by Emery Jacobs
“Fuck me now, Jack. I’m ready. I just need you inside of me.”
“A condom. I have to get a condom,” I pant.
The sound of tearing foil pulls me away from my search. She’s got it open and reaching for my dick within seconds.
Her fingers thread through my hair as our lips collide. I lift her, trying to avoid too much friction against the new piercing, but it’s pointless. Her legs wrap around my waist, and I slam into her. She writhes and grinds until she finds her release and then frees her legs from around my waist. Sliding to the floor, first licking and kissing my chest and then my stomach, until she reaches her destination. Quickly, she rolls the condom off and slides her warm mouth over my erection. She licks from the base to the tip and then wraps her lips around it and gives a hard pull. I move my hands to her hair and guide her mouth down my shaft until I feel resistance. The back of her throat. Damn, this is un-fucking-believable.
“Fuck, Piper. I don’t think I’m gonna be able to last...” I try to push her away, but she’s not going anywhere. I explode in her mouth and she swallows every drop. I fall to the floor beside her. She climbs onto my lap and kisses me. Long and slow. A smile tugs at her lips as she pulls away.
“God, I love the way you taste,” she mumbles while giving me one last peck on the cheek. She stands and dresses quickly, and then pulls her long, thick blonde hair into a ponytail.
“You’re beautiful, Piper.”
“You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Alexander, but you need to get up and put on your clothes unless you plan on sitting on the floor naked for the rest of the night.”
I stand, grab my clothes, and dress. She blows me a kiss goodbye before she hurries out the door.
Chapter 8
Present Day
Jack
One month. That’s exactly how long it’s been since I’ve seen those beautiful blue eyes. And now they’re staring back at me while I struggle to spit out my order. Jovie Blake. If someone told me she worked here at Overtime, I would’ve insisted we go somewhere else.
“Just bring me a beer, whatever you have on tap.” I look at my buddy Fish across the table and he nods in agreement.
“Make that two.”
“Are you guys ready to order or do you need a couple of minutes.” She glances at Fish and then back to me. Shit, the sooner we order, the fewer times I have to watch her walk up to the table wearing half a shirt with shorts that barely cover her—well, I assume her ass, but I haven’t watched her walk away yet. Fuck.
“I’m ready. A cheeseburger and fries. No onion. And he’ll have the same. Right?” I look at Fish.
“Yeah, sounds good.”
“Two cheeseburgers and fries,” she repeats.
“And the beer. Don’t forget the beer,” Fish says.
She smiles and turns to walk away. My eyes travel from her red Chucks up her toned legs and stop at her—yep, her ass—there it is peeking out of those fucking shorts.
“What the hell, man?” Fish looks at Jovie walking away and then back at me.
“What?”
“I mean, first, I can order for myself. And second, why were you in such a hurry to get rid of a hot chick?”
“I’m not. I mean, I wasn’t trying to get rid of her. I’m starving.” He raises a brow and looks down his nose at me. He doesn’t believe a word I just said. Colton Fisher, or Fish as most everyone knows him, is not only my coworker at Southern Stain, but he’s also a friend. He’s been around me long enough to know when I’m full of shit. And this is definitely a ‘full of shit’ moment.
“How many paintings do I need to bring to display for the showing?”
“Way to change the subject, but I’m not buying,” he says.
“I’m not changing the subject. We came here to talk about the gallery crawl, so that’s what I’m doing.”
“What’s up with the waitress? You fucked her, and now you’re shitting yourself because you have to face her. Am I right?”
He couldn’t be more wrong. I’m avoiding her because I don’t want to fuck her. I’m crazy as shit. I want to fuck her, but I can’t do it. Looking into those eyes while I was inside of her would break me…again.
“No, I didn’t fuck her. I met her at Stone’s party a couple of months ago. Then she came into the shop a week or so later, and Annie did her piercing. I don’t even know her. And you need to pull your head out of your ass and remember that Brandy would remove your balls if she knew you were looking at another chick.”
Brandy is Fish’s on again, off again girlfriend. They’ve been doing this relationship thing for about eight years. She keeps a tighter rein on him now because the last time they were off, he knocked up a one-night stand and now has a three-year-old daughter named Gemma.
“All I’m saying is she’s hot. And I’ve never seen you look the other way.”
“Well, take notice. This is me looking the other way. She’s not my type. Can we please change the subject now?” He knows me too well. But for now, I’m done. I refuse to discuss Jovie with him anymore.
“Sure, man. Whatever you want. I just don’t know why you’re being so damn sensitive about some chick.”
“I’m not. Subject change, remember?”
“Okay. What the fuck ever. About the gallery crawl…I want to display ten of your paintings. They need to be similar. All have the same theme. No fucked up bullshit—I only want what’s real. This showing will give you the jump start you need in the local art market or it will destroy you.”
“I know, and I appreciate you giving me this chance, man. It means a lot to me. I love the shop and my customers, but I need this. I need to show the world my paintings.”
Every year toward the middle of November, the downtown art district has a Gallery Crawl. Each of the six galleries come together for one night to display work by undiscovered artists in the Houston area.
Fish is lucky enough to be gallery number six. He inherited a warehouse on the edge of the art district three years ago. He transformed the upstairs into a two-bedroom apartment, complete with a studio. And the downstairs is a gallery displaying his art. This is the second year he’ll be part of the Gallery Crawl. And I’m pretty damn excited he chose to introduce my paintings into this exclusive world of artists and collectors.
“Here’s your beer, guys. Food will be out in a few minutes.” She smiles at me, then spins around, and walks away. I will not stare at her ass. I refuse. My eyes remain focused on Fish and the fucking smirk he’s wearing.
“Just fucking look,” he mumbles.
“Ten paintings. Sounds easy enough. I’ll come by the shop in a week or two, and we can look through what I have.” No, I didn’t look. I remain focused on the task in front of me. Turning up the chilled mug of beer, I take a much-deserved drink.
“Since you’re refusing to discuss our waitress, tell me about your latest fuck buddy or hook up. You know whatever you kids are calling it these days. I’ve been out of the scene for so long, I feel like an old man at twenty-seven.”
“You have Brandy and Gemma. You have a family, so a hook up is the last thing you need to hear about.”
“Wait a minute, man. I’m not married to Brandy—I don’t even live with her. She has her own place across town. I love my daughter, but I don’t even know her mother, remember? Met her at that concert you forced me to go to, and then got so drunk, I fucked her in a bathroom stall. Ring any bells. I still blame you, asshole.”
“Very funny. You control your own dick. I told you to stay away from her. Said she looked like trouble. And I was right. Of course, I love Gemma, but damn, the hell that woman put you through when she was pregnant. And then Brandy. You just need to keep it in your pants, bro.”
“Hey there! Here are your burgers and fries. Do you need any refills?”
“No, we’re good for now, Naomi. Thanks,” I look from Fish to our waitress. It’s Naomi, one of Stone’s regulars. What the hell?
“Where’s our waitress?” Damn, I know that sounde
d rude, but I need to know. For my own selfish reasons.
“Jovie?” I nod and keep my focus on Naomi and not Fish’s laughter.
“She wasn’t feeling well, so I told her to go home. We’re not that busy. And she looked like she was going to puke.”
Shit. I hope she’s not having another one of those episodes because I don’t think she would be in any shape to drive. Maybe I need to go out front and see if she’s still here. Then I could maybe drive her home. No. What am I thinking? Drive her? What a fucking joke. I don’t drive anyone but myself.
“Do you think she was okay to drive?”
“Her roommate, Layla, picked her up.”
“Do you know her, Jack? I mean outside of here?” Naomi asks.
“Yeah, I was kind of wondering the same thing,” Fish says as he throws his head back in laughter.
“No, I mean, I met her at Stone’s party a few weeks ago. She said she was there with some friends. Then she came in the shop, but Annie took care of her. So again, no, I don’t know her.”
“She was at Stone’s party with Aubree and me that night. She didn’t mention meeting anyone. But she only stayed about thirty minutes. Now that you mention it, she wasn’t feeling well that night either. Umm… I hope whatever she has, isn’t contagious.” Naomi shrugs and walks away.
“Not a fucking word.” I glare across the table at my friend.
“Look, man—I understand your reasons, but it’s been a long time. At some point, you have to let the past stay in the past. What happened that night was fucked up, but it wasn’t your fault. Let it go and just live.”
“Am I breathing? Am I walking and talking? Yes, yes, and yes. So I am fucking alive. I don’t need you or anybody else to tell me about my past or remind me how messed up I am. This is my life, and I choose how I live it. And if you or Annie or whoever the hell else doesn’t like it, then you all can go fuck yourselves. I’m done with this conversation and this meeting.” I stand—stepping away from the table, and I feel Naomi’s eyes on me. I glance over at her, and she quickly looks away. Turning toward the door, I walk away, never looking back at my friend.
Chapter 9
Jovie
“At what age did your panic attacks begin?” I try not to roll my eyes at Dr. Jane D. Birch PhD., Clinical Psychologist. I really wanted to see a counselor, not a psychologist. But according to my mom, Dr. Birch is the only ‘crazy doctor’ on our insurance in the Houston area. If I want to see a counselor, I have to fork out the hundred dollars an hour myself. And that’s not happening. I’m here visiting with the kind doctor because of the last anxiety attack I had two days ago. It was so severe I had to leave work. Not to mention Jack was there, and I didn’t want him to see me in that panicked state again.
“Around twelve, I think. They started just a couple of months after my family moved to Georgia.” I hate being here. The fact that I have no control over my own emotions sucks. No fucking control. It’s ridiculous to think after doing so well all those years and now, boom, I’m back to square one.
“Where were you living before you moved to Georgia?”
“Here.” I glance around the room taking in all the drab gray walls and dark furniture. It’s really conducive to making someone feel better about his or her shitty life. Good thing I’m not depressed.
“Here, as in Houston?”
“Yes, Houston.”
“Why did your family move to—?”
“Brownsboro, Georgia,” I answer while she shuffles through her papers looking for the ending to her question. This is the worst part of letting someone in. I have to tell my story. The story I dislike more than any panic attack. The story that was never mentioned when I was growing up. The reason my life is a mess at this very moment. But I chose to come here. I’m asking for help so that I can move on with my life. Go to school and work like a typical nineteen-year-old. And not live in fear of when will be the next time I’m huddled against the wall talking myself out of a panic attack.
“That’s right. Brownsboro, Georgia. Now, why did your family move from Houston to Brownsboro?”
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. Tears pool in my eyes, but I’m able to keep them from falling. At least for now. It’s been so long since I’ve talked about this. About her. I close my eyes and squeeze them tight as a tear rolls down my right cheek. I have to do this. I need to be better.
“We moved because of my sister.”
“Your sister?” Dr. Birch raises her eyebrows and adjusts her square framed glasses on her small pug nose.
“Yes. My sister died when I was twelve, so my parents thought it was a good idea to move me twelve hours from the only home I’d ever known.”
“Tell me more about your sister’s death.” Of course, she wants more information about the one thing that’s going to break me. Tears fall freely now as I picture her lying on that deathbed at the funeral home. She was beautiful. It’s times like now that I wish she hadn’t been taken from me. She would have known how to fix me. How to make the anxiety go away. She would lie in the bed with me at night and tell me stories about how exciting college life was. She had tons of friends and always had at least ten guys vying for her attention.
“She was so young. Only nineteen. She left to go out one night and never came home. The next time I saw her, she was dead. I don’t know what else to say.” My breathing is heavy and there’s not a chance in hell that the tears will stop anytime soon. Dr. Birch hands me a box of tissues, and I quickly grab one and cover my face.
“I know this is difficult for you, Jovie, but your mind and emotions are in overload. You are having these panic attacks because, even though you don’t realize it, you’re experiencing the loss of your older sister…again. You’re nineteen and living in the same city that she had lived in. And I bet she attended the University of Houston, too.”
“Yeah, she did, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“Why did you choose to come back to Houston, Jovie? Why not somewhere else? There are colleges everywhere. Why here?”
“Because this is my home. This is where I lived the first twelve years of my life. I just wanted to come home.”
“I don’t believe you. This is not your home. Brownsboro, Georgia is your home. You are here because you are looking for something, and I believe it has to do with your sister.”
Okay. Now she is really pissing me off. I’m not paying her to be a bitch. I’m paying her to help me get better, not to make me want to punch her in the face. Because that’s what I’m feeling right now. She is so far from wrong in her assumption. I grab another tissue and blow my nose because tears streaming down my face are one thing, but snot pouring out of my nose is something entirely different.
“You are wrong, Dr. Birch. I’m here for me. I have chosen my path in life, and it begins here—in Houston.”
“You are here for closure. You have never really recovered from the death of your sister. And I bet your parents sheltered you, controlled your every move, and never let you talk about her. Am I correct?”
Ugh. This bitch is getting under my skin. I may just chance it with the anxiety and panic because the only thing she is going to accomplish is adding anger to my already existing emotional disarray.
“Yes, my parents sheltered me. And no one was allowed to talk about her. But the closure bullshit. I’m not buying it. I loved my sister with all of my heart. I do believe the combination of her death and my parents uprooting my life is the reason for my panic and anxiety at age twelve. But not now.”
“I understand today’s meeting may have been a little overwhelming for our initial visit, but I truly believe your anxiety will get better. And I am here to help you. Think about the things we discussed today, and we’ll pick up where we left off next week. If you need me before then, don’t hesitate to call.”
I want to tell her that calling is the last thing I’ll do. I really don’t want to make this a weekly habit after today’s meeting. But I promised myself I would do th
is for at least a couple of months. It beats seeing a psychiatrist and being medicated.
“Okay. See you next week.” I stand and move toward the door.
“Jovie.” Stopping, I turn and look over my shoulder at Dr. Birch.
“Yeah?”
“You’re going to be fine. I promise. Just don’t give up.”
“I know. And I won’t. I’m not a quitter.” I walk out of her office and into the hallway. Finally, I’m able to breathe. This has to work. I have to get better. I refuse to let anxiety control my life.
Chapter 10
Jovie
I stand outside Jake’s Bar waiting on Layla. I hope she arrives soon because, to be honest, this place is pretty creepy after dark. Coming here tonight is her idea. She’s dating the guitar player in the band, Nocturnal Revolution, and they play here twice a month. Naomi’s going to stop by a little later, and truthfully, a night out with the girls is what I need. I’ve been super busy with midterms, work, and my secret meetings with Dr. Birch, so I haven’t had time to hang out with my friends and relax.
The wind picks up, and pellets of rain strike my face. I step under the awning in front of the bar to keep dry. I need to go inside before the wind and rain make a mess of my hair. I spent over an hour straightening this unruly chaos on my head, and just five minutes of this weather will have it frizzy and out of control. Hurry up, Layla.
The sound of footsteps followed by a loud thud and then laughter in the alley between Southern Stain and Jake’s pulls me away from my thoughts. It’s probably not safe to take a peek, not in this neighborhood, but my curiosity has gotten the best of me. Ignoring the wind and rain, I step down off the sidewalk and stretch my neck around the side of the building to get a look at who’s causing the commotion. The lights in the parking lot give off just enough of a glow that I can see Jack standing on the bottom step that leads to a side entrance to the bar. He’s holding onto a girl who is standing a step above and is trying playfully, to push him away.
“I have to go. We’re on in ten minutes,” she says. He laughs and releases her but continues to watch her move toward the door.