by C. A. Harms
“She’s only ever truly cared about herself; he’d fight her for me all the time. But there was a time they got along, even if it was only the first few months of my life. She cared enough to give me his name, but after that she never wanted to hear it again.” She tilted her head to the side and looked at me. With a shrug she forced a smile. “So instead, I’ve always gone by Catherine. The only person that’s ever called me Blake was my father. I don’t even know why I told Clayton the other night. It was just one of those times my mouth got carried away before I could decide if it was what I wanted to say or not.”
“I like when you do that.”
She laughs, “Why?”
“It’s when I get to know you, the real you. Because those are the times you say the things you would normally censor.”
“You are so weird.”
Chuckling, I bumped my shoulder to hers softly. “It’s the truth, think about it. Would you have been so bold as to say the things you said last night while I was licking salt from your body if you had analyzed your words first?”
“How would you know what I said? You were drunk.”
“I wasn’t drunk yet, I remember what you said like it’s playing on repeat in my head. ‘Can we just skip the salt, drink, and lime then go straight for the kissing?’ I’m sure that’s how it went.”
“Something like that.” Cat lifted her gaze to meet mine. “In my defense though it was a really great kiss.” Her smirk told me she was taunting me. There was something Catherine would learn fast—I never shied away. Ever.
Within seconds I had her back to the bed and hovered above her. “One of five very amazing kisses.” Something I wanted to repeat, something I needed to repeat. “I don’t have any salt, or limes, and even though I’m sure there’s tequila downstairs, I’d rather just have your kisses.”
The way she was watching me, her eyes locked on mine, shifting to my lips and then back again made my heart pound so fucking hard it felt as if it would beat right out of my chest.
Just when I thought she would deny me, she began to lift her head from the mattress beneath and her lips touched mine. Softly at first, and I allowed her to lead. The intensity began to grow and she lifted her hand to cup the back of my neck. The moment her tongue swiped out to touch my lips I fucking melted. My ability to hold back ended the moment a soft moan escaped her.
“Better each time.” She whispered this as our lips parted for only a few seconds and I couldn’t agree more. It did get better, like something I’d never felt before.
I could have gone on kissing her all day, but when she looked to her left I could sense that she felt as if it should come to an end.
“We should get back to cleaning you up.” Though I wanted to push for more, I gave in and lifted my body from hers. In that moment our connection was lost.
Chapter Ten
Catherine
Sometimes I would sneak off just for a drive or a long walk alone and think of my father. I only had a few memories of him that lingered but they were mine and I held them dear.
I guess I held a huge grudge toward my mother for fighting him so much when all he wanted was to be a father to me. He may have traveled often for his job, but when he was home he’d always tried to see me. He’d call, but she wouldn’t answer; he’d write but she’d never let me read his letters. Eventually he realized he should just save them and give them to me directly whenever he got home.
Most of our time together was simply going out to dinner or even just for ice cream. What I loved most about my father were the talks we would have. He loved me; he just picked the wrong woman to start a family with. She was conniving and deceitful, always using me against him.
When he got sick I felt like a part of me faded with him. It was then she’d allow me to see him. Not because she felt bad, or even wanted me to see him as often as I could until the inevitable. It was just her cruel way of reminding both him and me that our life would go on without him, just as it had before. She liked mentioning things that she planned to do with me, places she wanted to take me, knowing that he’d never be able to share those experiences with me.
Like I’ve said, my mother was heartless because in the end she never did even one of those things with me. She’d hang them as bait, taunting him with the idea of it all, yet she knew all along it was nothing more than talk.
I hated her for that. Hated her for making my dad feel even the slightest amount of guilt. There he was dying, attempting to hold on to every little memory he could and she was filling his mind with such hateful things.
I know if he were here, he would have taken me to every single place she’d mentioned. Disneyland, Sea World, even the Grand Canyon, just to name a few.
Before he got sick we used to talk about when I got old enough we would travel and he’d show me all the places he was able to see during his road trips. My father may not have been rich or had the most luxurious job, but he did what he could. He worked for a trucking company and sometimes he’d be gone for weeks at a time. But it was a steady job, which was more than I could say for my mother. He provided for me the best he could. I honestly think my mother was jealous of our closeness. He didn’t want a relationship with her so she felt that he shouldn’t have a relationship with me.
Ridiculous, I know.
During his travel though he’d started collecting small trinkets during his road trips, one for each state he’d visit each time he visited it. He always brought them back and it made me feel wanted, because that meant even though he was away, he still thought of me.
Hell, I was in the same small home as my mother, saw her every day, and on most days I thought she forgot I even existed.
Life is cruel and at times I felt terrible for asking God why he’d taken my father instead of my mother.
Awful, right?
Cancer sucks and I would never wish that on anyone. So maybe she’d fall asleep and pass peacefully instead and no one would get cancer. There…that was better.
After my dad passed I felt lost. I’d sit in my room for hours, sifting through all the letters, postcards, and trinkets he’d given me over the first twelve years of my life. It was a way for me to reconnect to him, feel as if he was still here with me, making me smile and laugh.
My dad was a clown, always looking for the humor in everything. He was happy.
I came home from school one day to find all those things I’d treasured gone. After searching everywhere, I found them. Or what was left of them.
There was a fresh burnt spot in the grass out back and small remnants of the things that had fully burned were peeking out beneath the blackened ashes.
I remember sitting down next to that spot, staring ahead thinking, he’s gone, everything, all I had to remember him by is gone. It broke my heart. Tears rolled along my cheeks and my chest ached so fierce I felt as if no matter how many deeps breaths I took it was just never enough.
Then like a crazy person I grabbed the nearest twig and began digging through the coals, looking for anything. Searching for even the smallest piece of something that might be left.
I was covered in soot, coughing from the dust I created, but I didn’t care.
In the end I found three remaining items.
A stone rock engraved with my name on it…Blake. Our name.
Next I found a necklace, I think it had been made of some type of stainless steel, with a pendant shaped like Tennessee on it. Though there were some superficial remnants of the fire along the metal, it still survived.
Finally I found an old coin, one that my father had told me was given to him by his father. It was from the year he was born and he shared the words he’d said to him that day.
This was the year my life changed. This was the year I truly became a man, a father. You, Blake, are the best thing I have ever done. I love you, son.
It was that coin alone that made me break. I fell apart, lying on the ground holding those three items so tightly in my hand they felt embedded in my skin but I didn�
��t care. I’d never let them go. I’d never give her the chance to destroy them ever again.
They were always with me.
Always in my purse was a trinket box I bought with the money I saved out of the couch cushions, dropped by the various men my mother would have in and out. I’ll admit I’d stolen money from her purse too. Had I not done that there would be times I would have survived only on water and stale cereal. Most days she was actually delusional enough to believe she had been the one who went grocery shopping.
She never once hit me, but she hurt me in other ways that were just as bad. She took so much from me, things I will never get back.
I was only a way for her to get more money from the State and more services for free. I was her meal ticket. Then I was Carl’s too.
At one point I actually thought her getting married would be a good thing. Maybe she’d settle down, be a real wife and mother, and things would change.
I was so wrong.
She just became more focused on him and less focused on me, if that was even possible.
Chapter Eleven
Elijah
“Right there.” I stood in my uncle’s garage, holding a two by four against the wall. “Don’t move.”
I chuckled as he slid the ladder closer and began to climb up. The man was short, there was no other way to explain it. I remember growing up how many of my friends would comment on his height compared to mine. I was thirteen and taller than him.
My genes came from my father, or so I was told.
My mother was young when she got pregnant, just a teen. She’d gone to a party, allowed herself to get so drunk she couldn’t see straight and then a month later she found out she was pregnant.
For a while she tried to hide it, and in doing so she continued to drink and do worse.
When she finally went to the guy she knew she slept with, he denied it at first. Later he came to her with the money for an abortion and told her if she had the baby he would disown it. By this time the dumbass didn’t realize she’d reached the point where she could no longer get an abortion.
Somehow Aunt Meg was able to convince her to allow them to adopt me. Money had a lot to do with it, but Uncle Miles had told me over and over that he would have spent every penny he had and more if she’d asked for it.
God works in mysterious ways. Aunt Meg was unable to conceive and yet her younger sister, careless and irresponsible, was.
My aunt and uncle were my heroes; they always would be.
No one knew exactly where my biological mother was or if she was even alive, but I stopped caring long ago. I had my parents and my grandparents; they were all I needed.
“What are you two doing out here?” I looked over my shoulder to see Aunt Meg holding two glasses of what looked like iced tea.
“Tiny over here is attempting to reinforce this shelf; I’m holding it up so it don’t squash him.”
“Okay, smart ass.” He smacked in the last nail before looking down at me. “Just because you’re bigger than me doesn’t mean I can’t whoop ya.”
Both my aunt and I chuckled.
“You’ll just get hurt again,” she told him as she stepped forward. “Don’t you remember last time you attempted to pin him down?”
“How could I forget?” He rubbed at his shoulder. “I had to wear that damn shoulder sling for a month before I could move my arm as normal.”
“I told you to say uncle.” I shrugged, walking away toward my aunt.
“I’m old and brittle, boy.” He shoved at my back but the pressure barely moved me. “Besides, I’d told you from the beginning that I had no intention of backing out.”
“Yes, you did, and see where it got you”?”
We moved toward the front porch, me still hassling my uncle and him giving it back just as good as he got. Once we were all seated, I looked over at my aunt and made her day.
“I wanted to ask you something.”
“Oh yeah, and what’s that?
“I have a date.” Her eyes lit up and she slid forward in the chair.
“Do we get to meet her?” Uncle Miles laughed and leaned back, crossing his ankle over his other leg. He watched us interact and I knew there was no way I was going to get any help from him.
“Maybe one day, but this is only our first date.”
“You act as if she’d not gonna want more than that.” My aunt actually looked offended. “Let me assure you, she will.” Suddenly I found myself wondering if this conversation was really the best plan. “So tell me what is the question?”
“Where should I take her?”
She squealed happily, high-pitched excitement that made me jump in surprise. I knew then that I should have asked Morgan or even Marcus instead.
***
“You sure I can’t pick you up?”
“I’m sure,” she said, gathering the neatly wrapped silverware from the cart she pushed and placing it in the basket near the front of the restaurant.
Here I was following her around Porter’s while she prepared for the afternoon rush. By now Pete had gotten used to us frat guys hanging around and given up caring. I think he’d given up on Morgan, though I had still caught him a time or two staring at her ass or even her tits when he thought no one was paying attention.
Shit pissed Xavier off something crazy but it sure was fun to tease him about it.
“A real date is me showing up at your door, giving you flowers, even opening the car door for you when I help you inside.”
“Oh really?” Catherine turned around to face me with an amused smile on her face.
Shrugging, I smiled at her too. “It’s what my aunt says.”
I’m not sure why I don’t call them Mom and Dad; they never asked me to. They are the only parents I know, but they’ve always been Meg and Miles.
“Your aunt seems like a smart lady.”
“She is,” I nodded, “and she’s already eager to meet you.” I saw her eyes widen just a tad. “But I told her that she needs to let me work my magic first, make sure I get more than just one date before I spring the parental crazies on you.”
“You haven’t met crazies till you meet mine.” She rolled her eyes and then suddenly realized what she said. “Which you never will because they are a deal breaker.”
“Deal breaker?” Crinkling my eyes in confusion I waited for a better explanation.
“Yes, as in you’ll go running in the opposite direction just to get away. In no way am I going to allow you to judge me by them.”
I laughed but she showed no sign of humor.
“No joke.”
I could tell it wasn’t. This would be a conversation for another day.
“I’ll see you tonight.” I leaned in without warning and kissed her on the corner of her mouth. Her breath hitched and that’s all I needed to know that I got to her.
“Don’t keep me waiting too long.”
I left her standing in the center of the dining area as I walked away without looking back.
I don’t date, like ever. Girls complicate things.
I’m not saying I’m innocent, hell I’ve hooked up, but it was never more. I kept them casual things and both parties involved understood the terms. Yet even that was a rare occasion. There was this one girl who worked at the gym I went to. She was a little older, four years to be exact, and was recently divorced, looking for nothing more than a means of relief. Though she and I hadn’t talked in over a month, she was my go to for a while. Kept things less complicated at school. College girls were looking for more, always. Most were looking for that guy they could latch onto and claim.
I had never wanted to be claimed until now.
Something about Cat calling me hers was intriguing. I liked the idea of having other guys refer to her as taken and in turn I was taken by her. I liked the idea of having that one person I could count on, the one who no matter what would be on my side. The thought of having her to share things with and being there for her to do the same. That bond, that trust,
fuck I wanted that.
Chapter Twelve
Catherine
I held out the shirt I’d purchased before me, looking it over one last time. I rarely bought things for myself; saving what money I could was top priority, but this was an exception. I couldn’t remember the last time I allowed myself to go out and have fun, let alone go on a date.
I was nervous.
Okay, nervous didn’t even begin to describe it; I was terrified. Not because of Elijah or even being on a date, but because I was fearful of messing it up.
The choice to splurge a little and buy myself something nice was a random choice, and I didn’t regret it. It did, however, put a little dent into my getting-my-own-place fund, but I’d work an extra shift to cover it.
I took a little extra time to do my hair, leaving it down, which was something I didn’t do often. I usually cared what I looked like, but today the effort to do just a little extra seemed appropriate.
Dressed and ready, I grabbed my purse and carefully opened my door. I had heard my mother come home about an hour ago, and since then there’d been silence. I’d hoped she’d gone to bed but as I rounded the corner into the living room I found I wasn’t that lucky.
“Look at you.” Her voice was slurred. Drunk at five p.m. was nothing new. She always got loaded before going to work; I guess it helped her cope with the things she had to do at that nasty club she called her job. “Got a hot date or something?”
“Just going out with a friend.” I tried to keep the details of my life minimal. My mother and I were not close and I don’t think we ever had been. I think in a way I held a grudge against her for taking away my chance to really know my father. She stood between us, and that was something I no longer had the opportunity to do. One should never place a child in between a hateful tug of war, but she did.
“I talked to Barry about getting you a job at the club again.” My heart felt like it slammed against my breast bone. “Showed him your picture and he said you could make him a killing.” Make him, not me. In my opinion, Barry was no different than a pimp on the streets. “What you could make there would put that chump change you make at the pizza joint to shame.”
