Gesturing for me to take her place, my hesitation caused Matthew to flash a wolfish grin. “I won’t bite, Camille. That is unless you want me to.”
“You are a pain in my ass.”
“And what an amazing ass it is.”
“I don’t know whether I should be flattered or not.”
“You should. I’m a connoisseur of asses, and yours is A-plus material.”
I rolled my eyes to cover the amount of pleasure I had gotten from his compliment. I glided into the spot across from Matthew while simultaneously chastising myself for not turning around and leaving. He was like a freaking magnet I couldn’t resist getting pulled into.
“Is that your side job?” I joked.
“For a hot minute when I traveled to Argentina and was the judge for the 2014 Buxom Asses competition.”
“What a rough life you lead.”
Matthew’s smile fell away as he turned serious. “It seems like fun and games, but being a rock star isn’t all pluses.”
“What are the negatives?”
“The lack of privacy and how your creativity is tied and bound in a contract that stipulates what kind of songs you can produce.”
“But still, it’s pretty fucking awesome, right?”
The grin that made women lose their panties spread across his face. “Right.”
I hovered at the edge of getting lost in his steel-colored eyes, the restaurant noises dying to a faint hum in the background. A clatter of silverware falling to the floor broke the trance I had found myself in and dropped me back into the present.
Matthew should add hypnotist to his list of side jobs.
Clearing my throat, I gestured to the hardback novel, titled, The Sci-fi Tales. “Is it any good?”
He saw through my lame subject change to my shaken nerves underneath. It wasn’t hard due to the fact that my emotions were as blatant as a neon sign on the Vegas Strip.
Ignoring this, Matthew answered. “Yea, it’s not what I normally read, but I thought I would give it a try.”
“Can I see it?”
As I reached out to grab it, he tried to make a play for it too, but my hands clasped the spine before his did. Cracking open the novel, I understood why Matthew looked as if he wanted to crawl under the table. The hardback disguised what he was actually reading.
My canine tooth snagged my bottom lip as I held back my laughter. “Seriously?”
He shrugged. “You seemed as if you were enjoying it this morning, so I thought I would check it out.”
I stared at the cover of Passionate Affairs, a romance novel about a man who starts a relationship with his old college girlfriend behind his wife’s back and ends up killing himself. It wasn’t the happiest story, but the melodrama between the characters enraptured you from the first page. The laughter I’d tried to hold back broke though and I collapsed into a fit of giggles.
“Rock star, Matthew Lee, closeted romance reader,” I teased.
“Let’s keep that between you and me, huh? I don’t want my reputation ruined.” Reclaiming the paperback, he tucked it in his messenger bag with a faint smile on his lips and looked up at me. “But I have to say Caroline needs to get her fainting problem under control. She does it nearly every time Brady looks at her.”
My giggles erupted into a belly laugh. Matthew joined in until we were both in near hysterics.
Catching my breath, I wiped the corner of my eye. “Geez, it’s been a while since that has happened.”
“What?”
“My stomach hurting from laughing too hard.”
Mathew’s grey eyes grazed the planes of my face. “Me too.”
“You shouldn’t read romance novels then, especially Passionate Affairs. The ending is far from a comedy.”
“I skipped ahead. I’m aware.”
“You do that too?”
“Of course. I want to know if I have to prepare myself for an emotional gut punch.”
It seemed as if Matthew and I had more in common than I thought. “It’s the worst when you become invested in the lives of the characters and then, BAM! The author throws in a plot twist that makes you want to scream bloody murder.”
“Or an ending that served no purpose other than shock value.”
“YES! So annoying.”
Sharing a smile, my heart fluttered. When Matthew left his rock star persona at the door, I didn’t mind talking to him. In fact, I kind of enjoyed it to a little too much.
“It sounds like you’re an avid reader,” Matthew said.
“Since I was young. How ‘bout you?”
“Same. If it wasn’t for the great literary works of Jack Kerouac and Ginsberg, my lyrics wouldn’t be half as good.”
“I didn’t know you wrote your own lyrics.”
Matthew nodded as a passion for his craft flooded his expression. “Not many do, but the songs on our upcoming release were written by either me or Luke.”
“I have to admit, I wasn’t too familiar with Five Guys except in passing, but ‘Truth vs. Fantasy’ come on the radio last night and it’s super catchy.”
“It wasn’t intended to be that poppy. When I penned the words on a napkin, I imagined the sound matching the vibe of the seedy bar I was sitting in.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“The producer butchered it.” The bitterness in his tone evident. “I’m going to throw a goddamn celebration once our contract ends with the record label.” He sat there, stewing in his own anger with his arms crossed across his chest. “People are such mindless drones. They ignore their passion for a quick buck, or even worse, our yes men.”
“Not everybody has the luxury to do what they love.”
“When I was starting out as a musician, I worked at this crummy packaging facility to pay my bills while also attending college. Once night hit, I would bust my ass, playing shows around the city and networking with anybody who would talk to me.”
“It seems like it paid off,” I said.
Matthew nodded. “It did and I’m here because of that determination. A lot of people let their flame flicker out and settle for less, simply because they are afraid of more.”
His words of wisdom hit close to home. I liked psychology, but I loved writing. Despite the fact that a plethora of screenplays sitting on my desktop haven’t seen the light of day, the flame burned as intensely as ever and most of my nights were spent at the computer screen, lost in a fictional world. Maybe this year would be the year I actually let somebody read them. Maybe that person would be Matthew.
Consumed by our conversation, I had almost forgotten Koral was in the bathroom until she returned, looking like a three-dollar hooker with grey eye shadow swept across her lids, and her lips painted a deep red. Her silky camisole hugged her curves and showed off her double D’s that were pushed to her neck. The scent of her desperation clung to her skin.
“Would you mind if I sat next to you, Matthew?” she stroked her collarbone with a fuck-me smile.
Men didn’t want a woman handed to them on a silver platter. They wanted the chase so that the reward was that much sweeter. But as my gaze strayed to the other side of the table, my stomach dropped to my toes. Matthew’s eyes skimmed the slopes of her breasts then back up to her face and moved toward the window, taking the bait, hook, line, and sinker. Koral pressed up against him as if his right pant leg were covered with glue. Matthew draped his arm across her shoulders and bent his lips to her ear. This was why I stayed home in my sweatpants and watched trashy television.
Predictability was my friend.
Predictability didn’t make me want to shove a fork in my thigh.
Watching Matthew whisper sweet nothings in Koral’s ear did. Why rock stars were so tempting to women eluded me. They were like any other male out there except they had fame and fortune. Two factors that usually led to in divorce. Then again, it wasn’t like Koral wanted to marry Matthew. She wanted bragging rights, which I really hoped she kept to herself. The chances of that were slim to
none. Most likely by tomorrow morning I would receive a text message of the sordid details. Koral was the over-sharer type.
Glancing up from my musings, their heads were bent together, her body twisted toward him. Even though I couldn’t see her hand, I had no doubt where it lay. On Matthew’s thigh, inches from his crotch.
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered.
Feeling like an uninvited third wheel, my arms slid into my jacket sleeves and I grabbed my purse. If I wanted to watch a porno, I would go home and turn on Cinemax.
Koral glanced up at my departure. “You heading home?”
“Yea, I’m tired and I still have a lot of homework to get done.”
“Okay. Be safe.”
As my gaze flitted to Matthew, the curtains were drawn shut, obscuring his sentiments. Disappointment sucker-punched me in the gut. My subconscious chastised me for thinking the outcome would be any different. We were nothing to each other, but a foolish part of me had hoped he wouldn’t return to the man he projected when Koral returned. A man as shallow as a mud puddle. Guess I had been wrong.
“I will.”
My parting words were lost on her as she batted her eyelashes at Matthew. Sighing, I turned on my heels and exited the dimly lit restaurant. Swiping open the call screen, I tapped open my contacts. Beneath the number for Yellow Cab, Benjamin’s name was listed. The thought of going home to an empty apartment made me hesitant. Koral’s bed would be taken up by six-foot-two of hard muscle…why shouldn’t mine be as well? Because on the off chance Benjamin did take me up on the offer, in the harsh light of day, remorse would set in. Fucking my ex in some twisted revenge to get back at Matthew made little to no sense. I didn’t have a crush on him. Yes, there was an attraction, but based upon what happened in the restaurant, Matthew obviously would have sex with anything that breathed.
Throwing my cell in my purse, I decided to walk after all. Hopefully by the time I got home, Matthew would be a distant memory.
I had hit a new low.
Propped up on her elbows on my bed, Koral spread her legs and showed how little she wore in terms of underwear. My dick stayed dormant in my pants.
“What are you waiting for?” she breathed.
I was waiting for her to morph into the woman I actually wanted naked on my bed. That wouldn’t happen though. Not now -- not ever. I zeroed in on her silky panties and attempted to conjure up a surge of lust.
Koral was about to lift herself off the duvet when I held up my hand. “Don’t.”
“Oh, is that how you want to play it?”
She wiggled out of her skirt. Half naked in a bra and panties, she positioned her fingers over her clit. Slowly she began to rub while her eyes locked onto mine. Lust clouded her hazel eyes. Moaning, Koral threw her head backwards and gave me the show of a lifetime. I should have been turned on, but instead I felt like a dirty bastard.
Shit.
What the hell was wrong with me?
Koral’s moans grew louder -- they sounded forced. I gritted my teeth together into fine white powder. She writhed on the bed, panting and spouting lines straight from a porno.
“Oh yea, baby? You like that? Do you want me to cum? Yea, you do. You want me to cum for you, baby.”
Her whiny voice grated on my already fragile nerves. Shutting my eyes, I breathed deeply and counted to ten.
“I’m going to cum so hard for you, baby.”
That did it. My composure snapped like a live wire. “STOP!”
Her hands stilled and she scrambled to a sitting position. Confusion lined her face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I can’t do this.”
“Do you want to do something different? Kinkier? I’m open.”
Desperation seeped from her pores and mingled with the scent of arousal. I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight without washing my sheets first.
“No, it’s not that,” I sighed, unable to explain. “I’m simply not feeling it tonight. I’m sorry.”
She angrily swiped her clothes off the floor as she stood. “You could have told me you weren’t in the mood before I fucking masturbated in front of you.”
“You didn’t give me a chance.”
Raw hurt clouded her expression, making me feel like an asshole. It wasn’t Koral’s fault she didn’t have the magnetic personality or sweeping beauty that Camille did.
I took a step forward, but Koral shook her head. Tears of humiliation dripped down her cheeks. “Don’t you dare try to comfort me. I should have listened to Camille, but instead I went against my better judgment and ended up here.”
The only thing I heard throughout her whole monologue was the part about Camille. “What did she say?”
She brushed past me without answering my question. “Go swim in a alligator infested lake.”
The bedroom door shut followed by the front door, both with equal and substantial force. I’m surprised the wood didn’t splinter. Drawing my hands over my face, I exhaled. Having Koral end up in my apartment half-naked wasn’t part of my half-baked plan. I was simply using her as a human shield against Camille’s tempting presence. For once, I needed to do the right thing and that was to not activate the detonator.
Stripping the bed, I threw the sheets into the washing machine and hit the start button. I then padded into the bathroom to bathe myself in bleach. Scalding hot water streamed from the showerhead built into the ceiling and the one in front of me. My palms placed themselves flat against the tile wall as I bent my head forward. My eyes fluttered closed.
The sound of cruel laughter could be heard in the distance. It wasn’t real. It was a mere figment of my imagination, but in that moment, I swear it felt as if the hands of time had shoved me back into that dank alleyway. My body stiffened while I fought the images from resurfacing. They were too strong though and I was too weak. I felt my knees crack against the floor as the world faded to black.
My friend’s hands were clasped around the young woman’s neck, holding up her lifeless body. Trepidation laced itself into my veins as I bore witness to the senseless act of violence unfolding in front of me. Raising his palm, a slap echoed off the alleyway walls. The woman’s head jerked to the left and her eyes snapped open.
A merciless smile crossed his face. “You’re alive. For a minute, I thought I killed you.”
Her legs kicked wildly as she screamed bloody murder. I stepped into the shadows, away from my friend and his play toy for the night. My other buddies, drunk as skunks, were hooting and hollering, enjoying the show. Spurred on by their encouragement, my friend tightened his grip. The woman clawed at his fingers while she gurgled for air. Freeing his left hand, he ripped the strap on her dress and exposed her pink bra. If I didn’t put a stop to this, he would rape her in front of all of us.
, “Hey, man, she’s not worth it.”
Everybody stilled while my friend landed his empty gaze on me. “What are you, some kind of pussy?”
“I’m saying you could get someone prettier who doesn’t resemble a donkey fucking a cow. Have you actually looked at her? She’s hideous.”
My friend drank in the twisted venom that leaked from my lips. He glanced back at his victim with a fresh perspective. As my muscles were about to loosen, the woman connected her knee with his groin. My friend stumbled, whimpering. The woman didn’t take advantage of her newfound freedom fast enough. He pushed her back against the wall, this time with a knife held to her throat.
I attempted to erase the terror that lodged itself in my windpipe. “Seriously. You’re really going to waste your energy? That’s your prerogative, but if it were me, I wouldn’t go to jail for some ugly bitch that couldn’t keep her mouth shut.”
For a heart stopping second, my friend dug the knife deeper. A scarlet red prick bubbled on her milky white skin. The air felt as thick as a vat of maple syrup and equally as suffocating.
He raked his eyes over the girl’s torn dress. “You’re right, man. She is hideous.”
A murmur of agreement rose from t
he crowd. He slackened his hold and stepped away, loosening the iron clad grip around her throat. The woman silently skittered around him and then ran like a bat out of hell down the alleyway. But not without first pinning me to the wall with her arresting green eyes. Moonlight slanted across her face, already tinted with black and blue bruises. And I knew. The words I’d uttered tonight had cut deeper than the beating itself. She would carry around those scars for the rest of her life, influencing every decision she made from here forth. My hands curled at my sides as anger swelled and built into a tidal wave. My friend was still laughing as she disappeared from sight. I walked over and before he could open his disgusting mouth, my fist slammed into his nose and blood splattered across my t-shirt. He crumbled to the ground in pain, his fingers cradling his face. I landed a kick to his ribs, and another until the sound of bone cracking stopped my movements.
Bending my lips to his ear, he moaned in pain. “If you try that again, I will cut off your dick and make you eat it. You hear me? You are a sick motherfucker who doesn’t deserve to walk the plains of this earth. Count your lucky stars you got off easy tonight because you sure as hell don’t deserve to.”
Standing upright, I glanced around at my college buddies who were now stone-cold sober. Shame reddened their complexions. Like that nameless woman, I left a piece of myself in that alleyway. Forever lost.
The next week consisted of a dizzying amount of exams and coffee to prevent me from nodding off at my desk. My textbooks were spread across the tiny café table, along with my notebooks, laptop, and bright green highlighter. Three more years and I’d be done. The day I didn’t have to memorize another overwhelming list of brain functions and neurotransmitters would be greatly celebrated. Instead of studying, my fingers flew over the keyboard, typing a scene for my latest screenplay. My characters were at a pivotal moment where the girl in my story tries to win the affection of her boss, a rock star that treated her like the tour manager she was, and not the love of his life she knew him to be, due to his cold and unfeeling personality. My hands paused as I reread what I’d written.
Broken Lullabies Page 3