by S. M. Soto
“Uh-Uh. Not so fast, pretty-girl. If you want your Happy Meal, you have to do something for me, first.”
The gleam in Cyrus’ eyes makes my eyes water with tears. My bottom lip trembles violently and I rapidly shake my head no.
“No?” he asks, his brows pulling down. “You wouldn’t want me to hurt your mommy, Samantha, would you? Because if you don’t do something for me, I’m going to hurt her. Then I’ll have to hurt you. Do you want that?”
A sob breaks from my little chest and I frantically shake my head back and forth.
“That’s a good girl. Now, I want you to lay on the couch. Can you do that for me?”
My body shakes violently as I lower myself onto the couch, praying Momma will wake up soon. Praying Momma will tell Cyrus to leave, but she never does.
“What did we practice last time, pretty-girl? Do you remember?” Cyrus asks, hovering over me.
Tears stream down my face as I nod my head silently.
“You did so well last time, but this time, I’m going to help you, pretty-girl.”
Cyrus’ meaty hand grips mine and he uses it to touch me in places I know are wrong. With my hunger gone, I close my eyes and I pray. Like the people do on TV. I pray for it to stop.
Something suddenly crashes to the floor behind us and Cyrus spins around, surprise etched on his face.
“Get off her.”
The slur of Momma’s voice has me scrambling to get away from Cyrus, back to her. Only when I see her and what she’s holding, I freeze.
“Put that down before you hurt yourself, you stupid bitch.”
Momma’s grip on the butcher knife tightens as she takes a step closer to Cyrus.
“You drugged me, you motherfucker,” Momma growls.
Cyrus scoffs. “That’s what you called me for, isn’t it?”
Her lip curls into an ugly snarl. “I wanted to get high, not be knocked the fuck out so you can do God knows what to my daughter.”
Momma and Cyrus walk around each other in a circle, both trying to find the other’s weak spot. Suddenly, Momma trips on her own footing and almost falls—with the knife. I gasp, and Cyrus lunges for the weapon. I clench my eyes shut against the scene before me, too afraid of what will happen if I keep looking.
When I finally do open my eyes, I find Momma on the couch and Cyrus with the knife in one hand, and a bag of white stuff in the other.
“Your daughter or the drugs. You decide.” Cyrus crumples the bag in his hand and Momma jolts nervously, her gaze flicking from me to the drugs. She nibbles on her bottom lip indecisively and bites her fingernails down to the nubs.
“Choose now, bitch. You can take the drugs while I take Samantha to your room, or I can throw them out and never come back with more.”
Momma makes a wounded noise, her eyes glazing with tears. Her gaze locks on mine and she forces a smile, shaking her head.
“I choose her. I choose her,” she gasps out like she can’t breathe.
Cyrus’ nostrils flare and he smiles sadistically. Stomping toward her, he empties the contents of the bag onto the table and scoops something onto a spoon.
Momma rocks back and forth with her hands grasped tightly in her hair as Cyrus brings a lighter to the spoon, coaxing her with it in front of her face.
“No. No. Nooo,” Momma groans, tugging on her head, pulling out large chunks of hair in the process.
“Shhh, I know you want this,” Cyrus coos as he yanks out Momma’s arm and taps it violently. With a needle in hand, he jabs it into her arm and immediately, Momma’s eyes roll into the back of her skull as she chants, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
It doesn’t last long. The room is suddenly doused in silence when Momma stops chanting and instead, smiles up at the ceiling.
Cyrus turns to me with a resolute look on his horrid face.
“Come on, pretty-girl. Your Happy Meal is getting cold.”
My heart shatters in my chest.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Present
I ride in an Uber to the Fairmont hotel instead of taking my car. I wanted to avoid as many awkward looks as possible but seeing that I was headed to a prestigious hotel with no luggage, I probably look like a two-dollar whore. I’m definitely starting to feel like one. Del Mar wasn’t a place women like me frequented. That much was obvious. Del Mar was for the wealthy and demure—everything I’m not.
My stomach knots painfully with guilt. It makes it hard to breathe. The pressure in my chest and throat build until I feel the rising bile. I exhale, releasing a breath that sounds too broken and ragged to have come from me. Honey eyes and a bright smile drift behind my lids, prompting me to clench them shut. I don’t want to think about Alex. Not right now. It just feels wrong, everything about this feels wrong, but I can’t stop myself from doing anything about it.
I type out a quick text to James and his reply is instantaneous. My heart lodges in my throat when I open the message.
James: 325B
Once I find myself standing in front of 325B, I smooth my hands down my dress. The door is cracked. A thin sliver of darkness is all that can be seen inside. My heart tells me to turn around now, before it’s too late, but my brain doesn’t comprehend. Before I know it, I’m pushing the heavy, hotel room door open and stepping inside the dark room.
“You came.”
I squint, adjusting to the lack of light. I desperately try to pinpoint where his voice is coming from. I hate not being in control or knowing what’s going to happen next. And here, right now, in the fucking dark—I’m out of my comfort zone. A sense of dread blooms in my stomach as I take in the possibility this could be some kind of trap.
Suddenly, a dim light flicks on, illuminating James’ dark form, nestled into a brown leather chair. One of his hands rests on the arm of the chair while the other is holding a crystal tumbler filled with amber liquid. I swallow thickly at the heat brewing in his dark gaze. His eyes are an unusual shade of brown; they’re nearly black.
“Nervous?” He lifts a knowing brow, prompting me to scoff and roll my eyes at his surety.
“Have a seat, beauty. There are a few things we should go over before we get started.” He flicks his chin toward the empty chair a few feet away from his.
Inhaling a calming breath, I straighten my spine and square my shoulders, exuding the confidence I don’t feel. Slowly, I lower myself onto the uncomfortable but eye-catching chair and warily set my gaze on James.
“You don’t strike me as a woman with too many morals, beauty.”
His words irk me, but only because I know there’s truth to them. The fact that a stranger can pick me apart so easily is infuriating. Instead of letting him know his words have gotten to me, I smile devilishly.
“Very perceptive, James.”
He cracks a small grin and leans forward, placing his tumbler on the side table. He cocks his head to the side in an assessing manner, all the while rubbing his fingers along his clean-shaven chin in thought.
“That’s exactly why I think you’re perfect for this.”
This time I cock my head to the side. “Perfect for what, exactly?”
“A sleeping arrangement. I want to be able to fuck you at my beck and call, with no strings attached.”
“Hmmm. And what’s in it for me?”
He smiles. “My cock, beauty.”
I swallow thickly and lean back in the chair. Under normal circumstances, his words would have my core clenching and my pussy throbbing in anticipation, just at the mere idea of him inside me, but this isn’t normal. James isn’t normal. There’s something about him—it crackles in the very air around him—that doesn’t sit well with me. I can’t put my finger on it, but the sensation is unsettling, to say the least.
“I have a condo at the Colombia Waterfront on Beech Street. Whenever I call, I expect you waiting in my room, ready for me. The rules are simple. You don’t call me, ever. You stay away from my family, and my wife. And the last rule but most important rule
is: don’t get attached.”
“Excuse me?” I half cough and laugh. “You’re fucking married? Is this a joke?”
“She married for the money and the name, not love. I like to fuck, beauty, and let’s just say, my wife isn’t the best lay. She’s accepted it.”
My mouth drops open in shock as he goes on, a feat that is not easy when it comes to a girl like me. I roughly rub my fingers along my temple, trying to wrap my head around the idiocy of his statement.
“After five, every day, I want you ready. Try not to look so shocked, beauty. I thought I pegged you out to be the raunchy chick with no morals,” he goads.
My lip curls in anger. I internally war with myself over calling him a jackass and leaving him and his stupid offer, or if I should stay just to spite the stupid fucking bastard.
“And your wife? She’s okay with all of this?”
“Not necessarily. Who would be okay with their husband screwing his way through San Diego? But nevertheless, she accepts it for what it is. At the end of the day, she gets what she wants—a picture perfect family—and I get what I want.”
My hands curl into fists at his words. I itch to slam my fist in his face, but I refrain from doing so by clenching my eyes shut and trying to find some sense of peace in all this chaos.
Alex’s face flickers behind my closed lids. Every smile, every laugh, every fight, it all flashes rapidly behind my eyes, making my heart constrict. Deep down, I want to be the girl that can come home to a guy like that. I want to be the girl he can show off, and be proud of. But I’m not her. And the likelihood of me ever being her? It’s never going to happen. I’m damaged beyond repair.
Even I know that.
I just want to forget him and all the happiness he brings me. I want to forget Alex and the complications he evokes in my sad life. So instead of doing the right thing, I do what I do best—ruin. This time, I vow not just to wreak havoc on my life, but drag down James while I’m at it. A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”
***
It’s been two months since the night I stepped foot in the Fairmont, the night that changed the course of my life forever. I haven’t heard a peep from Alex since his housewarming party, which feels like it happened years ago instead of two months. Aliza spilled the beans a week after the party that Alex was dating around, trying to move on.
It fucking stung.
I didn’t have a right to be hurt or angry, but that didn’t stop me. It was irrational and unfair, but I relished the pain of watching Alex mill around with all these women. It made my decision to screw James that much easier.
I should’ve been the bigger person by not allowing his dating to affect me, but that just wasn’t who I was. Any chance I got, I made sure Alex knew I was with someone else. I wanted to hurt him the way he was hurting me. The way I’ve been continually hurting myself for the last twenty-five years. It never made me feel better. Shoving my transgressions in his face made me feel worse. The gaping hole in my heart got bigger and bigger each time he smiled with another woman and I realized it was the smile he reserved for me. That was my smile, and he was passing it around like it was nothing. It pissed me off, royally so.
Natalia and Aliza were both angry with me, especially Natalia. It probably didn’t help that she hated James with a passion like no other.
It was an accident, having them meet. After a long night of slanging drinks at the bar, I didn’t feel like driving to his condo. Surprisingly, he offered to pick me up, and that was when the clusterfuck of problems started.
After a quick change of clothes, I slip my phone and my keys inside my clutch and fly out of the house to meet James downstairs. My mind whirls with thoughts of Alex, wondering what he’s doing—who he’s doing. I’m so caught up, I don’t see Natalia coming straight toward me. When our bodies collide, I let out an oomph of air and clutch my hands to my chest.
“Motherfucking shit, that hurt,” I wheeze.
“Jesus, woman, what’s the hurry?” Natalia asks, rubbing out her own shoulder with a grimace on her face.
“I’m meeting someone. I’ll be back later,” I say, pushing around her in my haste to get away before she sees who I’m going with.
“Wait!” she calls after me, her hurried footsteps echoing behind me. “Is it James? Where is he? I want to meet him.”
I turn to Natalia with a glower permanently etched on my face.
“No, Mom, you don’t need to meet him,” I say, brushing her off, hoping she’ll get the hint.
There’s no way in hell James is going to be cordial with Natalia. Meeting my friend and roommate? He doesn’t care about shit like that. It isn’t part of his stupid rules. I also don’t want Natalia to see how low I’ve stooped after breaking things off with Alex.
James isn’t ugly by any means, but there’s something about him, his personality, maybe, that makes him ugly. In every sense of the word.
Natalia ignores me completely and continues to follow me out to James and his shiny Mercedes. When the glossy slate gray car comes into view, I square my shoulders and put my mask of indifference in place. That was the only way this thing worked with James. I needed to feel nothing. I needed to be numb.
Most of all, I needed to pretend, and there was nothing I was better at.
“Wow,” Natalia whispers the closer we get. “I thought you said his name was James, not Moneybags.”
I roll my eyes, then plaster on a fake grin as we reach the passenger window. James doesn’t bother getting out of the car as I introduce him to Natalia.
“James, this is my friend Natalia. Natalia, this is James.”
“Nice to meet you,” Natalia says with a smile, but James pays her no mind. The expression on his face is far from amused. With a raised brow, he turns his attention elsewhere, waiting for me to hop in so we can go.
I blow out a breath and turn to Natalia. Her eyes are narrowed in anger as she glares at James. Her lips thin, just like they always do when she’s about to go off. With a soft pat on her butt, I brush past her into the car.
“See you later, babe!”
It doesn’t take long. While James speeds down the highway, my iPhone pings with text message after text message. Stifling a growl, I pull it out and press the Home screen. It fills with ten-plus messages, all from Natalia. Each one contains one word.
Natalia: DICK
Natalia: DOUCHE
Natalia: ASS
Natalia sniffed out his douchey-ness within seconds. I knew she would, which was why I never planned to bring him around. Of course, that fucking backfired.
This was just a game. Hate-fucking James was supposed to help me forget about Alex, but so far, it’s just caused more of a headache than anything. James was still a no-good bastard who thought the world revolved around him. That was his type. All hot men in suits thought like that.
The assholes.
I walk through the entrance of the Bar and Grille, breathing a sigh of relief as the conditioned air hits me. Today has been remarkably hot by San Diego standards. Just getting out of the car and walking inside was a feat in itself.
The bright and lively environment of the room brings a smile to my face. It’s always been my favorite part about working here. The loud clatter of dishes and the boisterous, excited voices of the patrons fill the expanse of the restaurant. I loved when we had live performances. The crowd they brought always made me feel at home in the chaos. That’s the only way I feel comfortable. I need chaos in my life. I was bred in chaos—I am chaos.
I head straight to the bar, ready for another day slanging drinks. Before I know it, three hours have passed and I’m ready for my break. I hastily wipe down the bar, leaving things to my co-worker Evan for the time being. Sliding into the dimly lit booth, I rest my back against the wall and turn my attention to Natalia and Aliza, who are talking animatedly in their seats across from me.
“He’s taking me to buy a car,” Aliza says, with wary lines wr
inkling her cherub face. “I know I need one, but I feel so bad. I don’t want him buying me a car. I mean, we’re already living together. I feel like such a freeloader.”
“Oh, stop. You are not a freeloader. CJ loves you. If I were you, I’d take the car. Just think about it, no more Ubers, no more waiting on anyone for rides,” Natalia coaxes her.
Aliza runs a hand through her blond locks and blows out a gruff breath.
“That’s true…” Her voice trails off and she nibbles on her lower lip. “Screw it. I’ll let him buy me a car, only if he’ll allow me to split the payments with him.”
Natalia rolls her eyes and I suppress a laugh. There’s no way in hell that’s going to fly with CJ. He’s one of those guys who refuses to let the woman he cares about pay for anything. We may not get along with each other about ninety-nine percent of the time, but I can admit he’s amazing with Aliza. He makes her happy, and after everything she’s been through, she deserves to be happy. I’m just glad they both found their well-deserved happiness. I’ve never met a couple more perfect for each other.
Before Aliza, CJ was a mess, but it was like the moment he met her, something clicked inside him and that was when the change began. That dude is in so deep with her, there’s no telling when he’ll ever be able to pull himself back up. But at the end of the day, only one thing matters to me. As long as he treats her right, and continues to make her happy, we’ll never have any serious problems.
My gaze drifts around the expanse of the restaurant until it falls on him. With an iPad in his hand, he takes stock of the available tables in the restaurant. His eyes squint at the screen then furrow when he picks his head up to look around again. His facial expressions bring a small smile to my face. I may be angry at Alex, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still enjoy the view. He’s impossible to resist, and I’m certain that’s why I keep finding myself back in the same predicaments with him. Sensing my stare, his honeyed gaze drifts to mine and my heart lodges itself in my throat. For a brief second, I see the indecision written all over his features, but its quickly replaced by a look of disdain. His eyes narrow and his lips thin into a grim line as he turns his attention away from me.
