Fitting The Pieces (The Riverdale Series Book 3)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  Cara was a sight on a regular basis, but watching her as she came was something raw and beautiful. An image he’d never forget, one that set his own orgasm off. He thrust into her again before he exploded buried to the hilt inside of her.

  Luke braced his hands on either side of the desk as he tried to control his ragged breathing. He didn’t know what to do. Did he kiss her? Did he take her in his arms like he wanted to and promise they’d figure this out? He pulled back slightly and searched her eyes, in hopes to find the slightest hint of what she’d wanted from him.

  Her eyes never looked up at him though. He didn’t press either instead he pulled himself out of her and carefully discarded the condom. He heard her hop off of the desk and when he turned around, she was tugging on the hem of her skirt. He slipped himself inside his boxers and buttoned up his jeans. Say something, he told himself.

  Cara dressed as quickly as she possibly could without turning around and facing him. He ran his fingers through his hair roughly. “Cara.”

  She turned around abruptly finishing with the buttons of her shirt. “Don’t.” She said her voice was hoarse and full of remorse. Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears and a haunted detached look that disturbed him.

  Luke stared at her for a moment, watching as she struggled to hold back her tears. He hated himself in that instant when her eyes met his again. She closed her eyes for a moment as if to put on a mask of sorts and when she opened them again they were cold and her stare was hard. More than a little confused by the mixed emotions playing in her expression, he took a step back giving her space.

  “Now you could say you had your brother’s girl.” She clenched her fists at her sides, without another word she turned around and walked out of the office, her words ringing in Luke’s ears as he stood there in the wake of destruction.

  Cara’s Journal: September 19th

  Dear Jake,

  I don’t even know why I’m writing to you, it’s not like you’ll ever read these letters. It’s not like one day you will find a box of shit I left for you. No, only I get the privilege of sifting through all this crap. I suppose I should thank you for leaving behind all these letters, it’s not like they pour salt in my wounds or anything. Not at all. I especially enjoy the little notes with instructions, yeah, those really warm my heart. It’s great to know you thought of all your loved ones when you were dying. It’s great to know that you knew all along you’d leave me. I guess one of us should’ve been prepared.

  I used to have a best friend. I remember him walking into the bar whenever I worked, instantly searching the room for my eyes. I remember seeing him and thinking, there he is, my person. I remember that one night he waited for me outside of my job. I remember jumping onto the back of his bike and him taking me on the ride of my life. The ride I’d never forget. I’ll never forget what it felt like to wrap my arms around your waist and have the wind blow over me as we drove to our spot. I’ll never forget that night. It was a beautiful night between me and my best friend.

  My best friend is now called painkillers. These little pills that help me forget the best friend I once had, my best friend who I centered my whole world around. I sometimes think the universe played a cruel joke on me. If I never discovered that somewhere in the fifteen years of our friendship I fell in love with my best friend, if I never admitted that truth, then maybe I’d still have my best friend. If we would’ve never tried to tempt our luck and explore the love, then maybe, just maybe, you would’ve never gotten sick. Maybe your illness was a product of our love. I wasn’t put on this Earth to be loved and having your love was too much, so it had to be ripped from me, in the cruelest possible way.

  So now I’m stuck here until I gather the nerve to end this vicious cycle someone has planned for me. I don’t have a fiancée anymore. Instead of getting married today, I’m writing you a goddamn letter. I’m not even that upset that I’m not primping for a wedding. Maybe that’s because my new best friend is swimming through my blood stream.

  I am angry. I am hurt. I am dead, but no one has put me in the ground yet. I miss my best friend. The one I took that ride with. The one I lost.

  I hate you.

  I love you.

  I miss you.

  I’m sorry. So sorry I tempted fate.

  Love you always and forever,

  Cara

  Chapter One

  Luke Lanza glanced in his rear view mirror as he pulled up in front of Riverdale Elementary and watched his daughter as she looked out of her window.

  “Here we are, my lady.” He said as he put the truck in park and twisted in his seat to face her. Ava unsnapped her seatbelt and grabbed her book bag from the seat beside her. She slung it over one shoulder and leaned over the console. She smiled at him with her lopsided toothless grin and eyed him as if she owned him, which he could admit, she did.

  “Give me some sugar.” She said pointing her finger towards her cheek.

  Luke laughed, his daughter never ceased to amaze him with her wit. He leaned over to shower her cheek with kisses before pointing to his own. She wrapped her arms loosely around his neck and kissed his cheek with a smacking sound.

  “That’s my girl!” He said before moving his hand to ruffle her hair.

  “Dad! Don’t you’ll mess my hair!” She cried exasperated.

  Luke held his hands up in the air as if he had just been caught red-handed. “Okay, fine!” He said, surrendering to his seven year old. “Don’t forget, you’re going home with Aunt Sam today, and then I will pick you up after work.”

  “Okay, oh and it’s Friday! Pizza night!” She exclaimed reminding him of their weekly ritual.

  “It’s a date.” He confirmed with a smile as he watched her open the door. He hesitated for a moment, wanting to get out of the car and help her out, but stopped himself because she claimed it would be too embarrassing. She jumped out of the car and when she landed firmly on her two feet, Luke sighed relieved. “I love you.” He called out before she could shut the door.

  “I love you too.” She whispered before slamming the door shut.

  He ignored the car behind him that honked for him to pull away and looked after Ava until she made her way safely into the school. The horn honked again and with a smile he pulled away from the school.

  Friday’s were usually a day full of routines for Luke, who was he kidding, his whole life was one big routine. There wasn’t a day of the week he didn’t have mapped out. However, Friday’s was the day he went to his late brother’s tattoo shop. He had been delegated the responsibility so, once a week he made his way over to the shop and checked on everything. He was certain the shop would be up to par, it always was. When Jake had died, his good friend and right hand at Riverdale Ink, Pete DeSantis had agreed to run the tattoo parlor for the Lanza’s. Everyone in the family agreed that Pete was best suited for the job. He worked beside Jake for years watching him grow his business. It was the right decision because Pete was undyingly loyal to Riverdale Ink and even with its owners passing the business was still striving.

  Luke pulled up into the spot in front of Riverdale Ink. It was still early and the shop didn’t open until noon, but Pete would be there for Luke’s and his weekly meeting. He stepped inside the place and like every time before something inside of him ached. The bell chimed letting his presence be known as he glanced around, noticing everything was just as Jake had wanted. Not a thing was altered, except he wasn’t in the first booth wiggling his eyebrows at the first person who walked through the door. He made his way towards Jake’s station, it was clear to see no one had used any of his equipment. On the counter sat some of the sketches that Jake had been working on, and on top of the pile sat the drawing Jake had tattooed to his chest. There was no mistaking the beautiful women staring back at him in the form of black and white. She was the woman who haunted his dreams. Luke lifted the piece of paper, realizing he was probably the first person to ever touch anything in his brother’s area since his passing. How fitting, he thought, as he
stared down at the drawing of Cara.

  “He was one talented son of a bitch.” Luke heard Pete say from behind and quickly placed the sketch back in its rightful spot. “I still can remember how he pleaded with me to make sure when I inked him I captured her just as he drew her.”

  Luke turned around to face Pete, who stood just outside of the cubicle. “My brother was a perfectionist when it came to his work.”

  Pete nodded in agreement as Luke stepped out of Jake’s station and they walked towards the lounge area in the front of the shop. There was no office in the shop because there was no need for formalities Jake had figured. They each took a seat on the black leather couches.

  “We had a decent week.” Pete said, handing Luke a manila envelope. “The spreadsheets are all in there, along with the credit card receipts.” He handed him another envelope. “There should be two thousand there. Everyone’s been paid, but there are a few bills that came in, those are in the manila envelope.” Pete said as he leaned back against the sofa, his tattooed arms sprawling out along the back of the couch.

  Luke placed the envelopes on top of one another and then looked up at him. “So everything’s good.”

  “Yeah, we’re all good.” Pete paused and then ran one of his hands along his shaved head. “There’s just one thing.”

  Luke arched an eyebrow and peered at Pete.

  “I fired Spike.” Pete said flatly and waited for Luke to respond.

  Luke drew his eyebrows together as he tried to put a face to the name. “The guy who does the piercing?” Pete nodded. “What did he do?”

  Pete blew out a breath and leaned forward as he looked across at Luke. “He’s been selling pills and I’m not a hundred percent certain, but he could’ve been selling them out of here a few times.” He paused and let Luke digest his news then continued cautiously. “To Cara.”

  Luke tore his eyes away from Pete and looked down at the floor. “He was selling pills to Cara?”

  “She came here a few times. She wasn’t herself man, she was strung out on something.” Pete said remorsefully. “Spike has been dealing for a few months now. He calls himself the Street Pharmacist so my guess is she’s killing the pain with prescription pills. Last night she came in her like a bat out of hell and went straight towards him. I was inking someone so I couldn’t just stop, but I saw the exchange and by the time I was able to check out what was going on, she had already left out the back door.”

  Luke swiped his hands down his face and let out a breath. Cara was spiraling out of control and he blamed himself. He blamed himself because he knew about this for months and it was still going on, and now it was probably worse. He should’ve put an end to it already; he vowed to himself right then and there, that he would now. It didn’t matter what it took, he wouldn’t fail her or his brother even though he felt as if he already had failed his brother in more ways than one.

  “I’m sorry Luke. I didn’t know what else to do. I had to tell someone, she needs to get help.”

  Luke looked up at Pete and shook his head.

  “No you did the right thing.” He sighed heavily. “I know she needs help.” He looked at Pete evenly. “I’ll do everything I can to make sure she gets it.” He slapped his palms against his knees before he stood to his full height and leaned down to grab the envelopes. He held them up to Pete. “Thank you.”

  Pete nodded and stood as well. “No problem man.” He followed Luke towards the door. “When are you going to let me finish your piece?” He asked him.

  Luke looked down at his arms and stretched them out before turning them slightly. His inner right forearm had the outline of a warrior with wings symbolizing Jake’s fall from the greatest battle of his life. Pete still had to shade it in. His left forearm had his daughters name scripted across it, Ava Rose, which was complete. He glanced up at Pete. “I’ll be in touch maybe next week.”

  “Sounds good. Oh, and good luck with the Cara situation.” Pete said as Luke waved a hand above his head and walked out of Riverdale Ink. He was going to need a miracle not luck, he thought as he made his way to his truck. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to call her. The date stared back at him and he froze in his tracks. Today was the day she was supposed to marry Jake. He threw his phone onto the seat of his truck and slammed his palm against the roof trying to figure out what he should do. It was no use, he was fucked.

  * * * * *

  Cara Sloane made her way up the steep green grassy hill in the cemetery. Her feet walked robotically up the incline to the willow tree that sat perched on top of the hill. The two most important people in Cara’s life now rested eternally a couple of yards away from one another. Her mother, who had died when she was just a young girl and the only man she ever loved. The man she was supposed to marry on this day.

  Jake Lanza had become her whole life. Still, she wondered how she never noticed all those years they had been best friends, that, she had been in love with him. That was just another regret to tack onto the list. Had she not been too frightened to take that leap and let him know she wanted more than to be just his friend, they would’ve had more time. She could have been standing in front of his headstone as his wife and not just his fiancée that held him as he left this world.

  Cara stared at the headstone with bloodshot eyes. It still felt surreal to her that he was gone, and all that was left was the stone in front of her.

  “Today should’ve been the happiest day of our lives.” She said flatly. “Instead, I’m talking to your tombstone, wondering for the love of God, why I am still here?” She looked up at the clear sky. She had never questioned death when her mother had passed, but now it was all she could do. “I know you’re at peace and I should be thankful for that, but I can’t be. I never realized what a selfish person I was. You were suffering and all I could do was keep praying that you wouldn't leave me."

  She paused for a moment, then glanced back at Jake’s headstone and lifted her bare left hand. “I’m not wearing your ring anymore. Your sister and Nick are engaged. They’re really going to get married; you always said they belonged together.” She frowned and let her hand fall to her side. “I guess seeing them so happy and on the brink of a wedding made me feel a little ridiculous. Sam’s wearing a ring that is full of promise and represents the future, when all mine did was represent the past and something that will never be. I will never be your wife.”

  She let out a shaky breath that she seemed to be holding in. “I guess that’s what it meant all those times I dreamt of myself getting married. In my dreams I never saw who I was marrying; there was no one there waiting for me at the altar.”

  She kneeled before his head stone, not caring that the ground was moist and her jeans would surely stain. She reached into her pocketbook and pulled out a black leather bound journal. Her fingertips grazed the cover before she averted her eyes back to his stone.

  “I found your journal.” She said her voice hoarse and full of emotion as she tapped the cover of the book she held in her trembling hands. “There must be something wrong with me because every page made me madder and madder.” She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly. “I’m so mad at you, because each letter is a goodbye. You knew we weren’t going to get married.” She opened her eyes and the tears slipped from the corners as she did so. She lifted the book to the stone as if he could see it. “It’s all right here in your own words. You expect me to move on with my life when all I can think about is how angry I am that you knew you would leave me. You said your goodbyes while all I got to do was watch you die.”

  She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand before she slipped the book back into her bag. “Well, now wherever you are it’s your turn to watch.” She straightened her posture and stared at his name. “You can watch me exist...” She wouldn’t dare say live, because she knew that was anything but what she was doing. No, exist was the better choice of word. She stood up and brushed the fresh grass clippings off of her jeans. “… Until I don’t anymore.” The last
part of her sentence came out in a harsh strangled whisper. She sniffled before leaning down to press her lips against the cold headstone. Her warm lips full of life against the slab of stone only reinforcing the fact that she was alone. She stood straight and reached into her purse to pull out the orange prescription bottle that was her salvation. She unscrewed the cap and threw her head back as she shook the pills into her mouth. She closed her eyes as she swallowed the pills. Her eyes slowly fluttered open and she turned on her heel without another glance towards Jake’s tombstone.

  Her phone rang as she made her way back down the hill. She reached into her purse and pulled out the phone. She cringed when she saw it was Luke who was calling her. She declined the call just as she did every Friday. He’d leave a voicemail telling her he deposited the profits of Riverdale Ink in her checking account. He’d end the call with “I hope you’re okay, please call me back.” She had the whole voicemail down pat. Too bad she never called him back.

  * * * * *

  “Goddamn it!” Luke said as he threw his phone across the office and slammed his fist against the desk. He ran his hand threw his hair and cupped the back of his neck in frustration.

  “What the hell is with you?” Nick asked, standing in the doorway of the office they shared. He took a step inside and picked up the phone Luke had thrown, examining it before handing it back to him.

  Luke took the phone and let out a breath before shaking his head. “It’s nothing.”

  Nick crossed his arms against his chest and cocked an eyebrow at him, calling bullshit. Luke rolled his eyes at his friend before shoving the phone into his back pocket.

  “I’m just stressed out.”

  “You’re throwing shit and slamming your fist.” Nick said observantly.

  “Yeah, and? We all deal with stress differently.” He turned around and began to shove some order forms for parts around. “Did the transmission come in for the Chevy?”