by Lane Hart
“Chill out. It’s really easy, Strawberry. Just close your eyes, use lots of lube, then lie back and pretend you’re somewhere else. Before you know it, it’s over and done.”
“But…but I want to be there, with him, not zone out.”
“Then I don’t know what to tell you. Pretending it’s not happening is how I get through it every time. It’s how I survived three weeks in that goddamn storage facility with those sick sons of bitches coming and going all day and night.”
“You were there for three weeks?” I exclaim in horror. “After one day I thought I was going to die.”
“Guess I’m used to enduring shit I don’t like. I’ve gotten good at disappearing during sex, at least mentally. Not like men care as long as they get theirs.”
“Right,” I agree. I could probably suck it up and do that with Paul if I had to, but with Verek, I want him and would want to be there with him every second he’s inside of me.
“Look, Strawberry, if you’re not ready to fuck him, just stick with oral. He won’t care as long as he’s getting his dick sucked on the regular. And what woman doesn’t love having a man go down on her? He can’t hurt your delicate little pussy when he’s just licking it.”
“That’s…a good point,” I agree. “Thanks for talking to me about this, Sandy,” I tell her. This isn’t something I can easily talk to Charlotte about.
“You’re welcome,” she says gruffly before she starts to shut her door. “And, ah, thanks for letting me know the sick bastards are dead.”
“You’re welcome,” I say with a smile. “Take care of yourself, Sandy.”
Chapter Sixteen
Verek
* * *
Six months later…
* * *
For months now I’ve been living in Miami, Florida, where the nightlife is always thriving, even in the fall and winter.
I’ve been working as a bouncer, bartender, and everything in-between trying to make enough cash to keep paying rent for my tiny apartment here and my town house in Myrtle Beach without dipping into my savings account. All while waiting not so patiently to get a call, telling me I can finally come home.
There are women everywhere, but I haven’t touched a single one of them. The only face I want to see when I look at them is Tessa’s.
I haven’t called her or sent a single message since the night I left town, and not just because Roman told me not to. Part of me, the guilty part that feels responsible for her kidnapping, thinks he could be right. While I’ve been gone, Tessa could have married Paul or at least gotten back together with him. I can’t and won’t ever forget about her, but I hope she’s forgotten about me. She’ll be better off if so.
The Paul guy seems…decent, what little I saw of him. He would love Tessa and care for her, be loyal to her, while I’m not sure I could ever deserve her after what I did that night. I shouldn’t have pushed her when I knew she was engaged and about to be married.
I’m not sure how she could forgive me for that night when I can’t forgive myself. But since the beginning, she’s never mentioned it – the reason why she left the club without her friends in the first place, or what I did after she left.
I check my cell phone for any missed calls as soon as I get back to my studio apartment after a long night of work, but there are no calls from anyone, just like usual. A normal person would probably just give up, move on with their life. Start over.
My life is still back in Myrtle Beach, though. I’m going back one of these days, even if I have to wait forever for Roman to get over his shit. I wouldn’t care if Tessa was with someone else or never able to bear my touch, as long as I knew she was okay. Getting to see her every day would be the icing on the cake, but beggars can’t be choosers.
Maybe I won’t be too late…
Fuck. I’m torn between wanting to be too late and hoping she hasn’t moved on because I’m a selfish asshole, just like the man who raised me.
Flopping down face-first on my pull-out sofa bed, I close my eyes and try to dream of her, afraid I’m going to start forgetting what she looks like. But the image in my head is still crystal clear – gorgeous red hair, stunning green eyes, porcelain skin, a sad smile on her perfect lips. Lips that I can still feel on my shoulder and moving down my spine…
My trip down memory lane is interrupted thanks to a heavy knock on my door.
There’s only one person it could be at this time of night. Even if I ignore them, they’ll never just give up and go away since my bike is in the parking lot.
Gathering up the energy I don’t have for this bullshit, I roll off the bed, getting to my feet to stagger over and answer the door.
I check the peephole for confirmation before groaning to myself. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding.”
Undoing the chain and dead bolt, I finally yank the door open and come face-to-face with two beautiful, twentysomething blondes, one in a bright yellow dress and the other in lime. Neither article of clothing cover more than a string bikini. And then there’s the man twice their age standing between them with a head full of powder-white, perfectly combed hair, wearing a cheap, navy blue suit.
“Good, you’re still awake!” my father says in greeting. He probably thinks I showed up in Miami because he lives here, not because I needed a full-time job at a club in the off-season. It is nice to know at least one other person in town, but I would never go to work for him or spend much time with him. He thinks he’s the Hugh Hefner of strip clubs, and frankly it’s just gross.
“Ooh, baby, he’s even yummier than you promised,” the blonde on the right in the green dress says.
“The kid is me, twenty years ago!” he brags. “Of course he’s yummy!”
Oh for fuck’s sake.
“I just got home, and I’m about to go to sleep,” I mumble as I scrub my palms over my face in frustration.
“You’re joking, right! You’re young and single. You should be living it up before you need a little blue pill to do it for you!” he says with a grin. The blondes laugh right on cue as if they’re being paid to pretend to enjoy his stupid jokes. They probably are.
“I’m really not in the mood for this. Pimp your girls out somewhere else, Dad,” I tell him.
“You’re not still pining away for that same girl, are you? It’s been half a goddamn year.” my father says in disbelief. “Spend the week with Peaches and Cream here, and I guarantee you won’t be able to remember what she looks like!” He places his hand on the women’s lower backs and shoves them into my tiny apartment before following them, making me grit my teeth, especially when the one in the yellow dress lies down on her stomach on the foot of my bed, showing me she’s not wearing a single thing underneath.
Of course, my father thinks I could just fuck a woman out of my head. He’s never loved anyone but himself, especially not the woman who gave birth to me when she was just eighteen, stripping for him and sleeping with him on the side like all the other girls in his club. At least Benjamin Rhodes was kind enough to suck it up and raise me rather than let her put me up for adoption. It wasn’t exactly a normal upbringing, but I had a roof over my head, even if it was one with poles, a stage, neon lights, and music blaring every night. At least there was all the food I could eat anytime I wanted thanks to the club’s buffet.
The guys I went to school with all wanted to be my best friend to try and get into the club for a peek at a topless woman, while I had seen more naked women up close and personal by the time I started kindergarten than most men do in their entire lifetime. As a little kid, I remember I used to pretend that I was lucky and had ten mommies when I knew I really didn’t even have one.
Eventually, I grew up, left town right after high school, and then prospected for the Savage Kings and started managing my own club, taking home a different girl most nights.
I became my worst nightmare – my father.
That thought never bothered me before the night I met Tessa.
Now I don’t want to be anythi
ng like the man who raised me.
What if it’s too late and I’m screwed thanks to genetics and the fucked-up environment I was raised in? It’s been six months and I haven’t screwed anyone else, but what if I snap at the one-year mark and suddenly can’t be celibate anymore? Any day now I could fuck up and go back to being the man I hate.
No, hate is a strong word. I love my father, but I hate that his lifestyle is so…disturbingly nasty.
“Please go home,” I tell him. I brace my hands on my hips while he helps himself to my fridge, and the other blonde hops up on the kitchen counter, her bare ass sitting right where I make food. “And take them with you!”
“Are you sure? They’re willing to stay all week with you, buddy, as long as it takes to fuck her out of your system. They love fucking each other too,” he says, closing the fridge door with a can of beer in his hand that he pops open. “I’m just trying to help. What could be better than a threesome with these two beauties?”
Sighing, I mutter, “I know you’re trying to help, but this is not what I need. I don’t want to ‘fuck her out of my system.’”
“Fine! Your loss,” he says with a grin. He quickly downs his beer and sets the empty can on the counter rather than throwing it in the recycling bin. “You heard him! Let’s go, girls. My son is too much of a pussy to handle you both at the same time, but I’m not.”
They both giggle, and if my teeth clench any harder, I’m going to break one.
But thankfully, after a little whining and pouting, the blondes get up and get moving out the door, following my father like little puppy dogs.
Once I wipe down the counter with a Clorox wipe, I strip the sheets from my bed, get undressed, and finally, thankfully, pass out, dreaming of my beautiful, sad redhead.
The ringing sound that wakes me up is so unfamiliar that it takes me several long seconds to figure out where it’s coming from before it hits me. That’s when I start scrambling out of bed, searching for where I last laid down my phone. It ended up on the floor next to the sofa, falling out of my jean pocket when I crashed. I pick it up and answer it without even paying attention to the name on the screen. I’m just that damn happy someone is calling me.
“Hello?” I say, now wide-awake even though I think I only slept a few hours.
“Your window is finally opening,” the deep voice on the other side of the line says so cryptically that I do finally pull the device away from my ear to see who it is.
Cannon.
“My what?” I ask as I sit down on the armrest of the sofa bed to focus on what the hell he’s saying.
“Your window,” he repeats as if I know what the hell that means. “The window to get back into Roman’s good graces is finally opening. “
“It is?” I say in relief. “Seriously? What’s going on? Have you seen Tessa? How is she? Did you all vote again? I’m back in?” All the questions I’ve had for months come pouring out.
“Ah, it’s not exactly official or anything,” Cannon says. “But next Friday, Roman’s finally tying the knot. It’s just a small thing for him and Charlotte down at the magistrate’s office. Then, we’re throwing them a reception and boom, they’re going out of town for their honeymoon!”
I let that information sink in, trying to figure out his angle. “So you think I should sneak back to town while he’s gone?”
“Winston will be acting president, and he’s all sunshine and rainbows now that he’s with Zoe with a kid on the way. We could vote you back in while Roman’s not at the table.”
“I’m sure Roman will fucking love that when he gets back,” I mutter.
“Dude, it’s been what, six months now? You know Roman. He may have been okay with you coming back before now, but he’s just too stubborn to admit it. Your best bet is to show up at the reception, wish him and the bride well, and tell him you’ll help hold down the fort while he’s gone on his honeymoon.”
“Hold on,” I say with a sudden realization. “If Charlotte and Roman are going on their honeymoon, then what’s Tessa going to do? Go with them? Stay home by herself?”
“Your girl just got herself an apartment,” he says.
“She did? Where?” I ask while holding my breath.
“Here in town,” he says, and I finally relax a little.
“By herself or with someone…”
“By herself. Roman’s got the two prospects watching out for her.”
“Prospects? We have prospects? Since when?”
“Ah, yeah, we voted them in three months back. They’re both twenty-one and grew up in town together. Apparently, they hate each other, but they’re loyal to the club.”
“Roman’s leaving Tessa’s safety in the hands of babies who don’t get along?” I exclaim.
“They’re not much younger than you, and we’ve put them through their paces. They’ve got balls and aren’t stupid.”
“I don’t like it,” I tell him. “Tessa won’t either – two strange guys who are always lurking around her place? What the fuck?”
“She seems to like them. They’ve been hanging out at Roman’s, helping move her things and put together furniture in the new place. I think she’s getting a dog too.”
“A dog and two kids? That’s how he’s going to leave her while he goes wandering off to wherever with his new bride?”
“I can tell he doesn’t really like it, Tessa moving out and having to leave her behind for a few days. Charlotte is obviously worried about her too.”
“Obviously!” I exclaim.
“Which is why I don’t think he would deck you if you were to show up at the reception and tell him you’ll be around in case Tessa needs anything.”
“Oh,” I say in understanding. “Yeah. That could work.”
“I think it’s your best shot. Roman will be happy, he’ll be leaving, and he isn’t going to do anything to make his new wife pissed at him, like get into a fight at the reception.”
“That’s all true,” I agree. “So Tessa’s not back with that Paul guy or whatever?”
“I haven’t heard Roman say a peep about him if she is,” Cannon replies. “Doubt he would have prospects hanging around if she had a man.”
“You’re right,” I say with a sigh of relief. “I’ll settle up things here and see you Friday afternoon.”
“The party starts at seven, but you should give Roman until around eight or so to get a few drinks in his system. I doubt if he’ll stay long,” Cannon says. “Just come in long enough to get his blessing to stay in town before he leaves. That way, if I can convince Winston to have another vote, it won’t look like such a dick move.”
“Okay. Sounds like a good plan. Thanks, Cannon. I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to call.”
“Just had to wait for the right time, and they kept putting the damn wedding ceremony off,” he mutters.
I don’t have to ask to know that it was probably because Charlotte didn’t want to have to rush Tessa out of the house before she was ready.
Is she ready now or just acting tough for their sake?
Guess I’m about to find out.
Chapter Seventeen
Tessa
* * *
“This really is a great apartment,” Charlotte says as she wanders around the open floor plan, glancing out the windows. “And the second floor is safer than the first.”
“I know,” I reply when I slump down on my new royal blue, velvet sofa. “It’s a great place. Once I’m settled in, I’ll start looking for a job in a local law office so I can actually afford it.”
Charlotte waves that idea away with a swat of her hand. “Don’t worry about that. We’ve got it covered,” she says, referring to her and Roman, who are getting hitched tomorrow.
They can say not to worry about it all they want, but I can’t let Roman keep me up for the rest of my life. Eventually I’m going to have to get back out there and try to have a normal life.
A lonely life, but normal hopefully.
It see
ms like everyone around me is moving forward. Charlotte and Roman are getting married, Winston and Zoe have a baby on the way, and here I am, feeling like I’m frozen in place, waiting for…something.
Someone.
Verek.
That son of a bitch!
I knew he was going to leave town, but I thought he would at least call or text me occasionally to check in.
He’s been gone for six months without a word after finally awakening something in me that I thought was gone forever.
I’m still pretty pissed at Roman for going off on Verek, but I’ve tried to be cordial and polite while living in his house after all he did for me – paying for those two months at the psychiatric facility and letting me move in, then getting me this great apartment.
As if sensing my anger, Lola, my new black Lab, a trained support companion, comes over and puts her chin on my knee, her big brown eyes appraising me. I give her a rub, scratching her ears which of course puts a smile on my face. It really has helped these last few days, having her near me.
I’ve been sleeping better these past months, having fewer nightmares, not that my psychiatrist knows exactly why those have faded. I’m still not sure how I’ll do sleeping alone here tomorrow night for the first time.
For the past two nights, much to Roman’s displeasure, Charlotte has been sleeping over to help me get acclimated to the new place, and tonight she’s staying because the bride isn’t supposed to see the groom before the wedding.
“She really helps, doesn’t she?” Charlotte asks when she comes to sit next to me on the sofa.
“She does,” I agree as I pat the sofa cushion between us for Lola to jump up. She does right away, spinning in a quick circle before she collapses and places her head in my lap.
“Such a sweet girl,” Charlotte coos as she rubs her back.