“I’m here to drive you home,” Andrew stated. “I don’t like the idea of you walking alone at two a.m.”
Having two concerned males in my life was a first. “I’m surprised you care. Considering I am underneath your caliber.”
“Those people are not my friends. They are elite members of the art world I have to rub elbows with. Don’t pay them any mind.”
“Don’t slough off the blame entirely on them. You are just as snobby. Maybe even more so because you try to hide it.”
Andrew huffed. “I’m nothing like them.”
“When you saw me in that VIP room, you practically threw up with disappointment.”
He invaded my personal bubble, stealing the air from my lungs. He grabbed the lapels of the coat and tugged me against his body. “You were mistaken. That wasn’t disappointment you saw. It was a desire to protect you from those lecherous men.”
“I’m not one of your projects, Andrew. I’ve been taking care of myself since I was five years old. I don’t need protection.”
His gaze softened. “You’re right, you don’t, but it must be exhausting to always be on guard.”
On guard? Please, that was putting it mildly. I had an impenetrable barbed wire fence wrapped around my heart. The only person that had gotten through was Monica and it took her five years. Nonetheless, my untrusting nature was a second skin. Andrew wasn’t going to change that.
“Like I said, I’m not one of your projects. This is who I am and if you don’t like it, you can get back into your car and drive home to your McMansion.”
Regret soured on the tip of my tongue as Andrew released his clutch on the cashmere coat. An elusive expression flashed over his face. I wished I were somebody different. Somebody who wasn’t hardened by the circumstances handed to me, because then, maybe Andrew and I would have had a fighting chance.
“First of all, I don’t have a McMansion,” Andrew began. “Secondly, your feisty stubbornness is what I find most attractive about you; and thirdly, I don’t want to change a hair on your head. I just want to get to know you. Capisci?”
The earnestness shining in his eyes propelled my chin to dip forward. “Yes.”
“Good.” Andrew set his hand on my lower back and led me to the SUV. “Now let me take you home.”
My apartment building was situated next to a vacant lot where weeds grew as tall as trees and became a homeless camp once darkness descended. A faded orange awning over the front door clung to its rusty hooks.
Andrew peered out of the window. “Is this where you live?”
“Is that fear I hear in your voice?”
Straightening his shoulders, he unlocked the car door and hopped out. Following his lead, I exited the car and stood on the sidewalk next to him. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, unsure on how to end this night. A handshake would be too proper, a kiss on the cheek would be too intimate, and a fist bump would be downright awkward. What was left?
“I’ll walk you to your apartment,” Andrew said.
Punching in the code, the front door buzzed opened. The hallway flickered with two burned out bulbs and a third on its last leg. Shadows danced on the walls.
Compelled to defend the dire state of my building, I spoke. “My landlord left town.”
“When?”
“Two months ago.” Last year’s Christmas lights hung from my door. I smiled at Andrew. “This is it.”
He went in for a hug while I stuck out my hand. We laughed awkwardly while another attempt proved to be just as unsuccessful.
“Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you at your art show.” Inserting my key into the lock, the knob turned easily. As if it was already unlocked. Fear froze in my veins. “What the hell?”
“What’s wrong?”
Occasionally, Monica paid me a visit while I worked to raid my fridge but unless she got off early, it couldn’t have been her that left my door unlocked. The rational part of me screamed to call the police. My gut told me otherwise. I went with my gut and locked eyes with Andrew.
“You said you played a lot of hand to hand combat games?”
Andrew’s left eyebrow quirked. “Yeah. What’s going on?”
I beckoned him to come away from the door. I didn’t want whoever was in my apartment to hear our plan. The element of surprise was crucial.
“My apartment is unlocked and it wasn’t me who left it that way.” Before he could react, I plunged on. “I’m going to check it out. Will you play backup?”
“I’m taller than you and stronger. You can play backup.” I opened my mouth to protest when he cut me off with a stern look. “Don’t fight me on this, Haven.”
“Whatever. Take this pepper spray.”
His fingers closed around the can. “Ready?”
“Let’s do this.”
Andrew swiped me behind him as we entered my pitch-black apartment. The neon glow from the sign of the Sex Shop across the street was our only source of light. My pulse thrummed in my ears. Steadily but quietly we made our way into my living room. Andrew came to a jerking halt and I nearly ran into him.
“Whomever the fuck you are, you better have a good excuse,” he boomed while lifting the pepper spray in front of him.
Sneaking a peek, I could see a young Asian girl had her hands lifted in the air. Her bleach blonde hair with faded pink highlights was teased at the roots. An off the shoulder sweatshirt hid the cigarette burns on her back given to her by her father. I knew this because at night when we couldn’t sleep, we would compare scars to see who was more broken. She would always win. Nobody was more broken than her. I winced at the sight of her sunken in cheekbones and hollow eyes. When we’d last seen each other six months ago she seemed to be getting her life in order. What happened?
I touched Andrew’s arm. “It’s fine. She’s my sister.”
He glanced between us, confused at how I had an Asian sister when I was as white as a bed sheet. Everybody was until I clarified.
“Stepsister. Her dad was my mom’s second husband.”
“Second and third husband,” Sumiko corrected.
“Right.”
Andrew pinched the bridge of his nose and lowered the pepper spray. “I’m beyond words right now.”
“It’s better that way. My family history is messed up and lengthy,” I responded. “Can you give us a minute?”
“Of course. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Sumiko waited until he was out of earshot to speak but once she did, I wished she’d never stopped by. “Your mom owes Big Ted Money. ”
“My mom’s dead.”
“Duh! Really nice of you to attend her funeral by the way.”
Sinking into the couch cushions, I propped my feet on the coffee table. “I’m not in the mood for a guilt trip.”
Sumiko searched my face and whatever she saw made her drop the subject. Thank Jesus. While she understood messed up family dynamics better than anyone, there was this thing called honor Sumiko had I didn’t. She sat next to me and folded her hands neatly in her lap.
“Big Ted says your mom owes him twelve hundred dollars. Supposedly, she went on a bender,” Sumiko said.
“You can tell Big Ted to shove it up his ass. That bender is what killed her.”
“You don’t understand, Haven. He said he would kill you—and me,” she added quietly.
Big Ted, my mom’s drug dealer, specialized in empty threats so it was hard to take Sumiko seriously.
“That’s not going to happen. Big Ted is a giant gangsta teddy bear that doesn’t know how to work a gun, let alone shoot one. Besides, since when are you his messenger?”
Sumiko’s silence spoke volumes. She wasn’t worried about him killing her; she was worried about him cutting off her supply. My throat went dry as revulsion rolled.
She avoided my gaze as I gripped her upper arm. “You were clean for the past three years! Why?”
Sumiko stood and in the red neon glow, I noticed her dry cracked lips. They were the lips of a
crack addict. This was bad, really bad. Sumiko had popped pills like candy when we were teenagers but her father sent her to rehab. Yes, the same father that abused her. Their relationship was a complicated web of lies and manipulation. When Sumiko left rehab, she’d wiped the slate clean.
I buried my head into my hands. “You were doing so well.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I really am.”
Another family member lost to the abuse of drugs. There were countless opportunities during my childhood to fall to the same fate. However, I never wanted to end up like my mother. A life revolving around drugs wasn’t a life at all. The front door slammed shut. Lifting my face, Sumiko was no longer in my living room. An awful gut wrenching sense of mistrust propelled me to my feet. In the past, the feeling would be unjustified. While Sumiko and I weren’t blood sisters, a deep bond had formed in the years we were family. Unfortunately family didn’t mean anything when crack was concerned. Entering my bedroom, everything appeared exactly how I left it until I reached my bed. The sheets were un-tucked at the corners. With trepidation, I lifted my mattress and stuck my hand underneath. Nothing.
“No, no,” I cried. “No, please no!”
Panic coursed through my veins as I did another sweep. My five hundred dollars was gone. Tears wet my cheeks. I flung a framed picture of Sumiko and I against the wall. Glass exploded in the air, littering the ground. The metallic smell of blood scented the air as I sunk to my knees. Sumiko not only stole my money, she stole my dream.
Minutes, seconds, hours later Andrew found me on the floor, surrounded by the remains of Sumiko’s and my relationship. Wordlessly, he lifted me off the floor and laid my limp body on the couch. It was nearing four a.m. and the emotional and physical aftermath of the day had caught up with me. My eyelids grew heavy.
Andrew ran his fingertip across my palm. “You need stitches.”
“No I don’t. I need sleep.”
“Do you not see how deep this gash is?”
I squinted at my hand. There was a red mark that ran perpendicular to my thumb. Dried blood bubbled at the entry wound. Whatever. I’ve had worse.
Andrew sensed my indifference. “Do you have a first aid kit? I’ll patch it up the best I can but you will have a scar.”
“Add it to the arsenal.”
His thigh tensed underneath my hand. Turning my head into the seat cushion, I bit my lower lip. That was stupid of me to say. Pity was by far the worst emotion next to sympathy. The couch dipped as Andrew stood to go find the supplies he needed. When he returned, he tended to my wound with expertise. I watched as he crisscrossed a white bandage across my palm, around my wrist, and taped it in place.
“You seem like you know what you’re doing,” I commented.
“My mom was a nurse.”
“Was?”
Andrew added another a silver of tape. “She quit when my sister and I were born. My dad was an old fashioned guy and believed the woman should stay home. You know? Cook, clean, only real role in life was to bear children.” The bitterness in his tone was evident. “My mom didn’t seem to mind but I know she missed nursing. Over the years, she kind of became the neighborhood nurse. All the kids and their parents used to come to her when something went wrong.”
Although, my hand throbbed, I would have shattered another picture frame to get a glimpse into his childhood that seemed so vastly different than mine.
“Your mom sounds like an amazing woman. What does your dad do?”
“He’s an inventor. I honestly have no clue what he invented because it’s complicated and convoluted. The NASA Space Program has him on retainer though.”
I whistled, impressed. “Damn. I’m guessing that brings in the big bucks.”
Andrew shrugged and inspected his handy work. A red spot bloomed on the gauze. He muttered something about me being more stubborn than a mule. Securing another layer, my hand took on the appearance of a mummy.
“What do your parents do?”
His question was unexpected yet shouldn’t have been. Conversations were a two way street. Wide-awake, I lifted myself into an upright position and contemplated how to tackle the inquiry.
“My mom was a mom and I have no idea who my dad is or what he does for a living.”
“Really? Your mom was a mom?”
There was nothing else for Andrew to know at this moment. We’d met less than twenty-four hours ago and besides, dark shadows sprung to life whenever I rehashed my past. Shadows I preferred to stay dormant.
“Fine but can you tell me one thing?”
“Depends.”
“What happened?” He gestured to my wound. “You and your sister seemed civil. If I knew otherwise, I wouldn’t have left you alone together.”
Raw hurt clawed its way up my throat as fresh tears sprung from my eyes. I still couldn’t believe the one person I trusted on this earth had betrayed me. Six months of hard work were now going to end up as poison in a needle.
“We were civil. Sumiko was the only family I had left.”
“So what she said was true? Your mom died?”
My eyes narrowed. “You were listening?”
Witnessing the fury in my expression, he held up his hands in surrender. “Your apartment is the size of a postal stamp. How could I not?”
“Easy. Don’t listen.”
“I know you’re angry but I’m not your punching bag, nor will I ever be. If you want to talk, I’m here.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw but his gaze remained steady and collected. He was the calm in the middle of a hurricane. A trait he had proved more than once tonight.
The fire seeped out of my belly and remorse set in. “Yes, my mom passed away a couple of months ago. She was a drug addict but didn’t touch harder stuff until the end, which was what killed her. Heroin overdose.”
The image of my mom lying in a pool of her own vomit popped into my head. She’d called me earlier that day after an extended amount of silence and invited me to lunch. I said yes because she swore she was clean. Looking back, I don’t think the overdose was an accident. She wanted me to find her because who else would? I swallowed a baseball-sized lump. Andrew’s stoic expression endured, which was a tremendous relief. I wouldn’t have been able to continue if it was anything but.
“I’m guessing you heard the rest of what Sumiko said?”
He nodded.
“Right, well there is… was,” I corrected, “five hundred dollars worth of savings I had hidden. Sumiko found it and took it. Now there is nothing.”
A crack formed in his armor. “Holy shit. She took it all?”
“Yup.”
A silence shrouded us as he processed everything I told him. It was a lot more than I normally divulged. Mallory and or any other guy I dated thought my parents died in a car accident. Very few people knew the real me—Monica was one and I was starting to believe Andrew would be the second. He exuded a trusting nature.
“Maybe what she said was true. Maybe she is just trying to protect you,” he said.
“For being a drug dealer, Big Ted wouldn’t hurt me or her. We are kind of like his surrogate daughters. My mom would leave us in the living room of his house whenever she scored, which was often.”
Andrew ran his hand over his face. “That’s so messed up.”
“It was.”
He moved from his chair next to my spot on the couch. Lifting my feet up, he set my legs over his. With his thumb, he massaged my arch and I nearly groaned in pleasure.
“You are an incredibly brave person, Haven. Don’t punch me when I say this but you are a survivor. What Sumiko did was awful but you will get through it. As corny as it sounds, there is light at the end of the tunnel.”
I was mesmerized by the unwavering faith he had in me. A girl he’d met less than a day ago who’d thrown him head first into her mentally unstable family. “How do you know that?”
“I just do.” He threw a blanket over me and tucked it around my body. “Now get some rest. It’s been
a long night.”
Permission to sleep was all it took for my eyelids to flutter closed.
The intrusive early morning light came too soon. Birds chirped merrily outside, the opposite of my mood. A dull throb pounded inside my head. Emotional hangovers were worse than alcohol induced ones. Shivering, I reached for my blanket and grabbed air. One eye opened, then another. It took me a moment to remember why I was on the couch then I promptly wished to forget. My dream of leaving Detroit had been delayed by another three months, at least. Since I was five years old, my own personal rain cloud had followed me around. When was the sun going to shine?
“I made coffee.”
My body froze. Why hadn’t Andrew left yet? No guy in his right mind would stick around after the events of last night. My nightmares were known to merge with reality. Pinching the delicate skin on my wrist, I winced. Andrew’s footsteps drew closer. At the last minute, the discarded blanket was thrown over my head. I didn’t want him to witness my appearance without checking in a mirror first. Shallow? Yes, but I most likely bared a resemblance to Frankenstein’s third cousin. Andrew’s demanding presence overpowered my small living room. My arm shot out of the blanket and gestured for him to put the mug of coffee into my hand. He didn’t comply.
Laughter laced into his voice. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“It looks like a ghost is trying to steal my mug of coffee.”
Lifting a corner of the blanket, Andrew’s bare feet came into my line of sight. He crouched down on his knees and met my eyes warmly.
“Hi,” he said.
A piece of my heart chipped off, lost forever. “Hi.”
“Would you like me to get you a cup?”
Hot steam rose off the black liquid, fogging up his round glasses. He took them off, rubbed away the moisture with his t-shirt and put them back on. Andrew put Clark Kent to shame.
My chin dipped eagerly. “Yes, please.”
“Alright but when I get back that stupid blanket better be off your head.”
Since coffee was on the line, his demand was fulfilled. Whipping away the blanket, my thumb erased the black smudges underneath my eye. Before long Andrew reappeared with another mug. Of course, he brought a new definition to rumpled.
Jagged Love Page 3