Hewitt: Jagged Edge Series #1

by A. L Long

  "Lilly, thank God, you had me going fucking crazy," Peter blurted.

  "I needed to talk to my parents," I said.

  “Why didn’t you let me know? Did they tell you what you needed to know?" he asked

  "Yeah, I'm tired, Peter. Can we talk tomorrow?"

  "I'll be over in the morning. Sleep tight," he said, before hanging up.

  Throwing my phone on the bed, I walked to the bathroom to brush my teeth and got ready for bed. Finding my favorite pajamas, I slipped them on and crawled into bed. I thought for sure I would fall asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, but my mind went into overdrive as I began thinking about everything that happened. Even though Peter knew about my real mom and kept it from me, I couldn't blame him for not wanting me to know the truth. I was the child of a drug addict. Who in their right mind would want to know that? Still, it was something that I needed to know about. There were so many things I wanted to know that only my real mom could answer. I wanted to know about my brother and what he was like. I wanted to know why she chose the life she did, still bringing me into her shitty world.

  The more I thought about everything, the more it made me wonder how Pierre knew about my adoption and my past. Maybe Peter was right about Pierre, maybe he was obsessed with me. He certainly made it his priority to find out about my past.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Lilly

  It was no surprise that I slept as late as I did. It was well after two in the morning by the time I finally fell asleep. Pushing from my bed, I headed to the bathroom to relieve myself and brush my teeth. As I was finishing up my duty, there was a knock at the front door. Pulling up my pajama bottoms, I hurried to the door. Just like he said, Peter was standing on the other side with a brown paper bag that I assumed was filled with bagels from the bakery down the street.

  Grabbing the bag from him, I left him at the door and made my way to the kitchen. I set the bag on the counter while I grabbed two mugs from the cupboard; Peter was already by my side when I turned to fill the mugs. Placing his hands over my messy bun, he pulled out the hair tie and let my hair fall. The smile on his face told me what he wanted. Pushing him away, I said, "Food first, then sex."

  I could tell he wasn't happy with my plan by the way his bottom lip curled over his top one. He was so cute when he pouted. Even so, I was starving. Taking my cup of Java and the bag of bagels, I rounded the breakfast bar and took a seat. Pulling out the cream cheese, and my favorite bagel, covered in cinnamon and sugar, I layered on the cream cheese. We sat in silence as I began devouring the delicious masterpiece I created.

  By the time I had the last bite of my bagel down, I was stuffed. Leaning back in my chair, I padded my belly and confessed, "I am so full I could explode."

  Peter must have interpreted my words in a different way, because he leaned over and whispered in my ear. "Playtime."

  Before I could protest, he lifted me from my seat and had me over his shoulder like a caveman. Slapping his back, I said, "Wait, Peter."

  Stopping in his tracks, he said, "Oh no, you are not getting out of this."

  I couldn't help but laugh. He always had a way of making me smile. It wasn't long before we were stripped out of our clothing and lying on my unmade bed. Taking my hands, Peter lifted them above my head and began kissing me. He stopped only to kiss the remaining bruising which was now the color of yellow mixed with green. I knew what Pierre did to me bothered him. Peter told me what he did to Pierre when he saw what happened to me. I didn't think violence was the way to handle things, but Peter laying into him was justly deserved.

  My thoughts were shaken when Peter's mouth clamped around my nipple. With a slight tug of my nipple between his teeth, my body was filled with a need only he could satisfy. As I struggled to be freed so I could wrap my arms around him, Peter's grip tightened around my wrists. "Peter, please. I need to touch you."

  "Not yet, baby. It's all about control,” he whispered.

  Peter's mouth lowered further down my body. I could feel every muscle in my being stimulated as every soft wet kiss hit my body. I was on fire with desire for this man. Lowering his mouth further yet, his tongue was on my clit, making slow circular movements around the hard nub. It was driving me crazy not being able to touch him. When he slipped two of his fingers inside me, my willpower gave way. All of the tension I had been carrying dissipated as my orgasm took hold.

  Peter waited until my body calmed before he released my hands and let me hold him. As he softly kissed me, my tears finally escaped. Peter placed gentle kisses over each eye as if to soothe my breakdown. "Shh... it’s okay, baby. I'm here."

  It was all I needed to hear. He was here. With me. Making love to me. The warmth of his hand slid down my body. Guiding his shaft to my entrance, he slowly entered me with no rush or demand. Only slow, tender movements were delivered as he eased his way deeper and deeper inside me. He knew my body and what I needed. Once again, my body shuddered as my release filled my body. His soon followed with three words of confession, "I love you."

  ~****~

  We must have lain in bed for hours, just holding one another. I felt safe next to him. I knew Peter would never let anything bad happen to me. Lying next to him, listening to the beating of his heart, I knew he was the only person I could trust. I knew he was the only person I trusted to help me find my real mom. Taking in a deep breath, I pushed away from his body, propping myself onto my elbows. Looking down at him, I saw the man who just confessed his love for me. Swiping a stray hair from his forehead, I continued to stare at his beautiful face.

  Startling me, he whispered, "The way you’re looking at me, I get the impression you want to ask me something"

  While his eyes were still closed, I lowered my hands and placed my chin on them and asked, "How could you tell that I wanted to ask you something with your eyes closed?"

  "That, baby," he began, flipping me over so I was now on my back with him on top. "Is because, I can feel it in your heartbeat, in your breath. So spill?"

  "My mom and dad told me who my real mother was. I want you to help me find her," I asked nervously.

  "Are you sure that's a good idea? What if you find something you wish you didn’t? I know how these things turn out, Lilly. I don’t want you to be disappointed or worse, hurt,” Peter said.

  "I have no choice, Peter. I needed to find answers. I need to know the truth about her and why she let me go so freely."

  After a two more bouts of sex and a mind-blowing blow job in the shower, Peter finally agreed to help me. With the connections he had, I knew he would be able to get the information I needed to find out if she was even still alive, and where she might be living.

  It was close to noon by the time we finished with our shower, and left my condo. There was one thing that concerned me about Pierre: if he lived across the street, he would know when I left and when I came back. This made my heart beat faster, knowing that he knew my every move.

  As we crossed the street to where Peter's Camaro was parked, I looked up at the apartment building wondering if Pierre was watching us at this very moment. Peter must have felt my uneasiness. He squeezed my hand and said, "I know what you're thinking, Lilly. You don't need to worry about Pierre. He no longer lives across from you."

  "Where does he live?" I asked, as Peter opened the passenger door for me.

  "You don't need to worry about that either. If he comes within fifty feet of you, I'll know," he reassured me, lowering his lips to mine.

  I couldn't help but wonder what he meant by that unless he was having one of his guys keep an eye on him. Buckling my seat belt, I took one last look at the tall building before Peter pulled away from the curb. It didn't matter what time of day it was, the traffic in Manhattan was close to unbearable. You wouldn't be able to tell by the way Peter effortlessly weaved in and out of it. Before long, we were out of the city and heading towards Queens. It was the first place I thought to look. Peter agreed with me after making a few phone calls while I got ready.


  Most of the homeless people lived in Jackson Height or East Elmhurst. We decide to start there. Hopefully, someone would be able to recognize her. She was only seventeen when she got pregnant with me, making her around forty-two or forty-three now. Even though I didn’t have a picture of her, my guess was that she looked like an older version of me.

  Hitting Queens, I began searching for homeless shelters in the Elmhurst and Jackson Heights area. There were so many of them. It was going to be like searching for a needle in a haystack. Peter suggested we check the older ones first. He said that most homeless people are creatures of habit. Once they are comfortable with their surroundings, they tend to avoid change. They don't trust people. They also tend to hold tight to their belongings. Belongings they would kill for.

  Our trip to Queens was turning out to be a waste of time. We had been to at least a dozen homeless shelters. No one knew of Diana Walker. We were heading back to the car when an elderly man came up to us. There was no mistaking that he had been living on the streets for some time. He was wearing torn clothing and looked like he hadn't showered in months.

  "You looking for Blondie?" the man asked.

  "You know Diana Walker?" Peter replied.

  "Yeah, I know her. Only everyone calls her Blondie. What do you want with her?" he sneered, spitting on the concrete.

  "Do you know where we can find her?" Peter asked, walking closer to the old man.

  "Depends," he said, holding his hand out like he was expecting something from us.

  Peter pulled out his wallet and handed the old man a twenty dollar bill. The man slowly reached for it and stuffed it in the pocket of his torn pants. Looking back at Peter he said, "You may want to check the camp. That's where you'll most likely find her."

  "Where is this camp?" Peter questioned the old man.

  "It's in the Weeping Beech Park. Ask for Termite. He can help you get to her," the old man instructed, throwing his backpack over his shoulder and walking away.

  After talking to the homeless man, I felt like I needed to take a long shower. Even though I didn't get near him, letting Peter do all the talking, I felt like I needed to wash the stink off my body. Even though Peter didn't touch him either, I still pulled out my sanitizer and handed it to him. As he looked at me like I grew a new set of horns, I grabbed his hand and squirted a dab onto his palm. "Don't look at me that way, Peter. Who knows what kind of diseases he might have?"

  The park the homeless man mentioned was only a couple of miles from where we were. Peter was trying to find a place to safely park while I looked around. Looking at the park, no one would be able to tell that a homeless camp resided inside. Parking the car, Peter and I got out and headed to the park’s entrance. The deeper we got inside the park, the more we could see the homes of the homeless made out of cardboard and blankets. I took hold of Peter's hand, gripping it like my life depended on it. There were a few homeless men sitting on a park bench nearby. Peter approached them. There was no way I would trust these men, so I positioned my body behind Peter's.

  "Excuse me," Peter said, watching one of the men looking straight at him. "I'm looking for a man named Termite."

  "I'm Termite. What do you want?" an older black man asked.

  "A friend of yours said you could help us find Diana Walker. She goes by the name of Blondie," Peter answered, pushing me further behind him.

  "Yeah, I can take you to her, but it'll cost ya," he said.

  Once again, Peter pulled his wallet from his back pocket and handed the man a twenty. When the man stood there without moving his hand, Peter knew he wanted more. After Peter placed another twenty in his hand, the man finally stuffed the money in a small bag that was hanging around his neck.

  "Follow me," he said, leaving his friend on the bench.

  I wasn't sure how long we had walked, but I was beginning to get the feeling that we had been taken. The only thing homeless people knew how to do was survive, even if it meant conning forty bucks out of us. I was about to tell Peter that I thought he'd been had when the man stopped and pointed to a tent nestled between a couple of trees. The tent was made out of a large blue tarp, with rope to keep it in place. There was a piece of cardboard leaning against the front of the tent which was being used to keep out the cold.

  As we walked closer to the tent, we could see that the tarp wasn’t in the best of shape. It looked to have been very well used, with several tears in it. Peter, being who he was, knocked lightly on the cardboard, careful not to knock it over. A loud voice came over from inside. "I don't want whatever you’re selling,"

  Peter looked over to me. I switched places with him squatting in front of the tent. "We're looking for Diana Walker. Are you her?" I asked.

  "Who wants to know?" the woman asked coldly.

  "Her daughter," I said, looking up at Peter.

  I could hear rustling inside the tent. I pushed back to standing and backed away from the ratty tent. When the cardboard fell forward and the woman appeared, I saw myself. The woman had the same color eyes and hair as me. Her frame was smaller, but that could be due to the drugs and lack of food. The woman stood and focused her eyes on mine. In a soft voice she said, "Lillabell."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Peter

  The minute Lilly's mom looked at me, I knew she was deciding whether or not she knew me. It had been over fifteen years since she had seen me. I was just a young kid then, skinny and scrawny, but when I saw her standing behind a tree at the cemetery where Adam was buried, I knew who she was. When Lilly offered to take her to get a decent meal, I just about flipped. There was no way I would be able to get out of this. I just hoped we could get through the meal without her saying something.

  We decided to take Lilly's mom to a small café just down the street from the park where she was living. We thought it would be better to start off small. Lilly wasn't too sure how she would react being around people. When we were seated, I could tell Lilly's mom wasn't as sheltered as Lilly thought. She might be able to fool Lilly, but she didn't fool me one bit. She knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it.

  There was very little conversation during our meal, which for me was a good thing. It wasn't until Lilly excused herself to go the restroom that the real Diana Walker came out.

  "I know who you are. I saw you at that cemetery. You may not look the same, but I knew it was you. Does Lilly know what you did to her brother?" Diana hissed as she pointed her finger at me.

  "I was wondering when you were going to bring that up." I replied. "Whatever you think, Diana, what happened to your son was an accident."

  "Hogwash. You may have been able to fool the authorities, but I know my son didn't just fall from that tree house," she barked, picking at her food. “So here's the deal. You give me what I want, and your little secret stays between us."

  Before I could find out what she really wanted, Lilly walked back to the table. Looking first at me and then her mom, she knew something was up. Taking her place next to me, she was about to say something, but her mom chimed in.

  "So your boyfriend here has offered to help me find a new place to live, closer to you. Isn't that wonderful, Lillabell," she proclaimed, looking right at me.

  "Peter, is that true?" Lilly asked confused.

  "Yeah, I thought it would be good to have her closer to you," I lied. I wasn't sure what Diana's game was, but I knew I had to play along, at least for now.

  Lilly wrapped her arms around my waist and laid her head on my shoulder. Looking over to Diana, I made an ultimatum of my own. "There's one condition that Diana has agreed to. She's agreed to stay clean and go to regular NA meetings," I declared with a grin.

  After dinner, we headed back to the park. Diana wanted to grab her things that she had Termite keep an eye on. Knowing that she wasn't going to be living in the camp any longer, she didn't want to leave behind what few belongings she had. After she gathered all her things, we headed to the car. I popped the trunk and loaded the green garbage bag full of her shit into the
trunk.

  Once we were back in Manhattan, I located a motel with a reasonable rate for Diana to stay at until I could find other living arrangements for her. Leaving Lilly and Diana in the car, I walked to the motel office to get her a room. When I got back, Lilly had tears in her eyes. I thought for sure Diana had broken our deal and told Lilly what happened to her brother.

  Opening the door for her, I asked, "Are you okay, Lilly?"

  Looking up at me, she answered softly, "Yeah."

  I wasn't sure what else I could say without making things worse, especially if the cat was out of the bag. I took Lilly by the hand and helped her out of the car so Diana could slide out of the back seat. I handed Diana her room key and watched as they said their good-byes. It wasn't long before we were back in the car and on our way to Lilly's place.