by T. L Smith
“Pretty girl…” he warns.
“Whatever! I have to go.”
“Tanika’s body was found. She’s coming to me tomorrow.” I pause at the door, my keys now in hand. “I’ll take care of her. Do you wish to see her?”
My hands sweat as they hold the coffee and keys. Words for some reason cannot leave my mouth.
“Rochelle…” My name. Marcus has never called me that before. It’s always pretty girl.
Not looking back, not saying a word, I leave and head straight to work.
Martin is already there when I arrive. Which is a surprise, because he’s never there before me.
“You’re here,” Martin says, surprised, while looking up over his glasses.
“You’re in?” I ask, looking directly at the clock.
Martin shakes his head. “Dave has become quite painful. Seems he’s worse than the men he was going after.”
“What do you mean?”
“He destroyed my car last night. I had to call the police on him. Then I woke up to this.” He pushes his cell toward me. There is a picture of his house on the screen, the words ‘YOU’RE NEXT’ are painted in red across the front. I shake my head and look up at him. The poor man is sweating profusely, his brows are furrowed, and worry is etched all over his face.
“Go to the police.”
“I will. But, Rochelle, if you see him, I want you to stay as far away as you can, and call the police immediately.”
“Yes, of course.”
Martin nods, happy with my answer. “How was your weekend? It was your birthday, right?”
“My friend jumped off the town bridge and killed herself.” I turn, taking his empty coffee mug to fill it when I hear him gasp.
Marcus doesn’t wait at my car, instead he comes straight into the office the minute I finish at five. Martin looks up through his office entrance, then pays Marcus no attention once he sees who’s here.
“I can get myself home,” I tell Marcus, turning the computer off and reaching for my bag.
“I know you can, but I thought I’d prepare you. Your family is at yours, waiting for you.”
A heavy sigh leaves my mouth. “I can’t deal with them.”
“You can come to mine,” he says without missing a beat.
“Marcus.”
“Mm-hmmm,” he answers.
“You should stop now.”
“Stop what?” he asks, clearly confused.
“You should stop helping. The more you do, the more I’m falling for you.” I watch as his body goes rigid at my words. “See, you don’t even know you’re doing it. That’s what makes it worse. And Marcus…” I say, stepping up to him like he does to me. “I can’t take another heartache. You will destroy me.”
“I would never—”
I don’t give him time to answer fully, cutting him off as I walk past him and go straight to my car. Without looking back, I head home. My mother’s out the front waiting for me when I arrive.
I look behind me wondering if I should reverse back out, when she knocks on my window, then opens my car door. “Why haven’t you called?” She pulls me, and I get out of the car. Her hands wrap around my body as she holds me tightly to her. “The police stopped by again. Said something about an assault. Wanted to know if you had any information.” I freeze at her words while Tanika’s words from that night come back to haunt me.
“Roch,” Kat yells from my door.
My mother hugs me tighter before she finally lets me go. “I’m here for you, you know that, right? And so is that man. He’s here for you, too.”
“Marcus?” I ask, confused.
“Yes, he was here before. He’s been here all weekend?” I can only nod as she starts walking with me to the house.
“What do you need?” my sister asks.
I look at Annabelle in her arms and take her. “Just this.” Beautiful Annabelle smiles and slaps my face with her little hands. And then it hits me—Tan will never get to experience this.
And maybe, neither will I.
Marcus comes back, and I don’t expect him. And when he climbs into my bed later that night, he wraps himself around me, and I cry. I sob until I no longer can, and when the tears stop, I turn to him.
Marcus brushes my hair from my face. “I don’t like to see you hurting.”
“Hurt is a part of life,” I reply.
“I can make it go away. Even if it’s just for a while, I can make it go away.” He leans over and kisses my lips. “Do you want me to make it go away?”
“Yes,” I answer almost desperately.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I respond, this time wrapping my hands around his head and pulling his lips to mine.
Marcus takes control, he always does. His lips scorch mine and his hands devour my body, stripping me bare with each touch.
One touch—legs spread.
Second touch—sliding in.
Third touch—euphoria.
My eyes bleed with love, and I know in that exact moment as he tries to take my pain away the only way he knows how, that I love him.
Dragging kisses along my neck, then biting, he pushes in harder, as if he can hear what I’m thinking.
“I love you,” I whisper into his ear.
Marcus pushes in harder and fucks me faster, not saying a word in response. I didn’t think he would, but for some reason I had to get it off my chest. I had to tell him.
Clinging to him, I let him take me. I give him what he needs while he takes all I have left. And it leaves me in a state of bliss with no thoughts running rampant in my head.
Marcus did what he said he would do, and I had to go and utter the words I never thought I would. When he comes, he stays on top of me, then looks down. Something has changed in his eyes, but I don’t know what it is, and I don’t want to find out either. Turning around, I pull the covers up and go to sleep.
I don’t dream about death.
Instead, I dream of heartache.
This time I wake before Marcus does. His face is pressed against my pillow as he lightly snores. I reach for his curls, brushing them back. He moves but doesn’t wake. One of his legs is under the sheet while the other is out, showcasing his perfectly sculptured ass. Reaching for my cell phone, I flick to the last pictures that were taken, which are of Tan and me from a few weeks ago. She was doing so well, so fucking well. And now? Now, I don’t even know what to do or how to function in a world without her in it.
Death has many faces.
Some are beautiful.
Some are evil.
But they all lead down the same road.
Pain.
“I never told you about my mother.” Marcus’ eyes are open when I turn to look at him. He hasn’t moved, he’s simply watching me.
“No, not much.”
“She was evil. We raised each other, my brother and I. To her, we were just a government paycheck so she could get high. I used to have to steal her money or steal her drugs to sell, so I could buy food for Blaze and me. She never cared. The most she bought us was one loaf of bread a week, that was when she remembered. And for two growing boys, a single loaf of bread? Well, let’s just say, it doesn’t last long.” He breathes out harshly, and I turn fully to see him. “She was the first real death I witnessed, but not before she used me so she could get what she needed. Her friends, as she liked to call them, would pay her money to do things to us. Burn us. Make us scream. I took most of it, and Blaze would run. I would always tell him to run. The older he got, he stopped listening, and soon I stopped letting her get away with it.”
“You were just kids,” I say, shaking my head.
“She was dead in our trailer for over a week before we called someone. I loved her when she was peaceful, when she was asleep and with no words or motion left in her.”
I just look at him, not really knowing what to say.
Marcus turns on his back and looks up to the ceiling. “I loved her, if that’s even the correct word. She was
beautiful, despite all her fucked-up ways. You remind me of her. It’s why Blaze hates you so much. You look like her,” he says it as if it’s a good thing.
“I don’t want to look like a woman who did that to you.”
“I stopped seeing her in you the moment you opened your mouth. It’s the hair… you have her hair.” Marcus sits up, pushes my strawberry-blonde hair behind my ear. “If you died, pretty girl, I would keep you longer than a week. I now know what to do to prevent you from decaying.”
“That’s kind of fucked-up,” I say, my nose turning up at his words.
“I did warn you… I am far from normal.”
“Tell me what you see when you look at me?”
“I see a woman who has her claws in me so deep it hurts. That it’s the first thing in this life I am scared of.”
“And…” I say, climbing to sit on his lap.
“When I look at you…” he smiles, “… I don’t see death. I see life.”
“This is life. Can you feel it?” I ask, reaching between us and sliding him inside of me. His hands grip my hips as I start moving.
“I can feel your pussy.”
“And…”
“The words you want to hear, I’m going to whisper in your ear.”
He moves me faster with the help of his hands on my hips.
“That sweet pussy of yours that’s milking my cock.”
My breathing picks up a notch at his words.
“Yeah, you know the one. The one that’s currently squeezing me so fucking tight that I’m about to come. But I won’t. Do you know why?”
I shake my head.
“Because watching you come is the best thing since watching a body being torn apart. You have become my new favorite thing, pretty girl. If I were you, I wouldn’t encourage it. My obsession has become something you may choose to regret.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Marcus
Rochelle doesn’t want to see the body. I take particular care when I prepare Tanika to be cremated. It’s the most care I’ve taken in anyone I have handled. And in the end, as I watch Tanika burn, I wonder why. What is Rochelle doing to me? And why am I letting it happen?
The following weeks flow by, and not much changes. Except her. She changes. Something in her is gone, and I don’t know exactly what. Not once does she bring up our relationship again or push for anything more. The words that she loves me also never leave her mouth again. It’s as if she’s been frozen in time and cannot escape.
Blaze ignores me as if I am the plague. He doesn’t like Rochelle, and she doesn’t seem to like him either. No matter how much Blaze dislikes her, I can’t seem to stay away.
Rochelle sneaks up from behind me, wrapping her hands around my waist and snuggles into my back. “Let’s stay in,” she says.
I would usually say yes because I hate going out, but the clubhouse is throwing Blaze a party for his birthday, so I have to go. It’s the one time of year I always give him. No matter what.
“Just an appearance,” I reply, turning to her.
She’s wearing something short, perfect for my hands to slide up and under to grip her ass.
“We can have more fun.” Rochelle’s hands slide down my body and she goes to touch the floor, but I reach for her and pull her back up. She distracts me with sex. It’s her specialty, and she’s good at it too.
“We will. After.”
Rochelle stands, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t like your brother.”
“I know, and he doesn’t like you either.”
She shrugs her shoulders, throwing her hands up in the air. “Then why do I have to go?”
“Because you do nothing anymore, literally nothing,” I say.
Rochelle bites her lip and looks down. “You never do anything either but work, so what’s the problem?”
Stepping away from her, I take my keys and turn to her. “You’re changing. I know why. But stop locking yourself away. You didn’t die with Tanika,” I say, and it’s not until the last words leave my mouth that her eyes look up at me and anger is evident in them.
“A part of me jumped off that bridge with her,” she says, walking over to me. “Now, if you’re finished discussing this, let’s go.” She takes the keys from my hand and walks out of my house to my truck. She unlocks it and sits in the passenger seat as I lock up the house and follow her out. She hands me the keys and doesn’t say a word as we drive.
I look at her and wonder why I’ve stuck around for so long. Why I haven’t gotten sick of her. It’s been months now, and not once have my eyes strayed. Not once have I wanted another woman more than I want her.
It’s her.
Always her.
“I’m going to drink,” she announces, as we pull up to the clubhouse. Rochelle jumps from my truck and waits for me to meet up with her before she goes any farther. Her hand reaches for mine and she clasps it, squeezing tight.
I’ve become her lifeline, and I don’t know how to break that. Before me, she was her own lifeline.
Death has changed her. Seeing it, feeling it, has killed something inside her.
“You brought her? I told you not to bring her,” Blaze says, as we walk toward him.
“She’s right here, asshole.” Rochelle pushes into my side.
Harper stands, smiling at us. “Hey, it’s been too long.”
“Sit, Harper,” Blaze barks. “She isn’t welcome here.”
Rochelle ignores him and turns, looking up at me. “Drink?”
Before I can reply, a flash of blonde hair comes up behind Rochelle and pulls her strawberry-blonde hair backward, making her leave my side and fall to the floor. The blonde who was on my lap last time Rochelle was here jumps on Rochelle and punches her in the face. Hard. Rochelle gasps, covers her face, then in a split-second bucks the blonde off and flips her so she’s on top. Rochelle’s fast hands punch and she starts hitting, over and over again, until I reach for her, lifting her backward and off. The blonde who started it is lying on the floor crying.
“You stupid fucking bitch, you made me bleed,” Rochelle screams, struggling to get free and go back to the blonde. I manage to keep hold of her when Harper walks over and helps the crying blonde up from the floor and walks her away.
Snow steps over with a beer in hand and passes it to a very angry Rochelle. She takes it as she calms in my arms.
“Girl, every time you come here, trouble follows you,” he says, and gives her a smirk. “And… I’m sorry about your friend.”
Rochelle’s chest deflates, and I see the fight leave her.
Blaze pushes through and angry eyes land on Rochelle. “You have some fucking nerve.”
“Me?” She points to herself while shaking her head. “I didn’t even want to come, let alone be attacked from behind by some blonde maniac. Maybe you should control your bitches,” she yells at him.
Everyone around us goes silent, and Blaze steps up to her, but I block his path, stepping in his way.
“I would calm down.”
“You pick her?” he spits angrily.
“I’m not picking anyone. But you will watch what you say or do to her.”
“I’ll do no such thing. You’re on my property now.”
“It’s in both our names. This is our place. I let you think you can have it.”
Rochelle steps up from behind me. “Tell me, Blaze… tell me why you hate me?” She takes a long pull of her beer. She brushes up against me, and Blaze doesn’t miss the action.
“You’re changing him. I hate that you are.”
Rochelle looks to me with her eyes pinched. “Am I?”
I don’t answer her, because she is. I think she knows that too. I’m almost ready to walk through fire for her to make sure she’s safe, and stand still as I burn.
“He won’t answer you. He can’t see it yet,” Blaze says, looking between us. “But I see you. Your world is too perfect for him to fit in. How will you explain him to your friends? Your family?”
Blaze looks back at me, surprised. “You’ve met her family?”
I shrug.
Lips thin and squinted eyes look back at Rochelle. “I fucking hate you,” he spits.
“Feeling’s mutual, asshole. What Tan ever saw in you I will never know.”
“Why she had you as a friend, yeah, who the fuck knows? You only cared for yourself, bitch,” he throws back at her face.
Rochelle goes tight, her body rigid. But then fast as she can, she reaches up and slaps him across the face. Hard.
Blaze moves fast, grabbing his gun and pointing it directly at her head. She doesn’t move.
“Prez,” Snow says behind him. “Lower the gun.”
“No, this bitch needs to know her place.”
“Did you show Tan her place, too?” Rochelle eggs him on.
“No. I was nothing but good to her. Unlike you.”
The gun doesn’t lower.
“You know nothing about her. It wasn’t you she called when she needed someone, it was me,” she screams at him.
“It’s because she loved you,” Blaze says back to Rochelle.
“Lower the gun, Blaze,” I say.
Rochelle doesn’t even seem fazed anymore that the gun is in her face.
“Do it, I dare you. Do it.”
“And make my brother hate me?” Blaze shakes his head and drops the gun. “Fuck off and don’t bring her back again,” Blaze says, as he walks away.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rochelle
I manage to avoid Blaze for a good month after that night at the clubhouse. Marcus and I haven’t changed, we see each other at least four times a week, and we can’t keep our hands to ourselves for too long.
Everything with him is easy. It’s nice. And not moving forward. I know that’s also my fault. Something in me has changed. I guess death does that to you. You see the world in a different light. For me, I’m constantly seeing Tanika jump from that bridge. The nightmare wakes me when I’m by myself, and every time I close my eyes I dream of her.
