by Ami Snow
He shook his hand to indicate that it was so-so when it came to pain. Hitting the button to move his bed, Bobby winced in pain when he had to adjust his body. “I can’t stay much longer, but I wanted to stop in and see how you were. You look like shit, but at least you’re alive. Oh, and Charlie said he’d have your back.”
Bobby exchanged a look with her and she met his eyes, answering the question he couldn’t ask. “We’re sort of seeing each other. It wasn’t exactly what I planned, but it seems that neither of us are ready to part ways just yet.”
Bobby grabbed a pad of paper and pen by his bed. You slept with him didn’t you?
Megan smiled and felt her cheeks heat. “I did it in hopes of getting you out of Big John’s clutches. I haven’t succeeded at that yet, but at least you’ll have an ally in Charlie.”
Charlie hates me, Bobby wrote. He thinks I’m an idiot.
“Yeah well, you are. No offense. Thankfully he likes your sister enough to stick his neck out for you.”
Great. Go to work and let me think.
***
Bobby spent the first hour he was awake after Megan left contemplating the new twist in his relationship with Charlie Green. He wasn’t exactly against him and Megan forming an attachment, but he couldn’t say he was for it either. The thought of Charlie Green having any more access to information about him than he already did wasn’t a thrilling factor if he was weighing the pros and cons of him dating Megan. Still, having the huge man on his side wasn’t a bad idea. After the beating he’d received just for not checking in, Bobby was afraid to truly mess up. They’d done a thorough job that night, Bobby thought with a grimace.
He’d shown up for work and been met by a massive fist to the face. That first blow had knocked him back at least three steps and the next one that came was so close behind he didn’t have time to recover. Then the pummeling had started in earnest as he was knocked back into the alleyway. Punches and kicks so vicious that Bobby swore he could hear his brain rattling around loose in his head. His nose and jaw hurt immediately and his rib cage took a massive beating when he couldn’t stand up anymore. He knew at some point that Megan had come to his rescue, but was unable to give any account as to what happened after that, until he woke up at Washington Memorial. He was ever more grateful that his sister was a nurse. That fact had saved his life, he was sure of it.
Just as he was about to drift off to sleep, Bobby caught sight of Charlie standing in his doorway. “Hey,” Charlie said.
Bobby waved. “How’s the face?”
Hurts like a bitch, Bobby wrote down on his pad. Thanks for looking after my sister, for having my back.
“Your sister is an amazing woman,” Charlie said and Bobby could tell he meant it.
So you’re going to see her, romantically I mean?
“I can’t get her out of my head. Even now when I’m talking to you, I’m wondering how she is, what she’s doing. I won’t tell you everything, but I will say that she’s a light in my otherwise dark and dismal existence.”
You’re becoming a huge sap, Bobby wrote, then he smiled, wincing with pain.
“Yeah well, if your face wasn’t already broken I’d make that nose job seem like a walk in the park,” Charlie smirked. “It’s a shame you and your sister don’t look more alike. I would never have guessed you’re twins if she hadn’t said anything.”
My sister talks too much.
“Your sister m…” Charlie bit his tongue. “Never mind, you don’t want all the details. Anyway, I came by to say that I meant what I said to Megan. When you come back to see Big John, I’ll stand beside you. You may be a raving moron, but I care about your sister and what she cares about is you. I’m guessing it’s because you’re so affable. That and she shared a womb with your dumb ass.”
True. Bobby smirked. Maybe Charlie and Megan together wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all. He spent another fifteen minutes or so chatting with Charlie as best he could with a pad of paper. They came to amicable terms between the two of them and both left the conversation feeling alright about the other. They may not be buddies that hang out and go for a beer, but they wouldn’t be pussies and fighting like cats over the scraps either.
***
Megan came home after work feeling amazing. Her body was full of energy and a light feeling as she climbed the stairs to her third story apartment. She rounded the corner and saw Charlie sitting against her apartment door. When he looked up though her heart sank to her toes before it shot to her throat. She swallowed past the worry and anxiety that settled in her stomach and moved to him. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Big John has eyes everywhere,” he tried to smile and winced in pain. “I should have told you that before we…”
“We’ll figure it out,” Megan promised. “Can you stand up?”
“They stabbed me in the side.”
“Geez,” Megan said, trying to help the bulk of Charlie to stand upright. “Come on big guy. Don’t you quit on me now.”
Megan barely got Charlie into her apartment before he collapsed. She knew she’d never be able to move him and quickly grabbed her cell phone from her purse. She dialed John’s number and asked him to come over as quickly as he could.
“Megan?”
“In here,” he called. Before John could ask, Megan explained everything. “He’s my boyfriend, sort of. He was protecting my brother and they must have known about it because after Bobby was attacked, I found him on my doorstep today.”
“Do you need help moving him?”
“I can’t leave him here, I won’t be able to shut my door,” Megan said, pointing to Charlie’s feet in the doorway.
“Alright, get a sheet or something to slip under him. We’ll turn him like you nurses do for bedridden patients.”
Megan did as John suggested and they managed to get him into the living room without much fuss. She’d have like to put him on her bed, but lifting him was a different task all together than simply sliding him across the floor. “Thanks John.”
“Any time sweetie. You need help undressing and caring for his wounds?” John asked, interest in his eyes.
“Lay off lover boy, this one’s mine,” Megan smiled. They cut his shirt and pants off and Megan worked to stitch the gash back together. Thankfully it wasn’t a long gash. “I’m glad he stayed out for that. He would have been impossible to hold him down.”
“I know this is personal but have you and he?” Megan laughed as her eyes filled with her smile.
“Inquiring minds want to know do they?” Megan chuckled. “He’s huge to be honest. But he’s gentle and tender and passionate. You find another man like him, you hold on tight alright?”
“Hell yes,” John smiled. “Alright doll. I’m going to blow this pop sickle stand. I need to see about dinner.”
“Do you mind buying for me as well?”
“Sure,” John replied. “Chinese okay?”
“Chinese is perfect,” Megan nodded. She wrote down everything she wanted and gave John a fifty dollar bill. “If that’s not enough I’ll give you the difference with you get back.”
“Sounds good. Be back in a jiff.”
“Thanks John!”
“No problem,” John called back.
Two weeks after Charlie had ended up on her doorstep Megan was able to bring Bobby home from the hospital. His jaw and ribs had healed enough that he could come home. Megan had talked, begged him to see the error of his ways. He agreed that he couldn’t go back to work for Big John and eventually found employment at a factory that paid decent. Between his work and the income Megan earned, they made it work. She was thankful that Charlie also didn’t go back to work for Big John. He took a bouncer job at a local bar and worked the night shift to keep people like Big John under control. Thankfully Big John never came to the pub and Charlie figured that was all for the best.
“If I never see that low life again,” Charlie was saying one night as they all ate, “It’ll be too soon.”
&
nbsp; “I’ll say,” Megan agreed.
“Where’s Bobby?”
“He’s visiting Rita tonight. Apparently she thinks he’s wonderful.”
“More power to her,” Charlie laughed. “Maybe he’s learning to use his brain after all.”
“More than likely. He’s got to have one, unless I stole it all when we were growing together.”
“Maybe,” Charlie laughed.
Megan cleared the table while Charlie put the food away. She ran water for the dishes and together they worked to clean up the kitchen. “Have I ever told you how sexy it is that you do domestic work so well?”
“No, but continue,” Charlie smiled. He leaned over and took her smiling mouth with his own. “On second thought…” Charlie slid his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. Passion blossomed between them and Megan sighed against him when he drew her away from the water. Not seeming to care about her soaking wet hands, she slid them easily into his hair and pulled him down so she could plunder him. Careful not to agitate his stitches that were nearly ready to come out, Megan lifted his shirt over his head and moaned as need spiked through her. Her hands ran over his stomach and chest muscles, loving the way they quivered under her touch.
“Just looking at you makes me horny,” she smiled. “I always want to rush, but there’s so much to enjoy that taking things slow is never disappointing either.”
“I’m in the mood to make love to you Megan,” Charlie hoarsely said. Blood was already coursing through his body so that his ears were filled with the sound of it. “Let me love you.”
“You already do,” Megan smiled. “And I love you too.”
“Good, because I’m not giving you up, for anything.”
“Well if you did, I’d just chase you down and smack you over the head with my skillet until you see reason.”
“I don’t doubt you would,” Charlie chuckled. He picked Megan up and carried her unceremoniously into the room they now shared. He was good to his word and spent a considerable amount of time arousing her with his hands and lips and tongue. He feasted on her body as if he’d never sampled a woman before. The flavor of her was like the most succulent meal, tantalizing as he built her up.
Again she came on a moan of pleasure, but this time she drew him up to her, sliding herself over him so that he was encased completely in the warm folds of her body. She moved with him, sharing in the ecstasy of their love making. She worked her entire body to build him up to that jagged edge and only when he’d spent himself in her did she finally let go and cry his name.
***
Megan curled into Charlie’s warmth and gently caressed the soft hair that spanned his broad chest. She liked that he was so well built with muscles that dwarfed her. She liked that a man who seemed made of steel could be so gentle and the most tender of lovers. He listened to her and learned to pleasure her in the ways that mean the most to her.
She knew that Bobby wasn’t the biggest fan of their relationship, but she hoped in time, now that neither of them worked for Big John, that they’d learn their differences weren’t as important as their strengths and that each had been gifted with his own abilities. She loved them both and didn’t want a squabble between them.
Tomorrow she planned to step into her new role as the charge nurse of the labor and delivery ward at Washington Memorial. The pay bump was nice, but what it meant for her was even more prestigious. She’d be the nurse every other nurse looked to for schedules, vacation time, sick leave, bereavement, unit assignments and anything else that required a supervisor’s approval. She’d hold meetings to encourage her nurses to take the utmost care of their patients, both the ones in labor and the ones who’d already delivered their little ones. She could hardly wait and as she drifted off to sleep, resting comfortably next to Charlie, she thought for a moment how wonderful it’d be to be a patient on the L & D ward instead of just the one in charge of it.
THE END
Chase the Beauty
MC ROMANCE
By: Amanda Bolton
Chase the Beauty
Chapter One –
I flinched instinctively, my shoulders hunching up as the sound of strident police sirens blared out the crackling PA system, the dusty box of the outdated intercom speakers rattling against the fractured wall. Throngs of high school students piled out of the classrooms simultaneously, with a half of the crowd looking tickled and amused at the unknown prankster's immature antics. The rest of the jaded teenagers skirted past the gathering, giggling mob of students prompting a human traffic jam in the middle of the hallway, rolling their eyes in blatant annoyance. With my palms clamped over my ears, I tapped the toes of my porcelain-white sling backs, the amusement factor of the stale joke quickly losing its shine, the sirens blasting for a few more seconds before abruptly aborting.
That took long enough. I wondered which of the tediously incompetent women was working the intercom today. It was probably Wanda – the woman was notorious for her comatose work ethic, her smartphone and tablets permanently riveted to her garishly bedazzled hands, often seen obnoxiously snacking on an apple, family-sized bags of barbecue potato chips, smacking tongue-staining lollipops, and other equally audible treats. She never got a lick of work done, and the entire Rushmore High faculty knew the sole reason of her employment sat in the swiveling leather chair in the only air-conditioned office down the hallway, skittishly combing his fingers through his nonexistent hair at his ramshackle, crumbling excuse of a school. The brattiest and the most syrupy-voiced of Principal Monroe's nieces, she was unbelievably one of the most senior faculty members of the school, despite being completely and utterly useless. Thank God she was part-time.
I clutched the worksheets the history teacher, Mr. Donovan, had sent me to make photocopies of in the school library, clucking disapprovingly as I passed by the fresh pieces of graffiti brashly sprayed across an entire row of grimy lockers, some doors severely dented and hanging off its hinges. My lips moved along as I read the silent words aloud, my lips twitching and tightening shut, the tags starting off as light-hearted and comically juvenile, turning dark, interrupted by a row of severe, pitch-black spray paint broadcasting unimaginative racial slurs and bigoted messages. I made my way to the library, my fingers snaking around the cool metal of the door handle. My ears perked at the sound of scuffling footfall behind me, a dreading unease flowering in the pit of my stomach as the enabling students flocked around the excitement, their young, teenage faces giddy from the unfolding drama.
It hardly seemed like a fair fight. The lanky boy, who was at least a foot taller, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and camouflage cargo shorts had a stocky, red-faced boy in a chokehold, his knuckles forcefully kneading into the poor boy's skull as he squirmed in his grasp. I stepped forward, lifting my hand off the door handle, the worksheets slightly crumpling in my fingers. Standing on my tiptoes with my arms raised over my head, I flagged down the security guards and chatting teachers from the far end of the hall.
“Hey, guys, knock it off –” I growled through gritted teeth, yelping in pain as a stray elbow from the wrestling pair clipped me on the cheek.
“Jason, get the hell off of him. You're twice the kid's size.”
Freddy Sturgess, the sixteen-year-old I tutored after school, jostled through the heckling mob of students. A freckled, well-built junior living with dyslexia and attention span problems, he was still one of the smartest kids I've ever had the fortune to come across, and was one of the most talented point guards to ever emerge from Rushmore High. In one swift motion, he wrenched the taller boy's arms off his victim, two security guards, who probably moonlighted as club bouncers, swooping in to escort the troublemaker straight to the principal's office. Not that the quivery, soft-spoken principal was going to do anything about it.
Freddy helped the boy to his feet, wobbling dangerously as he rose from the ground, dusting the dirt off his jeans. The boy picked up his books, his cheeks flushing red in mortification at the dismis
sive looks from the dissipating crowd of students, hurriedly collecting his belongings off the floor and disappearing around the corner. I cocked an eyebrow as Freddy furtively turned to leave, the soles of his sneakers betraying him, cheeping loudly against the tiled floor. I hemmed loudly, Freddy's shoulders peaking as he halted defeatedly, turning to face me.
“Freddy, where do you think you're going?”
“Right – about that, Ms. Woodley,” he totted, scratching the back of his neck, “You know I don't like to ditch, but my brother never gets a day-off and he promised we'd get to hang out and stuff. I don't know, I never see him, maybe I stay an extra hour tomorrow –”
I frowned, noting the genuine excitement in his voice, his rounded, pale blue eyes brightening at the mention of his older brother, his only guardian. Rolling my eyes, I stifled the smile creeping across my lips, nodding curtly. I waved him off with mock contempt, his lips stretching in a broad, toothsome grin, flashing me a thumbs up.
“You're the best, Ms. Woodley! I'll see you tomorrow –”
“I still want you to try reading sections six to eight tonight!” I called after him, cupping my palms over my mouth, amplifying my voice across the hallway.
“The House on Mango Street! Got it!”
I watched as Freddy pulled his baseball cap backwards and jogged out the hall, the cord locks of his hoodie wildly swinging.
“You must have the patience of a saint, Ms. Woodley – I don't know why you even bother with these lost causes. Heck, after that false bomb threat that punk ass kid called in last week, I nearly called it quits. You know they probably gonna end up flipping burgers or driving one of 'em monster trucks –”
I wrinkled my nose, the insufferable sound of bubblegum popping next to my ear, catching a quick whiff of cheap, overly-saccharine perfume. A strand of Wanda's bleached-blonde hair looped across her forehead, peering down at her phone as she fished in her pockets absentmindedly, presumably for the keys to the locked storage room door.
