by Andrea Smith
I pulled into the trailer park and turned the corner to my trailer. Someday, I hoped to be out of this dump.
Mom was in the kitchen when I walked in. She looked up and smiled at me, like nothing she’d said earlier ever happened.
“Mom, what was up with the phone call?” I asked.
“What phone call, Liv?”
I dropped my shoulders and looked around. Was it worth getting into it now? I was still pissed at Emmett, and I was also very disappointed with Coop. How could he let Emmett manipulate him into not putting my song on our debut album? I guess best buds will always come first, no matter how shitty they treat each other. If I ever wanted to make it out of here, I had to play along with their boy club rules.
“I made dinner. Spaghetti, your favorite,” Mom said with a bright smile. Spaghetti was never my favorite, but I didn’t want to ruin a normal moment. They were rare and far between.
“Thanks, Mom. Maybe later you’ll tell me who called you while I was at practice.” Though I should have let it go, what if there was something to it?
“Sweetheart, I still don’t know what you’re talking about.” She sounded like June Cleaver. She even looked to have fixed herself up a bit. Maybe her new meds were beginning to work.
Please!
Before I could sit down and have dinner with Mom, someone knocked on the door. Please don’t let it be Emmett, I prayed.
It was worse. Stacie.
“Stacie, hey, what’s up?”
She was biting a fingernail and had a pleading look in her eyes. She probably wanted to go out and get wasted. It wasn’t a bad thought, but I had already been gone most of the day and needed to spend time with Mom.
“Can… I talk with you,” she peered in and saw Mom at the table, “alone?”
What the hell? Stacie had no filter around anyone. Why, suddenly now?
I stepped out onto the redwood deck and shut the door behind me. Crossing my arms, I said, “What’s this about, Stacie? I’m getting ready to have dinner with my Mom.”
“It’s about Emmett.”
I studied her body language. She didn’t appear as if she was ready to sucker punch me. Hopefully, it had nothing to do with the fact Emmett and I had fucked like porn stars on steroids.
“Hey, I don’t want to get into your and Emmett’s shit, Stacie. I have enough of my own shit to deal with,” I replied nonchalantly.
“No, it’s not that. There are… just some things I need to clear up. Things I said… due to my hormones at the time.”
Dear Lord. Stacie was back to that again.
“Sure,” I said, dropping my hands with a slap to my legs. “Say whatever you need to say. I need to get back to dinner. Mom made it special for me.”
“Awe, that’s sweet,” she replied, obviously stalling for some reason.
“Stacie, spill. I’m in no mood right now.”
“Okay, okay. Here’s the thing. You know when I told you about my Rocky tattoo, and about Emmett making me get it?”
“Yeah so, what about it?” I asked, rolling my eyes.
“Well, that’s not exactly true. It’s an old tattoo. It doesn’t have anything to do with Emmett.”
“And you are telling me this why…?”
She twisted a lock of her hair. “Well, Emmett came home upset and wanted to know what the whole Rocky thing was all about… I guess you must’ve mentioned it to him at some point…”
Oh, he did, did he?
“After I told him what I’d told you, he was so pissed at me, and trust me, I need to keep peace with him right now. Our… relationship is complicated…” she said more like a question. “So, the truth is we got wasted and had a one-night hook-up. Once I found out I was pregnant, I was hoping we could work it out. I mean, I do care for Emmett… but the truth is, he’s never touched me since.”
I arched my brow in confusion, but with drama queens like Stacie, hell, you never could tell what was truth and what was fiction.
I sighed. “Look, Stacie, like I said, it’s none of my business.” I was so tired of being in the middle, and to tell the truth, I didn’t know how I got there. Who would have known, that the girl I befriended, who’d been crying on the picnic table one day, would lead me to the man I eventually fucked in a shitty hotel room, however damn good it had been.
What the hell was wrong with me?
“It just hurts, you know,” she continued. “He’s become so attached to Emmie, and I just want things to work out for us. I need things to work out with him and the band. So, I feel you needed to know the truth about that.”
“Stacie, tell me this, are you two a thing–a couple?”
“Well, I hope to be someday but Emmett doesn’t see it. I still have faith that as soon as he finds out Emmie is his, well, maybe his attitude will change. I think any child deserves to have two loving parents, don’t you?”
Fuck if I would know.
The front door opened, and Mom stood in the doorway. “Your dinner is getting cold,” she said. “Send your little friend home, Olivia.”
“Okay, I’ll be right there, Mom,” I said and gave her a nudge inside, shutting the door. I looked back at Stacie. “I need to go. But Stacie, don’t try and manipulate a man to stay with you. Love and staying together just for a baby are not the same thing. You need to find someone who loves you for you.”
I was thinking of Mom and what she must have gone through with Zak, aka…Pops.
“Oh, I know, but I do think I love Emmett. Okay, well, that’s all I needed to say. See ya,” she said and sashayed down the redwood deck and down the drive towards Emmett’s place.
Why me?
Mom was finally down for the night after taking her Ambien, and I was long overdue for a soak in the tub.
After shaving my legs, and my nether regions as I routinely did, I rested back with two cucumber slices on my eyes. It was the most relaxed I had felt in weeks.
I began thinking about Emmett and about what Stacie had told me earlier. It did ease my guilt somewhat. But still, if she was determined to make Emmett hers, I wished her luck. On the other hand, I decided for the sake of the band that I should keep my distance. Was it possible Stacie knew about Emmett and me hooking up? If so, why hadn’t she been pissed and called me out on it, especially if she really had those feelings for Emmett? Who knew what Stacie knew, and why was I spoiling my one guilty pleasure trying to figure it out? I certainly wasn’t going to tell her, because it was a one-time thing, period. I planned to keep it that way.
After drying off, I pulled on a T-shirt and sweats and went out onto the redwood deck. It was still an unseasonably warm autumn night. The sky was clear, and the stars were bright. A soft breeze caressed my skin. Perfect for clearing my head. I leaned back against the old wood, and as my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw Emmett drinking a beer on the picnic table across the park–alone. Most of the streetlights in the park were either broken or burned out, but the one down the lane still worked, and as I gazed over at him, something deep in my belly tingled with excitement.
He wasn’t sitting on the seat, but on the table, his jean-clad legs stretched out in front of him. I fought the urge to go talk to him. We needed to get this behind us and work on what was best for the band and the debut album. Ultimately, I walked over to apologize and let bygones be bygones.
He looked up when I called his name. “Hey, Emmett,” I said and raised my hand, giving him the peace symbol. His eyes looked bloodshot. I wondered if it was too many beers or maybe too many sleepless nights because of the baby. I settled on beers.
He didn’t say anything, and his eyes looked me up and down. I climbed up and sat next to him.
“Hey, Olivia,” he said and tipped his beer up for a sip. He then stuck his finger inside the bottle and handed it over to me. “Drink?”
I smiled, grabbed the beer, and took a drink. “Stacie told me the truth. I’m sorry I accused you of making her get that tattoo.”
I looked at him closely, studying his demeanor, his body language. I didn’t see the ass I saw earlier. I saw the man who sold his guitar to pay my part of the recording fee for the demo. I saw the man who was standing by a baby he wasn’t sure was his. I saw a man who was… hurting.
“Olivia, that night in the hotel…”
“Shh, let’s forget it,” I said and started to get up, but he grabbed my hand.
“I can’t,” he said, his voice strained, “and I don’t want to forget it. Please tell me, was it more to you than just a quick fuck? Because for me… well, I never want to forget what it felt like to be with you. To be inside of you.”
My heart fluttered in crazy confusion. “Emmett…” He didn’t let me finish whatever the hell I was going to say. He pulled me in and kissed me hard. My resolve melted like butter in a hot skillet. I kissed him back; my hands grasped his shirt, pulling him in closer.
“It was the best fuck I’ve ever had,” I breathed out in an exhale, my heart pounding inside my chest.
His hand fingered through my still-damp hair. “I want you, Olivia. Please, you must believe me. There is nothing with Stacie and me. It’s only about Emmie.”
“I know,” I said, and everything I tried to forget in that hotel room came back. I grabbed his crotch. His dick was hard as a rock. He moaned and pulled me up so that I was between his legs. He reached around and grabbed my ass cheeks hard.
“Fuck, I want to take you right here, right now on this picnic table,” he whispered huskily.
“Sit back,” I whispered, giving him a seductive look. I pushed him back and smiled up at him. “I want to suck Rocky,” I said.
He fell back on the table, and I wasted no time pulling out his dick. My tongue circled slowly around the head of his cock. He was wet with pre-cum and loved how he tasted when my tongue lapped it up.
“Ah, shit… Olivia.”
His hands were tangled in my hair, and I continued to suck him hard. I needed more and yanked his jeans down. He was now sitting bare ass on the picnic table. I worked his beautiful cock with my tongue and hands, sucking his balls into my mouth.
“Shit, I’m going to blow my wad right here, Olivia,” he groaned out as a warning. As much as I wanted to taste his seed, I also wanted to feel him deeply inside of me.
He grabbed me and spun me around, my hands planted on the table. He pulled my shirt up and yanked my sweats down to my knees, pushing my panties to the side. His fingers pumped in and out of my wet pussy as his thumb circled my swollen clit.
I rocked my ass back and forth as he finger-fucked me, hard, my walls tightening with each thrust.
“Ah, fuck, Emmett. God, I want your cock inside of me. Please?” I was like a two-bit whore. How did this man have such control over me when it came to my desires?
His fingers were soaked when he removed them, and I thought he was about to put his wonder cock in me. I jumped when his thumb pushed past the ring of muscles inside of my ass. I winced, and he gave me a moment, telling me to relax. He kissed me gently from behind. I moaned with pleasure as my body adjusted to his slow and methodic movements inside virgin territory.
“There now,” he said soothingly, “I’m going to fuck you right here,” he said, and I felt his cock at my wet entrance.
“Ahh,” I said in a hushed voice. It felt so good as Emmett entered me slowly, and then, just as my pussy clenched his cock, he increased his rhythm, pounding in and out of me while his thumb was fucking my ass. It was my first experience with anal, and I loved it. It felt like nothing I’d felt before, and I wreathed in pleasure with every stroke and every thrust.
It didn’t take long, and I came like a screaming whore. His hand covered my mouth, and I had to remember where we were. The middle of the trailer park… on a picnic table.
“I’m going to come, Olivia,” he strangled out, and I knew what I wanted to do. I knew he was close, and as he moaned signaling, he was on the brink. I broke away and bent down to take him in my mouth.
“Ah, fuck, babe,” he groaned as the hot, jet streams of cum shot down my throat. I licked and sucked his cock like my life depended on it. I felt him jerk with the last spurt of his orgasm. He stiffened and moaned as I slowed my tongue around his post-orgasm sensitive cock.
Our breathing was ragged, but I felt exhilarated, and the way a woman was supposed to feel when it was just that good.
“Come here,” he whispered and helped me up. He wrapped his hand around my neck and kissed me ever so gently.
“Babe,” he breathed, “where have you been all my life?”
I was sleeping peacefully in my small room, my dreams erotic replays of fucking Emmett, or being fucked by Emmett. It all worked.
Just as the best part of my dream was playing out in steamy detail, I heard persistent tapping on the window of my room.
What the hell?
I looked at the digital clock on my dresser. It was a little after one a.m.
I bounced up from my bed and took the three steps over to the window, pulling up the mini-blinds, hoping it was Emmett coming back for more.
My heart thudded and my eyes widened when I saw it was Stacie. Mascara was running down her face, her hair was disheveled, and her eyes were wild with accusation and anger. “Open the damn window bitch!” she yelled, her fist pounding now, not caring who she woke up or disturbed in the middle of the night.
I turned the lock on the window, and pushed it upward, the nylon screen was the only partition now between us. “What the hell Stacie?” I asked, my voice raspy from sleep.
“You!” she hissed, “I saw you and… Emmett tonight. I saw you fucking him! I couldn’t believe you’d stoop that low, and stab a friend in the back like that!” she wailed. “I thought you knew that I was trying to make it work,” she continued sobbing hysterically. “I thought you were a… a friend!”
“Stacie,” I said, the guilt once again trying to force its way inside of me, but no, not this time. “Listen to me, please. We aren’t friends you and me. We were never friends. You don’t have friends. You only use people to suit your own selfish purpose, and I won’t be suckered in again. I know the truth now. So, leave me the hell alone,” I hissed, “or I will call the authorities.” I slammed the window shut and released the blinds back down.
I lay there, my nerves rattled, my heart pounding and my mind trying to wrap itself around why Stacie Coulter had such a wicked soul. She wasn’t a fool by any means, but I couldn’t figure out exactly what her angle was relative to Emmett. She’d admitted, at his prodding I was sure, to come clean with the truth–at least part of the truth. But what was in it for Stacie to stay with Emmett when she knew damn well he didn’t have feelings for her? He’d admitted as much to me himself, and that he only wanted to do right by Emmie.
I couldn’t dwell on it right now. I was exhausted and too damn tired of being part of a drama I hadn’t caused. I rolled over, punched my pillow a few times and tossed and turned until finally I fell into a restless sleep.
It was just a little after seven a.m. when my cell phone vibrated on my nightstand. I reached out and grabbed it, my eyes still heavy with sleep. I glanced at the caller id. It was Coop.
“Yeah,” I croaked.
“Hey Liv,” Coop said, “sorry to call so early but we need to scrap this morning’s eight o’clock practice. Something’s happened.”
Oh God!
My mind raced to, of course, the worst possible scenario. “Emmett?” I asked hoarsely.
“Ah no, no. Emmett’s fine. But he’s at the hospital. Stacie slit her wrists this morning.”
Chapter 28
Emmett
I rubbed my eyes free of sleep as I heard somebody enter the small waiting room where I was sitting outside of the ICU. Ace had just left about an hour ago, and Stacie’s parents were in Chicago at a Bears game. Ace hadn’t been able to reach them until six this morning, and they were headed back.
So, it was just me, until I heard Olivia’s voice. “Emmett,” she said softly, “how is she?”
I looked up to see the concern on Olivia’s face, along with something else I couldn’t quite determine. “Hey,” I replied, “you didn’t have to come here, babe. She’s in critical, but stable condition. The next twenty-four hours are crucial.”
“Oh my God! It’s all of my fault,” Olivia said, her voice cracking. “I was so damn mean to her!”
My head turned abruptly to look at her, shocked that somehow Olivia felt as if this were her fault. It was nobody’s fault. Stacie owned this and I’d be damned if I was going to take blame much less allow Olivia to do so. “What the hell are you talking about?” I asked.
Olivia buried her face in her hands. “Emmett,” she said, a sob escaping, “she saw us last night… on the picnic table. She came to my bedroom window around one this morning. She was all disheveled and upset, screaming and crying about how she thought I was a friend. I didn’t cave. I set her straight. Then I heard from Coop this morning she slit her damn wrists! How can I not take the blame for this?”
She was sobbing now, and I wrapped my arm around her, and pulled her close. “Now listen,” I said huskily, my fingers tilting her chin up so that she was forced to look into my eyes, “This is not your fault. It’s not mine. Stacie has mental issues and I think we all knew that, and it had nothing to do with us. Look, when I got back to my trailer last night she was high as a fucking kite. The baby was lying on the sofa, crying, and laying in her own shit. So I tended to Emmie first, and then attempted to find out what the hell Stacie was on,” I stopped to take a breath. “She told me she had dropped the baby off at Katie’s and then went to meet up with Rocky.”