The Rebellion

by S. L. Scott

“The other night. It was great. I wanted you to know how much it meant to me that you came over.”

  “It’s sex, Derrick. You get it all the time,” she says, walking back to the living room.

  “It wasn’t just sex for me. It was more. I think it was for you too, but you’re just stubborn enough to not give in when you see a good thing.”

  Sitting down on the opposite end of the couch that I do, she scoffs. “You think I want to deny myself pleasure? Why would I do that?”

  “I haven’t figured that out yet, but I can tell how determined you are to deny yourself having me.”

  “Oh God.” She stands. “There it is. Rebel and his infamous ego return. I’m so glad you felt the need to stop by and share this, but if you’ll excuse me, I have an early start tomorrow.”

  I stand too. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “What did you mean then?”

  “You keep acting like there’s nothing between us. There is. I know I can’t be the only one to feel it.”

  Her sighs feel put on, like a show just for me, not something she truly feels when she looks into my eyes. It’s an act to resist what I can tell deep down she doesn’t want to. “If you’re feeling it, how long did you wait once you were gone last time to be with someone else?”

  “Don’t ask me that.”

  “That bad, huh?” Her laugh is sardonic, and then she rolls her eyes, causing my blood to start to boil.

  Fuck that. I’m not letting her sidetrack this conversation. “What you’re doing is a distraction of what’s happening between us and you know it.”

  “I’m just a distraction, a temporary one at that.” There’s that sigh again.

  “You’re not a distraction, you’re the main attraction. C’mon, baby, say it.”

  I move to her end of the couch and sit down. Taking her by the hips I coax her to sit on my lap. When she does, it feels like a win. When she wraps her arm around my neck, it feels like a victory of epic proportions. But when she relaxes into me and says, “I feel it,” I feel like a fucking rock star.

  19

  Jaymes

  “What are you doing to me?” I ask as if Derrick will actually answer with complete honesty.

  “I decided since I can’t get you to fall madly in love with me, I’ll go for wearing you down.”

  That’s pretty darn honest. Laughing, I lean my head against his. “It’s working.”

  His smile grows. He may not be looking right at me, but I can see the lift in his cheeks. “Which is working?”

  While damning my heart to hell for being so honest with him, I whisper, “Both.”

  Strong, caring arms tighten around me and I close my eyes. The smell of his hair is clean, soapy, but his neck has a subtle hint of sweat. I'm reminded how he used to smell and how protected I felt being with him. My body finds peace while inhaling the masculinity of everything about him again. He was always so alpha without knowing how much it turned me on.

  He’s grown patience over the years, something that’s come with age, I suppose. Like me, there are things that have changed and some that remain. For better, and I’m sure in some ways, for worse. I’m not in a position to judge. I just know that I like the way he smells. “Why did you really come over?”

  Sliding me to the side, my ass hits the couch cushion, but my upper body is left balancing in his arms. Madly in love—him or me or both? I’m starting to feel it strongly. He says, “I want you to come see me on tour. I’ve left two tickets at the Virgin Airlines counter. Open ended. For any city. First class. One in your name and one in Ace’s.”

  The surprises never seem to cease with him, my lack of any response other than shock is my initial reaction. He lifts my jaw and kisses my lips lightly. “It will be fun. You can stay as long as you want or a night or two. Whatever works best for your life. A month is too damn long to go without seeing you.”

  “We just went years.”

  “Exactly. I’m not losing any more time with you.”

  There’s nothing to argue. There’s just this amazing man holding me like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever held in his hands.

  I kiss him.

  I kiss him.

  I kiss him.

  And for the next few minutes, I forget about my daily struggles and making ends meet. I forget about all the bad and just feel the good. Running my hand down his cheek, I caress it, and lean my forehead against his. “It feels so good to be with you again.”

  “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed this, and your lips. Come see me on tour.”

  “I don’t kn—”

  Leaning back, and looking me in the eyes, he says, “I know you will have a million good reasons to say no or to not come. I respect every last one of them. Just please, when I leave here, I want you to remember this—us—and how we’re a good reason too.” He kisses me, then adds, “The other night wasn’t a one-off kind of night. We’re just getting started, baby. We were always meant to have this second chance. You don’t have to answer tonight. You can look at your schedule and see if there’s a free weekend or whenever, but consider us when deciding. If you decide against the trip or us, I won’t come back and pressure you. I’ll want to, but I won’t.”

  “That’s disappointing.”

  That brings a smile, even if it lacks true happiness, back to his handsome face. “Tell me about it.” The pile of blankets and pillow on the chair catches his eyes. “Are you sleeping out here on the couch?”

  “Yes. I sold our stuff and threw most of the rest away. We really didn’t have much worth keeping and I knew we’d only have my old bedroom to store it in. Ace sleeps in there.”

  “Why did you move home?”

  “To save money. You’ve come back into my life in the middle of so much upheaval. I’m sure it’s hard for you to understand.”

  “No, what I don’t understand is why you won’t let me help you.”

  “Because that would only be a temporary fix. I can’t just be given a house and then expected to take it at face value. There’s always more to it.”

  “What if there’s not?”

  “Derrick, don’t kid yourself. How can I say no to a date if you buy me a house? Or what if we do date and you bought me a house and then we break up. It leaves me helpless and in the same situation I’m already in. I have to do this on my own.”

  The palms of his hands scrub his eyes as he sighs. When he looks back at me, he doesn’t rush his words. They come with that patience and empathy he’s developed. “Maybe we’re not the same people anymore, though I hate that you think I would ever ask for something I gave you as a gift back.”

  “It’s not that I think you would. It just complicates things.”

  “I don’t want to be another burden in your life, Jaymes. I care about you. I want to make things better. If I’m not, then just tell me and I’ll go.”

  “You don’t listen very well.” I tap his nose once. “When I’m with you, I want to be with you. That’s easy for me to see and feel. You feel good. I see the possibility of an us again. But when we’re apart, I see my reality. I’m not sure I want to drag you back down into it again.” Back here to this world.

  “We’ll take it slow.”

  “How about we start now?” I grab the remote and flick on a home improvements show. “Want to watch some TV with me?”

  “Absolutely.”

  My smile goes wide and goofy and my bones almost feel soft like my heart for this man. We rearrange so I’m snuggled against him. His arm comes around my shoulders and the smile I don’t bother hiding anymore brings one to his face. “Please tell me it’s me and not the DIY show that’s making you smile like a loon.”

  Rubbing his leg, I reply, “It’s you. All you.”

  “Good. I like that.”

  “I like this. Thank you.”

  He kisses the top of my head and we watch the show and another after this one.

  * * *

  Sniffling, I wipe my tears from my cheeks. His arm is around me,
but I find no comfort. Something is off. Reggie is tense, his tone fake. I take a deep breath and decide I’d rather be alone. “I’m sorry I called you. I thought—”

  “It’s okay, Jamie. I’m glad you did. He’s been my best friend since I was ten. I can’t believe he left like this. Your mom home?”

  “No, she’s still at work.” His hand is on my leg and I cover it like I’m killing a bug. My brows knit in confusion. “What are you doing?”

  “He’s gone. Rebel left you.”

  My heart screams for relief from the sting of his words, but I know I won’t get any because he’s right. Derrick left me. I might have told him to go, but he still left.

  “Guess you didn’t mean as much to him as you thought.”

  “You’re cruel.” His hand is still on my leg, so I try to scoot down the couch away from him, but his arm around me tightens, his fingers digging into my upper arm. His other holds my wrist. “I think you should go.”

  “Did you know that Rebel stole from me?”

  Reggie’s pupils are wide with evil darkness centering in them. My heart starts pounding in my chest, my breathing becoming uneven as panic sets in. He knows we’re alone. He knows my mom won’t be home anytime soon. Oh fuck. In one swift move I pull away and say, “You should go now, I remembered my mom will be home early—”

  I don’t get the chance to finish my sentence. A hand is slapped over my mouth and I’m shoved back into the couch, my head hitting the threadbare arm. I’m dazed for a moment, spots clouding my vision. His rough hands are under my skirt when I come to. Scrambling to push him off, I yell, “Get off me, Reggie. What are you doing?”

  But my questions, my plea fall on deaf ears. His focus is on one thing. “He owes me. Rebel owes me.”

  I land on my feet and run to the other side of the room. “Go! I mean it. I don’t know what has gotten into you, but you need to go. Now.”

  “What has gotten into me?” The grin he tries for turns into a snarl as he stands. The only thing dividing us is a coffee table. “Your fucking boyfriend stole from me. Didn’t you know? That’s why he skipped town. Fucking loser. He used to be great. He was in line to lead this fucking gang, until he met you. You made him weak.”

  “I’m not going to ask you again. Leave, Reggie.”

  “I thought we were friends, Jamie. I thought you cared about me.” His tone is mocking. “Isn’t that what friends do? Take care of one another? Let me take care of you. You can be my main bitch.”

  My head is shaking, my thoughts running around the kitchen trying to remember if I put the knife in the sink after I used it earlier or if it’s still on the counter. Shit. “No. Derrick’s not gone for good. You know he’ll be back. Then what will he do to you if you touch me again? He’ll kill you.”

  His laughter rings out, echoing through the pit in my stomach. That’s when I know. There is no out. He’s not going to leave. He’s come here to collect. I run for my bedroom. I can be out the window in seconds, a skill I mastered when I would meet Derrick late at night. The door, I make it to the door before I’m tackled to the hard floor, his weight crushing my soul as much as my body.

  My tears come, but I fight.

  I hit.

  I kick.

  I try to escape. There is none.

  I’m hit.

  I’m kicked.

  My arms are held to the side, pain shooting through my veins. My underwear is ripped. My cries don’t matter. Reggie is muttering how I am his payment for Rebel fucking him over.

  Collateral damage.

  “Jaymes, wake up.”

  My body shakes, my stomach turning. I scream, but no sound comes out. My heart lands in my throat when I’m grabbed. Like a bolt, I’m out of Reggie’s arms and land on the floor. My eyes flying open. I scatter across heading for the kitchen. Knife. I must get the knife. I won’t make the same mistake twice.

  “Jaymes!”

  I stop, knowing that voice. It’s the voice of the one I love and trust. It’s security wrapped in a velvet tone. Derrick. Looking back over my shoulder, he’s standing, a look of horror on his face, matching the humiliation inside me thicker than blood. I turn back and look down at the floor and my whitened knuckles as I piece together the full picture. Crawling. I am crawling. I sit up and try to steady my thundering heart. My back is too him. I can’t bear to see that look on his face again.

  “Are you okay?” he asks. I hear the caution in his question. I’ve revealed myself in ways I never wanted, especially not to him. He tries again, “Please tell me you’re all right.”

  Staring into the kitchen, I suddenly remember the knife was on the counter that night. I should have gone for the knife, not my bedroom. It’s a choice that changed everything, that changed me forever. “I’m not all right.”

  I’m not scared. Not with Derrick. Mortified that I let it happen, but not scared of him now. Footfalls trail up to my back and he sits down in front of me, his back against the doorway to the kitchen. Despite my revelation, the expression of horror is gone, wiped clean and replaced not by sympathy, but empathy.

  My mom’s door opens and she looks out. “Jamie, are you okay? I heard you yell.”

  I put on the brave face I wear so often I have it down to a science and reply, “I’m okay. Derrick’s here.”

  “Oh. Hi, Derrick. Well, if you need anything, honey, just call.”

  “I don’t. Go to sleep. I’m fine. You have an early morning.”

  “Okay. Good night.”

  “Night,” Derrick replies.

  We wait, listening for the door to close. When it does, he says, “That was one hell of a nightmare you had there. Want to talk about it?” Being completely honest with myself, my answer is no. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to dredge up that pain again. But now I know Derrick wants more from me, possibly a future, I don’t think it’s right to hold back. I hope he will still want me when I’m done.

  “I guess it’s time.”

  20

  Derrick

  There are always two options.

  Two roads.

  Two paths.

  Right and wrong.

  Left and right.

  Yin and yang.

  Good and evil.

  Choices.

  Decisions.

  Outcomes.

  So much goes into deciding where this life leads. Some fate. Some destiny. Some great. Some bad. But we have to learn from those bad decisions, learn from our mistakes and hope we don’t make them again.

  Devastation should never exist in Jaymes Grenier’s world, but it does. I control my expressions—my eyes, my mouth, my breathing, my whole body—except for my hands. As I stare into her mossy-green eyes, watch her tears fall to the floor, I can’t control my hands. Tightening. Loosening. Fisting to the point of my bones aching.

  “Blink, Derrick.”

  I blink.

  She says, “Breathe.”

  I fill my lungs and then blow slowly out.

  “Say something. Please. You’re scaring me.”

  I blink and breathe, then ask, “I’m scaring you?”

  Sucking in a jagged breath, she whips it out in a flurry of words. “I didn’t mean it like that. You don’t scare me. Not like that. I meant I was worried. By your silence. By your hands. I can see you’re upset.”

  “Upset? Yes, Jaymes. I’m upset because you’re upset.”

  Inching closer to me, she says, “If I tell you this, I need you to make me a promise.”

  “I can’t do that and you’re going to tell me anyway.”

  She stands, and I get up off the floor. Hugging me, she tilts her head down against my chest. When I bring my arms around her, she whispers, “You need to keep your voice down. Ace is sleeping and I don’t want to worry my mom.” She looks up, resting her chin on me. “Can you do that for me?”

  For you? Anything for you. “Okay.”

  She leads me back to the couch and we sit down. I don’t know if I’m blinking or breathing or what
I’m doing. I know I’m imagining the worst. Her tears have dried and I failed to be the one to dry them. I failed. I failed her.

  “I got away. I thought I could make it to my bedroom.” She stops to reflect or to remember. “I made the wrong choice. I should have gone for the knife in the kitchen, but he was high, so I thought maybe he would be slow.”

  The beat of my heart rumbles through my ears.

  What the fuck?

  What the fuck?

  What the fuck?

  She continues, her eyes focused on me, her voice not trembling or upset, but matter-of-fact. No emotion, just retelling the facts of the night. I touch her arm, which seems to shake her into the present. “Hey,” I say, “you only have to tell me if you want to. If you can’t, I’ll understand.”

  “I’ve carried this a long time. Too long. I’m tired. I’m tired of the power it has over me. I’m tired of the power he has over me.”

  “Jaymes, you need to tell me what happened.”

  “He was fast. He caught me before I could get the door closed. Tackled me to the floor and pinned me.” She peeks over at me with shame filling her eyes. “I fought, Derrick. I promise you. I fought.”

  What the fuck is happening? What the fuck happened to my girl? A sickening fills me, bile rising until the taste of metal replaces it. “Are you telling me he raped you?”

  I. Will. Fucking. Kill. Him.

  “Keep your voice low. Please calm—”

  “I never promised to stay calm,” I whisper-fucking-yell. I’m on my feet and pacing, but I want to punch the fucking wall or better yet, Reggie.

  “Please don’t wake Ace. He has nightmares sometimes. Tonight he’s sleeping. He needs it.”

  In my anger, I find clarity.

  Ace.

  My eyes flash to hers. The air stalls around us, the truth suffocating. When she looks down, I know. “Don’t say it, Derrick.” It’s not a threat, but it’s a warning.

  We’re in uncharted territory. I don’t say a word. I can’t for fear my voice will crack under the heartbreak.

  She was violated, violated by someone she should have never trusted. Violated because I left. Fuck.