Charlie's Whiskey

by Harlow Brown

  "Don’t fucking touch me!" I was yelling at him. "No one ever again, never!" Hot tears started to burn my eyes.

  Hands up like he was surrendering, he said as calmly as he could, "Okay. It's okay. Please, don't cry. I won't touch you. I won't let anyone else either. Trust me, Charlie. Trust me."

  WHAT KIND OF dumbass fully embraces a survivor of physical abuse so soon after her attack? It appeared I was. Chief dumbass, at your service. I didn't want to hurt her or even make her remember the things he had done to her. One step forward and three steps back.

  "Babes, I'm sorry. I got caught up in the moment. I won't touch you, I promise. Calm down. Talk to me," I pleaded with her. Seeing her like this, so afraid of me, of life, made the urge to wrap her up in my arms so much more fierce.

  "Whiskey, I can't do this," she cried, hastily wiping tears from her face. “I can't keep lashing out at you when you don't know what to avoid and what I'm comfortable with. I'm too fucked up to be around right now. It's for the best." She sounded like her mind was made up.

  I guess that would make sense in her head, though. After all, that was how she’d survived the last three years. All she knew was ‘don't talk about it and it goes away.’ Out of mind out of sight, so to speak. I wasn't letting her off that easily, though. She would finally realize that I wasn't going anywhere. She was going to learn that she could trust me.

  "Why can't you see the situation for what it is? What have you already seen and done for me since you met me? This is only day two, Whiskey."

  My blue-eyed angel thought that beating Hensley's ass and taking her for a ride put me out? She had no clue what kind of enchantment she had on me.

  "Charlie, babes, what are you talking about?"

  "Hensley, my crazy mood swings, scars that might not heal. Hell’s bells, I go from fighting mad and wanting to kill him to ‘it's my fault I'm in this mess’ in three seconds flat. Then you throw in the ride last night and the silly shit last night before bed. I'm no kind of friend right now. I'm an emotional hot mess."

  My ears were burning, and I saw fucking red. "Charlie, I need for you to do me a favor."

  "Whiskey, you’re scaring me," she said in a frightened voice as she backed away. She could see the anger on my face, but fuck, I couldn’t stand to see her so down on herself.

  "Damn it. Look, I'm clearly upset, but not at you. I'm not going to do anything to you. Well, except get you out of this hellhole. Please come here and sit with me. I need to tell you something, and I need to look you in the eyes. I need to see that you understand. "

  She stared at me for a few seconds, and I grabbed her hand and led her to the couch. We sat down and she looked down at our hands, quickly releasing hers and staring at the floor.

  She is so incredibly broken, so confused.

  "Charlie?" No response. "Charlie." I lifted her chin so she was looking at me, leaving my fingers there so she couldn’t look back at the ground. "I know you’re scared and think you aren't worth the effort, but that is so far from the truth. You are. If anyone is, it's you. Charlie, I've just met you and can tell you are a good person, a caring person, a person just wanting to be released from her hell. "

  Her eyes searched my face. “Why do you want to help me? I have been nothing but trouble since you arrived."

  "Trouble?"

  I still held her chin. "You think that kicking some ass and taking a beautiful girl on a ride is trouble? Babes, if that's the case then I'm keeping you because your kind of trouble is fun."

  "You’re trying to get your life settled down too. You don't need my bullshit on top of whatever demons you have."

  Self-sacrificing was the only word that came to my mind. She was so close to faultlessness that I was almost afraid I’d taint her with my sheer presence.

  "Charlie, my demons aren't your concern. Helping you is somewhat silencing them for now. I need to help you. Please let me. You'll come back from Florida a brand new girl. I promise I'll be whatever you need—a shoulder, punching bag, chauffeur, whatever. Just let me."

  "I don't know what to do," she whispered as tears made tracks down her cheeks.

  How could I make her better? How could I take her pain and demons and silence them for her?

  "Can I hold you?" With her head still in my hand, she snapped her eyes up to mine, panic washing over her delicate features. "It's okay to say no. I might be a big badass biker with a temper, but a sick twisted motherfucker who beats or scares his woman into submission, I am not. You can always say no."

  "No," she whispered softly.

  "Okay then. Look me in the eyes."

  She did. Those beautiful, confused, blue irises of hers met mine, and I said, "Charlie, let me handle Hensley. Use me. Let go of some of your trepidations and concerns. If you can't, then at least let me carry them for you for a while. You are so tired. Three years of carrying this shit alone would wear anyone down, but you’re still here. Weary and exhausted, but damn it, you’re here waiting to get your revenge. And I swear I'll help you every step of the way. Babes, Briar and Jazz need some time alone. Let it be me you turn to. That's what you should do."

  She pulled away from my hand and stood up. As she took a few steps away, I admired her sexy little body. Short shorts and a tank top did good things for her. Hell, I figured a burlap sack would do good things for her.

  "What's your plan, Whiskey? What do you want from me? What do you get from all of this?"

  "Babes, haven't we been through this?"

  "Do you just want sex? Do you want us to be lovers? Exclusive? I got to tell you, if that's your game, I'm not interested."

  "What the hell, Charlie?" She’s lost her mind. "I'll answer your questions, and I'll do it real damned honestly, so you should sit."

  "I'm good. You should just get on with it so I can get out of here and get my tires.”

  Here goes. If she wants honesty, then by God here it is. "I do want sex. I'm a man, and I'm staring at a goddamned beautiful woman. So yes, I want sex. I, however, am not pressing it. Even if you were to approach me, I wouldn't do it. I'd tell you no. You aren't ready. It hasn’t been long enough. Plus, there isn't that much trust between us, although there should be after that statement.”

  The shock was evident on her face. Perhaps I have her attention now.

  I continued. "Lovers? I don't really know what that even means, so I doubt that."

  She froze and stared at me. Good, maybe she’s really listening. "Exclusive? Not now. What I want from you is your trust, Charlie. I want your friendship. If something else happens, then great. You'd look good on my arm and the back of my bike, but, babes, you'd look even better standing beside me as an equal. When I get involved, exclusive with someone, I am in it one hundred and ten percent. I'm loyal, and my woman is always my priority. I'm intense, and I'm jealous. I'm going through some shit too, so I'm not looking for anything exclusive at the moment. So there you have it, Charlie. I do want sex, I don't want you as a lover, and all I'm after from you at this point is your friendship and your trust. I'm trying to show you that there are still good guys out there. You don't have to live in fear forever. I want to take care of you. I want to help you get back to the spunky, sexy, spitfire self I’ve heard so much about. I must say, that Charlie sounds like a fucking blast."

  Tears flowed down her cheeks again, only they weren’t sorrowful tears. Instead, they were tears of reprieve. It was almost as if I had physically lifted a huge weight off her chest. I looked at her eyes only to see that they were as blue as sapphires. That silver starburst wasn't even noticeable.

  "You’re serious? You don't want jack shit from me… except me?"

  "Serious as a fucking heart attack, Charlie."

  "I've not known that feeling since my parents died. Well, except for Jazz and Briar. People found out about the money and suddenly I had family crawling out from under rocks and all sorts of places. Then there's Hensley. You were more honest with me in the last few minutes than he ever was in the three years we were together.
” She paused a moment, took a deep breath. “So… you want this?" She opened her arms and motioned up and down her small frame. "I'm crazy, drama-filled, and have a mouth that gets me into trouble. If you think you’re ready to run with all this, then welcome aboard the Psycho Express. You're in for a wild ride."

  HOLY SHIT! IS THIS guy for real? He has to be certifiably crazy. What kind of past does he have? What is he hiding?

  "Whiskey?"

  "Yeah, Charlie?"

  "What's so appalling in your life that you think taking on my fucked-up problems will make you better?"

  He just sat there, no expression on his gorgeous face. His bourbon eyes shut and he took a deep breath in.

  "Babes." He looked back at me with intense eyes. "I'm not ready to relive that nightmare yet. I am a horrible person who is trying to turn over a new leaf in life. Protecting you makes me feel like I’m headed down the right road. Can you find it in you to give me a little more time and trust that I’ll tell you soon?"

  "Whiskey, trust isn't something I have an overabundance of. Why can't you trust me?"

  "Charlie, it isn't that I don't trust you. If anything, I trust you more than anyone. That's why I don't want to tell you. Once you find out, you'll want nothing else to do with me." He walked to me and put his big hands on my shoulders, and my eyes widened. My heart started racing and panic set in. He must have seen the look on my face, as he quickly released me. Out of nowhere, he whispered, "Death, okay? Let's leave it at that. The rest will come in time. Can you believe me?"

  How can I? He basically knows my story, but he won't tell me his? But he let me go and didn't force me to stand there and listen to him. He hasn't lied to me in the two days I've known him, so how could I not? Well damn. Why am I so fucked up about him? It should be easy—trust him or don't. It should be that black and white.

  "Yes, I believe you," I said as my eyes met his. At that moment a bond was formed that couldn't be broken. I felt like I could honestly trust him when he said he would tell me in his own time. He needed time, and so did I.

  "You ready to get going? I'd like to get back so I don't take up your whole day."

  "You aren't. I was going to see if I could look at your house afterward."

  "Oh, sure. That's fine. Although Briar is going to shit biscuits when he finds out I went back."

  "Shit biscuits?"

  "Yeah…. He might have said, 'You aren't coming back here. Ever.' So yeah, he’s going to be pretty pissy that I went back."

  "Well, you’re going to be with me, so it isn't like you’re going alone. And not to brag or anything, but no one really fucks with me. I thoroughly enjoy kicking ass and taking names. I won't let Hensley get to you. That, babes, is a fuckin' promise."

  "Okay fine, but you’re dealing with Briar. Not me," I teased as I went to the bedroom to get dressed.

  JUST SEEING HER walk down the hall was fantastic and brutal. She had the sexiest little body I had ever seen, fun-sized and athletic-looking, not like the centerfold types I was used to.

  I bet that isn't all that’s fun about her.

  I shook the less-than-wholesome thought from my mind. Oh, I would have her, and she would be mine, but I didn’t have to be a dick about it. Seriously, I needed to quit thinking about her like all I wanted to do was fuck her. I swear, around her, I thought like a damn teenager, but she made it hard to think any other way. She was perfectly flawed, an entirely different kind of sexy, and I couldn't stop even if I tried.

  I decided to shower to take my mind out of the gutter, but there was no shower on Earth that could relieve the ache of my swollen cock. I started the water and got it as hot as I could stand it, then hastily stripped off my clothes and hopped in. I had to rub one out, and fast. I grabbed the shampoo and squirted a palm full, then started at the base of my shaft and worked quickly to the head. Thoughts of Charlie changing the night before, seeing her perfect body and her great tits, had me stroking faster and harder, squeezing so tight it almost hurt. Almost. I had to put myself out of my misery so I pumped faster and harder until finally I blew my load with vicious force. Slowing my hand, I rode out the final waves of the Charlie-induced orgasm, but thoughts of her lying under me and giving herself to me, all of her, soon threatened to make my dick stir again.

  Knock knock

  "Yeah, give me a few minutes. I'm in the shower."

  "Okay, I'll wait in the living room," Charlie called from the other side of the door, making me jump.

  Fuck, if that wasn't good timing. I grabbed a pump of some expensive-looking shampoo and used it for its intended purpose. I lathered my hair and let the water wash away the suds, thoughts of Angie suddenly flooding my mind as guilt and regret consumed me. I shut my eyes tightly as disturbing images of her flashed behind my eyelids, memories threatening to surface in the dark abyss of my mind.

  "Dude, you about done? You take longer than a chick!"

  "Yes, Charlie, I'm almost done. I'll be out in a minute."

  Well, there was a pleasant block of unwanted memories. Thank God for that.

  Just hearing Charlie's voice settled me down. I couldn't get used to it though. Once she found out about my past, how awful a person I was, she’d be gone.

  Hell, I'm still that person. Nothing’s changed. I haven't righted those wrongs. I'm not sure how I'm going to, or if it’s even possible.

  All I could do was hope and pray that Charlie kept her word and didn't judge me. Once she found out that I still struggled with addiction, memories, and cravings of that old life she might not be able to look past everything. I couldn’t blame her either; she had enough to worry about without adding my poor life decisions in with it. I had to tell her, at least part of it. I owed her that much. On the road to Panama City Beach would be a very good time. At least that way we’d be confined to a car and she wouldn’t kick me out… hopefully. Worst-case scenario I’d have one of my brothers bring me back, or I could move to PCB.

  But I didn’t want to think about it. I wanted to be here with Charlie and Briar.

  I grabbed a towel and climbed out. As I dried off, I went back to that place in my head, that place where darkness and sadness lay. Images of what could have been flashed before my eyes, sounds of baby coos and chubby feet on the floor invading my ears.

  "Okay, Whiskey. I'm fucking hungry, and I get cranky when I get hungry. You've been warned."

  How the hell did she do that? How did she come to me at just the right time? Not once but twice in the same day. She stopped me from going to the hell in my head, and she still had no clue. There had to be something bigger than us working in my favor. That shit didn’t just happen, not with a virtual stranger.

  "Is this the spunky Charlie everyone speaks of? I remember the last time you warned me. I ended up consoling my jewels. I'll just be a minute, I swear. "

  I wrapped the towel around my waist and opened the door to look at her and grin. She was smiling back, a big mischievous grin. Even with her hair in a messy bun on top of her head and dressed in a pair of Victoria Secret sweatpants and a tank top, she was simply beautiful.

  Her eyes lingered on my abs for a second and then slowly made the journey up my torso, to my face, and finally made contact with my eyes. Appreciation washed over her features, and I smiled inwardly. I worked hard to keep this body, and it felt good to have it admired.

  "Can you give me five minutes, babes?"

  "Yeah, sure. But that's it. I have to keep this girlish figure somehow, you know," she said as she walked out. I hated to see her go but loved watching her leave.

  HOLY SHIT! I THINK my ovaries exploded. He is the finest thing on two legs that I've ever laid eyes on. That hair, those eyes, those fucking abs all combined into a walking, talking ball of sexy. All those tatts on his chest, the tribals down his sides, and that script that said Don't Look Back. Damned sexy. I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a water. As I was cursing that the lid wouldn't open, I heard a knock at the door. Without even thinking, I went to open it, stopping dead in
my tracks when I happened to see Hensley's car in the drive through the window beside the door. Panic struck, and I ran to Whiskey and beat on the bathroom door. "Whiskey! Whiskey, I need you. Please come on!"

  "Grab a snack if you’re that hungry. I'm brushing my hair. I'm almost d—"

  I cut him off by throwing open the door, the look on my face saying it all.

  "Fuck, are you okay? What's wrong?"

  "Hensley is at the door. He knocked, and I went to open it but saw it was him and ran straight in here to get you. Come with me, please. I don't want to talk to him alone."

  "I don't want you to talk to him, period."

  My expression probably portrayed something along the lines of 'I don't give a fuck what you want,' and he got the hint.

  "But I'll go with you and keep the peace. Or beat his ass again."

  "Deal." I paused and looked at him in his jeans and boots, no shirt, and tattoos showing.

  "Don't put a shirt on."

  "Uh, okay? Want to explain that?"

  "It'll piss him off that I'm hanging out with a guy who’s a badass."

  "A badass?"

  "Tatts, bumps, long hair. Typical bad-boy persona."

  "Bumps?"

  I decided against reaching out and touching them, choosing to simply point and stare at his abs and arms. "You’re bumpy."

  He laughed and shook his head. "I've been called a lot of things, but bumpy is new."

  "Can we do this later? Hensley, remember?"

  "Just keep looking over at me, and if I have a wild look, then you need to get the hell out of the way. Got it?"

  "What look? And what are you talking about?"