into the air. I shake my head to shake off the doubts then I glide an inch into her pussy, just to get my dick wet, then I pull out. She gasps as I slide my heat between her cheeks and press gently against the opening.
“Feel free to scream,” I say as I slide inside, just a smidge farther with each stroke.
She buries her face in the pillow with the flannel pillowcase to muffle her screams and I’m glad for that when I hear my phone vibrating on the nightstand. I should let it ring, but my thoughts bounce to all different sorts of scenarios. Maybe Grandma’s calling about the brown sugar I was supposed to bring her last night, or Molly is calling for her cider. Or maybe it’s Senia finally coming to her senses.
I quickly pull out of Chrissy and reach for the phone. When I glimpse the name on the screen, I can’t believe my eyes. It’s Elaine. She knows I’ll never answer her calls, so I’m not sure why she even tries. I hit the ignore button and I’m not at all surprised when I look down and see I’ve lost my erection.
I look back at my phone and see a voicemail notification from Molly. I press the play icon and listen: Tristan – wait! Oh, sh—’
I laugh as I imagine her dropping her phone. I’ll call her back once I’m out of here.
“Who the fuck was that?”
“You have a dirty mouth,” I tell Chrissy as I hurry up and start gathering my clothes off the wooden floor to get dressed.
“Are you leaving?” she shrieks as I pull on my pants.