Abandoned Girl (Neighpalm Industries Collective, #1)

by Winston, Lexie

  “I’ve just finished my last year at Tufts, and I also work on a horse farm.” By now, most guys' eyes glaze over, but his smile only grows, making him damningly more handsome.

  “Is that where these calluses come from?” he asks, grabbing one of my hands and running a thumb across the palm. I blush slightly. I know my hands are rough and not smooth and dainty. Surprisingly, he can see the faint glow on my cheeks in the dim light because he’s quick to offer reassurance. “Don't be ashamed of working hard; I think it’s sexy.” He lifts my hand to his mouth, his eyelashes fluttering as he places a light kiss on my palm. My blush deepens, equal parts liking the attention and being slightly mortified by it.

  “Well, your flirting skills just improved tenfold,” I mumble, pulling my hand away, and his smile widens.

  “Race horses or equestrian?” he asks as the burn in my cheeks fades.

  “Actually, neither. We train them for movies,” I tell him, taking another sip of my drink.

  His eyes widen in surprise. “Wow. That sounds like fun. Is it dangerous?”

  I shrug my shoulders. “It can be, but the people I work for have been doing it for a long time now, so we have the process down. Sometimes you get a particularly stubborn horse, but patience and perseverance are the keys.”

  I start to ask him about himself, but before I can get a word out, a gleam enters his eye, and he blurts out, “Now tell me something that hardly anyone knows about you. Quick! Don't think too hard, the first thing to pop into your head.”

  “I watch a lot of abandoned building videos on YouTube,” rushes out of my mouth before I can stop it. Again, my cheeks burn with embarrassment, and I quickly take another drink to hide it. Fuck! Way to go, Harlow, let the hottie know how lame and weird you are.

  He looks a little confused, and the cutest furrow appears in his forehead when he raises an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about. Will you explain it to me?” He smiles encouragingly at me, and I actually believe him. For reasons unknown, I start to feel a little more comfortable, trusting that I can tell him this silly part of me that even my best friend makes fun of. I put down my drink and pull my phone out of the top of my dress, his eyes lingering on where I removed it from, sending a thrill through my body. Opening the YouTube app, I show him the last video I was watching. He leans in close, and I catch another whiff of his intoxicating scent.

  “There are these videographers that go around and explore abandoned buildings. Sometimes it's a house, and sometimes it’s hospitals or factories and even amusement parks. They’re places people have just up and abandoned for whatever reason. I find it fascinating that there are people who can do that or would do that, and I know this sounds silly, but I feel sorry for the buildings. Just left abandoned, not even cared about enough to clean them up and sell them, sometimes not enough even to clear them out.”

  The words rush out of my mouth in one go, barely time to take a breath. When I peek up at him, he’s looking back at me thoughtfully, but there’s no pity or mockery in his eyes even though after that little rant he must realize that maybe I’m a little bit more sensitive than most. The look in his eyes is completely understanding. That he too may know what it feels to be abandoned. Shaking my head, I turn my phone off and shove it back in the top of my dress.

  A wicked gleam enters his eye as he leans closer and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Your phone is very lucky.” The awkward tension is broken instantly with his silly behavior, and I give his juvenile comment a juvenile reaction by sticking my tongue out at him. We sit quietly after that, talking about nothing particular. It’s comfortable, and I find myself leaning into him, relaxing as we sip our drinks, my foot tapping along to the music. He sees it and offers me a hand. “Would you like to dance?”

  “Over there?” I ask, nodding toward the VIP dance floor, and he nods, so I shake my head, screwing up my nose. “No, thanks, that's not my kind of dance floor.”

  A relieved look crosses his face, and he runs a hand through his hair, messing it up slightly and giving him a just out of bed look. “Oh, thank God, me neither. Would you like to go downstairs?” I look at him in wonder, and he must see the surprise because a teasing smile curls his lips.

  “Just because I like to drink in peace and quiet doesn’t make me a snob.” He stands up, grabbing my hand, and a thrill of excitement runs through me. “Leave the drinks. Nobody will touch them, and we can always get fresh ones later.”

  Tugging on my arm, I stumble after him. He seems to be in a hurry, getting through the crowded VIP area without stopping to talk to the people who quite obviously know him if the shouts of “hello” are anything to go by. Who is this guy? Max raises an eyebrow then shoots me a thumbs up, mouthing, “Get it, girl” as we go past. She puts her hand to her ear in the universal “Call me” sign, so I just nod before turning and following Jaxon down the stairs. From the back, his ass is spectacular. Rounded and defined, perfect for sinking your teeth into. If he can dance as well as he looks, he might be worth a night of fun.

  He pulls me into the writhing mass, elbowing his way through until he finds a spot that must be dead center. The smell of sweat and sex fills the air as the smoke drifts lazily around. The strobe lights flickering on and off create a disjointed atmosphere, bodies flowing around us, the pulsing beat sending vibrations up through the floor and into my body. He pulls me in, my back to his front, and we start to move with the rhythm. The seamless way our bodies fit and move together blows my mind. We sway and grind in time to the music, his hands on my hips, his breath in my ear—a shiver of desire spikes down my spine to my core. The two of us flow together almost as one, and I’m kind of amazed to have found someone who fits with me so well. Bringing up my arm, I loop it around his neck. One of his hands wraps around my waist and runs lazy circles on my stomach, stoking the flames of desire higher. It’s like we’re in our own little bubble; the music is still present, guiding our bodies, but the rest of the world is fading away until all focus is brought to each of the places where we touch. The sexual tension between us is palpable as his mouth starts to nibble on my neck, and his hand drifts lower. I can feel the bulge in his pants rubbing against my lower back, so I grind back on it, and his breath hitches slightly. We stay like that for what seems like hours, no words, just complete synchronicity through movement, something I’ve never felt before with any other person I've been with.

  Eventually, he turns me to face him, and we stop. Both of us breathing heavily from the dancing and the sexual tension, he slowly runs his hand up to cup my cheek. Leaning in, he places a gentle kiss on my lips like he's testing the waters, but I am way too far gone for that and yank him against me hard, my mouth crashing against his, and we become a frenzy of hands, lips, and tongues, wrestling for dominance. A groan leaves my mouth; his leg rubs against my pussy as he tugs me harder against his thigh. I spent my college years having one night stands, avoiding the pitfalls and demands of relationships, but it’s been a while, and I’m looking forward to where this may lead.

  A voice shouting “Get a room!” finally drags us apart from each other. He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the crowd toward the exit. I stumble a couple of times, and he slows down and steadies me by wrapping his arm around me. We’ve almost made our way to the double doors of the exit when I think I hear my name shouted. Turning to look, I see Maxine chasing after us, a worried frown on her face and her phone in her hand. Stopping, I tug on Jaxon’s hand to make him wait, promptly leaning down to check in with me. “I’ll go get us a taxi,” he whispers in my ear, and I nod my head in agreement. He disappears through the doors as I wait for Maxine to catch up.

  She’s breathing heavily when she gets to me. She looks rattled, and Maxine usually isn’t fazed by much, so I’m instantly concerned. “I just got a message from Dad. He’s asked us to come home right away.” My heart starts to beat wildly as we push through the outer doors together.

  “Is it Melinda?” She shakes her head, a little bit of panic le
aving her eyes although the frown is still present.

  “No, he said Mom’s fine but wouldn't tell me anything else.” We pass the bouncer on the way out, and he nods to us as we enter the street. The line for the club is still huge, and people are milling about looking for late-night transport. Maxine is on her phone, probably ordering an Uber, when I spot Jaxon waving at me from next to a cab. I rush over to him, disappointment forming a lump in my stomach that’s only made worse by the suspense of not knowing what has Chuck so upset.

  “I have to go; we’ve got a family emergency. She's just getting an Uber,” I tell him, pointing to Max.

  “Oh no, I'm sorry. Here, take this one then.” The disappointment in his eyes matches how I feel, the brilliant color of his gaze seeming to dim. My desire to get home outweighs my need to be polite, and I take his offer gratefully.

  “Thank you.” Waving to Max, I gesture to the cab, and she quickly hurries over, canceling her Uber as she does. She smiles gratefully at Jaxon and slides in, her worry overruling her usual politeness.

  Kissing him on the cheek, I tell him, “I’ve had a great time. Maybe we can do it again sometime.” Not waiting to hear his response in case he doesn't want a repeat, I follow her into the cab, and he closes the door before it speeds off. Turning to look out the back window, I watch him standing there, hands in his pockets and a sad look on his face as he fades into the distance.

  Suddenly, a thought occurs to me. “Fuck! I didn't get his number.” I bang my head against the cab window in disappointment. We didn't talk much, but I’d felt an instant connection with him, a soul-deep kind of link, and the sexual attraction was off the freaking charts. A change of undies is the first thing I’m going to need when we get home.

  “I’m sure you’ll see him again at the club if we go back.” Understandably, Max is all kinds of distracted as she checks her phone for more messages from her dad.

  “Yeah. Maybe,” I reply, but deep down, I know the likelihood is slim.

  Chapter Three

  Harlow

  Max and I sit up straight when we see the flashing blue and red lights reflecting off the landscape as the taxi drives down their long, tree-lined driveway. The horses in the front paddocks are agitated and nervous, running back and forth along the fence line and kicking up a fine plume of dust that floats like mist in the still, dry night. Light shines through the windows of the house as Maxine pays the driver and we jump out, hurrying up the steps of their home. She pushes open the front door, calling out, “Mom, Dad, where are you?”

  “We’re in the kitchen.” Melinda's voice echoes down the long hallway to the entrance. We hurry in that direction, our heels clicking on the hardwood floors, building the tension in my body. A soundtrack to impending bad news, as what else can a police car at this time of the night mean?

  The smell of brewing coffee is strong as we enter the kitchen, and Maxine throws herself at her mom and dad, giving them big hugs. While they’re doing that, I study the two police officers sitting at the breakfast bar, coffee mugs in front of them.

  “The horses are going crazy out there. Could one of you turn the lights off in the police car?” I ask them, gesturing back toward the front. “I don’t want any of them getting injured.”

  The female officer pushes back her chair. “Of course, sorry, didn’t even think to turn them off before we came in,” she apologizes. Her standard-issue boots are quiet as she returns to the front of the house to fix the lights. Hopefully, the horses will settle now.

  Chuck leaves Melinda and Maxine, whispering to each, and walks over to me, pulling me into a hug. “Good thinking, Harlow. I didn't even realize, and I guess the guys must be out for the night.” He's talking about the two stablehands and the foreman that work for him, as well as Maxine and myself. “Take a seat, love.” He ushers me onto one of the stools before taking one next to me. “They need to ask you some questions.” My heart starts to pound in my chest, and a sick feeling develops in my stomach.

  “Me? What’s this about?” I ask the remaining officer. He’s older, probably about the same age as Chuck, and he has kind but tired eyes.

  “Thank you for returning so quickly. I’m Detective Brown, and this is my partner Detective Jones,” he says as the female officer returns to the kitchen. She sits down in front and flips open a notepad, giving me a small nod hello. I return it before looking back at Detective Brown.

  “Are you Harlow Stubbs, daughter of Diane Stubbs?” At this question, a wave of anger flows through my body.

  Snorting in disgust, I reply, “Yes, what’s that woman done this time?”

  The two officers look to each other before Detective Brown responds, “When was the last time you saw Diane?”

  It’s not hard for me to remember the last time I saw her, my back stiffening at the memory, my whole body on alert like it always is when I see her. “She showed up at the farm one morning two weeks ago, smelling of cigarettes and booze and high as a kite with her latest fuckboy. She wanted money.” Melinda’s gasp of dismay has me turning to face her and Maxine. “I gave her some cash I had and sent her on her way.”

  “Harlow, honey, we’ve told you to tell us when she does that,” Chuck admonishes me gently while wrapping an arm around my shoulders in comfort.

  “That was the day the director for that new movie was coming to check out the horses. I didn't want her to cause a scene,” I tell him. “She would’ve taken any chance to score some more money. You would have paid her to go away, and she knew that.”

  “And you haven't seen her since then?” the detective asks.

  I shake my head. “No, she hasn't been back since. Why are you asking this?”

  “I'm sorry to tell you this, Harlow, but your mother was found dead late this afternoon. We think it was from an overdose, but we’re waiting on an autopsy.” I should feel surprised at this announcement, but I'm not. This news is something that I’ve been expecting for as long as I knew who and what my mom really was. I just figured this was the way she would always end up, and it was a matter of time before I was in the position I am now. I look around the room, and I can see tears in Maxine and Melinda’s eyes, and Chuck rests a hand on me in comfort.

  I’m not sure how I’m supposed to react. I think I’m supposed to feel sad, but all I feel is relief. Like a huge weight is lifted off me. Like I don’t always have to be looking over my shoulder for her to pop up unannounced. She abandoned me years ago, but finally, it will be permanent. I'm just glad she won’t be causing trouble for me anymore.

  “Um, okay, do I need to do anything?” The officers look to each other in surprise at my reaction, and I feel defensive all of a sudden, this automatic need to protect myself. “Don’t you judge me. You have no clue what the woman has put me through over the years. You don’t know my situation; you don’t get to look surprised. You don't get to judge me.”

  They both fidget a little under my gaze, exchanging glances and generally looking uncomfortable at me calling them out. Detective Brown nods after a moment. “Yes, you're right. I apologize.” Detective Jones nods her agreement, looking a little ashamed. He continues. “We need someone to come down and identify the body. Could you do that for us? There’s also a matter of cleaning out her trailer.” The numbness gives way to annoyance. Even in death, she still causes problems.

  “Just trash everything; she has nothing that I want,” I tell them in a rush of words and anger.

  Both officers give me sympathetic looks, but Detective Jones has a note of steel in her voice. “We understand that, but the trailer park owner will not take responsibility for it, and, well, it’s better if a family member goes through their personal items.”

  Melinda walks over and hugs me, and I sink into her embrace, her maternal comfort a warm welcome to my numb soul. “I’m so sorry, baby girl. At one time, I considered her one of my closest friends. I always hated not being able to help her in any way. I tried; she just wasn't interested in it. Let me help you with this. In fact, we’ll al
l help. Chuck can go with you and identify the body with the coroners, and Maxine and I will head over to the trailer and get started. You can join us there when you’re finished. We’ll have everything dumped, so it’s done. Nothing to worry about.”

  Both detectives stand up. “Again, we’re sorry for your loss and thank you for cooperating. We’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Detective Brown says, and Detective Jones nods her head once more. They both thank Melinda for their coffees and disappear with Chuck down the hallway. Their voices fade the further they go.

  Maxine pulls up one of the stools they vacated and grabs my hand.

  “Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?” she asked me quietly. Shaking my head, I squeeze her hand in thanks.

  “No, not really, but kind of.” Amusement fills her eyes at my indecisiveness, not a normal experience for me. My childhood being so chaotic has made me into someone who likes to be in control. “Am I a bad person because I don’t feel sad? All I feel is guilt. Guilt because I don’t feel sad or upset.”

  “Oh, Harlow. You have no reason to feel guilty or sad. She burned those bridges many, many years ago.” A tear trickles down Maxine’s face. “You've got to let it go; you’ve got to let her stop bothering you. None of that woman's choices were yours. Nor is it your fault. Her lack of backbone and total disregard for anyone else was all on her.” She pulls me to my feet, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “Come on, you can stay in my room tonight. Let’s go and get some sleep; you’ve got shit to do tomorrow.”

  Wishing Melinda good night, we both head upstairs to Maxine’s bedroom. Silently, I remove the makeup from my face and climb into a spare pair of pajamas Maxine laid out for me. The familiar routine is a comfort to my chaotic thoughts, the reminder of more pleasant times when we were still kids and I had finally been taken away from that woman. This was my first place of security, my bed in the room that Maxine and I shared so many years ago. The feelings of finally having a place to belong and to feel wanted soothe my raw emotions.