by I. A. Dice
I ignored him, placing a fifty on the counter to cover the beers. I just paid for random guy’s alcohol so I could bag the bartender. How different was this to getting a hooker? Not much. Pamela was a lower risk of catching chlamydia. Or perhaps not.
The Mishaps played three more songs, and the crowd of girls shrieked and cheered when they thanked everyone for coming.
“Is there somewhere quieter here where we could talk to the band?” I asked Ethan, who knew the staff by their names.
“We can join them backstage; come on.”
I glanced over my shoulder to check out the barmaid again. She watched me with hooded eyes and licked her pink lips, winking again.
You’re trying too hard.
It was quarter to nine, so I had little time for business if I wanted to see the barmaid situation through. To be honest, I didn’t care, but I was running out of ideas to help me forget about Nadia.
“Hey guys, great performance tonight!” Ethan greeted the band.
The room adjacent to the bar had to be a torture chamber in the olden days. It was claustrophobically small; I settled for leaning in the doorway, while the other seven guys stood way too close to each other, among the instruments and two brown armchairs that must have been there since the Great Depression.
“This is Thomas Calix and Nick Grimwald from C&G Records,” Ethan said, introducing us like a TV presenter.
He would make a decent head-hunter if he wanted, but he enjoyed the easy, nine-to-five life of a corporate worker for a pharmaceutical company too much.
“C&G Records, huh?” Charles asked, excitement in his eyes but not in his voice. “Nice to meet you guys. How can we help?”
“You can’t,” I countered. “We can. We liked what we saw, and we want you to come in for a studio session tomorrow. We’ll see what we can make of this, but I can’t say we’re not impressed.”
The other band members didn’t bother hiding their happiness. After all, this was their big opportunity, and I couldn’t understand the wannabe musicians who acted like a possible record deal wasn’t the best thing that happened in their career thus far.
“We’ll be there!” The other twin, Chase, exclaimed. “Man, this is amazing! Thank you.” He squeezed Ethan’s hand, then patted his back. “And to think I wanted to shove a boot down your throat for taking my sister out! You have my blessing!”
Nice. I wouldn’t expect Nick to trade Nadia for anything, but it looked like not every brother had principles.
And Ethan… the little sneaky bastard. It was lucky that the band was good, and it no longer mattered whether he was getting laid in exchange for giving us their demo.
“Good. We’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t be late and make sure you’ve got a few songs ready. I don’t want love ballads. Give me something with a soul.”
Nick gave them his card and shook their hands before we headed back to the stuffy bar. The place emptied. Less than half of the people remained, but it didn’t stop another performer from taking the stage. A girl stood in front of a microphone, wearing a modest, sky-blue dress. She looked about eighteen and held an acoustic guitar close to her chest with dark blonde hair parted in the middle. Her voice was soft and melodic, but she was too shy for the business. We would turn her into a monster within months. I refused to strip delicate girls of their innocence at such a young age.
“She’s gone.” Scorpio nudged me, pointing toward the bar.
Right. My date.
“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes; don’t leave without me.”
He nodded, concealing the disgusted frown with a crooked smile. I might have overestimated the time I needed to finish, considering the two-month celibacy. The barmaid was in for a huge disappointment.
She waited out the back, resting her curvy ass on a pink Fiat parked between two black SUV’s. She put her phone away when she saw me approach, and smiled, toying with a lock of blonde hair. The temperature outside oscillated around twelve degrees Celsius, but it didn’t stop Pamela from wearing a short skirt and a low-cut top, which struggled to contain her boobs.
“You’re late,” she chirped. “I should’ve left five minutes ago.”
I strolled across the car park, not in a rush. She was good looking, but desire failed to arrive. There was nothing, really. Not even the primitive need to fuck. Most men were filled with that on daily basis, but not me. Not since…
Focus!
“And yet, you’re here. What does that tell you?”
Pamela pushed her chest out more. “That I’m bored?”
That you’re easy.
“Don’t count on me to entertain you. Ten minutes, sweetheart. That’s all you’re getting.”
“Short-distance runner?” she chuckled, pushing away from the car to rest her double c’s against my chest. “I think you can do better.”
“I run marathons when it matters.”
When Nadia was concerned, I outperformed myself on every corner. My needs didn’t matter. It was her I wanted to please. To see her eyes trained on me, lips parted in ecstasy when she came thanks to my efforts. There was nothing more energising. Nothing could top the euphoria filling my chest when Nadia moaned in my ear, struggling to catch a breath while she trembled under the influence of a powerful orgasm.
Pamela drew her bottom lip between her teeth, eyeing me up and down with a cheeky smile.
“You want to go to my place? My car might be a bit too small…”
I closed her lips with a kiss to shut her up. She stuck her tongue in my mouth as if she were looking for something to eat in there. She moaned, caressing my face with one hand, while the other travelled to my zipper.
How fucked up was it that the only reason her hand didn’t come across a limp dick was because I imagined Nadia naked?
Pamela smiled, working with the stiff length, and her kisses turned wetter, greedier and a little off-putting, but all in all it was going fine.
Right until it didn’t.
She bit my lower lip, and my head turned into a TV. Someone was flicking the channels too fast. All broadcasted every time Nadia bit on my lip. Memories resurfaced, flooding my mind with her sweet gasps; with the way she looked when she laid on my bed, the way she held me close when I crawled out of my skin to make her come.
“We’re in so much trouble…” Nadia whispered, straddling me.
Flushed cheeks and large, glistening eyes were the sexiest look she could wear. I tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ears, then grazed my thumb across her swollen lips.
“That’s why we’ll make the most of it.” I lifted her bum, then eased her down on top of me, holding her gaze.
“Ooh…” she uttered.
“Was that a good ooh?”
A low growl found its way out of my chest. My fingers dug into her skin. There was no way I would get enough of being close to her.
Another ooh left her mouth, a touch louder and definitely satisfied, but I wasn’t sure which one of us was more satisfied. She leaned in to kiss me, raising up and down, following the rhythm of my hands and mouth until she no longer needed help.
She pushed my hands away and rode me at her own pace. I pressed my hand to the side of her neck, grazing my thumb over her jaw and forcing her to rest her forehead against mine.
“Again,” I murmured, taking control of the situation when she began to tremble.
I held her in place, pumping in and out, eager to see her come in my arms. And she did. She clung to me, biting on my lower lip when another powerful orgasm shuddered her frail frame.
I hadn’t finished yet, and it was already the best sex I ever had. There was no fucking way I could leave that girl alone.
I pushed Pamela away, taking my lower lip between my thumb and index finger while Nadia’s serene eyes stared at me whenever I blinked.
This was fucked-up. Two months had passed, yet Nadia was still all my body and heart wanted. Fucking the barmaid wouldn’t change a thing. She wasn’t good enough to be a temporary distracti
on, let alone an eraser able to wipe Nadia out of my system.
It was like I was stuck in neutral and couldn’t change the gear.
I turned on my heel and walked away, leaving the busty blonde with parted lips, large eyes and probably feeling quite shitty.
“You’re just going to leave?” she yelled, her voice shaking with what sounded like anger and embarrassment. “What’s wrong with you?!”
“Something a quick fuck won’t fix,” I hissed, rounding the corner to get in front of the building.
I lit a cigarette, rested against the wall and surrounded myself with thick clouds of smoke.
So… that went well.
My phone chimed in my pocket. A message from Nadia waited on the screen, and my heart sped up.
I have a confession.
My brows furrowed for a moment, but before I typed a reply, she sent me a picture of my t-shirt lying on her knees.
She just found a brand-new way to break me all over again.
CHAPTER 7
NADIA
Ugly baggage
November came and went with Adrian trying to soothe me, and Ty packing my bags more than once. He yelled, cursed and begged me to return to London any chance he got. I understood his point of view. During the many months of Adrian’s addiction, he saved me from the abuse more times than either of us could count, and as any other sane person, he hated to see me hurt.
The sad part was that I volunteered to be Adrian’s punching bag. Somewhere deep down, I thought there was a limit to his cruelty, that he would cross a line and stop cold turkey for his sake and mine, too.
Love was blind.
I was blind. I saw what I wanted to see. What he wanted me to see: love, passion, desire, even safety at some point. He gave me the illusion of happiness, of a life without guilt about my father’s death and hatred toward my mother. Adrian helped me through the darkest times in my short life. He was always there when I needed him and ready to make me smile. Adrian was ready to be whatever I needed at any moment in time.
He was the most sophisticated of manipulators. He wrapped me around his finger and made me appreciate him for helping me through the excruciating pain of loss. But it was an illusion. Adrian didn’t want to heal me. He wanted to lead me in the right direction in a way that I would never reach the destination.
I was his prisoner, his greatest prize and possession since the moment he laid his dark eyes on me. It wasn’t love he wanted; it was dependency. Millions of people stay in unhappy relationships, because they depend on their partner for many reasons. There was no denying that Adrian loved me, but love was never his goal.
He manipulated me from day one, and his skills grew stronger over the course of our relationship. He mastered them to the point where when the tables turned and he should have been the one to depend on me, I was still at his mercy, blinded by the need to reciprocate.
I never fully recovered from my father’s death. Adrian’s addiction overrode the mourning, pushing it to the background. The gaping hole in my heart was still there, covered by Adrian’s abuse and my fight to show him the way.
No, Adrian never healed me.
He planted a seed, an idea of life without pain, and nurtured it enough to keep it alive but not enough to make it grow.
Thomas was the one set on walking the distance. Time and time again, he opened my eyes to things so blatantly obvious that I was ashamed not to have noticed them myself.
“I see you changed your mind.” Thomas motioned to the painting behind the sofa.
“Face your demons.”
“It’s a matter of perspective. What do you see when you look at it?”
“A girl who gave up. A broken, scarred mess.”
Thomas shook his head, taking a seat. “I don’t see you giving up, baby doll.” He turned to the painting. “You know what I see? I see how strong you are to fight despite everything that’s tormenting you.”
I considered his words, my heart swelling. How did he know what to say and do to turn my world upside down? Until that moment, I saw myself as a victim, but the truth was that I was a survivor.
I was too vulnerable to see through Adrian’s ploy, but since Thomas took residence in my heart and his strength cleared my head, I saw Adrian’s manipulative skills for what they were.
Still, I believed that he could get better, and that this time, he was over his addiction. Even knowing that he manipulated me since day one, I couldn’t shake the idea of him. His presence was embedded in my very being, making me long for the pure, unconditional love he offered. Adrian might have been cruel, but he loved me for who I was. He didn’t once try to change me. He worshiped my flaws, cherished my issues and taught me how to depend on him for support.
He was the impersonation of everything I needed in the moment of my greatest downfall, nothing but a sweet smile on his lips and glint in his eyes. He breathed life into me, forced me to bathe my sins away.
“Trust me, Nadia,” he whispered, caressing my cheeks. “Trust me, baby. I’ll take care of you.”
I hadn’t felt that way before. His kisses, hugs and late nights spent talking pushed me to live. To live for him, for the smiles and jokes that increased the capacity of my lungs.
That was until he left me drowning in the pool of my own tears…
For a few short weeks, I thought I killed the feelings he evoked, the feelings that put him in the centre of my world.
Thomas took his place. He showed me that how I dealt with my father’s loss was wrong. I shouldn’t have relied on Adrian to make me feel whole. Thomas made me whole with his words, actions and sheer belief. He believed in the strength of my character. He pointed me in the right direction, instead of keeping me in the dark while he took care of the problems. He wanted me to grow. He wanted me to heal.
Instead of shielding me from pain the way Adrian used to, Thomas let me face my fears. He stood beside me, ready to reinforce my courage the way he did when Karen arrived at Nick’s house the morning of the wedding. If Adrian were there with me, he would tell me to take a break, have a cigarette or see how Amelia was doing while he dealt with Karen himself. He would protect me from stress and confrontation, because his mission was to make me reliant: incapable of fighting my own battles.
Thomas was the opposite. He let me face Karen, and he stood beside me in case I needed him. He trusted me to handle the situation.
I glanced at the clock, polishing the last of Carbonara from the plate. Amelia expected my call five minutes ago. I grabbed the laptop and started a video call.
She answered within seconds, the green back wall of their living room a dramatic contrast to her red hair.
“Finally!” she exclaimed, raising a glass of wine for me to see. “What are you having?”
I showed her the bottle of tequila Ty bought a few days earlier. We had a few shots on the odd evening, talking until the morning. Adrian usually stayed up with me until the movie we watched ended, then turned in for the night. Ty waited for those moments. As soon as Adrian closed the door to his bedroom, Ty appeared in the living room, concern in his eyes and posture. It was comforting to know that regardless of my mental state, he was around, ready to help.
“How are you?” I asked Mel, pouring myself a shot.
A warm blanket hugged my knees, and Dermot Kennedy played from the speakers on Ty’s ancient stereo. It took him two days to figure out a way to pair it with my phone.
“We’re good. Nick’s pushing for babies, but I don’t think it’s a good time to get pregnant. The label is booming. We signed a band that’s amazing. They’re already topping the charts, and I can just imagine the crowds of fans stalking their every move.”
She sipped on her wine some more, then took a moment to stare at me, her eyes growing heavy with disapproval.
“You’re still too thin, babe,” she said. “Do you even eat?”
“Yes, I eat. Ty is the best chef you can imagine.”
“Good. You’re too thin! Are you coming over for
Christmas? Nick dressed the house, and I’m afraid it might be visible from space.”
I chuckled, recalling the pictures Mel sent me last year. The cottage resembled Santa’s grotto with hundreds of colourful lights, decorations and half of Santa’s reindeers standing on the lawn.
“I don’t think that far ahead.”
The truth was I thought about Christmas every day, wondering whether it would be safe to leave Adrian for a week. I wanted to spend time with Nick and Amelia, but I was scared of facing Thomas.
“It’s less than three weeks away. You can bring Adrian if you want.”
Not in a million years. Adrian carried a lot of guilt in him that wasn’t subsiding with time. Despite my threat to leave if he would confess to Nick, Adrian still tried to convince me that my brother should know about the abuse. He thought he deserved to be hated—I didn’t. He fought his addiction and worked hard to earn my trust.
“No, we’ll sit this one out,” I said, gritting my teeth. “How is Thomas?”
It was our weekly routine. She tried to get a date out of me when I would come home, and I asked about Thomas.
A frown was her first answer, and it alarmed me just a little. During the last four months the answer to my question about him gradually got better. At first Mel was reluctant to share, but as the time went on, and Thomas started to move on, she became more prone to share information. I knew he worked like crazy and made peace with what happened between us. It hurt to know he was over me, but I was glad that I didn’t ruin him.
Too bad I ruined myself.
“Same old, same old,” Mel said, glancing over her laptop and making eyes at someone—probably Nick.
And surely, two seconds later, my brother’s face appeared next to Mel’s. “Hey sis, how are you? Everything good?”
I poured another shot, biting my cheek. “Don’t brush me off. Can you tell me how he is, or is it a secret?”
Nick cringed. “He’s good. Busy with work, and… He’s seeing someone. They’re coming over tonight.”
Oh.
“They’re not dating,” Mel elbowed Nick with a stern look. “They met a few days ago, but…”
