In my own intoxicated state of shock, I almost let her. Part of me wanted to, if for no other reason than to block the muffled voices in the hallway.
But I couldn’t erase the sounds.
“This is what he does, Sophie,” I heard Denny’s filtered voice say through the door. “He’s been a hoor for ages, doesn’t get attached. Never has. Not until you.”
“Oh, I can see how attached he is,” she scoffed back at him harshly. The sheer anguish in her voice cut me to the bone.
“Sophie, you’re right different. I don’t know wha—”
“Whatever, Denny. I don’t fucking care. He’s done with me, fine. I’ll just go fuck someone else.”
Vivienne’s teeth were tugging at my earlobe, toying with the ring, and her hand smoothed the latex down my cock as she brushed the tip against her clit. And it was sorta pissing me off because, even though I really didn’t want to, I had to hear what was going on out in the hallway.
“Feckin’ Jaysus, Sophie,” Denny retorted, “he cares about you.”
“He was just a lay, Denny,” Sophie yelled back. “Where’s Justin? I’ve fucked him before, I’ll just go fuck him again.”
No way. Fuck that! Not Justin. Not here. She didn’t get to be here. This was my place, my friends. The ghost of Sophie had to fucking go.
I picked up Vivienne and roughly tossed her to the side as I stood. Whipping off the condom, I barely had my dick tucked back into my jeans by the time I hit the door. The hallway was empty, and I barreled into the great room, pushing my way through the crowd until…
There she was, ripping her arm away from Denny and heading towards Justin where he leaned against the counter. Three steps. It took her three steps to reach him, a split second to wrap her arms around his neck, and then she was kissing him. His shock melted into a deep moan when she turned her head to deepen the kiss, begging for a response, and he complied and began to kiss her back voraciously, mindless of the tears that poured down her cheeks.
“Sophie,” Denny gruffly muttered off to the side, reaching for her arm, “not a good idea.”
Justin raised his head a touch to murmur, “Fuck off, Denny,” and his lips fell back upon Sophie’s as he slipped his arms down past her waist and slipped his hand under her skirt to cup her ass.
A red haze had been building in my vision, a violent anger that I had never even imagined, much less felt. With the nightmarish vision before my eyes, it intensified and glared white, blinding me to everything but my burning emotion.
The sound didn’t register with me at first, as though the haze of fury had muffled it, but the roar came from my own throat. I shoved my way through the crowd and ripped Sophie away from Justin. Her lips still wet from his kiss, Sophie panted back at me as I slammed her up against the wall, holding her up against it for a second by the flat of my hand across her breastbone. Her tear-filled eyes shot a furious glare at me before I turned back to Justin and clocked him square in the jaw. He fell back into the crowd in a clumsy stupor.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Brannon!” he growled as he stood, gingerly cupping his jaw. “What the fuck was that for?”
“She’s mine, motherfucker,” I growled and started at him again.
Justin met me halfway and lurched forward, pushing me back with his fists flying as the crowd around us backed away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Denny tugging at Sophie’s arm, trying to draw her away. But, unlike everyone else who was pulling back, she stepped forward and reached for me.
“Stop it, Brannon,” she shrieked.
But I was too intent on beating the ever-loving hell out of Justin. That motherfucker had touched her. I’d told him before that she was mine, that he was never to touch her again. Yet he had, and I used my anger to throw him back up against the wall with a crash. In return, he stepped forward and landed a solid punch to my eye, a blow that stunned me. I fell back for a second into a window that shattered as I hit it with my shoulder. Scraped and bleeding, I lunged for him yet again. The swinging fists and hefty shoves were only separated by angry words.
“She came on to me, you fucker! She wants me.” Justin yelled.
Thud!
“Fuck off!” I bellowed back. “You’ve wanted her this whole time.”
Crash.
“You’re just pissed that she got tired of you,” Justin countered.
I felt and then saw Sophie trying to push in between us, trying to separate us, and heard Denny shout out her name as he yanked her back yelling for Cody and Drew to pull Justin and I apart.
I struggled against Cody’s firm grip as Sophie attempted to jerk out of Denny’s hold, flushed with a white hot fury that flashed in her eyes.
“Fuck you, Brannon,” she whispered as she finally bucked free. She stepped closer to me, and her voice grew louder, the tone turning harsh and bitter. “Fuck you. I hate you, you son of a bitch.” Denny kept attempting to guide her back, but she resisted him, yanking away in her rage as her voice gradually rose to a scream. “Go back and fuck Vivienne, you fucking piece of trash. You don’t get to say who gets me.”
I shook my head and bellowed back at her. “I may be trash, but you picked me that night, Soph. Out of every motherfucker in the whole party, you picked me. There has to be a reason.”
“I wanted to fuck someone,” she screamed back. “I wanted meaningless post breakup sex, and you were an easy lay. I could tell looking at you that you were nothing but a dirty manwhore. And that was all I wanted.”
“That’s bullshit!” I thundered.
“It’s true,” she cried, shaking her head furiously. “I was looking for someone to fuck, somebody who was a sure thing. Somebody meaningless I could use.”
Denny stepped in between her and I, one hand on each of us, doing his best to keep her back away from me.
Sophie raged on, pushing into his hand. “My only mistake was thinking you had it in you to be anything more than that!” she yelled. “Don’t you ever fucking talk to me again. I fucking hate you, you heartless slut. I hope you catch some nasty disease from the cesspool of pussy you’re sleeping with.”
With that, she wrenched away from Denny and shoved her way to the door, making her escape. But I wasn’t letting this go. I wasn’t letting her go without imparting my own two cents.
I ripped out of Cody’s grasp, shoving Denny hard as he tried to stop me.
“Brannon,” he hollered, “don’t, ya bloody fool—”
Ignoring him, I ran down the porch steps, into the bitter cold night after Sophie as she headed for her car. I grabbed her arm and whipped her around to face me.
“What was I supposed to do, huh?” I roared. “Should I stop living my life and just fucking sit around hoping you’ll come slumming again?”
“What the hell does that mean?” she yelled back, trying to pull her arm from my grasp.
“Like you were ever gonna fucking stick around. You went back to where you belong, to your fucking fiancé. To your perfect little life. To that fucking ivory tower where you can just exist in that empty little head of yours.”
Suddenly, Sophie came at me like she was possessed, slapping her hands against my chest. Unintelligible words poured from her throat as she unleashed all the vicious rage that had stored up in her mind. All the anger and fear and loneliness, the emotion she had never been able to show, shattered and burst forth in a violent torrent. She fought against the hands that tried to hold her back, screaming like she had completely lost her mind, like her mask had shattered to reveal the visceral pain she held inside.
And the next thing I knew, shouting filled the air. Sophie and I were ripped brutally apart and I was slammed to the snow-covered ground. It was only then that I noticed the red and blue lights flashing along the house and around the yard. The body holding me down wore a uniform, and I numbly watched another officer placing handcuffs on Sophie as I felt the cold slide of metal surround my own wrists.
The door just outside my cell buzzed, and I watched through the bars as an offi
cer opened it and strode by. Footsteps echoed down the hallway and stopped a ways down.
“Sophie Buchanan?” the officer asked. A moment of quiet, and then he spoke again. “Come on out, sweetheart. Your father is here. You’re free to go.”
“Figures…” the bitter voice of another woman muttered.
“Yeah,” another spat, “diamonds like those ones she’s wearing, nobody is gonna leave her in here for long. Spoiled little rich bitch.”
God only knew what kind of scum she was locked up with. Probably methheads. Someone who wouldn’t take too kindly to being locked up with the aura of wealth that surrounded Sophie.
Part of me hoped they’d left her alone even though I didn’t want to care. About anything, really.
With a jingle of the officer’s keys and the click of the lock, I heard the door swing open and then slam shut again. Resonant footsteps echoed back towards the entrance, right in front of my cell. Mechanically, I looked up to see her standing there behind him as they waited to be buzzed through to the next room.
Sophie was pale, her eyes downcast. Like an idiot, I stared at her while she waited listlessly. Just as the door buzzed, she turned her gaze to me, her affect flat and lifeless. She seemed… broken.
Her hair fell forward in her bloodshot eyes, and thick smears of makeup trailed down her cheeks.
Nothing inside her. No emotion. She didn’t even look like she hated me.
But I could still hear her screaming that she did. I could hear the echoes of her fury and mine pounding in my head. There was suddenly a huge division between us. An insurmountable gulf that seemed to expand when I thought of the awful things we’d said to each other.
So I kept my own expression vacant, unwilling to show her how much she was ripping me apart. I swallowed hard to ease the thick lump in my throat, and watched as she dropped her eyes and followed the officer through the open door.
Denny showed up about a half hour after Sophie left. He’d scraped together some bail money from the other guys. Aside from telling me that their neighbors had called the cops when they heard the fight and saw the broken window, he was very quiet as he drove through the gray morning. Most of the most recent snowfall had melted, and the world around me was a dirty slush.
Sort of felt appropriate.
“We’re playing tonight,” Denny said, “but you don’t have to help out if you’re not up to it.” He clenched his jaw and gave me a sidelong look. “You and Justin should have a chat, though, now that you’re both sober.”
“I was a dick,” I muttered.
“You were,” Denny replied.
I nodded and looked out the window. “Is he home?”
“He was when I left,” he said. “Black eye and all after ya flattened him. Matches yours, actually. You guys are twins or some shite like.”
“My truck’s still there, right?”
“Yep.”
I drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Is that where we’re going?”
“Yep.”
Justin sat hunched over a cup of coffee when I walked through the door and dropped a bag of Hardee’s biscuits on the table before him.
“What the fuck is that?” he groaned.
“Peace offering,” I replied flatly. “I was a dick.”
“Yeah,” he replied, “you were.” He took a long sip of his coffee. “We both were, though. I knew, Brannon… I knew she meant a lot to you.”
My jaw clenched, not out of anger but rather to cover the rawness of that empty loss. I just, quite simply, felt like complete and utter shit without her. When I thought of her. When I thought of that desolate look in her eyes as she walked out of that cell block and, more than likely, out of my life for the very last time.
“Doesn’t matter,” I shook my head. “Bros before hos.”
“Bullshit,” Justin said. “I’d drop you all like a ton of bricks if I had someone like her in my bed.”
That sorta did make me angry, and Justin evidently saw it. The fucker even smiled at my scowl. “Not her, though,” he said dryly. “She was all about you, man.”
“Nah,” I dismissed, “she was all about money. She was born a rich bitch. I was a distraction.”
Denny handed me a cup of coffee, then held up a bottle of Jameson to see if I wanted a dose in my cup. I shook my head and pulled out a chair. The last thing I wanted was booze.
I sort of just wanted to wallow in my misery for a while. To learn from it. Love wasn’t for me, that much had been clear for a long time. I’d forgotten. I’d forgotten how much it could hurt to lose someone.
As I nursed my coffee, Justin reached in the bag and pulled out a couple biscuits, dealing the extras out to Denny and I like cards in a poker game.
We didn’t say much. We were dudes after all. Dudes don’t share and get all mushy about shit. We just sat there and ate our biscuits. The air around us slowly eased up. We gradually let the fucked up night before fade away.
I did help with the Mofos’ equipment that night, but I hung out backstage. I didn’t want to really see anyone. I sure as fuck didn’t want to get hit on. It happened anyway. Ruth and Laura caught me at the back door, oohing and ahhing about the drama from the night before. Asking if I needed someone to help soothe my nerves.
I almost thought about it for about half a second. Sensing my indecision, Ruth leaned into me. “If you’re having a hard time deciding between us, maybe… both of us?”
But then I thought about how jealous I’d gotten during that ménage with Justin. How needy Laura had gotten with me before. How Laura and Pauline had verbally attacked Sophie. And how I was actually still kinda pissed about that, even though I shouldn’t be.
And just like that, I saw Sophie’s face again. Clear as day, I saw her disillusionment at seeing me with Vivienne. The dead vacant stare when I’d last seen her.
Yeah, I so wasn’t ready to go off and fuck anyone. I wanted to be, but the thought of it actually kind of turned my stomach. The way I felt right then and there, it was going to be a long time before I would be up to that shit.
“I don’t think so, ladies,” I politely declined. I wasn’t a total asshole, just kind of one as I pulled Ruth’s hand from my chest and turned her back down the hallway. “You might want to check with Justin, though. He had a shit night last night, too. He could probably use some TLC even more than me.”
Laura raised an eyebrow and frowned, but didn’t object when Ruth led her away.
As we loaded up the last of the equipment, Ruth and Laura piled into Justin’s pickup. Handing the last of the cords to Denny, Justin turned and slapped me on the shoulder with a grin. “I owe you, man,” he laughed.
Denny and Cody chuckled, and I just shook my head.
“Go get ‘em, tiger,” I snorted dryly, then headed to my truck to go home.
All alone.
My apartment seemed quieter than ever before. Almost an echoing silence, as weird as that seemed. I tossed my keys on the counter and looked around. Empty beer bottles, not totally empty bottles of whiskey and vodka. I’d been on a bit of a bender in the last few weeks, drinking breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Like that kid I’d once been, trying to forget my mom, I’d done the same more recently trying to forget Sophie.
I looked at the clock. It was just shy of three in the morning, and I knew I should go to sleep. My mind was wired, though. Every time I stopped focusing on something, all I could see was Sophie. Good and bad. Right and wrong. Sophie’s smile. Sophie’s fury. Sophie’s passion. Sophie’s pain.
Stepping into the kitchen, I lifted the vodka and unscrewed the lid, holding it for a moment trying to decide if the cloud of escape was worth the price of falling apart all over again.
In the end, I poured it down the sink. Then the whiskey. I started cleaning up my little kitchen, then my living room. I moved to the bathroom and began to clear off the counter. As I tossed my toothpaste into the top drawer of my cabinet, I saw a faint flash of an aqua blue toothbrush.
Sophie’s
toothbrush.
Like a complete fucking douche, I pulled it out of the drawer and practically cradled it in my hand, almost cuddling the fucker.
I suddenly wished I hadn’t just dumped out all my booze.
A fierce surge of agony ripped through me, and I wanted to throw it away. I wanted it out of my apartment.
I wanted her out of my mind.
But, instead, I laid it gently back in the drawer. And it stayed there. The next day. The day after. Every morning and every night when I brushed my teeth, I saw it there. I thought of Sophie… and I missed her. I told myself to throw that fucking toothbrush away.
But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
“You brought me a fucking Christmas tree?” I stared at Mira like she’d lost her mind as she stood in my doorway with a sad-looking, waist-high scotch pine.
“Yep, ornaments, too, you damn Scrooge,” she replied, holding out a bag of ornaments in the other hand. “And watch your language.”
I glared at her, not taking the tree or the ornaments.
“Brannon, come on,” she coaxed. “You went from being a party boy to a work-a-holic in a matter of a month. No life. You need a little cheer.”
“So you brought me a dead tree?”
Mira shoved the tree into my chest and pushed past me. “Yes,” she replied, setting the ornaments on my couch and pushing an end table to sit in front of my apartment window. She pulled the curtains open to reveal lightly falling snowflakes illuminated by the streetlights. “The snow is so pretty, and it made me realize that you probably won’t do shit like this for yourself.” Stepping back, she eyed the table, then nudged it a little to center it before the window. “Okay, this will do just fine,” she nodded.
I rolled my eyes and kicked the door closed behind me as I followed her over by the window.
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