by K B Cinder
I nodded, glad I didn’t have to correct her pronunciation. “Yes, that’s me.”
She stood, rising above the fake foliage. “I’m Dr. Allegra Hughes, but please call me Allegra. I mediate and counsel our group. Thank you for joining us. Please have a seat.”
I crossed to the half-ring of seats to sit beside Dead Eyes. I figured she’d be a better neighbor than Coffee Jesus, whose pupils grew larger the closer I got.
“That’s Rebel’s seat,” Dead Eyes muttered as I shrugged out of my coat and hung it on the back of the chair. “Move.”
Rebel?
Shit.
Did everyone get a ridiculous nickname for the sake of anonymity? Allegra had just said mine like it was no big deal. What the hell?
I glanced around at the ring of misfits, finding society’s finest with an equal mix of scowls and blank expressions like Dead Eyes’.
“We have assigned seating?” I kept my ass where it sat as I spoke, not wanting the stoned zombie to think she could boss me around.
Allegra rounded the desk, answering for her. “No, you can sit wherever, Soraya.”
I melted into the seat at her words, tilting my chin triumphantly in the air.
“He’ll be ticked,” Dead Eyes warned in a sigh. “Rebel doesn’t handle change well.”
“Does anyone?” I countered.
I’d been through enough change to fill a lifetime in the last six months. Some guy’s seating preference could take a backseat for one damn hour.
Dead Eyes fidgeted with her ragged cardigan, her fingers fluttering over the buttons restlessly. “He really doesn’t like it.”
“Okay, well I really don’t like men who expect preferential treatment by pitching a fit.” I didn’t know who this Rebel character was, but he and his temper tantrums could eat a bag of ass. Unwashed, hairy ass.
“He’s here for breaking someone’s nose. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I turned to face her, sending the pencil-thin gremlin retreating into her shell. I knew exactly what she was up to, and I wasn’t in the mood for it.
“Look, I’ve dealt with worse shit than some dude that calls himself Rebel, okay? If he wants to throw a bitch-fit over the seat, let him. I’ll happily tell him where to shove his problem with it.”
“Is everything okay, ladies?” Allegra asked with pinched brows. “I’m sensing tension.”
No shit.
She meandered over in a pressed maroon pantsuit with creases a military man would drool over. She and I were the only ones in the room that appeared to brush our hair and wear something without stains, holes, or inordinate amounts of flesh showing.
I’d only dolled up at Mama’s insistence, excavating black stockings, a cream skirt, and a black sequined blouse from the catacombs of my closet. Rain boots tied it all together and expertly hid the ankle strap. In the end, I was pleased to not look like a total failure for once.
“We’re fine. Just a little greeting chatter.” I waved away the therapist, not wanting to be outed as trouble on day one. It would’ve been easier to move seats, but dammit, no one bossed me around.
Allegra slowly looked between us one more time before crossing her arms. “Well, almost everyone’s here, so we might as well get started. How was your week, everyone?”
The group muttered varying sounds, from okays to grunts. Coffee Jesus didn’t bother to look away from his phone, though I wasn’t sure how he read its screen with the spidered glass dissecting it.
Huh.
Rebel must not have been that scary, or Allegra would’ve waited for him to start.
“He’s late every week,” Dead Eyes mumbled as she squirmed in her seat, seeming to read my mind. “Don’t look so cozy.”
My eyes fell on her face as she looked away, and for a second, there was a glimmer of something in those soulless eyes. Something like amusement.
“Must be nice to not care about other people’s time,” I muttered right back as I fluffed my hair, the curls tamed from their rat’s nest.
I had no business talking as someone who was late like it was my damn job, but with Dead Eyes’ little pokes, I was feeling feisty.
The door squeaked open as Allegra rattled through roll call, and I caught the corners of Dead Eyes’ mouth lifting out of the corner of my eye as if she were in on a secret I wasn’t.
I tried to ignore her smugness, but the hairs on the back of my neck stood before a throat cleared inches from my ear.
“Hey, Sparkle Tits—that’s my seat. Move.”
The voice was deep, gravelly, and ominous—fully earning a slot in nightmares and wet dreams alike as it delivered hot breath against my skin with a dance of icy mint to tickle my nose.
I turned my head to meet its owner and found sea-green eyes topped by broody brows set to seek and destroy.
I crossed my arms casually over my sequined top to shield the source of his nickname, kicking myself for wearing something so loud to such a pedestrian meeting.
“Snooze, ya lose,” I offered with a shrug.
Was it mature? No.
Did I care? Also, no.
Was I having trouble collecting my thoughts? Maybe.
Why? Fuck.
Rebel was a specimen to behold, his face one I could get lost admiring with a sharp, angled jaw meeting crisp cheekbones. Full lips softened it marginally, but nothing about him read gentle or wounded. He had fuck your feelings written from the tips of his messy caramel hair to the bottoms of his boot-clad feet.
It might’ve physically said it too, with ink coating nearly every inch of exposed skin in his head-to-toe black ensemble of a tee and jeans.
He leaned in, meeting my words with crackling fire delivered in a low rumble. “My ass has been in that chair for months, Sparkle Tits. I suggest you move on your own volition before I move you.”
4
Lev
Anger burned in the mystery woman’s espresso eyes, and the tilt to her chin spoke of a superiority complex I didn’t have time to dismantle.
I had five sessions left, and hell was over.
No more weekly time sucks.
No more rushing to make it on time.
Okay, make it in general. I did my fucking best, okay? I had two hands.
Chief scheduled me for Thursdays, knowing damn well I’d pulled a double shift every Wednesday and had a mountain of life to catch up on after.
But that was part of the tit-for-tat punishment: Break a bone, break your balls.
The raven-haired brat was the bump in the homestretch I didn’t need, especially with those generous lips and perky tits.
Everything about her oozed trouble, from the cocky twist of her mouth to the way she folded her arms across her chest with enough attitude to outdo a year of my teenagers’s tantrums.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she huffed, tilting that indignant chin even higher.
Would I physically move her? Fuck no.
I wouldn’t chance another stint in the circle jerk known as group. Now sit in a circle, and discuss your feelings. Fuck off. I didn’t have time for it.
But I would happily fuck her senseless. Those heavily lashed eyes and round tits would look like heaven above as she rode me.
Son of a bitch.
Therapy and fantasies shouldn’t intermingle, but there I was picturing my dick buried in the petite pain in my ass.
“Listen, I asked nicely.”
I didn’t have time for attitude. I got enough of it at home, and frankly, this chick was beyond the age where sass was acceptable. It wasn’t cute anymore. Just obnoxious.
“You call that nice, asshole?” Her dark eyes narrowed, sending another napalm my way.
I loved every fucking second of it, too.
“The name’s Rebel,” I corrected, launching a wink to meet her fire. “And that was nice for me. Ask your buddy.”
I gestured at the girl beside her, the bone-thin, Benzo-popping brunette barely staying awake through most sessions. She’d pissed
me off exactly once, and ever since I’d snapped at her, she scampered out of my way.
Her gaze didn’t follow my hand, and she didn’t give an inch either. Our lips were only a breath apart as we had a literal face-to-face argument of sorts, even if our voices didn’t raise above a terse bite. Our eyes did the screaming of a head-to-head throwdown.
Allegra interrupted our battle, just as I was wondering if those lips would feel as good as they looked. “Rebel, nice of you to join us. This is our newest member, Soraya. Please have a seat as we settle in.”
My eyes didn’t budge from those belonging to the thorn in my side. “I’ll sit as soon as she moves out of my seat.”
Soraya. The name sounded angelic, but this hell spawn was anything but. She looked like she was trying for New York with her pricey fabrics and flouncy dark waves, while that arrogant smirk had Jersey attitude ingrained in it. I didn’t doubt for a second she’d tell me to go fuck myself to next Sunday on the street, regardless of the price tags around her.
“Get comfortable, toots,” the devil declared, angling her head away from me and toward Allegra, offering nothing but perfectly contoured cheek as she stared ahead.
I hated that I knew the name of that war paint trickery, but a teenager under my roof meant I’d unwillingly seen more than one makeup tutorial.
Allegra studied us like a worried zookeeper expecting two lions to let one another have it. “Lev, it’s her first class. I’m sure she’s willing to let you have your seat next week. It’s just a chair.”
“A chair that’s been mine since I started without issue,” I argued, still drilling holes in the seat stealer’s face with my eyes. “She’s a selfish brat.”
She might’ve walked over everyone else, but I wasn’t laying out the red carpet for her to do the same to me.
“Lev, please—it’s just a chair,” Allegra was all but pleading, knowing our volleying would throw off the rest of the session. She and I both knew she didn’t have the training to deal with the likes of me.
I leaned closer to the mystery woman’s skin, reveling in the shiver that went up her spine followed by the tiniest of gasps. “This isn’t over,” I whispered, delivering the promise to her ear so she wouldn’t miss a syllable.
I pulled away, flashing a disarming smile at Allegra who visibly relaxed at avoiding disaster. “We’ll let this time slide,” I lied, knowing damn well that wasn’t the case.
I slid into the seat beside my new least-favorite group member, the sparkly titted stunner replacing the Jesus lookalike on my other side for most likely to raise my blood pressure. One would hope she wasn’t half as annoying as him and his holier-than-thou attitude.
The devil’s perfume clouded the air as Allegra rattled through roll call, the warm mix of vanillas foreign in the spring and bringing me back to the comfort of autumn. Even her outfit was out of season with thick black stockings shielding legs I’d die to have my head between.
My dick stirred at the idea.
Soraya. I wouldn’t mind moaning it while she sucked me off after I brought her crashing back to Earth with my tongue. When those venomous lips around my cock and took me to the wrong side of heaven.
Her eyes shifted nervously toward me as if she’d heard my thoughts, and I draped an arm over my lap and bounced a leg to loosen things up and keep any obvious tent from pitching below.
It’d been a long time since a woman made me feel like a horny teenager again, and this beauty with a mouth on her did so effortlessly.
It didn’t hurt that she had bountiful curves and olive skin. That slight trace of pink to her cheeks had me buzzing, just knowing I’d penetrated the painted-on armor. I saw right through it, and I wanted to climb in and ruin her from the inside out.
“Soraya, are you comfortable revealing with the group why you’re here?” Allegra asked, pulling me out of a hate-fuck scenario I’d no-doubt enjoy later in the shower with my hand.
The firecracker shook her head, suddenly losing her backbone. She merely wanted to exist among us, pretending she was better.
So I did the hard part and ripped the bandaid off for her.
“What happened, doll? Someone make your latte wrong, and you lost your cool?”
“Lev!” Allegra’s eyes shot to me, but the brat stared blankly ahead in silence, not giving the inch of opening I sought, verbally at least.
No one else saw that nervous swallow at my words, or the way her eyes fluttered for just a moment.
But I did.
I was onto something, and I wanted more.
“Just another Jersey Princess thinking she’s above everyone else,” I continued, plowing through the flimsy warning barriers Allegra tossed out frantically with her eyes.
“Lev, that’s enough,” Allegra cut in, but it was too late.
The blood wasn’t just in the water anymore. It was hemorrhaging as the paper doll folded in on herself, that stubborn tilt to her face hardening into stone as she clenched her jaw. Her blinking increased as she battled back angry tears with her thick, dark lashes, but I wanted more.
I wanted my fucking chair back, and I wanted her to learn that pretty wasn’t a pass to be a bitch.
I studied her, taking in everything from the designer bag in her lap to ridiculous rubber rain boots on her feet. Girls like her didn’t wear those, even in nor’easters. They were all about red-bottomed shoes and strappy stilettos. Anything to lift them above others.
Her right ankle bulged awkwardly for having such a small bone structure, and the more I stared, the more I saw the telltale squared outline of an ankle monitor. I’d know those fuckers anywhere. I’d seen and handled hundreds over the years.
“What did you do to get the ankle piece?” I asked, waving a hand at the charm no woman wanted around their ankle. “Steal Ken’s convertible while crashing at his Dream House? Borrow from a piggy bank without asking?”
She swallowed, shifting nervously in her seat, but remained dead silent.
I had her.
I grinned. “Come on, don’t be chickenshit. You can tell us. We’re one big, fucked-up family here.”
The hint of pink in her cheeks flashed crimson, and in a split second, she transformed into the fiery devil I knew she was under all that pretty. “Fuck off!”
Just as quickly, she fled, taking her overpriced handbag with her as she limped out of the room in a frenzy of hoop earrings and jiggly tits.
I slithered back into my seat in triumph and plucked her coat from its back to slide over the now-empty chair beside it.
But watching her storm out didn’t feel as good as I’d expected it to as I settled in.
“Lev, hall. Now.” Allegra clutched the attendance sheet to her chest and marched outside, leaving me to follow like a naughty schoolboy prepping for detention.
As I did, all eyes were on me, and I realized I’d obliterated the girl in front of the people she had to spend the next few weeks with. People that would pounce on prey.
“It’s her first meeting,” Allegra ground out as soon as the door clicked shut behind me. “You’d be guarded, too. Can you pretend to have a heart? Let her have the damn seat and ride out the rest of your time with your mouth shut.”
Anyone else would’ve reported Allegra for talking to them in such a way, but she and I were more like peers than patient-mentor. I’d worked with her in the past when dealing with juveniles. The Chief selected her, knowing anyone else would quit on day one. In my defense, I’d tried to make her life easier by suggesting a dog trainer instead of a therapist, but Chief wasn’t having it.
“She needs a friend, Lev. Not an enemy. We all want one another to succeed. Without support, she’ll fail.” Allegra’s eyes pled with mine as she spoke low.
“I don’t have friends here,” I clarified.
I couldn’t. I kept my business under lock and key, and with good reason: I was persona non grata within these walls.
“I’m not asking you to swap childhood stories and phone numbers,” she m
umbled as she glanced around to make sure the coast was clear. “I’m asking you to treat her like you’d treat a sister. You might find her less than palatable, but you need to support her.”
“I’ll treat her like a coworker,” I countered, reaching a compromise. “That’s it.”
I couldn’t treat her like a sister. You shouldn’t want to fuck yours.
5
Raya
I didn’t expect to cry during my first session.
Especially in a bathroom stall with my handbag hung on the flimsy door hook in front of me.
I sat cross-legged on the toilet seat lid, not caring the slightest how many germs were partying on my clothes. A washing machine and a shower were ready and waiting to save me at home if I survived that long.
You couldn’t have paid me to step foot in a public bathroom five minutes earlier, but there I sat dabbing at my eyes with a scratchy rumple of single-ply toilet paper, hovering above a floor that had seen things I couldn’t have imagined.
It wasn’t even from a breakthrough that finally revealed why I was such a fuckup either. It came from an overconfident, ill-tempered god.
I didn’t hate Rebel because he was cruel or wrong or even for blasting me in front of a room of strangers.
I hated him because he was right.
Rebel was just the cherry on top of my shit year sundae.
In a flash, he stripped away the pristine image I’d spent hours crafting at Mama’s urging and brought every insecurity to the surface again. The expensive clothes didn’t matter. Nor did the perfectly styled hair and makeup.
People could see me. They could see what I’d done, whether I was an active participant or a pea-brained idiot caught up in something bigger.
The bathroom door flew open as I was mid-sniffle and trying to come up with a recovery plan. It smacked off the wall, startling me, and I prayed my new bathroom buddy wasn’t coming to unleash hell in another stall.
The person trotted like a Clydesdale back and forth, but when I saw black leather men’s boots beneath the stall door, my heart plummeted somewhere between my intestines and my uterus.