by Aubrey Cara
My curiosity is piqued and I’m wondering if maybe I’d read her wrong. “So, do you work around here?”
She gives me a quick look before staring back out the window. “I waitress at a bar.”
Well, she wasn’t the pampered princess but she was still a hot mess. Although... “Do you go to school?” She does seem like she belongs in a sorority somewhere.
This time she fidgets with her hands and shakes her head. “Nope.” She seems somewhat embarrassed by this. Interesting.
“You know, it's never too late, if that's something you want to do—”
“Look. It's really nice that you're driving me to my car, but I've had a completely shit night. Can we just skip the small talk?”
I shrug. I had thought I’d been nice to get her off. Some people didn't appreciate things like a good orgasm. I sure as hell would appreciate one right about now. It definitely would make my night much better.
Reaching over, I change the station to classic rock. She doesn’t say anything and seems to have relaxed a little by the time we pull into the chain restaurant where an old Jeep Renegade sits under a street light, all by its lonesome. I wonder if she'd had enough sense to park under the light, or if she'd just gotten lucky. Thinking back to her choices this evening from her idiot boyfriend, to going off with some stranger, I figure she'd gotten lucky.
“That's me,” she said popping the door open as soon as I pull into the spot next to the jeep.
“I'll see you around, princess,” I toss out, just wanting to irritate her.
“Not if I see you first,” she says not turning.
I watch as she goes to her vehicle, her long limbs illuminated by the street light. The wind molding her little outfit to her killer bod, blowing the skirt of her dress up until it nearly shows her gorgeous ass. Jesus H. she is a hot one. It's too bad I don’t date the hot mess, needy types. And she has hot mess written all over her. I may crave spanking and having the upper hand in a relationship, but I’m not a white knight. I’ve never had a hero complex, like so many guys I know have. I don’t want some chick I’d have to bail out of one problem after another. I don’t need to saddle myself with some helpless female like my mother.
The thought makes my chest ache, and I rub the spot as I watch her drive off.
It’s not until I’m driving down the road that I realize I hadn't gotten her full name. It doesn’t matter, I rationalize. It’s not like I’m ever going to see that bit of trouble ever again.
But still...
CHAPTER TWO
CANDI
One thing. I would love for just one damn thing to go right in my Godforsaken life. Humiliation still burns in my chest, making my eyes sting. I'd gotten off on being spanked like some naughty child...and the dirty things he’d said. Fuck. I can feel myself blushing crimson just thinking about it. Come on daddy's fingers, he'd said, and I had. Ugh. What the hell was wrong with me?
I’ve always known there was something off about me. Guys rarely ever are able to make me orgasm. That’s bad enough. This perversion is a new low for me. My own body betrayed me on the opposite end of the spectrum. Even it knew I wasn't worth nice, sweet, normal loving.
Even worse is the knowledge my boyfriend, disgusting Cody—no, make that ex-boyfriend—is the guy who attacked one of my co-workers two months ago, in the parking lot of the Rusty Spur, the bar I work at. It had been late and no one had seen, but I’d had a feeling. I should have called the cops then.
Cody and his friends had been in the bar that night causing a ruckus. John, the owner, had to throw them out. It’s shocking I hadn't gotten fired that night. When I'd gone to confront Cody he'd been nowhere to be found. When I'd finally met up with him later that week he'd sworn up and down that it hadn't been him.
What a lying sack of shit.
I'd like just one man I could depend on and had foolishly thought that could be Cody. He has a steady construction job. Pays his bills. Has a nice truck and his own apartment. I’d thought he'd be the kind of man I’d always wanted in my life. Steady, dependable. The kind of guy who would be a good influence on my younger brother. The opposite of my dad and older brothers.
How wrong I’d been. It wasn't long before I found out he had a coke problem and was more interested in showing me off to his friends than actually spending time with me.
Driving through town I pass a storefront with teddy bears, balloon hearts, and big beautiful bouquets of flowers displayed in the window. Cody had thrown me a little box of chocolate before we’d left the restaurant where we'd eaten with his buddies. “Here you go, babe,” he said. And I’d thought it was sweet. I’m such a fucking chump. Who let their boyfriend take them to an anti-Valentine’s rager on Valentine’s? My stupid ass. That’s who. I still can’t believe I let him touch me. He’s a sick, disgusting bastard. Worse than the giant redheaded spanking asshole I'd almost gone down on.
Oh God, the sick feeling was back burning a hole through my stomach again. I'd tried to suck off a complete stranger. Just thinking about that makes me want to throw up. I know better than to drink rum. Of course Cody knows it makes me want to swing my panties from the rafters and had made sure I had a rum and coke, or two.
Pulling in the driveway to my old one story ranch style house, I cut the engine and beat my head against the steering wheel a couple of times. Gripping the wheel, contemplating the shittiness of life, a screech of tires has me jerking around to see what the hell’s going on.
What the—a body is dumped out the side door of a truck onto my front lawn, before the truck tears off. Jumping out of my jeep I run across the yard on my tiptoes so my stupid spiked heels don’t sink into the grass. The slumped form is on his side. I pull him over and automatically recognize him, even in the dark.
“Dilly bean. What the hell happened to you?” My little brother, Dylan, groans. Even in the dark I can see his face is one swollen mass. “Come on,” I say trying to get him in a sitting position. He clutches his ribs staying put. “We need to get you to the hospital.”
“No, Candi. No hospital. No cops.”
I swallow hard, looking to the sky, blinking back tears for a second. Every man in my family has gambling problems and a penchant for pissing off the wrong people. This wasn't the first time one of my kin has been dumped in the yard, or had to drag themselves home. This scene has played out before. It is, however, the first time it’s happening with my little brother. I'd wanted so much more for him.
“Dammit Dyl.” My voice cracks on the disappointment clogging my throat. I swallow hard, choking it down. “Let's get you inside then.”
“I'm sorry Candi,” he says, grabbing my hand as I help ease him into a sitting position.
“Save it.”
Somehow I manage to get him into the house. Out of all my brothers he is blessedly the smallest, only a couple inches taller than my 5'9''. He is still heavier than a bag of bricks though. After I dump him on our beat up old couch I go get the first aid kit and a wet washcloth.
When I flip on the side table lamp he flinches at the bright light. Serves him right. Angry tears drip down my face as I wipe at the dried blood all over his face and neck. His nose is probably broken. From looking at him, I wouldn't be surprised if he also has a broken rib or two.
“We really should take you to the hospital.”
“Tomorrow. After I've gotten cleaned up. I can say I took a hit playing football.”
I snort in disbelief. The doctor will believe that only if he says he'd been playing against a cement truck.
“Tell me Dylan, did years of seeing dad, Ronnie, and Robbie drag themselves in here beaten to a pulp look so appealing you had to try it yourself?” We’d been so young when our oldest brother had gotten killed for his stupidity.
Suddenly Dylan's hands stay mine. The look he gives me freezes my blood. Even through swollen slits I can sense his fear and desperation. “I'm in big trouble Candi. Big trouble. I—” He seems to choke back whatever he’s about to say. “I owe a lot of mon
ey to some bad men.”
To my horror he starts crying, “I'm sorry Candi. I'm so sorry.”
“What did you do? Who the hell do you owe money to?”
“Cody introduced me...to this guy he buys from. One thing led to another...I thought I could make some quick money. But I lost a bag or two. I don't know what happened, I swear.”
He’s not making sense. But I know. In my gut I know. He's been selling drugs. Here I'd been worrying he'd start up gambling like our dad and older brothers, but he'd skipped right ahead to drug dealer. And if Cody had introduced them, he wasn't selling pot.
“Jeez Dyl, did these lost bags happen to fall up your nose?”
“I didn’t use them. I swear.”
“Sure you didn’t.”
“I didn't! I don’t do drugs. Ever. Okay, I smoke pot sometimes. But none of that hard shit. I swear. I wanted to make some easy money. Help you out. You're always taking care of everything. I just—”
Not wanting to hear about his good intentioned drug dealing I cut him off, “How much do you owe these people?”
“I just owe them three grand.”
“Oh, is that all? That's quite a bit for a bag or two.”
“Candi. They're crazy. Look at me. They're going to kill me. You have to help me.”
I yank my hand out of his desperate grip and pace the floor, running an aggravated hand through my hair. I know what I’m going to have to do, but that doesn’t make it easier. I have exactly three thousand five hundred in savings. It has taken me two years to save that. I’m always the one who has to cover the rent on this shit hole of a house, when my dad inevitably doesn’t show up to pay the bills. Setting aside a little bit by little bit has become routine. And I'd also been hoping to start taking classes at the college one town over this spring. I foolishly thought if Dylan saw me making something of myself he'd want to follow suit.
“Why is it again we can't go to the police?”
“Candi, please. I've been arrested before. It had just been for underage drinking, but if I'm arrested again for this—”
He doesn’t have to finish. We both know if he’s arrested again they could put him away for a good long while. And if the people he owes money to have connections inside prison—which they undoubtedly do—he'd be dead. Over three-freaking-grand.
“Who do I pay?” I say in resignation.
“No, you can't pay. I mean, I need the money, but you can't be the one to deliver it.”
“Who then? You?” Not only is he in no condition to be going anywhere let alone meeting criminals, I don't trust him enough at the moment not to cut and run the second he has the money.
“This is my mess, Candi.”
How ironic, I'll still be the one paying for it. “You can't go alone.”
“Cody. You can give the money to Cody to deliver with me.”
Oh, this plan just keeps getting better. “I hate to break it to you, but I broke up with him tonight.” And I’m definitely going to call the cops on his ass.
“Can't you just ask him this one little favor, Candi?” His voice has gone whiny and pleading and I want to shake him. “Candi, please. I can ask him for you. You just have to give us the money.”
Of freaking course.
I stare at my bloody, beaten brother sitting on the couch and feel so much hurt and resentment bubbling up through me, I’m shaking with it.
“Never.You are never to do anything like this again. You will never put me in this position again, Dylan Zachariah. Is that understood?”
“I understand.”
“I mean it, Dylan. I can't do this. I thought it was going to be different when it was just you and me.”
“Can-can,” he says falling back to what he called me when we'd been little. He is only three years younger than me, but one would think that I'd raised him.
“Promise me, Dylan. Promise me you'll get a normal job and try to go to college. Promise me this is the last time you'll ever do anything this foolish. Promise me!”
“I promise, Candi. I promise.”
I nod my head once and walk to my room on wooden legs. I can't be in the same room with him right now. Not when everything I’ve been saving for, hoping for, just went up in smoke. My college money is going to be used to pay off some drug dealer.
Slamming my door, I yank my hair until my scalp stings and let out a frustrated scream. Giving into the helpless rage bubbling up inside me, I kick the stool out from underneath my vanity, flinging everything off my dresser in a fit before sinking to the floor, sobs shaking me.
One thing. I'd wanted just one thing to go right.
CHAPTER THREE
CANDI
My dad often said he never got more of a rush than when holding large quantities of money. I’m sure it is part of what feeds his addiction. It is part of why he does the kind of things he does. No bet is ever too steep for Ray Dawson.
As I clutch the manila envelope that houses more money than I’ve ever held at one time, I feel a rush too, but it is more like holding a ticking bomb that can go off at any minute. Looking over at Cody smugly sitting behind the wheel of his truck I bite back a curse wanting to smack my brother all over again.
For all his talk my brother has opted to stay home nursing his broken ribs, popping the pain pills the doctor I’d taken him to on Monday gave him. I still can't believe he's put me in this position.
Cody should be behind bars right now for assault. Instead, if I go to the cops, he'll turn the tables right around on my brother. He'd been very clear on that this morning when he'd come to pick up the money. I refused to hand it over. I want to see him give it to those thugs my brother owes. Then I don’t care if I have to hitchhike back to Gibson, I’m getting the hell away from Cody Mathews once and for all.
We pull into a nondescript apartment complex and Cody holds out his hand. Shaking my head, I open my door.
Cody groans. “Candi girl, these aren't the kind of guys I want seeing you,” he says in a possessive way that I’ve come to loathe.
“I don't think that's up to you. And I'm not blindly giving you this money. For all I know you'll just buy more drugs with it, and leave my brother out to dry.”
“They'll probably expect you to partake.”
“Like, as in get high with them?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
He rolls his eyes and shakes his head like I’m a dimwit. “So they know you're not the fuzz.”
“Fuzz?”
“You know, the po-po.”
I roll my eyes at his unfortunate use of slang, but I also acknowledge he has made a point. I’ve never snorted coke and just the idea of being put on the spot and having drugs shoved up my nose makes my stomach knot.
“Candi, you don't want to be on these guys’ radar. You're too,” he motions over my body with his hand. “Everything. Sweet, innocent, and hot. You walk in there and they'll say your brother owes twice as much as he does just to get a piece of your ass.”
Cody’s right and I hate it. That doesn’t mean I trust him. “Please don't double cross my brother. Please pay his debt and get the hell out of there.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to threaten him, but I know it won’t do any good. Plus he’s being sweet, and I don't want to mess that up before he's done me this favor.
“Don't worry. I always take care of my girl,” he says, running a finger down my cheek.
I work at not flinching away. This is the Cody I'd started dating months ago. Sweet. Protective. But I now know his personality is an ever changing thing. When he keeps touching me I want to scream at him to get his hands off me. Instead I give him a bland smile, trying to play nice until this business is over.
“If you're going to be high when you come out I should drive,” I say holding out my hands for the keys.
“I won’t be that high. They know me. They may just take the money and send me on my way.”
I just raise a brow, not moving my hand.
“Fine,” he says, reluctant
ly handing over the keys. “But just this once.”
This will be the last time he ever sees me again, but I refrain from saying that. Once I have the keys it’s my turn to hand over the money. A moment of true panic spikes through me the second I place the envelope in his hands. Like it or not, he is my only option.
Some of my concern must show because he squeezes my arm and says, “I'm not a raving junkie that has to get high all the time. I'm going to pay your brother’s debt and get out of there.”
I nod, having no other option but to hope he is being honest. “Thank you, Cody.”
“Anything for my Candi girl.”
I inwardly wince, but still manage an encouraging smile as he walks across the parking lot. I watch him every step of the way. He has all my hopes and dreams I’m sacrificing for my brother's life, tucked under his arm. Three grand may be a toss in the bucket to some people, but it is everything to me.
Sitting in the truck I look around. I’d expected to be driven out to some rundown, secluded location with a warehouse or beat down trailer in the middle of nowhere. Not some random apartment complex, with decent landscaping and a nice playground out front. A mom with a toddler on his tricycle move past on the sidewalk and I want to be sick.
The guys up in that apartment building my brother owes money to, work for someone even bigger. More dangerous. I’m not so naïve I don’t understand that. I should be calling the police. If I were a better person I’d do just that.
When Cody comes back out I’m numb and he’s high, but it’s done. My brother is free from his debt.
I drive Cody back to his place, then get out and walk a mile to the nearest bus stop. Once I’m back in Gibson I walk the four miles back to my house, not caring my feet are now blistered in these flimsy flats I slipped on this morning and ache so bad I can feel them throbbing. My stomach wants to turn itself inside out I’m so hungry, but I ignore that too. I know if I eat anything I’ll throw it back up.
