“Here.” I hand him a glass and I sit down next to him. This time not as close, still close, but not as.
He takes it and thanks me. I think and try to figure out the words I need to say to him. I didn’t practice a speech or anything, so I am just going to wing it. I take a long drink and set the glass of whiskey courage on the table next to the couch. I look up into his beautiful green eyes and lose my words. His eyes are like emeralds and they capture me every time I even so much as glance at them. I can get lost just looking at them.
He takes a sip and sets his glass down as well.
“Marlie,” he says it so gentle and quietly, that I can’t help but let a small moan escape. Just hearing him let my name slip from his lips like that sends an involuntary shiver throughout my body. I have heard my name come out of people’s mouths before, but when Wes says it, it rolls right off his tongue, pouring lust into each letter of my name. I watch a lustful glow come over his face and before I know it, he grabs my chin and pulls me in for a kiss. Letting the moment capture me, I don’t resist. I give into him. It’s a heated, passionate kiss and I want more. He moves my hair off to the side and wraps his hand around the back of my neck and deepens our kiss. I grab at his shoulders and dig my nails in, wanting to rip him apart with the need that I have for him at this moment. He moves to lay me back and I close my eyes. But the moment I close my eyes Carter’s image flashes behind the thin lids, letting reality kick in.
What the hell am I doing? I pull back and jump up off the couch leaving Wes looking confused. “I’m sorry, I can’t. We can’t.” I look down at my feet not wanting to look him in face and see his reaction.
“Why? I thought we were passed the hesitation?” he leans back and I look up. He stares at me with frustration written all over his face. Which is exactly how I feel. Damn it.
I take a deep breath, looking back down at my feet and let the words fall out of my mouth. “We have to remain friends, Wes. I am sorry, but I can’t let anything more than a friendship happen between us.”
“Sorry? I can’t believe this.” He gets up slowly and moves behind the couch. “I know you don’t just want to be friends. That kind of kiss doesn’t happen when you want to be friends, Marlie. I don’t know what I need to do to convince you to just let this happen,” he moves to stand in front of me and places his good hand to my face. I nuzzle it, closing my eyes and wishing I could be what he wants. “Tell me, what do I need to do?” he slowly runs his finger from the nape of my neck to my chin. He lifts my chin to get me to look at him, “because I sure as hell don’t want to be just your friend, Marlie. I am not sure what, but a friendship isn’t something I want with you. Not anymore.”
God, this fucking sucks. I move my chin out of his grasp. “You don’t get it. I can’t be anything more than a friend to you, Wes! Whether I want to or not. I told you, I have secrets. I have a fucked up past and I can’t…” I trail off before I say anything more. I can’t say anything more to him.
He lifts his hand and puts it behind his neck. Something I have noticed he does when he is aggravated. “I don’t care about any of that shit. So tell me, what’s changed? What has changed since that first kiss when you said you wanted to take things slow? Am I moving too fast for you? Is it because I haven’t spoken to you in a week? Tell me! What is it?”
“None of that has affected this.”
“Then what is it?” he growls my name out and I hate the fact that I am making him upset like this.
“I can’t.” I whisper out. “We can only be friends.” I look up at him and see anger and pain all mixed together in one look.
He throws his hands up in the air and walks towards the door, stopping before he reaches the door knob and speaks without turning to look at me. “I get that you have secrets. I do too. But you don’t see me pulling back from you because of them, do you? I don’t know what is going through your head, but it couldn’t be bad enough to push me away. If you were to just let go and…”
“I can’t.” I repeat.
“Yeah, I know you ‘can’t’, Marlie. Well, I ‘can’t’ just be friends with you.” With that, he opens the door and walks out. Most likely from my life.
“Well, that went well,” I say sarcastically to myself. No matter how that just went, I have to just keep telling myself that it’s for the best.
“Hey, you okay?”
I turn away from the door and see Gemma standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall. “You heard then?”
“Yeah, kind of hard not to,” she shrugs and walks over to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of whiskey. I grab my glass and refill it. Then I meet her at our table and sit looking down at my hands wrapped around the tumbler.
“You want to talk about it?”
“What is there to talk about, Gem? I did what I had to do.” I shrug and take a drink.
“I know Marlie, but you don’t have to act so tough about it. Remember, it’s okay to show that it hurts that he didn’t take it well. You don’t always have put on a tough front.”
“It’s not a tough front, Gemma. I am okay about it. I knew this would most likely be the outcome. Sure it stings a little and I wish I didn’t have to do that, but there is nothing I can do about it.” I finish off my glass and put it into the sink. Already feeling much better after the two quick glasses. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. We need to move on and get over it. So I quickly change the subject, “So, I was thinking about my birthday.” My twenty-fifth birthday is coming up next month in June.
“Oh yeah? What were you thinking about?”
I roll my eyes at her, “I was thinking about what you have planned for it, since you always nix my idea for doing nothing. You always have something planned, so spill it.”
She smiles wide. “Renting a cabin in the mountains down in Idaho Springs for the weekend. Little horse riding, four-wheeling up to St. Mary’s Glacier Friday, then a party Saturday.” She says it matter-of-factly, which means she already has the cabin rented and all the other things set up.
I laugh because she always plans something. I am horrible when it comes to making plans for a celebration and Gemma is great at it. She always plans something awesome no matter the occasion.
“Sounds good to me.”
We finish talking about my birthday and other things and head to bed. Once I reach my bed, I fall flat on it, face first. I feel so drained. This has been a shitty, shitty, week. I can’t wait for a new one to start.
After lying in bed for an hour, I realize sleep isn’t going to come anytime soon, no matter how tired I am. I just can’t fall asleep with so much going on with the ‘what ifs’ of Carter. I get up, grab my phone, ear buds, put my sweats back on and climb out my window and sit on the fire escape. I put my ear buds in and scroll through my song list until I find the song I am looking for. “Words as Weapons” by Seether. At times when I can’t figure how I am feeling, I find music to help me. Music is my way of expressing how I feel without having to actually say it or acknowledge it. I start the song and slowly start to hum the soft intro, until the instruments start to kick in and the lyrics come out slow and bitter. I look around, seeing that the streets are calm and then I start to sing.
Keep me locked up in your broken mind.
I keep searching, never been able, to find a light behind your dead eyes, not anything at all.
You keep living in your own lie. Ever deceitful, and ever unfaithful.
Keep me guessing, keep me terrified, take everything from my world.
The words hit so close to home. I just wish my life was different. I should know better than to wish things like that. After all, my whole situation is all my fault. I put myself in this position, this life. When I tried to leave, it backfired. It’s what I get; what I deserve.
Keep me dumb, keep me paralyzed.
Why try swimming? I’m drowning in fable.
You’re not that saint that you externalize, you’re not anything at all.
It’s oh so playful wh
en you demonize. To spit out the hateful, you’re willing and able.
Your words are weapons, of the terrified, you’re nothing in my world.
When the song finally ends, I allow one small tear to escape and roll down my cheek. That’s all I let myself have. One lonely tear to shed. I need to be strong. Being weak has never gotten me anywhere. It’s time for a change.
THIRTEEN
Wes
WALKING DOWN THE STAIRS FROM MARLIE’S apartment and I am feeling all sorts of things. Like feelings and shit. It’s bullshit. I shouldn’t let this chick get to me, but she does. For the first time in my life I want something other than a quick fuck. Of course it would be my luck to actually like a woman and she would be complicated as hell. But wouldn’t that be like the pot calling the kettle black? I’m sure as hell not easy. My shit is complicated as fuck too. Would that mean we were made for each other then? Fuck if I know.
All I know is I am pissed. Pissed at myself, pissed at her, pissed at the damn world. Pissed at her for being so hot and cold. Pissed at me for not leaving her alone in the first place. And pissed at the world for everything else in between.
I walk to Jesse’s car, since I said I was in wreck and it would be dumb to drive to my truck to her place. Which, by the way, I will have to get a new one to help keep my lie intact. The shit I do just to keep my secrets covered.
Standing in front of his car, I reach for the handle, but then drop my hand. I am too worked up. I need to walk or run this tension out. I decide to walk for a bit; running isn’t an option in my current condition. I’ll come back when my mind is clear.
I don’t really know what I am supposed to do now. That woman pretty much just hit me with a brick. Why does she have to be so damn difficult? Thoughts going through my head are to turn around, go back and beat down her door, tie her up and make her confess to me what the fuck is her deal. I could always just leave it be and move along with my life, or just give it a couple of days? I have never been so conflicted. I know I am a good looking son of a bitch and that I don’t ever have to try with women. Shit, they practically beg me to give them one night of myself to them. Like bitches in heat. This situation isn’t something I am used to. I have never had to chase a woman; until her.
If I knew what she was thinking, things would be a lot easier; at least for me. It would be a lie if I said I didn’t want to know what she is hiding, because I do. More than anything right now, I want to know. I can see that she is scared of something or someone. I could really tell that tonight when she answered the door with a knife in her hand. The terrified look in in her eyes was hard to miss. It certainly piqued my interest. Why was she scared? More importantly, who is she scared of? The thought of someone hurting her makes my blood boil. But at the same time, should I really being dealing with her? I don’t know if I can handle her changing her mind every five minutes when it comes to being with me or not.
I find myself at the park we went to when she finally started to let me in. Walking right now isn’t that easy, so I sit on the same bench where we picnicked and think about her, life, and what I should do. After an hour I make my way towards Jesse’s car. The walking, sitting and thinking didn’t do shit to help figure things out with Marlie. I feel more confused than ever about her. I am going to go home and empty a bottle of scotch. At least alcohol will make feel like better and nothing at the same time.
I reach the corner to where Marlie’s building is, when I hear a noise coming from her side of the street. It’s probably nothing, but in my line of work it’s the little noises you need to be worried about. I crouch down with my ribs protesting and let out a painful breath. I hate the fact that I am injured. I don’t bring my gun with me when I know I am going to see Marlie. Not something I want to explain. I don’t want to have to create another lie. Instead, I grab the knife I always keep tucked in my boot. I peek around the corner and to my surprise, I see Marlie climbing out her window onto her fire escape.
What the hell is she doing? I watch her for a minute as she climbs out gracefully - like she does it all the time. I can’t help but stare at her ass as she brings her leg out; because it’s got to be one of the finest asses I have ever had the privilege of seeing. She has something in her hand. Her phone? Yeah, I think so. She sits down on the fire escape and begins going through her phone. She looks up scans the streets and I have to step back a little so she doesn’t notice me. Once she is done, she puts her ear buds in and starts to hum. I turn my back so it’s facing the bricks and slowly slide down so I am sitting. I turn my head and peak around the corner again. What happens next nearly takes me breath away.
She starts to sing.
Her voice is like nothing I have ever heard before. It’s amazing. It’s rough, but soft at the same time. If I were to compare it to anyone or anything, it would be a dark angel. She sings so soulfully with a rock edge to it. The song that she is singing is a familiar one, but when she sings it, it brings a whole new meaning. Before, when I had heard it, it was just nice song, with a good rhythm. Now it makes me actually listen and understand the lyrics. They must mean something to her.
She stops singing; the song must have come to an end. I look up and see her wipe away a tear from her cheek, then lean her head back against the bricked wall and close her eyes.
It’s in this moment that I know what I should do. I can’t forget about her. I have to know what has her so damaged and help her. No matter what. I ease myself up from the wall and head towards the car, when my phone starts to ring. I dig into my back pocket and pull it out.
“Yeah?” I say quickly and hushed.
“I have one,” a voice comes through the line.
The voice is all too familiar. We call him “The Messenger”. He’s the guy who gives me the jobs to do. I have never met him, I don’t know his real name and he always calls from a blocked number.
“Okay, I am kind of out of commission for the next couple of weeks. I got into-”
“I already know this. The job is easy. In and out. Do you want it or not?”
Of course he already knows. The Messenger knows everything. I wouldn’t put it past him to know how many times I’ve gotten my dick licked while I was doing one of the jobs he has offered me. He is definitely a no bullshit kind of man and kind of a dick too. I think for a second whether or not I want to take this job. I have never had to think about one before, but he has never called at such a shitty time either.
“Yeah… yeah I’ll do it.” I lean up against the car and look up at the sky.
“Good. All the information is in the passenger seat.”
He ends the call and I get in the car. I look over at the passenger seat and sure enough, there’s a manila envelope. I grab it and shove it under the driver’s seat until I get home and can look at it properly.
That is how the system works. He calls, I agree, and then magically it seems, the information on the next hit is where I am. I don’t know how he, or whoever, does it, but it never fails. I always wait to look at it in the privacy of my home. The envelopes are usually very detailed. Filled with pictures, schedules, habits, and all sorts of other information. There is also a small piece of paper with the amount for the hit. I look everything over and then get to work. I don’t ever go by all the information. I don’t just take my gun and shoot. I follow the hits for a while and make sure they are as sadistic as the information says they are.
The targets range in the human scum realm from rapists, human traffickers, drug lords, murderers, and sometimes all of those things wrapped into one giant piece of human living shit. It doesn’t matter. If they are fucked up and do fucked up things, I will gladly put them the fuck down. Though rare, I have had the occasional normal Joe blow that was at the wrong place at the wrong time and saw something he or she shouldn’t have. Those people I don’t touch. My personal favorite hits would be the men who traffic women. The ones who sell them like fucking dogs; the ones who buy them for their own personal sick reasons.
The ones like my f
ather.
I make it home and Jenner is at the door waiting for me, like always.
“Good evening, Jenner,” I say as I move passed him.
He nods his head and shuts the door. “How did it go?” he asks me, knowing where I was going. He’s probably the only one I’d talk to about a woman. Although, this is a first.
I look at him and shake my head. “Like a hurricane.”
I walk passed him and head straight for my office and sit at my desk with the large envelope in my hand. I open it up and pour the contents and start to sift through the papers. I freeze as one photo falls face up starring right at me. One picture, of the one person, I would have never have thought would be a hit.
My hit.
Gemma.
I pick up my phone instantly and call Jesse.
“What’s up?”
“We have a problem.”
FOURTEEN
Marlie
THIS LAST WEEK HAS ACTUALLY BEEN okay for me. Sales are up and Gemma and I have made a decision together; we’re going to start looking into expanding GemMar Makings by opening up another store in Chicago. I will be flying there next week to look at a few places to buy or rent. I am actually pretty excited to have this opportunity to expand our business. In many ways this could mean so much for Gemma and me. I have never cared about the money factor, but I know we will definitely be rolling in the cash if all goes well. Not to mention, I will only be an hour and a half from my dad. I won’t be the one in Chicago all the time, but it will give me some more opportunities to visit him.
I travel a lot to meet with clients. You know, the ones who want my skills to match their exact expectations, but it’s usually more West Coast, than Midwest or even East Coast. So I am hoping that having another store in Chicago will bring more business to that part of the country. And, if everything works out in Chicago after a few years, we will try and add another store in New York.
Underground Secrets (The Underground #1) Page 15