The Laundromat is empty, so I go to the radio in the corner and turn it on, finding a station I like. I start humming and singing along to Roar by Katy Perry, and shake my hips from side to side. I have enough laundry for two small loads, one dark and one white. I add the stuff I got from Mama’s, because it’s been sitting in a stale dresser drawer all that time, so I’m sure it could use a good freshening up. When the two loads are done washing I’ll dump them all into one drier to hurry this process along.
While I’m waiting for my laundry, I look over at my box. It’s been so long since I’ve looked inside. Now would be a good time. I sit down on the chair that’s left in the Laundromat and place the box on my lap, my hands shaking as I open the lid, and my breathing somewhat erratic. I haven’t touched this box in years, the memories too difficult for me to bear. I suck in a sharp breath.
I place the lid on the floor to free my hand. On the very top is a scrapbook that Mama had been making for me, full of memories summarizing all of my happy days up until Daddy died. There are photos of me as a baby, including Mama’s ultrasound photos, and even a photo of my teeny tiny baby feet with a pink ribbon wrapped around them. I used to love that photo, often tracing my fingers over it whenever I had the chance. There are so many pictures of me, smiling and happy, including that last birthday party before it all changed and before it all went sour.
Tears blur my vision as I hold up a photo of Daddy and me at the park. He’s crouched beside me as we feed the animals. We had matching grins on our faces and a sparkle in our eyes. My world was so complete and I was so happy, but also so naïve. I didn’t know that life could change in a heartbeat. The sick feeling in the pit of my stomach is still there, and now more than ever I’m thankful that I’m away from that life, away from all the sorrow and the pain…
Chapter Eleven
Sawyer
Mandy wasn’t home when I got in. She arrived after I’d fallen asleep and she was gone before I woke up. I have to talk with her and soon. Hopefully we can work on everything tonight. I’m skipping my classes today. I want to pop in on my brother and see if I can get him to open up and talk about whatever it is that’s eating at him. I’m not one for mushy bullshit, but I agree with Dad that something is really wrong with him, and he isn’t talking. I also want to head to the diner and see if I can find out some information on my mystery girl. That sounds like something a stalker would do and I sort of feel like one, but there is this magnetic pull about her that piques my curiosity, something that is putting my body on high alert. Something about her is affecting me in ways I don’t understand, because I don’t even know her name.
I finished my shower and hauled ass out the door in less than ten minutes, a perk of being a man. I didn’t bother shaving so I’m currently sporting a rather rugged look. It’s another gorgeous day so I take the bike again as I smile widely under my helmet.
The diner looks busy from the overfilled parking lot as I pull into the back. I put the kickstand down and lock the bike up as I tuck my helmet under my arm and pull my leg over the bike. I turn to walk to the front door and stop abruptly when I see the one that has consumed my thoughts since the library, forming a crazy obsession. She’s sitting on the back stoop with her legs pulled up to her chest, giving an introduction to the place between her legs. I have to adjust my cock as it starts hardening behind my zipper.
I remain silent to watch her. She has her face tilted up to the sun and her eyes are closed. She leans back on the steps with her elbows on the step behind and she straightens her legs out in front of her, crossing them at the ankles. Her tits are full, and with her sitting in that position it almost seems like they’re staring right at me. Immediately following that thought, my cock hardens even further. My heart is pounding in my chest as I imagine removing her clothes, the rhythm matching the pulse in my pants. I bet she’s even more beautiful when that body isn’t covered. I’m not letting her get away this time. I walk toward her with my helmet tucked against my side.
“Hey.” I wince as she flinches, her arms and legs flailing as she tries not to lose her balance.
“Shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” I say as I hurry to grab her by the elbow before she lands on her face on the hard cement. The instant my hand comes in contact with her skin a weird tingle surges through my body. What the fuck is going on with me? As soon as she’s righted herself, she jerks her arm away from me and then backs away. Her eyes are wide in her face and she’s lost any pinkness in her cheeks. It’s as if she’s seen a ghost and gone stark white herself. I’ve obviously frightened her, so I hold my hands out in front of me and cautiously take a step forward, wincing as she stumbles in her haste to get away from me. I’m not going to frighten her any further, so I stop walking forward and keep my hands in front of me, as if I were gentling a spooked horse. I watch with regret as she disappears into the back of the diner as the door gives one final thud and shuts, leaving me alone.
I blow out my breath and run my hands through my hair as I sigh in resignation. I sure hope I didn’t just fuck up at least getting to know her. I just need to earn her trust first. I open the door and walk into the front door of the diner, the door chiming and announcing my presence. I take a seat in the only available booth, the vinyl creaking as I get comfortable. I’ve got a perfect view of the street in front of me, because I’m sitting in the corner, which is right by the large front window.
I place my sunglasses on the table across from me and look around as my waitress starts walking toward me. The cute little blonde becomes visible out of the corner of my eye and my breath hitches when I see her gorgeous profile. I tear my eyes away from her before I mentally fuck her all over this diner, and shake my head. I smile as my waitress approaches. She’s an older woman and her grey hair is pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck. A few coarse hairs have sprung loose and are framing her face. I’ve seen her here before and if I remember correctly she’s worked here for years.
“What do you recommend?” I ask her with my trademark smirk as she pulls out her notepad to take my order.
“For a growing boy like yourself I’d recommend the hungry-man breakfast. It comes with orange juice and endless coffee,” she says with a smile. I nod my head and order one hungry-man. She makes a notation on her order pad and walks away, her soft-soled shoes squeaking with every step she takes. A moment later she returns with the pot of coffee and pours me a cup.
“Wow, that coffee sure smells good.” I smile as I look at my waitress and I must have spoken a bit too low, because she turns to walk away.
“Wait,” I say quickly, stammering over my words. “What can you tell me about the little blonde that works here, the one right there?” I nod my head in her direction as I lean forward and put my elbows on the table, hoping she’ll divulge some information. She looks startled and her eyes flash to mine in question.
“Who wants to know?” She looks over at her then back to me, and I know she isn’t going to give in easily, so I figure I’ll go with honesty…sort of.
“I’m Sawyer. It’s nice to meet you, Dolores.” Her nametag is worn but I can still clearly make out her name.
“Well, spit it out boy.” She’s got her arm cocked on her hip and is smacking her gum while giving me the stink eye. I close my eyes and take a deep breath as I try to gather my thoughts.
“I’ve seen her around and I’d like her name so that I can ask her out, but she seems a little…skittish. You know, like a date?” I hold my hands up in protest when I see the look on her face. “I know it might seem crazy, because our generation does things differently than yours did. We don’t court women per se, but we do go out on a series of dates as we get to know one another. I know you don’t know me, but I’m a good person.”
She’s holding her hand out to stop me as she stares at me quietly. Her gaze is unwavering and intense, making me sweat under her scrutiny. Maybe they’ve got it hot in here. I can feel a bead of sweat as it rolls down my back and into the crac
k of my ass. I blow out a breath as she starts speaking.
“Cherry’s not new anymore. She’s been here for well over a year if not longer. She’s a sweet girl. You’re right about her being skittish. She’s been hurt, so don’t you go and make it worse. If your intentions aren’t good, then just leave the poor girl alone. She’s been through enough.” She’s wagging her finger in my face and I nod my head solemnly. Well fuck. I kind of figured she’d been hurt, but to hear someone put it so bluntly has me agitated slightly. I want to stomp the fucker that hurt her.
“I’m not out to hurt her,” I assure her holding my hands up. “Can I ask you a question though? Does she live here?” I must have overstepped my boundary, and likely sound like some fucking creep, because she presses her lips really tight and shakes her head. I watch as she walks away. It’s probably best if I leave it alone for now, as I’m likely raising red flags in her mind. I can see Cherry out of the corner of my eye, smiling at her customers and topping up their coffee cups. Her hair is off her face in a ponytail and she has dark circles under her eyes. A good harsh wind looks like it would knock her over, and I want to be there to catch her when she falls.
What the fuck?
I drink a large gulp of coffee and look out the front window. I don’t know what is going on with me, but I can’t do this, whatever this is. I roll her name around on my tongue, testing out the sound a few times. I toss up the idea of dropping everything all together, but that doesn’t work for me. I’ll just have to come back later today and follow my little sprite around, to see what she gets into.
I finish my meal in silence and throw a bunch of money on the table, grabbing my jacket, helmet, and glasses, before heading out. I’m going to head over to Mark’s place and see if he’s ready to talk. Dad had mentioned he wasn’t at work this week, but he didn’t know anything else.
The ride to Mark’s isn’t long, about fifteen minutes. He’s at the opposite end of town from where I’m at, living closer to the local high school where he works. I park out front and see that his car is in his slot, Dad being right about him playing hooky. I walk up the steps to his place and I’m about to raise my hand and knock, but all I can hear is really loud music playing. I shake my head and laugh to myself. There is no way he’d be able to hear me over that.
I have a key, so I slip it into the lock and push the door open. I step into his front foyer and look around, but don’t see him anywhere. I call out as loudly as I can with no response, so I start walking down the hallway. Mark’s bedroom door is open about a foot and I’m about to call out when I see that he has someone with him. I cringe and start to back away when I notice he doesn’t just have anyone in there with him. It’s Mandy, and they’re fucking. My mouth drops open in shock and I can’t look away. It’s as if I have some sick fascination with watching what’s being played out in front of me. I’m at a standstill, and can’t move. My feet feel as if they are encased in concrete. My heart is thumping right along to the bass of whatever song is playing, my eyes frozen and locked on the sight in front of me. Mandy is naked and bouncing away on my brother’s cock and I’m livid. I know I was feeling that something was missing, but I would never cheat on her. This pisses me off. I quickly pull out my cell phone and take several pictures, and the turn to leave. How could she betray me like this? More importantly, how could he betray me like this? My own fucking brother.
I literally feel sick to my stomach as I hurry to my bike and tear out, speeding down the street. That fucking bitch! I drive for hours, not noticing where I am or where I’m going. I need a cool head to deal with this and need to get my shit together before I have to look at her. How long has she been fucking him and then coming home and fucking me? I need to head back since its early afternoon and go to the diner to see if I can follow my beautiful mystery girl. Before I was mostly concerned about her safety, but after what I just saw I’m a free fucking man. I just need to publicize it to the cheating bitch that lives with me. I may even throw her shit out in the yard. I want to know more about Cherry. The sooner I can get rid of Mandy, the sooner I can do that. It may sound crazy to everyone else, but there is something about her that centers me. I can’t explain it either.
***
I pull up at the diner shortly after three. I don’t have to wait long for her to appear, hefting what looks like a large bag of laundry and her backpack. She looks like she’s going to topple over while carrying everything. I already feel calmer, less angry the minute I see her. I don’t know what it is about her, but I get this peace that washes over me.
I watch as she gets on the bus and I turn the bike into traffic, intent on following the bus. I stay back enough that I don’t look suspicious, following it until it reaches a part of town that’s seen better days. The homes here are all trailers that are run down and dilapidated. Even the land is dusty and barren. I watch as she sneaks around and finally enters one home, leaving her belongings by the back door. I sit, wondering if I’m going to have to go in after her. She isn’t in there long, but when she reappears her face is devoid of all color and looks wet with tears. She’s carrying even more things as she heads back to the bus, and throughout all of this she still hasn’t noticed me. My bike isn’t exactly quiet. Harley’s are known for their throaty rumble. She’s lost in her own world and it doesn’t look as if she’s happy about it. I want to reach out and curl her into me, to protect her.
What the fuck Sawyer? Are you growing a fucking pussy now? What is all this bullshit you’re spewing?
I sort of feel like maybe we’re kindred spirits. She looks like she’s broken and beaten down. I remember being that kid, the one that was bullied and picked on relentlessly. I don’t know who made her feel this way, but I’d like to beat the shit out of them. This girl is young and tiny, yet someone’s made her feel even smaller and it angers me. I’m going to make it my mission going forward that no one is going to fuck with this girl. I don’t know why it matters so much, but it does.
Seeing her so beaten down reminds me of a time in my life that I’d been bullied and made fun of, when I was the one that was beaten down. I was a freshman in high school and Marcy Maple was one of the prettiest girls in school. Everyone wanted Marcy, whether it was as a friend or the guys wanting a piece of her. That day she approached me and wanted to meet me after school behind the soccer fields made me feel like I was walking on clouds. I was in awe of Marcy, and she wanted to meet me? Hell yeah, I was on for that. I remember feeling ten feet tall the entire day. Dylan kept telling me not to go. He had a bad feeling about it, but I didn’t heed his advice.
I went to the fields that day, hopeful that she would show, but sort of expecting that she wouldn’t. Well, Marcy showed alright, but so did most of the school, including the bullies. A bunch of guys from the football team stripped me down and tied me to the soccer posts, all while flinging taunts at me. I was 5’3” and scrawny, mortified that I was naked in front of half the school. That experience was devastating and affects how I interact with people to this day. It’s hard for me to trust, especially women. I always wonder their motivation and can spy bullshit a mile away, so why didn’t I see what was right in front of me with Mandy?
I snort at the memory. It’s all in the past now anyway. Nature had its way with me and I grew substantially. By the time I was a senior I was considered one of the popular boys in school, and all the girls wanted a piece of me. I got all the tail I wanted and still would if it wasn’t for Mandy. I’m no cheater. I’m faithful and always have been.
A loud car horn shakes me out of my memories, bringing me to the here and now mentally. I’m still following the bus and the tiny sprite travelling on it. I watch as she gets off in front of the Laundromat. She’s really struggling, trying to carry all of her belongings. I pull over and put the kickstand down, before pulling my leg over the bike and leaning against it. There must be music playing in the Laundromat as I can see her mouth moving and she’s shaking her little butt from side to side. I can’t help but smile at her a
ntics and find the need to adjust myself as I feel my dick growing harder, my zipper surely leaving an imprint in my cock. I’m not sure what my end game is with her and the confusion is eating at me. I do know that I need to have closure with Mandy before I will pursue this any further. It isn’t fair to any party if I don’t and I wouldn’t be any better than her.
I know I can’t avoid the inevitable. I’ve stalled long enough. I need to get back home and talk to Mandy. I blow out a harsh breath and pop my helmet back on my head as I throw my leg over the bike. I kick the stand up and pull into traffic. This feeling of doom lies heavy in my stomach.
The ride isn’t long, but as always it relaxes me. I put my helmet under my arm and walk up the stairs to my apartment. The door is unlocked, so I push it open and my mouth drops open in shock. Mandy has soft music playing and there must be at least 30 candles lit, scattered throughout the living room and dining room area. They must be scented, because all I can smell is cinnamon. Mandy had once told me she read that cinnamon was an aphrodisiac for men. Mandy obviously didn’t hear me come in, so she’s startled when she walks out of our room and down the hallway, wearing nothing but a red negligee.
What the fuck? She fucks my brother and then does all this?
I hate manipulators. Mandy has an end game that’s for sure, but what she doesn’t know is that I know everything.
“Oh,” she exclaims. “You’re home.” She’s smiling, but nervous, bustling around and fidgeting with her hands. “I made dinner,” she says while rubbing her hands on her legs. “It’s lasagna. I know it’s a bit early, but I wanted to make your birthday special.”
It smells really good, but I’m not in the mood. It could have something to do with the picture of her with my brother forever imprinted in my head. She knows I’m upset or angry about something. I’m sure it’s obvious from the look on my face. Besides, my birthday isn’t for another two weeks. This is out of character, even for her. Even if I hadn’t seen it for myself, this would have clued me in that she is hiding or feeling guilty about something.
Accepting Cherry Page 9