Apartment 2B

by K. Webster

  Everything went in slow motion at that point. The girl jumped up, scrambling for clothes. Brayden asked me what I was doing there while covering himself with the blanket. I was backing out of the room, tears wickedly streaming. He called after me as I ran away. The man had effectively smashed my heart to pieces.

  The trip back to my room was a blur. Once I burst through our door, I met Pepper’s eyes. She instantly held her arms open to me, and I ran into them.

  “Brayden is a bastard,” she whispered, stroking my hair, knowing without words what had happened. My life was ruined. This happy girl would no longer ever be happy.

  A dark two weeks…

  I can’t breathe. My heart actually physically hurts. How is this even possible? I thought they were joking when they talked about broken hearts.

  But they weren’t lying. This shit hurt! How will I make it without him? I love him. But he ruined everything when he slept with that bitch. God, I hate him. I miss him.

  For two days now, I just lie here, thinking about what would have happened had I not walked in. Would we still be getting married? Nothing can bring me out of this terrible place. Pepper tries, but she can’t even begin to even touch the depths of where I am now.

  School doesn’t matter. Food sucks. Hygiene? What’s that? She keeps threatening to call my mom but all I hear is “blah, blah, blah”. Whatever.

  He keeps texting me, but how can I begin to ever even talk to him? I’m afraid if I see him that I’ll just run right to his arms, hoping he’ll make it all better. But I know deep down that isn’t right. If he did it once, he’ll probably do it again. God, my heart hurts so fucking bad!

  I guess I’ll just cry myself to sleep…again.

  Present

  “Come on, Andi! I don’t have all day. Some of us have been ready for hours,” Pepper called to me from the living room. Of course she’d been ready for hours. She was wearing jeans and a sweater for crying out loud, and it probably took two minutes to readjust her bun.

  “Perfection takes time,” I told Olive, who was sitting on my bed while I applied the last of my makeup. “You sure you don’t want to go with us, hon?” I asked, turning to look at her. Olive was our new friend. She was a gorgeous black girl with legs that went on for miles. Her hair was smooth as silk and her eyes were the palest orbs that contrasted vividly against her chocolate skin.

  Olive moved in with us about a month ago. She somehow managed to escape an extremely abusive relationship but had nowhere to go. When I found her crying at the café one day, I took her under my wing, praying Pepper would be okay with it. Of course Pepper fell in love with the leggy chocolate goddess as well, and she’d been living with us ever since.

  Olive got modeling gigs left and right because she was perfection personified. But her fears of her ex sometimes cripple her socially. A lot of times. Like tonight, she was adamantly shaking her head to my offer. She had a fear that she might run into Drake and he’d drag her away from us, never to be seen again. It always gave me the shivers to think about what he must have done to her to make her so afraid. And the fact that she refused to ever let us see her without being fully clothed made me wonder if he’d done something to her body. Just the thought made me sick to my stomach.

  The modeling jobs she took were mostly for magazines. She absolutely refused to do any live modeling at shows even though that would have been the best way for her to get noticed by more well-known agents. Olive gave us money when she got paid on these jobs, but we never asked her for any. We just wanted our girl safe with us.

  I didn’t make much money at the café so Pepper was our breadwinner. Well, if you call having a monthly trust fund “breadwinning” then she was definitely it. Her dad was a high-powered attorney there in the city and didn’t want his little girl to hurt for anything. We lived in a sweet little apartment and didn’t hurt for much either thanks to Pepper being “Daddy’s Little Girl.” Oh, and she played the part so well. The girl could be downright bitchy, but when—Daddy—was around, her voice was as sweet as sugar.

  Thankfully, I was going to start my new job on Monday and would be able to help Pepper out more than just buying the groceries. Even though her dad took care of a lot for us, I still felt guilty about being a total freeloader. Today was my last day at the café and now we were going to celebrate. It took several months after college of applying all over the city to finally land a job at Compton Enterprises. The job I really wanted was to be an architect, but working as an assistant at an architectural firm was a good foot in the door. Everyone has to start somewhere.

  “One day I’ll go with you guys. But it’s just too soon. Please have fun for me. I have a date with American Idol,” she smiled at me.

  “Okay, fine. But I’m holding you to it. Now, how do I look?” I asked her, flipping my hair over my shoulder.

  Ever since the day I found Brayden cheating on me, something in me snapped. Gone was the blond-haired innocent. Gone was my optimism. My outlook on life and love had been ruined the moment I saw that girl’s big tits bouncing as she rode my man. He had stolen it all away from me when he decided to sleep with some bimbo after almost four years of dating.

  Now, I was this hard, jaded woman. Away had gone my conservative ways and I had welcomed my inner skank. I glanced at my reflection in the full-length mirror on the wall. My platinum-blond hair was flat-ironed perfectly straight halfway down my back. I had carefully made up my face, complete with smoky eyes and plump red lips. The dress I chose to wear was black, tight, and short. Just the way I liked it. The plunging neckline revealed my adequate cleavage. My red pumps put me up three inches higher than my five foot seven frame.

  “You look beautiful as always, Andi,” Olive genuinely assured, making me smile at her.

  I was in “Man-Killer Mode” as Pepper called it. I’d have them falling at my feet tonight. One of them would get lucky too. I was on the prowl, and even Pepper wouldn’t be able to tame me. This Friday night was about to get crazy.

  “Thanks, babe. See you in the morning,” I waved to her as I grabbed my clutch and walked out my bedroom door. Pepper was curled up in the recliner reading a book. “Let’s go, bitch,” I told her as I shrugged into my coat.

  “About time, bitch,” she shot at me, picking up hers from the back of the chair as she stood up. Man-Killer Mode: Activated.

  (Book 1 in the Vegas Aces Series)

  Releasing June 2014

  “Bobby!” she screeched, running from me. The poor girl was terrified of bugs, which only made me want to terrorize her more. Her blond pigtails bounced as she tore off down the dirt road, kicking up a cloud of dust behind her. I would catch her because I always did. Being two years older and a boy, I could always beat her at everything. She hated every second of it.

  “I told ya not to run, June Bug! You know you ain’t faster than me,” I hollered as I got closer. When she took a sharp turn off the dirt road and pumped her way into the field, I momentarily lost the gain I had on her.

  “Leave me alone, ya big meanie!” She was slowing, spent from the chase, so I picked up my speed.

  Now, I knew it wasn’t right to hurt a girl, but June ain’t a regular girl. June was my best friend. We’d been close ever since she and her momma had moved into the trailer on the edge of our land when she was just six and I was eight. My momma and daddy had rented it out to make extra money. Four years later and she still hadn’t learned that she couldn’t outrun me. I was Bobby Acer, fastest boy in school.

  “I’m gonna catch you, June, and when I do, I’m gonna shove this bug in your pants and watch ya scream!” I taunted as I closed in on her.

  She was within my reach and I tackled her hard to the ground. Fighting me off wildly, she scratched and screamed to no avail while I pushed the beetle down into the waistband of her shorts.

  “I hate you, Bobby! Don’t you ever talk to me again!” She was crying now, which had me feeling a little guilty. Not guilty enough though.

  I held her hands down and str
addled her so the bug could crawl around and she would be helpless. Once her tears died down, I realized the fun was over. Looking down at her, I noticed for the first time that her eyes were as green as the grass underneath her. Her lips were still quivering and I suddenly had an urge to plant a kiss on them. The thought of kissing her gave me a boner. What the heck?

  Jumping up from her as fast as I could to hide my erection, I turned and walked back toward the road, leaving her in the grass behind me.

  The entire way back to our houses, she deliberately walked several feet behind me and refused to say a word to me. June was strange these days. God, she’d better not get her period. Gross.

  When we made it up to my driveway, we heard shouting come from my house. I could see Daddy up on the porch, and he was screaming at Momma.

  “You ain’t nothing but a whore, Mona. They all call ya Moan-a behind yer back! Get the fuck out of my life. I’m divorcing your ass!”

  Momma was crying and calling him a slew of names. When she shoved him, he slapped her across her face hard enough to knock her on the floor. I was tearing up the driveway, June calling after me, before I even knew what I was doing. Pounding up the steps, I reached Daddy as Momma started to stand back up. I tackled him with as much strength as a twelve-year-old boy could possess.

  “Don’t ya touch my momma!” I screamed and attempted to punch him with my small fists. Daddy just grunted and swatted me off him. I was no match for his nearly six-foot frame.

  “Boy, ya better not do that again or I’m taking my belt to yer bare ass!” he growled and started unbuckling his belt.

  Momma stormed into the house, letting the old screen door slam behind her. I glanced over to June, who was standing in the yard, tiny hands covering her mouth. She looked horrified. Daddy and I had a silent standoff for what seemed like several minutes before he stomped back into the house.

  Defeated, I slammed myself down on the porch swing and gritted my teeth. June slowly approached me, sitting beside me. Her petite hand reached over and covered my clenched fist, immediately causing some of the tension to fade. My heart was still racing from the altercation moments before.

  “I’m sorry yer momma and daddy were fightin’,” June said sadly.

  I looked over at her and studied her soft features. She was beginning to look pretty to me. Meeting my eyes, she smiled. For some reason, I had an overwhelming urge to kiss her pouty lips. What is wrong with me these days? I could feel another boner start and I adjusted my jeans, hoping she wouldn’t notice. All attempts of subduing my hard-on were thrown out the window when she leaned over and pecked my lips. Before we could even assess what happened, Momma burst back out of the house.

  “Come on, Bobby. We’re leaving,” she ordered as she stomped to her truck. My heart sank when I realized she had two suitcases in tow.

  “Where are we goin’, Momma?” I shouted after her.

  She tossed them into the bed of the truck and turned to me. “Me and yer daddy are gettin’ a divorce. We’re goin’ to stay with your Aunt Martha. Now get in the truck.”

  I turned to look over at June and her eyes were filled with tears. My stomach felt uneasy, like I could be sick at any moment. Latching on to her hand with mine, I stood up from the swing and she followed suit. Ducking my head, I pecked her on the lips once more before backing away from her and releasing her hand. The last image I had of her was one that haunted me for years to come.

  I love you, June Bug.

  Bobby (Present)

  “Dude, that chick from last night was fucking hot. She looks like she takes it in the ass. Tell me, did you put it in her ass?” Chaz questioned, wagging his eyes at me.

  Ignoring my best friend, I picked up my Gibson acoustic and strummed a few chords. We had the last show of our tour tonight at The Joint in The Hard Rock Hotel, and I was trying to flesh out a new song I wanted to play. Chaz’s stupid ass was distracting as hell.

  “Come on, Bobby. You know I live vicariously through you, and I’m sorry but Neve won’t let me get near that hole. The only reason I’m marrying that girl is because she gives good head. So give a brother something to dream about,” he pleaded.

  I looked up at him to tell him to fuck off but started chuckling when I realized that he looked like a fucking chick perched on the arm of the sofa. Neve wore the pants in their relationship, and I felt bad for my best friend.

  “Fine, Chaz. I fucked her in every hole she begged me to put it in. This man aims to please,” I bragged, pointing at my chest.

  He grinned and slapped me on the shoulder. “Now I’m going to go fuck my fiancée and imagine that chick from last night taking it from behind,” he joked and sauntered off to find Neve.

  I continued strumming my guitar as I thought about exactly how I wanted the solo to go. Tonight was a big fucking show and I wanted to wow the crowd with a new piece. The chicks usually went wild when we took it down from the hard rock to an acoustic set. That’s when the panties would start flying across the stage.

  Donnie, our drummer, always made it a part of the show to run across the stage scooping up as many as he could and stuffing them down the front of his low-slung jeans. The women would go insane during that part. He was a typical badass drummer with his tattoos, lean body, and outrageous behavior. Our bass player, Manny, was the quiet one of the group. And even though he tried to ignore the attention, his Puerto Rican good looks prohibited that from happening. Chaz was the only one of us officially off the market, but that didn’t stop the outpouring of love toward him from our fans. Part of the rise of our success had been that we were comprised of four good-looking bad boys, but we could back it up with our badass music.

  My phone chimed, so I set down my guitar to see who’d texted me. Mom was begging me to come visit this weekend. Since the tour had begun in January, I hadn’t seen her once. I knew she was pissed, but this was my career. Typing out a promise to visit, I glanced down at my bare chest. I wanted another tattoo but was beginning to run out of places to put them. Thinking about my favorite one, I looked down at my thumb on my right hand.

  The tiny, simple black beetle was situated between my two joints there. It was my first tattoo and a daily reminder of her. When Mom took us away from there a little over fifteen years ago, I’d thought about her every day. Hell, half my songs were in some way about her. I hated my dad for ruining our family, so I’d never desired to go back to that shitty-ass town. Hopping up, I headed for the shower to get ready for our last show.

  June

  “Dammit, woman! I told ya to have dinner on the fuckin’ table when I got home,” Markwayne spat when he walked into our kitchen after work.

  I flinched at his tone, which indicated that he’d been drinking with the boys after work. Most days, he was such an asshole and I hated him. I should have left his ass long ago. Every day, I found more reason to leave him.

  “Babe, I just got home from work. We had a late rush at the diner and one of the other servers quit. I couldn’t leave Larry shorthanded. Let me change out of my uniform and I’ll make you some supper.”

  He was swaying a bit while give me the stare down, making me shift uncomfortably.

  Before I knew what was happening, he was on me, sucking my neck hard and pinching my nipple through my uniform. My back was pressed against the knobs of the stove. His erection pushed into me, indicating his desire. It was the same song and dance with him. Lifting my dress up, he reached under and yanked my panties down my thighs. Markwayne was never one for foreplay, so our sex life sucked.

  Spinning me around, he pushed me over the stove and entered me from behind. My pussy was dry like usual, and it stung when he entered me. I clutched the grates of the stove to hold myself steady while he had his way with me.

  Markwayne hadn’t always been an asshole. Back in high school, he’d wooed me hard. I’d fallen for him pretty quickly and we’d ended up married when I turned eighteen. Our marriage had hit the seven-year itch, and I was itching to leave him. Maybe I would bring
that up to him tonight. He hadn’t seemed any happier than I had the last few years.

  He pulled out of me and snatched the hand towel from the counter to clean himself up. When he finished, he tossed it to me. Wiping quickly, I snatched my panties back up my legs and started to head toward the bedroom to take a quick shower. He disgusted me these days, and I just wanted to wash away him and the greasy smell away.

  “Where do ya think yer goin’?” he demanded, roughly grabbing my upper arm. He squeezed until I yelped in pain. Markwayne liked getting rough every now and again, but he’d yet to hit me.

  “Markwayne, I’m goin’ to shower. Let me go,” I seethed. My disgust towards him must have shown loud and clear. The back of his hand connected across my cheekbone before I even knew what hit me. Gasping, I held my hand to my stinging face.

  “Ju Ju, I’m sick and fuckin’ tired of you sassin’ me all the time. Now cook me some damn dinner or I’ll do it again.” His threats didn’t scare me like they should have.

  Shoving him away from me, I bolted for the bathroom to take my damn shower. The thunderous pounding of his footsteps coming after me echoed through our dilapidated trailer, making my heart quicken. He’d never hit me before today, but now I wasn’t so sure if it wouldn’t happen again.

  Darting around the bathroom door, I slammed it shut behind me and engaged the lock. His giant body banged against it, nearly knocking it off its hinges. A cold shiver crept up my spine as I wondered if I’d pushed him too far today. My question was answered when he smashed against the bathroom door again, this time splintering the wood. I shrank away from his massive fists that were punching through the wood. Yanking the plunger up from beside the toilet, I held it out in front of me in a defensive position.

  “Get the fuck away from me, Markwayne!” I screeched as he forced himself all the way through the door. My attempts to stab him with the wooden end of the plunger were thwarted as he swatted it easily to the floor. One of his hands found my throat and squeezed, instantly making me see stars.