“I promise, I’ll take care of you when we get home,” he said. Jamie bit him hard that time. “Ouch,” he yelped. His hands found her ass and he squeezed it, hard, causing her too-short denim shorts to ride up.
“That’s what you get for teasing me,” she admonished, grinding against his cock.
There were two things to know about Ryder. One, music was his life. Two, when Jamie grinded on his dick, he lost all brain function. “Kitty Cat,” he warned.
“If we aren’t going to fuck then why’d you bring me back here?” she pouted.
“Because I’ve got good news.”
“What?” Jamie scowled, but he could tell her curiosity was penetrating her sexual frustration.
“That guy with Grant was a big shot at a major label, but quit to start his own. He wants us to come down to LA for a couple of weeks to take meetings and record and shit. Can you believe it, Kitty Cat? It’s all happening.”
“That’s…really great,” she said, looking past his right ear. Ryder couldn’t decipher the expression on Jamie’s face, but the sound her heart made as it beat wildly in her chest was unmistakable. She was shutting down. He could smell it on her. The stench permeated the air like rotting flesh.
“What the fuck, Jamie?” His voice was like lava, hot and violent. She was driving him insane.
“I’m not Jamie’ing this up. I swear. I’m just…processing,” she whispered, resting her forehead against his.
“What is there to process? I’m going to be a fucking rock star.” That was the plan, his dream. He needed her to get on board.
“I just don’t want you to feel burdened. I get it, you guys are on the cusp of greatness, and you should enjoy that. Girls are going to be throwing themselves at you. You aren’t going to want me around, cock blocking.”
“Bitches throw pussy at me all day.”
“Thanks for that visual—” she said with a grimace.
“No,” he interrupted, tugging on her ponytail. Her head tilted back and he stared into her eyes, “I love you and there’s only one place, well three places, I want to stick my cock, and they are all located on your body.”
“Sure, now, but what happens in a year or two or three when you guys are famous?”
“The only thing that’s going to change is my mattress, and maybe your last name,” he smirked, tugging her hair again. “It’s you and me kid, understood?”
Jamie ran her tattooed finger across his bottom lip. He caught the tip between his teeth and bit down slightly. “You’re going to be a fucking rock star.” Although her voice cracked on the last word, there was pride in her tone. Not the kind of pride that kept you stagnate, but the kind that helped you fly.
Ryder ran his hands down the length of her body, his nose nuzzled against hers. “I need to fuck you.”
“Wait,” Jamie pushed him back. “What will you do for money? I could loan you some. It’s my fault you got suspended.”
“No, James, I’m not taking your money.”
“It’s fine. I’ll be twenty-five soon and I’ll gain access to my trust, so, if you need something, I can help. I want to help.”
“You don’t have it now?” he asked, because he didn’t have a clue how any of that shit worked. CT had one, but it wasn’t like they talked about it.
“Limited, I get a monthly allowance, but when I hit twenty-five, I’ll have full access. We can blow it all in Vegas if we wanted to.”
Ryder thought for a minute, debating if he should ask the question searing his tongue. Curiosity won out in the end. “How much?”
Guilt flashed in Jamie’s eyes. Her next words took Ryder’s breath away.
“Five million dollars.”
Jamie pushed open the heavy, glass doors of the Seventh Street Diner and slipped inside. The rain fell from the sky in buckets, crashing to the ground with unceremonious splats. It had rained every day since Lithium Springs loaded up their old, white van and left for California, taking the sunshine with them. Mother Nature understood Jamie’s longing and as much as she tried to convince herself that two weeks would come and go in no time, every day Jamie woke up to gray clouds was another day in misery.
Work was her saving grace. She spent more time with Frank, learning which secretaries in the city building to befriend, and about the janitor with whom the Mayor confides in. She was networking, making connections, and doing work that mattered.
“Hey, Kitty Cat,” Annette greeted her with tired eyes as Jamie weaved through tables on her way to the counter. Ryder made his feelings about her visiting his mother clear, but Jamie couldn’t stay away from Annette any more than she could stay away from Ryder. Though she had only known Annette a short time, she’d come to rely on their talks. She craved the maternal guidance her boyfriend’s mother gave, guidance Caroline couldn’t be bothered with.
The greasy smell of deep-fried food assaulted Jamie’s senses as she took a seat. “Hey,” she smiled brightly. Just being on Ryder’s turf calmed her. His presence surrounded her. It was as if his essence was ingrained in the brick and mortar.
“What would you like today?” Annette asked, setting down a Shirley Temple.
“I need carbs,” Jamie sighed. Technically, she needed a salad. Since Jamie started going to the diner, she’d gained ten pounds. Her mother would have a fit if she saw the slight pudge in her stomach. Annette assured her that she wore the extra weight well and Ryder was obsessed with her newly found ass—so no complaints there.
“Long day?”
“They’re all long lately,” Jamie confessed. It was selfish, complaining about missing Ryder to his mother, but it was also cathartic. She was the only other person who knew what it felt like to be absent from him. While Jamie’s loss was temporary, Annette’s exile had no end in sight.
“It sounds like you need lasagna,” Annette offered. “I get off soon. We can eat together.”
“I’d love that,” Jamie nodded in earnest.
Annette went to place the order, and Jamie claimed Ryder’s favorite booth. Her phone pinged, a new message.
Ryder: I miss u so fucking bad Kitty Cat.
Jamie: I miss you more.
Jamie: Having dinner with your mom.
Ryder: Of course u r. eyeroll emoji
Jamie: Don’t be mean.
Ryder: I’m never mean.
Jamie: I’ll call you when I get home.
Ryder: Can we have phone sex? My dick misses u 2.
Jamie: Phone sex is prehistoric. Borrow one of the guys’ phones so we can video chat.
Ryder: We r close, but Idk if we r that close.
Jamie: This is why you need a smartphone.
Jamie stuck her tongue out at the screen. She was determined to drag Ry into the twenty-first century, whether he liked it or not.
“Napoleon, giving you a hard time?” Annette asked, appearing with two huge plates of lasagna and a basket of garlic toast.
“Oh no,” she blushed, hoping like hell she hadn’t seen the R-rated sexts, “I just miss him like crazy.”
“Why?” his mother asked, three little wrinkles forming across her forehead; a look she saw on Ryder’s face countless times.
“Oh, he didn’t—” Jamie began. “Of course, he didn’t.” Ryder had ceased all communication with his mother, but not telling her he was going out of town for two weeks was a dick move. “I’m sorry I didn’t think to mention it sooner. The guys met this ex-label big shot or whatever, and he invited them to California. They’ve been there for the past week.”
“Oh? How’s it going? I mean, are they killin’ it?” Annette asked, doing her best impersonation of a millennial. Jamie could tell she was trying to mask the hurt in her tone. For the last ten years, it was Annette and Ryder against the world, but with one phone call everything changed.
She’d lost her best friend.
“They’re good. It isn’t glamorous or anything but they are getting their name out there and making connections. They’ll be gone for another week.”
Annette forced a smile. “Well, that’s great. We should eat before it gets cold.”
Jamie nodded digging into the plate of lasagna. It tasted just like her grandmother used to make, but also a little like guilt. Here she was moping over missing Ryder for two weeks, when it had been over a month since Annette last spoke to him.
“Can I ask you something?” Jamie asked after a few minutes of weighted silence.
“You want to know why?”
“If I’m overstepping—”
“It’s fine, Sweetheart.” Annette sighed but held Jamie’s gaze. “Love is strange, Kitty Cat. It causes you to do all sorts of crazy things, things that don’t make sense to anyone else.”
“You’re in love with him?” Jamie asked incredulously. Ryder was terrified of his dad. As unaffected as he tried to act, Jamie could see it in his eyes whenever he talked about him. He transformed into the sad little boy who hid in closets because he’d rather face the boogeyman than his father.
“I never stopped loving him. He wasn’t always a monster, and I am not a saint. Before Napoleon, we would drink and party all night long. Then I got pregnant and I grew up. He didn’t. He was a musician too, but unlike Ry, his future wasn’t promising. The constant rejection took a toll. It was hard for him to give up his dream to support his family. The drinking got worse and he became unrecognizable. He wasn’t the same working a nine-to-five.”
Her admission floored Jamie. It was quite possibly the last thing she expected to hear, and the way she said it, so casually, like they were talking about the lasagna.
Jamie opened her mouth to speak, but Annette stopped her. “I’m not justifying what he did or who he became. If we didn’t leave, he would have killed me, and I don’t even want to think of what could have happened to my son. He is my reason for being. He’s my air. My lungs pump for him. It’s my job to keep him happy and safe, so I left.”
“And now what?”
“Nothing. Arrow is clean—”
“Arrow?” Jamie asked? Archer and Arrow, the world’s worst dads.
“We grew up in the sixties,” Annette chuckled. “Anyway, he’s been in treatment for a year. He got in touch just before Easter and wanted to apologize. He wants to see Napoleon and I didn’t know how to bring it up.”
“You did a pretty great job just then.”
“It’s different with Napoleon. He knew a very different man than the one I married. His memories are only the painful ones.”
“Do you still talk to him?”
Annette looked away for the first time since the conversation began. “Every day,” she whispered. It was like a punch to the gut. The woman who she looked up to let the man who, by her account, would have murdered her, the same man who was responsible for her being estranged from her son, back into her life.
That wasn’t love.
It was insanity.
Love was strange.
Jamie spent the entire drive home thinking about love, and what it meant. It was something that plagued her still, hours later as she sorted and organized piles of clothes into boxes. Keep. Toss. Donate. Spring cleaning, though it was nearly summer, but with Ryder’s departure and Kensie spending most of her time at Trey’s, Jamie suddenly found an abundance of time on her hands.
Love.
It was an emotion Jamie was uncomfortable with. She loved her brother, her best friend, and even though she had a hard time expressing her feelings for Ryder, they were there. But when were feelings illusions? If Buddhism taught Jamie anything, it was to be mindful of emotions. Was this need for Ryder her subconscious mind latching onto a savior, or were her feelings true?
Love was scary.
Annette fell in love with a man who terrorized her. Jamie wondered if she had the capacity to love someone so intensely.
As a child, Jamie thought parents were supposed to be these perfect beings, angels, but once she got a little older, a little wiser, she realized they were only human. People like Ryder, and like Jamie, the ones who were saddled with the most flawed, never really stood a chance.
Love was disappointing.
It wasn’t this sacred thing movies and books portrayed. Sometimes love wasn’t enough. Sometimes love was the thing that destroyed. Jamie had caused enough destruction for one lifetime.
The loud buzz of the doorbell reverberated through the apartment, breaking her from her thoughts, and sent the laundry she was carrying crashing to the floor. Who could that be? She wondered as she side-stepped the mess and jogged towards the door. It was one o’clock on a Sunday afternoon. Kensie was at her parents, and since Annette loaded her up with enough food to feed a small army she didn’t bother ordering takeout.
Lifting onto the tips of her toes, Jamie looked through the peephole finding just about the last person on earth she was expecting to see. Making quick work of the locks, she swung the door open and threw herself at her little brother.
Chris stumbled back, laughing as Jamie nearly tackled him to the ground. “I take it you like your surprise?”
“What are you doing here?” Jamie squealed, looking around the deserted hallway. “And where’s Parker?”
“He’s in Boston. He had a make-up exam and a few other loose ends to tie up. He’ll be here in a few days. We’re spending the summer in Seattle interning at Manning Solutions. Dad made an offer I couldn’t refuse,” he said, doing the worst Godfather impersonation she’d ever heard.
Jamie groaned, rolling her eyes at the mention of her father. She hadn’t spoken to him since that morning and thankfully, he’d stopped calling.
“So, it is true,” Chris accused, following her into the apartment.
“What’s true?” she asked, eyeing the younger Manning.
“You’re not talking to Dad because of some biker.”
Jamie spun around on her heels, her eyebrows knit in confusion. “A biker?”
“Yeah, Dad said, and I quote, ‘Your sister is back to her old tricks again, riding around with some tattooed menace on the back of a Harley.”
A noise that was part growl and part snort escaped Jamie’s throat. ”Ryder isn’t a biker,” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“If you say so Jam.” Chris shouldered past his sister and went straight to the kitchen, his first stop whenever he visited. Her brother could sniff out baked goods like a bloodhound, and Jamie was convinced he had two stomachs.
“When did you get into town?” she asked, sliding onto one of the bar stools.
Chris rifled through the fridge, grabbing the Styrofoam container of lasagna. “A little over an hour ago. I went home, only to find out the prodigal daughter had taken up with the local MC, so I’m here to talk some sense into you.” He scooped the remainder of the pasta onto a plate and popped it into the microwave. “Is it working?”
“What do you think?” She deadpanned.
“I think I want to know more about this Ryder,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Chris was every bit the frat boy you’d expect from the spawn of Archer and Caroline Manning. Chris was the golden child. While Jamie had to pretend to fit into the Seattle social scene, her brother excelled.
“You want to meet him?” she asked and Christopher nearly choked on his garlic bread. It was the first-time Jamie ever brought up the prospect of him meeting a guy she was dating. Mostly because she didn’t really date outside of the men her father introduced to her, and the few who did last longer than a night or two weren’t really meet the family material.
“You want me,” Chris jabbed a thumb into his chest, then pointed to his sister, “to meet a guy you’re dating?”
Jamie tipped up a shoulder. “If you want. He’s out of town for another week, but he should be back in time for my birthday.”
Grabbing a bottle of water out of the refrigerator, Chris came around to sit next to Jamie at the breakfast bar. Green eyes identical to her own assessed her. “This guy makes you happy.” It was a statement, one that made her blush. “Oh, my God, Jam.”
&
nbsp; “What?”
“You’re blushing.”
“I am not. I was just doing some spring cleaning and it’s hot in here,” she rambled on as heat spread from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.
“Sure, Jam.”
“Anyway, focus please. My birthday?”
“The big one,” Chris mused. “What are we doing to celebrate?”
“I’m not sure, yet. Ken and I have been like two ships passing in the night, but I’ll talk to her when she gets home.”
“Good. Also, was that pie I saw in there?”
Jamie giggled, hopping off the bar stool to retrieve the pie and two forks.
Love was sharing your dessert.
After Chris ate his way through the kitchen, he and Jamie migrated to the living room, where he told her all about his plan to come out to their parents; a dinner that he guilted her into attending. Then he forced her to watch her very first episode of Game of Thrones, which led to her second and then her third. She was finally beginning to understand the hype.
“Why am I so attracted to this man?” Jamie asked reaching for the bowl of popcorn. It sat next to a half-finished bottle of white and a bag of all red Starbursts.
“Because you have eyes,” Chris said, tipping his glass to his lips, “and because Jason Momoa as Khal Drogo is as hot as it gets.”
Jamie scrunched her nose. “But he’s kind of a douche and a little rapey. Don’t get me wrong, I’d totally fuck him, but does that make me a bad feminist?”
“Kind of an oxymoron don’t you think?”
Just as Jamie was about to respond, the front door slammed, followed by the jingling of keys. “Chris!” Kensie squealed, dropping her bag down and running to the sofa. “What are you doing here?”
The three of them had been inseparable growing up, and even though life seemed to be taking them in different directions, whenever they got together it was as if they were kids again.
Lithium Waves: A Lithium Springs Novel Page 17