Little Black Box Set

by Tabatha Vargo

  He set the keys on top of the desk and scooted them my way.

  “What are you doing with those?” I asked, silently praying he wasn’t going to say what I thought he was going to say.

  “The place is yours. Also, you may continue to use the services of Mac. You don’t need to be walking around the city. He’s my driver until Martin comes back … use him.” His voice was bland—cold and calculated. “Also, I set up an account for you. There’s more money in it than you could spend in a year. Buy whatever you want. It’s yours. I won’t let you live on the streets again, and I won’t let Kyle lose his education, but I’d prefer it if you no longer resided in my condo.”

  His condo.

  Not ours anymore.

  There was no us. We were over. It had taken me two pathetic weeks to realize that, but it was the truth. There was no Sebastian and Rosslyn anymore.

  Done.

  Over.

  No more.

  After two weeks of nothing but pain, I finally bit back like a wounded dog.

  “Fuck you, Sebastian,” I spat. Picking up the keys to the other condo, I threw them at his chest and he caught them. “I don’t want or need your pathetic attempt to get rid of me. You want me gone? Consider me gone.”

  He looked as though he wanted to say something, but I didn’t wait to hear what it was. Instead, I turned away and left his office, slamming the door on my way out. I didn’t even dare to hope that he’d follow me.

  That night, I packed everything I owned, loaded it into the back of the taxi I called, and had the driver drop me off at Trish’s apartment. I wasn’t thrilled to be staying in the place where I’d ended a life two years before, but it was not like I had a choice.

  I’d once asked Trish why she stayed in an apartment where so much tragedy had occurred, and she’d promptly answered that the rent was cheap and the neighborhood was nice. I guess when finding a decent rent controlled area was so hard, a little death in the room didn’t matter.

  I would try not to think of the memories of that night. I’d try not to think of how desperate I’d felt to survive and how horrified I was when Vick pulled a gun on Sebastian and pulled the trigger. It was a night I’d never forget. It was a night that would haunt me for the rest of my life.

  Trish helped me tug everything inside, and once she’d tossed my measly luggage in the corner of her living room, we collapsed on the couch. I was only there for a matter of minutes before I found myself crying on her shoulder.

  Sebastian was no longer a part of my life. We were seriously over. The sooner I realized that and moved on, the better.

  I WOKE THE FOLLOWING MORNING with a kink in my neck. Trish only had one bed, and even though she insisted I sleep in her bed with her, I’d crashed on the couch. I was regretting that decision as I limped down the short hall to the bathroom.

  I washed my face in her sink surrounded by every hair and face product she owned, and then I brushed my teeth. After dressing for the day, I went back into the living room and watching the seconds turn into minutes—minutes into hours.

  Trish slept until noon, and by then, I’d already been up for six hours. I was sitting on the couch staring at the blank TV screen when she finally emerged from her bedroom with sleep crusted eyes and ratty blond hair.

  “Why didn’t you wake me?” She yawned and scratched at her flat stomach peeking out above her boxer shorts.

  “Because I didn’t feel like being attacked,” I joked. “I remember how rabid you are when you’re sleeping.”

  “This is truth,” she said as she began digging through her mostly empty cabinets. “Oh my God, I’m starving. Want some breakfast?”

  I chuckled. “More like lunch.”

  Trish tugged open the refrigerator and pulled out bacon and eggs. My stomach growled with hunger when she began to fry the bacon and scramble the eggs. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was, and already, my mouth was watering.

  It wasn’t until I was sitting on the couch with a paper plate full of eggs and bacon that my stomach decided to twist with nausea. I barely made it to the bathroom before the dry heaving had me on my knees in front of the toilet.

  Needless to say, the eggs and bacon didn’t happen.

  “ARE YOU SURE YOU DON’T mind me staying with you?” I asked.

  We were discussing our new living arrangements.

  “Of course not. Why would I mind?”

  “Well, this isn’t exactly an ideal situation. I don’t want to invade on your space.”

  “Please. It’s perfectly okay as long as Mr. Decker doesn’t see you,” Trish said as she snatched a can of Pringles from the shelf and tossed it into the shopping cart.

  “Who’s Mr. Decker?” I asked.

  “Um … my landlord,” Trish said with wide eyes. “He’s a total dick face, but he lets me slide with late rent from time to time. Probably because I don’t say anything when he stares at my tits. I mean, who am I to take away an old man’s good time, right?”

  I rolled my eyes as I followed behind her.

  “Will you get in trouble because I’m staying with you?”

  The last thing I wanted to do was get Trish kicked out of her apartment. I hated to feel like I was putting her out in some way even though she swore I was welcome and that she kind of liked being able to have girls’ nights again.

  Me?

  I wasn’t as happy with our new situation.

  Some nights, I’d lay on the couch and the tears would run down the sides of my face and into my hairline. Trish would pretend that she didn’t see my swollen eyes the next morning, but whenever I looked at myself in the mirror, it was more than obvious I was a mess.

  “Don’t think about it. If he asks, you’re crashing for a few days. No biggie.” She tossed a box of cookies into the cart. “Worst-case scenario, I’ll show him my snatch cookie. He’ll love it.” She winked.

  Three days went by, and on the fourth day, after watching Trish eat way too much junk food, I decided if I didn’t get out of the apartment and join the human race again, I’d go nuts. As it was, I was in the apartment alone most days since Trish had to work constantly to afford her place.

  It was during those days, when I was alone and the rooms were silent, that the memories of that night a few years before would come rushing back. I’d close my eyes and I could still hear the gunshots. I could still hear Sebastian’s voice.

  I definitely needed to get out. Plus, if I was going to be staying with Trish, then I was going to contribute. There was no need for her to work so hard when there were two of us to pay the bills. I’d help, and I’d do so without Sebastian’s money. I didn’t want anything from him when it was perfectly clear he wanted even less from me. I’d always wanted to work and be independent. With him deciding he no longer wanted to be with me, I had the perfect opportunity to do that.

  However, just like before, the job search wasn’t great. I didn’t have the car Sebastian had gotten for me and calling Mac for a ride was out of the question, so instead, I opted to walk to each destination. I’d return to Trish’s apartment every night with aching calf muscles and blistered feet. It was terrible. I’d gotten so accustomed to the easy life Sebastian offered, but I knew I couldn’t give up.

  Every afternoon, after spending the day searching for a job, I’d kick myself mentally thinking about how easily I’d quit my last job. All because Sebastian wanted me to. The money was good, and I could have easily made it work financially with that job. I could have even afforded a car payment since it would be over my dead body before I asked Sebastian for my Honda.

  But I couldn’t call and ask for my job back. Not with the way I had left so suddenly. I felt bad leaving my clients. Vera, my very first client, had been doing so well. And Kevin Brewer was obviously doing well. I had felt like I was really making a difference, and then I’d just up and left them.

  I felt terrible about it, but I knew I needed to keep going. I had to find a job.

  It was exactly two days later when I receive
d a call back from the Department of Juvenile Justice for a second interview. It was the farthest of any location from Trish’s apartment, but it would have to work. Perhaps, if I got the job, I could afford cab fare after I’d been working there a while. Because it didn’t matter how badly my feet ached—whether it rained or snowed—I wasn’t calling Mac for a ride.

  That night, in honor of the job callback, Trish and I celebrated with a chick flick and a variety of frozen appetizers. Seriously, I couldn’t understand how she stayed so skinny when she ate so much junk. Meanwhile, I could barely keep food down and still had somehow managed to gain a pound. I even had to adjust my belt to the next notch and my pants were feeling snug. It didn’t make any sense.

  We laughed about old times, cried over the loss of Gran, and ended up crashing sometime before two AM. I lay on the couch and listened to the night outside the window until I couldn’t take it anymore and I let the memories move in.

  It wasn’t getting easier.

  Every day, I missed Sebastian even more, and it hurt to know that he didn’t miss me.

  I closed my eyes against the pain, letting the hot tears slide down my face until my body would finally release me and I’d fall asleep.

  I GOT THE JOB, WHICH was a great thing and a bad thing all at the same time. The first two days were hell since New York was having particularly rainy weather. I’d hold my umbrella over my head and push myself through the cold, wet wind until I was running into the building and praying for warmth.

  A few times on my walks back and forth to work, I could have sworn I saw Mac following me, but I knew it was all in my mind. Sebastian didn’t care enough about me anymore to have me followed. I knew in the back of my mind that it was my way of trying to make myself feel better. My way of trying to persuade myself that Sebastian still cared.

  If Mac was following me, then that meant Sebastian put him up to it. And if Sebastian put him up to it, then that must mean he still cared, but by the time I stepped foot into the Department of Juvenile Justice to begin my day, I knew I was just making myself crazier for thinking those things.

  On the second day of work, a fourteen-year-old boy spit in my hair. I held it together even though I wanted to cry. On day three, a twelve-year-old girl called me a bitch. Still, I held strong and pushed through. It wasn’t until my third day working when a large fifteen-year-old boy pushed me and called me a fucking whore that I finally snapped.

  I left the room and cried in the bathroom. I wasn’t the same person I was before Sebastian had left me. I’d always wanted to make a difference for young kids. I’d always had patience when it came to kids in trouble, but I couldn’t do it anymore. I was too sensitive—too emotional. Everything made me cry, and I knew it was because Sebastian had stripped me bare—exposing every nerve in my body to the elements.

  I wasn’t holding up well, and I ended up leaving work early on the third day after a tiny meltdown in front of my supervisor.

  Sure, things were sort of looking up—at least in the job department—but what goes up, must come down. And so it was the day after my tiny meltdown at work when Trish gave me the terrible news.

  “Mr. Decker called me today,” she said sadly.

  I’d just gotten home. My legs were aching. I had blisters on my feet. My back had also started to hurt. I felt twice my age and that was just physically. Mentally, I was shutting down.

  “He did? What did he have to say?”

  Her expression gave her away. I knew bad news was coming my way even before she opened her mouth.

  “He knows you’ve been staying here.”

  And just like that, my heart dropped.

  I had nowhere to go.

  No one to back me up.

  I was completely alone minus Kyle, who was attending his special art school, and Trish, who I was sure was seconds away from kicking me out.

  “And?”

  Her shoulders dropped and her sad expression darkened. “And he said you have to go. I tried to talk him out of it. I even showed him a little more cleavage than usual, but he wasn’t having it.” She patted my leg and shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Rosslyn, but I can’t lose my apartment. I can’t afford anything else.”

  “I understand.”

  And I did.

  She had to survive just like I had to survive. It wasn’t my intention to move into Trish’s apartment and cause her problems. And the last thing I wanted to do was get her kicked out.

  “I wasn’t even sure how he knew you were here, but he said something about an anonymous phone call,” she continued.

  An anonymous phone call.

  It didn’t make sense, but I had a gut feeling about who made that phone call. I didn’t know how I knew, but I just knew Sebastian had made the call. Even after kicking me to the curb, he was trying to keep control. He’d wanted me to stay in the condo while he provided for me. I’d turned him down as fast as I could, so this was his payback. He was getting me booted from the only other place I could stay.

  He won.

  But then again, Sebastian always won.

  I had no choice but to run back to him. I didn’t even have a car I could live in at this point in my life. So after packing up my things for the second time, I left Trish crying on the couch.

  With my tail tucked between my legs, I caught a cab to Clive’s. I didn’t like it, but I needed a warm place to sleep. And even though sleeping in a condo that was paid for by Sebastian Black didn’t seem ideal, at least, it was warm and comfortable.

  I FOLDED.

  After two weeks of her staying in the condo just up the stairs from me, I needed to see her face. I wanted to be close to her. It was too much—being away from her—knowing she was just few feet away from me.

  Sleeping naked in our bed.

  Wanting me.

  Needing me.

  I couldn’t handle being away from her for another second.

  So I sent Mac to collect her, and when she walked into my office, I broke. I couldn’t even look at her. She was too beautiful—too precious—and I was breaking her. I could see it in her sad green eyes—in the way she held herself stiff and smiled with force.

  I hated myself for the way I treated her when she came to me, and after she so sweetly begged for me, I knew there was no way I could do it. I couldn’t be in the same building with her and not go to her—not hold her and kiss her—be with her.

  So I’d done the stupid thing and I’d pushed her away. I should have known treating her like one of my girls wasn’t going to work, but I needed her in a comfortable place where I could keep an eye on her. I needed her to go to the condo I’d bought for her and Kyle when she was just my Jessica and not the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, but I needed her to do it while making her think I didn’t care.

  The second she knew how badly I wanted her—how badly I missed her—I knew she would make my life a living hell. She’d continue to throw herself at me. She’d continue to love me, and I wasn’t sure how long I could push that away. Not when I wanted it so badly.

  But just like I knew it would, it backfired. And instead of her going to the condo and giving me peace of mind, she ran to Trish’s apartment. I couldn’t keep an eye on her there. I didn’t know if she’d be okay there, and I hated feeling like she wasn’t safe.

  It took all the control I had to keep my ass in my chair when she left my office, and it took even more effort not to go to her and collect her from Trish’s tiny apartment. But I knew I had to do it.

  For her.

  Always for her.

  I woke the next morning prepared to go get her and settle for her living in the condo above Clive’s. I could control myself if it meant she wasn’t living far away in an apartment that was most likely unsafe. However, not long after I entered my office, Mac was bringing in another mysterious letter.

  And after reading the letter, I knew her staying with Trish was safer than her staying with me above Clive’s. And as much as I hated it, I had to leave her there
until I could somehow convince her to stay at the condo I’d purchased for her and Kyle.

  “What do you want me to do?” Mac asked when I looked up from the letter.

  I hated it.

  I hated losing control.

  I hated that some asshole was dictating my life through a fucked-up piece of paper.

  “Don’t leave her side. Follow her. Park outside of the place she’s staying. Don’t let her out of your sight for even one second.”

  Mac nodded. “But while I’m doing this, who’s going to cover your back, Black?”

  “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.” I stood from my chair and made my way around the desk. “This isn’t a permanent situation, but until I can get her settled in the safety of my second condo, I need your eyes on her at all times. Understand?”

  “I understand, but how exactly do you expect to get her to leave her friend’s place? Rosslyn doesn’t like being told what to do. She’s hardheaded that way. It might be easier to inform her about the letters.”

  He had a point, but I wasn’t going to do that.

  “You’re right. She’s as hardheaded as they come, but I can’t tell her about the letters. I don’t want her to worry about something I can take care of.” Snatching my cell from the desk, I put it in my pocket. “And as far as getting her out of Trish’s place and into mine, I have my ways. Watch and learn.”

  MY PLAN WORKED TO PERFECTION, and it wasn’t long until I was sitting in my office and waiting for Rosslyn to come and chew me out for calling Trish’s landlord.

  I hated to go behind her back and be deceitful, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

  It was about eleven in the morning when my office door finally flew open and Rosslyn was standing there shooting daggers at me.

  “I can’t believe you would stoop so low,” she snapped as she slammed the door behind her. “You called her landlord? Really, Sebastian? That’s playing it a bit dirty, don’t you think?”

  I chuckled even though laughing was the last thing I wanted to do.

  “Come on now, Rosslyn. You’ve always known what a beast I was. You also know that when I want something, I get it.”