My Sweet Demise (Demise #1)

by Shana Vanterpool

  “Watch where you’re going, Raina.”

  I turn around and frown, pulling in a breath.

  Back in the apartment I take the last of my things into my bedroom to escape him. I start stacking my clothes in one corner until I can get my dresser. I move all of my sheets and pillows into a cocoon on the floor for a makeshift bed. It isn’t grand, but for tonight it will do. After my room looks somewhat welcoming, I head out into the living room.

  Kent is on the couch watching a football game. He curses when Miami fumbles and gives the TV the finger. I stand behind him, holding the back of the couch and watching the opposing team recover on Miami’s turnover.

  “Have a seat.” Without taking his eyes off the screen he motions to the spot next to him. When I don’t answer, he glances at me. He takes in my pursed lips and wary expression and then laughs. “You see that long sectional?” He points to the end of the couch. “That’s where I fuck them. The rest of the couch is in the clear.”

  Ugh. I scrunch up my nose at him. “You’re kind of a pig.”

  “Oink oink.” He pats the sofa. “Come have a seat. No one’s naked body has been on this part. I promise.”

  “What about your roommate?”

  “James?” He smirks at the television. “James brings them to his room.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  His mouth thins. “Would you sit down? Sex on the end of couch. Remember that and you’ll be fine.”

  Why does that particular question bother him? Not wanting to rock the boat, I take a hesitant seat next to him, ignoring his smirk. For a few minutes I sit there uncomfortably while he watches the game, occasionally peeking at him as I think of something to say. Just as I give up the door opens. A messy head of brown hair comes in. He looks at Kent, who is studying the television intensely, and then his bright blue eyes settle on me. His disgusted expression doesn’t take long to form.

  Too late I realize he thinks I’m with Kent. I grab Kent’s shoulder and dig my nail into him.

  “Ouch,” he grumbles, moving out from under my touch.

  “Was that James?”

  “The quiet one? Yeah.”

  “He thinks I’m one of your girlfriends.”

  “No. James knows I don’t have girlfriends. He thinks you’re a slut. Big difference.”

  I gasp and smack his arm. “Kent!”

  He looks at me angrily. “I’ll tell him who you are later. Relax.”

  “Go tell him right now. You go tell him right now or I will.”

  I refuse to back down from his exasperated stare. Eventually he gives in. He takes his phone out and texts something.

  A few seconds later James comes out. He’s got a cute face, with wide blue eyes that are hesitant and unsure, and unnaturally pale skin, as if he doesn’t go out much.

  I expect Kent to explain himself, but he starts out by using his hands, gracefully moving them in an unfamiliar manner as he simultaneously speaks out loud.

  “This is our new roommate. Her name is Raina. I’m not fucking her. She wanted you to know.” He turns back to the TV, bored.

  I sigh in exasperation. “You’re kind of a jerk too.”

  James won’t stop looking at me. He cocks his head to the side, and then takes his fist and moves it around over his chest.

  “I’m sorry,” he mouths.

  James is deaf. I get it now. Shy was a vague description. It makes me wonder whether Kent was protecting James.

  “It’s all right,” I assure him, assuming he can read lips after expecting me to do the same. “It’s Kent’s fault for being a manwhore.”

  James cracks a smile and nods, agreeing with me.

  Kent turns around and gawks at James. James raises one eyebrow at him. I can’t help but think it was rudely done.

  “No reason,” Kent says to him. “You cool with having a girl living here? She gave me an adorable pouty face, bro. I couldn’t say no.”

  James touches his cheek and then his temple, but he makes the mistake of mouthing the word “sex” as he does so. I know what he’s saying. Does Kent want to sleep with me? Is that the reason he let me move in?

  I raise my eyebrows at Kent, who looks uncomfortable now. “I’d like to know as well.”

  He clears his throat. “Way to put me on the spot, James. No. I don’t want to sleep with her. She needed the room. Honest,” he insists, making the sign for it.

  James rolls his eyes and signs something else quickly.

  “I get it,” Kent promises.

  James signs again now he’s pacified Kent doesn’t want to sleep with me.

  “Yeah, cool,” Kent says, signing quickly back. “I’ll ask her.”

  “Ask me what?”

  “If you want to go in on a pizza.”

  I smile at James and give him a coy look. “You’re not going to treat a girl to pizza on her first night in your apartment?”

  James’s cheeks blaze and he looks down, making that same sign again. He’s sorry. I assume he can read lips well. I wonder if he was deaf his entire life or if it happened later on. When he looks back up, he mouths: “My treat.”

  I smile wide. “Thank you, James.”

  Kent is staring at me like I’m either truly incredible or a mistake. When he pats my hand so James can’t see it, I think it’s the first one. I wonder if people have been mean to James. The idea infuriates me.

  “I like pineapple on my pizza,” I warn them both. “With mushrooms.”

  Both men groan.

  I shrug unapologetically and turn around. James hops over the back of the couch and sits on the other side of me. Kent keeps sneaking glances at him as he orders the pizza, as if he can’t believe what James is doing. All three of us watch television in silence. At one point Kent enables the captions for James. I’m not a fan of football. The tight pants maybe, but that only gets me so far. My mind starts drifting toward my stuff on Camden’s lawn. If something happens to it I won’t have the money to replace it.

  I sigh out loud and Kent looks at me. Blushing, I sink lower in my seat and cross my arms over my chest.

  “Let me guess?” he says, putting his hand on my thigh and rubbing me softly. “I’m turning you on?”

  James makes a sound in the back of his throat and knocks Kent’s hand away, spelling out a word quickly.

  Kent guffaws.

  I don’t understand what James said, but whatever it was, I thank him. Men like Kent don’t touch my thighs. We on principal ignore each other. I want long term and Kent wants right now. Plus there’s that pesky little secret I protect. It buzzes in the back of my brain like a hornet sometimes. Most times I ignore it. The fact that I’m even thinking about it now thanks to Kent bothers me.

  I clear my throat and glare at him. “Turning me off is more like it.”

  Kent nods. “It’s the couch thing, right?” He leans forward, all back muscles and mussed hair, to look at James. “She thinks my couch-capades are disgusting.”

  “Me too,” James says aloud. His delivery is hesitant. I can sense his unease.

  I snicker and slide closer to James, letting him know he doesn’t have to be shy around me “We’re going to get along well, James.”

  Kent looks like he’s going to say something, no doubt eventful, when the doorbell rings. He wiggles his fingers at James, who takes some cash out of his pocket, and hands it off.

  When he leaves I feel eyes on me. I glance shyly at James and blush when he does. James is more my type, if I was going to consider myself having one. He’s not a pig. Pigs wear no shirt, move through the apartment like sexy, carnal beasts, and have eyes so black they suck me in. I have to remind myself that despite his apparent sweetness James is still a man. Men are off limits. They remind me of everything I fear and run from.

  But most of all they remind me of my parents, two people I refuse to replicate.

  For one brief moment I allow myself to remember the pain of losing them and the hardship of having them at the same time. Painful memories of gross
instability bombard me. My father’s abuse toward my mother, his neglect and rage, and my mother’s lack of a backbone. My heart begins to burn and my eyes follow suit. I’d been away from them for years, but my parents still somehow find a way to remind me of everything I fear.

  James nudges me. You’re not alone. I smile in reassurance, taking my pain and burying it deep inside. That pain is what’s gotten me this far. Just keep going, I chant in my head. That’s all you can do.

  He holds his hands out in an odd gesture, as if he’s asking me for something.

  “What’s wrong?” Kent translates, setting down two pizza boxes along with three napkins and three beers. “Why is he asking you that?”

  “Nothing,” I assure James, patting his knee.

  He looks unconvinced, but accepts my lie. I think he understands that not everything you feel needs to be spoken of. Some things are better left inside. To rot.

  “You know what I think we should do?” Kent asks as he pushes the pizza toward James. He takes a large bite and looks at me. “Your turn.”

  I roll my eyes. “What do you think we should do, Kent?”

  “Have a welcoming party for you. What’s your favorite drink? I’ll tell everyone to bring it.” He raises his eyebrows at me, daring me to say no. As if that isn’t bad enough, he glances casually at the door.

  Right. I’m his wingman. “Whiskey,” I lie. “I love whiskey.” Everyone orders whiskey at Oblivion. “And a party sounds great.”

  I don’t drink. I don’t party. And I most certainly wouldn’t do them at the same time. But I need this apartment. It’s clean, safe, and I think both Kent and James aren’t all that bad to live with as long as I can get past Kent’s couch-capades.

  Kent’s smile is wide and appreciative. He reaches over and touches my cheek with his thumb, wiping off a stray crumb of pizza crust from my face. “The goal tonight is sex. I don’t like the eager ones. I appreciate a good chase. Find me a girl I can chase and you have a place to stay.”

  I take a deep nervous breath. “Sex. Chase. Got it.”

  He winks at me. “I knew we were going to work out great, wingman.”

  I blow out that same breath in disbelief.

  What am I doing?

  Chapter Two

  The second Kent mentions the word ‘party’ James gets up with a pizza box and leaves. I stare after his back despondently. I thought he’d be the one to keep me company. I don’t find the idea of being left alone with Kent comforting.

  “Don’t look so afraid,” Kent teases. “I’m the one doing all of the heavy lifting tonight. Well, me and the couch, but the couch is a supporting character. I’m the lead.”

  I groan and roll my eyes at his grinning face. “Do you really only have sex with girls on the couch?”

  His eyes narrow at my insulting comment. “It isn’t simply sex. I’m taking them to outer space. Be careful or I’ll give you the tour. I hear Earth looks great from up there.”

  My cheeks blaze. “No thanks. I’ll enjoy the sights from down here.”

  His black eyes twinkle. “I’m making you uncomfortable. Why?”

  “You said be careful or you’ll do me on the couch. How am I not supposed to be uncomfortable?”

  “I was kidding. I meant what I said to James. I didn’t let you live here to sleep with you. I get enough ass for free. I don’t need to scheme for it. So don’t worry. It’s not going to happen between us.”

  I should be comforted by his words. He’s trying to convince me that he won’t do me on the couch. It seems fairly simple. But the way he says it, like there’s no way he could ever want me, hurts my ego. I swallow my bite and hope I don’t choke on the offended lump in my throat.

  “Great to know,” I manage.

  He nods, gladdened by my response. “Anyway, you should change your clothes if you’re going to be my wingman tonight.”

  I finish my second slice of pizza and wipe my mouth on my napkin. “How exactly am I going to do that?”

  “You’re going to hang off of me all night. You’re going to claim me, rub up against me, and make every girl in the room jealous.” He looks excited by this new kind of chase.

  “I thought you don’t scheme.”

  “I’m not scheming. I’m plotting.” He gives me an exasperated look. “As my new wingman I expect you keep up with me.”

  “Can I be your wing-woman instead?”

  “Fine. Whatever. Now go change. Wear something sexy. Something that makes those pretty hazel eyes stand out.” He gets up and dusts crumbs off his black jeans. “I’ll make the calls. If you know anyone and want to invite them, go for it.”

  He thinks my eyes are pretty? I frown at his back as he heads toward his bedroom with his cell. How much of a jerk can he be? It’s not going to happen between us, he’d said. Saying my eyes are pretty feels like saying my teeth are rich in calcium. What’s the damn point? He doesn’t even really think I’m attractive or I’d be who he wanted on the couch tonight.

  “Do you hear yourself?” I mumble in angry shock.

  I don’t want to be on his disease-infested couch. I look over at the long sectional and glare in disgust.

  How many women has he done on it? And why won’t he take them to his bedroom?

  I decide to take a shower. The sweat from earlier has dried on my body and I feel gross and sticky. What kind of wing-woman would I be when I smell like an animal who does in fact have wings?

  I hope Kent won’t mind if I use his soap. I lather it all over my body, surprised to find it’s mild and clean. I won’t smell like car freshener like so many men at the bar do. I cringe thinking of work. It’s not that I dislike my job. My boss, Wayne, isn’t a bad guy. He took a chance on me when I came in looking for work and hired me with barely any past experience.

  My problem is the men I work around. They make Kent look like a gentleman. They’re always grabbing on me, making rude comments, and giving me that disgusting leer men give you when they’re horny. I have to turn down the masses every shift. I almost considered quitting when Liam Tess grabbed a handful of my behind and made the men at his table cackle. Most of the girls who work at Oblivion were used to it, and they’re a lot tougher, like my sister Becca. They have no problem telling men where to go. I, on the other hand, have never been bold. Working at Oblivion was probably the worst choice for me, but the pay is acceptable and there are nights where the tips make it worth the hassle.

  I adore Becca, and oftentimes I envy her free-spirited personality, but she’s already questioning her choice of an art degree. Her indecisiveness has always given me a headache. My job may not be my dream, but it’s steady. I can rely on it. Becca takes great joy in pushing the limits, in seeing how far she can go before she fails. Our tastes are dissimilar. She craves tattoos, piercings, and boys like Kent. She even wants to open a tattoo shop with her on and off again boyfriend, but every time they get close she does what she always does.

  She changes her mind, exchanging one impassioned idea for another, leaving a trail of forgotten dreams following behind her.

  I rarely dream and do not appreciate the image of those forgotten dreams coming back to haunt me.

  I fear she will end up like both our parents, a future I’ve been running from for years. Everything I’ve done this far in my life was an attempt to protect myself from ever being them. I don’t make choices that might fail. Like going to college. What if I drop out? And men? What if they end up being like my father? I’m sure there are warning signs, but sometimes those things are ignored in the face of pretty eyes and a killer smile.

  So far men have never been an issue.

  I get out of the shower and wrap my body in a towel, shaking off my unpleasant thoughts. As I do I hear the distinctive bass of rap music explode from the living room. I start shaking my ass and open the door, dancing in the hall.

  Kent walks by. “Be careful. Your towel might fall.” He looks at me intensely, almost as if he’s willing the white towel to fall to my feet.
>
  I dance harder, shaking my hips to the side to prove my towel is wrapped around me tightly.

  “I’m okay,” I assure him.

  He looks disappointed.

  I dance all the way to my bedroom and close the door. Pig. I drop my towel and grab a pair of panties and matching bra from the pile I managed to scrape from Camden’s front lawn. Thinking of my things out in the open makes me nervous. I have this feeling I’m going to have to pull double shifts at Oblivion to replace them. That means more men, more looks, and large, uneven fake smiles. I’m terrible at flirting. The other girls make obscene amounts of money flirting with the men who come in. I make good tips, but I’ve seen girls walk away with five hundred a night over touching a guy’s arms. I’m not willing to employ their methods for more money. With the rent now I’ll have three hundred and some change for my living expenses. It will be cutting it close, but so far I’ve done that my entire life.

  My clothes smell like grass from being thrown on the lawn. I spray my favorite perfume on my skinny jeans and my black lace peplum shirt. My breasts poke out of the low-cut top. Kent said sexy. I roll my eyes at myself in the mirror as I straighten my hair. I need to do something different with my life if my only option is being a wing-woman to some sexy manwhore.

  When I emerge from my bedroom Kent has changed into a pair of blue jeans and a long-sleeve black shirt. He smells like spice and whiskey as he passes me in the hall. As he does, he looks me over, particularly my breasts.

  “Hot,” he congratulates. “I put a shot on the counter for you. If you want more, pour me one too. We’re a team, all right? If you want me to hook you up with one of my boys I will.” He raises his eyebrow at me.

  I sigh inwardly. “Cool.”

  He reaches over and touches my nose with his index finger disapprovingly. “I need more enthusiasm from you, wing-woman.”

  “Awesome, Kent!” I cheer. I raise my hand. He claps my palm hard. “I can’t wait to wake up with a hangover and no morals! Hear, hear to the couch!” I skip away from him, ignoring his laughter.