Chapter 11
Charlie
I was still irritated with Greyson when I woke up this morning. Watching him last night at the bar, all up on the dark haired skank, drinking until he could barely stand, made me so pissed off at the male species I almost wanted to run that man over with his massively large truck. Girls like the one he was with last night gave the female species a bad name. Her boobs were on display for everyone to see, and I swore if that girl bent over anymore her vagina would have been playing peek-a-boo with anyone out on the dance floor. That was the second time I had been irritated when Greyson was out with another woman. Most would conclude that I liked the asshole, but I refused to admit that out loud yet.
But, seeing him try to drive home completely inebriated really pissed me off. I know firsthand how serious driving under the influence is. Not only do you risk your own life, but there is a high possibility of endangering someone else’s. Life is way too short to take those kinds of stupid risks, and seeing Greyson not give a damn about doing so really hit a nerve with me. Drinking, driving, and scantily clad skanks hanging on him all night was enough to put me over the edge.
Running was my only option this morning in escaping reality. Tossing on my shoes, I hit the beach in full stride. The cool air whipped against my skin
as my feet sunk deeper into the sand. The waves crashing on the beach gave my mind enough white noise to push past everything else clouding up my thoughts. A nice, hard, long run gave me a moment to myself. But all that came crashing back down when I opened the back door and saw him sitting there at the table. Instantly, my mood soured and that time on the beach seemed to fade into a nonexistent memory.
Ripping my hair from its ponytail, I rummage through my drawers for a clean pair of shorts and t-shirt. I don’t know why I let my anger get the best of me, but I was almost hoping that he wouldn’t have been here when I got back.
“So, what happened last night?” Greyson asks, leaning on my bedroom door frame.
“You were smashed, and I took you home. Actually, I took you here because you passed out before being able to give me directions to your place.” Forcing myself to take a deep breath, I square my shoulders off and stand there in front of him.
“I’m sorry I was so much trouble last night.”
“Yep,” I mutter, pushing past his body for the shower.
“What can I do to make it up to you?” Greyson follows me down the short hallway to the only bathroom in the house.
“Don’t worry about it,” I reply before shutting the door. Instantly, my back hits the door and I drop my head. Every time we are around each other, my blood begins to boil. There is no middle ground it seems; either we aren’t talking, or at each other’s throats.
“How about I take you to lunch when you get out?”
“That’s alright, I’m good.” Pulling off my sweaty shirt and shorts, I crank the hot water on and step into the small shower. The cold water pelts my body as it slowly heats up, but I have no reaction to the temperature. All I seem to focus on is the silent tears that trickle down my face. Grabbing the soap, I scrub furiously over the scars on the inside of my arms. Nothing would ever take away this pain and I am really starting to doubt the possibility of it ever feeling any better.
Greyson surprised me as I walked into the kitchen. “Your uncle already took off for the bar. I told him I would drop you off when you got out of the shower for your car.”
“Okay.” Opening the fridge, I frown when I realize I still haven’t gone to the grocery store yet. My uncle survives on coffee and microwave meals, something I can’t stomach to eat every single day.
“Let’s go grab some lunch, and after I’ll drop you by the bar,” Greyson offers again, grabbing his keys off the bar and giving them a jingle.
Reluctance sweeps over my body as images of last night replay in my mind. How angry I had been this morning waking up and seeing him passed out on the couch, how the thought of him driving added to the possibility of losing him made me sick to my stomach in the shower. Now, standing here in the doorway, all I can think about is punching him in the throat, and then wrapping my arms around his massive frame. Why are my feelings all over the damn place?
“Consider it my, I apologize and thank you for last night meal.” Greyson offers a small smile and opens the back door, waiting patiently for my response.
“Alright,” I mutter. Grabbing my purse from the kitchen chair, I smile meekly as I walk through the door and over to his truck. One of these days my mind and actions are going to make sense, or at least match in some sort of messed up way.
“Where are we going?” I ask. Greyson wasn’t heading down the main strip toward all the restaurants in town.
“I need to swing by my place for a change of clothes. I smell like ass.”
Nodding my head to agree, Greyson lets out a light hearted laugh as he turns down Pacific Ave. I watch as the houses turn slowly into a few scattered townhomes, and Greyson pulls into the very last one on the left hand side. Shutting off the engine, Greyson looks over at me. “Are you coming?”
“I can just wait here,” I stammer, instantly starting to fidget with the bracelets on my wrist.
Greyson pushes open his door and shakes his head slightly. “Come on, Charlie.”
Unclipping my seatbelt, I hesitate at the door handle before giving it a pull. The tall two story townhouse is flanked on the left with another unit. The white brick on the bottom, paired with dark green siding on top gives off a striking appearance; not something I would have envisioned Greyson to have residence at.
“Are you coming, Charlie?” he calls from the doorway, holding open the wrought iron screen door for me.
Taking a deep breath, I force my feet to start moving, slowly shuffling up the short walkway to the open door. Everything about this moment screams awkwardness to me. Greyson is just inviting me in while he changes. It is like a courtesy thing, not leaving me sitting alone in his truck in the driveway. Friends visit each other’s houses, and he did sleep on my uncle’s couch last night.
“I’m just going to run up and change real quick; make yourself at home,” he says while dashing up the staircase.
The place isn’t how I envisioned it at all. Actually, that would have required me to think about it prior to being in his personal space, and that hasn’t ever happened. Growing up, my guy friends always lived in their parents basements, shit hole apartments, or I didn’t know their last name. Samantha’s dorm room was the only other place I had frequented that contained the male species after rehab, and those guys lived like tweakers with money. Pizza boxes and a pyramid of beer cans lined their bedroom walls, and you were lucky to not have to move nasty smelly laundry from any surface you wanted to sit on.
Greyson’s place is the exact opposite. The small living room has minimal furniture, but amazing colorful graphic pictures covered the walls. The dynamics of their colors add a certain texture to the small space, making the minimalist furniture work for the room. My eyes are immediately drawn to a dark black and purple canvas in the corner by the television. There is something about this picture that seems to explain my soul to the world. The simple stroke of the paint brush, combined with striking color changes on the striking white canvas seemed to spill every single secret I have been keeping my entire life. How crazy am I to relate to something hung on a man’s wall where I can’t even seem to decide if we can be friends or not.
“That’s one of my favorites.” Greyson’s smooth voice comes from behind me, startling me back to reality. It was so easy to get lost in that painting; letting it absorb every ounce of uncertainty I struggle with in my life.
“They are all great,” I stumble with my words, forcing myself back into reality.
“Thanks.” Greyson smiles. “You ready?”
Returning the smile, I tear my eyes away from the paintings and nod my head. After seeing the painting in the living room, my urges want to wander the rest of his place. Maybe there is more to Greyson after all. But, then aga
in, whenever I try to give him the benefit of the doubt, he always seems to prove me wrong.
“Burgers or teriyaki?” Greyson shuts the front door and locks the deadbolt.
“Beef,” I state quickly while opening the passenger truck door.
“I bet you want some beef,” he snickers, giving me a sloppy grin.
Greyson slips on his sunglasses and tosses the truck into reverse. So much for my theory on him earlier; his last girlfriend probably left them when she realized there is way better out there in life. A lady is after a gentleman; one that opens doors, holds their hand, kisses them softly out in public, and dominates them when the door is closed. Greyson might have the sexiness down, and sure he holds doors open, but that’s where the line is drawn.
“Let’s just eat at the bar, since your car is there.”
“Fantastic,” I mutter under my breath. Between my uncle’s house and the beach, the bar is starting to become my second home. Why wouldn’t I want to spend every moment I am not working at that place. Between the greasy food and the never ending supply of college idiots, that place is surely going to take me down a couple pegs. I really need to make some friends here, and ones that do not frequent that place if at all possible.
“Are you working tonight?” Greyson asks between massive bites of the greasy dripping burger hovering close to his mouth. Watching the male species eat is almost like turning on the National Geographic channel and being unable to pull yourself away. Either you are totally engrossed in the subject matter, or you can’t tear your eyes away because it’s absolutely horrible to watch. Greyson has yet to set the burger down in the basket since Jason placed it on our table five minutes ago. He keeps the thing attached in his right hand, only using his left to get better leverage on the three patties with egg and cheese when bringing it in closer for a bite, or to stuff a steak fry or drink of soda into his otherwise occupied mouth.
“No,” I startle, instantly pulling the straw out of my mouth in a jerking fashion. Soda spills down the front of my chin and splatters on the high top table. I have been so engrossed with watching this beast in front of me eat, that I totally forgot we were sitting here conversing and having a meal together.
“The drink belongs in your mouth, Charlie. Do you need a bib or something?” Greyson laughs before filling his mouth with another gigantic bite.
“Funny,” I snort, wiping the liquid off my chin with a napkin. “I’m not working until tomorrow. Mark has me serving the lunch crowd tomorrow.”
“That is totally not fair. I bet I’m getting stuck with that Chris kid. His work ethic is basically nonexistent.”
“Sorry.” I shrug. Pushing around the leftover fries in my basket, I do a quick glance around the room. The lunch crowd isn’t overly packed today, thus making it easy to have only one girl serving the small bar. “I’m going to go get a to-go box.” Forcing myself to sit here any longer is cruelty to the human form.
“Let Shelly get it. Remember, you’re not working today.” Greyson shoves the last little bit of his burger in his mouth and wipes his hands off on the top of his jeans. Even for being a complete pig that shovels food into his mouth, and refuses to think before speaking, he still is kind of hot.
“It’s fine, Greyson.”
Crumpling my napkin in my hand, I hop off the barstool and wander back to the kitchen. Taking a deep breath once I round the dark corner, I flatten myself on the cool cement wall. When are things going to get easy? Why can’t I just move on with my life, get over my issues, and start clean like moving here was intended to do? Holding on to my demons isn’t doing any good, but I can’t seem to let go of the past. Letting go of what happened is almost like saying goodbye to my mom, and that’s something I’m not ready to deal with just yet.
Making friends is a natural progression in moving forward. Involving people in your life is crucial for survival, and as many times as I have told myself to just deal with life, I can’t seem to bring myself to it. A broken record replays over and over again in my life, playing the same old melody of the past.
“Thought you were coming back?” Greyson’s voice came through the darkness, forcing me to open my eyes.
“Got caught up thinking.”
“I’ve got a couple errands to run before my shift. What are your plans for this afternoon?”
“Sorry, I’ve got some stuff I need to get done.” My heart rate begins to quicken as Greyson’s figure becomes much clearer in the dimmed light. Obviously denying this so called friendship isn’t working out so well for my body. Some parts really need an on-off switch, and my traitor of a body is one of them.
“I’m sure we have time to get your stuff done with mine.”
“Thanks, but I kind of have to do it alone.” Forcing myself up off the wall, I duck into the kitchen. Grabbing a Styrofoam container off the wire shelf, and taking a deep breath, I step back out in the hallway.
“Blowing me off again, Charlie?” Greyson taunts. I know that man is smiling as I breeze past him, back out into the bar. There is something that screams go with him, but then every inch of my being tells me no. Figure out my shit, pull myself together, and try to have an honest friendship with someone other than Samantha.
“You’re breaking my heart, Charlie.”
“It’s Charlotte,” I yell back, offering him a small smile. I haven’t said my full name since my mother died; and for once, it felt really good.
Chapter 12
Greyson
I’m wearing her down. Slowly. Really, really, fucking slowly. But, at least I’m finally starting to grow on her. I knew it would only be a matter of time before she fell under my charm; it hasn’t let me down since middle school. Normally, putting this much work into a female isn’t something I’m game for. Why feed and water the cow if you can get the milk elsewhere for free? Charlie is different. I still have yet to figure out why in the hell she is different, but different none the less. Most women capture my attention for a couple days; have some fun, then give them the ‘I’ll call you’ line. Then came the tears, maybe some stalking, maybe a couple ‘you’re an asshole’ comments ushered while walking by, but eventually they gave up on getting their claws into me. Is it exactly the most polite way to blow a chick off, no, but then again what is the proper way? Sending a text?
***
I have to swing by the shop before my shift starts at four. The layout for the break-room still needs to be gone over with the contractors, and since they started demo this morning, it had to be accomplished today. Picking out the counters and the couches were things I left to Cameron, but I get to decide on how things flowed. I love my girl, but that woman is an entire train wreck when it comes to design. Her apartment is full of oversized furniture, weird fluffy pillows, and five million mirrors to make sure her reflection is available at any angle. Giving her free rein of the shop is like a sure fire way to have unicorns and cotton candy machines fixated in the lounge area.
The shop has been a dream of mine ever since picking up the tattoo gun for the first time when I was eighteen. Drawing has always been my sort of release from the world, a creative outlook. Taking my drawings and transferring them to skin is the best natural high one can get. People leave my shop with a little bit of myself on their bodies, etched for the rest of their lives with beautiful walking pieces of art. Unless they decide to do that laser shit, but if someone is removing my work they are fucking nuts. I may not be finding the cure for cancer, or taking dick-holes off the street like the police do, but I like to think of my art as making the world a little bit prettier, one skin canvas at a time.
My mind continues to swirl with thoughts of Charlie, or Charlotte. Hearing her full name fall off those lips for the first time made me feel all mushy and love struck. Feelings like that don’t happen for men like me; so leaving the bar in silence had been my only option. Pulling myself together, and getting all the shit I have to accomplish before clocking in at the bar is going to be a task today. Getting laid is the only viable option I can
think of, but knowing it isn’t with Charlie makes my semi hard on go fully limp. This infatuation has taken my yearning to a whole new level, and I can’t even get that woman to spend the damn afternoon with me. Either my magic charm is wearing thin, or I’m seriously starting to lose my damn mind.
Cranking the radio up in the truck, I point the wheel toward the shop and let the heat of the day whip through the open window. Days like this are perfect. The sun is blaring down upon us, the wind is minimal, and there are only a couple items to accomplish on my plate. If every day could be this easy, then my life would be set.
Suddenly, my phone blares from the center consol. Cameron’s name flashes across the screen with a suggestive picture of her kissing the camera.
“Please tell me you are on your way to the shop,” her voice pleads on the other end of the line.
“Yeah, I’m meeting with the contractors in a few.”
“The alarm company keeps calling saying the damn thing is going off again. I thought I gave Dale the correct code to get in the building, but then again you know that stupid machine has a mind of its own.”
Letting out a small chuckle, I just shake my head and roll my eyes. Cameron insisted we install that thing a couple years back after some punks vandalized the shop a couple times. Normally, this town stayed pretty quiet except for the college crowd. Nothing was ever stolen from the shop, just broke windows and some graffiti littered around the place. We never dealt in cash, thus eliminating the hazard of being robbed; the policy is card or cashier’s check only.
“Stop fussing and go have another drink, Cameron. I’m almost there.”
“See, this is why I can never take a vacation. The moment I leave town things automatically go down the shitter, Greyson.”
“Seriously, I’ve got it handled. Go get smashed, have a couple quickies, just remember to make him wear a rubber. The last thing we need is for you to get knocked up and have to go on some trashy talk show trying to figure out who the baby daddy is.”
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