by Emelia Blair
She gives me a bland look but she can’t hide the redness of her ears. “Eat and go home. Don’t you have to sleep?”
“I did sleep,” I reassure her. “I’m the kind who naps. I can fall asleep anywhere.”
“That’s hardly something to be proud of.” Her lips aren’t twitching and she’s struggling not to smile.
I feel a hint of satisfaction. “Is your boss still bothering you?” I ask.
Something dark flickers in Tracy’s eyes before she smiles and lies through her teeth, “No.”
I watch her. “You really need to work on your poker face, you know.”
She frowns. “You don’t have to worry about it. I can handle Paul.”
“I have no doubt of that but still, what did he do?” I persist. When she looks reluctant to share, I say. “Tracy, you don’t talk to Kendall about these things because you don’t want to worry her. You gotta talk to somebody.”
Tracy looks around at the empty diner which only has a drunkard passed out at the last booth. She sighs. “It’s really nothing. He decreased my hourly wage. Claimed that it was either that or the diner considered cutting employees. But when I asked around, it was only my hourly wage that was lowered.”
“Why don’t you leave?”
She shrugs. “Even with the pay cut, I’m still earning more than I would at any other place. Kendall’s job isn’t completely certain yet. What if your boss decides to fire her?”
“You have very little faith in your friend.”
“I have very little faith in your boss.” Tracy starts wiping the mugs and putting them back on the rack.
I watch her as I sip at the lemonade. “Kendall told me you were an excellent chef.”
Tracy smirks at me. “Did she tell you to tell me that?”
I have to laugh. “No. She doesn’t know I come here. I doubt she knows that we’re friends.”
“How interesting,” Tracy comments. “Any particular reason?”
I shrug. I don’t think telling her that I want to keep her to myself would be a very good idea. The more time I spend with Tracy, the more addicted I’m becoming to her. “I’m hungry.” I tell her.
She looks up. “The menu is right there.”
“Why don’t you cook me something? Yourself, one of your own creations. Kendall says you have plenty of delicious recipes.”
She narrows her eyes at me.
I give her a winning smile. “Please?”
The hesitation is there but she gives in, muttering something under her breath.
When she returns twenty minutes later, she puts down a plate in front of me. “Chicken Parmesan with stuffed mushrooms, broccoli, and cheese with grilled potatoes on the side.”
If the dish doesn’t get my mouth watering, the description sure does. I dig in with relish and I can feel Tracy watching me. “Is this your own recipe?”
“Yes,” she replies. “Do you like it?”
I grin, nodding eagerly, a mouthful of the succulent chicken in my mouth.
Tracy’s laugh is soft and she looks pleased. She leans on the counter and watches me eat.
I can’t resist spearing one of the potatoes and offering it to her. She stares at it and I wonder if she’s going to reject it but then she leans over and captures it with her soft mouth and I feel myself growing hard in my pants as I watch her chew it, carefully.
Bewildered at my own attraction to her, I stare down at my meal, trying to calm myself down.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
I have no answer so I try to change the subject, “I was thinking I’d come and help you guys move next week. I’m sure you must have a lot of things to get done. I know a guy who owns a truck, so I can borrow it.”
Tracy studies me, curiously. “Are you this nice to everybody?”
“Maybe,” I reply. “But I find I’m more partial when it comes to you.”
Her cheeks turn a soft pink and she clears her throat. “Well, you need to be careful, lest somebody takes advantage of you.”
“I’ll have to count on you to protect me.” I wink at her and it’s fascinating to see the red spread across her face.
This time, it’s Tracy who changes the subject and she points towards one of my tattoos. “How come you have so many of those?”
I freeze and it takes a visible effort for me to speak normally. “My tattoos?”
“Yeah.”
I have wanted to tell her about my past and here is the perfect opportunity to do so, but I’m scared. What if she decides to turn her back on me? In that moment, I realize how important Tracy has become to me in these past few weeks.
But I don’t want to lie to her.
I set down my fork and take a deep breath. “I got these in prison.”
She goes still and then her voice is careful as she asks, “You were in prison?”
I meet her gaze, feeling numb, awaiting the rejection that will surely to follow. “Yes. I killed a man.”
She doesn’t move and then her mouth opens.
I close my eyes waiting for a horrified response.
Instead, she asks, “Why?”
My eyes fly open and I stare at her. “What?”
“Why did you kill him?”
My answer is a bit slow in coming, and I grapple with my words, “Because he murdered my mother.”
Tracy sucks in a breath and then she hesitates before reaching out and covers my still hand with hers. “I’m sorry for asking. I didn’t want to reopen a painful wound.”
“No.” I shake my head, my voice hoarse as I stare down at her hand. “No. I planned to tell you. I just didn’t know when to do it. This is—this is why I told you that I wouldn’t become involved in your life, even as a friend, at a personal level, because I didn’t want to deceive you.”
“D-Do you want to talk about it?” The question is laced with concern.
I startle, not having expected that. “The only people I’ve ever talked to about this are Caleb and my lawyer,” I admit.
“You don’t have to force yourself to—”
“I think I want to,” I cut her off, trapping her fingers in mine. “I’m just worried about what you’ll think of me once you hear my story.”
Tracy smiles then. “Is my opinion of you that important to you?”
I stare up at her and breathe out the words, “I’m starting to think so.”
She tightens her hold on my fingers. “I think you’re a kind man who is considerate and funny and caring. I value your friendship and I like you. After Kendall, I consider you to be my closest friend, despite how brief our time together has been. So, I won’t judge you on your past, Duke.”
My chest is tight at her words and I swallow. “I hope you still think so after this.”
She just smiles at me.
So, I begin, “I was eighteen when I met Mara. She was one of the customers at the mechanic shop I worked at. For a guy of my age, she was hot, sexy, and wild, and I fell for her, hard and fast. She had left her car in the shop and I drove her back to her apartment. I think she knew I was attracted to her and she flirted with me a bit. And then she would come around and tease me every now and then, even after her car was fixed and returned. My mother was happy for me initially, but then once I asked Mara out, she refused to let me plan out our dates. She would choose the restaurant and she would go for the ones which would cost me half of my paycheck. But I would still take her. We were together for about six months. But she never let me come back to her apartment. She was my first girlfriend and I was madly in love.”
Tracy tightens her fingers around mine when I falter, stuck in a past that’s tainted in blood.
“Mom found it odd that Mara wouldn’t even bother to meet her despite the number of times I invited her to come have dinner with my mother. Mom began to have misgivings when she recognized Mara at one of the hotels she used to work at, from my pictures, and she told me she had seen Mara with a member of the Red Snakes, which was a local gang in our part of the city. I was
so in love that I refused to believe her and I confronted my girlfriend who denied it… I chose to believe her. Things between me and my mother deteriorated because she warned me to be careful.”
The regret within me still burns, as does the guilt which is forever a part of me.
“Mom then lost her job at that hotel and she called me crying, telling me that she won’t be able to make rent. She was on her way to my apartment and I snapped at her. I don’t know what I said but it must have been harsh because she went quiet and then hung up the phone. I was at my job and after some time, I felt bad so I decided to buy something sweet for her and go cheer her up after my shift was over. I called Mara to cancel our dinner plans but some guy picked up and he knew my name. He sneered at me that I should have stayed away from his woman and he told me he would make sure I paid in blood. In the background, I heard Mara’s laugh and I heard her say something. I couldn’t hear her properly but I made out the words ‘mama’s boy’ and ‘mother’. And then I heard a scream and four gunshots. I heard my mother scream as they killed her.”
I have to stop at the next part, not having understood how difficult it would be for me to recount this episode. My breathing is shallow.
Tracy’s hand brushes against my cheek.
It’s then when I realize my cheeks are wet with tears. I look up at her, numbly.
Her eyes are shimmering with unshed tears. She murmurs, roughly, “You don’t have to go on, Duke. You don’t have to relive it.”
I part my lips which feel dry and cracked, and my voice is broken, “She was barely breathing when I reached home. They hadn’t even been merciful and given her a painless death. She held on until I got there and she died in my arms, telling me over and over again, that she loved me.” I feel myself shattering.
Tracy is lifting the go-between door and her arms are wrapping around my shoulders.
I breathe in her scent, trying to pull myself together. Her breath is warm on my hair as she holds me to her, my face in her shoulder, her soft breasts pressed against me. I soak in her comfort, and take a deep breath before pulling away slightly, so I can see her face. “The police said there was residue from two different guns but then the evidence started vanishing and I realized that they didn’t plan to cross the Red Snakes. I still waited though. I waited and I waited for justice to be served and then three months later, I saw Mara and that man, together. They stood outside my shop, watching me and smiling.” My fist clenches in Tracy’s uniform, bile rising up in my throat at the vivid memory. “I don’t know why they did this to me but they had no regret. My mother taught me never to raise my hand to a woman, so I decided to go after her boyfriend. The system failed me, so I bought a gun, tracked him down and I shot him. And then I went to prison.”
The ending is abrupt because I don’t think Tracy needs to know about the year I spent preparing for this. The way I tracked Wade down and how pale Mara’s face looked when she had seen me murder her lover. The jeering comments she had made just before I had taken out the gun and put a bullet in her boyfriend.
“What happened to Mara?” Tracy’s hands are in my hair and she’s watching me, her face tense.
“I heard she got involved with the wrong men a few years after I went to prison and she died.” My tone is flat. “It was Caleb who got me exonerated. He managed to dig up that my case had been mishandled and the FBI owed him a favor, so he called it in. His friend and lawyer, Lucas fought my case, and he got me out. He gave me a job and everything. Helped me settle back into society. I owe the man big time.”
Tracy sighs. “I’m sorry, Duke. I’m sorry you went through all that. And I don’t think any different of you, if you must know.”
“But I went to prison.” I look at her. “Isn’t that like a mark against me?”
Tracy raises her brow and then very sweetly presses her lips against my rough cheek. “This isn’t a job interview. You went through some shit and you were betrayed by the system. If anything, I would blame the corrupt police officers and that woman. Never you.”
My heart skips a beat at her words and I pull away to look at her. “But I killed a man.”
“He deserved it,” Tracy says, coldly. “I wish you had tortured him a bit first. They manipulated you; you had been so young. I hope that bitch suffered before she died.”
Her ruthless statement has me pausing and I stare at her.
She raises a brow at me. “What? Surprised? Did you think me so sweet and nice that I wouldn’t wish suffering on somebody? When I escaped the man who fathered Max, I left him a nice gash on his face as a parting gift and I threatened to chop his dick off.”
“Escaped?” I echo.
Tracy doesn’t look fazed. “Yes. He was my boyfriend at that time and I was young and I wanted out and then it was Kendall who saved me.” Tracy pauses and a heavy look enters her eyes. “She paid a heavy price for saving my life. Both me and Max owe her everything. She stuck by us through everything. She helped raise Max with me and she loves Max like he is her own. And now when she’s moving up in the world, she’s taking us with her. And look at me, I’m still stuck here, making minimum wage, practically useless to her.” Her voice sounds strange, almost self loathing.
I tighten my arms around her waist, telling her, “I haven’t known Kendall for that long but we’ve become good friends. And what I know is that she thinks the world of you. Don’t beat yourself up. Your time will come when you can repay some of what she’s done for you.”
Tracy cups my face, “You think so?”
“Yes.”
She stares down at me, then leans down and brushes her lips against mine. “You always know the right things to say, Duke. Plus, you’re cute.”
My heart is beating wildly at the press of her soft lips against mine, such a chaste kiss but I dare not ask for more. “I’m not cute. I’m manly.”
Tracy laughs. “Sure.”
“I am,” I protest, feeling insulted. “I work out seven days a week. Just look at my biceps!”
She escapes my hold. “And you’re a goofball.”
I watch her go back to her side of the counter and miss the feeling of her body pressed against mine. It’s a heady feeling.
She smiles at me, nudging my plate towards me. “Eat up. It will get cold.”
There’s a peace within me as I take a bite of the mouthwatering soft chicken. Tracy knows my past and she doesn’t think any less of me.
That’s important to me… for reasons I refuse to acknowledge.
5
Having Tracy move into the same building complex has me excited to the point that Caleb gives me a bland look. “Stop smiling like that,” he says quietly. “You’re creeping me out.”
I flip him the finger and go back to the match that I’m watching.
For a change, Caleb is in my apartment. There are some renovations going on in his living room and he doesn’t want to be bothered. It’s the weekend and since there is no office and Kendall is pissed at him for something he probably did, he’s taken to sulking in my apartment.
He lets out a disgusted sound. “Don’t you have anything edible to eat?”
I look up to see him peering into my fridge and I wonder if he shows his office friends this side of him, the normal grumpy side. But then, I’m more family than friend and I’ve seen him at his worst and at his best. I’ve seen this man transform from somebody broken to somebody driven and ruthless. “Stop leeching off of me,” I complain. “Order us some burgers.”
“I’m in your house.” He gives me a deadpan stare.
I roll my eyes. “So? I’m not the billionaire. Go on, be a pal. Feed me.”
“Fuck off, you get enough money so you can afford to pay for the food, at least.” Caleb growls.
I grin. “You’re the boss.” Then something strikes me. “Wait. I think it’s Tracy’s day off. Why don’t I ask her to cook us something? She’s really good.”
Caleb gives me a doubtful look and then lets out a resigned sigh. “I’ll come w
ith you. Maybe your girlfriend has better taste than you.”
“She’s not my girlfriend and you just want to see Kendall.” I switch off the television and grab the keys to the apartment.
The girls are home.
It’s Kendall who opens the door and gives me a surprised look, then looks over my shoulder, warily. “Is ‘he’ with you?”
“Yes he is,” Caleb responds, not insulted in the least, and slips into the apartment from under my arm.
“It’s the weekend,” Kendall complains, trailing after him. “I’m not working.”
I ignore them as they bicker lightly and follow the scent of cooking food to the kitchen to see Tracy standing there in shorts and a tiny shirt. Her hair is up in a somewhat messy bun. My cock goes hard in an instant.
She blinks when she sees me. “Oh, hey. What are you doing here?”
Max is sitting at the counter, writing in a notebook and he grins at me, pleased to see me.
I sit down next to him, trying to compose myself as I ruffle his hair, replying, “Caleb was hungry, and wanted to mooch off of you. I told him it was rude but you know him.”
Tracy rolls her eyes. “Sure, that’s what happened.”
I grin at her. “Can you please feed us?”
She sighs, giving in. “Fine. I’ve got a lasagna in the fridge. I’ll just chop up some more salad.”
“You’re the best,” I tell her and it’s fascinating to see her blush.
As she gets to work, I glance down at what Max is doing. The kid is absorbed in some writing homework and l nudge him when he frowns. “Need some help?”
He looks up at me, wide-eyed. “Really?”
“He needs to learn how to write his name,” Tracy says while chopping some cucumbers. “He’s having some trouble with the letter A.”
I wink. “I’m an expert in writing. Look at this one. Now imagine if the letter o is a ball…”
I like kids.
I always have.
And Max is especially adorable. He’s a friendly kid and these days, I’ve taken to dropping him off at school and picking him up. Caleb doesn’t mind since he gets along with Max as well. Tracy wasn’t very sure in the beginning but I swore up and down that the school was on our way. But it also allows her to get some extra rest.
