by Lisa N. Paul
The lights from the street whispered in through the window, allowing her to focus on the long sculpted body of a man who had clearly taken good care of himself in the recent past; and although while his physique wasn’t perfect, it was damn near flawless. She assumed his accident had debilitated him, but then again, she was still surprised it hadn’t killed him. His arms, chest, and torso were marked randomly with tattoos, both of words and pictures, and with him sleeping she had a few moments to stare at the colors, both beautiful and gory. However, she knew from touch that no matter how incredible the art work what laid underneath the ink was pain and memories. What appeared to be burn marks rested underneath symbols love and honor, where long gashes where surrounded by daggers and shields. Even in a mostly darkened room, Cate could see the dates scrolled Kyle’s ribs and her gut clenched with foreboding of the significance those days meant to a man like him.
Her gaze traveled up to his face, he was peaceful in slumber. Dark scruff shadowed his chiseled jaw, hair that had been ignored for enough days to make it soft to the touch. And those lips…mmm. What intense pleasure they brought her during their time together. She wasn’t certain she’d ever forget those lips. When her stare moved up just a bit more to the angry scar that ran down from his forehead through his eyebrow and over to his temple, her stomach tightened. Not because the scar was ugly, because it wasn’t...to her. She was affected because that very scar showed he was a fighter. Like attracts Like, Elliot’s words played in her head.
“Angel.” Had he awoken when he called out the name he’d given her? Uncertain, she remained still. The only sounds were that of her heart banging into her breastbone and Kyle’s muffled plea. “Sweet angel, you can’t stay. I’ll ruin you. Please, Angel…go.” Even though she knew Kyle was still trapped in his dream, she took his advice and…went.
You PLANNED it!
“WELL, AREN’T YOU all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning?” It was more of a statement than a question that Cate didn’t bother to answer.
Instead, she placed a hot tray of brownies onto the counter top to cool before looking up at her friend. “Ells, you slept here last night? How come?” Elliot pursed her lips and shrugged a gesture that assured Cate she wasn’t going to receive the real answer to her question.
“I don’t know. I guess I’m just used to sleeping here. What? Don’t give me that look?”
“What look are you referring to, missy? The one where I’m guessing you’re full of shit? Or the one where I know you are?” Cate moved fluidly to the refrigerator and retrieved the ingredients to make omelets for each of them.
“Okay, you guessed my real motive. I only sleep here for your cooking. Otherwise, I’d be stuck with cold cereal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. A girl can only eat Lucky Charms for so long before she isn’t feeling lucky anymore.” Cate laughed at Elliot’s exaggerated shiver. “But seriously, Catey, when did you get home? Better yet, how did you get home? I slept with the phone under my pillow just in case you needed me to come and rescue you.”
That right there, proved to be another reason why Elliot was welcome to stay at her house for as long as she chose. She was much more than a friend; she was family. That thought made her pause. No, she was closer than family. Her family forced her to relive things she wanted to forget. They had made her prance around like a circus sideshow while they pretended to be grateful and doting. They forced her to cry on cue and smile on demand, and they did it all while collecting money off a nightmare from which she would never awaken. And when she refused to continue with their plans for using her as their cash cow, they shrugged their shoulders, tossed her to the side, and inserted her identical twin sister in her stead. Her sister was clearly excited for the much desired attention from their parents and the media. So her twin smiled and became the doting daughter her parent’s sought.
While her parents were never overly affectionate, Cate spent her childhood praying the family she loved would come for her, save her, but they never came. They were lost to the greed that fame afforded them. By the time their pockets were lined and their bank accounts were full, she had given up hope and offered them no more than superficial communication and shallow smiles.
When she was finally old enough to be on her own, she left them behind. Even though she never went home, her heart never healed from the betrayal of those who were supposed to love her unconditionally, instead of based on the value of her price tag.
Sure, she knew all families weren’t like her own. When the Reed’s moved in next door to the Lockton’s, it had been over a year since Cate’s ordeal. Yet her parents still had her making appearances on talk shows and news broadcasts. There were even talks of biographies and screenplays. They refused to let the story go. The more they thrust her into the spotlight, the more she withdrew, preserving what was left of her and shoving it into a protective shell.
Elliot, even as a young girl knew what Cate needed and gave it to her freely. Having moved in after Cate was found and the initial trauma had passed, Elliot shared that she was happy to have a friend the same age as she, living next door. Over the years, Elliot confided that it had taken months before her parents even told her what had happened to Cate in the first place. She never pushed Cate to open up about the stories of her trauma nor did she speak to the people who tried to interview her because of their friendship. Both the girl and her parents were loyal and true. They protected Cate first and foremost, becoming the family she relied on when things were horrible in her own home.
By the age of thirteen, Cate was practically living in the Reed house, permission granted by her parents under the strict rule that she was to return home for family photos and press releases. She was informed by her parents that if she refused to play the happy well-adjusted victim, then she could act the role of the moody twin. It was a small price to pay in order to be out of the prison that was suffocating her slowly.
There would never be enough gratitude to repay the Reeds, but then again, they would never want or expect payment of any kind.
As for Elliot, she challenged Cate to do more and be more. She never pushed her to relive the past that tortured her, in fact, quite the opposite. Elliot knew Cate couldn’t put what happened behind her until she was ready. She believed that time would come eventually, and until it did, she would stand by Cate in whatever way she could. Cate eyed her best friend as she scooped the omelets onto the plates. Yep, better than family.
“I strolled in around four this morning. And before you act all Momma Bear on my ass, I took a cab home. I learned my lesson last time. I will never again attempt to walk more than one mile in heels.” Cate shook her head as the unpleasant memory washed over her. “My poor feet will never be the same.”
“I gotta be honest. I was kind of hoping to see you do the walk of shame in here this morning,” Elliot admitted, sipping her coffee. “From what I heard, that guy has some series stamina. And, Christ, he’s freaking hot when he’s not all bloody and lying under a car.”
“Wow, I’m not even sure where to start with that one,” Cate retorted dryly. “Okay, first of all, you know I never spend the night at guy’s places, ever. I don’t know why you would think this time would be any different.”
“Because it is different. He’s different, and you know it. This guy’s been haunting your thoughts since the night we found him. Uh huh, don’t bother denying it, girlie-goo. You think about him all the time.” Elliot waved her arms around she spoke, “And honestly, what are the chances that you just happen to see him again? And the two of you, my lord, it was like a magnet pulling you together. I needed a fan to cool down from the heat you two were throwing off.”
“I think you have finally lost your mind.” Raising her voice sparked the mini earthquake in her skull, a reminder of how much she drank the night before. After rubbing her cool hands over her face to help alleviate the pressure from her head, Cate opened her eyes to see a small bottle of acetaminophen had magically appeared on the counter and an angelic expre
ssion graced Elliot’s face. Okay, maybe magic had nothing to do with it.
“Ells, the chances were huge that we were going to run into Kyle Marx at the bar last night…YOU PLANNED IT.”
“Oh, calm down. I told you I wasn’t sure he would be there.” She shrugged her narrow shoulders unapologetically and stared directly into Cate’s eyes. Yep, this was the no bullshit stare. “Don’t you dare deny you had a great time with him. Because I can see it all over your blissed out face.”
She wouldn’t deny it; she couldn’t. The sex was amazing, and she had soreness in muscles she didn’t even know existed until this morning. She could still feel his touch on her skin and his taste on her tongue. There was absolutely no denying the chemistry she had with Kyle.
“The sex was good.” The slight head dip and furrowed brow combo that her friend sported all but screamed how little Elliot believed Cate’s description. “Okay, the sex was fantastic. But now, it’s over. One night. That’s all I have to offer, and that’s all he has to give. It was the perfect set up.” She watched as her friend banked her disappointment. Elliot hated when her plans didn’t go the way she wanted them to.
“Really, did you honestly think I would see him and everything would change? The way I’ve lived my life for more than twenty years would just change, and he and I would walk off into the night a happy couple?”
“Well, you did walk off into the night.” Elliot smiled behind her coffee mug.
“Ells, he’s a bigger disaster than me! He’s clearly a misogynistic asshole with a drinking problem, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t on some type of drugs last night as well. His eyes were all glassy and fucked up.” Twisting her hair around her fist, Cate felt fidgety, as if she couldn’t sit still. So unlike the Zen person she had spent years training to be. She knew the man from the bar and the man she’d spent hours in bed with were two very different people, but it was irrelevant.
Placing her mug on the table, Elliot ran her fingers through her tangled curls and sighed thoughtfully. “Honey, do you honestly think I’d throw you into the lion’s den without making sure he was good and full first?”
“Ells, I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.” Cate rubbed her tired eyes. “All I do know is I don’t want or need Kyle, or any man for that matter, in my life. I had fun last night. The bar was great, the girls were a blast, but I think I’ve had my fill. No more talk of Kyle or Danny’s on Main for a while, okay?” She walked out from behind the breakfast bar and headed up the stairs. “I’m gonna take a nap.” She called over her shoulder, “I think a few hours of sleep are just what I need.”
“Umm, Catey?” Elliot said sweetly. Ignore her, Cate’s inner voice plead.
“Yes?”
“Sweet dreams.”
That isn’t what her friend was going to say and she knew it, but she was happy for the reprieve. “’Night, Ells.”
The sun bled through his window, washing the room in bright Friday afternoon light. Without opening his eyes, Kyle reached over to his night table and grabbed his clock. Slowly peeling open his lids, he stared at the red numbers. Rubbing his eyes, he focused on the digits once again. Jesus, he never slept this late. Usually the nightmares had him up before the sun. Before his accident, he would’ve gone for a run. Since his little dance with the pole and house arrest, he spent most of his hours on the couch channel surfing.
He felt rested this morning. He couldn’t remember fighting the demons from his past last night. His mother wasn’t leaving him and his brother behind with a monster of a father who would spend years abusing them. He wasn’t watching as his father burned and sliced Nixon’s young flesh for the sole purpose of teaching Kyle to be more of a man and never show his emotions. He wasn’t participating in the demeaning acts forced upon him of sexually debasing countless women. The acts that if not followed would lead to little or no food for his younger brother that week.
No, last night he slept perfectly. Only one dream weaved through his unconscious mind… Just then the memories hit him. “Angel.” Wanting to kick himself for forgetting for even a second, he sat up, searching his room for any clues that she was still there, that she was ever there in the first place. The pillow next to him was cold and had no indentation from her head. But the long red hair and the scent of cinnamon left behind eased the knot in his gut. Cinnamon, such a unique scent, he thought. He was used to chicks who smelled like bubble gum, candy, flowery shit, and stuff he couldn’t identify, not her. She smelled so delicious he wanted to eat her. Memories of how he did exactly that brought a smile to his face.
The apartment was quiet, precisely how he liked it…usually. It was one of the reasons he showed the broads the door before they could cozy up in his bed after he fucked them. There was nothing worse than hearing their bullshit morning-after chatter about phone calls and next times, shit he knew was never gonna happen. Yet for some reason, between the empty bed, the pile of clothes on the floor containing only his items, and the screaming silence, he felt…alone.
“You’re not alone.” He spoke out loud to himself. “You’re solo, and that’s how you like it. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Get up and hit the gym—you’re getting soft.” His hip and leg complained as he eased out of bed and over to his dresser and the mirror that hung above it. Not long ago, looking in the mirror filled Kyle with pride. Now, as he stood with his reflection staring back at him, taunting him, reminding him the only good attribute he ever possessed was now tainted and scarred, self-loathing began to set in once again. He could practically hear his father laughing as he focused on the raised, pink jagged line. Do what I tell you to do, you piece of shit, and I’ll leave that pretty face of yours alone. It’s the only thing that will attract women to you since you’re fucking stupid. And in the end, it was Kyle himself who ruined the one thing he had going for him.
Trying to push out all thoughts of his father, he quickly dressed and tied his sneakers. Flashes of the previous night kept slipping through his mind. The way her toned body felt in his hands, how her cream tasted on his tongue when she finally let go, the sound of her cries when she exploded around him, he was having sensory overload just thinking about the incredible sex with his extraordinary angel. Yes, he could admit the sex was the best he’d ever had, but even that wouldn’t make him the man he used to be. Or better yet, the man he’d never been.
“Fuck, I want a drink.” His hand hovered over the bottle of vodka, but the husky voice of a red-headed vixen played softly in his ear. I want you, Kyle, followed by Danny’s not too subtle warning, ‘Make better choices, son,’ weighed heavily on his conscience. Leaving the alcohol exactly where it was, he walked to the refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of water and a protein bar, and headed to the gym.
A Tough Chic
“HEY KY,” ASHLEY strolled up to the bar swatting him playfully on the shoulder. “A couple of things… First, there’s a private party in the back room tonight, Ryan’s gonna work that bar and you and I are up here.” She pulled the elastic holder out of her long hair, sending the blonde and purple streaks cascading down her shoulders and back. “Second, Sunday dinner is at Lyla’s place tomorrow. When I saw her this morning, she asked me to remind you, okay?” Ever since Ashley and Ryan finally stopped dancing around each other and started dancing on one another, she was happier than he’d ever seen her. Would he ever feel that kind of happiness? Quickly, he pushed the ridiculous thought from his mind. His life was fine as it was.
“Ash, sometimes I miss the moody little brat you used to be.” He twisted the rag between his hands and playfully whacked her butt.
“Ouch, Marx,” Ashley grinned, “you swat me on the ass with that bar towel again and I’ll show you moody.”
“See,” Kyle scowled, “You can’t even threaten me without smiling. Christ, just what the hell has Baker done to you?” Ashley’s hazel eyes softened as she mounted one of the bar stools and motioned for Kyle to join her.
Ashley opened her mouth to speak and then stopped,
attempted again, and stopped yet again. “Just spit it out, Ash we don’t have all night. The bar opens in two hours.” He forgot how hard Ashley Kynde could punch. “Okay, okay, no need to be violent, Spicy. I was just joking.” Kyle chuckled rubbing his arm. Ashley sure as hell lived up to her nickname, Spicy, when she wanted to.
“Okay,” she sighed, “So I saw you flirting with the little blonde bar bunny last night.” The way Ashley changed topics would have given a stranger whiplash, but they’d been friends for more than eight years, her conversation ADD was something he could not only tolerate, but follow; her overanalyzing his life, though, not as much.
“Yeah, so what? She was all over me. Nothing different from the norm.” The words were out before he could pull them back. Just by the look in his friend’s eyes, he knew he was caught in a lie.
“Hmm, it didn’t seem like the norm to me, Kyle.” Ashley’s simple statement felt like a hard pinch.
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that on Thursday night, I saw you with the red-headed woman, and your whole face changed. I won’t insult you by trying to name what you were thinking or feeling, but I will say that you were, indeed, both thinking and feeling. I’ve never seen you like that before.” Kyle opened his mouth to interrupt her, but when her soft hand touched his tattooed arm, he paused. Something inside begged him to just listen to what his friend had to say.
“Kyle, something happened between Thursday night and last night. Because when the blonde bunny—who, yes, was just like all the rest of the girlies you usually entertain—came on to you, you didn’t play. You didn’t engage at all. In eight years, I have never seen you disengage, ever. As a matter of fact, I barely saw you drink last night.”