Craving Midnight

by A. M. Hargrove

  “What else?” I hold her hand, stroking it with my thumb. I want to hold her for what that monster did to her. And then I want to march inside and cut off his dick. I also need to get in touch with Gino so he can call his NYPD contact. Our friend Trent lied to us and didn’t tell us the whole truth when they took Midnight from the club. It was planned and stemmed from her foster father. But that can wait.

  “When I was seventeen, I ran away from him. You already know that part, I believe. The main reason I did it was because I found out I was pregnant. If he ever figured that out, he would’ve killed me. He would’ve known the baby was his and that would’ve ended badly for me and the baby.”

  “What happened? Did you give the baby up? Or have an abortion?”

  “Oh God, no. I had the baby. But he died when he was only seven months old.” Then she breaks down and cries, clinging to me like a baby herself. Jesus, what do I say to that?

  My arms pull her into my lap as I do my best to ease her broken heart.

  “How old were you?”

  “I’d just turned nineteen”—she sniffs between sobs— “when baby Jack died.”

  “So young. And you were alone?”

  Her head bobs up and down. I run my hand down the length of her hair, onto her back, rubbing circles on it, remembering how my mom used to do the same for me.

  “I’m so sorry that you had to go through all that by yourself.” Her fingers dig into my arms. I wish I could take that pain away, but there’s nothing more I can do than just be here for her.

  “He sent pictures of baby Jack’s tombstone. I never thought he knew about him. When I got here, he laughed about it. That’s when I shot him.”

  “It’s a good thing you’re a bad shot. I’ve already called Misha. He’ll be arrested for child molestation, abuse, and sexual assault. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

  She leans back. “But I shot him, Harrison.”

  “Where did you get the gun?”

  “It was his. When I got here he left the thing sitting on the counter.”

  “Well, you shot him in self-defense. Leland has probably called the police by now. Not to mention he tried to blackmail you. I’ll be with you every step of the way. If I could, I’d kill the man and bury him myself, but would you want that on your conscience?”

  Her head pivots from side to side. “I used to imagine ways I wanted to see him die. But I don’t want to be a part of that.”

  “This way, you’ll be charged, released, and when we go to court, you’ll be free of all this. That man tortured you for years, Midnight.”

  I wrap her in my arms again and say, “I figured something out I want to tell you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m an idiot.”

  “You are?”

  “Yeah. Because you are the most important thing to me, and I let my stupid male pride get in the way.”

  “Oh, that.”

  “Yeah, that. So, you ready to go inside and get this shit over with?”

  “Yeah.”

  We get out of the car and walk toward the house. When we walk through the door, I break out in roaring laughter. I don’t even know what the guy’s name is but he’s lying on the floor, ass face up, with duct tape over his mouth and around his wrists and ankles. The funny part is she shot him in the ass. It reminds me of the story Weston told when his wife Special shot him in the ass.

  “Jesus, you really are a bad shot.”

  “I know.”

  Leland is sitting in a kitchen chair, drinking a beer.

  I take in the surroundings and there’s one thing that puzzles me. “Midnight, how did you subdue him? I’m sure he was a little feistier than this.”

  “Oh, I hit him in the head. When I got here, he thought I’d have the cash, which I didn’t. We started arguing and that’s when I shot him with his own gun he’d left on the counter. He told me about how he came to LA and fired those shots at my place. His stupid mouth pissed me off so bad when he started in about baby Jack, I couldn’t help it. Then after he grabbed his butt, he was whining worse than a baby. It was more than any woman could take. So, you see that frying pan right there?” She points to one sitting close to Leland.

  “Yeah.”

  “I grabbed it and hit him on the side of his head. He went down like a stone.”

  Leland and I laugh. What’s-his-name tries to say something, but with that duct tape over his mouth, we have no idea what it is.

  “Hey, Leland, how about taking that tape off? Let’s see what crybaby has to say.”

  Leland strips off the tape and the guy immediately starts threatening Midnight.

  I bend over so he can see me and say, “I want you to take note of this. If you don’t shut your mouth, I’m going to kick your face in. Do you understand me?”

  That’s pretty effective because he shuts up fast.

  “You’re going to be spending a long time behind bars. You do know it’s illegal to molest and abuse your own foster child, don’t you? I thought so. So, it would be in your best interest to keep your mouth shut.”

  Then, Midnight pipes in. “By the way, I recorded everything that was said tonight.” She pulls her phone out of her pocket and hands it to me.

  “Nice work, ace. You need a job?”

  “I don’t think so, but if I do, I know who to call.”

  Before the police show up, I mention to Midnight the deal with Trent. “Should we bring his name up to the police? Your foster father was the one who set that whole wheel in motion, after all.”

  “Isn’t it too late for that?”

  “No. Two years haven’t passed. We can still get those guys.”

  “Then let’s tell all.”

  The police show up, along with an ambulance, and everybody gives their statement. The paramedics want to take Midnight to the hospital, but she refuses. They examine her though, just to be on the safe side.

  We go to the police station, and they decide, after a long night and listening to the audio, along with the videos and letter she provides, that no charges will be filed against Midnight at this time. She acted in self-defense when she shot that asshole. They will be in contact with NYPD regarding her rapists in New York. That ring is about to go public.

  Her foster father, on the other hand, is charged with everything he deserves. After he’s released from the hospital, he’ll be held in custody until his arraignment. I hope he can afford a good lawyer, because he’s going to need one.

  The next morning, when the sun is just rising, Midnight and I take a drive. She directs me to a place she wants me to see. I make a stop along the way at a convenience store. When I come out, I have a bag that I won’t let her open, and two large cups of coffee.

  “Thanks. Why can’t I open the bag?”

  “Because. That’s why.”

  “You’re mean.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  She scoots over so she can lean against my shoulder. “I know.”

  I pull the car back onto the empty street and ten minutes later, we pull into the open gates of the cemetery. She tells me which way to go and when to stop.

  “You ready?” I ask.

  A long gust of air leaves her. “I guess.”

  I pull her hand to my lips and press my own to it. “I’ll be right by your side.”

  The visit was her idea, but it’s not going to be easy for her. She made a brief stop here when she arrived but didn’t get out of her car, so in a sense, she hasn’t been here since she left Phoenix all those years ago.

  I open her door and help her out. Her hand grasps mine as she leads me toward the final resting place of the son who was stolen from her far too early in life.

  Once there, it plows into me as I read his name. Baby Jack Summers. Tiny angels with wings surround it. No dates. Only his name. Last night, when we finally got to our hotel, she told me all the details about her son.

  She falls to her knees as her fingers trace each of the letters, and then the tiny wing
s.

  “Oh, Jack. If only things had been different. If only I had been stronger ... older ... wiser. Maybe you could’ve made it.”

  That isn’t true, from everything I’ve read about pulmonary atresia. Nothing but a new heart could’ve saved baby Jack.

  I put my arms on her and say, “Hey, it wasn’t your fault. You did everything you could.”

  “No. I could’ve taken better care of him.”

  Pulling her back so I can hold her, I say, “No, that’s not true. I’ve done my own research. And it wasn’t anything you did. He needed a new heart. One that wasn’t damaged. One that never came. It wasn’t your fault. You need to let that go.”

  “I’ll never be able to do that. He was my baby.”

  “Look at me.”

  Eyes so pained they practically slash through my own heart stare at me from beneath wet lashes. “You saw that he had everything he needed at the time, right?”

  She nods.

  “You made sure he had all his medicine and you gave it to him when you were supposed to, right?”

  She nods again.

  “He was fed and given a home. You kept him safe and loved him with everything you had. You were a great mother, Midnight. The best. Most people could never have accomplished what you did, given your circumstances. If Jack were here, as an adult, he would tell you the same. You sacrificed so much so he could survive. Don’t take that away from yourself, or him.”

  “I should’ve gone to the doctor earlier. Maybe ...”

  “They wouldn’t have known. No one knows what causes it.”

  “Oh, Harrison, when he took that last breath as I held him, I wanted to die right along with him. I was alone without anyone to lean on and I didn’t know what to do. But I tried … everything I could,” she says, stopping to look at the tombstone. “The choices I made—I answered an ad. I just needed the money so I could find my son a new heart, one that never came.” She can’t continue because her body is wracked with sobs, sobs that break my own heart as well as hers.

  Her words crush me. To think she bore the weight of this for all these years fucking staggers me, not to mention she was only nineteen when he died. I think back to what I was doing then and I can’t come close to imagining how she handled it all. And there I was, getting shitty about her doing porn when all she was worried about was her baby surviving.

  I lift up her face. “You won’t ever have to shoulder anything alone again, do you understand me? I’ll be with you every step, by your side. Through good times and bad.”

  Reaching for the bag, I pull out the little stuffed bear I bought. I set it next to baby Jack’s headstone. She smiles when she sees it.

  “He loved to squeeze soft things and rub the satin edge of his blanket.” A sad smile appears on her face. Then I pull out a bag of gummy bears and give them to Midnight. Her sad smile turns a bit happier when she sees them.

  “Aww, thanks.”

  My last item is a yellow rose. I place that next to her mom’s headstone.

  “How’d you know she liked yellow roses?”

  “I didn’t. It was all they had in the store.”

  “How weird. Mom always said yellow roses meant joy and friendship and lavender ones meant love at first sight. She always said when she saw my eyes for the first time, she knew it to be true for sure because it was love at first sight for her.”

  “I’d have to agree.” I hadn’t meant to tell her this way, in a cemetery of all places. But the words spill from my mouth like water over a dam.

  “What did you say?”

  My arms circle her waist, and I draw her against me. “I’d say your mom was correct. The first time I looked into your stunning eyes, I was lost. I never found myself again. I’m in love with you, Midnight, Velvet, whatever you want me to call you. You’re my person, the one who sets me free, sets me on fire, makes me want to do crazy things with, but most importantly, spend the rest of my life with.”

  She throws her arms around my neck and kisses me. Not a long, passionate kiss, but a short, happy one. Then she steps back and takes my hand as we walk back to the car.

  Chapter 32

  Midnight

  When Harrison and I returned to LA, the news broke about FD and once again, I was in the melee. But this time Alta came to my rescue, my shining knight, to save the day. Their publicity team handled everything, and with Harrison’s company in place, I came out again looking like a bigger star. Only no one will ever truly understand what it was like for me.

  “How’re you holding out?” Harrison asks one morning as he pulls me on top of him.

  “I’m good. Or as good as I can be. It’s still crazy. I never wanted anyone to know about this and now the whole world knows everything. Everyone is still begging for the real story. Interviews, a book deal—they’ll probably want to make a Lifetime movie too.”

  “Sad as it is, people love sob stories. They say they want to empathize, but I think they just want the dirt.”

  I lift up and say, “Exactly. That’s what makes me crazy.”

  “On another note, be prepared for tomorrow night.” He’s talking about the postproduction event that’s being held.

  “Oh, I know. My publicist says she’s already got the lineup for me. I’ll have tons of mics thrust into my face.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “She’s supposed to be sending over all the requests for interviews today. Oh, and I hope you’re ready. You may have to knock a few people out of the way.” I use my pointer finger to dig into his chest. He grabs and kisses it.

  Then he takes a chunk of my hair and tugs a little. “Why would I do that? You’re a star, baby.”

  I plant a light kiss on his mouth. “You never know what someone will do.” Then I click my fingers. “Did I tell you who Helen is going with?”

  His brow furrows. “No, do I know him?”

  I break out into a series of lighthearted giggles. He’s going to die when I break this news to him. “Oh, you know him all right.”

  “Well, don’t keep me in suspense. Who is it?”

  “Holt Ward.”

  “The fuck it isn’t!”

  “Oh, the fuck it is.”

  He sits up so fast I roll off him like a marble. “You better get back in this bed if you know what’s good for you, Mr. Kirkland.”

  He’s out and pacing. Holt Ward is a dirty name around this house, which is why I’ve refrained from telling him that after we finished filming, the movie crew had a little get-together. Harrison wasn’t around that day so Helen came with me. After that awful incident, Holt profusely apologized to me, over and over, for making such a fool of himself. He said he never intended to hurt me, and the kiss wasn’t supposed to happen like that. He just got carried away. He went to therapy and isn’t drinking anymore. Helen met Holt that night and they hit it off.

  The truth is Helen saw something broken in him and is now on the path to fixing him. It’s still hilarious to me, considering she knew about all the crazy shit he did to me. She gave him a hard time about it too. Their relationship isn’t exactly smooth sailing, but it’s not my business. They make the cutest couple and one thing is true—she takes zero shit from him.

  “I cannot believe Helen would stoop so low.”

  “Hang on there, slick. You don’t know what goes on between them and it’s not any of your business.”

  He aims a pointed glare at me.

  “Don’t give me one of those looks either. I am not one of your employees.”

  His eyes immediately soften and he walks toward me. Then two strong arms reach for and pull me against his wall of a chest. “I only look at you one way, and that’s with love. I adore you, Midnight Drake, and don’t forget it. But back to Helen, I thought she ... that is, Misha told me she was on the other team.”

  “I think she plays for both sides these days. But I’d like to suggest that you get back in here and give me something to remind me that you adore me.”

  His lids drop and the corner of
his mouth turns up. “Oh? And what type of reminder do you need?”

  I get on my knees, and say, “I hope you don’t have to ask. But if you come a little closer, I’ll give you a hint.”

  He steps next to the bed and my hand slides over his cock, which hangs heavily between his muscular thighs. I take it in my hand and drop down so my tongue can tease him a little.

  One thing I’ve learned about Harrison is he loves my hair. His hands furrow into it as he grabs it and pulls me close.

  “I want more than you teasing me. Suck me, Midnight. The way you know I love.”

  I lift my gaze and see his mouth open a little as he bends his neck back. I engulf his cock with my mouth, taking him deep into my throat, as my hand finds his balls and massages them. A husky groan escapes him and that’s all the encouragement I need. Speeding up my motion, I tongue and suck, until he’s close. He’ll let me know when to stop, and he does.

  A large hand lands on my chest and pushes me backward until I hit the bed with a whoosh. My legs are spread and his mouth hits my pussy, with no time wasted. At this point, I’m filled with lust for him and all I can think of is his cock sliding in and out of me. But his tongue takes that away and I want to melt on him. Every nerve ending comes to life as his expert tongue fucks me to insanity. How many ways can a man lick a pussy? It’s a question I can’t answer but Harrison certainly can.

  “Pussy a la Midnight. Should be an entrée.”

  “I’m sure that would go over well.”

  “I’d order it.”

  “Let me tell you what would be better. Kock a la Kirkland, with cock spelled with a K.”

  “Think we should open a restaurant?”

  “No, but I do think you should fuck me.”

  I get a wicked grin for that comment but I also get what I requested. Harrison isn’t stingy with his cock. He usually likes it from the back—doggy-style or reverse cowgirl. But not today. He slides in from the front, which I’m in the mood for, because I love to watch. He presses down on my pelvis, dropping a thumb to my clit, and commences to slide in and out, stretching me to the fullest. At first, he takes his time with long, lazy strokes. But when I buck against his hips with mine, he chuckles and gets my obvious hint.