by K. S. Adkins
“Yeah,” I mumbled. “We’ll visit and cause trouble too.”
Nodding to her, I needed her to go. If she stood here reassuring me any longer, I wasn’t going to let her leave. My gift may be for recognizing lies, but I knew the truth when I saw it. The truth was when she left, I would be lost without her.
And I was.
Without Jules to anchor me, I knew I would float away.
And I did.
Jules fell in love that night, while I fell apart.
My emotions are all over the board. The anticipation is clogging my throat, and it’s because I’m happy for my sister. When the doors open and she walks in, the tears build in my eyes with permission for once. I needed to feel this, every moment of it. I missed her so much that the part of me that felt empty, was now filled. She looks overwhelmed but happy as she takes it all in. She doesn’t understand it at first, no doubt still trying to process Max showing up at the airport in the first place. That was a slick move in my opinion, one I fully approve of. My girl needed a grand gesture and she got one. The man they now call Mad Max finally figured it out. It took about a full minute for her to piece it together, but when she did, that’s when she became ecstatic. I watch her look over everyone in the room almost like she’s looking for me, but I tell myself not to get my hopes up. When our eyes meet her hands fly to her mouth, I can’t take it anymore. Running over to her I pull her into a seriously long overdue hug and I struggle not to cry in front of everyone. I feel her shaking, or maybe it’s me? But then I whisper into her ear, “Miss me?”
“Not even a little bit,” she says, laughing, crying and gripping me tight. Just like that my world was right again. Reluctantly letting her go and handing her over to a very impatient Max, we smile and nod to each other then he wastes no time tying her to him for good this time. Jules’ teammate, Bishop, did the vows, if you can call skipping to the very end and yelling, “Play Ball” vows, but it worked.
Giving the newlyweds a chance to kiss it out, when I see her looking for me again, I walk over taking him with me. “Jules, I’d like you to meet someone,” I say, stepping aside and presenting him. “Jules Allen, this is Anthony Gallo.”
He takes her by surprise with a full body hug and whispers something into her ear which makes her light up. Jules is literally like a light bright when she’s happy. “You’re a tough man to pin down,” she says, looking at me with a wink. “Some would say a ghost.”
Looking over at Max in apology, he says, “I was always coming back, when the time was right I came back.”
“With Lina.”
“Yes, with Lina,” he says, winking at me. Then he addresses them both and I join in to tell her the absolute truth.
“I never left,” I whisper. “Neither did he. We’ve had our eyes on you, both of you, the whole time. I would never let anything happen to you, Red.”
“Thank you,” they say in unison, then Anthony takes my hand, asks if I wanted to dance. Turns out, I did want to dance. I’ve never danced with a man before and it just happens that this was a first for him too. The bride and groom waste no time in taking off on Max’s bike. Eager to be alone ourselves we prepare to leave when Venessa corners him again.
“You’re back for good, yeah?”
“I can’t say,” he says, taking my hand again. “Lina and I are working on some things. We’ll see how they pan out.”
She regards us for a second then narrows her eyes. “You knew I was worried about him,” she accuses me. “But you’ve been with him all this time and didn’t say anything?”
“Yep,” I say in answer. “As you can see, I haven’t corrupted him.”
“Uh huh. What happened to your hand then?”
“Broke it on someone’s face.”
“I take it you won then, yeah? I know how competitive you are.”
Looking up at Anthony and squeezing his hand, “Yeah,” I say, smiling a true smile. “I won.”
Laughing, she waves us off with a “Catch you later,” then heads back over to Macy who looks over and pinky waves at me and Venessa playing well together for once.
“Ready?” he asks, leading me toward the door.
“Ready,” I say, taking his hand again when he offers it. Walking out to his car together, I keep staring at our linked fingers. I can’t help but wonder what holding hands meant.
“It means I like being close to you and by the way you’re squeezing me back, tells me you like being close to me too.”
“You’re a mind reader.”
Laughing, he opens my door for me which is another check to add to the plus column. “No Sherlock,” he says, leaning in to buckle my belt. “You have a habit of saying what you’re thinking.”
“Great.” I mutter, plugging my phone in.
“They’re happy” he says, looking at me “I’m glad to see it, after everything they deserve happiness.”
“Yeah,” I agree, absently thumbing through my playlist. “They do.”
Taking my phone out of my hands I’m about to growl at him for touching my shit, but he beats me to it. “I hear a ‘but’ in there.”
“I am happy for them,” I reassure him. “But, I feel like their happiness, as well as the rest of the group, is on loan.”
“Because?”
Lost in thought I blurt out what I’m thinking. “Because if I don’t figure it out soon, it’s doubtful any of them will actually live happily ever after.”
“What about you?” he asks, holding my hand again. “What about your happily ever after?”
Shrugging and then taking hand back, I tell him the truth as I know it. “A fairy tale was never in the cards for me. I don’t believe in them anyway, that’s Macy’s thing. My grip is slipping and I’m also taco shy of a six pack; they deserve it more than I do.”
“Wait, your grip on what? You think you don’t deserve the same happiness as anyone else? Don’t I have a say in this? Are you saying that I don’t make you happy?”
“You showed me what happiness is,” I confess, leaning over to kiss him “Without you I wouldn’t know happiness at all but, I’m not certain in the long term I have what it takes to make you happy.”
“You were making me happy before we ever met,” he whispers, kissing my nose. “Don’t you ever worry about that, Sherlock.”
“That isn’t possible,” I argue, confused by the honesty in his words.
“Are you telling me I don’t recognize the source of my own happiness?” he argues back.
“Well no,” I defend “But---”
“Watching you, taking you in,” he says, looking straight into my eyes, “was like a shock to my system. To find you, to meet someone who not only seeks the truth, but lives it? Christ, yeah you made me happy before you ever knew my name. You’ve made me happy for years just knowing you existed. You are real in every situation, even the bad ones. You own it, you accept it and for that, you, Lina, make me extremely happy and always will. I admire you.”
“Oh.”
“Thought that would shut you up.” Then, putting it drive, we listen to Volbeat on our way back. “Heaven nor Hell” may have been playing but, I didn’t hear it. I heard him and I was officially tweaking out about it, only this time I made sure I kept my mouth shut.
“Just no,” she said, stomping away.
“Venessa…”
“Is your hearing fucked?”
“No,” I argued. “I just…”
“Enough about Lina, you creeper! You’ve never even met her and it’s like you’re obsessed! If I told you where she lived would you track her down?”
“You know where she lives?”
“No,” she growled. “She’s like a damn gypsy, but that isn’t the point. She’s my friend and I protect my friends especially from creepers!”
“I am not a creeper,” I said calmly. “I would like to meet her, though if you could arrange that.”
“No fucking way,” she growled at me. “You are not Lina’s type.”
“What exa
ctly is her type?”
“She doesn’t have one, that’s why you’re not her type! I don’t want you near her, feel me?”
As she stomps off I realized story time with Venessa was over. I came off as a creeper, perfect. How do you explain this need? How do you explain that your destiny lies with a stranger? I dream about her, fantasize about her voice and her scent. How do I tell someone that without getting punched? You don’t, because it makes you sound like a fucking creeper. Knowing she won’t help me, I decided when things cool off here, I’m going to search for her myself. She’s my future and my days of living in the past are over.
She’s been at it for days. You would have to see it to believe it, but she’s consumed by her ability. It has stolen her away from me and the women working upstairs was not my Lina. Before going up there again, I sat myself down and asked what if that was Lina. Am I okay with that? Could I live with it? The answer is no. I’ve had enough of this shit. This morning I walked in there and took her file away and she went nuts. Her rant made no sense whatsoever and she even managed to think up new swear words. I want this woman in my life for good if she’d even hint that she feels the same, but since the wedding we’ve barely spoken and if she sleeps two hours, it’s a miracle.
I recognized this is my own fault for pushing her to do this, using her friends as leverage and giving her the tools to lose herself in it but, when Venessa explained she was good at her job, I never anticipated this. Standing outside the door debating whether to kick it in or just remove it completely, I can hear her on the phone. Her voice is raspy from chain smoking and whoever she’s speaking to isn’t making her happy. Catching her side of things and the lingo she uses, I know it’s a cop on the other end. Opening the door after she’s disconnected, I see she’s scribbling again, talking to herself and as usual, she doesn’t notice me.
Walking over to the white board, she makes notes using the file as reference. Standing back she looks it over, then starts talking. It takes me a minute to realize she’s addressing me.
“A honeymoon is in order. Sex on the beach isn’t just a drink. Arrest warrant date pending; give me the good shit, not the bullshit. They’re scrambling now, let’s play musical chairs. A set up’s a set-up, a line will be drawn. I’ll bat clean up, they get sand in their crevices. That’s got to be a bitch to get out though...” Blinking at her, then shaking my head, I’m about to get up and leave but she stops me. “Care to take a ride over to visit the newlyweds?”
At a total loss with this, I keep it simple. “The polite thing to do would be to call first.”
Grabbing her smokes, phone and walking to the door, she looks back and me and smiles. “Yeah well, I’m a lot of things but, polite is not one of them. Seriously, where’s the fun in that?”
Following her down to the kitchen, I watch as she talks to herself while she prepares a cup of coffee. Standing next to her, I tip her chin up to look her in the eyes because fuck, I just miss her. “Where’s your head at right now, Sherlock?
“In the game, why?”
“Why do you keep talking about baseball?”
“It’s only America’s favorite pastime and a reference for just about anything. Where should my head be if not in the game?”
Biting my cheek I want to say it, demand that it be on me but I don’t, not yet. I try getting on her level instead. “Even the majors take breaks between innings. They even sit on the bench from time to time if the coach thinks it’s needed for the betterment of the team.”
“Are you benching me, coach?”
Getting in her space and inhaling her, my own breathing starts to change. I fucking need her. The case isn’t going anywhere, but she’s slipping through my fingers and it has to stop. I need her head focused on my game, no one else’s. Lifting her onto the counter top she squeaks when her ass hits the granite. “Open your legs,” I order her. “Let me in, now.”
“Okay, coach,” she says, parting her legs for me. “I’m the home team so I get to bat first, you missed the coin flip,” she says, attacking my mouth. Growling deep in my throat, I wrap myself around her while she loosens my buckle. Reaching in, she closes her fist around me and instantly I begin pumping into her hand. “Batter up,” she says, going faster. “I hope you’re ready for my knuckle ball,” she says, jerking my cock off when all I could do was groan in response. When my hips start to piston, I go for her neck. “Uh oh, here comes the change up,” she warns me before sliding down the counter and kneeling before me. Looking up at me, she brings my jeans to my ankles then starts working me again. All I can do is lean over to rest my forearms on the counter top and watch her get me off. “You’re in the strike zone, coach,” she moans, licking me. “I think this calls for a squeeze play, what’s the sign for that? Oh right, I remember,” she says, squeezing my cock and when she seals her lips over it, I try thinking of the Tigers, Sparky Anderson, and Prince Fielder (pre trade), anything to not come yet.
I’ve never gotten hard over baseball, but when she talks about it, my dick is as hard as any bat I’ve ever swung. Slamming it in and out of her mouth, she takes me to the back of her throat and moans deep. Looking down, I see her working herself with her uncasted hand and know we are both close. Pulling her up and walking her backward toward the table, I lay her down on it. I don’t bother kicking my jeans off. This will take only a minute. I just need in there. I need to grand slam that ass. Christ, she’s got me doing it too.
Sitting up on her elbows she groans. “Get in the dugout, coach,” she says, pulling me with her legs and without a pregame warm up or any stretching, I slide home. My head falls forward of its own will. She starts thrashing under me and in a few pumps, I’m ready to come but, not until she does. “Right there, coach,” she moans. “That’s the sweet spot.”
Fucking faster, harder, and as deep as I can go, she tightens up, grabbing my shoulders to ride it out, screaming “Homerun!” Feeling it happen, I lean her back down and absolutely pound her. God damn, I missed her. Grunting it out and watching her eyes close in bliss while her huge tits bounce all over the god damn place, I want to tell her that she’s perfect, but I don’t, for fear she’ll run.
I also want to tell her I was so caught up that I forgot to pull out. But given the shaky foundation this relationship is standing on, I kept my mouth shut, although the thought of her pregnant didn’t scare me in the slightest. The thought of her pregnant gave me ideas. I do my best work when I have ideas. That’s when I decided I need bases loaded.
She was right. You really can use baseball as a reference for anything.
“We’re in deep shit bitches,” I whistled to the girls.
“My parents are going to kill me,” a distraught Venessa whispered and instantly we are all reminded that she’s the one with something on the line. She’s the only one with decent humans as parents and yes, her parents would, in fact, kill her.
“It’s cool,” I tell her, sitting beside her. “I know who can help.”
Taking me to the side of our cell, Jules leans in. “Who? Venessa can’t get in trouble.”
“I know,” I tell her, rolling my eyes for dramatic effect. “I got it, alright?”
Getting the bailiff’s attention, I whispered to him who I needed to see. He offered me a nod and comes back about a half hour later. He gets the girls a ride back to Macy’s and from there, Venessa can make curfew. Jules was pissed I’m staying behind, but she’ll get over it.
“He will use you, Lina,” she said.
“Of course he will,” I told her. “Now go and make sure she gets home.”
That’s how it started.
He started using me when I was sixteen years old and I let him.
After downing three cups of coffee and grabbing a quick shower, I explain what I’ve uncovered with Anthony. Feeling focused, I smile to myself thinking where most people zone out after a good fuck bout, I find clarity. Huh. Anthony is quiet as he takes in what I’ve shared. He doesn’t argue, he doesn’t debate. He accepts what I�
�ve said and is in agreement with me. Jules needed to get out of town like yesterday. Thing is, she isn’t going anywhere yet. She just needs to think she is. Now, he isn’t thrilled about it and I’m not either, but this is going to happen whether we liked it or not. I’m rather competitive so if there’s going to be a game, we would play by my rules.
Standing on their porch, I dial Jules knowing she’ll answer. “Hello?”
“Open your front door,” I tell her.
“What if I was naked? She asks like I’ve never seen the girls before and in case you’re wondering they are amazingly perky.
“We’ll close our eyes.”
“Fine.” Seconds later, the door opens to a flushed Jules. It’s safe to say the honeymoon started early.
“What bring you two by?” she asks while Max escorts us into the living room. Damn, he’s a large man. Anthony is tall, like six feet tall, but Max is like Lebron James tall.
“The usual,” Anthon says. “Tell me, will you two be taking a honeymoon?”
“Eventually,” Jules says with narrowing eyes. “We don’t have a specific date in mind yet.”
“How about now?” I offer. “Now works.”
“What’s the rush?” she asks, linking fingers with her husband.
“Oh nothing,” I say, looking around the room. “Just there’s word there’s a witch hunt for the person responsible for offing that cop. You were there, right? Ring a bell or two?”
“Shit,” Max says, hugging her close, no doubt remembering the events that led to this.
“My source tells me that when the, let’s call it gun fight, happened that a DEA agent was responsible so naturally the DPD doesn’t want to tangle with the government. But Jules isn’t an agent anymore.”
“Fucking hell,” Jules mutters, clearly unimpressed with the news.
“I hear the Dominican is nice this time of year,” I offer up sweetly.
“I’m not leaving,” she growls. “Fuck that. They want to take me on, fucking bring it.”
“I’m not so sure that’s the best course of action,” Anthony advises. “You killed a cop in broad daylight. Our law enforcement may have some issues, but that’s a slam dunk, even for them.”