by Jessie Cooke
“Blue, I know you loved Saint, and I know you're hurting. My chest hurts so fucking bad I can hardly breathe. But...you know what the very last thing on this earth is that Saint would want you to do?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I know.”
“Then why, Blue? Why are you down here drinking alcohol when you know how badly it would hurt Saint to know you were doing it?”
She pulled the bottle out that she'd hidden behind her back. It was almost full. It looked like maybe she'd taken a swig out of it, and spit part of it back in. She held it out to him and as he took it, she broke. Suddenly, Bonnie Blue was a little girl and she was sobbing. Huge tears covered her face and Rusty put the bottle aside and opened his arms. She curled into them and he let her sob against him. She was talking as she cried, but he couldn't understand a word she was saying. It didn't matter. What mattered was that she was letting it out. They sat there like that with her crying for so long that Rusty couldn't feel his legs, but he still didn't move. When Blue finally started to calm down she said,
“I just wanted to forget...but it was awful.”
Rusty chuckled and kissed the top of her head. She'd actually foregone her usual ball cap for the funeral. “It is awful. It tastes awful and it does awful things to your body.”
She looked up at him then. Her little dark eyes were swollen and puffy red and her nose was running. “Then why do they all do it?” she said, angrily. “Saint died because of that stuff and they're all out there, drinking it by the gallons. It doesn't make any fucking sense!” She pounded her little fist into his chest and said, “My dad gave me up, for that! He let me be raised without any parents because that shit was more important to him than me!” She started crying again and Rusty realized that this was more about her father and her craving for a family than it was about Saint. Not that she didn't love Saint and she wasn't going to miss him...but his death had stirred up all of her fears about her father and the choices he'd made, and might make in the future.
“You're right honey, it doesn't make any sense. It doesn't even make sense to me, when I'm sober...but that's the problem. When you're an alcoholic and you drink, the world doesn't look the same. We're wired differently for whatever reason, and we don't care that it tastes bad, because it's not about the taste...it's about how it makes us feel.”
“That's why I wanted to try it. I want to know what feels so much better than being a dad...or being alive!”
“I wish that I could explain it so that you and I could both understand it honey, but the truth is, me and Saint and your dad...guys like us don't like alcohol. We don't like the way it tastes, or smells...and we especially don't like the power it has over us. We don't like the way it comes between us and the people we love. We don't want to crave it. We don't want to need it. Your daddy, he didn't want to hurt that lady, or leave you...he didn't want to ruin your life and his. Saint didn't want to die, and I didn't want to spend two years of my life in an alcohol haze. I know none of that changes the reality of any of our situations. But maybe if you try to understand that this was something your daddy did because he didn't know how to change, you can believe that his choices were completely separate from his love for you.” Rusty borrowed that from what Saint had told him about Celia...but, it seemed fitting here as well.
“It's still fucked-up,” she said. Rusty sighed and shook his head. She'd definitely spent too much time with Saint.
“Yeah,” he said, “It is. But, you know something? I believe that everything happens for a reason. We don't always know what those reasons are. Sometimes they're apparent right away, and sometimes later on, and sometimes not at all...but maybe it would be easier to look at it like this...if your daddy had never gone to prison, you may have never grown so close to Saint. And because you were close to Saint, you knew my dad. And because you knew my dad...ultimately, I got sober. So maybe you and I are supposed to take this second chance of mine and do something great with it.”
“Like what?”
Rusty shook his head. “I'm not sure yet. But when it comes to us, we'll know.”
“You're just talking a lot of shit to make me feel better,” she said. Rusty laughed.
“Is it working?”
She nodded and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “A little, I guess. I should go see Susie. Angel said she's been crying in her room a lot since Saint died. She didn't get to go to the funeral.”
“You're a good kid Blue, you know that?”
She shrugged. “I guess. I'm sorry I stole the whiskey. Are you going to tell Dax?”
“Not going to say a word.”
She smiled. “Thanks. I won't do it again.”
“I know.” She scrambled up to her feet and then looked down at Rusty and said, “Can you get up?”
He snorted and rolled his eyes. “You're talking to a three-time Super Bowl champion.”
Blue laughed and then surprised him by leaning down and kissing him on the cheek. “Thank you for trying to make me feel better with your bullshit.”
He chuckled again. “No problem, but do me a favor?”
“What?”
“Try to clean up that mouth a little, will you?”
She rolled her eyes again. “Yeah, I'll try.” She held out her knuckles and Rusty bumped them with his. He waited until she was gone to try to get up. Three-time Super Bowl champ or not...getting up off that floor was fucking hard.
11
Hunter gave Rusty the address he'd found for Celia Jackson and a recent photo that one of his colleagues had taken of her on her way into work. After his conversation with Blue, and then his meeting with Hunter, Rusty begged out of the rest of the wake and headed home to arrange a flight to Nevada and pack a bag. He'd kissed Shelly and told her goodbye before he left the clubhouse, but after he made his airline reservations and while he was packing, something was nagging at him. He'd told Blue that her father's drinking was separate from the way he felt about her. Saint said that about his Celia and his drinking. But he was making his alcohol recovery the reason that he couldn't allow himself to really “feel” the emotions that Shelly stirred in him. He didn't know what those feelings were for sure, probably because he hadn't let himself explore them. But, what he did know was that she made him feel better than any woman ever had...and not just the sex. He'd been with a lot of women, most of them while he was riding high on his football career, and not one of them had ever looked at him the way that Shelly did. None of them had ever been there for him the way she was. When he got hurt and the fame was gone and the nine million dollar a year contract was gone...they all disappeared. Shelly knew he used to be a football player, but what she saw was a guy that lived at his parent's house, dressed like everyone else at the club and lived a pretty simple life...yet, she was still there for him, anytime he needed her. She never asked for anything...and sadly, he hadn't really given her anything. He'd made everything about his recovery...and maybe that was just as bad as making everything about the alcohol?
He picked up the phone and pressed in her number. She picked up on the first ring. “Hey, are you at the airport?”
“Not yet...my plane leaves at four. I need to see you before I go.”
“Okay.” Rusty smiled. She didn't even ask why.
“Do you know if anyone is working in the shop?”
“Nah, Dax made everyone shut down today. Toolie left a bit ago to go pick up Blue and take her home.”
“Will you meet me out there? I don't want to get caught up in the wake again.”
“Sure.”
“Okay. I'll be there in twenty minutes.”
Rusty ended the call, not at all sure what his plan was, but Saint's death and Blue's heartbreak and his own words to her were all urging him to do something...He picked up the envelope that held the letter Saint had written to Celia and looked at it. He didn't know what the letter said, but what he did know, was that it was all too late. He would give it to her and maybe something in it would make her feel better about her loss. But, nothing
Saint said would give her the opportunity to fix anything, and Saint had said as much when he had basically told Rusty, “If you feel something, tell someone because one day it's going to be too late.”
Shelly was waiting for him in the shop when he got there. She had changed out of her funeral clothes and she was in a white Bob Marley t-shirt that was ripped off one shoulder and a denim skirt that came down about mid-thigh. She looked hot and before Rusty's head had a chance to wrap itself around the words he wanted to tell her, his cock was pressing into his jeans, looking for an exit.
“Hi beautiful,” he said, putting his arms around her and pulling her in for a kiss. He covered her lips with his and she opened up to give him access at once. As their tongues slid together in soft, sexy strokes, he put one hand in her hair and used it to tip her head back so that he could delve in even deeper. He loved kissing her...more so than he'd ever liked kissing any woman. Her lips were soft and her wet mouth tasted delicious. He felt a moan bubble up from his own chest and he flexed his hips into her and let his cock press into her. She groaned and rolled her own hips into his. He felt her hand go to the front of his jeans and he almost let her unzip them...but then he remembered what he'd come for. He needed to talk to her first...and then maybe...With a frustrated sigh he pulled out of the kiss and let go of her hair. She looked up at him with a question in her eyes when he pulled back from her touch. He took her hands in his and said, “Let's put that on hold for a minute, okay? We need to talk.”
“Okay.” She looked worried, so he brushed his lips against hers again and said,
“It's not bad, baby.”
That seemed to reassure her. She smiled and let him lead her over to where a black El Camino sat, waiting for a detail job. He leaned against it and put his hands around her waist. She was still looking up at him with questions in her pretty eyes, but she waited until he was ready.
“I've been thinking a lot about life and, just everything since Saint died. He was only thirty-five years old. That's too fucking young to die.” She nodded, and he saw her swallow hard. He wondered just at that moment how much of her own grief she'd bitten back so that she could be there for him. “I've screwed up a lot, but over this past month, I've learned a lot too. It's been kind of like a roller coaster, meeting so many new people, coaching the kids...and spending time with you. Getting to know Saint was an experience that I wouldn't trade for the world, even though we lost him. I told him that before he died...and I believe now that he's in a place where he just knows how badly we miss him. But I've been so caught up in the newness of everything that there is someone I've been failing miserably, and that's you.”
She shook her head. “No. You've been here for me almost every day.”
He smiled. She was so fucking sweet. “I've been here in body and we've had a lot of sex...and don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining about that. But I don't know hardly anything else about you. I've spent day after day talking to you about my life, the kids, my family, Saint, and most of all my drinking problem. All of my stuff has taken precedence over you. Watching Saint die and hearing him talk about how much he loved Celia but he never told her...it just drove home for me that none of us know how much time we have left. None of us know if we'll wake up tomorrow or not. I loved Saint, but I don't want to be like him. I don't want to die without telling the people I care about how I feel. I care about you, Shell. I think I'm falling in love with you. I want to know you, everything about you, the way you do me. I want to be there for you not just in body...but the way you are for me, 100% all the time. When you call me, I want to be like you and just say ‘Okay,’ no questions asked. Because in the grand scheme of things nothing else I've done in my life really matters. The football career was fun and I'm glad I got to experience that. The fact that I have money in the bank that will probably last me the rest of my life is a good thing too...but none of that gave me the feeling in my heart...in my soul, that being Saint's friend did, or getting to know those kids, or being with you. I love being with you, Shell. I don't want to screw this up. I need to take it slow because in recovery you're not supposed to rush into anything that you might be using as a substitute or a crutch. I'd never want to do that to you. But in the meantime, while we're taking it slow...I want to know you.”
She had tears in her eyes when he finished, and it took her a second to find her own words. When she did she said, “I fell in love with you the first week I knew you, but, I've been where you are...where everything is new. Getting sober is like starting your life over and I didn't want to tell you things that might put pressure on you.”
He smiled and said, “Let's make a deal, okay?” She nodded, and he went on to say, “Let's promise to tell each other how we feel, no matter what. Knowing you love me doesn't put pressure on me...it only makes me stronger.”
A tear slid out of her eye and rolled down her cheek. He bent down and kissed it away. “I've been afraid since I met you that I was just a temporary stop for you. I mean, look at you...that dark hair and those long, dark eyelashes...and those incredible, sexy blue eyes...you were a star and you're gorgeous and rich...and so much more. I was sure that I was just a distraction. I'm a club girl...”
Hey,” he said, tipping her head up with his fingers underneath her chin. “You are so much more to me than that. You're no temporary stop, and you're a lot more than a club girl. You're my club girl and one of these days when things settle down and I take on that prospecting opportunity they've been offering me...I'd love it if you wanted to be my old lady.”
A storm of emotion was swirling behind the tears in her blue-green eyes. She reached up and pulled his head down, engulfing his lips with her own and drawing him into another deep kiss. As they kissed, Rusty slid his butt up on the car behind him and pulled her close so she was standing between his legs. This time when she touched his cock through his jeans, he didn't pull away. She stroked it up and down through the denim while they kissed and then finally she unbuttoned and unzipped them, reaching into his boxers and touching his hot flesh with both hands. He groaned into her and his body shook all over. She broke the kiss and looked up at him with a smile on her face as she began to stroke him up and down with both hands. Rusty reached for her breasts with one hand while bracing himself on the car with the other. He began to rub and tease her nipples through the fabric of her shirt and bra. He did that until the urge to touch her bare skin became too much and he used both hands to pull Bob Marley up and over her head. She was wearing a black bra with red lace and thanks to his manipulations, one nipple was sticking out. He slid down to his feet and cupped her breasts, one in each hand. He massaged them and used his thumbs to come up and trace the nipples as he did. She let out a sexy sigh...or moan, something that went straight to his core.
She took her hands off his cock and pushed at his t-shirt. He hated taking his fingers out of that wet pussy, but he did, to finish taking it off. He reached for her again and she said, “Pants too, please.” He smiled and said,
“Tit for tat?”
With a giggle she said, “You want to see my tits? Okay...” She reached back and with a flip of her wrist, unhooked her bra and set them free. He hadn't finished taking his pants down before his tongue had to taste one. With one hand on her back and the other on her hip he bent down and took one into his mouth. He licked and sucked on her nipple and then sucked as much of the fleshy mound into his mouth as he could get. She was flexing her hips into him and moaning the whole while and after he'd switched sides and gave the other breast the same treatment as the first, he slid his jeans all the way off, but left his shorts in place. With his throbbing cock sticking straight out through the hole in front, he got back onto the hood of the car. He grabbed her by the front of her skirt and pulled her closer and then he put his tongue in her mouth while he flipped that little denim skirt up over her round butt. She squeaked when he lifted her off her feet and pulled her up into his lap. She rubbed her panty-clad pussy down against his hard cock while they kissed, giving him
the sexiest lap dance he never paid for. Her mouth moved from his lips to his neck and she continued to slide and press against him while she licked and sucked across it. At last, Rusty couldn't take it any longer. He had to be inside of her. He lowered her to her feet and once again slid down off the car. This time he grabbed her by the hips and sat her butt up on it, gently pushing her back until she was lying down against it with her legs dangling over the side. He unbuttoned her skirt then and pulled it down and off, along with the sexy black and red panties.
Shelly let her knees fall apart and Rusty dropped down so that he was on his own knees and licked along her inner thighs with his tongue. She was so wet. He slipped his hands underneath her butt and pulled her hips up so that her pussy was covering his face. She rocked her hips against him and he rubbed the rough stubble on his cheeks and chin against her while his tongue found her clit and began to torture it. She was moaning and pulling at his hair while he attacked that pussy...he sucked and licked and let his tongue delve in and out until suddenly he felt her foot on his shoulder and she used it to push him back. Gasping she said, “Fuck me, Rusty...now.”
He smiled and stood up, taking his cock in his hand and letting it slide up and down her lips, playing in all that moisture...the tip of his cock was drenched in it before he slid it into her and when he did, it was in one, smooth motion. He buried himself inside of her and then held onto her hips and began fucking her. The sight of her laying on top of the shiny black car with her hair all messed up around her face, looking up at him with lust in her sexy eyes drove him to fuck her hard and fast...with an intensity and passion that seemed hotter and deeper than they'd experienced so far. He realized as he was looking down at her and fighting the urge to come already, that it was the feelings that made it so much better. He had a plan...This woman was his, she loved him, and he was sure he was falling in love with her. That meant so much more to him than he ever thought it would. And when she dug her fingers into his shoulders and looked into his eyes and said,
