Losing a Piece of Me

by K. B. Andrews

  “Hey. I used your key to get in.” He holds it up in front of his face before tossing it on the counter.

  “You look a little rough. Long weekend?” he asks as he takes a seat next to me on the couch.

  “You have no idea.” I shake my head before turning to look at him.

  His dark hair is neatly styled and his brown eyes are kind and friendly. “Want to talk about it?” He wraps his arm around my shoulders and places a soft kiss to my bare skin.

  “I slept with someone,” I blurt out.

  He seems taken back but not upset. “Oh.”

  When we started doing this thing, the number one rule was that we couldn’t sleep with anyone else.

  “I’m sorry, it wasn’t planned. I just ran into my ex-boyfriend and, well, one thing led to another.”

  He shakes his head and takes his arm off my shoulders. “I understand.”

  “I was just so confused by all the feelings being back there brought on.”

  “It’s okay, Alex. I understand, it’s just that now we need to have that talk.”

  “I know,” I whisper.

  He rubs his hands on his pants and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, then turns to face me. “Does this mean that you and him are getting back together?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure? He’s not going to come after you or something?”

  I shrug. “I don’t think he will. We didn’t leave things on good terms. I kind of snuck out of his bed the next morning.”

  A quiet laugh escapes his lips. “Oh, Alex.” His arm comes back around my shoulders as he leans back and presses me to him.

  This I can handle. I don’t love Jeff, but he’s comfortable. I know he won’t ask for too much and he’s willing to accept whatever I give him because he can’t handle any more than what we’ve been doing anyway.

  With him, I don’t have to think or feel. I can just be Alex, the girl who is just as broken as he is.

  “We’re both too fucked up to deal with this, you know?”

  I nod. “I know.”

  His hand rubs up and down my arm, warming my skin.

  We sit silently for a few moments before he finally stands. “I should probably be going. I’m sure you have all sorts of shit running through that head of yours.” He turns for the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

  I stand and follow him to the door. “I will.”

  He presses a kiss to my forehead and leaves. I lock the door behind him and flip all the light switches on the way back to the bedroom.

  I crash in bed and pull the blankets up around me. Smoky is instantly by my side, cuddled up next to my stomach.

  I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.

  “You will not see that boy anymore. You’re going to be leaving for college soon and it will be over anyway. You can meet someone who is worthy of you, instead of being stuck in this town, working as a waitress with him by your side. You have a future waiting for you, don’t you see that?” My mother is trying to use her gentle, calm voice but it might as well be nails against a chalkboard to me.

  To me, the only thing coming from my mother’s mouth is an unpleasant screeching sound which, if it had subtitles, would be giving me step-by-step instructions on how to live my life. I don’t want her life. I don’t want to be a lawyer like my father. I don’t want to marry anyone other than Striker. I don’t care if she doesn’t see in him what I do. He loves me. He protects me. Most of all, he’s always there for me, which is more than I can say about her.

  When I don’t reply, she leaves me alone.

  The first thing I do is climb out of my window and down the back of the house. I’m at Striker’s window ten minutes later. I tap against it and he opens up, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he helps me inside.

  “What are you doing here?” he whispers.

  I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him to me, breathing him in. Tears build up and are about to break through, but I stop them short with sheer willpower. I won’t allow it. I refuse to let anyone see how weak I really am.

  “Your mom again?” he asks.

  I nod, not taking my head off his shoulder.

  “Come on.” He pulls me into his warm bed and wraps me up in his strong arms.

  “She doesn’t control us, Lex. It’s you and me.” He tilts my head so I meet his eyes. “It’s only ever going to be you and me.”

  “How? She’s going to ship me off to college and I don’t have any say. She won’t let go of me until she’s broken me.”

  He shakes his head. “As soon as you turn eighteen, she won’t have a say. We will pack up and hit the road, leave everyone else behind.” He softly kisses me. “Only you and me, Lex.”

  His words, his heat, and his strong arms shield me from everything. I drift off into a peaceful sleep.

  I wake suddenly with loud yelling going on in the other room. It’s Striker and his dad.

  “I told you to drop that whore!” Ken yells.

  “Don’t you fucking call her that!” Striker yells back, followed by a loud crashing sound.

  “You think you’re big enough to take me? Huh?” I hear someone get hit, and the ensuing groan confirms that it was Striker.

  I rush to the door and put my ear against it.

  “I’m glad to see that you’re finally sticking up for yourself.” Another hit, another cry. “And all it took was to call your girlfriend what she really is.” Hit, cry. “A fucking whore just like her mother.”

  I was expecting to hear another cry, but instead there is a loud crashing sound and then everything is quiet. I hear Striker’s loud breathing. Did he knock him out?

  I don’t stick around to find out. I crawl out the window and head back home before someone there notices I’m gone.

  On the walk home, I think about what I just witnessed.

  Striker is eighteen but I’m not. He has nowhere else to go, but he’s putting up with beatings for me. How can I let him go on like this? I need to do something. But what? I can’t stop the fights, it seems like I only cause more.

  I don’t know why his dad hates me so much. I’ve never done anything to him. But he knows something I don’t. He has to. Why else would he say the things he said to me the other night? My dad doesn’t run this town and my family doesn’t think they can take whatever they want either.

  What is Ken’s problem? He used to be a normal guy, a little bit of an asshole but he worked hard and supported his family. Everything was fine until his wife left, but with an attitude like that, I don’t blame her. The only thing I blame her for is leaving Striker. How could she do that to her own son? She had to know what would happen if she left him with his father.

  I don’t understand any of this. This is about Striker and me. Why does everyone feel the need to control us? We’re not doing anything wrong.

  I can’t wait until I’m eighteen so Striker can save me as much as I save him.

  Chapter 10

  Six months later…

  I jump in my truck after stopping by the diner for a cup of coffee, and head to our work site.

  My crew steps out, arms loaded down with tools, just as I pull in the driveway.

  “What’s going on? Did you finish already?” I ask them.

  “Yeah, just finished with the last coat of paint. Go check it out, it looks nice,” Jordan says as he tosses supplies into the back of the trailer.

  The house was an extensive remodeling project, and the kitchen was the last room that we did. I step through the front door and make my way to the kitchen in the back, scanning my eyes over all the work that has already been done.

  It looks even better than I hoped. The cabinets match perfectly with the tile, floor, and paint color. The countertops are a dark granite and they reflect the overhead lights as if they were shined just minutes ago.

  I slowly walk back through the house and take it all in. My first job is completed.

  When I turn out the lights and lock the door, I find the guys s
tanding around the truck and trailer, waiting for my approval.

  “Good job, guys. I’m going to go drop off the key and pick up our final payment. I’ll meet with you this evening to celebrate.”

  The guys nod and pat me on the back as they walk off to their vehicles.

  Jordan walks up to me and hands me a piece of paper. “This morning, I got a call. Someone in the city is wanting an estimate on expanding their store.”

  I look at the paper. “How’d they get your number?” Mine is the only one listed on the business cards.

  “I have no idea. She said it was passed along from a friend of a friend. She went on and on and finally I just told her I would have you call today to set up an appointment for the estimate.”

  I laugh. “This is exactly why I don’t give out your number.”

  He shrugs and moves to get in the truck.

  “I’ll give her a call after I drop off the keys and get paid from this job. It’s still early, I can probably get it out of the way today. Did you happen to catch her name?”

  “Hannah, I think.”

  I nod at him and slip the paper into my pocket before jumping back into my truck and driving across town.

  The young couple is ecstatic to have their first home finished and move-in ready. They give me the check and rush away to go check out their house.

  I run by the bank and deposit the check, noticing they gave me a bonus with a note saying thank you.

  As I’m sitting at the old-school drive-in restaurant, I pull the paper from my pocket and dial the number while I wait for my food.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, is this Hannah?”

  “Yeah, who is this?”

  “This is Striker Murphy, I got your message about needing an estimate for an expansion on your store.”

  The carhop places my tray of food on my window and I pass her a twenty and wave off the change.

  “Oh, yes. Great, when can you come by and check out the store?”

  “I actually just finished the job we’ve been working on, so I can come today if you’d like.”

  She practically squeals. “That would be fantastic.” She rattles off the address and as soon as I finish my lunch, I’m on the road.

  The two-hour drive seems to drag on forever. Whenever possible, I try to avoid the city. I hate the craziness of it all. Everything moves too fast for me.

  The radio in my truck is busted, so the drive is quiet. It leaves my mind free to wander and, as always, it wanders to Lex.

  I haven’t seen or heard from her since that day at the country club. My heart tells me to go after her, but my head says to stay away and let her come to me.

  Luckily, I follow my head’s advice, because the tug of Lex’s presence and close proximity in the city is hard to fight.

  I knew Gemma had to know where Lex lives. Even if she didn’t have an exact address, she knew something. I wanted to go to her many times and pry out any information I could get, but restrained myself - I didn’t know if I could handle seeing her and challenging her again.

  I’ve always had to challenge her, but this last time, she was stronger and harder to break. She’s never been that way with me, she’s always unfolded and opened up completely to me, even if she was closed off to everyone else.

  For the first week after she left, I had myself convinced that one day I would show up at home and find her on my doorstep. It didn’t happen though. Then I thought, Give her a month or two, let it all sink in, she will fold and come back to you. That hasn’t happened either.

  When I pulled away from her, after our last kiss, I could have sworn I saw her walls crumble. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she hadn’t felt it after all.

  I shake the thoughts from my head and pull up to a purple brick building. I check the address scribbled on the paper to confirm that this is the correct place, and climb out of the truck with a shrug.

  The store is filled with clothes, shoes, furniture, and random stuff. The only common theme amongst everything is goth. Everything is black, and hard rock music is blaring over the speakers.

  “Hey, can I help you?”

  I look in the direction of the counter. A girl is standing behind it, dressed, unsurprisingly, in all black. Her rainbow hair is pulled up high on her head, falling all over in a messy sort of way.

  “I’m Striker. Are you Hannah?”

  She bounces around from behind the counter, giving me a chance to see her full outfit. Black leather pants, a black tank top covered in rips and held together by safety-pins, black shoes with a three-inch platform. “I’m so glad you made it. Did you have any trouble finding the place?”

  “No, not at all,” I answer, looking around the store. The walls are painted black on the bottom and a bright shade of purple on the top. The small amount of exposed floorspace is done in a black and white checkered pattern, but most of it is covered with the random junk packed around the store.

  “So, you mentioned an extension?”

  “Oh, yeah. It’s not really an extension, but come here and I’ll show you.” She leads me to the storage room in back.

  She spins around and faces me. “I’m wanting this room cut in half. I want to make the sales floor bigger so really we just need that wall removed,” she says, pointing to the wall separating the sales floor from the back room, “and moved further back. That means the floor back here will have to be done to match the rest of the sales floor and then paint. What do you think?”

  I shrug and look at the wall. “Sounds easy enough.”

  “Great! How much do you think it will cost?”

  I shake my head. “Not much really. A few grand, tops. I will have to shop around for the same floor tiles, that may be the biggest factor. It depends if they are still being made, and if they are considered specialty or not. Tile can get pricy. I can give you a final estimate in a day or so after I shop around.”

  She beams a smile my way. “That sounds great.”

  We walk back out onto the sales floor. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a few pictures of the tile to make sure I get an exact match,” I say as I slip my phone from my pocket.

  “I don’t mind at all. I’ll be behind the counter if you need me.”

  She walks away and I bend down low to snap a few pictures.

  The bell above the door rings as someone enters the store. I don’t pay much attention, but the voice behind me suddenly brings on goosebumps.

  “I know I don’t have to work today, but I was out and figured I’d bring you a coffee.”

  I look over my shoulder from my crouched position. There she is, leaning over the counter and handing over a paper cup. She doesn’t see me, but I see her shoulders and back tense up. She feels me.

  As if she senses me watching her, she turns toward me. Her mouth drops open as her eyes land on me.

  I’m just as shocked as she is, but I muster my resolve and keep my cool. I walk slowly up to her, eyes locked on hers the whole time, until only a few feet separate us. “How you doing, Lex?”

  Hannah gasps as the words leave my lips. “You’re that Striker?”

  I smile. “I see you’ve heard of me.”

  Suddenly, Lex’s mouth snaps closed. “What are you doing here?” She wraps her arms around herself, like she’s falling to pieces. She probably is, and I know I’m the only person who can put those pieces back together.

  “I got a request to give an estimate. You work here?”

  She slowly nods. “I’m part owner.”

  My eyes take her in. She’s beautiful, but sad. Her eyes shine, but they don’t burn like they usually do. Something is clouding them. I turn and look at Hannah, who is leaning on the counter, holding her chin in her hands while she watches us.

  I clear my throat, thinking maybe it will snap her out of the trance she’s in, but she doesn’t get the hint.

  “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

  Her eyes bounce around the room, trying to think up an excuse.

  “Don’
t make something up, Lex. Let’s just go somewhere private and talk.” My eyes flash to Hannah, who’s still watching us.

  I see her eyes fall to Hannah and a small grin tugs at her lips. “Okay.”

  She leads me from the shop and heads toward her car, parked directly behind my work truck. “Follow me to my place.”

  I stop dead in my tracks. She’s actually going to let me see her place? Is this smart? Walking into the lion’s den so I can be teased with no chance of getting what I want?

  My eyes find hers behind the wheel of her car. She lifts her eyebrows and motions with her hands, telling me to come on.

  I take a deep breath and get in my truck.

  Ten minutes later, I park next to her in the parking lot behind a multistory, brick building. The building looks to have five floors and each window has potted plants setting on the windowsills. The whole building has a charm to it that reminds me of home.

  She silently leads me through the lot, avoiding eye contact and conversation alike.

  We step inside the building’s main floor and I look around, noticing the inside of the building is missing the charm the outside has. The walls are a plain gray and the floor is made up of painted brick. One wall is lined with mailboxes while the other side of the room holds the staircase. I follow her to the elevator directly in the center. The confined space of the elevator quickly becomes thick with tension. She doesn’t know what I want. Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m going to say. I didn’t think she would give me the time of day.

  The elevator dings at her floor and the doors open up for us to step out. She leads the way, turning right down the hallway until coming to a stop at her door and inserting the key. I intently watch her every move. She turns the knob and walks in ahead of me.

  Her place is tiny, only furnished with the bare minimum. A small, unadorned table resides in the kitchen, and the living room furniture consists of just a plain brown couch, a low coffee table, and a small flat screen TV. The light gray walls are bare, like she just moved in. Nothing about the place even indicates that this is her apartment.

  A cat brushes up against my leg and I gently push it away before taking a step toward her while she sits on the couch, watching me with unmoving eyes.