by Sybil Bartel
She was so cheerful I wanted to put my fist through something. Instead, I sat and tried not to show a single emotion on my face. She put coffee in front of me. How the fuck was I supposed to react to this domestic bullshit? Women only did this when they wanted something and Carly didn’t want sex.
She finished cooking two omelets at once, plated them and set them on the table.
I waited till she sat down. “What are you doing?” My voice mean and controlled, I meant it exactly as it sounded, spiteful.
“Making breakfast,” she replied, undaunted. “Eat, before it gets cold.”
I didn’t get the reaction I wanted, so I drove it home. “Carly. This isn’t going anywhere.” I bit her name off and followed suit with the rest of the words.
Forking a mouthful of food, she didn’t look up. “What’s not going where?”
Sexually frustrated, and because I’d never dealt with anyone like her, I lost it. I slammed my fist on the table. “Goddamn it!” She jumped a foot in her chair. “What the fuck are you doing?”
I regretted every fucking word, for so many reasons, the second they left my mouth. I’d never lost it on a chick. Not like this. I’d promised myself I never would. It was un-cool, so un-cool.
All the emotions you’d expect crossed her face—fear, confusion, hurt. The worst was the hurt. I knew what it was like to have someone yell at you and not understand why. My fucking douchebag mother spent twelve years doing that shit to me. Carly didn’t deserve this. Goddamn it.
And then her sweet raspy voice spoke. “Quit fucking swearing at me. Stop your fucking yelling and eat your goddamn eggs. And don’t be such a fucking asshole, Allen.”
I couldn’t help it, I smiled. Rubbing a hand over my face, I picked up my fork and ate the fucking omelet. It was delicious.
Chapter Thirteen
Betrayal
The text came in two nights later.
Myles: Doing a pickup gig at Sulfer. Taking Sam. Come meet us?
Sulfer was a classy place thirty miles north in Gainesville. The venue was mostly jazz and blues. I don’t know how they made it in a college town but they did. They were always packed. Two days of avoiding the bar and trying not to think about Carly, I was in. Besides, it was a nice night for a bike ride. I could open the Ducati up on the highway.
Me: I’m in. Time?
Myles: 9, c u there
I showered and dressed. Dark jeans, boots, black button-down, I grabbed my leather and hit the road. Riding the bike was cathartic but I had to slow way down through Payne’s Prairie. A section of I-75 went right through the state park. It was a low-lying area and tonight it was thick with fog. I got to Sulfer fifteen minutes late and found Myles and Sam already at a table in the front corner.
I leaned down and kissed Sam’s cheek then shook Myles’s hand. I dropped into the chair across from Sam and inclined my head at Myles. “Who you playing with tonight?”
“Veritas.” He named a local jazz group. “Where you been?”
“Around.” I hadn’t been back to the studio. I hadn’t been anywhere except the shop. The morning after Carly had spent the night, Myles told me he needed to tweak some equipment at the studio so I hadn’t bothered showing up for practice.
“You heard anything more?” Myles looked at me and I swore he looked like he knew something.
“About?” I wasn’t an idiot, I knew what he was asking. I’d been avoiding the bar and the club. Two different women, one reason: they were both bad for my attitude.
“Georgia.”
Hearing her name made my muscles tighten. Add Myles’s cautious expression and the fact that Sam hadn’t said a word, something was up. “Why?” Had he?
Myles sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Jep called me.”
My dad called Myles?
“He’s worried about you,” Sam said quietly.
I turned on her. “And what the fuck would you know about it?” I looked back at Myles. “You broadcast my shit to her now?” My suck-ass mood tanked and anger spread through my veins like poison.
“Watch your tone with her,” Myles warned, his voice acidic.
I didn’t give a shit, he could fuck off for all I cared. Who the fuck was he to tell Sam about my life? Un-fucking-believable. He was supposed to be my best friend. “Why don’t you tell her about Georgia’s best quality while you’re at it?” I shoved the chair back and stood.
Myles was instantly on his feet. “You’re making a mistake.”
I walked out.
The Ducati couldn’t go fast enough. I was too pissed to give a shit about dying. Pushing a hundred through the fog, I only hoped it’d be instant. I didn’t have anyone in this fucking world I trusted like I trusted Myles, not even my own father. At least I wasn’t surprised by Jep. He’d done the same shit twelve years ago when he couldn’t find me after I’d run away. He went through my friends, one by one, broadcasting my shit, looking for me.
But Myles? I’d had his back for six years. Six years and he’s suddenly telling some chick about my past? I didn’t tell a fucking soul about that shit and Myles knew that. I was fucked up but I wasn’t a fucking monster. I didn’t want to be compared to my psychotic mother. Fuck that. Fuck her and fuck Myles.
Goddamn it, people were shit. Total fucking shit and I never should’ve forgotten that. This was exactly why I didn’t get involved, I fucking knew better. Hiding in my house for two days? For what? Wagging my fucking tongue after Carly, chasing her like a dog? For what? And now this bullshit with Myles? Fuck, this bike couldn’t go fast enough.
I pulled up at the bar before I knew what I was doing. Parking on the sidewalk in front, I stormed in. Carly turned around, and when she saw me, her smile dropped. Yeah, that’s right. Take it all in, because I’m done being a fucking pussy. I threw a few bills on the bar.
She walked over, but she didn’t say shit.
“Five shots of Jack, line ’em up.” Unable to sit, I held my helmet, tapped my foot and drummed my fingers.
Carly just stood there.
“Hurry the fuck up,” I barked.
She flinched, then moved toward the glasses.
Fuck her. She’d fucking played me and I’d fallen for it. I was so fucking stupid. Her hands fumbled with a glass and she bit her lip, pretending she was fighting back tears. What a fucking act. Two motherfucking months I wasted on this? Goddamn it. Anger and adrenaline had me so pumped, I couldn’t focus on anything but betrayal. My mother, Jep, Carly, Myles, everyone was shit then you died, or they died. You first if you were lucky. I was never lucky. Ever.
Carly nervously lined up the five shots.
I threw them back, one after another, not even tasting it, not even feeling the burn. I was back out the door, on the bike, engine throttled, before the shots hit me. Fastening my helmet, my fingers fumbled and suddenly Carly was there.
“Graham, please don’t drive.” Big, fake, sad doe eyes, she looked at me like she gave a shit but I knew better.
“What the fuck do you care?” I was sick of women pretending they cared. They didn’t. They wanted a piece of me because I was in a band or because I had fucking money.
“Please, get off the bike,” she begged.
I ripped the helmet off and turned on her. “You want me off the bike?” I threatened.
She jerked back a foot.
“Off the fucking bike, huh?” I swung my leg over and grabbed her arm. “Why?” I barked.
She stumbled back and I followed.
“You wanna finish what you started?” Seething mad, I took another step toward her.
“Stop.” She quivered.
“I’m not the one doing anything. I didn’t crawl in your bed half naked and tell you not to touch me. I’m not the one who smiles like I won the fucking lottery every time I see you. So what exactly am I supposed to stop doing, Carly?” Seething, I used all my height and vicious tone to loom over her.
Out of space, her back hit the outside wall of the bar. Panicked blue eyes t
oo scared to be pretty stared up at me. “Don’t hurt me,” her tiny voice pleaded.
Hurt her?
An inhuman roar of rage and betrayal ripped from my lungs. “Hurt you? Hurt you? I never did anything but fucking l—” Shocked, I stopped midword.
Heart pounding, muscles constricting, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t fucking breathe. Horrified, I shoved her arm from my grasp and took a step back. Her stunned expression said it all. We both knew what I’d been about to say. No.
No.
I spun around and got on the bike.
Desperate for escape, I barely got the helmet on before I revved the throttle, threw the kickstand and let the 162 horsepower adrenaline rush push me into oblivion.
Chapter Fourteen
Unhinged
Ripping through the gears, I pushed the Ducati through town. I was past fucking losing it. And I needed to change that. Right. Now. Jack Daniels and a Ducati Diavel was suicide. I didn’t give a shit. Tonight I was suicide. I didn’t love anyone, myself included. Fucking women. How do you like me now?
I almost dropped the bike when I got to 701. I went to throw the kickstand down and missed. I hadn’t even realized I’d missed. I just got off, barely caught the bike. Fuck it. What was twenty grand? I managed to get the kickstand down, pull my helmet off and walk to the front of the line. Hank, my head bouncer, the fucking bastard, was working the door.
“You okay, boss? Problem with the kickstand?” He looked knowingly at me.
“Fuck you.” I shoved past him and walked in. Not a smart move. Hank was someone who could definitely take me. It was the reason I’d hired him. I knew how to pick a fighter and Hank was a fighter. Then I smiled. Maybe I’d give him a run for his money later.
I found my way to the bar, ordered a Jack and Coke and told the bartender to hold my helmet and jacket. Tossing back the drink, it took two seconds to find what I’d come for. I didn’t even have to go looking, it came to me.
“Hey, Graham.”
Brunette, curves, she’d do. I took her hand and pulled her toward the dance floor. “Let’s dance.” There was no kindness in my voice. I didn’t even try to seduce her.
Five minutes in and she’d let me touch her everywhere. With the exception of sticking my tongue down her throat or putting my hand under her short skirt, I got away with enough to know she was good to go.
“Wanna take this somewhere more private?” My words sounded off, even to me.
“Your place?” She smiled.
Not a fucking chance in hell. “No.” I pulled her across the club to the back offices. Neil had insisted when we built the place that we each got our own office. I never used mine except to hire a bouncer or fuck. Neil had warned me countless times not to. He’d even told me once if I fucked up, he and Myles would force me out. I didn’t give a shit about his rules, but I did make sure I didn’t come back here with anyone while he was here. Neil was a big motherfucker.
“Where are we going?”
“Does it matter?” I pulled my keys out and unlocked the door to the back hallway. Pulling her through, I pushed her against the wall and kissed her. She didn’t resist, in fact, the opposite. Like I said, good to go.
A few minutes later, I moved us down the hall to my office. The quiet after the noise of the club was deafening. Grabbing a bottle of Jack Daniels and one glass out of my desk drawer, I pocketed a condom from my stash.
“Lock the door.” I poured myself two fingers. I purposely didn’t get her a glass or offer her any of mine. I didn’t want a drunk slut, fuck that. She stupidly complied then leaned back against the door, looking nervous? Seductive? I couldn’t tell. Besides it was too late for either. She should’ve thought of all that before she came back here with me.
I took a swallow of Jack so I didn’t have to taste her and closed the distance between us. Putting both hands on the door on either side of her head, I gave her fair warning. “You know what I want. You want out, you should leave now.” I pushed back from the door, giving her room to leave.
She didn’t hesitate, she moved forward and kissed me.
Within seconds, I had her skirt around her waist, my hips pressed against hers and my hand on the back of one of her knees. I lifted her leg and angled it around my waist. Oh yeah, right there. I gave her a few more minutes of kissing then went for it. She helped me unzip my jeans. I tore open the condom, skinned it, positioned myself and was in. A half second later I had her up against the door, my hands holding the back of her thighs, and I fucked her. I didn’t care if she got hers. Christ, I didn’t even bother to undress her. I’d just pushed her underwear aside. I came and for one single moment, everything went still. That one moment of release, it was sweet fucking perfection...and then I was back, where everything was shit.
Goddamn it.
I dropped her to her feet, tossed the condom and zipped my jeans.
“You can leave.” I threw back another swig of Jack.
The look on her face was predictable. “Are you serious?”
I didn’t answer. What the fuck did she expect?
“You’re a pig,” she hissed.
“Tell me something I don’t know.” I refrained from telling her she was a slut. “Leave.”
She pushed past me and slammed the door on her way out.
I didn’t even know her name. That might have been a first. I went back to the bar and really began to drink.
* * *
I woke up with a pounding fucking headache and a knot in my neck. When I tried to move, I knew I was going to throw up. I rolled to stand and realized I was on the couch in my office at 701, my helmet and jacket at my feet.
I made it to the bathroom, just, and puked my fucking brains out. No idea what time it was, I went back to grab my shit, lock my office and let myself out through the back door. The sun wasn’t up. I didn’t think I could’ve taken the brightness. I rode home trying to piece together last night. It was a fucking blur after the brunette but before that? Carly backed up against the bar, eyes wide with fear, begging me not to hurt her. The look on her face was a pulsing neon sign playing over and over in my mind.
I pulled the Ducati into my garage, careful this time to get the kickstand down. I took my helmet off and a shadow moved across the street. Hungover, still drunk, hell I didn’t know which, I stared for a minute but I didn’t see shit. The hair on the back of my neck screaming at me to pay attention but I ignored it and walked into the house. Setting the alarm, I stripped down and fell into bed.
Hours later the sun coming through the blinds woke me, and my headache was slightly better. I tried to remember the last time I blew off work. I couldn’t. Did I care? Yeah, no, didn’t care. I went to make coffee and my phone lit up with a text from Neil.
Neil: Hank said you fucked with one of the bartenders last night and she left crying. She quit this am. WTF?
That’s how she knew my name? Oh, shit, she was the new girl. Fuck. Whatever.
Me: Don’t know what you’re talking about. Hire a new bartender. NMP
I poured a cup of coffee and another text came in.
Myles: Where the fuck r u? I’m at your shop. It’s closed???
Shit. Myles would come here, I knew him, and he had a key. I didn’t have long. I jumped in the shower, threw clothes on, and was pulling the Barracuda out of the garage when Myles pulled up and blocked me in. I got out of my car but I didn’t say shit.
Myles ran his hands through his hair. “You’re like a brother to me, talk to me, damn it.”
“About?”
He hung his head for a second then looked back up. “Carly called Hank last night looking for you, then Hank called me. Carly was worried. What the hell happened?”
Like a wire drawn too tight, I snapped. “You fuck her?” I asked, my voice quiet, merciless.
“What?” Myles was shocked.
“You fuck her?” I repeated, slow, controlled.
“Graham,” he warned.
“I’m just wondering where else you wen
t behind my back and fucked me.”
“What the hell is wrong with you? I didn’t fuck you over!” Myles threw his hands up. “I didn’t tell Sam about Georgia.”
Too late. “I’m done. The band’s yours. You can buy me out of the club.” I got back in my car and gunned it. Hitting the garage door closed, I backed up within an inch of his 4Runner, cut hard to the right, and took off across the lawn.
I’d just thrown my life away. Nothing had ever felt worse. The adrenaline rush had never felt better. Orlando was too far, Daytona would be harder to score. I drove to Gainesville. I was too fucking old for college chicks but I didn’t care. I turned off my cell, checked into a hotel, parked the Barracuda and was drinking in a bar near campus by happy hour.
Chapter Fifteen
Poison
I was shitfaced by nine. A group of chicks was hanging around me, matching me drink for drink. I don’t know how, but one of them figured out I was in the band. I didn’t correct her. It was serving its purpose. I’d forgotten we had a following in Gainesville. We booked sold-out shows every time we played up here. I guess that life was over. Fuck it. I had tonight.
I wanted one blonde in particular, she reminded me of another blonde, but hell, any of them would do. I couldn’t remember her name. Jen, Jane, June, who cared? I asked her to dance. I was a sloppy drunk mess with an empty stomach and she wasn’t much better. We were making out halfway through the song.
Someone yelled at us to get a room and I looked down at her. Shit, she was blurry. I reached for the card key in my pocket and held it up. “I got a room. Wanna hit it?”
Her face scrunched up, drunk version of thinking. “Then you’ll think I’m easy.”
“I already think you’re easy.”
Her mouth made an O, her eyes went large. “Omigod, is that baaad?”
Yeah, totally. “It’s fucking great.” What did she expect me to say? I shoved the card key back in my pocket before I dropped it, and kissed her again. “You in?”
“Okay.” She drunk-laughed, then her face went all serious. “But don’t judge me.”