Releasing Rhythm

by WEST, T. J.

  “We get it directly imported from Jamaica.”

  Smiling behind my cup, I reply, “It’s really good.” I hold the cup in both hands, with my nose almost near the liquid.

  Faith sets down her coffee. “I can give you a small bag to take home, if you’d like?”

  “You know I can’t turn down an offer like that. Thanks.” I softly laugh.

  “So…I’ve been wondering how you’re doing,” Faith asks.

  I have a feeling I know where this topic is going. “You’ve heard, huh?”

  Faith sighs. “I’m sorry. With June, it’s hard to keep anything mum.”

  With a wave of my hand, I say, “I’m the same way though.” June’s been behind me ever since I told her what happened at the New Year Eve’s party. She’s mad as hell at Jason for stringing me along. Well, not anymore. He’s history. Shaking my head, though, I know he isn’t history from my heart. It’s going to take a long time before I’m fully able to move on. “I have it really bad for him, Faith.” Looking down into my coffee, I sadly shake my head, defeated. “He just doesn’t have it bad enough for me to try to be with me. It hurts.” Keep up the wall, Peta. No crying!

  “He’s being a complete moron, if you ask me.”

  With a frail smile, I nod my head. “I’m definitely not disagreeing with you there, sister.”

  “I hear his dad is on him for money. The thought makes me sick.” Faith scoffs then picks up her coffee for another sip.

  “I know, and it’s awful.” I sigh. “But it’s not a good enough reason for him to push me away.” Why can’t Jason just break down that stubborn wall of his and love me the way I want to love him? Saving me, my ass.

  “He may be a moron, Peta, but he doesn’t want you in the middle of things, and to get hurt in the process. I can somewhat understand. Lucas had a drug addict for a mom as well. She OD’d a few years back. He didn’t think he was good enough for me since I came from money. My dad made sure he knew that.”

  If only Jason was like Lucky. But he wouldn’t be the man I fell in love with if he were like anyone else. “Luckily for you, Lucky came around but I’m not sure Jason ever will. He’s so different.”

  “Lucas is going to have a talk with him. He thinks it’s time for him to get his head out of the sand.”

  I’m not sure even Lucky can help, but I won’t tell Faith that. She’s being so kind and thoughtful. She and Lucky are two of the most giving and big hearted people I know. With a sigh and a shrug to my shoulder, I say, “Well…I won’t get my hopes up. I just need to keep living and try to move forward. After the New Year’s Eve party…I knew it was over.” Ugh. What a night that was. I’ll never forget it.

  Faith leans forward, places her arms on the table, and with a gleam in her eye, she asks, “What exactly did happen at that party?” She grins.

  Well, what do you know? June didn’t tell her everything.

  I’m such a sluggish mess. From working nonstop for the past couple months, I finally made myself take a week off. I’m totally, utterly exhausted. The first two days I didn’t do one damn thing. I laid in my pjs, watched some Friends on Netflix, read a new book I’ve been dying to read, and have been taking multiple naps. Although the rest has done me some good, I still feel like I’ve been hit with a train– like a hangover that’s lasted for weeks. What the hell is wrong with me?

  Today, I actually managed to go out to grab a few groceries. Chinese takeout and pizza was getting mighty boring. I need a friggin’ salad. From stuffing so much junk in my mouth, I’m feeling a bit bloated and sick. After getting home and putting away the food, I pour myself a glass of Sprite and sit on the couch to watch another TV series when something hits me. Not literally but something inside me is nagging me to check my calendar. Placing my glass on the coffee table, I go to my kitchen. Flipping through the calendar on my fridge, I look closely at the dates. I go back and forth so many times my head is about to spin. I can feel an anxiety attack taking place. No. This can’t be what I think it is. My heart begins beating out of my chest. It’s fucking racing. Two months. Oh, my God, two months!

  A knock at my door startles me. Placing a hand over my chest, I try to calm down. It’s gotta be the mailman delivering my package. I ordered a thing of Rodan & Fields a couple weeks ago. My mailman is so sweet. Whenever I get a package, whether small or large, he brings it up to my apartment. Maybe because I serve him at Reds all the time. Taking a peek through my peephole, I hiss in a breath. Jason. What the hell is he doing here? Should I open the door and see what he wants, or should I pretend I’m not even here? A part of me says open that fucking door. Maybe he’s changed his mind. But the other part of me knows he’s never going to change. What does he want? Just breathe. Be calm. Don’t get yourself all worked up. Fucking hell…I’m opening the door.

  My hair is up in a bun on top of my head, I have no makeup on, I’m wearing a pair of black leggings underneath a pretty, long sleeve purple sweater my mom gave me for Christmas, and a pair of silver slippers. Of course, Jason shows up when I look like the dead. Making sure I look okay, I smooth down my sweater. Like that’s going to do me any favors.

  Unlocking my door, I slowly open it then peek my head out. Goodness gracious, Jason looks fucking sexy. He’s got on this black leather jacket with the collar flipped up, black t-shirt and faded blue jeans. His hair, for once, isn’t spiked. It’s flat and lying over his forehead, flipped to the side so it won’t get in his eyes. He’s standing with his arms folded, looking down, not even aware how beautiful he is.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask cautiously.

  Immediately, his head pops up. “Let me in, baby,” he gruffly says.

  Is he fucking for real? “Let you in?” I scoff, crossing my arms. “I thought I told you to stay away.”

  Shaking his head, he looks up at the sky. Maybe he’s just as surprised as I am he came here for a visit. What sort of visit though? “Can’t seem to do that.”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s not my problem. So please, leave.” As I’m about to close my door, Jason sticks a foot inside and lands a hand on the door preventing me from doing so. What the hell?

  “Need you, Fireball,” he whispers with a strain in his voice.

  The plea and heated stare gets me weak in the knees. But his push and pull game is tearing me apart. “Why do you keep doing this?” The tears in the backs of my eyes are destined to fall but I can’t help it.

  “Cuz I miss you.” His voice, still so strained and hoarse, along with a slight beg that’s truly sad.

  He’s going to be the death of me, I just know it. When it comes to Jason, my heart gets pulled to him like a magnet. It’s too hard to turn him away when he’s looking so distraught and…sexy. Damn him for being so sexy. I know I shouldn’t be doing this but…slowly, I open the door, extending my hand. He takes it and then steps inside my apartment and follows behind me as I lead him to my bedroom. Is it so wrong I want this man so badly? Is it so wrong I want him any way I can get him? Maybe so but I’m so lonely and in desperate need to feel his body collide with mine. I insanely miss him.

  Making love with him…no words can describe the way he speaks through his kisses, his hands and how his cock slides in and out so slowly yet so fucking hard; powerful and with such passion. He makes me go crazy with wanting more and more. My heart is so full with love for this man. I just hope and pray he can feel it with every move I make. Because whether or not he believes it, we’re bound together like a man and woman should be. He’s the love of my life.

  I’ve never been this content with another man. After having sex, Jason holds me from behind. My butt feels the length of his cock, which is now soft yet still feels heavenly. His arm wraps around my belly and the other one rests as a pillow for my head. I feel his heated breath on the back of my neck. It sends shivers down my spine. Smiling, I take his hand and kiss the tips of his fingers, relishing the calloused pads of each one. Playing drums does a number on your hands but I love the way they feel. Th
ey’re strong, rough and the kind of hands I want on my body forever. If only this moment could last forever, I’d be the happiest woman alive.

  Jason moves the hair on my back, over my shoulder, tucking a few strands behind my ear then kisses the bottom of my neck lightly. During sex, I took the bun out of my hair. Breaking the silence, Jason asks, “The birds…on your neck. What do they mean?”

  He’s striking up a conversation. Usually I’m the one starting one and him wanting to know about my tattoos…this is something special and very personal. I’d love to tell him. “They represent freedom.” I smile.

  “Why freedom?” he asks quietly, sliding his finger across my tattoos. It’s ticklish and feels really good. He has no clue what he’s doing to me right now. So many emotions speak through his hands and fingers.

  Playing with a few strands of my hair, I begin to explain the reason of my birds and the meaning behind them. “My brothers have a motorcycle club called Brothers of Freedom. On the back of their cuts, underneath their club name, they have a black studded bird with the wings flared out like an eagle, but it’s more like a black raven.” I can feel Jason’s lips touching my tattoo. Oh man, he’s making this explaining super hard on me. Clearing my throat, I continue. “I had a dream of being a dancer. My oldest brother, Andrew always told me I danced with freedom like a bird does flying. I’d never forgotten those words so whenever I danced, I took his words to heart. Dancing made me feel free and alive, like no one could touch me or hurt me like my dad had. When I lost my chance at going to college to fulfill my dream of being a professional dancer, I had the birds tattooed to help me remember who I was, and to stay strong, and maybe, someday, find that freedom again.” I haven’t told that story in a long time. Telling it to Jason makes me feel closer to him but after a few seconds, he doesn’t respond. What’s he thinking?

  His hand glides along my thigh so softly. “Did you find that freedom again?” he breathes into my ear.

  Freedom. Did I ever find it again? The answer is yes…and he’s lying behind me. “Yes. With you,” I whisper.

  Suddenly, his hand stops gliding. His body now feels rigid and tense. I was really hoping by explaining and telling him all about my dreams, and how he’s freedom to me, it would help him realize we’re meant to be together. I was wrong. So fucking wrong. Abruptly, Jason gets out of bed, and in the process makes me feel cold and alone. Sitting up, I pull the sheet up to cover myself, watching in sadness as Jason puts on his pants. His beautiful artwork on his amazing six-pack abs and his arms make me breathless. However, the silence he’s giving me and the expressionless look on his face is horrifying. Just when I thought things between us were starting to make sense and he was finally coming around, I scare him away.

  “Jason, please, what are you doing? Talk to me,” I beg him.

  He stalls before he puts on his shirt, placing his hands on his hips. Without being able to look at me, he shakes his head and says, “No…you can’t– we can’t….”

  Jumping out of bed, I stand before him. “Yes, we can,” I shout with a brink of tears ready to drop. “I know we can. Why do you keep pushing me away?” His eyes pierce into mine, with a heavy crease between his brows. He’s struggling so hard to keep me from finding a place in his heart. Wiping a tear away from my cheek, I continue. “Do you have any idea how much you have hurt me by kicking me to the curb? I’ve been so lost without you and you have to know that, Jason.” I hiccup out of crying so hard. Shaking my head, I turn away from him then grab my robe from the bed, wrapping the warm pink material around my body. “I can’t take this pain anymore. I just can’t,” I whisper in tears. Turning back around, I face him, no matter how much I’m still crying. “Out of all the men in my life, you’re the only one who has stolen my heart. So please, stop believing you’re not good enough for me. It’s fucking crazy and not true.” Walking back over to him, I cup his face into my hands and securely tell him, “You’re my freedom.”

  His eyes…they’re now so cold and distant. “Stop it,” he shouts, taking my hands away from his face. Pacing a couple times in front of me, he abruptly stops then looks me directly in the eyes with almost a sneer on his face. “You wanna know about my tats? Do you?” he shouts again. “Because they don’t come even close to representing freedom.” He points to the side of his ribcage then says, “You see this one right here? The ugly clown face? He’s the nightmare that my dad represents. I carry him around to remember where I came from, so I don’t ever lose focus.” It’s a scary clown. I always wondered what it meant. Tears are streaming down my heated cheeks yet I don’t even bother wiping them away. This is tearing me up inside. Jason turns to the other side, pointing to the opposite side of his ribcage. “And this one…the skull, whose eyes have blood pooling out of them, laughing. That’s my mom high on drugs, laughing at me because I never could look her or my dad in the eye. I was their stupid son; a fucking retard, as they told me over and over again my entire life. Even though I got away from them, my freedom ain’t the same as yours. Never will be, Fireball.”

  Oh, my God. I can’t catch my breath. This is so horrible. But he has to know what his parents have said or did to him doesn’t make it true. What can I do to help? Carefully, I walk to him, placing my hands on his big, wonderful biceps. His skin is so warm. I want to throw my arms around him and never let go. Tears are still streaming down my face when I firmly tell him, “Your parents weren’t parents. They were horrible people who had no morals, and no way deserved to have a child. So, you’re wrong.” I move my hand over his heart. “If only you could find it in your heart to believe you deserve love and to stop giving into your parents’ power to destroy you. Deep down, you’re still that hurt little boy who can’t forget what his parents did to him. I don’t blame you for that, but you have your friends and you have me to help you.” I cup his cheek. “I love you Jason. Let me love you…please. You have so much goodness in your heart. Allow me to be your freedom too,” I whisper with so much love in my voice. I can’t stress it enough. He has to know how much I feel for him, and what a good man he is. Unfortunately, my words never register.

  Taking a step back, he pulls his shirt over his head then says, “For the last time…no.” He begins putting his boots on.

  I suck in a breath, feeling like I was punched right in the middle of my core. Watching him kneel on the floor to lace up his boots, I become furious. “So you think you can just come around and fuck me anytime you please? Sorry Poker Face but I’m not your little whore.”

  His head snaps up. With such fury in his eyes, he stands up from his position and yells, “You’re not a fucking whore!” I flinch and slightly jump from his outburst. Placing his hands on his hips, he looks down at the floor. “Outta your hair for good,” he mumbles.

  Turning on his heel, grabbing his jacket from the floor, I blurt out, “I might be pregnant.” He immediately stops in his tracks. At first it looks like he’s going to stay but disappoints me. Seeing him take a deep breath, he proceeds walking out, leaving me standing in my robe, in my puddle of tears, and slamming the front door behind him.

  I MUST HAVE BEEN COMPLETELY out of mind going over to Peta’s like I did. Having sex with her was a stupid ass move. In my fucked up mind, we couldn’t be more than just sex. Plus, I also hurt her by lashing out at her, diminishing her hopes of us ever having any kind of relationship, and digging myself deeper into the ground. I’m an asshole. On top of that, knowing she may be pregnant because of our one night of unprotected sex. I knew I wasn’t using my brain that night, only my dick. Turning away from her at her most vulnerable state was not cool but I couldn’t think straight. I had to get out of her apartment to gather my thoughts. So I ended up at Whiskey Flats. After New Year’s Day, I moved into Danny’s building. It was fucking hard to leave my old apartment behind but it was the right thing to do. The security at the new place is top notch and not once have I had any confrontation with my old man. Ed told me he hasn’t been around to the bar so for now I’m in the clea
r. Until my dad is out of the picture, I can’t go back to Lucille’s. Even being at Whiskey Flats may not be the best place to be but I needed to clear my head and get wasted.

  Not sure how long I’ve been seated at the bar, drowning my sorrows. Up until I got involved with Peta, things made sense. I knew who I was, what I wanted. Life was fucking great. Now it’s up in flames. Every thought I have is of Peta and now a possible baby we’ll have together. I’m gonna fucking suck as a dad. Being pissed off doesn’t even come close to how I’m feeling right now. Just want this whiskey to make everything go away.

  The bartender hands me another drink. I’ve downed about a dozen or so shots of whiskey and now my head is in a cloud. Sports channel on in the background, glass in hand, head hanging, and eyes almost closed, I feel a pat on my shoulder. “Bro.” It’s Lucky.

  Not looking up, I mumble or slur, “The fuck you want?”

  “Time to take you home.”

  The bartender, Brad knows JINKS so he must have called Lucky to come get me. The bastard. “Ain’t goin’ anywhere so fuck off.” Gulping down the rest of my shot, I place it back on the bar. I think I placed it back there? Oh…someone took from me.

  “Okay. Guess we’ll talk here then.” The bar stool next to me makes a screeching sound. Lucky must have sat down.

  Paying for more than my fair share of shots, I grab another one that’s in front of me. “‘Bout what?” I ask, as I take a sip of the fresh whiskey held in my hand. The burn feels good. Too bad it’s the last one though. Brad won’t serve me anymore.

  Still not looking at Lucky, he begins giving me a lecture. “Dude, you’re sitting here drinking your brains out. I know what’s up. You’re being a real fucktard to Peta. She’s hurting and so are you. Why can’t you get your head out of your ass and go be with the woman you love. You’re only torturing yourself.”