by Alla Kar
I’m shaking too badly to carry on a conversation. “Get out of my face! I don’t have to say anything to you if I don’t want to!”
Beau growls, gripping my hips and pressing me close to him. “Yes, you do.”
I slap him. Goddammit I don’t know why but I do. His blue eyes widen, his pupils dilate. I shove him backwards and start to walk into the dining area. “What do you want, Bella? Do you want me with someone else?”
I want to scream NO at him but I can’t. Because this isn’t right. I can’t be with him and he knows it. “Huh? Is this what you want?”
I turn around quickly, daring him to do anything stupid. Beau’s eyes travel the room and land on Bethany walking toward us. He storms forward, gripping the nape of her neck and kissing the hell out of her.
She drops her ticket book, her arms flying up and around his neck in response. My mouth dries, tears pool at the sides of my face and I try not to cry.
Pulling back, Bethany makes a loud gasping noise while he looks down at me with a crazed look in his eye. “Fuck you!” I scream. All my anger leaking from me and spilling out of my mouth. “I hate you! Get out of my fucking life!”
Beau releases Bethany and then his gaze snaps behind me. I already know who’s standing there and I’m pretty sure I know she’s pissed.
“All of you in my office, now,” Maddie says.
I swallow, turn and follow her into her office without looking at anyone.
I feel like a child walking to get my punishment. Her office door shuts with a soft click and then I hear both chairs beside me grind across the tile.
Maddie gives us a small smile and then slams her hands down on her desk, rattling the wood. “Who would like to tell me what the fuck is going on in the front of my bar?”
No one says a word.
She runs her hands over her red hair and sighs. When Bethany raises her hand she gestures for her to start.
She shrugs her shoulders and pulls at the end of her blonde ponytail. “I was just walking by and he kissed me.”
Maddie gives Beau a what the fuck look. “Okay, you can go Bethany.”
She scurries from the room as quickly as she can.
“Now,” Maddie says. “Would either of you like to tell me what’s going on then?”
Beau spreads his legs wide and growls. “You remember when that plane crashed back in May?”
“Yeah, why?” She looks over at me.
“We were both on the plane together. We’re kind of on bad terms. Things happened—,” he trials off, kicking his foot against her desk in a fast pace.
“Okay,” she says, standing up and coming around to the front of the desk. “I like you Bella. You’re a good worker and I don’t want to lose you. Beau—I’ve known you for a long time and it’s your first day. I don’t want to fire either one of you. You both need the work. Can you please just apologize and ignore each other like normal adults, please?”
I sit up and nod. “Of course we can.”
Beau laughs beneath his breath. “Yeah, thanks, Maddie. That’s exactly why we’re in this mess, because she is ignoring me.” He turns to me. “I just want you to fucking talk to me. Bella—,”
“Nope,” Maddie stops him. “Not here. Now say you’re sorry and go back to work. I don’t have time for this shit tonight. We’re swamped.”
Beau is still staring a hole into the side of my head. I don’t want to apologize to him. Call it feminist pride or whatever you want. “Bella,” Beau whispers, his voice gravely and demanding.
Turning to face him, I keep my eyes on my ugly black sensible waitress shoes. “Bella.”
I finally look up and I wish I hadn’t. A threatening grip grabs me in a viselike hold. Those seductive eyes are watering, his scruffy jaw is clenched tight, showing me his strong jaw. And I feel undone on the inside.
“I’m sorry,” he says, but we both know that the apology is more than this stupid fight. It’s more to do with—everything our torment is centered around. Each other.
I nod. “I’m sorry too,” I whisper, hoping he doesn’t hear the cry in it. Maddie claps her hands and stands up. “See, now was that so hard? No get back to work before I come to my senses and fire your crazy asses. Go. Get!”
I get up quickly and hightail it out of the room. The bar is in full swing and I have four tables waiting on me. Gin gives me you better start talking look when I round the corner but I wave her off.
Just thinking about retelling the story to anyone makes my stomach ache. I watch from the waitress station as Beau grabs a beer from the back and settles into one of the booths.
Before long, he’s up and dancing with some girl, completely disregarding what Maddie told him. Anger swirls inside of me, but I push it back down. Why do I care that he’s basically fucking another girl on the dance floor? He isn’t my boyfriend. Or even my friend. It isn’t my fault if he gets fired. He’s just my dead boyfriend’s best-friend. And that’s all he’ll ever be.
***
After taking a forty minute shower, I finally get into bed and snuggle underneath my covers. Homes makes himself comfortable in the crook of my knee. My mind is reeling.
Beau went home with the chick he was dancing with when his shift ended. Not like he was actually doing his job. I’m surprised Maddie didn’t come kick his ass. If she hadn’t been busy in the office he would be fired.
And of course I wanted to tell on him but then I didn’t want him to know it was me.
The ache in my lower back is starting to fade away from work, the sleeping pill I took should knock out the pain but not the nightmares. I’ve had them since we’ve been back. Sometimes every night. I let my eyes wander around my room, as I do every night, and I settle on Jordan’s hat sitting on the doorknob of my closet door. I don’t wear it; I just look at it from a distance.
I watch the clock on my microwave blink from the kitchen counter. It’s the only thing I can focus on in this direction that helps me drift to sleep.
And before I know it I’m out.
***
The soft sunlight slowly lights up his body as the sun rises through my apartment window. His thick chocolate hair is a beautiful mess on top of his head. The lack of shirt gives my stomach a light tingle.
“You’re watching me sleep again, aren’t you?” his voice is gritty in the morning. It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
I pull the covers off of me, and worm my way onto his waist, until I’m straddling him. One eye opens, and then the other. Two intoxicating orbs of blue examine me. “What do you think about when you watch me, Dove?” he whispers, trailing his large hands over my thighs, down to the bend in my knee and back upward.
I smile and lift an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I ask, pulling my leg over him so I can crawl from the bed.
He grabs my leg, and I’m pinned below him on the floor, the sheets tangled around our legs. “You think about me kissing you?” he whispers, trailing his lips against the edge of my jaw, and then to the hollow of my neck. “Or do you prefer me to bite you?” He nips at my collarbone, and then the collar of my shirt.
Wiggling myself against him, he groans, pushing his hips back toward me. “I prefer this,” I wiggle again, feeling his morning wood against my dampening panties.
“Then you’re in luck,” he says against my lips, nipping at my bottom lip. “Because I’ve got exactly what you want.” Slowly he sits on his knees and reaches back to grab something.
I close my eyes and enjoy the feeling of being underneath his warm body, stretching my legs and arching my back.
“Come here, baby,” I hear his voice and lean toward him. My eyes flutter open and I choke on my intake of breath. Because Beau isn’t here. It’s Jordan.
A scream rips from my throat.
Chapter Thirteen
Beau
The girl from last night is gone when I wake up. Her side of the bed is made¸ the covers tucked in and a little note is sitting on the pillow.
&nb
sp; Great Sex. But my name’s not Bella.
Christ. I grab the note and toss it onto the floor before rolling over. My head is pounding from the liquor I soaked up last night. I lost count after the fourth Budweiser.
Dragging myself upward, I rub my palm against my forehead, begging for relief. I doubt my day can get much worse than yesterday so that makes me feel a little better.
You would have thought Bella had seen a fucking ogre instead of me. She looked like she was going to piss herself. I grab my clothes and jump into the shower. I can’t risk being late today in case someone decides they want to talk about last night.
Getting drunk and not doing my job wasn’t what I originally planned to do. But everything that happened made me so angry that I needed—just a little—something to drink. And of course I got carried away.
After my shower, I get ready and race toward the door. I stop at the small table in my living room and dig through my drawer for my keys. I feel around until my fingers sweep over something smooth.
I pull it out, sliding my fingers over the screen, realizing it’s an IPod. And not mine. Then it slams down on me. This is Emily’s IPod that Bella had when we crashed. I press my thumb over the button but it doesn’t come on.
I shove it into my jeans pocket and hurry out of the door.
***
After classes, I head back to my apartment for my dinner with Jordan’s parents. Mrs. Finch emailed me a few weeks ago asking if I would come by for dinner.
Like I could say no.
I tuck in my shirt and then pull it out. I’m not going for an interview, I’m going to see Jordan’s parents. The home that was my second home growing up. I settle in front of my laptop when I hear my Skype ringing.
When I see Taborie’s head pop up on the screen I smile.
“Well, isn’t it Beau Richards. How are you man?”
“It’s good to hear from you. How is it in Brooklyn? Keeping that wife satisfied up there? Or do I need to come show you how it’s done?”
He rolls his eyes, reaches up with his good arm and pulls his wife—Vickie—onto his lap. She giggles and waves at me. “Hey, Beau. You’re good, yea?”
I smile. She’s Canadian, caramel skin and a beautiful smile. I see why Taborie fell for her. “I’m—good,” I lie. “I heard from Kat. She’s officially out of foster care and living with her aunt and uncle now.”
Taborie kisses Vickie’s cheek when she gets up and leaves the room. “I heard. She sent me a letter and said Bella isn’t returning her mail.”
I swallow the hard lump and scratch the corner of my computer. “Yeah, well—,”
“You still haven’t talked to her,” he says, sighing. “Don’t tell me you’ve given up, bro. Don’t break my heart like that.”
I rub my head. “I got hired the other day at a local bar and she works there. We had—words. Loud words.”
Taborie smiles. “Baby steps, Beau.”
“I don’t think she wants to have anything to do with me. I haven’t seen her in six months and she is still dead-set on ignoring my ass. You should have seen her at the party. I thought she was going to shit bricks.”
He settles back into his chair and smiles. “Ah, a party? Now we’re getting to the real reason for the fight.”
I snort. “I wish. She was being molested by some guy and I went off.”
He lifts both brows. “You hit him?”
“Hell yeah.”
He laughs, slapping his hand against his knee. “You kill me. Are you going to get some help for your anger problems? You seem to be having a lot of fights lately.”
“I would get them fixed if I had any.”
He rolls his eyes. “Anyway, we both know you have anger problems. Talk to someone about it.”
“I am. I’m talking to you.”
Taborie smiles. “That you are.”
“It was good talking with you, man. But I’m heading out. Same time next week?” I ask.
“Sure thing.” He reaches up to shut his laptop but stops. “Beau—at least try to talk to her, okay?”
I swallow. “Okay.”
***
Driving down Jordan’s street feels strangely calming. This is the street I grew up on, my childhood home is only a few houses down. Not that my parents live there anymore, they split after I graduated and moved to opposite sides of the state.
Jordan’s house is a middle class two-story home that I remember well. The blue shutter on the upper right window is still hanging slightly loose, because Mr. Finch isn’t what I’d call a handyman.
I’ll have to fix it for them.
The front porch light is on when I pull into their driveway. I park, stare at the front door and close my eyes. I can do this.
Stepping out, the urge to break down like a fucking baby progresses through me, but I fight it off. The familiarity of this house is like a low hanging black cloud hovering over my every step toward the front porch.
When I finally get the balls to knock, I step back and watch as the shadow comes closer toward the door through the front window. It cracks open, the flowery smell of their house is the same, sending bile up my throat.
“Beau?” Mrs. Finch says, opening the door and waving me in. “Get your butt in here, son. I’m so excited you came.”
I smile, and take her into my arms. She sniffles but pulls back with a smile. “Come on in here. David is in the dining room setting up.” I follow her through the narrow hallway and into the dining room.
He’s hunkered over the table trying his best to set the table. Mrs. Finch rolls her eyes and gestures for him to leave the room. “Go talk. You’re doing this completely wrong.”
He huffs, and winks at me. “Good thing you know how to do it, honey.”
She ignores him.
He pats my back. “How are you son? You look good.” He gestures toward me.
“You too,” I say gesturing toward his belly.
“Watch it, I’m serving you food tonight.”
I hold my hands up in surrender. “How about I fix that shutter up there for you in thanks for dinner? It’s been like that for years.”
Mrs. Finch leans over the table to laugh. “David is afraid of heights. I’ve been begging him to do it for years. Couldn’t get Jordan up there either. My boys are some wussies.”
My boys. I see the pain pulling at the sides of her eyes as she says this but I quickly laugh to brush it off. “Well, let me show you how a real man works, Mr. Finch.”
“Oh, here we go. Thanks a lot, Kristi.” He winks and gestures for me to follow him up the stairs. I watch the floor closely as we walk down the upstairs hallway toward the closet full of David’s stuff at the end.
“I know I have a hammer and nails in here somewhere--,” he trails off, shuffling through his things.
A makeshift lifesaver falls from the corner, and he picks it up and places it on the top shelf.
I remember making that with Jordan when we were eleven. We thought we were the shit. Mr. Finch brings out his tools and gestures toward the room to the left. It was our lounge room where we would play when we were young and hangout when we got older. It’s also where we’d sneak girls in.
He flips on the light and sets the tools down beside the window. “Do you think you can handle it?”
“No offense Mr. Finch, but this isn’t my first time climbing out of this window.”
He raises a brow and tries to hide his smile. “Well, by all means then—,” he gestures toward the window.
I slide open the window and step out onto the roof. The wind rushes through my hair as I take a knee and begin examining the broken shutter. With a nail in my mouth, I position the shutter and place the nail in its spot and start hammering.
Mr. Finch watches carefully from inside of the house. Car lights brighten up his face causing him to lean closer to look down at the driveway.
“Good. Bella’s here.”
Thump. The hammer hits my thumb. “Fuck!” I scream, grabbing my thumb and squeezi
ng it. “Goddammit,” I mumble.
“Jesus, Beau. Are you okay?” Mr. Finch asks.
I nod and press my head against the now fixed shutter. “I’m fine. Did you say Bella is here? I thought it was just going to be us?”
He must see the fear in my eyes and gestures for me to come inside. I turn to get a look at the driveway but only see Bella as she walks up to the front door.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Why wouldn’t they tell me she was coming? “Let me take a look,” he says examining my finger. “Looks like it’s going to be bruised but no blood.”
“Did you say Bella was coming?” I ask again.
Nodding, he watches for my reaction. “I thought Kristi told you she was coming? Is everything okay? You look pale.” He places his palm on my shoulder.
I nod. “Yeah, sure. Sure. I mean—of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Okay. Well, we probably need to head downstairs. Dinner is almost ready.”
I let him walk out first before I follow slowly behind him. I can hear them talking in the dining room and my palms begin to sweat. Plates clack against each other and Bella giggles. Does she not realize I’m here? Or is she hiding it?
When I walk around the corner I get my answer. Bella’s eyes widen and her grip on the plate she’s holding slips sending the plate shattering to the floor.
“Oh my gosh!” she yells, scurrying to try and clean it up. “I’m so sorry Mrs. Finch.”
“It’s fine, Bella. We’ve all done it.” Bella bends over and starts picking up shards of the plate off the ground.
She dips her head in an attempt to block her view of me. Her dress bunches around her thighs, showing her long tanned legs. Bright pink is covering her chest and neck when she stands up to dump the pieces.
Mr. Finch clears his throat and I jump out of my skin. “It’s so nice to see you Bella.”
She walks into his hug but doesn’t look at me standing next to them like an idiot. When she pulls back I can feel Mr. Finch staring at us so I reach out and bring her into a warm hug. It’s selfish to use this to touch her but I just want to once. Just to feel her soft skin on mine. “Hey Bella,” I whisper just loud enough for her to hear.