A sexy, extra yummy, Samoan bartender comes around the side of the bar and taps the shot girl on the shoulder. They exchange a few words, both of them stealing glances at me.
What the hell?
He leaves and she turns her attention back to me.
“I have been informed ma’am that you would like six shots of tequila, with lemon and salt, and two fuzzy navels, doubled up on the snapps,” she rattles off and my eyes get enormous. Who in the world knows what I drink? I’ve never drank with Johnathan. I was pregnant before I had a chance to. Now I’m really getting the heebeejeebeez.
“Yes, that’s what I want. But who told you my older? I mean, order?” I question her, fumbling over my words and she gives me an over exaggerated shrug of the shoulders, and, an, I dunno, dumbstruck look.
Okay, that didn’t help.
Returning with our drinks, after Claire and I spent more time catching up, I do celebratory clinks with the group. And my eyes dart across the room at Deacon, picking his prey for the evening. Big boobs- check, fat ass- check, so drunk he has to hold her upright- double check. Ding, ding, ding, looks like we’ve found us a winner folks. And as I watch him help her oh-so-graciously grab her belongings, he catches me staring at him and blows me a kiss. Which I catch with over exaggeration. Fanning myself like he just made me hot, and acting all starry eyed with happiness. He laughs and shakes his head. Making his exit, to go bang the slut.
Go get’em, tiger!
Leaning into Claire, I sip my fuzzy navel.
“So how’d you know I’d be here?” I ask, completely forgetting I haven’t asked her that already.
“A little birdy told me.” She smiles but gives nothing else away. A little birdy? What little birdy? Hum…..
“Can you be more specific?” I prod, getting closer and her eyes light up, I know she feels the spark. It’s there. It’s always there between us. But I’m not giving in. Not to anyone. No way. No how. Horny is one thing. But cheating on your heart is another. I’m not willing to ruin my memories, by tainting them with the next sexual conquests. Even if I can’t keep my dirty thoughts from bubbling up. Those are thoughts, not actions. I am human for Christ sake.
“It was a man. Who informed me you were lonely and might need some company.” She explains, slowly, not rushing her words. Her eyes locked directly on my lips and I lean back to break her of her temptation. I know she’s got a girlfriend. She doesn’t need to cheat. Even with a one-sided kiss.
I look to Stacy and he holds his hands up in mock defense. “It wasn’t me.”
Claire tilts so her lips are but an inch from my ear and she whispers, as her eyes stare at the corner of the room. “It’s a man who loves you and doesn’t want to see you filled with sorrow. A man who made a mistake and broke you.”
Oh my god! My throat tightens and my eyes well up. It can’t be! Can it?
I turn my face so it’s gazing where she is. I see him! He’s here! My James! My Papa Bear! He’s here!
The tears shed, my emotions throwing caution to the wind and I stare at him in the corner of the darkness. His body dressed in all black. I can’t see his face. But I know it’s him. I can almost smell his scent from across the room. The taste of his minty mouth on mine. I touch my lips, as if he’s just left them. I miss him. I miss him so much. As the tears flow freely, I keep my eyes on him. Never moving. And I take in his figure, my dark lurking ex-lover, the man who owns every part of me. Even the cells in my body. Every ounce of my blood. It’s his. All of his. He will forever own this body. For I could never be with another.
Stacy hands me a Kleenex and I dry my eyes, wanting to get a better view. And when I look back up, he’s gone. Gone! Where did he go?
I scan the room, frantically searching for him. Nothing. He’s gone. I jump out of my chair and toss my useless heels on the floor. Wearing only my jeans and a red bustier, I run. I run like my life depended on it. In and out of the throng of the crowd. I bob and weave. Searching for him. A smell, a look, a figure, and when I make it to the corner he was just standing in, I can smell him. His cedar scent lingering. It was him. He was here. What does that mean? Does he still want me? Is he saying his forever goodbye? Why didn’t he talk to me? What do I do?
I fall to the ground into a pile of sadness, my face in my hands, the tears keep coming. And I know after tonight they won’t stop. A part of me wants to believe this was just his way of confirming I am his and he is mine. But the other part is telling me I’m wrong. It was a goodbye. My final send off. And here I thought it hurt when he left the first time. The festering old wounds are breaking apart in my chest. The cracks crumbling, leaving an even bigger gaping hole. Why does this have to hurt so much? Why does this have to happen to me? Why can’t I be loved and cared for? I just miss him and love him so much. I don’t know what I’ll ever do without him in my life.
I can feel Bruce’s towering body standing over me, as my mind swirls and I suddenly become overly tired. Without me having to say a word, The Wall, leans down and picks me up like I’m lighter than a feather. Carrying me like a baby in his arms. The same way my Bear used to. He takes me over to say my goodbyes. I kiss Claire on the cheek and promise her we will keep in touch more frequently. She really is an amazing woman. Stacy stays with her and starts to talk business. More advertising stuff, per usual. Taking me outside and carrying me to the black town car, The Wall puts me in the back and shuts me in, leaving me to mope in the back as he drives us the five miles through the busy streets of DC to the tour buses. That are now in an extra secure location. We didn’t want what happened last time to happen again.
***
Droopily, I stagger into the bus. Half of me is tired and stung out on emotions and the other half of me is drunk. And I really need somebody to talk to. I need Johnathan and I know he wasn’t at the bar tonight. He said he wanted to ‘hang with our twins.’ His words, not mine.
Once I hit the third step, my ears are assaulted by the moans and screams of two people fuckin’. Which means A. My kids aren’t in this bus, they are next door, along with Dylan, and B. Johnathan came to the bus to fuck, not spend time with the twins. What a dirt bag.
“Oh fuck,” he grunts, and I hear the sound of a loud slap echo all the way into the living room of the bus. What the hell!?
The Wall, is right behind me. Apparently he already parked the car and I hold my finger to my mouth. Telling him to be quiet and he smiles, nodding.
Another moan slashes through the air and I giggle, holding my hand to my mouth. Both me and Bruce sit on the couch and get comfy. I toss a red Stricken merchandise blanket over my legs and cuddle up next to him. His arms resting along the back of the couch.
“More Master, I need more.” I hear a….. Oh my fucking god! That is Cammy!!
Immediately, steam starts to puff out of my ears and nose. Turning me from sad to fury in less than a second. Cammy and Johnathan? Johnathan and Cammy! You’ve got to be shitting me, right?! I am one big fucking dumbass and apparently so is she for sleeping with him. Idiot!
“Listen you slut, shut your fucking mouth. Or I’ll be shoving two of these didoes in your ass instead of one. You get me my bitch?” He barks at her. I mean—really lashing out at her. What a jerk! And she’s in there taking it. How stupid is this woman?! Oh my god!!!
“I’m sorry Master, I just love you and your cock.” She wails in—I’m pretty sure it’s pleasure. Wait… She loves him? Now I’ve heard everything. This is ridiculous and here I thought Johnathan wasn’t lying to me, and I surely never expected her to be lying to me. I wonder how long this little sick sex thing has been happening. Is it old? Or is it relatively new? Since I did just tell him I could never love him the way he wants.
Knowing Johnathan, he’s been tapping that blonde for months. The whole time they both lied blatantly to my face. Feeding me a line of bull crap. Like I can’t take the truth? Why? I had James. I was over the whole loving Johnathan thing or I’m pretty sure I was.
More moans, more grunts,
and a few boisterous orgasms echo in the cabin, as The Wall and I sit here. It doesn’t turn me on. Each noise is just building my anger. Fueling this flaming inferno that now has me busting at the seams ready to consume them. The juvenile liars.
Seeing James and now this. What’s is up with DC? The last time I was here, was the whole drug thing and the sleeping with that woman. I swear I’m never coming back to this city. It fucks with my head every single time. Screw you DC!
“You okay, my bitch?” I hear him ask her.
“Yeah, just thirsty,” her wrung out voice responds.
“I’ll be right back; I gotta wash up and I’ll get you some water,” he tells her and his bedroom door quietly opens, and he steps out buck ass naked. I don’t say a word. I just sit here and so does The Wall, who doesn’t seem to care. He’s just playing…. I peer over at his screen.… He’s playing poker on his phone. Cool.
The bathroom door opens, flooding the bunks with light and out strolls a naked Johnathan. Not paying a bit of attention. Opening the door to the fridge he grabs a bottle of water and I clear my throat.
This should be good.
Startled, he jumps like ten feet in the air, yells and drops the water bottle on his toe.
I can’t help but laugh as he turns around with his semi-hard cock swinging, and bends down to pick up the water bottle and rub his injured foot.
“What are you doing here?” he finally manages to let out, and I can’t stop laughing and I’m laughing so hard that my buddy Bruce over here is chuckling under his breath too. I have tears flowing down my face and I swipe them away.
“I saw my ex-fiancé tonight. Didn’t say a word to me and he left. That’s either a good thing or a bad thing. Can’t decide. So I ended up crying and Brucey over here decided to be a nice guy and bring me home early, and I come to find this.” I fluidly gesture around the room, with both my hands. Sitting up on the couch, my legs still tucked under me. Trying to contain my boisterous laughter. But it’s nearly killing me.
“Who are you talking to?” Cammy asks.
“It’s just me, Cammy. Don’t you worry you sweet lying heart,” I yell loud enough that she can hear me. But I stay calm. I don’t blow up. Even though I really want to bash asshole over here upside the head with a frying pan for lying. Where’s an iron skillet when ya need one? I wanna play me some grit ball. Actually, where’s Madea when you need her?
I cross my arms over my chest. I think Johnathan’s in shock or something, because he’s staring at me. Mouth wide-open, green eyes bugging out of his skull.
“Close your mouth, have some decency will ya?” I chortle, and land my gaze on his dick. Which is now entirely flaccid.
He follows my gaze and his body startles in realization, that…. Yes…. He is in fact, out here naked as a jaybird. His flaccid member leaking come on the floor. Eeeeewwwww. Gross. I’m not cleaning that up.
He doesn’t say a damn thing. His body is here one second the next he’s gone, dashing into his bedroom and about a minute later I’m being graced with his now clothed presence, along with Cammy, completely pale faced with just-fucked hair. The whole walk of shame wrapped in a little blonde package. Zippty-doo-da.
This time, I can’t help but roll my eyes. It’s nearly impossible. So I let them go. Eye rolling, shaking my head in disgust, tsking, the whole shebang.
“We’re really sorry.” Cammy is the first to speak. Leaning against the kitchen counter wearing Johnathan’s band T-shirt. Johnathan petulantly standing and staring, clad in black silk boxers and his Nirvana shirt.
“Sorry about what?” I’m trying to figure out if it’s the lying, the catching them, or the sex in general she is ‘sorry’ about. It all seems like a load of crap.
If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times. If you have to apologize for something, then you shouldn’t have been doing it in the first place. Saying sorry, is like saying, ‘Hey, I did this because I’m a jerk. Even though I shouldn’t have been doing it. But I’m going to use a bullshit word to try and make it all better. For something I shouldn’t have done in the first place.’ Hence, our current predicament.
It’s one thing to be sorry for an accident. His dick landing in her pussy was no accident. And I’m not saying the word sorry should be expelled from human vernacular. I’m just saying that it’s used loosely to try and fix situations that wouldn't need fixing if they were tended to properly before the crime was committed. Ok… I’ve made my point… Moving along.
“I’m sorr—”
Johnathan cuts Cammy off. “We’re not sorry,” he blurts out quickly and then catches his breath, inhaling and exhaling rather loudly, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Ummmm…. Okay?” I’m confused. Are they, or aren’t they sorry?
“Ok, I’m sorry you found out this way. I should have, or we should have told you sooner. But I’m in love with Cammy and we’ve been dating since before you came back from Colorado.” It comes out of Johnathan’s mouth all sputtered and fast. His leg twitching, as he keeps staring at me. Creeping me out with his intense eyes.
What does he think I’m going to do? Be really angry? It’s Johnathan. Come on. He is the habitual fuck up. I am pissed they didn’t tell me. That was bullshit. But if he’s in love or they’re in love, I can’t really rain on something that beautiful. I wouldn’t want someone to do that to me. Oh, wait, Johnathan did that when he found out I fell in love with James. However that’s neither here nor there. Let sleeping dogs lie. Whatever that really means….
“Guys, breathe…It’s not the end of the world… I’m livid that you didn’t tell me. Led me to believe you still wanted to get back together.” I look to Johnathan. Now that part of the whole story makes no sense.
“He did,” Cammy pipes up, “And I knew that. I was waiting for it to happen. Praying it wouldn’t, no offense.” I nod, not taking offense. I’d feel the same way in her position. I kind of did, when he was doing all of those terribly hurtful things.
“I’ve loved him a long time and he’s loved me too. It’s just complicated. And after you told him you didn’t want to try again, it just made me even happier because I know he won’t try to date anyone else but you. Except me of course, and he won’t sleep with anyone else. He and I haven’t slept with anyone else in a very long time.” She looks to him with such love. It warms my heart right up and he looks back at her with the same affection. How cute!
“No other women?” I look directly at him.
He shrugs. “No, just Cammy.”
I smile at them both. Happy for them. Emotionally spent and exhausted, myself. I guess whatever works for them, works for them. I just hope I never have to hear those sex noises again.
Getting up from the couch, tired and worn, like a ten dollar hooker. I grab both of their hands and squeeze them into mine, giving them a sleepy smile.
“Congratulations. You are now out of the closet.” I belly chuckle and grin, shaking my head, drained and confused.
What a day, what a day, what a day.
“Be happy, me merry, I don’t give a fuck. I’m tired, I need some sleep. And you’re on baby duty.” I tell them both, looking back and forth between to the two. Then I drop both of their hands, climb into my bunk for some much needed sleep. I can’t wait to leave DC. I hate this damn town!
Chapter Fifteen
~James~
Concert Night- Washington DC
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Gonzales asks, standing by the front door, hand on the nob, dressed in a black Stricken shirt, jeans and a pair of sleek black heels.
“Yes, I’m positive. If she’s this close I have to see her. Even if it’s from a distance. I can’t go another however many months without at least the briefest of looks,” I explain, bent over, tucking my ankle knife into its holster and making sure it’s secured tightly in place.
Gonzales and I are headed into the city to watch the Stricken concert as spectators. It will be my first mingling with the crowd and not bac
kstage. A week ago after yet another mental health evaluation; my fourth one, and another round of interrogation regarding the death of Dr.D. I caught downwind of the Stricken concert stopping in DC. Someone was chatting about it as I passed by, on my way out of the Pentagon.
As soon as I left, I called up my good ol’ buddy Brewer and begged him. And I do mean begged him, to run interference somehow so I could go to that concert, and so I could call Davis and have him contact Claire. I wouldn’t think twice about doing it myself. But they have us on even tighter lockdown since my sicko neighbor wound up murdered and I was the culprit to literally blow his brains out.
We already had cameras in every room of the safe house, taps on our phones and if we leave without them we get in trouble and it gets called in. We have a tracker on our only vehicle and a black SUV is now stationed day in and day out, against the curb down the block from the house. They are trying to make sure the death of the drug dealer doesn’t catch up to us and we get killed. Or what I mean to say is, someone or a group of someone’s attempts to kill us. I don’t see that happening. But, I’ve been wrong about a few things before. My head’s out of the game and has been for quite some time now.
After I pleaded with Brewer that night, our phones magically had to have an update and to do so they had to shut down the taps, giving me precisely twenty three minutes to call and set up my newest plan. My plan to see Emily. Even if it kills me. I’m already dead inside without her. I can’t imagine it getting any worse.
Making the call to Davis was short and sweet, he got in touch with Claire to keep Emily company. It’s better than having Johnathan do it or any other man. I know Emily well enough to know she wouldn’t want to pester Claire to attend the concert for her benefit, considering that Claire is madly in love with some business owner an hour outside of New York City. So I had the call put in, as well as secured us tickets to the show. All of that was the easiest part. The hardest was convincing Brewer to assign us a bogus Intel order, to investigate the possibility of Dr. D’s dealers dispersing his merchandise at rock concerts. It smells like a hoax, but he did it anyhow. Now I’m left feeling terrible for putting him in this sticky position. Considering all the work he’s already been doing, trying to get me out of this hellhole sooner than twelve months. Yes, I said it. Twelve god dammed months. I thought it would be shorter but that’s not what the latest orders that came down the ladder, state. That’s also an additional sentence to the weeks we’ve already served.
Stricken Rock Series: Complete Box Set Page 83
