Casting Stones (Stones Duet #1)

by L. M. Carr

  There’s a moment of awkward silence.

  “Uh…dude, I don’t want to get in the middle of your shit.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I slam my foot on the brake, my body surges forward.

  “I don’t know, man. Cathy said she saw her talking to two guys. One guy was standing next a motorcycle arguing with some other guy.”

  “What were they arguing about?”

  “I don’t know, man.”

  I force myself to breathe. “What did they look like?”

  “I don’t fucking know.”

  I hear him ask his wife for a description of the two men.

  Immediately I realize who one of the motherfuckers is. It’s Simon. And I’ll bet that fucking Purple Heart sitting on my bookshelf that he knows where Remy is.

  I hang up without saying goodbye. I glance at the clock on the dash and decide it’s time to come face to face with this asshole. I head down to the The Tam where he seems to be on Friday nights.

  My eyes scan every face, every corner of the streets of Boston as I drive slowly, looking for her. I know the enemy is lurking in the darkness.

  My phone rings again and I answer it instantly.

  An obviously inebriated Brandon tells me that they’re going for drinks at the Glass Slipper because his girl is back. His slurred words that I could use some new pussy only angers me even more. I can’t be held responsible for what I do to him when I smash his face in. No one disrespects the woman I love even if I am pissed at her.

  Even after he apologized for his behavior after the last game, I still didn’t like him, Now I loathe him. I can’t tolerate him any longer.

  I turn left then turn right, searching until I see what I’m looking for. I park my truck alongside a fire hydrant and hop out immediately, my eyes laser-focused on the black Suzuki motorcycle parked on the sidewalk outside The Glass Slipper.

  I jump over the brown puddle, the remnant of all the melted snow from yesterday’s spike in the temperature. My fists and my jaw clench tighter with each step I take. The whizzing sounds of cars passing and horns honking can’t deter me from my intended target.

  Walking up to the bouncer, I try to force my way in.

  “Back up buddy. Line’s back there.”

  I feel murderous as I tell him I need to get in there now.

  “So do all these other horny motherfuckers. They’re all here for Jade, just like you are.”

  “I’m not here for some dirty ass whore.”

  I hear someone call my name. I turn just in time to see Brandon with a couple of other guys from work.

  “What up, B?” the bouncer asks, leaning in to Brandon’s shoulder in greeting.

  With narrowed eyes and devious grin, Brandon asks, “Is my dirty little slut here?”

  “Don’t let her hear you call her that. That girl is crazy! She’ll jack your bony, white boy ass up!”

  “I don’t give a fuck! I just want her to suck my dick. I’ve heard she’s fucking amazing.”

  The anger rising in my veins is about to explode until the bouncer detaches the velvet rope and lets us in.

  “Yo, pretty boy, you’re lucky B is my boy.”

  My reply is an icy glare.

  “Come on, boys. Let’s go see my girl.”

  I follow Brandon into the room where some young woman has got her legs spread wide for the whole fucking world to see.

  With every movement, my eyes move in search of Simon. I see a brunette slip through a back door and look out into the crowd. Jenna? Abruptly, she’s gone and the adrenaline spikes as I call Remy yet again.

  Dancer after dancer, each girl fills the stage with sex appeal, slipping and sliding across the floor. Dollar bills are tossed at their feet in gratitude and worship.

  Remy’s name appears across my phone followed by three pings. A total of three text messages come through consecutively.

  “Come get me.”

  “She OD’d.”

  “Going home. Nothing feeling great. See you later. Love you.”

  What the fuck? I stand up and feel the need to get out of this place and find my girl. Anger flares up when I think about whom she asked to get her and who the hell overdosed.” Of all three messages, I’m positive only the last was intended for me.

  “Yo, here she is.” Brandon smiles like a kid in a candy store.

  Her introduction is as I remember it. The lights shut off and the entire bar is completely cloaked in darkness until a strobe light flickers wildly, illuminating the center of stage to reveal a figure descending slowly. Whistles and cat calls come from every corner and seem to bounce off the walls, begging her to begin.

  The petite woman methodically unbuttons her black trench coat, letting it fall to the floor, revealing a slim waist and flat stomach. With gloved fingers, she pulls the black hat low, shielding her face as she starts to move with the music. She sticks her leg straight out in front before she angles it back to grip the pole. In one swift motion, she’s around the pole, gripping it with both hands while her legs spread apart for our eyes. The woman with long, red hair commands the stage. She swings around and disengages from her position on the pole to straddle the floor before she crawls onto her hands and knees, keeping her lithe body close to the floor like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. The crowd goes wild when she turns around and circles her ass in the air; the thin, black string disappearing between her curves. Her hands roam all over her body, tempting and teasing us.

  “She’s so fucking hot!”

  Shouts for her to suck someone’s dick draw my attention away from the woman dancing on stage.

  As if she didn’t hear them above the music, she continues her erotic performance. She pulls herself up on the pole and spreads her legs. She oozes of sex, creating a frenzied desire in all of us. Yes, I’m included and I hate myself for being turned on by this dirty stripper.

  The flashing of the strobe light begins to fill the room and I look down, closing my eyes tightly. The dancer’s body seems to be in slow motion as the white lights flicker against her pale skin. I force myself to look up as if I’m being drawn into something on the stage.

  Something on this girl.

  My eyes follow the length of her neck, her perfect tits and her flat stomach down to her legs. Then I see it.

  I fucking see it.

  I narrow my eyes on the mark. The long purple bruise that runs along diagonally on her thigh forces me to stand up and rush forward.

  Because the woman’s face is turned down as she runs her hand along the thin material covering her bare pussy, she seems oblivious to the animal clawing his way to her.Brandon, drunk and out of control, rushes past me and hurls himself on the stage, wrapping his hands around her ankle. He yanks hard and pulls her off the stage down to the dirty floor with a hard thud. He covers her naked body with his own as he laughs maniacally, kissing her and begging her to fuck him.

  There’s a flurry of commotion as patrons crowd around to see what’s happening and bouncers race forward, tossing bodies out of the way. In one swift motion, I grab Brandon by the back of his neck and rip him off her, leaving the vulnerable naked woman even more exposed as people look on.

  “What the fuck, asshole!” she yells as she pulls her gloves off with her teeth.

  I squat down to help her.

  “Shit,” the stripper mumbles as she struggles to stand.

  My mind goes into overdrive when I reach out to help her.

  “Thanks.” She places a small hand, soft and familiar, in mine and uses the other to lift the black feathered hat that’s fallen over her eyes.

  My heart stops beating and the life of my soul expunged as I blink furiously, praying that what I see is not true. It cannot be true. I swallow hard and focus my eyes on the black mark, the symbol of strength etched on the woman’s tiny wrist.

  “Shane!” A shocked voice breathes my name.

  My world spins fast, wildly out of control, rotating and falling hard on its axis when I look do
wn, into familiar green eyes. They are the eyes of the woman I love. The woman who I need more than anything.The woman I want to marry. The woman who is my reason for being. The woman who breathes life into me every day. The woman who chases the demons away.

  The woman who is Jade.

  “What the fuck is this?” I breathe as I let her hand slip through mine. It feels as though I’m drowning, being pulled under the icy water as reality of what this is becomes crystal clear.

  “Shane!” Her panicked eyes are wide with shock and fear.

  “What the fuck are you doing? What? Why?” Questions tumble out of my mouth as I stand. Onlookers watch as my world collapses before my very eyes.

  She stands, her naked body visible to everyone, as she calls my name and reaches for me. Repulsed by the sight of her, I pull away and cause her to lose her footing. She falls again to the dirty floor. Struggling to get on her feet, she wobbles and falls again for a third time.

  Green pools of hurt and remorse stare up at me as I tower above her. My body goes rigid as my heart turns to ice.

  When she finally stands, she begs me to listen. “Shane, please. I can explain.” She reaches again for my hand. “Come with me.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Please.”

  You lied to me.” I seethe through gritted teeth as my body starts to convulse, the anger running rampantly. “I fucking trusted you.”

  Abruptly, I turn away and push my way through the crowd. I feel her small fingers fist the back of my shirt.

  “Shane, please.”

  When I spin around, I nearly knock her down. With stilettos on, she’s not that much shorter than me.

  “What? What is there to say Jade?”

  “Don’t call me that!”

  “Why not?” I growl. “That’s your goddamn name, isn’t it?”

  “No! Shane, stop. Please.” Her voice cracks as she screams at me.

  I don’t care that the lights have been raised and everyone is around us. I don’t care that Jenna and Simon are now standing there along with Eric, Brandon and a few other people from work. I don’t care that everyone is watching or that the bouncers are on their way to pull me away from her.

  “You’re a stripper? A goddamn stripper?” I bellow in her face as I yank the red wig off, leaving her blond hair matted against her scalp.

  “It’s not what you think. Please, I have to explain.” Black tears race down her face as her body quakes with loud heavy sobs.

  My chest heaves hard as my eyes zero in on hers. “Explain?” I shriek. “There’s nothing to explain. You’re a fucking stripper.”

  “Shane, I had to. My mother—”

  I spit out the word that tastes like poison on my tongue. “Is a whore just like you.”

  “No. No. No. Shane, please. I’m begging you!” She wails, reaching for my arm and pulling me hard.

  Disgust mars my face as I look at her hand as if it were diseased.

  “Get your filthy hands off me.”

  With a broken heart and heavy steps, I race out of the bar and into the street. My fist connects with the side of the building and bleeds immediately. Dizziness consumes me. I bend over and throw up. It feels as though my love for her is splattered on the sidewalk, too.

  Brandon runs out and stops short of stepping in my vomit.

  “No fucking way. You stupid motherfucker! This is perfect! Your girlfriend is the stripper Jade! I thought I recognized that little slut.”

  My eyes snap up to find him clutching his stomach and stamping his foot, laughing hysterically.

  “Your precious Remy is a whore!”

  I see red. Blood red.

  Without warning, I ram my shoulder into his chest and tackle him to the hard concrete. My fists pummel his face over and over again until his laughter subsides into gurgled pants and he lies still, bloody, bruised and battered.

  Weightlessly, I fly through the air when two police officers haul me off Brandon and pull me away from the massacre.

  “Shane!” Remy screams when she finds me. She throws herself into my chest and wraps her arms around my back where my wrists have been secured in metal hand cuffs.

  “Shane, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Empty words float through the air as onlookers watch the commotion. Police sirens blare and flashing lights from an ambulance come to a screeching halt as I’m pulled away by two uniformed officers. Simon and Jenna hold Remy back even though she fights to hold on to me.

  In all my life, I’ve never been so humiliated. I’ve never been so broken. I’ve never lost so much.

  Remy wails and sobs as she stands naked on the sidewalk. She screams when I’m slammed up against the trunk of the patrol car, my legs kicked wide and my body patted down.

  “Stop! Leave him alone!”

  I close my eyes to block everything out.

  Within minutes, I’m lowered into the back of the patrol car where I bow my head and shut my eyes, wondering if the blood smeared all over me is from my mangled and gored heart.

  The memory of fresh blood crashes into the forefront of my mind. More flashing lights and approaching sirens cause me to open my eyes just in time to see two EMTs place Brandon’s body onto a gurney and rush him into the back of the ambulance. I rub my cheek against my shoulder to wipe the liquid I know is beginning to dry.

  I battle my emotions as I slam my head back against the headrest for what feels like a million times, wishing the blood I once smeared all over my face had really been mine. Wishing the gaping hole in my brother’s head had been mine. Wishing I had died with my brothers in the desert.

  I might as well be dead. The woman I love just killed me.

  I choke back a sob and open my eyes to find Remy, my once beautiful angel, now covered with the long, black trench coat that matches the streaks running down her face. It’s the same one she took off seconds before she exposed her body, the body I considered mine. It was on display for all to see. My eyes drift to Simon who has his arms wrapped around her, holding her, comforting her.

  “I can’t lose you, Shane.” She shakes out of his hold and screams over the sirens. “I love you. I love you.”

  The image of her defeated and broken matches how battered and bruised I feel inside because I can’t believe…

  I’m in love with a stripper.