Heartbreak Hotel (Dark Friends-to-Lovers)

by Kenya Wright

  We entered the space and walked up the sweeping curved staircase.

  Elegant and casual, Captain’s had a tropical British colonial look that suited the restaurant well. White paint covered the walls while sleek furniture was black and red. Candlelight flickered along comfy leather chairs and expensive art hung on the walls—beautiful mermaids with shiny tails. Glittering gems hung along their breasts and hid their nipples.

  When we arrived, a smiling hostess guided us to a table on a deck with an excellent view of crystal blue waters off in the distance.

  Out here, torches lit the area and a live band played. A woman with long brown hair stood on the tiny stage. She wore a white sundress, but nothing as stunning as what Yaz had on. Still, beautiful words left her lips and the urge to take Yaz out on the dance floor hit me.

  A drummer, saxophonist, and piano player were positioned behind her.

  “This mad game we play. I run after you. And you after me,” she sang over a bluesy melody. “Will this ever end? Will we ever see? How mad? How mad we play?”

  “Do you like this table?” I asked her.

  Yaz nodded as she continued to be captivated by the singer. “This is great.”

  I pulled out her seat before the hostess could. “Can we have your list of champagnes? We’re celebrating.”

  “Yes, sir.” The hostess handed us two brown leather folders bound with colorful ribbons. “Here’s the menu.”

  The saxophone accompanied the lyrics in a smooth drawl, taunting each word. “There is no end, when two souls are lost. But is it love, if there is no cost?”

  We sat down.

  “Such a mad, mad game. Still, I’m calling your name. Still, you’re in my dreams at night. Still, I’m in darkness and you’re the only light.” And then she sang louder and higher with so much emotion, like the love of her life had ripped out her heart and was holding it on the stage in front of her. “Such a mad, mad game!”

  “Our appetizer for the day is sea bass carpaccio.” The hostess began to say something else, but I stopped her.

  “That sounds good. We’ll order that for now.” I didn’t want to hear the menu. I wanted to hear more of the song and maybe get some clue to what I should do. I didn’t know why, but I felt like she was singing to me.

  “Still, I’m calling your name! You’re the only one. You’re the only one.” The singer closed her eyes and the music slowly lowered. “You’re the only one. You’re the only one.”

  “Good.” The hostess nodded, breaking up the magic of the song. “I’ll tell the chef and send the waitress back for your order.”

  “Thank you,” Yaz said as she continued to watch the band.

  The music ended.

  Everyone clapped, including us.

  “Thank you.” The singer bowed. “We’re Cracked Heart. We’ll be right back after a few minutes. That song always takes a lot out of me.”

  “That’s alright,” a guy a few tables away from us hooted. “You come on back now.”

  The singer smiled. “I will. Thank you.”

  When the band left, Yaz turned to me. “You know I’ve never been here?”

  “Really?” I placed my hands on the table.

  “No. Cindy is always cooking and then the place has a chef, so why not just eat there for free? But...wow. Just wow.”

  “Good. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

  “I am.”

  I gestured to the back of her chair. “You didn’t bring the fur with you.”

  “I’m not comfortable with accepting something so expensive from you.”

  “Why? Is it because I’m Hawkins?”

  “Kind of.” She smiled. “You’re my friend. We do things for each other because it’s fun and we should. We don’t do things for furs that could buy houses.”

  “Is that right? But don’t I owe you a new Prince poster?”

  “Damn it.” She widened her eyes and hit my hand. “I forgot about that. You burned him.”

  “Hey.” I raised my hands in the air. “Not intentionally. I was trying to make a light saber and the flamed stick caught on the poster.”

  “Yeah, and it caught on my bed. And the carpet. And the My Little Pony curtains.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Cindy came close to killing me. If not for Victor keeping her calm, I might not be here today.”

  “This is true. So, you see, you deserve the coat.”

  “Yes, I do.” She giggled.

  “You should get it the next time you model for me.”

  She took time before she answered. I waited in silence. We’d agreed that I would paint her a few times, but after that moment in my studio, I wasn’t sure if she wanted to end it now.

  But finally, she whispered, “Okay. I’ll get the coat, when I model for you again.”

  “Good.”

  The hostess returned with an excellent list of champagnes, sparkling wines, red, and white from over six hundred national and international labels. After Yaz picked a bottle, the hostess continued with the specialties of the day. We ended up with the same specialty—mouth-watering gnocchi topped with shrimp.

  Sipping from a glass of chilled champagne, I said, “Tell me about this guy you were casting spells over.”

  “What?” She almost choked on her champagne. “I will not.”

  “Please.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m nosey.”

  “Fine. His name is Greg. He produced a couple of movies. Being as cliché as possible, he cheated on me with his assistant several times. I’d just been forgiving him for that when I came home and found him in bed with some woman giving him a blow job. Our bed. The end.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yes.”

  “And he does movies?”

  “Yes.”

  “Anything I would’ve seen?”

  “Probably not. They’re indie sci-fi, yet super sexual and violent movies. And they all went straight to DVD.”

  “I like sci-fi. Try me. Maybe I’ve heard of him.”

  “Have you ever seen ‘The Girl that Sat on the Moon?’”

  “No. Never heard of it.”

  “What about...” She rolled her eyes. “‘The Last Penis from Outer Space?’”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Is that a joke?”

  “I wish.” She took another sip. “And then there was the ‘Last Tango on Mars,’ which actually did pretty good due to its play on the famous title, The Last Tango in Paris. The movie sucked, but at least more people saw it.”

  “So, you’re not a fan?”

  “I was a fan, when I was with him. Now that we’re not together, I don’t have to pretend to love a scene of two purple, big breasted aliens sliding their naked bodies against this hundred-foot monster with an erection the size of a car, as he spurts out green sludge from the tip and roars...” She lowered into a deep voice. “‘Slaves. Slaves. Rub my cock and we will defeat our enemies.’”

  “Whoa.”

  “Yes.”

  I poured us both another glass. “You must tell me more. I’m enjoying this.”

  “There’s nothing else.”

  “There’s always more. How was he as your fiancé? Romantic? Loving?”

  “He was really thoughtful in the beginning. Affectionate. Dependable. And then later, he turned into a deceitful, spineless baby man.”

  “What about the sex?”

  “Um...good?”

  I grinned. “You’re asking me?”

  “What do you want me to do, show you our old videos?”

  “No. I might get jealous.”

  She giggled. “Then all I can say is good.”

  “But, did he make you come?”

  She darted a glance at our surroundings as if someone could overhear us. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Woody Allen said that the only difference between sex and love is that sex relieves tension and love causes it.”

  “Woody Allen isn’t the type of guy I would g
et my sex and love advice from.”

  “True, but it’s a good point.”

  She tapped her glass against mine. “It actually is.”

  “So?”

  “What?” She brought the glass back to her and tried to hide behind it.

  “Did he make you come?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Sometimes?” I could’ve slapped the guy for that. “Jesus. And you were with him for five years?”

  She shrugged. “You don’t come all the time.”

  “Says fucking who?”

  “He was my first.”

  “Clearly.”

  She opened her mouth and then closed it, but I could tell she wanted to laugh at me and herself. Meanwhile, all I could think about was that I should’ve been her first and that if I ever saw this asshole, I would rearrange his face.

  How could he cheat on her?

  The waitress brought our dishes over and the band returned. The food was so delicious, our conversation shifted into the enjoyment of the meal. She made me laugh close to tears as she told me stories of her college years. Luckily, college had been a good time for me. I had a few funny moments of my own. Conversation flowed without effort. We had similar taste in movies and music.

  We both stayed away from any further topic of her ex or mine. After we ate, she even let me take her on the floor and dance.

  Jesus.

  I thought I would explode. In my arms, she was soft and warm and smelled so fucking good. She only gave me one song for a dance, but I prayed the whole time it would never end. We ended up ordering dessert and later, coffee. By the time we finished, it was clear neither one of us wanted to end our time together. But we couldn’t think of anything else to extend it. Eventually, our meal had to end.

  The sky had begun to dim as the sun set. We walked back, passing darkened shop doors and quiet buildings. We took the longer route, so she could show me Soul Tribe, the holistic center she’d mentioned days ago.

  “Thank you, Hawk. This was an amazing day.”

  “It was,” I said to my own surprise. “I haven’t had a day like this in a long time.”

  “Maybe, someday you’ll tell me why.”

  From that response, I was certain she hadn’t googled me, and I was grateful for that.

  Nodding, I said, “I will tell you one day, Cherry Bomb.”

  We got to the back of her sister’s property where the service entrance was located. An avocado-green door stood in front of us. Seagulls cawed off in the distance. Lines of pink and blue lined the sky. Shadows surrounded us. A cool breeze blew through her red dreadlocks and I had the immediate urge to run my fingers through them.

  I don’t want to say goodbye yet.

  She took her keys out and turned my way. “Why do you get to call me by my nickname, but I can’t call you Hawkins?”

  “Because that name is stupid and yours is cute.”

  “But I’m not cute anymore, Hawk.” She kissed the air in front of her. “I’m a grown and sexy woman.”

  “Yes, you are.” I closed the distance between us, startling us both. Maybe it was the way she kissed the air. Perhaps it was the burning lust roaring through me. But I couldn’t be around her for another second without touching her.

  She leaned back against the door, widened her eyes, and whispered, “What are you doing?”

  “What should I do?” I placed my hands on the door behind her, trapping her in. “Tell me. What do you think I should do right now?”

  She licked her lips, but didn’t answer.

  “Have you decided on when you’re going back to LA?” I asked.

  “No.” She shook her head. “When are you leaving?”

  “I don’t know either. I’m waiting on you to tell me.”

  She let out a nervous giggle. “Well...I’m waiting on you too.”

  “Okay.” I leaned in a little closer. My heartbeat increased. “I don’t plan on going anywhere right now. You’ve managed to do what Key West hasn’t been able to do in years.”

  “What?”

  “Give me an escape from my life.” I moved a stray red dreadlock away from her face. “I don’t plan on going anywhere, until you do.”

  “And then what?” she asked.

  “I might follow you.”

  “Very funny.”

  I don’t know if I’m playing or not.

  I ran my fingers through her dreadlocks. A soft moan left her lips.

  “Let’s stop playing around,” I whispered.

  “We’re not.”

  “You should be mine. While we’re here.”

  “Yours?”

  I loved the way she said yours. It sounded good on her tongue. And speaking of that mouth, I wanted to taste it. My hunger must’ve been all over my face because she bit that bottom lip and looked away.

  “Yes, mine.” I leaned down and kissed her forehead, more because I was scared she would stop me from taking her lips. And in this moment, I was too raw. I couldn’t deal with any rejection, especially coming from her.

  She cleared her throat and asked again. “Yours?”

  “Yes, mine for our stay. And it’s not what you think. I’m not talking about trapping you into a quick relationship.”

  “Then, what are you talking about?”

  “Sex. I want you to be mine to do with as I want.”

  She blinked and stood there speechless for several seconds, and then she laughed. “You what? No relationship, but sex?” She gently pushed me away. “Hawk, please.”

  I held out my hands. “What?”

  “You had me... until you started talking.”

  “But, Yaz—”

  “It sounds like you’re just going to use me up and when you’ve had your fun, you’ll just throw me away.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I just broke up with someone. My heart is all destroyed.”

  “I don’t want your heart. I want your body.”

  “Yeah, well, unfortunately, my heart is inside of my body. If you touch the inside of me, you’ll certainly brush against my heart.” She tapped her key against her thigh. “I’m not some chick that you just fuck with and then move on from.”

  “You’re not.”

  “And you’re crazy if you think I could just have sex with you—someone I’ve known longer than any other man—and just walk away like that. And what women would go for that deal?”

  “Many do.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Then you have fun with them.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe, you’re right.”

  “I am.”

  “Still...I’m going to kiss you right now.” I pulled her close to me and captured her mouth. She moaned against me, letting my tongue explore. Her lips were so soft. Her body molded against mine. In that moment, I didn’t care about what she’d just said. She’d caused this ache in my chest and I had to taste her.

  And there was this nervousness, butterflies fluttering within my core. Did she feel their wings too?

  “Hawk.” She drew in a quick breath as I brought my arms around her.

  “No more talking.” I rested my hand on the curve of her hips and devoured her mouth again. I wanted to do more than kiss her. My cock should have been balls deep inside of her, not just my tongue sliding between her lips. But it was enough for now, so erotic and filled with lust, our tongues slipped against each other.

  Another moan left her mouth.

  “I could make you moan all night, Yaz.”

  Panting, she stepped away. “I bet you could.”

  “Do you want to see?” I reached out for her.

  She moved my hand. “No.”

  My body blazed on fire, but I remained where I was. “Should I beg?”

  “Do you know how?”

  “I can learn.”

  “No.” She looked away. “Don’t kiss me again.”

  “You didn’t like it?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “It is.”

  “Like you’
ve said to others, I should guard my heart. Kissing doesn’t help.”

  I had nothing to say as my cock went hard in my pants.

  “Thank you for a great day, Hawk.” She raked her finger through her dreadlocks, turned around, and unlocked the door. “Have a nice evening.”

  “You too, Cherry Bomb.”

  Chapter 7

  Yasmine

  I was a mess when I left Hawk. A lingering shiver of pleasure vibrated through my body. He hadn’t kissed me, he’d fucked my mouth into almost orgasming. My panties were wet, my nipples hard. It had taken every inch of will in me not to hump his thigh.

  I can’t let that happen again. And sex without anything else? Is he crazy? That’s what vibrators are made for.

  Hawk consumed my thoughts as I headed for the kitchen to help my sister. The chef was off, and Cindy had asked me to come early. Had it not been for that, I might’ve tried to hang out with Hawk more. Already, I was anxious to see him again. That realization bothered me. It was clear that he only wanted sex.

  That would be a disaster. I want it all or nothing.

  Yet, after that damn kiss, I’d begun mulling over his proposition in my head.

  What was it about him that was so alluring?

  I contemplated it more and finally arrived at the conclusion that it was his eyes. There was something sad and tormented lurking inside their blue depths. It brought out my protective instincts. I wanted to fix him, help him, and of course fuck him until he called out my name.

  Damn him. Why did he have to kiss me?

  When I walked into the kitchen, Cindy, along with childhood memories, greeted me. It had always been the heart of our household where everyone gathered together. The walls were covered in the same bouquets of bright lavender flowers.

  A small television sat on the counter in the corner playing old 90s music videos. Guys danced in shiny outfits and bopped as they rapped about having more money than everyone else. In the background, women swung their hips in bright gold and money green bikinis.

  Oh God. Victor must’ve put that on.

  I didn’t think my brother-in-law had ever left the nineties or had any idea of what year it was now. He barely went to the movie theater. Instead, he preferred to pop in an ancient VCR tape into his morbid little time machine that he called an entertainment center.