by Cara Dee
"Everything." Everything but the days I'd been here and the time I had left. "Cracks in the ceiling, number of push-ups, how many there are in front of me at the commissary…" I lifted a shoulder.
"That’s depressing," he said quietly.
No. Depressing was when you felt everything so much that you contemplated offing yourself. If I acknowledged every desire, every cry I heard at night, every bruise, every "when I get out, I'm gonna…," and every dream, I wouldn’t be breathing today.
"You haven't been here very long yet," I told him. "My advice? Shut yourself off. You can't find happiness in here." And fuck Nunez for saying otherwise. His bid was shorter. He didn’t know what he was talking about. "Bury it all, don't miss anything, don't give a shit."
Kid would get a taste of the despair, not because of the minimum sentence, but because of his age. Younger men had to push themselves to the breaking point to prove they had what it took.
Not that doing three to five for larceny was a piss in the ocean. It was a steep price to pay for a rich kid who sought out the wrong crowd to find acceptance.
I'd take three to five over ten to fifteen any day, though.
Free at forty-five. My chest constricted painfully, and this was why I didn’t wanna think about it.
Worst-case scenario, I wouldn’t get out until I was forty-five.
I screwed my eyes shut and rubbed at my chest. The pain seared through me. Marks, marks, marks, ask him about the marks. I could count them if I looked closer. Five, ten, fifteen… Twenty-five plus three. Twenty-eight.
"You don't miss anything—ever?" he croaked.
Yeah. I miss life. I miss playing, I miss writing, I miss freedom, I miss her… I groaned and scrubbed at my face. What did it feel like to shower alone? To eat whatever you wanted? To drive? I'd forgotten. God, I'd forgotten.
"I miss hugs," Kid whispered. "I know that makes me weak."
Dammit.
"In here." I winced at another twinge. "It makes you weak in here."
It would be just my luck if a CO walked in now. I glanced at the door, knowing we only got rare visits. We were quiet and kept to ourselves, few misconducts, no rumors of gang affiliations. Fuck it. I lifted my T-shirt to drag it over my damp face, and then I went over to sit on the edge of Kid's bed.
He stiffened. "I'm not in the mood to suck your cock."
Way to point out I was an asshole, even though it'd been his goddamn idea. "Scoot in, punk." I followed once he'd made room for me, and I yanked his blanket over us. Don't enjoy it, I told myself. Nothing was weird for me anymore, but it was uncomfortable to be close to someone like this. Uncomfortable, 'cause I'd kinda forgotten what affection was, too.
I wrapped an arm around his middle and spooned him, the unfamiliar sensations fucking with my head. The loss of human contact only masked itself as a bubble of depression every now and then. After nine years in prison, I was fairly good at shaking it off.
"I wanna be indifferent like you," he said softly.
I'm failing.
I gave him a tight squeeze and felt some tension leaving him. "Who hurt you today?" Starting tomorrow, I had to demand more. Gym hours, self-defense, strategy.
"One of Mack's people," he mumbled. "He kicked me in the ribs—"
"My bad." I let up on my hold.
"No." In response, he returned my arm to his middle. "It's okay. It hurt way worse when he punched me in the junk and threatened to ass-fuck me. There's really some awesome people in here."
I smiled despite it all and buried my nose in his hair.
"I told him I don't have any money," he said. "He doesn’t believe me."
"I'll talk to Mack," I answered quietly. Kid's hair smelled like absolutely nothing, but it was soft and warm. Don't enjoy it. "In the meantime, no more half-assing workout hours. Chicken legs." His arms weren't any better.
"Fine."
Fuck, I was enjoying this. My hand found its way under his shirt, and the skin-to-skin contact was amazing.
"Think you could exchange your happy trail for a pair of tits?" I smirked against his neck, feeling his silent laugh reverberate through him. Maybe I found some shit weird, after all. Never before had cuddling felt so right while being completely nonsexual. It was fucked.
"If you do the same. Then we'd be Mack's bitches in no time."
"Speak for yourself." I nuzzled his skin as he slid a leg between mine. The marks… I saw them when I happened to glance at the wall. "Twenty-eight marks. You can't be counting weeks."
"Huh? Oh." He let out a quiet snort. "That’s the number of blow jobs I've given you."
All right, that was weird, too. "Of all the things you could count."
He hummed, absently playing with my fingers. "It's not so bad."
I could argue that. The man I was before would've beaten me senseless to agree to his proposal in the first place. The man I was today…he didn’t care as much, and it was nice to blow off some steam and get a release. Everything in here came at a cost; it was just a mind-set everyone eased into over time. Kid would, too.
"One day, I'll apologize."
"No need." He turned around in my arms and snuggled closer. "This is nice."
It really was, though I couldn’t understand it. Was it sexual? It didn’t feel like it. I could screw without attraction, which I only felt toward women. So why did I wanna get closer and closer and fucking inhale the kid?
I guess I was one deprived son of a bitch.
"Can I ask why liking this makes me weak?" he wondered.
Given the spiraling of my thoughts, I could give him several reasons. "It's distracting, for one." I needed to stop. Instead, I was pressing my mouth to his forehead. His skin was warmer than my lips. "And I guess it's like opening the floodgates." I wasn’t stupid. Just because I'd managed to close myself off somewhat, at least in comparison to how I used to be, I knew we—as humans—weren't meant to be alone. We all craved contact to some degree. "It draws out feelings and shit that doesn't belong here." It was the best way to describe it.
"Makes sense, I suppose." He trailed a hand up my bicep, and that touch hurt.
"We gotta stop." I swallowed hard and dragged myself out of his bed. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I scratched my bicep. Nine years; it'd been nine years since anyone touched me, not counting the hug I gave Pop when he visited two or three times a year. Comfort was a killer. I couldn’t afford to crave it. "We have some free time. Let's lift some weights."
*
Damn that kid.
He slept well that night, judging by his snoring and the fact that he hardly moved.
Stop thinking.
My pen scraped the wall. I was right, wasn’t I? Affection was the gateway to misery. Ade had been the cutest fucking cuddler. She'd tuck her head under my chin and trace a finger along my tats. I remembered loving it. Brief moments of peace where we weren't on the road, where I wasn’t in a band, and where she wasn’t looking for the next fix.
She never should've gotten on that bus.
The irony was, I knew that even then.
These moments in life we call crossroads
Stay away, darling girl, take the other path
So much for the cuddle session with a young man I felt nothing for being innocent. It brought me here—to right now, when I was unable to quit thinking of Ade.
But the girl got on the bus, to travel alone
With men of no-good intentions, no-good unfortunate sons
I wasn’t strong. I never had been. I pressed the pen harder to the wall, filling in each word over and over until I was sure they didn’t make sense. I'd caved with her. I'd ignored the warning bells. She's so young. For the longest time, I only had the image of her as an eighteen-year-old girl. In my head, she kinda stayed that way, even though I knew better now. She'd matured. She cut her hair.
Don't ruin her, I'd thought at that party. Leave her alone. But I'd caved. All it took was thinking of her playing piano in the empty air and her witty retorts about Creedence.
It would've been safer if Mikey had dug his claws into her for a night and then tossed her out. Funny how I warned her to stay away from him.
We can be together, darling girl
In the wrong place at the wrong time
I broke my pen.
* * *
1998
"Holy crap, Lincoln! I can see all of Vegas from here!"
I smiled faintly and placed my guitar case on the couch. Adeline stood with her hands planted against the big window facing the Strip. We were high up, though I wouldn’t agree and say we could see all of Vegas. Maybe all that mattered…
Approaching her slowly, I checked out her ass and killer legs. The waves of her dark hair teased her lower spine. I wondered what the fuck her deal was. The attraction, I could get past. She was the most gorgeous thing I'd seen, but there was something else. She marveled at the view as if she hadn't seen many places. Then at the party, she spoke of giving head like she'd gone around the block and then some.
As I reached her, I shifted her hair away from her neck and dipped down to get a whiff of her. She stiffened before relaxing. The sweet scent of pancakes and strawberries was gone, something subtler and more natural lingering.
"Do you have anything?" The words left her in a soft rush, leaving no question about what she asked for. Maybe that was it…? She'd been high as a kite at the party. I guessed ecstasy.
I hummed, dropping a slow, openmouthed kiss along her neck. "What're you in the mood for?" I knew what I was in the mood for, and I cupped her pert tits through her flimsy top.
She laughed breathily. "Happiness?"
I grinned and gave her jaw a nip. "You don’t think my cock pushing inside your pretty little pussy would make you happy?" My jeans felt tighter at the thought, and I gripped her hips and pressed my cock against her lower back. "Before we check out, I'll fuck you right here. Hands on the window, your breath fogging up the glass." I groaned under my breath.
She's gonna be so fucking tight.
We only had dinner and a party tonight. The show wasn’t until tomorrow. I was planning on breaking her in—stat.
Adeline turned around in my arms, peered up at me, and bit her lip. "What do you have?"
I chuckled. My tiny dancer was undeterred. So that was it, huh? She was with me for the drugs. I could work with that. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, either. My ego took a hit, minor as it was, 'cause—for once—I wasn’t everything to a chick. Rightfully so, she saw me as a stranger. One who happened to have what she evidently wanted…
Goddammit, I still had the advantage. I had the power here. She gave it to me 'cause I had something she wanted to get her hands on.
I straightened and adjusted my cock, then retrieved a baggie from my back pocket. "I'm gonna grab a shower before I leave." Passing the coffee table, I yanked out my wallet, too, and dropped a few bills. "You'll be my date at a dinner tonight. Buy something slutty to wear."
I was gonna push her.
"What if I want to go sight-see?" she challenged teasingly.
I turned my back on her and headed for the bathroom, holding up my middle finger for her. "This is your only plan, tiny dancer. Know your place."
Chapter 6
Adeline Ivey
1998
The money my mom had dropped on the ground for me would be gone in a few days if everything was this pricey. I didn’t even know what I was paying for. The view? The trendy restaurant was on the top floor of another hotel. Either way, it couldn’t be the food because I didn’t understand a word.
It was in an Asian language.
No one else seemed to wonder why the menu wasn’t in English. I was surrounded by men in suits—from the record label—and their wives. Or mistresses? Whatever.
"Do you like shrimp?" Lincoln leaned close and pointed at an item. "That one's good."
I liked shrimp, except for when the shrimp tried to rob me.
"Is it made of gold?" I whispered.
Not so long ago, I wouldn’t have worried. I grew up in a nice LA suburb, and I couldn’t recall ever worrying about price tags. Then life happened.
Lincoln laughed under his breath and rested his arm along the back of my chair. "Don't look at that shit. The label's picking up the tab." He inched closer and spoke in my ear. "You don’t have to worry about money. Everything's covered. Not just for today."
"Um, okay." High price for having someone to fuck, wasn’t it?
His "know your place" from earlier was fresh in my mind.
I didn’t care. I'd been called worse.
*
I'd expected more rock n' roll and less industry jibber-jabber. The tour was the main topic, of course. They were discussing sales, interviews, promo, and merchandise while I was struggling to stay awake.
"What time is it?" I asked Lincoln, keeping my voice down.
He set down his beer and checked his watch. "Little past ten. You got somewhere to be?" His mercury-bluish eyes flashed with mirth.
I crossed my eyes at him, then grinned. "Actually, I do." Reaching under the table, I stuck two fingers down my right boot and retrieved something to make me happy. The moron had given me a hundred dollars for a dress. I bought one for twenty and found something much better to spend the rest on. "I'll be right back." Because I needed the party to get started.
Leaving the table, I made my way toward the bathrooms. It was dark, covered in mosaics that ranged in golds, reds, and greens. It didn't even smell bad here. Fancy.
I turned on the water and threw back one pill, then cupped my hand to fill it and chase down the happiness with water.
Just when I straightened and swallowed, the door opened. I turned and leaned against the sink.
Have fun with me.
"What's in your hand, tiny dancer?" He folded his arms and leaned against a bathroom stall.
"Joy?" I offered. "This is the little girls' room, you know."
He eyed the room and then cocked a brow at me. "Are there any little girls in here?"
I shook my head and took one step closer. He watched me silently. This was it. One more step. I took out another pill, and challenge flitted across his face.
Eventually, I came to a stop right in front of him. I had to look up.
Let's have fun.
"Do you know what you're getting yourself into?" His voice had grown quiet, almost husky.
"I think so." My gaze flicked between his eyes and mouth, and I held up the little pill. "I'm on tour with rock stars. Make me feel it."
With a single look, he met the challenge and set me on fire. His lips parted, and I placed the pill on the tip of his tongue. He gave my finger a sharp nip before swallowing the pill dry.
I swallowed too, just from seeing his Adam's apple work. When I felt his hands on my hips, my legs trembled. He leaned in slowly, all while keeping our gazes locked, then whispered in my ear.
"Too late to back down now, Adeline."
I stifled a whimper and sucked in a breath.
Down the rabbit hole I go.
*
We returned to the table, cool as cucumbers. It'd be a little bit before the ecstasy kicked in. Personally, I couldn’t fucking wait. Now that I was away from LA, I was in the mood to celebrate.
Morgan eyed me curiously, to which I winked. I'd run into him at the hotel earlier, and it was nice to meet someone who wasn’t all booze and bitches. As the manager's PA, Morgan was a preppy sweetheart. From the minute we greeted each other, I wanted to mess up his hair and see if his suit could wrinkle.
I gigglesnorted to myself—for what, I wasn’t sure—and Lincoln smirked at me.
"Already?" He was referring to the E, and I shrugged. I could never really tell when it shifted.
I'd finished my wine a while ago, so I stole his beer and took a sip. It didn’t quench my thirst—only water would—but it did get me a playful glare from a sexy rock star.
"You take something from me," he murmured, "I'll take something from you."
"Promise?"
/>
He nodded. "Promise."
* * *
2007
"Did you know you're my favorite dance partner?" I kissed the top of Abel's head and swayed to the music. In the wake of his last meltdown, we danced slowly to his favorite song. His only response was to hug me a bit harder.
I knew he was sad. He usually attacked furniture, but this time, he'd smashed his Harry Potter movies against a wall.
"You're gonna be taller than me soon." Another year or two, maybe. I still had a head on him. "Do you remember when Jesse outgrew me?"
There was a quiet little laugh that Abel directed at the floor. He kept watching his feet, not wanting to mess up the steps. "He picked you up."
"He did," I chuckled. "You couldn’t have been more than six."
Yeah, six. It was the roughest year of our lives.
Hard to imagine it'd been almost six years since the boys became mine.
"Mom, I'm sorry," Abel mumbled and peered up at me. The sadness in his blue eyes tore at me. "I didn’t mean to break anything."
"I know, sweetie." I kissed him on the forehead and wanted him to focus on the future. "Now that I'll be home more, we can practice those exercises every day—the ones Dr. Anderson gave you. How's that?"
"Yeah, I guess." He shrugged and counted his steps again. One, two, three. One, two, three.
In reality, I wouldn’t be home more—the opposite, in fact. But I would be home when Abel was awake. I got the job at the clinic yesterday, and starting January second, I would be working full time as a receptionist. Abel was more than welcome to stop by after school, Dr. Anderson had assured me.
Unfortunately, Dr. Houston was thrilled about my working there, too.
"I'm here for you, Adeline," he'd said. Dark gaze dropping, his hand on my back running a bit too low. "And his prescription…we can always work something out, you know."
I flinched and averted my eyes to the wall.
Couldn’t I be done being someone's whore?
*
I opened the ketchup bottle and turned on the faucet. Adding half a cup of water, I could put ketchup on next week's grocery list instead. This week was fucking toast. With two months of rent due, one still from last month, I’d had to pay one yesterday. We wouldn’t find a cheaper place to live, so I couldn’t lose the house.