by Megan Noelle
The generic message prompt that I’d heard about a thousand times on my answering machine played. My pulse raced and the little hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up. At least I had fresh air and my favorite swing to help ease the tension of that moment.
“You have a call from,” The prompt continued but my mother’s voice came next. “Answer me!” She was trying to stand up as the firm, motherly type. Yeah—I was not buying it.
“To accept this call, press one.” Last chance to back out. My finger pressed one before my brain could tell me not to.
“Please hold for connection.” I held. “Thank you; you may begin speaking now.” The automated voice went away and the background noise kicked in.
“Baby girl—are you really there!?” My mother’s excitement was palpable. A vision of her practically bouncing around on the other end of the phone came to mind.
“Yes mom, I’m here.” From head to toe my body was in knots but I tried to keep that out of my voice.
“You are one difficult girl to get a hold of.”
“I’m sorry; it’s been crazy here.” For just a moment I saw Corey’s disapproving face in my mind but that didn’t stop me as I lit up a cigarette and took a long, deep drag. My feet slowly rose and fell moving me fractionally on the old swing.
“Isn’t it funny that after all these years you’re finally home and I’m out of town?” Out of town—yeah, if that’s what we’re calling sitting in a jail cell.
“You know I didn’t want to come back at all, but Gram needed help.” I felt the accusing knot tighten my throat.
“Oh right, for that stupid Inn.” A sulky bitter taste settled into her tone. The Inn to my mother was what meth was to me. Those were the monsters that tore our mothers from us. The one thing in this world that made you wonder which one your mother loved more.
“She fire you from the gig yet?”
Nice to know she had such confidence in me.
“No, things are going really well. Business is my strong suit so I don’t mind it.”
“Well you need to start answering my calls more often. The only person I’ve been able to talk to is mom and I would literally rather talk to anyone else besides her. But when I’m so limited, I can’t afford to be choosy.” Did that mean I was just anyone else?
“I’ll do what I can,” I responsed, as I proceeded to light up another cigarette thinking again of Corey’s displeasure hovering over me.
“I have so much to tell you about this place!” She started up and I considered taking a shot along with my smoke. My mother had always lived in her own little world, where if something didn’t directly affect her—she could’ve cared less. However, the second she’d broken a nail, you had better be ready for the ultimate drama fest. I mean hell—she was alive—and functioning—sort of, how bad could her life really be? Obviously, no one wanted to be locked in a cell but it was her choices that landed her there. I couldn’t help but wonder though, just how bad things had gotten before she was sentenced? As much as I wanted to write my mother off and not give a damn about what happened—the unconditional love pre-programmed since childhood—didn’t allow me to say goodbye.
She yapped on, telling me a million and a half different stories about herself. The women she’d met, the food she ate, the way she felt, looked—it was endless. I went through two more cigarettes before she was done, and even worse than that, she hadn’t taken a breath that whole time. When she talked about what they were doing for her about getting her off drugs to keep her healthy, I tuned in. My mother’s health greatly concerned me and just because I’d turned a blind eye to the drug use I wasn’t unaware of how scary it could be. Unfortunately, that part about rehabilitation only lasted about two minutes before she continued on with the other frivolous topics.
“Well mom, I actually need to get going,” I said when I had the opportunity to get a word in.
“No way, you’re not serious!”
“I am.”
“Damn—fine! But just so you know, I put you down for visitation this Saturday. Once you get here we only get half an hour but you can come anytime that day.”
My feet stopped swaying, my jaw dropped and my cigarette fell from my fingers. No, no—please no.
“Wait! But mom I just don’t know if I can do that.” No, I absolutely cannot do that!
“Well, you’re already down and you can’t just, not show up! I’m your mother! See you then!” My mouth remained open as the dial tone sounded in my ear. Time stood still as I let the tail end of our conversation sink in. It had taken me a month to even think about talking to her on the phone. Now in just a few short days’ I was supposed to go see her. Hell no.
The last time I’d seen my mother was before I left Serenity for New York. My car had been packed, gas tank full and I’d been ready to get away as fast as the speed limit would allow. Gram and Gramps had already said goodbye, but my mother had been M.I.A. the week prior. When she’d showed up out of the blue, at the house, her eyes were bloodshot with such deep bags underneath, that it had looked as if she’d packed to go with me. That was the first time I’d seen the intense effects of her abuse. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t observed her during different stages such as, in the middle of a high or a few days after, when she’d wondered back home strung out and exhausted. But that last time had frightened the hell out of me and struck me hard.
From the moment my dad had walked out on us she’d been a flaky mother at best. Her absences during every momentous event in my life weren’t out of the ordinary, but I’d certainly never realized as a child, the full extent of her imminent self-destruction. I’d always had a bundle of excuses on hand for her when other parents and teachers questioned her lack of presence in my life or her parenting skills. No one believed me of course, but no one bothered to question me further either.
All my life I’d felt the need to protect her in a way. In part, I suppose because I always wished I’d had a normal mom. My Gram protected her business; my mother her private life. I’d always been on my own—as a kid, then a young girl, straight through to my first year as an official adult. Now I was nothing more than a 25-year-old woman, crumbling apart at the seams. The bitter taste of reality gnawed into my skin and reminded me every moment of every day that I was alone.
I needed an escape from that feeling—if only for a night.
* * * *
“What are you doing tonight?” I asked, hopefully, my plan to work the stress away all day didn’t go the way I hoped. Now that I was home surrounded by the silence and memories I needed a distraction. When I’d dialed Corey’s number my first thought was—sex.
“There’s this bar about 20 minutes from here that I keep hearing about. Want to come check out some competition with me?” Although his suggestion took me by surprise it also told me that all I really needed was him. Wherever he was going, I wanted to be there too.
“Sounds good to me. When are you heading out?”
“How about I come over now to pick you up?” My eyes scanned down over the outfit I wore to work.
“Yeah, now isn’t good. I’d like to change and get ready a little bit.”
“Tell you what—you get ready, I’ll head over now and just hang out until you finish.”
“I suppose that’d be fine.”
“See you in a little bit.”
Corey arrived while I was deciding between one of two outfits. My eyes greedily took in his absolutely sexy casual demeanor. His dark hair was still wet from an earlier shower leaving the delicious smell of his body wash lingering in the space between us. Then my eyes lowered to his faded jeans that hung nicely off his hips, a white thermal long sleeved-shirt with a dark grey fitted t-shirt over; nicely highlighting his mouthwatering muscles. The door was unlocked for him so I didn’t lose concentration on my internal struggles over what to wear. Corey walked up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. After pressing a kiss to my temple his chin settled on my shoulder.
“Wear that one.”
Corey motioned to the more revealing of the two. My black short shorts, white stretchy tank top with a grey and white sleeveless vest. The vest had to be one of my favorite articles of clothing, with its single button directly below my cleavage. Giving my waist a great curve and accentuating the shape of my chest. Though it was fall, the weather was nice and warm tonight and could be one of my last nights to wear something that revealing.
Corey let out a great deal of protest when I told him to leave the room so I could change. Which I could understand, he had seen all I had—and then some. The real reason he needed to leave the room was the look in his eyes. The passion and desire emanating from those smoldering blue eyes poured into my skin and knew I couldn’t resist his touch. So if we were going to leave my place at all—he needed to step out.
After slipping on my outfit and yanking my straightened hair into a high ponytail, I put on my white heels. Before Corey arrived I had already freshened my makeup, so I was set. Once the house was locked up Corey once more used his hand to support my entrance into the passenger seat. On the ride to the bar we blasted music, singing along to the rock songs we both knew. My soul lightened every minute I was with him. There was something about that man that not only gave me the release I needed between the sheets but allowed me the freedom to be myself.
The new bar being put under the microscope, was different than Corey’s bar. Where his had bar games, this place was bordering towards the club scene. Lights were dimmed, a DJ stood in the corner of the expansive room bobbing his head to the mixes he played. In front of him was a massive dance floor with neon lights flashing around but since it was still early there was hardly anyone dancing. Illuminated signs surrounding the room told us the drink specials for each day of the week and the type of beers and liquors the place served. Corey wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me with him to the bar where we snagged a couple stools.
“What can I get ya?” The bartender was tall, built, and couldn’t be more than a year or two older than Corey. His eyes moved between the two of us but lingered longer on me, drawing out a lustful smirk I’d seen more than a few times.
“Rolling Rock for me,” Corey said, his voice deadpanned as he too noticed the way the bartender eyed me down.
“Make that two, plus two shots of tequila with the lime and salt,” I requested.
“Coming right up.” The bartender gave me a wink and Corey gave him a glare that I was surprised didn’t cause permanent damage.
When the guy walked away Corey’s arm slung around my neck and pulled me in to his side.
“Please tell me those shots are just for you.” My face was a full grin when I turned to face him. We were only inches apart but neither of us moved to back away.
“They’re for you too, of course.”
“No way, Dani.” My grin transformed to my best puppy dog face. “Well if you don’t take it with me, I’m going to have to make the bartender do it.”
Corey gave me a large roll of his eyes but I knew I won. His hand pressed against the back of my head and pulled me toward him. Without hesitation or worrying about who saw, he pressed his lips to mine. The kiss started innocently enough until my tongue moved to open his mouth further to gain better access. Our mouths moved with desperation, making me wish I’d have let Corey sedate the fires burning inside of me before leaving the house. His free hand moved up my thigh and took a hold of my hips; his thumb moved in slow tantalizing circles on my skin the way he knew I liked. Just in case he wasn’t feeling the desire to the degree I was, before releasing him, my teeth bit down on his bottom lip and pulled until I heard a soft groan of pleasure leave his mouth.
The bartender dropped the plate of limes a little rougher than necessary, announcing his arrival. I untangled myself from Corey and thanked the very irritated looking server. Corey placed a shot in front of us while I arranged the salt and limes. After licking the crook of my hand and shaking salt on it I grabbed hold of Corey’s hand and placed the bend of his hand in my mouth. His eyes darkened as I sucked and wetted it in preparation for the salt. My eyes lifted to his through my lashes as I released him and moved to get the salt.
“Keep that up and we won’t be staying much longer.” A giggle escaped me. Clinking my shot glass with his, I gave a wink. That wasn’t such a bad idea. Together we licked up the salt, shot back the tequila and bit into the lime.
Corey shook his head and tipped back his Rolling Rock, doing everything possible to get rid of the taste of tequila. I, of course loved it and was ready for another one. It seemed all the women in my family were just born with our love of tequila.
“Don’t make me do that again.” Corey groused half-amused.
I laughed and shifted on my stool to lean in closer to him.
“But if I asked you to, you would—wouldn’t you?” He smiled around the mouth of his beer bottle. Once done, he pressed his alcohol flavored lips against mine. The taste of Corey mixed with my favorite beer was—yummy. When he pulled back I let my tongue roam my lips to savor any remnants of the combination.
“I would, but not without some kind of payment in return.”
I smiled; placing a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
We ordered another round of beer and continued talking about random things that held no real meaning. He filled me in on the latest funny thing that Sanders had done and I shared stories about the Inn. The best was when Corey dove in to talking about his sisters and their childhood. The absolute adoration he had for them was endearing. He shared the way they used to beg and plead until he finally agreed to play their games—whether it was house, Barbie’s, or some other made up children’s fantasy.
Corey very briefly mentioned his father left them so he quickly took up the ‘man of the house’ role. My heart lurched forward as I saw the broken expression that was normally well hidden, venture out at the mention of his dad. I longed to ask more and console his loss—a loss I could relate to my core, but it was clear he didn’t want to pursue that topic.
To lighten the mood I decided to tell absolutely ridiculous stories of the ‘Many Adventures of Dani and Gabby.’ We’d certainly caught ourselves in numerous embarrassing and hilarious situations over the years. Watching Corey absorb everything I said and react positively and with greater affection to my borderline crazy side, was addicting. A few hours into the night, my cheeks ached as a grin was permanently cemented across my face. During our time at the bar, Corey made sure to signal the bartender so we were never out of beer. I was so absorbed in our conversation, I lost count of how many I had, but now my body tingled with numbness and I felt fantastic. While Corey took a bathroom break I let myself take in the bar; the dance floor became more active and the DJ’s selection had greatly improved with songs that made my body want to move.
Right when Corey returned to his stool and placed a kiss on my lips, a number filtered into the room that I could not ignore. It was Salt N Peppa’s song “Push It” that made me jump off the stool with an overwhelming need to let the music flow through me. My hand wrapped around Corey’s wrist and I tried to drag him onto the floor with me. Amusement flickered in his eyes but he still turned me down. He did, however, promise a fresh drink would be waiting upon my return. Thankfully—courtesy of half a dozen or so Rolling Rocks—the courage and confidence pumping through my body sent me to the floor. Almost immediately I found a group of women around my age who knew the dance as well as I did. Together we reenacted the original video moves; people surrounding us cheered us on while we swayed smoothly to the beat.
A woman’s hand grabbed mine and together we danced and twirled to the pounding sound coming through the speakers pulling me into a bubble of musical bliss. The music eventually slowed down into K-Ci and Jojo’s song “All My Life,” which has always been one of my favorites. Whoever this DJ was—he was great—you could never go wrong with old classics. I wanted to stay and dance the way I had years ago at school dances but instead watched as everyone coupled up. Without someone to s
low dance with there was no point staying out there. Luckily, I felt someone’s hands snag my waist from behind. When I turned to face the man, I could tell he was asking me to dance. My smile accepted his proposal but it seemed we moved together for all of 20 seconds before a new set of hands held my shoulders.
Immediately, I knew it was Corey by the heated reaction zipping through my body and the intoxicating scent of his cologne. All I could do was watch as he stepped forward, pulling me from my dance partner’s grasp. “Move along, bud, she’s mine.”
The guy looked from me to Corey and something he saw in Corey’s face made him decide this was not a battle he wanted to embark on. With a shrug of his shoulders my partner left and I stood stunned. Before I could protest or ask what that was all about, Corey’s arms wrapped around my waist and slowly began moving us to the beat. I shoved against his hard chest to create space and let him see this dance wasn’t about to continue.
“What the hell was that, Corey! We were dancing and I am not yours!” The thought scared me more than anything. The possessive word seemed harmless enough but I couldn’t keep the thoughts away that if I was his did that make him mine? No—he wasn’t mine and I didn’t want him to be. If that was what our friendship was becoming, I needed to end this sooner than expected.
Corey didn’t seem the least bit affected by my words as he pulled me in again. “Dance with me, Danielle—please?”
When I said nothing he leaned down with a smile, moving his lips next to my ear. “If you dance with me I promise to take another shot of tequila with you.”
My face remained stern for only a few more seconds before a grin broke free. He leaned down, dipping me back a little as he pressed a heated kiss to my lips. My body softened at his touch and my anger melted; forgetting all hesitations that were built up just moments before. He pulled us upright and the dancing continued. My arms wrapped around his neck while I let the strong arms that circled around my waist, envelope me with a feeling of safety. A feeling I hadn’t experienced in far too long.