by Kade, Teagan
“Say it,” Jemma pushes.
“He hit me.”
“Say it louder.”
“He hit me okay! He fucking hit me and it hurt like hell.” My nose runs. I wipe it with the back of my hand, snot and salty tears and everything mixing together on my face. Fuck I’m a mess.
Jemma pulls me close. “But you got away. That’s the main thing. You’re here and you’re safe.”
“Am I? Every time I see Storm it feels like I’m stepping off a cliff again.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“Is it? We all know what happens. You fall and then, bam, Humpty Dumpty.”
I sniffle, choking back sobs and trying to erase the image of that fist hurtling towards me, the crunch of it against my eye socket, the flash of camera bulbs, clubs, the coke… everything.
I take a deep breath. “He’s seeing Lisa, or at least he was. She sent him a booty call while I was over there.”
“Yeah.”
“You knew?”
“I know Lisa gets around. Is that really any surprise?”
“But of all the girls in Rosie, Jem. I mean, come on. It’s just cruel. He’s fucking the one girl who made my life hell.”
“Was fucking,” Jemma corrects.
“That’s not making it better.”
“What did he say about it?”
“What you’d expect, that I had the wrong idea, that he wouldn’t do that to me.”
“Maybe he’s telling the truth.”
“Maybe you’re defending him.”
Jemma holds her hands up. “Hey, I don’t think he’s as bad as everyone makes out. I don’t think a lot of Millertown people are. You can’t just tarnish them all with the same brush.”
“Perhaps.”
“How does he make you feel?”
I actually smile, a ray of sun breaking through the sun shower. “Amazing. Alive… Sexy.”
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
It’s a very good question. Am I overreacting?
Jemma’s nodding.
“I didn’t say anything.”
She taps the side of her nose. “But I know what you are thinking, and Dan?”
Dan and Jemma are good friends, which has always been a danger, but I know she would never go ‘there’ without speaking to me first, especially since recent events.
“Hmm,” I start, “Dan. He’s great.”
“Great? That’s the best you can come up with?”
“Perfect, okay? He’s hot, he’s stable, he’s everything a girl could want.”
“But?”
“But, I don’t know. As good as it was with him that night, I can’t stop thinking about Storm. It’s insane.” I tap the side of my head. “You’d think I’d know how to use this thing by now.”
“Dan’s got issues too, you know.”
“PTSD, right?”
Jemma looks genuinely surprised. “How’d you know?”
“I found a letter at his place for an appointment with some vets association.”
“You were snooping around his place?”
“No! Not snooping. It was just there, right in front of me. Is it bad?”
“He’s made a lot of progress. When he got back he didn’t leave the house for months, but being back on the job’s been good, I think. It gives him something to focus on. He’s really started to clean things up.”
“So everyone keeps telling me.”
“He’s really into you, you know.”
“Yes, I realize that.”
“So, you can’t string him on if you really want to be with someone else.”
I hold my head. “I know, I know. It’s killing me, Jem. It really is.”
The sky is a bright dome overhead. I swing my legs back and forth. “There was a picture of him with a girl, an army chick.”
“Amy.”
“Amy?”
“Yeah, they dated in Afghanistan. They were really close. I mean, about-to-get-married close.”
“What happened?”
“She was shot,” Jemma presses a finger into her chest, “right here. Died in his arms back at the base. He left a week later.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah, heavy stuff. I don’t know if he’d want me telling you all about it, but there you go.”
“I had no idea.”
Jemma nods. “I think that’s why he’s a little distant, you know? He doesn’t want to get hurt again.”
“I don’t want to hurt him. That’s the last thing I want to do.”
“But you might have to, and if you do I’ll be here for the both of you, whatever you decide.”
I still don’t know how I’ve managed to keep a friend like Jemma all these years, even after I ignored her calls and messages during those first few months with him. I barely remember any of it, snorting, VIP rooms… constant media scrutiny. How I managed to keep writing and hold down a job is a small miracle I was so buzzed.
I try to change the subject. “Anyhow, where’s your bad boy?”
“Oh, I’ve had more than my fair share, Al. Trust me on that.”
“Come on, give it to me.”
“I don’t think you can take it.”
“I went undercover for two months to investigate the New York swingers scene. I doubt whatever you get up to in the back streets of Rosie can come as any surprise.”
“As I said, we like surprises around here.”
“And what, no guy now?”
She rubs her belly and I cannot believe I didn’t pick up on it before. “You’re pregnant?”
She nods timidly. “Found out yesterday.”
I hug her, pulling her tight to me. “Wow, that’s amazing. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“You’ve got a lot going on.”
I hold her firmly by the shoulders. “I’ve always got time for you, Jem, you know that.”
She nods. “I do.”
“The father?”
She shrugs. “Just a blow-through. I didn’t even get his name.”
I can’t believe it. “Fuck him, we’re going to celebrate anyhow.”
“We are?”
“Oh yes.”
“I’ll probably have to cut back on the cowboys, huh?”
“Ah, yeah. You’re drinking and eating for two now.”
“Well, maybe three.”
I throw my hands up, mouth agape. “Twins!”
“Oh man.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
I’m happy for her. Jemma’s always been so good with kids, always wanted one to call her own. Father in the picture or not, I know she’ll make a great mom. I tell her this and she breaks down, both of us crying and blubbering until there’s not a single tear left in our systems.
“So,” Jemma says, wiping her face with the bottom of her T-shirt. Her belly is bared and I still cannot believe she’s carrying another two lives in there. “There’s this great band playing in Longsville tonight.”
I do the calculation. “That’s like, two hours away.”
“Plenty of time to talk.”
“It’s not Storm’s band, is it?”
“Hell no. I wouldn’t be so cruel. They’re from Chicago actually. No idea why they’re out all this way. Probably a pity stop.”
“Well, I’m in if you are.”
We place our hands on top of each other, Jemma smiling back at me. “Done. You’re driving.”
Chapter Ten
I’ve just come out of the shower when I hear my cell going off.
I manage to reach it, losing my towel in the process.
It’s Dan.
Just answer it, idiot.
“Hey,” he starts.
“Hey.”
“I just thought I’d call and see how you’re doing. I didn’t want to be one of those stalker types I have to talk to because they’ve sent their girl a thousand texts.”
“I’m your girl?”
“If you want t
o be.”
I sit down naked on the corner of my bed. “Dan, I-”
“Look, we don’t have to talk about it now, okay. It can wait.”
“I don’t think it can.” Say it. “I can’t be in a relationship at the moment.”
“But you were at his place.” There’s a different tone to Dan’s voice now.
“Whose place?”
“Storm’s.”
“How did you-”
“I’m the sheriff, Alice. I know what goes on.”
I start to get irritated. “You have no right spying on me like that.”
“He’s no good, Alice.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“You want the truth?”
“No, but I have a feeling you’re going to tell it to me anyhow.”
“Damn right I am. His father was Bobby Black. You know, the big drug kingpin around these parts. When he died, Storm became the last of that cursed family left. Ol’ Bobby amassed a damn near fortune selling crack to the kids in Millertown, and you know what?”
“What?”
“Storm’s just keeping up the family business.”
“And you’ve got evidence of this?”
Silence. “We’ll get it, but the thing is, it’s not safe with him. There are people out there, bikers, criminals, who all want a piece of that money Bobby left behind. Bobby made a lot of enemies, and they’re not people you want to meet. They’ve been to that place before looking for that money, and they’ll be back again until they find it or at least take their pound of flesh.”
I swallow, reaching for the towel and pulling it around myself. “Goodbye, Dan.”
I hang up feeling rude, especially after hearing about Dan’s story from Jemma.
It does scare me what Storm could be involved with, but something tells me he’s not a criminal. I just… know. I have intuition. As my time in New York proved, my gut’s not always right, but it feels different here. Storm feels… right.
I have overreacted about the Lisa thing. It’s unreasonable to think he could live out there like a hermit. Hell, he didn’t even know who I was until a few days ago. He deleted her. She’s gone. He made it clear I’m the one he wants to be with.
Why can’t I just give in?
*
There’s only one turn on our trip into Longsville, population 10,000. I see where Storm’s taped up the window of my car and it sends a strange twinge spiraling into the very pit of my stomach. Call him. Do something.
“What did you say this band was called?” I ask Jemma, who has the window down, her hand sailing up and down over the horizon.
“The Pig Phuckers.”
“Charming.”
“Honestly, you’ll love them.”
Jemma has always known my taste in music. The hours we spent sharing a set of headphones down at the bowl… I miss those days when our biggest worry was what to wear to school the next day.
I smile back. “I trust you.”
We arrive and I’m surprised to see the line to get in stretches right around the block. “Wow, you weren’t kidding.”
“Like I said, they’re a great band.”
I’m forced to park three streets away, trying to get used to these old heels I found in the wardrobe as we make our way to the back of the line.
The crowd’s an interesting mix. There are plenty of kids here, yes, but there’s also a good showing of fellow twenty-somethings and even old rockers. It feels… familiar. I’m looking forward to some live music, a chance to kick back a bit and forget about Dan, Storm and Rosie.
Jemma takes the keys from my hand.
“What are you doing?” I protest.
“You’re drinking tonight whether you like it or not. I’m afraid it’s water, water and water for me.”
“Is that an order?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You sound like Dan.”
She pushes her breasts together. “Look, we almost have the same size tits, too.”
I shake my head. “You’re terrible.”
“And you need a drink. Come on.”
The venue’s small and stuffy, but the air is electric inside. A chant has started up at the front.
Pig Phuckers!
Pig Phuckers!
I have to laugh.
I’m at the bar at the back observing proceedings.
As always, Jemma met some friends on the way in and has subsequently disappeared.
The bartender slides over. “Whatllbe?”
“Wine, please.”
“We got beer, we got Coke and we got bourbon. That’s it.”
“Guess I’ll have a Coke and bourbon then.”
I take the tumbler and sink the drink back. I’m transported right back to my youth, drinking bourbon straight from the bottle trying to pull cred with the cool kids. Lisa made it seem like I had chance. She was actually being nice to me. At least until I found the cow’s heart she left in my backpack.
I call Jemma again, but her phone rings out.
Where are you? I text.
No response.
The lights go out and the band comes on stage.
I’ve dressed up, I’ve come out. I’m not about to stand up the back by the bar looking like an idiot. I elbow my way into the rear of the crowd and try to catch a glimpse of the band.
They kick into an energetic mix of ’90s grunge and UK punk.
They’re not so bad. In New York you could practically see a new band every night, which raised my inner critic somewhat. Here in Longsville, they have to make do.
Make do. It resonates in my head. Settle. Give in.
Give up.
I can’t. I just cannot do it.
“Come on, Longsville!” the singer shouts, voice grated and hoarse. They kick into a solid four-four beat as the crowd sways and moves before me.
I’m listening to the band play, bodies growing sweaty around me, but I’m not engaged. I cannot relax. Thank you, O Mighty One, I silently whisper, for providing us with weird leaky holes called vaginas and a brain you can’t turn off. A switch would have come in handy, you know? Is that really so much to ask? How about one for leg hair, and zits? Female 2.0, come on.”
The good lord does not see fit to provide me with a reply.
One thing that has eventuated is that all this drama has made me forget him.
I still remember the night I finally made the call. The police arrived, they took my statement, but coked up to his eyeballs and requiring five officers to bring him down, it was clear what he’d done to me. “Fractured,” the doctor told me, looking at the X-ray.
Yes, I had to admit it. I was the victim. I tried to tell myself I wasn’t weak. I tried and tried, but I still feel that way no matter how hard I try to convince myself otherwise.
Fuck him.
With a cymbal crash, the next song finishes.
The lead singer hangs over the mic. “You’ve been real great, Longsville, but now I’d like to welcome a special guest onto the stage.”
A guy bumps into me with a beer. I miss what the singer is saying.
Someone’s walking onto the stage, guitar slung low across their crotch.
Oh shit.
Chapter Eleven
It’s him. He’s the special guest?
I’ve been played.
Storm steps up to mic, grasping it in one hand and striking a power chord with the other. “I want to send this out to a special girl.” The fucker looks right at me somehow. “She knows who she is.”
He launches into a high-energy crowd-pleaser, the rest of the band backing him up. He can play alright, he can sing.
I’m not going to be that girl, I tell myself, the one who swoons over the pretty boy with a guitar in his hands, but more and more my willpower’s slipping.
Storm wraps it up, punching out a screamer of a note before the big finale. The crowd erupts and I have to hand it to him. He’s good.
He disappears off the stage, but not before he turns and seems to
narrow in on my location.
Make him come to you.
So I wait. Another song goes past, and another, and another. I’m starting to get a little anxious waiting when I suddenly feel hands on the bare skin of my arms. I’ve been groped at concerts before, but I know this different. I know this is him. The hot breath on the side of my face confirms it.
“Fancy seeing you here,” comes his voice.
I don’t turn. I keep my eyes locked on the stage as he presses in behind me. “You shouldn’t act so surprised. You think I’m that easy?”
“Yes.”
Cheeky bastard. “You’re going to have to work for me.”
“I just poured my heart out for you on stage. That’s not enough?”
“Nope.”
“What’s it going to take then? Chocolate and roses?”
“Perhaps.”
“I’m not really a chocolate-and-roses kind of guy.”
I can hear the way my voice turns flirty, the game this has suddenly turned into as his fingers grip my hips. “What kind of guy are you then?”
“Be with me. Find out. I promise you it will be worth it.”
I press back towards him. “And if I agree?”
“You’ll never want for anything.”
I’m heating up internally. It’s all getting to me, the music, his hard body. I’m in the moment.
The band announces the next song. A great cheer goes up and people suddenly swarm around us, pressing us even tighter together. I try to turn around, but the way we’re packed in doesn’t allow full movement.
His fingers move back to my arms, tracing down them and circling around my elbows.
Another cry goes up from the crowd and I’m momentarily lost. His touch is gone, all but a ghost, and then I feel fingers sweeping my hair aside. His breath is hot and heavy on my exposed neck. He’s putting me under his bad-boy spell again.
His fingers rake through my hair up the back of my neck, tugging on the sensitive strands there gently.
His lips press to my neck, vampire-like, and I tilt my head to the side out of some natural instinct, eyes closed, my hands locking themselves in front of me. My legs are slightly parted, still fighting for placement as the human ocean around us oscillates in time with the rhythm.
Storm brings his lips together in a kiss over my jugular and then runs the tip of his tongue slowly up my neck to the area just below my hairline. When his lips leave, my skin goes cold. They reappear again, tugging lightly at my earlobe, a hint of teeth, pulling.