by Kenya Wright
“Yes,” he said through clenched teeth.
“O-kay. But...were there others, besides the one person’s heart you broke?”
“Yes.” He wore a pained expression.
“And were they broken-hearted too?”
“Yes.”
“Are you kidding me?” I rose and covered my breasts.
“It could be different for us. We’re friends.”
“Or it would make me fall even deeper, Hawk. Did you ever love any of these women?”
“No.”
“Not one?”
“No. After my...ex, I won’t even consider opening up my heart for anyone.”
I blinked. “And now your heart is safely tucked away in some elaborate safe?”
“Yes.”
“But...” I decided to just say what I had to say. I was already naked. He’d already had his fingers inside of me. What would I have to lose? “Maybe, you could unlock that safe and at least consider opening your heart to me. What do you think?”
The fire weakened in his gaze. It hurt to watch it. This cold darkness fell upon him, changing his expression. His whole face—the whole moment—went hard and tense. The boy I knew as Hawkins no longer lay on my couch.
It was now Hawk. And he looked like a man that could not be changed. Even worse, he looked like a man that would never consider love.
“No, Cherry Bomb.” The nickname sounded wrong coming from this masked man.
“No, what?”
“No, I won’t consider it.”
My already damaged heart broke in that moment. “You won’t even try?” I asked. “I’m not asking you to marry me or even be my boyfriend. I’m just saying—”
“You’re right. This was a mistake. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I shouldn’t even be trying this with you.”
“But—”
“You’re my friend. I shouldn’t be trying to fuck you. I shouldn’t be...dirtying up the one good thing in my life.”
I sighed. “Maybe, you’re right.”
He formed fists on the sides of his legs, but said nothing.
“In fact, I should go.” I grabbed a pillow and covered my chest. “I feel like we’re traveling the wrong way down a one-way street and if we keep this up, we won’t just be lost, we’ll crash and burn.”
He remained silent, making me think that he agreed. It was embarrassing to rise naked and pick up my things. I felt so stupid and confused.
Why not just fuck him?
I couldn’t think of anything else in those seconds, but something in my heart said no. Even worse, his past relationship history didn’t sound good. I didn’t like my odds for not getting hurt.
I wrapped myself in the fur I’d worn earlier. “So...goodbye. I’ll leave the coat in the changing room.”
“Take that one too.”
“No, thank you. Besides, I live in Cali. I won’t need two furs.”
“Okay.” He let out a long breath and rolled over on his back. “We should stop the painting sessions too. It’s fun, but my dick is always in pain afterwards.”
“Okay. Maybe, that’s a good thing.” I put my back to him.
It took me no time to change. I drowned in embarrassment and confusion.
I didn’t even say goodbye to Vera as I hurried out of there, walking fast from Hawk’s house to Dolphin View.
Well...that sucked gigantic balls.
Inside Dolphin View, chaos and the sound of plates shattering greeted me. It appeared that my favorite couple—the blonde woman and dark-haired man—were also guests of my sister’s place. A crowd stood around them as Blondie picked up a plate from the dining table and slung it her dark-haired lover. With great reflexes, he ducked. The plate crashed into the wall behind him.
Cindy launched for the woman. “Okay. Okay. Calm down.”
“Give her some space.” Victor gestured for the man to get out of there.
“I hate you!” Blondie screamed, fell to the ground, and cried. “I wish I never fucking met you!”
And all the guests whispered and shook their heads.
I spent the rest of the night cleaning up Blondie’s mess. Lobster dripped from the chandelier, spinach covered one of the walls, and then there were all the shattered pieces of fine china scattered all over the carpet. Knowing my sister, Blondie would get a big bill for all of this.
Meanwhile, Blondie should consider entering herself in a throwing contest. She has an arm on her.
Victor and Cindy spent the rest of the evening trying to get control of the couple. The men—Victor and Dark-Hair—calmly talked in the living room, both smoking a cigar and sipping brandy. Outside on the deck, Cindy rocked a crying Blondie in her arms.
Maybe Hawk has a point. Perhaps we all should stop trying to love and just fuck the pain away.
Chapter 12
Hawk
It rained the next days. Not a heavy storm, just a continuous shower from morning to the afternoon. I remained in the studio, painting.
River’s song came on next in my playlist. His dark voice rode the guitar. “I want to fuck your soul, dive deep until we lose control.”
I picked up my remote control and shut the damn thing off. His lyrics were the last thing I needed to hear. They always made me crazy and hungry for Yaz.
I switched to jazz instead, losing myself in a sad saxophone.
Neither Yaz or I contacted each other. A few times, I spotted her outside of my window, handing out umbrellas to guests and grabbing the mail. For a few seconds, I considered going out to talk to her.
But I never did. There was too much of an ache in my chest. When she left me in the studio that day, this ache came, and it wasn’t a little cut. Pain sliced through me, and I didn’t fucking like it. I wanted it gone. Didn’t I already have enough to deal with—the darkness and depression, the insomnia and the memories of pain? That sick bitch, Lisa had robbed me of my dreams. My heart was underground. And here I was, dealing with an injury—a pain in my chest— that I no longer understood.
I could’ve settled all of this by just giving Yaz what she wanted. I could’ve tried to open my heart. For her, it was no big deal. But for me, it was like I was trapped in a dark cave with a little flame from a candle. Although I slowly crept along the cave’s rocky walls, searching for an opening or some way to escape, I couldn’t find it. All I could get was an echo of her voice and a chilly breeze.
Am I just finding ways to trick my heart?
Getting close to her didn’t just mean opening my heart. It meant opening myself to more possible grief and losses. I’d done the right thing, but that still didn’t soften the blow.
She’d left, and it hurt.
She wanted me out of the cave and ready to feel again. I wasn’t so sure I wanted to get out of the safety of my cave. Was it better to live a long life in darkness, or was it better to die fast while basking in the sunshine outside?
And so, I did what I always did. I closed myself into my studio and painted the days away. When I didn’t paint, I gazed at the window and searched for her.
After Lisa, Yaz was the only woman to drive me to this sort of madness.
Even my art showed it. I’d created the gloomiest images. I captured all the hurt from Yaz walking away, drawing her as a half-woman, half-skeleton creature covered in wilting roses. In image after image, she strolled an enchanted garden of death. Moonlight hit her skin and bones in a majestic blaze. She glowed on the canvas. I’d outlined her in such a way that I’d somehow enclosed color and breath in each image. She lived through the paint. For the viewer, sight was also touch.
For the past few nights, I lay on the studio’s couch with her fur warming me. Sleep never came. Instead, I thought about that moment where she took the bikini off. We’d been so close to falling over the edge. Did we make the right choice? Or were we both stupid cowards?
And her body. So soft. So silky. So wet. Jesus.
But even though I’d been ready to explode from not fucking her, that horniness she
’d caused couldn’t even compare to this vicious ache. It was all scalding emotions, anger, frustration, severe unease. I’d been so close, too damned close to having her and I threw it all away.
I could’ve told her that I would try. I could’ve told her that I wouldn’t hurt her. I could’ve told her any goddamn thing that would’ve made me deserve her.
A knock sounded at the door.
I continued loading colors onto my palette, looking for a way to make the bones appear more real. “Come in.”
Brett walked in with a small box. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”
I set the paintbrush down. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You haven’t left this studio in days.”
“I’m painting.”
“I see.” Brett studied the painting of Yaz surrounded by bones and death. “It looks like you’re in a great mood too.”
“What’s in the box?”
“The letters from Lisa.”
“Put them in my bedroom’s closet.” I didn’t want any more bad memories in this studio. Yaz’s leaving was enough.
He looked at the canvas and shook his head. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Painting.”
“Everyone on the island is going to Dark Haven tonight. Blood Rain has a concert there to kick off Fantasy Fest. It’ll be packed. I bought us a table.”
“You wasted your money.” I picked up the brush and added more color to Yaz’s eyes.
“Come on, man.”
“Thanks, but I’m fine.”
“Okay, but you’ll regret it.” He remained right there.
I glanced at him. He smiled. I returned to the painting.
Ever since we were kids, everyone knew that Brett was the trickster of the family. He always did crazy things behind people’s backs. When we were teens, Brett paid a Keys high school beauty queen to take Stone’s virginity. Mom found out and lost her mind that whole winter. The next time we came down, Brett snuck into a club, drank illegally, and then went into the club owner’s office to threaten him into letting River play a song there on a busy night. And there were so many times he’d tried to fix Yaz and me up.
This trip, I was hoping the women and booze would keep him busy and minding his own business.
I doubt it. What are you doing, Brett?
His smile widened.
I sighed. “Why will I regret it?”
“I bought Cindy and Yaz a table too. It’s next to ours.”
I held the brush in midair.
He’s like a fucking teenage girl, hoping to set her BFF up with a prom date.
Brett continued, “Cindy was excited. She’s making it a Ladies Night. She talked about inviting her friends from some place called Soul Tribe. Have you heard of it?”
“Yaz told me about it being a holistic center and that it offered some art class that talked about healing.”
“That’s boring. What did you hear about the women? Hot? Sexy?”
“I got the feeling it’s one of those one-stop alternative medicine places. Like yoga and whatever.”
“So, these women are probably flexible?”
I set the brush down and rubbed my face with both hands. “Did Cindy say she was definitely coming tonight?”
“Yes. And Yaz is going, along with two of Cindy’s other friends. So, if they’re into yoga, then do you think they shave under their arms?”
“How does that even correlate?”
“Some hippy chicks don’t shave.”
“Leave my studio before you drain the area of all my genius.”
“Everyone will be there. Too bad you’re staying here. Plus, the rain has stopped. Everyone’s probably tired of being cooped up all day. It’ll be insane and packed.”
“I know what you’re trying to do. It won’t work.”
“Sure, it won’t.” Brett patted my back. “Be ready by eight.”
I didn’t respond. There was no need to. If Yaz would be there, I would be there too. The last thing I wanted was her in some club surrounded by hungry men ready to bite her sexy flesh. She had no idea how fucking captivating she was.
And I told myself that I would protect her from other men because I was a good friend. She wanted to heal. She didn’t need any douche-bags around her. But on the inside—my subconscious—it knew what was really going on in my mind. There was no way I could deal with any other man in Yaz’s life right now. Maybe in a month or a year, but right now, I couldn’t deal with it.
Maybe I could try. It’s only been a day since seeing her and I feel like I’m losing it.
After I finished the painting, I showered and dressed. Brett drove his car and I took mine. There would be no doubt that he’d take a ton of women home tonight. He loved making our house the after party.
We arrived there in no time. I spotted Cindy’s purple beetle in the back of the lot. My heart sped up. I had to breathe in and out to calm down. I felt like I hadn’t seen Yaz in weeks.
Brett got to my side as we entered. “Thursday nights at Dark Haven are always crowded, but this is crazy.”
People had already started parking several blocks down.
Dark Haven was a lot of things, but it definitely wasn’t part of the real world. Since it was a big tourist spot, they always had some fun dress up theme and a live band. And once a month, they removed all the electrical equipment and furniture and filled the whole place up with bubbles. I hadn’t gone to one of these suds parties, but Brett had raved about them.
Is she here?
Inside, the club burst with activity. People rocked and swayed all over the dance floor. Blood Rain stood above them on the stage, jamming as always.
“He danced wild like a beast, on the dark side of the moon.” The lead singer strummed his guitar and leaned toward the microphone. “And she was the seed of a forbidden fruit, picked too soon.”
Brett guided us to his table. We’d only been here for barely three weeks and he already had his own table in the VIP section on the second level. He’d explained that it was reserved for him nightly.
“They met on a quilt, patched from burning dreams.” The drums picked up. “And then he kissed her soul, until her heart screamed.”
“We’ll get a good view up here.” He pulled out my chair. “It’s always the best for King Brett of the Keys.”
“Stop showing off.” I sat down and looked at the empty table next to us. Red balloons dangled from the four chairs. A large bouquet of colorful roses and lit candles sat in the center along with four glasses full of champagne, and four plates with lobster tails, truffle fries, and bowls of chocolate covered strawberries next to the dishes. There were lipstick marks on two of the glasses.
“That’s their table. I ordered the stuff for them.” Brett winked at me. “I did good, right?”
“That depends. Are you trying to seduce Cindy and Yaz?”
“No, just saving you from yourself.”
“How’s that?” I asked.
“It’s clear you want Yaz and she wants you. When you two are together, you already look like a couple.” He shrugged. “I figure that if you two aren’t already fucking by now, it’s because of you.”
I frowned and turned to the dance floor.
It wasn’t hard to find Yaz. Those crimson-red dreadlocks greeted my eyes first. Once I spotted her, there was no need to look at anyone else. She had all my attention.
“Don’t look back now, baby. You’ll burn alive,” Blood Rain sang together. “They’ll be ashes in your heart and fire in your eyes.”
She wore a pair of red heels and a matching slip dress with a little black shawl wrap. The dress barely hit her knees. It was classy, but so fucking sexy—and too goddamn revealing for my sanity.
“Don’t look back now, baby. He’s so sweet. Keep on closing your eyes so you won’t burn from the heat.”
From side to side, she swung those hips. Cindy and her friends danced around Yaz. They looked like they were enjoying themselves, shouting out the band’s
lyrics and clapping.
The image of her, naked, flashed in my head. The tip of my dick throbbed.
“You’re welcome,” Brett said on my side.
Our waitress came over and set water down. Brett ordered two glasses of whiskey on the rocks for us. Once the waitress left, he nudged me. “So, am I right? You’re still working on Yaz?”
“Something like that.”
“Either you’re going to fuck her or not.”
“We decided it would be a bad idea.”
“You mean, she decided?”
“She wanted more.” I took a swig of my drink. “We hadn’t even started fucking and she wanted to know the parameters of what we would become.”
“Of course. Because you two have history. Had it been a chick you picked up from a bar, it would’ve been a hit or miss and repeat the next night.” Brett tried his whiskey. “Yaz can’t be a fuck buddy.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not interested anymore.”
“No?” Brett nodded. “Oh good. Then, you can paint someone else and let me have a try with Yaz.”
I snapped my face to him.
He raised his hands and laughed. “Yeah. I thought so. It does matter.”
“Fine. It does matter.” I gave up on anymore conversation. Once Brett shifted into Mother Hen mode, there was no yanking him out of it. Protecting my shattered and unstable mind was a hobby for him and my whole family. They coddled me like a sick child.
And the last thing I need is Brett working anymore angles behind our backs. He’ll end up having us both in jail.
“Still painting?” Brett wiped the bar with his cloth.
“You know I’m painting.”
“What about doing something else?”
“I might sign up for a literature class next week at that Soul Tribe place we were talking about.”
“Good. Find out if they shave.”
I didn’t want to laugh, but it came out of me. “That’ll be the first thing on my list.”
“Good.” He took a swig of his drink. “And I’m glad you’re going to check this place out. Writing could be a great way to, you know.” He shrugged. “Heal.”