“I'm leaning towards the doll. There's nothing that puts life in perspective like a flesh eating doll.” Ty rises to his feet with a warm chuckle and flicks his cigarette at a nearby trash can. Somehow, he manages to get it inside the metal container. “Nice shot.”
“Yeah,” Ty says as he stands and his bracelets clink together on his wrist. “I'm pretty much a certified grade A badass, huh?” My turn to raise my eyebrows.
“Huh.” He chuckles again and reaches out, grabbing my hand in his. There's a brief moment of panic that surges through me, convinces me that I should wrench my hand from his grip, turn heel and run. But I've been running long enough. My feet – and most importantly my heart – are tired, so even though this could turn sour, that Ty McCabe could very well let his pain rain down around me like liquid fire, I clench my fingers tight. I hold the rough hand of a beautiful boy and let him drag me up to the register, pull me to his side and let him whisper in my ear.
“I like your shirt,” Ty says and while that's not exactly the sexiest or the most romantic compliment in the world – and why should it be considering he is not a love interest, just a friend – the stirring of his warm breath against my hair makes me shiver. I look down at my T-shirt, at the glow-in-the-dark Bigfoot face smiling up at me, at the tattered hem I cut up with scissors. It's not the red dress I wore to the bar the night I met Ty, but it clings in all the right places. I have a certain style, always have, but as time wore on and I got further and further away from the Never I used to be, that style started to evolve. I'm not sure I could even dress myself without paying attention to the way my breasts looked, my hips, my ass. Everything I do is designed to attract the wrong kind of guy. I should be wearing paisley print dresses or cream colored silk with flowers, something to attract guys like Rick.
But I don't want Rick. Maybe I never did?
I smile softly as Ty releases my hand and tells the guy behind the counter that we need two tickets to Death by Dolly. I reach into the back pocket of my skintight jeans and fetch the last few bucks I have left. As I pull them out and try to hand them to Ty, he's accepting the tickets and telling the dude to have a nice day.
“Keep your money,” he tells me as he reaches for my hand again. I don't know that he's even aware that he's doing it. I stumble after him, into the darkness of the theater. The smell of overpriced popcorn assaults my nose, teasing my tongue with butter and salt that I sure as shit can't afford. Ty can't afford it either. That's why I get pissed when he refuses to take the cash from my hand.
“Ty,” I say, a slight warning in my voice. I don't know why it's there, or why this even matters. I guess I'm just sensitive to this shit. It's not a date. We hardly know each other. I should pay for my own ticket. I don't say any of that, just thrust the money at his chest, ignoring the firm press of muscles beneath his black and purple band T-shirt. I don't recognize the name of the group, but the graphic is cool. Who doesn't like a striped toaster with vampire fangs? “Here. Take it. Buy yourself a tub of popcorn.”
Ty smiles back at me, no dimples this time, and plays with his lip ring for a moment before answering.
“Why don't you buy us a tub of popcorn to share, I'll grab the drinks, and we'll call it even?” He leans towards me conspiratorially. “Larges come with free refills, so if you don't mind sharing, we can get one of each and swap spit.”
“You make it sort of difficult to stay angry with you,” I admit with a sigh, dropping my hand and letting the dollar bills rumple in my suddenly sweaty palm. What I don't admit, not to him and definitely not to myself, is that if we're going to swap spit that I'd rather do it with a kiss. Not going to happen. I sigh and shake my head. “You're disgusting, you know that, right?”
“So I've been told,” Ty tells me with a wink. He moves away and snags us a spot in line while I let my eyes travel across the other people in the lobby. It's a habit of mine, scoping the crowd. There's a guy over by the cluster of arcade games in the corner with a crooked smile and a full sleeve of skeleton tattoos. He's flirting with a girl, touching her shoulder, leaning in close. If Ty wasn't here, he's the one I'd go for. We'd end up in the bathrooms, in the back of his car, in the alley behind the theater. “Oh, Never Ross?” Ty's voice cuts through the thoughts and draws my attention back around towards him, towards his spiked hair and his dimples, his tight shirt and his dirty combat boots.
I'm glad he's here, that I'm not fucking some guy I don't know, that I'm trying for once in my miserable life to make a friend. Ty McCabe is a good friend, that much I know, even if we haven't spent much time together. The very fact that I haven't fucked anyone else since I met him is indicative of that. I'm going to tell him. I'm going to tell Ty my secret, how my family abandoned me for a murderer, left me for broken and never looked back. I'm going to give him my chance and see what happens.
But first, I'm going to watch a doll eat the livers of some very famous and ridiculously overpaid actors.
STORY #2: Before Never Became Forever
"Before Never Became Forever" is the longest story in this bonus collection and starts at the same moment "Tasting Never" opens up with Never Ross. Instead, this time we're beginning the journey with Ty McCabe at work at the grocery store and moving onto the bar scene where he first meets the love of his life.
Before Never Became Forever
1
Ty McCabe
Fourteen boxes of condoms sit before me.
I raise my eyes up from the register and try my best to hold in a sharp burst of laughter. First off, the guy behind the counter looks like he'd want to get into it with me. And second? I've got no reason to laugh. Nobody needs fourteen boxes of condoms. Except for maybe me. And that's the saddest part of it all.
“I got a hot date tonight,” the man tells me, tugging at the earring in his left lobe. Hey, I'm a big fan of jewelry – I wear a shit ton of rings and a circle of silver between my nostrils – so it's not like I'm opposed to guys with bling, but this dude? He looks like a fucking pirate on a meth run. I watch him pick at the skin on his face and I'm temporarily grateful that my addiction runs a slightly different path. Just as deadly though. Definitely deadly. Maybe I should follow this weirdo's example and go grab a cartful of love gloves myself? “Gonna screw this bitch all night long.”
I sigh and ring up the purchases as quickly as possible, more than a little doubtful that Captain Black Beard here is going to be able to find a chick to score with – let alone get it up enough to use all of these babies.
“Enjoy the rest of your day,” I say, dropping the last box of condoms into a grocery bag and handing it across the counter. The man leaves, giving me a moment to breathe. The store is relatively empty right now. There's me, a co-worker of mine I know only as 'K-Bird' though I have no fucking clue what it stands for, and a pair of teenage girls giving me goo goo eyes from the feminine hygiene aisle. I do my best to smile at them, but my heart just isn't into it.
I don't want to work at a grocery store. I mean, who the hell does? But it sure as shit beats fucking for a living. Ringing up loaves of white bread and boxes of soda is a fuck of a lot more fun than bending over for some guy with a wad of green, or praying to god my dick gets hard enough to fuck a housewife from who-the-hell-cares-where.
“You closing the store tonight?” K-Bird asks. I glance over at him, his arms full of clearance merchandise stamped with orange stickers. I'm fairly certain he steals that shit, but I don't say anything about it. It's not really my place.
I run my fingers through my dark hair and sigh. K-Bird watches me with narrow eyes, his front tooth gleaming silver in the fluorescent light. I still haven't been able to determine if the filling is cosmetic or just poorly executed dentistry. Based on the backwards baseball cap and the tribal tattoos smeared across his pale pale skin, I'd say it was intentional.
“Yeah, I guess.” I tuck my hands into the pockets on the front of my apron and notice how K-Bird's eyes follow them. The butterfly tattoos that decorate my skin aren't everyone's
favorite, but that's only because they don't know what they mean. They don't feel that need, that desperation, that I have inside of me. I want to fly. I just haven't found anything to soar towards. I could really use some inspiration in my life.
“Cool, bro,” K-Bird says with a sniffle. The leer he tosses the teenage girls as they pass really bugs me, but I try not to judge. I'm about ninety percent certain that K-Bird is a virgin. I've worked most of my life as a whore, so I consider myself fairly adept when it comes to sex. K-Bird just strikes me more as a tissues and lotion kind of a guy than a Casanova. “You want to like, party after this or whatever?”
I take a moment to pull my cell out of my apron, glancing over my shoulder to make sure none of the managers is around to see me using it. I'm praying for an excuse to blow K-Bird off, and thankfully, I've got a text waiting for me that manages to do just that.
Hey Ty. It's Korina. You want to meet up with me and some friends for drinks and pool tonight? I know a good spot. I can text you the addy.
I shoot off a quick response, holding back a sigh of relief. Much as I'd like to scope out chicks with K-Bird, I think I'd rather hang with Korina. She's another one of my co-workers and while I don't know her all that well, she seems nice. Plus, I get along better with women than with men. And the fact that Korina's gay? It means I can't sleep with her. It's like the perfect storm.
“Sorry, man, but I've got plans.” I shrug and smile tightly. K-Bird nods, flips me some sort of hand symbol that I think means cool story, bro and walks away, pants hanging halfway down his ass. My eyes drift to the clock above the front entrances. Just a few more hours. A few more hours and I can get some drinks, maybe find a girl to chase away my troubles? I'm not looking for anything permanent, but I need someone to hold, someone to take me away from myself and all of the broken memories that crowd my mind and threaten to shatter me like glass. Do I like feeling this way? Fuck no. But I've spent most of my life using sex as a weapon, a job skill, an excuse. I don't know how to stop.
Maybe it's too late for me to even try?
2
Ty McCabe
I put on a black T-shirt and some low cut jeans – nothing fancy, just enough to grab the attention of the fairer sex. The whole time I'm getting dressed, kicking aside piles of dirty clothes on my floor, searching desperately for the hair gel I just know is somewhere in my fucking bathroom, I feel guilty. I feel guilty because I'm doing all of this to grab a heart, crush it against my soul and toss it away like garbage. I don't mean to do it, but that's how it is. I wish I were the kind of guy who could court a girl the old fashioned way, you know? I want to love, but I just don't know how. I'm not sure that anyone has ever loved me before. Okay, maybe that's not true. My grandma did. She really, really did, but now she's dead and there's nothing I can do about it.
I sigh and slam my hands onto the bathroom counter.
Dark eyes stare back at me, framed perfectly above a smirk that's meant to deceive. It's there to say I want you when all I'm really feeling is please save me. Help me. Rescue me. Take me home. I drop my gaze and close my eyes. I've come a long way, really, I have. Yeah, my demons still haunt me and my heart is still as fragile as blown glass, but I'm different now than I was. Stronger. I'm not screwing people for money; I've got a real fucking job. I'm not living with a trick or on the street. I have my own apartment. That's progress. Real motherfucking progress, and I don't care what anyone else has to say.
I could make tonight different. I could forget about finding someone to fuck away my worries and my nightmares. I could try something new. The thought alone is about enough to give me a friggin' heart attack, but I like the idea of it. I like the premise.
“Doesn't hurt to try,” I whisper into the empty apartment, my heart beating frantically inside my chest. If I weren't such a badass, I might cry. I smile and look up again. In the mirror, Tyson McCabe stares back at me. We don't know each other all that well, me and him, but I think deep down he's a good guy. “Don't be a pussy. Reach in those tight ass pants of yours and find your balls. Ask a girl to dance.”
I take a deep breath and step back, fully aware that I'm bullshitting myself. People don't change overnight. Miracles never happen.
Or at least I don't think they do.
3
Ty McCabe
I hit the bar fashionably late, happy to see that the place is small and intimate, if a little seedy. But that's what makes a bar, a bar, right?
“Ty.” Korina approaches and does this weird kiss-kiss thing against my cheeks. She's into this weird phase where she's constantly obsessing about Europe, like it's not a whole continent but a single country where everyone is fashionable and perfect. I don't know where the double kiss comes from, but I'm sure it's just something she's seen in a movie or read in a book. Korina's like me – come from nowhere and going nowhere. “You're late, as usual.” She gives me a tight smile that I don't even bother to try and pick apart. I can't handle anybody else's problems, but my own. That's why I don't have friends, not really. The people standing around this pool table, slapping me on the shoulder, grinning big, inviting me into their game, they don't really care about me and I don't care about them. Any one of us could disappear and I doubt the rest would notice. But that's okay. I'm alright with that.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Korina asks as I study the pool table and the colorful balls glowing in the dim lighting.
“Just a beer, you know. Whatever.” I give her a tight-lipped smile of my own and tuck my hands into the pockets of my jeans. The conversation I had with myself earlier comes flooding back as I lift my head and scan the room, looking for girls. The pickings are pretty slim tonight which is surprising since this bar is one of the big college hot spots.
I smirk and shake my head. Maybe it's a good thing there are no possible prospects here tonight? I'm in a weird mood. I do strange things when I get like this. Maybe I really would've asked a girl to dance? And then what?
I snort and Korina's friend, Darwin, gives me a skeptical look. He's wearing twice the eyeliner I am – oh, and a shirt that says I Only Troll Poles. Huh. Take what you want from that. I smile at him, a light twitch of lips that says nothing about how I really feel.
“Count me in for the next game.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a twenty I can't really afford, waving it around with a wink and dropping it onto the side of the table. I always lose in pool, but who cares. Consider it a ticket to a good time, a slice of space in my lonely life where I can pretend I'm not all by myself in this world.
“Here's your beer,” Korina says, handing me a questionably clean cup overflowing with cheap frothy alcohol. I take a sip and try not to cringe. Ugh. I set the drink down on a nearby table, trying to keep my arm from brushing the sticky surface of the wood. “Winner buys both?” she asks, raising her own glass with a smile on her pink painted lips. I nod, even though I know I'm going to lose, and lean back against the railing.
I take a deep breath of the heavy air and consider heading outside for a cigarette. You'd think I could smoke in here, at the very least, in this den of inequities, but nope. I gotta step outside for a smoke and it is butt fuck cold out there. I decide to stay right where I am, watching the game, laughing at the jokes that flutter from the mouths of the people around me like butterflies. Unconsciously, I run my ringed hand up my left arm, feeling my tattoos whispering across my skin like they're alive. Each time I got a new one, I promised myself that I would fly. That this was it, my time to move on and figure out what the hell I'm doing here on this earth.
Eh, guess that kind of sentiment is all mixed up with purple puppy dogs and rainbow shitting kittens. It's not real. Not in this universe.
I pause, a sensation tingling up my spine like fire. My body tenses and I swear to God, I can just feel it. Eyes. On my back. I think at first that I'm imagining it and try to pay attention to the ongoing conversation around me. I'm not sure what they're talking about anymore, but Korina is smiling and gesturing at the green
silk halter top she's wearing without a bra. We're back to her faux, fantastical version of Europe again. Hmm.
My curiosity gets the better of me and I glance over my shoulder. I only intend to look, but holy shit. I find my entire body follows my head until I'm staring at a vision in red.
Oh fuck.
I have a physical reaction that fires up more than just my dick. Who the hell is this? Before I even realize what I'm doing, I've got a smirk crawling across my face and I'm starting across the bar towards her. The girl's attention is focused fully on me and in her eyes, I see something that interests me. More than just a pretty face, huh, Ty?
I pause, maybe a little too close, but I can't seem to control my forward motion until I feel the heat of her body. I come to a stop inside her personal space, letting my gaze take in the heavy coat on her shoulders and the skintight red dress underneath. Hazel eyes peer back at me and I can't help myself.
“Hi, I'm Ty.” My voice oozes out in a horrific display of flirting. I'm laying it on way too thick. The girl's already interested. No need for me to jump her the second she walks in the door. But those eyes, that hair, that fucking dress.
“I'm Never,” she says, and I can feel my lips start to curve into a smile. “Never is my first name. I don't give out my last name to strangers.” I stifle a laugh and reach out, taking a strand of her hair between my fingers. It's dyed black with a rebellious red streak in it. And it's soft, oh so soft. I'm worried for a second there that she's going to slap my hand away – not that I'd blame her for it. I'm usually more subtle than this. I feel my body react to hers from my head down to my fucking toes. My muscles tense slightly and I find myself swallowing more than I should, running my tongue over my lower lip.
Another girl to add to the list of blank faces and forgotten names, huh, Ty?
Tasting, Finding, Keeping: The Story of Never Page 41