by C. J. Pinard
As I drove home, I couldn’t understand what had happened. I wanted her—and I could tell she wanted me, too. This was our way. Whenever I’d call, she would be there. So why hadn’t she been there when I’d needed her? What was her problem tonight?
For the first few months after we’d met, we were inseparable. She’d come to my place or I’d be at her little apartment with her and her needy black cat. But in the past few weeks, she’d sort of grown distant. I didn’t understand it at all. All I’d asked is that she not fuck anyone else. That she was mine and mine alone. I didn’t understand what was so hard about that.
Admittedly—being released from the service had been hard on me. I never liked to admit weakness, but having to go back to being a civilian after being owned by the government for so long took some adjustment. I was actively looking for a job in the “real world” while collecting some government money after being in for so long, but I was mostly going out on the weekends and having fun.
I was twenty-five now, probably time for me to calm the hell down and get some sort of career going for myself, but I was tired. One on hand, I wanted to rest and try to take my time in finding a job, but the other half me, the one who was used to being busy and following orders, was becoming restless.
At the stoplight, I rolled the window down and let the warm night air wash into the car. With my head tilted back against the headrest, I scrubbed a hand over the scruff on my chin and cheeks. It was nice to grow it out a little instead of having to have it baby-ass smooth every day for inspection. I planned on growing my hair out a little bit, too.
I spied the pack of cigarettes lying on the floorboard of the passenger side and contemplated leaning over and picking them up and having one. I’d vowed to quit when I got out of the service, and I pretty much had, but I still wanted one occasionally.
A loud honk blaring from behind me blew that idea.
Looking in my rearview mirror, the angry driver behind me had his hands flailing around and honked again. I could hear him cussing me out through my open window and looked at the light. It was green, but we were also the only two people on the street.
What the fuck?
This guy was pissing me off.
I should have just hit the gas, but instead, I shoved the car into park. I flung open my door and got out, storming toward him. His eyes got big seeing me come at him, and miraculously, he’d stopped yelling and making hand gestures at me.
I watched as his window zipped up and he yanked the steering wheel to the right and pealed out and around my car to zoom through the light.
“That’s what I thought, asshole! Could have just gone around me earlier, you dick!” I put up both middle fingers toward his retreating piece of shit Honda.
I shook my head and got back into my car. Damn, it would have been nice to have cracked his skull. Or at least have roughed him up a little.
Reaching down to the passenger floorboard, I grabbed the cigarettes and pulled one from the pack and pushed the car’s lighter in to heat it up. Shoving the unlit cigarette behind my ear, I put the car in gear and proceeded to go, even though the light had turned red again.
Good thing the streets were empty. The lighter popped and I lit my addiction stick with it and took a drag. Thinking of the asshole who’d sped away earlier, I smiled, cigarette dangling from the corner of my mouth. Just like my mother used to—and I’d hated it when she did that. Now look at me.
Chapter 3
Talia
“I aced my History final!” I squealed to my friend and boss, Bo.
She hugged me. “That’s so great! I’m so proud of you, sweetie!”
Bo—or Bonita, the full, formal name she never used—had been a good friend and huge cheerleader of mine since my darker days. She had gotten me the job at the coffee shop and encouraged me to go back to school. She was currently managing the shop while trying to raise two daughters alone, and I admired her strength.
When her (now ex) husband had put her in the ICU with a few broken bones and facial swelling that made her almost unrecognizable, I had crumpled in grief when I’d visited her at the hospital. I couldn’t believe a human being could do that to another. I’d held her hand while she cried, and had driven her home from the hospital when she’d been strong enough to leave.
Watching her struggle to pay for a divorce attorney and restraining order and remain strong for her daughters gave me the strength I needed to break the addiction I was currently living with. An addiction that had been the demise of my mother, one that had made me so angry at her. And there I was, following in her footsteps, a path I most certainly didn’t need to be taking.
After getting her life together, Bo had told me sternly it was time for me to get clean. I had only been twenty-one at the time, and she saw some potential in me that I hadn’t seen in myself. She showed me that strength came in all forms, and when she helped me get clean, I felt like I finally had family again, even if she wasn’t blood. And in my case, blood most certainly wasn’t thicker than water.
Breaking my addiction to cocaine was the single hardest thing I’d ever done. Not even burying my mother or watching my father leave out the front door with a suitcase in his hand when I was ten years old was harder. No. Breaking a drug addiction was the worst pain of my life.
The day before I’d entered rehab, I made sure to go out with a bang. I’d snorted all the coke I could get my hands on, and then I drank a shitload of whiskey and whatever else they had at the party I’d gone to. I woke a couple days later, lying next to some dude on the floor of the house I’d been partying at. He looked in as bad of shape as me.
I don’t even remember how I got home early that morning. I really don’t. The suitcase lying open and empty on my bed sobered me up pretty fast, though. With a banging headache, a few trips to the porcelain god to throw up, and cottonmouth from hell, I had packed that suitcase and called Bo to tell her I was ready to go. Even though my hands were shaking something fierce and tears were beginning to form in my eyes.
She’d dropped me off at the New Beginnings Treatment Center here in Tampa and I had been terrified the first day—which didn’t turn out to be so bad. I was shown to a room, and then to where the dining hall was. By the end of that first night, I was sad and down, but okay, my resolve strong.
I woke the next morning in pain. I was shaking even worse, and it felt like all my nerve endings were on fire. They were crying out for the drug they were so used to getting, but I was depriving them of it.
“It hurts,” I’d sobbed to the counselor. “It hurts bad. Can’t you give me something?” I’d asked, begging her for mercy.
She’d looked at me with kind, mocha-colored eyes and skin the color of chocolate and had shook her head. “I’m sorry, sweetie, no.”
Then came the profuse vomiting and the sweating as the drug worked itself out of my system. It had been so bad, I’d almost passed out from the pain. I had cried and pulled my hair out until it lay in pieces on the bathroom floor. I had tried to be strong but eventually succumbed to sleep, and I think I slept for two days straight after that.
When I woke, I felt better. I attempted to eat a little and tried to distract myself with TV, reading, and talking to the other residents. I had been proud I’d gone through the worst, but little did I know, the worst was yet to come. I had another twenty-seven days to get through without anything stronger than aspirin.
I shook my head at the memory. It plagued me night and day. I had never told another living soul except Bo.
“You’re almost there, baby girl,” Bo said, shoving a cupful of ground espresso into the machine and pushing the start button.
I wiped my hands on my apron and filled a paper cup with steaming hot, dark coffee from the tall, stainless-steel container, and then I secured a plastic lid on top.
“I know. I’m so close. I just wish I knew what kind of job I wanted after I got my degree.”
She smirked at me while dumping a shot glass of espresso into a larger plast
ic cup filled with something white and foamy. “You’ll figure it out. You’re bright and ridiculously smart.”
I grinned a little. She was so good at charming people, at making people smile. It was why she made manager of this store so quickly. She had the ability to smile through her pain and put on a pretty, happy face, even when she wanted to die. Those were her words, not mine, but I could relate.
My phone vibrated in my apron pocket and I waited until there were no more customers in my line before walking into the back room to check it. It was a text from Ellis.
U busy tonight? I need to see your beautiful red-headed self.
I sighed. My night was wide open and the thought of seeing him exhilarated me a little, but also scared me. I was supposed to be distancing myself from him, because he just wasn’t good for me. So if I let him in and he hurt me, I had nobody to blame but myself.
Still, my heart ached at the thought of seeing him. I’d told him to leave a few nights ago. But he obviously knew this dysfunctional connection between us was still very, very strong. I bit my lip in contemplation. Did I want to have him just for a night, his body next to mine, his breath in my ear, his sexy, deep voice dripping words from a talented tongue that I knew was mere lip service by a set of beautiful, perfect lips, just to have the pain of my bed being empty come morning?
Yes, yes I did.
So I responded to him: Sorry, baby. Maybe some other night.
The fact that I wanted him made me turn him down to spare me the heartache. The fact that I called him baby just to keep him hanging on was my insecurity showing. Maybe I was just as much of an asshole as he was. Oh, the games we played.
The next night was nothing different. He’d actually not texted back last night, but today, he was back at it. I was on the closing shift again today, and the texts from him started late afternoon:
I can’t stay away from you much longer, beautiful.
I’m coming over tonight, and you’re going to be happy when I arrive. Trust me.
I rolled my eyes at his attempt at charm. I had just taken my last final today and had a glorious two weeks off until next semester. I wouldn’t get home ‘til late, but that never stopped him before. I wanted to see him—I always wanted to see him—but I knew I shouldn’t.
However, that didn’t stop me from texting him back and telling him I was free.
Why did I do that?
Ellis: What time you get off?
Me: 9
Ellis: I’ll be over at 9:15.
I bit my lip again. I knew why he was coming over. It was the only reason he ever came over. But I missed him, even if I was stupid and shouldn’t have been. I needed to find myself another guy. Get into a “real” relationship with someone who wasn’t so messed up. Not that I wasn’t screwed up myself, but two messy people trying to love each other was not going to work. I needed a normal guy who would worship me and buy me jewelry with his good-paying job. Not this scarred-up dude who didn’t know how to express his emotions and said “fuck” too much.
My reply: See you then.
See? I was no better than he was. We were both a steaming, scorching, hot mess… together.
Ellis
Looking at the computer, I wondered what kind of job I should get. The job I’d had in the Marine Corps was what I’d loved, but I really didn’t learn anything much except how to kill people quickly and how to shoot a bunch of different types of weapons. That, and how to disassemble and reassemble a rifle in less than a minute. Something told me this wasn’t a skill that would get me a very high-paying job. After all, who uses weapons? Military and law enforcement. I’d already done the military, and after my stint as a teen in the OAB and my arrests, there was no way I was getting a job in law enforcement. Not that I really wanted one. I’d always had some sort of aversion to cops. Probably my rebellious nature. They made me nervous.
I smirked a little at that, knowing in the back of my mind that it was wrong and stupid, but I couldn’t help it. My mom knew it, too, which was why I rarely heard from her anymore. She’d gotten remarried about two years after I joined, and I was glad she had someone to take care of her. Even as a teen, I had always felt like I should be looking out for her, even though back then I mostly just looked out for myself and my homies, because I was a stupid, selfish, misguided kid. Trying to fit in where I could get in, and not caring about the repercussions or how it would impact my mom, my family, or anyone else around me.
I slammed the laptop lid closed with a sigh and scrubbed a hand over my face. Gazing around my small little mobile home, I looked at my keys lying on my kitchen counter. A smile lit up my face.
Maybe a bike ride would help my mood?
Getting up from the chair, I plucked up my keys and headed out to the parking lot. The Florida sun was blazing overhead, and the wind was warm and muggy.
Slinging my leg over my beautiful black and blue Ducati Diavel, I pushed the engine to start and rumbled out of the parking lot.
I technically should have been wearing a helmet, but, well, fuck that. My sunglasses helped to keep the wind out of my eyes so I could see, and I felt freer weaving in and out of the downtown traffic as I made my way toward the beach highway. I heard a few honks as I wound my way through the cars, and I responded with my customary one-finger greeting, along with my accompanying cocky-ass grin.
I seemed to be able to breathe again as my bike and I reached the 275 freeway so I could ride across the bridge and clear my head as the crystal-blue waters glistened under the sun. Testing the throttle, I pushed it harder than it should be pushed and my bike made a beautiful sound as it ate pavement across the bridge.
I wasn’t much to admire beauty of any kind, but the Gulf Coast waters made anyone who crossed their paths appreciate them. Only two other beautiful things ever made me pause. One was the smell of gunpowder after obliterating a target on shooting day, and the pearly white smile of a redhead who had flipped my life upside down.
I couldn’t explain why Talia did the things she did to me, but all I knew was that I had tried to look for another girl, I had tried sleeping with randoms I’d meet here and there, but none of them were her. Not even motherfucking close.
The sky and sea passed me in a blur as I continued to ride, hoping to find some sea-lined highway I could just fly down without a care in the world. But even I knew that wasn’t entirely true. I would always have cares in the world, but sometimes I wanted to forget them.
Forget that I needed to probably find a job, and soon.
Forget that I, most likely, would never sleep a full seven or eight hours a night uninterrupted by nightmares again for the rest of my days.
Forget that the missing finger on my left hand would never be coming back.
Forget that, despite all of the above, I would never care for anyone other than Talia ever again. I’d tried and I’d failed, and now I had to figure out a way to tell her. She played games with me, and I didn’t know if it was because she was just a player herself, or because she was scared of me—of us—on some level.
I wanted to “wine and dine” her. I wanted to show her off to the world and let her meet my mom and new stepdad. But I didn’t know how to broach that conversation. I didn’t know how to do anything but strip her bare and love her with my body and feel her body loving mine back. I always wished that would be enough, but with what little I knew about women, I just knew it wouldn’t and couldn’t be.
There were friends of mine in the service who were married. Their beautiful wives seemed to be perfect for them. I should have asked them back then how they met and kept their wives. Because as of now, I was failing on a serious level and I didn’t know to bring up my score.
I had taken her out several times, but lately it seemed like all she did was work and go to school—and trust me, I was proud of her for going to school. Lord knew I couldn’t. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to better myself; it was just that I didn’t think I could. I was never very book-smart, but working with my hands in fi
guring out the intricacies on how things worked had always been my specialty. I’d driven my mother crazy as a kid because I would take random things apart—like clocks and phones—to see how they worked.
While I was glad Talia kept busy with her studies, she just didn’t seem to have time to go out with me, so I took what I could get from her. A few hours here, a few hours there—but one thing remained the same: Every minute spent with her was passionate and unforgettable. She and I were a blend of the right chemistry that melded together into the perfect mixture. Or perhaps it was just a perfect storm we were brewing.
I soon found myself flying down the coastline, feeling awesome but wanting to see my girl something fierce all of a sudden. I took the next exit to get some gas and an energy drink. I’d text her once I stopped to see what she was doing tonight. For some reason, I needed her right now.
Chapter 4
Talia
Once I walked into the house, I fed Misty and set my purse down, just as my phone chirped inside it.
Ellis: I’m 15 minutes out.
I smirked and plugged the phone into its charger on the wall in the kitchen.
Did I want Ellis coming over?
Maybe.
No, not maybe. I so did, even though I knew he’d just be gone in the morning. A morning where I would really love for him to be here with me, reassuring me that he’d wanted to be here with me, but I knew that most likely wouldn’t happen.
I took a quick shower to wash off the coffee smell that seemed to have permeated my every pore, and wondered what I should wear. I rubbed some jasmine-scented lotion on my body and pulled on a fitted hot-pink tank top with some black yoga pants.
Even though he was on his way, I didn’t bother to put on any makeup or do anything with my hair. It was currently lying in a mass of damp, unruly waves on my shoulders as I grabbed the remote and popped the TV on.
