Still Surviving

by A. M. Johnson

  CHAPTER TEN

  Tiffany

  THE FAN IN THE bathroom clicked and sputtered as it attempted to pull the steam of the shower from the room. I’d lingered longer than I should have underneath the warm water and now I was running late for my date with Scott. He was going to be here shortly, and I was standing in front of the mirror staring at my naked body. The image distorted by the fog. My hand wiped across the glass, causing small droplets of water to form and race along its surface. Last night played out over and over in my head. I wanted to be angry with Seth. I wanted to hate that he’d done God knows what with that skank in the alley. My eyes closed and all I saw were his hands fumbling with his belt, the same hands that had been so delicate with me the night before. But, I’d witnessed his clear blue eyes, eyes that couldn’t hide from me, freeze over when he heard me make plans for tonight with Scott.

  Seth walked into Blue last night and went straight to Lizzie and Sawyer’s table effectively ignoring me. At first, I figured he’d drop in, say hi to them, and then come over to see me. But he hadn’t. Todd and Lily played for at least forty-five minutes and with every tick on the clock, my anxiety grew. Even if we weren’t going to become a thing, he was my friend and I was his. So when he never came over to joke and flirt like usual, I figured he was going to pull away completely and it crushed me.

  Scott had saved me from my despondent mood. He was charming and made me laugh, not to mention the fact the guy had eyes that could set panties on fire from across the state. They were this crazy Caribbean blue, but heavy on the green side of the spectrum. To say he was muscular would be an insult to the word. Scott was built like a truck. He was tall, broad, and the cords in his arms, the heavy power his entire body held, did funny things to my sensibilities.

  I laughed at my thoughts as I dragged my eyes away from the mirror. The smell of orchids filled the room as I slathered on my favorite lotion. I dressed quickly in blue jeans and a white T-shirt with an Andy Warhol print on the front. I slipped on some bangle bracelets and my two favorite amber rings. My hair was wet and there was no way I was going to have time to blow dry and straighten it so I chose to blow it out really fast and pull it into a side braid. At least my bangs were nice and straight. My hair had a natural wave… also known as frizzy as fuck if I didn’t straighten it.

  Two quick passes with the mascara brush and some gloss and I was ready. My thoughts scattered, and, for the moment, I wished it were Seth that was picking me up tonight. I internally cringed for thinking such a stupid thought. After last night, it was clear; he was who he was, and I wasn’t part of the equation. Seth and I had been so complicated for so long, this was almost a relief. My chest tensed. The lies I told myself were getting more creative by the minute. My eyes stared back at me from the mirror with judgment. The knock on my front door made me jump.

  The smile on my face was nervous as I opened the door. Scott’s smile was cocky as it spread across his face. Disappointment seeped its way into my brain on its own accord. He wasn’t Seth. Seth always gave me the most sincere smiles like he was blessed to be in my presence. This guy was looking at me like I was lucky to be with him, and my stomach dropped. I didn’t date co-workers; I sure as hell didn’t know how to date a man like this. All my dumb girl insecurities started to boil to the surface making it difficult to see what Scott or Seth had ever seen in me in me in the first place.

  Scott was wearing dark blue jeans that hugged his thighs and the forest green, thermal, long sleeved shirt he had on was like a second skin. The muscles in his chest were prominent, and the rose and skull he had tattooed on his throat stood out against the pale color of his skin.

  “Hey there… you look really nice.” The tint of his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Hope you’re hungry, I’m starving.” The cocky smile dissipated into a subtle grin. He looked vulnerable for about a half of a second, and in that moment, I reminded myself I needed to move on.

  No one would ever be Seth. No one would ever light me up like he could. No one could know me like he did, but you can’t force feed love down someone’s throat. He was too blind to see what was right in front of him, and I was tired of being the guiding hand that walked his blind ass across the street. It was time to finally do something for me; like Seth had said, let go of the guilt, be happy for once.

  “You ready to go then?” Scott’s voice wasn’t as deep as you would think it would be. It held a softer quality that didn’t fit with the image he had and it unsettled me. He reminded me of Colt for half a minute.

  I cleared my throat and shook my head. “Yes, let’s get out of here.” I smiled and let him take my hand in his. The warmth of his massive palm connected with mine and it felt good. It felt good to have a man want me. My smile grew. Just run with it, Tiff. The words were familiar; it’s how I got through the doors of Blue when I first applied, it’s how I got the nerve to talk with Seth for the first time, and it was how I finally let myself believe I could be an artist. Just run with it.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Seth

  THIS SHIT HOLE WAS much more appealing than I thought it would be. Blue Bar had huge storefront windows, the light of the sun filtered through casting a glow across the old wood bar top. It was modern mixed with age. The glass shelves were lit up with fake liquor bottles. The metal beams in the vaulted ceiling and the contemporary lighting were at war with the dank, gritty wood flooring and the bar top that showed its era. It smelled like cigarettes still and the Pine-Sol they used to clean with hung thick in the air but couldn’t hide the scent of time.

  The place was deserted as Todd and I walked through the front door. “Seven” by Sunny Day Real-Estate was playing over the sound system, and I smiled. This was one of my favorite bands. Todd was so eager to move to Salt Lake that he’d gotten us both interviews at this bar. Apparently, the owner, Frank I think his name was, owned an indie record label and that was right up our alley. Music was my life, and Todd had talent in fucking spades. He was a born leader. He could turn this bar into something epic.

  “Can I help you guys?” The soft feminine voice pulled my eyes away from my assessment of the surroundings.

  “We’re here for Frank, we have interviews today,” Todd spoke in his low professional voice. He was always on point.

  Me on the other hand… I couldn’t take my eyes off the tiny sprite behind the bar. She was so short. Her black hair shined under the lights. The sharp edge of her bangs highlighted her big hazel eyes, the same eyes that held my stare… the same powerful eyes that were tearing me apart. No fucking woman had ever grabbed my attention like this… she was unlike the girls I was used to; her eyes were too pure.

  “Shit, he’s late as per usual. You guys want a drink while you wait?” She pulled her hair behind her ear with delicate grace as she let her gaze drop to the bar top. She smirked and bit her lip.

  “Drinking before a job interview doesn’t sound like a smart plan to me.” I tried to infuse as much professionalism in my voice as possible, but the sarcasm won in the end… it always did. She glanced at me from under her lashes. My smile formed on its own, and I cursed silently in my head.

  “Suit yourself.” She poured a shot of whiskey and swallowed it down. I watched the movement of her throat and felt my dick stir. Shit. “We drink on the job all the time.” She laughed at Todd’s stupefied expression, and it spread warmth through my limbs.

  This girl was tiny. She had tattoos covering both her arms, ink played out the top of her shirt, and earrings shimmered down her ears. She looked tough, but there was a sense of helplessness in that smile — that fucking smile that was slaying me.

  “What’s your name, sweetheart?” Todd asked and her smile died.

  “Sweetheart? The name’s Tiffany, asshole, and I’m the assistant manager. If you want this job… I suggest you drop the pet names.”

  “Sure thing.” Todd looked at me with humor in his eyes.

  “Tiffany, this idiot over here is Todd, and my name is Seth. It’s nice to meet you.�
�� My smile was real; it was nice to meet her. I didn’t do the girlfriend thing. My taste for love ran along the lines of fuck’em and leave them begging for more. I didn’t let myself get eaten alive by a cute smile and a bat of an eyelash. Women in general only wanted you after they knew what you were worth. But this Tiffany chick, she seemed different, she was something new and shiny, and I couldn’t wait to figure her out.

  My brother’s house was usually a comfort to me when I was feeling low. Jeff was younger than me by three years. He knocked up his then girlfriend, now wife, Lacey, just out of high school. Lacey was Hispanic and one of the most loving females I’d ever met. Their little girl Maria Guadalupe Montgomery, we called her Jellie because when she was a baby she was so chubby that when she giggled her cheeks shook like Jell-O, was the best thing that could have happened to my little brother.

  My mother’s absence wrecked him, too. Instead of being a man whore though, he clung to women like they were life rafts. It used to piss me off, and I blamed Lacey for a long time for my brother not going to college. My dad did too, still did. But Lacey was another girl on my “good list” now. She took care of my brother, and they loved each other in a way that made you want to always be around them… feeding off that mutual respect. Something I’d lost interest in a long time ago, but reveled in when I was with them.

  Jellie laughed at the television. Sometimes I had to hand over my man card because she was just so fucking cute I couldn’t help but want to hug her and be the uncle she deserved. However, tonight Jellie was watching “Brave” for the nine hundredth time, and I wanted to hang myself. Tiffany was out with Scott, and I was stuck babysitting this pint-sized female Hispanic version of my brother. My mind running all sorts of horrid scenarios of how things were going to go down tonight for Tiff.

  Scott didn’t fool me; he was all sex, control, and dominance. We were kindred spirits. I could sniff out my own kind any day. But his version was fake and much more calculated than mine. The women I got with knew what they were in for when I took them head down and hard against their sheets. I made no false promises. I was no knight in shining armor. Scott hid his appetites, whereas I wore mine on my sleeve. I was a one-night guy, and the need to control poured out of me with each climax I granted. But guys like Scott wanted a woman to govern, to bend to his oversized ego, to make him feel like the king he thought he was. It was all about the exploitation, the fuck, the ownership of another body. The thought that Tiffany would be the one to bow down to him made my head cloud with rage.

  “Uncle Seth, it’s over.” Jellie smiled up at me from the floor. Her pink butterfly pjs too short for her legs.

  My brother struggled for money and her clothes had to last a long time. My dad’s pride and anger about how Jeff lived his life needed to stop. I made a mental note to give my dad shit next time I saw him. Jeff’s kid deserved a grandfather that was worth a damn. Jeff’s choice to keep his baby, to not go to college, and to run a small mechanic shop never sat well with our dad. Our father had expected us boys to partner up with him at Montgomery and Simmons. So when Jeff didn’t fall into step with our father’s plan, he pulled away from Jeff and his family.

  “You ready for bed, sweet thing?” I forced all the bullshit into the back of my head. I came here to spend time with my girl.

  She nodded and bear hugged my leg. I walked with her dangling from my leg down the short hallway to her room. This was our little game. “Okay, sweet thing, bus ride is over.”

  She giggled and ran to her bed. I tucked her in and gave her a quick kiss on her forehead. “Uncle Seth?” Her dark brown eyes searched my face. “Are you sad?”

  Her question caught me off guard. “No way, chick. Why would you ask that?”

  “You make the car noises when we play bus stop, and tonight you didn’t.”

  I chuckled. “Sorry, Jellie. Next time, I promise.” I shut off her light. “Go to sleep, midget.”

  “Night, Uncle Seth.”

  I was left to my own devices as I pulled a bottle of beer from the fridge. I popped the cap off and slugged down half the bottle. My brother would be home shortly, and then I could go home and sleep this shit night away. I tried not to think about Scott’s mouth on hers, the one girl I’d ever thought about kissing. My phone was weighing down my pocket like a boulder. Don’t be a pussy.

  I pulled my phone from jeans and pulled up Tiffany’s number.

  Me: I’m sorry.

  Those words, those two damn words, broke every rule I had made for myself. I took a swig from my beer, silently berating myself for being weak when my phone vibrated in my hand.

  Tiffany: Thank you. Always your Angel~

  My stomach felt light, and my ribcage felt full. I wasn’t nauseous; I didn’t feel sick at all. This sensation was new, and I didn’t know how to categorize it. “Always your Angel~” Tiffany was still mine. We had history, we had friendship… she’d given me a piece of her the other night and, fuck, if I wasn’t going to hold onto that like a damn life raft. Maybe Jeff had it right. Maybe he had it right all along.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Tiffany

  SCOTT’S STRONG HAND WAS wrapped around my upper thigh as the loud bass drum beat heavy in my chest. The heat of his palm seared down my leg. His friend’s band was playing at Mace’s and they were pretty good. Dinner had been nice. Scott and I seemed to have a lot in common. He was a few years older than me, but we were both into all the same things. He loved art and was so talented at his job. He was one of the best tattoo artists at Magnolia Street. It felt good to be out, to be admired, and the way he took charge took away the burden I always felt to keep things in order. My phone vibrated against the table top, the screen lighting up.

  Seth: I’m sorry.

  The thumping in my heart had nothing to do with the bass drum this time. Seth didn’t apologize. He didn’t make excuses. He owned who he was, and that was one of the things I loved about him. I swallowed the lump in my throat. Those two words shouldn’t cause such an emotional response. The tears threatened to spill, but I pulled in a deep breath before anyone would be the wiser.

  Me: Thank you. Always your Angel~

  It was a peace offering… it was the truth. Seth was my best friend; he held the black portions of my heart in his hands and smiled down on them, giving them the light they so desperately needed. He got me and I got him… it was just our way. My lips spread into a broad smile.

  “Fuck, you’re beautiful when you smile.” Scott’s sea blue eyes locked on my mouth. My breathing became rapid as he moved his right hand up my thigh, his left hand gripped the back of my neck and drew me in the last few inches to his lips. He didn’t ask for consent before he collided his lips with mine. His firm lips worked against my mouth, coaxing me open. He bit my upper lip and I groaned. He tasted like beer and a hint of tobacco. The palm of his right hand found my waist and he tugged me close to him in the booth. His strength no match to my small frame.

  He abruptly pulled away from my lips leaving me hot, bothered, and bit restless. “Let’s go.” The authority in his voice made my cheeks heat and my stomach constrict with nerves.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’re place or mine, I don’t care.” He took my hand in his as we stood and I hesitated. This was our first date.

  “I don’t think so.” I smiled keeping it light and flirty. I liked Scott, but I wasn’t going to sleep with him right out of the gate.

  His hold on my hand was firm as he pulled my body flush with his. He was so much bigger than me. He towered above me, his commanding arms draped around my waist as he whispered in my ear. “We’re not going to do anything that you don’t want to do, but I’m having you tonight one way or another. You can’t kiss me like that, have those fucking lips on mine, and not expect me to not want more.”

  He nipped the tip of my earlobe, his breath sending shivers down my spine. My heart was telling me this was too much. He wasn’t what I should want, but my body, my mind, my wounded ego wanted to feel
something other than sadness, ache, and need. My earlier thought of hesitation was melting away under his deep gaze.

  “Make a decision.” He pulled away from me, and his smile was wicked, confident, and it turned me on.

  “Not tonight,” my tone was misleading, instead of a statement it almost sounded like a question.

  The blue in his eyes appeared darker in the low light of the club as they grazed over my face and fell to my mouth. He looked at me with desperation, like he couldn't want anything more than me in this moment, and it made me feel needed… special. "Don't overthink this." He murmured.

  The feel of his lips against mine was a slow torture as he pulled me into an embrace.

  "Your place," the words were whispered against his mouth. I spoke quietly in silent hope that my body would catch up with my heart and make a better choice. Tell him no, I’m not that girl. But tonight the ache between my legs was winning, tonight I felt like that girl and I needed to let go… just this once.

  MY BACK ARCHED OFF the mattress as my nails scratched and my fingers bunched the black sheets on Scott’s bed. My moan was loud and my body blushed as I came in his mouth. His fingers curled inside me, adding more pressure to the intense orgasm. My thighs were still shaking as he withdrew his fingers from my body and quickly turned me over onto my stomach. I heard the foil of a condom wrapper being opened, and my heart skipped.

  Scott lifted my hips, and I felt the tip of him at my entrance. Being in this position had become a trigger for me. I knew it was now or never. If I really didn’t want it like this, I had to tell him.

  Scott was aggressive, but there was something sweet about him at times and it felt so good to be desired. We’d only been together for just over a week, but things were going well. These past few days he’d been at the bar almost every shift I worked. This past Sunday, at the shop, he had helped me so much by showing me new techniques, and the new sketches he’d been working on were brilliant. We could work; this could work. Besides, he’d made it clear after the first date, the first night I’d stayed with him, the night I submitted and let myself be free for once — that I was his, that we were an item. I shouldn’t feel guilt for wanting him, wanting this.