But maybe after awhile you just accept who you are and wear that face to the whole world without worrying about the consequences.
“We used to do this thing where we would drive around and look at rich people’s houses. We’d look through real estate listings and find one house that we both loved and just go there. We’d find it on the map and drive around it, admiring it and sit on top of the car, imagining what our world would be like if it were ours.
“Quickly, we realized that what we both wanted was a ranch with acreage and lots of animals. Not to sell them or kill them or anything, just for them to be around us. Expensive pets, as it goes.”
I smile.
“Then we started to make our way toward making our dreams a reality. We applied to the University of Montana, graduated. Leslie went to the police academy and I started studying for my teaching license.”
I nod, hoping that he will tell me more about this rather than what is to come.
The beginning of stories, especially the ones you know are going to end badly are always so full of possibility.
“Well, you probably know the rest,” he says suddenly, probably not wanting to go there either.
“I do.”
“What you probably don’t know though is that Leslie and I are back on, as the kids say. We got divorced but stayed in touch because after all of those happy years together, it was too hard not to. And then I ran into her at a bar and we got to talking and laughing and it was like no time had passed at all. It was like none of those bad things ever happened.”
“I understand,” I say.
“What I’m trying to say…in a very convoluted and not particularly direct way is that…I miss Harley. I miss my daughter.”
His eyes are filling up with tears, and he rubs them with the back of his hand.
When he clears his throat, he turns to me and asks, “Tell me, what are you doing to make her happy?”
“We didn’t meet that long ago,” I say, “but every moment that we have spent together has been…beyond any expectations.”
I can see from the expression on his face that my propensity for understatement is lost on him.
If I don’t want him to think I’m a total ass, then I’ll have to be more direct.
“I was really lost when I met her. I had a lot of bad things happen in my life and I’d tucked myself away from the world to try to deal with it. Well, time passed and I didn’t get better. I just got more…alone. And then Harley came along and changed everything.”
“For the better?”
“For the best.”
“She has that tendency. She can make anyone happy. But what about you? What are you doing in return?”
“I love her,” I whisper.
The words spring out of me.
Even though it’s the first time the thought has crossed my mind, it is the most natural thing in the world.
“I appreciate you saying that,” Harold says, putting his hand on mine.
“I support her,” I continue.
He squeezes my hand and gives me a smile.
“And I make her come to see her crazy family even though she will now be as mad at me as she is at you.”
Chapter 12- Jackson
When I kiss her…
Harley stares at me with her big wide hazel eyes.
The words ‘I love you’ just escaped my lips, knocking the wind out of her.
“You don’t have to say anything in return. I just wanted to tell you how I feel.”
Her small, delicate mouth parts in the middle.
She licks her lower lip and my body burns for hers.
I lift my chin to hers. Our lips collide.
I bury my hands in her hair.
It’s soft and damp with an earthy scent that doesn’t come from any shampoo bottle.
She is soft and snug in my arms and she pulls away only far enough to utter, “I love you, too.”
I clutch her closer, wrapping my arms around hers.
Her breaths become mine and mine become hers.
Her hands are ice.
She slips them under my shirt and my back recoils for a moment before welcoming her in.
I’m restless and hungry for her.
All of her.
Right now.
That’s what she does to me.
One touch and I have to have her.
Another touch and I morph into a beast who can’t control his impulses.
With her chin tilted toward the ceiling, her long hair moves in waves.
I run my hands down the contours of her body.
I know every curve and every dip.
The more I feel, the greedier I become.
I have to have her.
But she’s ahead of me.
She is already unbuttoning my shirt and taking off my pants.
Today, we do not wait to play a game.
Today, we do not take it slowly.
We burn for one another.
She lifts up her hands and I slip off her sweater.
She pulls off her leggings and jumps on top of me.
I catch her and we fall onto the couch.
My crotch becomes a knot of electricity. Her legs open wide and wrap around mine.
Our kisses become sloppy as we devour each other’s mouths.
But before I come inside of her, I flip her over on her back.
I want her under me.
I cradle her head, burying my fingers in her hair.
My lips make their way down her body.
I pause slightly near the bottom of her neck, but then quickly make my way down toward the top of her breasts.
God, I love them.
Her nipples are small, the color of mocha.
They harden against my tongue.
I don’t favor one breast over another, making my way across both to give each adequate attention.
As my mouth travels south, I watch as her belly button rises and falls with each quickened breath.
I run my hands down her thighs and press them deep inside of her.
Her body starts to move faster and faster and she gives out a quiet moan.
I press my lips in between her thighs and lick the most intimate part of her.
But before I can get any further, she closes her legs a little over my head and then pulls me up to her mouth.
“What’s wrong?”
“I want you inside of me.”
I reach for a condom and quickly slip it on as she tongues the back of my earlobe.
A moment later, her legs wrap tightly around my torso and she pushes me into her.
Our movements start out fast and get even faster.
We are feverish for one another.
We grasp onto each other’s bodies as if we are falling and ride a wave that is all too short.
When it’s all over, drenched in each other’s sweat, we hold each other, unwilling to be the first to separate.
Later that morning, after showering and getting dressed, we find ourselves back on the couch staring at the meadow of snow outside.
Big flakes are starting to fall, and the news broadcast predicts a blizzard.
I don’t bring up Harold or Leslie but, by the way that Harley is staring into space, I know that they are not far from her mind.
“It was just so sunny,” I point out. “I can’t believe that the weather turned so quickly.”
“There’s an old saying in the Rockies. If you don’t like the weather, wait twenty minutes.”
I smile. “How long will this last?”
“Probably through the night. Maybe into tomorrow. The snow comes quick and fast here, but then the sun comes out again and it’s as if nothing happened.”
“Except for piles of it everywhere,” I point out.
“Well, yeah, except for that.”
I debate whether I should bring up the fact that if she wants to leave Montana today, we should probably hustle before it gets too dangerous to fly.
But I kind of want
to buy some time.
I’ve never been in the West and there are things I want to see.
Besides, after talking to Harold, I feel bad just taking off on him without another word.
Without trying to talk to Harley again.
“We probably won’t be able to fly home today,” she says with a little smile.
“You don’t seem too disappointed by that.”
“Well, I kinda like this place,” she says, looking around. “I never stayed in a chalet before.”
“I’m glad that I can be of service.”
“Are your services available tonight as well?”
I raise my eyebrows. “I’m at your beck and call, madam.”
We sit in silence for a few minutes before she turns to me again.
“I think I have to meet with my dad.”
Chapter 13 - Harley
Snowed in…
Snow starts to fall in big thick flakes and I know that there’s no way we are flying out of here today.
But that’s okay.
As much as I wanted to leave immediately after the hospital fiasco, now something is holding me back.
I should at least see my dad.
While I stare out of the window, Jackson excuses himself to check his emails and do a little work.
He occupies the space at the end of the dining room table with his laptop and immediately shuts everything else out.
I, on the other hand, feel restless and unfocused.
My content writing job is ad-hoc, meaning that I can write as many articles as I can in a day or not write any at all.
I just go to the website and choose one.
Once I get five-hundred words on the topic with a good introduction, conclusion, and three supporting paragraphs, my work is pretty much done.
Unfortunately, these last few days have really thrown me off track.
I open my computer and stare at the list of potential stories.
One is about electric plugs, another one is about getting into an ivy league school.
There’s a huge list under a variety of topics, but none look that appealing.
That job requires rhythm and momentum, both of which are built over time.
Back home, with a strict writing schedule, I could pump out five to six articles a day pretty easily.
But here, my thoughts get away from me and no words come out when I start to type.
Glancing over, Jackson sees me struggling.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to make some money.” He knows a bit about my content writing job, the only steady position I had when we met.
“I thought you were working for me?”
Am I still?
Everything happened so quickly that I actually have no idea whether I still have that position.
“Well, you seemed busy, so I didn’t want to bother you.”
“Frankly, I don’t really have much for you to do right now.”
I nod. “I understand.”
“It’s not to say that you no longer have a job. Of course, you do.”
“It’s fine…I got by fine with this. I just need to focus and really work for a while today to get back on track.” I rub my temples, trying to make the incessant headache that has suddenly creeped up disappear.
He walks over and puts his hand on my shoulder. “I’m not bullshitting you, Harley. I still want you to work for me.”
“Well, you don’t have any work for me to do and I have to pay rent at the beginning of the month.”
“Please don’t worry about that.”
I look up at him incensed. “Are you serious?”
“I can give you the money. I’m rich, remember?”
He smiles that seductive, unassuming smile that makes my whole body tingle.
“That doesn’t mean that I’m going to take your money. I have my own money and I can get by on it just fine,” I say proudly.
Well, that’s not exactly true.
But I have gotten by on it just fine.
Things are a bit more complicated now that Julie is no longer living with me and I have this enormous medical bill hanging over my head.
He glances at my screen and silently reads over the article topics.
“Harley, you’re a writer, right?”
I nod.
“Is this what you want to spend your time doing?”
I shrug. “At least, I’m writing. I’m not very good at waitressing, I found that out the hard way.”
“Yes, you are writing. But is this what you want to be writing?”
I roll my eyes.
“I’m not trying to be rude. I’m asking a legitimate question.”
“No, of course not.”
“Okay, then, now we’re getting somewhere.”
“Where?”
“Stay with me.”
I take a deep breath and exhale it very slowly, wallowing in my exasperation.
“What would you write if you could write anything?”
“A novel,” I say, without missing a beat.
“What kind?”
“I’m not sure yet, but something with a love story. Maybe about a normal girl who meets a dark, mysterious stranger who sweeps her off her feet?”
“That sounds like a really good story to me.”
I shrug.
“What?”
“I’ve written a lot of stuff before. Short stories. Part of a young adult novel.”
“And? Why didn’t you finish?”
I stare at him without breaking eye contact.
“I submitted it to like a million literary agents. Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but definitely fifty. I wrote fifty cover letters, each specifically tailored to them. I sent them the query letter, three chapters, and a synopsis. Everything that they require. I submitted my work to big names and non-existent names, people just starting out. And nothing. No one cared.”
“So what?”
I look away in defeat.
“So…maybe it’s not meant to be.”
“Maybe they don’t know what they’re talking about? Did you ever consider that?”
I shake my head.
“You don’t know that. You’re just…taking my side.”
“Okay, how about this, why don’t you write a novel now? The one you mentioned you wanted to.”
I blush and shake my head.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“What would be the point? It will probably be rejected just like all of my other stuff.”
He spins me around in my chair and gets down on one knee. Holding me by my shoulders, he leans in and asks, “Why even send it to them?”
“You want me to write a novel just for myself? And what, keep it in a drawer forever?”
“No.” He smiles. “I want you to write this novel and publish it yourself. There are so many books on Amazon, Apple, Google Play, Barnes and Noble, and all of those other retailers that are independently published. And the readers? They don’t care. The only thing they care about is that it’s good and it’s something they want to read. So, just say fuck it to the whole publishing industry and do it yourself.”
Chapter 14 - Harley
When he plants an idea…
DIY?
Is that something that writers do?
I mean, of course, I’ve heard of self-publishing, but I had no idea that it was so…prominent and pervasive.
Jackson opens my computer and goes to Amazon.
Then he scrolls through the kindle store and points out all the books that are self-published.
“How do you know that these are self-published?”
“Well, the telltale sign is that they cost about half of a traditionally published ebook. You see, all of these books that are $6.99 and $5.99 and less? Those are all indie writers. And they all have people buying their books.”
I sit back in my chair, astounded by what he has just revealed.
I spent so much of my time researching literary ag
ents and publishing houses that I completely overlooked this entire field that has popped up to challenge their domination.
“So, how do you know so much about this?”
“I’m in the content creation business, remember? Minetta Media acquired two podcasts about self-publishing. They’re run by two very successful indie authors and they really know what they’re talking about.”
I stare at the screen with a newfound zest for creativity.
I was so depressed to not hear back from any of the agents I’d contacted that I really put the whole thing out of my mind.
And now? Now…life is full of possibilities again.
“This sounds amazing,” I admit.
“But?” Jackson asks, sensing my trepidation.
“But…I still have to write to make money. I mean, I can’t rely on people just buying my book when I publish it.”
“No, of course not. It will take awhile for you to find readers, actually. And you will have to learn how to do some marketing and run advertising to promote the book. It’s a long journey after you finish the book.”
“So, you see…it’s just not something I can invest my time in now given that I have to make money. However, meager and ridiculous.”
Jackson smiles at me again. His eyes light up and I know that he has another idea.
“What? What are you thinking?” I pull him toward me and put my mouth on his. He licks me back, but pulls away.
“What if instead of spending time writing that useless crap that provides very little value to anyone except to the company for click bait…what if instead of doing that, I paid you to do this instead? To work on your novel.”
I shake my head no.
“That’s…not fair.”
“To whom?”
“To…everyone out there. I mean, you supporting my writing like that?”
“I want to, Harley. I think you have something special inside of you. And I want the world to see that. I want the world to read your books.”
I think about that for a moment. The fact that he even offered to do something like that is beyond generous. And it’s everything that I ever wanted ever since I was a little girl. But can I really accept it?
“Okay, I mean…maybe,” I finally say.
Tangled up in Pain Page 5
