by S. Ann Cole
My shoes felt like lead, my suit felt suffocatingly tight, my necklace felt like a yoke wearing me down, and I just wanted to strip them all off and run, run bare and free and unhidden.
I pushed at someone to get them out of my way, but they made a sudden sharp turn on me and I buckled and almost face-planted.
The person grabbed me in the nick of time. “Whoa there!”
Recognizing the voice, I looked up and saw Jake.
“Holy shiiiiit, Al-llyyy,” he slurred, drunk as a bat. “It’s true, my long time crush is in Ls As!”
I rolled my eyes. Jake was, as usual, loud and extra. “Nice seeing you, Jake, but how about we catch up another time when you’re not high off your ass.”
He bellowed out a laugh. “Stiiilll the same Ally, eh? G-gimme your digits. We have looots to talk about.”
Because he was too shitfaced to do it himself, I dipped into his pocket for his phone and programmed my number into it. As I tucked his phone back into his pocket, he looked over my shoulder and slurred, “Uh-ohhhh. Ding dong, someone’s greeeen.”
I turned to see Davian had caught up with me and was glowering at Jake.
“Jake, we’ll talk,” I said and took off.
“Ally!” Davian was still chasing me.
But I still needed air.
Finally free of the crowd, I careened into the hallway that led out to the entrance of the club. It was free of patrons, except for one person.
His back was turned to me, shoulder braced against the wall, and he was looking down at something.
In that moment, he was an element to me. Air. The element I needed, the element I was chasing.
In that moment, he was an object. A life saver. The buoy I needed to hang on to, to prevent me from drowning. The thing that would float me ashore, even with Davian—the cement brick—around my ankles.
I quickened my steps, racing to him, racing to air.
And just when I was close, just when my head was almost above water, a delicate feminine hand with long, pink nails crept over his shoulder and smoothed up to the side of his neck.
He wasn’t alone. His frame was just so imposingly male that it hid the petite female completely.
His blond head dipped lower, and the pink-nailed fingers curled into his golden strands.
I stopping struggling, gave up on air and let the weight of the brick pull me under.
Water filled my lungs.
Mel arrived outside the club right on time. Teetering in my heels, I skittered across the street and scooted into the back seat of the Rover.
“Everything alright, Miss O’Hara?” Mel asked, serious dark eyes assessing me in the rear-view mirror.
“Yeah.” My voice was audible only because of the confinements of the vehicle. “Home.”
Davian never followed me out. I’d run faster, left him drilling holes in the back of Xavier’s head.
Xavier had to have seen me run by his make-out session, but he was mega-rock star Xavier Xander, had 99 problems and I wasn’t one of them, so he didn’t care that I saw him. He was done with me.
He’s not that man anymore. That’s what his sister had claimed mere minutes before. Yeah, right.
I was being a deliberate bitch when I made the comment about him getting a blow-job in a hallway, but little did I know how close to the truth that was. Maybe if I’d been just five minutes later, I would have been spot on.
I wasn’t entirely certain what was affecting me more: Davian plunging a javelin straight through my heart and twisting it to ensure irreparable damage, making it clear there was, and never would be an ‘us’ again. Or, seeing another woman’s fingers in Xavier’s hair, on him, touching what was mine.
I wanted to believe that the soul-wrenching pain I was feeling right now was all about Davian, but it wasn’t. To be honest, I was painfully baffled how seeing Xavier with someone else had crippled me. Hurt so much more than Davian’s words.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this with him. He was meant to be a substitute. An interim fling. I was supposed to feel nothing at all for him but lust.
Yet somehow, I just had my heart broken twice, by two different men, in less than five minutes.
We hadn’t been driving for more than five minutes when Mel answered a phone-call then pulled over to the side of the road shortly thereafter.
“Miss O’Hara, I have to step out for a minute to check on something. Please remain in the car.”
My head snapped up and I sought her eyes in the rear-view mirror, then looked outside the windows. “What’s going on?”
Mel adjusted something on her waist. “Just stay put, Miss O’Hara.”
“Not unless you tell me what the hell is going on!”
She gave off an impatient sigh. “It’s nothing to panic about, but I think we’re being followed. It might be nothing. I just need to check it out to be sure. That’s all.”
Right then and there, I knew it. She wasn’t a mere gopher or personal driver. She was planted. By cousin Chad. To spy on me. A body guard, protection, without me being none the wiser.
I crossed my arms and pouted like a kid as Mel got out of the Rover. Chad was pushing it now. He behaved as if I were some mafia daughter who needed constant protection. I had no idea what went on in that man’s discombobulated head, but this was a step too far.
Headlights pierced through the back windshield, light flooding into the vehicle, and I turned and tried to make out what was going on.
Mel strode up to the driver’s window of a flashy sports car, hand on her holster like a cop, and the headlights immediately dimmed.
Brief words were exchanged, the driver’s door opened and a head popped up. When I saw who it was, I was out of the Range and moving toward the sports car in a matter of seconds.
“Davi?”
His gaze swung from Mel to me, then his chest swelled and released as though he’d been holding his breath for a lifetime.
He began moving toward me, but Mel put a halting hand to his chest and gave him a dipped-chin look. “Are you sure you want to do this, Hamilton?”
Davian shoved a hand through his hair, once, twice, then he took two steps back, and on sudden turn, he landed a swift kick to one of his headlights, muttering a string of expletives like a pissed off Mexican.
Spinning to face Mel again, he leaned in close to her and murmured something in a hushed voice. All I was able to make out was “just this once” and “to stay away”.
I had no clue what was going on, or how Davian and Mel even knew each other—if they knew each other. It sure seemed like they did.
Mel seemed to contemplate Davian’s words; she nodded and stepped aside, giving him clearance. She gave me a look I didn’t understand, took out her cell and turned her back to make a call.
Davian came to me. We stood a foot apart, staring at each other, words lost. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to touch the stubbles on his face and comb my fingers through hair.
Taking a step closer to him, I lifted a hand to touch the side of his face, but then, from out of nowhere, a surge of anger coursed through me and I used both hands to chuck him instead. “Why did you leave?”
“You sent me away.”
“Why did you stay away?” I cried, moving in even closer.
Tipped his head back, he stared up at the sky, as if counting the stars. No answer came. He wasn’t going to give me a goddamn explanation. And that angered me even more.
I chucked him again, and he took a step back from the force this time. “Why did you follow me?”
“I couldn’t make myself stop.”
Unwomanly, I growled, frustration blinding me, not knowing if I should launch into his arms or knee him in the balls.
This was Davian, with little to no words he could turn your world upside down. He didn’t need to say much, he only needed to stare at you with those eyes. He only needed to be there in front of you, and just like that, you would feel a trem
or beneath your feet, rocking your body to the core, shaking your heart out through your mouth.
“What do you want, Davi?”
“I…I don’t know.” He muttered a trail-mix of incoherent words to himself like a lunatic, turned in a full circle, stopped to face me again. “All I know is that you can’t be with him.”
This had me arching a brow. “Why can’t I?”
He went from looking shocked, to angry, to confused, to disappointed in one flying second. Jabbing a finger south, back in the direction of the club, he said, “After what you just saw back there, you really want more reasons why you shouldn’t?”
“It’s my decision to make,” I spat, pointing a finger to my chest. “Big deal, I’m in love with a man who just told me he’s in love with another woman!”
Davian’s head jerked back. “I never said that.”
Wait, what? Was I going crazy? “You never said what?”
“I never said I was in love with her.”
Okay. Yes. I was going crazy. Or maybe he was. “Are you suffering from short term memory or something? You ripped my heart out of my chest and tossed it in a blender back in that club when you told me you were in love with her.”
He looked at my lips, sighed, then whispered, “I told you I love her.”
“That’s what I just said.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s not.”
I threw my hands out. “It’s the same goddamn thing!”
Again, he shook his head, with a little smile this time. “No, it’s not.”
I straightened, glaring into those grinning blue eyes. “What are you saying, Davi?”
In the next second his hands were in my hair and his lips were on mine. Gripping his biceps for balance, I passively parted my lips and let him suck my soul right out of me.
His tongue wasn’t urgent or greedy like a stranger rushing in for a few quick minutes before rushing back out. No, his tongue was a warm welcome home, a lazy prowl in a familiar place, taking the time to touch all its favorite corners, reacquainting itself, falling in love with home all over again.
Then, slowly, he left his luggage unpacked on my tongue, backed out of the house, and closed the front door.
At the disappointment of his slow departure, I opened my eyes and blinked up at him.
“What I’m saying is,” he whispered against my lips, “you’ve came and planted your foot right in my sandcastle, and now I’m gonna have to build it all over again.”
Abruptly, he turned and jogged back to his car.
“What does that even mean?” I called out, stalking after him.
But he merely folded into his car, slammed the door to shut me out, and drove off. Leaving me in more pain than I’d been in before he placed his lips to mine.
Although I had nothing but a glass of ginger ale the night before, I woke up with a hangover.
Not the kind of hangover one got from one too many alcoholic beverages, but the kind one got from one too many arrows to the heart. Everywhere hurt. Made me wish I had a Hangover Dick to screw the “bad feeling right outta” me.
More buzzing from my phone on the nightstand alerted me to what really woke me up. Through bleary eyes I peeked at my clock. 12:37pm.
Lazily stretching over to the nightstand for my phone, I squinted at the screen. The number wasn’t familiar or stored in the phone, but I answered nonetheless if only to shut the damn thing up.
“It’s Sunday,” I groggily grumbled into the phone.
“Ally, my ally!”
It took me a moment to place the voice. “Jake?”
“Uh-huh,” he hummed. “Your dickcomplice.”
My tired eyes rolled. “Seriously, dude, how are you so chipper right now? You were completely wasted last night.”
“Thanks to you, gorgeous, I’m a paid and well-laid rock star now. Which means I’m almost always wasted. Which means I’m kinda immune to hangovers.”
“Yayyy you,” I mumbled through a yawn.
“Listen, Ally my Ally,” Jake said, sobering. “I feel like we’ve all been ungrateful, and none of us has ever told you a proper thank you. I don’t know what went down with you and Davi, but I think it’s unfair that you’ve cut off the rest of us, too. Zach told me he saw you and you acted like he had Ebola. I went to Beach Rock on Saturday afternoon to see if it was true, but there was no Ally my Ally, so I thought Zach had been lying—”
“What’s this long-winded chatter leading to, Jake?” I wearily interrupted, itching to hang up and drag the sheets back over my head. Jake was far too jocund right now and jocund did nothing for me but hurt me more.
“You were a part of Ice Steam,” he continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “You can’t be in L.A. and not be all up in all things Ice Steam. You’re the girl who told Styro his 70’s ‘rocker’ hairdo looked and smelled like a skunk sleeping on top of his head, then made him get a buzz-cut. You’re the girl who gave Zach a makeover from a dusty, unassuming librarian to an urban hotshot, then taught him how to give sex eyes.
“You’re the girl who bullied me to go on a diet and did P90X with me for two months because ‘rock stars are supposed to have abs, not flabs.’ You’re the girl who didn’t hold back in telling Davi to stop tryna imitate his father and find his own voice.
“Before you, we were just an idle, motley group, but you made us take ourselves seriously. You made us believe that becoming legends like Dave Hamilton didn’t have to be just a dream. How can you just extricate yourself and pretend you played no part in any of this?”
Rolling onto my back, I rubbed my eyes, not in the least bit appreciative of these unwanted memories right now. “Ice Steam is where they’re supposed to be. My work is done. Now, you might not have a hangover, but I do. So, thanks for calling, but I—”
“I’m inviting you to dinner at Eye Spy this evening,” he talked over me. “Jessica throws down in the kitchen every other Sunday. Girl can cook her knuckles off. Ninety Miles eats at Eye Spy when she throws down, and sometimes Benny. She loves when new faces pop up at the table, so she’s thrilled about you coming for dinner.”
Was he serious? He was going on about Jessica so casually as if she wasn’t the woman betrothed to my ex. Unless he was under the assumption that I was over Davian? Even if that were the case, why did he think I’d want to sit and eat at a table with Davian and his new love?
“Thanks for the invite, but I’ll have to pass.”
“Come onnnnnn, Ally!” he said. “Don’t do this to me. My balls are shriveling.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
A pause. “I dunno. There’s still alcohol in my system. But you must come.”
“Does Davi know you’re inviting me to his dinner table?”
A longer pause. “Pfft. Of course he knows. He basically suggested it.”
“You’re still a shitty liar, Jake,” I said through a laugh.
“Okay, okay, he doesn’t know but I’ll bring him up to speed,” he assured. “Just come to the dinner, if you don’t show up I’ll have anal sex until I die.”
Jake was totally still plastered. “I’m not getting the motivation you’re tryna give me here.”
“I lied,” he confessed. “I woke up with a terrible hangover. Jess has a secret concoction for hangovers, it tastes like piss, breast milk and tears. She fed me some before I called you. But see, before her nasty concoction works, it makes you super-happy and super-loopy, then it tackles the hangover feeling and all’s right with world again. Let’s just say I’m in the super-loopy stage right now.”
“So, should I write off this invitation as a part of your super-loopy stage?”
“Four o’ clock, Ally my Ally,” he shouted into the phone, “four o’ damn clock!” There was a lot of rustling, like he was moving fast, running, and his voice sounded far when he said, “The concoction also makes you shit your tripe out. So, uh, yeah, gotta go!”
The phone went dead.
It did
n’t take more than ten minutes after Jake’s call for me to make a decision. My heart needed something from that dinner. But I couldn’t decide whether that something was from Davian…or Xavier.
The prospect of seeing one of those rockers was the incentive behind me heading out for Ninety Miles Villa, but I wasn’t sure which rocker.
Both men had dumped me. Both had moved on from me. Both men had made it painfully transparent that I was replaceable. Yet, my stubborn heart still clung to the chimeric notion both men were mine.
I was in limbo, a state of confusion, refusing to accept the truth.
As Mel braked up outside Eye Spy, my gaze automatically rose to the second floor. Last time I’d been there, an image had been burned in my skull that would haunt me forever. Thankfully, the blinds were pulled this time around, no cherry-tatted buttocks pressed to the glass.
“I’ll text you when I’m ready,” I told Mel as I opened the car door.
“No need. I’ll be out here waiting.”
That gave me pause. “Why?”
“It’s my job, Miss O’Hara.”
Backing up into vehicle, I slammed the door and leaned forward, placing one arm on the armrest console and the other around the headrest of the driver’s seat, deliberately rendering Mel uncomfortable. “How many of you are there?”
Mel had the gall to look surprised. “I’m afraid I don’t know wha—”
“Don’t address me like I’m stupid, Mel,” I snapped. “I can make up any story I want about you and get you fired. I know my cousin. How many of you did he plant to watch me?”
Mel sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Two others.”
“Where are they?”
She shrugged. “They’re ordered to remain invisible. They’ll only show up in the face of a serious situation.”
I drew back. “Well, now you don’t have to pretend. We’re cool as long as you don’t lie to me. I’m only young, not stupid.”
“Understood, Miss O’Hara.”
I moved to open the door again, then paused. “How are you acquainted with Davi?”
