Rock Bottom (The Handler Series Book 1)

by Angie M. Brashears

  More tears fall as I imagine him, big as a bodyguard, perusing the get-well cards, looking for just the right one.

  I tuck it neatly under my pillow and focus on the guitar. Rubbing my hands together, I pull it from its pillowy bed and hug it to me. Handcrafted, the front is mother of pearl but every part that touches my body feels as soft as flower petals. I’ve never seen anything like it.

  “Ilsa, when did this come?” I say loud enough for her to hear. I know she’s around somewhere.

  “What?” She sees the guitar on my lap and smiles. “Oh, that would be from your stalker, Shamus.” She says with a wink. “He left it last night.”

  “He was here?” I ask.

  She nods. “Every single night since you got sick. Comes by, around 10:00 pm and makes himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, no crusts, with a tall glass of milk. He won’t even let me make him a real dinner, “ she sniffs.

  Dramatically nonchalant, Ilsa continues, “Maybe if you’re feeling up to it, you can sit with him tonight. He’s getting on my last nerve with all the Nova this and how’s she doing. Does she like the soup I brought, or should I get something else.”

  Rolling my R’s, I say, “Really? Tell me more.”

  “I thought I just did,” she says with a grin.

  And I can’t help it. “Isla, you’re beautiful. I’ve never seen you look so happy!”

  Her face falls and I try to think of what it was that I said and attempt to correct it. “I mean you always have a pleasant face, but your smile just stepped into the spotlight.”

  With a big smile of my own, I ask. “Quick tell me why you were smiling just now?”

  Not much in the eye rolling department, she just looks straight up and says. “I’m grinning my ass off because my friend is getting better, duh.”

  “God dammit, Ilsa. Now I’m bawling like a baby.”

  “Sometimes crying is good. It cleans you out.”

  Feeling wistful, I say. “Just like Molly.”

  “Is that one of your friends?” She asks. Which reminds me that she’s old enough to have missed the ecstasy scene completely. Poor thing. “Never mind.”

  Stretching out, next to me on the bed. She looks me in the eye and says. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m not doing X with you. I’m a nurse remember?”

  I smile. “No offense, Ilsa, but I wouldn’t get you high. I like you just the way you are.”

  She pats my arm. “Netflix?”

  I sit up, and wet hair smacks my neck. “Ugh. Give me five to blow-dry my hair. Maybe Jason Bourne?”

  “Not again, Nova,” she laughs as I pull my ragged blow-dryer from my bag.

  Staring at the frayed cord, she cringes. “Nova, is that even safe? Let me call downstairs and get you another one.”

  “No! This one’s been to hell and back with me! Besides, you can’t protect me from everything,” I say.

  Feels good that getting ready for Netflix night means actually preparing my body and not my mind. No uppers or downers, I’ve switched to lemon sweetened Iced Tea. Mmm, refreshing.

  Finger brushing my hair, I think about what she said. Shamus has been here every night, but he didn’t even say hi. Maybe he is one of the good ones. When I plug in the blow-dryer, I almost blow my hand off. The lights flicker.

  “Shit. Was that a surge?” I yell to Ilsa, but it’s Siri that answers.

  “Okay Nova, Surge. Would you like the video or plans?” Ilsa runs into the bathroom and we both look at each other.

  “Video.” I say and the TV in the living room comes on.

  It’s a proposal or commercial, hard to tell, but it starts at the front of the casino. The Four Leaf. “Strategically placed on Fremont Street.” Walking into the casino, the videographer spans the front of a dark, smoky bar The Dean Martini Bar. A dated sign reads.

  Beneath it, there’s a faded banner which reads. Future home of the Surge bar. On a tiny stage, a group attempts to Karaoke. Laughing and offkey, they’re singing just to sing, my favorite kind of music.

  The camera, held in a shaky hand pans the shadowy bar and I shiver. Looks like any number of low places I’ve scored drugs in my life. Not the picture the videographer intended I’m sure.

  There is a bright spot. An assortment of neon drinks line the oak bar.

  “Stop by for a recharge.”

  When the screen goes blank, I turn to Ilsa. “Gotta take a raincheck, Ilsa. I want to see the plans.”

  “No problem. If you don’t mind, I’m going to the casino. I want to try one of the new NovaKain machines. Maybe get my selfie taken if I win big.”

  “Really? That sounds cool. Have fun,” I call out when the door closes.

  My name’s Nova. Today I didn’t use any of the hard stuff, until I was alone with the suitcase. I didn’t eat the whole meal, just broke off a little piece…to get high.

  Think of a tall glass, maybe a pilsner. See me in the bottom of the glass, on my knees, reaching for redemption, Molly.

  Dropping the tab on my tongue, I pull the guitar out and strum it, until the X kicks in. I know when I’m live, because it feels like a spring is stretched to its absolute capacity before it’s let go to recoil. Like that, only inside my brain.

  Once the dust settles, it looks like Mr. Clean was here. With all the negative shit gone, my mind is open. I imagine myself, Reborn. The last cheerio floating in a milk bowl. Hmm, I don’t know if what I’m writing is worth a shit or not, but it goes in the songbook just the same.

  The rest of the afternoon I pour over the Surge bar plans. Scribbling frantic notes, all changes meticulously listed, it all looks great. The only thing missing…capital. Sweat drips from the tip of my nose. I wipe at it and almost poke my fucking eye out with the pen. I add a note on the side of the paper. Give Justice a raise. Underline, exclamation point. Now back to the buzz. It’s then that I get the itch. Why not?

  “Call Shamus.”

  “Who?” Siri asks.

  Drenched in sweat, I repeat the request. “Shamus. Call him.”

  “I’ve got it.” Ilsa steps forward and I almost piss myself.

  “Thought you left?” I ask.

  “Not on your life, Molly.” She says.

  Ignoring the fact that up until this moment, I forgot I had a babysitter, I ask. “Are you going to be under my foot every second?”

  “Yes.” She simply says and then reads his number aloud.

  Siri repeats the number and asks if I’d like to call him now.

  After this production, I’ve got butterflies in my stomach. He did offer himself up on a platter. I think of his twinkling eyes and the way he leaned forward to basically volunteer as my fuckpuppet.

  I look around the room. I’m alone.

  Clearing my throat, I say. “Call Shamus.”

  Chapter 27

  Shamus

  The phone rings in my hand. I look down at Home on the screen and break out in a sweat. A freeze tiptoes its way down my spine, same feeling I get before I board a rollercoaster.

  All I want is her. I hit speaker and her voice fills the room with innuendo. “I really need to thank you…properly.”

  She sounds amped up, wired. I think for a minute. She sounds fucking strung out is what she sounds like. Where the hell is Ilsa?

  “You’re welcome.” I say, but there’s no time for questions.

  “I want a sample.” She’s right to the point. And I like it.

  “No problem.” I say.

  The elevator opens and here’s Ilsa. As I stride over, I try to remember that she’s a nurse and deserves respect.

  “Why does she sound fucked the fuck up, Ilsa?” I demand.

  She passes with a frown. “Because she a grown woman and she can do whatever the “fuck” she wants. I’m her handler, Shamus. Not her mother.”

  Before the elevator doors close, I pull out a $1,000 chip and flip it to her. “Don’t spend it all in one place.” I say.

  “Are you kidding? It’s all going to the same place. The Pot O’ G
old boutique downstairs. When your brother picked me up, he didn’t even give me a chance to pack.” She turns and I see she’s got the ‘Nova Needs’ attaché handcuffed to her wrist.

  She rattles the bracelet. “You never know in Old Town Vegas.” She says as the elevator doors close.

  I look at the front door. On the other side, she waits.

  Let her wait. It’s good for her.

  Dialing the boutique, I get Monique.

  “Pot O’Gold.” She says.

  I roll my eyes when she pops her gum in my ear. “Momo, how many times do I have to tell you….”

  “Oh! Sorry, sorry Mr. Malone,” she says.

  Newly hired, she doesn’t know the hospitality ropes yet. That’s why I ignore the misstep. “There’s a badass German chick on the way down. Give her whatever she wants, on me.”

  Her voice drops. “She just walked in. Who is she?”

  “NovoKain’s friend. Take care of her for me, would ya?”

  And she screams in my damn ear.

  My key still works, but it’s Siri, not Nova that greets me. “Welcome home, Shamus.”

  “Thanks, Siri.” I say and mean it. When Skynet happens, Siri’s going to have my back.

  “Nova?” I call.

  “In here,” she says and I follow her voice into the bathroom. Sitting on the padded stool in front of a backlit makeup mirror, her head is bowed when I come in. When she looks up, her pupils are huge. Wet strands of hair cling to her flushed cheeks.

  Big, expectant eyes find mine in the mirror and I’m captured. I can’t move, can’t breathe until she lets me. She knows it too. With an arched brow, she holds me hostage but I’ll never beg for mercy. When my lungs feel like they’re going to burst she looks away. “Shamus, this hair isn’t going to dry itself.”

  And a fluffy white towel hits me in the chest.

  Towel in hand, I come up behind her. I gather her hair and pull and it’s me that has the upper hand. “So, this is how it’s going to be…you call and I come.” I whisper.

  “Or I come. Whichever.” She says.

  “What do you think? I just want you to hop on.” I ask.

  She smiles at me in the mirror and watches as I skim the side of her neck. Moving slowly, my fingertips graze the side of her neck. Then move to caress the length of her arm. Excitement builds in her eyes. She leans back and wraps an arm around my waist. Pulling me tight, she eggs me on, but I’m not ready. And neither is she.

  I take a step back.

  Frustrated, she says. “Oh no, you don’t Shamus. I ordered devilled, don’t try to give me that let me down easy bullshit. At least give me a kiss.”

  Head tilted back, eyes closed and her swollen lips are puckered. Fuck.

  I swallow and then, I’m reaching way out of my way, right across her chest, for the brush in front of her. With just flannel pajamas between us, I make sure to graze her nipples. Pretending like I can’t reach the brush, I make several attempts. Each time rubbing my arm against the taut circles. The hair on the back of my arm stands up straight when they’re erect.

  “Got it.” I say and pull back.

  She plops her head forward. The smile she gives me is pure happiness. Smacking her lips, she says. “It’s like that?”

  “Nova likes it slow. Shamus does too.” I push my dick into a roomier area of my jeans and get to work.

  She purrs beneath the towel as I dry her hair.

  I shake the towel out and wrap it around her shoulders. Then she’s giggling. I like that too. I wish I had another hand. As it is, I’m holding the brush with my teeth as I fumble my way through sectioning her hair.

  “Shamus?” She says.

  Trying to concentrate, I mutter. “Yeah.”

  “I like your apartment.” I look up and she’s holding onto the edge of the seat, swinging her legs.

  With a grin I say. “I like that you like it.”

  “You’re blushing again.” She says.

  “That’s because no one’s ever made me feel this way.” I say.

  Chapter 28

  NovaKain

  “I get it. Why you signed the contract, I mean. At first, I didn’t see what you got out of it, now I do. I’m an investment in you.”

  He looks up surprised. “Did Justice say something to you?”

  “C’mon. No one had to tell me anything. When you leave your girlfriend in your apartment, expect a little snooping.” I say and hold my breath.

  He keeps brushing my hair, with the biggest smile on his face. I’m glad that he doesn’t correct me.

  I’ve had users and takers, but I’ve never had a real boyfriend.

  I turn and pull my damn hair away. Looking up into the sweetest eyes, I say. “Can we have sex now? Because I’m ready.”

  And he makes a frowny face.

  Affronted, I ask. “What’s that about? Shamus, you’ve got to be kidding me right now. You’ve got this beautiful woman sitting in front of you.”

  He takes my hand and pulls me. “Up,” he says and I jump to my feet.

  “Thought there were no directions with this pussy.” I mutter. But shut it down once he steps out of his jeans, holding a condom between his teeth.

  He pats his lap and says, “Come.”

  And I can’t drop my flannel jammies fast enough.

  “Careful.” He says and guides me onto his lap.

  But I’m not one to heed warnings. “Sorry, I’m squirming. It’s just hard to find a comfortable spot on this huge cock.”

  The veins stand out on the sides of his neck and he groans. “Nova.”

  I take his beautiful face in my hands and whisper against his lips. “Plus, my vibrators dead. Let’s go.”

  He laughs aloud. Holding me, he makes sure my legs are wrapped tightly around his waist, before he stands and carries me into the bedroom. With his forehead on mine, he stares into my eyes the whole way. This is what love feels like…and it’s beautiful.

  With his back to the padded headboard, he kisses me. I melt into him, living in his lips. “Shamus.” I breath.

  “Nova.”

  I pull back and rip the condom open. With one expert maneuver, his sword is sheathed. “I’m sorry about the roofie, that will never happen again.”

  He flips me on my back. “It wasn’t so bad.”

  With one thrust, we become a thing. Shanova.

  ****

  Still wet from a shower, water glistens on his chest.

  In my sluttiest voice, I say. “I’ll take a little more of the soy, if you’ve got extra.”

  He looks down, but no one’s home beneath the towel. “He needs a minute. Get comfy, I’ll order in. What do you feel like, Chinese or a burger?”

  I throw back my head and laugh.

  Perplexed, he says. “I don’t get what’s funny about takeout.”

  “It’s a long story.”

  With a nod, he says. “Ancient History.”

  “Something like that.”

  We eat takeout and watch whatever I want. It’s my pick, because Shamus is just rubbing my feet, staring at me. Like a stalker, but I love it.

  ****

  I wake with a cat stretch. Alone, but not for long.

  Shamus looks positively smashing in board shorts and flip flops. But it’s his shirt that I can’t stop staring at.

  Giggling, I ask. “Shamus, where in the world did you find a shirt with a soy sauce packet on it?”

  “Justice.” He says and pulls a food cart into the room.

  Loaded down with breakfast foods, my eyes light up. “Is that coffee I smell? Yum.”

  Sheepishly, he says. “I didn’t know what you like, so I brought a mini buffet.”

  “Shamus, I can’t eat all this.”

  “I’ll help.” He hands me a plate.

  We take our breakfast on the terrace and eat too much. Soon, he’s looking at his watch.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “I’ve got to do a few things for work, just a bit of set up for the TGIF event at
the pool.”

  He snaps his fingers, like he just thought of something. “Hey, I know. Go put one of your new bathing suits and come with me.” He says.

  “Which one?” I ask.

  “I’d love to see you in that little polka dot number.”

  And I smile. “And you will, when your work is done. You can’t stay with me every minute. “Go, do what you need to do. I’ll be fine. Besides, I’ve got a brand-new guitar that needs stroking.”

  “I’ve got something you can stroke.”

  I smile. “Later.”

  “Ilsa’s right next door if you need her. She’s staying at Dr. Melphi’s.”

  Right to the gutter, I leer at him.

  “Just as a houseguest, creeper.” He says and shuts the door.

  On an even keel, I feel like I’m getting some balance in my life and then. The doorbell rings.

  I pull out my earbud. Before I lose that last beautiful snatch of the song that I’ve been humming, I strum it out softly and walk over to the door.

  “Shamus, I forgot my key. Let me in.”

  My eyes fly to the closed door just as my idle hand takes over. Strumming a robust rendition of a mariachi bullfighter piece. Flying over the strings, my fingers produce something that sounds like bloodlust.

  “Shamus?” The voice sounds uncertain.

  It’s now or never. With aching fingers, I pull the door open and stare right at Jessica Fucking Rabbit.

  Pursued lips, sexy hips, and a mass of flowy, long red hair.

  She’s so stunning, I want to fuck her.

  This is getting good. I push the guitar behind my back and wait.

  Shocked, she looks back at the PH on the elevator, and then to me. “Oh. Sorry to disturb. I’m looking for Shamus.” She trails off and does her own little double take of me. In the old days, that look would have bought her a lot of trouble. But I’m on the Shamus sauce now. My words, not his.

  Instead of inviting her in to get numb, I don’t even hesitate to do the right thing. “Shamus isn’t here. Who should I tell him stopped by?” I ask.

  “I’m Friday. Or at least I was. Looks like he’s got a new Friday now.”

  She turns, but I don’t let her leave. “Wait! He never told me he had a girlfriend.”