Pieces Of One, Part 1 (The Dark Life Collection)

by Ricketts, SVC

  Maybe they didn’t go with the dress. I chuckle, but the sting from my lip is a reminder that this is not a humorous situation.

  “I had my doctor come take a look at you. Nothing is broken, but you’re gonna hurt for a while. He wrote you a prescription; take these for your pain for now.” Alex shakes out two white pills and hands them to me with a glass of orange juice. “You’ve been out for a day. It’s Monday and stop ignoring my questions.”

  “Shoot! I have to go!” I shriek, trying to get out of bed huffing through the hot pokers jabbing every muscle in my body. For a split second, I forget I have no clothes on except for the stupid silk thong panties and I throw off the covers. Immediately I haul the sheets back to cover me. “Where are my clothes?”

  “They were torn up and covered in blood, so I threw your dress away. You weren’t wearing a bra.”

  “Give me one of your shirts and a belt. I can make it work.” I wag my finger around, assuming his closet is somewhere in the room.

  “No. Not until you tell me what’s going on with you and Bryson,” he calmly says.

  “Ahhhh…crap! I don’t have time for this.”

  Folding his arms, his skepticism is something I do not miss “Then good luck trying to get home naked. It’s your choice,” he mocks, motioning to the door.

  “Where’s my car? I valeted it last night.” Marvy would never self-park. “Give me my keys!”

  “No.” Alex shifts his stance, unaffected.

  “Kiss my ass, Alex! Give me my fuckin’ keys!” My frustrated desperation to flee rumbles through the room.

  “No, and why do you keep calling me Alex?” His expression hardens.

  Clumsily, I try to get out of the huge bed wrapped in the sheets, but get tangled up and almost hit the floor. Alex, swift as a lynx, catches me just in time. Tightly swaddled in the sheets, pain shoots through my body as he sits me back in the bed.

  “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow,” I whimper.

  “What is wrong with you? I’m not your enemy Marvy, why are you trying to bolt and not tell me shit? Do you have someone…waiting for you or something?” Alex’s questions have a nervous, but cross edge.

  The heels of my palms slap my eyes shut. I don’t want to see that look. Ever. “Aarrrgh!” I growl, and then sigh. I flatten, the tension draining in defeat. My hands fall away and I stare at the ceiling. “Sort of.”

  In my peripheral, the look of shock mars him, and then a pained one replaces it. That expression is worse.

  “GAWD! No, it’s not what you think. There is no other guy, or husband, or wife, or girlfriend. I don’t have any kids. I don’t even have pets.”

  Relief washes over his face and his eyes soften. “What is it then? Why do you always need to keep secrets?”

  The uncomfortable silence fills the room for a few minutes while my mind races with what to tell him. What can I tell him? Out of habit, I run my thumbnail back and forth across my lower lip trying to think.

  Lie or the truth; should I or shouldn’t I? He seems to care about Marvy, would this hurt their relationship or would this bring them closer? Closer to me?

  “Look, I can wait here all day. I have nowhere to be, but you’re not leaving that bed till you tell me something.”

  I flop backward into the pillows wincing a breath. Pulling the covers over my head, I growl in frustration again. Finally, I release my exasperation, knowing I’d have to tell him something in order to get out of there. There is no quick lie I can think of that seems plausible though.

  Hell, the truth doesn’t even seem plausible! Shit, here goes nothin’.

  “Okay, okay. I give,” I say, raising my hands in surrender, sticking them out from under the soft covers. I sit up holding them to my chest, and look him dead in the eye. “My name is Trista Dividir. I have Dissociative Identity Disorder.” He steps back like I’ve just confessed to killing his puppy. “You know, Multiple Personality Disorder,” I continue. “Marvy is my split-alter personality.”

  Alex falls back into a bedroom desk chair, stunned and gawking.

  “WHEN I WAS FIFTEEN, my father and I were in a car accident. A pick-up truck came out of nowhere, running a red light. We were laughing and fighting for the radio when…”

  My eyes glass over, immediately feeling the strain of tears when recalling the scene. My heart thumps in my chest, slow, methodical, and stirring the unforgotten memory of the silenced song and the quieted tone of his laughter. I gaze out the window, remembering it as if it were yesterday. The rancid smell of burning tires fills my nose. The screaming, so much screaming. My screaming drowned out by the wail of hot metal, as it twisted around our bodies, echo in my ears.

  Taking a breath to push back the vivid memory, the worst day of my life spills into words I have never spoken. “My father never saw it coming, he died instantly. I was pinned and couldn’t move. I was conscience for hours with my father next to me while they worked to cut us out.” Reminiscent of the horrific image of my father’s staring eyes as blood drips down his face, I shut my eyes tight and tears begin to fall. The ghostly touch of his outreached arm pushing against my chest, pressures me now. He died trying to protect me.

  Wiping my face, I try to gather myself. “A few months later I began to notice little things out of place, missing or just showing up. There were small gaps in my day but for some reason, nothing seemed really wrong. That is, until I found evidence of going out at night. My friend Kitta was the first to suspect the ‘different’ me. When she confronted me, Marvy introduced herself. You are only the second person, other than Kitta, that knows our secret.”

  Dismayed, Alex leans forward resting his elbows on his thighs, and tightly folds his hands. “So it was you Saturday, but her Friday night. That’s why you were so weird in the elevator when you came to get your car.” I slowly nod, never making eye contact. “That’s why you call me Alex, not Xander.”

  I roll my eyes and nod.

  Xander! Why didn’t I think of that?

  “Can you talk to Marvy? Do you know…where she goes, or what she does?” Hiding his face from my view, he looks down at his feet. That would have worked to mask his guilt with the exception of the tint of crimson shading his ears.

  “No, I can’t.”

  His shoulders drop relieved.

  “So I built the ear cuff camera because I didn’t trust her,” I say, holding up the bloody mess of jewels and metal between my fingers. He stiffens, but still looks at his feet.

  “Does she know about her?” I ask pointing to the girl in the picture.

  Alex lifts his head to see what I mean and smiles. “Yes, she knows about my sister, Tessa who lives in New York and is a co-owner of The Rush with me.”

  Sister, okay that’s plausible.

  Not wanting to be one-upped, my eyebrow angles, and the edges of my lips follow suit. “You know my ear cuff is motion activated, so I have video of her every movement. Every person she spoke to, did anything with or to.” Seeing him squirm is a satisfaction I wallow in. I, for the moment, have the upper hand.

  He looks up, meeting my eyes. “Did you watch it all? She had a lot of ‘friends’.”

  I know what he means and my pursed lips curve in disgust. “I haven’t watched for months, but I knew she slept around. I only watched the video of you two in the elevator because I thought you gave me the bruises on my arm Friday night.”

  “I would never hurt her. I would never hurt you.” I eye him warily as he comes back to sit on the bed. “I knew something was off. I got a strange vibe when we were in the elevator yesterday. You were so different.” A reticent smile forms on his lips while one hand plays with a lock of my hair.

  A little embarrassed, I dart my eyes around the room, but narrow them when returning to connect with his. “Different how?”

  “You’re usually…I mean ‘she’ is usually very aggressive.”

  I snort. In an uncontrollably bitter tone I don’t mean, I mutter quietly, “You didn’t seem to mind Friday night.” The evident twin
ge of jealousy creeps between my words.

  “I don’t…I mean, I do…it’s just...,” Alex reaches over, his thumb brushing lightly on my swollen cheek. I close my eyes enjoying the touch and lean my cheek into his palm. The bed dips down as he guides me closer, his breath warming my cheek.

  As if doused in an ice bath, I snap my eyes open. He’s an inch from my lips, but I abruptly pull away.

  My cheeks flush and my heart fills with anguish. “I can’t do this. I mean I want to, but this is really wrong. In a way, she was here first and we just met. It’s too weird. I can’t. I have to go.”

  He takes my hands to stop my escape. “Trista, is it?” I nod, but turn from his gaze. His eyes would melt me into a puddle if given the chance.

  “When I kissed you in the elevator, did you like it?” My eyes draw down and I nod with a pounding heart, heat rises through my cheeks and ears. I feel the memory fill me with warmth and stir the tightness.

  “I did too. Did you think it was weird?”

  “Yes. Well, sort of.”

  He dips his head to catch my gaze. With a small wispy smile, I shake my head slightly. “Okay, no.”

  Alex tips my chin up with his finger so I can see his eyes. “I did,” he smiles, “and I liked it.”

  I thought about how soft his kisses became. How his lips caressed my neck and ears. How they brushed my shoulders and the gentle way he held me. It was opposite from how he was with Marvy the night before. He traps me with his beautiful eyes that sparkle with promise. There is an intense craving to be devoured by those eyes. Conflicting emotions ricochet at warp speed. The right, the want, the transgression, the illicit way these feelings suffocate my senses—fucking everything.

  Gradually, he moves closer. “Trista, I’m sorry for your loss, what you went through, and I’m sorry for how we met.” The trust he implores with his eyes overwhelms me. “But I’m not sorry you’re here.”

  Instead of pulling away, I trace my lower lip with my tongue like it’s an invitation. His perceptive gaze holds the action. One hand clutches the sheet up to my neck, the other placed on his chest pushing him back. The speed of his heart startles me, racing as fast as my own and his breath just as quick. The intended push becomes a pull. My eyes shut as I feel his warm, full, soft mouth against my chapped ones. Pressing into him, I sigh into his kiss and let his tongue caress mine. “Ow!” Blood intermingles with the kiss from the cut on my lower lip.

  “Oh. Sorry,” he whispers, pulling back with a boyish smile. I giggle, but wince holding my fingers to the cut.

  “OH MY GOD! Oh my God! Oh my God! Where the hell have you been, Bitch? Your mom is going ape shit! Mr. P. called wondering where you were and the fit hit the shan! He said you were supposed to be in Sunday afternoon! We were supposed to go on a run after! What did Marvy do this time? Where are you?”

  “Kitta!” I yell into the phone putting a towel-wrapped bag of ice down. “Shut up for a sec, and I’ll tell you!”

  Every detail from Marvy in the elevator to waking in a stranger’s bed spews from my mouth in a speed I don’t think even Kitta can understand. But yet, she does. After being cussed out for a good five minutes, she tapers down; although I can hear her still huffing.

  “I need a favor. Can you go to my house and get my laptop? I need to see the video so I know what happened to us.” Part of me didn’t want to know, but I have to find out. If Marvy is into some shit that gets the crap kicked out of me, I wanted–no, needed–to know.

  “Yeah sure. When do you think you’ll be home so I know what to tell your mom in case I run into her?”

  “I dunno. This shit hurts so bad, I can barely walk.” Not really true, my mobility is fine, but the thought of leaving Alex so soon is not something I favor to think about. “Um…tell her I’m staying with you to help you with finals or something like that. I’ll call her later. Can you also get me a change of clothes and my bathroom stuff?”

  Kitta snickers. “You’re naked and stealing Marvy’s boyfriend, aren’t you?”

  “Bite me, Kitta. Get your cute ass down here!”

  AFTER HE RUNS A BATH, Alex helps me stand and escorts me to the bathroom. A gurgle of amusement tickles my heart seeing the bubbles in the tub.

  “You take bubble baths?”

  He guffs, “No, sometimes my sister stays with me when she visits. Loves this damn tub more than the one in the guest bathroom. I find her shit everywhere. It’s a good thing too, I’m sure she won’t mind you using her stuff.”

  I hug Alex’s fluffy, too big, terry cloth robe around me tighter, waiting for him to leave.

  Casting a sardonic look, he raises an eyebrow. “Trista, it’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”

  “That’s different. You’ve seen Marvy naked,” I scowl.

  “Here, I have an idea,” he says and pulls off his t-shirt.

  Holy Hell! “What are you doing?” Mother of God, he is gorgeous!

  At any moment, my ears are going to burst into flames along with the rest of my body. There’s a tingling low in my gut from watching his sculpted body move in his skin. I sigh and bite down on my lower lip. The shape of his muscles and the angles they create feed into the want. A pool of saliva collects in my mouth making me suck my cheeks in. When he steps out of his track pants, I’m so dizzy I’m about to pass out. Despite my yearning, I turn away shielding my eyes before he takes off his boxers. “Seriously, what are you doing?”

  “I’ll leave my boxers on,” he says with a sexy as hell smile and steps into the large bubble filled bathtub. “Your turn.”

  Gaping, I take a step back. “No way!” I shrill, pulling the tethers of the bathrobe around me tighter.

  He chuckles and covers his eyes. “I won’t look, I promise. I’ll stay way over here on my side.” Dork.

  The round jetted tub is quite large. It probably could fit two more people, but that thought sends an icky shiver slithering down my back.

  My lips twist as I stare at his smiling face under his hand covering his eyes. He looks ridiculous. “Swear?” The question is a baited lie; I want to feel his body press against mine.

  “I swear. Cub Scout’s honor.” He holds up three fingers and his smile fades to serious.

  Hmmm…the bath salts do smell good.

  I perch myself on the side of the tub and dip my hand in the scented, steamy water. Alex doesn’t move but his smile remains as if he knows what I’m doing. Dork.

  Shit, what the hell. Dropping the bathrobe to the floor, I keep a wary eye on Alex. Stepping into the tub, I skirt to the edge farthest from him. My hands itch to grab him and pull his body close. Impulses war with each other like positive magnetic poles wanting to touch, but instead repelling the magnetic field.

  I sink down into the bubbles up to my neck, covering me completely. Soaking in the tub is a therapeutic soothing delight, easing the soreness of the plum colored welts and lacerations I find on my body. Tension unfurls as I hum into the sudsy water. “Mmmm…”

  A soft sponge gently glides along my arm. “I lied. I was never a scout.” The tight knot flutters between my thighs again at the sound of his voice.

  Leaning back on the tub cushions, I allow myself to feel his touch through the sponge. Heaven is in that sponge as it sensually glides along the curves of my body. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” I murmur with my eyes closed.

  Positioning himself behind me, he begins shampooing my hair. “Why? You stink and I haven’t showered today. We’re conserving water.” I laugh at his flippancy. “Geez woman, you have a lot of hair!”

  The shampoo is rich and thick with a light musky fragrance; it smells like him. Through the lather, I feel his fingers massage my scalp. A tender pressure from my temple, to my crown, behind my ears, down to the base of my neck makes me release an uncontrollable, “Mmmmmm.” I arch back as he rinses my hair with a pitcher of fresh water from the tub’s chrome faucet.

  I return to my previous position, leaning back into the bubbles and slide down his
body. Bad idea. I allow his caress. Even worse idea.

  His strong, lean fingers stroke my lower torso, thumbs moving along my rib cage. The repeated movement is so relaxing I almost fall asleep to the rhythm of the rise and fall of his breathing. He wants to go further, I can feel him beneath me already thick and hard.

  It’s funny that I couldn’t even say the word, yet here I am, almost skin-to-skin, feeling it twitch against the small of my back.

  “Trista?”

  “Mmmm…?”

  Through the bubbles, I feel his lips on my neck. “I want you,” he says softly in my ear.

  “You want her,” I reply, my eyes still closed. I heave a reluctant sigh and open my eyes. Moving to stand, I feel the chill caused by my departure but worse, is the angst wringing my stomach with its grip of icy fingers.

  He slips his arms around my waist, pulling me back. “No. I want YOU. I want the girl I kissed in the elevator Saturday.”

  Trying to fight the compulsion to give in, there’s a stabbing pain in my heart. “You don’t even know me. What kind of girl do you think I am? Get to know me better before you say something like that. You know nothing about me.”

  Resentment and spite thrash through me. I hate her. I hate the fact that she’s taken so much from me. I hate that I don’t know how to get rid of her. I hate how she’s fucked up my life, time after time. And now this, this guy I could easily fall for if it wasn’t for her. But I’m here because of her fuck up.

  “I’m not like her,” I drop my voice to a whisper. “She’s all you know. I’m not even a virgin anymore thanks to her. But that part you already know, don’t you?”

  “Did she take that from you too? Your first time?”

  Slowly, I nod feeling the shame and humiliated tears glisten my eyes. “I’ve never had a ‘first time’.”

  “Then you’re still a virgin, but in the best way,” he says, tenderly lifting me, suds and all, from the tub, taking me to the bedroom.

  CRADLED IN ALEX’S ARMS, he carries me to the bed. My heart is pounding with anticipation and to be honest, a little fear. There is also a conflict rapidly brewing. I wiggle out of his arms and stand to push him away.