Four Letter Word

by J. Daniels

  “I can’t keep hoping and holding out, waiting for you to give me what I need, Brian, because I’ll never stop waiting. You know? You said it yourself. You’re just a voice and that’s all you’ll ever be to me and I can’t, I’m not okay with that. I’ll never be okay with that little of you.”

  “Send me pictures, Syd,” he begged urgently. “Okay? You wanna send me pictures, send them. Send one right now. I wanna see you.”

  “This isn’t about the picture,” I stressed. “How many times have I asked where you live? Or if we could meet up? That’s what I want, Brian. I want to see you. I want to see how you smile and feel your hands against mine. I want to lie next to you and dream with you and I can’t. I’ll…I’ll never have that.”

  “I lie next to you every night. Don’t you know that?”

  I sobbed hard into my hand. My devoured heart reached for him.

  “You got me, babe. Fuck…you’ve had me. When I was Wes, you had me.”

  When he was Wes…

  I wiped tears away and spoke through broken breaths.

  “Tonight, you know what I did?” I asked. “I let some stranger hold me and comfort me and I let myself think it was you. I imagined your arms and your breath in my hair and it was perfect, it was exactly what I needed because I needed it to be you, Brian. But it wasn’t. It will never be you holding me or catching me. I’m gonna fall and you’re not gonna be there.”

  “Syd…”

  “No…No!” I dug my nails into my palm and held it at my side. “This is over. It’s over, Brian. Don’t call me again. Don’t text me. I won’t answer. I swear, I won’t.”

  “Don’t do this,” he shot in, quiet and quick. “Please, Wild, don’t…don’t do this to me. To us.”

  “You did this, Brian,” I shot back. “You did it, because I’m here. I’m right here, waiting, asking you for more like I’ve always asked you and I’m not gonna wait anymore.”

  “Sydney…”

  “Good-bye, Brian.”

  “It was me!”

  I blinked at the wall.

  “What?”

  “Holding you tonight,” he explained, voice tight and anxious and filled with desperate, lying words. “It was me. Okay? It was me. No one else holds you.”

  I shook my head.

  He wanted to believe it, too. Too bad that wasn’t enough.

  “Don’t call me again,” I whispered.

  I held the power button down until the phone went black, let it drop out of my hand, and hit the floor, breaking, I hoped. I didn’t want it anymore. Then I crawled in heels and washed-away makeup onto my bed and collapsed on my side, face pressed to the pillow and hand over my mouth.

  It was over.

  I didn’t stop crying until morning.

  Chapter Eleven

  BRIAN

  Hand moving furiously over my dick, knees bent and spread with muscles strung tight, I arched my back off the bed and came in four shots onto my stomach, grunting with jaw clenched and nostrils flaring.

  Eyes closed and mind focused on one person. One image.

  Wild.

  She was beautiful, a chaos of crazy red and pale skin disguised.

  Perfection that tortured and teased me.

  My girl.

  My fucking girl.

  “Cut!”

  My eyes opened. I exhaled irritation and hatred for this place.

  Fuck them all. I wanted to burn this building to the fucking ground.

  “Nice work, Dash,” someone commented. It sounded like Eddie, the cameraman.

  Slimeball. He’d jerk off half the time while filming, didn’t care no one wanted to see that shit.

  Fucking degenerate.

  I ignored him and pushed my legs out, stretched, sat up, and wiped off with a towel someone had thrown on the bed, then swiped my clothes off the floor and tugged boxers, shorts, and tee on, arms sliding through the sleeves as I shoved through the crew hanging back to wrap up.

  I never stuck around.

  I came, collected, and got the fuck out of there.

  Not bothering to knock on Mike’s door this time ’cause I was on day two of no Wild and I was losing my goddamned mind over it, I pushed the door open and stepped into the office, ignored his whining protest of my disturbance and whoever the fuck else was in the room with him, snatched the cash he had laid out for me on the corner of his desk, counted it, turned without a glance in his immoral direction, and made for the door.

  “Don’t gotta be a dick about it, Dash,” Mike tossed out at my back.

  “Fuck off,” I growled, slammed the door shut behind me, and crossed the room to get to the exit.

  Demetrius was headed to the office, caught my eyes as we passed, and tipped his chin.

  “Didn’t think that shit was going to cut it, but you’re killing it on the site, man. People love watching you whack off.”

  I ignored him, too. Didn’t give a shit about hits on the site or anything else Demetrius had to tell me.

  Didn’t give a shit about anything except getting gone.

  “Dash, you hear what I said?” he called when I reached the door.

  I shoved it open and stalked outside, silent, exchanged the phone in my pocket for the wad of cash and scrolled to my recent calls, hitting Dial as I got to my Jeep.

  My ass hit the leather the same time Sydney’s voice mail kicked on.

  Her phone was off. Knew it was and had been since Thursday night. I’d called it enough to know. Left plenty of messages for her, not knowing if she was getting them but figuring not, doubting she wanted to hear my voice if she was refusing to hear direct from me.

  I was in hell.

  Worse off than I was a month ago because I’d gotten a taste of something good and I’d forgotten what good tasted like, and worse, the good Sydney gave me was better than everything I’d had stripped away the night I fucked up.

  Sydney’s good filled my head and my heart. Blood warming and soul soothing. It pushed the deserving bad into a place I couldn’t focus on or feel because she held my attention in the tips of her fingers and the ridges on her tongue. She made things sweet and right with her laughter and sleepy sighs, her stories through those stupid emojis she somehow made cute and charming and the way she’d whisper my name and pleas to God when her hand moved between her legs.

  Her good was better. Better than I was worth and she knew it. I knew it.

  Didn’t change the fact I wanted her more than I could remember wanting anything. Ever.

  How fucked up is that? I knew I didn’t deserve her.

  Didn’t stop me from wanting, though.

  The device cracked in distress when it struck the inside of the passenger door.

  I started up the Jeep, pulled out of the lot with dust spilling off my tires, and headed to the one place I’d been fighting going to because I knew stepping foot in Whitecaps could seriously end it all for me, but I was desperate and stupid and gone.

  Day two into my madness. I no longer gave a shit about consequences.

  Throwing the gear into Park, I cut the engine and got out, the slam of the door still echoing in my ear as I ascended the stairs and tore inside the restaurant with eyes scanning for red.

  It had been months since I came here. I couldn’t remember the last time. Jamie frequented and Cole tagged along when he was free, but I usually kept to eating at the shop or picking somewhere within walking distance.

  Once I found out Sydney worked here, I definitely stayed away.

  “Hello, welcome to Whitecaps.”

  Not spotting who I was here for, I turned to the woman standing in front of me with a menu poised at the ready.

  She was tiny. Chin-length dark hair held out of her face with a skull and crossbones bandanna, bright red lips, and black-lined eyes.

  Vaguely, I thought I recognized her as one of the girls Wild was with the night she went Mike Tyson on a Corvette.

  Her name tag read Shay in swirled purple and black marker.

  “Sydney h
ere?” I asked, watching her eyebrows slowly knit together.

  “No, sorry, she called out. I think she’s still sick.” The woman drew the menu against her chest. “Are you friends?”

  Still sick.

  She wasn’t sick. Not in the way this pocket-sized pixie was referring to. I knew that.

  And knowing what happened between us was keeping Syd from a job I knew she loved more than her last one; on top of everything else I’d been feeling recently, I started feeling sick right along with her.

  “Sir?”

  I sighed and squeezed the back of my neck, then looked at the woman.

  “No,” I answered firmly.

  We weren’t friends. We weren’t anything.

  She smiled politely.

  “Just one of you? Or are you waiting for people?”

  I was already turned around and halfway to the door when I mumbled an obvious and unnecessary, “Not staying.”

  * * *

  Beer number two in my hand, I leaned with elbows on the rail of my deck and stared out at the sunset-kissed waves over the light crowd settled on the beach.

  Gorgeous night. Still hot as shit out, making the water a good temperature, I imagined.

  Wasn’t like I was getting in it and enjoying myself.

  Called Syd three more times since I got home from Whitecaps an hour ago between doing a whole fuckuva lot of nothing else, and believe it or not, I was growing sick of the sweet voice I never thought I’d get enough of.

  If she asked me one more fucking time to leave a message after the beep, I was going to kill someone.

  I inhaled deep, searching for calm but coming up short.

  I was on edge and standing out here wasn’t helping. I should’ve known. Tried it yesterday and found no relief doing it, but I didn’t have anything else, so here I was doing it again.

  If I wasn’t calling Syd, I was staring at her picture, and if I wasn’t doing that, I was out here, phone inside and a safe distance away from the water, because I knew if I dialed her standing on the deck and she hadn’t turned her shit on, I’d leave my message and then toss that fucker into the ocean.

  Couldn’t have that happen, could I?

  Movement stirred my awareness, and I slid my eyes to it. I spotted Jamie walking back to the house with his board under his arm.

  “What up?” he yelled from below, propping his board against a post and taking the stairs rapidly.

  I shook my head with the bottle to my lips, swallowed some Corona, and kept looking out at the water.

  Jamie hit the planks below my feet and strolled my way.

  “Fuck, Dash. You get some incurable STD from one of those bitches or somethin’? Shit.”

  I turned my head to Jamie. “What?”

  “Look at you.” He came to a stop a foot away, jutted his chin at me, then pushed salty wet hair out of his eyes. “You’re making me depressed, man, and I don’t even get remotely sad, you know that, but I’m on the brink. The fuckin’ brink, Dash. What’s up with you?”

  I cut my eyes away.

  “Nothing,” I mumbled.

  “Bullshit,” he shot back, sounding a second away from throwing a punch and, thus, earning my eyes again. “You’ve been moping around the past two days, barely speaking to anyone including customers at work, who even after that shit went down four months ago, you still kept it professional and did your job, spoke to everybody who stopped in and acted like you wanted to be there. Now you’re barely doin’ that. If it keeps up, me or Cole are gonna have to start droppin’ lessons so we can hang around and make sure shit is gettin’ sold.”

  “You sayin’ you have to babysit me?” I asked, straightening then and facing him head-on.

  Might be me throwing the first punch.

  I was bigger than Jamie. A little thicker in the arms and shoulders, but he was quick like a fucking feral cat and the same height as me.

  It’d be a good matchup.

  Jamie didn’t waver when I changed my stance and kept my gaze as he spoke.

  “I’m sayin’ something’s up with you and it’s different than what’s been up with you the past four months. Shit, you were getting better. And I wasn’t the only one noticing. Cole brought it up last week sayin’ you were acting like the old Brian and you might be ready to paddle out soon.”

  “That’s not fuckin’ happening,” I bit out.

  “Yeah, I figured,” he replied, arms crossing over his chest, still dripping water. “Not that I agree with that decision but I fuckin’ get it.”

  “Great. Glad you get it.”

  I took another pull of my beer while Jamie stared at me, saying nothing for a solid four seconds.

  Probably a record for him.

  “It’s a girl,” he stated, head cocked, still staring.

  I stared right back, not uttering a word.

  He smiled.

  Shit.

  Asshole and his fucking gut instinct. Never failed him in the water or on land.

  I should’ve stayed inside and kept on hitting Redial.

  “It’s a woman,” Jamie clarified, finger pointed at my face. “You’re fucked up over some pussy, that’s what this is. Who is it? One of the girls you’ve shot with? Jayden? I bet it’s Jayden. You’ve been seeing her?”

  I glared at my idiot best friend.

  “Do me a favor? Stay off the site my dick is visible on.”

  “Whoa.” His brows drew together as he leaned back. “I’m strictly there for the lesbian love. Never seen your dick. Don’t plan on seeing it. Videos are labeled, so thank fuck for that. Knew you shot with Jayden a couple weeks ago and put two and two together. That’s all.”

  “It ain’t Jayden. Ain’t none of the ones on the site,” I informed him, eyes narrowing to add, “You call my girl pussy again and I’ll beat the shit outta you.”

  His face relaxed.

  “Damn.” He blinked several times, a laugh crackling in his chest. “You’re hard up. Who is she?”

  I exhaled slowly.

  Didn’t see the point in keeping this shit to myself anymore. Not when I no longer had it.

  “Think you know her,” I said, setting my bottle on the rail. “That girl you’re always going to see at Whitecaps…”

  Jamie stepped closer, halting me.

  “You’re fuckin’ seeing Legs?”

  “I’m talking about her friend, jackass. Back up.”

  He backed up, but he did it looking ready to tear my flesh off if I didn’t explain quick who I was specifically talking about, conclusively eliminating Legs as an option.

  I wasn’t the only one pining for someone.

  “Girl’s name is Sydney. She works with Tori. Lives with her, too.”

  “Who?”

  “Legs,” I grated impatiently.

  “Not her,” Jamie snapped. “Christ, I know her fucking name. Just ’cause I don’t call her by it doesn’t mean I don’t hear it every time she shoves it down my throat. I’m talking about yours. Which one is she?”

  “She just started a month ago. Red hair…”

  “Oh…yeah, okay.” His mouth twitched. “I know who she is. Bit nicer than her friend, though she kinda sucks at waitressing. Woman is constantly messing up my order.” He lost the smile and studied me. “How’d you meet her? You never go to Whitecaps.”

  I hesitated answering and turned back to the water, took another swig of beer, this time finishing it off, swallowing, then held it over the railing and dropped it into the trash can we kept below for such purpose.

  I hesitated for one reason I wasn’t sure I wanted to disclose.

  I was gone for a woman I’d never fucking met.

  Pathetic?

  Maybe.

  Did I give a fuck when that shit was kept personal?

  Not one damn bit.

  But I was about to blow the lid off and air it out, confide in my friend, who could very easily bust my balls over this indefinitely.

  I stayed silent for a minute, then decided to hell with it.
Again, what the fuck did I have left to lose at this point?

  Let him talk shit. Let everyone.

  Like I said before, I no longer cared about consequences. So I told him everything about Syd. Every fucking thing. I didn’t leave nothing out.

  And he listened, taking it all in while remaining silent and looking surprised at some of the shit I was saying, but also looking like he got some of it, too. He understood.

  I knew that when I reached the end and Jamie finally spoke.

  “This girl was healing you,” he offered quietly.

  I shrugged.

  She was. Didn’t know how it was possible coming from a girl I couldn’t even get to, but she was.

  “Know what you need, man?”

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  He gripped my shoulder, attracting my attention then, and once he got it, he grinned with self-satisfaction brightening in his eyes.

  I glared. “What?”

  “Saturday night. We ain’t got shit to do.” He dropped his hand and shrugged. “Might as well throw a party.”

  That was the last thing I needed.

  “I don’t want a bunch of assholes in my house.”

  “You need a distraction and a bunch of assholes is a good distraction,” he argued. “We’ll get some kegs, play some beer pong, I’ll get laid a couple times.” He smiled. “It’ll be good for everybody.”

  I shook my head.

  “Not in the mood for this,” I said, giving him a hard look. “Seriously, man.”

  Bastard wasn’t hearing me. Knew he wasn’t—he was grinning like an idiot and already planning shit in his head. I could tell.

  Once Jamie had his mind set on something, that was it.

  I was going to have a bunch of assholes in my house.

  “It’s happenin’, Dash. Gonna be a fuckin’ blast, too. You’ll see.” Jamie took a few steps backward in the direction of the slider, hit me with a chin jerk, then turned his back on me, speaking as he walked toward the house, “I’ll get Cole on invite duty. He’ll get the word out. BYOP.”

  I shook my head.

  Bring Your Own Pussy.

  Fuck.

  Chapter Twelve

  SYDNEY

  I felt the couch dip near my feet.