Wasted

by Suzannah Daniels

  “Why?” She began tracing the edges of my tattoo, and I found it strangely comforting.

  “Because you’re my best friend in Creekview.”

  Her word choice made her seem young and innocent. Telling someone your secrets may have been okay in elementary school, but there was nothing appealing about it now. Anything I kept to myself was for a damn good reason. Some shit people didn’t really want to know, even if they thought they did.

  “The less you know, the better you’ll like me. And having said that, it’s perfectly fine with me if we forget about our little agreement earlier.”

  “Oh, no.” She poked me in the ribs. “You owe me a story, and I’m not going anywhere until I get it.”

  “I have no problem with you staying in my bed.”

  “Mason! You promised.”

  She glared at me through narrowed eyes, her frustration evident.

  “Fine.” I folded my hands behind my head. “What do you want to know?”

  Her narrowed eyes returned to normal, and she watched me thoughtfully for a moment. “Do you love your mother?”

  I raised my head up and stared at her, wondering why she picked that question. “What the hell?” I glanced around at my surroundings. “Am I on the crazy couch at the psychiatrist’s office?”

  “You asked me what I wanted to know.”

  “Who goes around asking people if they love their mother?”

  “It does sound a little strange when you put it like that.”

  “Hell, yeah, it sounds strange.”

  The corners of her mouth tilted down in a frown, and I wondered if I’d hurt her feelings.

  “Yes,” I said, feeling a little bit of my manhood slip away as I caved to her queries. “I do love my mother. She makes it damn hard, but despite all the shit she’s put me and Haley through, I do love her.”

  “What’s she done?”

  “I told you that you didn’t get to earn all my story at once. That’s all you get—unless you want to put in another quarter.”

  I challenged her, fully expecting her to retreat to her bedroom and leave me the hell alone.

  “You want another kiss?” she asked, her voice so quiet I could barely hear her. When I looked at her, she averted her gaze, her lap suddenly requiring her full attention.

  “No.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise as she looked up at me. “Then what?”

  “If you want to know about my mother, then you have to tell me about yours.”

  “You want to know about my mother?” she asked, her face scrunched in confusion.

  “Seems like a fair trade, don’t you think?”

  “I guess so. I’m just surprised.”

  “Why would you be surprised? I’m a helluva better listener than I am a storyteller. That’s what I’m good at—pretending like I’m interested in what people are saying.”

  She scrambled from the bed and shot across the room. “Where are you going?”

  “Anywhere but here.”

  “Why?”

  “You don’t need to pretend that you’re interested in anything I have to say because I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

  “Shit, Lex. I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “It’s obvious that you don’t want to talk to me. Maybe you’re a lot like your mother. Maybe you’re a hard person to love, too.”

  The bedroom door slammed hard enough to rattle the knob. If I’d had pictures on the wall, I imagined they’d be kissing the carpet about now.

  My hands curled into fists, and the same old feelings of frustration burned through my body. Had I subconsciously sabotaged our conversation?

  Closing my eyes, I exhaled loudly. I was a prick—a terrified-shitless, hard-to-love, too-much-like-my-mother prick.

  Chapter 9

  Painkiller

  Mason

  During the rest of the week, Lexi and I barely spoke. I knew it was better that way. If we could make it through three more months, she’d be moving off to her own apartment anyway. And even though I needed the money, it would be easier for both of us once she moved out. I’d never had a female roommate before, and I never wanted one again. It was much easier to live with another guy. That way, I could do whatever the hell I wanted, and so could he—with none of the complications women always seemed to infuse in any given situation.

  Lexi had been waiting tables all week. She usually left the bar before I did, and by the time I got home, she was locked away safely in her room, taking no chances of having any contact with me.

  As I finished my closing duties for the bar area, Spanky approached me. “What’s up, boss man?”

  He waddled over to a stool at the bar and, with some effort, managed to climb onto it. “The usual. Staying busy.”

  “Busy is good. You want something to drink?”

  “A little bit of water would be good.”

  I grabbed a glass, filled it with ice and water, and set it in front of Spanky.

  After taking a long sip, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Shoot.”

  “I’ve got a buyer, Mason.”

  “Already? If you can just give me a little more time, I’ll find some way to come up with the money.”

  “You’ve been with me since you were a kid. I can remember you walking through that door begging for a job like it was yesterday.” His eyes danced with the memories as he rubbed his bald head with short, stubby fingers. “Hell, you’re still a kid, and you know I love you like a son. But I’m getting old. I wish I could give you more time, but time’s something I ain’t got much of. I’m ready to retire to Florida, and my daughter’s found me a little house down the street from her. I need the money, so I can buy that house before somebody else does.”

  Closing my eyes, I tried to tamp down the anger and frustration. Would the freaking planet explode if just one thing went my way?

  “I’m sorry.” Spanky’s voice was filled with emotion. Hell, I didn’t want to make him cry.

  I pasted on a smile. “No problem. You win some. You lose some. Right?”

  “I know this sounds cliché, but you really do have your whole life ahead of you. There’s plenty of time for you to save up money and open your own bar or do whatever it is that you want to do.” His voice sounded hopeful, and I desperately wished I shared his optimism.

  “Bartending is the only thing I know. It’s the one thing that I can do well.”

  “Then keep the beer flowing because one of these days, everything will fall into place, and you can open your own bar.”

  I leaned against the bar, trying to imagine it. “I hope so.”

  Spanky scratched his neck, stretching like a feline waking from a nap. “It’ll happen.” He hopped down from the bar stool. “And when it does, I’ll be glad that I don’t own this bar anymore ‘cause you’d put me out of business. I have no doubt that letting you tend bar was one of my smarter business decisions.”

  I grinned as I realized that he’d just manipulated my emotions. “You’re good for my ego. What’ll I do once you move off?”

  Spanky cackled and slapped me affectionately on the shoulder. “I’m sure you have plenty of lady friends who can handle stroking your ego.”

  As I watched him walk back to the office, it was one lady friend who came to mind—one that had perhaps decided that I wasn’t friend material.

  I could have smoothed things over. I could have gone to her and explained that it was just bitterness talking, a defense mechanism meant to prevent me from having to tell her about my mother—someone who had never even earned the title, mother. Since she was more an acquaintance than a parent, Haley and I should have called her by her first name. It would have been more appropriate.

  In reality, I wasn’t just pretending to be interested in what Lexi had to say, I was interested. Every time I thought about the tenderness in her voice the night that I’d been wasted, I longed to hear it again, to feel her gentle caress, to feel like
someone cared.

  I’d had a long-term relationship before, and I might have shared some of those feelings in the early part of that relationship, but that had been so long ago that even if I could conjure those memories, I knew it would feel like a dream, like wisps of emotions that would slip through my fingers if I tried to latch onto them. Too much had happened between us, and anything that we’d once shared had been destroyed by carelessness and neglect.

  That was the very reason that I’d given up on relationships. If feelings weren’t allowed to develop, then the hurt and pain of a failed attempt could be avoided. And wasn’t it better to evade those situations altogether rather than risk losing everything one held dear? And even worse, having no one to blame but one’s self?

  Fishing my keys from my pocket, I headed to my apartment.

  Darkness greeted me, and I welcomed it. It matched my disposition.

  Flipping on the kitchen light, I quietly poured a shot of whiskey, turned the light back out, and sat on the couch, letting the darkness envelop me, both on the inside and the out.

  When a man accomplishes something in life, it’s satisfying to take a moment to reflect, to be proud of what he’s done, to think of all the things he’ll do in the future.

  But when there aren’t any accomplishments, it leaves him dreaming of all the couldas, shouldas, and wouldas, what he could have done if he’d chosen a different path, what he should have done in certain situations, and what he would have done if he knew then what he knew now.

  But such was life.

  I heard her bedroom door open and saw the shaft of dim light that spilled into the hallway. When she hit the tiled floor in the kitchen, I heard the soft patter of her bare feet as she moved to the refrigerator. Humming, she opened the door and pulled out the container of orange juice.

  Gazing across the room, I could see her on the other side of the bar in her snug-fitting tank top and running shorts. Her ponytail swayed as she poured some juice into a cup and replaced the jug in the fridge.

  My glass thumped against the end table as I intentionally set it down harder than necessary, wanting to make my presence known.

  She shrieked and stumbled backwards as her head snapped in my direction.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Her breath came out in a rush. “I didn’t realize you were home.”

  Now that the fridge was closed and the only source of light was from the other end of the hall, I couldn’t see her as well. Shadows engulfed her features, and I wondered what she was feeling.

  “Spanky found a buyer for the bar,” I said.

  “I know. I heard some of the other servers talking about it.”

  “Guess I can stop trying to come up with the money.”

  “You wanted to buy it?” she asked, surprised.

  “Yeah, but I guess it doesn’t matter now. I can’t seem to get a loan, anyway.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said softly.

  I shrugged. “I’m used to disappointment.”

  She walked into the living room, cradling her cup like it was a warm mug of coffee. “Something else will come along,” she said.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  She started walking toward the hallway, no doubt eager to escape my company.

  “Lex?”

  Pausing, she glanced over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

  “My mother’s a prostitute. That’s the only way she can support her habit.” My laughter held no humor. “I’ve only told one other person that, although I imagine some of my friends have suspected over the years.”

  She swirled the liquid in her cup, staring into it like a fortune teller gazing into her crystal ball. “I pushed you too hard. I’m sorry.”

  “I want to tell you,” I said, my voice hoarse. I cleared my throat. “If you’re still willing to listen, I want to tell you my story.”

  She didn’t hesitate as she turned and strode toward me with purpose. Setting her glass on the end table, she dropped to the cushion beside me, her soft hands cupping mine.

  “I’m listening, Mason.”

  I squeezed her fingers as they curled around my hands, wanting to immerse myself in the warmth and compassion of her touch.

  “I can remember my mother before. Haley can’t, but I can. She changed after my father’s death. Not right away. She was a good mother when Haley was a baby. But I guess everything caught up with her eventually.”

  “I’m sure it was hard on all of y’all,” she said softly.

  “Strange men were always coming over to our house. I can remember my mother inviting them into her bedroom and locking the door. We were instructed not to bother her while the door was closed.

  “It’s strange what people remember, isn’t it? I can remember hearing her giggle through the door, and I wondered what was so funny. I remember her always coming out in her yellow silk robe, walking the men to the front door. As soon as they left, she’d lock herself back in the bedroom.”

  “Who watched y’all? Haley couldn’t have been very old, could she?”

  “I watched out for Haley the best I could. There was an old woman we called Miss Anne, who lived next door. When Miss Anne saw us outside, she would usually bring us some food. Nothing fancy, usually sammiches, as she liked to call them.”

  “So that’s where you got it from.”

  I smiled as I fondly remember Miss Anne. “Yeah, it’s strange how it’s the little things that can make a difference in someone’s life, isn’t it? As crazy as it sounds, it’s hard for me to say sammich and not feel a little better than I did the moment before.”

  “I guess Miss Anne unknowingly attached a positive vibe to that word for you.”

  “I guess she did. Good ole Miss Anne. I don’t know what me and Haley would’ve done without her.”

  “Did she know about your mother?”

  “I’d say she probably did.” I tried to remember whether Miss Anne had ever said anything that would make me think she knew, but I couldn’t remember her ever saying a single bad thing about my mother.

  “Was it that way the whole time you grew up?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “So y’all never really had a male role model in your life? No grandfather? Uncles?”

  I rubbed my thumb over her fingers, savoring her presence. “No. Most of our family lives in the Northwest. We saw our grandparents once every year or two. We got cards for our birthdays. Occasionally, we got a letter. That was about it.”

  “That’s so sad. Are they still alive?”

  “Both of my grandmothers are, although I couldn’t tell you when the last time I saw them was.”

  “What about your mom? You talked to her the other day, didn’t you?”

  I groaned softly. “She needed money. That’s the only time I hear from her.”

  “Did you give it to her?”

  “She knows I won’t give her cash. So she calls me when she needs me to pay something for her, like her rent or her electric bill.”

  “And you do it?”

  “Yeah.” I released her hands and stood up, pacing in front of the couch. “You remember when you asked me the other day if I loved her?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s why I do it. Despite everything, she’s still my mother, and as pissed off as I get at her, I can’t stand the thought of her living on the streets.” I breathed out as I ran my hands through my hair. “And I can’t stand the thought of her having to depend on one of those men to have a roof over her head. They don’t care about her any more than she cares about them. Her apartment isn’t much, but it’s somewhere she can go no matter what else is going on in her life.

  “I think I do it because I can remember the way she used to be—before life sucked everything good out of her. I think I do it because I can kind of understand. You were right the other night when you said that I was a lot like my mother. That’s the one thing that scares the hell out of me.”

  “I shouldn’t have said that.”

&nbs
p; “I needed to hear it.” Watching my feet as I paced, I tried to reason everything out in my head. “I don’t want to go through life like my mother—one meaningless relationship after another. I want something more, but at the same time, I’m terrified that I’ll screw it up.”

  She stopped me mid-stride and took my face in her hands like she’d done before. Her touch promised all the tenderness I craved, the caring, the compassion.

  “You have to let people in, Mason. If you want a real relationship, then let people in. Let me in.”

  Wrapping my fingers around her slender wrists, I pulled her palm to my lips and placed a kiss in the center. “Lexi, are you saying…?”

  “I’m saying I want to know your story, Mason. All of it. I’m saying you should ask me out on a date—an official date.”

  “Well, there it is.”

  Her full lips curved into a smile. “There it is.”

  I leaned toward her and lowered my voice. “So, Lexi, will you go out with me tomorrow—on an official date?”

  “I’ll have to check my schedule.”

  “Check your schedule?

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ve already checked your schedule. I know you don’t have to work tomorrow.”

  She smirked as she smoothed her hand over her ponytail. “Doesn’t mean I don’t already have a date. I’ll let you know tomorrow.” She turned and walked away, heading toward the hall.

  “You’re really going to do this to me?”

  “Really am. Good night, Mason.”

  I held my hands up in question, but she was already gone. Standing akimbo, I shook my head. Not so long ago, I was sitting in a dark room with dark thoughts. For all the things that weren’t going for me, I felt better at this moment than I had in a very long time.

  Lexi gave me something I thought I had lost.

  Hope.

  Chapter 10

  Blue Lagoon

  Mason