Quod Me Nutrit Me Destruit: That Which Destroys Me with The Alternate Ending

by Kimber S. Dawn

  I walk into the kitchen to find her staring at the Italian stovetop moka pot on the counter with her brows furrowed and a look of both confusion and pissed off on her sleepy, pretty face.

  My laughter causes her to look up and the smile that follows lights up the whole damn kitchen. “Are you already fighting my kitchen appliances? What’s next, accosting my building’s door man?”

  “You have a door man I can accost? What in God’s name am I doing fighting your coffee maker for then?” She laughs.

  She’s wearing nothing but my dress shirt from last night. Jesus Christ! Just like my damn drunken vision. Only this time, when I reach out to touch her, she doesn’t disappear… I pull her to me before sliding my arms under her bare ass and scooping her up, “Good Morning, Ms. Reese.” She giggles before brushing her lips against mine.

  Her legs wrap around my waist as her arms slide around my bare shoulders. “Good mornin’, Wes. I hope you slept well.” Her lips are still smiling when she leans in to kiss me. My tongue traces the seam of her pouty lips seeking entrance. She immediately grants me access and I groan into her mouth as our tongues dance and slide around each other like we’ve been kissing for a thousand years.

  “You want me to make you a cup of coffee, an espresso, or a cappuccino?”

  Her eyes widen, “You can make that piece of shit do ALL of that?” She asks mocking disbelief.

  “I don’t know if I’d call it a piece of shit, but yeah.” I chuckle, “I can make it do ALL of that.”

  I smack her ass that is still resting on top of my forearms. “Hop down, angel.” Her legs unlock from around my waist before she slides her body down mine. “So, what’ll it be?”

  “Coffee, black. One Splenda. Think you can manage that?” She says over shoulder before reaching the opposite counter top and hiking her little ass up on to it to sit, perched while watching me move around the kitchen.

  “I’m pretty sure I can.”

  After I have the coffee brewing, I turn to face her and lean back against the marble counter top before crossing my arms and narrowing my eyes on hers. “It’s Sunday. You stayed the night, which if I may be honest here, that’s a fucking first. So… What do you have planned for the rest of the weekend, Ms. Reese?”

  She smirks and crosses her own arms as her left eyebrow cocks up, “From angel to Ms. Reese already? I must say, you are quick to shift gears, Speed Racer.” She sighs running her fingers through her hair before she continues, “I looked over Jude Preston’s manuscript a bit yesterday. I barely even scratched the surface though. I planned to have the whole damn thing read before tomorrow, so THAT will be at the top of my priorities for the remainder of the weekend. Cool your jets, Mario Andretti, I’m only still here for a cup of coffee. After which I’ll be out of your hair.”

  I’m directly in front of her in only two strides cupping her face in my hands and studying her eyes. After a moment, when I see both the disappointment and sadness in her eyes that I was hoping I wouldn’t find it dawns on me that she isn’t just being a bitch; she’s actually being serious and it makes something in my chest constrict right before it cracks.

  “Angel, that is not what I meant, not by a fucking long shot. I don’t want you to leave.”

  Actually because of your buildings inadequate security I prefer you stay— at least until I can find a safer place for you.

  Thank fuck for small miracles. That would’ve made shit awkward had I let it push its way out.

  She blinks up at me for-fucking-ever. Finally, she clears her throat and looks down before speaking. “Well… Thank you for saying so, Wes, it was very nice of you. But I don’t really think I would get much of anything read, much less retained around you.” Her sad laugh takes whatever in my chest cracked and shatters it. “I’m gonna go hop in the shower, babe.” She looks up at me as she scoots off the counter. “Then coffee, and then I have to get home.”

  She stands on her tip-toes and kisses my chin before hurrying in the direction of the master bathroom.

  Well, fuck. What did I say? All I asked was what she was doing today. Right?

  Stella left over thirteen hours ago. I’ve been in my office playing chess with myself for the last ten. Well, not really playing more like trying to figure out where the hell my mind has gone. Insanity seems to be taking residence where my usual no nonsense rational thought process once resided.

  The mere thought of initiating the ‘talk’ with Stella causes me to become physically ill. Not because I fear her rebuttal; It’s the thought of her agreeing I can’t accept. Her reciprocation of that which I endeavor, THAT is what chills the marrow of my bones.

  I slide the white pawn to rook, ending the game; and as my middle finger tips the black king over, I announce to the empty room, “Checkmate.” I lean back in the chair and rest my chin against my linked, steepled fingers while glaring at the chessboard.

  The complete and utter irony is not lost on me.

  It isn’t lost… but that in no way means that I know what the fuck to do with this conundrum I’ve somehow found myself in.

  Chapter 17

  Disappointment Causes

  “Trina, I promise. If there was something, anything to tell you, I would.” I lie through my teeth. “But other than I slept in the guest bedroom, his house is ridic, and he has an Italian coffee maker that spits out cappuccino AND espresso, I got nothing, babe.”

  My one and only best friend stands there in front of me with her jaw hanging to the floor and her bulging eyes blinking at me. After a moment, she regains her composure and starts searching for hints of deception.

  “You spent the night with THE Wesley Jacobs and all you have to report back is fucking COFFEE!?” Yeah, the last part of that rant was more along the lines of a shriek or a high-pitched dog whistle… In case you were wondering.

  I walk into my room with Jude’s manuscript in hand and fall face first on to my bed before rolling over and releasing the exasperated sigh lodged in my throat. Trina aka I-smell-a-bone-and-intend-to-find-it, is hot on my heels.

  I slyly cross my arms behind my head in an effort to hide that both hands have fingers crossed. “T, I swear on my life, nothing happened.” I bat my eyelashes giving the most sincere look I can muster and ask, “You do know who you’re talking to right? Why would I keep anything from you?”

  She sits on the foot of my bed sighing. “I don’t know. Ask yourself that question, Stella. Why aren’t you telling me?”

  “Honestly, Trina I don’t know what to make out of it, hell I don’t even know what IT is. Hey,” I kick her shoulder with my toe. “I promise, whenever I figure out what the hell is going on, you’ll be the first to know, ‘kay, sis?”

  She stands and on her way out the door concedes, kinda. “Fine. You have two weeks! And if I don’t start getting answers by then, someone will get their ass kicked.”

  Shit. A girl can’t keep anything to herself these days without pissing everyone off?

  I pick up Jude’s manuscript and get busy. I have three hundred and forty pages to read by tomorrow morning.

  I’m not sure what time I passed out reading ‘Twisted Obsession’. And no, the fact that I passed out has nothing to do with the books capability of maintaining my interest. I was enthralled from page one. I’m so excited with my first project, it sure beats the hell out of children’s books. Sorry, nothing against children’s books, I just don’t like children.

  After I’ve showered and dressed, I tell a grumpy Trina bye and head off to work.

  I walk into JPH at a quarter to seven. When I see Rachel missing from behind her desk it makes my day instantly better.

  Hopefully she called in and isn’t just late. Hey, I’m a wishful thinker—I’m just fucking with you, no I’m not.

  I’m less than a foot away from Wes’s office door and startle as it flies open. Rachel steps out of Wes’s office wiping smeared lipstick from around her mouth and when she looks up and sees me a sinister smirk crosses her face.

  “O
h,” she closes the office door. “You’re early.” Her giggle resembles razor blades along the ear canal. “Either that or we must have lost track of time again. Sorry.”

  You little fucking bitch. It is ON!

  The ‘I-don’t-give-a-fuck’ smile on my face doesn’t slip once. “That’s quite alright, Rachel. One day, when you grow up, you’ll learn being a whore is different than knowing how to fuck and suck like a whore.” I pause and mock deep thought. “Actually, no. If you’re STILL having issues telling time, there’s no hope you’ll ever learn the difference.” Mentally we’re in an alley and I just surprised the bitch with my shiv two seconds before shanking her ass. I’m more than a hundred percent sure the smile on my face reflects my lovely thoughts.

  “Oh, honey… You didn’t really think you ever had a cha—“

  Okay, so I snapped. Okay, so I may have my hand around her neck and I may have slammed her against Wes’ office door. I snapped, sue me!

  I find myself close enough to Rachel’s ear her hair brushes my lips as I speak. “Oh, honey… You ever EVER make the mistake of talking down to me again it will be your last words. I come from nothing, I have nothing—except a rap sheet, but you already know that. Here’s a piece of advice for you, Rachel, never fuck with someone who has nothing to lose. You will ALWAYS end up with more than you bargained for.”

  Using the hand I still have locked around her neck, I jerk her away from the door and open it, pausing before walking into Wes’ office. “Stay out of my way, Rachel. I’ll only warn you this once.”

  Even with everything that just occurred, I somehow still effortlessly waltz into Wes’ office like I own that bitch. He will never know that in this moment I am falling to fucking pieces inside. I smile brightly at him as I take my usual seat across from him before crossing my legs. “Good morning, Wes.”

  I pull ‘Twisted Obsession’ from my satchel and lay it on his desk. “I have four words for you.” I point to the manuscript. “Holy fucking shit! Wow!”

  He leans back in his seat and I feel an intense urge to punch him in the throat to see if the smirk on his face can be choked off by a crushed esophagus. “That good, huh?”

  I nod, “Better than good. Honestly, Wesley, I haven’t read anything like it before.”

  I decide right that second, rather than dwell on whatever the hell happened between Rachel and Wesley, I am going to throw myself into Jude Preston’s novel and do all I can to assure it becomes a best seller.

  Wesley has made it more than obvious that what happened between us on Saturday night was nothing more than a one-night deal.

  And if I can be completely honest, okay, half-ass honest, I’m relieved. It sucks when you’re trying to concentrate on the important priorities in your life and you have personal problems bubbling over onto them. Now, I can wipe all that shit from my mind and stop worrying over nothing.

  “Stell, I’m happy for you. I’m glad I was able to give you an author whose work you appreciate. But keep in mind that they won’t all work out so well. I’d rather blow my fucking brains out than read a book with a female Dom as the main character.” His laughter is infectious. Like stomach flu infectious and I’m forced to smile while smothering the bile rising in my throat.

  “Yep! I am totally amped about Jude and his unconventional unique writing style. Anyway, so is there anything else you need from me? I’m going to go get started on this and call to set up a meeting with him about cover art ideas.” I grab the manuscript while slinging my satchel over my shoulder before standing to leave while internally injecting ice into my veins.

  I brightly smile at Wes, but before I can attempt to turn and leave, I’m stopped in my tracks at the look on his face.

  “Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing, Ms. Reese?” he asks and my false bravado falters. I blink rapidly before straightening my spine, however my mouth starts opening and closing like a fish on the bank.

  “Ahh…I’m sorry. Excuse me? I just told you what I was doing, Mr. Jacobs.” My hands fist the satchel straps at my shoulder and my eyes lock on his, preparing for battle. “Did I miss something?” You know, other than your morning blow job by your talented secretary?

  As soon as the thought crosses my consciousness his eyes narrow on mine. Shit! Can he fucking read minds?

  Sitting forward to rest his elbows on the massive mahogany desk before him, his face adjusts from my Wes, last week Wes, to complete asshole Wes with an even bigger asshole smirk.

  “You want me to beat around the bush or get straight to the point?”

  Are you fucking kidding me right now?

  “By all means, please, get straight to the point, Mr. Jacobs.” My tone is drenched drips in as much acidic saccharine as the smile on my face.

  “We’ll start off with today’s schedule. I’ve already told you, Jacobs does not start work nor do we start meetings without having gone through the schedule and organizing the day ahead.” His left eyebrow rises in smugness.

  It takes me zero point seven seconds to mentally shut the fuck down, extinguish my emotions, and ready myself to square off with Wesley Jacobs—Yeah, I’ve been conditioned that well, peeps.

  You walk into enough situations where you are the one that bears the brunt of the conflict, simply because you walked into your house after school, you learn to compartmentalize really fucking quickly. If you don’t, instead of cutting to feel, you cut to never feel again.

  “Mr. Jacobs—“ His right palm flies into the air and halts my speaking.

  “Call me by my father’s name again and I will have you escorted from this building. Do you fucking understand me, Stell?”

  Okay… So, now I’m not only trying to compartmentalize, but also stifle my seething rage. And it’s probably a good time to mention that I don’t cry when I’m sad, I don’t. Never have. I don’t cry when I’m in pain or pissed either. Conditioned people… I’ve been conditioned to not shed tears since before I was fucking two years old.

  However, when I’m pissed and find myself unable to adequately express the depth of my anger, I do cry.

  With that being said… who is blinking away tears right now? Yep. Me. Now… guess who passive aggressively tells her boss and last Saturday nights wonderful fuck the following, “Wesley, how about you take care of your business and I will take care of mine. As far as I’m concerned, my orientation ended on Friday.”

  I spin on my heel and stomp from his office towards my little cubbyhole office on the opposite side of the building. AWAY from Wesley fucking Jacobs.

  However, before I can get out the door and close it, his parting words are the last of that conversation. “Angel, your orientation is nowhere near being over and I’ve just begun to fuck you senseless.”

  In an effort of self-preservation, I pretend I didn’t hear any of what he just said. Walking by Rachel’s desk, I tell the cock-sucking whore, “I’ll be in my office. Heed my advice, Rach, and stay out of my way.”

  After my nerves have settled and the demons are asleep, I feel the tension release itself from my muscles and bones. Exhaling a long awaited pent up breath, I pick up the phone and dial Jude.

  Jude was stuck out of town for his manuscript meeting, some family emergency, so I’m excited to finally meet the man behind ‘Twisted Obsession’. His PA, a cute petite blonde named Sarah attended the meeting while he was on speakerphone.

  When he answers the phone in a husky voice, “This is Jude.” I glance up at the clock. Shit! Seven forty eight! I should’ve waited until after eight!

  “Oh! Hi, Jude. This is Stella Reese with Jacobs Publishing, I hope I didn’t wake you.” I am so proud of how professional I sound.

  Jude doesn’t even attempt to smother his yawn, causing my confidence to dwindle and immediately begin scrambling for an apology. “Shit, I did wake you up. I’m so sorry. I can call back, I was just trying to see if you would hopefully be my date to… No, have a date. No, no. Meet, have a meeting. Dammit. Are you available this afternoon, say around lunc
htime? I’d like to set up a meeting with you and go over a few things.” I laugh through more than half of my spiel. I mean, when you sound like an idiot, own that shit and laugh at yourself. There really is nothing else you can do.

  “Ahh… Yeah, like noon, one, or two o’clock lunch, babe?”

  Oh, hell no.

  “Thank you very much for the endearment, but it isn’t necessary. Actually, it’s sort of a pet peeve of mine. So if you wouldn’t, I would greatly appreciate it.” My eyes roll on their own accord when he chuckles.

  “Babe, time. And get used to it, because it’s also a pet peeve of mine. It’s called being friendly.”

  Really?

  “Ahh… We’ll address it at lunch. Is noon okay?”

  “Yeah, noon is perfect. You’re on Madison Ave, right?”

  “I am.” I begin to rearrange my pens for the second time during the conversation.

  “Awesome. There’s a deli a few blocks from you, they have the best steak clubs. It’s called Steinburg’s, you know the place?”

  “Yes.”

  “Perfect. I’ll see you there at noon, Stell. Can’t wait to meet ya!”

  The line goes dead.

  Ooookay. I’m pretty sure I have a damn—another damn flirt on my hands.

  “Well, hell, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

  If Jude Preston is even somewhat attractive, I will return the flirtatious banter. I think it is well past time for me to get out there and at least check the rules and stats on the dating game.

  My lack of experience has been made more than apparent by Wesley…Again. And quite frankly, I’m sick and tired of being that girl, the one on Amazon 1-clicking over fifteen times a week in search of my next book boyfriend. And I can thank Wesley for that. Him and his big beautiful cock.