by T. R. Cupak
Drugs. Why does she have to take so many goddamn drugs? As quickly as I asked myself that questions, the answer stood out in another journal entry.
…to forget the past and numb my mind, even if it’s for a little while. I would rather find peace and solace in small increments of time than nothing at all.
The water is still running in the bathroom. It’s not a strong flow sound, so I can tell it’s not the shower; now the water running is worrying me since she’s had it going from the second she went into bathroom.
Deciding to check on Jordan, I place the notebook back on her nightstand where I found it and then go to her bathroom door.
“Jordan, are you okay?” I cautiously ask while knocking lightly on the door.
She turns off the faucet before unlocking and opening the door.
“Precious?” Her eyes are red and swollen around the edges. She’s been crying this whole time and I’ve been sitting on her bed like an idiot.
“This is the real me,” Jordan motions up and down her body with her hands. “That is also the real me.” She nods towards her open medicine cabinet that is packed with different prescription medications. The labels are too small to read from where I stand, but from our time together I at least know she has anti-depressants and Valium in there.
“Jordan, I like the real you. You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of,” I tell her, stepping into the small space that is her bathroom.
Her head tilts up, eyes locking onto mine. I swear I can see her inner struggles fighting behind those blue eyes. I want her know she can truly trust me like she says she does in her journal.
“May I kiss you, Precious?”
She doesn’t answer with words. Instead, she wraps her arms around my waist, her body melding perfectly to mine as she stands on her tippy toes to reach my mouth. The salty tears she had been crying earlier are faintly present on her lips, but I don’t care. The softness of her mouth wakes up everything within me. She gives me so much without even knowing it. Jordan belongs in my arms; she belongs to me.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I silently curse the horrible timing of whomever it is that is calling me. Reluctantly I pull back and reach into my pants pocket to retrieve my cell phone. The name on the screen brings my head out of the clouds and back into reality; it brings me back to why I came here tonight.
Arthur Wellington
“Hold on,” I tell the Aussie prick.
“I have to take this. I’ll be right back, baby.” I don’t want her to hear his voice so I head out of her apartment to speak to one of the men I cannot wait for us to get our hands on. Little does he know that’s what he’s calling for. I’ve asked for an in-person meeting and peaked his interest with the offer to “party” with some young hotties.
Arthur is still single, and he’s still a manwhore. Women are his weakness and I knew he wouldn’t pass up the chance to fuck young snatch. I’m positive this is why he’s calling. He wants to discuss details and location.
To be honest, I don’t give a fuck about the details; I just care about the location. If he makes his way to the states, it will be easier to execute what I have planned. If we, meaning me, Jordan, and Monte, have to go to the Gold Coast, my plan can still be executed; it will just be a little trickier and take more time since Monte will have to reach out to his sources that he hasn’t had to call on in a while.
“Yeah?”
“Hey, mate. I’ll be in the states at the end of July.”
That’s two months away. I can deal with that.
“Sounds good. Where were you thinking?”
“Sin City.”
Good choice; easier to hide a dead body.
“I’ll have my assistant set it up.”
“Please tell me you’re fucking that sweet piece of ass.”
“I have everything I could want in my girl.” He doesn’t need to know anything more than that.
“Pussy-whipped like your old man was; that was until California.”
My phone makes a cracking sound from the death grip I have on it. I didn’t need to hear Arthur’s reminder. Jordan is my constant reminder of my father’s infidelity and vicious demeanor.
“My assistant will be in touch,” I couldn’t get off the phone fast enough.
“Good day, mate.”
I look down at my phone to hit “end” and see the damage I caused. My screen is cracked along the edges and spider-webbing through the middle. I want throw it, but for now, I still need the fucking thing. Monte will have to get me a new phone tomorrow, and then I can burn this one. Arthur’s words tainted the little piece of technology.
Turning around, I open the door to Jordan’s apartment and head back inside. Just when I close and lock the door, my phone vibrates once again. This time it’s a text message.
Monte: Everything ok, Boss?
Me: Fine
Monte: Have you talked to her yet?
Me: No
That was the last of our messaging. He got the hint when my answers were singular.
“Hunter,” Jordan calls out for me.
I walk the few steps it takes to get to her. She’s still wearing her robe and sitting on the edge of her bed with her head down and something in her hands. It takes a few seconds to realize it’s her journal. Is she going to willing share more of herself with me? God, I hope so.
“Hunter, I think you need to go.”
What the fuck? That’s not what I expected her to say.
“Why?” I snip out, immediately regretting the tone I used when she jumps and her head snaps up to look at me.
“You read my private thoughts without my permission, that’s why.” The look on her face is killing me. She’s sad, but anger masks the sadness in her eyes.
“How’d you- I’m sorry, Prec—.”
“Please leave.”
Well shit. Jordan’s not fucking around.
“Let me—”
“Get out, Hunter!”
“Okay,” I concede with my hands in the air. “I’m going.”
Before I do as she commanded, I step towards her and she instantly cowers away from me. Man, that hurt. Without waiting for Jordan to push me away or have a full-blown flip out, I gently cup her face, placing a kiss on her lips. Thankfully she allowed me that simple little kiss before I grabbed my coat, and walked out of her apartment back to the SUV.
“Well, you don’t have a black eye or a handprint across your face so either you had to drug her right away or you chickened out,” Monte says in observation through the rearview mirror.
“Shut the fuck up and drive, Monte.”
“What happened, Boss?” The concern is evident. He’s not asking to goat me into an argument that leads to an “I told you so” at the end; he’s asking because the guy genuinely cares.
Unfortunately, his caring doesn’t stop the frustration when I answer, “I fucked her, got nosy and read her journal without permission, and she found out, kicked me out, end of story.” There’s no need to sugar coat the truth. How it all went down doesn’t have to be detailed.
“So, she still doesn’t know who you are?”
“She’s seen me. She knows my name. That’s the extent of it.”
Monte nods his understanding and drops the subject, starting the vehicle and pulling away from Jordan’s apartment complex.
How am I going to resolve this? Will she even give me the chance to fix this? For now, I will sulk in the back seat with my bottle of scotch and maddening thoughts.
Chapter Six
Jordan
Hunter was left alone in my room for way too long and that’s no one’s fault but my own. It still doesn’t excuse what he did in his alone time. Mortified isn’t even close to what I felt when I realized he read through my journal. The pen; the damn pen wasn’t on top of the notebook, where I always leave it. That’s how I knew. What he read, how much of it he read is still a mystery, but I couldn’t stomach the thought of facing him after my realization. That’s pieces of my life he
had in his hands. Those are my private thoughts and the nightmares of my past. He had no right to snoop.
He should know that I would answer any questions he would throw at me. If he asked about my parents I would simply say that they both passed away. It is the truth after all. If he asked if I was born and raised in Southern California, I would tell him I migrated south after high school. Just because I omit certain details wouldn’t mean I’m keeping him in the dark. Who in their right mind would want someone to know their awful past?
“GAH! Why did he have to read my notebook? All he had to do was just ask. I would have thrown him a freaking bone. Isn’t this fucking dandy, now I’m talking to myself.”
Well, I have finally passed crazy and can now be classified as an insane woman. Trying to figure out what he actually read was impossible. I thumbed through the book to see if there were smudge marks from the natural oils on his fingertips, but there weren’t any. There wasn’t any unusual creasing in the paper that indicated he stayed on a specific page for too long. Yes, I would notice those types of things. I’m neurotic.
How is it that he can make me feel guilty for kicking him out? Better question, why do I feel guilty? I could have let him stay and explain himself, but this became too much for me to handle too quickly. Seeing him for the first time ever and then knowing he’s read intimate information that I never intended for him to know only made the evening more overwhelming.
Goddammit! Now I regret making him leave. I want to know exactly what he read and why he took it upon himself to do so.
“You’re so fucking dumb.”
Looking in the mirror and saying those words to myself only makes this situation all the more fucked up. Frustration has me swinging the medicine cabinet open with more force than necessary. I grab sleeping pills, another OxyContin, and a Valium, and swallow them back with what was left in the bottle of vodka I grabbed from freezer. Nothing can ever be easy. Nothing can ever be half-ass normal for me.
My phone chimes from the where I left it in the living room. I walk out and grab it off of the end table where it had been charging. The nickname I gave Hunter before knowing his given name is front and center on the screen.
The Shadow: I’m so sorry, Precious. Please talk to me.
Me: We can talk tomorrow.
The Shadow: Thank you. Goodnight, beautiful.
Me: Nite.
That text message was unlike any other we ever had. He’s never once sent me a text outside of requesting my time. I may have romanticized about our relationship being more than what it is, but if I’m being honest, I don’t want things to change between us. I’m content with my mediocre life. Just because my past life revolved around money doesn’t mean the present needs to. Besides, it would be too much hassle to try and be Hunter’s, or anyone’s, girlfriend for that matter. I don’t have to hide my addictions on a daily basis; only when I have clients. I don’t have to worry about sleepless nights or being a borderline insomniac. I don’t have to worry about waking from one of my more frightening nightmares and then having to explain myself.
I don’t need saving; I just need to be left the fuck alone.
Are you fucking kidding me right now? Just when I switch off the light beside my bed and settle in to try and forget this godawful night there’s a knock at my door. This better be a damn emergency to be knocking just past midnight.
Slipping my robe back on I make my way to the door. Before I could answer there’s another knock.
“I’m coming dammit.”
Before I open the door, I peek through the peephole since it is late and there’s no reason for anyone to be knocking on my door right now. What the fuck? Why is Hunter standing outside my door? I told him I would talk to him tomorrow. I contemplate whether or not to answer, but my curiosity wins, so unlock the door, but don’t remove the chain when I crack the door open.
“Why are you here, Hunter? I told you we can speak tomorrow.” The words are curt and to the point. I’m not going to hide my annoyance or the fact that I’m still angry with him.
“It is tomorrow,” he says, stating the obvious technicality.
“Seriously, why are you here?”
“May I come in for a moment? I bought you gifts,” he holds up a Wal-Mart bag to show me he isn’t lying. Besides the local bars and corner coffee shop, Wal-Mart is the only place nearby that is open this late.
“No, you may not. I’m going to bed, Hunter.”
“Then I’ll sit out here until you wake up and let me in.”
The expression on his face tells me he isn’t joking and that he has no intentions of going away if I don’t let him in now. Against my better judgement I unchain the door, swinging it open just enough for him to step inside. Before closing the door, I catch a glimpse of Monte climbing back into the SUV parked out on the street. Huh, he’s been out there the entire time Hunter was in here with me. Poor guy. What the hell am I thinking? From the looks of the vehicle it’s probably more comfortable than my crappy couch.
Turning, but not moving from my spot next to the door, I see Hunter digging in the bag he walked in with.
“Here.” Hunter hands me a box with four martini glasses in it. At first, I’m confused, but then embarrassment settles in. The nerve of this guy.
“What? My glass wasn’t good enough for you?” The sass is thick with my response to the so-called gift.
“Your glass was plenty good enough for me. I know you like martinis and I wanted you to have these glasses. It’s nice to have options.”
He’s infuriating, but I accept his peace offering and put the box on the breakfast bar.
“Thank you, you can go now.”
“I’m not finished.” His words are nonchalant, maybe even dismissive, being as he’s completely ignored my request for space and to be left alone.
He begins to dig back into the bag and pulls out four books, handing them to me. Only, these weren’t just any books; these were diaries, with locks. This last “gift” is a reminder of why I made him leave in the first place, and they will be the reason I make him leave again.
“Get out,” I grit out through clenched teeth while tossing the diaries back at Hunter. My hands are trembling uncontrollably from anger. I’m sure he thought he was being sweet or cute by getting me locking diaries, but he’s not. He’s being an ass who doesn’t get it. This situation we’re in right now is why I could never be with someone. I shouldn’t have to lock my shit up. I shouldn’t have to feel self-conscious about being a drugged-out, wasted bottom-feeder in my own goddamn apartment; the one place I can let my guard down and just be me.
“Jordan, I didn’t mean to upset you more,” his voice cracks, revealing a chink in his perfect armor.
“Don’t make me tell you again,” I snip back, opening the door to prompt him into exiting my home. “Tonight needs to end—now.”
“Will you just fucking listen to me for one minute?” he challenges, stepping into my personal space. But, before I have a chance to step back Hunter grabs my face, crushing his lips to mine. Everything I was feeling just seconds ago went right out the opened door.
Giving into Hunter is way too easy. The feel of his mouth against mine could easily become a new drug to forget things, even if it’s for a fleeting moment; but Hunter himself, he’s my kryptonite, the one man who can make me wage a war against myself.
Damn him. Damn me.
Hunter
This will sound arrogant but I don’t give a fuck; I know Jordan can’t resist my mouth on her; that’s why I’m not playing fair right now. The subtle purr she lets out every time our lips connect after we’ve been apart wakes my inner caveman; fueling my beastly desire to ravage her in a way that could possibly trigger her demons. Out of respect for what Jordan has been through, I try to reel in my brute tendencies, but sometimes they come out, just like they did the other night when I shredded her dress.
There’s more to why she’s upset with me. A blind man could see that Jordan’s embarrassed of where she
lives and her lifestyle. Even though she’s pissed at me, I won’t leave until she forgives me. I need her to know that she doesn’t have to hide anything from me because I already know everything. I want her to know I accept everything about her. She needs to see that she can trust me, even after all of my lying. Jordan will understand that everything I’ve done up to this point has been for her; at least that’s what I keep telling myself.
“You suck,” she whispers against my lips.
“Why do I suck?”
“You know why,” Jordan pulls back just far enough so she can look up at me, still taking in the features of the face she’s just getting to know. “I’m mad at you and you know your kisses scramble my brain. It’s not fair. I have no tricks up my sleeves to break you down.” If she only knew how untrue that last statement was.
She then continues, “And, I have zero will power to refuse your advances, especially when those eyes pierce straight through to my very core. It’s like you’re looking into my soul, and frankly, that freaks me the fuck out.” Her rising anxiety isn’t foreign to me. It doesn’t take much to push Jordan out of her comfort zone, which is why I allowed her to wiggle out of my hold. I am thankful she doesn’t put any more distance between us once I have completely released her.
“Don’t bother asking me to leave again because I won’t. At least not without saying what I came back to say. Basically, asking me to leave again would be words falling on deaf ears.”
Jordan huffs out her annoyance but turns, stepping towards her couch and sitting down, bringing her feet up, and off to the side of her.