by H. Q. Frost
"It didn't cost anything. Brad took care of it."
I close my lips to hide my gritted teeth. I know the thoughts in her head right now are based around him being the better man.
"Nyla, what can you promise me?"
Her face streaked in tears contorts to audacity.
"You want promises fulfilled from me, but you're not promising me shit to make it worth it."
"Get the fuck out," she says with threat in her tone.
I slam the door behind me and when in the house, I slam that door too.
"Dude!" CJ snaps from down the hall.
~~*~~
"Rory, can I service Whitlock?"
He looks up at me, pissed off because he was informed, not by me, but the boss herself, that I can no longer do deliveries due to the fact I fucked the boss. He's also not happy about my face, but he knows where it came from and he's not happy me and Nyla's ex seem to be in a pissing contest.
"Why?"
"I miss my old job." I smirk but he's not amused.
"Sestak, don't fuck with me today."
"Because it's an all day job and I don't feel like driving around today," I lie. "Because then I won't have to work with Keith. He fuckin' stinks and someone else's gotta tell him to wear deodorant. I told him once but he ain't listening to me. Someone else can work with him for a change."
"Take truck four," he mumbles and directs his attention away from me again.
I check the inside of the truck, making sure it's just maintenance supply and not a shipment. If Nyla found out I ran a shipment when not even I knew, who the fuck knows what she'd do. She hasn't talked to me in two days since bailing us out of jail, but I haven't tried to contact her except once. I was forwarded to voicemail and took the hint. It's getting old though, because my focus in life right now is Nyla, except when she's trying to get the fuck away from me. So instead of acting like a kid, I decide to stalk her. Walking to the back of the house, I look through windows into an empty kitchen. I'm not really sure what I'm looking for, just something to explain a little better what's going on in Nyla's life because she sure as fuck isn't letting me in. Well, that's not true. I've been in every hole on her body, but that's the only access I get.
The backdoor handle turns and I glance around before pushing it open and stepping inside the massive house. Not hearing a damn thing but the ticking of the clocks around this place, I decide to quietly make my way in. I walk through the kitchen where I was let in at and glance up and down the hall. Not sure what the fuck I'm doing, besides breaking and entering, I turn back around until I hear voices. Scooting around the corner, I slide between two cupboards and hear high heels then Nyla's voice.
"I'm keeping him close enough I know what he's doing, but far enough he doesn't know what I'm doing. He does pretty much whatever I ask him to because he thinks it'll keep me around."
I scrunch my brows.
"Sex." She starts to laugh. "A lot of sex."
A lot of sex? Who's having a lot of sex? What about sex? Who does whatever she asks? Me? I do? I do.
"Yeah, he does fuck me so good. You jealous?" She chuckles. "I'm hanging up now, crazy." She walks into the kitchen in one of those pantsuit things again.
Every time I've seen her in this house she's in one of these pantsuits! I fucking hate them. Every time I've seen her outside she's in a dress, jeans, or something cute and comfortable. It's like she gets on this power trip inside this fucking house.
I slip into the hall and when I hear a door open, I wince and dart into an office. The guy that has patted me down twice before walks past and calls out her name. When he's out of the hallway, I bolt out that door but get trapped in the fucking garage.
"Shit." I pant.
There's too much going on in my head right now for this to end well. If she finds out I broke in, she's going to lose her shit and she'll never trust me again. Not that I'm fucking trusting her right now. I have no idea what the fuck she was talking about, but I didn't like the sound of it.
Either I go back into the house, or I open the garage door. Both have potential to get me shot, but the house route has potential to piss Nyla off more. I opt for the garage and when the door opens, I quickly slide under it and dart into the backyard over to my mower.
Sweat drips from my head, more from nerves than the heat as I continue servicing the yard. A shadow approaching from behind makes me turn around to Nyla and watch as an apologetic smile lifts her lips.
"What're you doing?" she yells over the engine.
Turning it off, I glance around. "Servicing the lawn." I shrug. "This is my job. I'm just a broke lawn maintenance man, La."
"This is how I prefer you over a locked up criminal." She moves closer. "Dom, your poor face," she frowns. "You thirsty? It's hot out here. I saw the truck but thought it was a delivery 'cause I didn't hear the mower when I arrived." She points to my mower.
"Not thirsty. When are we going to talk?" I glance toward the house and see that guy watching us out a window.
"I don't know what you want to talk about. You have explanation as to why you won't stop fighting? Why you insist on lying to me?"
"Me lying to you?" My brows raise. "Can we talk about what's going on between us? Between you and this… operation. Am I just your fuck toy? You won't talk to me and at this rate, I'm not sure if we're even friends."
"We are, Dom," she says calmly.
"We are..? Friends? That's all we are is friends?"
"I think we're at two different places in our life right now." She's looking me dead in the eyes saying this shit and I start to panic more than I was after hearing what she said over the phone to someone.
"Then let me get to where you are, Nyla." I step closer.
"You're better off staying where you are."
"No, I'm fucking better off with you. You're my good book, baby." I reach for her hand and she grabs mine.
"You're the good book, Dom. That's what I need from you. For you to be the good book."
"I'm trying. Why're you trying to push me away, Nyla? What the fuck?"
"Because you deserve better."
"Don't fucking worry about what I deserve. I know what I deserve," I snap at her.
"I have to get back to work. Come in for water if you need it."
"Nyla, don't walk away," I try to demand, but she doesn't stop. "Really, La? That's fucking it?"
"Dom, I have to get back to work."
~~*~~
Who can you talk to about your girlfriend, that's not your girlfriend, acting strange because she's dealing with some heavy drug dealing operation? No one.
"Don't let an old flame burn you," Tony warns before walking into the house, leaving me in the garage.
I didn't tell him much of anything, just I was trying to work things out with Nyla and it didn't look promising.
I wipe my hand and pull my phone from my pocket, smirking when I see Nyla's face on my screen.
"Hey," I answer.
"Where are you?" She sounds bad, like maybe she's sick.
"I'm at my mom's. You alright?"
"I just really want to see you. Want to get dinner?"
"My mom's cooking, La." I pause before asking, "You want to stop by?"
"I don't want to interrupt."
"You're not interrupting anything. My mom's been dying to get you over here."
"Not tonight, Dom."
"Why won't you just come to my mom's, Nyla?"
"Because I don't fucking want to," she snips. When silence sits between us, she exhales. "I just want a night with you."
She's used this excuse before, and it makes me leery, but I can't seem to deny her, especially not when she's trying to deny me unless she wants something. Sex.
"I'll call you after dinner," I quietly tell her when Tony comes back into the garage.
I'm anxious the rest of the night, wanting to get out of here, but at the same time spend time with my mom.
"You have a hard day today?" My mom squeezes my shoulder.
> "No. I'm just tired."
"You need a full night." She smiles as she sits across from me. "You've been doing too much," mutters from her as she looks away from my still bruised face.
I glance at Tony, wondering if he knows I was arrested. Neither have said anything about it, but I imagine they can find out anything they want to on me and I start to get paranoid my mom's going to have a break down over it.
The first chance I get, I leave, claiming to be exhausted at the late hour of nine, and when I call Nyla, she doesn't answer. Sick of this shit, I go by her apartment but her car's not in the lot and I find myself driving home in worse condition than I was through dinner.
I should have never tried to settle in Seattle after prison. I needed to leave this state and everyone in it.
"I want back on deliveries," I tell Rory as I sit in front of his desk.
"Uh… No." He shakes his head and looks at his phone again.
"Put me back on deliveries."
"No."
"You need me. CJ can't do this shit alone. Someone's out to get you, Rory, and CJ can't deal with that."
"They were found and taken care of. CJ's fine."
"Come on, man," I practically beg.
"No can do, Sestak, and you know why. Stop asking."
"Fuck her."
"Yeah, you did, and now you're banned from deliveries. You let pussy take away easy income."
I stand but before I grab his throat and choke him out until he apologizes, I storm out of the room. I don't need to lose this job too.
When I get home, Nyla's car is in my driveway.
"I wasn't sure what time you'd be off, but I've only been here about fifteen minutes."
"For what?" I say as I walk past her and to the door.
"To see you."
"You see me." I glance back at her and open my arms. "You can go now."
"Dom," she snickers.
"You coming in or just going to stand on the porch?"
"What's your problem?" She storms in.
"Oh, hey, CJ will probably be home in thirty minutes. You probably want to get out of here before you're seen with me."
"What?" she snaps.
"I think I've figured this out and I'll put up with your shit because I don't have a choice. I fucking love you and would do anything for you. Abuse me, La. Do whatever it is you gotta do to punish me for being a fuck up at eighteen."
"What the hell are you talking about?" She follows me to the kitchen and I look back at her short skirt, wondering if she wore it for me… or her fucking ex.
Who knows what she's up to anymore!
"You don't want anything to do with my friends or family because all this is is sex to you. I haven't figured out why. I mean other than when I'm inside you you seem to find God." I shrug and open a beer while she scowls at me. "So the awesome sex is the only benefit to you and I stupidly thought it was the connection that made the sex so fucking good. I'm a twenty-five year old ex-convict that mows lawns of rich people, La. You're a twenty-nine year old board director at the community center and running your own illegal prescription drug operation. Stealing from the rich, giving to the poor. You'll go down in history. I'll be remembered by Agnus Burns who's seventy-eight and trying to date me because I'm a strong, hard worker… cutting her lawn." I roll my eyes.
"I don't even know what you're talking about right now, Dom." She walks toward me and wraps her arm around to my back, staring up at me.
"Are you still fucking your ex husband?" I ask and her mouth drops open as she steps away.
"What?"
"You still fucking Brad, Nyla?"
"Why the hell would you ask that?" she scoffs and walks into the living room.
"I heard you on the phone."
"What?" She's staring at me like I'm insane, and I am.
"At Whitlock Mansion, I heard you on the phone telling someone that you're keeping me close but far enough I don't know what you're doing."
"You fucking stalked me!" she blurts hitting my chest.
"Come on, Nyla. We both know it's not beneath me to stalk you."
I don't expect her to, but she laughs, with a snort and all and covers her mouth. There's nothing to laugh about but I chuckle, quickly wiping the smile from my face.
"I can't believe you did that, Dom. God, that's so fucked up. I wasn't talking about you. It was about Brad."
"I think that's worse, Nyla. How close are you keeping him? Sex? A lot of sex?"
"Oh my god, you really did stalk me. You could have been freaking shot, Dominic!" She hits my chest again and grunts as she pushes her hair back in stress.
"Are you still fucking him? Tell me the fucking truth!" I scream, sick of her fucking with my patience.
"No! Are you fucking other people?"
"No, but I don't know what it'd matter."
"It'd matter to me," she mumbles.
"Why? Because you broke up with me two days ago. Even though I'm not sure we were even together."
"Dom—"
"What, La? Fucking what? What the fuck do you want from me?"
"I just want to go back—"
"Back? To when we were kids? You fucking left me then! I don't want to rewind to that. Even if I could, I wouldn't. I'm not that fucking person anymore. I may still be a fucking loser, but I'd rather be this guy than the one before prison. This guy knows what feels right to him, and this with me and you doesn't feel right anymore." I cross my arms and stand in the doorway to the kitchen.
"What's that mean? What doesn't feel right?"
"Let me tell you what does feel right. Helping a struggling mother that's in a fucked up situation of violence over drug debts her dead husband caused. Helping that woman save her kids' lives. That felt right. Look where it got me. Look what happened when I tried to do the right thing. I'm still having nightmares about it. Stepping up to some asshole at a bar that oinks at a girl and getting arrested for defending someone. That felt right. Look where that got me. Beat up and dumped. I'm an asshole, Nyla, but I'm not a motherfucker, and you're not going to treat me like both anymore. I have no idea what you want from me but you're breaking me down here and I can't take it. I would do anything for you. I'm trying to prove that and all you're doing is proving I'm wrapped around your finger. I did those runs to help that family. I wasn't rolling in money buying drugs and alcohol. I was buying food for a needy family. You asked me to stop, I stopped. We're not fucking anymore and I still can't get my job back because you're running the fucking bullshit."
"Dom, I'm protecting you," she says like she's on a single thread.
"Protect me from what? I need protection from you! Are you going to protect me from you, Nyla?"
She's breathing heavy; I can see her shoulders raising and falling. Her eyes are locked on mine a minute before she says, "Yes," then walks out the front door.
~~*~~
She said yes seven days ago and I haven't heard from her since. I lasted all of three days before I started obsessively calling her. She's got this hold on me and I just want her to fucking love me and let me be at her side. She's making me insane and I don't know what help there is left for me. CJ keeps telling me the hardest part is the first few weeks. I'll be over her in a couple weeks. That doesn't really feel like an option. Seven years passed and I didn't get over her. And now, seeing we're completely different people, I still don't feel like this is wrong.
"You've been here every day this week." CJ sits next to me at the bar. "Rent's due soon, you gonna have it?"
"I have the fucking rent," I grumble.
"I don't fucking get it, man. Why would you think a chick like that would be with you?"
I glance at him and snicker, not bothering with a response.
"I don't even get how you started fucking her to begin with. Like how'd you get that close to her? I never even met her until you, and I've been working with Rory on this since he started it. I didn't even know she was a chick." He chuckles.
There was a drunk night when I explaine
d to him that she's my ex from before lockup, but he was too drunk to remember and I'm too stubborn to remind him.
"Did you ever even think of the ghost running the operation before meeting her?"
"No. I just did the job and collected my money. I didn't realize Rory was a third party even. I thought he had more ties to it other than strictly the use of his trucks."
"It's better not to know so much, man." I finish my beer and leave the bar. Walking because I'm too buzzed to drive. Like I've been every night this week.
I wanted great things for myself when I was younger. They were skeptical then, but now I know I'm going to stay a fucking ex-convict loser that'll be hung up on his good book with messy pages. She's so much more than I'll ever be and I can't blame her for not wanting me how I need her to. Nyla's a good woman with the right motive for everything, so who am I to question her? Maybe her fucking me was, in her head, a way of apologizing, because I know she feels some guilt for what happened to me. Not once did I put any blame on her, but that doesn't mean she didn't do it to herself.
"La," I answer her call as I turn on my block.
"Are you home? I'm outside."
"You're at my place? I'll be home in like ten minutes." I start to jog. As expected, running for her.
She's standing on the porch and I smile when I see her.
"Hey."
"Hi." She looks me over. "Where were you? Out for a run?" Her eyes land on my boots.
"Uh, the bar." I randomly point in a direction and she nods with annoyance. "I didn't drive home."
"Good for you."
I huff and unlock the door. "You coming in?"
"Yeah. I gotta tell you something," she says following me. "Brad got your last stint in jail erased so it's not on your record. I can't do it again though, Dom. I need you to stay out of trouble."
"Thanks. I guess," I mumble.
"You can't be upset I want to protect you."
"I'm not. I'm more upset you're having your ex help. It's weird. You can see why it's weird, can't you?"
"It's the connection I have right now." She sits down and looks at me like she expects me to follow.
"Why you here, La?" I calmly ask her.
"Sit?" she asks and scoots a little. "I miss you," she says, taking my hands after I sit.