by B. B. Hamel
“I’m not your problem.”
“Yes, you are.” I clench my jaw. “Don’t you see? You know too much.”
“So leave me, drop me off somewhere, and run away.”
I let out a snort. “You’d last two minutes.”
“I’d last longer than you think.”
“Do you really want to end up dead, especially now? After going through all that to get clean?”
She looks genuinely surprised. “I don’t want to end up dead at all,” she says softly.
“Good. Listen to me, stop fucking around, and do what you’re told. Okay?”
She just glares at me in response.
“Okay,” I say more softly this time. “You need to shower, and when you’re done, we can talk about… I don’t know. Whatever we’re going to do.”
She shrugs and throws the blankets off her. She’s wearing just the t-shirt she had on under her hoodie and her boy short panties. They make her ass look fantastic, a fact that I haven’t been able to stop obsessing over in my mind these past few days. She’s going through withdrawal and you’re thinking about how fucking nice her ass would look wrapped around your cock, you sick freak. God damn, what’s wrong with me?
She heads into the bathroom, shuts the door, and locks it. I hear the shower come on as I lean back in my chair and sigh.
I don’t know why I’m being such a hardass. She’s had more than a few chances to run away, but she hasn’t. That should be proof enough that she’s not going to fuck me over, but I can’t be sure, not yet anyway. She’s still getting over her symptoms, and until she’s totally clear and proves that she’s not a flight risk, I have to keep a close eye on her.
If she runs, gets caught, and tells them where I am, we’re both dead. And I don’t feel like ending up like that fucking dick back on the beach.
Still, I don’t need to be such a bastard to her. I hate myself for it. I just don’t know any other way. I’ve been a dick my whole life, and apparently that’s not changing anytime soon. Shove me into an unknown situation with an unknown girl, and mix in some murder, and I guess I’m not being my best self.
Fucking hell. When did I start to worry about my “best self?” Ever since I decided to turn a new leaf and leave behind my bullshit violent past, I’ve been such a goddamn baby.
Weakness or not, I know I can’t keep pushing Kay too hard. She just went through withdrawal, for fuck’s sake. And that boyfriend of hers, although he seems like he was a real fucking scumbag, was murdered right in front of her. Add in a little kidnapping, and yeah, I can see how this isn’t the greatest situation for her either. She never asked for any of this, just like I didn’t.
I sigh and stretch. I can see why Kay’s boyfriend was set up in all this. He owed someone money, and that person clearly wanted him to go down for it, maybe to send a little message. What I don’t get is why I was involved in any of that at all.
I’ve been racking my brain these last few days, trying to figure it out, and I’m not much further along than when I started. I’ve been keeping my head down for a while now, not rocking the boat or fucking with anyone, basically living like a saint as far as I go. I don’t owe anyone money, and nobody owes me any money either, so it can’t be about that. I haven’t broken any hearts lately, or at least any hearts that would be willing to try and get me murdered for it.
Which leaves me with only a few options, and one name at the very top of the list. There’s only one person I know with the power to make something like this happen and the ruthlessness to actually go through with it. I haven’t dealt with him in a long time, and I hoped I would never have to see him again. I’m still hoping, but the more I think about it, the more I’m afraid Hunter Oakes is behind all of this.
I stand up with a sigh. I’m exhausted from taking care of her night and day but I know I can’t keep pushing her or else it’ll just be harder for both of us. She’s clearly not the type of girl to let me shove her around without a fight, at least without drugs involved. Now that she’s clean, I suspect she’s going to be even harder to keep under control.
I might as well make nice. I listen to the shower running for a few more minutes, trying not to picture what she looks like in there, completely naked, water streaming down her perfectly smooth skin in rivulets. The shower turns off after another minute, and I slowly stand up, knees creaking with the effort.
I walk across the room, eyes on the floor. I raise my fist to knock just as the knob turns and the door swings open.
Kay blinks out at me and I slowly let my fist drop. She’s wearing just a towel, her hair slicked back, her big eyes blinking out shower water.
“Uh, hey,” she says.
“Hey,” I say back.
“I’m done in there.”
“Good. I see that.”
“Yeah.” She looks at me for another second. I can’t help but let my eyes roam down along her body, lingering along those beautiful breasts. I want to tear that towel away, but not yet, I can’t let myself lose control just yet.
“I wanted to apologize,” I say softly.
“Apologize?” She seems surprised. “You don’t seem like the type to say sorry.”
“Not saying sorry, just apologizing.”
She grins a little bit. “What’s the difference?”
“One word.” I grin back and lean closer to her. “Anyway, I’ve been hard on you. I’ll try not to be in the future.”
“Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”
She’s looking up at me with these big, beautiful eyes and her fuckable little lips are full and parted, her pink tongue lingering on her bottom teeth, and I can’t help myself.
I don’t pull her towel off, but I do something stupider. I run my hand through her wet hair, making her groan and tip her head to the side as I push her against the doorjamb and kiss her.
We linger there, suspended in the moment. She’s kissing me back, one hand drifting to my chest. She lets out this fucking sexy as hell little mewl, more like a moan, right into my mouth. It makes my blood pump harder, right into my ears, as her other hand releases her towel and drifts up to my shoulder.
As she touches my arm, her towel drops. It’s like slow motion. I feel it slip between us and fall to the floor with a soft plop. She freezes mid-kiss and suddenly pulls away, dropping down to the floor, curling up in a ball.
I step away, blinking. She’s blushing like mad and wrapping the towel around herself again. I get a glimpse of full, perky breasts, and hard, pink nipples.
“Sorry,” she says. “I mean, uh, I didn’t mean to drop that.” She gets the towel situated and stands again.
“It’s okay. I didn’t mind.”
She’s still blushing, and I can hardly believe it. This is a fucking hardcore heroin addict, for fuck’s sake, and she’s acting like a goddamn virgin or something.
“I should dry off,” she says quickly, stepping back into the bathroom.
“Sure, you do that.”
She slams the door and I turn back to the bed, grinning madly to myself, my cock hard and my blood up.
6
Kaylee
I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
I still feel lightheaded and a little crappy from the withdrawal symptoms, and I’m definitely not in my right mind. That must be why I kissed Julian like that. Or why I let him kiss me, and dropped my towel like a moron. I saw the way he looked at my body, all longing and starving hunger, and it made me so excited I could barely stand there in front of him. I wanted to open my towel again and let him look at me, let him bask in my naked body. I wanted him to beg for me.
I’ve had sex before. I used to sleep with Leo sometimes, although it was mostly unfeeling, uncaring, bored. Before him, guys used to try and fuck me all the time, and more than once I’ve had to fight them off, very literally. All these years though, I’ve managed to only sleep with one guy other than Leo, this asshole from the anarchist collective back when I was still young and impressionable.
I regretted
that. They never took me seriously after I let him sleep with me. He told all his stupid Mohawked friends and all the other morons could do was beg me to show them my boobs. It was demeaning and disgusting and I mostly just told them to fuck off. They never treated me like an equal though, not really. Some of them pretended, but it was never real or enough.
So I learned better. I learned not to fuck guys, because having sex with a guy can give them your power. I was taken more seriously once I decided not to give myself to just anyone, and I went a long time without sex until I ended up with Leo.
There’s something different about Julian. I can’t describe it, exactly. It’s like he was built to fuck me, like every inch of him was designed exactly to make me stupid with excitement. From his intense eyes, his handsome face, his muscular arms, his lean abs, every single angle and curve of his form makes me want to strip down and let his hands roam my skin.
It’s stupid, I know. Maybe it’s just my body awakening again to desire after suppressing it so long with heroin, I don’t know. I’ve heard sex doesn’t feel as good when you’re an addict, and I believe that. I’m already starting to experience the world all over again, even if I do feel like I might crumble to pieces at any second.
Just one simple kiss, and he pushed me over the edge. I have to sit in the bathroom and get myself together for a few minutes before finally emerging. I make sure to get dressed completely this time, pulling on an old Ninja Turtles t-shirt, shorts, and zip-up sweatshirt that Julian left for me so there’s no towel mishap. I don’t know where the clothes came from, but I don’t bother asking. He’s sitting at the table, watching me with those pretty eyes of his.
“You hungry?” he asks.
I shrug. “I guess.”
“Come on.” He stands up.
“Where are we going?”
“Grab some food and eat a little bit. We have a lot to talk about still.”
I hesitate a second. “You’re going to let me leave with you?”
“As long as you don’t go running around screaming like a moron, can’t see the hurt.”
“Okay.” I don’t know why I feel so chipper. I’m wearing someone else’s clothes in a dirty hotel room, but I’m going outside with my kidnapper. What an exciting day.
“Come on. Don’t wander off. Don’t make me come looking for you.”
I nod and slip my sneakers on before following him out the door. He takes me to this little diner place across the street where he lets me order whatever I want. He pays in cash and we carry the Styrofoam takeout boxes across the paved boardwalk and down onto the beach.
We’re pretty lucky. It’s a little cloudy, but there’s no wind and not many people other than us. We sit down farther away from the ocean than everyone else, sitting back toward the dunes.
He opens his container and picks at his food while I dig in. It’s the best thing I’ve ever had in my whole life. Fried, greasy potatoes, two strips of bacon, and fluffy golden eggs. Exactly what I needed.
“You were hungry,” he notes after letting me pig out in silence for like ten minutes.
“I feel like I haven’t eaten in a year,” I say between bites.
“Well, more like a few days, but yeah. Can’t blame you.”
I nod and swallow. “I guess I should say thanks.”
“You don’t have to.”
I shrug a little. “Thanks anyway. I never planned on getting off the stuff. Figured I’d die on it eventually.”
He grunts a little bit. “Why?” he asks softly.
“It was better than the alternative.”
“Your parents.”
I give him a look that means he should quit while he’s ahead, and he just shrugs a little.
I turn back to my food and find the box empty a minute later. Every scrap is gone. I don’t think I’ve eaten that much food in one sitting in a long time, but it was absolutely delicious. I tuck the box in the sand next to my thigh and lean back, fingers curling down, looking out over the ocean.
“I like this,” he says softly. “Always did.”
“What?” I ask.
“The ocean. Just sitting there, staring at it.”
“Is that why you came here?”
He nods once. “Wanted to make a new life for myself. Figured the beach was as good a place as any.”
“Why Avalon, exactly?”
He laughs a little bit. “It’s stupid. I don’t want to tell you.”
“No, come on. You gotta. You already know a lot about me.”
He hesitates a second. “True,” he says finally. “Avalon is the name of the island where King Arthur’s sword Excalibur was forged. It’s like, the island of fruit, and it’s supposed to be this peaceful and heavenly place. It’s where Arthur later goes to die from his wounds from fighting a battle against Mordred, although some people say he never died, and he’ll be back one day to lead the people again.”
“I didn’t know that,” I say softly. “I thought it was just a Roxy Music album.”
He laughs, nodding. “It’s that, too.”
“You’re into the King Arthur stuff?”
“I guess.” He shrugs. “There was this picture book in the library where I grew up. I used to sneak in there and read it, over and over. I don’t know why. I guess I liked the story, and thought maybe, if I could find my own sword in the stone…” He trails off and stretches his legs out. “Anyway, when I decided to go off on my own, I grabbed a map, saw this place was called Avalon, and never looked back.”
“Huh,” she says softly. “That’s a better reason than me.”
“Yeah, well, most things are better than ‘I came here to rob people,’” he says, grinning at me.
I laugh a little bit. “I did a lot of fucked-up stuff, huh?”
“Not so bad,” he says. “Nothing you can’t come back from.”
I watch him closely for a second. “What have you done that you can’t come back from?”
He looks a little startled, but shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says. “I’ve fought, hurt people, done things I’m not proud of, but nothing I can’t come back from.”
“Good,” I say, laughing a little bit. “You know, I don’t think you ever told me what you were doing out there that night.”
He grunts softly. “I was there to get in a fight.”
“With who?”
“Not sure.” He runs sand through his fingers, lifting it up and letting it drop back down. “I used to street fight, it’s how I paid my bills for a long time.”
“Street fight?”
“Yeah, you ever see those videos online of two guys squaring up and beating the fuck out of each other right in the middle of the street?”
“Sure,” I say. “I mean, everyone’s seen them.”
“That’s me. I’ve been in a ton of them, some of them got really popular.”
“You mean, like you fight random people?”
“Nah,” he says, shaking his head. “They’re staged, made to look spontaneous. I used to fight other guys and we’d both get paid in the end.”
“You’re kidding me. Is anything real these days?”
He grins at me. “That’s what you take away from that?”
“Sure. I mean, you’re basically just an MMA fighter.”
“In MMA, there’s a ref. There wasn’t a ref when I was fighting.”
“Were you any good?”
“The best.” He grins at me. “And not modest about it.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course. Big man with big muscles can’t ever lose, right?”
“Right.” He nudges me with his shoulder. “I’ve done some things too, you know. I quit for a while though, been trying to get my life together.” He laughs a little bit, shaking his head. “I was working as a lifeguard, just up the beach. Can you imagine that?”
“No,” I say honestly. “How far up the beach?”
“Don’t worry. Closer to where we were the other night.” He sighs, fidgeting with the sand again. “That night was
going to be my last, just one final fight as a favor to a friend. But we were set up.”
I feel a thrill run down my spine. “We were set up,” I echo.
“I know why you guys were,” he continues. “You owed someone money. But me? I don’t really know.” He looks at me, eyes meeting mine. “What’s his name?”
“What?” I blink, but I know what he’s asking. I’ve known it this whole time.
Julian leans closer to me. “The man Leo owed money. What’s his name?”
It comes out of me like a ghost. “Hunter.”
Julian doesn’t react. He just pulls back into himself, nodding slightly. We sit in silence for a bit longer as he stares out at the water. Finally, he hops to his feet and offers me his hand.
“Come on, we should go back,” he says.
“Going to spend the day hiding in that room again?”
“Sure. It’ll be better, since you won’t be puking the whole time.”
I give him a look, take his hand, and get to my feet. “You love it when I puke. It’s dainty and ladylike.”
“Guess you’ve never seen yourself puke before, because it’s definitely neither of those things.”
I give him a look, grinning, and start walking back to the hotel room. “Liar.”
He laughs, catches up with me, and we walk side by side. I watch him out of the corner of my eye, his handsome face confident and free, and I realize something with a jolt.
We’re similar. We’re extremely similar. He’s not an addict like me, but he’s been through some things. He didn’t say it, but you don’t move to a whole new city just because you like the name and start getting in fights to pay the bills if you had a really great home life before that. People don’t just end up violent thugs randomly, there’s always something pushing them closer.
He has it inside him, that brokenness I always feel, except for when I’m high. He has it too, and maybe he doesn’t realize it, or maybe that’s why he’s so cocky all the time. He’s compensating for that hole in the center of his being.
I know what he feels. I want to tell him that, but I know I can’t. Not right now, at least.
