“I’m looking for Eden Fox,” He held up a large manila envelope. “I have a delivery from Dean Construction, is she around?”
“She’s in the apartment at the top of the stairs, you can’t miss it,” Mikala pointed to a door.
“Thanks, sugar.” He winked and smiled, finding it hard to tear away, but he had business of a personal nature to attend to for his friend Chase.
It was weeks later when he saw her again. They had shared some terrible coffee from a machine at the hospital while his best friend Chase, and her best friend Eden, had more personal affairs to attend to. He was happy for the opportunity to see her again and wasted no time asking her out. Even though she had turned him down because it was too difficult to date when she had a club to run, he had talked her into spending the evening at Pulse and once the doors had closed at 2am, their official first date started.
Since it was so late or early, in any case, he brought dessert in the form of two buttercream frosted cupcakes and a bottle of Inniskillin Riesling Ice-wine, one of her favorites he was told by Eden. While she changed into jeans and a simple t-shirt (she could have worn a burlap sack and made it look great) he laid out a plaid blanket on the dance floor, as if it were a picnic lunch. She smiled appreciatively and told him it was the best date she could have imagined. The date ended with them lying back and imagining that the light bulb ceiling was a sky filled with stars, and they made out until Carl came in to start prep for the next night.
It was becoming more and more difficult to combine their time. But Mason was more than happy to suffer a bit of sleep deprivation to be with her. Mikala brought in an assistant to help run the place, so a few hours on weekends and a few nights each week were freed up, to Mason’s relief. Much of the time was spent at his dilapidated loft.
Quietly he rose from his bed and retrieved a beer from the kitchen. He sat in ‘her’ hot pink chair by the huge pane glass window and stared out at the city. Lost in thoughts of how they had spent hours planning out the loft design and how excited she had been when he had mentioned the window. It was designed so that they could see out, but the outside world could not see in. He smiled. She had joked often about window sex that never happened, far too nervous of the glass giving way while he pushed her against it. He tittered to himself and turned sharply as a throat cleared behind him.
Mikala was standing watching him.
“Hey.”
“Can’t sleep either?” she asked, shivering as she closed her arms over her chest.
“You’re cold, come sit,” he said, scooting over and patting the cushion to his side. Hesitating momentarily, she gave in and sat bringing her knees up to her chin, pulling the t-shirt over them like a tent. He put his arm over her shoulder pulling her into his side. “Better?”
“Better, thanks.”
“So tell me what’s been going on with this psycho asshole?” he asked, when he was stricken by her acidic lime fragrance, causing his cock to swell as if it knew what it was missing.
Lowering her chin to her knees he watched her profile, the very profile that graced his fireplace. He had taken the photo when she was unaware and had a friend create a one of a kind piece of art. It represented the fire inside her, a black and white still life with the only color being her hair.
The thing that made her sexier in his eyes, was the fact she was a natural red head and instead of shying away and camouflaging it, she wore bright red lipstick and avoided the sun so her skin remained alabaster and flawless, which emphasized it all the more. His lips curled into a smile as he visualized the tiny runway strip of red hair that graced her pubic area and her tiny soft pink nipples that used to tighten to sweet beads when their eyes met.
“Like I said, there are letters that come at least once a week. This idiot meticulously cuts each letter out of magazines and glues them onto red paper. They can’t be traced, and I once got a dozen headless rose stems delivered, that made me laugh actually.”
“Can I see the letters sometime?” Mason asked.
“I don’t have them, the cops have them,” Mikala said, “There are no finger prints if that’s what you’re looking for. I was told that the glue and paper are standard grade and can be bought anywhere. There are absolutely no clues as to who this asshole is and not a witness to see a thing.”
“What about security footage?” he asked.
Her sudden laughter had him baffled, how could she find any of this funny he wondered.
“The cameras that do work show nothing, they’re set up at all the entrances and halls but so many people come and go in a day that it could be anyone.”
His shoulders shrugged. “Then we up security. We bring in a few new bouncers and an overnight guy.”
Her head plopped heavily on his shoulder. “Sunshine, you forget there is no ‘we’ and funds are at a minimum, I can’t afford more security.”
A sting nipped at his heart, he wasn’t looking for another reminder of what an ass he had been. “Got it,” he pretended to scribble on his forehead. “Indelibly written, no ‘we’ I won’t forget next time.”
He rose and padded barefoot over to the floor to ceiling window and leaned into it with his forehead pressed against the cold pane, his eyes focusing on the ground below. Regret was the cruelest emotion to deal with and the easiest to understand, but the length of time it took to get over it was unbearable, if he could ever truly manage to.
Mason pushed away from the glass and talked as he walked toward his room. “If you need anything you know where to find me.”
As he strolled past her with a sad mopey look on his face, Mikala took a deep breath and pushed her vision to the lit windows of the buildings that surrounded them. She craved distance and intimacy at the same time. Wanting to run out into the night to get as far away as possible, yet wishing to crawl into Mason’s bed and hide beneath him, the chaos screamed in her head was killing her.
“Uh, huh,” she mumbled softly, snuggling deeper into the recesses of her forgotten love in his old t-shirt.
“Gone,” Mason said aloud, not at all surprised to find that she had snuck out while he had slept.
He knew Mikala would avoid him like the plague, as sure as the sun always rises, he knew. It was going to take a lot of persuading and time to form any kind of relationship again. He had hurt her, hurt her bad. Neglecting her when she needed him the most because he didn’t know how to deal was a gutless thing to do. Abandoning her hadn’t been his wisest choice, nor had thinking she was strong enough to heal on her own, or that she would take him back with open arms.
Obviously his friend Chase’s advice to get back as soon as possible and make things right had been advice he should have listened to sooner. Too bad Chase hadn’t laid into him from the beginning, before he had made the decision to take the assignment. Eight months had stretched an unbridgeable gap between them, his gut wrenched each time he thought how enormous it truly was.
With any other woman Mason would have wiped his hands clean and moved on to the next long ago. Mikala was different though, she was the turn in the road that he couldn’t move past, the hurdle that he couldn’t get over and the one obstacle that he didn’t want to move past. She was his drug of choice, highly addictive, the craving he could never say no to. Mason was one tough ass son-of-a-bitch to anyone he came into contact with, but not her, never her. She had him wrapped around her little finger from day one and he was the biggest fool to have ever walked away. She was a good woman that deserved so much better than him.
What Chase and Eden had was exactly what Mason wanted most, he strongly believed they had it all. Mason wasn’t fool enough to believe it was perfect, he knew that they had their share of battles and the usual ups and downs, but in the end they had a love that conquered all. Chase had a woman that was strong of will, stood on her own in the business world, yet totally submitted to him in the bedroom. Yeah, Mason was well aware of their sex-capades after living with the pair in Chase’s penthouse, every square inch of the place they had th
oroughly covered. Walking in on them once while Chase had her stretched out and tied to the pool table, Mason had snuck out undetected but was unable to play the game since. Most nights he found himself standing in a cold shower just to escape hearing her cries of desire, as sweet and angelic as Eden was, she was also very vocal.
Mason took a t-disc from the cupboard and inserted it into the Tassimo machine, his new favorite kitchen appliance, and turned it on. He loved kitchen gadgets and owned every one imaginable, from heart shaped waffle irons, to his hotdog toaster that cooked the hotdogs and toasted the buns all at the same time. A chef he was not, but he enjoyed food and time spent experimenting with it. In an instant he had a hot freshly brewed coffee and stood staring out the window at the overcast morning sky.
His cell phone chirped from the coffee table and he turned to watch it vibrate across the surface before walking over to view the screen. He wasn’t into special ring tones, but he meant to one day set up a few so he could identify business from personal calls. No one except Chase and Mikala knew he was back, and the only conversation he had had with Chase was a rushed call to tell him about the fire.
“Reed,” Mason snapped into the phone.
“Good morning to you too,” Chase greeted him, “I take it things didn’t go so well with the reunion? Eat you alive, did she?”
Mason raised his eyebrows in recognition of the night’s events. “She chewed me up and spit me out. Man, she hates me with a fucking passion.”
“Did you honestly think she’d welcome you back with open arms? Fuck Mason, she spent three days and nights here after the funeral pissed out of her tree and crying. Mik called you every name under the sun, it’s a wonder your skin wasn’t crawling.”
Throwing the phone across the room was his first impulse, but he fought the urge and gulped down the rest of his coffee as set up the brewer for the next.
Chase was his best friend, he didn’t hold back punches and Mason was grateful for that, but at the moment being reminded of what a fuck up he was, wasn’t quite what he needed to hear. After all, Mikala had been very clear on the subject already.
“Where’s Eden?” Mason asked. Eden was the closest thing to a female relationship he had and what she thought of him meant more than what Chase did. “I suppose she hates me too?”
They had become close in the first few months of their meeting. Mason was her body guard, protected her when her ex had threatened her life and held her hostage. He would die for her. They had something special; he had loved her deep in his heart, although that love over time had shifted to that of an older brother for his younger sister.
“She’s at work. She went in early for a meeting with a new client. And no, she doesn’t hate you. She would enjoy slapping you around for a while though.”
Mason smiled briefly to himself. “I might just let her do that.”
“How bad was the fire?” Chase asked.
“I don’t know, I plan on heading there soon. Mik left before I got up.” Mason revealed, rinsing out his cup and heading into the washroom where he saw her used towel sitting on the laundry basket and raised it to his nose, breathing in her clean sweet scent.
“What the fuck? She slept there last night?”
“Relax man, she stayed in the hideaway.” He opened the laundry basket lid and dropped the towel onto the pile, he’d have to take care of that later.
Steam started filling the large room as he hit speaker on the phone and placed it on the counter quickly undressing. “I have go, I’ll give you a call later and fill you in.”
“Wait!” Chase yelled. “Eden wants you at dinner tonight.”
“We’ll see.”
“No Mason, you come. Eden was adamant that you come tonight.”
“Time?”
“Seven.”
Mason punched the end call button with his index finger and threw his towel over it before climbing into the hot shower.
***
The fire marshal’s car sat at the curb, yellow police tape marked off the entrance to the club as Mason pulled his F250 behind it. Mason stared up at the buildings front; there were palpable signs that fire had trashed the interior. Each window was blemished with blackish gray streaks where the dense smoke had kissed over the bricks, each pane of glass transformed to jagged shards hanging precariously as charred sheers blew in the breeze. All that remained of the clubs black and purple neon sign were the letters ‘PUL’ dripping with water.
There was no sign of Mikala as he ducked under the tape and called out her name through the open door. A strong, heavy smell of burnt wood instantly permeated his nostrils. All looked as usual except for the floor being wet and a stream of water trickling its way down the stairs from the second floor.
“Mik!” he yelled up the stairs, “You here, sugar?”
“Either you stop calling me that or get the fuck out!” Mikala yelled down from the top of the landing.
Mason took the stairs two at a time and gazed around the room in astonishment. The once beautiful sofas and sitting areas were dissolved to mere piles of rubble and ashes, the attractively decorated room resembled the destruction he had witnessed in Afghanistan. The smell made him nauseous as he remembered the nightmare of buildings destroyed by bombs and fire, the cries of children and the calls for help in a foreign language he didn’t recognize but understood. He scrubbed his hand over his face in an attempt to block out the horrifying memories and clear his thoughts.
“How’s the apartment?” he asked, turning to Mikala. She kept her sights on what the fire chief was doing, refusing to give Mason the time of day. “Mik, what about your apartment?”
“Pretty much the same Mase,” Darrell his good friend, the local fire chief answered, “Good to see you again.”
“You too, wish it was under different circumstances.”
“Yeah, maybe we can get together one night for a few beers,” Darrell held out a hand.
The men shook hands and Mason followed Darrell as he walked him through the rest of the club and up into the apartment.
Mason remembered the day he had stood in Eden’s tiny apartment after her ex had ransacked it, but those images didn’t nearly compare to what he saw today.
The beautiful bold black on white Damask wallpaper, was now peeling and streaked with watermarks and syrupy black burnt debris. The chaise lounge, his favorite place to make out with Mikala, was now a mass of water soaked black velvet, the frame exposing ruined splintered wood. The worst area seemed to be the kitchenette; there wasn’t a spot that the heated flames hadn’t scorched. Red plastic and twisted metal sat in solid lumps melted into the countertop unrecognizable now as the coffee maker and matching toaster. But among it all, to Mason’s amazement, sat a glass vase with a lone sunflower seemingly untouched, bright and promising amidst all the ruin.
Mikala stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest and kicked at a lone shoe lying off to the side, drawing his attention swiftly in her direction.
“You okay, sugar? Sorry, Mik. Mikala,” he awkwardly corrected.
She shrugged her shoulders and sighed. “Just fine,” she said.
Anything but fine she had her armor strategically in place, ready for battle.
Mason’s brows narrowed as he walked over to her. “I call bullshit,” he said, pulling her into his chest as she squirmed from his hold.
“What do you want me to say, Mason?” She scowled. “I won’t roll over and play dead when the going gets tough, I never have and I never will. You know me better than that, or at least I thought you did.”
Of course he didn’t expect her to roll over, that wasn’t who she was. Tough as nails and kick ass, she could handle her own, but he wanted her to need him now more than ever. Mason needed her to need him. However he wouldn’t hold his breath, she was as angry as an ally cat with its claws ready to tear him apart, he didn’t have a hope in hell of getting any closer than she elected.
“I just want to be here for you.”
She snorted
out a laugh and headed down the stairs making him run shamelessly after her. His hand encircled her upper arm and as she whirled round he swore he heard a faint growl, which wouldn’t have surprised him any.
“Come on, sugar, give me a chance.”
She peeled each finger one by one from her arm as she spoke threw clenched teeth, “You had the chance eight months ago; your chance has long passed. Why did you come back anyway?”
“For you,” his voice came out as a quiet whisper.
“Don’t make me fucking laugh. Go back to where you came from," Mikala said, as she vanished out the door.
Mason stood looking out at the street as he watched her drive from the side ally out onto the busy road, with a squeal of her tires on the hot pavement.
***
Tears streaked down her face, she was glad to have held back imprudent emotions long enough to get away from Mason so he wouldn’t be witness to her ridiculous outburst. Crying wasn’t for her; she avoided such girly behavior at all cost. She could count on one hand the amount of times she gave had given tears, and the majority of those weak moments had been private, when no one was aware.
The last thing she had ever wanted was sympathy, especially pity from Mason. He was the source of a few pathetic tears she chose to erase from her mind.
Mikala had a tough upbringing, spending most of her years alone in child services, until she had met her now best friend Eden as young girls in foster care together. She had taken Eden under her wing and made Eden her life’s project. Mikala vowed to take care of her and make a life for them both far better than where they each came from.
Always knowing that she could accomplish whatever she set out to do, she worked her way through school working in night clubs most every evening, until she saved enough money to partner in ‘Pulse’. Later buying Brian Eves out, she turned it into one of the most popular night clubs in Boston. Her private club was a surprising addition that she took great pride in, albeit secret pride, knowing that even though business was conducted legally, if the authorities found out what went on behind those clubs walls the wrong conclusions would be drawn and trouble would follow. The risk was well worth it. Local celebrities, politicians and big business men and woman were among the long list of clientele.
Mikala's Passion (Pulse Series Book 2) Page 2
