by S. M. West
“To see my sister.”
We’re now outside the garage, and her entire crew looks on like a bunch of old biddies watching their soap opera.
“Can I come with you?”
I stop and turn to face her. She’s timid, almost unsure, but of what? Asking me to come or of my answer? I could tell her no, but I want to spend time with her, and strangely enough, I feel ready to tell her about Léa.
“Sure. I’m going to visit Léa.”
She wipes her hands with a greasy rag. “Let me wash up real quick; I won’t be long.”
“Sure.”
True to her word, she’s quick and returns in jeans and a gray knit sweater. Caro’s reply to my text pops up as we get in the car.
Me: On my way to see Léa. Want to come with?
Caro: I’m at work. Tell her I love her. Xo. And you too!
She buckles her seatbelt. “What does Léa do? Is she older or younger than you? Married? Kids?”
If only it were that simple. If only I could share stories of Léa’s full and happy life. The reality is darker. The drive to the facility where Léa lives isn’t far, but it’s long enough to tell her.
“There’s something you should know about Léa.”
“Oh.” She shifts to look at me, her back against the door.
A week ago, she was trying to jump out of a moving car because I was in it, and now, she’s here of her own free will. “Tell me about her.”
“Caro is a doctor.” I don’t know why I start here. “And Léa’s…” I glance at her; her invested gaze burns.
“She’s what?”
My gut clenches.
“Remember I told you Léa got a full-time job at eighteen? She dropped out of school to support our family?”
My hands tighten around the steering wheel as if wanting to snap it in two. She nods encouragingly.
“She told us she worked in a factory. The night shift. Then I saw Léa’s bruises.”
“What?” Her eyes widen, as puzzled as I was when I saw the marks on my sister’s arm, or the bluish welt the size of a cantaloupe on her stomach. I’d seen it by accident, but it sent me into a rage.
“Yeah, she dismissed them as injuries on the job. No big deal, but I didn’t like it. Then she came home with a black eye and told me some bullshit about it wasn’t my business. She was the adult.” I catch myself curling my lip in disgust at the memory.
“I tried following her to work, determined to find out what the hell was going on, but she caught me every time. Reamed me out and ordered me home. I was so…”
Maggie doesn’t say a word, giving me the time and space to unpack the memories. The sharp stab of regret still lingers in my chest and I still taste my anger.
“I gave up following her, or at least that’s what I wanted her to believe. But I started to pay attention, really pay attention. She’d changed. Gone was the vibrant beauty with an endless smile and happy outlook. She’d lost weight, had dark circles under her eyes, and wore this blank expression.”
Bitter hopelessness eats at me.
“Once enough time had passed and she’d stopped looking over her shoulder, I followed her again. She was hooking.”
I turn away from Maggie’s sage expression, hating how raw I am. How my failure to save my sister still festers, rancid and consuming within me.
Maggie doesn’t give me empty platitudes or even try to fix it. Instead, she gives me what I need.
Her small, warm hand rests on mine, curled around the wheel. I swallow thickly, blinking back the sting in my eyes. Fuck. What she doesn’t say in words, she says with her touch. She’s here for me.
“She did what she thought she had to.” I stare at the lonely road ahead.
Maggie’s not judging Léa, but I feel the need to justify why she sold herself. “She did it for us. For Caro and me. And for as long as I live, I’ll never be able to repay her.”
I tighten my grip on the wheel. “We fought about her stopping. I eventually dropped out of school, wanting to prove I could bring in the money we needed. That’s how I got messed up in this shit.”
My chest constricts, breathing difficult. I need to finish this trip down memory lane, quickly. As if I’ve swallowed broken glass, each word tears at my insides, ripping at the flesh of my throat.
“She didn’t stop. She wanted me in school. She was doing for us what our mother never would.”
“Nick… I—” Silent tears course down her flawless face.
I can’t bear to look at her and see her empathy or sympathy when she still doesn’t know the half of it.
“This went on for years. We kept our jobs—what we did—from Caro. And when she said that she wanted to be a doctor, we both made excuses to each other as to why we couldn’t stop what we were doing; we needed money more than ever. Then—”
“What?”
“When Léa turned twenty-three, she decided to quit, but she didn’t tell me. I don’t know if I finally got through to her or if she figured we had enough money saved for Caro’s school… she told her pimp she was done. And the fucker beat her within an inch of her life.”
Bile burns its way up my throat. My monsters stir, hungry to wreak havoc, and I push to keep them back, to finish this.
“She suffered severe and irreparable brain damage. She’s in a home and needs twenty-four hour care. She can’t talk, walk, or eat on her own.”
Now at the facility, the place my sister calls home, I flee the car as if it’s on fire. Bending over, my hands on my knees, I breathe in large gulps of fresh air, needing to clear my head and settle my wildly beating heart.
You’d think I’d be used to the past, to what happened, but time hasn’t lessened the pain.
“Nick.” Maggie’s touch on my arm steadies me like no amount of deep breathing can. “I don’t know what to say. I can’t even imagine.”
Her slender fingers glide over my cheek, soft silk against rough stubble. She presses her body into me, planting a sweet kiss on the corner of my mouth. My nostrils flare with the familiar hint of mint. Fresh and strong, undeniable, and sweet on the finish. That’s Maggie. I can almost taste her again. I want to taste her again.
“Are you okay to go in?”
“Yeah.” My voice is gruff. “Just give me a sec.”
Not wanting her to leave me, I grip the back of her neck, my fingers seeking her pulse point. The familiar, rhythmic thump is a balm to my own beating heart.
Once ready, we enter the building. Enid, the head nurse at the Rosewood Center, looks up from her clipboard with a warm smile.
“Mr. Prophet.” She blushes when I cock a brow at the formal hello. “Nick.”
She steps from behind the nurses’ station. Her gray-streaked brown bob sways and her mouth settles into her usually understated but cheerful grin, lighting her bird-like face. She’s a small woman in her late fifties with a contagious laugh and a healthy hand in running this place.
“Who is this pretty woman?” She smiles at Maggie with an outstretched hand.
“Enid, this is Maggie.” They shake.
“This here is one good boy.” The older woman pats my arm, winking at Maggie.
“That’s not been my experience,” Maggie teases.
“Yes, dear, I’m sure he’s naughty, but in a good way.” The women laugh.
“All right, ladies, let’s move on,” I say dryly.
Enid’s gaze slides back to me. “Léa’s not doing so well today. She’s slept for most of it.” She pats my arm reassuringly, and I nod, never knowing what to say.
To me, all days are bad for my sister. She may have the same body, but she looks nothing like my Léa.
Enid knows me well enough not to push for a response.
“Let’s go see her.”
The nurse leads the way even though she doesn’t need to. I’m very familiar with the place but appreciate the company.
She is a sweet woman and has been here since the day Léa was admitted.
We enter the private
room and find Léa where she usually is. Her small, frail body lies motionless, in the hospital bed, hooked up to machines. The bed swallows her.
“Léa, dear, look who’s here.”
Enid pushes a button and the bed slowly inclines. Léa’s sunken brown eyes are vacant.
“You’re the first visitor she’s had in a while. Caro wasn’t able to come last weekend either.” Enid doesn’t intend to impale me with her words, but she does.
Moving past the growing lump in my throat, I swallow with difficulty and the nurse pats the chair beside the bed, motioning me to sit.
“Hey, Léa.” Her limp hand is cool to the touch, her skin pale, almost translucent, like Japanese rice paper.
There’s nothing of my older sister here, and every time I visit, a piece of me dies.
“Caro wanted to be here but had to work. She loves you.”
“Just buzz if you need anything.” Enid pats Maggie’s shoulder and leaves.
“Sorry it’s been a while.” My finger traces along her hairline and her lashes flutter closed. It’s a reflex, nothing more.
The doctors say she knows I’m here, or at least, they think so, but I doubt it. She can’t communicate with us, so how the fuck do I know if she knows I’m here?
These visits are more for me than her. Let’s face it, this facility isn’t about rehabilitation. Some places offer rehab for patients with a chance, but Léa isn’t one of them. She’s taken care of and kept comfortable. If we couldn’t afford this level of care, chances are Léa wouldn’t be here today.
“I’ve got news for you. I’m done with the business. Finally getting out like you wanted me to.”
Maggie’s eyes widen at my statement. I thought I might be uncomfortable with her here, but it’s the opposite. I can’t explain it, but I want her to know me. To know everything about me. She’s seen me at my worst. My ugliest. I have nothing to hide.
“I’m thinking about leaving town. Starting somewhere new, you know, maybe the west coast, but…” My gaze is glued to Maggie.
I won’t leave Léa, but most of all, Maggie. “I can’t leave you.”
24
Tuesday 12:26 PM
Nick
My mood is somber when we leave. Maggie’s dark brows furrow, her face sliding into a pensive expression.
I hug Enid, whispering, “You’re my favorite.”
“Go on now, you’ve no shame,” she chides.
Heading back to the city, Maggie fidgets, working up the nerve to do or say something, and I wait her out.
“What happened to the pimp?” She glances at me nervously. “The guy who did that to Léa, did he get jail time?”
I bark out a cold, bitter laugh. The injustice of my sister’s assault haunts me all these years later.
“Nothing. I don’t know who he is, and the police were no help.”
I don’t bother mentioning the thousands of dollars I threw at Paddy to keep digging, to never let up. Sometimes, I got the feeling he knew but didn’t want to get mixed up in it.
“What? Oh my God. How does someone get away with that?”
“I tried to find out, but no one would talk. I even got the shit kicked out of me a few times for falsely accusing the wrong guy. The thing is, this city’s full of pimps. I could spend my whole life looking.”
I sigh, not letting on that I still occasionally resurrect the search for the motherfucker.
“Léa deliberately kept her job and the details a secret. She wanted it that way and did a fucking good job of not telling me anything.”
“Nick… I’m so angry about what happened and then seeing Léa. How could someone do that to another person?” she cries. “I can’t imagine how you feel.”
“Yeah.” It’s all I have. Some days, I’m not sure even I know how I feel. Needing a change of subject, I ask, “Where to?”
“Do you have somewhere to be?”
“Nah.” I swallow a yawn. “Home to crash. I’ve been up all night.”
“Can I come? You sleep, and I’ll make us something to eat.”
“You don’t want to go to my place. It’s a dump. I rent by the day.”
“Show me.”
“Fine.” I shake my head, and we drive in silence.
Giddiness circles low in my belly. She wants to come with me, to my place, even if it’s a hole.
“I know we said our goodbyes and we have very different lives…” She trails off, glancing my way, and our eyes lock.
“And?” I prompt.
“Nick,” she starts with what I fear is sympathy, or worse, and I pull off onto the side of the road. “What are you—”
I won’t have her pity. I need her. I unbuckle her belt, hauling her into my lap. She’s tall but light and comes with ease. I kiss her and she readily opens, diving in to suck hungrily on my tongue.
Her fingers thread my hair, and my pulse quickens when she squirms and rubs on my thickening, throbbing cock.
One hand grabs the back of her head, my fingers bunching in her hair, and forgetting we’re on the highway, my other hand slips under her jacket and sweater to her warm, silky flesh.
She shivers and moans. My fingers roam her torso, reaching the warm, soft underside of her breast, fanning her ribcage, the weight of her breast against the tips of my fingers.
“Nick,” she moans, and my fingers delve into her bra, finding her nipple tight and hard.
I capture her lips in another searing kiss, and she rubs against me shamelessly. If she keeps this up, I’m going to come in my pants, something I haven’t done since eighth grade.
With each slide against me, she gets closer and closer, her gaze lust-filled and pulse thundering. She tips her head back and tenses. My name spills from her mouth, and I swallow her release.
Collapsing into me, she nuzzles into my neck, her hot, panting breath gliding over me. “God, that was so good,” she giggles.
“You’re so fucking sexy when you come.”
Pulling back, she stares at me, cheeks flush and lips swollen from my kisses. “I can’t believe we just did that.”
Our surroundings come back to me, and I flinch at taking her like that on the side of the road.
“Fuck, I’m sorry.”
“No.” She grabs my arm. “I wanted it. You.”
Once at my place, a studio apartment with a bed, bath, sofa, and kitchenette that have all seen better days, I shower—a cold one—while she makes sandwiches with the little that I have, and we eat.
“How are things with Chin?” She carries our empty plates to the sink.
“Fine. Exhausting. Two more weeks.”
“And Drago’s no longer bothering you?”
“No. But he wants your brother.”
“I know.”
“He hasn’t come near you, has he?”
“No. But I figured he’d still want John.”
The tension eases from my shoulders and I yawn. “I gotta crash or else I’m going to keel over. You can stick around if you want, or I can take you back to the garage.”
“I could use a nap.” Her voice is low and seductive, and I’m not sure what to do with this Maggie, but I can’t deny I love it.
My tie drops to the floor along with the suit jacket, shirt, and pants. She watches my every move, and when I pull back the sheet, she moves to me.
With each step, feline and beguiling, she removes a piece of clothing. What the fuck? She’s killing me.
Her gray sweater flies over her head, revealing creamy mounds spilling from her lacy, almost sheer bra. Perfect rosy peaks beg for me to touch and taste.
Her jeans slide down her long, lean legs to expose matching panties. Now in front of me, she flattens her hands on my flexing abdomen, her nails grazing my flesh, and my cock twitches.
She’s a seductress, pinning me with her gaze while her fingers dip into the band of my boxers and pull them off. I fist my hard, pulsing cock and she stares, enraptured.
“Let me.” She wraps her fingers around my base, sliding
to the tip where her thumb swirls the bead of cum leaking from my crown.
I groan at how fucking good it feels and tilt my head back, eyes closed. Perching on the edge of the bed, she draws me closer to her hot, pink tongue and licks me from base to tip while fondling my balls.
I jerk in her hands and my stomach muscles clench. My hand grips her throat and the other threads her hair.
With my dick inside her hot, wet mouth, her lips suck, teeth teasing along my sensitive flesh and my balls tighten. If she keeps this up, it’ll be over too quickly.
“Jesus Christ, Maggie.” My voice is a deep rasp of desire.
My cock slides from her wet, hot lips with a pop as I step back, needing inside her.
Through the dark fan of her eyelashes, her gaze is lustful, and her mouth is swollen, glistening, and burning red from having just had my cock.
“Come here.”
I help her onto the mattress, on her knees, her chest to mine, and with my hand cupping the back of her head, I kiss her with abandon.
Greedy and barely hanging on, I consume her mouth. We kiss and kiss and kiss. I could stay like that forever, even with my aching balls and my weeping cock begging for release.
Motioning for her to lie on the bed, I flick the front clasp of her bra and her gorgeous breasts spring free, the lacy material falling away.
Next is her underwear. I nearly tear the fabric from her body in my haste to have her naked. She lies before me, my gaze consuming every inch of her glorious body. My hands itch to worship her.
Without deliberation, one hand grips the front of her neck, my fingertips caressing her soft skin. She swallows, and I feel every shift and twitch of her muscles and tendons, lean and taut beneath my heated palm.
My other hand glides up the inside of her leg, and she whimpers as my fingers trail over the sensitive spot on the inside of her knee, up her inner thigh to her wet core.
My fingers swipe through her arousal, and her eyes roll back and she arches her neck, closing her eyes on a trembling moan.
Fuck, she’s beyond beautiful. Open, willing, and mine. With each stroke from her entrance to her clit, she fully surrenders. She latches onto my wrist at her throat and her nails sink into my flesh, while her other hand grips the bedsheets.