Beauty in the Ashes

by Micalea Smeltzer

  A syringe lay abandoned under the coffee table.

  He clearly didn’t care about cleaning up.

  When I looked up I saw Caelan passed out in his bed.

  His shirt had been ripped off, exposing his thin but muscular chest. The jeans he wore hung low, exposing the top band of his boxer briefs. I found myself inexplicably drawn closer to him like a moth to a flame.

  My heart hammered in my throat, threatening to claw its way out.

  I found myself standing beside him, my fingers grazing the side of the bed—the soft fibers of his sheets igniting a tingling sensation that spread from the tips of my fingers up my arm. Even in sleep his face was pinched into a scowl. His eyes moved restlessly behind closed lids and his breath gusted between slightly parted lips.

  Lips that had been on mine.

  God, I’d enjoyed that kiss when it should have disgusted me. I had thought about it more times than I’d care to admit in the last week—especially as we played our games with each other. Daphne and Frankie were highly amused by Caelan’s behavior towards me. They told me he normally got violent when people pissed him off—like when he punched Cyrus tonight—but he didn’t get that way with me. He enjoyed our games too. I knew it.

  My eyes lowered from his face to crawl over his chest. I itched to reach out and run my fingers over the dips and curves of his abdominals. I was curious to see if his skin was as soft as it looked. My perusal stopped when I noticed a tattoo wrapping around his ribs. I tilted my head, squinting so I could make out the small swirling letters.

  Life is like a flame.

  It burns bright for a while, then it flickers and fades, until finally one small breath extinguishes it and we're left with the ashes.

  My breath faltered, catching in my throat. The words were beautiful, but so haunting, and I found myself saying aloud, “What happened to you?”

  Of course he didn’t answer, he was passed out drunk and who knew what drugs were currently snaking their way through his veins.

  Surprisingly, I wasn’t disgusted by him or what I knew he was doing to himself.

  I didn’t even pity him.

  I understood.

  I knew how bad things could push you over the edge and make you do things you never thought yourself capable of. I’d been there. I’d experienced it. I’d lived it. Not to this extent, but enough that I could sympathize with the need to escape.

  And wasn’t that what I was doing anyway by moving to Virginia? Escaping?

  I hadn’t wanted to face my problems, so I chose to ignore them in the hopes that they’d evaporate.

  I knew it didn’t work like that.

  That didn’t keep me from hoping, though.

  “Cayla!”

  I jumped, my heart momentarily ceasing to beat in my chest at Caelan’s sudden outburst.

  His eyes were still closed but his body thrashed with the force of his nightmare. “Cayla! No!”

  I looked around wildly, wondering if I should run out the door or do something to comfort the obviously distressed Caelan.

  Decisions, decisions.

  I ended up leaving, running away and across the hall to the comfort of my apartment. I couldn’t risk him waking up and going crazy on me.

  I did have some new information about him, though…well, my only information really, since I knew nothing about him except for his name, that he painted, and he hated noise.

  Cayla.

  It was only a name, but through it maybe I could peel back the layers of Caelan and expose the demons that lay behind his blue eyes.

  CHAPTER 5

  Sutton

  A few days later, I was showered and dressed, sitting on the couch playing with an excited Brutus when there was a knock on my door.

  I stilled, my heart stopping briefly and then restarting with a vengeance.

  Things between Caelan and I had been oddly quiet the past few days.

  I had no doubts our games would resume though.

  When I opened the door I was shocked to find Daphne standing there looking at me.

  “Expecting someone else?” She smiled knowingly at my crestfallen face.

  “Not at all.” I stepped to the side waving her in.

  “I won’t be long,” she kindly declined my offer to come in. “I wanted to stop by and ask if you’d want to go to dinner tonight. Frankie, Jen, and Cyrus are going so I was hoping…” She trailed off, biting on her bottom lip nervously and staring down at her toes—which I noticed were painted hot pink.

  “You want me to save you,” I interjected.

  She nodded. “Cyrus is annoying, and if it’s only the four of us it will feel like a date.”

  “What time?” I asked, caving easily to the pleading look in her eyes.

  “Eeeeek!” She let out a high-pitched shrill squeal and started clapping her hands. “Thank you for this!” She attacked me, wrapping her skinny arms around my neck and squeezing me with more force than I thought it was possible for her to possess.

  “What time?” I repeated, a bit put off by her excitement. I wasn’t a naturally bubbly person and didn’t do well around those that were.

  “Six,” she answered, releasing me from her stranglehold.

  “I’ll see you then,” I told her, Brutus rubbing himself against my legs. “I can’t be out late though, my shift at Griffin’s starts at nine tonight.”

  “Oh, you’re working late?” She frowned.

  I nodded, reaching up to push strands of black hair from my eyes. “Night shift.”

  “How—uh—” She looked around uneasily, as if she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to ask this question or not. “How’s Emery? Do you talk to him a lot?”

  I couldn’t help smiling. Someone definitely had a crush on Griffin’s hottie grandson. I couldn’t blame her. Not only was Emery gorgeous, but he was a really nice and down to earth guy.

  “He’s good, I guess,” I shrugged, purposely being evasive. “Why do you ask?”

  “No reason,” she shook her red hair around her shoulders and plastered on a fake smile.

  “Uh huh,” I muttered doubtfully, narrowing my eyes.

  Backing away, Daphne said, “I’ll see you at six. Oh,” she stopped, “do you have a dress?”

  “Why?”

  “Weeeeeell,” she drew out the word, looking anywhere but at me, “I’ve only seen you in jeans and this place is a little nicer,” she bit her lip. If her goal was to make me question my decision to agree to attend the shin-dig, then she had succeeded with flying colors.

  I stared at her, purposely scrunching up my face so that I appeared to be mad.

  “I mean, if you don’t have a dress it’s—”

  I decided to put the poor girl out of her misery. “I have a dress. I just wanted to mess with you,” I laughed.

  “Oh.” She paused, appearing unsure of how to proceed. “Okay then.”

  I couldn’t help but snort.

  “I’ll pick you up at six,” she smiled.

  Suppressing a laugh, I winked and blew her a kiss. “It’s a date.”

  I closed the door before she could reply, snickering to myself. Poor Daphne didn’t know what to do with my personality. I’d have to enlighten her of the mythical and powerful ways of sarcasm.

  ⌘⌘⌘

  Hours later, I stood in my tiny bathroom in a skintight black dress and wearing more make-up than I knew I owned. I felt like a stranger was staring back at me. My eyes looked wide—lined in black with gray shadows—and my plump lips were accentuated with a bright cherry red. I’d definitely have to come back home and clean my face off before I went to Griffin’s. I wouldn’t be recognized if I showed up like this.

  I grabbed my perfume and sprayed a bit on my wrists. As I was placing it back on the counter there was a knock at the door.

  I took a deep breath and muttered, “Showtime,” at my reflection.

  ‘Going out’ wasn’t something I enjoyed anymore. At one time, I had, but that felt like a lifetime ago. I was content to st
ay home and watch sitcoms or read a book. I would’ve felt bad turning Daphne down though. I felt like we could be friends, given the chance. Also, I wanted to save her from Cyrus. He seemed pretentious. Besides, I was already rooting for Daphmery. Yes, I already gave them a nickname, but it wasn’t like I had named their children…yet.

  I swung the door open—expecting to only find Daphne—but was greeted by the whole entourage.

  “You look nice,” Cyrus grinned, his eyes starting at my feet, which were clad in dangerously high strappy heels, and perusing their way up my body. “Although, I think I prefer you in your underwear.”

  My mouth fell open. Was this guy for real? “Did those words really just come out of your mouth?” I cocked my hip to the side and placed my hand on it, staring him down.

  “They really did,” his dark eyes held me hostage. I noticed a bruise had formed around his eye from the punch he sustained.

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “Thank you,” he grinned, rocking back on his heels.

  “That wasn’t a compliment,” I glared, tempted to slam the door in all of their faces and spend the evening with Brutus.

  “I know,” he chuckled.

  “Ooookay,” Frankie clapped his hands together, “now that Cyrus has thoroughly eye-fucked the new neighbor, I think it’s time to leave. Memphis is holding a table for us.”

  “I’d rather be really fucking than just eye-fucking,” Cyrus grinned at having silenced everyone with his douchebaggery.

  “Keep dreaming,” I muttered, pushing past him and heading for the stairwell, knowing they’d follow me.

  Once outside I stopped, waiting for them to catch up. When they did I asked, “Are we walking, or driving?”

  “Walking,” Frankie spoke up, his arm wrapped around Jen’s waist, “it’s not far.”

  “Lead the way,” I told him, swiping my hand dramatically through the air.

  A few blocks later I found myself standing inside a nice restaurant and bar. It was definitely more upscale, but not overly so. The floors shined and the bar was chaotic. The noise level was through the roof and I wished I had some earplugs—ooh, maybe I should buy some on the way home and give some to Caelan while I’m at it. That would certainly be interesting.

  Shit.

  I was inventing reasons to see him now.

  I needed to cut it out.

  He was toxic, and I’d had enough experience with people that possessed baggage to know I needed to stay far away.

  It didn’t mean it would be easy.

  “There’s Memphis,” Frankie pointed to someone I couldn’t see.

  I followed the group of misfits to the back of the restaurant where a large sectional type booth waited for us.

  “You have no idea how difficult it was to hold this for you,” a new voice spoke up.

  Something about the sound of the man’s voice made a shiver—a good one—run down my spine.

  I looked up and my eyes connected with gray ones.

  Lust filled my tummy and I found my body leaning across the table towards him without my permission.

  I had moved here after a failed relationship and here I was finding myself attracted to pretty much every man I came into contact with.

  Clearly, it had been way too long since I’d been laid.

  You know, that should’ve been my first clue that my boyfriend—I refused to speak or even think his name—was cheating. It got to the point that he never wanted to have sex with me. At least I gave him a right good black eye when I found him in bed with my best friend. That thought left a satisfied smirk on my face.

  “Hello? Do you have a name?”

  I was jolted out of my thoughts and back into the present with the sound of the handsome man’s voice.

  “Oh, uh, my name is Sutton,” I supplied, hoping he didn’t think I was weird for blanking out for a moment.

  “My name’s Memphis,” he introduced himself and I finally let my eyes peruse over his features.

  Messy bronze colored hair fell over his forehead in an effortlessly sexy way. His jaw was defined with a narrow nose and his lips…I was really wondering what they’d feel like on my body. There was a mischievous glint in his unique gray eyes as he checked me out too. He was tall and lean—not overly muscular, but enough that I was really curious to see what his chest looked like behind the sleek black button down shirt he was wearing.

  Clearing his throat, Memphis smiled knowingly. He could tell I wanted to jump his bones, but he didn’t act cocky about it. There was a sweetness to him, and I knew that like Caelan I should stay far away from this guy, but for completely different reasons.

  “I better get back to work,” he tossed his thumb over his shoulder towards the fancy bar, “anyone want drinks?”

  Everyone around me rattled off their order.

  “You?” He prompted, tilting his head to look at me.

  “Surprise me.”

  His eyes widened a fraction. “I can do that.”

  “Well, new girl,” Frankie chuckled, as he leaned back in the booth and draped his arm behind Jen, “you really get around.”

  “Excuse me?” I scoffed, my eyes threatening to bug out of my head.

  He chuckled. “You and Gregory have some weird relationship that I can’t even begin to understand,” he eyed me, watching my facial expressions. “Do you know that the other day I saw him crack a smile at you when you had your back turned in the hallway? In the three years that he’s lived there he’s never smiled.”

  He smiled at me?

  Why did that fact fill my body with warmth?

  “Then Cyrus here can’t stop picturing you beneath him.” Frankie pointed to where Cyrus sat beside me, watching me out of the corner of his eye. “Now you’ve got Memphis watching you.” The same finger he had used to point at Cyrus slid to point at the man behind the bar.

  “It’s the shoes,” I said in a dead-pan tone.

  Frankie snorted. “No, it’s not the shoes. You’ve got that whole exotic look going on. The black hair, olive skin, and those blue eyes…not to mention your body…you’re every guys dream.”

  Jen scoffed, throwing off his arm. She slid out of the booth, her face red with anger as she stomped towards the bathrooms.

  “Shit,” Frankie cursed under his breath, sliding out after her. “Baby!” He called. “I wasn’t included in that statement! I like blondes!”

  Cyrus laughed hysterically, clutching his stomach. “Oh, that was entertaining. He’s going to have a lot of groveling to do to make up for that one, and Jen’s going to hate your guts now,” his gaze slid to my face.

  Daphne rolled her eyes. “And I’ll have to listen to the make-up sex,” she gagged. “I really need to get my own place.”

  Cyrus looked across the table at her with a smile playing on his lips. “Trust me, the whole hall can hear them when they start going at it.”

  “Bleh.” Daphne made a face of disgust.

  Since it didn’t look like Frankie and Jen would be returning anytime soon, I scooted away from Cyrus to place some distance between us, but the idiot only closed it. His thigh was pressed right up against mine and a cocky smile played on his lips. He knew what he was doing, only he didn’t think I’d call him on his bullshit. He should’ve known better.

  “Can you move?” I waved my hand, hoping if my words didn’t give him a hint then my hand gestures would.

  “No,” he said simply, looking around the restaurant.

  My mouth fell open. God, this guy couldn’t catch a hint. He was hot, but he was also a major pain in the ass.

  “Here’s your drinks,” Memphis grinned, carrying a tray towards us. Lowering it, he frowned, “We already lost those two? I swear, if they’re having sex in the bathroom again—”

  “Frankie was being an ass,” Daphne interrupted. “Jen’s probably crying while he mutters I’m sorry over and over again.” She reached up, taking her drink off the tray. She took a large gulp. “Oh, that’s good,” she said despite her win
ce from the bitter taste.

  Memphis laughed, handing Cyrus his drink and one to me. He went ahead and placed Jen and Frankie’s down too, optimistic that they’d return.

  “Go on, try it,” he nodded at me.

  “Oh,” I jumped slightly, startled by his command.

  I eyed the concoction, hoping he hadn’t slipped poison in it or something. I mean, if he had, that would make him a pretty shitty bartender.

  I lifted the glass to my lips and took a sip.

  “Hmm, not bad,” I smiled up at him. It was surprisingly sweet tasting with just a hint of alcohol—I wasn’t sure what kind though. “What is this?”

  “It’s a secret,” he winked. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you, and wouldn’t that be a shame?”

  Without pausing for an answer he strode away and back to the bar.

  I continued to sip on Memphis’ magical mixture of goodness, completely ignoring Cyrus, and doing a poor job of conversing with Daphne.

  If I was going to be her friend, I needed to do a better job.

  “Are you in college?” I asked her, stealthily sliding the tiniest bit away from Cyrus in the hopes that he wouldn’t notice.

  He didn’t.

  He was staring at some chick’s legs, where she was pressed up against the bar-top flirting with Memphis. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. Her dress did a poor job of covering her ass. It was more like a towel. She had the attention of most guys in the bar—except the one she was talking to. His eyes were locked on mine. He grinned slowly at me and my lower half squirmed.

  “No.”

  “Huh?” I turned at the sound of Daphne’s voice.

  “I’m not in college.”

  “Oh,” I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “Do you have a job?”

  She shook her head, her lips turning down in a frown. “I’m trying to break into modeling.”

  “That’s awesome!” I exclaimed loudly. Okay, maybe my drink had more alcohol in it than I realized. In a softer tone, I added, “I wouldn’t imagine there are very many modeling opportunities in this area, though.”

  “More than you think,” she replied, propping her elbow on the table and her head in her hand, “but not enough.”

  “Why don’t you move?” I questioned.

  “Finances.” Her slender shoulders rose dramatically with a sigh. “Maybe I’ll move to Manhattan one day.”