Under the Influence

by L. B. Simmons

  But eventually, we both found our way.

  Cassie’s party quest came to an end about three months later, just in time to enter Fuller’s cosmetology program. She took her operator’s licensing exam around the time I left for Willington and has been employed by Fringe as a master stylist for a little over two years.

  Snapping back to the present, her far-off stare becomes focused as it lands on me. “Yeah, I forgot. Man,” she whines, “that sucks. I was gearing up for the big night with Grady.”

  She smiles at the mention of his name, and I try to banish the image of them having sex out of my mind. Forever.

  “You haven’t had sex with Grady yet?”

  She shakes her head. “No, just good ol’ fooling around and spooning. Nothing else … yet.”

  I grin. “Good.”

  Cassie winks then asks, “You?”

  “With Grady? Ew.” I mock vomit for emphasis.

  Cassie narrows her eyes. “No, hooker. With Dalton.”

  I smile, still somewhat stupefied when I hear his name come out of her mouth. According to Dalton, the night that we figured out his identity, Cassie asked Grady about it. He explained that he was a cop and Dalton was helping him with a case, but that’s about all the information he handed over. It seems to have satisfied her curiosity because she hasn’t asked me anything since that night. I didn’t really expect her to though. She’s kind of a just-roll-with-it kind of girl.

  “No, not yet,” I reply.

  She licks the spoon free of peanut butter before pointing it back in my direction. “He owes you another birthday night. Like, complete redo.”

  I laugh at her protective tone, but the idea plants itself in my mind and begins to take root. Grabbing my purse off my desk, I inquire, “Are you going to be at Grady’s tonight?”

  A devilish smile crosses Cassie’s face. “Why yes, yes I am. Looks like we’re both doing the dirty tonight.”

  Laughter escapes me and I shake my head as I pass her to enter the hall. Just as I hit the living room, she shouts in a motherly manner, “Make sure he wraps it before he taps it! Safety first!”

  I exit the apartment with a full grin on my face.

  Twenty minutes later, I arrive at Mom’s house and pull behind a familiar black Chevy Impala. I stall in my car, debating if I should go inside, for a couple of reasons. One, with all this sex talk I’m freakishly paranoid that I will walk in on something that can never be unseen and I will be scarred for life. And two, I have been avoiding Lawson lately due to the fact that I know details about his investigation that he specifically does not want me to know. I’m not upset with him for keeping it from me because I know he had the best of intentions in mind, but I fear one look at my face and he will know.

  I mean, come on. He’s a detective. Reading people is what he does.

  I nibble on my bottom lip nervously as I debate internally, but soon the decision is made for me as Mom opens the front door and waves at me from the porch. I grin as memories of time spent on that porch with Dalton cross the threshold of my mind. Allowing them to run their course, I inhale once they’re done, then exit my car to meet my mother.

  Still wearing the same pink terry cloth robe, she’s fresh from the shower with her brown hair securely kept in a towel wrapped around her head. As I approach the door, the smell of garlic and basil saturates the air and I breathe it in deeply, still smiling.

  Mom glances over her shoulder. “Kirk’s cooking an early dinner if you would like to join us.”

  I still can’t get over the transition of my mother over the past few years. She looks happy. I know she still loves Jim, but I’m also certain that she is in love with Kirk Lawson. A love that shines from the depths of her soul. It radiates from her as she smiles back at me, and her light brown eyes are illuminated with its presence.

  I reach out and wrap her in my arms.

  Taken aback, she laughs. “What’s all this?”

  “Nothing. It’s just good to see you happy. And no, I can’t stay. I have some things to do today. I just stopped by to grab something from my room if you don’t mind?”

  Releasing me, she shakes her head. “Of course not. Go ahead.”

  I nod, then enter the house. Kirk stands in the kitchen in low-waisted jeans and a gray v-neck T-shirt covering his muscular chest, which tenses and relaxes with his movements as he stirs whatever he’s cooking in the skillet below him. His brown hair has grown longer as of late, messy as it sticks out every which way from the top of his head.

  He looks like a teenager. It makes me smile.

  His kind brown eyes break from the stove to meet mine, and the familiar creases at the sides deepen as he grins back. “Hey, kiddo. Are you eating with us? There’s plenty to go around.”

  I shake my head and throw a thumb over my shoulder. “I’m just here to grab something. I won’t be long.”

  “I’ll pack some up for you and Cassie then. Lord only knows what you two have been surviving on since you moved in together.”

  I grin. “Peanut butter, of course.” His eyes widen and I let out laugh. “Kidding, Kirk.”

  Shaking his head, he returns his attention to the skillet while my mom waits for me in the living room. I turn and join her in the hall as we walk to my old bedroom. Once inside, she takes a seat on my bed and I head right to my closet.

  “How’s school?” she asks, smoothing her hand over my old purple comforter.

  “It’s good. Mainly more coursework this year. Next year is the dreaded dissertation.”

  She remains quiet and I twist to face her. “What is it?”

  “I just wish you could have stayed at Wilmington. I know the cost is more affordable here, but I also know what a hard time you had in Fuller before you left. I just wish I could—”

  I interrupt her with a flash of my hand. “Mom, no. I needed to do this for myself. I’m twenty-two, almost twenty-three years old. I needed to come back here.” I smile. “I’m glad I came back here. It was time.”

  And boy was it. To know I landed back in Fuller the same time as Dalton gives me the feeling that maybe, just maybe, this is the way things were supposed to happen all along and I find comfort in that. That our time wasn’t wasted. It was just spent in a way neither of us was meant to understand at eighteen years of age.

  Relief relaxes her expression as she smiles back. “My little girl, all grown up. I’m so proud of you, Spencer.”

  “Aw, thanks, Mom.” I grin, then turn my focus back to the closet. As my eyes land on the box, I feel the need to warn Mom before she gets the wrong idea. “Okay, I need you to remember how grown up I am in about two seconds. Can you do that for me?”

  You could hear a pin drop in the silence I’m given in response. With both hands, I heave the FUDGE box out of my closet. Mom’s relaxed features tighten as I rise with it held close to my body, then she eyes it like a diseased rodent when I set it beside her.

  “I need to retire the box, that’s all. And there are some things that I would actually like to keep in here.”

  I watch from above as her face softens and her drawn mouth eases. Once I feel she’s not going to call Kirk in here to have me arrested for my own safety, I curl my fingers over the top of the box and lift.

  Just as the top is removed, Kirk pokes his head in my doorway, and I tear my eyes away from the contents to meet his saddened stare as he watches me. I open my mouth to speak, but he enters the room. “Spencer, Dalton loved you very much. You know that, right?”

  The genuineness of his tone warms my heart as his gaze falls to the box. I curb my smile because I know at this moment he’s trying to reassure me. He’s trying to convey what he can’t say. He’s trying to keep me holding on to a love I believe dead because he knows Dalton is coming for me. And for that, I love him. I really do.

  I drop the lid onto the bed, then peek inside and press the release button on the compass that has resided inside this box for years. As it flies open, what I see sends a spasm throughout my chest. My eye
s widen and I swallow deeply because I finally get it. Right in front of me is the message that was being delivered to me this entire time. But just like the compass, my heart was too closed for me to see it. To feel what I refused to allow myself to believe all these years. And as I continue to gawk at the compass, a tear escapes my eye.

  Love is a stubborn thing, it seems, both in life and in death.

  Because as I continue to stare, I know exactly what Jim has been trying to tell me since the night Dalton left.

  “IT’S ALL THERE,” I REMARK with my low voice, setting the aluminum briefcase on the cement floor of the familiar warehouse.

  Bates’s shoulder length blond hair falls over his shoulder as he bends at the waist to grasp the handle of the briefcase. I privately note how the fabric of his blazer pulls against the buttons with the movement. What is it with Silas and these fucking meatheads?

  His dark blue eyes meet mine as he retrieves it. “I trust you.”

  I smile inwardly. Trust. The word has no place in this business. The money in his grip was supplied by Fuller P.D., and the drugs I “sold” now reside safely in their evidence locker for purposes of tracking the supplier.

  I break away to survey the room around me. Rat is everywhere as memories replay in my mind, on fucking repeat. Our first time here, blown away by the piles of uncut heroin and coke stashed in cargo containers. After our first “errand”, busting into William O’Malley’s office and stealing the twenty large owed to Silas from his safe. Counting the wads of cash lining our pockets, giddy with the realization that we would able to afford things we only dreamed of buying, which at that age were stupid ass PlayStations.

  My stomach rolls and my jaw strains as I grind my teeth.

  We were just kids, trying to make it in a world that didn’t give two shits whether or not we were dead or alive. And we were preyed upon for that very reason.

  I force myself to focus on the task at hand instead of taking a fucking Uzi to this entire room. I crack my neck as another memory threatens to resurface, then state, “Let me know when you get another shipment. Lankston and Rockdale are running low.”

  A smile spreads across Bates’s face. “I knew I was doing the right thing bringing you on board. That’s another 500K each, easy. ”

  “Any idea how long that’s going to take? They’re getting antsy.”

  “We’ve got 100 kilos set to come in from—”

  “Well, well, well…”

  A voice interrupts Bates as it bellows from across the room. A very familiar voice. “If it isn’t the infamous Liam Kelley.”

  Adrenaline spikes, pricking my entire body. I inhale deeply and school my features, praying the jolt of shock ricocheting around my chest isn’t displayed on my face as I wheel myself toward his emerging presence.

  Silas enters the warehouse in all of his self-deluded magnificence, his Gucci loafers echoing as his strides hit the floor. His eyes are narrowed, trained on Bates with his approach, a clear warning for him to keep his mouth shut. Once he feels his point is made, Silas’s stare slices to me. The olive green button down he’s wearing displays the prominence of restrained anger brewing in his green eyes, but the bottom half of his face is contradictory as the goatee lining his mouth broadens with a calculated grin. The fluorescent lights from above us bounce of the skin of his shaved head as he walks.

  Now only a few feet away, he extends his arm in greeting. “Silas Kincaid. I apologize that I haven’t been able to properly introduce myself since you migrated over from…”

  “Langston.”

  “Ah, yes. Langston. A blossoming drug community it seems. Your sales are increasing exponentially.”

  I dip my head but maintain my stare, placating his tendency to size up a person by their displays of weakness. His smile widens with my refusal to break eye contact. Long seconds pass before he finally breaks the silence.

  “Well, Liam. It was nice to finally meet you. We’re glad to have you on board. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to give Bates here a call. He relays all information to me.” His hold on my hand tightens and I clench the fist by my side, stifling the urge to knock out those pearly whites he’s flashing at me.

  Finally releasing my hand, he turns to address Bates. “Office.”

  “Yes, sir.” Bates dips his head in my direction before following Silas through the warehouse toward his office.

  I turn on my heel and exit the building. As I soon as I’m in my jeep, I grab my cell from the center console as I shift into drive. Pulling away from the curb, I weave into traffic.

  “Greer.” Lawson’s voice is low and muffled. I look down at the clock and cringe. 12:45 A.M.

  “Just met with Silas.” I veer right without having to think. I drive the same route every night before finally landing at Spencer’s.

  More shuffling. “What? What did he say?”

  “Nothing. Don’t get your hopes up. His number two almost spilled some very valuable intel, but Silas cut him off, obviously having listened to our entire exchange before entering the conversation.”

  Lawson sighs. “Well, that’s promising. Maybe he’s starting to let his guard down.”

  Maybe. Or maybe he had a particular reason for showing up when he did. As much as I would prefer the former, my gut tells me it was very much the latter reason.

  “Maybe,” I offer.

  He releases another long breath. “Good. You did good, Greer. I’m proud of you, kid.”

  As soon as the words leave his mouth, my throat clogs with emotion that I’ve never felt before. Not even with Spencer. Pride, maybe? In myself? Respect? The fact that I’m receiving it? Or the fact that someone who I respect as much as Lawson feels the same about me?

  Hearing words that have never even been uttered in my direction spoken to me by someone I admire has unlocked some emotional floodgate that has never before been opened. And I need it to stop. So as usual, I drive. For hours.

  Once I’ve finally collected my balls, I find myself parked at Spencer’s, staring at her dimly lit bedroom window. Having already announced to Lawson’s patrol unit a couple of weeks ago that I will be making regular visits, I falsely assured them that Lawson was aware of my contact, nullifying any need to mention my presence to him. That being said, they did grin like buffoons when I told them with muttering jabs about “young love”, so I think they’ve put it all together. I really don’t care, as long as they continue watching her apartment like hawks and keep my visits to themselves.

  After removing my contacts, I secure my hair at the back of my head, then step out of the car. My feet shuffle as they carry me to the front door, and I’m silently relieved to find it’s locked. I knock gently, then another wave of relief passes when the sounds of the keypad being utilized fill the entryway. The door flies open and the sight in front of me has my mouth doing the same thing.

  Spencer’s silhouette is traced with candlelight. She’s wearing a white nightie, the top lined in pearl beading that covers her breasts, and between them lies a simple bow that my fingers ache to tug and release. Her blonde hair is loose, sexy as it curls over the white straps on her shoulders. As my gaze drifts downward, I find the rest of the gown is completely sheer as it falls loosely to her mid-thighs, a sliver of her stomach displayed through its front opening along with the lace of a matching set of white panties.

  I stand there, completely amazed at the celestial being standing in front of me.

  An angel.

  My angel.

  “Hi.” Spencer’s voice is shy as it wavers slightly when she speaks. She shifts her weight, then gestures for me to enter the apartment.

  “What is this?” I ask, drawn in by the incandescent light.

  The door shuts behind me, but my eyes remain captivated by dancing flames covering every inch of the room. As I enter fully, I notice a blanket covering the floor with a picnic basket set right in the center. I breathe a small chuckle and the sides of my mouth tip toward the ceiling as the pieces begin to fall tog
ether.

  A small hand takes hold of mine. Finally able to tear my eyes away, I look down at Spencer, struck by her bright smile as she looks toward the center of the room. Her stare breaks to meet mine and she shrugs.

  “I need a birthday redo.”

  “It’s not your birthday. That’s like two weeks away.”

  Her eyes fill with humor as she laughs lightly. “It’s metaphorical, Dalton.”

  Spencer tugs my hand and directs me to the blanket. My eyes are glued to the line of her body as she walks in front of me. The soft angles of her shoulders, her hair as it blows gently with the breeze generated by her movement, the “V” of her white lace panties peeking at me, her long legs as they carry her across the room and her bare feet as they pad the floor…

  Her beauty steals my breath.

  And as I begin to come out of stupor, it sure as hell stirs my cock. It’s hardening almost painful with my need to feel her bare skin against mine.

  She perches herself on bent knees, then pats the area beside her. I willingly comply, lowering myself to the floor and leaning back against the couch, my eyes never leaving hers. Leaning forward, she removes my boots then sits back on her ankles. Licking her lips nervously, she tucks a section of loose curls behind her ear.

  “I, uh…yeah. So, I think it’s time for a redo.” She pins me with her blue eyes. “For the longest time, that night haunted me. A night full of such beauty, then tarnished by the loss of you hours later. I just … if we’re going to do this, if this is a new beginning for us, I wanted … I wanted the slate wiped clean. I want a new memory, with you.”

  As she sits on her knees, her eyes break from mine when she leans toward the picnic basket and begins to draw out the same contents as before. Daisies in a glass vase, plastic champagne flutes and cheap champagne, napkins and plasticware, paper plates, a huge tub of … mac and cheese.

  I grin as she eyes the container. “Sorry, I didn’t have a crockpot. And this is Kraft, not homemade.” She crinkles her nose and my heart nearly implodes with the sight.