Текст книги "Loving the White Liar"
Автор книги: Kate Stewart
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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
Kate Stewart, a native of Dallas, now resides in Charleston, S.C. She moved to the city three weeks after her first visit, dropping her career of 8 years, declaring the city her creative muse. Since her move in 2010, she has published two novels, the third coming July 2015. She lives with her husband of 8 years, Nick who is featured on the cover of the novel, TITAN. (Set to re-release some time in 2015.)
Her other novels include Room 212 and Never Me which are both available now.
Contact Kate – [email protected]
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/authorkatestewart
Twitter – https://twitter.com/authorklstewart
There are several women responsible for my sanity on a daily basis: Stacy Hahn, Anne Morrillo, Juliana Cabrera, Yamara Martinez, Julie Kerchkof, Sharon W. Dunn and Jessica Ramirez. You ladies have stuck by me the last year it has taken me to hit the publish button once again. You truly are my nearest and dearest and I love you.
Bloggers– I love you. There are way too many to name so I’ll just take the asshole route and say thanks to all of you.
Danielle Bonaventura Lefave – Thank you for your amazing support and endless replies to my messages. I love the fun we have and the friendship we’ve formed.
Thank you to my betas: Sharon, Patty, Beth, Cathy, Stacy, Anne, Julie, Jessica, Danielle, Heather, and Yamara.
Heather Brocket Slayton – You are AWESOME. Thank you so much for taking me on again. Your friendship is a great compliment.
To my Asskickers – I love every single one of you. You represent your name well, and I love that you are all mine (insert evil laugh).
Jess Bee-Lady thank you for swooping in and saving me. You truly are the best girl in the world…bitch(LOL).
Thanks to my dear friend and step mother Alta for ALWAYS having my back and being the best friend and mother a girl could ask for. And a big thanks to my sister Angela who reads me even though I’m not her type and listens to my endless rants about…everything. You rock Angie.
Amy Queau– I love you. Really, thank you for the gift of your friendship and your bitch slapping at all the right moments. I can’t wait to share a beer with you.
My best friends, Irene, Erica, Allyson, Teresa, and T thank you for your encouragement. I love you guys so much.
Edee – I am so proud of us, of our friendship, and all we’ve accomplished together. I couldn’t have done ANY of it without my soul sister.
I took a seat at the small table next to the window unit. I lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, letting my eyes drift to the bed. It had been years since I’d felt smoke cloud my lungs and the rush of nicotine. The sheets were still a tangled mess. The room was untouched. I knew today was the day I should clean Room 212 and leave the memory of him behind. Still, there I sat at that small table, staring at the bed, trying to recapture the devastating effect it had on me the day before. I was a glutton for this punishment. I was trying to force myself to come back to my senses quickly. It was the smart thing to do. I hadn’t done one smart thing since he had shown his face. Out of weakness and a reluctance to face the literal bed I had made for myself to lie in, I refused to move from my chair. I heard the window unit come on and tiny goose bumps spread across my skin. The whirring sound of the air flowing into the room took me back to the last time I had heard it. I was lying on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. I felt a rush of tears and let them fall. I was alone after all. No one could see me. No one ever really saw me, until he saw me. I pulled on the last of my cigarette and tapped it out in the ashtray. A wave of nausea took hold and I ran to the bathroom and emptied my stomach.
Gathering all my strength, I walked over to the bed and let myself fall into it. I grabbed the closest pillow and inhaled deeply. It smelled like a mixture of beer, sweat and soap. Indulgence was mine. I was entitled. After the last six months of my life, I was entitled to love him just a few minutes longer, before I resumed my life as it was before he came and ruined it again.
There was no erasing Seth Whitaker. There was no erasing yesterday. And tomorrow, I was sure I would be clinging to this pillow for dear life if I didn’t do something about it now. I picked up the closest thing to me—an ice bucket—and smashed it into the wall, shattering the handle. Nothing. It did nothing for me. I glanced at the stupid fool staring back at me in the mirror. Her green eyes were swollen and glaring at me. Her menacing stare was full of hate. Her jaw was tight and her lips were barely visible due to her pressing them together firmly in a thin line. She was the ugliest woman I had ever seen. But beneath the surface of that pale skin was something far worse…a heart that was still beating for him.
I quickly turned away from her and rid the bed off all the sheets, ripping them from the corners and emptying the pillowcases. I pulled my cart in from outside and began to scrub every inch of the bathroom. I threw the sheets in the laundry bin and put fresh linens down. I scrubbed every surface of the bathroom and sink. Grabbing the trash, I took one last look around. I had done it. In just twenty minutes I had rid the room of all traces of him. Still, he was there. My eyes burned again with fresh tears and I quickly dismissed them with my shirtsleeve. Enough.
Declaring my indulgence over, I pulled the door open and was met by a burst of sunlight. I covered my eyes to ease the tension of it beating on my brow and turned to steer my cart into the shadows under the awnings of the adjoining rooms. I crept past the rooms pushing my cart, knowing full well the squeaking sound would irritate the sleeping guests. I quickly threw the sheets laced with his scent into the dumpster and looked around as though I were guilty and hiding evidence.
I suppose I could’ve just laundered them, but the temptation to take in the scent of him was too strong. I quickly grabbed a bottle of bleach and poured it over them, ruining my chance of any more indulgence. It was a stupid thing to do, but I am a stupid woman. I made my way back to Room 212 and shut the door. I took a scalding hot shower to wash off all traces of his mouth. I slipped under the covers and begged sleep to take me.
I had never expected to feel anything like this again, especially pleasure, love, and pain. I hated the fact that I still could. I hated the fact that the very reason I had avoided feeling anything for so long, was the very reason I was in the mess again.
My name is Laura Sedgwick and I hate love. It had ruined every single day of my life for as long as I could remember and today I declared war on it, for the second time.
I sat in the middle of the park on my plush pink blanket staring at my toes. There were people everywhere, but I had never been much of a people watcher. I had always been an introvert, unless I saw something I wanted. Then I would carefully study whatever or whoever it was and find a way to make it mine. I had my black bikini top on and cut-off jean shorts and I had just brought all of my long, thick, brown hair on top of my head, securing it into a tight knot without a hair tie. It was one of the perks of having hair like mine. There were a couple of guys out who pretended to casually glance my way, but none who seemed brave enough to pass the façade of my back off bitch body language.
I was notorious for attracting unwanted attention. And while most days it got me far, today this girl was so far from that girl that no one would recognize me. I was not in the mood and desperately needed sleep. I had been up all night racing around trying to find my brother, Dave. He was my only lifeline and I had failed at every attempt to find him. Dave had never made it home last night, so I drove around aimlessly checking my pager, searching our local hot spots. Forced to give up over four hours ago at sunrise, I thought myself pretty clever to get sleep in the public park as though I were trying to soak up some sun. The truth was I had no place to sleep. I had lost everything, trusting the idiot I had claimed as a boyfriend for the past two years. As of last night, the key to unlock the door to escape to my most favorite place and comfort in the world– my bed– was useless. He could keep it all.
Why? Because I had no intention of ever laying eyes on him again. He had taken up too much of my time, my trust and now my bed. Bastard! As soon as I found my brother, he was as good as dead anyway. He had always hated Chris, and now he had a reason to do the very thing he had wanted to do since we began our two year relationship: kick his ass. There really wasn’t a point, though. The minute I saw the line of coke he’d left on the plate and the naked girl with blue puke dribbling from her lips on the couch, I was done. Chris was passed out, face down in the bathroom, and I wondered what I had ever seen in such a prick. I grabbed my clothes and the things most important to me and I left him, without so much as a screw you or a good bye.
I sighed heavily, laying my head down, eye level with the grass, and stared at the bright green blades. I pulled the blanket up beneath my feet so I could sink them into the slightly damp ground. I loved the grass and the way it sandwiched between my toes. I heard The Cranberries, Ode to My Family drifting out of someone’s radio. It was my first smile in almost twelve hours and I let it go. I was warming up already from the cold wait in my car. Spring had already given into summer, but for some reason waiting in the park parking lot without the heat on to preserve what little gas I had left from disappearing, was agony. It was unusually cold this morning, and just my luck. He would be waking up soon. He would realize why I wasn’t in bed with him. Would he even give a shit? Or would he just scrape up the naked skank on our couch and have another go at her? How could he be so stupid to cheat before I got home and leave her lying there? Unless…he had wanted me to see?
I’d been looking for a reason to get rid of Chris for months, maybe he felt the same. What we had was not love. It felt more like an obligation after I’d slept with him for a few months, but I guess it felt like an obligation to him too. The only thing we had in common was our recreational use of drugs and good sex. It was far from love. The only reason I knew that was because I was almost relieved right now. Homeless yes, but relieved.
Should I just go back? Tell him I could take a hint? That I was ready, too? Pack the rest of my shit? Screw it. The apartment was his and so was the furniture. I had given mine up to move in with him and he had better stuff, so I just kind of left mine where it was. Note to self-dumbass: don’t ditch your shit for anyone. Now I had to start from the ground up. I looked at my pager, four hours until my shift and my brother Dave had finally paged me. Screw it. I had to get what sleep I could. DJ Dave would have to worry about me for a while. My parents sure as hell weren’t. I hadn’t seen them since Christmas and even then they would barely let me in the house. I deserved it. I was the exact opposite of all they had hoped I would turn out to be. It was okay with me. It meant I could stop pretending I wanted the Barbie life with the Barbie house and the Barbie car, the life they had so purposely made for themselves.
It all looked so fucking depressing to me. All my parents did was work, day in and day out from sun up to sundown, and when they returned to the house there was actually a subject called ‘dinner’. Really? If that was what I had to look forward to, then fuck that with a capitol F! In no way was I going that route. No way in hell. My brother Dave felt the same. He had found a ton of success being one of the hottest DJ’s in Dallas. He had actually found permanent gigs around Dallas and tonight, he would be in Deep Ellum, a stomping ground for club kids in the downtown area, at the Blind Lemon, spinning his records and bringing the house down. I was so happy for him. He had practiced for years and it finally paid off. The only talent I had was taking orders and delivering drinks at the same bar. I would see him tonight, tell him what happened, and ask to crash at his place for a week until I could get my own. He would piss and moan, but at least I wouldn’t be sleeping on the damn grass.
“HEADS UP!” someone shouted a few feet away in my direction. I rose off the ground quickly to see what they were referring to and was immediately hit with what felt like a hammer directly in the mouth.
“Son of a bitch!” I roared, bringing my fingers to my lips and seeing red immediately. Tears sprang to my eyes. The pain was so intense that I couldn’t hold them back. My lips were throbbing horribly. I winced at the bright sun that invaded my senses from having my eyes closed for so long.
“Oh, God, I am so sorry!”
“What the hell man!”
“Your lips are bleeding pretty badly. I’m going to get some ice. I’ll be right back.”
I lifted my hand to shield my eyes from the sun and saw a guy jogging over to a cooler halfway across the length of the park. I immediately started searching for the weapon of destruction responsible for the throbbing in my face and saw a red Frisbee. A damn Frisbee can cause this much damage? I swiped my fingers across my lips and saw that they were still bleeding pretty profusely. What the hell? I picked the Frisbee up and studied it. It had the words Driver 1 scribbled on them. The guy was back, in my face now, and he carefully wiped away the blood before applying a make shift ice pack made of paper towel and ice on my lip.
“Get the hell away from me!”
“Whoa…I’m just trying to help. I’m really sorry my friends and I were trying to play around you and—“
“This park is huge! How hard can it be to avoid hitting someone with a damn Frisbee?”
“You were lying directly under one of the goals,” he said, pointing behind me to a metal chain basket that had the number six on it.
“What? Why a goal for a Frisbee?” I was keeping my head down, pressing it to the ice pack that was quickly melting into the paper towel.
“It’s called Frisbee golf. You know, instead of golf balls and putters we use Frisbees, and the goals replace the holes. Yeah, we were thinking of asking you to move, but figured we could work our way around you. Didn’t work out so well.”
“You think?” Well that explained why the word Driver was on the front of this one. It was definitely heavier than a regular Frisbee.
“Look, I’m really sorry… Uh, what’s your name?”
“Mad bitch with a busted lip.”
“Well, mad bitch with a busted lip, I’m Seth.”
“Well, Seth,” I said standing up quickly as I threw his ice bag to the ground and pulled my blanket into my arms, “thanks for the heads up, jackass. If you hadn’t of yelled it, my face wouldn’t be spewing red.”
“Another bad idea after the fact… Look, are you going to give me a break here?”
“Yesterday I would have, today no,” I glared at him. It was only then that I finally noticed the guy I was talking to was absolutely beautiful. He had short strawberry blond hair and deep green eyes. His t-shirt clung to his ripped chest and his soccer cut shorts looked strained around his thighs. He was tall and slim, but had an insanely muscular build. He seemed to tower over me as we stood facing each other. He had my height beaten by at least half a foot. Jesus. I soaked in his eyes and caught myself staring at his mouth. His lips turned up at the sides when he saw me finally notice him. He was smug. I hated smug. Chris was smug.
“Well, screw off then,” I snapped, dismissing him as I turned to walk toward my Honda.
“Oh, come on mad bitch with a busted lip, at least tell me your name.” I turned to see him amused with my behavior.
“Why, so you can brag to them that you hooked up with the hot girl whose lip you busted?” I said as I pointed my fingers at the group of guys giving us little girl waves and smirking. There were three of them and they seemed absolutely thrilled at the spectacle they were watching. I narrowed my eyes at them and pulled at my bikini top to make sure I was still covered.
“I never said you were hot,” he replied, a smile playing on his lips.
It was all I could do to keep from slapping him. I turned abruptly and started walking towards my car when I felt his hand stop me.
“Do not touch me!” I knew I had said it a little louder than I should have. This guy really didn’t deserve the wrath I was dishing out, and he seemed sincere in his attempt to make amends. But after the night I had and the morning now too, I was at the end of my rope.
“Sorry. Jesus, I was just going to ask for my driver back.”
Not realizing I still had it in my hand along with my blanket, I shoved it out in front of me for him to take. He approached me carefully and grabbed it quickly.
“Laura, I’m sorry. It’s just I had a bad night… Fuck it.” I walked off without further explanation. I owed him nothing and I could care less what he thought. I was now three hours and thirty minutes from my shift and I knew there was no way I was getting any sleep. Still, I had to try. Not bothering to leave the park, I climbed into my backseat and actually managed to doze off. I heard my pager go off, minutes I thought, after I had finally found my slumber.
I quickly realized that it was dark out.
“Shit!”
I read the message: 911. It was the bar.
I got in the car and sped down the highway, sliding on my work tee and putting on what makeup I could around my swollen lips. I was almost two hours late and this was not going to be pretty. It took me ten minutes to get there and another ten to find parking. I walked in expecting to find my boss, Gary, pissed and ready to send me home.
“Laura, what the hell happened to you?”
“I was hit by a…Chris.” I was so going to pay for that lie.
“That little mutha—”‘
“I’m fine, really, I am. It took a long time to stop the bleeding, but I didn’t want to call in on you. It was really bad, but trust me, I have it under control and it’s over.”
“Sure, babe, whatever you need. I’ll have Callie take the late shift so you can go home early.”
“NO!” I screamed out of desperation. “No really, I’m fine. I want to work it.”
Shocked and almost looking annoyed at this point, probably from trying to be nice, he muttered, “Okay.”
“Thanks, Gary, and I am sorry for being late.” I walked quickly behind the bar and shoved my purse underneath and grabbed my tiny black apron. It was pointless to be a bartender with an apron, and I had explained that numerous times. But, if that’s what Gary wants, then that better be what Gary gets. He owned the bar, and didn’t have a problem micro-managing it down to the smallest detail, including where the damn straws went in the bar cubbies. It was nice to see a tender side of him for a change. As long as I did what I was supposed to and my drawer was never short, we had no problems. And I looked forward to the one hundred plus I made a night working at the Lemon. It was super easy to walk away with tired feet with that much cash in hand. Usually, I would take the hundred and stash it away for bills and spend the chump change on my drug of choice for the evening, but now I needed every spare dime I had to get my own place.
How quickly things could change, I thought, as I counted my till. Please let tonight be better than the last. My silent prayer was accompanied by a long sigh. I was resigned that this thing with Chris really was for the best. It still stung that he could cheat, but I was no angel, and being faithful to him had been a complete waste of my time. I had the long shift, meaning I was there until at least 2 A.M. That didn’t bother me, besides my lack of sleep, and I was actually beginning to get excited about the idea of having my freedom again. I mean sure the sex was good. He was never stingy with the drugs, even though he did way more than I would ever do. But other than that, Chris was useless to me. He did nothing for me and never went out his way to make me feel special. It was as if I was living with a friend that I screwed for two years. A shiver ran through me when I thought of how stupid I was to have stayed for so long. Well there’s my first lesson. I was twenty-one years old and not at all interested in a long-term anything anymore. Thanks for that, Chris.
“Two Foster’s, please.”
“Draft or can?” I asked without looking for the source of the voice who ordered.
“Draft.”
I reached into the cooler and grabbed the last two glasses, and was immediately pissed. The glasses weren’t stocked from the previous shift and I was stuck, as usual, doing some other shithead’s work. I tilted the first glass into the draft and barked “six” at the guy who ordered them when I caught his eyes. His beautiful green eyes were studying me in amusement.
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