Lily of the Valley (Flowering, #1.5)

by Sarah Daltry

“You don’t want anyone’s help,” she points out.

  “Still.”

  I look up at the sky. It’s a funny shade of pink, which inevitably makes me think of the same thing that’s been on my mind for weeks now.

  “Motherfucking strawberries.”

  “What?” Sandee asks. I didn’t even realize I said it aloud.

  “Nothing.”

  “What do you want, Jack? With your dad?”

  “I want nothing. I want him to disappear. But I don’t want to make my grandmother suffer.”

  “Can you handle him being out at some point?”

  The rehabilitation program will speed up his parole, so rather than the thirty years he got, he’d be out in less than five more. Sure, it would still be a decade in prison and then endless “rehabilitation,” but my mom was worth more than a decade. One condition of him even getting that far, of course, is an ongoing effort to repair his relationship with me. Maybe if I’m long gone, they won’t be able to make me come back for him.

  “I don’t know,” I admit.

  “Can you handle just making your grandmother happy and doing the visit?”

  I shrug. “I guess. It’s just always someone else, you know? Always what makes someone else happy. I don’t know why it bugs me, since I’m fucking miserable regardless, but just once, I would love to be the reason someone smiles. And not because I did something they wanted. Just because.”

  Sandee stabs out her cigarette and squeezes my arm. Most people don’t touch me at all and no one but Alana and my grandmother hugs me, but it’s a small act of comfort and I appreciate the gesture. I know she’s only ten years older than me, and she is certainly not my mom, but I cling to her like she is.

  “Maybe you’re just desperate for the smile to come from the wrong people,” she says. “If he isn’t gonna change, it doesn’t mean you can’t be strong enough to go, if only to make it easier on your grandmother.”

  I finish my own cigarette. “Got more of whatever that was?”

  I take another swig of the dark alcohol and sigh.

  “You’re the second person to say that in the last two days,” I say. “That I seek the approval of the wrong people.”

  “I didn’t say approval. I just think you feel like you need to prove yourself to people who doubt you, rather than loving the ones who already believe. You’ll never make everyone happy, Jack. Even if you had the life you wish you had, someone would always be ready to tell you you’re not good enough.”

  “People fucking suck, Sandee.”

  She nods and moves to the door. “That they do. I’m heading back in, but take your time. It’s dead anyway.”

  I climb up the side of the pallets and sit on top, staring up at the sky. The pink has faded with the day, giving way to darkness. There’s a weird cloud cover overhead, a strange greenish gray mass that blots out the moon and makes the entire back lot look eerie. I’m feeling guilty about Alana, about hurting her, about being such a letdown to her. It makes me feel worse about saying no to my grandma, even though what she’s asking is the hardest thing for me to do.

  I think back to when it all happened, about how she faced everything bravely. She sat through the trial and never shed a tear, never showed how much it tore her apart. I have to be able to do this.

  I take out my phone and text Alana. I want to see her after work. She tells me she’ll meet me in the lot when I get out and I decide I’ll make things up to her. I don’t know how, but I’ll fix everything. I have to hope there’s something in my life that isn’t beyond repair.

  ****

  When I get out of work, I find Alana passed out drunk in the backseat of my grandma’s car. I take the bottle from her hand and sit her up, trying to stir her.

  “Wake the fuck up,” I say.

  She mumbles and tries to slink back down along the seat. I push her against the door to keep her upright.

  “Alana, wake the fuck up.”

  She doesn’t, though, and I’m pissed. I know she wouldn’t be stupid enough to drive here drunk, but she must have crawled into my car and finished the bottle fast. This is what you get for the shit you do, my mind tells me. Yeah? Fuck you, mind.

  I buckle Alana into a seatbelt and crack the window a bit, hoping the air will stir her.

  “You’re pissing me off,” I tell her.

  I drive around for a while, waiting for her to wake up. I try everything – slamming on the brakes, opening the window more, blasting the a/c, blasting the radio. Finally, she wakes up when I make a sharp turn around a corner.

  “Where am I?”

  “You passed out in the back of my grandmother’s car.”

  “I need to get laid,” she whines.

  “You need to get showered.”

  “Fine. Showered, then laid.”

  “I can’t bring you home like this,” I tell her.

  “Here.” She reaches forward and shoves a wad of money at me. It falls onto the passenger seat and a couple bills blow out the damn window before I shut it. I don’t know what the money’s for or where it’s from, but its existence makes me angry.

  “What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?” I ask.

  “Get a motel room. I’ll shower there and then you can fuck me.”

  “I don’t want to fuck you. You’re a fucking mess right now.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  I keep driving, but she leans forward again and smacks the back of my head.

  “Get a fucking room,” she demands. “I can take a shower and we can go to the bar. Someone will want to fuck me.”

  She’s right. Someone will definitely want to fuck her, but it’s stupid. Still, I listen and find a cheap motel nearby so she can shower. I don’t even go in. I’m so pissed at her right now. I don’t know why I don’t just bring her home. I guess I figure the shit she’ll deal with from her mom if I do isn’t worth avoiding what I have to deal with right now.

  She doesn’t take long to shower and she’s more alert, although still pretty drunk, when she comes back outside.

  “Bar. Now.”

  She’s going to get a lot of attention tonight, dressed like she is. Her black pants are skintight and her silvery pink tank top shows off her bare belly and clings to her tits. She doesn’t even have a jacket and her tattooed arms make her look both tough and sexy. She’ll have no problem finding what she’s after, especially at the shitty bar nearby.

  They always serve us, even though they have to know we’re underage. We started coming here when I was a freshman, because I’d heard they would serve anyone. I guess it was true and although the thrill apparently wore off for most of my peers, it never stops me from coming here. Some nights, it’s busier than others. Tonight is one of those nights.

  Alana walks in and strolls right up to the bar, putting herself between two guys who must be at least 35. They both check out her ass and I walk forward, annoyed that I’m the one who has to do something if they go further than she’d like. She orders shots for herself and the two guys and leans against the one on the left, a guy who looks like he’s spent a lot of time here. He wraps an arm around her and I tense, but when she goes for his crotch, I guess there’s no point in fighting. I sit at one of the tables by the wall and watch her get these two guys horny over her.

  It’s got to be less than thirty minutes before she takes the guy whose crotch she was massaging over to where I’m sitting.

  She smiles. “This is Aaron. We want to go back to the motel.”

  “You’re being an idiot,” I say.

  “Hey, buddy-” Aaron starts, but he’s out for one thing, which Alana is happy to give. The problem is, he won’t be the one dealing with the fallout in the morning.

  “Alana, you don’t want to do this.”

  She rubs herself against Aaron and grins, sliding a hand up under his shirt. “Yes, I do. Bring us to the motel, Jackie.”

  “You’re not proving anything.”

  “I don’t want to
prove anything. I want to get laid and Aaron had kindly offered to fuck me.”

  “You know what? Fine. Whatever.”

  I drive them back to the motel, which is thankfully not far, because she’s all over him in the backseat. If it was any farther away, she’d probably have already slept with him before we made it. When we get there, I wait for them to get out, but Alana runs her hand through my hair from the back.

  “Don’t you wanna watch?”

  “No.”

  She’s angry now and she turns the anger on me. “Fuck you, Jack. Fucking watch. If I can play your little princess, you can fucking watch.”

  I hate her when she’s like this. I hate myself when she’s like this, because I don’t say no. I just follow her like a fucking idiot into the motel room and sit in the shitty rotting chair while she gets naked with some random dude she met at a dive bar.

  Aaron doesn’t seem to mind at all that I’m here, which is annoying. I could be her boyfriend; he doesn’t know. Who just goes back to a motel with a girl to fuck her while another guy is in the picture? He doesn’t even undress, just pulls down his pants and bends her over so she’s facing me and he’s behind her.

  She gasps as he enters her. There was no foreplay and clearly Aaron has one goal here. She’s enjoying herself, though, as evidenced by the way she closes her eyes and tilts her head back, pushing her ass toward him so he can thrust deeper into her. I don’t want this to turn me on, but it does. Hell, it really does. I like keeping my eyes open with Alana, because I know the faces she makes when she comes and it makes me happy to be the one to make her come. However, this is incredibly hot. She’s getting off on this and I get hard watching her get fucked. His cock slides in and out of her quickly and she moans.

  “Oh, shit,” I say, and I unzip my pants. It pisses me off so much, because I don’t even want to be here and yet I’m about to jerk off watching this. Something is seriously wrong with me. Even as I take my cock in my hand and start stroking myself, watching some old guy from a bar fuck my best friend, I kind of want to cry.

  Alana opens her eyes and smiles at me. “I love watching you watch me,” she says. “It makes me so fucking hot.”

  “Great.”

  I’m horny and miserable and pissed off and I feel sick to my stomach. Aaron pulls out of Alana and comes all over her ass. He doesn’t say anything, just gets up and goes to the bathroom to clean himself off. I’m still sitting in the chair with my dick in my hand while all this happens. I feel like an idiot.

  “Fuck me, baby,” Alana says. “Fuck me like no one else can.”

  “You’re drunk.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Well, too bad. This is stupid.”

  She stands up, still covered in Aaron’s come, and walks over to me, kneeling between my legs. She starts sucking my cock and he comes out of the bathroom while she teases my balls with her tongue.

  “Oh, fuck,” I say, full of shame.

  “She’s pretty hot,” Aaron says. “Think she’d be up for another go?”

  Alana moves away from me and stands. She grabs my hand and I let her drag me to the bed. She pushes me down, kneeling in front of me on the bed. She goes back to sucking me off, while Aaron positions himself and starts fucking her. I am so fucking hot right now and her mouth is phenomenal. This is the worst way to treat my best friend, but I’m pissed at her and horny, so too fucking bad.

  I come and Alana swallows, but there’s nowhere for her to move with Aaron behind her, so she keeps me in her mouth. By the time Aaron is done fucking her, I’m ready again.

  “You know you want to fuck me,” she says and smiles. Damn her. I do, of course.

  “You just fucked him. Twice.”

  “So I’ll take a shower.”

  She gets up and Aaron looks at me awkwardly. I’m his ride back to the bar, which makes this whole situation uncomfortable. I shrug and follow Alana to the bathroom. She’s so gorgeous and as soon as she steps into the shower, with the hot water streaming down her tits, I can’t take it. I strip off my shirt and get in the shower with her, slamming her back against the wall.

  “Be rough with me, Jack.”

  I lift her leg and she struggles to maintain her balance in the slippery shower. I’m not gentle as I slip inside of her cunt, but she’s so wet that it wouldn’t matter. I get my hands under her ass and lift her so I can thrust deeply, and she wraps her legs tightly around my waist. I bite on her nipples and she cries my name, but the water drowns out the sounds. I am so angry with her for making me feel like this and I push her harder and harder against the wall of the shower. She bounces up and down on my cock and I explode inside of her in no time. Fuck. Why do I have no self-control?

  “I didn’t come,” she pouts. “Do it again.”

  “I fucking hate you right now.”

  “I don’t care. Do it again.”

  She grabs my cock and tugs on it, but I’m not in the mood. I’m ready to walk away when she says, “Come on, Jack. Get hard. Think about the strawberry princess and that tight little pussy. Think she’d even be able to fit you inside of her?”

  Fuck Alana. It works, because the simple thought of Strawberries naked under me, her pussy wet and hot while I slide in and out of it, makes me fucking wild. I yank Alana out of the shower, drag her back into the motel room, and push her down over the shitty table that probably no one has ever used.

  “Beg for my cock,” I command her. “You only get it if you fucking beg.”

  “Please, baby. Please give me that cock.”

  “No. Not good enough.”

  She looks at me over her shoulder. “Give it to me. Make me come. I want to come.”

  “No.”

  “Fuck you, Jack. You can’t resist me. As soon as you think about that little innocent cunt again, you’re going to lose it and fuck me hard over this table while you imagine doing it to her.”

  Oh, Christ. I grab a handful of Alana’s hair, pull her head back, and slam my cock into her.

  “You’re a bitch,” I tell her and it’s awful. I hate myself for saying it and I hate that she laughs and clenches her pussy around me when I do. I hate that the rougher I am with her, the more she groans in pleasure, and I hate that it makes me love it even more. Finally, I really hate the things I want to do to that sweet girl who can’t even imagine what I’m thinking when I look at her. I want inside that pussy so fucking bad it hurts. What the fuck is wrong with me?

  Alana comes and it’s intense. She screams so loud that I worry someone will call the cops, thinking I’m hurting her. It’s a shitty motel after all, and who knows what kind of shit they see here? Alana is near tears as I slap her ass hard and fuck her until she almost falls over. I pull out, drag her over to the bed, and get back inside of her to finish. She’s still shaking as I come and I let it squirt across her stomach.

  “Thanks, Jackie. You always know just what to do.”

  From behind me, Aaron coughs. Shit. That asshole is still here. I don’t say anything, but get dressed. I nod at Aaron and he follows me to the car. Alana looks at me, a little nervous, but I’m not going to leave her here for good.

  “I’ll be back in a bit.”

  I drive Aaron back to the bar so he can get his car. We don’t say a word to each other. I fucking hate the bastard. After I drop him off, I drive around for a bit. I love Alana, but she knows how to bring out the worst in me. Or maybe, there is nothing but the worst to bring out.

  Chapter 8

  My grandmother is so happy that I agreed to visit with my father on my way back to school that I almost feel okay with the decision. Until we reach the prison and the familiar sickness returns. I can’t turn around now and say I don’t want to go in, but the sky is steel grey and I wonder why it’s never sunny when I come here. Even the weather hates me.

  She has a hat on, because it’s a prison day, and I don’t have the heart to tell her that she tries to look nice for a group of lowlifes. I feel like somewhere in her head she convinces hersel
f that she looks like she’s going to church or something and that people will think that’s what she’s doing. She seems to believe that if other people assume she’s not the mother-in-law of a killer, then she’s not the mother-in-law of a killer.

  The security check is backed up today because some guy is arguing with the guard about his belt. They want him to leave it at the entrance, since it keeps setting off the metal detectors, but he’s apparently really attached to the stupid thing and doesn’t want to give it up. They argue back and forth and it’s the dumbest conversation I’ve ever heard. And I go to college with frat boys.

  “Buddy, you have to take off the belt and leave it, or you can’t get in. Unless you can pass through here without setting off the machines, you aren’t going to see anyone.”

  “You’re just trying to rob me. You’re all part of the system, man, and I ain’t giving you shit.”

  “You’ll get the thing back,” the guard tries to reason.

  “Fuck you. You’re just trying to keep me down.”

  The guard sighs. “Look, just put the belt right here on this shelf. I will personally watch over it and make sure it’s safe.”

  “Why should I trust you? You work for them.”

  “I do and I make less than twenty bucks an hour. I don’t care about your damn belt.”

  “More than I make. Think you’re so special, judging me, acting like you’re too good for something that belongs to me-”

  “Holy fuck, just give him the fucking belt,” I yell. The guard, the random dude, and my grandmother all turn to look at me. “What? This is fucking stupid.”

  The guy seems so taken aback that he quietly removes his belt and hands it to the guard. He goes through the metal detector, this time without setting anything off, and turns back to look at me. He shakes his head and mumbles to himself, “Crazy ass motherfucker.”

  The guard just stares at me. I walk through the machine and the thing goes insane. It’s my belt ironically. He raises an eyebrow and just holds out his hand.

  “I need you to leave your belt here.”

  I don’t care about the belt or this visit and the sooner we get in, the faster we leave. I hand him my belt and then my grandmother is through. The guard buzzes us into the next area, where a few more guards are sitting in a small office. I wait for them to lead us to the room where we’ll meet my dad. The metal table shines in the fluorescent light. If I stare at it long enough, maybe I’ll go blind.