Trashed: An Eastside Brewery Novel

by Mia Hopkins

  One more step. I head out to the avocado tree in the garden. The knife Spider gave me from the failed gun robbery is still in the hole. I pull it out of its leather holder and inspect the blade—still sharp. I slip the knife into the outside pocket of my backpack and zip everything closed.

  I leave Rafa a fifty-dollar bill for food and beer. In the dark, I write him a note.

  Rafa,

  See you in a few days.

  Dios te bendiga, viejo.

  I put on my hoodie, pick up my backpack, and leave.

  As I walk, I keep my hands in my pockets to stay warm. The streets are empty except for two stray cats who chase each other into the bushes to fight. Cold wind blows down the gutters, stirring up little whirlwinds of trash.

  After a long walk, I turn onto Carmen’s street and head slowly to her house. The porch light is on, but all of the lights inside are off. Quietly, I creep alongside the house. No motion lights, no barking dogs. I hop the low wall into the backyard and count the windows to the one I remember is Carmen’s. I wonder if the house alarm is on, but then I see the window to the bathroom is cracked just an inch. I take a chance that the system is off.

  I crouch down low against the wall, set my phone to silent, and cover the lit screen with my hand as I punch out a message.

  u awake?

  I send the text and wait. The Centenos’s backyard is neat and tidy. There’s a lawn, and some patio furniture. A single date palm tree. A statue of La Virgen de Guadalupe sits next to a single rosebush.

  My screen lights up, and I can almost hear her angry voice in my head.

  What do you want?

  My fingers feel too big, too slow on the buttons of my fucking flip phone.

  im here

  Carmen texts back, What? At the door?

  no ur window

  She doesn’t respond for a long time.

  I’m sitting right underneath her window, but I’m not a hundred percent sure it’s hers. I want to peek inside but I’m afraid I’ll see her mom pointing a Glock at me. I tell myself to calm down, take a deep breath, and let it out. I promise myself that I will sit here until the sun comes up, until someone sees me and calls the cops, or until Carmen decides she wants to open her window, whichever comes first. I fold my arms and wait.

  It’s quiet. The cold penetrates my sweatshirt and my T-shirt. I try not to shiver.

  Will she let me in?

  I wouldn’t. Not after what I did.

  But Carmen is a different kind of person.

  Lucky for me.

  After a minute or two, the window above my head clicks and slides open. I was right—the alarm is off. I stand up. As silently as I can, I snap the screen off the window frame and lean it against the wall. I raise my backpack up over my head and Carmen’s pretty, dark hands pull it inside. It takes a hot minute for me to haul my big body in through the window but I manage to do it without making a noise, even though my heart is booming inside my chest.

  I land on a fuzzy pink rug. An old heart-shaped nightlight is plugged into the wall. It gives off just enough light for me to see Carmen’s beautiful face. She’s kneeling next to me. Her hair is pulled back into a messy bun. She’s wearing a little white T-shirt and pink panties—and yup. There it is. My boner. I sit cross-legged, hoping my pants will hide it.

  “Are you fucking crazy?” she whisper-shouts.

  I reach out to stroke her face but she leans away from me.

  “No, don’t touch me,” she says. “I should call the cops. No, worse. I should get my mom.”

  “Jesus. Kick back,” I whisper.

  I look around her room. It’s pretty bare—a twin-sized bed, a kid-sized desk. There are no decorations at all, no posters on the walls, no clutter. No makeup, no clothes or shoes scattered on the floor. I imagine her at eighteen, moving out of here, hoping not to return. But she’s back, and even though she’s lived with her parents for a few years now, I can tell she doesn’t want to get comfortable. She doesn’t want to stay.

  She sits on the bed and stares hard at me. “You smell like weed.”

  “I’m not high,” I say. “Well, not anymore, anyway.”

  “What do you want?”

  “To see you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I made a mistake. A big one.”

  She folds her arms. “And what mistake is that?”

  “I hurt you.”

  “How?”

  “By being a dumbass.”

  “You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

  “I panicked,” I say. “Your mom said she would agree to the lease if I agreed to stop seeing you. I know how much my brother and his girlfriend want this. I’ve seen how they’ve been planning together, how much they want things to work out for their business. I didn’t want to be the reason why it didn’t.”

  “I get that,” she says. “But why didn’t you talk to me about it? It was like you had made the decision for both of us, and that you…you seemed to believe it was the right thing to do. To stop seeing me altogether. I thought we…”

  I wait for her to finish the sentence. She looks down at her feet and doesn’t say anything else for a long time.

  “Let’s leave my mom out of this. I can handle my mom,” she says quietly. “What I want to know is, do you think we could be something? More than what we are right now?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. With my history, I honestly don’t.

  “Do you want to be with me?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “But what?”

  “But I don’t know how.”

  “What’s there to know?”

  “Being with you,” I say slowly, “would require me to be a good person. I’m not a good person, Carmen.”

  She shakes her head at me but holds back her criticism. “You ever have a girlfriend?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Girlfriends are hard to come by in the state pen.”

  “Don’t joke,” she says sharply. “Before that. Or after that. Did you?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” she asks again.

  “Never appealed to me.”

  “How about now? Does it appeal to you now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “So why are you here?”

  She wants me to say something heroic, but I’m not a hero. “I don’t know,” I say again.

  “Really?” She stands up. “I know why.” She takes off her shirt. Even though this is what I had hoped would happen tonight, it feels wrong. I want her to put it back on.

  “Carmen,” I say. “Wait.”

  Her voice is hard. “But you want this, don’t you? This you can understand.”

  She’s not wearing a bra. I try not to stare as she slides off her panties and kicks them away. She lies down on the bed, leans back on her elbows, and spreads her legs wide.

  My heart and my head and my dick are all aching, and I don’t know which hurts the most. I look away from her. I look at the nightlight. I look at the carpet.

  “No, look at me,” she says. “This is what you want. Anything else is too complicated, right?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her slide a hand up to her breast and squeeze it. I suppress a groan and run my hands through my hair. “Carmen, please,” I say, but my voice is quiet. Weak.

  “Sex is all you’ll give me, so sex is what I’ll take.” She shakes out her ponytail. I can smell her from here, the flowery scent of her shampoo, the soapy scent of her skin, the sweetness between her legs. In the soft glow of the nightlight, she’s like a hallucination I can feel with all of my senses.

  “Tell me something,” I say.

  “What, Trouble?”

  I don’t like it when she calls me that. The name doesn’t belong in her mouth. “Why are you fucking with me anyway?” I say. “A girl like you? You know I’m a piece of shit. Why try to change me?”

  Her dark eyes glitter at me like arrowheads. Rafa has
a shiny black stone on his shelf. Obsidiana he calls it. Volcanic glass, razor-edged. Dangerous.

  “I’m not trying to change you,” she says quietly. “I’m trying to make you see what I see.”

  “What do you see?”

  “A good man.”

  “How do you know I am a good man? What evidence do you have?”

  “From the way you treat your family, your friends. From the way you treat me, when you’re not scared,” she says. “I’m not stupid. I know you have your secrets. But I’m hoping one day you’ll be brave enough to share them with me.”

  We lock eyes. Both of us are breathing hard. I stand up slowly and take the three steps to where she lies on the bed. I tower over her, my big shadow blanketing her body in darkness.

  “You know I’m only going to let you down.” My voice deepens. Goosebumps rise on her skin.

  She says nothing. I watch her as she reaches down between her legs and slides her middle fingers up and down the sides of her pussy. She rests her heels on the edge of the bed and spreads her legs wider, teasing me. One finger plunges inside. The other circles her clit. I can almost taste her on the tip of my tongue.

  “I’m going to break your heart,” I say. “I’m not the knight in shining armor you think I am.”

  “Fuck you,” she whispers, “you don’t know what I’m thinking.”

  I lunge forward, grab her wrists and pin them to the mattress next to her hips. High on the scent of her, I lie down between her legs. I close my eyes and kiss her sweet, hot pussy. I lick open her lips and plunge my tongue inside her, drinking her in. She squirms but I hold her down. The more she thrashes and tries to kick me, the tighter my grip gets. I tongue-fuck her and lap at her clit without mercy. Her back arches and her thighs flex. Right before she comes, I flip her over, fast and rough.

  “Don’t fucking move.” I pull down my pants and ram my cock into her trembling cunt.

  “Oh God,” she whimpers. “Yes.”

  My sweet, dirty Carmen. When I bend down to kiss her neck, she struggles against me. I fuck her bareback, deep and slow. She balls up the sheets in her fists.

  “You’re right. I don’t know what you’re thinking,” I grunt. “But I know what you’re feeling, mi reina. My dick. Stretching that tight little pussy. Fucking you like you’ve never been fucked before. And you think I’m a good man? You know I’m not. That’s why you like this. You need someone bad to reach the bad inside you.”

  “No,” she says. “That’s not true. You’re not bad.”

  “You said all I want is this.” I thrust hard. She whimpers. “That this is all I can understand. But maybe, Carmen, the truth is the other way around. Maybe this”—I thrust again—“is all you can understand. All you want from me.”

  “I want to see you.” She tries to turn around but I hold her in place with my hips.

  I’m raw and hurting—I can’t look at her like this. “No.”

  “Eddie, I want to face you.”

  “I said no,” I growl.

  I slide my arm underneath her stomach and drag her closer to my body. She’s hot and dripping, and I know from our time together she’s getting closer and closer to her orgasm. She’s so turned on I can feel her wetness against my abs, my balls. Quickly, I stick my thumb in my mouth and suck on it. When it’s wet, I reach down and stroke her slick little asshole. She shudders and her muscles grip my dick.

  “You like this?” I trace the tip of my thumb back and forth.

  “Yes.”

  “Ever had it here?”

  She shakes her head.

  “You want it?” I ask.

  “I don’t know,” she whispers. “I’m scared it will hurt.”

  I don’t want to hurt her—I never want to hurt her. “Can I try something?”

  She nods.

  Carefully, I pop the first joint of my thumb into her tight opening. She gasps but spreads her legs wider.

  The beast inside me surges forward, but I beat him back. I lean down to whisper in her ear. My voice softens. “That’s as far as we’ll go tonight. Tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop.”

  She looks at me over her shoulder. “Okay.” Her dark eyes are wide, trusting, and unafraid. A part of me wonders why—how—she trusts me. No one else does. Not really. In return, I’ll give her what I know she wants.

  I harden my voice again. “Now close your eyes.”

  When she does it, I slowly pull out of her completely.

  Twenty-One

  “Please,” she whimpers, but I ignore her.

  My life has been a long cycle of have and have not, of fists and empty hands, of freedom and lockup. I want her to feel me, but I want her to feel the absence of me too. Fullness and hunger. With and without.

  I look down at us in the faint light. My cock is wet, standing straight up. I put my hands on her hips and slide my shaft along her opening. Her pussy is hot velvet against my dick. The sensation of skin against skin is powerful. Back and forth—each slow stroke drives us wild.

  “What if the good man you’re looking for isn’t me?” I brush her hair off her back and slide my palm over her spine. “What if you look inside me and there’s nothing? What then?”

  “You’re wrong.”

  I wrap my hand firmly around the base of her neck and pin her to the mattress. She moans. She’s trembling.

  “Tell me I’m wrong again,” I whisper.

  “You’re wrong.”

  I take my dick in my hand and jam the tip into her pussy. She’s feverish all over, on the edge of climaxing.

  “Say that again,” I say.

  “You’re wrong.”

  I grab her wrists with my free hand and hold them against her lower back like I’m arresting her. I get my balance and thrust my big dick deep inside her. Her dark lips strain around me. Pleasure floods my gut, my torso, my chest. Even my fingers and toes tingle. I strangle back the groan in my throat.

  “What do you want, mi reina?” My voice is barely audible.

  “I wanna come.” Her voice is muffled by the bedsheets. “Please.”

  She’s so wet we’re both covered in slickness. I let go of her neck and hook my thumb back into her ass. I’m not gentle. When she flinches, her pussy flexes at the same time. She almost makes me come—we’re playing with fire. Irresponsible. Guilty, I pull back. But when she gasps, can’t help myself. I thrust again, harder, and once more, even harder.

  “What do you want?” I ask again.

  “You.”

  “The real me?”

  “The real you.”

  She wants a thug, she’ll get one tonight.

  She wants to get fucked into the sweet hereafter by a gangster with a dirty conscience, I’m here. I’ll deliver.

  My hand tightens around her wrists. Will she have bruises tomorrow? Maybe. But tonight she’ll have pleasure—more of it than her body can handle.

  I switch from fast thrusts to slow, deep ones, tapping her spot again and again. Her ass tightens around my thumb and I feel the tremors inside her a split second before she explodes.

  “Now, Carmen,” I whisper.

  Her hips buck against me and I hold her steady, fucking her until she falls over the edge. Her whole body flexes. She buries her face in the covers and swallows down her screams. Her toes curl and her fingers clench and the pleasure wells up inside her until it vibrates inside me. We’re in sync. I feel what she feels. My body sends signals to my brain. I’m close.

  I lean my head forward and close my eyes. In the darkness, the orgasm takes me. I can hear our bodies slapping together, muscle against muscle, flesh against flesh. Just when I begin to come, I pull out, take my wet shaft in my fist and let go. Ecstasy grabs me. I open my eyes and watch my come shoot all over her smooth, brown back. Like some kind of fever dream, Carmen reaches back and wraps her hand around mine, tightening the grip as I jack off the last drops.

  The pleasure—it’s a monster. Sweat covers my torso. I can’t breathe.

  I’m drowning.
<
br />   Drowning in her.

  Afterward, Carmen stands up and takes my face in her hands. She kisses me—slow, tender, openmouthed kisses that bring me back to myself. We’re a mess. I take her in my arms and that’s when I realize I’m still wearing my pants and shoes, like a burglar who forgot why he came here. I sway on my feet.

  “Are you okay?” She strokes my hair. “Eddie?”

  “You should get security bars,” I manage to say.

  “Security bars?”

  “Yeah.” I blink slowly at her. My brain isn’t working right. “For your windows.”

  With a smile, she kisses me again before she cleans up, puts her T-shirt and panties back on, and straightens the sheets. I take off my shoes and the rest of my clothes and stretch out on the tiny bed. She climbs on top of me.

  “Bars.” She smiles to herself. “Thought you might be tired of those by now.”

  I kiss her forehead, pull the covers over us and wrap my arms around her. She snuggles against my chest and her soft breathing grazes my skin. I want to relax, but we’ve spent so much time together, I think she can feel the tension in my body, the truth I’m holding back from her.

  “Just tell me,” she says. “Just tell me what’s going on with you.”

  I want to, with all of my heart. But I can’t.

  “Do you know,” I say slowly, “what it feels like when everyone has given up on you?”

  Carmen says nothing. I place my hand on her head and slowly stroke her smooth, cool hair.

  “I hate that feeling. I hate it because I can’t blame them. When I think of the decisions I’ve made, the people I’ve let down, I know I’m trash. I don’t deserve anyone’s forgiveness.”

  “Stop it—”

  “But you.” I squeeze her. “You haven’t given up on me yet. Why not?”

  She’s quiet for so long I’m afraid she’s fallen asleep. But she lifts her head and looks at me in the dark. “Because you’re much more—so much more—than the bad things you’ve done, Eddie. They don’t define you.”