by Brent, Cora
“You have no food,” I observed once, laughing, as I searched through the mostly empty cabinets.
“Not true,” he argued, tossing a bag at me. “I have this.”
I opened the bag of bread. “It has mold on it, Gray.”
He grinned. “What can I say? I’m no freaking chef. I eat on the go.” He glanced at his cell phone. “Getting on in the afternoon. You must be hungry.”
I tilted my head, teasing. “I don’t know, you’ve been keeping me pretty filled.”
“Listen to you,” he said, grabbing me. “Getting all raunchy and shit.”
I smiled up at him. “I like being raunchy.”
“Yeah? How about I take your raunchy ass out to eat?”
I glanced down at our mutual nudity. “Like this?”
“If you want. A few people might object but who fucking cares?”
“Very funny. I’m going next door to shower and change.”
“If you insist.”
I pulled away from him reluctantly, searching for my dress. “Stop staring at me,” I muttered, hooking my bra.
“Why?”
I pointed. “Because I can see your dick getting hard. But now that you’ve promised to feed me I expect you to deliver.” I winked and left the trailer, leaving him chuckling behind me as I headed to my trailer next door.
The applause caught me off guard. I squinted and saw Maddox and Teague over by Teague’s trailer as they fiddled with a bunch of propane tanks. They hooted and shouted dirty words but I understood there was no menace in it. So I did something I’d never done before. I extended the middle finger of my right hand and directed it at them. The sight of me standing there with my finger in the air was too much for those two. They positively screamed with laughter. Maddox even fell in the dirt.
Kira must have been waiting at the window in the house. She came bounding outside in a tube top and very short skirt, her blonde hair flying behind her as she rushed over to me.
“Oh my fucking god!” she squealed, grabbing me by the elbow and hauling me inside my trailer. “We’ve been waiting for you to surface all goddamn day, did you know that? Rachel finally gave up and drove into town to go shopping.” Kira dropped to the floor, folding her legs under her and pulling me down next to her.
“So?” she said primly.
“So?” I shrugged.
She slapped at me. “Come on, you guys screwed, right? Gray’s pretty goddamn hot. Shit, don’t tell Orion I said that. Was it amazing? How many times did you go at it?” Kira straightened up suddenly. “I’m being a jackass, huh?”
I shook my head. “No.” And then I smiled. “But yes, we did um, screw. Like crazy.”
Her eyes widened. “And?”
“I love him, Kira.”
She seemed amazed. “Did you tell him that?”
“Yes.”
“Holy shit, what did he say? Wait, I already know. I see the way he looks at you. Like it hurts him.” She sighed, playing with her hair in the habit she had. “God, it’s beautiful.”
I was curious. “What?”
She grinned languidly. “Love. Sex. Being fucked from every direction until you can’t stand straight. Owning this impossibly strong man and making him forget his name when you get him to the end again and again.”
“Yes,” I sighed slowly, “it’s beautiful.”
Kira insisted on sticking around while I showered. In fact, she stood in the doorway of the bathroom and shouted a stream of questions and observations as I rinsed off under the laconic pulse of the shower.
As I toweled off and stood in front of the narrow closet she pulled out a pair of jeans. “You should cut these,” she said. “It’s too fucking hot to be in full on denim. You got a scissors?”
“I think there’s a rusty old one in the kitchen drawer.”
She disappeared and returned less than ninety seconds later in triumph, holding up the shorn jeans. They looked awful tiny. But Kira insisted that I wear them with a v-neck tee.
“There,” she said approvingly. “You have a cute ass and gorgeous legs. You need to use them.”
Grayson knocked on the door about twenty minutes later. The way his eyes raked me over told me he agreed with Kira’s assessment.
He kissed me long and deep and there, in broad daylight, likely in front of a few avid observers, I cupped my hand around his instantly hard dick.
“You’re fucking killing me,” he groaned.
I pretended to pout. “I was only going for the first part of that equation.”
He ran a hand over my right breast, his voice husky. “You’re gonna be a big goddamn surprise every day, aren’t you?”
“I’ll try,” I whispered, reaching up and kissing his neck.
We stayed in Quartzsite, eating at a small restaurant off the I-10. It felt really sweet, sitting across from him, eating grilled cheese sandwiches.
“You know,” I said, pouring catsup on my fries. “This is kind of my first date.”
He seemed charmed. “You’re too damn cute.” He watched me for a while, alternately picking at his sandwich and trifling with the tiny bottle of tabasco sauce, which was a condiment staple in the southwest. He seemed bothered by something.
“Gray?” His dark eyes found mine and I frowned. “What are you thinking?”
He sighed and reached across the table, taking my small hands in his large ones. “It hasn’t been very long, Promise,” he said gently.
I took my hands away and stared out the window. “Twenty four days,” I said grimly.
He quickly got up and came around the side of the booth, settling beside me and tilting my face toward him. “Hey, don’t pull away from me. I meant every goddamn word I said to you. I just want you to know that nothing would fucking shock me. You can tell me anything.”
I felt him surround me and was coaxed back, leaning into the safety of his arms. “He hurt me, Gray.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
“No.” I shook my head. Grayson had seen the awful bruises. He had seen me cry. But the worst of it was what he couldn’t see. I wanted him to understand and yet I didn’t. “I mean he hurt me. I felt filthy. I hated myself.”
Tears fell from my cheeks. The waitress, a tired middle aged woman, waddled over to fill our water glasses. “Everything okay?” she asked, noticing my distressed face and peering at Grayson with suspicion.
“We’re fine,” I told her curtly. She shrugged and shuffled away.
Grayson gently massaged my shoulder, speaking softly in my ear. “I know what rage comes from being wronged. It does shit to you. If you let it. I spent six years trying to not be swallowed by the dark hole.” He hugged me. “Nothing is gonna get you, Promise.”
I smiled tearfully. “You won’t let it.”
“No, you won’t let it, baby.” He kissed my forehead, then moved to my lips. “But I’ll be next to you the whole time.” His hand moved up and down my back and a fierce rush of feeling overcame me. A need to be closer.
I jumped into his lap with a cry. “Grayson! I want you so bad.”
“Dammit, I want you too,” he whispered and kissed me with full, hard passion. When we pulled apart briefly I noticed every one of the other scattered patrons were staring at us. Some looked interested, others embarrassed. Our waitress crossed her arms behind the counter and glared at us with open disgust. Gray withdrew a handful of bills from his wallet and threw it on the table, pulling me out of the booth.
“Come on,” he said, his words laden with meaning. “Let’s go home.”
When we pulled up, Rachel was kneeling in front of her trailer. It looked like she was potting another succulent cactus. She watched us as we walked past but seemed to realize we needed each other and some quiet. She blew me a soft kiss and I put my hand over my heart.
Grayson had lifted his shirt off before we reached the door of his trailer. He held the door open for me but I hung back, responding to the question in his eyes by lifting my own shirt slowly over my head. I stood in f
ront of him in my bra, feeling bold and empowered there under the brutal desert sun. He stared at me silently but the lust in his eyes said everything. Only then did I take the invitation and step into the old trailer.
After he closed the door I backed away from him, reaching behind my back and unhooking my bra myself. He unzipped his pants and withdrew his swollen organ, stroking himself as he watched me.
“Let me see you,” he demanded in a thick voice.
I let my bra fall to the floor and then unzipped my shorts, pushing them down my hips with my underwear. Gray stroked himself more rapidly as I ran my hands along my belly.
“Do it,” he begged. “Touch yourself, honey.”
When I reached between my legs he groaned loudly and had to brace one hand on the wall for support. Seeing him reach the height of desire made me want him more. I dipped a finger into that moist slit and heard my own moan as that warm center opened and pleaded to be dealt with and quickly.
“Gray,” I implored, “I need you inside me.”
“You need me to fuck you, huh?”
“Yes. I need you. I need your dick.” I didn’t feel strange saying it anymore.
He smiled. “Oh, you’ll fucking have it all right. In a minute. Reach deeper, Promise. Really feel yourself.”
I’d become familiar with the approach. I was getting close.
“Gray!” I cried.
“I know, Promise. I’m almost there too.”
He moved decisively, reaching me in a heartbeat, lifting me against the nearest wall and driving himself inside. I reached the peak immediately, as if all those beseeching internal nerves were awaiting this intrusion.
“Harder!” I yelled and he gave me what I wanted.
“Shit, I love you!” he yelled back, climaxing with intensity.
I whimpered against his shoulder, my legs gone to jelly, as his hot seed released and partly spilled down my legs. I had to drape myself over him in order to avoid falling to the floor.
Grayson picked me up and carried me to the bed. I smiled at him as he settled me on the pillows. I gently touched his face which was still slightly swollen from the punch he’d taken the night before.
“Does it always get better every time?” I asked sleepily.
“With you,” he kissed me, “yes.”
I closed my eyes as he covered me gently. “I love you, Grayson.”
***
It had been early, still light, when I fell asleep. And Gray wasn’t beside me when I woke up. Instinct and a peek at the black sky told me the hour was somewhere deep in the night, nowhere near morning.
I rolled over on the crisp sheets, loving the way they felt against my naked body. After a moment I sat up and listened to the mix of voices and filtering out of the bar. The blend of coarse laughter and music made me strangely excited and I reveled in it for a moment. This was my world now. Grayson was my world now.
The trailer rang with the peculiar stillness of empty space. I wrapped myself in the sheet and got a drink of water, wondering if he’d gone over to the bar.
There was a half moon in the sky, enough light for me to discern his shape just outside the trailer. He was sitting on one of the spools, alone, seemingly lost in thought.
He raised his head when I gently pushed the door open. “Hey, angel.”
I slid into his lap. “What are you doing out here?”
Gray rubbed my back. “Just thinking. Sometimes at night the quiet gets me. You know how fucking loud it is in a prison? Something is always crashing. Someone is always screaming. Not hearing it anymore is almost unreal. It seemed that’s what night was supposed to sound like. Six years, Promise. Almost a quarter of my life.” He coughed. “Jesus, it was ugly.”
I kissed his cheek and he smiled vaguely, looking a bit lost. I wasn’t the only one fighting battles in my head. Memories. Regrets. The pain of powerlessness.
“Are you happy here?” I asked. It was an honest question and I didn’t mean for it to have anything to do with me.
Gray nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. There’s nothing for me out there, Promise. I figured that out long before my time was up.” He gestured affectionately, encompassing the Riverbottom, the circle of trailers, the Defiant clubhouse where Orion lived with Kira. “This is my chance at a family. Because I lost mine.”
“I want to be your family.”
“You already are, sweetheart.” His hand traveled underneath the sheet, touching me gently. “Listen to that,” he said, jerking his head toward the brush beyond the wash.
“Coyotes?” I guessed. There was a music to their yips, a purposeful exchange which we weren’t meant to understand.
“Coyotes,” he confirmed. “Did you know that in spite of urban growth coyote populations are at an all time high throughout North America? You know why? Most adaptable fucking species ever lived.” He pointed into the darkness. “There. Circled about thirty yards out. Watching, thinking. They’re talking about us.”
I let my head fall on his shoulder. I breathed in his warm, musky scent. “I’ve got to get her out of there.”
“Jenny?”
“Jenny.” Even saying her name hurt. “They’re heavily armed, Gray, both in Jericho Valley and across the state line in Utah where she’s probably being kept.” I’d already relayed the puzzling information I’d discovered about the Faithful Cooperative.
Gray nodded thoughtfully. “And there’s a shitload of money behind them, no matter what kind of evil they’re into. Which is how they’ve been able to get away with their fucking garbage this long. Those sons of bitches sitting on it are just as guilty. But make no mistake, they’ll kill to keep the green train going.”
“Orion said something similar.”
“Yeah, Orion may seem like a gorilla but he knows his shit.”
I needed him to hold me tighter. “Gray? Promise me we’ll try?”
He kissed me and leaned into my neck, whispering fiercely. “I promise.”
Chapter Twenty
It was Sunday and Kira had the idea that we should cook a big dinner.
“We’ll force all the men to sit around the table and put fucking napkins in their laps. They’ll have to use forks. It’ll be some real Norman Rockwell shit,” she said, clapping her hands.
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Since when is that your thing?” she asked.
Kira touched her stomach. “Since I’m becoming domesticated.” She grinned at me. “I puked this morning,” she said proudly.
“That’s…great,” I told her, sprawled on the floor of her bedroom and thumbing through an ancient copy of The Household Searchlight Recipe Book. I’d picked it up on a visit to the place Kira affectionately called ‘The Naked Bookstore’. It had been startling to see the wizened soul who puttered around the dusty shop with nothing but a pouch around his manhood, but he was intelligent, kind, and eager to help.
The interior of the book’s front cover was signed ‘Opal Meyer, October 1941’. I touched the thin pages with careful fascination, wondering about the woman the book had belonged to. She was almost certainly long dead. There were many quaintly named recipes inside, like ‘Corn-Meal Ice-Box Rolls’ and ‘Sweet Milk Waffles’.
After some back and forth we decided to make roasted rosemary chicken, glazed carrots, and baking powder biscuits. A couple of handwritten pages had fallen out of the cookbook; dessert recipes written in a woman’s spidery hand and near to separating at the page creases. Kira said it was a sign. And so dessert was planned as ‘Cherry Nut Cake’ and ‘Dead Man’s Bones’, which seemed to be a type of cookie.
Rachel noted my dreaminess as we took to the kitchen.
“Missing him?” she teased, smacking me lightly on the rear end.
“Always,” I sighed. Grayson had been gone before I woke up this morning, over in Blythe with Brandon until evening; they were laying some tile in a remodeled Taco Bell. As I’d opened my eyes, I noticed on the pillow next to me sat a tiny, baying coyote created from an artfully folded piece of paper. I reme
mbered what Gray had said about coyotes being unusually adaptive. I wondered if that was why he’d left it for me.
I had stared at the origami animal for a long time, touching the folds with my fingertip. Then I set it down gently and watched the ceiling for a while, recalling how he’d awakened me hours earlier. The feel of his tongue between my legs had caused me to gasp clear out of a dream. It was quick when he entered me, so seamless I might have imagined it. But as I watched the morning light grow on brighter on the opposite wall I still felt the unmistakable stickiness of his climax between my thighs.
As I stood in Kira’s kitchen chopping sprigs of fresh rosemary I knew I was blushing. Rachel nodded sagely.
“That’s how it is,” she said with a knowing smile. “That’s how you know.”
Kira was interested. She relished any opportunity to talk about sex. “Show of hands if you love it best on top.” She raised hers and sighed. “Ah, to be the rider, the fucker instead of the fuckee.”
Rachel poked me with a wooden spoon. “This one came here a tight-lipped little virgin. Wouldn’t know it, would you?”
“Hey,” Kira threw a lemon at my cousin. “Just takes the right man to wake you up.”
“That it does,” I said softly.
Loud laughter echoed from just outside the room.
“Orion!” Kira yelled. “Shit, are you listening?”
Orion Jackson walked into the kitchen, managing to take up a considerable portion of the room. He lit a cigarette and casually inhaled.
Kira tried to pluck it out of his hands. “You shouldn’t smoke those anymore.”
He held it out of her reach. “My house, darlin’. My fucking way. Always.”
She scowled. “What were you doing lurking out there anyway?”
Orion shrugged. “I always want to hear how the ladies want it.” He moved in on Kira. “You know how I love that kind of talk.” He played with the strap of her shirt. I looked away. Orion was a little too gruff. He made me nervous. Kira, however, giggled and preened under his touch.
He turned his attention to me. “So little girl, what do you hear from the old folks at home?”
