Thrive

by Rebecca Sherwin

  “It’s spread, baby. Lung cancer is dangerous because there are so few symptoms in the early stages.” He shuddered, but I continued. He had to know the facts. “The cancer has spread to his lymph nodes and liver. He’s been for tests, he’s asked for second and third opinions – for you.”

  “For me?”

  “He doesn’t want to leave you.”

  “But-”

  “He’s tired, Curtis. You have to let him know it’s okay to sleep now. That you’ve got this. That he’s taught you to be strong without him.”

  “I can't, Skye.” His voice broke and when he dropped his hands, I saw the tears. “I’m not strong enough.”

  “Yes, you are. You’re Cut Throat Curtis because of Geoff.” I raised my hands to rub the tops of his arms. “He’s agreed to something, but only with your permission. He’ll hold on until you’re ready to let him go.”

  I caught a tear from his cheek as it fell. “I’m not ready.”

  “He’ll suffer until you are.”

  Curtis dropped his gaze and swiped at his face as he stepped away from the car – away from me.

  “What has he agreed to?”

  “He’s going to move into my house. He’ll have a garden he can watch the sunrise in. There’s a lake nearby and it’s a small town. A couple of shops, a post office and a market in the town square on Sundays. We can get him out of the city, make him comfortable and let him rest somewhere quiet. There are spare rooms so we can go and stay with him and begin our happy ever after with Geoff.” I stopped him and held his face in my hands, making him look at me and listen. “He’s agreed to let you find and pay for the best end of life care there is.”

  ***

  I drove us back to Curtis’ apartment and called Angelica on the way to ask her to call the hospital and apologise for us missing our appointment. Curtis stared out of the windscreen in a statue-like state and there was nothing I could say or do that would ease his pain.

  “What do you want to do?” I asked when we got out of the car and stepped into the lift.

  “Sleep. I want to go to sleep and never wake up.”

  All I could do was take hold of his hand and stay with him.

  Curtis didn’t move all day. He didn’t drink the cups of tea I made him and he refused my offers of food.

  Darkness fell and we’d sat in the same spot for hours, Curtis on the sofa staring out at the city, and I was curled up on the other end with his iPad, facing him so I could peer over the screen and check he was still blinking, breathing and conscious. Not one readable expression had crossed his face and I had no idea what he was thinking or feeling. For the first time since we found each other – since he found me – I couldn’t read him; I couldn’t take his pain away because I had no idea how it felt. I didn’t get to anticipate the deaths of Oliver and Thomas. One second they were here and the next, they were gone. I didn’t know how it felt to know death was coming – to be able to plan for it, but not stop it. I had no idea how Curtis was feeling and he’d shut down, refusing to drop the veil that would allow me to share his agony.

  “Do you want to go out?” he asked, reaching for the glass of water I’d brought him hours ago.

  He still wasn’t looking at me when I looked up from searching everything I could find on the Kennedy family, set the iPad down and slid closer to him.

  “Where do you want to go?”

  “Go and get changed,” was the answer I got.

  I stood up from the sofa, looking over my shoulder at Curtis as I moved through the apartment to the bedroom. He was staring back and I knew he was wondering if I was going to leave him, too.

  Not a chance in Hell.

  A line of five tumblers sat in front of Curtis and I was still nursing my first drink. He’d taken us to a bar in Soho and we were in a corner in the back, shrouded in darkness and hidden from the rest of the bar as jazz music filled the room. Curtis hadn’t said much; he asked how I was, if my drink was how I liked it, and if I wanted anything, but any attempts from me to continue conversation were squashed.

  “Don’t you have friends you can go out with?” he asked, clicking his fingers at a passing server and pointing at his empty glass.

  “You want me to go?”

  “Answer the question.”

  “Sure, I have friends.”

  “And yet here you are, sitting with me and a half empty drink that’s now warm.”

  “I’m not a big drinker.” I said, ordering another one anyway, as the server returned with a new glass for Curtis.

  “You’re here because you want to be, right?”

  “Yes.” I tried to take his hand, but he moved away.

  “Not because you pity me?”

  “No. I’m just here for you. I’ll be whatever you need me to be.”

  “And what’s that?”

  I shook my head. I didn’t know, and if Curtis didn’t, either? We had bigger problems than we’d already acknowledged.

  “Forget what I said about infinity,” he said, spinning his glass in its puddle on the table and rubbing away the condensation.

  “Why?”

  “Geoff’s going to die. He’s never been married. Doesn’t even have a story about a feisty childhood sweetheart. He never had kids. He has no family. He has no one to spend infinity with.”

  “You’re contradicting your own explanation of what love is.”

  “Don’t be smart,” he sniped.

  “I’m not. You said love is everything. You said you can love more than one person in more than one way. Everyone has an infinity.”

  “Geoff doesn’t have anyone. If I hadn’t treated him like I did, he wouldn’t have been dying alone in that office.”

  He tossed back half his drink and laid his head against the back of the velvet booth we were hidden in.

  “He has you.”

  “That’s different.” He breathed out heavily before he finished his drink and drew in a gasp.

  “No, it’s not. He loves you like a son and you love him like a father. He’s taught you who you are now. Yes, that may be questionable, on the outside, right now, but on the inside you’re different and you know it. You’re a good man, Curtis. That’s what matters and that is what Geoff has given you.” He shook his head, refusing to believe what I knew he knew already, no matter how long it took him to admit it. “He did teach you to be a great man. What do you think you’d be doing now if Geoff had never loved you like you needed?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re Geoff’s infinity. You have to make sure he dies knowing you love him enough to let him go.”

  “Get up,” he said with an unexpected aggression tainting his voice.

  “What?”

  “Get up.” He pointed across the bar to a closed door at the other end. “And go in there.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it, Skye. You want me to trust what you say is true?”

  My eyebrows shot up. “Yes.”

  “Then get up and go in that room.”

  I chewed on my bottom lip as I thought it through. Angry that he’d challenged my opinion and planned on using it to make me prove myself to him, I knew I didn’t really have a choice. If I didn’t do as he asked? He’d slip back into the slump of thinking Geoff would leave this world without love, and I refused to let him convince himself of that. I nodded once and rose to my feet, scanning the bar as I crossed it. I stopped at the door marked Angels – Private Access and twisted the handle. As the door opened, Curtis collided with me and we bundled into the room; I heard the slamming and locking of the door as I fell to the floor and turned to find him.

  “What is this?” I asked, looking around the red-tinted room as a slow RnB song played softly in the background.

  “There’s a strip club upstairs. It does better for business than this bar with the back door we came in through the only sign it exists. So Angels have started extending down here.”

  “Okay…”

  I attempted to get to my feet,
but one hand on my shoulder kept me down.

  “Stay on the floor, baby.” Curtis stepped past me and sat on the armchair near where I sat on the floor. “Come here, Skillet.” He beckoned me towards him and opened his legs. “Come and kneel in front of me.”

  I crawled across the space that separated us and kneeled up with my hands on his knees.

  “You want to be what I need?”

  “Yes,” I answered.

  My mouth watered with the appetite to give him what I hoped he was about to ask for.

  “I was serious about your mouth. About that tight throat that squeezes my dick,” he rasped. I hummed in response and clenched my legs together. “I want to use you.”

  “So use me. I’m yours.” My hands moved higher, up his thighs to where he visibly grew beneath the denim that restricted him.

  “I will,” he said. He wasn’t asking for permission. That was his order.

  “You want me to let you use me, by using you.”

  “Clever girl.” My hand covered his erection and applied gentle pressure; he swatted my hands away, undid his jeans and freed himself so his cock, thick and hard, stood between us. “Make me come, Skye.”

  “I can do that.”

  I shuffled closer and took him in my hands; I wasted no time, lowering my head and allowing a drop of spittle to fall from my pursed lips and run down his shaft. I worked him firmly, smiling up at him when I was rewarded with the clear trickle of liquid. In one fluid move, I took him in, gagging and gasping for air when I pulled back and bared my tongue

  “Mmm,” Curtis groaned, his eyes rolling shut as he took a handful of my hair. “Fuck, I’ve missed your mouth.”

  I fisted the base, purring in response, and moaned as my head bobbed up and down. His hips bucked as he tried to ram himself in deeper; he filled my mouth, and nudged the inside of my cheek as I sucked hard. The groans that tore from Curtis’ lips as I relaxed my throat, flattened my tongue against him and sucked him in deep, spurred me on, encouraging me to use the filthy mouth that was making him come apart under my control. His control. Our control.

  With his cock pulsing against the roof of my mouth, saliva dripping from my tongue, and my mouth so full I couldn’t breathe, I released him, threw my head back and gasped as I worked him with both hands. His legs clenched, his stomach tensed and quivered; his chest heaved and each exhale brought a guttural grunt as I kissed, licked and sucked every inch I could reach. His hands pulled my hair and held my head still as he thrust into my open, greedy mouth.

  “Yes, baby, yes,” he cried through clenched teeth, and his breath halted; the only sounds in the room that accompanied the music were my eager slurps for more.

  “Give it to me.” I sat back and opened my mouth, my hands finishing the race with rough strokes, quick, slick twists and a fast pace. “Do it. Use my mouth.”

  Curtis took hold of himself and I bent down, tipping my head back and holding my tongue out. One of Curtis’ large, trembling hands held the back of my head still, the other working his cock against my tongue; his back arched, his chin dropped to his chest and his neck turned a deep red from the incoming explosion. No sound left his lips save for a relieving groan as the pleasure stole his breath and he let go. Thick, hot spurts hit the roof of my mouth, dripped onto my tongue, slid down my throat and trickled to the corners of my mouth.

  “Don’t move,” he croaked. “Not an inch.”

  His body relaxed and he let go, fumbling in his pocket; my eyes widened when he pulled his phone out and snapped a picture of my mouth open and filled with my reward.

  “Close and swallow.”

  I devoured the remains of his release, licking my lips to catch every drop and then I licked him clean.

  “A picture?” I asked, sitting back on my heels and trying to quash the anger when I saw how pleased he was with himself.

  “Souvenir.” He took one more picture of my flushed, sweat-coated face and laughed when I smacked the phone out of his hand. “What? Couples don’t take pictures?”

  He was carefree, sated and playful…I loved him playful, and was filled with a sense of triumph when he labelled us as a couple…until an unsettling thought moved in. I dropped my gaze and chewed my bottom lip. I never wanted to touch his phone again.

  “What did I say?”

  With gentle care and concern, he pulled me off the floor and onto his lap.

  “Do you have pictures of Charlie?”

  His body stiffened and he pulled me closer, cradling me and bringing me into his post-blowjob bliss.

  “Yes.”

  “Delete them.”

  “I can't.” I sat up and before he had a chance to cage me in, I climbed off him.

  “You mean it’s leverage.” He nodded, with no sign of regret. “Is that what that was? In case I try and run?”

  “No!” He dragged his hands through his hair. “That was me taking a picture of my girlfriend letting herself go and looking sexy as fuck when she did.”

  My stomach fluttered and my knees buckled, dropping me to the table – or stage – in the centre of room. How could something so dirty, so preciously filthy be so sweet? Because it was Curtis and he was my animal. My lost and afraid, utterly sexy man cub.

  “Come on.” I stood up with a placated smile and held my hand out. “Let’s go. When we’re done with Charlie, those pictures are history. The only time you’ll ever look at them is if we have to use them against her.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  He tucked himself in, fixed his dishevelled appearance before righting my shirt, flattening my hand and swiping his thumb over my mouth; we snuck out of the room and headed straight for the exit hand-in-hand, filled with an excited relief that we’d gotten away with our tryst in the strip club’s room, the guests completely ignorant to the two people who had just used each other inside it.

  Twenty One

  Geoff was going to die. The only constant in my life was going to evaporate and leave nothing behind but a failed legacy on my part and one that ended too soon on his. Death was a part of life, we all knew that. But why did the innocent have to leave this world alone, while the evil that dominated it was allowed to flourish? Why Geoff? Why a painful death that would suck the life from him and leave him helpless until death moved in and granted him mercy?

  The drink helped. Drink always helped numb the pain.

  And Skye. I had to rely on her, and only her, to save me from going under. It would be so easy to give up – to succumb to everything and enter the next life with my arms outstretched, ready to take my punishment for fucking up the last chance I was given.

  Death wasn’t an option; not until the mission was accomplished, one way or another.

  But dropping the guard was. That’s the thing about bowing to the numbness I craved. I couldn’t select what I felt and what I didn’t, what I saw and what I was blinded to.

  I just didn’t see it coming…

  ~Curtis~

  Curtis kept hold of my hand as we left the bar and walked through the alley to get to the main road to call a cab; he was swaying, bumping into me as we walked and nothing was wiping the smile from my face. Not now. Stepping outside and taking in a lungful of fresh air had brought on the effects of his cognac consumption. He swung our hands between us and hummed the song that had been playing in the bar. I couldn’t stop watching his face as he stumbled through the access road; he was going to be hung over to hell – of that, I had no doubt – but he was enjoying himself now and I was happy to be on the ride of intoxication with him.

  I was so hot for him; from the aftereffects of not getting what I really wanted in the bar – to ride him in the armchair and send us propelling into fuck-the-world ecstasy – and there is no greater turn-on than a happy man and, right now, Curtis was a happy man; giddy, satisfied and radiating an energy that told me he was ready for more.

  “I want to touch you,” he said casually, as if he hadn’t just said what I was thinking. One simple thing that set my heart racing.


  “So touch me.”

  I stopped and backed myself against the wall beneath an orange streetlight; with our arms outstretched and our fingers still laced together, I pulled him into me until he stood just a breath away and braced his hands on the wall either side of my head.

  “Here?” he asked with a cheeky glint in his dark eyes.

  “Yes. Right here.”

  His mouth turned up into a core-melting, toe-clenching smile and his hot lips collided with my neck, his touch ravenous but playful, hot and hard, but soft, and a shriek of laughter escaped when his stubble tickled my chest. His hands stroked my ribs, his face scraped my neck as he dragged his lips over my skin with a smile; all I could do was laugh and pull him closer. It felt so good to laugh with him. He chuckled, I giggled and our hands roamed until humour morphed into a relaxed seduction.

  “I like this,” he said, pulling back and cupping my face, an easy smile relaxing his so often steely expression.

  “What?”

  “Hearing you laugh. Making you laugh.”

  “I like it when you laugh, too.”

  “I laughed,” he mused and frowned, as if it were an impossibility, but then he looked into my eyes and the smile returned; a trace of a smile that made his eyes beam.

  “You did, and you know what?” He cocked a brow in curiosity. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.”

  He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, as if archiving my words and committing them to memory. What I saw in his eyes it that moment, when he opened them again and focused on me, was hope; hope for salvation…hope for a better life for us, eventually. The laughter ceased as the sparks of electric passed between us. Curtis edged closer to me; my eyes fluttered closed, ready to embrace his optimism and use it to connect us – to drive us towards our goal together. But before our lips met, Curtis let out a strained cry and I opened my eyes in time to see him throw his head back. His hands slid down my body and he fell to the floor.

  “Has the drink caught up with you?”