by K. B. Nelson
“I think The Brick Program has a nice ring to it.”
“Yeah…” I nod. “I like the sound of that.”
“Your ego is out of control.”
“So are your tits.” I shrug and grin wickedly.
She purses her tips tightly and darts from the table. “Unfuckingbelievable,” she grumbles under her breath. She’s got one hell of a dirty mouth for being such an innocent saint.
I push my hands against the glass of the table and rise to give chase. I reach for her shoulder, but she slaps my hand away. Before she can turn around, I rip a bouquet of flowers from a vase on the occupied table beside me.
When she pivots to face me, she’s met with the flowers. “These are for you,” I say through a big smile.
“Do you know what a restraining order is?”
“Yeah.” I push the flowers into her hand. She not so graciously accepts them. “Do you think I should get one on my attacker?”
“No,” she stammers. “They should both get one on you.”
“That’s kind of a shitty thing to say.”
“You’re a shitty person.” She’s got a point there. When I don’t respond, she huffs and marches away, exiting through an opening in the black fence that surrounds the patio. I chase her into the street, and with my own eyes, I witness her throwing the bouquet into the middle of the street, where the speeding tires of a delivery truck quickly murder them.
Poor flowers never even had a chance.
“Are you always this rude to your clients?”
“You’re not a client,” she hollers without breaking stride.
“I’ve had too much to drink to keep up with you. Could you please slow down?”
She flips her middle finger in the air. “Go pass out in an alley.”
Yeah… She’s really not having my shit today. Probably took it a little too far. “I have a problem,” I yell and stop in place, but she continues on. “I need help,” I yell again, this time sheepishly.
She stops, and I can see the hesitation in her body. On the inside I’m screaming, come on baby, turn around. As if I were in the presence of a genie, she does as I wish, but shakes her head as she does so.
She takes a deep breath and approaches me. “You’ve got a problem—“
“I’ve hit rock bottom.”
“You still look put together.”
“On the outside, sure.” I shrug. “But I’m a mess on the inside.”
“Then why didn’t you just ask for help?”
“Because,” I say with a soft chuckle. “I’m supposed to have a bad reputation.”
“Why me?”
Good fucking question. “Uhm… You’re the purest girl I know.”
“I want to help you.” She shakes her head and chews into her lip. “But I don’t trust you. So you’re going to have to find someone else to help you with your problems.”
I nod, letting her think she’s won, but I’ve got her right where I want her.
“Take care of yourself,” she adds before turning to cross the street.
And I smile from ear to ear as I dial Apple’s number. She answers on the second ring, which isn’t surprising to me, because I know it’s only a matter of time until she’s picking up after the first.
“What do you want?” she barks.
“I called it. You can’t stay away from me. Do you not have enough self-control to not answer the phone when I call? You’re weak, Apple.”
“I’m hanging up.”
“Meet me at my apartment at ten.”
“That’s not happening.”
Click.
I push my phone into the pocket of my jeans and you couldn’t wipe the victorious smile off my face with a million dollar bill, because I know she’ll show.
10
Apple
I haven’t seen Jensen in two days. He’s given me the space I need to figure myself out, and we both knew Brick had to be involved in the equation. Still, I’m not prepared to meet him face to face. I’ve seen him twice since I’ve been in town, and he has this power to make me hate him and miss him, both at the same time.
I was firm in my resolve when he called earlier. I had planned to spend the day marathoning missed episodes of The Rules of Innocence, but here I am outside his door. I hesitate to knock, because I know if I do, I’ve given in. I used to pride myself on being strong, and now it terrifies me because through my strength, I destroy others.
I want to destroy Brick like he destroyed me. Wielding that kind of power comes with consequences, a relapse of sorts. Love him or hate him, I’m going to have to let him go. If I go toe-to-toe with him, then I become the woman I used to be. Sometimes, it’s better to forgive and forget. Revenge carries a heavy cost, and places an insurmountable burden on one’s soul.
I knock, and my heart drops. Every second I’m left waiting for him to open the door is another second I could run. I scratch the back of my head nervously and then, with the wind of courage under my feet, I bolt.
I hear the door open from behind me, but I continue my race for the elevator.
“Apple,” Brick yells from behind me, and next I hear his footsteps padding down the carpeted hallways. He places his hand on my shoulder, and I turn around to greet him with an apprehensive smile. “You look ravishing,” he says, as he checks out the length of my body.
“I’m wearing a tank top and jeans.”
“Yeah, but I know what’s underneath.”
I should punch him, or kick him in the dick. I’ll never forget that one moment in time when I brought him to his knees. That was real, heart-warming power. “Why did you call me here?”
“We’re not going to do this in the hallway.”
* * *
“You’re getting me drunk to lower my inhibitions,” I accuse him from the seat of his all-white leather couch. “You should know better. I know every trick in your arsenal.”
“Stay pressed, babe.” He passes a mimosa in a wine glass. “It’s a gift from me to you, because I know how much you love your booze.”
“Pot meet kettle.”
“We’re much more alike than you think.”
“That wasn’t my point.”
“But it’s mine.” He crouches down on the couch opposite from me and throws his arm over the couch’s arm. “You see, I had brunch with Tyra today. Well, we never made it to the whole eating portion of the event, much less the part where we order.”
“Let me guess, she stormed away from the table after a few vulgar suggestions.”
“Something like that.” He leans across the wooden coffee table and clinks his glass against mine. “Cheers.”
“You’re pathetic.” I take a sip of the mimosa, savoring the perfected combo of orange juice and Champaign.
“Tyra pretty much said the same thing.”
“Maybe the dimwit isn’t so dim after all.”
“Are you trying to turn me on?” A grin hitches from one corner of his mouth to the other. His emerald eyes glow with a hint of the predator lurking behind them. “You’re wrong, however. She’s incredibly fucking gullible. In a week’s time, she’ll be crawling on all fours to get a taste of my cock.”
“In your fucking dreams, DiCaprio.”
“Care to make a wager?”
“You’re unbelievable.” I shoot the remainder of my drink and slam it down on the table. I hadn’t meant for it to shatter, but it certainly adds to the dramatic effect. “I told you before and I’ll tell you again, I won’t be dragged back into your world.”
“You are so naïve.” He shakes his head, but the devious smile burned into his face never fades. “You never left my world, because it’s our world the both of us are living in. It’s almost an alternative reality, where we’re the only two people alive.”
“Not anymore.”
He laughs. “Sorry, I forgot you’ve changed.”
“I have,” I snap, tired of repeating myself.
“Then why the fuck are you here?”
He ha
s a good point, but I shrug as if he doesn’t. “I guess I have a morbid curiosity for train-wrecks.”
“My train is running full-steam.” It’s a smug enough statement without what he does next—reaches down and adjusts his junk.
And for a short wrinkle in time, my eyes follow his hand. “The unstoppable Brick Valmont, how could I forget?”
“You can’t,” he points out with his trademarked cocky charm. “That’s why you’re so drawn to me.”
“I’m drawn to you because you’re like a drug—“
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” He rises from the couch and begins to approach.
“Don’t flatter yourself. It’s not a compliment.”
“Sing me another song, smokebomb.”
Smokebomb. I haven’t heard that word in forever. It’s just a stupid made-up word that is his and his only. It rolls off his tongue with ease, as if it’s native to his language. So much promise is effortlessly worked into the word, and it carries whispers of something more. The alternative is that I’m an idiot, and in reality, it has nothing to do with the word. It’s all about the man saying it.
That’s it. It’s Brick. It’s always been Brick. He gets me, and I get him. One smokebomb at a time, he’ll reel himself back into my heart, and force his way into my soul. I can’t ever let him win. Not again.
“How about, I hate everything about you?” I offer as a suggestion, a song that fits my verbal disdain for him, even when my heart can’t reach the same conclusion.
“Sometimes the sex is better when you’re angry.” He chews into his lip, his teeth sinking into flushed lips. “Want to give it a whirl?”
“That’s never going to happen.” It’s now, more than ever, I know what I must do. I turn to flee, throwing my hand around the knob of the front door, but he’s quicker than me. He slams his hand against the door, with his arm passing over my shoulder.
I turn to him, annoyed and scared of what’s going to happen if I stay here much longer.
“Admit you feel something for me,” he growls.
“Repulsion.” I push against his chest, knocking him back. “Is that understood?”
“I love you,” he says softly.
I almost believe him before I realize it doesn’t even matter. “Are you out of your God-damned mind?”
“I’d argue that for the first time in my life—“
“Stop it!” I throw my hand up and pass him. “I will punch you in the face if—“
“If I do what?” He latches onto my arm and spins me to face him. “If I say I love you?”
I’m at a loss for words, so violence will have to work. I launch a fist at him, but he blocks it with his arm. Instead of connecting with the flesh of his face, I’m met with the bone of his forearm.
“Apple Malloy, I love you.”
Another punch is thrown. This time it lands. My knuckles crack as they connect with his face. I’ve been in fights before, so I’m well aware how much it can actually hurt to punch someone. The pain is worth it.
But Brick? It’s like he’s incapable of feeling pain. He looks up to me with longing, intense eyes. “I know you feel something.”
“Does it feel similar to the swelling in your jaw?”
“Apple—“
I raise my fist again, warning him. “You don’t love me. You don’t have the capacity.”
“Give me a chance.”
“You’ve had a million.”
“This time, it’s different.” He picks himself up off the floor and rubs his palm against his reddening jaw. “Jensen Moon is a temporary distraction.”
“Don’t you dare bring him into this,” I bark.
“Protective mama bear? It’s a good look.” He reaches forward to grab my hand, but I jerk away. “Let me prove myself to you.”
“How do you think you’re going to do that?”
“If I can seduce Tyra Young within a week, then you’ll come back to me.”
He’s finally talking in a language I understand, but I’m going to need to hear the consequences should he fail. “And if you lose? If she’s not foolish enough to fall for your charms?”
“Then I will move away from this place and you’ll never hear from me again.”
“There is no chance that would ever happen,” I say, doubting he’d ever follow through if he should lose.
“I mean it.”
“I’ll agree to your terms, under one condition. You leave Jensen out of this. You leave me out of this. My only involvement is watching from the sidelines.”
His long-worn smirk fades into a monstrous smile. He’s the monster your parents warn you about before you fall asleep. He’s the monster they’ll force you to believe doesn’t exist, so you can fall asleep at night. He’s the monster every father worries about when his daughter begins to date.
“It’s going to be one hell of a show.”
“Seven days,” I scold him, twist the knob of the door, and exit his apartment into the hallway.
When I’m free and clear, I lean against the wall, take a deep breath and close my eyes. I’m torn between betraying my word that I wouldn’t play his stupid games, and realizing if I can force him into losing his own bet, I could potentially get him out of my life for good.
Either way, I’m in one hell of a bad situation and it couldn’t get any worse.
“Apple,” I hear Jensen say, and I’m too terrified of what comes next to open my eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“I… Uh—“
“You were with him?” he asks accusingly, standing at the frame of his door like he’s too transfixed waiting for me to lie to him, to move. In my relapsed state, I had forgotten Jensen dwelled in the same complex as Brick.
“We both knew he was a part of the deal in coming back here,” I say softly.
“I know, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
I begin to approach him, in an effort to appease him. “I don’t like a lot of things in this world; nuns, noodles, sharks…”
“What are you doing?”
I’m now within touching distance of him. “Deflecting.” It’s the honest truth, and I’ve no qualms about projecting it.
“You’re the queen of that lately.” It slips from his lips like an insult.
“Can you just be kissing me?”
I don’t wait for an answer to lean into him, and when our lips touch, I forget the world. I force him away from this tough conversation and into something he’s more able to navigate to satisfying result.
His arms caress the swell of my back as he pulls me deeper into his embrace. Soon, I’m shoved against the wall and he breathes warm fire against my neck. With his body pinned against mine, I’m forced into a dark place in my mind.
I’m slowly reverting back into that girl with a bad reputation. When things aren’t going my way, I alleviate the symptoms by using the power of sex and the want to be desired as a fully loaded weapon in my arsenal. I’m dangerous this way, leveraging my body and his emotions to escape the troubles of my fucked up life.
I stare out into the distance, but my sight comes up short by the hallway of doors across from me. With every kiss of his lips against my body, and every shift of the growing erection in his jeans against me, I fall deeper into the well of regret. He wants every part of me, and I’m content in giving him half of that.
He can have my body, but right now, he can’t have my soul.
And it’s fucking killing me.
11
Brick
In war, you can never fight your way to a win without some assistance. In an actual war, that assistance comes from your comrades and military mates. In my version of war, I stand side-by-side with a girl who is both my partner in crime, and my archenemy. This is one battle she won’t show up for.
I’m fighting for Apple’s honor, and the hill to climb in seducing Tyra is a steep one. I will do anything to win, even if that means pulling my estranged brother into the trenches of manipulative combat.
; It won’t be an easy task, but nothing worth fighting for ever is. I leave my car parked on the curb in clear sight, and make my way up the sidewalk leading to the ground-level apartment. I knock on the door and take a quick step back, expecting to be met with another fist to the face.
Everyone seems to be punching me these days. That’s what happens when you surround yourself with jealous, violent people. I kid. I’m aware my actions deserve the occasional punch in the face, but I can’t deny the rush in guessing when someone’s going to swing.
It’s about pushing others to their absolute limit. It’s a form of studying them, an education into one’s mind you can’t learn any other way. You can tell a lot about someone based on when they decide to swing.
Dominic swings open the door, and shakes his head. “Come for another ass kicking? Three times isn’t enough?”
My relationship with my brother has been more strained and contentious than ever before. It started when Apple went on a truth-bomb excursion. She went around town, atoning for our sins while throwing my ass under the bus. Dom, in particular, didn’t take the news well. On the day Apple left town, he beat my ass until the cops showed up. Since he was my brother, I didn’t press charges. There are some things you just don’t do to your siblings—like record their sexual antics and out their sexuality to everyone. Lesson kind of learned.
The second time he kicked my ass was during a bar fight, where I had inadvertently ran into him during a Christmas in July celebration. He was in attendance with his lesbian friend, and when I tried to show her what she was missing, he threw me over the counter.
The third time, I can’t explicitly recall, but vaguely remember waking up sometime in early August with a splitting headache and an unexplained broken nose.
I shrug, and smile. “I’m a sucker for punishment.”
“And I’m the sucker for opening the door.” With a blank expression, he pushes the door, but I throw my hand against it, blocking his move.
“I need a favor.”
“Sure thing.” He nods and waves for me to come in. “Come right in. You’re welcome anytime.”