Four Letter Word

by J. Daniels

  My mouth stretched into my biggest smile in months. The tension pulled from my shoulders. I extended a hand to Nate as he stood up out of his chair.

  “Thank you so, so much for this. I can start immediately. Today. Tonight.”

  He laughed, releasing my hand.

  “How about Friday? I’ll pair you up with Tori for training.”

  “Great.”

  “Awesome,” Tori sang, skipping over to rejoin the conversation. She threw her arm over my shoulder. “Thanks, Nate. You’re the best boss ever.”

  He jerked his chin, then reclaimed his seat, his eyes refocusing on the documents in front of him.

  “Get Sydney set up with uniforms before you go.”

  Tori directed me out of the office, nodding at Nate’s request.

  “Thank you again,” I said over my shoulder before the door to the office closed behind us.

  I felt relieved, and a bit excited. I hadn’t worked with Tori since we were sixteen and both living in Raleigh. We never got through a shift without cracking up at least a dozen times.

  I needed this right now.

  Tori pulled away from me when we reached the hostess desk.

  “We’re getting out of here ’cause I don’t hang at work on my days off.” She reached for the keys in her back pocket. “Wanna wait for me out in the car?”

  I looked out the large window overlooking the dunes obscuring the ocean.

  “I think I’m going to go check out the beach really quick. Text me when you’re ready.”

  She gave me a double thumbs-up before spinning around and walking back in the direction we came.

  I slipped out the door.

  I crossed the pebble stone parking lot and ascended the staircase leading to the beach, wrapping my arms around myself even though I wasn’t the least bit chilled.

  The sun burned across a cloudless sky. I felt the intensity of it bake into the skin of my bare shoulders.

  Waves crashed against the shore, some carrying surfers with them in the distance. A few feet ahead of me, a small child kicked a sand castle and giggled with his father.

  I sat down on a step and slipped my sandals off.

  The sand was warm underneath my feet as I dug my toes into it, staring out at the world in front of me. I rubbed a shell between my fingers as I watched a couple walk hand-in-hand toward the pier.

  They looked happy. I tried to remember the last time Marcus held my hand, or even reached for it.

  My chest burned when I couldn’t conjure up an image in my mind.

  I looked down at the faint line marking my left ring finger. The token I was left with now that I no longer wore my ring. It was subtle, thanks to my naturally pale skin, but to me it stood out like embers glowing in the dark.

  I hated it. I didn’t need a reminder of how I’d failed as a wife. Or how Marcus stopped seeing me as one.

  Maybe I could coat my entire hand in sunblock except for that thin strip. Burn the memory away.

  The idea seemed promising enough to consider.

  From my back pocket, my cell beeped with an incoming message.

  I wiped the tear from my cheek as I stood and palmed my phone, expecting to see Tori’s name lit up on my screen.

  I froze on the step, my free hand on the railing as I stared curiously at the message and the number it was sent from.

  Wild Girl. Eaten any innocent men alive today yet?

  My lip twitched, the hint of a smile.

  I sat back down, reading the message a second time as I remembered my conversation with this stranger yesterday. My accidental verbal beat-down.

  Jesus. I really let him have it.

  I couldn’t think of the last time I was that embarrassed.

  I told the guy to remove a dildo from his mouth, for Christ sakes.

  All in all, whoever this was seemed to be a good sport about it. He could’ve laid into me and cussed me out. Made me feel even more like a complete shit for dialing the wrong number and not confirming the identity of my intended victim before I tore into him like he owed me money.

  He was more than decent about the whole thing. Easily forgiving.

  And now he was messaging me out of nowhere and striking up conversation.

  Wild.

  He wanted to talk to me.

  Huh.

  I tapped my thumb on the edge of the phone case, then hovered over the letters of my keypad as I stared at the message.

  Did I even want to talk to this guy anymore? Wasn’t this weird? We didn’t know each other. Our encounter was a mistake. A one-time mishap, never to be repeated.

  Right?

  Chapter Three

  BRIAN

  I passed out last night pissed off and ready to beat the shit out of my best friend/roommate, who didn’t understand the premise of fucking quietly in the bedroom down the hall.

  Moans and earsplitting screams echoed off the walls of our beach house, seeping underneath the crack of my door.

  Filling my fucking head. Keeping me awake.

  Nothing was unusual about that scenario. Jamie brought home lots of women, and I swore to Christ he tested out their vocal range before even considering their pussy as a temporary home for his dick. The louder the better seemed to be his philosophy.

  I didn’t give a fuck what he did, or who. I just didn’t want to hear it.

  Taking every pillow I owned, I submerged my head and muffled the sounds well enough to fall asleep.

  Six hours, that was all I was asking for. Six hours and I could function enough to push through another mindlessly objectionable day in the life I was slowly living. Quickly hating. And unarguably deserved.

  I barely settled into a dream when the shrill ring of my cell phone jerked me upright in bed.

  It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, for my hand to seek out the bastard device on my nightstand. I didn’t recognize the number. I was fucking exhausted and could barely focus on the screen my thumb was hovering over.

  I almost let the call go to voice mail. I almost said to hell with it and shattered the fucking thing by hurling it against the wall.

  Thank fuck I didn’t. I would’ve missed out on the most amusing conversation I’ve ever had and, quite possibly, the most perverse.

  And the voice that gave it to me.

  Unfuckingreal.

  Didn’t know what did it, the vulgar she was throwing at me, her fiery tone that paired with it, or the sweetness I heard underneath, but I was hooked. Every muscle in my body tightened as her voice seeped into my ear and awakened my mind.

  Fuck sleep. I was no longer interested.

  That feisty thing on the other end of the phone was filthy and unquestionably infuriated, ready to sink her claws into me and draw blood.

  I would welcome an assault from her with arms outstretched and the biggest grin smeared across my face. I couldn’t help it. She was fucking fantastic. Passionate in her defense. Silver-tongued and ball-busting.

  My ears weren’t the only parts of me enjoying that conversation.

  I wanted to taste her voice. I thought about what her lips looked like as those words left her, if they were pink and wet and swollen and if she bit them while she was silent and waiting, hearing out my objections.

  Strange how quickly an obsession can build.

  One phone call had me reeling, and it was never even meant for me.

  I hadn’t laughed like that in months, and it felt good.

  The kind of good I wanted to keep feeling, and I could’ve.

  I could’ve kept her going. Lied. Revealed nothing and let her lay into me as much as she needed to. But she deserved to know I wasn’t the person she was seeking out. And her response?

  “Fuck you.”

  Yeah. Fuck me.

  How long would I be consumed by this mystery woman?

  Hours, at least. That was for certain. It was eleven o’clock and I was trying to busy myself at work on Wednesday, but nothing was taking my mind off that voice.

&n
bsp; “Would you fuckin’ relax?” I glared down at my lap, pressing my palm against the tent in my shorts.

  I got hard every time I thought about her. It was becoming a major fucking problem.

  My gaze lingered until the heat in my groin subsided, then I resumed the tedious task of staring at my phone on the counter. The very phone containing her number.

  Fuck this. How pathetic was I going to allow myself to become today?

  I pushed away from the counter with a grunt and went to the corkboard on the back wall displaying this week’s lesson sign-ups.

  I removed old advertisements and sales that no longer applied. I studied the list of names, noted the instructors posted next to them, then dropped my shoulders and glanced back at the phone.

  If that piece of shit devil of a device had a mouth, it would’ve fucking smiled at me.

  It was winning. No contest. I knew it. Apple knew it. It was only a matter of time before I caved and dialed her up, giving in and fully acknowledging my fucked-up obsession.

  I raked a hand down my face as I remembered how abruptly she ended our conversation last night. How quick she was to apologize and get off the phone.

  Red flag, right there, dick.

  I didn’t even get to utter a partial good-bye before she hung up and left me reeling. She wouldn’t answer me. I’m the guy she didn’t intend on calling.

  I moved back to the counter, but instead of caving and grabbing my phone, I pulled the crossword puzzle off the shelf behind me and tossed it on the wood, grabbing a pen and leaning over the paper.

  I read the clues. Filled in a few answers. Got pissed when I filled shit in wrong and had to write over it, all because my mind wasn’t on that damn crossword or the answers I was filling in.

  Not one bit.

  I had officially run out of things to distract me.

  My phone vibrated and shifted on the counter, snapping my attention off the spot on the paper I was spacing out on.

  I reached for it and glanced down at the text from my sister. My hand readied to reply.

  And then…it hit me.

  A text…a text I might be able to coax her to respond to. It was, without a doubt, the less personal approach.

  Decision made, I palmed my phone and pulled up my recent calls. My thumbs moved hurriedly over the keypad.

  Wild Girl. Eaten any innocent men alive today yet?

  I hit Send. I felt good.

  Keeping it playful was most likely the best way to go about this. My other thought, confessing how hard I came last night after she hung up on me, might’ve backfired.

  She’d respond, all right. With a restraining order.

  The front door chimed, pulling my attention off the phone.

  Jamie, the same motherfucker who I wanted to beat the piss out of last night, drifted into the shop with a small group of women floating in behind him. He jerked his chin in my direction, greeted me with a smug grin, then turned his head and watched as the three ladies moved to congregate by a table covered in T-shirts and board shorts.

  Stopping on the other side of the counter I was standing behind, he ran a hand through his damp hair.

  “What up? What are you doing?”

  I placed the phone down.

  “Nothing. Waiting on that shipment of boards to arrive.”

  Not a lie. I was waiting. The boards were set to arrive sometime today. I just couldn’t seem to care one way or another about it.

  I nodded toward the window facing the ocean. “How’s it out there today?”

  “Decent. A bit choppy.” He lifted his brow. “You tryin’ to get out? I can man the shop. I don’t have any other lessons until later this afternoon. I think three o’clock is my next one.”

  I shook my head, stepped back, and leaned my weight against the table, crossing my arms tight across my chest.

  Jamie and I co-owned Wax, a surf shop walking distance from the beach.

  We opened the store a couple years back when both of us lived and breathed sand and salt water. Back when I did surf, it was purely for enjoyment. I craved the rush of adrenaline. The freedom and adventure it provided. Jamie was the same, but it was different for him. He was a local hero. A Dogwood Beach legend. He won three world championships back-to-back and was one of the most powerful free surfers I’d ever seen.

  Kid was fucking talented. He split his days in the shop with me and out on the water.

  “Where the fuck is Cole? Wasn’t he supposed to be back with our lunch by now? I’m starving.”

  “He called. Screwed up the order and had to go back,” I replied.

  “Serious?”

  “Yep.”

  “Idiot.” Jamie laughed.

  His gaze trained on the three women in the store as they checked out some long boards.

  “How difficult is it to remember a Chinese take-out order for three? He needs to get his ass out of the sun. I think that hippy organic sunscreen he uses is killing off his brain cells. No joke.”

  “I don’t know. I had some chick stop in here the other day and ask what brand he wears. Said he gave her a lesson and smelled good, or some shit. She ended up getting his number before she left.”

  Jamie straightened. He looked stunned.

  It took everything in me not to crack up.

  He narrowed his eyes.

  “Shut the hell up. Cole got laid based on his love for the environment?”

  I shrugged.

  One of the three girls browsing around the shop came up to the counter. Her smile passed between myself and Jamie.

  “Excuse me. Um…” She paused to bite at her bottom lip. “Can one of you help us reach those shirts up there?”

  She pointed behind her at the wall of merchandise, allowing the tiny top she was wearing to ride up her body and reveal a pierced navel and a tribal tattoo surrounding it, making no attempt to cover herself after she lowered her hand.

  My gaze barely lingered. I wasn’t interested.

  Jamie, on the other hand, smiled and threw his arm over her shoulder.

  “Sure thing, baby,” he said gently. “I can help you with that. I’ll even lend a hand if you or either of your friends want to try one on. We’re all about good service around here.”

  She giggled and hid her blush behind her hair, wrapping her arm around his waist.

  “Might want to check IDs before you assist with anything,” I suggested as the two of them stepped away.

  That girl looked young as shit, and virgin pussy fucked with my best friend’s better judgment. Made him a thoughtless moron completely controlled by a set of tits with legs. He had a thing for being a chick’s first and rarely passed up that opportunity.

  Jamie glanced back, acknowledging me with a jerk of his head, grinning like he was already sheathing up his cock and sinking himself balls deep into one of the girls while the others waited bent over and eager.

  I shook my head.

  Dumbass was going to get himself in trouble one of these days.

  The phone on the counter vibrated, dragging my attention away from the foursome about to commence in the dressing room.

  I snatched it up and glanced at the sender. My pulse jumped.

  It’s a little early. I usually wait until after dinner to randomly dial up men and cuss them out. Again, I’m SO sorry. I feel awful for saying that stuff to you.

  My fingers moved vigorously.

  Don’t need to apologize. That was the most interesting conversation I’ve ever had.

  Really?

  Straight up. How did the intended guy take it? You make him cry?

  I never called him.

  Huh. That surprised me. She seemed dedicated to destroying that prick’s ego last night. He sure as hell sounded like he deserved it.

  You should’ve. I think you had a shot at causing some serious hurt.

  I don’t know.

  Got some mouth on you.

  I pinched my eyes shut as my cock reacted…a-fuckin’-gain.

  Shit.

>   Did I seriously need to give myself another reminder of her mouth? Hadn’t my brain been stripped of blood flow enough today?

  Thanks? LOL. Not sure how to respond to that, so I’ll just take it as a compliment.

  It was a compliment. Trust me.

  Okay.

  You trust me?

  Where the fuck was I going with that question?

  Way to switch into full-on creeper mode, Brian.

  Christ.

  I needed to back up before she blocked me and prevented any future conversations.

  Not sure why I asked that or what the fuck it meant. You don’t know me. Can’t trust people you don’t know.

  I don’t NOT trust you. If that makes sense. People don’t really earn trust with me. They lose it.

  I stared at the screen, finding her response both interesting and cryptic, but not having time to dwell further on that as she hit me up again.

  This is weird, right?

  What?

  This. Texting each other. I honestly wasn’t expecting to talk to you again. Everything in my life is seriously messed up right now.

  What’s messed up about it?

  EVERYTHING.

  You gonna elaborate on that?

  I’ll bore you.

  Try me.

  I waited anxiously for her reply. I wasn’t sure I was going to get one.

  This felt too personal, but fuck it, I wanted to know.

  Honestly? I feel like I’m spinning out of control. You ever feel like that?

  Can’t say I have.

  Like, I’m trying to focus on something steady to keep myself from falling, but I can’t see it. I just keep picking up speed, spinning and spinning.

  I was staring at her response when another message came through.

  It’s a really scary feeling.

  Something pitted in my chest. I remembered a part of our conversation last night. The echo of pain shining through when she whispered she hated me, or the man she thought I was. There was more to her besides the anger coating her mouth, clinging to the hatred she was spewing.

  And here it was again.

  I forced my fingers to type the first thought that popped into my head, even though my brain was screaming, screaming at me to type anything else.