Billy texted to make sure everything was okay.
You good?
Patrick read the text and then looked down the stairs toward the girl whose heart he’d just decimated.
Fucking great
Billy responded quickly.
You told her?
Patrick nodded. Then remembered he needed to text.
Yep
He sighed heavily and took a gulp of his whiskey, not even wincing as it sloshed down his throat.
Sorry dude. That’s harsh.
Patrick actually laughed out loud at Billy’s response. “That’s a bit of an understatement,” he said to no one, then took his phone and whiskey into his room and dialed the number of Stella’s parents that Jamie had given him. Someone would have to tell them as well. He didn’t think Stella would be doing anything but crying for a while.
He was pulled back to the present by his phone ringing. “Hey, babe,” he answered.
“Take me on a date tonight,” Millie demanded.
“Of course,” he chuckled, “anywhere in particular I should take you?”
“Take me to Sequoia, wine me and dine me…you know what that leads to.”
“My favorite number,” he said with a laugh. “Where are you?”
“I’m at the grocery store; we need everything.”
Patrick loved the fact that since Millie had moved in, the only time he had to go to the store was to get more beer. “Whatever you want, babe. Thanks.”
When El lived with them, she didn’t do shit most of the time. They took turns going to the store. Millie was damn near perfect. He willed himself to love her. Every fucking day, he willed himself to love her. Some days he convinced himself he did, others he knew that they lacked something. He couldn’t understand it…she had everything he wanted.
Patrick lounged on the couch, drunk. Billy and El had gone to bed over an hour ago and he and Millie stayed up talking. He laughed as Millie recounted stories about El in law school. He never got to see that side of his roommate, the smart, serious side. Around him, she was either drunk, surly, or laughing. Sometimes all three at the same time. He blinked; he needed to go to sleep. George had just dumped El, so they’d been drinking since three o’clock this afternoon and it was catching up to him. He sighed and clapped his hand on Millie’s leg.
“I’m going to hit the bed. You going to sleep downstairs with El? I’d be careful, she sleeps naked.”
Millie laughed and batted her doe eyes at him. “Do you have room for me in your bed?”
“Um, yeah.” His eyes widened—that was unexpected. “I mean, sure.” He pulled her off the couch by the hand and kept hold of it as he walked back to his room.
Her hand was soft and fragile. This was a really bad idea. He felt her other hand graze his back as they entered his room. He turned around to face her and she pulled the door shut. Millie pushed him until the backs of his legs brushed up against the bed and he sat, gazing up at her. She leaned over, her white shirt gaping and showing her cleavage, and put her hands on his knees.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” she slurred. “I’m going to take my clothes off and you’re going to fuck me. Then if we like it, we can do it again tomorrow.” With that, she took off her top and kissed him, forcing him against the bed.
This was an awesomely bad idea.
Millie clumsily pulled at his shirt. He leaned up and reached behind him, pulling his shirt up and throwing it on the floor. Millie was already working on his zipper. He blew out a long breath when her hands found what they were looking for.
Such a horrific, wonderful idea.
Chapter Three
LET ME ENTERTAIN YOU
Billy was watching the news in the den and Millie was cooking dinner. Patrick was sitting at the kitchen table, reading through Jamie’s file again, trying to figure out if there was something he was missing. He wanted to find him before Jamie made his appearance known.
“Holy shit!” Billy called from den.
“What?” Millie yelled.
“Come and look at this fucking shit,” Billy guffawed in spurts.
Millie and Patrick both moved to the den and looked at the TV screen that showed a very coiffed, very put together, styled El in front of about ten microphones talking about the latest scandal.
“Oh, she looks good,” Millie said. “She told me she was going to start doing this. That new firm she’s been with for a few months is using her as a lawyer, but mostly a PR distraction.”
“She looks…” Patrick started to comment, and then stopped. She didn’t look anything like herself, the El he knew. She was someone else.
“I can’t believe they let her on TV representing the firm and their clients.” Billy laughed. “She’s a walking disaster.”
“Billy, no one knows what a jackass she is. And what better way is there to deal with new scandal than to put the biggest scandal of last year in front of the camera? She’s exposed in a way, but the media wants more. It’s brilliant, really.” Millie stood in the den looking at their friend on the enormous flat screen TV.
“When you put it that way, yeah, I guess it is.” Billy nodded and looked back to the screen.
El was talking about a Senator that was sending out pictures of his dick to his staff. Patrick was impressed she was able to keep a straight face, this is the kind of thing they would laugh at on a regular basis.
“What a fucking dumbass! Who sends pictures of his dick to people? I mean, I just don’t get it,” Billy commented as he continued watching the press conference, fascinated by El’s performance. It was like she was a totally different person than who they saw every day—this El was poised and confident, not a surly pain in the ass.
“Well, something has happened to people since smartphones with cameras and the internet. Could you imagine being able to send naked photos of yourself to your girlfriend when you were in high school?” Millie asked. “I just used to show my boyfriend my boobs, not send him a picture.”
Billy and Patrick chuckled.
“Well, I never thought about trying to take a picture of my dick in high school or any time,” Billy admitted. “You’d have to put a camera on a table or something and hope you got a shot, and you’d want it to be a little excited too, you know. A limp dick isn’t something I want anyone to see, if you know what I mean. And, back in our day,” he drawled with an exaggerated wink, “you’d have to drive your ass to the one hour photo place for them to develop your dick picture and then either mail it or actually hand it to the person you wanted to see a picture of your dick.” He flung a hand at the TV dismissively. “These assholes have it too fucking easy.”
Millie and Patrick were red-faced and in hysterics.
“My dick, limp or not, would be fine for anyone to see,” Patrick commented.
Millie turned up her laughter, sitting down and bending over.
“What?” Patrick asked her, feigning outrage.
“Oh, it is, babe,” Millie said through her laughter.
“I’m sure it is,” Billy chuckled.
Patrick’s phone rang and he walked over to the table and grabbed it.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, baby boy.” Her voice was stressed, as usual.
“You okay?”
She sighed in the phone. “Things are okay. Trevor isn’t doing well. Can you come home for his birthday next month?”
“My May is pretty quiet, I think. You want a particular weekend?” Trevor’s birthday was on the 21st of May, but it was a Wednesday. He was going to turn 32 this year; he was four years older than Patrick.
“The weekend before will be fine.”
“Mom, is there anything I can do for you? Mother’s Day is coming up, do you need anything?”
“Sleep, baby boy,” she answered honestly. “I need sleep.”
“Well, I’ll stay for a few days and you can sleep. Okay?” Patrick didn’t do enough for his family, he knew. He sent money monthly, but he’d moved to DC to get away from all
their needs. He was a selfish asshole, but he couldn’t be around Trevor like he was. He wanted to remember the strong eighteen year old with a baseball scholarship to Georgia Southern, the one that was funny, had multiple girlfriends, and taught him about everything.
“That sounds great, baby boy. We miss you.” There was a voice in the room with his mom, he couldn’t make it out. “I have to go, Patrick. Let me know when you’ll get in and I’ll send Katrina to pick you up from the airport.”
“Okay, Mom. I love you,” Patrick said quietly.
“I love you more than anything in this world.” She disconnected.
He smiled at the phone; she’d always told him and his siblings that. It was true, too. She did love them more than herself, more than his father, and more than having a life herself. It was sad. He sighed and put the phone down.
Millie snaked her arms around his middle and hugged him from behind. “I’ll go with you,” she said softly.
He shook his head. He couldn’t have Millie there. He never had anyone come to his house with him; his brother was too much for anyone to handle.
“No,” he said. “It’ll be a short trip and my mom is really tired. I’ll be taking care of Trevor.”
Billy looked at Patrick from the den. “He okay?”
Patrick shrugged. “Same old, I think.” He walked to his room to get a second to himself, but Millie followed him.
“What’s going on?” Millie asked after she closed the door. “Why don’t you want me to meet your family?”
He sank to the bed. Patrick didn’t tell people about his family…he didn’t want to think about it, mostly. “Are you really going to make me tell you all this, Mil? I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Patrick, you love me, right?”
He nodded. He did, the only way he could.
“I want to know everything about you. I want you to trust me enough to tell me everything.” Millie stepped in between his knees where he was sitting on the bed and cradled his head into her belly. “I love you.”
“Fine,” he said into the fabric of her dress. It was red. Millie looked really good in red. He lifted her dress over her hips and pulled her onto his lap. He hands roamed over her ass and her lower back. She felt amazing. Her skin was soft and she smelled like vanilla. He positioned her legs so that she was straddling him; she leaned in and kissed his neck.
“You’re not distracting me,” she said breathlessly into his ear.
Patrick pulled aside her thong and proceeded to distract her thoroughly. Millie forgot about dinner and their conversation as his hands, tongue, and dick entertained her in every possible way.
Katrina was waiting for him at the curb when he exited the Savannah/Hilton Head Airport. It was a small airport and didn’t have strict rules about cars waiting on the curb for passengers, which was a welcome change from National Airport. She got out of their mom’s car and embraced him. They hadn’t seen each other since Christmas five months ago. She was his baby sister and he missed her more than she probably understood; he made sure she knew he loved her even if he bailed out of their house as soon as he could. Although they kept in touch via emails and text messages mostly, she knew if she needed him he’d be there.
“Ugh, I love you,” she said into his chest.
“Miss your ass.” He laughed and rested his chin on top of her head. “So what’s been going on?” he asked as they let go of each other.
“Oh, you know same old shit.” She closed the trunk after he threw in his duffel bag. She looked at him, but her eyes were hidden by Ray-bans. “Mom’s exhausted, Trevor’s sick again.”
Patrick didn’t want to begin his trip with the inevitable. “How’s work?” he asked, changing the subject.
“It’s fine, Patrick.” She sighed and slid into the driver’s seat.
Patrick looked straight ahead. “I’m sorry. I know you think I ran from this situation so I didn’t have to help.” Just like Dad. He put his seatbelt on as they began moving. “Hell, maybe I did. It’s just so fucking hard to see.”
He took her in; she looked good. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, her bronze eyes were covered by the sunglasses, and she had a rich color to her skin that meant she’d been to the beach. Katrina was a nurse and stayed close to home so she could help with Trevor’s care. Some weeks were better than others, as far as he understood.
“You take Trevor to the beach?”
She nodded and smiled tightly. “You know he loves the beach, but it’s hard to explain a grown ass man wanting to play with all the kids and make sandcastles. Parents don’t really appreciate that.”
What most people didn’t realize about what happened to Trevor was that it happened to their entire family. When Trevor was shot, it took away all his dreams, aspirations, and realities and replaced them with a fucking tween. Trevor was a fantastic baseball player and was hoping to get drafted into the majors. He was serious about his craft and where he was headed in life, and college was first. Now, he was perpetually an adolescent no matter the age of his body. The doctors had explained that because of the length of time his brain was deprived of oxygen, he’d mentally stayed the same age. He didn’t want to use deodorant or take a bath, he grabbed women’s breasts, and he couldn’t really be taken anywhere easily. Their father left the year after Trevor was injured in a drive by shooting because he couldn’t handle it. Patrick left four years later to go to University of Georgia and got the hell out of dodge. He never looked back. He loved Trevor, but it was an impossible situation that he just wasn’t equipped to deal with on a day-to-day basis. His mom had to deal with things that Patrick wouldn’t wish on anyone. She hadn’t been able to have a life since Trevor came home from the hospital, while his father was remarried to a woman his sister’s age—it was fucking disgusting.
They rode in silence until they got to the neighborhood where they’d lived Patrick’s entire life. Katrina still lived with their mother so that she got some relief every once in awhile. Instead of doing things for herself, his mom usually just slept. He and Katrina had tried to get her to hire someone to care for Trevor, but she’d refused every time. He’d even offered to pay, it didn’t change her mind.
As they pulled into the driveway, the door opened. Trevor stood in the doorway with a big grin.
“Big brother!” he yelled and ran outside to embrace Patrick. Patrick took a deep breath; Trevor was over three hundred pounds now, his head shaved because his mom could manage that best. Trevor looked nothing like the brother Patrick knew.
“Hey, man,” Patrick said while they hugged, “guess what I brought?”
“You brought me a toy?” Trevor asked excitedly.
“I bought you a new glove,” Patrick answered.
“A new one?”
“Yep, I know you like your old one, but I thought we could break in this new one while I was here.” Patrick walked to the trunk and grabbed his bag.
“Hey, KK.” Trevor waved at Katrina.
“Hey, baby boy.” Katrina waved back from the car. “I’ve got to go to work. I’ll be back for dinner, okay?”
“Okay.” Trevor turned to walk back inside and Patrick noticed that he was wearing Avenger pajamas.
Why was he wearing pajamas in the middle of the day? Patrick sighed. He didn’t know why he always came here with some glimmer of hope that something had changed. Trevor was still really stuck in the mind of a young boy and very much selfish in every way. He was glad to see Patrick, but was obviously more interested in something else he was doing.
Patrick turned to look at Katrina, who shrugged. “Typical,” she sighed. “I’ll be back after my shift. I look forward to catching up.”
“Okay, thanks for the ride.” Patrick leaned into the passenger side window so he could see his sister. “Anything else I need to know?”
Katrina thought a minute and a grin spread across her face. “Oh, yeah. He’s discovered porn on the internet.”
Patrick’s mouth dropped open.
&nbs
p; “Have fun with that,” Katrina said as she slowly backed out of the driveway, leaving Patrick to think about how to deal with his brother and porn.
He threw his bag over his shoulder and walked inside, closing the door after him. His mother met him in the foyer. Her beautiful smile never faltered, even with everything she dealt with, but her eyes were tired.
“I thought I heard the door open,” she said, hugging Patrick and then kissing him on the cheek.
“See, you’re kissing Patrick!” Trevor called from where he was playing video games.
“He’s family, T. You can kiss family on the cheek,” their mother said without any sarcasm.
Patrick took in his proud, strong, mother. She looked tired. More tired than last time he was home. Her red hair had been cut short since Trevor became a fulltime job. Her eyes were tired and weary, but her smile lit up her face. He’d gotten his steely blue eyes from her, the color of the North Carolina Tar Heels. She was pretty, even for her age. Patrick thought she looked elegant, even in her tracksuit. He’d always imagined she’d had a very hard time where they lived, a white woman with three mixed kids and no father around. Not to mention that one of the kids had special needs and was a kid trapped in an adult’s body. Trevor’s traumatic brain injury meant he received disability, but it wasn’t all that helpful. The results of his injury had been so catastrophic that their mom had to stay home with him to care for him. He knew that his mother hated quitting her accounting job after Trevor was shot, but it was necessary. Helping him recover was a full-time job. His father sure as hell didn’t make the sacrifice.
Because of oxygen deprivation that happened after he was shot, Trevor fought with many lasting effects or “complications” from the damage it did to his brain. “Complications” is such a slippery description. As if things could get more complicated for the poor guy. His memory was full of holes; you could tell him one thing on Friday and he’d forget by Monday. He went through spells of massive depression. He had times when he didn’t know he needed to go to the bathroom, which resulted in him wearing adult diapers or their mother having to clean up accidents.
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