I closed my eyes and dropped my head.
“Yeah, sucks normally but this was bad and I mean bad. Asshole didn’t try to hide it. Both of ‘em on a regular basis walked around with their eyes blackened, lips split and swollen, arms in slings, limpin’, holdin’ themselves funny. Christ, I was a kid, one year ahead of Cal at school, we went to the same church and I saw ‘em all the time and even I knew what they caught at home.”
I opened my eyes and looked at him.
Mike kept talking. “Everyone knew but those two were so cowed, they never called the cops, no one could do shit about it if they didn’t report it and they didn’t. She was pretty back then, Bonnie was, God, beautiful. All the boys thought so, even young, in junior high. But she only had eyes for Cal and he only had eyes for her. They started it when they were young, twelve, thirteen, somewhere ‘round there. Never apart. Always together, Cal and Bonnie, after they hooked up, I never remember seein’ one without the other.”
Mike paused and I didn’t say anything mainly because I couldn’t say anything so he went on.
“Cal was helpless to save her from her Dad, drove him crazy, he acted out, got trashed, did shit, got into trouble, lots of it. She wasn’t with him, he was carousin’. But Bonnie was somethin’ else. Minute she hit high school, she went wild. Partying, out all the time, missin’ school, drinkin’, smokin’ pot, doin’ anything she could do to forget home. Started with that, got worse, acid, coke, crack, whatever she could get her hands on. Cal was her boyfriend and he turned into her bodyguard. He cleaned up his act, drove her where she wanted to go, looked after her while she had the time of her life, got her home safely. It was like he knew she needed that escape, her rebellion, and he was gonna give it to her but make sure she was safe while doin’ it. The minute they graduated, they got married. They got married the same fuckin’ day. Drove straight down to Tennessee and did it. Came back, moved in with Cal’s Dad, she never went back home, far’s I knew. Even if she wanted to, Cal wouldn’t let her. Everything he was was about protectin’ her from that shit and gettin’ her clean, he acted like it was the only reason for him to breathe.”
My mouth was dry and I needed to blink but I couldn’t. I was frozen, staring at Mike but he wasn’t done. Not even halfway.
“Cal’s Dad was a wreck, lost his wife when Cal was a kid. When she was gone, he lost his will to live. He held down a job by some miracle since he was drunk most the time. Loved her, though, people still talk about it, especially with what happened with Cal and Bonnie, how ole Joe and Cal are cut from the same cloth, one-women men. Joe lost Angela and his world caved in, he didn’t have the strength to dig his way out. Cal lost everything and he dug himself out, walked away but he’s never goin’ back.”
“Lost everything?” I whispered.
Mike nodded. “Yeah. Cal moved Bonnie into his Dad’s house, by this time his Dad was sick. Cancer. Been smokin’ two packs a day for years. Cal worked two jobs, maybe three. He was a bouncer, security at the mall, anything he could do. Especially when Bonnie seemed to clean herself up and she got pregnant, had Nicky.”
“Nicky?”
“Their son. Would have been good, except ole Joe bein’ at home sick, Cal workin’ his ass off for Bonnie and Nicky and because his Dad’s insurance was shit. Joe was dyin’ in that house with Bonnie in it and the kid. Bonnie fell off the wagon, Cal’d drag her back on, she’d fall off again, Cal dragged her back on. It was relentless but he never gave up.”
“He did, they’re divorced,” I stated, though divorced or not, Joe never mentioned a child, his son and fear had hold of my soul that she had him, that wreck of a woman was raising Joe’s boy.
“Yeah,” Mike clipped. “He got shot of her. He got shot of her when he came home and found the cops all over his house. She was out of it, took the Dad’s drugs, don’t even know what he was on, pain killers probably, got smashed, for some reason decided to give her baby a bath and then she forgot he was in the tub –”
Pain shot through me, agonizing pain, infiltrating every cell in my body. I knew where this was going and I couldn’t stop it before I cried, “Don’t!”
Mike’s arm was around me and it got tight as his voice got quiet.
“Yeah, sweetheart, Nicky drowned in the bathtub. Ole Joe found him, saw the state of Bonnie, called the police but it was such a bad scene, he was so far gone health-wise, he had a heart attack. He was dead before the cops got to the house. Cal showed up, his kid dead, his Dad dead and his wife arrested for involuntary manslaughter.”
I was shaking my head but Mike kept talking.
“Colt got the callout. He was the first on the scene.”
“Please, Mike,” I whispered, turning away, setting my glass on the coffee table and Mike leaned into me, setting his glass beside mine and his arms pulled me to him again.
His arms were strong, this was a better position of safety and togetherness but after hearing that about Joe, Bonnie, his son, his Dad, it totally didn’t register on me. I was trembling in a way it felt like I’d never be able to stop.
“It was fucked up. Totally,” Mike’s voice was almost a whisper. “She did time, not much, criminally negligent. Cal divorced her while she was inside. I thought it was over, least for him. I had no idea she ever came back, I can’t imagine why the fuck she would. Her comin’ back, askin’ for money, that’s not only fucked up, it’s plain cruel. His Dad was dyin’ but not dead, she essentially killed him. Her kid, shit. Her kid. Cal’s boy. Totally fucked.”
I stared at him and whispered the God’s honest truth, “Women don’t love that shit, Mike.”
He gave me another squeeze of his arms and replied, “No, sweetheart, that wasn’t what I meant. They love the broken man, the heart that bleeds, think they can fix it.”
“I had no idea.”
“Now you do, you wanna fix it?”
My eyes slid over Mike’s shoulder and I looked out his window.
That nightmare had obviously happened seventeen years ago. I hated it that Joe experienced that, it felt like acid in my veins, I hated it so much.
But I knew, the way Joe was, the way he looked, the way he acted, there were likely a lot of women before me who knew all about it and tried to fix him.
Joe just couldn’t be fixed.
A one-woman man, like his Dad, Mike said. Did everything for her. Kept her safe, tried to keep her straight and was good enough to put her in a taxi instead of slam the door in her face when she’d killed his baby and essentially killed his father.
A one-woman man, he’d just picked the wrong woman, the really wrong one.
Joe was never going to be fixed, he didn’t want to be and therefore, he never would.
“Violet,” Mike called and I looked at him.
“No,” I replied, “I don’t want to fix Joe.”
That was a lie, I did, I really wanted to, I wanted to so badly I could taste it in my mouth, feel it hollowing out my belly, like that hunger I had for him.
I just knew I couldn’t.
Mike’s hand came to my face, his fingers curving around my jaw, his thumb at my cheek, using it to bring it close so his mouth could touch mine then he gently pushed me away an inch but his hand didn’t leave my face.
“Thinkin’ I killed the mood,” he muttered.
I gave him a weak smile and agreed, “Yeah.”
“Not a bad thing, sweetheart, ‘cause I’m also thinkin’ you need time.”
My weak smile died and I agreed again, “Yeah.”
“You want me around while you take that time?”
I closed my eyes and dropped my forehead to his shoulder.
Then selfishly and stupidly, I whispered, “Yeah, Mike, I do, if you wanna be around.”
I felt his body relax against mine and he murmured, “Good, ‘cause I wanna be around.”
I lifted my head, needing the mood to shift again, not back to before but to something normal, sane, that didn’t include drowned babies or Joe’s broken heart.
Therefore I asked, “You mind if we watch a movie?”
“I’ll only mind if you don’t cuddle up to me while we’re doin’ it.”
My smile was less weak when I said, “I think I can do that.”
“Then go pick what you wanna watch.”
I kept smiling at him and started to pull away then went back to him.
“Mike?” I called when his eyes caught mine.
“You’re practically in my lap, honey,” he answered on a grin.
“Thanks for puttin’ up with my shit,” I whispered.
His face got soft and his hand came back to curve around my jaw. “I’m a slow learner, sad but true, but one thing I learned, there’re women whose shit is worth puttin’ up with and women whose it isn’t. I’m guessin’ you’re the first category.”
“I don’t know, I’ve got a bad temper,” I told him honestly.
“Then I’ll try not to piss you off.”
“That would be advised.”
He grinned, kissed me lightly again, dropped his hand from my face and said, “Go pick a movie.”
“Okay,” I replied, got up, picked a movie, Mike put it in and we cuddled on the couch while we watched it.
The movie was good and, since Mike owned it, he obviously liked it.
The best part was being tucked, my back to his front on the couch, my head on his bicep, his arm tight at my waist, our legs entwined, doing a bit of nothing, watching a movie, in a family room, in a family house, with a dog stretched at the side of the couch.
That was the best part.
And I loved it. I even had to admit I loved doing it with Mike just as I admitted that I’d prefer doing it with Joe.
But Joe didn’t cuddle and watch movies or make dinner or have a dog.
And Joe never would.
* * * * *
Cal was still on his deck when night had fallen and he heard Violet’s Mustang in her drive.
As if she was doing it to piss him off, she didn’t use the garage.
He stayed on the deck taking another swig of beer, which one he had no clue, he’d lost count, as he heard her side door open and close.
He stayed where he was, staring into the dark, knowing she wasn’t going to come to him that night, the first night he was home in a long time she wasn’t in his bed.
It was awhile later, he was considering getting another beer or going for the bourbon, when he heard her side door open then her keys jingle to lock it.
He waited then looked to the side when he heard her feet hit the steps to his deck.
She walked up to him and stopped by the chair Colt had vacated hours ago.
“Don’t say it,” she warned.
He had no idea what she didn’t want him to say but he replied, “Buddy, I didn’t say a word.”
She hesitated then sat down next to him, cocking her legs and putting her feet up on the railing.
She was in her clothes, a jeans skirt, tighter than the other one, in fact, it was tight all the way down the sides of her thighs, a slit up the front. She had on a little purple blouse, the neckline was wide, showed her chest not her cleavage and it was loose but cinched at her waist. She was barefoot.
He didn’t have to ask if she had a good night, not that he would have. She left at a quarter to six, it had to be close to midnight, maybe after. Plenty of time to eat and do all sorts of shit if you were having a good time. He knew what he’d be doing if Vi was at his house that long, exactly what he did do when Vi was at his house that long. He reckoned Haines wouldn’t be far off that mark, what he knew was, if Vi had let him fuck her, she wouldn’t be sitting beside him right now.
Cal didn’t want to feel relieved but that didn’t mean he fucking wasn’t.
For once she seemed happy to be silent but Cal was not.
He downed the last of the beer and dropped his hand.
“Should give Haines a clean run.”
He felt rather than saw her head turn in his direction but she didn’t speak.
“Not gonna do that, buddy,” he told his dark yard. “You might not like what we got, but I do.”
“Joe,” she said softly and when she did he wondered why they were sitting on his deck rather than in his bed.
He turned to her. “You don’t like it, you’re the one’s gonna have to end it.”
She didn’t say anything, not for awhile then she said quietly, “I’m tired, Joe.”
He turned back to face his yard.
“Then go to bed.”
She hesitated then moved but he didn’t hear her feet padding down his steps, he heard his sliding glass door open then close.
He sat where he was, staring at his yard and he did this for a long time. Then he reached down, grabbed the two beer bottles that had collected by his chair when he stopped bothering to take them in when he went to get another. He went into his house, to his kitchen, dumped the bottles in his trash and he went to his room.
Violet was in his bed. She didn’t move when he came in, didn’t move when he took off his clothes but she made a noise low in her throat and shifted when he got in bed. Then he settled on his back, she was curled with her back to him and she again didn’t move.
He listened to her steady breathing.
Fuck, she was asleep in his bed, not waiting for him, not about to turn around and have a conversation, suck his cock or ride him. She was asleep.
You wouldn’t believe how sweet it is, knowin’ at the end of the day, she’ll crawl right back into my bed, Colt had said.
Cal closed his eyes then rolled into Vi, curling an arm around her stomach and pulling her into his body, noting she was wearing one of his tees.
He smelled her hair as he bent his neck and the bridge of his nose rested against her crown.
“Joe?” she called, he’d woken her but she still sounded half-asleep.
“Go back to sleep, baby.”
“Okay,” she whispered and her body settled into his.
He didn’t know why she was there, didn’t know why she kept coming back, didn’t know, she could have a good man like Haines, why she left Haines’s house and ended her night in Cal’s bed.
And he didn’t care.
She was there.
Cal pressed into her and, within minutes, he was asleep.
Chapter Eleven
Big Purple Bow
I woke up, opened my eyes, lifted my head and looked up at Joe.
When I did, he dipped his chin and his beautiful, clear, sky blue eyes locked with mine.
He was wide awake.
I was pressed to his side, my thigh thrown over his and his arm was curled around my waist. His other arm was cocked, his head resting on his hand.
“Hi,” I whispered.
He looked at the clock then at me.
“I’m on my back, buddy.”
I closed my eyes and dropped my head, planting my face in his chest.
What the hell was I doing?
I didn’t know but I knew what I was going to be doing.
I moved my face so my mouth was on him. Then I moved my body so it was straddling his. I slid down, enjoying what I was doing more and more, got close to my goal but he pulled me up so I was face-to-face with him.
“You gonna wrap your mouth around me?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I answered.
His hands tugged at the tee I was wearing.
“You suck my dick, baby, you do it naked.”
I shifted, excitement gathering tight between my legs at his words then I sat up, still straddling him and pulled off his tee while he watched. Then I slid to the side, pulling down and kicking off my panties then I straddled him again, looking down.
“Happy?” I asked.
His hands spanned my ribs and he grinned.
“Yeah.”
“Do you mind if I carry on?” I asked.
“Have at it,” Joe invited.
I shook my head.
Then I had at him with my mouth then, when I knew he was close bec
ause his hands holding back my hair so he could watch became fists, I released him and positioned myself over him. Wrapping my hand around his cock, I guided it inside and then I rode him, one hand in the bed for leverage, one at his chest for contact. Both of his hands were at my hips, coaxing, encouraging.
“You don’t hurry, Vi, I’m takin’ over,” he warned, his deep voice hoarse.
“No you aren’t, this is my turn.”
“Your turn’s gonna come with my fingers or my mouth not my cock, you don’t hurry.”
I wanted it from his cock so I rode him harder and he groaned.
“Christ, buddy, that ain’t helpin’.”
I leaned down and kissed him, still moving, Joe slid a hand between us and pressed a finger hard against my clit then that finger rolled.
I came instantly, moaning his name into his mouth.
“Thank Christ,” he groaned back and then his hips surged up and he came too.
I collapsed on top of him and both his arms wrapped around me, one going to my hair, pulling it away from my face then tangling in it and staying there.
“You gotta go home, baby,” he told me but he kept me locked in his arms.
“In a minute.”
“Vi, the girls.”
“They sleep late in the summer. Sometimes Keira sleeps until eleven.”
His arms gave me a squeeze. “Honey, the neighbors.”
I blinked and my eyes with a view to his neck saw nothing.
He’d never called me “honey”.
I pulled myself together and whispered, “Joe, baby, in a minute.”
His arms gave me another squeeze and he muttered, “Not me who gives a shit.”
I couldn’t help it, I grinned.
Then I thought I was lying with Joe in his bed in the house where his son died, his father died and his ex-junkie-wife had committed criminally negligent involuntary manslaughter.
How he could be here, I didn’t know, I couldn’t imagine.
But I hated him there. He should sell that house. Why he didn’t and then never came back, I had no clue.
Then I wondered what I was doing there.
But I knew. Stupid me, coming home last night after a great night with Mike, great, the best, dumping my purse, going to my room, slipping off my shoes and lying on top of my covers, staring at the ceiling and thinking of Mike then my mind shifted against my will and I started thinking of Joe over here, in this house, this goddamned house, filled with memories of tragedy, and he was all alone.
At Peace Page 27