EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2018 Lacee Hightower
ISBN: 978-1-77339-630-9
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: CA Clauson
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Absence diminishes small loves and increases great ones, as the wind blows out the candle and fans the bonfire.
—Francois VI de la Rochefoucault
CRIMSON SUNSETS
Beautiful People, 2
Lacee Hightower
Copyright © 2018
Chapter One
Hartley
Hartley: I’m two hours away. Soooo excited.
Jackson: Still in court. See you this evening Coco.
Thankful for satellite radio on this long drive, the throbbing of a tear-induced headache pounded away at my sinuses at the maddening sound of the bad stretch of highway concrete underneath my wheels. It only escalated the pain a million times more as I belted out every word to Sixx:A.M. at the top of my lungs, the stereo blasting my favorite stress reliever—rock music. I reached for the volume knob and turned up Octane even louder. All these hours behind the wheel were exhausting and I was so ready to get to Dallas. Mandy’s offer of a pick-me-up to make the long drive more tolerable sounded pretty good about now. I wasn’t so sure I shouldn’t have taken her up on that. Not much of a pill-taker, my need of caffeine, however, was monumental. I needed coffee. Instead, I chugged down the last bit of watered-down Diet Dr. Pepper that tasted absolutely horrific.
Even with blasting music, my head continued drowning in memories of what I was running from. I gulped the wedge of emotion in my throat, rehashing every nauseating second for the billionth time.
His lustful moans.
The straining muscles in his ass with every grunting thrust.
The exact second he opened his eyes and looked into mine.
Logically, I always knew it would come to this, but refused to accept the fact and prepare for what happened next.
That sound of cheating, hard, dirty sex … I hoped to forget that eventually.
“Bastard!” I yelled. “I hope your dick gets infected and falls off!”
Six weeks later, here I was. Starting over.
Driving seventy-five miles an hour to escape the only place I’d ever called home.
Walking away from the man I’d given years of my life to after slapping his face so hard when he touched me with her scent reeking on his hands, that my wrist still ached from the impact.
Not giving a mere thousand fucks that I didn’t even tell him I was moving out.
Leaving the bulk of my belongings that I’d paid for myself.
Handing my half of the business that I’d worked like a Trojan to get started to my best friend.
But, I refused to fall. Done with that, my head would stay high, just like my daddy taught me.
Never look down, Hartley. Always keep that beautiful face toward the stars.
Five hundred miles away from Bruce and his cheating, I was getting a fresh start. Surprisingly, other than being tired, I felt good. I was done sobbing. No more falling down the wall with my head between my knees wondering how I could survive without him. I had an odd sense of calm. This thing between Bruce and I had gone way too far years ago. It was time I quit thinking about a soulmate, and take Mandy’s advice and focus on my career and a simple means to a need when it came to men … sex and nothing more.
Plano, Texas was mere minutes from being my new home. I’d been to the Lone Star state before. Crowded, people drove like deranged maniacs. Road rage was as common as blue skies and green grass. Wrecks. Construction. Ultimately, there were too many damn people. And car trouble … I didn’t even want to speculate about what could happen if I had a flat tire or my car stalled on a congested road.
Per my dashboard clock, it was 3:57 PM as I pulled in front of unit 201B, my new fully furnished, one-bedroom apartment at The Ashley Apartments. My legs were shaky as I stepped out of my car. Even the air felt different. Everything was about to change. Come Monday morning, I started my new adventure working as a medical coder and office manager for Dr. Brandon Hicks at the Yates Plastic Surgery Clinic. Lucky to snag this job, thanks to my older brother being a close friend to the famous, hot as sin cosmetic surgeon, Tyler Yates, I was excited, but Holy Christ I was scared.
I prayed I could do this starting over thing.
Good riddance Kansas … and Bruce.
Jackson was thirty-five, the District Attorney for Dallas County, and also the first person I called after finding Bruce with his newest conquest on all fours, taking her from behind in our bed. Jackson was also my big brother.
Once I mustered enough courage to confide in him, over my first choice at ramming a sharp instrument through my aching heart, in less than ten minutes he had me convinced to start fresh. Jackson insisted on finding me an apartment and paying the first year’s rent if I’d make the move to Texas. And as much as I hated taking him up on his offer, my measly bank account thanked him to Mars and back. It never ceased to amaze me how persuasive he could be, always seeming to know what I needed before I knew myself. His strength in persuasion tactics was likely one of the reasons he was the successful, high-powered attorney he’d become.
Young when my brother left for college, we’d always been close, despite our age difference. I’d come along unexpectedly during a dark time between my parents, but Jackson had my back no matter what kind of stupid shit I pulled—which was often. It was still that way between us. The bond we shared was special and unique. As kids, he’d always taken at least a few minutes out of his day to spend time with me.
Always the strong controlling type, Jackson was the person people stopped and listened to. Always a leader. Always bold. Now, wealthy and successful, even though I was his sister, I wasn’t blind. I knew he was good-looking and a total catch for any lucky girl that could manage to snag him up. But he insisted on the single life.
Wasn’t there a saying ‘Appreciate what you have before it turns into what you had’? Well, no words could be truer in my present life. One day I’d been arguing over curfew with my mom and dad. The next, I was grounded because I rebelled and stayed out until 12:30 instead of the midnight limit I’d finally convinced them of. And then? I came home from school like any other day to walk through the door into a house breathing tension—and tears—because one of my parents had just been told they had less than a year to live. One hour changed our family forever.
Only weeks after that life-altering day, the daddy that kissed all my boo-boos and held me tight when I hurt ended. Then five months later, my mother was remarrying her first husband and informing me that he was my biological father. I’d hated her ever since.
He’s your real daddy, Hartley. Give him a chance.
Fuck that! We had just buried my real daddy.
Common knowledge that my mother ran off to marry an older man at barely fifteen, little did I know that she’d cheated on my daddy with that same man and ended up pregnant with me.
I needed my daddy more than ever right now and as much as I wanted a mother in my life, she certainly didn’t need me. Nothing was important but the man she called the one true love of her life, my so-called real father. The man I felt nothing for, other than a huge unforgivable grudge.
&nbs
p; Chapter Two
Hartley
“This place is awesome, Mandy! First floor, right across from the pool. And there’s a beautiful stone fireplace. Shit, I wish you were here with me. I’ll send pictures when I get settled. I think I’ll go soak in a bubble bath before Jacks gets here.”
“Love you, Hartley. Be happy.”
Nothing but a few measly storage boxes resting next to the fireplace, they were all I could fit in my car, and I honestly didn’t want anything else, other than the Thomas Kinkaid lighthouse painting still hanging in the entry way. A surprise on my birthday, I knew how much Bruce shelled out for the classic. Somehow, it only seemed fair he should have it. A few family photos and my favorite seventh-grade class picture rested on top of the first box. Kelly Mayfield and I stood in the front row, smiling like we were the happiest people on the planet with our mouths displaying shiny, multi-colored metal braces and crazy hair. I’d always cherished that picture for some silly reason. I broke my stare from the old photo and headed toward the bathroom.
The water pressure was great. I wasn’t used to that. I gave my favorite cherry blossom bubble bath a long squeeze. Relaxing in hot bubbles sounded amazing, even though it seemed unusually hot outside. Like most days, it made no difference if the temperature was eighty, or only forty degrees, I couldn’t get my feet warm. Soaking in gobs of scented bubbles always helped.
With the lid back on the plastic bottle, I set it aside and gave the water a quick temperature test and walked to the kitchen while the tub filled. Modern stainless-steel appliances filled the bright room and the nice big pantry was roomy, and thanks to Jacks, filled with paper products and rows of neatly stacked food. Almost convinced to attempt improving my cooking skills, the thought disappeared the instant I opened the door to a fully stocked refrigerator.
“Jeez, Jacks. You’re the absolute best,” I whispered. A twelve-pack of Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper in the smaller bottles I preferred, rested on the top shelf. “Just what the doctor ordered,” I whispered, the sound of Bon Jovi’s Livin’ On A Prayer playing on my phone as ‘Mandy’ streamed across the screen.
“Hello … again.”
“I know. I know. We just talked, but I just want you to know how much I hope you can be happy again, Hartley. It’s time.”
“Shit. Now I’m bawling,” I whispered, just the thought she wasn’t across town any longer opening up my emotions again.
“No more crying, Hartley. Let’s focus on new beginnings … and a discount on a boob job for me. These huge-ass jugs of mine are starting to sag. Mr. Big won’t like that one bit. Something tells me saggage isn’t his forte.”
“I love you, Mandy. And hey, tell Mr. Big hello.” We both giggled. “And you know what I think? Big is always better. Every single damn time.”
“Oh, my God. You’ve been gone less than a week and you’re already sounding like a different person. I don’t remember you being so … funny and shit.”
“Was I really that big a monster?” I forced a small laugh, knowing she was right. I did need to learn to be happy without a man being priority. Maybe a little sex down the road, but no expectations.
“No. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that … well yeah. I meant it like that. See what ridding yourself of his itty-bitty dick did? You’re already happier. Now you can find a good man, Hartley. With a good thick dick.”
“OMG. Stop.” I laughed. “Besides, you’re sure eating your words about using men for a quick romp in the hay. You’ve been with this guy for how long now?”
“You’re right. But hell, Hartley. He treats me good. And his assets, well, you know.”
“Yep. So you’ve said.”
Bruce wasn’t the only man I’d had sex with and definitely not Spartacus between the legs. Regardless of his average-sized penis, it was gonna take some time to move on. I’d lived in a bubble where he was concerned for so long that I’d overlooked the inevitable. I’d thought I was content.
Companionship. Decent sex. No worries about money.
All that was good, but I’d foolishly overlooked the most important aspect—respect.
Five minutes later, something sounded weird as I rambled back toward the bedroom.
“Well excellent! I just flooded my new damn apartment. Gotta go.”
Fuck tons of water sprayed violently from the bath tub hydrant, the floor already covered and the carpeting in the adjoining bedroom becoming saturated. I turned off the faucet, wiping water from my face.
“Shit!” Only four towels to my name, I needed twice that many.
“Double freaking shit.”
Three rolls of paper towels later, the water was sufficiently cleaned up off the floor, but the carpeting in the bedroom was definitely spent. In dry clothes, I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, hesitating a few seconds and staring into the mirror, hoping like hell this move was a good one.
Tempted to call Mandy yet again, I opted to unpack a box or two instead. While I reached for the school picture I loved, a knock on the front door startled me and the photo fell from my hands, cracking the glass right across the middle.
“Fuck a freaking duck.”
When I opened the door, I was almost emotional as I looked at my big brother for the first time in nearly a year. Immaculately dressed in a suit that likely cost more than I had in my savings account, a scowl covered his face as he barked at someone on his phone.
“What do you mean he won’t take the fucking plea bargain? Talk to the narcissistic jackass again!” He shoved his phone in his suit pocket.
“Jacks!” I hugged him. “Holy hell. The facial hair rocks. You look hot, even if you are my brother.”
“Thanks, Coco.” With a smile, I rolled my eyes at the nickname I was pretty confident he’d call me until the apocalypse.
“How’s the apartment? It’s nice, isn’t it?”
“Shit tons nicer than the way you just talked to that poor person on the phone.”
Still scowling, “It’s just business.”
“The apartment rocks. You’re the bomb, Jacks. I promise I’ll pay you back every cent one day. I just had to get away from Topeka. And Bruce.”
“Piss on Bruce. I’d genuinely like to beat his motherfucking ass.”
“I know. He’ll never change. I don’t know why I ever thought he would.” For seconds, we were both silent.
“How are things with you? Are you seeing anybody?”
“I’m great. Just staying busy. And no, I don’t have a girlfriend, Coco.”
I sighed, knowing he was still the same player he was last time I saw him.
“Hey, you hungry? Wanna go grab a bite?”
“Okay. Sure. I had Whataburger hours ago, and that’s all I’ve had.” I could only smile, knowing exactly what my brother’s reaction would be. He only ate clean food for the most part. Of course, I was the exact opposite. Whataburger was one of my weekly food groups. I could pretty much recite the entire menu.
“Let me guess. You’re still eating fast food three days a week. Do you ever partake in any foods that require actual cooking?”
“Whatever, Jackson. A person can’t live on gross-ass tofu and shit. Plus, it’s un-American not to like greasy burgers.”
About to lay on more exaggerated flack about his healthy eating habits, I remembered the disaster in my bathroom. “Oh, by the way, I have a small problem.” We walked toward the drenched mess.
“What the hell happened?” Wet towels and soggy paper towels covered the tiled floor.
“I was gonna take a bubble bath. I walked into the kitchen while the water was running and came back to this. I used all the paper towels and the only bath towels I own. I guess the faucets are bad.” I noticed his expensive camel-colored shoes, probably new.
“Crap, Jacks. Unless you want to get those thousand buck shoes wet, I’d step back just a little.” He playfully wrapped an arm around my neck.
“Christ. Get your things, brat. You can stay with me until they get this fixed. We’l
l stop by the management office on our way out.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose. Besides, I’m not so sure about listening to headboards banging against the wall and moaning women. You know … with all your meaningless fuck meets.”
“Get your shit, Coco. Let’s go get you some real food with actual nutritional value. I’ll bring you back after we eat so you can follow me to my apartment.”
“You’re so weird,” I teased, punching him in the arm.
“I guess I can struggle a few days without any…” He winked. “Fuck meets as you call them.” The sound of his ringing cell phone ended what I knew was an uncomfortable conversation for my very private brother, which he looked at and returned to his pocket without answering.
“Besides, I leave for L.A. tomorrow on business. I’ll be gone a couple of days. Oh, and a friend of mine is crashing at my place while his condo is repainted. You probably won’t even see him. He owns a night club and doesn’t get in until 2:00 AM or later, but be careful. He waltzes around naked a lot. Crazy motherfucker’s proud as hell of his body.”
“Oh. Ohh. Okay. Thanks for the warning.”
Chapter Three
Hartley
Some of the best sleep I’d had in months, I suddenly awoke to what sounded like running water.
Was someone whistling?
“God, I love this bed.” Bright rays of subtle sunlight peaked through the floor-to-ceiling window across from where I slept as I watched the charcoal-colored solar shades slowly open with one quick press of a remote control.
“So cool,” I mumbled. The bedroom overlooked a large pool area with a million assorted flowers in intricately designed beds. The Heights at Park Lane Towers was located in the upper Greenville area. Stunning and expensive, Jackson’s penthouse filled the top floor of the twenty-story high-rise building. As District Attorney, I knew he’d done well, but holy freaking shit. This place even had its own private elevator. Apparently, DAs made more than I realized.
Crimson Sunsets Page 1
