by A. J. Downey
“Don’t be, it was a good story,” Golden said, and held up his glass. “To Mace! Poor bastard probably slept on the couch for a week after that shit.”
“To Mace!” Everyone cheered and drank. I laughed and said, “I don’t know how long she stayed mad at him for that one.”
The door opened and I turned; a cluster of people from the Point Side was gathered in the doorway. I could see Mr. Comey at the back, and one of the young people at the front, Yvette, asked, “Hey yo, this where Miss Sylvia’s wake is supposed to be?”
“It surely is,” Skids called from the bar.
“Yo, this is a cop bar!” a male voice shouted from the back. I think it was Julio.
Damien looked at the group and said back, “Not tonight, it’s not.”
Several of them in the doorway exchanged looks, and Skids called out, “Food’s about to be up; I ain’t heating the whole of Indigo City. Either you’re in or you’re out.”
“Yeah, we’re in,” Yvette smiled at me and ushered everyone forward, and new happy tears kind of formed.
“Thanks,” I said softly and she said, “Man, I’m really sorry about Miss Sylvia, baby girl.” She came over and hugged me and everyone else followed suit.
“We were just listening to one of Ally’s stories about her; you got any?” Golden asked.
“Yeah,” Yvette said smiling. “A lot of us called her the Saint of the Point Side. She helped a lot of people, whether we done wrong or not.”
“Oh, yeah, what’d she do for you?” he asked, and one by one the stories started to come out. Some I knew, some were even new to me, but all of them were much the same. My grandmother loved everybody. She loved her community, and she wanted everybody to be safe and happy in a place that was inhospitable to both.
I turned to Damien and met his eyes, smiling, and mouthed ‘thank you.’
“Anything for you,” he murmured into my ear and I believed him. He didn’t say it if he didn’t mean it. I knew that about him. I loved that about him.
“Hey man, I ask you something?” Julio said a time later. Damien looked back at him over his shoulder and gave a nod.
“Sure,” he said.
“You and Ally a thing?”
“Yeah, Julio, we’re a thing,” I said, gently.
He nodded, but regret sort of took over his expression. “You gonna take her out of the Point Side?” he asked.
“Why?” Damien asked, picking up on something I hadn’t.
“’Cause, man. You’re the city’s prosecutor, dude. You’re on the news and shit. There be bangers and guys at the Point Side that’d hurt Ally just to get to you.” Julio looked at me and his face was a mix of sad and something else I couldn’t quite define.
“I like you, Ally Cat. I liked Ms. Sylvia. I don’t want to see nothin’ happen to you.” I nodded and took his warning to heart.
“We’ll have her moved this weekend if we have to,” Skids said, from behind the bar.
“Always knew you’d get out,” Yvette said. “I’m happy for you.”
I swallowed, things moved so fast, were moving so fast… I didn’t even know where I was going to go!
Yes, you do, stupid. He’s got you half moved in already.
I looked to Damien who reached up and caressed a light thumb across my cheek. Then I looked past him to Dawnie, who was visibly upset but trying to contain it.
“Oh, Dawnie, please don’t cry!”
“I’m sorry!” She put a fist to her mouth, pressing it to her lips for a moment and finally pulled it away and said, “I always knew you would get out, too. I just didn’t think it would all happen at once like this, you know?”
“Dawnie, she’s going to move, sure, but we have a little time for that and she’s not leaving your life completely. She’s still here,” Damien let her know and I loved him so much right then for trying to comfort my salty, distressed friend.
“He’s right, you know,” I said. “I can’t do anything without my best friend.”
“I know you can’t,” she warbled, “You’d be lost without me. Now get over here, bitch, and hug me.”
I went and hugged her tight, and had nothing I knew to say to make it better for her. We were caught in the same storm, but on opposite ends of it. It was as if my whole world had shattered and the pieces were tossed in the air. They were still coming down and hadn’t all landed, but as soon as I was able to snatch a piece, it felt like, I was able to fit it to the one next to it. Like, even though everything was broken, with Damien’s help, I was piecing it back together at a whirlwind speed.
It was much the same the rest of the wake, passing by at the speed of light. Laughter and tears, a roller coaster of emotion. When the last person had left and the doors were shut and locked, I sagged against Damien with relief.
“I think my girl has officially reached pumpkin status,” he said, with a light chuckle.
“To be expected,” Reflash said and I smiled at him. He’d cooked all of my grandmother’s recipes for the food. That was more sneaky-sneaky from my boyfriend, taking pictures of her recipes and sending them to Reflash to ponder over and expand.
“I’d like to buy a couple of them recipes for the restaurant,” he’d said and we were supposed to work out a deal later on. It would be nice to put some money aside for a rainy day, and I wasn’t opposed to it. My grandmother loved to cook and feed people, so it felt right, actually.
“You go on and get out of here,” Skids called. “We got clean-up just fine.”
“I can’t even begin to imagine what this cost you,” I told them.
“Nothin’.” Reflash leaned against the bar. “Your man there paid for it.”
I turned to Damien and he kissed my forehead in that way that made me melt. “I meant it, I’d do anything for you. Plus, money is really no object for me.”
I sighed, too wrung and turned-inside-out to argue or pitch any ‘but’s’ out there.
“Let’s go home,” he murmured, and I nodded. I wanted to go home. I wanted a bed, and I know it was probably wrong of me, but I wanted the escape Damien’s body in mine provided.
We said our final goodbyes, I gave hugs and my profuse thanks, and we were on our way back to the Calvert building by way of the garage next door.
We were silent all the way back up to his apartment. I didn’t even object to using the elevator. I mean, not that I ever did, but this time I didn’t even feel the usual accompanying anxiety that came with an elevator ride.
“How are you feeling?” he asked me.
“Empty,” I replied softly as we stepped through his front door. I didn’t want to give him the idea I wasn’t up for anything before bed, though, so I said, “I don’t suppose you would mind filling me up?”
He smiled and laughed at my crude joke and said, “Not at all; come here.”
He drew me into his arms and kissed me with one of those kisses of his that scorched the earth and made it all just fall away. I kissed him back and let my hands run over his fit body underneath his jacket and what he called a cut. The heat radiating off of him was addictive after the chilly ride home, and I wanted to warm myself by him like he was the fire missing from my soul.
I only hoped I could reignite next to him and he was, it would seem, determined to make that happen. His mouth was hungry, like he would swallow my sadness whole. His hands were just as starved, moving over my body, desperate to touch, desperate to feel every inch of me.
It was like we lost ourselves in one another. Hands divested bodies of clothes, without a hope or a prayer of ever reaching the bedroom. He laid me down, right there against the warm hardwood floors, mouth traveling all down my body, hands following. I ran my fingers through his hair as he kissed the apex of my thighs and I arched when his tongue licked out decadently along the seam of my sex.
“Oh, god! Damien…” My voice died on a lust-filled gasp and he growled his approval against me. My hips lifted at the sound and thrill of vibration and I gave myself over to his tender loving care.
&
nbsp; 33
Yale…
“You really want me to move in with you?” she asked suddenly, as we were lying in bed. We’d eventually made it back here, and we’d made love again. It’d been a three-condom night and I was good with that, utterly spent and on the verge of sleep when her voice had sweetly disrupted the silence.
I paused and thought about what she was asking. I didn’t give her any platitudes or immediately jump to a ‘yes, of course, I do' because that wasn’t what she was looking for. She wanted the truth, and I swore I would always give her that. I couldn’t expect total honesty from her if I wasn’t willing to give it in return.
“Yes,” I said, finally. “Everything about you makes my life better. I want to share it with you; I want you in my space. I want it to be our space.”
She dragged herself up and straddled my hips, her hands resting on my stomach, and peered down at me, searching my face.
“I guess I’m surprised,” she said after a while, deciding I was sincere.
I smoothed my hands over the tops of her thighs and met her level, somber gaze. Those green eyes of hers gave me no quarter.
“I tried to deny you, Ally. I tried keeping you out of my heart and keeping it just about meeting physical needs with you, but you weren’t having any of it.” I reached up and cupped her cheek, and she turned her face into my hand, kissing the heel of it as I grazed her soft skin with my thumb.
“I don’t understand why you were so determined,” she murmured.
“I’m not a good man,” I said, swallowing hard. “I know how to move through the world and fake it, but I’m a deviant. I’m sexually depraved and I –“
Both of her small hands covered my mouth and she leaned down, nearly nose-to-nose with me. “I happen to like it, and you are a good man. Look at how you take care of me,” she whispered, and she moved her hands and replaced them with her lips in a soft, sultry little kiss. I let my fingers dig slightly into her hips, surprised that my cock stirred where her pussy rested against it. Shit, I might have another round in me, after all.
“The least I could do for corrupting you so thoroughly,” I murmured against her mouth.
She smiled and said back, “I like how you corrupt me.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll carry on, then.” I sat up and rolled her onto her back, the sudden movement making her shriek and laugh. I loved the sound of her laughter after so many tears and so I nipped at the sensitive spot on the side of her neck, growling against it, tickling her with my beard.
She kicked ineffectively and laughed harder, her hands pulling me closer rather than shoving me away and I just couldn’t stand it. I turned that laughter into a moan as I slid into her. I needed to get a condom, shit, but just for the moment, oh god, she felt so good.
I went to stop after just a couple of strokes, but she locked her legs around me and whispered, “Just a moment longer?”
“I shouldn’t have even started –“
She interrupted me. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt closer to you. I know it’s stupid –“
“It’s not.” I interrupted her. It wasn’t. I got it, even if no one else out there did; I did and that was what mattered.
Still, I wasn’t ready for children, and though she had gotten on the pill, it was my responsibility to take care of us. Her pregnant, right now, would be too much, with every other major life change going on. So I withdrew, quickly got a condom on, and fervently picked up where we left off.
She was warm, soft, and everything I needed, and I loved having her here and in my bed. I wasn’t upset at all by the confluence of events that brought her here to stay ‒ except for the fact that they made her hurt. Her grandmother had been sweet and kind, but she’d known it was her time.
When Ally had gone to use the restroom on our last visit to her gran, Mrs. Blaylock had put her gnarled hand on mine, had looked me straight in the eye, and had told me she didn’t think she had long and to please take care of Ally when she was gone. Then she had begged me not to tell her granddaughter, pleaded with me not to upset her.
I promised, because how could I not? I had every intention of taking care of what was mine, and make no mistake; Ally Blaylock was mine. Of course, until unless there was ever a day that she didn’t wish to be anymore. Then again, what kind of man would I be to give her just cause to walk away from me?
Call me an over-achiever, but that would never happen. I would make sure of it. I would love her, care for her, honor and cherish her. Someday this woman would be my wife, but there was plenty of time for all of that later.
It was a special moment, a special thing to know you had found the one that was for you. The one you knew, unequivocally, that you would be spending the rest of your life with. I loved Ally Blaylock with every part of my damaged heart and soul. She completed me ‒ soothed the hurting, aching, broken bits of me in a way that no one or nothing ever had before. She believed in me to the point that I had to believe in myself, that I had to give myself more credit. She undid so many of the doubts that my parents had instilled in me and how, after all of that, could I not love her in return?
“Tighten up that pussy,” I ordered and she complied, and I could stay here like this, in her, with her, forever. I stroked in and out of her in an easy cadence, her breath soft and her arms around me, her hands on my ass, encouraging me. Not that I needed the encouragement. Not when it came to her. I made her come twice before I concentrated on my own pleasure.
I laughed; it felt so good, but I couldn’t get there. I think I was just too damn spent. I just didn’t have one more in me, but it damn sure wasn’t for a lack of trying. This last session of sex for the night ended with both of us laughing, holding each other tight and kissing as I cursed my inability to finish and Ally bemoaned how badly she felt that I couldn’t.
It didn’t matter. It really didn’t. It was everything just to have her in my bed, in my arms, as we both finally fell asleep.
34
Ally…
I lived at Damien’s for the whole following week, until the weekend, when all of the Indigo Knights helped us move the important things and sell or donate the rest. It’d been both a heartbreaking but super fun day, and I was beginning to feel like I had a different sort of family.
The rest of October wore on into November and the days turned rainier and colder. It was like the skies echoed my mood and I could almost believe I controlled the weather some days. Damien’s love made me feel powerful, but I didn’t think I was that powerful. At least, not really.
One rainy November day, I woke up to find his half of the bed empty, and pushed myself up, confused. On our days off, I almost always got up before him.
“Damien?” I called out softly, and I heard him padding barefoot over the hardwood down the hall. He appeared in the door to our bedroom, shirtless and delicious in just a pair of black pajama pants, hair still tousled.
“Morning,” he greeted me, and stopped, looking at me much the same as I looked at him. A warm glow took root in my chest and grew, bursting to life and into full bloom as a smile on my face.
“What are you doing up before me?” I asked, pushing my hair back off my face, smoothing it behind my ears.
He smiled at me softly and said, “Hold that thought, I’ll be right back.” Then, sterner, with a hard look that said he meant business, he declared, “Don’t you dare move.”
“Yes, sir,” I said mildly amused, my curiosity eating me alive.
He came in with a tray laden with breakfast, and my heart melted a little, he set it across my lap and put pillows behind me, and I looked at him with such love and asked lightly, “You didn’t have to do this, what’s the occasion?”
He laughed and said, “You serious?” He came around the bed and lay on his side, propping his head on his hand and I looked at the beautifully-cooked eggs, bacon, and toasted English muffin, alongside fresh coffee and orange juice.
“Yes, I’m serious.” I blinked in
confusion and his face fell slightly, and I felt color rise in my cheeks.
“It’s your birthday, Bright Eyes.”
I blinked in surprise and blurted, “Nuh-uh! It’s not the twenty-second already, is it?”
“It is,” he said, gravely.
“Oh, my god!” I laughed, embarrassed. “Who forgets their own birthday!?”
He laughed with me, “Apparently you do, but I didn’t.” He pushed himself up to his hands and knees and kissed my forehead, then drew back and saying, “Eat. I have a present for you.”
I nodded and began to eat my breakfast. He came back in the room with a white garment box, tied with a giant indigo-blue, sheer gift ribbon. It was lavish and beautiful, and I almost felt bad that I would have to untie it. I plucked my phone off the bedside table and opened the camera, and he laughed at me and asked, “What are you doing?”
“The bow is so pretty, I want to take a picture before I ruin it.”
“You’re adorable, you know that?” he asked, snatching my phone out of my hand.
“Hey!”
“Eat your breakfast, baby. I’ve got this.”
I did what I was told, eyeing him as he took several photos of the box, me, and, I was guessing, me stuffing my face. I kind of couldn’t wait to see what was in it. Excitement fizzed through my blood as I put away the rest of the delicious meal he’d made me.
When he was satisfied I’d eaten enough, he took the single rose in its fluted vase off of the tray and put it on my bedside table for me before he took the tray and set it aside. He came back around to his side of the bed and sat down, lightly setting the box in my lap. I licked my lips and pulled gently at the ribbon, which slid easily, and artfully unraveled into a pile on top of the gleaming white surface of the box.
I lifted the lid, folding it back, and gasped. Inside was a beautiful crushed-velvet evening gown, such a deep blue as to almost be black. Sitting on top of it was an elegant, laser-cut, silver metal mask.
“They’re beautiful.”
“They’re just the beginning, for what I have planned for you today.”
