by M. Never
Right in the middle of my climax, CJ pulls out, and I gasp as the tremors dissipate, leaving me achy and wanton.
I whine miserably as I feel CJ explode, shooting hot cum all over my bare ass. He moves quickly after that, pushing off me and zipping his pants.
“Whore,” he spits in my ear, before reaches around and rips off the necklace he gave me. The necklace I love with the treble clef charm.
I crumble after that, collapsing onto the floor in a pile shame.
I STUMBLE OUT OF THE club like I’ve had ten too many, a tirade of emotion storming inside me. I lost control. I never lose control, but Tara drives me crazy in both good, and bad ways, apparently. I’m trying to makes sense of it all, but the more I try, the more of a jumbled mess I become. I stagger into the first bar I see and slam my hand on the bar top. It all just needs to go away—the betrayal and hurt and anger that is quickly taking over my consciousness.
“You’re the only one I come for.”
Liar!
The burly bartender asks what he can get me.
“Jack, straight up. Leave the bottle.”
“Can’t do that buddy. Against house policy.”
I pull out my wallet and slam my black card down right in front of him.
“With one fucking swipe, I can buy this whole fucking building and toss you right out on your ass. Give me the bottle and don’t fucking bother me,” I snap. Rage burning a hole through me like battery acid. The bartender steps back with an annoyed glare, but he pours me the shot and leaves the bottle.
“She burned ya good, huh?” He leans on the bar.
“You have no fucking idea.” I down the Jack in one gulp and pour myself another.
“Towers Hotel,” I tell the bartender. “Call them for a pick-up when I pass out.”
The guy nods and walks away as I begin a self-destructive assault on my body and my emotions.
Down the motherfucking hatch …
I HAD BEEN HOLED UP in my apartment for three days crying my eyes out.
I would still be sniveling under my covers if Philly hadn’t forced me out. Now I’m a walking zombie taking drink orders at Jo Jo’s. My hair is up in a messy bun, I have zero makeup on, and my emotions are nothing but a pile of ash. All I keep seeing is CJ’s face and the pain and betrayal etched all over its handsome features. All I can keep thinking about is how much I hurt him and how much he hates me. Despises me, is more like it. That hate-fuck made his feelings crystal clear. The guilt starts to build in my chest again, one heavy brick at a time. I’m utterly devastated. I meant it when I said I loved him and that he was the only one I come for. Once he walked back into my life, my body and soul belonged to him, even if I didn’t want to admit it straight away. Yes, I was with other men, but no, they didn’t pleasure me. They repulsed me. Once you feel the hands of a man who truly cares about you, it’s only him you crave.
Why did I do it? At first it was purely about the money. But after a while I sort of liked being someone else, someone who could satisfy their indecent cravings without being judged or looked down on. It was my terrible, debased little secret. I’m not proud of what I’ve done, and I’m not trying to justify my actions. Nor am I looking for pity or forgiveness, I know I don’t deserve either of those things.
I’m foolish, selfish and, above alI, flawed. I have more flaws than most. I know I committed transgressions and hurt the people I love. But it wasn’t intentional. By the time I was ready to get out, I was trapped. And a situation I thought was temporary became my entire world. Flaws. I have many of them. They don’t go unrecognized. No, it’s not forgiveness I want, just understanding. I’m human. I make mistakes. Big ones. And now it’s time to own up to those mistakes, aware I’ll walk away from them a different person. Maybe better, maybe worse. Only time will tell.
Today, I’m taking my first step, and unfortunately, it’s in the opposite direction of Christopher John Carmichael.
“Tara, try not to look so desolate. You’re depressing the customers.” Philly attempts some humor.
I glare at him. I don’t appreciate the joke. He knows everything that happened. Every heartbreaking detail.
“You think you just bounce back from what I’ve been through? My entire life is in shambles, and I lost the man I love.” I slam the tray down on the server’s station.
Philly’s eyes widen. “Chill out, hormonally-imbalanced Barbie.” He looks around the café to see if any of the customers noticed my little outburst. Jo Jo’s is a moderate size, with exposed brick walls, antique coffee makers, oversized wingback chairs, and cushy couches you actually sink into. It’s the perfect place to cozy up in and spend all day reading a book.
“Don’t tell me to chill out,” I erupt. “I didn’t want to leave the house, but you coaxed me out, and now, I feel even worse.”
“I’m sorry. I was just trying to help.”
“I know,” I groan, frustrated. “I think I just needed a little more time. I’m taking a break.” I grab two empty sugar caddies for good measure. “I’ll fill these up.”
I escape to the stock room, where it’s cold and dark and no one will find me.
I huddle in the corner wanting to let it all out. The tension that has been continually building in my chest the whole night needs to be relieved and there’s only one way to do that.
Cry.
I don’t just cry. I sob until my body is wracked with tears and my palms are soaking wet. Until I feel like there’s nothing left of me. No energy, or buoyancy, or hope.
“Don’t cry, shortcake.” CJ’s voice is a murmur in my ear. I jump from surprise, but he catches my upper arms to keep me in place.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, barely able to breathe.
He spins me around to face him, looking about as horrible as I feel. His wavy hair is a wild mess, there’s three days’ worth of stubble on his face and bags under his eyes.
“I needed to see you.”
“How’d you get in here?” I look around.
“I have my ways, but that’s not important. I’m sorry.”
“What?” If he wasn’t holding me up, I’d fall over. “Sorry for what?” I ask bemused.
“Being an irrational, dickwad prick.”
What?! I think I just went into shock. I’m the one who hurt him and he’s apologizing to me.
“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” I argue, repentantly. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” I can barely contain the barrage of emotion.
“I think you’ve apologized several times already.” He skims the pad of his thumb across my cheek. I lean into his touch, allowing it to heal me.
“Say you’ll forgive me,” he presses.
“There isn’t anything to forgive. It was my fault. I’m the one who lied. The one who betrayed you.” My voice cracks.
“We can move past it,” he challenges quickly.
I’m flabbergasted at what I’m hearing. I want more than anything to get past it. Especially if that means I can be with him. But I only shake my head mournfully. “There’s no getting past it. They own me.”
“No, they don’t.” He traps my face in his hands. “I can help you.”
“No one can help me.”
“I can.” He kisses me so earnestly it causes my tears to fall harder. I’ve hurt CJ enough. I don’t want to drag him down any further. I break the kiss by turning my head and subsequently breaking my heart.
“You can’t help me. So please, just let me go.”
“I will never let you go,” he replies vehemently, still clutching my face.
I’m so tired of fighting that I almost give in. I almost melt into his body and beg him to save me, but I hear Philly’s voice echoing outside the stockroom. It snaps me out of my haze, making me realize all CJ and I ever had was a dream. A sweet, transient fantasy.
“Tara?” Philly calls.
“Go.” I push him away gently. “Just go.”
“Tara, no.” He protests forcefully.
“Please.” I implore, emphatically. We can’t do this, it has to end.
“This isn’t over.” He reluctantly gives in and steps aside.
Gravely, I know he’s right. This isn’t over. It’s just beginning.
I WORK THE REST OF the night with CJ’s words lingering in the back of my mind.
“I will never let you go.”
I can hardly believe, after everything, he’s willing to forgive me. Willing to try and move past it. I touch my lips, still feeling his kiss burning against them. That impassioned, sincere embrace that held so much promise.
I don’t deserve him one bit.
Part of the reason I found CJ so appealing in the first place was his huge heart, free spirit, and giving nature. I tarnished those things, and yet, somehow, he’s willing to look past it.
I smile for the first time in three days, a dangerous happiness budding inside me.
I just hope it’s not delusive. “I can help you.”
I really fucking pray he can. The last thing I want is to get him involved, but what other choice do I have? They really do own me, and I see no escape in sight.
Philly ties up the last garbage bag as I wipe down the tables.
“Can you take this out back while I close up the register?”
I walk over and pull the can from under the server’s station.
“Only for you,” I say lightheartedly.
Philly grabs my hand as I go for the bag. “You seem a little better.”
I smile at him. “I feel a little better.”
“Wasn’t so bad getting out of your apartment then?”
“Jury is still out,” I kid, pulling the black plastic bag out of the can. “I’ll be right back.” I scrunch my nose. I hate taking the garbage out.
The back alley smells the same as always, cold air mixed with the sour stench of garbage. I hold my breath, hauling the bag into the dumpster. Once in, I turn to retreat back into the warmth of the café only to be stopped by a body standing directly in my way.
“Hey, Tara.” His voice is ice cold, and his brown gaze is even colder.
“Nino.” I step back trying not to show fear.
He’s not here to fuck around tonight.
He grabs my cheeks and squeezes hard, backing me up against the brick wall. “Who the fuck have you been talking to?”
I shake my head frantically unable to speak. He pinches harder, his fingernails digging into my skin. I just keep shaking my head, clueless about what he’s talking about. Nino then gets in my face, so close I can smell the mint on his breath.
“The cops were sniffing around the club. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?” he accuses me. I shake my head some more unaware of anything he’s talking about.
“I watched the security cameras. You brought some random into the back the other night. Who the fuck was he?”
He lets go of me so I can answer. Internally, I panic. He saw me with CJ.
“I have no idea who he was. I just thought he was another John. He knew the password. I don’t keep track of all your ‘subscribers.’”
That’s the code word he uses.
His eyes flash with rage. I wish I could step back, but I’m pinned against the wall. Nino has a violent side, and when he snaps, there’s no telling what he’s capable of. I know this because when we were dating, he broke a guy’s nose just for looking at me the wrong way. Or, according to him, like he wanted to fuck me. How ironic he now pimps out his ex. Over the years, he’s just gotten more unstable.
“If I fucking find out you were talking to the pigs …” He pulls out a gun, and my heart instantly stops beating. “I’ll make good on my promise. I’ll kill your mother, then your father, then I’ll take a nice little vacation to Hawaii and knock off your sister and her husband, too.” He presses the barrel of the gun into my cheek. “Then … I will come for you.” He slides the tip across my face and into my mouth. I shake like a leaf. “Don’t fuck with me, Tara.” He unlocks the safety, and I close my eyes, terrified. Nino then pumps the barrel of the gun in and out of my mouth. “You know how good your lips look wrapped around my gun? It makes me think of how good they used to look wrapped around my cock.”
My stomach turns at the memory. Part of the reason we didn’t work out, besides him being a little crazy, is he used to like other women’s lips wrapped around his cock, too. A committed relationship just wasn’t for him.
“I have plans for you.” He pulls the gun away, and I nearly pass out with relief. “Don’t get in my way.” He backhands me across the face so hard I see stars and fall to the ground. “Now, be a good little whore and stay out of trouble.” He kicks me in the ribs, and I cry out. “And no more fucking free pussy. Understand me?” He smacks me once more for good measure. I taste blood in my mouth mixed with salt from my tears. I nod, as I lie on the cold concrete, shivering. What else I can I do?
“I’ll be in touch.” He goes to hit me again and I flinch. He ends up laughing at me instead. “A bitch who finally knows her place.” He kicks some gravely dust at me before he walks away.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Once I can no longer hear his footsteps, I attempt to move. My side is absolutely killing me, and my face is throbbing. I crawl carefully to the door, trying to not to aggravate my injuries.
Once inside, I call for Philly. The café is so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.
“Philly!” I nearly cry, trying to stand up.
“Tara?” He turns the corner to the back and spots me on the floor.
“What the fuck?” He rushes over to help me up. I whimper feebly as I stand. I seriously think Nino broke a rib.
“Who did this to you?”
“I’ll give you one guess,” I tell him as he sits me down gingerly at one of the tables.
“Nino?”
I nod.
“Cocksucker.” He storms into the back room, returning a few minutes later with some ice and a clean rag.
“He’s getting crazier by the day,” Philly mutters as he wipes the blood from my lip. “I told you to stay away from him. He’s bad news. He always has been. Hold this here.” He puts the ice bag against my side.
I wince at the light pressure. “If I couldn’t have you, your brother seemed like the next best thing.” I make a bad joke.
“Tara,” Philly chastises me. “That’s it. I’m going to talk to him. I’ve had enough of this shit.”
“What are you going to do?” I laugh maniacally. “Challenge him to a fight on the playground? Winner gets to be my best friend?”
“He’s my brother. He’ll listen to me.”
“Nino doesn’t listen to anyone. You know that.”
Philly and Nino are such polar opposites; it’s almost hard to believe they share the same parents. Philly is the good levelheaded son, and Nino is the disturbed troublemaker. It’s been like that for as long as I can remember.
“I’ll figure something out,” I sigh, exhausted. “Right now, I just want to go home.”
“I’ll take you.”
“Thanks, Philly.” I smile weakly.
He takes my face in his hands and tilts it up to look at him. “Sometimes, I think this is my fault. If I could just love you the way you want to be loved. If we could be together, none of this crap would have happened.”
I grab his wrist, close to tears. “It’s not your fault. You are who you are. I love you no matter what. And I do have someone who loves me the way I want to be loved. I made my own decisions, Philly. And now, I have to deal with them.”
He kisses my head. “You won’t have to deal with them alone.”
“I know.” I lean against him, feeling the smallest amount of relief for the first time in I can’t remember how long.
I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE THINKING. I’m a fucking pussy who turned over just like that. What can I say? It is what it is. I won’t apologize for how I feel.
After I had woke up hung over as hell, ass flat, still in my clothes, I did a lot of soul searching. Yes,
I was angry. Yes, I was hurt. Yes, I felt betrayed. I even lost my shit there for a second. But what I discovered, above all those things, is that Tara not being a part of my life destroyed me most of all. I saw the regret in her eyes, the shame, and the humiliation. At the time, it fueled my anger. Now, it only feeds my forgiveness. Tara needs that more than anything. I’m positive of this. I often wondered what made Ellie forgive Kayne. What did she see in him after all his infractions? I know the answer now. Sincerity. Allegiance. A desire for redemption.
Deceit is a jagged little pill to swallow. I can still feel it scratching the back of my throat. But I have always believed in second chances. Why? Regret is worse. If I walk away now, I know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. Tara has always been different. Tenacious, challenging, one of a kind. From the moment I met her, she was mine, even if I didn’t realize it at first. And I won’t let anyone or anything get in the way of being with her. Even if that means spilling blood.
Tara said they owned her. I don’t know who ‘they’ are, but I’m going to find out. And when I do, I’m going to annihilate them. Wipe them right off the face of the earth without even giving it a second thought.
They fucked with the wrong man’s girl, and now, it’s time to pay the price.
I lean against her front door waiting. I sort of split quick after she asked me to go, so I figured she’d end up here after her shift. I’ve been waiting a while, antsy to see her. We have a lot to talk about. I need to know everything, and I need to know tonight. I hear the creak of the stairs—there’s no elevator in her building—then I see her blonde head and a young man helping her onto the landing. If I didn’t know who he was, I’d freak. But I do know. He’s her best friend.
When she looks up into my eyes, I do freak. Her face is swollen, her lip is cut, and she’s holding her side as if she’d been punched.
“What the fuck?” I bellow in the hallway.
Tara looks at me pleadingly. “Please, just go inside. I’ll explain everything inside.” She opens her apartment door, and all three of us enter. I realize this is the first time I’ve seen where she lives. Her apartment is the size of a shoebox. A studio with just enough room for a bed and a small loveseat. It’s clean, though, and decorated nicely in whites and purples and greens. It feels very Tara—vibrant and warm.