Relentless Habit: O-Town Series

by Karen Renee

  “Vamp’s real name is Cary Grant Sullivan, so as you can see, Brock and I got the dregs.”

  I jolted because Brock’s arm on me jerked. “I wouldn’t say that, Gabe. Gabriel Clark isn’t so bad, but hell if I know anyone with the middle name Hudson.”

  My eye brows furrowed, and Warren smiled. “Their mother wanted to name Gabe, ‘Clark Gable Sullivan,’ but I put my foot down on that one. I’ve never cared for the name Clark; no offense to any man with the name, it just isn’t one of my favorites. But the middle name Gable? No. Anyway, Cecilia is a beautiful name. Is it a family name?”

  I chuckled. “Not really. In fact, my parents named me and my sister after music from the seventies.”

  “Really,” Warren remarked but he was interrupted by our waitress bringing four waters and taking our drink orders.

  “She a twin?” Gabe asked after the waitress left.

  “No,” I said, as Brock said, “Don’t be a douche, Gabe.”

  Looking up at Brock, I said, “He wasn’t being a douche, Brock. It’s a legitimate question... from a guy.”

  Before I could ask more about their mother, our waitress brought our coffees. I sensed everyone else was ready to order, so I hastily told the waitress my order.

  With coffee in front of us, the conversation died down until our order came out.

  Brock ordered the Rooti Tooti Fresh and Fruity breakfast and it was amazing it didn’t take up my side of the table. How he thought I was sweeter than those fruit-laden pancakes, I had no idea.

  I looked from his plate to him with a questioning look, but he grinned and winked in response.

  Gabe and Warren talked about classes Gabe was taking and the easy, loving banter was almost soothing. The familial conversation relaxed me, and my mind did it again. I imagined sitting with these men routinely shooting the breeze while dishing out an occasional good-natured barb or two.

  I inhaled and stirred my coffee even though it didn’t need it. A sudden craving for bourbon in my java hit me and I remembered what I needed to do. Without fail, I needed to hit a Narcotics Anonymous meeting.

  The side of Brock’s torso nudging me jarred me from my thoughts.

  “Baby, are you okay?” he muttered close to my ear.

  I left my spoon in the coffee cup, and grabbed my fork to spear a strawberry. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine. Sorry, I just spaced out.”

  “You need topping up?” Gabe asked, eyeing my coffee mug.

  Shaking my head, I swallowed, and blurted, “Oh, no. Too much caffeine’s not good for me.”

  Brock put his fork down, then he snatched the napkin out of my lap and tucked it next to my plate. I put my fork down to grab the napkin, but Brock grabbed my hand and stood.

  “We’ll be right back.”

  “What—” I breathed and struggled to keep up with his long strides.

  He dragged me out of the building and out of sight of the windows before he stopped. Backing me up to the brick wall, he stood directly in my space. “What’s wrong, Cecilia?”

  His earnest eyes demanded an answer. “Nothing. Truly. Let’s just get done, then—”

  Earnest gave way to incredulous. “‘Get done?’ You trying to get done with me?”

  “I’m not good enough for you,” I admitted.

  He shook his head. “That sounds like a load of bullshit. How would you know who’s good enough for me or not?

  I knew it wasn’t me. In the few minutes I’d sat in the living room waiting with Warren, I noticed a few text books about Criminal Law. While Gabe and Warren were talking at the table, it became clear Gabe had yet to declare a major, which meant those text books belonged to Brock. How could a girl like me, a former criminal – even if I hadn’t been convicted or arrested – be good enough for a man like him? I couldn’t. He needed a good girl, and that would never be me.

  “I just know that I’m not that girl.”

  “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  My eyes widened. “No joke! The first time we shared more than five words was ten hours ago. There’s plenty I haven’t told you and that you don’t know about me. I just—”

  “This is done,” he said, as he lowered his head and kissed me quiet.

  It was a helluva kiss, and it surprised me. All of the kisses we had had been out of the park, but this one contained more passion because both of us were irritated. He slanted his head and it seemed like he dragged his upper teeth across my bottom lip on purpose. Something inside me snapped. I drove my fingers into his hair and surged up on my toes. His arms wrapped around my waist, yanking me to his hard body.

  My breasts were swelling and a throb built between my legs. I tried to break free from him, but he came after me, not letting me break the kiss.

  A woman’s low-pitched voice grumbled, “Damn, that’s hot. You need to kiss me like that, Tim,” and Brock finally pulled away, but rested his forehead against mine.

  “Fuck,” he whispered.

  I exhaled so I wouldn’t speak. Something in his eyes told me he knew I was holding back my own agreement.

  “So, we’re done?” I asked quietly.

  Brock canted his head. “Why the fuck would you say that?”

  “You said, ‘This is done.’”

  Brock chuckled. “I did, but I meant the asinine conversation was done. Not us. Hell, after a kiss like that, no way we’re done. I get you riled up and that’s what I get in return, I can only imagine what angry sex with you will be like.”

  I pressed my lips together because not only was he right, he was turning me on –again– and I was trying to stifle my laughter.

  His hands framed my face. “And another damn thing...” He paused for quite a while. “Don’t tell me you’re ‘not good enough’ ever again. Let’s go. If we’re lucky, your food will still be warm.”

  IT HAPPENED WHILE BROCK and Warren argued about the bill. Gabe’s vision shifted over my shoulder and a puzzled look crossed his face. I looked over my shoulder and my stomach went to my feet.

  Dr. Scibearis was sauntering our way with an odd look on her face. At all of my appointments with her, she always looked expertly put together. Her pantsuits had crisp lines and no wrinkles. She accessorized like a boss, which gave her a no-nonsense air. Now, though she was dressed to the nines as usual, the confidence she normally oozed was gone.

  I thought about calling out to her, but then I’d have to explain who she was and how I knew her. Not the ideal situation, so I turned around hoping she would keep her distance.

  She drew near our table, stopped short, and after a moment’s hesitation turned to us.

  “Warren,” she said, and it was the gentlest tone of voice I had ever heard from her.

  Warren looked up at her, closed his eyes, dropped his head a touch, and sighed loudly. Brock took her in, looked to his father, then Gabe, and back to the woman. As I watched Brock, Gabe, and Dr. Scibearis, a foreboding feeling grew in my belly. Something wasn’t right here, and I desperately wanted to leave.

  “Pauline,” Warren finally said in a low voice. “It’s nice to see you, but—”

  “But what?” she asked. “It’s funny how fate can step into the fray, isn’t it. There will never be a perfect time, why not now?”

  “What is she talkin’ about, Pop? And I’m sorry, but who are you?” Brock asked.

  She turned her eyes to Brock, and if I wasn’t mistaken, I could see she was where Brock got his striking cheekbones. “I would expect that of Gabe, but you don’t recognize me, Brock?”

  Anger rolled off Brock, and it was all I could do not to run from this uncomfortable scene.

  “You cannot be our mother,” he whispered.

  That was when Dr. Scibearis noticed me. She just looked at me, and damn my mother’s incessant good-mannered nature she’d forced on me, I stupidly blurted, “Dr. Scibearis.”

  I clamped my mouth shut immediately, realizing my mistake.

  Brock’s head swiveled to me. “You know her?”

  G
abe looked between me and Dr. Scibearis. “That is some fucked-up shit. You helped her find us, what a bitch.”

  “No,” Warren and Dr. Scibearis said, but I could only whisper it. I shoved away from the table, nabbed my purse and raced away from the restaurant.

  Chapter Four

  An Extenuating Excuse

  It wasn’t the first time I ever ran while wearing a dress and high heels, but just like the last time I ran in heels, I swore to everything holy it would be the last. A trendy-looking pizza place loomed in the distance, and it was late enough in the morning that they were open. I zipped inside and my nose picked up on one scent. Alcohol.

  This wasn’t a good place for me to be, but only a sliver of me acknowledged it. My craving for something to obliterate my mind was too strong. I had a full belly, so even if I went with a light beer, it would take five of them to get me anywhere near a decent buzz. Sitting down on a barstool, I took in the place. It was crowded for eleven in the morning on a Sunday. The far side of the restaurant was walled off and it looked like people were bowling, but I knew that wasn’t right.

  A bartender ambled up to me. “It’s bocce ball. We’re the only place in town with it inside a restaurant. I’d say you should give it a try, but that group over there’s in our league and they are stick-up-their-ass serious about practicing.”

  I turned to the woman speaking to me, and saw she had an up-turned button nose, hot-pink lips, and hair that was blonder than mine.

  “So, what’re you having? For another hour, our endless mimosas are running or you might like a Boxcar Willy. Slice of our pizza with a PBR. Not sure why, but I get the feeling you need a drink.”

  Before I could tell her I’d take the mimosa deal, my phone buzzed in my purse. I pulled it out, and saw I had missed a call from Lisa, my Narcotics Anonymous sponsor; the time stamp told me the call came in while Brock dragged me out of the IHOP. My text icon was highlighted, and I saw Lisa had just texted.

  Where are you? I called twenty minutes ago and you didn’t answer. Please let me know you’re okay.

  I started to text, and realized the bartender was still waiting on me.

  “Sorry. Um, yeah, I’ll do the mimosa deal. Not sure if I’ll have any food just yet though. Thanks.”

  She nodded at me, but her eyes were concerned.

  I grabbed my phone and returned Lisa’s text.

  I’m at a pizza place.

  I didn’t send it. It wasn’t the whole truth. I should’ve included I had just ordered a drink. I should’ve said I was ready to find someone who could help me score a hit.

  I hated the idea of Lisa worrying about me, so I tapped the send button.

  Those jumping dots appeared, and I thought about turning off the phone but I didn’t.

  Are you alone? Your roommate said you went home with a man last night.

  I shook my head. Lisa was older than me, but not as old as my mother. It didn’t stop her from having a mothering tendency. The day she dropped by my apartment, she managed to introduce herself to my roommate Kendall, and they hit it off. I didn’t know why, but for some reason we had a landline in our apartment, and Lisa would call it looking for me. If Kendall picked up, the two of them would chat for ages before Lisa spoke to me.

  The bartender placed a white cocktail napkin on the bar, and set my mimosa on it. I thanked her and admired the champagne glass. It was garnished with a curl of orange peel and a cherry sat on top. I had never seen a mimosa done with a cherry on top, but with the morning I was having, it spoke to me. Plucking the cherry by the stem, I bit the fruit off and set the stem on the napkin.

  As I chewed, the taste of champagne hit my tongue and it felt like nirvana. My mind went back to how insanely good sex was with Brock after not getting laid for nine months. Would my first drink be the same way?

  I shoved that out of my mind and started typing again.

  I’m alone. He took me to breakfast, but it got weird. Can’t talk about it. I’ll be home in an hour or two. Call you then.

  I powered off the phone, and picked up the glass.

  “That is not a good idea, Cecilia,” Dr. Scibearis said from behind me.

  I shot a sideways glare her way, and the petulant part of me wanted to tip the whole thing down my throat without savoring it, but that would be abusive. To the alcohol, and to me. Setting the glass down, I turned to her.

  “The not-good idea was you approaching a table where I was having breakfast.”

  “I did not see you there until it was too late, Cecilia. You must believe that. And I didn’t say anything to you. Frankly I’m surprised you did.”

  My hands lifted questioningly from the bar for a moment. “I couldn’t help it, with you standing there just staring at me. It slipped. But you couldn’t just pass right by. Now, your youngest son thinks I’m part of some grand master-manipulator plan of yours, and honestly? I can see exactly where he’s coming from.”

  “Elaborate, please.”

  My eyes hardened on her. “Oh, no. This is not a session. I’m not about to elaborate on that.”

  I grabbed the glass and took a large gulp. The harsh bitterness of orange juice and champagne punched my taste buds and I swallowed. So good. As the liquid ran down my esophagus, my traitorous mind said, so bad.

  I hated feeling so schizophrenic about something many other people could take or leave at will.

  I put the glass back on the bar and pushed it away.

  “This may not be a session, Ms. Lyons, but you should think about this. Whatever that first sip made you feel, is not what you should focus on.”

  I tilted my head back momentarily. “You think I don’t know that? After months of living at a rehab facility plus the meetings and the sharing, that I don’t know it’s wrong?”

  Powering my phone back up, I had to wait before I could get into the Uber app. I pulled a twenty from my purse, and put it on the bar.

  “Cecilia, another thing to think about for our session this week is, if you went home with Brock last night, why were you having breakfast with him and his family? That’s not what we discussed.”

  I laughed a humorless laugh. In a voice so low it was nearly a whisper, I said, “Yeah. It was not what I planned on happening. But, life has a way of fucking up the greatest of plans, now doesn’t it?”

  My every instinct was to chug the rest of the drink, but drawing on willpower I didn’t know I had, I didn’t. Once I put in my order for an Uber, I left Dr. Scibearis at the bar.

  WHEN I ARRIVED BACK at my apartment, I said a quick hello to Kendall, who was watching Jane the Virgin on Netflix. Her eyes told me she wanted to interrogate me, but I was in no mood. After I had a quick conversation with Lisa, I grabbed some clothes and hit the shower.

  For Christmas my Me-Maw gave me a deluxe box set of my favorite perfume and it came with shower gel. I decided today was a day for the fancy stuff, and grabbed the shower gel.

  Washing my body, I couldn’t help but remember how physical Brock was in bed. We were really good together, but the scene at IHOP drove reality home. I wasn’t ready for someone like him. His family seemed well-balanced, and even though he sniped at his brother here and there, the two of them had what seemed to be a good relationship.

  I couldn’t say any of that.

  Tennille was trying her best, but that was just it. She was always trying too hard. It didn’t say much about me, but the more she tried, the more of a twat I became. However, living a good two and a half hours from her was helping.

  As I put my clothes on, my stomach growled. I would have thought the French toast breakfast would have stuck with me longer, but my phone lit up and I saw it was close to one o’clock. Thunder rumbled outside, and I decided a sandwich followed by a nap was exactly what the doctor ordered.

  I had my sandwich in hand and was standing at our breakfast bar, which did not compare to the breakfast bar at Brock’s place at all, when Madison, my other roommate, stomped out to the living room and plopped onto the couch with a loud
harrumph sound.

  “What’s her problem?” I asked Kendall, who was sitting on a stool across from me.

  “She caught Max watching porn.”

  “Oh,” I whispered.

  I looked to Madison, and could tell she’d heard us. So I said, “It’s what guys do.”

  She scowled at me. “They shouldn’t if they have a woman.”

  I arched a brow so I wouldn’t tell her she was being closed-minded. The silence stretched and she said, “I bet Van doesn’t do that.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Who?” she and Kendall asked back.

  “Yeah—” I drawled but then it dawned on me. “Oh, you mean, Brock.”

  Kendall widened her eyes at me. “Uh, yeah. Brock. DJ Van, Sully, that fine-ass man you finally went home with last night. Didn’t you know he’s the reason we go there?” She shook her head but gave me a hard look. “A lot of bitches are jealous you snagged him.”

  My lips twisted skeptically. “Wouldn’t say I ‘snagged’ him. It was one night.”

  “Whatever, Ceil. You spent the night, and word is he doesn’t take women to his place. And damn sure doesn’t stick around for breakfast. I can’t tell you how many convos in the bathroom I’ve overheard about trying to get his attention.”

  I shook my head.

  Madison went back to her rant. “Still. I bet money Van doesn’t watch porn when he’s got a woman.”

  I didn’t know one way or the other, but my mind filled with the vision of Brock and I watching porn together. Yum. Maybe. Having been on the receiving end of nearly everything seen in porn, it would have to be tasteful, to say the least.

  I gave Madison a look. “You might think about going easy on him. Never know, try watching with him, and–”

  “Ew! Are you crazy?”

  No, but I was thinking she was. Kendall opened her mouth to say something, but three loud, short knocks rent the air. My brows furrowed because it sounded just like a cop-knock if ever I heard one.

  My roommates exchanged a look and Madison said, “If that’s Max, I’m not here.”