For A Good Time, Call...

by Gadziala, Jessica

  Sloshed. Pissed. Wrecked. Bombed. Loaded.

  And my personal favorite: schnockered.

  “Drunk Girl,” Guy, my favorite bouncer, nodded at me as he sat down in front of his drink. “Been a while.”

  “I was trying to be not so drunk girl,” I slurred, toasting him with my glass.

  “Well it was worth a shot,” he said, nodding.

  “Shot! That's a good idea. Shot me please!” I called out and the bartender raised a brow but reached for the vodka.

  “No,” a voice called out behind me. “Don't you think she's had enough? She wont be able to walk as it is.”

  “Fuck off, Fourteen,” I said, rolling my eyes dramatically at the bartender. “Don't listen to him. I can walk just fine. See?” I said, getting up off the bar stool and demonstrating my major walking skills. And to my credit, and thanks to one too many nights drunk walking home, I only stumbled slightly. “And in heels nonetheless!” I declared happily, walking back to the bar and slapping my hand on it.

  “No, Fee,” Hunter said, grabbing my hand.

  “Hey,” Guy cut in, looking like he was ready to get out of his chair. “Drunk Girl, do you know this guy?”

  “He's...”

  “Her ex,” Hunter said and I stumbled back a step.

  Ex? He was not an ex. Ex implied boyfriend status at some point. He was never my boyfriend. “He's my ex neighbor,” I corrected.

  “Awe, sugar,” Hunter said, holding a hand over his heart like my words wounded him.

  “Want me to walk you home, Drunk Girl?” Guy asked and I was seconds from agreeing because the bar was starting to spin. And I knew only two things came after the spinning: throwing up or passing out.

  “I'll take her,” Hunter insisted, moving closer to me.

  “Nuh-uh,” I said, pointing a finger at him. “He cant take me. He stole my cactus!”

  Guy's eyebrows went up as he looked at Hunter. “She's not wrong,” he shrugged. “But it was mine first.”

  “Alright,” Guy said, holding a hand up. “You two seem to have some... thing going on. I'll let you handle it. These shoes are new,” he said, looking down. “I would prefer to keep them puke-free for a week. Take care, Drunk Girl,” he said and walked toward the back room.

  I spun back toward Hunter, slamming my hand down on the bar to keep myself standing at the sudden motion. “Don't even think about it,” I warned him, holding up a hand. “I am taking myself home. You are not walking me.”

  “Fine,” he shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets.

  “Fine,” I said, storming toward the door.

  “I'll just walk behind you then,” he said, sounding positively tickled at the idea.

  There was really no use fighting about it. I couldn't stop him from following me. So I pushed outside, shaking once violently against the rush of cold on my hot skin. I shook my head at sober me who thought a coat would be too much of a hassle. Fuck her. Stupid, stupid sober me. I pulled my sleeves down over my hands and hunched forward against the wind.

  The puking idea was becoming more and more of a possibility with each passing moment, my body shivering and making my already shaky insides even more wobbly. I stopped, grabbing the metal pole of a stop sign over the wave of unsteadiness.

  “Fee,” Hunter said, coming up close. “Here, put this on,” he said, shrugging out of his leather jacket and trying to wrap it around my shoulders. I twisted away and he sighed. “Come on, baby. Your lips are turning blue.”

  “I'm not your baby,” I objected, my teeth chattering too much to have the effect I intended. At his ever patient gaze I looked away from him, but slipped my arms into the sleeves. It was so warm from his skin that I felt my frozen skin tingle against it. And it smelled like him: sawdust and soap. He reached for the zipper and pulled it up until the collar popped and engulfed my neck in its warmth.

  “Come on,” he said, turning his head back toward the sidewalk. “we're almost there.”

  He stayed about two feet out to the side of me the rest of the walk as my eyes got heavier and heavier and my steps more and more unsteady. “I don't know where you think you're going,” I said, my heel caught a grate and I stumbled, his arm reaching out to steady me. “because you don't live here anymore,” I went on, gesturing toward my building.

  “I'm just getting you home safe, Fee,” he said, shaking his head at me, his light eyes sad.

  “You have no right to be sad,” I said, climbing up the front stairs and looking down at him. “You're the one who left. You're the one who left me all alone. When you knew I needed you. I fucking needed you, Hunter,” I said, my lips trembling, dangerously close to crying.

  “I know. Fee, fuck. I know. I just...”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “It doesn't matter. It's over. It's done. I'm fine. I'm good. Better anyway. So just leave me alone, Fourteen,” I said, turning back to the building. “And I am keeping this coat as retribution.”

  –

  I woke up the next morning on the floor next to my bed, curled up next to the heat grate in a jacket that wasn't mine, still wearing my shoes from the night before.

  Fuck. So much for not drinking. I pushed myself up, looking down at the jacket and not comprehending its existence for a moment. Until I took a deep breath and I smelled him. And then the memories flooded back.

  There had been drinking. Oh, dear lord, had there been drinking. I might have actually broken a personal record last night. I didn't even want to think about how much vodka was in my system. An image of Guy flashed into my mind, offering to walk me home. And then... yup... there was Hunter. Arrogant, helpful fucking Hunter.

  I put a hand over my eyes. I had admitted that he hurt me. I let out a long, low groan at that. So much for having the upper hand. Stupid, stupid drunk me.

  As I stood up, slipping out of my shoes and unzipping the coat, I remembered telling him I was keeping his jacket as punishment. One of my finer nights, for sure. I grabbed clean panties and a tank top and headed to my shower. It took the better part of half an hour to feel like I had washed the night away.

  Walking into the hall, I got the distinct smell of brewing coffee.

  Oh, that bastard.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” he said, coming into the doorway of the kitchen with two cups of coffee. His hair was wet.

  I glanced outside and, seeing no rain, felt my anger reignite. “Did you take a shower here?”

  He shrugged a shoulder, holding out a cup of coffee to me. “I didn't want to leave you.”

  “Leave me?” I asked, grabbing the coffee. “I left you,” I reminded him, remembering turning and leaving him outside the building.

  “Yup,” he agreed. “And then I came in a few minutes later to check on you because your light didn't go on in your apartment, and you were asleep against your door.

  Of-fucking-course I was. Because the night hadn't been humiliating enough without that little tidbit. It also explained why I had passed out fully dressed. “Why was I in front of the heating vent?”

  He raised a brow, smiling slightly. “That was all your own doing. I had you on the bed.”

  “Great.” I took a sip of my coffee. “Well, I'm awake now. You can go,” I said, walking past him into my kitchen.

  “Those look fresh,” he said instead, following me and gesturing toward my thigh.

  “Yeah,” I agreed, going in my fridge for the mixed berry parfait I had learned were infinitely better than leftover take out in the morning. “I had a slip up.”

  “You were doing better.”

  “Yup.”

  “Until?” he asked and I shrugged a shoulder and put a spoonful of food into my mouth. “Until I showed back up,” he guessed. He looked down at his coffee for a long minute and was about to speak when there was two sharp knocks on the door before it unlocked and opened.

  “Fiona,” Isaiah called, strolling in.

  “What the fuck?” Hunter aske
d, looking between the two of us.

  “Oh,” Isaiah said, looking at Hunter for a second before looking at me. “Were you two... in the middle of something?”

  “Ew gross,” I scrunched up my nose. “You're not ever allowed to imply that, dude.”

  “Sorry. Still new at the whole sex talk stuff,” he shrugged and I knew he had actually come a long way since I left him the porn mag back at the house. He had shown up a week later full of questions and I had steeled my stomach to answer them. Eventually, I had pointed him to a “friend” of mine for some hands on experience. And by “friend” I meant a hooker I paid to teach him the ropes. A fact which I still hadn't told him. Maybe in a couple years, he would find it funny. “So...” he said, looking at Hunter. “You're back.”

  Hunter nodded. “I'm back.”

  “This is where I am supposed to be a good big brother and tell you to not break her heart again or I...”

  “Break his face,” I supplied.

  “Right... I break your face. I think we both know that that's not gonna happen, but you know... don't be such a...”

  “Dick,” I added.

  “This time,” Isaiah finished, handing me a bound pile of paperwork. “No rush on these,” he said, glancing again at Hunter. “You want me to hang out or are you alright?”

  I considered it. I could have him stay. Maybe Hunter would eventually give up on the whole talking to me thing with my brother around. Especially given that he had no idea what had happened between us. But, a bigger part of me knew that there was no deterring Hunter. He was a stubborn jerk when he wanted to be.

  “No, I'll be fine. I'll call you about these once I've read them over.”

  “Alright,” he said, nodding stiffly at Hunter. “I'll see you later, Fiona.”

  “Bye,” I called, but he was already out the door. He was still a little lacking in the manners department.

  “Fee... what the hell?” Hunter asked, turning back to me with a disbelieving look. At my raised brow, he sighed. “Please, Fee. Can you just... stop hating me for five minutes and talk to me?”

  Maybe it was the 'please'. Or maybe it was just the tone. But a part of the wall slipped. “Fine,” I said, going into my living room. “I went and said my peace to my father. He died a few hours later. Don't,” I said, holding up a hand out of habit whenever I told people about my father. “tell me you're sorry. I know it's fucked up, but I'm glad he's dead. But anyway. I went back to my old house and found my old bible filled with letters to me from my mom...”

  “That's great, baby,” he said, looking down at me as he leaned against the wall. “Did she say anything interesting?”

  “A lot actually. But the highlights were: she had been in love before my father, that my brother was just as abused as I was though I didn't see it, and that not all men are bad. That last one though,” I said, looking at him pointedly. “is still proving to be false.”

  I wont lie, I took a little pleasure in his wince. “What about you and your brother?”

  “He came by while I was in the house. He was wrecked. I left him a dirty magazine and told him to contact me when he wanted to learn about the real world.”

  “He obviously took you up on that.”

  “Only after my grandmother died,” I said, holding up the pile of paperwork. “She left us her estate. Isaiah needed help figuring it all out. And then once he was around here for a few days, he started to see that he did want this normal kind of life.”

  “You're really amazing, Fee,” he said, shaking his head at me. “To help him like that. That's really big of you.” He paused, looking down at the paperwork. “That's a lot of paperwork for some little old lady's estate.”

  “Yeah, well,” I said, smiling down at the paperwork that would tell me that I would never have to worry about money again for my whole life. For two lifetimes. Five maybe. “Grams was loaded. And we were the closest relatives.”

  “That's really great news,” he said, but sounded sad. At my raised brow, he looked down at his feet. “I just... I wish I could have been here for you. To see things finally falling into place for you. To watch you start to heal...”

  “You could have been,” I reminded him, not caring about the bitterness in my voice.

  Hunter rubbed his chin, taking a deep breath, then walked over and sat at the edge of the coffee table in front of me. “Are you going to let me tell you what really happened?” he asked.

  “I'm all ears,” I said, not quite believing that anything he could say would make up for what he did.

  “I never really told you anything about my past because... well, because it's kind of fucked up...”

  “Umm...” I broke in, holding up a hand. “hello?”

  He smiled. “Yeah I know, baby. But your past is fucked because of something that happened to you. Mine is fucked because of the things I have done.”

  “What have you done?” I asked, not sure anything he said could make me think he was as messed up as I am.

  “My father, ha,” he said, rolling his eyes. “there's really no good way to say this. He owns a lot of businesses. But the only way he funded those businesses was by starting a money loaning business.”

  “Your father is a loan shark?” I asked, unable to stop myself from laughing at the word.

  “I know,” he laughed too. “It sounds ridiculous. But it's true.”

  “So he like... what? Broke people's kneecaps when they couldn't pay up?”

  “He used to,” Hunter nodded and I felt a rock in my belly, starting to understand where this was going. “Until me and my brothers got old enough to pitch in. And by 'pitch in' I mean we fucking loved it, Fee. I loved it. In a sick and twisted way, we were taught to love doing the job.”

  Which made his anger at that guy on the street that night make a hell of a lot more sense. “Okay. So both of our fathers screwed us up,” I said, shrugging. Knowing he needed me to not be horrified. And I actually wasn't. Loan sharks were necessary in the sleazy underground. Beatings were needed to keep people from welshing on their deals. It all made a sick kind of sense.

  “You cant possibly be so calm about this,” he said, squinting his eyes at me.

  “Hunter,” I said, leaning forward. “I grew up with a man who beat and carved into me. I really don't think a little violence is going to shock me.” I went to reach out, to reassure him, then remembered I wasn't supposed to do that and let my hand fall down at my side. “So that's it? You had to take off because you didn't want to tell me about your past? That's kinda cheap, Fourteen.”

  “No, see... you don't just get to leave that lifestyle. And I just ran off one day. Tried to start my own life here. But the day after you left... one of my brothers showed up and dragged me back. My father wasn't... pleased. I got a nice solid beating from my brothers. And then I got a visit from my father the next day. He told me that if I had wanted out, I should have went to him first. But I wasn't allowed to come back until I stayed there for a while. I needed to parade around my busted face, take care of my business, show everyone that my father was letting me go... that I wasn't defying him.”

  I sat there quietly for a long time after he stopped speaking, not sure if I was going to accept that. True, it seemed completely fabricated and unlikely. But, then again, so did my own past. “So in... three months,” I said, making his face snap to mine. “you didn't have access to one phone?” I asked, my eyes on his, begging for some kind of explanation that I could believe in.

  He reached out, placing a hand on my knee and I didn't push him away. “Would you have answered?”

  “You have a point,” I smiled, thinking of how much pleasure I would have taken from hanging up on him.

  His hand was starting to whisper back and forth over the skin of my thigh, reminding my body of how much it missed it. Him. Being touched. Everything. “So...” he said and I know how vulnerable he was feeling, like I had felt when I had told him my story.

  “So,�
� I said, looking down at his hand, feeling my chest get tighten with my desire. “I am afraid I am going to need proof.”

  “Proof of what?” he asked, looking up at me.

  “Proof about your story,” I clarified.

  “How the hell am I supposed to do that?” he asked, his hand moving higher on my thigh and I could see his eyes getting heavier.

  “You're going to take me to meet this family of yours,” I decided and his eyes went wide.

  “What? Fee... no.”

  “I'm afraid it's a deal breaker,” I said, standing. “But first,” I said, reaching for the bottom of my tank top and pulling it up and over my head. I watched his eyes automatically go up toward my breasts, but stop short.

  “You got the tattoo,” he said, reaching out to touch the intricate black ink underneath my breasts. He had been right. The scars had completely disappeared. “I wish I could have done it,” he said, skimming his hands over the design that was exactly the one he had drawn up himself. “but it came out really great, baby.”

  His hands slid down my ribs and landed on my hips for a moment before pulling my panties down, letting them drop to the floor, before pulling me forward and planting a kiss right above the scars there. “God, I missed you,” he said with a quiet kind of fierceness that made me almost sway on my feet.

  My hand went to his hair, stroking it down toward the back of his neck and allowing myself to say something I promised myself I would never say to him. “I missed you too.”

  I felt his warm breath on my heat and before I could process what he was doing, his hands were pushing my thighs apart and I felt his tongue find my sensitive clit. My hands slammed down on his shoulders, trying to keep myself standing. “You taste so good,” he said before going right back to his torturous exploration.

  “Hunter,” I groaned, reaching down his back to start pulling his shirt upward.

  He pulled backward, planting a line of kisses up my belly, between my breasts, taking my nipple into his mouth and making my cry out when he sank his teeth into it. He stood up slowly, pulling off his shirt and my hands went for his zipper, pulling his pants down desperately. It had been so long. So long and my body had barely gotten a taste of what it had wanted before he left. I needed him. Right then. There.