by K. B. Nelson
“Are you kidding me?” I shriek. “You destroyed my life.”
“Oh calm down, Scarlett O’hara.”
“Do you even know who that is?”
“Gone With The Wind is my favorite movie.”
“Your favorite movie is Nailin’ Pailin.”
“Well, that’s a comedy.”
“It’s porn, Brick.”
“Funny porn.”
I’m hit with mental whiplash, and my head shakes sideways in physical response. “Why am I standing here?”
“Because I’m irresistible,” he says as he plasters a wide grin on his face and pivots on his foot. He thinks he’s cute. He knows he’s cute, but unfortunately, I’m not falling for his shit. Not anymore.
“You’re toxic. You’re poison. You’re the anthrax in my mailbox, catching me by surprise on some idle Tuesday.”
“It’s Wednesday.”
“Fuck off, Brick.”
“Damn, girl.” He perks up and nods with a bite of his lip. “I miss that fire.”
“Can you go back to getting your ass kicked so this night won’t be a complete waste?” Too bad I missed the show. I would have paid Barbara Streisand bucks to see that.
He tilts his head and paws at me, but I flinch away from his touch. “If you come back to my place, I’ll let you do whatever you want to my ass. You can kick it, bite it, lick it…” He smirks wildly. “I haven’t had a rim job in years.”
“You disgust me.”
“That’s not disgust on your face.” He wags a finger at my face, measuring me. “That’s admiration or intrigue or lust. It’s anything but disgust.”
Great, now he’s a poet. “Stop pretending like you know me.”
“Oh princess, I know you more than you know yourself.”
“Jensen said the same thing,” I say as soft as a whisper, because I didn’t mean to say it out loud.
“Really now? What does he know exactly?” He inches toward me with purpose, and intrigue etched into his soul-devouring eyes. “Does he know your father was abusive?” He gets closer so his shadow from the streetlight above casts a cloud over me. “Does he know you tried anal twice, and both times were with me?”
I push my hand against his chest with force. “Stay away from me,” I seethe through my teeth.
“I’ll oblige baby girl, but only because it’s you with the addiction. You can’t stay away from me.”
“Watch me.” No longer in the mood to drink, I turn and march away.
“You won’t stay away,” he calls out from behind me, but I pay him no attention. “I might be poison, but you’re the addict.”
I shake my head gently, wishing he were wrong.
He’s not.
* * *
The mattress sinks as I sit down on the bed and kick off my shoes. I lean my head back and exhale quietly, trying not to awake Jensen with my frustration. We need to have a talk in the morning and I’m not looking forward to it.
Too late.
I feel Jensen shift behind me as his arm wraps around my waist. “Where did you go?”
“We need to talk,” I say, betraying my own desire to postpone this inevitable conversation.
He sets up behind me with his bare chest pressed against my back. “About what?”
“We’re not breaking up,” I say and stand, leaving him deserted in the bed. “But I can’t have you here.”
“I won’t pretend to understand, or be happy about it, but—“
I turn to him. “But you don’t have a choice.”
“That’s exactly what I was going to say,” his voice is thin and drowsy. His eyes are barely open, and he still has an innate and out-of-this-world ability to reason. He reaches out for me and takes my hands into his palms.
I sigh and shake my head. “I need to understand who I am, and a big part of who I am is Brick. I don’t like it any more than you do, but I think he’s the key to figuring this shit out.”
He looks downward at the bed, averting his eyes. “I’m terrified I’m going to lose you.”
I drop down beside him and cradle my head against his shoulder. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away from you.”
“I think you’re going to owe someone royalties for saying that.” He jokes, lightening the mood. “But could they?”
“Could who what?”
“Could he drag you away from me?”
“Brick is a piece of shit,” I grumble. “If you’re worried that I’m in love with him, then you’re causing yourself unnecessary stress.”
“That’s more relieving to hear you say than Preparation H is on a hemorrhoid.”
“But—“ I pull away from him, not knowing how he’s going to take the final part of my decision.
“Please, don’t let there be buts.”
“When I’m out there figuring out who the hell I am… If I don’t like what I see, then I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay with you.” My conscience wouldn’t allow it.
“You’re going to find a strong, confident, beautiful, fucking amazing girl.” He pulls me back into his embrace, and this time lays his head against mine. “I’m not concerned about that.”
“You’re too trusting.”
“I know you better than you know yourself.”
“Yeah, you’ve said that before.”
“I’ll give you the space you need, but promise me you won’t let him inside your head.” He shifts his head, cradling himself deeper against me, and I can feel the sorrow in his aurora. He’s scared he’s going to lose me, but he’s not equipped to say it.
“I promise.”
“Do I need to break out Webster’s Dictionary, so I’m certain we’re on the same page?”
“I think I got the definition nailed down.”
“That’s probably because you weren’t distracted by sleeping with your English professor.” He laughs, and attempts to pull me closer, but I pull away, preparing myself to be independent from him during the trials and tribulations ahead.
“In all fairness, they’ve all been women.”
“What happens in college stays in college.”
“You should put that on a tee shirt.” I nod and smile. “You’d be rich.”
“I am in need of a job. Thanks to you.”
“Shut up.”
“Gladly.” He leans forward and presses his lips against mine. It’s a short, but passionate kiss. “Can I stay here for the night, at least?”
“Sure thing.”
“I love you.”
“I love you,” my voice is low, almost unsure if I believe it. It’s hard for me to say those words with certainty, when I know my love is contingent on whether I love myself. More than that, it’s contingent on if I can forgive myself. If I were a betting woman, I wouldn’t bet on this turning out any other way than screwed up.
Karma’s a bitch, and so am I. And you know what they say about two forces colliding…
8
Brick
She starts on me before she’s even shut the door. “If your clothes come off again, we’re done.”
“Oh, please.” I take a seat in my designated chair and cross one leg over the other.
“I mean it,” she scolds me and spins the lock on the door.
“You’re going to stand there, and tell me you felt nothing the other day?”
“I felt contempt.” She drops into the chair parallel to me. “I resent that you thought—“
I chuckle, interrupting her with my hysterics. “You don’t know what I thought.”
“You thought I was one of your girls. You thought you could get me to do whatever it was that you wanted.”
“Can I call you Miss. Collins?”
“That’s what you should be calling me in the first place.”
“Touché.” I purse my lips and think about my next move. “I came here today because I wanted to actually open up.”
“We’re making progress then.” She focuses her eyes on me, and suddenly I’m hit with a terrifying episod
e of stage fright.
Nah, today isn’t the day to talk about my feelings. “There’s this girl—“
“Apple Malloy.”
“How did you—“
“You told her about me the other day.”
I shake my head. “No, I didn’t.”
“How else would I know about her?” She uncrosses her legs and swipes a yellow notepad off her desk. “It was one of the few times you opened up to me.”
I still don’t remember saying it, but she has a point. I tune out anything and everything I don’t want to hear. Within my own conscience, I’m able to accept the truth that I do love Apple. When I say it out loud, it’s as if my tongue is betraying me.
She clicks her fancy silver pen and scribbles notes onto the blank pad.
“What are you writing?”
“My thoughts.”
“Funny…” I smirk. “I thought this was about me.”
“It’s all about you, but trying to figure you out is giving me a headache. I need to write down my thoughts.”
“That’s not a very doctory thing to say,” I point out with a nod of my head.
“I’m not your typical doctor.” She lays the pad down onto her desk and crosses her legs again—back to business. “Now, what about this girl?”
“Right.” I trace my thumb to my lip. “I think I love her.”
“Wow.”
“I know, right?” I laugh and shift in my seat. “Brick Valmont has the ability to love. Who would’ve thought it?”
“We all have potential to overcome any obstacles in our way.”
“Getting this girl is like climbing Mount Everest.”
“People do it all the time.”
“Some people die trying.”
“Are you saying this girl’s dangerous?”
“I’m saying she’s next to impossible.”
“In what respect?”
“Hard to please. Hard to keep. She’s a fucking hard shell to crack.”
She leans forward with intent, her golden necklace drooping from her neck. “Have you considered she doesn’t feel the same way about you?”
“Don’t be an idiot.”
“I’m just trying to understand.”
“Here’s the thing, you don’t need to understand.” I sit up straight in the chair, slowly piecing together my confidence and composure. “I got it all figured out.”
“But you said she was impossible?’
“Next to impossible.” I shake my head. “Pay attention, Miss Collins.”
“I’m listening.”
“The problem I’m having is she believes she’s in love with someone else. She believes she’s a better person than she used to be. You see, she’s a lot like me. We take pleasure in destroying those around us.”
“Well…” She chuckles lightly, showing a lighter side of her personality for once. “I offer two-for-one sessions.”
“That won’t be necessary, because I like her just the way she is.”
“You’re wasting my time, then.”
She’s catching on.
“Just hear me out,” I snap. She sits back down and checks her watch as she huffs. “Apple only believes she’s changed because she has this shiny new toy—Jensen Moon. So, I need to remind her of one very important thing.”
“Which is?”
“That Brick fucking Valmont will always be the king. I will lure Apple into a trap, into one of my games. When I emerge the victor, she’ll be reminded I’m her better half. She completes me, and I sure as fuck complete her.” I take a deep breath before standing, proud of myself and primed with motivation. “To sum things up, I came here today to inform you I have no intentions of changing.” She shakes her head in disbelief as I approach the door and throw my hand around the knob. “I am who I am, but today I must be a superior version of who I am. Today is the first day of the rest of my life, and when I’m done, the girl will be mine.”
“If you walk out that door, we’re done,” she snaps.
“No, we’re not.” I smile wickedly and shake my head. “But it’s cute that you think that.”
9
Brick
Naturally, I’m a jeans kind of guy. I love my jeans. They’re comfortable and fit all occasions. Today, I’m questioning my decision to wear jeans and a basic tee. I’m worried that I need to impress Tyra. Usually, I’m impressive on my own without much thought required. I’m a natural-born chick magnet, but Tyra isn’t like all the other chicks.
It’s a cool end-of-summer day and I’m parked in a woven chair seated on the patio of a NODA restaurant. In front of me is a glass of ice-cold water, but with each sip, it only enriches my thirst for a real drink. I check the gold-plated watch on my wrist. Tyra is running ten minutes late. Little miss perfect isn’t so perfect after all.
I wave at the server as he passes, and order a quick round of tequila. He’s quick to serve me, sliding a shot glass on the table atop a napkin with a lemon on the side. I scan my eyes around the streets, making a quick check to ensure she’s not coming. When I’m certain I’m free and clear, I shoot the shot and place the lemon in my mouth. A familiar burn gushes down my throat and I savor every second of it.
“You’re drinking?” Tyra says from above me, and I flash my eyes open. I’ve been caught. “Before noon?”
“Yeah…” I stutter. “I’m an alcoholic.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” She groans and takes a seat across from me. “Why am I here?”
“Are you always this straight to business?”
“I’m a busy woman.” She slides her finger across her phone, checking the time. “I took an early lunch, so please make this worth my time.”
“You’re a lawyer—“
“Not for another six years.”
“Well…” I shrug. “You know what I mean.” I tap my fingers on the glass table, and notice she’s aware of everything I do. Her eyes trail to my hand. I’ve seen her behavior before. She keeps a constant eye on me, because she doesn’t trust me. This is going to be my greatest conquest yet. “I wanted to get your opinion on some legal matters.”
“I’m not sure I’m suited to be handing out legal advice.”
“Everything is off the record.”
“So you’re not recording me?”
I shake my head and flinch back. “Record you?”
“I’ve heard you like recording people.”
“Yeah,” I stutter. “But only when they’re naked.” She shakes her head in disdain, and I know I need to correct course immediately. “The point is I’m not recording you, because you’re not naked.” Those words don’t seem to comfort her as her eyes laser in on me. “Did I mention I’m an alcoholic?”
“We have that base covered.”
“Can we get back to the issue at hand?” I don’t wait for a verbal confirmation. A simple nod is sufficient. “I kind of got my ass kicked at a bar.”
“Who do I need to send a congratulations card to?”
I’d admire her humor if we were into each other, but the contempt in her words is going to be a huge roadblock to success. I should have known better. The last time I tried to woo her, it took far too long just to get her to agree to come to my apartment. It was under the guise that I needed a tutor—which I did. Unfortunately, right before I was about to make my first real move, Apple stormed the castle and scared poor, innocent Tyra off.
“Do I have a course of legal action?”
She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Did you provoke the fight?”
“Obviously.”
“How?”
“I told this guy his girlfriend’s pussy tasted like a sour warhead.”
Her eyes roll to the top of her head and she throws her hand up, stop. “That’s a form of sexual assault.”
“Oh, it is not.”
“You think you’ve got the whole world figured out.”
I silence her with a pointer finger. “For the most part, I do. But when it comes to legal matters, I need a lit
tle bit of a push.”
“You could try and press charges, although I don’t think it would do much good.”
“Why not?”
“Because you deserved to get your ass kicked.” She runs her thin, fragile fingers through her blonde hair.
“Your hair is beautiful.” It’s a statement, but it also serves its purpose. The art of flattery does wonders for the female ego.
“I’d take that as the compliment I know it is, but I’m sure there are strings attached.”
“The only strings—“ I stop myself. “I was going to say something witty, but forgot what I was going to say.”
“You don’t know how relieving that is to hear.” She plants a fake smirk across her lips, and I don’t see this conversation going anywhere.
“You really need to lighten up.”
“Do you know how insulting that is?”
Now, it’s my turn to groan. “What the hell did I do now?”
“You’re an asshole, Brick.”
I lean across the table and whisper, “Do your parents know you have such a filthy mouth?”
“I think we’re done here.” She rises from her seat and slings her purse over her shoulder. “Thanks for wasting my time.”
“Wait a minute,” I shriek. “You mean you’re not going home with me?”
“What’s your problem?”
“I’ve drank too much today.” That’s a lie. I’ve had one shot, but I’m going to take this opportunity to plant the seed that’s going to grow into me mounting her in my bed, taking her virginity while she’s on all fours, and staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows of my condo. “It’s an every day kind of thing.”
She digs into her purse and hands me a card.
“What’s this?” I ask, before noticing the text on the card. “Oh.”
“Alcoholics anonymous.” She readjusts her purse against her pure-white sweater. “Unfortunately, there’s no such thing as assholes anonymous.”
“Yeah, but what would they call that? I mean AA is already taken.”
