Crazy Sexy Notion

by Sarah Darlington

  Touching my hand to his shoulder, I whispered his name. “Nick. Nick—wake up.” I thought his nightmares had stopped ages ago. I guess he still had them. And the idea of my little brother suffering in any way made my stomach churn.

  Nick’s movements stopped instantly and his eyes opened. “Shit, was I doing it again?”

  “Yeah.”

  He breathed out. Then he sat up and got out of the bed. Without a word, he moved for the bathroom. The door clicked as he disappeared inside.

  Raven’s voice cut through the darkness, startling me. “What was that about?” It was four in the morning and the sun wasn’t up yet.

  “Nothing.”

  “Seemed like more than nothing.”

  “It was nothing,” I repeated, my voice slightly more forceful this second time. “Drop it.”

  “Okay then, don’t tell me. Whatever. Do we need to get going?”

  “Yes.” Without so much as glancing at her, I left the warmth of the covers and started gathering my stuff. Nick was eighteen and about to start his senior year of high school. He was old enough to take care of himself. But I always worried about him. The big brother in me would forever worry about him. But I wasn’t about to start sharing any of those fears with Raven.

  I shoved everything I’d unpacked into my backpack in one quick motion. I moved quietly because Samantha still slept. Then grabbing the keys off the nightstand, I walked for the bathroom door and against the wood I said, “Five minutes, Nick. You know I can’t be late or I—”

  “Finished.” Nick opened the door in my face with a whoosh of air. With his beanie practically blinding his eyes, he walked around me. “I’ll be in the car.”

  As the motel door closed behind Nick, I waited for Raven’s inevitable comment. When no comment followed Nick’s departure, I felt compelled to say something. “I guess you're going to see soon enough that my family back home might be good people, but they’re certainly no picnic. Nick included.”

  “Your family?” she questioned. “As in your parents?”

  “Yes. What other family would I mean?”

  “No wife and kids?”

  “Oh. No.” I breathed out. She hadn't bothered to ask this question before now. “Had you been assuming this whole time I was married?”

  “I never assume. It just hadn't occurred to me before this moment that you might be married. So good for you, I guess, for not being some cheating bastard.”

  “I never said I wasn't a cheating bastard.”

  I wasn't sure why those words slipped out of my mouth, but they did. Suddenly now floating around in the atmosphere, unable to be retracted.

  “Actually,” I went on. “I don't think I've ever been faithful in any relationship. Cheating is kind of my thing.”

  What the fuck? She didn't need to know any of this. Why was I still talking?

  “That came out wrong,” I clarified. “It's not like I get off doing it. It just so happens that something better always comes along.” Yikes, I really needed to shut up right about now. “I never plan for it to happen. I just never stop it either. I have a skewed sense of loyalty.”

  “Spoken like a true asshole,” she muttered, tucking her long hair behind her ears. “But whatever, your love life is none of my business. You don’t have to explain anything to me. I was just wondering out loud if you were married or not. The additional details are unnecessary.” She stood up. “So I'm just going to pop in the bathroom real quick.” She gestured with both hands for the door. “And then we can be on our way.”

  I'd never scared off a woman faster in my life. Because Raven backed away for the bathroom like a frightened little kitten. Seriously, she couldn't get away from our conversation any faster. She clicked the door shut leaving me it the darkened room with her daughter sleeping, breathing softly, in the next bed over.

  I sat silently on my bed.

  What the hell—word vomit? I mulled over the last few moments, wondering why I'd said any of that to her. Even more confusing still was the way my heart now beat like a drum. My palms were sweaty and my throat itched. Hell, I hadn’t felt this sort of anxiety since the night I lost my virginity—a nervous teenager, fumbling in the back of a van at a Justin Bieber concert. Lame. I’d never made it to the actual concert. Instead my date, a nerdy girl from my Chemistry class, and I had skipped straight to the sex part. I'd been so awkward and nervous for the both of us that I pretty much ruined it.

  Actually, teenage me might have had more composure than I currently did. What did that say about me now? Or rather, what did that say about Raven's affect over me?

  But by the time we were all in the car and on our way toward Maine, with the weird motel room just a distant memory, I felt semi-normal again. Raven didn't bring up our strange conversation, thankfully, and I sure as hell wasn't about to repeat any of it.

  The rest of the drive was uneventful, and just as the sun had started to come up we crossed the state line into Maine. I was running so late for the team’s morning meeting, that rather than heading home first, Nick took me straight to the practice complex. I wouldn't be able to give Raven and Samantha their first tour of my home. I'd have to leave that up to Nick.

  “Be safe driving,” I told Nick as I exited the car. I didn't know what to say to Raven. It seemed like everything I said to her was always met with hostility. “I'll be back at the house for lunch,” I told her.

  “Okay. Whatever.” She looked unimpressed. “I don’t need supervision, so don’t feel like you have to leave work for me.”

  “I always come home for lunch so I’ll be home for lunch.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  I groaned, slamming the door shut. God, she knew how to annoy a man.

  Without looking back, I walked off toward the building. How was I going to survive living with this woman?

  In the middle of the night last night, as I’d stared across the open space between beds into Raven’s eyes, for a small moment I’d thought my idea to find her and bring her home hadn’t been completely insane. When she wasn’t speaking or arguing with me, she wasn’t so bad. In fact, she was beautiful. Very beautiful. Despite her terribly dyed hair, the grotesque tattoos that covered her right arm, the ridiculous amount of makeup she had painted on her face, and the painful fact that she was a prostitute—underneath it all, Raven was just about the most gorgeous woman I’d ever laid eyes on.

  That was when it occurred to me—and I stopped walking, standing in place in the middle of the open sidewalk—the real reason behind my ridiculous ‘cheating bastard’ confession that I’d dropped on her in one God-awful truth explosion earlier.

  It didn't matter that I hadn't seen her since I was ten. I'd spent every moment of my life prior to that day loving her, and I realized that I'd spent every moment since then loving a memory of her. But that was no good for either of us. I really was a cheating bastard. Everything I'd confessed in the dark to Raven this morning had been one-hundred percent accurate. I could not keep my cock in my pants for the life of me. That Justin Bieber concert—when I'd fumbled through my virginity the first time—to make up for it, I'd simply brought a different date the very next night to the very same concert pavilion. On the second try at my virginity, I'd been more confident, better prepared, and done it with someone a little prettier with a little more confidence than the first girl. It didn't matter that part of me had cared for the first girl. I found that sex was much easier when you cared less. And I'd been following this rule ever since.

  The goal with Raven wasn't to add her to my list of conquests. As much as other parts of my anatomy might have disagreed, I didn’t want to sleep with her. The goal was to help her get her life in order and escape Pecan. To right a wrong from my past. So, I realized, that was why I told her about my damn cheating habit—I'd done it as a way to protect her. From me. Even if she wasn't thinking about me in a romantic way whatsoever, and she probably wasn’t with the amount of animosity she’d shown me thus far, it was best
that she never did.

  I'd have to take more precautions to insure that stayed the case.

  CHAPTER 5:

  RAVEN

  Glass knobs. Mickey's house didn't have regular door handles, it had freaking glass knobs. Like these crystal, globe things. I couldn't make sense of the first one I saw, and I stood there for what felt like forever inspecting it. Until I realized Nick watched me as I stood bewitched by a stupid door handle. So I quickly darted my eyes away, trying my best to give the impression of boredom. But let's be honest, Mickey's house was fucking surreal. And its glass knobs were just the tip of the iceberg.

  “I think those are an original part of the house,” Nick commented, eyeing me. He'd been kind enough to carry mine and Samantha's bag inside. But now that we were inside, as if his Good Samaritan duty was over, he dropped our two bags to the floor rather suddenly. “Do you need a tour?”

  Samantha stood beside me, clinging to my arm, her gaze darting around the entrance hallway. I could tell she was interested and would have loved a tour. “I don't need anything.”

  “Okay good. Well, good luck with my brother. If I don't see you again then it was nice meeting you both and all.”

  My eyes automatically narrowed. The way he phrased that made it sound like he thought I'd be out of here in only a few short days. Like I wouldn't survive long enough to see him again ever. Hell, let's be realistic, that was probably how it would play out. I'd be left stranded and needing to buy two bus tickets all the way back to Pecan in only a couple days’ time. But because this random stranger had little faith in me, I suddenly wanted to prove him wrong.

  “You don't see Mickey often?” I asked.

  “I see him every day. I go watch him and the Sea Dogs as much as I can.”

  I didn't know what the hell a Sea Dog was. Mickey's shirt had said it on it too. Maybe it was a Boy Band. Mickey's classic good looks would have fit right in with a Boy Band. I giggled thinking about it, imaging Mister-Stick-Up-His-Butt-Mick singing and dancing on stage.

  Nick eyed me even more strangely.

  “Nice meeting you, Nick,” I told him, offering him my hand to shake. Best to end the conversation now. “Maybe we'll see each other again, maybe we won't. I'm not sure.”

  “Well there.” Nick shook my hand, and then he was quick to leave the house. I stood by the door, alone with only Samantha, wondering what the hell I should do now.

  Mickey's house was big, odd, and beautiful. An old Victorian style home that had been restored. My best guess was it dated back to the late 1800’s. The entryway we stood in had a bench built right into one of the walls, a legit chandelier dangled above my head, and every piece of wood in sight had intricate detailed carvings. Not to mention all the fucking glass knobs. There were archways leading left and right, but I didn’t know where to go or what to do with myself. It was super awkward being here alone without Mickey. Hell, it probably would have been just as awkward with him here.

  “Cool. Is this place a haunted mansion?” Samantha stared up at the chandelier with wide eyes.

  I swallowed. “It’s not a mansion.” It wasn’t that big, although certainly the biggest home either of us had ever been it. “And it’s not haunted.” I sure hoped it wasn’t haunted. A house like this—there was a damn good chance it might be haunted. I didn’t want to scare Samantha by saying so though.

  “Can I go explore?” Samantha tugged at my arm, curiosity taking full control over my daughter. Part of me wanted to explore too. The other part was scared shitless being in Mickey’s home.

  “Let’s find the kitchen first. I’m starving.”

  “Okay. Then can we go explore?”

  “Maybe.”

  The kitchen surprised me by being modern. Granite counter tops, stainless steel appliances, and real tile floors—nothing too strange. I kicked off my shoes then went to work making Samantha and I sandwiches from Mickey’s fully stocked fridge. It was barely even breakfast time, but since I’d rudely been woken up at four in the morning I could have eaten eight sandwiches. I made due with only one because I wasn’t sure if we were even allowed to be eating Mickey’s food.

  After both our stomachs were semi-sustained, I led Samantha to what I believed was the main living room. It was just off the entryway, so not too dangerously far into the home, and there was a TV in the living room so that would give us something to do.

  “Can I explore now?” Samantha begged. “Pretty please.”

  God, she just wouldn’t drop it. “No, honey, not until Mickey comes home for lunch and he shows us around the house. It would be rude to poke around before then.”

  “Fine.” She plopped down on the couch. “Can we at least watch the Disney Channel? I bet he has the Disney Channel.” Not many people we knew had cable and that included the Disney Channel.

  “Let's see.” I flipped through his hundreds of channels for her.

  And yes, as it happened, Mickey did have the Disney Channel. He had both the first and second one. Who knew there were even two?

  Once Samantha was occupied it didn’t take long before I had my eyes closed, drifting off to sleep, sprawled out on Mickey’s leather couch with Phineas and Ferb blaring in the background. This was just about the closest thing to a vacation I’d ever had. It was super nice getting to rest with no threat of work responsibilities. Besides my ‘side job,’ I worked two different waitress jobs. Neither of which I bothered calling to let know I wouldn't be around for a while, which probably meant I no longer had either job. But for the moment I didn't care whatsoever and let my body relax into the soft leather.

  All was interrupted when I felt a man's warm fingers touch my shoulder.

  My eyes flew open. I stared up into electric blue eyes—eyes that were entirely too similar to another man's eyes. In any other lighting, Mickey's eyes had only looked like Mickey’s eyes. But in the bright sun pouring in from the bay windows that lined the east side of his house, Mickey's eyes reminded me of the eyes of a man who had hurt me long ago. A chill ran over my whole body, as I remembered a forgotten moment, and it left a feeling I hated more than anything in this world churning inside me: vulnerability.

  I tumbled off the couch and popped up to my feet like a Pop Tart springing out of the toaster. “Don't touch me,” I warned him.

  “I barely poked you.”

  “Whatever. I didn't like it.”

  “Fine, no touching whatsoever. Says the girl who sells her body for money. What's a shoulder tap go for these days? A dollar?”

  My eyes bugged out of my head and my mouth dropped open in disbelief. “You did not just say that.” I glanced behind me to find out Samantha's reaction. Thank the lord and everything holy, she was asleep on the couch. I guess we’d both been super exhausted, and living in a trailer park she’d mastered the art of sleeping through any noise a long time ago.

  So, huffing, I left the living room and moved for the entryway. Because I did not want to wake Samantha and this conversation was far from over. Mickey got the hint and followed.

  Once we were a safe distance away, I gave him my sternest voice. “You have no right even bringing up any of that up.” I didn’t have on my heels, I’d kicked them off somewhere in his kitchen, and he was practically a foot taller than me. That bastard. “The way I live my life is none of your fucking business. You don’t know anything about me. So don’t make a joke of it or bring it up with my daughter two feet away. I’ll be gone so fast you’ll think I’m Usain Bolt.”

  “Who’s Usain Bolt?”

  “He’s an Olympic runner—” I started to say until a smug little smile touched his lips.

  “I know who he is.”

  That asshole. He was still messing with me and taking none of this conversation seriously. A big part of me want to slug him in the shoulder. But the last man I’d slugged had slugged me back ten times as hard. And even though I believed that Mickey probably wasn’t the type who liked to beat up on women, I didn’t feel like taking the chance and finding out.

&n
bsp; “Um…” came a woman’s voice out of nowhere. “Mick, I think maybe I should go.”

  I’d been so engrossed in my argument with Mickey, stuck trying to kill him by shooting laser beams out of my eyeballs through that thick skull of his, that I hadn’t noticed that there was another person in the same freaking room. A woman. Silky, dark hair. Perfect porcelain skin. Wide, frightened eyes. She sat quiet as a mouse, waiting with her purse clutched tight in her lap, on the built-in wooden bench, watching us.

  I guess he had company over.

  No part of me cared that he had this random other woman over. Actually, I did care. Not out of jealousy or anything like that. I cared because I was a mother, and was he really about to bring some ‘booty call’ over while my daughter was staying in his home? Maybe I slept with plenty of men myself, but I always had the decency to do it when Samantha was over at my mother’s.

  His behavior pissed me off. So that was it. I was done with Mickey Lawson or whatever the fuck his name was now.

  “You don’t have to go,” Mickey said to her.

  “I think maybe I should.” She stood up but didn’t make any attempt to leave. I could tell in her eyes that she didn’t really want to go. She wanted him to say something to stop her. I wanted to tell her to grow the fuck up. From the way she was dressed, she looked like she was way too good for a ‘cheating bastard’ type like Mickey here.

  “June, I’m sorry, I—” he started.

  She huffed. “It’s Jill.”

  “What?”

  “It’s Jill.”

  “Oh, right, Jill. Maybe you’re right, maybe you should go.”

  “Ugh!” She groaned loudly and stomped for the door. “I heard about your reputation, Mick, but I thought maybe you were different. I guess you’re no better than the rest.” Oh man, now she had tears in her eyes. “Don’t try to ask me out again.”

  Jesus, how Samantha was sleeping through all this was beyond me.

  “Goodbye, Mick. You missed out on something wonderful with me,” she said dramatically. Then she left his house, slamming the door in her wake.