by M. C. Cerny
Banging at my door disrupts the dark thoughts. Depressed, I slog over to the peep hole and look out. Some smart ass has their hand blocking the hole. Exasperated, I rolled my eyes, already knowing who it is. “Who’s there?”
“A special delivery for Miss Cole.” Sure it is. The hand moves, and I see James and his infuriating, good-looking self, standing outside my door in his well-fitted smart suit.
“What kind of special delivery?” I cross my arms over my ample chest; my patience is sorely tested today. James’ brand of special is usually the kind that melts my panties off and gets me in deep shit with the FCC.
“Telephone delivery.” His Monday board meeting must be over, and he’s come directly here. I’m a mix of overlapping core emotions. Happy. Sad. Fearful. Angry.
“I didn’t order a phone.” Shouting through the cheaply constructed door, I roll away, leaning against it. I bang my head back against the wall and turn to look back at the door. My attention is drawn right to the peephole. I’m still mad at him, I remind myself, but I care about him more than I do the annoyance I feel.
“Sure you did. Because I couldn’t reach you on the cheap piece of garbage sitting on your nightstand. Babe, open the door.” He’s demanding, and I think about everything that’s transpired in the extremely short time since we crossed the line from boss and employee to intimate partners.
Squeezing my fists, I say, “I can’t do this James. It’s all too much. You’re too much.” I try to will the tears away. For all the ways he’s made me feel amazing, I’ve lost so much. If I end this now, I’ll save myself tons of heartache and disappointment. Just do it. Tell him it’s over, my mind argues with my needy heart. All those mushy feelings were worth avoiding to protect my little bubble, which is now obliterated by what happened on-air.
“Can we not do this through your apartment door? Please Casey.” I peek out again noticing the bob of his throat, his missing tie and how his hair looks like his hands have done nothing but run his fingers through it for hours.
“I like my door. The door feels safe.” I hear his feet shuffle and what I think is an exasperated huff of air on the other side.
“You’re afraid I’m going to swallow you up whole and take away your control.” James rails against the door, using his pop psychology to coax me. It’s the bang of his fist a moment later— angry, hard, and loud against the door—that makes me jump away for a moment. The vibrations shake me and dust floats from the ceiling in my shithole of a place. I have to fight with myself to keep from opening the door and letting him in.
I let my cheek rest against the door, tracing the grooves and indentations of the frame. My fingers crave to clutch the knob and turn it open, but I don’t. “Well, aren’t you, James? Overwhelming me. It’s what you’ve done so far.” I’m referring to his episodes of uncontrolled anger.
“I would never hurt you, Casey… whatever you’re thinking, stop.” Now isn’t that the crux of this? I can’t stop thinking about it. “Open the door so we can talk about this. Please.” I struggle to decide what to do and my hesitation is frightening me.
“James, I think we need…” I take a breath to gather my words, but he interrupts me.
“No, sweetheart. I want us to fight this together so we don’t have to deal with it ever again. I want us to always be stronger than the bullshit brewing here. We’ve got to talk about this.” Squeezing my eyes shut, I ask my higher power for the strength to keep the tears at bay—I’ve done too much crying with this man. Biting my lip, I slip the chain from the door, hoping this isn’t a mistake, and open it a crack. Our foreheads meet, barely grazing each other, but that touch is light itself.
“Casey, open the door. Open the possibility of our future.” James chokes the words out. I know how lost he feels—about as lost as I do. I open the door all the way, giving him another chance to tear me apart.
“James.”
“Baby.” He pushes the door open, forcing me to step back, and scoops me up in his arms, holding me tighter than ever and squeezing the anger I had for him out of my heart. He tosses the new phone, still in its box, on my couch and continues to walk through my apartment, pushing things and doors out of his way until he drops me lightly on my bed and crawls over me, pinning my arms above my head with no resistance. Our lips meet briefly, barely touching in a kiss born of hurt, sorrow and penance.
Shamelessly, I’m already wet and willing for all things James. This is the safest I’ve been and the most home I’ve felt since this whole thing started. Giving him a second chance feels like I’m willingly burning myself, especially if I’m wrong.
“God, I missed this. Missed you.”
“It’s been forty-eight hours, you crazy man.” He pushes against me, hard and soft meeting in all the right places, and I’m dizzy with want for him all over again.
“I don’t care if it’s been an hour or a week. I love you.” James lingers with kisses over my face, neck, and lower.
He frowns and it doesn’t escape his notice that I haven’t said the words he longs to hear back. “James, you can’t say things like that.” Part of me wants to push him far away—being alone is safe—but he pushes right back, and the words roll off his tongue like delicious torture to my ears.
“I do love you—so much more than I realized.”
It’s the shock that brings me back to reality for a second.
“James. We need to close the door.” Our limbs tangle and clothes are pushed aside as I struggle to get free from his hold.
“I don’t care who knows how I feel about you.” James continues, but someone needs to be the voice of reason here. He scared me two days ago, made me mad beyond reason, and now this. I grab the side of his chest and pinch him. “Casey!”
“The door, James. Shut the fucking door.” With a smile he pushes off me. I don’t want or need another damn audience.
A smirk crosses his face. “Sure, Casey, but when I get back, you better be naked and waiting.” James exits my bedroom with a swagger in his hips he shouldn’t deserve. Rolling my eyes, all I can do is rush to strip down before he gets back because I am such an idiot in love or lust or whatever, willing to lose everything over this man.
26
James
Separating from Casey sucked. Going to the board meeting sucked even more, but it was a necessary evil. Despite having a sixty percent share of the company, I still lost the vote to keep Casey’s contract because of the way the damn bylaws are written. No amount of percentages would sway the votes. I feel awful about it, but my snarky lawyers advised me not to physically assault anyone over it. I had to hold back when Elroy made his snide comments. My fists hurt from clenching them under the table. My leg was sore from the kick my lawyer gave me as the board gave their decision. That little asshole was going to get his due, just not with my aching fists today.
I paid out the FCC fine, half from company funds and half from my own because there was no way in hell I was going to let Casey worry about coming up with a million dollars for something she didn’t do. I didn’t really want to pay out non-returnable funds to the government, but I wasn’t left with much of a choice… at least until we figured out what the heck happened with that recording, a copy of which was now in the hands of a highly recommended security firm I called in New York City.
Giving Casey the space I thought she needed was tough. I made a shit ton of calls to keep myself busy, but it didn’t work for long. The contact who got me in touch with Reed Securities assured me that these guys were good. Damn good for the price I had to pay up front for their services. I didn’t care if they asked for my kidney or a hand full of fingers as long as they kept Casey safe and figured out who was doing this shit at my station.
Hurriedly, I stopped to get her a new phone and made sure it had all the bells and whistles on it. Eli Bennett, the expert from Reed Securities, had instructed me which model and brand would be best for the GPS tracker he would put in it. According to Eli, I could access Casey’s whereabouts from m
y own smartphone and hook it up to a call recorder. I didn’t have intentions of controlling her or listening to her phone calls like some creepy asshole boyfriend, I just wanted to keep Casey safe. I fully realized how weird this was and how it would look if she found out. Eli assured me it was a standard protocol given the stalker situation at the station.
As soon as I got to Casey’s apartment, I knew I was going to have my work cut out for me getting her to stay at my place, which has security round the clock, unlike her apartment here. Everything is happening with lightning speed, and with her stubborn streak, I worry it will push her away.
I planned to point out all the pros to staying with me and hope Casey doesn’t retreat with all the reasons she can’t. I crawl over her body, taking in the heat from her lush curves. A heady scent covers her like an aura, and I breathe her deeply in, letting her scent surround me and fill my chest.
“You know what I’d like, babe?” I trace her soft skin, brushing locks of her dark hair out of the way.
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me, James.” She’s sassy, and her lips lift in a coy smile.
I let my fingers follow the line of her collarbone and chest to circle a dusky rose-colored nipple. The peak stiffens at my touch, and a satisfied growl fights to be released at the back of my throat.
“So fresh…” I tug on the distended peak, earning a moan from between her bitten lips. “I want to make love to you in my bed next time and have you wake up in my house for a change.”
“Rich boy doesn’t enjoy slumming it on my Target bedsheets?” Casey has a way about her that makes me feel like an asshole when all I want to do is make life easier for her. Her defenses are up and strong, but I’m prepared to make this work.
Sighing, I continue to play with her beautiful breasts. “I’m hoping you’ll get too comfortable and never want to leave. I do have a king-size bed.” Casey makes a snorting sound, and I suck on her swollen nipple until she whimpers and her eyes flutter closed.
“What did you have in mind?” Her voice sounds forced as I continue enjoying her. I know what she’s asking; she’s afraid I’m asking her to leave her shitty apartment in this rattrap neighborhood. She’s absolutely right about that, but I need her to want to be with me more than she wants her independence. Sadly, I know we’re a far cry from that happening anytime soon.
“A sleepover, maybe?” I suck her other nipple into my mouth, squeezing the mounds in my hands as she writhes and arches her back toward me in yearning.
“For how long? Oh God, James.”
“For however long you want, babe.” Forever, but I’ll take tomorrow night if you’ll have me.
“You’re not going to be all cliché and shit and empty out a drawer for me, are you?”
Chuckling, I wonder how she knows and make a note to put the clothes I chucked in the closet back in the drawer. Roger that. Casey is not ready for empty drawers and hangers in the closet, even though I want her to be.
“Of course not. You’ll have to keep everything in your oversized purse in your designated corner of the bedroom. No tampons in the bathroom, and definitely no hair bands all over the place. Are those enough boundaries for you?” Casey giggles, and I return to admiring her full breasts, resting my head over her heart.
“I guess that works.” Casey runs her fingers through my hair and pulls my head back up. Our lips meet, and we kiss deeply, wiping out the last few days.
“I want inside you; staying away has made me crazy. Promise you won’t disappear on me. Promise you’ll come stay at my place and give us a chance to figure this out.” Roughly, I pull her down to me, our lips connecting on ragged breaths.
“James, I want that, too.”
This time I savor Casey, making love to her the way love should be felt and experienced. I still want her over my knee at times, but I’ll take her anyway she’ll have me.
We lay in the darkness of her bedroom, our breathing unsteady and thoughts scattered. We turn toward each other and our fingers play on skin and hair. Slow strokes keep the fire between us kindling and baited.
“How did your meeting turn out?” Her voice is hushed.
I knew we would have to discuss the board’s decision—the one I tried to alter. The one time I should have kept my dick in my pants and been responsible, I didn’t, and look where it got us. I feel like I failed her.
“James?”
“I tried, Casey, I really tried. But the board terminated your position, especially with the FCC breathing down their necks. Bunch of white-haired pansies in suits.”
“I know you tried, but we sort of knew it was inevitable. I just wish I knew who had such a hard-on for us that they programmed the sound bite.”
“Cowards, whoever they are. I’m going to find out who did it, and I’m going to nail them to the wall and make sure they never work in radio or anywhere else again.” My jaw clenches and releases, but she touches my face lightly, keeping me centered.
“I wonder if the FCC has a payment plan.” Ever the worrier. I run a finger between her furrowed brows, smoothing the wrinkled skin.
“I’d tell you not to worry about that anymore, but I have a feeling you’re going to be mad at me… again.”
“What did you do, James?” Casey must be in a better mood because her tone isn’t as accusatory or pissed as I expected. She sounds tired. It must be all the sex I used to exhaust her.
“It’s not so much what I did. I just made the company pay the fine—both directly and indirectly.” My wallet could use a little thinning out, and this girl is worth every hard-earned penny I have.
“I want so badly to be mad at you, but I think my chest just got a hundred pounds lighter.”
“Good, that means you’ve got room for me on top.” I roll over Casey, parting her legs and sinking deep between them again. I’d give anything to stay crazy with this girl in my life.
I spent the night with Casey, and after a repeat session of love my way, we ordered in, completely famished for some of our favorite greasy cheesesteaks. Cheese dribbles down our chins from the tasty sandwich with fried onions, peppers and mushrooms nestled between crunchy bread rolls and thin slices of juicy meat. No matter where I’ve traveled, or what five star restaurant I’ve eaten at, there’s nothing comparable to the cheesesteaks in Philadelphia. I’d swear by them and sitting here with Casey eating my favorite food feels like home.
For a while, everything is great and peaceful. We don’t talk about all the issues hanging between us, and admittedly, I don’t want to right now. We watch reruns of old SNL episodes on her small TV, laughing and falling asleep in a tangle of limbs on her couch, pillows buffeting the rough coils that threaten to poke through. It’s simple, uncomplicated, and the best kind of date night I’ve ever had. We’re happy, and in the morning, I kiss her sweet face, brushing hair off her shoulders and letting her know I’ll call her later to plan for Wednesday. I’ve decided that today is going to be a much better day.
27
Casey
Thick smoke wraps around my throat like constricting bands of ribbon. I wake, gasping and unable to catch my breath with the heaviness crushing my throat. I’m sweaty and confused. It’s Wednesday morning, and I’m supposed to see James later today, but I’m at a loss. Struggling in the dark, I try to find my phone. The acrid smell burns my nose and produces stinging tears that blind me for a moment. The apartment is dark, and it looks like the power is out.
Finally, I find my phone and slide my finger over the screen; the time reads 4:49 a.m. It’s early for most and especially for me, given the schedule I used to keep. Disorientated, I stand up, clutching my aching head, phone clasped in my palm as I wander the apartment. Maybe I should call 911, but I want to see what I’m dealing with. The smoke is lighter here in the bedroom than it is in my living room. A deep, almost green, haze fills my apartment as lights from across the street filter into my living room with ghostly vapors. Warmth licks at my legs, and the crash and boom startle me into a crouched position on
the floor. My legs are unsteady like new born horses and my body struggles to wake up fully this early hour of the morning. I wonder if this is it as I struggle to get back up again. Glass shatters from another apartment—next door, maybe—but I’m not sure. Yelling grows outside my door, and I shake to keep myself coherent. I think there might be a fire in my building, but no alarms have gone off yet, which is strange.
Without thinking, I push the chain above my door and grab the doorknob. “Shit!” The damn thing is scalding hot! I cradle my hand against my chest while frantic energy buzzes around me. The zinging tender pain from my hand gets the adrenaline going, and numbness tingles in my fingers and toes. I need to get out of here, I need air to breath, and this is all consuming me too fast.
I look around my apartment for something to open the door and run to my bathroom to grab a towel off the rack. My hand is throbbing as I run back to the living room bare feet padding against the hardwood floor. Sweat slicks my brow as a sickening feeling comes over me. Using the towel, I jerk the door open to find the hallway filled with dark smoke. There aren't any visible flames, but that means nothing. I don’t know where the fire is, and I’m two flights up. I don’t have time to grab anything—not even shoes. I run out into smoke so thick, I double over and drop the towel. Trying to crab walk, I hurry down one flight to find the fire is on the first floor. Flames cover the cheap, thin walls and pulse upwards to where I am. Terrified, I sit there frozen.
“Come on, let’s go.” Someone behind me grabs my injured hand, pulling and jerking me forward. The pain is excruciating, and I snatch my hand back. It’s Devin, my creepy neighbor. We waste a second, our eyes locked, mine wary and unmoving. I don’t know whom I can and whom I can’t trust, but he doesn’t give me time to respond. Instead, he pulls me down the next flight of stairs, the fire surrounding us quickly.
