Black Rose (Lewiston Blues Series/Black Family Saga Book 3)

by Scully, Felicia X.

  Instead of a physical reaction, things have taken a turn for the worse. I reach for my pack of cigarettes, until I remember they’re in my jacket.

  Fuck.

  I bite down hard on my bottom lip and as the coppery taste paints my tongue, I remind myself of just how much worse this is. Of how I was much, much safer with morning wood and naughty dreams. Because what I’m feeling now is familiar—light hearted, happy, protective. And it’s not the least bit fair to the other person involved. Even if that person no longer resides on this earth.

  I hold the flip-flops in one hand and prepare to knock on the door. It’s probably the worst idea in the world, and the best idea at the same time. I need to stop spending time with this girl. I need get her shit out of my presence. I need to get my shit back. And I need a fucking cigarette.

  I smack my palm against the window of the back door and wait, looking out over the back yard. I’m prepared to drop the shoes on the porch, give up on my favorite jacket and head into town for a pack of John Player’s Special when the door finally opens and Coco slips out.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispers.

  “I brought your shoes. Why are you whispering?”

  “Thanks.” She scoops them up and turns to go back inside.

  “Wait,” I say. “My jacket. It’s kind of a lucky charm.” That’s total bullshit, but I’m not in the mood for the lecture that’ll likely come with the mention of my cigarettes.

  “Oh. Right. The jacket. Uh…” She glances over her shoulder then back at me. “Um, could I bring it to you later?”

  I scratch my head, preparing to tell her ‘whatever’ when I see him—glaring back at me through the window. Coco closes her eyes briefly, muttering something under her breath, before slowly turning around.

  “Oh,” I reply. “I get it. Saving face.”

  “It’s not like that,” she says, her cheeks reddening when she turns back to me. “Well, okay it is like that. But he was pretty pissed this morning. And rightfully so. I shouldn’t have…I didn’t mean to…just please, Luke.”

  I swallow back everything I want to say to her, because in that moment I decide dropping this thing with Coco won’t be as easy as I want it to be. It wouldn’t be remotely right either. She actually feels the need to hide things from him, protect herself from his shit personality. For what? Hanging out with a friend? Talking to a neighbor? Even as I think the words, I know it’s more than that—for me at least. But not necessarily for her and that makes Dash the douche I always knew he was.

  She opens the door, but before she can slip back in, he barges out, nearly toppling her over. I clench my jaw, holding my fists at my sides. “Hey, Dash. How’s it going man?” I finally manage to get out.

  He glances down at the flip-flops in my hand. “Whatcha got there?”

  I clear my throat, forcing myself not to look at Coco before I speak. “Think they belong to your girlfriend. Found them in the driveway.”

  “You found her shoes in the driveway?” He crosses his arms and I shrug. “You sure about that?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

  Coco’s gaze flickers from me to him and she wrings her hands in front of her.

  “Don’t know. Maybe you’re covering something. First you want to speak to her alone. In your office at the club. Now you’re bringing articles of clothing back to her house. The same morning I couldn’t get ahold of her, the same morning I find her sporting some dude’s jacket.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

  “You know exactly what I’m getting at.” His nose flares and when he takes a step toward me, I roll my eyes.

  “This so disrespectful,” I say.

  “You think I care about respecting you? How about you respect me? And what’s mine?”

  “What’s yours, you asshole? Coco’s not fucking yours. She’s not anybody’s. And I wasn’t implying you were disrespecting me. I’m telling you you’re disrespecting her. She’s right fucking there, man.” I gesture behind him with wilder hands than I intend. It isn’t until I catch Coco’s pleading gaze that I force myself to tone it down. I take a deep breath. “I just think it’s a little rude to accuse another guy of fucking your girlfriend when she’s standing right there. Coco and I are friends. And I know you know that. I knew her before you were even a blip on her radar. I’m always going to be her friend and there’s not really a whole lot you can do about it, so you should get the fuck on board.”

  Dash laughs and when he gets real close to me, so close I can’t help but lean back, he says, “I seem to remember you having the same dilemma back in the day. A guy named Dave? Was that it, Coco? The dude your wife couldn’t seem to shake. The one she passed off as your kid’s father. Remember how that shit felt? Well fucking double it.”

  I huff then shake my head, refusing to acknowledge the nerve he just pummeled with a jack hammer. “This isn’t even close to the same thing. And if you recall, I got over it.”

  “And now he’s playing daddy while you sit around licking your wounds. Yeah, sounds like you got over it all right.”

  Almost like she’s reading my mind, anticipating my next move, Coco jumps in between us placing a palm on Dash’s chest. “Let’s just go inside. I’ve got my shoes. You’ve said your piece. There’s nothing going on between us.” She glances back at me and adds, “I promise.”

  That small act is like a kick in the gut. Like she’s talking directly to me. Trying to send me a message. But she hasn’t even gotten mine yet. Has she?

  “I don’t need you to protect me from this little punk, babe. He thinks just because he spent a few months in jail he’s badass. He needs to remember his place in this town. To not forget how quickly people can turn on him.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  Coco places her hand on my chest, keeping me at bay before I can advance. “Luke.”

  Is this her response? Is Dash Martin really the better option? Does it even matter?

  She shakes her head.

  It absolutely matters. I can’t tell if the thumping in my chest is because of my anger or the realization that she’s not getting rid of me so easily.

  “What?” I ask. “You’re really going to let him talk to you that way? About you? You can do better.”

  Something flickers across her expression but before she can reply, Dash has grabbed a hold of her arm jerking her toward him. “We’re going inside.”

  “Dash!” she screams.

  “Inside. Now.” His face is so red, I’m betting he’s about to explode. And the idea of him taking her inside with him makes me instantly queasy. “I’m not about to stand here and watch you two make eyes at each other.”

  She wriggles free, but he’s already swung the door open and is shoving her inside. She casts me one more wide eyed gaze before he slams the door behind him.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Coco

  I have no idea what my expression is, but if it’s reflecting anything even close to the screaming inside my head, then no wonder Dash looks the way he does. Guilty as hell.

  “What. Was. That?” I demand rising onto my tiptoes to get into his face.

  His guilt doesn’t last long. “I should be asking you the same thing. How could you stand there and let him talk to me like that? I’m your boyfriend. He shouldn’t be here this time of day in the first place. Sneaking to your back door? What kind of bullshit is that?”

  “He was returning my shoes. Just like he said. And you? You were such an asshole, Dash!”

  He’s stares so hard at me, so angrily I swear he’ll go cross-eyed. “What the fuck did you just call me?”

  “Asshole. You were an asshole. You were rude. You were unbelievable. All because you think you have the right to get jealous with me for no reason. When you’re the one—”

  “Don’t,” he says. “Don’t bring up the past. It isn’t fair. You said you forgave me. So forgive me.”

  “So what should I do about the present? You gave me
an STD, Dash. You and no one else. Because that would be impossible. I’ve only ever been with you, while you’ve been with countless other girls. And every time you screw up, you blame me. First it was my fault because I was away with work. Now I’ve somehow miraculously contracted some disgusting disease from the guy I’m not cheating on you with. That isn’t fair. None of this is ever fair.”

  “Ever since he started hanging around, you’ve been actin’ up.” He runs a palm over his head and turns away from me.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Luke. You start talking to him again and all of a sudden we’re not getting along.”

  “Oh my god, Dash. This has nothing to do with him. This is about us. Everything that’s happened happened way before Luke. You’re delusional right now.”

  I let out a heavy sigh and reach for Luke’s jacket, but before I can hang it over my arm, Dash has grabbed a fistful. He tugs at it, but I refuse to let go.

  “Let me see the jacket,” he demands. “If it’s not Luke’s fucking jacket. Prove it to me.”

  I hold a steady grip, my mind suddenly whirring. I shouldn’t have lied. I should have just told him. I haven’t done anything wrong. I never did. All of this is completely innocent, only I’ve compromised my own morals just to keep him off my back. I should have just told him because there’s no way this is going to end well.

  “Dash,” I say, struggling to keep my voice from wavering. “Just let it go. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  “Luke had this patch,” he’s saying. “Sewn on the inside of the jacket. I never knew what it meant, and I always thought it was stupid to sew it on the inside.”

  Shit.

  “Please, just let go.” I tug back.

  “Why, babe? You got something to hide?”

  He yanks even harder but I refuse to let up. I’m neither prepared or in the mood for drama I’ll have to deal with if he gets ahold of this thing. I wrap it as tightly as I can in my arms, doing my best not to expose the inside while at the same time trying hard not to be obvious about it.

  Dash gives it another tug and I nearly lose my footing. “Just stop! Do you see yourself? You’re being ridiculous.”

  The look on his face determined, I give it a tug of my own, just as he lets go. I can’t stop myself from flying backwards and even as I register the sharp point of the counter top against my shoulder and the granite against my skull, all I can think of is “shit, he’s going to see the patch”.

  And then there is blackness.

  My eyes flutter open and the first thing I see is Dash's handsome face. Usually masked with one type of grimace or another it's tight with worry.

  "Coco? Babe, you okay? I didn't mean to...you wouldn't let go and..." His voice breaks. “Are you hurt?"

  I try to prop up on my elbows but my head is swimming. I lie back and when I realize how relieved I am that the jacket landed underneath me, I’m instantly pissed.

  “Get out,” I croak.

  “What?” he wrinkles his brow, reaching forward to help me but I swat him away.

  “Just go.” My voice cracks and my vision blurs. “I just want you out.”

  “Coco—”

  “Please,” I sniff. “Just go home, Dash. Just leave me alone.”

  I spend the next forty-five minutes in the shower crying. No matter how I try to stop them, the tears keep coming. Mixing with my cleanser, mixing with the hot water, the tepid water, the cold. Even when I shut off the faucet, and wrap my shivering body in the largest towel I can find, I’m still crying. And by the time I’ve snuggled back under my blankets my stomach hurts so much from sobbing, I wrap my arms around myself and eventually fall asleep.

  When I awake to the sound of a loud knocking at the door, I decide to ignore it, quickly falling back to sleep again. But when the phone beside my bed won’t stop ringing, I finally pick it up.

  “What is it?” I say hoarsely. “I really can’t do this anymore.”

  “What’s that, Princess? What can’t you do?”

  I bolt up, squeezing my eyes to the pain swooshing back and forth behind them. “Daddy?”

  “I thought we had a lunch date? What happened?”

  “Dad.”

  “Yes. This is your father,” he says with a touch of humor. “Are you okay? You don’t sound like yourself.”

  “I…yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry. I fell asleep and…what time is it?”

  “It’s nearly four o’clock. I rescheduled. Why don’t you meet me at Maya’s club at seven. It’ll give you a few hours to wake yourself.” He chuckles.

  “I’m so sorry. I was…it was a long morning. I’ll see you at seven.”

  “All right, then. I have to say,” he adds before hanging up the phone. “I’m glad you’re enjoying your vacation.”

  It turns out I seriously needed those few hours. My eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot, my nose stuffed and my head pounding. After popping a few Advil and getting an indulgent facial at Gina’s, the spa I normally frequent but haven’t seen the inside of for months, I finally look like myself again. I was positive she knew something was up, but Gina never let on. She just gave me that sympathetic look of hers, kept calling me ‘sweetie’ and telling me how proud she was of me.

  Her words almost brought me to tears all over again. Because who in their right mind could be proud of a girl who’s willing to put up with the shit I have been for the past six years?

  Clearly I’m not as strong and independent as they all think I am.

  The bruise on my shoulder throbs as I shrug out of my jacket and hand it to the coat check girl. I stare calmly at the back of Dad’s bald head as I approach, hoping he won’t detect everything Gina did. But the second he stands to embrace me his eyes flicker, a muscle in his jaw jumping.

  “There’s my princess.” He kisses me on the forehead and lets out a soft sigh. “I’ve missed you. How’ve you been?”

  He’s got the you-can-tell-daddy-anything voice on and it nearly breaks me. But I swallow hard, determined not to make this meeting about me. Or is it that I’m determined not to prove that everyone was right about Dash?

  “I’m good, Daddy.” I peck him on his stubbled cheek. “I’ve missed you too. You work like a dog. Shouldn’t you be retiring right about now?”

  “Not for another fifteen years at least.” He belts out his familiar laugh and pulls my chair out for me.

  “How was New York?” he asks, settling across from me.

  “Wonderful as usual. I love the big city so much. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last in a little place like Lewiston.”

  “No shame in that.” He nods to my drink. “Got you one of those Cosmo things you’re always going on about?”

  “Thanks.” I pick it up and take the tiniest sip, memories of too much Alize still fresh on my mind—and on my taste buds.

  “So…” Dad clasps his hands on the table in front of him and leans forward. “About this favor.”

  I nod and take a deep breath. “You remember Luke Black? Our neighbor?”

  “Of course. Not exactly a forgettable guy.”

  “His mother…” I clear my throat. “Ellie. She’s in the hospital. She has an inoperable brain tumor. It’s cancerous. She doesn’t have a whole lot of time left to live, but her doctor is actually recommending another procedure. The only thing is it can’t happen until some of the swelling goes down, which could be weeks. But the only way she’ll be around for the next few weeks is if she’s on life support. And…well, for now, she’s breathing on her own, but her doctor just doesn’t know how long she will be. He predicted a week—tops. But she lasted a month and now he says she’s living on luck alone. She’s had the tumor for five years, Daddy. And she’s stuck it out but…”

  When I look back up at him, he’s staring past me, his eyes slightly glazed. I reach across the table to touch his hand and he jumps a little.

  “Is everything all right?”

  He clears his throat, then sighs. He looks over at m
e a darkness in his hazel eyes. “Elodie Black is a complicated woman. I’m pretty sure she would have spent her days wasting away in a cell, not saying a word.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve known for a while she was sick. It’s why I advocated for her release. She didn’t say anything but the prison doctors suspected there was a larger issue. Turned out it was bigger than even she knew. She’d always been compliant, never caused any problems. Just served her time without complaint. So when her parole came up a few years ago, I put in a good word.”

  “You did that? You never said…”

  He nods, then folds his hands in front of him. “Putting her away wasn’t easy. Especially knowing everything her husband had done to make her life so miserable.”

  I lean forward. “What did he do?” Besides decide to watch her die. I know all about rumors of other much younger women and the death of the girl that essentially put him under the radar, but they’ve only ever been rumors. I’ve never been able to bring myself to ask Luke what really happened.

  Dad sits back in his chair and runs a hand over his bald head. “It’s in the past now, Coco. All we can do is help them move forward.”

  I nod. “Of course.”

  He reaches for my hand and smiles. “You’re so much like her—your mother.”

  My shocked response lodges in my throat and I swallow it back, chewing on the inside of my lip. “I am?” I ask after a beat.

  “Absolutely. All she ever wanted to do was help people.” He squeezes my fingers before continuing. “Before I helped with Ellie’s release—just a few weeks earlier—I’d had this dream. The one and only one I’ve ever had since she…” He closes his eyes. “I thought she was gone forever, but there she was sitting on the edge of the bed, massaging lotion all over her beautiful skin like she did every night. Saying, ‘you’re a good man, Cal. I know you’ll do what’s right. You always do.’”