Debt

by Nina G. Jones

  “I miss fucking your tight pussy. Tasting your cream. You were made for me,” he huffs out as he handles me like a beast ravaging his prey.

  I wrap my arms around Tax’s strong neck, smothering his face in my breasts as I attempt to muffle my cries into his hair. He grips the meat of my ass firmly, boosting me up and down his shaft, stabbing me deep inside. I throw my head back in euphoric agony every time his head plunges deep inside of me.

  My body locks up, as I clench his, tense from pumping into me, as a burst of energy shoots through me. “Fuck, Tax!” I cry out as the pressure of my weight on his cock makes the intensity of the orgasm inescapable. I grab frantically at his hair and crash my lips onto his plump pout as I grunt and moan into his mouth. He rubs his pelvis against mine as his cock draws out every last wave of pleasure from my body. His dick swells as my orgasm tapers and he releases himself inside of me, pressing me against the car for leverage as he pushes himself as deep as he can inside of me, filling me with his warm cum.

  I slide my legs down to the ground, but I won’t release Tax from my arms. I don’t want him to freak out and leave. He needs to face me. He needs to tell me everything.

  But this time, he collapses onto me, panting, the cords of his muscles softened with relief. We both really needed to get that out of our systems.

  “You drive me fucking crazy, Mia.” It’s like a poem coming from Tax’s lips.

  “Then I guess we’re even.” I let out my first genuine smile in a week. I cup his face in my hands. “Tax, it’s time for us to talk.”

  “I know,” he says, his eyes full of dread. He motions to say something, but then he hesitates.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “Not now.”

  “Now. I need you to give me something. Anything.”

  He sighs, looking down at the soaked gravel below us. His body winds up in my arms, the relaxation from our sex already becoming consumed by his secrets. Whatever he has to tell me, he must think it will change everything. I tense up in response to his touch, bracing myself for whatever words come out of his mouth.

  Finally, he looks into my eyes. They are clouded with remorse. “Mia, I am—was—Sil.”

  I knew Mia was waiting outside of my building before I ever stepped out. I had a feeling she might show up eventually after her little vow to find out why I blackmailed her. I told the doorman and security if a car with her plate numbers parked in or around the building, to call me. Mia’s no fool. She’s kind, but she’s tenacious. I believed her when she said she would find out who I am and why I came into her life.

  I have to admit, this whole following me thing is kind of badass of her.

  And then there is the other possibility, the one I pray doesn’t come to fruition: that she might show up at my door telling me she’s pregnant. It’s not that I don’t want her to have my child, it’s that I want for her to be free of all of my baggage. So, I bury that thought, tell myself it’s not going to happen. I left her before I could do more damage than I already have. And if it does happen, I will have to battle with every fiber of my being to stay away, because that’s what would be best for Mia and our child. She would probably hate me for abandoning them, but she never know how much it would torture me to stay away. And I would deserve for her to think that of me, even if it’s a lie.

  I thought following Mia this week would make things easier. Selfishly, I could watch her from a distance, get a dose of her while she would be protected from any further drama I could bring, but it only made me crave her with an intensity that was torture: sleepless nights full of internal deliberation, an unrelenting ache in my gut, a cock that wouldn’t calm the fuck down.

  I tried to make her think I didn’t give a shit. That would be better than the truth, but she sees right through my bullshit, and she isn’t afraid to call me out on it. Usually, I can shut people out, it’s a shield I have used all my life, but Mia doesn’t even notice the shield. She cuts through that shit like a welder. Her words were like bullets, each one piercing through the once impenetrable armor.

  When she called me a coward, she was right. Mia exposes herself to me with such fearlessness. I respond by leaving. Yes, I am doing this to protect her, but I also don’t want Mia to hate me. I like that she wants me. I could leave while I was ahead, or I could stay and earn her eventual hate.

  And if Mia discovers the whole truth, she will hate me. There is no other way. I will be the one who is left alone in a pile of ashes.

  But seeing her on the ground, broken and abandoned, knowing that it was me who did that to her, for no good reason, I couldn’t convince myself any longer that what I was doing was good for her. I couldn’t let her think I didn’t care. She deserved to know that she is so much more to me than I ever let on. And if she is carrying our child, I can’t let her do this alone, I’ll have to find a way to control Jude.

  I saw her puffy eyes as she went to work every day last week, tucking away the memories of what had happened between us so she could continue to run Alea. All week I had been fighting the urge to end up on her doorstep and make the tears stop. But I kept telling myself I needed to do right by her and that her temporary pain would be worth avoiding the greater pain of knowing. But then she got on her knees. She begged.

  And I can’t say no to her when she fucking begs.

  If anyone had a debt to pay, it’s me. She deserves to know who I am, what happened to me and Jude, why we turned out the way we did.

  I’m in now. Mia and I don’t have a choice, we can try to run, but we each keep getting pulled back in, like our connection is a strong current, pulling us on its course no matter how hard we swim.

  I will tell her as much as I can, it’ll be ugly, but it can be enough. Though there are some things, she can never know. She doesn’t deserve that kind of pain.

  “Sil? What? Sil as in Silvio? That’s not possible. You don’t even look like him...” she says in response to my confession, her face masked in confusion.

  “Mia, that was 14 years, 80 pounds, and a delayed puberty ago. No one would recognize me. Do you really even remember what Sil looks like? Aside from the most obvious superficial characteristics? Long hair, tall, black clothes. You haven’t seen his—my—image in fourteen years. No one remembers Sil, no one cared about Sil. Sil vanished one day and no one even noticed.”

  “I did,” she says.

  I watch Mia observe my face, searching her memories. Her mouth is parted open in shock. “It doesn’t make sense. The things you said about yourself...that wasn’t Sil’s—your—life.”

  “Well, some things were true to Sil, some were true to Tax.”

  “I can’t believe it...” her voice vanishes in disbelief. “Your eyes...I thought there was something familiar. I think it’s why I always felt safe with you. No matter how hard you tried to be, there was something familiar inside of them.”

  I look to the side, now feeling that my eyes are some sort of vulnerability. I don’t like vulnerability.

  “But you never had a brother...”

  “I met Rex right after I left Clint.”

  “What about your sister? Jude...Of course...Judith...I never knew her by anything other than Jude. You said she was your younger sister, not a twin.”

  “Technically, she is younger by a few minutes. Semantics.”

  “You said you weren’t close to her. I remember you being so close.”

  “That was a lie, I’ll admit. I didn’t want you sniffing around with more questions about her.”

  “I can’t even wrap my mind...” She slumps back, shivering as a breeze sweeps in.

  “Come to my place, we can talk, but let’s get you into some warm clothes,” I say, feeling protective.

  “I don’t understand...” she mouths to herself as I guide her into the passenger seat of her car. “But, why? I never did anything to you...I thought we were friends.”

  “Let’s just get back home,” I say, pulling out of the abandoned lot.

  14 Years Earlier />
  This is bad, really bad. I’m not sure what’s going on, but every base instinct is telling me to get the hell out of here. I don’t want to run and look scared, so I slowly back up.

  “Nothing man. I didn’t know you were hanging here tonight,” I say, as if Tripp being at the meetup point instead of Mia is some huge coincidence.

  I scan my perimeter and see that Tucker, Tripp’s older brother and lifetime delinquent, is standing nearby in the shadows. Unlike Tripp, who is seen as a golden boy and a future D1 college star football player, Tucker has always been a blatant troublemaker. Instead of going to college, my dad bitched that Tucker got a cushy office in the factory doing nothing. He doesn’t even show up half of the time. He’s been known to love late nights at the bar and for slapping around a few girlfriends. Tripp and Tucker together, drunk, is bad fucking news.

  I glance to each side looking for an escape route. Flanking me are Huck and Curtis. My stomach twists and bile climbs up my throat.

  “Just wondering why you wanna fuck my girl,” he says, with a smartass smirk, his posture lilting from his drunkenness.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Tripp laughs, looking around to the others for assurance, and they join his chorus of mockery. “Awwww, he thinks Mia would want some poor, part backwoods trailer trash, part immigrant, skinny fuck like him.” Tripp pulls out a note from his pocket, waving it in the air.

  He clears his throat and squints to read the letter in the darkness of the dimly lit forest.

  “Mia, I think you are an amazing person, and you deserve the best. I know you think of me as a friend, but I see you as more. Awwwww!” He reads the words in a high-pitched voice, mocking the sweetness of my words.

  My cheeks burn as he reads the private words, now made public for teasing and humiliation.

  “Oh, this part is my favorite: I think you deserve someone who will treat you like a queen. It might not be my business, but you deserve better than Tripp.” He looks up and sneers at me. “So, you trying to get my girl to break up with me?”

  “How did you get that?” I ask. My insides quiver with mortification. How could I ever show my face in school again?

  “Dude, she laughed her ass off when she read your letter and then she gave it to me. Mia was just trying to get her project done. She’s nice to everyone. She doesn’t like you. You’ve been creeping the shit out of her. She wants you to leave her alone and asked me to make sure you get the message.”

  “Fine. I got it. There’s no need for four people to deliver the message,” I say.

  “I think there is. You seem to have forgotten your fucking place, you fucking weirdo.” Tripp bumps his chest against mine, and the smell of hot beer assaults my nose. It reminds me of the man whose head I just bashed with a pot.

  “I don’t want any problems,” I say.

  “Well then maybe you shouldn’t go around causing them.”

  I take a few steps back and hit a wall. I turn and see it’s Tucker. Tripp and his friends are all seniors. They all play football and Tucker used to play when he was in high school. While we are all around the same height, each guy outweighs me by at least forty pounds.

  “Come on guys, point taken,” I say.

  Tucker pushes me forward into Tripp’s arms and he pushes me back. “Oh, you wanna start something? The freak over here thinks he’s a tough guy!” Then he peers at my face, tilting his head. “Looks like you got your ass beat once tonight already. I guess nobody likes you, huh? What happened? Daddy beat your ass again? Everyone in this fucking town knows what a drunk loser your dad is.”

  “Shut up,” I say, seething under my breath.

  “It’s no wonder your mom offed herself. Who would want to live with a husband like that and a fucking freak for a son?”

  “My mother died giving birth. You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

  Tucker laughs behind me. “My dad said your mama killed herself after you and your sister were born.”

  Shock flashes through my body like a stun grenade. This can’t be true. Jude and I had always been told she died giving birth to us. That’s why pops hated us. But why would Tucker say these things out of the blue?

  “Sil?” The small voice calls out from the trees, searching for me. Shit, Jude.

  “Just go back to the car!” I yell, but it’s too late, she reaches the clearing and sees the commotion.

  “What’s going on?” she asks, her eyes darting to the guys encircling me.

  “I was just telling your brother how your whore of a mother killed herself,” he said. I don’t even think. Tripp’s words, designed for cruelty, set me off. Maybe if it was just me, I could have resisted. But Jude, my best friend, the little spitfire who tackled my dad to defend me, shouldn’t have to hear this bullshit.

  I swing and land a punch right on Tripp’s cheek. My hand shoots with a sharp pain as it connects and he stumbles back a few steps. The satisfaction only lasts a second as I feel Tucker’s arms lock onto mine, exposing my torso.

  Tripp rubs his lips and looks down at his bloody fingertips. “So you wanna roll with the big boys? Maybe you forgot who I am. I fucking own this town!” he yells.

  “Hit him,” Tucker says, tightening his arms around mine.

  Tripp stomps forward and punches me in the gut. The punch feels like a missile directly shot into my stomach, triggering a tsunami of nausea. Before I can gasp for air, he does it again and again.

  “Stop it!” Jude screams, trying to push Tripp away. But this is not two of us on one man so drunk he could barely stand. This is four strapping older athletic teenagers. We are no match. Tripp pushes her to the ground. “Huck don’t let her go. She’ll tell,” he says.

  “Run, Jude!” I scream through raspy gasps.

  Jude tries to get to her feet, and Huck, all six feet of him, grabs her. She kicks and screams as he pulls her away.

  “Jude’s gonna watch,” Tucker says into my ear, his stale beer breath adding to the sick feeling in my stomach.

  Then punches rain down on me, my body, my face, my neck. The warm moisture of blood and snot coats my chin. My ribs ache so deeply, that if it wasn’t for Tucker holding me up, I would wilt to the floor.

  Finally he does, and the cool damp earth catches my body. Relief. This is finally over.

  But soon I realize it’s not.

  “I want in this shit!” Tucker says, like it’s his turn in a game of miniature golf. A huge thudding sound booms in my chest as a foot makes contact with my upper back. Pain shoots up and down my spine as stars explode in my vision.

  “Wait...wait...” Tripp says, with a hint of laughter in his voice. “Let’s show him who his real daddy is.” I look up through swollen eyes as they whip off their belts.

  “Please...” I moan, weakly raising a hand to shield myself.

  That’s when I tune in on the sound of Jude screaming. I had shut it out earlier. Her guttural pleas for them to leave me alone were too difficult to bear.

  “Shut her up!” Tripp screams.

  I want to tell her to stop, but every time I speak, I choke on blood and saliva.

  “You’re going to kill him!” Jude cries.

  “Maybe we should stop,” Huck says. “Guys this is getting out of hand.”

  “Huck, shut up the fuck up!” Tripp screams. “Don’t be a pussy. Cover her mouth.”

  Then the belt buckles rain down. It seems each brother is competing with the other to see who can slam down the hardest. Tripp eggs Curtis to join in and he adds his belt to the violent flogging. Somehow, my shirt comes up, and they directly attack my flesh, tearing it open with each lash. Each time a cold buckle lands on my skin, it immediately bursts into flames of pain. Viscous warmth leaks from each new wound.

  “Shit my belt broke,” Tripp complains.

  “Woooh!” Curtis shouts with a rush of adrenaline.

  “Gimme that!” Tripp yanks Curtis’s belt.

  “Shit man, he looks bad,” Curtis s
ays. “Fuck dude, we are going to be in so much trouble.”

  “Shut up!” Tripp shouts, wailing down on me with Curtis’s belt over and over.

  Finally, it stops. The world begins to slowly darken, but I fight to stay awake. I can’t leave Jude alone. I have to get to my feet and get her out of here.

  “Naw, man,” I hear Huck say, as he and Tucker discuss something in a low murmur. I roll over to my side and arch my neck to look up and see Tripp feeling up Jude. She bucks and writhes underneath his hands.

  Without even looking back at me, Tripp speaks. “How about I let you fuck Mia, if you let me fuck your sister? I bet her pussy is tight. She’s so fuckin’ little.”

  This cannot be happening. This must be a nightmare. This doesn’t happen in real life. Only in the movies. Tripp and Tucker are bad, but no one is this bad.

  “Don’t,” I say, trying to get to my feet. Every time I get one body part off the floor, I collapse. My ribcage feels like ten knives plunge into it with each breath. Blood and spit dangle off my chin, swinging like a pendulum with every movement.

  “Huck, don’t be such a pussy,” Tucker says. “Hold her.”

  “No!” I call out, but my voice is hardly a whisper.

  Huck’s face is full of dread as he clamps down harder on Jude and Tripp pulls up her shirt. He laughs. “She’s got no titties!”

  Tucker squeezes one of her nipples. “I bet she doesn’t even have a bush yet,” he says, tugging on her waistband.

  Her tiny body kicks and wrestles underneath Huck’s grip, but he’d rather hold down a defenseless girl instead of standing up to his friends. Curtis stands to the side, shifting his weight around uncomfortably, but laughs with the Pettits when they make their disgusting comments.

  I take a deep, painful inhale. It feels like nails are dancing in my lungs, stabbing them remorselessly. I finally come to my feet, dragging myself over to Tripp. They are so engaged in tormenting my sister that they hardly notice me.