Leave it All Behind

by S. R. Watson

  “I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  “Okay. Try not to use all the hot water.”

  I don’t answer. I’m desperate to chase down the orgasm that got away from me, but the reality of what I’m doing decides to fuck off that quest. Here I am, masturbating to the memory of a man who has only looked through me since his return. A man who openly threw me under the bus to my brother, lit a match to the proverbial bridge as he walked out, and didn’t even look back at the flames. I’m pretty fucking pathetic. Ugh. Okay, I guess I won’t be giving him my nut. I let the water run cool over my heated skin and chastise myself for wanting to cry. I’m stronger than this. I can’t keep giving in to the ambivalence. The shit that I’ve had to get over was much more detrimental than any emotional yo-yo that he can yank me on. I’ve survived physical and verbal abuse, so this should be a cakewalk. He will not win.

  When I step out of the shower, I realize I’ve indeed used all the hot water. Maybe I should go back up front and chill with Lily until it reheats. Sadly, I recognize the stall tactic even as the thought crosses my mind. I will not cower. So what if he’s still awake? I change into my sleep clothes and head straight to my bunk. Climbing into bed, I turn and face the wall, proud of myself for taking some of my power back. That is, until his familiar virile scent invades my senses. It taunts me, invoking more memories that I try to push out of my mind. Some of my resolve dissipates, and sadistic sadness is there, ready to fill the void, so I let the fucking stubborn tears fall. One day at a time. The tears he rips from me are limited, and once my heart rids itself of him, he will not be allowed back in. That mission begins tomorrow. Tonight, I’ll let my body purge itself in the form of tears. Book … Jack … repeat. My time on this bus will serve one purpose. Get the story. There is no Diesel and me, so the sooner I acclimate to what that picture looks like, the better. A few sniffles escape me, and I curse them. He changes position above me, so I know he heard them. Not that he cares. I let the remaining tears wrack my body until sleep eventually wins out.

  I wake to the sound of sizzling bacon and the smell of coffee brewing. I attempt to run a single hand through my tangled tresses, courtesy of going to bed with it wet. Geez. I blow out a frustrated breath because I know I’ll have to rewash and condition again. I hop out of bed, stealing a glance toward the kitchen. Sevyn’s tending to the pancakes he has on the griddle, his distinguishing tattoo giving him away. Diesel is busy with his phone at the dining table … too occupied to notice me. I make my way to the bathroom, caught off guard by my reflection. Puffy eyes and matted hair—I’m quite a sight. Flicking the middle finger to mirror, I start the shower. I step in and get lost in the mundane task of washing my hair. They probably think I’m working toward a record for the most showers taken. I guess it has been my little haven—a place to escape where I know I won’t be followed. I mentally make little to-do lists to focus my attention on anything other than Diesel. I only manage to rinse the remaining suds from my hair before the shower door swings open unexpectedly. I use one hand to cover my breasts and the other to cover my lady parts as a reflex.

  “Time’s up,” Diesels says as he stares through me. Water drips from my hair down into my eyes, but I don’t have a free hand to wipe my face. “Are you just going to stand there foolishly covering shit I’ve already seen, or is that an invitation to join you?”

  “Don’t be a dick,” I retort. “You can wait the few minutes it will take me to finish my shower.” So this is how he wants to play it. His day one immaturity from when we first met.

  He begins to undress, and I’m stuck. I look away, unsure what to do. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Showing you how much of a dick I can be, princess.” It doesn’t go unnoticed that he used the pet name for me that he coined from my brother, only it drips with sarcasm and malice rather than sound flirty. His cock juts to attention the moment he rids himself of his sweatpants, causing my traitorous pussy to tingle with appreciation. Has she not learned what going down this road leads to? I turn away flustered, leaving my ass in plain view. Stepping into the shower, he blocks the only way out. I take the tiniest of peeks only to see him begin to lather himself like I’m not a foot away from him.

  “You really are an ass, you know that?”

  “Yet you can’t keep from looking this way. Probably reminiscing about the last time you were on your knees for me in a shower. I bet your hungry little cunt is soaked for me right now.”

  He doesn’t know just how close he is. “Fuck—”

  “Ah, ah. You don’t want to finish that statement, sweetheart. I’m done fucking you, but I’m not opposed to having you suck my cock. Don’t make me prove a point.”

  The “you” ending to my statement dies on my lips.

  “What point?” Now, I’m just pissed. How dare he talk to me like one of his fucking groupies?

  “That you’re just like all the others. I had a lapse in judgment when it came to you but no more. Hey, you should be proud. You got further than anyone else. Congrats on your ability to deceive.”

  I have no idea what he’s going on about, and I don’t care. He just put me in a class with the “others” who I can only take to mean his groupies. First Xander and now him.

  “Go to hell, Diesel!” I yell as he turns off the water and steps out of the shower.

  “I’m already there, sweetheart. I’m already there.”

  I stand here too shocked to cry. He finally speaks to me, and this is the version of him that I get—cold and detached.

  The look on Lourdes’s face when I stepped into that shower was priceless. I know I was being a major dick, but it’s the only way to put some distance between us. I can’t keep allowing myself to slip into the perpetual cycle of vulnerability. Every time I let someone get close to me, they fuck me over. Every. Single. Time. First Melissa and now Lourdes. The shit I’m facing requires that I be more impenetrable than ever. No weakness.

  “You ready, brother?” Sevyn is already dressed and ready.

  We’re meeting his father and a few other suits to determine our next course of action for the sake of the company. They’ve left their corporate office in New York to meet us here in Galveston, so this should be interesting. I still refuse to see Claude as my father even with all the scandal shit going on.

  “Fuck no. I only agreed to the meeting to ensure this shit doesn’t affect the future of the band. Tying up loose ends and then getting the hell out of there.”

  “Well, our hired car is here to take us to the hotel. Let’s get this shit over with.”

  The ride to Hotel Galvez is ominously quiet. Sevyn cares a lot more about the outcome of the company than I do. He’s always been the more sensitive one and partly why I was able to get over his betrayal. His involvement with Melissa was not out of malice. She served a purpose for him the same way she did for me. When he made the connection that we both shared a penchant for some pretty dark shit, he needed time to process it. How do you even bring that up? Uh, hey brother, just wanted to let you know that we banged the same woman, and we both get off on some twisted kink. Hell, he’d be admitting that he knew my secret. How would I feel about him knowing?

  After he explained to me why he didn’t know how to broach the subject, I knew I couldn’t hold it against him. If the roles were reversed, would I be eager to tell him? Probably the fuck not.

  The driver lets us out in front of the hotel and instructs us to let him know when we’re ready for pickup. I can’t shake the feeling of something being off that has me on edge. Is it because I’m going to face Claude as myself and not standing in as my brother for the first time in years? I shake that thought immediately. What the hell can he do to me? I’m not going into this meeting as some kid facing the consequences of his actions. I’m not sorry. My only regret is that this crap is giving the media a shitshow.

  Sevyn glances over at me as we take the elevator up to the suite. If the lines etched on his forehead are any indication, I’d say he has his
own reservations about this meeting. There to greet us in the foyer is Claude. He looks back and forth between Sevyn and me. Studying us. I cock an unwavering eyebrow his way, giving my best unspoken “I’m studying you too, motherfucker” vibe. He sure as hell doesn’t look sick. Suddenly, his focus turns to me.

  “Diesel, I presume,” he says plainly. His thick English accent is more than a little annoying. Is this a joke to him?

  “Oh, now you presume? Suddenly, you can tell us apart, eh? I guess you presume to be British now too.”

  Sevyn twitches subtly next to me, but it’s there. When he tenses, I know shit is definitely off. “You’re not—” he begins.

  “Claude? No, I’m not. I’m your father.”

  What the hell did he just say? “What the hell is going on here? We didn’t come here to be ambushed, so you better start talking.”

  A frail version of the man standing before us enters the foyer. Sevyn and I do a double take. I’ll be damned. They’re twins. Our father has a fucking twin. More secrets. This shit just keeps getting better.

  “I’m out of here!” I don’t even make it to the elevator before Sevyn grabs me by the arm. “Did you know about this?”

  “No way, man, but we deserve answers. We can’t let them get away with this ‘rabbit out of a hat’ crap. They both have a lot explaining to do. Claude’s twin just said that he was our father.”

  He’s right. In my haste, and being taken aback by the accent, I totally skipped over that fact. Who is this man, and how is he our father? God, I swear my damn life is a soap opera.

  “Fine,” I finally say.

  We follow the twins into the sitting room where two other men in suits await.

  “We need the room, gentlemen. We’ll call you back for the actual meeting,” Claude says before taking a seat on the sofa. He looks like a shell of himself. The cancer must be progressing.

  The two suits nod their understanding before disappearing. Once they’re gone, the British twin speaks up.

  “I’m Aldrich, and I’m your father.”

  “You’ve said that,” I deadpan.

  “Just let me try to explain since Claude doesn’t have the energy,” he tries again.

  I nod for him to get on with it. He explains that he and Claude were separated at birth after being put up for adoption. He was adopted by a British family and brought to the UK while Claude stayed here in the US. Both were raised in great homes, but Claude lived a more privileged life. Marrying at twenty-one, Claude still felt a void even though he had success within his adoptive father’s company and a beautiful wife. He needed to know where he came from—his biological family’s history—so his adoptive parents helped him search for his birth parents. After a year of digging and exhausting an exorbitant amount of resources—all that money could buy—they discovered he had a twin.

  “I also wanted to know who my real parents were, but my reach wasn’t as widespread as my brother’s. He found me, and immediately, I knew he was the missing piece of my life,” Aldrich admits.

  “I still remember that day,” Claude adds hoarsely. His half smile is unmistakable. I’ve never seen him so vulnerable … so human.

  Aldrich continues to explain how he visited America regularly for the next two years. As Claude began to work longer hours, striving to build his own company, his beautiful wife began to appreciate Aldrich’s visits a little more than she should. Then the unthinkable happened. Like a moth to a flame, Aldrich was consumed by her beauty. He could no longer deny what was happening, and they both gave in to temptation for a one-time affair. It ended after that visit, but it only took one. Two months after he returned home, he found out she was pregnant.

  “How do you know that our mother wasn’t pregnant from Claude? She could have been pregnant before you arrived or even right after you left,” Sevyn reasons.

  I shake my head to clear it. My mother is the most honest woman I know, and she was a cheater. Another man with the same face was able to seduce her because he was what? Convenient? This just proves my point about Lourdes. I can’t let myself go back to being vulnerable. I can’t give her the power to break me.

  “Because I was sterile,” Claude explains, cutting through my self-reflections. “As a teenager, I had to have one of my testicles surgically removed after having testicular torsion. I was told that I would likely be infertile. When I found out Doris was pregnant, I wanted that miracle to be true. She finally broke down and told me the truth, pleading with me not to leave her. We went together to get my sperm count evaluated. It proved I wasn’t the father.”

  “But you forgave her, right?” Sevyn heads over and takes a seat next to Claude.

  “Not at first. My image with the company was what initially kept our marriage together, but I was bitter. I felt like half a man forced to live a lie while raising the boys I couldn’t give her. I forced Aldrich to relinquish any claim to you both, and in turn, I would give his children the life he couldn’t provide. Your mother felt abandoned by him and agreed to keep the identity of your real father secret in exchange for trying to repair our marriage. That repair took years. You both were daily reminders of my ineptitude in the bedroom with my wife and my inability to give her the children she always wanted.”

  Claude pauses for a moment to clear his throat. When he looks up at me, since I refuse to sit, a lone tear runs down his cheek. Something aches behind my chest, and I hate it. He doesn’t deserve our pity.

  “I’ve since made amends with your mother, but it’s you, Diesel, who I owe just as much of an apology to. You reminded me so much of Aldrich with your rebellious nature and no-holds-barred attitude. I was especially hard on you because you were him, my daily slap in the face. I never hated you. I just pushed you away because of the hurt I felt around you.”

  “That’s such bullshit!” I yell. “Bullshit,” I say a little more softly.

  “I know, son. The more I pushed you away, the more I hated myself. Although I didn’t know about this takeover you and Sevyn had planned, I knew you two were subbing in and out of the house. It took me a minute to piece together that you two had gone to great lengths to be identical in every way, but you can’t change your personalities. Not really. There will always be slips in character.”

  “Then why didn’t you say anything?” I can’t believe everything I’m hearing. This is all one giant mind fuck to the nth power.

  “Your mother needed you. If the only way you could be in the house was under the pretense of being your brother, then so be it. It allowed me to save face by looking the other way and not having to admit defeat. You were careful to stay out of my way as much as possible so I wouldn’t figure it out, which meant you were more tolerable. Now that my life is coming to an end, I’m able to see what really matters. I’ve made so many mistakes in my life. My adoptive father was a provider, but nurturing was never his strong suit. He was a proud man, and his image was everything.

  “I wish I could do it all over again. I would put your mother first—never giving her a reason to look elsewhere. I would embrace my role in her adultery and be there for her and you two. I would have forgiven my brother years ago. Time is so precious, and now, I’ll never get that time back. I love you, Diesel. I love you both.”

  I don’t realize that he’s managed to invoke tears from me until they run down my cheeks. Damn him. So much time wasted hating him. I know I should be holding on to my disdain for him, but I feel it slipping through my fingers.

  “What about the company? What happens now?” Sevyn tries to change the subject, but the quake in his voice is telling. He is just as affected as I am. We’ve been delivered one hell of a blow, and none of us are coming out of this unscathed.

  “Like I said, I had no idea about Diesel’s and your plan to take over the company. I went to London to get my brother—to make amends and convince him to run the company with you. I gave you controlling shares in case I didn’t survive the trip.”

  “And now?” Sevyn pushes.

  “I wa
s going to wait until I got back to make my peace with Diesel. I figured he would tell me where to shove the company if I offered him part ownership, but I was going to offer it anyway. I’m not mad if that’s what you’re wondering. How could I be? I owe you both so much. How could I blame you? I was a narrow-minded fool, and it took my terminal illness to open my eyes. Jack and Ted will make sure the three of you own the company without interference from the shareholders and board of directors if that’s what you still want.”

  “And how are the suits going to accomplish that?” I ask in regards to Jack and Ted.

  “Well, Jack is my lawyer, and Ted is my private investigator. Let’s just say he has some very disturbing info on a few of the shareholders that they wouldn’t want to see the light of day. They’d gladly endorse their shares over to us. We just need one more person out of the way to ensure you three own the company outright without interference.”

  “One last act of treachery, eh, pops?” I find myself saying to Claude.

  “Nothing illegal, Diesel. Just a little persuasion,” Aldrich speaks up.

  I still can’t believe he’s our father. And his accent trips me the hell out—Claude’s face with a foreign voice.

  “Look, I just texted the suits to come back to figure out how to best tame this media circus and keep our stocks from plummeting. I know we have much more to discuss and a long way to go to repair our relationships, but I’d like to try. I’ll spend the rest of the days I have left on this earth trying.”

  Infectious laughter jolts me from my slumber. I wipe the drool from my lip and rise to see what all the ruckus is about. Lily bounces through our bedroom and yanks the blackout curtains open to let in the sunshine.

  “Get up, sleeping beauty. It’s almost noon, and the guys are getting antsy to go,” she practically sings.

  “I see somebody’s got the D.” I yawn.