Silk

by Heidi McLaughlin

  His face never became clear; always concealed from my view. The longer I refused to move forward, the stronger the pull felt from the connection he controlled. My heart raced and my head swam, I couldn’t wait, I had to go to him. I had to reach him before it was too late.

  I ran. Ran quickly down the stairs and watched as he retreated just as rapidly. I was unsteady on the staircase, my feet felt too large, too heavy. I was almost at the bottom when I felt my shoe loosen and slip from my foot sending me crashing to the floor below. I felt the cold, hard floor beneath my face blanketing me in sharp agony. I looked up, but saw nothing.

  He was gone.

  ***

  Deacon

  I didn’t have a clue how I charmed my way into Eli’s house, but once her head was resting in my lap, tucked snuggly against my rib cage while she slept, I didn’t care what I had to do, I was never fucking leaving. I’d give my right hand to stay, which, for a man making his living playing a guitar, that’s saying a whole hell of a lot.

  She made the whole damn room smell like berries, it engulfed me and all my common sense drained from my body, faster than the blood pooled south. No part of me deserved to be here, or this close to something so fucking sweet, but she’d let me in, and I would stay until she forced me to leave.

  Eli shifted in her sleep drawing my attention back to her breathtaking face—literally pulling all the breath from my lungs. She’d been asleep for hours, but I never once closed my eyes. I was too busy watching her, wondering what she was dreaming; searching for ways I could weasel my way into her life, permanently. I was also pissed at myself for putting that pillow on my lap instead of just laying her down on my legs. Every time her head turned, or shifted, I wanted to feel it rub against the roughness of my jeans and the flesh underneath. God, just seeing her mouth, open with sleep and so near Annie, made me throb.

  Annie? Yeah, I named my dick Annie—my penis, my schlong, my deep-v-diver, my one-eyed snake, my flesh flute, my DICK—I’m aware there are other names for it, but that’s not what I chose to call him. So what man would willingly name his number one symbol of masculinity Annie? One whose manhood was reminiscent of an anaconda, that’s who.

  Eli started mumbling in her sleep, I couldn’t understand what she was saying, but by the way her brow was furrowed and her lips were trembling, I knew her dream wasn’t a happy one. I ran my hand down her bare arm, trying to soothe her, but she just jerked against me harder. Tilting her up so she fell harder against me, I hoped the contact would calm her slightly, but she pushed away from me, almost rolling from the couch. I stared helplessly at her while tears streamed down her face, but she never woke. The broken look on her face told me the dream was shattering her heart. Her arm flopped over her head and I saw a small tattoo on her wrist. I traced it with my finger and could feel a horizontal scar running just beneath the black ink. There was a small outline of a heart connected with a tracking heartbeat that faded into the word “live.” My head screamed at what it might mean, and I prayed one day I’d have the chance to hear her explain it to me.

  The devil cat jumped onto the coffee table and meowed at me. We locked eyes, and I actually wished the thing could talk to me, tell me what to do. Of course, she didn’t; instead, she launched from the table and landed on the edge of the couch next to Eli’s arm. Wiggling her head, she nudged her way under Eli’s arm and rested her chin on the front of Eli’s neck. It was like the freaking cat had just blanketed Eli in a warm armor of protection. As the cat laid there, purring loud enough to wake the dead, Eli completely calmed. Her face returned to normal and her breathing evened. Lucifer was definitely bad dream kryptonite. I touched the cat’s head and she looked up at me and yawned, then closed her eyes, snuggling deeper.

  The loud purring that filled the entire room must have put me in a trance. The next thing I knew, I jolted awake to the sound of my cell phone vibrating on the table next to me. I picked it up and saw the text message, “I REALLY screwed up this time.” I slowly slid from under Eli’s head and practically ran to the kitchen while hitting dial on my phone. Lucifer was close on my heels, almost knocking my ass to the floor several times.

  “Where are you?” I asked.

  “I’m sorry, Deacon. I really fucked it all up this time.” Was all she said in reply.

  “It’ll be fine, just tell me where you are.”

  She didn’t speak, she just cried. I could almost feel her crocodile tears on my face as her sobs wrapped around my heart like a vice.

  “Damnit, Angela, just fucking tell me where you are!” I shouted, trying to loosen the pain in my chest, if I could get to her I would make it better—save us both.

  “No.” She said more clearly, and I hoped the rogue tears would cease. “You have a life, too, and I can’t call you every time I can’t take care of myself. I should have left you alone, I’m ruining…everything.”

  “I don’t have anything going on, no plans. I just want to help you, please let me keep my promise.” I told her, even though it was a lie. I had every possibility at happiness asleep in the next room, but I would not forsake Angela. Never.

  “Deacon, no. I can’t be your problem forever.” She croaked, and I knew the tears were returning.

  “No baby-doll. Just tell me where you are, and I’ll be there to get you. Please don’t do this to me, just let me come—I need to.”

  She exhaled a long, ragged breath. “I’m walking back to my apartment, I’m not far; I can see the door.”

  “Thank you, was that so hard?” I exhaled harshly. “I’m on my way right now. I’m not far, I’ll be there in minutes.”

  I hung up the phone and crammed it into my back pocket. I wanted to scream FUCK at the top of my lungs, and punch my fist through the wall, but I also didn’t want to scare everyone in the house. So instead, I did what I’d always done with emotions I shouldn’t have, I pushed them down as deep as they would go and tried to forget them.

  Angela had done me a favor, though; she’d brought me back to reality. No matter how much I wanted to bury myself deep in Eli and let her wash it all away, getting mixed up with a low life like me would never be something she’d do long term, and I wasn’t sure I could accept anything less and maintain what little fucking sanity I had left.

  Chapter Twelve

  Eli Blue

  My whole body shifted and I heard a vibrating sound, followed by footsteps. I opened my eyes and saw I was in my living room, on my couch. The TV was playing Tom and Jerry cartoons, but the sound was too low to hear. I sat up and saw Willow and Duke laying on the love seat across from me. The glowing clock on the wall told me I’d slept here all night, and I was going to be late for work. I rubbed my eyes, thinking back to how I’d gotten here.

  My thoughts flashed back to the hallway and Deacon, our mouths moving, our tongues licking. After we’d been caught by Willow and Duke, they talked us into hanging out with them since everyone else had left. The only problem with that plan was they were actually more interested in dry humping on my love seat than they were in hanging out with us.

  The last thing I remember was Deacon placing a pillow on his lap and pulling my head down. He ran his fingers through my hair and teased my face with light strokes. I fell asleep gazing into his clear blue eyes.

  My heart sank when I looked around the room and saw he was gone—where was he? I remembered the familiar vibrating noise that woke me; it could have been his cell phone. I heard footsteps in the kitchen, so I slowly crept down the hall, listening intently. I wasn’t sure what’d I say if I found him, but I needed to know if he was still here.

  I could hear Luci purring, which meant Deacon was probably close by.

  “Damnit, Angela, just fucking tell me where you are?” I heard his voice echo down the hallway.

  I peeked around the corner and saw him pacing from one end of the room to the other, with Luci feverishly chasing after him. His phone was to his ear and he didn’t look happy about whatever he was hearing.

  “No baby-
doll. Just tell me where you are and I’ll be there to get you. Please don’t do this to me, just let me come—I need to.” He said desperately, and my heart ached at the sound. Who was Angela…baby-doll?

  As he paced back toward the doorframe I was hiding behind, I pulled back so he wouldn’t see me. I panicked, thinking he’d catch me eavesdropping, so I ran as silently as I could back to the couch and threw myself down. I could still hear his voice, but couldn’t hear what he was saying.

  There was a slight scraping sound on the carpet and then Luci’s purr. I kept my eyes closed and tried my best to steady my breathing. He didn’t say anything at first, but I could hear his slow intake of air and long, steady exhales, the same breathing I had fallen asleep to last night.

  “See ya, devil cat. Take care of her, okay?” He whispered and Luci meowed in response.

  Then I didn’t hear his breathing anymore. I opened my eyes, but he was gone.

  I didn’t move a muscle for a long time, I guess I thought if I didn’t move off of the couch he would come back—he’d said he wanted to hang out today, I knew I hadn’t dreamed that one up. After a while, I knew I was wrong, not only about him not coming back, but possibly about him all together, and I finally forced myself to my room. The reflection in my vanity mirror showed a true glimpse into what I felt like on the inside—sad and pitiful. Sad because I’d allowed some small part of myself to open up to Deacon, and the possibility of a future with him, however small that future might have been. Pitiful because I was sad, which was a total loop of despair. I finally had the balls to open up a little, and in less than thirty-six hours he’d already ripped my heart out, stomped on it, and then grinded it into the ground with his kick-ass rocker boots. And I’m sure he had no clue what he’d done—the male species never understands.

  I shook my head, rolled my shoulders back and forth several times then pointed at my reflection, “Suck it up, Buttercup. He ain’t worth it, so drop it and move forward—never back.” I said to myself. Those words, “forward—never back”, brought flashes of my dream last night, which wasn’t what I wanted to think about or focus on. I pushed the images of shiny shards and faceless men out of my mind and put on a ton of makeup to keep my emotions from showing on my face.

  I found the sexiest outfit I could, that was still work friendly, and slipped into it. Black capris, shimmery V-neck cami, my favorite blue sweater, and my black fuck-me heels. A girl’s best defense against sadness was looking good enough to eat, and that’s what I planned to do. I didn’t want to look good for anyone else, just for me—because I deserved it.

  I crept down the stairs because I saw Willow and Duke still asleep on the love seat. They really were disgustingly cute. She was tucked perfectly in his embrace with her head resting on his chest. She shifted slightly and I saw his hand rub small circles on her back. A small part of my heart warmed.

  I opened the front door to find the absolute last person I wanted to deal with today sitting on the steps.

  “I didn’t realize you kept such odd hours. I think your father would have even been to work by now.” My mother said, as she stood and faced me.

  “Hello, mother.” I said as calmly as possible, considering what I really wanted to do was scream at her to go away and never come back.

  “Hello, daughter.” She replied.

  I didn’t speak; I just waited for her to tell me what she could possibly want.

  “I guess that’s all we got for small talk?” She asked with an eye roll.

  “Yeah, I guess so.” I answered bitterly.

  “I need some money, Elizabeth.” She finally laid it out there.

  “I sent you money last week.” I pointed out.

  “I need more.”

  “What for?”

  “I found some real talent, this guy’s got more talent in his pinkie finger than your dad ever dreamed of having. I can’t let him get away.”

  “So you want me to fund your latest boyfriend’s dreams of stardom? Not gonna happen!” I said and pushed my way past her toward my car.

  “It’s not like that baby-girl, he’s real good. It won’t be like the last times.”

  I stopped, turning to look at her. She wasn’t the same woman I once loved. Life had battered and bruised her beyond my eyes’ recognition. The only resemblance this woman had to my mother was her small frame and bleach blonde hair. Even her once glowing eyes were now dull and lifeless.

  “No. I can’t finance a musician unless I want Savage Man tied to him. I don’t know this guy, and honestly, mother, I don’t trust your judgment of what his talents may, or may not, be.”

  I turned to walk away and felt her grab me by my long hair that hung down my back.

  “You ungrateful bitch, you really are just like your father!” She shrieked as she spun me around. “The minute you gain an ounce of control, you forget about the ones that made you. I fucking made him, and I made you. Ungrateful bastards!”

  ***

  Deacon

  The whole drive to Angela’s I felt the blood coursing through my veins and heard the whooshing in my ears—and it was fucking annoying as shit. I kept picturing Eli curled up on the couch with her sexy little shorts hiked up almost high enough I could see the curve where her legs met her sweet spot; I couldn’t stop licking my lips, wishing I was licking her. I rammed the heel of my hand into my forehead several times, HARD, hoping to rattle the nonstop sex fest from my brain. My focus needed to be on Angela right now, for just a little while, and once I got her straightened out, I’d allow myself to morph back into the dirty, perverted man I currently was and find someone to rid me of the ache residing between my legs.

  I could see Angela’s curly afro dancing in the breeze before I even parked. She looked exactly like the day I met her, barely eleven years old, except along the way, her body matured and started drawing attention she couldn’t handle. Frankly, Angela was fucking gorgeous, and always had been. She could give a man a hard-on from a mile away with just a glimpse. But her looks had completely destroyed her, everyone wanted something from her because of her beauty, and she trusted people she shouldn’t. She’d trust the homeless drug addict to house sit for her if he offered. On the day God handed out the beauty genes Angela was present and stayed for overtime, but the day common sense was delved out, her ass must have been absent.

  Angela was all dark chocolate skin, long legs, with a body that would kill any man. Her eyes were light gray with black-rimmed edges, and they were so bright, they almost glowed in the dark. She’d always left her hair natural, and it was actually one of my favorite things about her, it was big and wild. Her beauty didn’t rule her; honestly, I’m not sure she comprehended how beautiful she was because she’d been beaten down and screwed over so many times.

  Just as I parked at the end of the block, a delivery truck moved, giving me a better view of Angela—she wasn’t alone. There was a short, fat man looming in front of her, and he looked pissed. I shook my head as annoyance filtered through me, just what I freaking needed to deal with today. Then, as I got close enough to see the sheer amount of fear residing on Angela’s face, my fists clenched and every muscle in my body prepared to strike. My balls kicked into overdrive, and I felt a rush of testosterone course through my veins screaming to pound that dick’s face into the pavement.

  I was less than ten feet away when Angela finally spotted me, and I saw a different kind of emotion from her—shame. But I also saw something else on her face: a large busted lip and one of her eyes was swollen shut. The man had his hand wrapped around her arm and, almost in slow motion, I saw his hand fly up and slap her across the face. Her head jerked back, like she was in some cheesy soap opera, but I knew her reaction was real. I didn’t think; my entire body just launched. Luckily, I hit my intended target, and the man went smashing to the ground.

  “Deacon!” Angela shrieked, but I didn’t hear anything after that.

  He was still on the ground, but rolled to his back and glared up at me. I saw two things o
n his face—one, the fact he was a fucking coward, as if knowing he hit women wasn’t enough, his eyes were moving fast, from side to side, trying to find a quick escape; and two, he was an ugly motherfucker, so I knew the fight between him and Angela wasn’t a lover’s quarrel. Before he even had a chance to jump to his feet, I grabbed him by the collar of his dirty shirt and jerked him up. My fist clenched automatically and connected with the side of his face.

  “How does that feel, motherfucker?” I asked through gritted teeth. “Not so fun when it’s happening to you, huh?”

  “Stop, Deacon, stop!” Angela screamed, but once again I ignored her and pulled the man closer to my face, staring deep into his dead eyes.

  “What the fuck were you doing hitting my sister?” I asked.

  He laughed, “That bitch ain’t your sister.”

  “She damn sure is!” I spit back.

  “She’s the wrong fucking color to be your sister. If you’re fucking her, it’s alright with me, just don’t deny you’re fucking the-”

  My fist cut him off before he could finish and didn’t stop. I hadn’t counted the number of impacts, but I knew my left hook had hit him thoroughly because of the ache in my hand and the blood dripping to the ground. I finally released him when my heaving breaths drowned out the sobs coming from Angela. His body was completely dead weight and made an ungodly crushing sound when it hit the concrete sidewalk below. But I didn’t give a damn about him; you don’t lay a hand on what’s mine. He just learned that the hard way.

  I turned to Angela and saw her eyes focused on the man, which infuriated me even further. I wrapped my hand around her chin turning her gaze back to me.

  “Don’t look at him, don’t fucking look at him again.”

  She didn’t say anything, but her eyes answered “yes” for her, and the crying stopped. Her mouth opened, ready to speak, and I knew the only thing that was going to slither across her lips were lies. I put my hand up, cutting the words off in her throat.

  “I don’t want to hear it, go get your shit, and get your ass back down here.”