by Naomi West
“If everything is so wonderful, why can’t I get Felice out of my head?” He wondered how much longer the pain would linger, how much longer it would take him to move on.
Standing up from his desk, Pierce milled around the room, pondering over his next moves. There was quiet knock at the door, and Pierce let them in with a growl. “What is it?”
The door opened, revealing Razor. Nothing had really changed about her in the months since Pierce had come back, but there was an air of something new in her. It was like finding herself a business woman on the right side of the law had made her stand up a little straighter.
“We’re good to go on the Christmas thingy, boss. The Callie Project has agreed to work with us,” Razor said without preamble, walking into Pierce’s office with that her shoulders back and her eyes determined. “We’ll get the project off of the ground by December 1st.”
“Perfect; thanks, Razor. I owe you one for taking care of that for me.”
“Anything else I can do for you, boss?” She flipped her long, half-shaved hair out of her face with a practiced motion. There was a frown on her leathery face.
Sighing, Pierce leaned back in his chair, his eyes locking on Razor’s. “Is there something you wanna say to me?”
She made a face and shrugged. “That depends on whether you’re thinking about going to visit Nevada this holiday season or not, I guess.”
Pierce winced. “I’m not planning any trips anywhere, Razor. And it would be best if you didn’t bring it up again.” Razor shrugged, closing the office door behind herself, leaving Pierce alone with his memories again. The memories of Felice’s perfect white skin. The gentle part between her cupid’s bow lips as she moaned his name. The way her hands —
Better stop thinking like that. It was hard enough to get anything done with Felice haunting his mind all the time; remembering the times he spent warming her bed wouldn’t make anything better.
As though his thinking of her brought it on, Pierce’s phone buzzed with the sound of chiming bells. It was Felice’s unique ringtone. Sweating, Pierce reached for the phone with fingers that shook.
“First pictures of the baby; it’s a boy. :)”
And Pierces heart collapsed, turning into a black hole in his chest. The ultrasounds looked like blobs of an unfinished sculpture to Pierce’s untrained eye, but he knew there was a child in there somewhere. His child. He saved the photos in his phone without replying, returning to the lifeless, colorless world he now lived in. Before, this repair shop was everything he ever wanted. But somehow, spending a few weeks with America’s dream girl had altered him in ways he couldn’t comprehend.
But he would go on. And one day he would spend a few minutes not thinking about Felice and his unborn son. Then maybe a few hours. Then maybe a few whole days at a time. The pain of losing her wouldn’t go away, but maybe one day it would be a little more bearable.
“Felice doesn’t want me part of our kid’s life. I can’t decide if her sending me these updates is worse than nothing.” He stared down at his phone, thinking about replying to the message, but ultimately deciding against it. He should have blocked her number, but couldn't quite bring himself to do it. He should have burnt the pile of magazines that he’d bought with her photo in it, but he couldn’t seem to keep himself from buying them whenever her perfect face peeked out from the pages.
Well, at least the world loves her again. Getting back with Clay has been a huge boost to her career.
But it didn’t stop the pressure from clamping down on his heart every time her name came up in conversation. He was pretty sure that nothing would ever stop that pain.
Taking a deep breath, Pierce took his jacket, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter. Perhaps a visit to the hills would help out his head.
# # #
Felice
Felice stared down at her phone, hoping that Pierce would reply to her text. Almost immediately, the photo was shown as “looked at,” but no reply ever came. Sighing, Felice fought back tears as she set her phone down gently on the counter next to her.
Standing on the cold, white kitchen tiles in her bare feet, Felice felt a little nauseous. She’d never thought that things like morning sickness and swollen feet would be on her list of problems to deal with, but she didn’t regret the decision to keep Pierce’s child. If nothing else, their son would be a little piece of him that she could keep.
There was a knock at the door before Clay entered, his eyes roaming the rooms until they found her. “I’m always in the kitchen, Clay,” she wanted to say. “Always. It is the only room in this house that I love. Not that you would take the time to learn anything about me. No, that would take too much effort.”
“Hello, darling,” Clay frowned, putting unnecessary emphasis on the word. It made Felice feel even more nauseous than she was before. Clay walked in and sat down across from her at the counter. He didn’t even bother trying to kiss her cheek anymore. Clay, just like Felice, was tired of pretending. It was hard enough to pretend for the cameras.
“What do you want, Clay?” Felice asked after a long deep breath. It was the only thing that kept her from snapping at him.
Clay pulled out his phone and immediately started flipping through something, his scrolling ensuring that he didn’t have to look at Felice’s face. She silently fumed. Then he made it even worse by opening his mouth. “Well, the producers want to end this season with a bang, you know? And one of the little guys who gets coffee had an idea.”
Felice frowned, pretty sure she was already going to hate this idea. Running her hands over the swelling of her belly, she stayed silent and waited for Clay to finish.
“So, they thought it would be a good idea to have a wedding for the season finale. That way your little bastard baby can grow up with a real father. Or something.” Clay waved dismissively like it didn’t matter one way or another to him. “Something about keeping it real with the conservative fans or something.”
Felice just blinked at him, unable to summon a reaction. The world seemed to tilt a little while Clay was talking. Without meaning to, Felice went to her coffeemaker and turned it on, letting the scent and sound of the coffee spilling into the carafe soothe whatever was left of her spirit. “I should have stayed with Pierce. I should have taken the hard route.” She didn’t say anything in response, and Clay somehow took that as a sign that she also thought the idea was a good one.
“You should start picking out rings and all that nonsense; they’ll want to film the party and engagement episodes in the next few weeks. If you buy whatever ring you want, I’ll pay you back. Get it soon.” Clay stood up from the bar, his eyes still locked on his phone. “I have a date tonight, so don’t bother texting me with pictures. I’m sure whatever you pick will be fine.” Without a single word of affection or farewell, Clay was gone, his face still so buried in his phone that he couldn’t see how unhappy Felice looked.
Pouring herself a big cup of coffee, Felice slowly stirred a bit of milk and sugar in. Then she dumped half of it out in the sink. “Doctor says no more than one, eight-ounce caffeinated coffee a day.”
She stood around in her silent kitchen, sipping slowly on her one allowed coffee. The misery of everything that had happened to her so far was starting to push hard against her shoulders, weighing her down even more than the baby inside of her stomach.
It took every ounce of willpower and courage she had inside of her to not run to her phone and beg for Pierce to take her back. Hating every second of her new life, Felice couldn’t even take any joy in the fact that the world seemed to have fallen in love with her and Clay as a couple. She didn’t care that her career was back on track, that the ratings were up, or that the store was doing well.
She just wanted Pierce by her side.
Tears slipped down her face as she cradled her growing belly with her arms. “But I need a father for my child that doesn’t break the law, that doesn’t ride with a gang. I need Clay for the cameras, for now.”
May
be someday, she would learn to love someone new, and be free of both Pierce and Clay.
But she doubted it.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Pierce
“Hey, boss, there’s someone here to see you.” Razor’s face was all twisted up with concern as she poked her head into the office.
Pierce’s eyebrows furrowed. “What kind of someone?”
Razor shrugged and disappeared behind the door before he could ask any more questions, which was a really bad sign. Razor always just came into his office. “Shit.”
“Hopefully it’s not the police. We cleared up everything with them months ago. I think.” Pierce pulled on his jacket and stepped down into the main hangar where the boys were repairing the bikes that had been left by clients to be fixed. Or, they should have been working. Instead, they were distracted by Pierce’s visitor.
He chuckled humorlessly. Dressed like that, it’s no wonder she’s drawing attention.
“Good afternoon, Jennifer,” Pierce called, pulling Jenny’s attention from her phone. She hadn’t changed much since he’d first met her; the long, black curls still delicately framed her pretty face. The ends were still brightly colored, like she’d tripped into a wet canvas.
This time around, her contacts were a too-bright, too-rich sky blue. Pierce silently wondered if Jennifer even remembered what her natural eye color was at this point. “Buenas tardes, Pierce. Nice digs, man.”
“How did you find me?”
Jennifer shrugged, smacking her gum loudly against the roof of her mouth as the bangles lining her arms jangled loudly together. “I got my ways. That’s not important though.”
Pierce glanced around, amused at the open-mouthed stares of his mechanics. “Get back to work and stop acting like animals,” Pierce yelled, making every single one of his boys jump like they’d been caught sneaking cookies from mama’s cookie jar. Jennifer laughed out loud, then took Pierce’s arm and led him outside.
Pierce lit up a cigarette, offering one to Jennifer. She took it delicately between perfectly manicured nails, pulling her own lighter from the depths of her designer bag. Blowing smoke into the cool, December air, Jennifer glanced around herself with surprise. “You have done quite well for yourself, Pierce. Good for you.”
“You didn’t come here just to pat me on the back, I’m assuming.”
Jennifer shook her head, leaning back against the metal of the warehouse, looking up into the winter’s sky. She looked around, then back down at Pierce. Suddenly she asked, “You miss her?”
“Of course I do,” Pierce snapped, wanting to walk away from this conversation. “Does she — Doesn’t she miss me?”
Jennifer rolled her strange, too-blue eyes. “Duh, of course she does. She’s in love with you. That’s not even a fair question.”
Crossing his arms, he hoped Jennifer couldn’t hear his heart thundering in his chest. “So that still doesn’t explain why you are here.”
“I’m here because, although Felice won’t tell you herself, I think you need to know. Her ‘relationship’ with Clay is just for the cameras. They don’t see each other except for shooting and the occasional publicized public outing.”
Despite his best efforts, Pierce could feel hope flaring in his chest. The feeling made him dizzy, the blood rushing loud through his veins. “Maybe I have a chance then. Maybe I can get her to take me back, even after everything. I just have to prove I deserve it.”
But he had no idea how.
“Felice should do whatever it is that will make her happy. Staying with Clay obviously doesn’t and being with me won’t either. So you need to make her see that.” Pierce put out the cigarette on the ground under his boot, blowing out the last bit of smoke from his lungs. “She should do what’s best for our kid and herself.”
“She’s miserable without you, you know.”
It was like a blow to the stomach to hear those words; he’d never wanted to make Felice miserable. After a moment to compose himself, he answered, his voice surprisingly steady. “Felice and the baby are better off without me. I think it’s time for you to go home.” After a moment’s hesitation, he opened his mouth again. “But if you wouldn’t mind bringing something back with you, it would be appreciated.”
# # #
Felice
Felice stared at the obviously handmade crib, her eyes flowing over the intricately hand-carved bassinet, her stomach churning. It was beautiful and obviously a long labor of love. It must have taken Pierce every spare hour of every day they had been apart to create this masterpiece. Tears sprung to her eyes, and Felice had to grab the kitchen counter to keep herself upright.
“You went to see him.” It wasn’t really a question, but Jennifer nodded anyway.
“If nothing else, it proves how much he still loves you.” Felice glared at her best friend as she flipped her thick hair over her shoulder, a cocky grin on her pretty face. “He’s really cleaned himself and his people up; he’s completely legitimate now. He runs a garage in Boston now, fixing up bikes and cars.”
Felice just stared at her, ice slowly replacing the blood in her veins. “I’m glad he managed not to do anything illegal in the past two months. Is this a record?” She knew she was being a bitch, but Jennifer had gone behind her back and brought up all sorts of emotions that Felice wasn’t ready to feel yet.
This was her fault.
“Pierce is still way better for you than Clay, I mean it.” Jennifer jumped up onto the counter, sitting down on the white tiles of Felice’s kitchen island, her feet swinging as she popped her bubblegum in between her teeth. “You should tell that lying, cheating son-of-a-bitch to crawl back under whatever hole he crawled out of and run back to Pierce. He’s a much better man, even with his past.”
Felice crossed her arms over her chest, trying not to wince as she pressed too hard against her very sensitive breasts. “I won’t put my child in danger just because it looks like Pierce might have given up his criminal ways. He can go back to them at any time. You don’t know.”
“And you can’t prove he will go back to them, Felice! How can you have so little faith in the man you claim to love and so much faith in the asshole that cheated on you?”
“Love has nothing to do with this!” Felice yelled, her voice cracking with unhappiness. “Clay will raise Pierce’s son like his own and has promised to be there for all of his birthdays and everything. Pierce can’t promise the same if he ends up in jail, Jennifer.”
“What is it with you?” Jennifer snapped in return, rage lighting up her beautiful eyes. “You are so willing to see only the best in Clay, who is a garbage fire of a human being, and only the worst in Pierce who is a good guy trying to make things right so you will be back in his life. He wants to be part of his son’s life so badly that he’s completely changed his life around, and you won’t even give him a chance.” Jennifer slid off of the counter and walked towards the front door, shouting over her shoulder. “Pierce is lucky he’s not stuck with you, considering how much you’re determined to hate him!”
All of the anger and pain flooded out of Felice the moment Jennifer slammed the door, bringing tears to her emerald eyes. Why did doing the right thing have to be so hard? Being with Pierce would be right, but it’s just so much easier to stay here and not have to try. There was a part of Felice that wanted to drop everything and do whatever necessary to make life with Pierce work, but the rest of her was afraid. What would it do to her career, her show, her store, her life?
If he slips, I will end up alone with a child and my man in jail. Can I really live that way?
Pressing her face into her hands, Felice stood in the empty, white kitchen and cried. The sounds of her tears echoed around the empty house. There was no one else around, no one left to fill the aching void inside of her chest. She cradled her growing belly, eyes streaming tears as she sank to the floor.
“I don’t know what to do.” The tile floor was icy cold against her body, but she didn’t seem to have the strength
left to pick herself up. “I don’t know what to do.”
She just sat there and cried quietly into the empty, lifeless silence around her.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Pierce
Pierce glanced around at the chaos, trying to decide how to handle the unforeseen boom in traffic. The toy drive was just supposed to be a local event; where did all of these people come from?
The Millennium Mayhem First Annual Toy Drive was looking to be an unprecedented success, one that had blown both Pierce and Razor’s hopes completely out of the water. The whole damned garage was flooded with bright toys and bows and ribbons and strangers with cameras. News vans lined the streets outside, drawing onlookers from the streets, curious to see what all of the fuss was about.