***
Benny woke to trailing fingers down his ribs. Without opening his eyes, he smiled, changing position so he could wrap an arm around the woman sitting on the edge of the mattress, pulling her into bed with him. He moved her, shifting her form around, fitting it close to his. Cock swelling, blood was pounding through his veins and he wanted to be buried deep inside her. “I’m naked, baby,” he murmured against the hair on top of her head, pressing a kiss there. Her palm smoothed up his arm, curling around his shoulder and he grinned when she pulled, holding him close. Nails pricked his skin and at that, his eyes shot open, seeing blonde hair instead of dark brown.
With a shove and a shout, he pushed from the bed, jumping out on the other side and whirling in anger.
Shaking his head, he stared down at the empty mattress. Nothing. Fuck. Swiping at his face with one palm, he shook off the dream. Chin to his chest, he closed his eyes, feeling sweat drying on his skin, chilling him to the bone. “God.” He’d spent the evening with Luce and her family, hanging out on the couch, helping Eddie in the kitchen, jamming with Bear. Then, as had happened the last hundred times, Luce walked him to his car where they had a long, but controlled make-out session, ending with her panting against his neck as she trembled in his arms. And he’d driven away, leaving her waving in the driveway. Went to the apartment Mitty and Vic were renting, stalked in, and heard a chorus of laughter about his bad mood blue balls, turned on his heel and stalked back out, headed to his own place.
The closest he’d gotten to pussy in months was on the phone with Luce, listening as she fingered and stroked, making cute as fuck whispery gasps when she came. She got off on him talking to her, got off in a big way when he told her what he was doing, how she made him feel. “Would you like that, Papi,” her pet name for him spoken quiet as she listened to his groan. “Want my mouth?” Hand sliding up and down his cock, arm moving faster as she panted. “Want me to—” He pulled his thoughts from those moments, shoving the memory away.
When they were together, like last night, she made it clear she was ready for more. But he’d been honest with her, so she knew both his doc and sponsor had counseled against starting anything. Their recommendation: No major changes for at least six months. Then, once he blew past the not starting, thanking God that it fell by the wayside and he had his Luce back, they had joined forces and strongly advocated going slow. Fucking snails move faster, he thought in frustration, willing his erection to deflate.
Just one drink. The whisper threaded through his brain, and he froze in place, every muscle seizing in response. Then he relaxed a bit, thinking, Too right. Just one, I can handle just one. His new apartment didn’t have any booze in it, but his neighbors wouldn’t know he was a drunk, probably handed out beer like candy. Benita’s voice, Little boy, want some candy? That caused bile to roll up his throat and he swallowed hard.
Chin down, he closed his eyes. Lucia’s image suspended in his mind, his anchor. I could take the edge off. Free my mind. His hands turned into fists. No. Out of the blue, this time, going from thinking about loving and loving on Luce to needing something. Hundred miles an hour in the time it took to pull in a single breath. “I’m a fucking adult.” I can have a drink if I want. “Grew up a long fucking time ago.” No.
Grabbing his phone from the floor, he unlocked it, hit one button and waited. In fifteen seconds his door opened, no knocking, no pretense of privacy here. Mercedes stood there, looking at him, taking in the state of the bed, the room, the man, and knowing immediately what he needed.
Closing the door, she dropped to her ass in front of it, preparing to be his…protector or custodian—it was hard to tell. His sentinel, guardian angel. My brother’s keeper. “How bad is it?” He didn’t answer, knowing she’d see it in his face because the shakes had started, fingers jerking and trembling. Heat gathered along his skin, sweat beading on his upper lip. Naked, he felt the swirl of air along his back and shivered. “What do you need to make it better, Bibi?”
“Blow.” He could taste the bitter flowing down the back of his throat, numbing everything in its path. White powder caking his nose, clouding his brain, taking the music away. “No, not blow.” I can’t lose the music again. If he had known then what it took from him, he would never have…LIAR, his head screamed. Knowing the way Benita introduced it, he would have taken anything she gave him.
“Booze.” Next morning heaves, rooms tilting on their axis, sending him staggering from side to side, giving up and puking where he stood, or laid, uncaring of what he soiled. Waking to find bodies of strangers draped over him, find himself still inside faceless women. Lucky as fuck he hadn’t caught shit that couldn’t be cured. A real threat since the crew he hung with weren’t too particular who they fucked. Hell, they fucked me. Shows how low they fell. “Not booze, no. God.” I’d lose Lucia. Can’t lose her. He turned and pressed his face to the wall, the cool seeping into his overheated skin. Too temporary, like everything in his life, the minute he moved away, he’d lose even that faint comfort.
“I don’t know.” He shivered, skin rippling like waves on a river. “I don’t know. I don’t know. Don’t know.” Nothing close, nothing to hold onto, nothing to anchor him from being swept away again. Down and down the river, the madness of his addictions surfacing alongside him, stripping his joy and love and even his fucking breath. Alone. “I don’t know. Don’t.” Sucking him under again. Out of control, nothing he could hold onto. A memory surfaced, his brother’s broken voice asking, “He gonna die?” He slid, body giving way to the need, pressing harder against the wall, the chill all along his side now, his hip, and arms flat out, a sacrifice on the altar of something that would kill him, eventually.
“You do know, Bibi. Tell me, what do you need?” Mercedes spoke quietly, certainty infusing her voice in a way that made it impossible for Benny to deny her request. He hated her at that moment because she was so self-assured, strong. Never weak enough to fall as he had. Hated the very strength he needed. Hated she could be unaltered by life, hated she saw him like this, hated she knew him so well.
“Luce.” Whirling, he put his back to the wall, eyes looking all over for his phone, finally finding it already in his hand. “I need Luce.” Staring at Mercedes, he swayed as he waited for her to caution him, waited for her to tell him not to make the call. Lifting the phone to his face, he recognized the text he’d sent Mercedes nearly four hours ago, their signal he was falling out of control so fast he couldn’t breathe. SOS.
“I need Lucia.” Hands trembling, he tapped the screen and waited. She never made him wait. No games, no playing with his head. No coy persuading him to be anything other than what he was, Luce accepted him as he was. He stared at Mercedes.
“Hola, Benjamin,” a laughing voice answered, saying his name in the Spanish way, but this voice was male, adolescent, and it took him a moment to place. Roddy, up late, probably against orders.
“Hola, Roddy.” God, his voice was hoarse, sounded like he’d been screaming songs at a festival for hours. “Is Lucia around, buddy?”
Concern clear, Roddy responded immediately, all humor gone from his voice. “Yeah, Benny, she’s up. Sec.” Older than their years; all those kids were. Grown up in a world Benny didn’t know existed, even if he’d been scraping the underbelly of a similar one far too long.
A moment and then Lucia was there, her voice making him feel steady and sure, at least, more than he had five minutes ago. He could nearly smell her perfume, feel her hair, her hand in his, sharing her unyielding strength. Holding on. “Benny? Roddy said…is something wrong?”
For a second he stood there, letting the rightness of this wash over him, not dragging him out to sea, the knowledge of her was enough to give him a firmer standing. With her, he felt like he could do anything. Be anyone. Anchored. “Benny?” There was an edge of fear to her tone, and he rushed to fill the silence.
“I need you, Luce.” Raw urgency filled his voice, and he didn’t care how much it gave away; with her
he didn’t need to be worried. She’d never take more than he could give, never ask more than he could offer. She’d drive him beyond what he thought he could do, or take, but would never leave him hanging. “I need you.”
“Five minutes.” No questions, no hesitation, she gave him what he needed. He could hear noise on the other end of the line, Eddie’s sleepy voice, then quiet followed by a mechanical racket. Garage, overhead door. “I’m on my way, Benny. Hold on, honey.” A car door slamming, then an echoing, her voice at a distance now. “Hold on. Is Mercedes with you?”
Eyes slipping closed, he sank down the surface of the wall until, heels to his ass, he sat on the floor. “Yeah. She’s here.”
“Good, honey. Hold on.” Anything he asked for, she’d give. Everything. “I’m on my way.”
Phone tight to his ear, unaware of how much time had passed, he heard the sound of her unlocking the apartment door. Mercedes was on the move, footsteps traveling away even as other ones made their way his direction. Through the speaker, Mercedes said, “Hang up now, Luce.” Quiet in his ear, hushed voices in the hallway.
The phone remained clenched in his hand. A lifeline he couldn’t let go of yet. With his lids pressed closed, he still knew when the lights were turned off in the room. Darkness surrounded him, cocooning him. He smelled Lucia before she made it to him, the scent of her sweetness and goodness rushing over him, beating back the damnable need, that living beast which gnawed at him all the time.
Fingers grazed across his side; a palm brushed his bicep, his shoulder. She was real; here and real, not a phantom in the night. Her arm curled around him, pulling him close. He shifted so he could wrap Luce up, fitting himself to her. She pressed deep like she wanted to absorb the things that were killing him. Like she could feel his pain. Her knees wedged under his legs, she curled tightly. “Hold on, honey.” The words he wanted to say were trapped in his throat, so he sat there, holding Lucia, uncaring if she knew he was weeping because he called and she came. “I’m here.”
“Hold on.” He forced the words out around the choking lump seated deep in his chest. “Please, baby. God. Hold on.”
“I am.” Pressure as she squeezed him, firming his footing in these still uncertain waters. “I will, Papi. I’m here.”
The last thing he saw before his eyes closed again was the shadow of soft, dark hair as she pressed her cheek against his chest, lips murmuring her message again and he prayed she’d never get tired of him needing her. “I’m holding on, Benny.”
Twenty-Three
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Benny held the phone slightly away from his head and rolled his shoulders, trying to shrug off the tension that had ripped from the phone and into his body at Slate’s shout.
“You are not going out there alone, shrimp. Ain’t happening.” A sigh.
Benny waited, knowing from experience his brother wasn’t done.
“Give me a day. I’ll sort my shit here, go with you.” Ruby’s voice lifted in the background, questioning. Fuck. “Let me make a call or two, Benny.”
“I need something from you.” He was learning. It took a long time; he was a slow study at these things, but the lessons were beginning to sink in. Giving people the chance to help him gave them power, but it also provided them a sense of satisfaction he couldn’t deny. “Can you help me out, Slate?” While he still called his brother Andy in his head sometimes, Slate was a badge of respect, so Benny had to give it to his brother. Having heard a dozen slightly different stories about a gunfight and how he came to the name, after getting over being terrified that he could have lost Andy, Benny never tired of it, through it learning so much of what made his brother what he was. Strong, honest, dependable, loyal. Benny used another phrase he’d come to understand, trying to ensure his brother listened to him. “Love and respect, man.”
“Fuck me.” That was muttered, and given the tone of voice, it wasn’t a bad thing this time. He’d heard those two words used in so many ways by Slate, a go-to phrase of anger and love, rebellion and acceptance. “Whatcha need, shrimp?”
“I need to do this. Need to talk to her. If you aren’t comfortable with me going there, and I get it, totally get why you’d be hesitant about me doing that, Slate. But, I need to talk to her. It’s part of what I need to move forward, and given what I’ve learned of this whole fucking process, it’s going to be something she needs, too. Amends, brother, gotta make amends.” He drew a breath. “So let me bring her here.”
This conversation was a result of Chase calling him the previous day, when they’d talked far into the night, the kid letting go of a lot of bad memories about his mom. It wasn’t until the call was nearly done that he'd learned Chase's mom had been killed in a single-car accident a few days before. Chase, only now learning about it, had reached out, picking up the phone instead of the bottle, which was a good decision. Lying there in the dark after he'd disconnected, Benny had thought about his own mom, and how he might feel if she died without him being able to talk to her. The idea didn’t sit well, and Benny had come to a decision. He just had to get Slate on board.
“Benny.” The pain in Slate’s voice ripped through him. “The last time she was involved, you nearly wound up back in rehab.” Guilt colored the next words. “I wasn’t even here to see it happen, was in fucking Kansas. Fuck me.” That was an unhappy version of the phrase, and Benny flinched to hear it. “I’m not down with bringing her back into your life like this, bro.”
How to make him understand? Benny thought for a moment, and then hit on an idea. “Remember the ranch?”
Startled laughter, then Slate said, “Yeah, I remember it.” It had been in their father’s family for generations, was supposed to be the boys’ legacy. That was before their dad got sick; before their mom sold it.
“Were you…do you miss it?” Closing his eyes, he could see the endless stretch of the plains, feel the wind whipping past them as the two boys rode double on one of the ranch horses to the top section to check fence. “Was a lot of work, and I remember how you wore yourself stupid tired trying to do everything.” A grunt he took for agreement filtered through the line, so he forged ahead.
“You put yourself between me and that bull, remember? Mean fucker spooked the horse. I fell off, busted my knee open. You could have stayed up in the saddle, safe. But you didn’t. You got off, right then, no question in your mind. I wasn’t going to face it alone. And I knew,” he put stress on the words as he repeated them, “I knew, you’d never let anything hurt me.”
“Love you, shrimp.” Slate’s voice was thick with emotion and he hated doing this, but he had to make him understand.
“I know you do. I’ve always known it. I used it, brother. Took advantage. So fucking selfish. I hate looking back and seeing everything I’ve done to you. The lies. Fucking lies, everything out of my mouth a lie for the longest time. And all you ever did was try to make things right.” He swallowed, trying to compose himself. “I need to hear her. Hear what she wanted to say at the wedding, but I was too much of a pussy to listen. I need to know what tripped her up, what trips her now. Help me figure this out. It’s the next step in my path. I get not going out there alone, and won’t take you from your family. I’m done being stupidly selfish. I’ll be smart about it.” This got him a snorted laugh, which was good; it meant his brother was still listening, not planning how to word a careful refusal. “Help me.”
“I got this, baby brother.” A heavy sigh, then Slate told him what he needed to hear. “I’ll call, set it up. Let you know when it’s going down, yeah?” A pause, then a question. “You still there?”
“Yeah. Just basking in the submission of my favorite big brother.”
“I’m your only brother, assbag. I’m thinking I need a video game session soon, shrimp. Need to whup your skinny white ass. PWN the noob.” Benny could hear the grin and knew it matched the one on his face.
“You’re white, too.” He laughed, then Ruby’s laughter rang in the background, an
d he knew she’d told Slate the same thing.
“Fuck me.” This one was the best, happiness reverberating down the call and Benny smiled.
***
Waiting in the airport lobby, his attention was focused on the toes of his shoes. The rubber tips were scuffed, needed cleaning, and polishing if the sneakers were to last much longer without looking like total crap. Footsteps echoing through the building brought Benny’s gaze to the escalator beyond the security checkpoint, where arriving passengers entered the unsecured world again. He’d finally won an argument with his brother, and it had to be about who would be picking their mother up. He scoffed. Not that Slate was happy about it, but he’d given Benny what he needed. This was a button he didn’t want to push too often, but right now, he needed this meeting to be on neutral ground, wanted to see and talk to her without Slate around. Needed it, and it wasn’t a bullshit line he’d fed Slate.
When he’d seen her at the wedding, he had been shocked in a good way. She wasn’t back to the beauty in the pictures papering GeeMa’s walls, celebrating the marriage of her son to Susan, but she was far from the haggard specimen of addiction he remembered from his last years in Wyoming. She’d looked the part of mother of the groom, older and conservatively dressed, deferring to the bride’s mother. He remembered thinking what a lie it was, what a lie she lived, every day, pretending to be a decent human.
Gaze to the steady stream of people moving down the stairs and into the hallway, he watched and waited, finally spotting her. Thin. Thinner than she’d been at the wedding and he wondered what it meant. Hair in a ponytail, scraped away from her face, leaving nothing for her to hide behind. She was looking through the airport, clearly nervous, her head swinging in short arcs back-and-forth. The greeter at the door offered her the airport’s trademark cookie, and she paused a moment to accept. This was when Benny took a blow he wasn’t expecting, his heart clenching so hard it might jump out of his throat. She smiled at the older man standing there beside the display, mouth moving to thank him, and that smile was everything good he remembered about his childhood. Every good thing that happened to him bracketed on either end of the experience by his mother’s smile, missing from his life for so long.
Born Into Trouble (Occupy Yourself Book 1) Page 21
