by Lexy Timms
I took some calming breaths in order to be nice to the poor customers who had been just as much a victim to Jennifer’s rudeness as I had.
Thankfully, the shift passed quickly and without any more asshole customers. When 9 p.m. finally rolled around, I yanked off my apron and hung it up in the back room. I couldn’t grab my purse and call out a goodbye to my coworkers fast enough. I got into my little car and drove toward home.
As I reached my apartment complex, my phone chirped with a text. I killed the engine and looked around the parking lot before checking my phone.
Ellis: You home?
I sighed. I knew what Ellis wanted. He wanted to come over and bring some wine and beer and maybe a pizza and pretend to want to watch movies all under the pretense of a casual night inside. But I knew what would happen, we’d barely touch the pizza, have too much to drink, and he’d pierce me with his sky blue eyes and then run his fingers through his short black hair and then kiss me. Then he’d tell me he how hot I was, and I’d giggle. Then he’d do it again, and soon his talented and wandering hands would find their way under my shirt. This was all a prelude to a long night of sweaty, mind-blowing sex, which ended in the morning with him gone before sunrise and me wondering what I had done wrong, questioning everything about myself. Then I wouldn’t hear from him for another week or so.
That was a vicious cycle I’d lived for over six months, and I most certainly wasn’t going to repeat it, no matter how damn hot Ellis Anderson was.
I gazed down at his text, contemplating not replying, but that never worked either. If I didn’t respond, he’d just show up.
If I replied and told him to come over, he would be here in ten minutes.
If I told him I was busy, or tired, or had to be at class early tomorrow, he’d show up anyway.
So I tried a tactic I hadn’t tried before. I didn’t want to resort to this, but the guy was relentless – and aggressive.
Me: I’m not alone. Sorry, guy. Maybe some other time.
I gazed at my reply, mustering up the courage to hit ‘send.’
“Ah, screw it,” I said, pressing the green icon to send the text. I shoved the phone in my purse, hoping its battery would die before I’d have to suffer the repercussions of his reply. A small grin bent my lips as I imagined his ridiculously handsome face twisting into surprise when he read my reply.
Screw him. He’s a user. My heart can’t handle his games.
I put my key into the lock of my meager apartment and sighed in relief. My cat, Misty, was immediately winding herself around my legs, meowing for food. I bent down and picked her up.
I threw my purse on the coffee table and scratched behind her black pointed ears and popped her on her white nose with my finger. “You miss me today, girl? Huh?”
I carried her over to the kitchen where I pulled out a can of cat food and pried the top off, dumping it into her food bowl. I then filled her water dish to the brim from the tap and set it back down. Misty went to town gobbling down her food while I went into my room to change.
Smiling as I heard my phone chiming with texts, I changed into some loose white shorts and an oversized orange and white T-shirt which read NOT A MORNING PERSON and went back out to the kitchen.
Opening the fridge, I spied some leftover Italian food. I quickly dumped it onto a plate and shoved it into the microwave, starting the thing up and waiting for it to do its job.
I sighed at how tired I was. Why the hell was that stupid coffee shop open ‘til 9 p.m. anyway? I had to be at my morning class by 8 a.m. and that sucked, since I had a test in the morning and hadn’t studied yet.
When the microwave beeped, I pulled the plate from it and plucked a water bottle from the fridge, setting both down at my dining room table. My backpack was on the floor and I pulled out the big History book. Thumbing to the appropriate page, I began reading, trying my hardest to absorb the information for the Civil War test I had tomorrow.
My phone chirping again broke my concentration. With my noodles paused at my lips, I sighed in annoyance and set my fork down. I got up and yanked my phone from my purse, not wanting to read the texts but doing it anyway.
Ellis: I know you’re lying. U don’t have some guy over there.
I laughed at that one. Of course I hadn’t responded in 2.2 seconds so he sent another: You’re just trying to make me jealous.
I laughed again.
The next one read: I’m coming over, and if there is some guy there, I’m gonna throat punch him, so he better be gone by the time I get there.
Geez! What is his problem?
Ellis and I had met at my coffee shop. It’s set right outside the largest military base in Tampa, and we get all kinds of servicemen and women in there. The day Ellis walked in, my breath had caught in my throat, and I’d found it hard to concentrate on the other customers and their orders.
There were three people in front of him in line. He was wearing jeans and a fitted red USMC T-shirt that hugged his every ridge and muscle. His crystal blue eyes were studying the menu board with his arms folded over his hard chest, his black hair was cut into that short military style. He stood perfectly still and I was having a hard time giving the other customers my full attention like they deserved. My palms were sweating by the time he reached the front of the line.
“Hi,” I said. “What can I get you?”
His eyes drilled into mine. “Just a black coffee, sweetheart.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. I swallowed hard at the sound of his deep, sexy voice. “Do you need room for cream?”
His lips twitched in amusement. “No. No cream in my coffee.”
My pale cheeks burned red at the innuendo and I tried my hardest to plaster on my professional smile. “You got it.” I remember winking at him, and at the time, thinking about how uncharacteristic it was of me to flirt like that.
“That’s a dollar-eight-five,” I had told him.
He handed me two one-dollar bills and when I handed him his fifteen cents in change, our hands briefly touched and I suddenly got tingly at the connection. He tossed the coins into the tip jar and shoved an additional dollar in while not breaking eye contact with me.
So flustered, I had forgotten to ask him something important as he went to walk away. “Uh, what name?”
“LT,” he’d answered.
I nodded and wrote L.T. on the cup. I also put my name and cell phone number underneath it in yet another uncharacteristically bold move on my part.
LT was the name the barista had called out when his order was ready, and it didn’t go unnoticed by me that a lot of the patrons of the store looked up when they’d called out his name. They had all stared at him in curiosity when he’d picked up his coffee.
Before leaving the store, I watched as he squinted at what was printed on the cup. He grinned in amusement and lifted it in greeting to me before exiting the store, rumbling out of the parking lot on some loud motorcycle.
So hot.
Chapter 2
Ellis
Rage was burning a hole in my stomach. She better not have anyone over at her place. I’ll kill him. I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill him. Nobody touches Talia. Nobody but me.
My car came to a screeching halt in the parking lot of her apartment complex. I got out, arming the alarm and charging up to her door, knocking with more force than necessary.
It felt like an eternity until she opened the door. In the meantime, I was ready to break it down. My teeth ground together as I waited for the door to open. As soon as I saw her, all my rage melted into a warm puddle in my chest. Her long, red curls were sitting to one side over her delicate shoulder and she was wearing a thin orange T-shirt with an obnoxious saying on it. The short-shorts she wore showed off her creamy, long-stem legs.
“Don’t you take a hint?” she said, her lips in a firm, grim line, but her light brown eyes glittering with excitement and amusement.
I pushed the white door open and heard its smack against the plaster of the
wall.
“Well, why don’t you come in?” she murmured dryly.
My eyes darted around the apartment, coming to land on the empty plate and fork set next to the large textbook perched on her small dining room table. Her cat, Misty, meowed at me before curling herself around my legs.
I looked down at the cat, knowing that if anyone else was in the apartment, she’d be coiled up in his or her lap, as she was the most emotional, needy cat ever.
“Why you wind me up like that, T?” I asked, my arms folded over my chest as she rested her luscious ass on the edge of the dining room table, her arms matching my posture across her chest.
I used all my willpower to keep my eyes on hers. “Answer me.”
She snorted and waved her hand, pushing off the table and making her way around it to go sit down in front of the textbook.
Annoyed, I crossed the distance between us and grabbed her hand before she could sit, pulling her to me and pressing her soft body against mine. “Not so fast. You haven’t answered my question.”
She scoffed and pushed away, although I noticed a hesitation for a split second. “I don’t owe you shit.”
“Dammit,” I said, raking my fingers through my hair. “You can’t do that to me. Just tell me you want to be alone or something.”
She threw her head back and laughed, sitting down at the table. “Yeah, right. I’ve tried it all, Ellis. You don’t listen and won’t listen. You’re a stubborn-ass mule.” She shook her head.
I shoved my keys into my jeans pocket, the red and gold USMC lanyard dangling out. “The fuck that’s supposed to mean?”
She sighed and shoved the pencil behind her ear. It was a sexy-as-hell move and I tried to ignore it as I stared into her defiant eyes. “You know what it means. You want me when you want me, but when you don’t, nobody else can have me.”
I cocked my head to the side, confused at her words, because I wanted her all of the time. “What are you talking about?”
She narrowed her eyes and bit her cherry red lip. “Just go, Ellis.” She gestured around her small apartment. “As you can see, there’s nobody else here. I’ve got a big test tomorrow, and I don’t need you keeping me up all hours.”
I stared at her incredulously. “You’re not serious.”
Her teeth still had her bottom lip hostage and it made my cock twitch in my pants when she did that. “I’m very serious.”
“Can’t I just stay for a little while?” I threw her my sexy smirk and pleading eyes.
A look I couldn’t quite decipher passed over her features. It bordered between annoyed and turned on. She must have seen my expression and looked down at her book again. She pulled the pencil from behind her ear and put it to her mouth. “Just go, please.”
I stood there for a few long seconds, staring at her, but she wouldn’t look up. Giving up, I left her place, quietly closing her door behind me and getting into my car.
As I drove home, I couldn’t understand what had happened. I wanted her – and I could tell she wanted me, too. This was our way. Whenever I’d call, she would be there. So why hadn’t she been there when I’d needed her? What was her problem tonight?
For the first few months after we’d met, we were inseparable. She’d come to my place or I’d be at her little apartment with her and her needy black cat. But in the past few weeks, she’d sort of grown distant. I didn’t understand it at all. All I’d asked is that she not fuck anyone else. That she was mine and mine alone. I didn’t understand what was so hard about that.
Admittedly – releasing from the service had been hard on me. I never liked to admit weakness but having to go back to being a civilian after being owned by the government for so long took some adjustment. I was actively looking for a job in the “real world” while collecting some government money after being in for so long, but I was mostly going out on the weekends and having fun.
I was 25 now, probably time for me to calm the hell down and get some sort of career going for myself, but I was tired. One on hand, I wanted to rest and try to take my time in finding a job, but the other half me, the one who was used to being busy and following orders, was becoming restless.
At the stoplight, I rolled the window down and let the warm night air wash into the car. With my head tilted back against the headrest, I scrubbed a hand over the scruff on my chin and cheeks. Admittedly, it was nice to grow it out a little instead of having to have it baby-ass smooth every day for inspection. I planned on growing my hair out a little bit, too.
I spied the pack of cigarettes lying on the floorboard of the passenger side and contemplated leaning over and picking them up and having one. I’d vowed to quit when I got out of the service, and I pretty much had, but I still wanted one occasionally.
A loud honk blaring from behind me blew that idea.
Looking in my rearview mirror, the angry driver behind me had his hands flailing around and honked again. I could hear him cussing me out through my open window and looked at the light. It was green, but we were also the only two people on the street.
What the fuck?
This guy was pissing me off.
I should have just hit the gas, but instead, I shoved the car into park. I flung open my door and got out, storming toward him. His eyes got big seeing me come at him, and miraculously, he’d stopped yelling and making hand gestures at me.
I watched as his window zipped up and he yanked the steering wheel to the right and pealed out and around my car to zoom through the light.
“That’s what I thought, asshole! Could have just gone around me earlier, you dick!” I put up both middle fingers toward his retreating piece of shit Honda.
I shook my head and got back into my car. Damn, it would have been nice to have cracked his skull. Or at least have roughed him up a little.
Reaching down to the passenger floorboard, I grabbed the cigarettes and pulled one from the pack and pushed the car’s lighter in to heat it up. Shoving the unlit cigarette behind my ear, I put the car in gear and proceeded to go, even though the light had turned red again.
Good thing the streets were empty. The lighter popped and I lit my addiction stick with it and took a drag. Thinking of the asshole who’d sped away earlier, I smiled, cigarette dangling from the corner of my mouth. Just like my mother used to – and I’d hated it when she did that. Now look at me.
Chapter 3
Talia
“I aced my History final!” I squealed to my friend and boss, Bo.
She hugged me. “That’s so great! I’m so proud of you, sweetie!”
Bo – or Bonita, the full, formal name she never used – had been a good friend and huge cheerleader of mine since my darker days. She had gotten me the job at the coffee shop and encouraged me to go back to school. She was currently managing the shop while trying to raise two daughters alone, and I admired her strength.
When her (now ex) husband had put her in the ICU with a few broken bones and facial swelling that made her almost unrecognizable, I had crumpled in grief when I’d visited her at the hospital. I couldn’t believe a human being could do that to another. I’d held her hand while she cried, and had driven her home from the hospital when she’d been strong enough to leave.
Watching her struggle to pay for a divorce attorney and restraining order and remain strong for her daughters gave me the strength I needed to break the addiction I was currently living with. An addiction that had been the demise of my mother, one that had made me so angry at her. And there I was, following in her footsteps, a path I most certainly didn’t need to be taking.
After getting her life together, Bo had told me sternly it was time for me to get clean. I had only been 21 at the time, and she saw some potential in me that I hadn’t seen in myself. She showed me that strength came in all forms, and when she helped me get clean, I felt like I finally had family again, even if she wasn’t blood. And in my case, blood most certainly wasn’t thicker than water.
Breaking my addiction to cocaine was the single
hardest thing I’d ever done. Not even burying my mother or watching my father leave out the front door with a suitcase in his hand when I was 10 years old was harder. No. Breaking a drug addiction was the worst pain of my life.
The day before I’d entered rehab, I made sure to go out with a bang. I’d snorted all the coke I could get my hands on, then I drank a shitload of whiskey and whatever else they had at the party I’d gone to. I woke a couple days later lying next to some dude on the floor of the house I’d been partying at. He looked in as bad of shape as me.
I don’t even remember how I got home early that morning. I really don’t. The suitcase lying open and empty on my bed sobered me up pretty fast, though. With a banging headache, a few trips to the porcelain god to throw up, and cottonmouth from hell, I had packed that suitcase and called Bo to tell her I was ready to go. Even though my hands were shaking something fierce and tears were beginning to form in my eyes.
She’d dropped me off at the New Beginnings Treatment Center here in Tampa and I had been terrified the first day – which didn’t turn out to be so bad. I was shown to a room, and then to where the dining hall was. By the end of that first night, I was sad and down, but okay, my resolve strong.
I woke the next morning in pain. I was shaking even worse and it felt like all my nerve endings were on fire. They were crying out for the drug they were so used to getting, but I was depriving them of it.
“It hurts,” I’d sobbed to the counselor. “It hurts bad. Can’t you give me something?” I’d asked, begging her for mercy.
She’d looked at me with kind, mocha colored eyes and skin the color of chocolate and had shook her head. “I’m sorry, sweetie, no.”
Then came the profuse vomiting and the sweating as the drug worked itself out of my system. It had been so bad, I’d almost passed out from the pain. I had cried and pulled my hair out until it lay in pieces on the bathroom floor. I had tried to be strong but eventually succumbed to sleep, and I think I slept for two days straight after that.
