by K B Cinder
When I was her age, Mama was still hoping I’d let her trot me around the pageant circuit that my sisters and I all shunned like the plague. It took me donating all of my dresses to Goodwill to get her to give up that pipe dream.
She stuffed her hands into her pockets angrily. “He won’t let me have my phone back unless I do it.”
“Hey—there are worse punishments,” I warned as I slowly rose from a crouch back into my stool. My knee wasn’t having the motion though, and it took everything to keep from yelping in front of the blue-haired hellion.
“He thinks these classes are the answer to all my problems,” she huffed with an eye roll. “Newsflash: He is my problem.”
“Why do you say that?”
Trapped with this demon child till Sage appeared to take her off my hands, I entertained her rant. Might as well let her get it out and save her father the headache later. Everyone needed to blow off steam.
She grimaced as if remembering the world’s grossest sight. “Some girl wouldn’t shut up about how hot he is during gym class. Do you know how gross that is? I told her to shut it, and she squeezed my arm like King Kong and threatened to punch me.”
My eyes drifted to hers. “Want to know a secret? People say the same thing about your teacher over there, and he’s my brother-in-law. It’s disgusting; I know.”
She crossed her arms, flicking her eyes to Sage and then back to me. “How am I supposed to go through life like that? He showed up to pick me up once and the girls haven’t shut up about him since.”
“Have you talked to your mom about it?” I ventured. I could relate to an extent, but thank God girls weren’t drooling over Papa in school. Life blessed me with a father that wore khakis and occasionally donned a porn star mustache.
“She left,” she revealed, averting her eyes. “It’s just me and Izzy left to deal with him.”
Ouch. I walked right into that truth bomb. I should’ve seen the writing on the wall, dammit.
“I’m sorry.”
I didn’t know what else to say. I couldn’t imagine going through life with only Papa. Mama was overbearing, but just thinking about navigating periods and boys with Papa made me nauseous.
Suddenly, this shortstop of a girl didn’t look like an annoying teenager anymore. She looked like a little warrior walking in shoes I couldn’t comprehend filling.
“It’s fine. She left a long time ago. I don’t miss her.”
“That doesn’t make it fine. I’m sorry—really. I know you don’t know me, but if you ever need anything, I’m all ears.” I couldn’t give the best advice, I mean, look at my damn life, but I could explain bras or makeup better than a man.
Georgie appeared next to me, gnashing on a granola bar. “Hola.”
“How was cleaning?” I asked, looking away from Cass.
I didn’t want to though. Something about this little rebel with every cause in the world drew me in. I wanted to hug her and tell her that everything would be okay.
Georgie’s face scrunched. “Gross as hell. That guy at the free weights with the two-inch back hair needs to put a damn shirt on. He looks like a wet sheepdog.”
I grinned, nodding toward Cass. “Do you mind if I run back to the cage with her real quick to introduce her to Sage?”
Georgie waved me off as she reached for her cell phone tucked in the top drawer. “Go ahead. Just avoid the free weights unless you want a splatter of back sweat in passing.”
“Noted,” I said, turning to Cass. “Let’s go.”
10
Lev
Picking up extra shifts that ended just before group therapy was a mixed bag.
On one hand: Money.
I needed it.
Raising two daughters wasn’t cheap, and with college inching closer than I’d like to admit for Cass, the threat of student loans on the horizon had me scrambling. Seeing six-digit figures would make anyone’s asshole pucker and made overtime look as sexy as lingerie.
On the other, I had to deal with people all afternoon rather than errands. After pulling over one too many minivan drivers with attitudes the size of Texas, I actually missed struggling over remembering which box of tampons to get Cass in Walmart.
I hadn’t had time to do anything other than change and head over to the center from the station, taking my bike across town to soak up the stretch of good weather.
With the girls, I rarely got to take the Triumph out, with Cass only occasionally willing to ride on the back now that she was too cool to be seen with me. Other than being too young to ride as a passenger safely, Izzy hated the bike and loved to whip out fatality charts to kill my buzz.
Riding the bike made the trip across town faster though, and I made it to group far earlier than usual. At least Allegra would be happy with the change even if I wasn’t. I’d been late to more meets than not.
Including this one, there were only four more to go, and I was a free man.
Thursdays would be mine again.
At last.
I parked next to a white coupe and headed inside with my helmet tucked under my arm. The lobby had its usual glacial feel, the place free of life once quitting time hit. That’s when society left and its underbelly filed in.
They didn’t advertise it, but our group session was for those with impulse problems. Some fancied drugs. Others, like me, enjoyed punching people in the face. It left me achingly curious why a pretty little thing I’d thought about more often than not over the last week was there. It was rather alarming that I’d fingerblasted a potential felon.
The Chief would love that.
As I neared the meeting room, the door was closed, and that could-be felon leaned against the wall outside in a white tank and a long, copper skirt, the fabric swallowing her frame and hiding that pesky ankle bracelet everyone knew was there courtesy of my mouth.
Her eyes drifted up the closer I got, but mine promptly found a home on the tile, slamming that door shut.
Had you asked me a week earlier what my poison of choice was, I would’ve likely said a cold one after a long shift.
Maybe a shot of whiskey if shit really hit the fan.
Now I had to change that answer.
My poison was a shortstop of a woman with wild waves and judging by the ankle bracelet, an even wilder side lurking beneath the surface. The exact opposite of what me or the girls needed.
After Jocelyn, I’d never put much thought into dating, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out I didn’t need someone as fucked up as I was. It didn’t matter why Sparky was there. All that mattered was she had to commingle with me in that room, which was never a good thing.
“Hi to you too, Chickenshit.”
Was she talking to me?
I glanced around, spying we were alone, then remembered she’d called me the same thing in the bathroom after I almost made her cum into another galaxy.
My eyes reluctantly drifted to her face, finding her slick lips in a smirk. “Sparky as ever, I see.”
“Always,” she replied, her lids heavy with the thick, black lashes I’d dreamed of all week. Not the gaudy fake shit either—the real deal. “You’re here early. Trying to score extra points with Allegra?”
With her shoulders flush against the drywall, her hips arched out, and I had to force away thoughts of how far I could make her bend while I fucked her from behind. “I already have high marks.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” she muttered, flipping her dark waves over her shoulder. “I’d fail you.”
“Seems like you were coming in strong on giving me an A,” I quipped.
Damn close, too. If she hadn’t touched my dick, she would’ve moaned the alphabet in Pig Latin if I’d asked her to. But alas, one brush of her fingers saved me from myself.
“Keep dreaming,” she snorted, crossing her arms and pushing her breasts up high. The creamy swells peeked out the top of her blouse, and my dick twitched just knowing how good they felt. How a little hunk of metal adorned each beneath th
at pricey fabric.
“No need to, though I know I was prominently featured in yours all week, doll.”
I was painfully full of shit.
Every night brought visions of her on my dick. Riding it. Sucking it. Taking it raw as I shoved a gag in that smart mouth. I’d give a nut to feel any of it if the act wouldn’t risk everything.
“You wish,” she scoffed with an epic eye roll.
“Funny, you made that face last week when I had my fingers in your…”
“Hi, Allegra!” she greeted suddenly, cutting me off. She shot machine-gun fire my way with her eyes as the therapist approached in a sundress and wedges.
Allegra looked to me in surprise, scooting her thick messenger bag strap up her shoulder. “You’re here early, Rebel.”
“No traffic,” I said with a shrug.
I also didn’t have to play any guessing games with the girls after school, either. It was smooth sailing from the station.
“Huh.” Her tongue wedged in her cheek as she stuck her key in the lock and glanced between us. “Everything good?”
“Never better,” I lied.
She looked to Sparky, ignoring me. “How are things, Ms. Nunes?”
Sparky smiled, her eyes snapping to me the moment that Allegra turned her back to step into the meeting room. “Great. Slept soundly all week. No dreams.”
I waved for Sparky to lead the way in behind Allegra for two reasons. One, I wanted to see if she dared to take my seat (which she didn’t), and two, I wanted to enjoy her ass, but didn’t get the chance. Unfortunately, her sack of a skirt hid the goods.
“I see you learn from your mistakes,” I noted as I claimed my throne. “Smart cookie.”
Her dark eyes cut to me. “Nope. I just wasn’t in the mood for another temper tantrum.”
I didn’t miss the smile on Allegra’s face who’d overheard our exchange from her spot hovering by the desk.
I fired off my most mocking side eye, hoping to be half as obnoxious as Cass on her worst day. “Sure, Jan.”
Sparky offered a nose crinkle, and as soon as Allegra turned to set her messenger bag down—a middle finger.
“Mature, Sparky,” I said. “I know you want to, but the answer is still no.”
Her cheeks flushed, and for a moment, I thought she might hit me, but she sat back in her chair with an angry sneer instead. “Piss off, Rebel. Or whatever your real name is, Poser.”
“Poser?” I laughed, sliding my helmet under my seat. “What is this, fifth grade? My real name is Rebel, Sparky.”
She let out a sigh and hooked her handbag over the top of her chair for safekeeping. “Yeah right, and my real name is Pterodactyl.”
“I swear on Santa Claus,” I said, holding up my hands in surrender. “Ask Allegra.”
She didn’t, instead choosing to continue on with her bitter interrogation. “What kind of name is Rebel, seriously? You couldn’t come up with a better gimmick, like Inkblot or Stamp Collection?”
“Unfortunately, I can’t ask my dead relatives what they were thinking back when they took on the name in Germany. I’ll buy a Ouija board and let you know next week.”
“Enough!” she groaned, just as the first few attendees started filing in. “Just admit your real name! What is it, Eugene? Arnold? Gus? Come on, big shot! Admit it!”
I grinned, loving every second of her tirade. “I already told you: It’s Rebel. Lev Rebel.”
“You’re so full of shit!” she exploded, going from merely revving her engines to full acceleration.
“I don’t mean to butt in, but that really is his name,” Allegra said, physically stepping between us as smoke practically simmered from the beauty’s ears. “Soraya, maybe it’s better if you have a seat where Jonathan sits for today.”
“Who the hell is Jonathan?” Sparky growled, throwing her chair back as she stood. Her cheeks were ablaze, and her chest rose and fell in puffs of rage.
Even in the peak of anger, I still wanted to poke. To prod that last nerve and take her over the edge. I loved that fire. I saw myself in it, and naturally, it drew me in.
“Carries a cracked phone and looks like Jesus,” I muttered, earning a death stare as the man himself walked in.
“Are you guys talking about me?” he snapped in his oversized peasant top. As always, worn out sandals sheathed his dry, cracked feet as he shuffled over.
I placed my hands behind my head, enjoying the show. “Switch seats with Sparky today. She admitted to fantasizing about me, so Allegra wants some space between us to keep me safe. Be careful; she might start with you next.”
His face scrunched as he took in the raging princess, who only reddened more at my taunts. “No offense, Sweets, but I don’t play for your team.”
“What the hell? I did not say that!” she screeched, looking at Allegra with wide eyes, who was struggling to keep a straight face while I reaped havoc.
The girl who dared to go toe to toe with me was in way over her head, the fact written all over her face along with the smoky eyeshadow and sharp liner.
“Relax,” I soothed as our eyes met through the crook of Allegra’s arm. “It’s okay to admit your feelings. You’re safe here. We’re a family.”
“You’re out of your goddamn mind!” she seethed.
I grinned, outstretching my forearm to bring it into her view. I pointed at a string of text beneath a cat skull, at the macabre Alice in Wonderland tattoo that summed up life better than any other: We’re all mad here.
And she’d better get used to it.
11
Raya
I hated Rebel.
That cocky smirk was downright slappable whenever he’d glance over as group went on.
When I’d catch him in the act, he’d play coy and look away, but his fingers curved in his lap like they’d done inside me, and he’d tap his thumb on his jeans just as he’d done to my clit.
God, I hated him.
But I hated myself more.
I hated that no matter how mad he got me; I wanted him. No tease, taunt, or cheeky comment could dull the pull.
On paper, he was my type to a T, from the intricate tattoos carving his skin to the motorcycle helmet tucked beneath his seat. I wanted to smack him with it when he’d walked up with it under his arm, crossing off yet another box on my panty-melting list. It was like he had a play-by-play of how to rev my engines while being the exact opposite of what I needed.
Maybe it was the lack of sex getting to me.
Or maybe it was a deep-seated need to rebel yet again with someone who literally bore the name.
I’d stayed within the lines for far too long—more than I ever thought possible—and perhaps that streak in me needed to act out or I’d spontaneously combust.
All I knew was that my brain hated him, but my body wanted him.
The squeak of Allegra’s marker against the whiteboard pulled my eyes from the floor where they’d remained after finding myself thinking about Rebel’s mouth one too many times.
“Jonathan, what advice would you give a person in your shoes?” Allegra asked.
“Uh,” Coffee Jesus started, swishing his drink of choice around its paper prison. “Don’t buy decaf?”
A few people in the circle laughed as Allegra let out an irritated sigh. “This is a serious exercise, Jonathan. Please.”
“Well, don’t get caught offering an undercover cop a hand job is high on my list,” he said with a shrug.
“Ditto,” another voice echoed, making my eyes scan the crowd hopelessly.
What the fuck? Was that a common occurrence?
“Fucking entrapment,” another muttered. “Pigs.”
Allegra placed the cap on the marker, just as she finished writing advice to others in red across the board.
It might’ve been crude, but Coffee Jesus wasn’t wrong. No one wanted to get caught doing that. I definitely didn’t. My parents would’ve been a lot angrier over that than the accident, and they’d practically
disowned me before I lost everything.
Our mentor frowned. “I understand that it’s been a long day, but we’re all in this to learn from one another and grow. We can’t accomplish anything if you’re dead-set on acting out.”
Jonathan only shrugged.
Allegra’s eyes scanned the crowd and fell on me. “What about you, Soraya? Any words of wisdom for someone in your position?”
I had a few choice words regarding Rebel, but I ignored them to meet her gaze. “I would tell someone in my position to be less impulsive. Think before you act.”
My parents would love that answer, even if I were incapable of ever acting on those words.
“Very good,” Allegra noted as she ripped the marker’s cap off again, turning to scrawl the message on the board. “Taking three to fives seconds to give something a second thought can save you a lot of headaches in the long run.”
“Isn’t that the damn truth,” I mumbled under my breath. Even after the accident, I was still screwing up.
“Rebel?” Allegra called, eyeing the inked bastard cautiously.
“I would tell myself to breathe,” he muttered, pulling his eyes from looking out the window to tune into the session. “I’d say that the end is near, and to keep your head down and out of trouble.”
Why don’t you take your own advice then?
Rebel glanced at me harshly, and it was only then that I realized I’d said those blasted words aloud. Shit.
“The trick is wanting the reward more than the risk,” Allegra informed as she scribbled on the board. “You can throw away months or years of work for a second of bliss. That moment of euphoria can cause a world of hurt.”
“That should be the catchphrase of my last relationship,” Coffee Jesus grumbled, tapping something into his phone with his dry fingers, the cuticles pulled back and flaming red. “Totally stealing that for my headstone someday, too.”
“Or you could write it on your ceiling to see every morning,” Allegra suggested with her brows furrowed. “Don’t get morbid, please. Happy thoughts only.”
