by Cara Dee
On the flipside, what the hell did I know about love?
I shifted away from Morgan and hugged my knees to my chest.
I wasn’t worth the hassle. The majority of my feelings were fleeting. I didn’t trust them. No dreams, no goals. No use. I was going to dwell in the bottom of this hellhole until nothing of me remained.
"You know Lincoln needs you, right?" Morgan murmured.
I shook my head and rested my chin on the top of my knees. "He doesn’t." If he did, he'd get over it. Because no one needed anyone who couldn’t contribute. What would he ever need me for? "I can't do anything. I'm a kid."
"You can take care of him."
I frowned and tilted my head at Morgan.
He went on, quiet and patient. "You feel like you don’t have a purpose, am I right?" At my small nod, he continued. "And when was the last time anyone made you feel like you mattered?"
I lifted one shoulder. "I don’t know if there is anyone. Lincoln seems dead set on…something, I'm not sure what, but he says he wants me close. No clue why."
He inclined his head. "That’s because you don’t matter to yourself. A thousand people can worship you, Adeline, but if you don't even like yourself, you'll never feel it."
"Hmm…" My mind whirred to life, slow and steady. "How do I matter to myself?"
"By accomplishing things." He leaned close and kissed the side of my head. "By taking care of those you love, by helping, by being there—for others and yourself."
I wanted to believe him. I wanted it so much it almost hurt.
Then I looked at the metaphorical baggage I was dragging behind me and sank deeper. How could I? I was a poor judge of character. I'd been wary around Lincoln's dad at first only because he was a father, and fathers were bad. I knew what sex was worth, so I used it as my currency. I didn’t know where the lines were drawn between pleasure and…making a payment. I didn’t know who I could trust, least of all myself. Everything was twisted and muddled inside me.
Most of all, I didn’t believe I'd ever stop feeling dirty and cheap.
"Say it."
"I'm a whore."
*
After the interview, I took a breath and walked timidly toward Lincoln.
He was visibly tired and frustrated, and he was eager to clean off the makeup. All the way to the other suite, he muttered about fucking foundation this and goddamn powder that.
I followed him to the bathroom, and upon seeing a box of makeup wipes, I snatched them up before he could. "Let me help."
He slumped down on the toilet and welcomed me between his legs. "I used to think interviews were fun."
"Now you don’t?"
He hummed and closed his eyes so I could get started. "No, fuck people."
I laughed softly, drawing the wipe across his cheek. "Is, um, there anything I can do for you? Are you hungry?"
"You can take care of him."
He cracked one eye open and smirked faintly. "No, I'm fine. You okay?"
How did I answer that?
With a nod, I resumed cleaning off the makeup. I couldn’t speak, suddenly overcome with a crushing wave of guilt. I'd been selfish beyond words, hadn't I? Somewhere along the road, our feelings had evolved, but he was the only one who'd moved forward. I was stuck on trading sex for…happiness. A word that struck me as foul now. Lincoln had given me moments of extreme joy, which had nothing to do with drugs.
It wasn’t playful or casual anymore. Things had changed, and a lot more was at stake.
Growing up is a choice. Are you going to be a child forever or grow up?
I pushed down the spike of nervousness. If there was even the slightest chance of Morgan being right… Oh God, I was gonna be sick. I only knew defeat.
"What—" I turned my head and coughed to clear my throat. "What're are we doing before the show?"
He closed his eyes again, a crease forming between his brows. "I gotta step out for a moment. Not sure I'll make it back until the gig, so dinner afterward?"
"Sure, yeah, of course." I didn’t enjoy solitude, and he'd spoiled me rotten. If Morgan didn’t have plans, maybe I could bug him. "What'cha up to?" I did my best to keep it light.
"Nothing fun." His hands slid up the backs of my thighs. "I promised an old buddy I'd come see him when I was in town." He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to the spot between my boobs. "What did you think of the interview?"
I smiled. "You were as sexy and few-worded as always."
He chuckled.
*
"I know that look." He winked and retrieved a little something from the pocket of his jeans. Thank goodness. When he held up the pill, I parted my lips, and he kissed me once I'd swallowed. "Be good for me."
I grinned. "I'll do my best."
Unexpectedly, he drew me in for a tight hug that lasted longer than normal. Long enough for me to wonder if something was wrong. I hugged him back with all my strength.
"Is everything all right?"
He nodded and kissed me again. "I'll see you later, tiny dancer."
Then it was just me, and I walked around in our suite and did absolutely nothing until there was a knock on the door. Christ, I really sucked at being alone.
"I come bearing Chinese takeout and a Madigan I happened to find on the way." Morgan entered with Mikey's younger brother following, and I smiled at the two. They were so doing it on the regular.
"So this is how the rich and famous get treated," Madigan said with a smirk. "Nice digs."
I pushed his shoulder. "I'm not sure you're qualified to speak for the unprivileged, dork."
He grinned and shrugged, quick to get comfortable on one of the couches. "Pay-per-view porn or some movie?"
"Movie, thank you very much." I plopped down in a cushy chair just as the effects of the pill sunk in, and it left me mellow and feeling pretty damn good.
"So where's Lincoln?" Morgan sat down next to Madigan and began opening takeout containers. I spotted all sorts of dishes, though I couldn’t say I was very hungry.
"He said he was meeting up with an old friend." Knowing certain people worried about my eating habits, I accepted one container with rice and topped it with vegetables in some curry-smelling sauce.
"Huh. Didn’t know he had buddies in my neighborhood." Morgan pushed up the sleeves of his button-down and dug in.
"You've lived in Detroit?" I wondered.
He nodded. "My folks were from here originally. Still have an aunt here, and my ex-wife was supposed to fly my boys out here so they could stay with my aunt a bit, but…" He made a face and shoveled some shrimp into his mouth.
I felt for him. In two months, he'd only seen his sons once. His ex-wife was apparently not a very nice one. She always found excuses when he asked for a favor that meant she had to get off her ass.
*
"I'm gonna go downstairs and grab a smoke," Madigan said and paused the movie.
I scrunched my nose. It was a non-smoking room, but since when did Lincoln care? "You can smoke here, you know. Lincoln does."
He chuckled and rose from the couch. "Nothing wrong with a little fresh air."
"That’s an oxymoron for a smoker if I ever heard one." Morgan smiled wryly and stood up, too. "I have a delivery to pick up in the lobby, so I might as well join. You too, honey. We can walk off a little of the Chinese you barely touched."
I huffed.
Moments later, I was staring at the three of us in the mirror as we headed down in the elevator. One sharply dressed man, one punky crew guy, and one bum in a hoodie four or five sizes too big. So sexy. My hair was a mess, too.
"Do you think there are people who actually listen to elevator music?" Madigan pondered.
I giggled, and Morgan snorted before dipping down to leave a playful bite on Madigan's jaw.
Reaching the ground floor, I ended up padding after Madigan toward the exit, and Morgan headed to the lobby. And I may have teased Madigan a bit about this alleged fresh air. Because the valet area right in front of
the hotel made the area smell more like fumes than anything I'd like to inhale.
That’s funny. The coke whore is worried about pollution.
I averted my eyes.
Madigan and I stood to the side of the busy entrance while he smoked his cigarette. It was getting dark, so I assumed he had a day off, because the rest of the crew was probably busy building the last of the stage over at Joe Louis Arena.
"Are you and Morgan going to the show?" I asked.
He nodded and exhaled some smoke. "I figured we could take a cab together. You know, when you're not looking like a mad combo of gorgeous and roadkill."
I blushed and laughed, smoothing down my hair as if that would fix anything.
The sound of screeching wheels caused me to step closer to Madigan, and I was just gonna ask him about the apprenticeship he had lined up at a tattoo studio when a black SUV rolled up in front of the hotel. The driver slammed on the brakes and parked like an idiot. I shook my head and turned back to Madigan.
"What the fuck?" He was frowning at something behind me. "It's Lincoln."
Spinning around again, I noticed Madigan was right. Lincoln rounded the car and threw the keys to the valet guy, and my heart jumped at the sight of him. He was tense, had his hood up, and looked…unhinged.
"Lincoln?" My brow knitted together, and he stopped right before he could enter the hotel. Seeing his face shot a bolt of worry through me. He'd been in a fight. A bruise was forming under his eye, and one of his eyebrows was cut. What the—oh my God, why were his hands covered in blood? "What's wrong?"
In the time it took me to take one step toward him, he managed to close the distance and wrap me in a bone-crushing hug. Holy shit, I could feel his heart pounding.
"Lincoln, I'm worried. Tell me what happened." Let me fix it, I want to help, tell me.
"Dude, your hands are banged up," Madigan said worriedly.
"I need you to call my pop, Ade." Lincoln's voice shook, and anger rolled off of him. There was something else, too. Like he was in shock or something. "Here. You know my pin codes." He let go of me and pulled things out of his jeans, mainly his wallet and cell phone. He tucked it all into the pocket of my hoodie and then hugged me to him again. "It's over, baby." Next, he was cupping my face and planting frantic kisses along my forehead, cheeks, and lips. "I don’t regret it. I don't regret it."
"What're you talking about?" I choked out. "You're scaring me. Tell me what happened, goddammit."
"I'll get Morgan." Madigan ran inside.
My heart was soon matching the pace of Lincoln's, and emotions I couldn’t understand surged forward. Who had hurt him? Had he done something wrong? He was just gonna see a friend!
I whimpered as tears welled up. "Talk to me!"
"You're everything," he whispered roughly. "I didn’t mean to… He just… The motherfucker deserved it. I don’t regret it." He kissed me hard, and a strangled cry escaped me. Something's wrong, something's wrong. "I'm sorry for everything he did to you."
Who? Dread filled me. People were stopping around us.
When I heard sirens in the distance, my stomach dropped, and I acted out of instinct. I slapped Lincoln's chest before I could explode.
"Tell me what happened, Lincoln!"
The pained smile he gave me was heartbreaking. It came with unshed tears and ragged breathing. "He'll never put his hands on you again. I fucking swear to you."
I had a sinking feeling that I was supposed to connect the pieces, that I was supposed to know. But the only person he could be talking about was dead.
"Please talk to me," I cried. "I-I don't understand." A dizzy spell caught me, but I managed to steady myself. I touched his bruising jaw, feeling myself collapsing internally like a house of cards.
He didn’t answer me. Instead, he kissed me. A hungry, wild kiss that tasted of whiskey and copper. The sirens were getting closer. A part of me powered down while another was shot straight into hysteria.
"What did you do?" Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I wiped them away. "You're hurt."
"Do you trust me?" he murmured thickly.
I nodded quickly. "Of course, you're—" I exhaled shakily, finding his earlier words perfect. "You're everything."
He gave me a final kiss, full of passion and grief, then took a step back as two police cars drove up. The loss of his warmth hit me squarely in the chest, and I followed instinctively. At the same time, Morgan and Madigan rushed out of the hotel.
"You have to step back, baby." Lincoln threaded his fingers together behind his head, never breaking eye contact, and I shattered.
"What the fuck is going on?" Morgan demanded.
A police officer jogged over, quickly followed by another. "Lincoln Hayes?"
Lincoln nodded jerkily.
No.
"Lincoln—" I choked on a sob, covering my mouth with my hands.
"Lincoln Hayes, you're under arrest."
"No!" I bolted forward. "Get away from him!"
Morgan sounded livid. "There's gotta be a fucking mistake."
"Ma'am, step back."
"Don't touch him!" I screamed. Jumping into Lincoln's arms, I clung to him, desperate, drowning, hurting. There was no way. "You can't—this isn't…" I lost the ability to think, to speak; all I could do was hold on to him.
"You'll be fine." Lincoln captured my mouth in a kiss, and I tasted the salt from our tears. "Go with Morgan, tiny dancer. Be good."
The metallic snap of cuffs being locked reverberated in my skull, causing my knees to give out.
Morgan yanked me back, to which I kicked and thrashed to get free. No, no, no, this wasn’t happening! You have the right to remain silent. One of the cops read Lincoln his rights, and I screamed for Morgan to let go of me. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.
"He hasn't done anything!" I sobbed. "Lincoln!"
"Hey—hey, shh, we'll get to the bottom of this, sweetheart." Morgan tightened his arm around my middle.
Lincoln sent me a last glance, heavy, shell-shocked, and sorrowful—he was trying to stay strong, I could tell, but god-fucking-dammit, no, no, no—and then an officer ushered him into a police car.
"Get her inside, photographers on the way," Madigan spat out quickly.
Lincoln was taken away from me. Everything was taken away from me.
* * *
2008
"I haven't told you… Lincoln's coming home soon, I think." Maybe home was a strong word. I sniffled. "His hearing is today."
I'd taken the day off, much to the surprise of Jesse and Madigan. Perhaps because I never took a day off. Unless I was sick as a dog.
I brushed away some leaves from the square of freshly cut grass in front of Morgan's headstone. The sun was out, setting the trees above us on fire in rich colors of sienna, gold, and burgundy.
"I'm so friggin' nervous." I blew out a shaky breath and stared at the candle I'd replaced. The flame glowed in a red lantern. An old family tradition, Morgan once told me. His grandmother was from Poland, and as she was one of the few family members he'd spoken fondly of, I tried to honor the tradition as often as I could.
"Who wouldn’t want a light to guide you home when you're lost?" he'd murmured with his kind grin. "If nothing else, it beats having wilted flowers on your grave."
"I don’t know what to do," I admitted. "I think I'm a decent person today, but there's so much bad history between us. I want to help him as much as I want to slap him."
I couldn’t force Lincoln to accept my help, nor could I guarantee our living close to one another wouldn’t cause a nuclear meltdown at some point. For ten years, I'd cursed him for throwing away his life for me. The guilt was something I'd struggle with for the rest of my days.
Then…shouldn’t we try to turn the bad into good? It was the difference between living with regret and learning from mistakes. Granted, I doubted he'd ever repeat a mistake that would land him in prison, but now there was this huge chunk of his life missing. The mistake
had been made; the regret was there. Was it even possible for him to turn that into a lesson?
Touching a hot plate when you were a kid taught you a lesson. Going away to prison for ten years would require…I didn’t even know how much work, before he could move on.
"My head's a mess." I wiped at my cheeks and laughed softly, shaking my head at myself. "Half of what I think doesn’t make sense." I touched the first letter of Morgan's name, the stone smooth and cold. "I guess…I guess it boils down to a couple things. I selfishly want him to see I'm not the stupid kid I once was, and I want to help him. But…I don’t want to help him for my sake, it's for his, and I'm not sure he'll see that. I mean, I took advantage of him back then, you know?"
The therapist I used to see argued that endlessly. She put my trauma first. She said I was emotionally, mentally, and physically incapable of seeing past my own problems, and we had our limits. "How can a girl at the bottom of the ocean save a man who just landed in the water?" Which made sense, but dammit, I took it to extremes. I couldn’t see variables such as age, experience, and education. I saw what he did versus what I did.
Hugging my knees to my chest, I closed my eyes as a ray of sunshine found its way through the treetops and washed warmth over my face.
"I miss you," I whispered. My eyes burned, and I swallowed hard. "Jesse looks so much like you, Morgan. You'd be proud of him. He's doing well in college, too. He says he wants to be a social worker."
He'd make a great one. He had the compassion and the understanding.
Like father, like son.
The nerves returned at that thought. Lincoln was much like his father too, and I should head home and wait for Mr. Hayes's call. He promised to call as soon as he knew how the hearing went.
Chapter 21
Lincoln Hayes
2008
"Do your best to sound educated, ya hear?"
"I will." I couldn’t find it in me to find his statement funny. I'd already lost my breakfast. Next was my shit, and that would probably be frowned upon. "I gotta go, Pop." 'Cause a CO nodded at me, which meant it was time.
"Be polite," he added in a rush. "You had manners at one point. Dig 'em up."
"I promise. I'll call you later," I said.
"I love you, son."