Licentious

by Jen Cousineau

  “Hey, ladies,” a hot blond saddles up to us. Blond hair, hazel eyes, and dimples. Normally, I would be all over him for a night to forget, but Alé ruined me. There’s something about Alé that pulls my thoughts to him always. It doesn’t help that I’ve fallen in love with his family. I roll my eyes toward Addison. She smiles knowingly and puts her game one. This has been our pattern since the last time I spoke with Alé. I tried. I tried so hard to get shit faced to forget everything including him, just to have a good time and get off, but every time I come close to leaving with someone, no matter how I drunk I am, Alé’s face appears at the forefront of my mind, ruining it all.

  I look over at the clock hanging above the bar and see it’s only eleven. I’m drunk Maybe even a step past that point. Looking back at Addison, she’s getting friendly with blondie. I nod my head, decision made. I pick up my phone, grab her arm, and pull her to me. “I’m going to go find Alé,” I yell into her ear over the noise in the bar.

  She pulls back quickly, smiles big and shouts, “You are?”

  I nod and smile. “If I can’t have sex with someone else, then he needs to scratch my itch.” I wink before kissing her cheek and then head outside to hail a cab.

  Lucky for me cabs are out thick on Saturday nights. Since Addison made me dress to the nines in a black lace dress that hugs my curves and hits mid-thigh, cleavage on stage, my legs going on for miles with my red, four-inch stilettos, I don’t have an issue flagging one to stop. Sway and all. I tell the cabdriver where to go, and it feels like the ride took less than five minutes to get there. Paying the driver with a hefty tip, I ask him to wait for me. “If I’m not back in twenty minutes, feel free to go,” I smile. He smiles back as I get out of the car and walk to the door.

  Hmm. Maybe I should go to his place first. I nod. “Good thinkin’, Jo,” I say to myself aloud as I giggle. A few trips over my feet, I finally make it to his door. I knock softly at first and wait, but he doesn’t answer. Knocking harder, still nothing. I try the door knob. Turning it freely, I push the door open. Stumbling through, I turn on the lights and find the place empty.

  “I’m going to kill him if he’s with some bimbo. Asshole,” I say angrily to myself, my blood simmering at a slow boil. I walk back around to the front of the house and see that my cab had left me stranded.

  “Are you serious?” I growl as I stomp my foot on the concrete like a child in mid-tantrum. “Crap!” I head to the front door and knock softly. I’m irritated, yet nervous. What if he’s not here? What if he is? Oh, my God, I think I might throw up. My palms are sweaty and my heart is pounding. I knock again, and instantly, the door opens, Alé filling the space. Shock covers his dangerously, handsome face.

  “You’re an asshole,” I growl as I push him back with my palms connecting with his chest. As I push forward, he steps back, and I fumble forward. Recovering as gracefully as possible, I spit, “Do you know that?”

  “That I’m an asshole?” his voice rings deep, amused.

  “Yes!” I nearly yell.

  He pulls my arm gently to move me out of the way so he can shut the door. With his back to the door and my back to the rest of the house, I ask, “Do you want to know why you’re an asshole, Alé?”

  “Pretty sure you’re going to tell me why, anyway,” he smirks, arms crossed over his chest.

  Narrowing my eyes, I slur, “You think this is funny?” I take off my right heel and throw it at him, hitting him in the chest. “That’s for not being home when I knocked and making me think you were fuckin’ some slut.” Taking off my other heel, I throw it at him but he catches it, which pisses me off even more. “That’s for ignoring me for over three months,” I growl. “Three months, Alé!” I yell, holding my arms out to my side before placing them on my hips. “I even texted you.” I point at him. “I thanked you for the damn locks and not a word back! Who does that?” I ask exasperated. “That’s like… like, from the handbook of douchebag 101,” I tell him, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “So, now I’m a douchebag?” he cocks an eyebrow. “Have you forgotten that you chose to be alone?” he asks with an edge to his voice.

  “Alé, I can’t!” I yell.

  “No, you won’t,” he corrects me angrily.

  I push him back into the door. “I can’t, Alé,” I yell again. “I can’t have sex, okay?” I say quickly before I can change my mind.

  He laughs. Laughs! “What?” I snap, anger fueling through my veins.

  “In case you’ve forgotten, kitten, we’ve already slept together.” He grins. “If you came here to spew lies, feel free to leave. Don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya.” He gestures toward the door.

  “Ugh! I mean sober, you idiot! I can’t have sober sex! You’ve seen what happens when I even try—I freak out. I get all these, these…” my hands move rapidly with a mind of their own around my drunk-induced brain, “flashbacks. Eve,” I whisper, “Eve was my twin sister. We went to Monsoon for our eighteenth birthday and were brutally attacked. They killed her and left me alive to pass a message on to my brother,” I spit out rapidly. My breathing is erratic and tears free-fall down my cheeks. “Alé,” I breathe, shaking my head. “I have so much baggage. I’m literally messed up. I can’t ask someone else to deal with it all. It’s not fair.” I shake my head as more tears fall and I make no attempt to wipe them away.

  “Jo,” he whispers in shock as he steps toward me. I step away shaking my head.

  “I really do like you, Alé, but I can’t be anything more than friends. I want to have you in my life. I want to be friends with you,” I tell him, looking in his eyes, hopeful, biting my lower lip.

  He stalks toward me and grasps my face between his warm palms. “Let me in, Jo,” he orders gently. “Let me help you carry the bags,” he whispers as he presses his forehead against mine.

  “Alé,” I whisper closing my eyes.

  “Jo, let me decide for me,” he pleads. His thumbs erase the evidence of my tears as they stop the new ones falling.

  A throat clears from behind us. My eyes snap open, growing wide, my body freezes. Alé’s mouth tilts at the side. “I was actually in the middle of a meeting,” he says softly. Um, what?

  “Oh, my God,” I groan, closing my eyes and turning around. Slowly opening my eyes, I see Frank, Uncle Jack, Tommy, and Nikolas standing defensively in the middle of the living room. I hear a sniffle come from the left and see Maria, Enedina, Nina, and Rosetta on the staircase, standing in their pajamas. Shock and amusement filling all of their faces. Tears quietly rolling down Rosetta’s face.

  “Sorry, we didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Maria says quickly. “We just heard yelling and wanted to see…” she trails off. I hold a hand up to let her know that it’s fine.

  “I guess I was, uh… kinda loud. Sorry,” I duck my head, looking at my feet.

  “No need to apologize, Joey,” Frank says stepping forward. “Joey,” he says softly. I slowly raise my eyes and see concern shining bright in his. “Did they find your attackers?” I shake my head no, biting the inside of my lip. Why didn’t I check to see if we were alone first? “Would you like me to investigate?” he asks gently.

  I shake my head, hands on my hips, shame filling me, embarrassment heating my face. “They already did,” I say looking down at his chest. All I want to do is run out of here as quick as possible and never show my face again. I can’t believe that in my own drunken stupor, I neglected to think about anyone else that lives here, or why Alé would’ve been at the main house instead of the pool house at this time of night.

  Frank comes up to me, lifting my chin until our eyes meet. “Come, ser bella, come, una stella. Vivere una vita bella,” he says gently before placing his lips to my forehead. “I think you both have much to talk about,” he says patting my cheek. “Alé, go ahead. We’re done here anyway,” he says more firmly.

  “Yes, sir,” Alé says as he clasps his hand through mine, leading me to the patio doors in the kitchen and out to his place.
Neither of us says anything. He opens his door, stepping aside to allow me to enter before him.

  “I see you were here first,” he chuckles lightly.

  I stop in his entry looking around for the first time. Everything about his décor is masculine, but soft enough to be comfortable to a woman. Soft, deep brown leather furniture, hardwood floors, walls the color of sand with colorful paintings of what I assume to be Italy add pops of color. Pictures in distressed wooden frames are sporadically placed around. Family photos, a few people I don’t recognize and one on the side table of a man who looks similar to Alé. I walk over and pick it up, my fingers roaming over the glass.

  “That’s my brother, Frank,” I hear him say quietly from behind me.

  I smile as I look at it. It’s black and white, Frank has his arm around Alé’s shoulders, and both look to be in a full belly laugh. Perfect moment captured at just the right time.

  “My brother, Aedan, was named after my Dad, too,” I tell him, my voice thick as I place the picture back down.

  Now, with my hands empty, and my brain starting to clear from my drunkenness, nerves start to speed through me. My hands start to fidget as I look at everything but Alé.

  “I don’t want you to be nervous,” he says gently as his hands come to rest on my shoulders from behind me.

  “I can’t help it,” I whisper.

  “I assume you’ve talked to someone about this in the past,” he states.

  “Yeah, the investigators who took over the case, and Kellan,” I clarify as I walk to the couch and sit in the middle, resting my head against the back cushion, closing my eyes.

  I feel the cushion dip to the right of me as Alé sits beside me. “Kellan?” he asks confused.

  “Mhmm. Kellan was the lead detective on the case until I finally told Aedan about… the message,” I say quietly opening my eyes. “Then DCI took over because they considered it to involve an officer.”

  “Aedan was a cop?” he asks surprised. Pursing my lips, I nod my head as I begin to push my cuticles back with my thumbnail. After a few moments, his hand rests over mine to still them. “Joey,” he whispers, “please look at me.” Does he not understand how hard this is? “Please.”

  Slowly my eyes move, turning my head, I force myself to swallow my pride and look into his dark, near black eyes. “Alé,” I say, my voice cracking, “I really don’t want to talk about this.” I tell him as my eyes begin to cloud with fresh tears.

  “Please,” he pleads with me, his thumb softly stroking the inside of my wrist.

  “Fine,” I close my eyes and grumble.

  “What happened that night at Monsoon?” he asks gently.

  I shrug, earning a look of impatience and warning from him. Rolling my eyes, I lean back into the cushion, averting my eyes to the ceiling. Taking a deep breath to calm me, I remind myself that I will always be alone and miserable unless I take a chance and let him decide for himself. Here goes nothing.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Aléssandro

  “It was our eighteenth birthday, and we decided to start the night off at Monsoon,” she starts, her voice sounding as if she’s far away.

  “We own Monsoon. There should be security footage,” I interrupt.

  She shakes her head. “It was brand new. Apparently they hadn’t installed the security cameras anywhere but the parking lot yet.”

  “Why Monsoon,” I ask quietly.

  She sighs loudly. “There was a songwriting contest. I guess they do it every year now, but that was the first year they hosted it. I always dreamed of selling my own songs, hearing them on the radio.” She laughs bitterly, the first of many tears begin to trail down her beautiful face. “I actually won.” She nods, rolling her eyes. “I was so ecstatic, and Eve,” she smiles a real, genuine smile, “Eve was over the moon about it. When it was over, I went out to join her and saw she was sitting with two guys who were a few years older than we were. Vinny and Tony.” She nods with hate in her eyes. “Eve convinced me to let them tag along to the next bar we were heading to so we could use our fake ids,” she tells me, her voice cracking.

  “Why didn’t you just use them there?” I ask. Being eighteen, at that time, Monsoon would’ve been the hot spot to be.

  “I enrolled in the contest as an eighteen-year-old, and I didn’t want to mess up my chances in any way, so we agreed after I was free to go, we would head anywhere she wanted to go.” She smiles sadly. “I, uh,” she pauses and wipes her face with her free hand while she looks over timidly at me. I smile to reassure her that it’s’ safe to continue. “I was attracted to Vinny,” she says turning away, almost as if she’s ashamed. “Eve and Tony clearly had a connection.” She shakes her head. Taking a deep, shaky breath, she continues. “We, um, we got separated. Vinny told me that Eve and Tony were ahead of us, so I decided to walk with him to the next bar we would come across. It was late, dark.” She shakes her head, her eyes fixated at a blank spot on the wall across from us. “I heard Eve scream,” her voice quivers, “I pushed Vinny down and ran to where I thought it came from. Tony… he, uh, he had her pinned against the wall at knife point in the back of an alley. Her dress was torn, she was crying.” Jo’s body starts to shake, her head turns and she clasps tightly to my hand. “I ran toward them to get him off her, but Vinny tackled me. Long story short, they were stronger. I tried.” She begins to cry and anger courses through me.

  I fight to keep my hands from tightening too tightly on hers. “I tried so hard to get her free, to save her.” She covers her eyes with her free hand and takes a few breaths. “We were both raped.” She nods her mouth tight. “We were, um…” she takes a shaky breath, “We were stabbed multiple times,” she whispers, “Vinny. Vinny kept telling me that I would never forget that night. That I just had to cooperate and that I would survive,” she shakes her head hastily. “He said ‘I’ like he knew that I would survive. I never stopped fighting. I was sure that they were going to kill us,” she says numbly, her voice almost emotionless. “Then he told me to tell my brother that they warned him and that he should have listened,” she says angrily, hot tears weeping from her eyes. “It didn’t make any sense to me. When Vinny was done, he got up and walked away. I remember...” she chokes on a sob, “I remember looking over at Eve. She was looking at me asking for help, our hands were bound, and I couldn’t help her,” she sobs.

  I reach my arm around her and pull her to my chest, softly rocking her. “I remember talking her through it.” She breathes heavily. “We used to say that we could do anything temporarily.” She nods. “My mom. My mom was a bitch. She hated Eve and me since we were born.” She laughs angrily. “She would give us stupid lists to complete daily and we came up with the saying to make it seem like it wouldn’t always be like that.” She shakes her head, the sobs coursing through her body. “Anyway, I remember telling her that. When Vinny got up, I saw Tony stab her a few more times. That last one…” She begins to sob, my body shaking right along with her from anger seeping through me. “The last one was right in the center of her chest, and then he twisted it. I don’t know where I got the energy,” she shakes her head and swallows, “but I got up and practically fell on him. We struggled for the knife, but the way he was positioned on top of me, I had perfect aim for his balls.” She laughs. “I kneed him hard, giving me enough time to get the knife. I didn’t even hesitate. I didn’t think. I just… watched in awe as I slit his throat, blood dripping, his eyes growing wide in shock as he gasped for air. Then I jammed the knife in his back and twisted it in a circle.” An empty smile crept on her face.

  I’m shocked. Pure. Fucking. Shocked. This woman never gave up. She never stopped fighting. She did something that most people wouldn’t have had the balls to go through with—taking another person’s life, no matter what the circumstances, is not an easy task to follow through with. “I don’t know where Vinny was or where he came from, but they moved Tony off me, and stabbed me again. He took Tony and disappeared. When they were gone, I crawled
my way to Eve.” She pauses, closing her eyes, sucking her bottom lip in between her teeth. “I tried to get her to hang on. There was blood coming from everywhere and the pain, it was unimaginable. It made it so hard to breath. She… she told me she loved me, and that I was the better half,” she sobs. “Eve.” She shakes her head as raw cries rip from her throat. “Eve was my other half. We had never been separated. Never. I knew… I knew she was going to die. When she… when she took her last breath, I laid my head on her and prayed for God to take me, too,” she cries. “When I woke up in the hospital, I remember being so upset. I just… I wanted to die. I wanted to be with Eve. But God was cruel!” She starts yelling. “He took her! He took her and left me here to live without her.” She shakes her head. “Then one by one, he took everyone else, too,” she whispers as she wipes her face with her hands.

  “What do you mean?” I ask quietly through gritted teeth. I don’t want her to know how much this is affecting me. I don’t want her to stop talking to me. I need her to keep talking to me.

  “After I told Aedan about their so-called message, and DCI took over, they ended up not having any leads. He, uh… I… found him hanging from the beams in our basement,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I tried to get him down. I tried, but the rope was too tight, and his body was growing cold. I remember standing on a chair and hugging him, crying.” She purses her lips, closing her eyes as if she’s in physical pain. My hands involuntarily tighten around her, and then I quickly loosen my grip. “His letter basically said that he couldn’t live with the guilt and that he was sorry.” She wipes her nose with the back of her hand.

  “Jo,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry you and your family went through that,” I say softly, hands rubbing up and down her arm.

  “After Aedan’s funeral services, Mom freaked. Blamed me and my dreams for everything that happened. Basically, she was blaming me for Aedan’s death—she didn’t care that Eve was gone. My Dad kicked her out, and I haven’t seen or heard from her since.” She shrugs. “Which, whatever. The bitch hated Eve and I anyway,” she says calmly. “Dad was never the same. I’ve never been the same. Then a few years later, he was hit by some idiot who left him to die. Alone.” Her voice breaks, and she shrugs as she turns her face away from me.