My Vicious Demise (Demise #2)

by Shana Vanterpool

  I grabbed my beer and took a long swallow, savoring the slight taste of citrus. I drank my beer slowly, prolonging my reason to stay out. After this I’d have to go home and go to bed and not think about the look on Tess’s face when she heard me talk. I doubted I’d risk talking in front of anyone else, not again. One horrified expression was all I could take. I suffered through it enough in high school. Sometimes defending myself against the bullies meant using my voice. Which, coincidentally, made the subsequent ridicule worse.

  I drummed my fingers on the bar, feeling the beer stains in the wood. After a while Becca appeared with a fresh bottle. She popped the top and poured it into my cup, looking into my eyes as she did so. She said something, but I was too focused on the way the gold mixed with the green in hers.

  I looked at her mouth again.

  “Are you by yourself?”

  My nod answered for me.

  She looked down at the bar and wiped up a dot of beer with her towel. When she returned her gaze her pain was obvious. I knew she and Raina weren’t talking. Kent told me he was worried about her, how upset Raina was at any given time. I could see it in the way she shuffled from room to room. Raina was not herself. Becca was a large part of her life. Kent was the only part of my life I’d hate to lose, though we’d had our moments in the past couple years. Watching him drown his sorrow over his ex in alcohol and women left a rift between us. Kent was better now that he’d met Raina, but I could still remember when he wasn’t. It was hard to forget a person passed out drunk, naked, and covered in their own puke.

  She touched her chest, indicating she was talking about herself for some reason. I knew she was talking about her. I was looking at her. It was a forgivable mistake, and not one made often. Most people didn’t make an effort to deal with my difference. They weren’t different. I was. I was the one who had to adapt.

  “I’m getting off now. Can we talk?”

  I panicked. Why did she want to talk to me? I couldn’t talk. I wouldn’t talk in front of someone like her anyway. She was gold eyes and black hair and a little waist in those tight blue jeans. She might have been one of the most attractive women I’ve ever seen. There was an air of confidence surrounding her I knew I would never possess. No matter how hard I tried I would never stand as tall as her. But her pain was still evident. She probably wanted to talk about her sister. I couldn’t deny Raina anything, and apparently her sister wasn’t immune either.

  One more nod and she smiled her thanks.

  “Finish your beer. This one’s on me. Meet me around back in the black Honda.”

  She did it again before she left. She touched my hand. This time she gripped it softly, and then walked away, pausing to hug a huge muscled guy at the end of the bar before she went into the back.

  I stared down at my hand and glared at the goosebumps.

  Chapter Three

  Becca

  I drummed my fingers on my steering wheel impatiently, aggravated with myself.

  I was always on my own team, having no choice but to cheer myself on. In doing so I’d developed a relationship with myself where I hardly doubted my own actions, but right now I wasn’t a fan of me.

  I wanted to talk to James with every intention of asking about Rain. He lived with them. His information was far more trustworthy than the scenarios I painted, which all consisted of Rain bawling in the fetal position. But there was an insignificant part of me who was overly eager to see those killer blue eyes again. His eyes were my favorite kind of blue, a clean crisp sharp tone I could never replicate with paint. Sheathed by those long brown eyelashes, those eyes were going to be responsible for my demise.

  The first time I saw James I had the same reaction. This gut-wrenching, soul-sucking, bottomless feeling I was having now. We’d seen each other for one second. We never spoke or said hello. He’d been running after Rain when I dragged her away from Kent’s apartment. Our eyes locked as I pulled away that day and I had to force those blue gems out of my mind.

  With all of the chaos of Kent and Raina’s breakdown and their subsequent betrayal, I forgot about him. Hadn’t had one single thought about James in six months. Which is the way it should be; men didn’t get a spot in my brain. But that didn’t mean we couldn’t turn my back seat into a coming home party.

  The man was unconventionally attractive. His thick brown hair was a total mess and his clothes were wrinkled, but his cheekbones were sculpted and his strong jaw was covered in a light dusting of dark stubble, as if he hadn’t shaved in weeks. Didn’t care and didn’t mind the sexy scruff overtaking his face. Suffice it to say I wouldn’t mind using James for a few hours.

  I was in the mood to control a man. Rip his clothes off, take every inch, and ride him until he was mine. James looked shy, and though he had no problem meeting my eyes, I thought he’d be fun to break.

  On the edge of the parking lot a figure stepped out from the front of Second Chances and looked around. Once they found what they were looking for they stopped outside my passenger door.

  I pressed down on the lock, waiting for him to open the door. Too late I realized he couldn’t hear the lock opening. For some reason that made me feel insensitive. I wasn’t used to feeling that way. It was the same when I asked what kind of beer he wanted and cracked that joke. It didn’t sound all that funny in retrospect. I leaned over and pushed the door open for him, motioning for him to sit down.

  James entered my car the way I would enter the jungle—with my knife clutched to my chest and my sights peeled for danger. It made me laugh quietly as he kicked the garbage on the floor out of his way. It felt nice to laugh. I’d been so focused on forgetting Rain and working I hadn’t made time to actually feel the smiles I’d given during my shift.

  He sat back and glanced at me, specifically my mouth. Something about him staring at my lips and only my lips as I talked unnerved me. Most men stared at my body, my tits, or any part but my mouth. I was sure they wanted my mouth the same way they wanted the rest, but they didn’t stare so intently at it. I wished I’d put some lipstick on.

  I reached over and removed the hair from his face, pushing the silky brown strands off his forehead, unable to stand it any longer.

  That was better. Or worse, depending on how I looked at it. Forget unconventional. James was good-looking. His features were strong and prominent, peppered with his stubble and wide bright blue eyes. His eyebrows were perfectly arched too. As a woman I had a thing for perfect eyebrows. Of course his grew that way. They were thick brown lines that broke up the pale expanse of his forehead. His nose was straight and proportioned, leading down to a pair of soft looking full lips and a chin dusted in his dark unshaved hairs.

  My breathing was uncharacteristically deep. My mouth was slightly dry, even though I had plenty of water during my shift. It was either that or guzzle down beer and I couldn’t steal from Max. I removed my hand from his hair and put it on my lap, making sure my expression was smooth and controlled. His eyes shot to mine. Honestly, eyes that blue weren’t killer. They were vicious.

  I was aggravated again. This was about Rain. Once we were done I could make it about him. Until then I had to get my head out of my panties.

  “How’s Raina?” I asked after he looked at my mouth again.

  James shrugged, visibly considered my question, and then mouthed the word, “Bad.”

  My eyes slid closed and I groaned, letting the guilt swarm me. It wasn’t as though I was doing well either. I was approaching the last of my choices. Before Raina left I never realized how little I had. With her gone my pool had shrunk to the size of a puddle. My other half was out there caught in Kent Nicholson’s web.

  James was still staring at me once I recovered, waiting for me to respond.

  “Bad how?”

  He looked out the window, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. Then he took his phone out and raised his eyebrow at me, showing me he’d opened a blank message screen.

  It took me a moment to realize what he wanted
, but when I did I quickly punched in my number for him and his fingers started tapping the touch screen. A few seconds later my cell chimed in my purse. I dug it out and opened his message, reading it curiously.

  James: She’s in bed a lot. She cries sometimes. Kent’s worried about her. She tries to act like she’s fine, but she isn’t fine. This is supposed to be a happy time in her life. But you’re not there to share it with her.

  My heart twisted in my chest. I added his name to my contacts and then texted back after my guilt allowed my brain a chance to think.

  Becca: She made me choose, James. What was I supposed to do?

  James: Choose her.

  He didn’t understand. Raina was my baby sister. Kent took her from me and she let him. She didn’t even fight him for me.

  Becca: I miss her.

  I would not cry in front of this man. I bit the inside of my cheek and looked out my window, waiting for his reply.

  James: She misses you too. Kent isn’t a bad guy. He was hurting. He’s not hurting anymore. Sure, he’s still a prick, but that’s just him.

  He smiled when he finished.

  His smile was soft and new looking. He didn’t appear to use it often. It reminded me of the Tin Man on The Wizard of Oz. I hoped he didn’t rust.

  Becca: Tell me the truth. Does he truly love her? Is there a chance he’d ever leave her? Hurt her?

  His response was instant.

  James: Kent loves that girl in a way I hope I can have someday. He’d hurt himself before he ever hurt her again.

  I was having a difficult time keeping the burning in my eyes down. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

  Becca: How long have you known him?

  James: Since I was eight. Fourth grade.

  I eyed him closely. That was a long time for two people to be friends. What kept them together? Kent was loud, cocky, and abrasive. James was clearly introverted, shy, and sweet. Who kept who around? Did James need Kent, or did Kent need James? Maybe they needed each other the way Rain and I needed one other. If James needed someone like Kent, who didn’t he have in his life?

  Becca: Are you vouching for him?

  James: Yes.

  Becca: So if he hurts her I can find you and take my pound of flesh?

  He smiled at his screen.

  James: Something tells me I won’t be able to stop you.

  It was my turn to smile.

  Becca: Something tells me you’re right.

  Underneath James’s messy hair and introverted personality was a man who had the courage to sit in my car with me, speak up for Kent, and engage in conversation. He didn’t look weak or frail per se, he simply didn’t look like the type of guy who appeared proud to be himself. Even now he was hunched in on himself, eyes on the screen as he texted back. His head was down and his large pale hands held his phone delicately. I was five six, and he went well above my head by another four or five inches. He walked like he was four feet tall and terrified of every inch. It made me wonder who beat him down. Who made James small when he could be anything but?

  Thoughts of turning him into my plaything began to disappear. I was startled by how disappointed that made me. I needed someone to take my emotions out on, to hide the loneliness from myself. It couldn’t ever be fully gone, but I could ignore it with the right guy. I couldn’t use him the way I used most. I suppose I could try, but I already felt enough guilt over Rain and Jude. I didn’t need to add James to the mix.

  James: Thanks for the beer.

  He looked at me and put his fingers over his mouth and then extended his hand toward me, presumably signing his gratitude.

  It felt unnecessarily personal. I didn’t do personal and especially not with men. I overlooked the uncomfortableness and forced myself to return his thanks. I put my fingers to my lips the way he did and then brought my hand closer to him.

  He nodded, swallowing hard himself.

  Becca: Tell Rain goodnight for me?

  James: Tell her yourself.

  I dropped my phone in my purse and sat back in my seat, wondering why this was so hard for me to let go. Rain was my sister. How could one man get between us? We’d been through everything together. And then Kent took it all away. Unlike my sister I could never think clearly around my hurt. I had to take it out on someone or I internalized it until I exploded.

  James reached over and touched my arm to get my attention. “Think about it,” he mouthed, not saying a single word out loud. He waved a little and then started to get out.

  But I grabbed his arm in return and when he turned back curiously, I leaned over, pressing my lips to his. He was immobile at first. I didn’t mind. I needed to kiss someone, to expel the growing sense of turmoil inside of me. He tasted like beer and cinnamon. His lips were feather soft, warm, and for some reason instead of feeling nothing like I always do I felt that obnoxious reaction again. It was gut-wrenching, soul-sucking, and just as bottomless as I remembered. It called to the part of me my father didn’t love and the part my mother didn’t want. It was pouring paint on a blank canvas.

  I meant something all of a sudden.

  Releasing his arm, I moved to hold his face between my hands, tilted my head, and locked this kiss in place. From deep in his chest I heard a groan, like a zombie eating his first brain. James opened his mouth and melted against my lips. The taste of cinnamon increased. It was spicy and sweet, and I slipped my tongue into his mouth slowly, waiting for his to touch mine. When it did I groaned too, because I’d eaten many brains, but never any this delicious. His hand settled on my waist and he turned to face me in his seat, making kissing him easier. His tongue was silky and hot, tangling with mine and tasting me the way I tasted him.

  Soon we were both reaching across the seat, half out of our chairs and half attached to each other. He smelled so good too. Like fabric softener, a light crisp cologne that reminded me of winter air mixed with the ocean, and something I think was just James. The smell of him, combined with the taste of him and the deep sexy moaning coming from his chest, had me acting out of character. I was scrambling to get him closer. I forgot about the backseat. All I wanted was for him to kiss me a little bit harder. Hold me a little tighter. I moved my hand to his hair and twisted my fingers inside of the mess, holding on.

  He moved closer, following me into the backseat. I hadn’t realized I made the move. It was second nature. Kiss, clothes, condom, and then sex. But, for a brief second, the idea of him treating me the way every man treated me made me unsettled. My lips slowed and I shoved at his chest, freeing myself from the gut-wrenching takeover.

  I didn’t appreciate how this kiss was making me feel. It started out as an escape and ended up demanding things from me I did not demand from men. But…he tasted so good and his lips were pink from our kiss. I stared at his mouth and then looked into his sharp blue eyes.

  Shock, confusion, and something I never see in a guy’s eyes looked back at me. A look of understanding. His breathing was as deep as my own and when he licked his lips I considered the idea of letting this happen. What’s the worst that could come out of sleeping with James? One night in the backseat and I might feel better. I needed to disappear. I need to be pleased, wanted, for the loneliness to shut up for five seconds so I could function again.

  James put one hand on the headrest by my head and gripped my waist tightly with the other, leaning back as he took a deep breath. And then he raised one eyebrow at me. I could only assume he was thinking: What the shit was that?

  It broke the awkwardness and chased away my reaction. I laughed breathlessly and rested my head near his hand, making an apologetic face. “Sorry.”

  He shook his head and smiled a little, moving all the way back in his seat. He took another deep breath and then reached for the door handle a second time, looking over his shoulder at me once more as if he were waiting for something.

  If he wanted another kiss he wasn’t going to get one. Obviously sex wasn’t going to happen or he would have tried more and I would
n’t have pushed him away. If he were any other guy I’d have had him between my legs. But I didn’t need to be with men who garnered an emotional response from me. Men who wanted emotion could go find it somewhere else. I wanted them to want me, not the other way around.

  He wasn’t going to get an apology. I rarely apologized for using a man. They used women all the time. Why couldn’t I do it too?

  And he most certainly wasn’t going to get a rain check. One failed lay was one failed lay too many.

  I didn’t know what he wanted from me.

  If I knew anything in this world it was that I’d never had that reaction for anyone. I’ve been madly caught up on guys before. Like Gabriel when I was eighteen. I thought he was the reason I was created. He ruined it by sleeping with my friend. Then there was Tex. He was hotness and muscle and turmoil. Tears and fights every night followed by incredible makeup sex and sweat. He ruined it by hitting me. One slap during one argument and I left and never went back. It was a secret I never told anyone, not even Rain. I’ve dated many men, but none have ever made me feel as though my insides were falling out of me and like they could see straight into the bottom of my soul.

  That reaction wasn’t right. It went past anything I understood. It must be eradicated and expunged.

  I was Rebecca O’Connor and no man was going to remind me of all I was missing. I reminded them they were missing me and that was all right for me.

  It was absolutely preferred.

  Chapter Four

  James

  What the shit was that?