The Firsts Series Box Set

by M. J. Fields

  Just over two months, and I am happier than I have ever been. I called Shakeeka and voiced my concern because it will always worry me that I will someday act like her. I have been told that, if it hasn’t happened yet, it won’t. Still, worry sets in.

  There is so too much of my past I can’t remember. Shakeeka tells me it’s because I was young. And I am even more aware how lucky I am to have had Shakeeka in my life.

  I turn the handle and realize I left the door unlocked. I smile, knowing I feel safe here, far safer than I did in the city. But I also know it was somewhat irresponsible, so I make a mental note to double-check from now on.

  When I open the door to my apartment, I see Trucker sitting on the floor, surrounded by my drawings.

  I decide to turn right back around and run all the way to the city.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he asks without turning around.

  “Running away.” I drop my bag on the floor.

  He turns back and looks up at me. “Why?”

  I point to the floor. “Those are private.”

  “Yeah.” He chuckles, turning back around and grabbing something. “This one especially.” He stands up and turns, holding the picture I drew of him. Of the way he looked lying back in that chair, in that bathroom, the night in that hotel, after he shaved me, after I dropped to my knees because I needed him in my mouth again.

  His head is back, one hand rests on his forehead, and he is completely and totally naked. His cock lays against his waist, and every vein is etched out on that paper. Every bulging muscle, every inch of him is drawn on that paper.

  “This is your football, Ray. I mean, fuck, it’s so good.”

  I shrug. “That’s awfully conceited.”

  He smiles. “The others, too. The sunsets, the bridges, the little cartoon dog and his ball. That’s raw talent. That’s what people everywhere wish they had. I mean, there are dozens and dozens of these things. You’re an artist, Ray.”

  “I don’t know, Trucker. Maybe someday. But right now, I’m a bartender, whose job pays the bills I have to pay in order to find happiness in a place I knew it once.”

  He nods and smiles as he walks toward me. “But this is—”

  “Trucker.” I step back. “I need my job.”

  He looks shocked then shakes his head. “I know that, and it’s why I left.”

  I look away.

  “So, what? Now you don’t want me? I fucking knew something was going on with that Gary fuck. Just like I knew you were too fucking good to be true.” He tosses the picture to the floor. “Fuck this. I’m out.”

  I feel tears stinging my eyes as he walks past me and toward the door.

  “Have fun finding someone like me, Ray, or Keeka, or whoever the fuck you are, ’cause right now, I don’t even know you.”

  As the door slams, I walk over to where the floor is littered with artwork and squat down to pick them up.

  “One last thing,” I hear as he walks back into the apartment. “You want me to sign any of those? You want me to …?”

  His feet are in front of me, but I won’t look up. I don’t want him to see me cry.

  “I fucking won a game today and I couldn’t wait to see you, to talk to you.”

  Tears fall down my cheeks and onto my work. “You played really well, Trucker. You’re going to—”

  “Go pro? You bet your ass I am. You know why?”

  “Because you’re really good. Because you work really hard. Because it’s …” My voice sounds thick, and I feel my nose begin to run. “Excuse me.”

  I stand up and rush to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I grab toilet tissue and blow my nose, and when I look up in the mirror, he’s standing behind me.

  “I’m sorry?”

  I smile and nod. “Okay.”

  “That’s bullshit, Ray. It’s … truth.”

  I shake my head.

  “Yes, I call truth.”

  I blow my nose again, and then turn to face him. “I’ve told you so many times, Trucker. I just want to be happy. But maybe I failed to mention that, if I feel like I’m making you unhappy …” I shake my head. “It hurts me and—”

  “Not your fucking responsibility to make me happy.”

  “Trucker, I know that, and this thing …” I shake my head again. “I can’t.”

  “I’m fucking happy, Ray. I’m really fucking happy.”

  “I made a promise to myself that I would never allow myself to believe that I have to make someone else happy ever again. And when I met you, I promised you that I would never want you to be unhappy. Maybe I failed to verbalize it, but—”

  “Who fucked you up so badly that you can’t even handle a little fight, Ray?”

  “I need you to leave, okay?”

  “Who fucked you up, Ray? Your mom?”

  I close my eyes. “Please, Trucker, please just go.”

  Even though I want to push him away, I can’t, not when it feels so good to be held, wanted, touched.

  “How did she die?”

  I feel my body begin to tremble. Then I feel a tissue under my nose as he whispers, “How did she die?”

  I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Sometimes, the truth is better left unsaid.”

  “And sometimes it sets you free.” He grips the back of my head as he pulls me into him, kissing the top of my head. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  Tears fall in buckets, and he has to wipe my nose again.

  “This is so embarrassing, Trucker.” I take the tissue from him. “Please just be happy, okay?”

  “Not gonna be happy knowing I hurt you, made you cry. So, no, fuck that. I’m not going anywhere.”

  I look up at him and shake my head. “It cannot be that way.”

  “You’re crying, shaking, snotting—”

  I wipe my nose and glare at him.

  “And you’re pissed. And look at me. I was pissed earlier, and you want to say, go with the wind, Trucker. Be free and be happy. Well, fuck that. I’m sorry old six heads gives me the creeps when he’s checking you out. Sorry I didn’t know Lou had a creepy nephew.”

  “I consider him a friend!” I snap at him.

  “Well, he’s not.”

  “God, Trucker, just—”

  “I won’t kick his ass, but I won’t ever buy a man a drink when I wanna fuck what’s his. That’s fucked up, Ray.”

  “I’m not yours! You’re not mine!”

  “Sure as fuck we agreed upon that for the season.”

  “When it’s not fun, it’s done. We agreed upon that, too.”

  “God hates a quitter, Ray.” His tone is playful and …

  “Dammit, Trucker,” I say as he presses his lips against mine.

  “I’m sorry I don’t like him.”

  “You’re being … jealous.”

  “Not true.” He presses his lips harder against mine. “I didn’t want to beat up the frat hounds.”

  “We can’t be like that.”

  “I won’t be jealous, Ray.” He swoops me up in one arm and grabs the roll of toilet paper with his other hand. “But possessive? Protective? Can’t promise that.”

  Angry, I squirm to get out of his arms. “You’d be more convincing if your lips weren’t still planted on mine.”

  I pull them back off his. Then … Then my back hits the bed, and he comes down on top of me.

  “You’re drunk.” I push on him.

  “I’ve been elbowed by you before. You want me off, you give me more than that.”

  He grabs my face between his hands and uses his thumb to wipe away the remaining tears as he looks over my face like he’s trying to read me. “I, Trucker Cohen, do solemnly swear that when I come into the bar and see that less-than-average-looking offspring of the great Lou, I will sit in the corner and sulk by myself without calling him a dick to his face, yours, or Lou’s.”

  I close my eyes and let out the breath I had been holding.

  “I owned my shit, Ray. Now tell me what i
t is that’s stopping you from living your best life.”

  “I can’t.”

  “I’ll go first. I don’t trust women.”

  “You don’t say?” I huff.

  “My mother floats in and out of my father’s life when she’s not out fucking everyone else or fucked-up on drugs.”

  I open my eyes and look at him.

  “Embarrassing to have the town whore as a mom. More embarrassing to have a dad who keeps letting the bitch back in.”

  I close my eyes and whisper, “I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault. But it is your turn. Truth, Ray, it could set you free.”

  “I’m terrified I’m going to turn out like her, even though I know I’m not like her.”

  He strokes my cheek with his thumb, and I lean into his touch.

  “She was bipolar and manic depressant.”

  He kisses my nose. “You’re neither. Go on.”

  “That’s it.”

  “How did she die?”

  I open my eyes. “She took her own life.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “On my birthday.”

  His eyes widen then soften, looking at me with care and concern.

  “I know I’m not to blame. I know I’m not her. I know I will be fine when I can stop worrying that I’m going to hurt someone enough to be unhappy enough to—”

  “She tell you it was your fault she was—”

  “Crazy?” I shake my head no.

  “Good, ’cause it’s no more your fault that she was the way she was than it’s my fault that my folks are the way they are.”

  I finally put my hands on his hips and am given a look that melts my heart.

  “I don’t need you to make me happy, Ray. But fuck if I don’t love being around a woman”—he pauses and looks deeper in my eyes—“who is just as fucking real and honest as my best friend, who doesn’t want a fucking thing from me but to be with me, and who can play around between the sheets.”

  I nod.

  “And Ray, I wasn’t bullshitting you when I said you’ll never find someone like me.” He leans in and kisses my cheek, my forehead, and the top of my head before rolling off me and sitting up.

  I watch as he shakes his head, afraid of what will happen next, but I am content with the fact that, if this is it, he isn’t angry at me, and I haven’t ruined his dreams.

  Ruined his dreams …

  I close my eyes and feel an overwhelming amount of sadness creep in.

  “You really need to do something with this. They’re amazing.” He stands up and walks over to the pile before squatting down. “Especially this one.” He stands and turns, holding the one I drew of him naked.

  “Thanks,” I whisper, looking toward the door.

  “You want me to leave?”

  I shrug, and as I feel tears threaten again, I roll onto my front.

  “Tired?” he asks.

  “Been a long night.”

  I feel the bed dip, and then he rubs up and down my back slowly.

  I wake up to the smell of coffee and bacon, and I hear whistling.

  I sit up and turn toward the kitchenette, seeing Trucker standing at my tiny stove, wearing track pants, a tank top, a backward white hat on his head, and earbuds in his ears. He is swaying to the beat of whatever song is playing, his muscles bulging with every move he makes.

  He’s ridiculously handsome, stubborn, strong, and sweet. He’s also right; I will never find someone like him.

  He stops moving and turns around. “Hey, you’re awake!”

  His voice is loud, and his smile … nearly blinding.

  “You passed out last night,” he continues to yell. “I didn’t cop a feel or anything, but you do know we won yesterday afternoon and I was promised a blowjob.”

  “Oh, my God.” I cringe, wondering if anyone walking within a block of this building could have possibly missed what he just said.

  “Ray, about last night—”

  “Shhh …” I hold my finger over my lips.

  He cocks his head, and I would definitely be scratching behind his ear if I were closer.

  “A deal is a deal, Ray.”

  I cover my face and flop back on the bed.

  He laughs out loud as he pulls the tiny frying pan off the burner and walks over, sitting on the bed. “I could give you an apology licking.”

  I reach up and yank one of the earbuds out.

  “First …” When he finishes the word, he looks stunned, and then his lips turn up in the corner. “You don’t suppose Lou’s downstairs already, do you?”

  I cringe again. “I sure hope not.”

  “Because of what I said?” He rolls his eyes. “Please, you’re a grown-ass woman, paying grown-ass bills, and if he has an issue with you having company—”

  “I would prefer he think my company and I are playing cards or doing a puzzle.”

  He leans in and kisses me hard as he pushes his tongue into my mouth. I worry I have horrible morning breath, though, so I hesitate.

  He pulls back and looks at me. “So, we’re still fighting?”

  I cover my mouth. “Morning breath.” Then I crawl out of bed and hurry to the bathroom.

  He laughs. “My tongue has been inside your pussy, and I’m pretty sure I licked the back door a few times.”

  “Trucker …” I groan his name and poke my head out of the bathroom, “Shhh …” Then I shut the door and turn on the shower.

  I pull off the bra and toss it on the pile. I hate sleeping in my clothes. To me, it feels like I never even slept. Then I finish brushing my teeth and jump in the shower. Leaning back, I close my eyes and let the water soak my hair.

  “This looks interesting.”

  I open my eyes to see Trucker standing inside my tiny bathroom.

  He pulls his shirt over his head. “How are we both supposed to fit in that thing?”

  “What happened to you?” I ask, looking at the left side of his body that is covered in a deep purple bruise.

  “It’s part of the game,” he replies, looking at my tits. “God, you’re beautiful.”

  He pulls his pants and boxers down in one move and steps out of them. His thick cock hangs between his legs, and it starts to grow even denser.

  I see the bruise on his hip.

  “Who did this to you?” I ask as he steps into the shower that is clearly not made for two people.

  “Why? You wanna go beat them up?” he asks, pushing his fingers through the top of my hair to the ends. Then he grabs my shampoo and squirts some onto his hand.

  He lifts my chin, and I nod.

  “So, if someone hurts me, or you thought someone would hurt me, you’d turn into a little badass to protect me?”

  “Yes, I would.” I close my eyes when he rubs his fingertips into my flesh.

  “That’s a bit possessive, Ray.” His tone carries a smile.

  “Protective,” I correct, reaching for the body wash.

  “I see.”

  I don’t have to open my eyes to know he’s smiling.

  “It’s not the same,” I tell him.

  “I don’t want another night of lying next to you while you toss and turn and I don’t know what you’re thinking, Ray, so I won’t fight with you. But I will ask that you watch yourself around that man. And please, don’t be around him alone.”

  I reach between his legs and grip him hard. He groans.

  “I won’t, but you have to trust me outside of the bedroom. Or in this case, bathroom.”

  “I trust you, baby.” He thrusts into my hand.

  “If we fight again …” I warn.

  “Then we’ll make up just like this.”

  I let go of his cock to grab his balls and squeeze.

  “Easy, Ray.”

  “I won’t fight with you again. It hurts, Trucker. It really hurts.”

  He crashes his mouth down on mine and tangles his hand in my hair as he pulls it back and kisses down my neck to my chest. Then he releases my hair and cups
both breasts firmly before taking one and sucking hard, then the other. He kisses back up my neck, to my mouth, and whispers, “This is gonna feel really fucking good.”

  He spreads me with his finger, and I moan.

  “I’m gonna fuck you with my fingers, Ray. You ready for that?”

  “Yes,” I whimper as one finger pushes inside me, and then another.

  “Your pussy is so tight. I’m gonna have to use a fucking tanker of lube to get my cock inside you.”

  “Or your mouth,” I pant out.

  “You’re going to like the fingers, Ray; trust me.”

  He’s right, so right. Why we have never done this before is beyond me.

  I reach between us and grab his cock, stroking it to the same rhythm as he fucks me with his fingers.

  He reaches behind me and turns off the water that was turning cold, and then we both jump back as we hear loud beeps echoing throughout the apartment and, “What in the hell is going on in here?”

  “Is that …?” I cover my mouth.

  “You better go out there; your boss is here.” His eyes twinkle with amusement.

  “No way.”

  “Keeka, what the hell are you doing? Trying to burn the place down?” Lou yells.

  “Go.” I push Trucker.

  “Me? Won’t that fuck up the dirty little secret?”

  “He knows, Trucker.”

  He smirks. “You told him about me?”

  “No, you did, you … you … Neanderthal. Last night when you were all—”

  I stop when he plants one on me.

  “Stay put. I got this.”

  He grabs a towel and attempts to cover up with it. “Look like fucking Tarzan,” he grumbles.

  I cover my mouth to stifle my laugh.

  “You won’t be laughing when poor old Lou goes into a deep depression when he realizes that thing him and all the other men in the world call a dick is just a thumb without a nail.”

  “Oh, my God, shut up,” I whisper.

  “Can you imagine, Ray? Poor bastards.”

  “Smart-ass,” I say as I kick him in the butt.

  “On second thought, how about you go deal with your boss?”

  “Please?” I bat my eyelashes.

  “You win.”

  I pull the shower curtain closed as he opens the door.

  “What in the hell are …?” Lou stops.