I hit pause on the VCR and lean my head back to catch my breath. I need the real thing. But sleeping with another woman after everything that’s happened seems…well, it seems like a jerk off thing to do.
My chest squeezes and I do my best to hold the images of Shannon in my mind. Even after all this time, they’re fresh—and I hope to god they stay that way. Every memory is like I was just with her for the very first time all over again. On that roof top. Under those stars. One of the best nights of my life. But it’s been six years. Going on seven. Maybe my streak of bad luck is about to end. Maybe I’ll finally get some closure.
I push off the sofa and head toward the shower. An hour later, I’m on the back porch downing my fourth shot of rum when the sounds of muffled cussing cause me to sling a few choice words of my own. I’m not in the mood for other people’s drama. Especially not in my own back yard. Especially when I’m drunk enough to piss myself.
I crane my neck to peer across the way. From where I sit the only person I see is Coco. But she’s clearly not alone, hand to her forehead, straining to be heard above a much louder voice. I rise to wobbly feet and carefully make my way down the steps. The moment I hit the grassy strip that separates my house from hers, I see him. Dash, with his signature scowl, towering over her like she’s a little kid.
I make my way toward them, the taste for conflict so strong, I can’t help myself. A little voice is telling me to mind my own business, to go inside shut the door and drown them out with the television. But the look on her face—partway frustrated and partway distraught—eggs me on.
“Why can’t you just drop it?” Dash asks between gritted teeth. “It was a long fucking time ago. I said I was sorry.”
“That’s easy for you to say. Real easy.” Her voice is shaky, threatening waterworks.
“And how do I know this isn’t all just a cover?”
“Wha—a cover?”
He takes a step closer and she cowers a little. “How do I know you’re not the one fucking some punk and trying to pin this on me?”
Her mouth drops open and she covers it on instinct. Dropping her hands to her sides, she takes a deep breath. “Are you seriously still on that? I told you, Dash. It’s only been you. Ever! You cheated on me. Remember that? Remember the skank with the rubber boobs?”
“One time, Coco. One fucking time.”
His words actually make me laugh to myself. The Dash Martin I used to know, fucked a different girl every hour. Never said no to a willing warm body. Which is why I can’t understand how he ended up with Coco Rose.
She sniffs. “Yeah. So you say.” She closes her eyes, then bows her head. “The facts are the facts. You had sex with another girl and this the result.”
Dash lets out an angry growl that causes Coco to flinch and me to nearly loose my footing. He grabs ahold of her shoulder, yanking her toward him so they’re nearly nose to nose. “I’ve never cheated on you without a condom!”
“So you’re admitting you’ve cheated?” I should remain a voyeur, but I can’t help myself. The way he’s grabbed ahold of her, the way the tears are streaming down her face. I’m not even sure I’ve said it loud enough for either of them to hear, until her gaze meets mine. “More than the one time,” I continue.
Dash releases her and she immediately straightens, swiping a hand across her cheek. She murmurs something, dropping her gaze and that’s when Dash finally turns, watching my approach, face red and cursing to himself.
“Well, am I right?” I ask.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
I ignore him, keeping my gaze fixed on Coco. “You all right? What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Coco clears her throat. “We didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Dash doesn’t even bother to back down. He’s still bent over her, hands clenched at his side.
“Didn’t sound like nothing,” I say, my gaze locked with his now.
“Go home, Luke,” he mutters. “Like she said, its nothing.”
I laugh, rubbing a hand over my face. It’s numb and slightly fuzzy, the result of too much alcohol and not enough food in my stomach. “I would,” I say. “But it seems like there’s more entertainment over here than there is on my goddamn TV. Cheating, lying boyfriends. Rubber boobs. Sounds a hell of a lot like an episode of Jerry Springer.”
“Nothing that concerns you,” Dash hisses.
“You always use condoms when you cheat. Jesus, Dash. How admirable of you to fuck around with protection?”
“Luke—” Coco starts.
“No, I mean think about it, Coco. That’s what he said. Isn’t it? He’s never cheated on you without a condom. Therefore he always uses a condom. Doesn’t that imply he cheats frequently.”
Dash takes a giant step toward me, but I don’t even flinch. I’m used to his irrational anger. Knowing the guy most of my life and being in close quarters with him for two years, I’ve grown immune to the way he reacts to conflict. All I do is laugh. An action that causes Coco’s brown eyes to grow wide.
“Luke,” she says again, her voice shaky this time. “Just go home.” She’s standing next to me now, and she holds the back of her hand over her nose. “God, you smell like a bar fight.”
“What?” I ask. “You don’t want to get to the bottom of this? Most girls want to get to the bottom of it. I know Maya did, back when she was banging my brother. She’d roll up in there almost every day demanding answers. You don’t want to know what your man is really like?”
Dash’s large frame towers over me and I laugh. It kills me when guys have to puff themselves up to look intimidating. He’s always been a big guy, but never really all that tall. Played football in high school, used to work out like his life depended on it but, being about a head shorter than me, all I’d have to do is stand up straight and the roles would be switched. Guys in lock up were like that. Always flashing themselves around, trying hard to make me feel worthless. It didn’t take long for me to realize one thing—never show fear. Don’t let them see you cry.
“What happened to your mohawk?” I ask, peering at his shaved, tattooed head. “Looking like a skinhead these days.”
“Fuck you, you little punk. Always did know how to get under my skin. Why don’t you take off, like she said?”
“Why don’t treat your woman with a little respect? I don’t know, maybe keep your hands off her?”
This time Dash laughs. “What would you know about respecting your woman? Didn’t you leave yours alone and pregnant so you could go out on the road and screw her sister?”
I barely register the gasp that comes from somewhere behind him and before I know it my hands are wrapped around his thick neck and I’m watching as my thumbs press deeper into the spider web covering his Adam’s apple.
He’s choking something out but the more he struggles the harder I squeeze, memories of fighting for my dignity coming back to me in a rush.
You’re not a fucking punk, Luke. Don’t let them see you cry.
It isn’t until Coco’s fingernails drive into the side of my arm that I snap out of it. I glance down at her then stumble back, my gaze settling on a wheezing Dash.
“You fucking crazy bastard!” he sputters. “I should call the cops. Have ‘em lock your ass up all over again. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I shake my head, wiping my palms on my jeans as I back up. “I’m sorry,” I say to no one in particular. Then I catch sight of Coco’s face. Mouth dropped open, eyes wide and watery. “I’m sorry,” I say again and retreat back to my cave.
I don’t even make it to her floor this time. Instead, I ride the elevator like it’ll take me some place else. Anywhere but here. I’ve spent more time in this hospital over the last two weeks than I have in my own damn head. Which, right about now, is killing me, practically splitting in two from my antics the night before.
After sharing a six pack with the good doctor, I raided the liquor cabinet in search of my brother’s drink of choice: Jack Daniels. Ki
nd of an ode to my mother, if I think about it. Growing up, it was her favorite too. Jack and Marlboro—the breakfast of shitty moms.
I finished an entire bottle by myself. And I vaguely remember ending up in the Rose’s driveway and a confrontation with—
The elevator door slides open and I stand face-to-face with my regrets, as the memory of what I almost did comes rushing back.
Dash hesitates the second he sees me, but after a moment of contemplation, in which I’m fairly certain I catch a flicker of fear behind his dark green eyes, he steps inside. For several seconds he keeps his head down and I do the same.
“Everything good?” I ask. It’s a loaded question. What I really want to know is whether or not he’s going to call the police on my ass. Have me thrown in jail for attempted murder.
“We’re good,” Dash responds, clearly getting my message.
I open my mouth to apologize again, but he doesn’t give me the chance.
“The other day was a shit fest,” he says. “Ryan didn’t show up and that college kid I was telling you about, couldn’t touch you on the bass if he tried. Fuck, and did he ever try. A fucking mess.” Dash shakes his head and I snicker. “You mean what you said about not playing anymore?”
I shrug.
“Damn shame.”
He’s right, of course. But what he doesn’t understand is that playing always reminds me so much of what I gave up in the name of that damn bass and a chance of a lifetime—another opportunity of a lifetime, the opportunity.
“Well whenever you’re ready to get back in the game, you should give me a call. Headed back out to Moscow tonight. Open mic night at Alley’s. You should come some time. Nice atmosphere. Premium beer flowing, hot chicks. Always a good time.”
I chuckle. “Not much of party guy these days.”
“Settled down like the rest of ‘em, huh? Damnit. What the hell happened to you guys? Ross runs off to become a teacher of all things, Ryan gets married and starts popping out babies, I hardly ever see you. Whoever she is, she must be worth it to stay locked up in that house all day long.”
I open my mouth to set him straight. Let him know there’s no way in hell I’m hooking up with another girl anytime soon. Remind him of what the fuck I lost and the idea of even looking at another girl that way scares the crap out of me. But I swallow the words back and say, “Times change, man. You’re one to talk. Heard you’ve been hanging out with Coco for six years. That’s a long time for a guy like Dash Martin.”
He grins. “Well you’ve seen her. Hot as she is, it’s worth it. Never imagined in a million years she’d turn into that.”
“So you’re really a one woman man, huh? Almost hard to believe.”
He shrugs. “I do what I can.”
We stop on the bottom floor and he walks out, waiting for me to follow.
“Forgot something upstairs,” I lie. “I’ll catch you later.”
As I watch him walk away, I can’t help but wonder why the world is so fucked up. How some people get perfect handed to them on a silver platter only to pass it over for complicated. People like Dash. People like me.
CHAPTER TEN
Coco
I wake up with a start, a force pinning me to the bed. As I struggle against it, I realize my arms are pinned above my head and my legs pried open. I open my mouth to scream, but it’s muffled by a rough kiss and a low moan.
It’s his aftershave I recognize—sweet, but fresh like the ocean. The aftershave I bought him for Christmas. Dash’s length presses against my inner thigh and he trails from my lips to my neck, clamping down hard with his teeth as he sinks into me. He lets out another moan, grunting as he works his hips against me, squeezing his fingers into my wrists.
“Oh, fuck, babe. You’re so tight when you wake up.” He works his hips faster and I let out a little moan. It isn’t at all gratifying, but he doesn’t seem to notice. If anything, it turns him on even more, his thrusts in and out of me coming deeper and harder.
I do my best to reposition myself underneath him, to get my mind into what’s happening, to gain some kind of pleasure from it, but I can’t. I’m too shocked. Too repulsed to even wrap my head around it.
It doesn’t take long for him to come and when he does, his body shuddering against mine, expletives rolling off his tongue, I find release only in the fact that he’s wearing a condom.
As Dash, rolls off of me and sits on the edge of the bed to remove it, I coil into myself, pulling the sheets tight against my naked body. Still unsure of how I even ended up in this state in the first place.
I watch him as he rolls his neck, stretching his arms high into the air. “Damn, babe. Definitely worth the wait.”
I bite down on my lip, forcing back the angry words fighting their way out of my chest. “What are you doing here?” I whisper.
He crawls back into bed next to me, pulling me to him and kissing me on the forehead. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Besides the obvious,” I reply. “How did you get in? What the hell Dash?”
“It’s been almost three weeks, babe. Every day you give some excuse. You’re either busy doing this or that. I couldn’t wait any more. I missed you.” He leans over to kiss me, but I jerk away.
“So you break into my house?”
His responding smile is weak. “Remember that fantasy we talked about? Me sneaking in, peeling off all your close, taking you while you sleep?”
“The fantasy you talked about. The rape fantasy.” I say, struggling to keep the bitterness out of my tone.
Dash laughs. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not a rape fantasy. It’s more of a bondage thing. And it was hot, babe. You were so tight. And once I got going you were so wet.” He kisses me again and I try not to stiffen. My stomach is rolling, my heart still whirring. “Next time you should do me. Come over to my place, suck my cock till I wake up.” I wriggle away, but he pulls me closer. “What? What’s wrong? You didn’t like it? It seemed like you did.”
“You can’t just come in here like that, Dash. What if my dad was home? What if I had company?”
“Company like who?” His grip tightens.
“It doesn’t matter. I just don’t think…”
“I’m sorry. Next time I’ll warn you. Make sure the house is empty. I just couldn’t wait anymore. I haven’t felt you on me in almost a damn month. I couldn’t wait any longer.”
“Did you ever go to the doctor?” I ask. “Get tested like we talked about?”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “Yes. Clean bill of health,” he says, his grip slackening. “Which reminds me, we should talk.” It takes a moment for him to continue. “I forgive you, babe.”
I pull away, successfully this time, and sit up in the bed, looking down at him.
“For what you had to do.”
I stare back, still unsure of what he’s saying.
“I care about you, Coco. I know I don’t say it much but it’s true. And I fucked up. So I don’t blame you for seeking out revenge. I just hope we’ve both learned a lesson here. That we’ll learn to respect each other and be happy with what we have. ‘Cause I think it’s pretty good. Don’t you?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You had an STD, babe. And there’s only one way you can get one of those. My test was negative, so there’s no way you got it from me.”
I blink, working hard to decipher his words. “Wha—you still think I…?”
Dash shrugs, looking bored with the whole conversation. He drapes his arm over his forehead and lets out a loud yawn. None of this sits right with me. Not at all. I want to fight back, to tell him he’s crazy, to make him tell me the truth. The truth I know without a doubt—I’ve only ever been with one guy—him. But instead, I steel myself and ask, “You’re not mad?”
This seems to catch him off guard, he drops his arm, searching my face for something. But I keep up pretenses, staring him directly in the eye.
“Uh…well, of course I am. But I—I get it, you k
now? I understand.” He reaches for me, pulling me back to his chest—tighter this time.
My head directly on top of his heart, I gauge the quick rhythm for miss-beats, as I ask the next question. “Do you love me, Dash?”
“You know I do, babe.”
As he drifts off to sleep, I can’t help but ask myself how I ended up here? So in love with this man?
For years, I’ve known our relationship was somewhat off. That it wasn’t the same as others. While he treats me well, for the most part, there are moments like these. Moments where I feel nothing but cold under his touch. Where his words, the expression on his face isn’t that of a man truly in love with a woman. It’s of a man who owns one. And Dash does own me. My heart, my thoughts and, after tonight I’ve realized he owns my body too. And I’ve let him. What’s worse is, while it shouldn’t be that difficult, I don’t know how to stop? I’ve no idea how to let go.
Two hours later, I’m still wide awake. Still trying to work through everything in my head. I’ve been with Dash for so long I’m not even sure I know what’s right anymore. He’s my first real boyfriend, the only guy I’ve ever given myself to and my total fantasy—a hot rocker with a bad boy rep. But the reality is so far from the fantasy I’m starting to wonder how wise I was to invest so much time in him.
I carefully slip out from beneath his grip and stand at the edge of the bed staring down at him. In his sleep, and with the light of the moon shining through my window, he looks almost angelic, like he wouldn’t step on an ant even if you paid him. He doesn’t look like the type of guy to lose it at the drop of a hat, to forget about the things that matter and avoid blame at all costs. But over the past few years, I’ve slowly learned that’s exactly who he is. Closing my eyes, I try to imagine him as the guy I fantasized about. The one that didn’t hurt me or make me feel so conflicted. The guy who all my friends would be jealous of, the one who every woman would covet but no one but me could have. The kind of guy Dash will probably never be. I let out a sigh and back away from the bed. Dash may not be who I wanted him to be, but he is who he is. Who am I to try and change him? From what I’ve seen from the people in my life, every relationship has its hurdles.
Black Rose (Lewiston Blues Series/Black Family Saga Book 3) Page 5