My Vicious Demise (Demise #2)

by Shana Vanterpool

I let the ground eat me up. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I don’t know. Somewhere in Jacksonville.”

  “Where have you been staying?”

  “A few places.”

  “Becca,” he said sternly, “where?”

  “In my car. I’m in my fucking car.”

  “Shit, Becca. Go to my apartment. I don’t have a spare room, but you can sleep in our bedroom until we get back. I’ll let James know. We can figure it out when we get back. I won’t tell Rain you called. I’ll wait until we get back and you’re finally home.”

  “What about James?” Boys talked the way women did. I’m sure Kent already knew I groped him.

  He was silent for a few seconds. “James could probably use the company,” he finally answered. “Just don’t hurt my friend. He’s been through enough. He doesn’t need you adding to it.”

  What has he been through? His text messages came back to me. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced the sadness in them away. I was already hurting him. I let James go. If I let myself obsess over the guilt that wouldn’t change. “We’re only friends.” We weren’t even really that. I had ignored him when I had a feeling he needed me.

  “Good. Go home. I’ll let him know you’re coming. What’s ours is yours. Rain and I will be home in two weeks.”

  “I still don’t like you, Kent.”

  “The feeling’s mutual, babe.”

  “Kiss her for me?”

  “I will. Go home.”

  “I will,” I promised.

  It was the first promise between us. A tenuous possibility that brought me closer to Raina. If I broke this promise he might break his. I gave my life to keep Raina as safe as possible. It seemed I’d never be done protecting her. I hung up and dried my tears, and then I drove to their apartment, recalling the way as if I never left. As I drove I attempted to convince myself that James was just bored. He hadn’t really needed anything from me. I wasn’t going to give it to him. There was nothing we could give each other that wouldn’t add to the bottomless feeling I had a sense we both understood.

  I had let James go and I was getting my sister back. I had to survive two weeks living in the same house with him and those blue gems. Once Raina got back home I’d figure it out. I was a strong person. I shouldn’t feel so weak right as I walked up the stairs to Kent’s apartment.

  I rang the doorbell and then remembered that James wouldn’t hear me. The door was locked and the inside of the apartment sounded quiet. I sank down with my back to the railing and waited, ignoring the pit in my stomach. I’ve never been more nervous to see a man. I’ve done terrible things to them. I’ve cheated, fought with them, and keyed them—I wasn’t afraid to let a man know how I felt. This one time I wasn’t sure I understood what I felt. James didn’t look like the kind of man who could deal with me.

  The door suddenly opened.

  Hot fucking damn.

  James stood there in only his boxers. His hair was rumpled and sexy and his eyes were narrowed from the sunlight. He covered them with his hand and looked down at me, shielding the sight of his swollen, reddened cheek. As he did so his eyes tightened, suggesting he wasn’t happy to see me sitting there. It comforted me and sickened me. I didn’t expect him to jump for joy at my presence. His reaction was what I wanted. I should be pleased. Not guilty and empty.

  The golden sunlight shined off his exposed skin, highlighting his six-pack. Who the hell knew James had a body like that? His was extremely pale and lean. His torso was tall, extending his rippled abs all the way down the length of him. He had a patch of dark brown hair between the indentations in his pelvis and his boxers hung off his hips, giving me a preshow I didn’t mind attending. His arms were abnormally long and stretched tightly with lean muscle. He would look so hot with a tattoo on his side, or maybe one down his chiseled abs. Even his thighs were hot. I wanted to slide his boxers down his legs and take him in my mouth. There was something insanely enticing about a man when you had his cock in your mouth. I lived for being in control of him and knowing he was probably too lost in his own pleasure to even remember his own name because of my tongue. The outline of his penis was evident in the sun. James had a mighty big secret to tell me.

  But James didn’t want to tell me a secret. He could barely look at me. He stood back and motioned for me to come inside. I shook off the heat overtaking my body and stood up, tugging my purse and duffle bag in after me. Memories came rushing back of the last time I was here. Raina, falling apart under Kent’s influence, bawling in my arms after Kent broke her. And me, trying to save her from our father by stealing her away. I didn’t save her and my father made many promises the same way Kent did. The apartment smelled like cinnamon and coffee. It was still clean and warm. Really, it was worthy of Rain.

  James waved me into the hall. I followed at a distance, sliding my hand over the black leather couch. He opened Kent’s door and nodded inside. I had no intention of sleeping in their bed. The idea made my skin crawl. I shook my head at him and he shrugged, closing their door in a way that suggested he didn’t blame me.

  He turned around and stared at me long enough to mouth, “The couch?”

  I nodded, feeling ill. Do not engage with him. How he felt was no concern of mine. “You mind if I take a shower?” I still smelled like Heath.

  He inclined his head toward the bathroom in the hall. He paused, seemed to struggle with himself, and then returned his gaze to mine. “Are you hungry?” he mouthed.

  Most men would have told me to kiss their ass after I ignored them the way I ignored James. He was begging me for something last night that I didn’t give him. I’d panicked then and I was panicking now. Becca, please, he’d texted. I need to see you. What happened for him to want me of all people? Was it because Kent was gone? Or was it the same reason why I hugged him in the street? Honestly, this man was a subtle threat. He seemed safe and approachable. But I had a feeling if I got too close he’d force me to get up on my own the same way my father did. One lesson was good enough. I didn’t need two.

  “Starved. I can cook if you want.” He looked surprised. I smiled, easing some of the tension between us. At least it eased the tension for me. “Where do you think Rain learned? I’ll shower and then cook. That cool?”

  He nodded. This time when he left he didn’t hesitate. I stared at his bedroom door and reminded myself this was the way it was supposed to be.

  I dragged my things into the bathroom. Thankfully Rain had soap, and there were even new razors and toothbrushes in the drawers beside the sink. Showering at Max and Claire’s new place made me uneasy. Their happiness felt like it was chasing me out of the house. Kent’s place wasn’t a black hole, but it felt slightly less judgmental. I lathered my body in apricot soap, conditioned my hair twice, and then shaved every respectful part, and even the parts that weren’t respectful, meticulously. When I was done I smelled clean and pretty, not like I spent the night wrapped around Heath’s body in his spare bedroom while his girlfriend was at work and then slept in my car. The man could go for hours. The memory of being on my hands and knees while he pumped into me and spanked me at the same time made me cringe. I was usually fond of such memories, or at least they didn’t elicit unpleasant emotions. This morning all I felt was sore and empty.

  On my way out of the bathroom I passed Raina’s old room. The door was closed and I wondered who lived in it now. Kent’s kitchen was packed with food. I found some bacon, eggs, and a loaf of cinnamon raisin bread. French toast sounded like what I needed. Fluffy sweet French toast dripping with maple syrup on the couch in front of the TV. My stomach growled as I whisked eggs together and located the correct ingredients.

  Simply being in Raina’s space already made me feel closer to her. But I suspected Kent didn’t trust me either. Otherwise he would have told her I was here instead of waiting until they got home. I was reliably unreliable. It was fairly obvious that I would in fact let them down. I didn’t deliberately make it a
habit, but it always seemed to happen that way. Friendships, men, work, school—I had no problem letting things go for something that might be better. Rain wasn’t one of them. She was the only aspect in my life that made perfect sense.

  When James emerged the table was full of food. Too much food for two people, but I was hungry and doubted it would go to waste. He wore jeans and a plain white shirt and his messy brown hair was damp. The smell of him hit me like a wall. My mouth filled with saliva. Fresh, clean clothes combined with the scent of his crisp, sharp soap was quite possibly the most intoxicating scent I’ve ever inhaled. My knees weakened. I sank down into a chair and took a deep breath. I had to avoid his gaze. If I looked into his eyes I’d either rip his clothes off or burst into tears. They seemed to be the only two options.

  I’d have neither.

  Silence throbbed between us as we ate. At one point he got up and returned with mugs and coffee. He filled my cup and then his own before adding vanilla cream to each. The only sound as we ate was our forks against our plates. I’d always been a good cook. My parents never did it and I had no choice but to learn how to cook to feed my sister.

  I couldn’t stop peeking at him. The cut under his eye looked red and swollen. Purple was starting to discolor the flesh beneath his eye. I reached over and touched his wrist, feeling the contact all over my body. What would it be like to give it to him? To feel his strong, pale hands all over me? On my skin, between my legs, holding me to him? I cleared my throat when he looked up and finally locked his gaze with mine. I expected it this time. The soul-sucking sensation reached up and grabbed me, dragging me down into an emotion I knew for a fact would rip me apart.

  “Who hit you?”

  He shook his head and moved his hand out from under my touch.

  I had half a mind to take it back. I was tired of texting and the threat of looking into his eyes was too strong. I got up and searched the apartment for something to write on. In Kent’s bedroom I found a backpack that looked suspiciously like it might be Raina’s. Was she in school? Good for her. There were sign language books, English books, and papers on creative writing. I grabbed her notebook and a lead pencil, and returned, writing down my question.

  Who hit you, James?

  He stared at the notebook for a long time before he finally picked up the pencil and replied.

  Apparently frat guys don’t appreciate a taste of their own medicine.

  I frowned. Rage moved through me at the idea of someone picking on him. We weren’t in high school anymore, but college wasn’t any different. There were cliques and bullies at twenty-one just like there were at fifteen. It was probably worse. Adults doing childish things to people who were better than they would ever be.

  Does that happen a lot?

  He shrugged, not writing his answer down.

  I demanded an answer.

  What did he say to you?

  He narrowed his eyes at me. His expression was clear.

  Screw that. Tell me right now, or I’ll give you another black eye.

  James yanked the pencil from my hand and scribbled his reply hastily.

  Now you want to talk?

  I deserved that. I knew I did. What James didn’t know was I rarely followed my rules or anyone else’s. I pried the pen gently from his fingers and wrote under his question.

  Why did you want to talk to me?

  He stabbed at his French toast while I waited. He knew what I was doing and didn’t want to play along. Finally he managed to reply.

  I don’t know.

  That’s what I thought. I don’t think either of us knows. I looked down as I wrote, protecting myself from his eyes.

  We should only do things we understand, otherwise we’ll be doing things that make no sense. What would we look like doing senseless things, James?

  James didn’t write back. He ate his breakfast quickly with his shoulders slouched and his jaw set.

  Guilt crept over me, slowly and efficiently taking me over until I couldn’t remember feeling anything else. I slid the notebook toward me and turned to a fresh page, biting the inside of my cheek as I wrote my thoughts down.

  Is Kent your only friend?

  Confusion weighed down his eyebrows.

  Why?

  I admitted uncharacteristically,

  I don’t have many these days either.

  I showed my weaknesses the way a zombie shows their heart. It was hidden underneath my rotting clothes and decaying flesh. My heart was in there. I was sure of it. That’s why I did my best to forget it.

  But I’d like to be your friend.

  I swore; I was being a girl right now. I refrained from rolling my eyes at myself and passed him the notebook.

  He stared at my cursive, tracing the word your over and over again before writing one sentence.

  Only my friend?

  My heart leapt to my throat. His eyes were on my face. For the first time in my life I didn’t have the courage to look a man in his eye. I swallowed that new truth and forced air into my lungs. Get it over with, I commanded. Any more and I’d do what I always do. I’d destroy James the way I destroyed every man before him. Something about destroying this man brought me nothing but unease. There would be no satisfaction within this destruction.

  Yes.

  James nodded hesitantly, accepting this the way one would an unpleasant truth they always knew. Like a man who knew his wife didn’t love him anymore, or a daughter who had to accept that her father never loved her the way she begged him to.

  If you’re going to be my friend then you can’t kiss me like that again.

  He slid the notebook to me and held the pencil out.

  Kiss you like what?

  Like I mattered.

  I counted the days in my head. I wouldn’t be on my period for another eight days. There was no excuse for the waterworks. I bit back my overzealous reaction and wrote my reply.

  But you do matter.

  He snorted out loud.

  I looked up in surprise at the sound. My surprise morphed into irritation quickly.

  You matter, James.

  No more kissing. But if we’re going to be friends you’re going to have to wear sunglasses.

  Frowning, he glanced up at me in question. “Why?” he mouthed.

  Because your eyes are sucking my soul out of me.

  I looked up and met them full on. His pupils dilated and I could swear mine were doing the same thing. Green and gold and sharp blue slamming into each other. “Deal?” I asked without looking down.

  He swallowed deeply and nodded. “Deal,” he promised, forming the word with a sexy flick of his tongue.

  I remembered the taste of it. Beer, cinnamon, and something hot and wet. “What?” I asked so he’d say it again.

  “D…e…a…l,” he mouthed slowly, caressing the letter l with his tongue the way I knew he would.

  I wondered what else he could caress with his tongue. I gave him my hand and smiled privately. James placed his palm against mine and swallowed my hand with his long, pale fingers. We shook twice, one more time, and then one after that. And then I took my hand back before I pulled him to me and took his tongue a second time. Friends did not kiss each other. Or imagine the other between their legs, flicking their tongue against their suddenly aching vagina. I crossed my legs and continued eating. James did the same, but only after staring at my hand like it physically hurt him.

  But we were friends now.

  I couldn’t hurt him.

  And then I remembered that friends had the power to destroy too.

  Chapter Eight

  James

  I didn’t realize how badly I didn’t want to be Becca’s friend until she promised that was all we would be. My lungs had never struggled more than they did then as I sat across from her. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t known this. A woman like Becca and a guy like me made no sense. She was right. Not to mention I let her go the other night. I took a deep breath and accepted it. We were friends.

 
Her black hair fell forward and she pushed it away, putting it up into a damp bun on top of her head. Her face was free of makeup and she again smelled like fruit and shampoo. Combined with the smell of coffee and French toast, and I had to swallow the saliva that pooled in my mouth. She’d changed into a white tank top and a pair of black shorts after her shower. Her colorful tattoos decorated much of the skin on both of her arms, ending at her wrists and shoulders. There were random designs, twisting and bleeding into one another to create two massive sleeves. I wanted to examine them individually, maybe trace that rose on her left or the gold wing on her right forearm that looked like it was being watched by a pair of black eyes. There was a sentence on her inner left arm. ‘If you walk by yourself no one can witness you fall.’ Is that what Becca did? Did she walk on her own because she thought no one would pick her up if and when she fell?

  I understood that way of thinking. I fell at a young age. I had to get up from the ground knowing I’d fall again and that each time I had to get up on my own it got a little harder. The pain of falling wasn’t as strong as standing up alone.

  Suddenly she grabbed the notebook and wrote something down in her beautiful, flawless handwriting.

  You have a hickey on your neck.

  Her eyes zeroed in on the space below my left ear.

  I couldn’t remember much about the girl. Dirty blonde hair, a tattoo over her jeans, and wet drunken kisses in the back of my truck. It happened in a dark blur. I felt filthy and disgusted with myself afterwards. To avoid her question, I shoved the last piece of bacon into my mouth and stood up, grabbing my plate. I reached for her plate, paused, and then picked it up when she nodded. She stared at the table, frowning, drumming her delicate fingers on the table top the entire time I washed the dishes and cleaned up the mess of her cooking.