Quills and Daggers - A Second Chance at Love Romance: The Collective - Season 1, Episode 5

by Chris Genovese

  Then they were gone and although I considered getting up and going after them, I couldn’t will myself to move from my stool. The note felt cool in my hand and I wondered if it were a sign, like a warning of the words scribbled into the loose leaf paper. When Reid went after her, I wondered if he knew my thoughts. Did he realize I’d just watched my girl walk out of my life forever? Hell, I hadn't even realized it at the time. A part of me thought she might have handed me a written apology for the way she’d acted at the hospital. No, the truth is, I saw in her face and in the way she left in a hurry that she had no intention of seeing me again.

  My head felt numb but my hands went back to work, turning on the machine, touching Ava’s arm gently as I reassured her I’d be done soon, and then finishing up her piece. I remember asking Reid about Valerie when he returned to the shop. He said something about knowing her in the past and although my words might have sounded like I was questioning him or was suspicious or was jealous…I wasn’t. I simply couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  The note practically burned a hole in my pocket, but I refused to read it until Reid and Ava had left and Kevin was in the other room with Chunk. I wanted to be alone. Here’s what the note said:

  Dear Ivory,

  I’m sorry to say this to you in a letter but I’m no good with words and the things I’m going to say here aren’t things a person should hear from another’s mouth. They’re going to be mean things. I know that it was your brother who hurt Davey and his friends. They may have done bad things and they may have hurt you, but nobody deserves to go through what they’re going through. Kevin, the monster that he is, will get away with what he’s done because even though Davey and his friends are cowards, they’re not rats. They won’t tell the cops. But there will be revenge one day. It’s what they do. Ivory, you’re a nice guy and truth be told, you’re a great fuck. But really that’s all you are. You’ve got a glorious cock and you know how to use it and I like to fuck. It’s my nature. You may think I fell hard but I didn’t. I don’t. You were much more into me than I was into you. You were just a fuck. Nothing more. I need more. I thought you might be the man to make me feel different, but you weren’t. My daughter means everything to me so for that reason, I’m going to leave and take her away from all the violence that’s already here and from the violence that’s sure to come. I’m sorry I’ve been so blunt in this letter and I’m sorry if I’ve hurt your feelings but I think you’ll be better off if you say to yourself, “Fuck that girl,” and forget about me.

  Take care of yourself, Ivory.

  P.S. I’ll leave the keys to your car with my roommate.

  Valerie

  That was the end of the note. My girl had walked out of my life and all I could think about was Nikki. You’d think I would have run out of the shop and raced over to Valerie’s house and begged her not to leave, but it was the exact opposite of that. In fact, I took my time cleaning up the shop, hoping that if I took longer than usual, the bitch might be long gone before I went to pick up my keys.

  The bitch. Yesterday I was practically declaring my love for this girl. What is this world coming to?

  She was a bitch though. I rarely use the word but how could she write that I was just a good fuck? How could she write that I didn’t make her feel different?

  She was a good actress. Damn, she was good.

  I did go get my keys that night and Valerie and her daughter were gone. Next on the agenda was a cold beer at Red’s. As soon as I walked in, he asked about Valerie. He said she showed up with a little girl in tow and dropped off her nametag. He found it amusing that she’d take the time to come all the way to the bar only to drop off a ninety-nine cent nametag.

  You were just a fuck. Nothing more. How can she be so fucking cold? Is it possible for a person to be so wishy washy? How could she be riding my dick one minute and then telling me to take a hike the next? All because Kevin beat up her ex?

  In the end, I decided she was like a bird and needed to be let go. If she came back to me, I’d need to pick up a stone and knock her stupid ass out of the sky. I don’t play games and I definitely don’t do second chances if a girl fucks me over.

  Did I want her to fuck me over?

  The question nagged at me and I had to wonder if I’d willed this to happen by constantly thinking about Nikki even though I was with Valerie. I’m not a cheater. I wouldn’t have screwed Valerie over for a chance at Nikki. That’s not my style. I fight hard and I love uncontrollably so when it comes to fighting for love, I’m usually all in, 12-rounds, double overtime if necessary. However, this time, my heart wasn’t in it. Valerie’s tail lights were already fleeing from my mind and Nikki was back at the forefront. I needed to see her.

  Chapter 9 - Nikki

  What have I done?

  Calling an old friend a serial killer is nothing like bitching about not being repaid for a debt or getting angry about a borrowed shirt that wasn’t returned. I’d labeled Kevin a murderer. Not only that. I’d screamed at him and fallen out of the bed to escape him. I’d delivered him to the cops, shouting that he was Hannibal fucking Lecter. Okay, he didn’t exactly eat people, but you know what I mean.

  I considered visiting the shop to see James. He’d left the hospital, vowing to see me later, but would he? Once he had time to think it over, would he still want to be around me? The girl who’d had his brother arrested? How long would Kevin be behind bars? More importantly, did he deserve to be there? I still thought he did and I wondered if this was what it felt like to be a member of a 12-person jury, sitting at a round table, deciding the fate of someone you’re so sure is a killer but you still have a slight doubt and know that you could be sending him away forever.

  As I sat in the tub, soaking my aching bones, I realized this wasn’t the first time I’d accused Kevin of something. The memory hit me hard and with it came tears.

  We lived with Mrs. Rebecca. Someone had taken an old rag doll I’d had since I was a young kid. It was always in my backpack. It was one of the few belongings that meant something to me and even as a teenager I cherished it immensely. This button eyed, springy haired, flowered dress wearing rag doll was the only thing I had left from a mom I know loved me with all of her heart. A mom I knew before the loss of my dad and all the drugs and abusive boyfriends. This was the mom I believed watched down on me from heaven. It had to be. It was her at her best. I talked to my doll sometimes, pretending she could hear me.

  One day, when I was feeling depressed because a neighborhood kid tried to get frisky with me and then called me a whore when I refused, I wanted to be alone and hold my doll and talk to my mom. But the doll was gone. It wasn’t in my backpack. I told Mrs. Rebecca and James and Kevin. Everyone said I must have misplaced it. I knew I hadn’t. I’d nearly given up, until I happened to search the boys’ bedroom. There, hidden under Kevin’s pillow was my doll. That wasn’t the worst part. Under the dress, right where the pussy should be, someone had ripped a gash in the cloth and had pulled the cotton insides out to resemble a white billowy bush.

  Kevin ended up on the receiving end of my outrage. I beat his chest with closed fists, screamed obscenities at him, and stormed out of the house. It wasn’t until I reached the backyard that I heard the laughing. Snickering really. There, crouched down and rubbing some of the cotton between two fingers was Mrs. Rebecca’s son, Neal. The prankster.

  “You are so fucking mad right now,” he said.

  I was confused at first. Then it hit me that he’d been the one to take my doll and rip it open. I charged at him and tackled him, pulling at his hair and slapping the shit out of him as I screamed. He laughed through the entire attack. When James reached me and pulled me off him, Neal finally got angry.

  “You can’t take a fucking joke?” he shouted. “Fucking maniac! My mom should get rid of all you crazy fuckers!”

  The bathtub water was piping hot and burned my skin as I soaked. I felt dirty and like I needed to be cleansed. Perhaps Neal was right. Maybe we were all
crazy. Kevin was a killer, James was an ex-con, and I was a whore.

  My mom should get rid of all you crazy fuckers.

  In the end, she did end up getting rid of all of us. Well, I left on my own accord and the boys were taken from her, but we all left. Memories were poison to me. Like a trapped bird in a cage, I tried to see through the bars but just beyond was a movie theater screen that replayed all my problems and mistakes. It was an endless loop of fuck-ups. I wondered if James felt the same. Did Kevin? Was Kevin behind real bars right now thinking about his mistakes?

  The doorbell shook me from my dream.

  “Just a second!” I yelled.

  Who the fuck is at my apartment at this time of night?

  Having already scrubbed myself down, I was able to step out and dry off quickly. With a towel wrapped around me and my hair a wet, stringy mess, I went to the door and peered through the peephole. James was there, one arm against the wall, leaning toward my door.

  Shit.

  “James?” I called out.

  “Nik, it’s me,” he said. “I kind of need a shoulder.”

  Only James could get me to open the door in a towel. As I did, he walked passed me, looking distraught, not even noticing that I was half naked.

  “I’m sorry for bothering you,” he said. “It’s been a hell of a day, as you already know.”

  “Did something else happen?”

  “Valerie left. Said I was a great fuck and just left,” he replied.

  Hearing that his girlfriend had left him should have made me feel bad, but I’d never liked the bitch in the first place. James deserved much better than her. He deserved much better than me. He deserved a good, clean, wholesome girl with manners in a crowd but with low morals in the bedroom. He deserved the best the world had to offer. And I wanted him badly.

  Finally, James realized I was in a towel. His eyes bugged out and his lips parted as if he was about to say something but no words came out.

  “I was in the tub,” I said. “Didn’t want to leave you waiting out there.”

  “Thank you,” he replied.

  “I should get dressed,” I said.

  “You should.”

  Neither of us moved for a moment. He’d looked at me so many times in the past, always with a bit of wonder and wanting, but this time it was so much more intense. It was like he was willing the towel to fall from my tits and crumple up on the floor at my feet.

  I liked the way his tattoos moved with every flex of his muscles and I wanted to see him with his shirt off and his jeans off and his cock out. The memory of Mrs. Rebecca trying to convince us to fuck played at the edge of my mind but I tucked it away quickly. James had a way of making me freak out lately and I didn’t want to spoil the moment this time.

  “Do you want a drink?” I asked, forgetting my decision to get dressed.

  “A drink?” he said. “I want the whole bottle.”

  I walked to the kitchen counter and retrieved a recently opened bottle of whiskey and a couple of plastic cups. I didn’t have any fancy tumblers or wine glasses. It wasn’t often I had company at my place. Usually, men invited me back to theirs.

  My living room was small with nothing but a couch so I invited James back to the bedroom. It wasn’t as sexy as it sounds. I honestly didn’t expect anything to happen. It just happened to be the most comfortable room and was the only room with a TV in case things got awkward. I knew I’d invite him to spend the night, but with James, that would probably involve actually sleeping. We’d had so many opportunities in the past to make the “magic” happen and it always ended up as little more than a failed card trick.

  This was probably the reason he didn’t flinch or even seem surprised when I sat down on the bed and patted my hand against the spot next to me. I leaned the bottle back against one of the pillows and handed him a cup. He kicked off his shoes and sat down next to me. My no-makeup and matted hair look couldn’t be called desirable but he’d seen me in every light.

  “So…she left you?” I asked. “Did you get into a fight or something?”

  “Not really a fight,” he said. “She slipped me a note that said I meant nothing to her.”

  How could a woman be so fucking stupid? Here she was with a great man who’d wanted nothing more than to spend time with her, and she had the fucking balls to say he meant nothing to her? I felt my blood boil. My hand made its way to his arm where I rested it and rubbed with a thumb.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Not really,” he said. “It’s been a wild day. Kevin’s back home. You should know that.”

  My heart skipped a beat. James definitely wasn’t leaving my house. He must have noticed my nervousness because he flipped my arm over and traced a finger up to my wrist before grabbing hold of my index finger and holding it gently. It was a cute move. Not sensual necessarily, but it let me know he cared. He was there for me.

  “Don’t worry,” he said.

  When I didn’t reply, he kept talking and I was grateful he was willing to fill the awkward silence.

  “I fucked up,” he said.

  “What did you do, James?” I asked, actually afraid of the declaration since it came right after he’d mentioned Kevin’s release.

  “I think I used Valerie,” he said.

  “Well, sounds like she used you too so I’d call you even.”

  As much as I loved James’s ability to open up to me, sometimes the candid words of a good friend can be annoying. I didn’t really want to hear him tell me how he’d used his ex for some pussy. I didn’t want to hear anything about his ex at all, but in order to be a good friend, I had to sit and listen.

  “That’s not what I mean,” he said. “I met her the same night you came into the shop. Remember?”

  Of course I did. Her wannabe thug boyfriend and his goons had tried to get drunken tattoos. I nodded to let him know I was following along and he could continue.

  “You’ve always had a way with me,” he said. “It’s like…”

  He suddenly slid his hand up and pinched the underside of my arm really hard.

  “Ouch, fucker,” I said unintentionally. “What was that for?”

  “It’s like that,” he said. “When I see you…this pain hits me. Sometimes it’s like a punch to my arm, sometimes it’s like a kick to the gut, and sometimes…sometimes it’s like I can’t fucking breathe. I’ve always thought it had something to do with the past. But I realized tonight, when Valerie left, that I’d had it all wrong. I used her to mask what I was feeling for you. Like as a way to take out my frustrations. It’s always you. Always. Even when I was with Megan and when I was locked up. It was always you.”

  My heart was racing and I felt my hand tremble around my cup. I raised it to my lips and downed what was left of my drink. The whiskey set my throat on fire. My hand found the bottle quickly and poured another drink. I downed that one too and poured more into James’s cup. All that time, not a single word was spoken between us. When I finally dared to look into his face, I found his eyes glued on mine.

  I wanted to say something, to at least meet him halfway and let him know that I felt the same, but my words never matched what was on my mind and I knew if I spoke I might fuck everything up and send him flying out my front door. That’s how it always went down.

  “I fucking love you, Nikki,” he said.

  Nobody had ever said those words to me before. I’d heard “love ya” and “I adore you” and “you are so fucking hot” and even “I want to be with you forever.” But nobody had ever told me they loved me. My towel nearly fell off by itself and I laughed as I rushed to fix it. James laughed too. Then his eyes went to the dresser where my little black case sat and I knew there’d be a shift in the mood. Surely he remembered that evening with Mrs. Rebecca too.

  “You remember,” I said.

  He nodded and let his eyes fall into his lap. He was as ashamed as I was.

  “Mrs. Rebecca was fucked up,” he added. “And it’s done some stuff to us. But…
but it doesn’t have to be that way.”

  “She was trying to help me,” I said, nearly choking on the words that sounded so strange coming from my own mouth.

  I’d never admitted that before. I’d tried to push the memory away for so long and now it seemed necessary to face it head on. It was clear from the look on James’s face that he didn’t understand what I meant.

  Is it possible he still doesn’t know what that night was about?

  He needed to see the case to understand. So I stood, picked it up off the dresser, and brought it to the bed. I opened it up and turned it so he could easily see inside. His brow furrowed and I could see it would take some explaining.

  “These are dilators,” I said. “You see, I have a condition. I guess that’s what you’d call it. It’s really called MRKH syndrome. I hate the word syndrome though. When I refer to it, which is rarely, I usually just say my condition or my situation. You don’t need all the specifics but remember when we were younger and I told you I’m different from most girls?”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “Umm…how do I say this…”

  I was shaking. I was fucking shaking. It wasn’t the first time I’d had to explain it but it was the first time I had to explain it to someone who’d been around me for so long and didn’t know. Usually I just went all medical and regurgitated information so I could say I hadn’t kept it a secret. Derek was the last guy I explained it to. He knew all about it and said he’d help me through it. I hadn’t been ready for his methods.

  “My…vagina wasn’t formed fully at birth,” I said.

  “You don’t have a…” James started to say before I interrupted him.

  “No, I do have one, it’s just not…deep enough I guess is the best way to explain it. It’s not fully formed to the point I can have regular sex. These dilators…”

  I picked up the smallest one which was about half the size of my thumb and looked similar to a glass dildo. I guess that’s the best way to describe it to anyone who hasn’t seen a dilator.