by K. V. Rose
“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” I counter, gripping the beer tighter in my hand.
He cocks his head, and the anger isn’t there, even though I know he’s pissed. I know I shouldn’t have said that, just as he shouldn’t be talking about this.
“I went to prison for assault,” he says evenly. “I would do it again, too, if it meant reliving that night over. I’d do the same fucking thing. But can you say the same, Caden? Can you say you don’t regret anything you’ve done over the past three years?”
“She killed my brother.” I don’t know what the fuck he doesn’t understand about that.
He shakes his head. “No, man, she didn’t. He killed himself.”
“Benji, she lied to us both. She sent him that video…” I take a shaky breath and bury my head in my hands, just for a second. But then I sit up straighter, because I’m not crying over that bitch again. Not anymore. “She sent that goddamn video, and we both know it. She’s fucking trash.”
I remember how he found out. Or rather, I remember what he did when he found out. I remember holding her, before. I remember taking her from that party. Remember my hands all over her. Thinking, maybe, that after all this time, maybe we could talk. Maybe I would be more than her boyfriend’s older brother that intervened when Jack was being an arrogant, possessive shit.
Something had been wrong that night. I just hadn’t known it was that.
She was there, when I got the call. She had been in my lap, when I finally thought she had a chance at being mine. When I thought I might not have to share her anymore. When her body was for me.
“I know,” Benji says with no emotion. His face darkens. “She lied. She was embarrassed. So what? You were fine with it when it was you. You knew she had been fucking your brother. You didn’t mind when she was on top of you. You didn’t mind her moving on with you, asshole. Don’t be a hypocrite.”
“How can you say that?” I throw up my hands. Benji is usually on my side about this. But what hurts the most is his words kinda hurt. Because they’re true.
“I loved Jack, too. I think she’s a bitch. But you didn’t care when she was dry humping you because you wanted her.” Benji shakes his head and leans back again, flinging an arm over the side of the booth. “You still want her. You’ve always wanted her. Especially back in the day, when you couldn’t have her.”
When she was a teenager and tiptoeing around my parents’ house like a mouse. When I realized she was probably hiding out from her piece of shit mom. When I heard Jack torment her over and over again, and I couldn’t stay away. Couldn’t look away. She always seemed so full of darkness, and not just over Jack. Like it was in her, dying to come out. And I wanted to hold her then. Every time she came over and I was at the house to see her, she seemed so frail. So sad. Scared, even. I thought Jack was probably too busy dealing with his own testosterone to notice, and I wanted to pull her to me every time I came by the house and saw her scared little face.
But I never did.
Because she was Jack’s. He made damn sure I knew it. That everyone knew it. Especially her.
Then we connected, because she happened to be in the right place at the right time. And suddenly, I didn’t have to pine after her anymore. Because she came with me.
I shake my head.
“I don’t want to talk about her anymore.”
Benji arches a brow. “You mean like last night, when you wouldn’t let that fine girl with the fake tits finish sucking you off? How’s not talking about her working for you, man?”
I feel my face darken and Benji must see it because he cracks a smile.
“I don’t want her. I want to hurt her.” He knows as much. It’s why I wanted Adam to come out last night. It’s why Benji texted her. I wanted her to feel just a little of what I felt. Of what Jack must have felt before he didn’t want to feel anything anymore.
I wonder if she thinks she’s special because he killed himself over her. I wonder if she pats herself on the back over it. I wouldn’t be surprised. She’s always been a little sick and twisted.
Benji takes another drink of water and I motion for the waitress to send me another beer. She does, setting it on the table at my side with an overly friendly smile, but I ignore her.
“The only way you can hurt her is by drawing her in and then cutting her loose.” Benji mimes scissors with his fingers, cutting an imaginary string. “But I don’t think you can do it. I don’t think you can cut her off if you get pulled into her vortex again.”
I sigh, take a long pull from the beer. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”
Benji shakes his head, and for a moment I think he’s going to try to talk me out of the plan he just put in my head, but then he shrugs.
“Cheers,” he says, and lifts his water, clinking his glass against my bottle.
Cheers indeed.
Twelve
Present
I can’t move my flight because I can’t afford the change fee, and I can’t get out of seeing Rolland forever. We have plans tonight, that I insist aren’t at the condo. I don’t know how much longer it’ll be before he finds out that Adam and I aren’t together, and I don’t know if it’ll change anything at all—I’m not a teenager anymore, and he’s kept his distance, physically—but I’m not going to risk it.
I wear my own jeans and a t-shirt, nothing from his stocked closet, trying to convey the point that I’m fed up with his shit. That he might have me on a string, but I want nothing to do with him. I’m ready for this shit to end.
I call Mom, just to check on her.
She sounds groggy when she answers, and it freaks me out.
“Are you okay?” I ask her quietly, looking down at the Toronto sign as the sunlight fades with the day. People are beginning to swarm the city. It’s Saturday night, after all.
“Yes, hon,” she says with a sigh. “Just missing you. Paperboy came. I gave him some change from the piggybank in your room.”
I laugh in the phone at her words, one arm on the glass window. It’s cold against my hand, this high up.
“We don’t even read the paper. You should’ve told him.” I say the words breezily enough, trying to play it off, but there’s a lot of pain behind them, too. Because honestly, I can’t really afford her to be giving coins from my piggybank.
But she doesn’t handle the bills. God, I don’t know if she ever has.
She sighs. “I know, I know. How’s Toronto? Did you see Adam?” She doesn’t ask anything about Jack, about how I might feel being here without him, and she won’t. She knows how it hurts. She thinks Adam pays for my flights here. He probably would have, if I had asked. He’s wanted to see me, too, back in North Carolina. But I’ve always blown him off. He knows I’m poor, but I don’t necessarily want him to see it.
Mom knows nothing about Caden. About Rolland.
I plan to keep it that way. Rolland has jerked me around long enough, I don’t need my own mother to know I’m his pet. Not that she hasn’t been a pet before. That’s how she’s spent most of her life.
I press my forehead, hard, against the glass. I want out of this. Goddammit, I want out of it. When I think about Mom, when I imagine being like her…it makes me feel sick. One way or another, I will get Rolland Virani the fuck out of my life.
“I did,” I say in response to her question about Adam. I don’t want to tell her about the breakup. I have this irrational fear that anything that goes off-kilter in my life will throw her out of recovery. “Tonight, I’m going out with him again.”
Lies. Lies. Lies.
Some days I barely know the truth anymore.
“When are you seeing Tyler again?” she asks. She loves Tyler. The feeling is mutual. Hell, I love Tyler, and if he wasn’t gay, I’d probably marry him just because I can spend hours and hours with him without getting bored.
“I don’t know, Mom,” I say honestly. “He’s in Vancouver, remember? We missed each other this time. But maybe he’ll come to visi
t soon.” Which is true enough. He’s the only one I’ve felt comfortable sharing the shit that is my life with. His wasn’t much better as a child.
She sighs. “I miss Tyler,” she says. “I miss Toronto. But you know what? The heat here is fabulous.”
I laugh, feeling something loosen in my chest with her words. They sound so normal. Not drug-addled or confused or incoherent. Just normal words from the woman that raised me. Or tried to, anyhow.
“I gotta go,” I say as my phone beeps and I see Rolland is calling. With any luck, maybe he’ll cancel our plans.
I end the call with Mom and switch over.
“Hi darling,” Rolland purrs in the phone. My skin crawls and I turn away from the window and start to pace. Staying still while I listen to his sickness is not an option. “I’m so sorry, but I’ve got to cancel tonight. You don’t fly out until Monday, correct?”
He asks as if he doesn’t know. As if he didn’t schedule my flights. He wanted me here, for his stupid fucking party that I bolted out of. To show me off or some shit. I know I’ll have hell to pay for leaving it early. He won’t physically hurt me, I don’t think. Not again. But he can torment me with the fucking video he holds over my head. He’s forced me to watch it more times than I feel like counting.
“Yep,” I say, trying to act like I don’t care. Caden and his dad aren’t alike in many ways. But they both like to see women squirm. I refuse to give Rolland that.
“Good, good. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” He doesn’t ask, he just says it because he knows I’ll jump when he needs me to. That pisses me off, but I say nothing and end the call.
I know he’ll hate that, but he’s distracted now anyhow. Maria probably wants a date. Or to flay him alive, one. I wouldn’t blame her if she went in that direction.
She was always cold to me, but always doting on her sons. When Jack died, well, I think she feels the same way toward me as Caden does. If she only knew. She refused to watch the video, but she knew enough about what was on it.
I try to force that night from my mind. And the other one. The one of the stupid fucking video.
Down below, the city is really alive, music blaring from God knows where, and I…I’m free. No school. No Mom. No Adam. No Rolland.
My idea of a night out includes cuddling up in my bed and reading a book. I hate crowds, clubs, too many people, too much noise unless it’s music in my headphones. All of the other shit overwhelms me. It always has.
But tonight…
Tonight, I think I might want to be overwhelmed.
Thirteen
Present
I don’t want to stalk her. She’s into a lot of weird shit, but I’m not sure she’d be into that. I’m not sure I’m into that…until I see her.
Benji and I are across the street from the condo my dad keeps her at, and she comes down the steps in another black dress, her tan legs literally glistening in the street lamps and what remains of the sun overhead. Her hair ruffles in the wind, light brown and so damn long, nearly grazing her waist. She has on red heels, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her wear those before. She usually wears dirty sneakers, and she almost never wears dresses either so this…it’s a novelty.
“Damnnn,” Benji says, dragging out the word.
I want to punch him, but I can’t because I know what he sees. I’m not blind. She’s stunning. But I’m not here to be stunned.
“What do we do now?” Benji asks when I don’t respond to his comment. We watch her indecision, hovering between waving down a cab, and walking down the street. She’s on the curb, glancing at the yellow taxis, but then she makes up her mind.
She decides to walk, weaving in and out of the crowd, and I see more than a few male—and female—eyes on her, and it makes my blood boil. Even though I shouldn’t give a fuck who wants to fuck her, it pisses me off enough that I start walking after her. Benji falls into step beside me.
We’re on the opposite side of the street, which isn’t a good place to be for stalking, so we cross over at the light, and keep a good distance behind her.
Her ass is little, it’s always been little, and yet in this black dress, it’s fucking beautiful.
I need to adjust myself, but I don’t dare in this crowd. Instead, I smooth down my white shirt, run a hand through my hair.
“You okay, man?” Benji asks, dark humor in his words.
No.
“Yes.”
I feel him looking at me as we make our way through the crowded streets, the sun nearly gone now. Streetlights illuminate our path, and our height and long legs makes it relatively easy to keep up with her.
“What if you happen to see something you don’t like?” Benji goads me. “What if you don’t get to make a move because some dude already is?”
I glance at him, see a smile on his face. Dickhead. He knows I’ve already seen that. More than once.
“Fuck off,” I mutter.
He just laughs again. Sometimes I wonder about him. He had a hot temper before he went to prison. He still does; I’ve seen it, just not directed at me. But now…it’s scarier somehow. Like he’s just let the darkness consume him. He’s been through some shit, before prison. He’s adopted, and he doesn’t have the best relationship with his parents. But after prison…well, it’s like he’s come out an indestructible monster.
I have to grudgingly admit that it suits him.
“Is Tyler in town?” he asks me quietly.
Fucking Tyler.
Tyler is her best friend, and he used to wrestle in high school and college, too, until he dropped out to pursue art full-time. I used to wrestle as well. Up until the day I graduated undergrad. I’ve still got the stamina to prove it. But Tyler is a beast. And a loud mouth. I saw him around Riley enough at our house to know. I’m not sure how Jack tolerated him, but it was for her. Everything had been for her. His toxic, manipulative, controlling ways…that was all for her too.
She got him back, in the end.
“No.” I must answer too quickly, because I feel Benji’s eyes on me again. But I would know if Tyler was in the city. She would have seen him already. She was as attached to him as she was to Jack. I knew he wasn’t into women and I still got jealous when I saw them at my parents’ house together.
“I’m supposed to be the one with the information,” Benji drawls. “Bro, you’re in deep.”
I shake my head, scowling. I can’t be in too deep. I can’t be in at all. This is to fuck her over. To get some sort of vengeance for my brother. When someone murders someone else, they, hopefully, get caught. They go to prison. They serve their life to atone for someone else’s. But Jack pulled his own trigger, and yet it was Riley’s fucked-up decision that made him do it. I had thought about it myself, in the aftermath. Knowing it would never work with us. Knowing I would never betray my brother like that, even in death.
I knew how he felt.
And he was already dealing with shit. She knew that. She had taken the brunt of it for over a year. It’s what brought the three of us together. Me trying to defend her like a dumbass, thinking she wasn’t capable of fighting her own battles. It’s what got us into this mess in the first place.
I roll my shoulders back, shaking my head.
I’m not in this mess anymore. She’ll be going back to the States in a few days, and either by then I’ll have fucked with her heart a little, or I can go back to pretending she doesn’t exist. Or I’ll think of something worse.
Benji grabs my arm, jerking me to a halt, bringing my mind back to the present.
“What the hell—”
“She went in there,” he says, nodding to a door to my left.
It’s a bar that opens up their dance floor in a few hours, and it’s already jam packed. This is so not her scene. The Riley I knew would beg Jack to stay home from his team events, or else hide out in his room while he went out. It’s not that she didn’t like to share him; she didn’t really seem to care about that shit. She just didn’t want to be around loud crowds
. It’s what had shocked the shit out of me that night. The night of the phone call. I left with her that night, knowing I had shit to do. Law school. Finals. Studying. But I left for her. Goddammit, I would have done anything for her then.
But clearly, I don’t know her at all anymore. I apparently didn’t then, either.
“Wow,” I say, more to myself than to Benji. But he catches it.
“Riley grew up,” he says, smiling. And I want to wipe that shitty grin off his face, but instead, I nod at the bouncer at the door and we go in, enveloped in noise and the smell of marijuana which is illegal to smoke indoors but obviously no one gives a shit here.
The music is loud, the bass shaking under my feet.
I see Riley slide up to the bar, and I see the bartender flash her a genuine smile, ignoring everyone else waiting for drinks, and making his way to her.
My fists clench at my sides, but Benji steers me past what will serve as the dance floor and to a booth tucked in a back corner. He pushes me into the booth, sits across from me.
I glare at him.
He holds up his hands, all innocence, and he’s probably about to say something stupid when our waitress flounces over.
She’s got huge tits that are spilling out of her unbuttoned shirt, and she’s wearing a short leather skirt. Her hair is the color of mud and she flashes me a too-friendly smile.
Her eyes suddenly widen.
“Are you Caden Virani?” She pronounces it wrong, like V-eye-rani, but I’m too used to it to care.
I arch a brow. “Do I know you?”
I see, out of the corner of my eye, Benji shoot me a glare. He wants his own piece of ass, but I don’t care. He doesn’t need me to help him find it.
The girl blushes and wrings her hands. “You own Scott Virani Enterprise?”
I nod, once. “Are you interested in tech?” I ask. Although I don’t give a shit.
The truth is, I’m not all that interested in it. SVE started as a side project when I was in law school. A way to connect businesses with cleaner energy sources and tech products. A sort of recycling system for technology geeks and companies, because God knows the planet is trashed enough as it is. Now we’ve all got smart phones and smart homes and those products will need to be properly disposed of eventually, too.
