“The reason I came here tonight to see you, Bettina—” I heard her groan, irritated by me, and I continued, “I want to tell you I am sorry for the way I treated you all these years.” For some reason, this was harder than I thought. “You deserve someone who will treat you right, Bettina. I am sorry, really, really sorry.”
“Pfft. What do I say now? I forgive you? Because I don’t.” We pulled in to the apartment, and I got out first to help her out. She pushed me away.
“I’ll do it myself.” I looked her in the eyes and noticed they were glassed over. I stepped back and watched her get out. She was staggering.
“Bettina, are you on something again?”
“Yes, Jason. You left, and the drugs help me not miss you.” She huffed her answer, like it was a stupid question. Her voice was laced with loathing. “What the fuck do you care? I could die and you would still love her more.” I knew she was referring to Jacy. I regretted every day that I told her about Jacy. It was at the beginning of the relationship, and I was drunk. She was telling me how much she loved me. I told her I was in love once, and I tried to make her understand I would never love again. Fuck, if only I could take it back now.
We were walking through the lobby, almost to the elevator. She continued, “If I did OD, you would have killed me, just like you killed her.” I felt hate spread throughout my body. The doors closed and I gave up trying to steady her. The urge to gag her and tie her down to dominate this foul-mouthed creature was so strong I could barely deny it. My anger boiling again, I closed my eyes and whispered, “Please, Lord, don’t let me hurt her, not with words or by my hands. Please.” She was still ranting about how much damage I had caused to her, but I repeated my prayer.
“I am not going to fight with you, no matter how hard you try.” She pulled away from me. We reached the apartment and I opened the door, and that’s when she lost it.
Bo came running to me.
“Jason, I hate you!” She walked over to me and began hitting me with her fists.
“I know, Bettina. I am sorry.” I let her hit me for a while without reaction. She began screaming incoherently and breaking things, lights and glasses. She was yelling nasty obscenities and throwing things at me.
I just kept repeating, “I’m sorry.” Then she walked over to Bo and kicked him hard. Bo’s yelp echoed in my head, and that’s when I reacted. “Stop, Bettina, or I will call the police,” I yelled as I ran up behind her as she repeated her brutal kicking. I picked her up, immobilizing her, tightly wrapping both arms around her. She was flailing in my arms, but I held strong. I set her on the couch and called the police department. I maneuvered myself on top of her until the police got there. I called her brother too. She yelled at me, finding it hard to catch her breath.
“Tonight was for you, Jason—the tears, the fucking—it was all for you.” She was sputtering words out, trying to gasp for air. “You watched your girlfriend get whipped, beat, and fucked in front of everyone and did nothing, but the moment someone touches your precious dog, you get protective. What the fuck, Jason? Did you lose you balls?” It took her a while to get it all out, and she fell silent afterwards.
I was relieved when the cops came through the doorway. I stood up immediately. They took one look at the room and at Bettina, sizing up both of us. I raised my hands signaling surrender, and Bettina began hitting and kicking me again. She was crazed; her hair sticking up at all ends, swinging at the police officers. Her words were vulgar and harsh as she screamed at them and me, so it didn’t take them long to decipher the problem. I explained the night’s events, knowing that as soon as they got her downtown and undressed her, they would see the whip marks. They let me know that I had the right to press charges because this was my home. I paid for everything, and she was only a guest. I gave a statement and didn’t feel the need to press charges. She walked past me in handcuffs on the way out of the apartment. I was checking Bo, making sure nothing was broken, and I heard her voice in a whisper.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I looked up, and her soft hazel eyes met mine.
“You need help, Bettina. I am worried for you. I am sorry it ended like this.” I followed them downstairs and through the lobby. Brad showed up a few minutes later as they were reading her rights and putting her into the police car. She looked beyond crazy, make-up running all down her face. She was still yelling things to anyone who looked in her direction. She was thrashing around, using her body as her only weapon, throwing her weight, trying to pull away. Brad was pissed, and his anger was all directed at me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I saw him striding over to me.
“What the fuck, Jason? You couldn’t have called me to pick her up? Is this your way of getting her mad? Getting in the last dig? This is what you both do. She pisses you off, and you remind her who’s in charge. Is that what this is?” He was spitting in my face as he was shouting.
“No, Brad, that’s not what this is at all. I was actually trying to help Bettina. She has a drug problem, and I think that’s what happened. Look at her; she is clearly on something. She needs help, and if you’re not going to help her, maybe the system will.”
“Fuck you,” was all I heard before I felt a fist hit my face. I tried to recover, and then I felt a blow to my stomach. I fell to the ground, and the police ran over to pull Brad off me. I recovered as fast as I could as they held Brad against the car.
“No, let him go; this is his sister. He’s just angry at me.” The policeman gave me a questioning look.
“It was nothing—didn’t even hurt.” I held up my hand and they released Brad. I staggered over to him, his anger palpable. “This is goodbye for us too.” I stuck out my hand. He didn’t look like he was going to accept it, but then shook it reluctantly. “I am truly sorry for all the pain I caused your sister and you.” He just looked at me with crazy eyes again.
“I will have Shelly come get her things,” he said. Shelly was Brad’s girlfriend. He looked at me for a long time, waiting for me to tell him no.
“That would be great. I am going to sell the place as soon as it’s cleaned up.” I leaned in, and surprising myself, I hugged him, but he was not receptive. He shoved me away. “You were like a brother to me for a lot of fucked up years. I am going to miss that.” I spoke from the heart because truthfully I was already missing it. His anger toward me was making me feel unsettled. He turned away fast, retreating to his car.
Why the fuck did I hug him? Was all I could think as the police car pulled away, and his car followed. What the fuck? What. The. Fuck.
Chapter Six
I scaled the stairs and cleaned up the glass. I threw away broken picture frames, and picked up chairs and tables. I kept myself busy with the cleaning and had put most of Bettina’s stuff in garbage bags and boxes. The place was spotless when I finally sat down. I heard my phone go off and I reached for it. It was Jessie, my sister.
“Hey, sis,” I yawed, not sure of the time.
“I missed you this morning; just calling to make sure you’re all right.” What was she talking about? I looked at the time on the microwave: 7:20.
“Oh, shit! I gotta go.” I hung up, grabbed Bo, and we left.
I made it to the coffeehouse across town in record time. Bo watched me from the front seat of my Jeep as I hurried in to get a latte. My eyes found Katarina right away. She was already at the table with her computer open. While I was ordering my drink, I noticed the girl taking my order from last week. She gave me her seductive smile as she took my order, but I was in no mood to play into it. I reached for my wallet when my phone went off. It read Brad Christianson. I answered it.
“Hey, can I call you right back? I am about to pay for my coffee.” I heard laughter on the other side of the phone, the kind of laughter that reminds me of chewing on glass.
“That should be tough because I have your wallet.” It was Bettina. I heard what sounded like a grinder in the background. “I am using your credit cards now.” The grinding sound increased.
“That’s my brother’s shredder.” She was hatefully cackling, and I felt my blood pressure increase as my aggression level took over. My fist curled into a ball, and my eyes started twitching. I was going to kill this raging bitch on the other end of the phone.
“What the fuck, Bettina? How did you get my wallet?” I was reaching all over my pants, trying to find it. Brad must have swiped it when I hugged him last night.
“My brother actually gave it to me. He’s asleep, but I know he wouldn’t mind if I borrowed it. I will keep the cash so I can find another place to live. I think that’s fair.”
“I want my wallet back, you bitch.” I observed a few raised eyes at my language and at how loud I was getting. I turned away from the glaring, eavesdropping people. “Fine, keep the money, but I need my license and other things in my wallet. Bettina, I am serious, stop shredding my stuff.” My voice was hoarse from yelling. I was sick of being furious and tired.
I had the urge to throw my phone, but knew that would be one more thing I would have to deal with. I ended the call and spun around, catching sight of Katarina scurrying out of the coffeehouse. Shit, I wanted to follow her. I was positive I scared her. Fuck. I slammed my phone on the counter, breaking the screen. A man behind the coffee counter approached me, the same man Katarina waved at every day.
“It will be a second for your coffee.” I stepped aside, not knowing what to say. This was by far the worst day to date. Up all frickin’ night dealing with Bondage Barbie on crack, and now I had no wallet. I stalked to the end of the counter and put my face in my hands. I was beaten, and I wanted to go bury myself in bed and never wake up. Fuck. I closed my eyes and whispered, “Please, God, don’t let me have scared her off.”
I opened my eyes, and the man who approached me at the counter was standing before me.
“Thank you for the coffee,” I said, and gave him a slight nod. He smiled as if he had a secret to tell.
“It was her—the girl you watch every day—she bought you the coffee.” My eyes lit up, and I felt a smile creep across my face. I couldn’t stop it.
“Are you sure it was her?” I asked. He just laughed.
“She may not have noticed you over the past week, but we all see the way you look at her. Good luck.” After he spoke, he busied himself with other customers.
I took a seat, trying to gather my thoughts. Everything about her was a mystery. I had been racking my brain, trying to remember the ice cream parlor conversation. Only two things kept returning to me: her big, lonely, lifeless eyes, and her battered body. I didn’t remember anything else.
This sweet little gesture was like the sun on a rainy day. I drank my coffee, vowing to myself I would thank my beautiful, scared little rabbit for brightening my day if it was the last thing I did. The rest of the day was a blur. I spent lunch on the phone replacing the items in my wallet, but not feeling angry about it; in fact, I couldn’t hide my cheeky grin. I went to my sister’s house after work and crashed in the spare bedroom.
In the morning, I went to my kickboxing class and showered at the gym. I was in a hurry to get to the coffeehouse. When I got there, she was already in her booth. I ordered a coffee and a muffin, and I sat across from her in my own booth. She looked up, and it was like looking into the sun. She smiled at me, and I felt my heart skip a beat. My breathing stopped for a minute. I stared at her, my own smile failing. Her eyes shifted away and I tried to adjust my jeans. I was feeling restricted. The door opened, and I watched her gaze break away from her computer again and meet my eyes. They were the bluest eyes I had ever seen, just like deep, tropical island water. She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. She looked away again, blushing. She hid her face behind her computer. I waited silently, praying for the door to open again. She looked up and I caught her eyes once more, and it was like looking directly into the brightest star, and for the first time I smiled at her. She gave me a flirtatious smile back and I saw her blush even more, her tan skin turning pink. I wondered briefly, how far the blush went down. She began gathering her things. She was leaving. I watched her almost run past my booth and out the door. I started to breathe again and I looked at my hands. They were shaking. This was not the same girl I used to watch all those years ago. She was breathtaking, and her eyes held life and passion for life. I couldn’t move, my dick was straining against my jeans, and it was paralyzing. I calmed my thoughts and made my way to work.
The months progressed quickly. I had a routine that I enjoyed. I bought a new house with the money I made on my city apartment. I was more irritable; the coping techniques I used calmed my short fuse for a while. I exercised mainly: running, lifting weights, kickboxing, and basketball. I planned my day around the coffeehouse, and sometimes on Sundays, I was late to church. I was quiet with everyone, spending any free time with my twin sister, Jessica. She came and stayed with me a few days a week. I think she was scared that I would go back to the sex club. I found time to spend with my niece and nephews and to fish with my dad. I dreaded being alone. The times when I was alone were the worst. My mind was never at rest unless I was busy.
I went to the sex anonymous meetings, but didn’t find a lot of peace there like I did at the beginning. I was becoming immune to the same sad stories. I would talk if the conversation was directed toward me, but I avoided it. I stopped going when the brunette running the meetings whispered in my ear, telling me she forgot to wear a bra. When she pulled back, she giggled and winked.
My nights were dark times for me. My anger and restless behavior made it hard for me to sleep. I was physically tired, but my mind was doing overtime. I thought about Katarina every moment. She was an obsession, just like before, except more intense. She occupied my every thought. I fought to follow her from the coffee shop every day. I knew if I did, it would freak her out and I would ruin my chances. Summer months passed and I saw her come in wearing tank tops, and bathing suits with light cover-ups. She wore tiny summer dresses and short, fuck-me shorts. I watched her skin get tanner and tanner, and she still said nothing to me. I watched, studied her every move, and noted them mentally. I wanted to know what made this dancing princess tick. I could predict what move she would make before she made it and the exact number of seconds from smile to complete disappearance. I was growing impatient waiting for this scared rabbit to talk with me. It was driving me insane. I was beginning to think she never intended on talking to me. It was a game to her. I was a game. I had taken to showers any time, day or night, my only release from the building pressure between my legs. I stopped smiling at other girls. I saved my smiles only for her. I tried to be happy with my family, but it was a struggle most of the time. I was always short-tempered and testy.
We had 92 dates, and she still said nothing. A date is loosely defined as two people engaging face-to-face in social activities to determine compatibility for a more committed relationship. I read that on my phone as I waited.
“Please let her say something, today,” I whispered to myself. I was treating her like a wild animal, waiting patiently for her to make the first move. I knew if I attempted to strike first, she would scurry away. I had actually witnessed it happen.
I began reading my paper, a stupid fucking paper that I struggled not to tear into shreds. I heard a voice and I looked up into the blue eyes of an angel.
“Hello,” she said.
“Well, hello.” She looked surprised to hear her own voice and then a smile broke out on her face.
“Do you come here often?” She was funny, really funny.
“I do; every day I sit and wait for this beautiful woman to talk to me.” I saw her flash a glance toward the door, and I gently placed my hand on hers. Her warmth was relaxing. It soothed me. I drew small circles on her skin, tempting her as much as I could. She looked up at me through her long lashes, grinning. I mirrored her face. Fuck, I had to have this girl. She was under my skin. I needed this girl to crave my touch.
“Any luck?” Her voice was nervous; I was getting to her. My smile widene
d as a feeling of victory washed over me.
“Let’s just say, today is a good day to talk.” I had her attention. I held still, her voice and the touch of her skin causing my cock to strain.
“That depends on what we talk about.” Her eyes were changing color to more of a deeper blue. She was so incredibly sexy.
“How about names? I’m Jason.” Her voice was sweet and innocent, and I begged her silently to repeat my name.
“My name is Katarina, but my friends call me Kat or Katie.” I reached over to touch her face. I needed to. I brushed my hand along her cheekbone, tucking a fallen lock of shiny black hair behind her ear. She tilted her face so I would have better access. That a girl.
“Katarina, I like your name.” I had always liked it.
“I have to go, but would like you to touch me again.” She paused, her shy face turning a very nice shade of red. “I mean, talk to me again.” She was embarrassed, and her luscious mouth made a small O, her blue eyes shifty. It was so comical that my smile broke into laughter, and it felt awesome.
“Okay, tonight I will pick you up at six and touch-slash-talk to you over dinner.” I was hoping for more touching than talking.
“All right, but more talking than touching. I am really not that kind of girl.” She winked at me, and I momentarily forgot how to breathe. I was stunned. She was the most adorable woman I had ever met. She wrote something on a napkin and handed it to me.
“I don’t normally do this, but I feel good around you.” She was psychic as well. A mental picture of her body wrapped around mine with me impaled inside her flashed before me. I was having a hard time breathing through the pain that was now my entire lower half.
“Good, I mean, I am glad you don’t give your number to everyone. Thank you for trusting me.” I wanted one last feel, so I touched her hand before she left.
Mister Distraction (Distraction #2) Page 7
