“See you out there, Bishop. Table 15 just sat down, and they’ll be needing drinks,” he said briskly and handed me the photo. He headed out of the office to leave me once again alone, the picture of the three ladies lying in my hand like a delicate flower, squeeze too hard and it would crumple and wither away.
I watched him leave with a new sense of strangeness seeping into me to make me feel disconnected and unreal.
Oh. My. God.
His wife was Katherine. Her sister was Gloria. And my mother’s name was Helena. Was my mother Gloria’s daughter? I quickly ran through every remark I had ever heard my mother or father make about my mother’s family and everything Vivian may have mentioned. No names came to mind. No last names anyway. The name Gloria sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place exactly when I’d heard it in reference to my mother.
The only memories that came floating up to my conscious mind were of the relentless jabs from my father telling my mother no one wanted her, not even her own family and she better get used to the idea of him being the only one willing to put up with her. He reminded her she had no one else and nowhere else to go. Then he’d laugh or hit her for crying at the words he had just stabbed her heart with.
I shook my head to physically dislodge my father’s face that had floated up to the surface at the thought of my remaining family. I would not think of him right now.
I had to find out what my mother’s maiden name was. If it was O’Hair, then Frank could very well be my great-uncle. He might be the only family I had left other than my father. The possibility felt surreal. My mother’s name wasn’t too common a name, Helena. And that picture.
God, I looked so much like Katherine—My great aunt. Could it be true? Could this day get any weirder or worse?
I stood shocked as I looked down at the picture I was still holding in my hand. That might be my mother as a little girl. And they just might be my grandmother and great-aunt. My family. I could see some of my own childhood in her young face. A wave of disconnection and lightness fluttered through me. I quickly sat back down before the sparkling darkness flickering around the edges of my vision consumed the rest of my sight.
I sat down with a collapsing thump. My body felt hot, lightheaded, and tingly. I usually only felt like this after getting a shot with a big fat needle at the doctor’s office. I held the picture and focused on their faces. My face looked back at me from Katherine’s, her joy and pleasure at being with her sister and niece shining in her beautiful face. Her eyes were so much like mine. A tear slipped out from my own.
Having nearly been unable to pull myself together after listening to that unexpected voice mail before coming to work tonight, I felt thoroughly overwhelmed and disoriented now. The intensity of the emotions I had today, compounded with this new faint possibility that I had found some sort of connection to my mother’s past, had tipped me over my emotional threshold for the day.
God, could Frank really be a living relative? I finally find a family member, and it’s Frank Gable? Really? Did it have to be Frank? God, are you mad at me?
Hunger, Heat, Have To
Chapter Seven
A few moments later, when I had regained my ability to move, I came out of the office and walked blindly toward the sounds of the kitchen, my belongings left forgotten on Frank’s cluttered desk. I could still hear George and Frank bickering back and forth, but it was of little consequence to me. I didn’t want anything to do with them. Not yet anyway. I didn’t want to look at Frank and wonder. It was just too weird.
I halted, not wanting to walk past the big walk-in cooler doors and into the sight of the kitchen staff. I wasn’t sure what my face looked like, but I was sure it must resemble a deer in the headlights—confused, stunned, and quivering with an abundant flow of adrenalin making my legs anxious to fight or flee for my life. I didn’t know what was what anymore.
I slipped inside the huge walk-in cooler, barely registering the cold. I walked over to the inside wall and stood with my back against it, trying to cool off. I was burning up with a hot sweat, making me feel chilled and fevered from head to toe all at the same time.
Slowly, the cool steel began to feel like ice against my back, and I pulled out my ponytail with a rough yank so I could rest the back of my head against it, unencumbered. I rolled my head from side to side, trying to cool my burning scalp. I was on fire, and my blood was burning in my veins. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine a tropical beach with perfect weather, neither hot nor cold. It wasn’t working.
Maybe I’m in shock, I thought numbly. Maybe today had been too much for me. Have I finally reached my limit of emotional climaxes and crashes? Holy cow, what else could happen today?
The day had started with a satisfied joy. It had quickly changed into the worst and only real fight I had ever had with my best friend, leaving me enraged, defensive, and frightened. Then in class, I had almost fallen under the spell of David’s charms and let my guard down with him, only to be publicly humiliated and once again feel suspicious and untrusting of men.
I had thought he was different than the rest. The small quiet part of my brain still believed he was different from other men, and I still believed him to be a genuinely good man. But now I felt myself wanting to hide away from him because now, I was so unsure and felt so foolish for almost giving in.
I had finally admitted to myself that David made me feel other things besides humiliation and frustration. He made me feel alive, desirable, and very curious about him. This left me feeling vulnerable and shy and altogether mad at myself for it. I was afraid to let him mean too much to me. How would it change me? Or would he try to change and dominate me as I feared all men would do?
These thoughts made me feel so much sadness. Sadness and loneliness. I felt tears begin to well up in my eyes.
God, what was wrong with me today? I’m a crying jag!
I replayed the rest of my day in my head, trying to understand how I had gotten to the place I was at now, feeling fevered and shaky and on the brink of tears. The adrenaline and heightened state of awareness I had been feeling on and off all day had been such a flip-flop compared to the humiliation, the anger, the desire I had felt for David.
Then there was that message on the answering machine in the kitchen. Not from David. From—No, I can’t even think about that right now! That alone had been nearly enough to make me want to dig a hole and hide in the ground for the rest of my life. I had almost collapsed in the kitchen with shock and the crushing fist of fear. As it was, the glass of water I had been drinking had slipped from my hand and shattered into a thousand pieces at the sound of the rough voice coming out of my answering machine.
“Think of something else,” I ordered myself with a hiss, feeling sweat grease my palms at the memory.
And then, there was now. To think I could possibly have one more family member in existence other than my rotten, filthy, evil father made me feel a whole rainbow of confused emotions. Should I be happy at the prospect? Or angry at the universe that when I should find someone I’m related to, it could very well turn out to be grumpy, harsh, bitter old Frank? His wife dead, her sister dead, my mother and sister—dead.
If it turned out to be true, should I tell him what I had uncovered or keep it to myself? Would he even care, or would he want to get rid of me, ashamed to have any relation to me?
No, he liked me as much as he was capable of liking anyone. Partly because I looked like his dead wife and part because I would tell him some hard truths once in a while and he liked that somehow. I don’t think he’d be angry. Maybe he’d be okay with it. I mean, it wasn’t like I would ever call him my great-uncle Frank or start inviting him to Thanksgiving dinner. Or would he start expecting considerations like that?
Oh no.
I felt a bead of sweat trickle down from my temple, and I brushed it away. Goose bumps erupted over my entire body from the chilly steel at by back. I pressed against it harder as another wave of scorching heat rustled with my quivering body.
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I felt disconnected from everything and everyone. I felt unreal like I wasn’t really here pressed against this wall. Like I was in a dream and nothing mattered. I felt as if I could float away with one gust of wind. I didn’t have control of anything, not even myself.
I felt something shift, almost another presence settle over me as my confusion and desperation grew insurmountable. Every sound, feeling, and breath of air I sucked deep into my lungs was supernaturally magnified and surreal. I opened my eyes, and even my vision seemed sharpened. Every color an extreme shade and every shiny surface blinding. I blinked and screwed up my eyes against the blinding light.
I kept my eyes closed as I listened to the hustle and bustle that seemed to boom and shudder with every sound wave that rumbled through the walk-in. Despite the magnified noise of the voices and the sound of rushing feet and clinking of pots and plates, I felt completely and utterly alone. I was alone in my head, and my body, which was physically here, seemed barely tethered to the ground by gravity. I was being consumed with such a heightened level of sensory and emotions I couldn’t move.
I can’t think!
“Bishop? Are you okay?” said a soothing masculine voice from in front of me.
I felt warm hands rest on both sides of my shoulders, and David’s gentle voice washed over me like soft warm bubbles to tickle my skin and make me sigh. The sound of his voice and touch of his hands on me made my eyes flash open with the sudden surge of heat and hunger I felt for him. The power of it made me draw in a staggering breath, and I felt my irises shrink and my pupils dilate. His face came into a sharp, vivid focus, beautiful in its perfection.
I knew something was wrong as I stood surging with hunger and desire for David in my near dreaming disconnected state of mind. But the sight of him was overwhelming, and nothing else seemed to matter, so I brushed the thought away. Everything about his handsome face, his body, his hands clasped so caringly to my shoulders, screamed out to my body, making me ache and crave him with an unquenchable thirst and desperate hunger.
It was wrong, but I couldn’t summon the will to care. In a moment of reckless abandonment, I stopped questioning it and let it fill me up until all that was left, suddenly felt so right. As I allowed the surging hunger for David to overtake me, I was barely aware the voice of my conscious mind was being slipped behind a door and into a padded cell. The small quiet voice in the back of my mind was trying to tell me this was wrong. But I silenced it with an angry hiss of thought and slammed the door of the cell in my mind, locking it away.
David let go of me and took a step back. His face was questioning, and his eyes, full of deep concern.
Where did he think he was going? I don’t want him to move.
“Are you okay, Bishop?” David repeated, sounding unsure.
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I was too lost in the amazing colors of his eyes. The honey brown of them were lit up, the source of the light eluding me at the moment. I took a step up to him and gazed into his eyes. His handsome face and deliciously tan skin made my hands ache to touch him. I saw the dimples that adorned his cheeks tighten as his jaw pressed together.
He stood like a statue of perfection, beautiful, graceful, strong, solid, and so very male. And I wanted him. I wanted to possess him. To own him. To make him scream out my name over and over until he was so ragged with breath and so overcome with wild desire for me that he was willing to offer me even his soul should I demand it of him.
His soul?
Stop it, Melanie. Stop thinking that. Just walk away.
No! I don’t want to. I want him. He’s mine!
“Bishop?” David whispered in an uneven voice.
No doubt he could see some change had come over me. That much was obvious. And why shouldn’t he? The last time he had seen me, I had been too embarrassed and angry to even look at him. I had run out of the classroom, a coward. I had been a disgusting, slithering, weak little coward.
But not now! Now I felt powerful, seductive, and in control. I was ready to make him pay for the insolence of speaking for me, for assuming he had any right to answer for me or fight my battles. I’d make him surrender and beg for mercy. I’d break him and make him mine. All the while making him passionately and desperately desire me while I did it.
Enough, Melanie! Walk away. This isn’t you.
Oh yes, it is. I want this. I need him.
I felt a rush of heat between my legs and a fluttering in my lower abdomen as I looked at him, a lioness studying her prey. He was mine. I would have him, all of him. He wouldn’t be able to resist me.
“David,” I purred out his name, and I saw his eyes widen. I could even see his pulse speed up in the side of his strong, sexy neck.
“Bishop,” David answered, his voice held a hint of surprise at my purring tone.
“David, call me Melanie. How long have you known me?” I asked in breathy tones.
“Um.” He took another step back and hit the opposite wall. “J-just over t-two years,” he stuttered, trying to smile confidently at me, but he only managed a lopsided grin. I was making him feel uneasy and confused, just how I wanted him—off guard.
I advanced, my prey having nearly cornered himself now against the wall and the rack of shelves that blocked him from view of anyone else who would come into the walk-in cooler from the kitchen. Perfect.
Remember the last time you felt like this? It wasn’t right then either. Stop it while you can!
No, that’s a lie. I’ve never felt like this before. I like it. I want to feel more.
“I’m…I’m sorry for embarrassing you today, Melanie,” he said, licking his lips. “I tried to call you to talk to you about what happened,” he continued speaking quickly as if his words would protect him from me.
He was looking nervous now too.
Oh, good.
“I know you did,” I answered quietly, advancing one more step.
I was nearly six inches away from him now and peered up at him, my small chest heaving with my own speeding pulse and increased breath. My hunger and desire for him was growing nearly unbearable. I had to touch him, to feel him, to taste him.
I could smell the sporty musk of his cologne like the scent of blood to a shark. I wanted to bury my face in the warmth of his neck and inhale him. I leaned in and slowly raised myself onto my toes, just enough to reach his neck. He stiffened and I heard him suck in a startled breath as my nose traced the long extension of his neck up to the sharp corner of his jaw, then around and up to his warm, supple earlobe. I closed my eyes inhaling his intoxicating aroma.
I could not only smell the sporty musk of his cologne, but his skin. It was hot, somewhat sweet, slightly sweaty and masculine. There was the light cool scent of his hair gel that made me ache to run my fingers through his slightly curly jet-black hair.
“David,” I moaned as if he was already my lover.
I gripped the front of his shirt with both of my fists and drew myself closer to him, my body smashing up against him.
“Melanie, what are you doing?” he asked, the shock in his voice made me open my eyes, and I looked at him, his face inches from mine.
“Marking my body with your scent,” I said with a seductive smile.
Scent? This isn’t right.
Shut up!
“I’m really confused. This isn’t like you,” David said, his voice growing husky and deep with his own desire and restraint.
He’s right. This isn’t you. Stop it now!
I said shut up! I almost have him.
I felt David place his hands on my shoulders to try to push me away from him.
He’s resisting me? Why? He wants me. He has to!
I felt a surge of anger at his resistance. And I shoved him back against the wall before he could complete the act of pushing me away with the gentle pressure on my shoulders he had been applying.
“Melanie!” David half-shouted, half-moaned, his own bodily desires fighting his self-control.
Oh, yes!
I like this. Go on, try to resist me. You’ll make it so much more fun this way. I will break you down and make you mine. I will wear down your defenses and make you hunger for me the way I hunger for you. I will break you, David Abramson!
“Come on, David, isn’t this what you wanted? Me unable to resist you? Ready to say your name in your ear and let you possess me?” I leaned in and breathed the words in his ear.
The words were half true. I did want him. I felt like I had to have him, or I’d burn up with passion. But it was I who wanted to possess him. I wanted to make him mine and surrender it all to me. I wanted the control.
I will have the control.
“David,” I breathed his name like a moan escaping between my lips as I writhed against him.
“Stop it, Melanie. For God’s sake, please,” David nearly begged me. I felt his body respond to me despite his protests.
His mouth said no, but his body was screaming yes.
He grabbed me then and shoved me away. I slammed into the freezer door, stunned. I looked up at him, hurt crossed my face at his rejection.
He advanced upon me, heat and hunger and a long-controlled desire burning within his eyes.
Oh, yes. David was fighting so hard, and he was nearly losing to his desire. Not much longer now.
I puffed out my lower lip and let the sting of the rejection I had felt mask my face to play upon his chivalrous side. He’d hurt my feelings. He’d have to make sure I was all right.
“Melanie,” David said my name apologetically.
I looked away and pretended to bite back a sniffle.
“Melanie,” David said my name more tenderly as he approached me, his steps cautious.
He better be cautious. Any closer and I’d have him.
Don’t do this to him. His feelings are not a game. Don’t do this!
He started this game. I’m going to win it. Now shut up and leave me alone!
Broken Seed Page 9