by Quinn, Cari
“God, Tray.” She trembled. “You’re so bad.”
I grinned. “Admit it. You like it.”
She gave me a hint of a smile as she refocused on the road. “Yeah. I do.” She cast a quick glance at my lap. “Guess I’ll have to return the favor later. If you’re good.”
“So what you’re telling me is I’ll be one-handing it tonight?”
Her laughter was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. Each time, I wondered if it would be the last. I couldn’t shake the feeling that if I blinked, we’d be over.
I didn’t want to think like that. I wasn’t a pessimist by nature, the past few months of discontent aside. But as happy as Mia made me, she also made me more terrified than I’d ever been in my life.
The possibility of losing her—of being left to wonder what we could’ve been—was more than I could face. So I didn’t.
Instead, I savored her flavor on my tongue as we shared a private grin. And I fought to hold on, harder than I’d ever fought in my life.
When we walked up the hall to her apartment, hand in hand and juggling bags, we were too busy laughing to notice who had camped out in front of her door.
“Yo. Not a-fuckin-gain.” Kizzy jumped to her feet, jostling precariously the covered cake pan she held. “I’m sitting here waiting with a cake I slaved over all day while you two were out engaging in pleasures of the flesh?”
“I engaged in no pleasures,” I said soberly, only to have Mia stomp on my toe.
“Then why does she have a sex glow?”
“I do not. God.” Mia pulled out the key, jammed it in the door, and headed inside.
I motioned to Kizzy to follow. “She’s lying,” I said in a deliberately loud whisper. “She absolutely has a sex glow.”
Kizzy slapped Mia on the ass. “I knew it. You’re such a shameless skank.”
Except Mia wasn’t smiling anymore.
Neither was I.
I watched Mia carefully set her bag on the counter. Too carefully.
Her face closed down like an underbaked cake sinking in on itself. Her eyes shuttered. Sex glow—gone.
Kizzy was her usual oblivious self, stomping around the kitchen and rampaging about glitter sprinkles and pudding filling. Mia put things away and didn’t reply to Kizzy’s tirade. Then she excused herself and went to the bathroom while I stared up at the ceiling and wondered what the hell to do.
I didn’t know how much Kizzy knew, so I couldn’t tell her to watch her mouth. For that matter, I wasn’t supposed to know anything myself. Mia had never mentioned telling me anything again after that moment in the locker room and I definitely hadn’t pushed it.
Besides, how could I be sure she’d intended to tell me about the kidnapping? Maybe she’d planned to tell me about her and…those guys. Damn that bartender at Vinnie’s for pantomiming Mia’s back room activities and putting that picture in my head. I really didn’t need to know. It wasn’t going on now—it couldn’t be. So none of that was important, unless she wanted to tell me.
But the skank comment had hit home for a reason. Either because of that fucker who’d imprisoned her or because of the men she’d…serviced. I didn’t know. I could make her come, but I couldn’t figure out how to fix the broken places inside her. I wasn’t even sure where they all were.
“She didn’t even look at my cake.” Kizzy dropped the thing on the counter and yanked off the lid.
“I’m sure she’ll be right out.”
“Probably brushing her teeth.” She stuck her tongue in her cheek in an obvious imitation of a blowjob and grinned.
I didn’t grin back.
“Hey, what’s wrong? You guys seemed cool when you came down the hall.”
“We were.”
She drew her brows together. “Then what’s the problem?”
I sucked in a breath and swallowed all of it—the regret I couldn’t make it better, the recrimination I hadn’t already told Mia what I knew, the helplessness. Especially the helplessness. “She’s sensitive about certain things. So you know, if you could not make the skank comments, that’d probably help.”
Kizzy’s eyes narrowed. “You know about that?”
So those guys and the blowjobs were a real thing. Down deep, I’d hoped otherwise. “Not exactly. Just rumors. It doesn’t make a difference to me. What happened before doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does.”
We both looked up guiltily as Mia stopped on the threshold of the kitchen.
“It matters that I can’t take a joke. It matters that my…someone I’m seeing has to wonder what he’ll hear about me next. And that most likely, it’ll be true.” She rubbed her wrist over her mouth. “But I can’t take any of it back. It’s who I am.”
“No, it’s not. It’s part of your past, but it’s not you.” I couldn’t stop myself from going to her. Sometimes it felt like there was a cord between us, and if she stretched too far, I’d snap back. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of too—”
“Have you ever given someone oral sex for twenty bucks?” she asked in a dead voice. “Have you let a guy come in your throat and then rushed to the clinic to make sure they didn’t give you something that would cost a hell of a lot more than a Jackson to fix?” When I didn’t answer, a corner of her mouth lifted. “No, Fox. You haven’t. But I have. Over and over again. Don’t worry though, I don’t have anything. I’m clean.” Her equally dead eyes met mine. “If you can believe me.”
“I believe you.”
“Why?”
I didn’t want to be having this discussion in front of Kizzy. Absolutely did not. That didn’t mean I could walk away from it. “Because I don’t have a choice,” I gritted out, wishing I could pull her close and shield her from all of this. “People make mistakes every day. Tomorrow, you get up and you try again. The people who care, the ones who matter, will stick by you.”
She stared down at her feet. She’d taken off her shoes and socks, and her bare unpainted toes made her seem horribly vulnerable. “Why? Why would anyone stick with me? All I do is push people away. I hurt them.” She lifted her head and stared me in the eye, unflinchingly. “I hurt you.”
“Because we love you,” Kizzy said hoarsely, blinking too fast. Still not dispelling the sheen in her eyes.
Tears weren’t all that far away for me either. Mine gathered in my throat, swelling into a fist that blocked my airway.
And from Mia, nothing. Just a blank stare.
Mia turned and gripped the counter. “We bought wine,” she said, sounding distant. “I don’t want Carly to have too much, but it’s her eighteenth birthday. She should have fun with her friends.”
I looked at Kizzy, who was gazing at me. Neither one of us had a damn clue what to do. Call Carly, she mouthed, but I shook my head. I couldn’t drag her into this mess, not on her birthday. We’d dug this grave, so somehow we would figure out how to draw Mia back out of that silent, scary place she’d retreated into.
Yet again, we were slapping a patch on the wound, but it would have to do for now. She had a fight tomorrow, and I’d be damned if she got hurt because we forced an issue she wasn’t ready to face.
I wasn’t sure I was ready either. Maybe I wouldn’t ever be. How could I be ready to listen to her talk about being hurt? How could I ever let her put her mouth on me and not think she was imagining a money transaction afterward?
“Oh my God.”
Both Kizzy and I glanced sharply at Mia. Eyes wide, she clutched her throat. “Kiz, you said you were going to make her a cake.”
“I—I did.” Kizzy took a deep breath and pushed her fingers through the ends of her hair. She’d tied it back with a scarf and it still sprung in every direction. “It’s delicious.”
“Oh my God,” Mia said again.
I slung my arm around her waist. “What’s wrong, babe?”
“Look at this cake!”
At first glance, I couldn’t see the problem. Yes, it was a little long, but Carly was inviting over her friends and
I’d invited Slater and Emerson too so we’d need a bigger than average one. Two little round ball things topped one end, crusted with those bejeweled sprinkles Kizzy had mentioned. More of the sparkly things rimmed the round part at the other end.
“It’s a freaking penis.” Mia shook her head. “With supersized nuts.”
“Huh.” I angled my head, studying it some more. The balls were definitely out of proportion to the shaft, but yeah, I could see it.
Mia ground her palms into her eyes. “Dammit, Kizzy. I wonder if I can get a pre-made cake somewhere this late? Maybe the bakery down the street?”
“My cake is fine.” Kizzy sounded indignant. “I ate a piece off the tip to be sure it tasted good. She’ll love it.”
Mia bowed her head, shoulders shaking. For a second, I thought she was crying. Then her laughter rang out, clear and bright.
“You ate the tip of your own penis cake. That’s why it’s so stubby.”
“It is not stubby. They’re not all the same, you know.” Kizzy looked to me for confirmation. “Tell her, Foxy. They come in all shapes and dimensions, right?”
I cleared my throat to keep from laughing. “Sorry, I can’t claim to have looked at a big selection.”
“I have.” Mia pointed at the cake. “And none of them looked like that.”
Yet again, an instant of silence reigned. Then we were all laughing, and Mia moved into my arms of her own free will. I actually believed it might be okay. That we’d be okay.
Then, I still believed.
Thirty-Two
My sister loved her bedazzled penis cake.
Carly lopped off the balls with glee, declaring them hers as the birthday girl. Watching her as she filled her mouth with cake, I felt every day of the three years that separated us.
Had I ever been that young?
I would die to protect her innocence, because mine had been stolen from me more times than I could count. First, by the man who’d imprisoned and raped me. Then, by the news media that turned my daily life into a spectacle.
They’d made running my only choice. I changed my first name and I’d dreamed of changing my face, until I settled for people pounding on it until I didn’t recognize the features greeting me in the mirror every morning.
That was my reality, and sitting in center of a party in my crappy apartment didn’t change it. I looked from face to face, even familiar ones, and I saw strangers. My face belonged to a stranger.
I shifted and relaxed as warm arms tightened around me. Tray had pulled me on his lap an hour ago, and he hadn’t let me go yet. A few others had gotten up to dance, Carly among them, and he’d just lifted my hand and separated my fingers, examining them as if they were the most fascinating things he’d ever seen. I sensed in him what I couldn’t bring myself to mention aloud.
Tomorrow, after the fight, he thought I was going to run. And he had some misguided idea that he could stop it, that he could love me through the inner torment that compelled me to keep hurting myself, over and over again.
I’d found him out of blind luck, when I was searching for a way to get enough money to leave. Or looking for an opportunity to die. I’d latched onto his Greek God face with the zeal of a missionary in church. It was his ilk that made fun of me, that rightfully shut me out of their world. Perfect, clean, proper people with pristine lives. I was dirty, damaged goods.
His parents had known that right away and had acted accordingly. By the playbook in my head, he should have shunned me as a worthless tramp, not given me his jacket and kept coming back for more like a golden puppy who craved the steel-toed boot breaking apart his ribs.
The memory came with devastating swiftness, taking me back against my will.
“Do you know why I picked you? Why I followed you when you walked home from school? I knew you weren’t happy, Amelia. But I could change that. I could share my money with you, and my lavish home, and my body. I could offer you pleasure. I saved you.”
“Wanna dance?” Tray laced his fingers with mine and brought them to his lips. “You’ve never seen me do the Macarena.”
My heart wasn’t in it, but I needed to keep up the charade. It was all we had. “You were a little kid when that was popular.”
“So? I still remember how to do it.” He winced. “It’s actually the only dance I know.”
“Wait a second. Sexy, swaggering Fox Knox doesn’t know how to dance? How can this be?”
“I fight and I fence and I fuck. Those are the only coordinated movements that interest me.” He shrugged, his sulky mouth forming that pout that always made me want to kiss him.
Everything did. I wanted to curl up inside him and never leave. He’d keep me safe. He’d love me until he willed me whole again.
And if someday he grew tired of patching together the holey quilt that was my psyche, if he decided he’d screwed up by getting involved with me, he would take what was left of me with him.
Darren hadn’t killed me, but Tray surely would.
There were calculated risks in life. Odds to be played. If I’d been a different woman, I could’ve taken the chance. But the girl who was barely clinging to the shreds of sanity couldn’t put the bullet in the chamber one more time.
I’d tried to keep him at arm’s length. I’d fought with all my being, but he’d simply strong-armed me into giving in, much as he had in Kurt’s Superette this morning. I was still a challenge for him. Still that unknown variable. When he pegged me for sure and saw that all my numbers were crazy eights, he’d move on in that affable way he had, and I wouldn’t hold it against him because he simply hadn’t understood what he was getting into.
I’d hold it against me, because I’d never wanted someone so much and never been more certain that I had no right to keep him.
“Hey, bitches, it’s time for presents.” Kizzy hopped up on the coffee table and waved the bottle of champagne she held in one hand and the gift-wrapped box she clutched in the other. “If you didn’t bring a gift for the birthday girl, get your ass out and find your free eats somewhere else.”
I couldn’t help laughing. Thank God Kizzy had taken over most of the party planning. I sucked at this kind of thing.
My bleak mood wasn’t exactly helping either. The fight was tomorrow, and then Tray had surgery, and I had to start making some serious decisions. I couldn’t keep playing happy couple or whatever the hell I’d been doing with Tray much longer. The rent increase notice I’d received that morning had put the exclamation point on that.
But that wasn’t for tonight. I’d spent enough of my sister’s day wrapped up in myself. The rest of the night was for Carly—and then for Tray and me.
I faced him, feeling the familiar quiver beneath my breastbone. “You don’t have to leave if you didn’t get Carly a gift,” I said under my breath.
He arched a brow. “Think I’m a cheap date?”
“No, of course not. But you haven’t known her that long, and you’ve already done enough.” He’d helped pay for today’s shopping trip, though I’d practically begged him not to. I didn’t want to take advantage of him, ever.
“It feels like I’ve known you both forever.”
I didn’t argue, because I agreed. My life before he’d strolled into it seemed colorless and indistinct. My past was a dark, endless void I feared getting sucked back into more with every passing moment.
“Not only did I get her a gift, I got you one too.”
“Oh, no. No more. Tray,” I protested softly.
“I missed your birthday.”
“Yeah, like three months ago.”
Shrugging, he drew me closer as Carly grabbed Kizzy’s gift and ripped open the wrapping paper. She had a wine glass in her other hand, and I’d seen her sipping a lot over the last couple of hours. I didn’t want her to get drunk, but I also didn’t have the heart to ruin her good time.
Some guardian I was, contributing to the delinquency of an underage drinker.
“Oh, yes. Just what I wanted.” Carly giggled an
d brandished a silver pan. “Penis cakes for everyone.”
“Jesus,” Tray muttered.
“They belong in every kitchen,” Kizzy announced, earning a round of laughter from Carly’s new gym friends and even Slater and Emerson.
Slater had been dancing with Carly all night, but they had a brother-and-sister vibe going. Besides, Tray said Slater had a live-in girlfriend. And he absolutely hadn’t looked at her like he wanted to swallow her whole, unlike some other people who were not at this party and wouldn’t be allowed near Carly for the next fifty years.
I’d expected her to demand that I invite Giovanni, but she hadn’t. Maybe Tray’s speech about what kind of man Costas was had actually affected her.
“Here’s mine.” Tray dug a box out of his pocket and held it out to Carly. “If you hate them, Slater helped me pick them out.”
“I have no fuckin’ clue what he’s talking about.” Slater grinned.
“You’re such a sweetheart.” She leaned forward and kissed Tray on the cheek with an easy familiarity I envied. She tucked a glossy red nail under the wrapping paper and dug out the blue velvet box inside, popping it open with a gasp. “Diamond earrings?”
“Let me see.” I shot a narrow-eyed glance at Tray, who blinked with feigned innocence.
“Oh my God, these are so gorgeous and perfect. Thank you!” My sister gave Tray a one-armed hug and then did the same to Slater before plopping down in his lap to pry out the earrings.
She put them on and shook back her hair as she grinned at me. Though I hadn’t gotten a good look at them yet, they sparkled from even a few feet away. “Sis, your man has excellent taste.”
“My man is in trouble.” I elbowed Tray in the stomach.
He laughed. “Does that mean you need to punish me?” he asked loudly enough for everyone to hear. Including Carly, who giggled like she was completely trashed.
I made a face at him, which he took as an invitation for a kiss. His mouth was warm and flavored with the berry wine we’d had with dinner. More laughter spilled around us as he licked his way between my lips, spreading warmth through my chest.