Heartbreaker

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Heartbreaker Page 14

by J. Dorothy


  I smile at him and of course I stick my tongue out and lick slowly around my lips. He growls, kisses me once more and steps around the tree. I lean back my whole body still buzzing with all things Cam. I can still smell his heady scent, its surrounding me. My fingers are still tingling from touching him. I missed that so much. I really hope he hurries up and gets rid of whoever it is that just blew away the best thing that’s happened to me in ages.

  Then I hear shouting. Uh oh, I hope Cam hasn’t come across a gang of nasty tourists or some other meat heads. I move around the tree and start toward the truck. I still can’t see the other car, it must be behind Cam’s. I decide I should go cautiously, and not alert the intruder to my presence in case I need to call the sheriff or something. I creep up and bob down behind the back tray and I peer over.

  Holy Hell. It's Sweet Cheeks, and she’s crying. Cam is trying to calm her down. I wonder if she knows that he’s finished with her, and wants to get back with me. He must have told her where he was going. My heart goes out to her. I feel guilty, and I feel sorry for her. But Cam was never really hers. He was always mine. And now after what just happened, there’s no way I’m letting him go again.

  She spits out between tears. “I need you, Cam. I can’t do this on my own.”

  Do what?

  I swallow, hoping it is not what I think it is. Please, please don’t let it be that.

  “I want this baby, Cam …”

  No! No! I said not that! Anything but that!

  My stomach plummets and I’m going to be sick.

  She’s having Cam’s baby?

  The tears spill, and I choke back on the biggest sob. I touch my stomach, remembering for the first time in months, and a pain so intense stabs my heart. Then I feel my heart shatter and each tiny piece is stabbing me all over. I lean over and I throw up on the dirt beside me.

  I have to get out of here. I can’t listen to anymore. I can’t take any more hurt.

  Too much. This is too much.

  I yank open the door of Cam’s truck and fumble with the keys. My face is wet with tears and I can smell the vile taste of vomit on my tongue. I’m a mess and in no condition to drive, but I have to. I get the keys in the ignition and I look back to reverse out. That’s when I see Cam look my way, shock written all over his face, and he’s yelling something over and over again as he starts running toward me. I don’t stop. I put my foot flat on the pedal and the wheels screech and churn up a river of mud, but I keep going. I slam the truck into gear and take off, going as fast as I can, out of Wicca Woods.

  I don’t look back. This time I’m never looking back. There is too much pain.

  I can only see and cope with forwards.

  And from now on, that’s the only place I’m moving towards.

  NiNeTeeN

  ______________________________________

  I’ve stopped a couple of times to empty the contents of my stomach. I’m trying to hold it together to make it back, so I can swap trucks. I thought about texting Cam, but can’t bring myself to do it. I don’t want to have any contact with him right now. I can’t even begin to think about all that.

  It’s self preservation. I know I’m going to really lose it, real soon. But not now.

  My cell buzzes. I don’t bother to check it. I’m nearly there. I see the grocery store and breathe a sigh of relief. I pull in beside dad’s old truck and I quickly change vehicles, leaving Cam’s keys under the front tire of his truck, where I know he’ll find them.

  I get home a few minutes later and crash on my bed. I’ve stopped sobbing. But the pain is still intense. My head is pounding again and I turn to the side to see my bottle of pain killers. A thought enters my mind about taking a double dose to knock me out, but I quickly decide that’s a bad idea. I’ve had that idea once before and it didn’t work out too well. I roll onto my side and reach for the bottle. I’m due my next dose, so I rattle out two of the little white pills and swallow them with a big gulp of water from the glass on the table next to my bed.

  I don’t feel anything. I’m numb. I wish Gerry was here. I wish I could finally spill my guts and tell her everything. I close my eyes and my hands wander to my barren stomach pressing across my abdomen. For one small moment, I remember a feeling of pure joy and happiness, at doing that. But then I remember how it went away, just like everything else. A tear falls. Damn, I thought the waterworks were done for today.

  Apparently not.

  I don’t want to, but I can’t help it. I allow myself to remember back to those last few months in Chicago.

  The worst months.

  I muffle my face into my pillow, and once again, choke on a series of sobs.

  Five months ago ...

  I’m at some swanky new bar. The annual company celebration. It’s held in the middle of the year, after summer and before all the other holidays kick in. The management decided with so many people traveling at Christmas and Thanks giving, and in respect to those who don’t celebrate annual holidays, they’d have a party in a dry month.

  I’m here alone. Well, I’m here with colleagues, who I say hi to when we pass by in the corridors. Bennett is the only one, I consider a friend, and he decided to get a bad case of the flu this weekend. Poor thing. I’ve taken him soup, and he really did look like a sorry head. I tried to convince him I’d be better off spending the night looking after him, but he wouldn’t have it. Forced me out the door of his apartment, threatening if I didn’t have a good time, he’d have his Dad fire me. Not that, that’s likely, his Dad loves me.

  I’ve been doing really well. And for the most part I like the new job. Sometimes it can be monotonous, but it’s better than working late hours at the bar. Ted wasn’t too happy to lose me, but I told him if he ever gets stuck I’d fill in. He’s never called, so I’m guessing he found a worthy replacement.

  So life has been on the up. Except, it’s not exactly how I imagined it would be. I miss Cam. I miss him every single day. And it’s beginning to get worse. I dream about him every night, and I find myself day dreaming that he’ll knock on my door, or walk into the office. I know that will never happen. He’s happy where he is and happy with what he does. And I'm happy for him. Or at least I pretend I am.

  I take a sip of my drink, a lemon margarita. The company’s paying for the first two drinks, so I figure I’ll get something good. Once I start to pay, it’ll be water all the way. I look around the room to see a hoard of familiar faces all laughing and smiling, having a good time, or so it appears. I often wonder at these things, how much people put on an act, and behind that smile they’re actually counting the minutes till they can get home, and stop making small talk with people they don’t really like. Cynical I know. I have to stop that. I really do want to make new friends. Or at least I think I do.

  I decide to put in more of an effort and climb off my bar stool, where I’m wedged in a blind corner. Taking a big breath I continue to sip my drink and wander over to the buffet. There’s a variety of canapés and hot food. I pick up a napkin and I’m just about to try a cute little prawn snack, when Andy Anderson comes up next to me.

  “Hey, Bailey Ryan, are you having a good time?”

  He always calls me by my full name. I have no idea why. He doesn’t do that to anyone else. Boy was Bennett right about him, he’s a big time player. He keeps it professional mostly, but there have been the odd occasion, when his interest became more like flirting. I ignore it as much as possible. I have no intention of getting caught up with the likes of him. He doesn’t hold a candle to Cam and Cam’s flame still burns the brightest.

  He flicks back his long black hair, and gives me a big toothy grin, his greeny brown eyes sparkling at me. He does have a great smile. Most of the girls in the office go out of their way to see him flash those pearly whites. Reminds me a little of Dick Dastardly though, I keep wondering what the ulterior motive is. I give him a small smile back. He is my boss and I have to keep our work relationship amicable.

  “You want to danc
e?” he asks and I nearly drop my margarita. I hate dancing. I’m terrible at it.

  “No. I’m fine.”

  “Well, let me get you another drink, looks like that one’s nearly empty.”

  What? I only took a couple of sips. Whoops. I look down and realize my couple of sips must have been more like huge gulps, there’s only a spoonful sitting in my glass. I really shouldn’t have any more, I’m a light weight when it comes to drinking and I don’t have that much experience. But Bennett did say I should try more, and the alcohol is giving me a bit of a buzz.

  “Okay, thanks.”

  Andy gives me another smile and slips away. I’m proud of myself for not dodging him and pulling up my big girl pants to be a willing party girl. I decide I might as well finish my drink and I’m just about to take the last big sip, when someone bumps me from behind and I stumble, but manage to save myself and my drink.

  “Bailey. There you are.”

  Oh shit. It’s Luke. This guy is ten times worse than Andy. He’s an arrogant ass and gives me the creeps. He’s built like a tank, blond curly hair—that I’m sure he gets done professionally—and he has dark brown eyes that are always alert to scan and conquer. I can see why woman find him attractive at first sight. But it’s only skin deep. Two seconds in his company is way too long in my opinion.

  On my first day he pushed me up against the photocopier and wanted to know if I wanted a quickie before lunch. I politely declined and told him if he tried that again, I’d go straight to Bennett’s dad and report him for sexual harassment. Once he discovered I wasn’t lying, and that I was Bennett’s friend, he left me alone, and until now I haven’t really spoken to him.

  “Bennettsss not here, tonight?" he’s slurs out, smelling of beer and looking unsteady on his feet.

  “No. He’s sick,” I say, and try to turn away.

  Luke grabs my shoulders and whirls me back around, keeping his grip tight. He grinds up against me and breathes in my ear. “Good, you want to go back to my place. Thissss party's dead.”

  Ew… I nearly throw up in his face. I push him away and glare at him, as he steps back letting me go. Then he steps forward again and pulls a plastic packet from his pocket, holding it up and waving it around erratically.

  “I have thesssse. Take you to the moon and back in one night. Best little sweetssss on the market.”

  I frown examining the little pink pills, they actually resemble candy treats, except I know it isn’t candy and I won’t be taking a trip anywhere on that.

  I’m just about to tell Luke where he can stick his little pink pills, when Andy appears over his shoulder, making his way through the crowd with my drink in hand.

  He’s held up when someone stops him to talk, and I make the mistake of whispering to Luke, “You better put those away, the boss is coming.”

  Luke turns quickly. “Oh, shit.” And he shoves the packet in my purse, just as Andy appears.

  “Everything okay,” Andy asks, handing me my drink and looking suspiciously at Luke. He must have heard the rumours. It’s a wonder Luke still has job. I bet he’s got inside connections to the firm. From what I’ve heard it’s a bit of a boy’s club.

  Luke gives the boss a quick smile, then takes off and I watch him, hitting on another one of the office girls before he’s taken five steps. She must be into him, because I spy them later in the night, dancing, or grinding, or dry humping. Ew… that behaviour should be banned in a public place.

  I’m conscious of the pills in my purse and I vow to get rid of them the first opportunity I get. The only problem is, Andy seems hell bent on spending the night at my side, and to be honest it’s nice to have some company and I’m not having a bad time. He’s okay, I guess.

  After four margaritas my mind becomes a little foggy and the pink pills are a fading memory, along with everything else. I’ve never been drunk before, but I’m pretty sure I’m drunk now. I even fancy myself as a disco dancer, and Andy has no trouble coaxing me onto the dance floor.

  That’s about the last memory I have of that night.

  The next memory I have is the beginning of the next day.

  And it’s not a good one.

  First thing I feel is my pounding head and the first thing I hear is the ringing in my ears. Ouch, that smarts. I reach up to rub my face, and eyes. I feel like absolute shit. My tongue is all furry and I have an awful taste in my mouth. I force my eyes open, and look around, not recognising where I am. Crap. This isn’t good.

  What the hell did I do last night and where the hell did I end up?

  Then I hear someone snore.

  Oh god, please no. Please, please no.

  I don’t dare look, but I have the sudden realisation I have no clothes on. This is my very worst nightmare. And I have a really bad feeling I know who’s doing that irritating snoring. I take a peek and confirm my suspicions.

  Andy Anderson.

  I lie with my eyes wide open, wondering what I’m going to do and what I’m going to say. I really want to take a shower. I really want out of this bed, and out of here. I look across and see my clothes strewn across a large leather armchair. I take a good look and realize how enormous the bed and the bedroom are. I spy a door to the left, and wonder if it’s the bathroom. I was a pretty good sprinter back in High School and I reckon I can do a quick dash to get my clothes and make the bathroom without Andy waking up.

  I suck in a big breath and carefully pull back the covers. The snoring continues, so I make another move and inch closer to the edge of the bed and slide from the covers onto the floor. Crap, it’s cold. I don’t waste any time and make a mad dash to grab my clothes and head for the bathroom. I shut and lock the door, then in record time put my pants, short black skirt and silver halter neck top on. The smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke engulfs me, and I nearly gag. I wonder for a moment if I smoked as well. Yuk. That probably explains the foul taste in my mouth.

  I tip toe to the bathroom door and open it just enough to peek through. I can still hear snoring, so I figure I’m safe. Now I really do sprint. I don’t even take in the apartment as I high tail it out the front door as fast as I can. I see the stairs and don’t hesitate to take them instead of the elevator. I walk out into the Fall sunshine and hail a cab. The streets are pretty quiet for a Sunday morning and I’m grateful as it doesn’t take long until I’m walking up the stairs to my own apartment.

  I am so happy I got out of there without having to face Andy. I’m a coward I know, but talk about awkward. I wonder if he got drunk as well and doesn’t remember what we did. God, I hope so. I throw my purse in my closet and undress quickly, chucking my clothes in the hamper. I indulge in a twenty minute warm shower and put on my pj’s, making me feel so much better. I make a coffee, and I’m just about to take my first sip, when my cell buzzes. Crap. I really don’t want to look at who it might be. I take a sip of my coffee instead and throw death glares at my cell, hoping it might spontaneously combust.

  I’ve never really liked it anyway. Bennett talked me into buying the latest and greatest, when my old one got stolen, but I really miss that cell. Especially now.

  It finally stops buzzing only to start up again. I roll my eyes and put down my coffee. I glance over at the screen, and then breathe a sigh of relief, its only Bennett. I pick up the cell and read the text. He’s asking how my night was. I’m not really sure how to answer that. So I don’t. He’ll probably think I’m still sleeping. I check the clock, it’s only ten. I need to get a story together before I see him, or he’ll wheedle the truth out of me. And I really don’t want him to know, because I really don’t want to admit what happened. If anything did happen.

  An image of Cam pops into my head, and a wave of guilt washes over me. I know we broke up, and we’ve been apart for over a year, but I can’t help feeling like a dirty cheater. Come to think of it, I feel really weird. Icky. Like I’ve been contaminated by some rare disease that will never go away. I shudder and hug my arms round my middle.

  There’s a
knock at the door and my heart races.

  What if its Andy come for round two, or worse, to talk?

  I don’t want to talk about it. I want to forget it ever happened.

  Then a voice bellows, “Bales, it’s me, let me in.”

  Bennett.

  So much for biding my time to think up a story. He’ll take one look at me and he’ll know. Maybe I can be quiet and he’ll think I’m still sleeping. I don’t move a muscle and wait to see what he does.

  “I know you’re in there. Open the door,” he bellows again.

  Damn him. I don’t want to annoy the neighbors and I know he won’t stop it.

  I stomp over to the door and open it. Bennett is leaning on the door frame all smiles. “Well, hello there, party girl.”

  I cross my arms and turn around stomping back into the living room. I do not want to discuss this. No, I refuse to discuss last night. Bennett is not getting one whisper from these tight lips.

  “So … Andy huh? Is he here?”

  I turn back and stare at him. Shit. If Bennett already knows, then that means … I decide to ignore his question and go into the kitchen to make a fresh cup of coffee, but I don’t bother to make him one. I’m hoping he might get the subtle hint and leave me alone.

  I’m forgetting there’s no subtle with Bennett. He’s right behind me, pulling out his own coffee mug. “Are you going to tell me what happened? I mean I have my sources, but it’ll be much more interesting coming from you.”

  His voice is still croaky, from his flu. I should feel sorry for him, but right now I’m kind of wishing he’d caught laryngitis.

  “I don’t want to talk about it, Bennett.”

  “You’re such a buzz kill. I came all the way over here, sick and everything to get the low down and you won’t even talk to me.” He tilts his head and pouts. God, he’s annoying.

 

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