by Ali Parker
Her eyes widened and she giggled, the beer having done half the work for me. "Oh, yeah sure. That sounds... hot."
"Good. Now run along and tell your friends you have plans to bend over for the big guy with all the tats later." I popped her butt and she giggled again, running toward her table as they erupted in laughter.
"Why did you have to give the poor girl hope?" Jake turned and looked out at the water. "I swear you're going to get payback from your disrespect of women when you have a daughter."
"Firstly, I'm not having kids, and secondly, she wanted what I gave her. A bit of juicy gossip and nothing else."
"You're going to take her home and fuck her, no doubt." Jake lifted the beer to his lips and turned toward the women as they continued to get louder.
"Sure. Why not? I'm an ass-grown man and a release might do me good. I've been a bit tense lately."
"Masturbate." Jake turned back to me. "You're not good with fucking and leaving. You'll fall in love and the floozy will break your heart."
"You make me feel like the tender flower that I am."
Jake laughed loudly and lifted his beer toward mine. "The job's protection detail for Senator Moore's college-aged daughter. She's home for the summer and he's concerned with her being here in San Diego. He's looking for someone that he can trust to stay with the girl twenty-four seven."
"With no days off? No."
"You'd get Sundays off. He actually asked about you."
"Me?" I jerked back as surprise rushed through me. "Why in the world would he ask about me? Has he not reviewed my rap sheet?"
"Yeah, he actually has, but you saving his ass at the event a few weeks back gave you his nice shiny seal of approval. His only concern was whether you would try and hit on the girl."
I snorted and tapped my beer bottle against the railing in front of us as the sun began to set. The sky burst into crimson and dark yellows, stealing my breath for a minute and causing me to forget where I was.
"Did you hear me?" Jake popped me in the arm with his empty bottle.
"About hitting on the girl?"
"Yeah. I told him not to worry."
"Good. There's nothing to worry about. I'm not interested in bleeding for anyone for a long time." I shrugged. "I'm sure she's as fake as the rest of these chicks that snuggle up to me every time I leave the house."
"It's the big bad-ass sign you have tattooed to your forehead."
I brushed my hand along my face and forced my brow to contract.
"Me? Naw... I'm as sweet as a kitten. Speaking of pussy’s..." I finished my beer and leaned over, pointing to the busty blond who had approached us moments ago. "Sandy... come here baby. Let's get our night started."
"Oh fuck. You're not really gonna..." Jake stood up and turned to me.
"I am. How much is the gig?"
"It's for the entirety of the summer and it's around ten grand a month."
My jaw dropped. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
That was three times what I was making at the hospital. I could work all summer and take the fall off completely. That would really give me time to find the right job.
"Yeah. You want an interview?" Jake moved back as Sandy slipped in between us and snuggled up to the front of me.
"Yeah. I want in." I glanced down at the girl, winking as she giggled at the hidden meaning behind my words.
My brother lifted his hand and gave me a look.
I shook it and glanced down at the girl. "Where you wanna do this, baby?"
"How about at your place?" She slid her hands up my chest, purring like a cat.
"Naw... how about the women's bathroom as you walk into the bar? It's a single room with a lock." I leaned down and brushed my nose along her cheek, breathing in.
She smelled good and a quick fuck wouldn't hurt anyone.
"Yeah," she whispered and turned, capturing my lips with hers.
I meant as much to her as she meant to me. Absolutely nothing.
CHAPTER THREE
The beach house in La Jolla was a bit much, but my father always did go off the deep-end in gift giving. I unpacked slowly, taking my time and ignoring the constant buzz of my phone. It was the group of girls I went to high school with, most of them friends with me simply because it gave them status and something to brag about.
A soft sigh left me as I finished putting everything up. The big house was still basically empty after I unpacked. I should have invited some of the girls from UCLA to come down with me. There were two or three bedrooms, but each had multiple beds in them.
I checked the refrigerator to see that my father had paid someone to come pack it with all of my favorites. My childhood rushed past me, sickening me as it always did. All those years of growing up with nothing more than nannies and butlers to raise me. With enough snacks and presents dropped sporadically around the house I was supposed to be okay with not having a father.
"He couldn't handle anything after mom died," I spoke quietly, the sound of my own voice comforting. It was the only consistent voice in my life.
Picking up the phone, I dialed his number and swallowed the sadness that always seemed to sit at the edge of my world.
"Pumpkin. You here?"
"I am. Where are we meeting?" I picked the sticker off of a t-shirt that sat on the counter, a big card that said 'welcome home' on it. Another gift.
"I'm sitting in the driveway of the beach house. Come on out and we'll go to that steak house you like that hangs over into the sea."
"Sounds good. Be right out." I hung up and walked to the bathroom, dragging a brush through my long blond hair. I was a hot mess thanks to riding all the way from L.A. with the windows down. My father would comment on my appearance if I didn't spruce it up a little. Some days he seemed more willing to marry me off than simply have a real conversation that didn't revolve around my school or his career.
I put on a little bit of mascara and some lip gloss and growled, "Steak house."
I hated red meat, but he wouldn’t know that. He didn’t know anything about me.
Dinner would be comfortable and I'd placate him with a few stories from the past semester and then come back home and gorge on cupcakes and scary movies. I grabbed my purse and walked out of the front door of the house. The back opened right up onto the beach, which was the best part of the place.
The limo that sat in front of the house was a bit of a surprise. My father had several cars, but his silver Lexus was his guilty pleasure of choice. The stretch limo was a bit much, but I was sure he had an excuse for the extravagance. He always did.
The driver got out and smiled at me, holding the door. "Miss Moore. How are you this evening?"
"Good. Thank you." I lifted my nose a little, acting as was expected.
"Pumpkin. Don't you look beautiful?" My father reached up and pulled me into a tight hug as the driver shut the door behind me.
"Thanks, Dad." I moved to the seat beside him and worked on getting my seatbelt on before turning to pin him with a stare. "What's with the car? I thought we were trying to keep attention off of us?"
"Yeah, but I thought it would be fun. It's been a while since we've been on a father-daughter date, so I thought, why the hell not?" He smiled and I forced a tight smile myself.
Why not was because it would drag attention our way no matter where we were. Not only that, but there were starving kids in the orphanage down the block, but let's ride in class.
"Well, cool." I smiled and turned to ask him about his campaign trail, but his phone buzzed and he pulled it out and sighed.
"I need to get this. Excuse me for a minute." He answered it before I could mutter a word.
"Sure," I mumbled under my breath and pulled out my own phone, sinking down in the seat next to him and flipping through the various text messages I had.
One was from Jeremy. "Hey pretty girl. Just seeing if you were going to be in town this weekend. I got concert tickets to T-swift and figured you might want to go. Let me know and I'll even buy yo
u a hot dog."
I rolled my eyes and laughed softly, unable to help myself. Where I might really enjoy seeing Taylor in concert, I knew without a doubt that Jeremy wouldn't. He was in his early thirties and still trying to act like he wasn't. It was too much.
"What's funny?" My father turned toward me. I hadn't realized he was off the call.
"Oh, just Jeremy asking me to a concert. I swear he thinks he's my age."
"Chloe. You know I don't like you talking to him. Something is off about the guy." My father patted my leg. "Text him back and tell him no."
I ruffled at the fact that my dad was telling me what to do and I was in my early twenties. I wanted to defy him just for the sake of doing it, but it wasn't worth the emotional energy. I would push back and he would remind me of my mother's death and the hardship he had as a single father trying to make not only my life better, but the world better for everyone.
"Yep. I'll tell him, Dad. Nothing to worry about." I slipped the phone back in my purse. "Now... tell me about the campaign. Are you blazing a trail of goodness and truth across the United States?"
He laughed as his face lit up. "We need reform. I've been saying that for years. It's time for another reformation. Do you know the story of Martin Luther?"
"No. Tell it to me." I smiled and leaned back, pretending to listen as I went to my happy place. I had heard the story of Martin Luther a million times, but my father sold the same stale stories to so many people that he long ago forgot the faces of those of us that had heard them. I didn't have the heart to join in, copying his words right alongside him. It would be childish, and though I would enjoy it in the moment... later I would hate myself even more.
How can I be surrounded by people and yet feel so alone?
"Pumpkin. Are you listening to me?" He poked at my side and I jumped.
"Oh sorry. I actually studied Martin Luther in one of my history classes last year. I was lost in the story and imagining myself there." I brushed my hands down my white summer dress and turned my attention back to him. "What is your plan to keep yourself safer after the attack a few weeks back?"
"I always have Pauly beside me, but we've added a few extra guys to the payroll. There's one of them in particular that I wanted to talk to you about." He tapped his leg, which was never a good sign.
"Dad. I'm not interested in dating right now. I have one more year of school and then med school after that."
He laughed. "No. I'm not setting you up silly. I'd rather you not focus on anything but school right now."
"Oh, good. Then what's up with this guy?"
"Well, I've been talking with my advisors and they’re concerned about some of the threat's I've been getting lately."
"Threats? Death threats?"
"Yes, but please don't worry. I have full protection around me. The only part of me that's exposed to threat really is... well, you." He brushed his fingers over his eyebrows. It was his tale-tell way of trying to look cool in the midst of extreme nervousness.
"Me? Wait... are you saying that you want me to have security detail too?"
"Yes, but just until we know if I'm in the primaries. If I'm not, which I highly doubt that I'll make it this time, we'll let him go."
"Hell no." I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest. "There is no way I'm having some guy follow me out every time I go."
"He would be with you twenty-four seven Chloe, and this really isn't a request, baby. I'm hiring someone. I cannot have something happen to you. Not after we lost your mother. You know all I've done to make sure you were protected and safe. I can't let something happen now."
"It's not happening, Dad. You can say anything you want. I'm not going to have a shadow. It's creepy and I'm perfectly capable of defending myself. Keep your security guys with you and just let me live my life."
"It's not that easy."
"Fine. I'll just disappear." I knew the minute I said it that me leaving wasn’t at all a possibility. I had nothing without him. Somehow he had made sure of that.
CHAPTER FOUR
I got home a little after midnight, the girl bringing a few of her friends to the party in the ladies room. I felt like shit for using them, but the same voice that pushed me farther and farther away from being a good guy piped up non-stop. It was a good reminder that I was nothing more than a piece of ass for them anyway. We were all at fault, so who was I to play the saint? I wouldn't even know where to begin if I had to walk that tight rope.
Sinking down on the couch in my shitty little apartment, I flipped on the TV and stared at the static-filled screen for a few minutes before closing my eyes. I needed to get a little bit of sleep before tomorrow. I had an early afternoon shift and my brother had texted that the interview would be at ten a.m. in La Jolla. Seemed the good Senator knew how to live with the best of them. Maybe he could rub off on me.
I reached for her like I always did when we finished making love. She jerked from me and laughed, sliding to the edge of the bed and glaring over her shoulder.
"Don't." Her words were harsh, but I was almost used to them. She had never been anything but hateful. Why did I put myself through this shit again? Right. Love.
"Baby, come back over here and let me hold you. You know I hate it when you leave after we make love." I brushed the bed just beside her, wanting so badly to pull her back into my arms. One night in her arms like we used to have. I just wanted one night.
"Ian. Stop acting like a fucking girl. We don't make love. We fuck. We haven't made love since we were kids and you had plans of actually making something out of yourself." She laughed and stood up, walking away from me to lean toward the mirror.
I rolled onto my back and pressed my arm across my face. She was right. I was a piece of shit and deserved nothing more than a quick fuck by a crack whore, which is exactly what she had become... because of me.
The girl who stole my heart in high school was long gone and this monster took her place. I stayed beside her, begging for attention simply because I needed redemption. I dragged her into this fucked up world. I would take whatever she threw my way and ask for another serving of it.
She turned as tears filled her eyes. I scrambled to my knees, the sheet falling and leaving me naked, our sex still covering my body.
"What's the matter, baby?" I moved to the edge of the bed as she held up her hands, slapping at the air in front of her.
"No. Stay back. Tell them to stay back, Ian. Don't let them get me. Don't let..." Her scream pierced me with such force that I had to cover my ears. I tried to get out of the bed to get to her, but I couldn't push past the force of her scream, the sound having personified into an entity much greater than me.
I glanced up as blood began to trickle from her little button nose.
"No. Stop it. Stop screaming, Mandy. You're busting the veins in your nose, baby." I moved toward the floor, but the ground simply sunk as my feet pressed into it. I grunted and pushed forward until her cries got to be too much.
She cried out again. Blood poured from her nose and ears, her little puckered lips white and cracked, her eyes wild and hair half pulled out. She thrusted her arms toward me, palms up. I turned from her, closing my eyes at the sight before me. The track lines from the needles on her pretty flesh left it bruised and puffy with infection.
"Look at me. Look at what I've become. Look at what you did to me." She screamed over and over as I began to cry, unable to help myself.
I turned back and let out a scream that shook me to the core of my soul. "I know, baby. Forgive me. Please God, Mandy... forgive me."
Jerking up from the couch, I gasped for air until I realized where I was. I pressed my head into my hands, the sweat covering me having dripped all over the leather couch and made a fucking mess. I got up and let out a long groan as I walked to the bathroom.
"How long will I have to suffer the demons of my past?" I stopped by the bathroom and turned on the facet, leaning over and splashing water on my face. I hated to sleep, simply for that very
reason. She was always there. Always waiting to remind me of what I'd done by bringing her into my world.
"I fucking hate you," I growled at myself in the mirror and turned away, tugging a towel from the rack and moving to the bedroom. I changed into a pair of jogging pants and a t-shirt before going in search of my tennis shoes. A two-hour run on the beach would do me good. Something had to give. It was three in the morning and I was officially done sleeping for the night.
I walked out into the chilly morning air and slipped my ear buds into my ears, asking God for redemption for my past just in case he had a break in dealing with the sick and dying. Perhaps if he took a coffee break at the right moment, he would hear me and save me from the terror of my dreams. I had only loved one woman in my life and having to bury her because of my own addictions becoming hers left me unwilling to ever try again. Sex and work... sex and work...
I turned the corner past my rundown apartments and picked up my speed, needing to burn everything from my mind. The interview with the Senator wouldn't be intimidating, simply because all I could be was me and if that wasn't enough, fuck it. I wasn't into playing games or pretending to be anything for anyone long-term. To get a piece of ass for an hour or so? Sure. I'd be a nice guy... it wasn't too far from the truth.
Thinking back to getting the job at the hospital a few years back, I worked through all of the interview questions I might be asked, answering them quickly and robustly. I had some good examples of teamwork and having to deal with difficult people. If the Senator gave me a character test I'd pass with flying colors. I was a recovered drug addict.
What personality did I need to have to get what I wanted? Easy... done.
The run went by too fast and I found myself in the shower, washing with expedience in hopes of getting there early. The memory of the night before with the girls in the bathroom rolled over me and I took a deep breath, trying to not beat myself up too much over it. They wanted an orgy and I simply complied.