Riveted: Drawn Series Book 1

by M. A. Stone

  Riveted: A Drawn Series Novel

  Book One

  By. M.A. Stone

  Copyright © M.A. Stone

  All Rights Reserved

  Find a place inside where there’s joy and the joy will burn out the pain

  _~Joseph Campbell~

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter One

  My feet were dragging, and I could not wait to get my heels off and sink down into my big couch. There had been a work function I had been talked into attending, but my fiancé Carl had managed to bow out, being a psychiatrist for a busy treatment facility, he was on call. Lucky. Glancing at the read out on my cellphone, I saw that it was nearly one am, and he should be home in another hour or so. I quietly slid the door open and stopped. I heard noise. Like someone was hammering or pounding something into the floor. I slipped out of my heels, grabbed an umbrella that was propped against the wall, and tiptoed through the kitchen. My loft was an open floor plan, with the exception of the bathroom and bedroom. There was a light on underneath the bedroom door and I relaxed a bit, remembering that I had a bookcase half put together in there and Carl had probably come home early. What a sweet fiancé I had, he was putting it together for me. I released the breath that I did not realize that I was holding and slowly pushed open the door. WHAT THE FUCK!!! There was Carl. But he was definitely NOT building the bookcase I had in there. Instead, my boss Amanda was riding him like she was trying to win a rodeo championship.

  “Son of a bitch!!!!!” I yelled, chucking the umbrella that I was still holding. Amanda squealed, jumped off of Carl and clutched the sheet to her massive fake chest, typical reaction for sluts I guess. Carl lay there, with a smug look on his face.

  “Bleu!!! I ...uh...this...it’s not what it looks like!” stammered Amanda.

  “Really? Because it looks like you were giving my fiancés’ cock one HELL of workout!” I replied nastily. Her pale skin turned bright red and she nervously twirled her bleached blonde hair. I would love to rip it from its roots right now.

  “Jealous?” asked Carl. I looked from Amanda to him and I was so pissed, I could not respond for a minute. He smirked again. I walked over to him, as he inched his way up the headboard. His smirk faltered a smidge.

  “I'm sorry; could you please repeat the question?” I whispered. Smirk back in place, he nodded eagerly. Like I had asked him to fucking tell me what the weather was going to be over the coming weekend.

  “I asked you, if you were jealous?” he said slowly, like I was mentally challenged.

  “Jealous? Of her??”

  “Well just the fact that someone else is doing your job for you,” he replied matter of fact. Oh boy, he did not know who he was fucking with.

  “I'm sorry. But when we met, you never mentioned you were into skanks,” I bit back. He interlocked his fingers and put them behind his head. He was getting awfully close to being a victim of a homicide.

  “When we met, I thought eventually we would be having sex. I thought it was a done deal when I proposed. You know, I put a ring on it like the song says? Man I was wrong. So, I had to find a way to scratch my itch elsewhere. Amanda, as you can see, was more than happy to accommodate me,” he stated. He nodded again and smiled.

  “You are such a dick!!! She is my boss you douche bag!!! And we are supposed to be getting married!!!!” I knew I was screaming and I did not care. I wanted to hit something.

  “Be that as it may, you are a frigid bitch. You get caught talking on the internet with some random guy. I figured I would forgive you and then things would start rolling forward in the bedroom, “he explained.

  “You forgave me to get some pussy?!”

  “Well I would not put it as crude as you are right now. But if that's the way you want to look at it.”

  “You fucking took me back to get some???!!! And then you ended up fucking my boss??!!”

  “Yes,” he replied with a smirk. I saw red. And then I throat punched him. Repeatedly.

  Chapter Two

  I sat in the holding cell, my hands cuffed. And I still had those damn heels on. I personally thought that the handcuffs were unnecessary, but the police had their protocol. I had beaten the living shit out of Carl and Amanda had called the cops, the little bitch. They had hauled me away and he ended up in the hospital. I think I broke his nose and maybe his esophagus. The one female cop who showed up did give me a sympathetic look when she cuffed me.

  “Ms. Drawn?” called a deep male voice. I looked up and there stood a very tall, very pale policeman with fire engine red hair and freckles. He opened the cell door. I could have just sat there with the door open, I mean I was cuffed and all.

  “You can make your call now Ms. Drawn,” he stated. I stood up and followed him to a small room with a table and chair in it. There was a phone on the table. He motioned for me to sit. He uncuffed one hand and cuffed the other to a metal ring on the table. What the hell? He was treating me like I was Hannibal Lecter.

  “Take all the time you need. It’s not overly busy in here tonight,” he told me with a reassuring smile. He walked out and shut the door behind him. I looked around at the dark dingy room and sighed. Not how I pictured my night ending. I sat there and tried to figure out who to call. My dad was in jail, so he was a definite no. And my brother would end up in the cell next to me if he found out what had gone down. He hated Carl. My cousin Spike was in Taiwan, so no on that and he was as hot headed as my brother. The only option was my Aunt Almeida, my dad's sister. After my dad went to jail when we were ten, she and her husband Tangler raised us. Sighing heavily, I picked up the phone; it was a rotary phone, holy shit. I dialed her number.

  “Hello?”

  “Aunt Almeida? It’s Bleu. I need you to come bail me out of jail,” I said in a rush. She laughed. For like ten minutes.

  “I will be right there,” she replied.

  A few hours later, my aunt appeared looking worn out. She had just driven three hours to come pick up her wayward niece in a jail in the middle of the night. Her normally perfect black hair was tied up in a messy bun and she was wearing yoga pants and a wife beater, her pregnant belly showing a little. She was six months pregnant with baby number four. She had on neon orange flip flops. I bit my lip and tried not to laugh, figuring that if I did, she would make my ass stay in jail. My fashion plate of an aunt looked like a hot mess.

  “Let's go Bleu,” she said, putting her arm around me and kissing the top of my head. We left the precinct and walked to her BMW. I sat in the passenger seat, buckled and we drove off.

  “Spill it baby girl,” she told me as we sat down in the 24 hour diner near the policed station. We had ordered coffee and breakfast. She fiddled with her massive wedding ring and poured packet after packet of sugar into her mug of coffee.

  “I came home after a HUGE launch party for work to find my boss riding my fiancé,” I said with a sad sigh. She choked on her coffee and grabbed a napkin to wipe up the mess on the tabletop. Shaking her head, she wadded up the napkin and put it beside her plate.

  “Oh. My.”

  “I know.”

  “Is that why you hit him? “She asked, an elegant black eyebrow raised, her lips trying not to smile.

  “No. It was when he blamed me for it and told me that he had only asked me to
marry him so he could get some. That just pushed me over the edge,” I said softly. I silently willed myself not to cry. She put her hand over mine. The tears just fell.

  “Well that was a douche move,” she said angrily. I looked up at her. What the? I don’t think I had EVER heard my aunt use that word. My uncle yes, but not my aunt.

  “With my boss. The only reason I did not beat her was because I did not want to lose my job,” I said with a snort.

  “You will probably get a promotion now,” she said laughing. When the waitress brought us our food, we were laughing so hard, tears were streaming down our faces. The waitress gave us our plates and walked away, shaking her head.

  “What are you going to do honey?” she asked after we had composed ourselves. She wipes tears from the corner of her eyes and looked at me with motherly concern.

  “Well everything is pretty much in his name. I make decent money, but after he fucked my boss, I am not sure who I can trust anymore. I want to come back home,” I stated with finality. She nodded.

  “Well I bet Axel would be happy to have you around. He has been “off” lately, just acting weird. I bet he could use his sister around,” she said.

  “If I call him, he will kill Carl. I am thinking I just show up and deal with the shit hitting the fan,” I told her. She chewed her food thoughtfully and then nodded.

  “Okay then. Luckily your uncle is in California at a tattoo convention, so we won’t have to deal with him going to jail either. Why don't we get a hotel room for the night in town and then in the morning you go do what you need to. “

  “Sounds like a plan. I just have to go into work tomorrow, I think with everything that has happened, I am going to ask for a leave of absence,” I told her as I tucked into my food.

  “I would say so, especially with the fact that he had sex with your boss. I mean is there anything that you can do about that?” she asked. I shrugged.

  “I am not sure. Normally I would ask Axel, but he is such a hot head, he would kill Carl and then we would be visiting Dad and Axel in jail. That won't solve anything. I am just going to go in there, ask for the leave, and then look for another job while I get settled,” I replied. She nodded.

  “Well let's finish up here and we can get some rest,” she replied. She patted me hand and smiled at me.

  “I just wish I could have been there when you throat punched him. I would give my 401K to have seen that,” she murmured, an evil grin on her lips.

  The next morning, or rather, later that morning, I felt like someone had removed my insides and replaced it with cotton. I felt empty, numb and just dried out. I pulled on black dress pants, a wine colored dressy blouse and my black ballet flats. Tying up my long black hair and pinning it up with two black chopsticks, I kissed my aunt's cheek as I walked out of the hotel room. She was reading some nursing textbook and she smiled and wished me luck. The drive to the office was a silent blur. I pulled into a parking space, grabbed my laptop case and purse, and walked inside.

  Cassie, the receptionist, smiled at me and I hurried by, giving her a brief smile. People greeted me and I am not even sure that I responded. I hurried to my office and shut the door behind me quickly. Sitting down at my desk, I pressed my balled up fists into my eyes and bit my lip, tears burning behind my eyelids. I just wanted to get this over with.

  “Bleu?” said a male voice. I jumped, wiped at my eyes and looked up into the face of Kyle, the VP. He was a tall, lanky guy with spiked blue hair and multiple piercings. He was leaning in the doorway with a concerned look on his face.

  “Uh, oh hey. I was just coming to see you,” I said quickly. He smiled. He walked over and sat on the edge of my desk. He placed a hand on my knee. What the fuck?

  “No need. I am here now. What’s going on? You look upset,” he said softly. Ok, we had spoken a handful of times in the past year. He was a partier, known for his wild crazy nights filled with bottle service and blonde bimbos. He was not known to be Mr. Feelings.

  “I have a personal issue and I need to take a leave of absence,” I replied. He studied my face and then he took a deep breath.

  “You haven't talked to Amanda yet have you?” he asked, still speaking in almost a whisper. I shook my head.

  “We had an early morning meeting. We have had to re organize some departments,” he explained. I did not like where this was going.

  “Ok??”

  “I am sorry Bleu. You have the least seniority in your department. We are going to have to let you go,” he replied.

  “Kyle, the reason I have the least seniority is because I was JUST moved to this department, BY YOU!” I snapped. He toyed with his lip ring and it made me want to rip it right out of his face.

  “I realize this, but we have to look at the welfare of the company,” he replied.

  “Hmmm, let’s see Kyle. Last night I catch Amanda fucking my fiancé and today I am fired?? Awful funny coincidence,” I remarked. He gasped a bit and it gave me the smallest bit of satisfaction.

  “Oh yeah. She was riding him like a rodeo star. WHILE I was here, at a function for THIS company. A company that is firing me,” I pointed out. He paled.

  “We are not firing you. You are being laid off, with a full severance package,” he said hurriedly.

  “If I am not being fired, what is the reason for the severance package?” I asked. He looked at me and sighed.

  “Amanda's father owns the company Bleu. There is nothing I can do. I realize that I sound like a total tool. He heard about last night and she wants you gone. Apparently, she is afraid of you. This could not come at a worse time, especially with that whole seminar we just had about a non-hostile work environment. You are one of our best developers. I am pissed. “He truly did look pissed.

  “So they make it look like you guys are downsizing and pay me off?” I ask in disbelief. He nods.

  “Yeah it looks that way. It sucks. I am so sorry. You are a cool chick; you have saved my ass on more than one occasion. I am going to miss you around here,” he replied. He handed me a huge manila envelope. And then he gave me a card.

  “Call me. Please. If you need a reference or recommendation, I will more than happily give you one. Fuck them.” he said with a smirk and pulled me in for a hug. I hugged back and willed the room to stop spinning. Calling the whole interchange surreal would be an understatement. I found myself single and unemployed, in less than 24 hours.

  There are some things you remember from your childhood. Losing your first tooth, riding a bike for the first time. Things like that. But there is always something, something so significant, that you will remember it always.

  For me, my most significant memory is the smell of blood, the sight of it. When there are mass quantities of it, it smells like a slaughterhouse. It can make a place feel empty, cold, depressing.

  How did something like this enter into my childhood you ask? Well it’s simple. When I was seven, my mother was killed violently while my brother Axel and I were at school. Our oldest brother Beau was away at a basketball tournament, we had had a half day at school. Axel and I were 10, we are twins. Beau was 12. I thought about all of this in times of extreme stress, like now.

  Checking my rear view mirror, I pulled into the right lane, preparing to take the exit to Jasper Falls where my family lived. Never in a million years did I picture myself at 23, crawling back to my brother, my other half. I also never pictured myself getting fired because my boss fucked my fiancé, but oh well, shit happens right? Aunt Almeida had told Axel, Uncle Tangler and my cousins, that I was only coming for a visit, and I truly felt bad for the lie. He had no idea I was coming to stay, having nowhere else to go. Pathetic, sad, but it was reality. The weird thing was, my brother, seemed distracted. He usually asked me a million questions about everything, but this time, he did not say anything. Aunt Almeida had left to go back home to be with my cousins Iris and little Sid, mentioning it to me briefly in the hotel after I had come back there.

  Driving from New York to Pennsylvania g
ives a person a lot of time to think. Now I know I am better off, but it still hurts. A lot. The image of Amanda on top of him keeps playing over and over in my head like some sick movie trailer. I cannot make it stop. And it just makes me angrier and angrier. My brother was going to flip out, and I would probably have to restrain him from getting into his truck and killing Carl. The question, the real question is, how in the hell do I explain this to my brother?

  Axel is a good guy. No, I am not making excuses for him. He may be a man whore, but he is one hell of an artist. We both went to art school; always sketching, drawing. I was more of a painter. My aunt gave us free reign, let us sketch and draw all over the walls in the house. Her husband, Tangler, was a tattoo artist himself when we were kids, but went to work at the junior high as an art teacher when we moved in after my mom died. Their oldest son Spike is a whiz with numbers but ended up going into nursing like his mother. He is 23 like Axel and I. Iris and little Sid are 13 and twins. And she won’t confirm or deny it, but I think my aunt is pregnant with twins again. Either way, she is definitely pregnant. Back to my brother, Axel is really talented. When we were kids, he always had a sketch pad or some random scrap of paper he was doodling on. He drew on his bedroom walls, his clothes, sometimes even me. When he graduated, he found a job at an advertising firm. That job lasted a week. He hooked up with two friends of his from school, Jack and Skeeter, who were working at my uncle’s old tattoo shop and garage. He earned his reputation, did his apprenticeship and has been there ever since. Me on the other hand, I ended up going to college, took graphic arts and software design. Except now I was homeless and unemployed.

  When I went to visit last time, Axel did this amazing angel tattoo on my back, its big. And it’s so beautiful. It took forever, but that was only because all these women kept coming into the shop to talk to him, to get “tattoo advice.” Panty droppers basically. The skanks were puddles at his feet. As if he was some sex god rock star! Axel?