Текст книги "Sentenced"
Автор книги: L. L. Collins
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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
Johnny
I sat on the beach, watching from behind my mirrored sunglasses as everyone walked by me. Some of them looked over at me with interest, but most just kept going. I’d been in Florida for two days and had spent most of it right here soaking up the rays. Being in the house with Julia and her family made me feel more at peace than I had in a very long time.
They’d been cool at the bar in letting me have some time off. I thought Kirk was just happy to be the only one the ladies flocked to again. I’d had to clear it also with my parole officer but thankfully he’d let me go.
It had been worth it. I stuck my toes in the hot sand, closing my eyes behind the glasses. No one knew me here. I didn’t have to worry about someone coming into the bar and giving me that ‘look,’ the one that the people I grew up with gave me any time they came across me. The look of disappointment, fear, or just ignorance. I had no friends anymore. Anyone that was part of my life way back then had long deserted me. I guess I didn’t blame them. After all, I had been busted for selling cocaine. Telling the story wasn’t even worth my effort, so I went ahead and let them believe what they wanted. I didn’t need any of them, anyway.
Truth was, I’d never touched the stuff in my life. Had I been coerced into participating in selling it? Yes. Had I done things I never wanted anyone to know? Yes. But I wasn’t a druggie and never would be.
Live music started up from the resort behind me, and I tapped my fingers on the armrest of my chair. This was why I chose this particular spot on the beach because the music was rather good. I’d walked up and down this beach yesterday, checking out small bars, restaurants, and other tourist traps. The urge to stay here in Florida near Julia was strong and getting stronger, and if I did that, I’d have to get a job.
I stood up, needing to find a drink and to get out of the sun for a few minutes. Walking up to the beachside bar, my gaze automatically went to the band. They looked young, barely of adult age. There were three guys and a girl. She was the lead singer, her eyes closed and her hand gripping onto the microphone as she poured her heart into the song she was singing. I didn’t know it, but I felt it.
“Can I help you?” The bartender broke my stare.
“Yes. Can I get a beer, please? Whatever you have on tap is fine.”
He nodded, turning back and grabbing a frosty mug. Sliding it across the bar at me, I handed him a twenty. “Start a tab, please?”
“You got it. On vacation here?” I almost laughed. Did I have a neon sign on me? I knew I wasn’t as white as a ghost, thanks to good genes and tattoos, so he must have good radar on who the newcomers were.
“Kind of. My sister lives here. I’m visiting her for a while and thinking about staying.”
He nodded. “Where are you from?”
“Denver.”
“Ah. I used to live in Colorado Springs. Been here about ten years, though.”
“Nice place,” I commented, my eyes drawn back to the band. It wasn’t even that they were that spectacular. They were okay, but they reminded me so much of me with my friends a lifetime ago. It had been all I’d wanted. I’d been so dumb.
I sipped my beer, volleying between watching the band and watching the bartender move around the bar. It was steady even at this hour. I suspected it was even busier at night and wondered if they needed any help.
When the bartender came back around, he smiled at me. “Doing okay?” He indicated my half-drunk beer.
“Yeah, I’m good, man. Hey, you guys need any help? I’m a bartender in Denver.”
He stopped wiping the counter and looked up at me. “Yeah? How long are you here for?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure. At least a month, could be more if I decide to stay. I have nothing keeping me in Denver.”
He wiped his hand on his shorts and held it out to me. “Calvin. Everyone calls me Cal.”
I held out my hand and shook his. “Johnny. Nice to meet you, Cal.”
“We’re short staffed. If you’d like to help, I’d love to have you.”
“You the manager?”
He nodded. “Yep.”
I indicated the band. “You have live music at night, too?”
“Oh yes. We have the newer, just starting out bands during the day and our bigger, more popular bands at night. We usually only do headliners from Thursday through Sunday, though. Those are our busiest nights.”
“Where do you get your headliners from? Are they all local?”
Cal turned when a waitress needing a beer called him. He filled it quickly and turned back to me. “Some of them, yes. We have a good reputation and get a lot of bands that approach us. We even had one from California during Spring Break. This place is crawling with college kids at that time.”
Impressive. “That’s fantastic. I scout talent for the bar I work at in Denver.”
Cal’s eyebrow rose. “Yeah? So you’re into music?”
‘Into music’ is an understatement, but we’ll leave it at that. “Yeah. You could say that.”
Cal nodded. “Nice. I’d love to have you. I could use help with lining up the talent. It’s hard to do it all and have any sort of life, if you know what I mean. I’d love to pick your brain while you’re here too, so that when you go back home I’ll know what the hell I’m doing. I’ve managed so far, but I know now that I’m in over my head.”
I had no idea what he meant because I had no life, but I nodded anyway. “Absolutely. Do you have a website that showcases the talent you’ve had before?”
He blinked, his eyes looking blankly at me. “Uh, no. Should I?”
I nodded. “That’s the first thing I’d get set up. If you’re having bands contact you because of your reputation, and you are a must do for Spring Breakers, then we need to get you a website. You can put snippets of performances from your past bands, and an application for new talent, including a place where they upload a demo.”
“Shit.” Cal rubbed his hand over his face. “When can you start, man?”
I downed the rest of my beer and held out the glass. Cal took it, replacing it with another full frosty glass. “How about tonight?”
“Perfect. Damn, I’m glad you stopped in here. Looking forward to learning from you, Johnny.”
I nodded, taking one last gulp of the cool liquid before sliding off of the bar stool and making my way around the outside restaurant. For it being mid-afternoon, the tables were about half full, and there were five to six people around the bar. About twenty people stood around near the band in bathing suits, most of them carrying plastic cups full of beer.
My eyes slid back to the band, watching the guitar player as he strummed the strings. That same feeling I always had made my stomach clench, and I forced my eyes away from him and to the drummer. They were pretty good for their age. They reminded me of my band. God, I hadn’t seen those guys in years and wondered what had come of them.
I stepped back onto the sand, the bright sun forcing me to put my sunglasses back on. I headed back for my chair, hoping to soak up a few more rays before heading back to Julia’s to prepare for my first night at The Outrigger.
“Why did you get a job? You don’t have to worry about paying for anything here,” Julia protested, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “You’re here to visit and relax, Johnny.”
“I want to work,” I defended. “Plus, I’m not doing it full time. Just a few nights a week to get out of your hair and be able to save some money.”
She wrinkled her brow. “Which place is it?”
“The Outrigger.”
“Party bar,” she mumbled, leaning over and kissing Calia on the nose. “What are you going to do with your life? You’ve been out for two years. Have you thought about it? I mean, not that tending bar isn’t something to do, but I know that’s not what you want for the rest of your life.”
Had I thought about it? Only a million times. I’d spent too many years locked into a life I didn’t want but hadn’t had a choice about, plus two years locked behind bars. “I don’t know, Jules. I’m kinda doing what I can for now, bartending and saving money until I see if my record can be expunged. That kind of hinders my options, you know.”
I reached out for Calia, and Julia settled her in my arms. My heart raced the second her soft skin touched mine. This little girl was perfection. Her big eyes blinked up at me like she knew who I was and loved me anyway. This beautiful baby was just like her mom.
“I got you something,” Julia said, watching Calia instead of making eye contact with me. I knew what that meant. It meant that whatever she got, I wasn’t going to like. “But you have to promise not to be mad.”
“You shouldn’t spend money on me,” I argued. “You’ve got a family now. And why am I going to be mad, Jules?”
“You are my family,” she argued back. “Carter and I both wanted to do this for you. I’ll be right back, okay? You have to promise.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, not saying a word as she smiled thinly and walked to her bedroom. If she cared that I didn’t promise, she didn’t say anything. What was she up to, and why did she think whatever it was would make me upset? Okay, so I didn’t like anyone to pay me attention or buy me things. She knew this about me, but never stopped doing it anyway, so why should I be surprised?
Calia yawned and then closed her eyes, reaching her hand out and gripping my thumb, closing her little fingers around it. Her soft pink outfit was a stark contrast against her dark hair. She was angelic. The most perfect thing I’d ever seen in my life.
“Your Uncle Johnny will always take care of you,” I whispered to her. “You’ll never be hurt, because I won’t allow it. Between your daddy and I, no one will get to you.” I felt emotion bubbling up in my chest, and I quickly squashed it. I’d only cried once since I’d become an adult, and that was the day that I held Jill’s lifeless body in my arms. I refused to allow myself to feel anything beyond what was in this house. Even then, I wasn’t crying over Calia, no matter how perfect she was. Crying was for pussies and made people think you were weak.
Julia reappeared, holding out a high dollar Gibson Les Paul, a guitar so expensive I’d only looked at one once before, never touched it. I’d pined over one of these my entire teenage existence and even into my twenties. I’d never made enough to ever consider one. And since I hadn’t played in many years, I had no reason for one now. Julia did not need to spend this kind of money on me, especially not with a new baby and new business.
“Julia . . .”
She held up her hand. “Stop. I know what you’re going to say. It’s been years, Johnny. You work at these bars and listen to bands and even look for bands to play, but you won’t admit that you miss it. That you live and breathe playing. You’re too talented to throw it away. This is what you should be doing.”
She laid the guitar next to me on the couch and took Calia from my arms. Settling her in her bassinet, Julia turned back to me. I hadn’t touched it. I couldn’t even look at it. My heart pounded in my chest at even thinking about it. I couldn’t do it.
“Do you remember when I used to sneak down to the basement and listen to you play when I was supposed to be in bed? It was the best time of my day. I want to hear you play again, Johnny. Please. For me.”
Panic bubbled up in my chest, and I stood, unable to sit for fear I might explode. Not at her, but in general. I had to pull it together. Of course, she had no idea why it upset me to talk about it. Hell, she didn’t even know why I stopped playing. She’d assumed, but I’d never told her. That’s because I wouldn’t talk about it to anyone. Anyone.
I clenched my fists, gritting my teeth as Julia watched me seething. I shook my head. No. I couldn’t talk to her about it.
“Johnny,” she stood, stopping me with her hands on mine. “Talk to me. What is it? Why won’t you play again?”
I gripped her hands, careful not to squeeze too hard. Just because I was on the verge of a panic attack didn’t make it Julia’s fault. The walls felt like they were closing in on me, and my chest was tight. I had to get out of here.
“I have to go,” I stepped back, breaking our contact. “I need to get to the bar.”
Julia watched me, pain etched across her face. I was hurting her. I was always hurting people. I needed to thank her, but the words wouldn’t form. She’d only been trying to help me, but I was beyond help.
“I’ll see you later.” I stuffed my wallet in the back of my jeans and grabbed the keys to the car I was renting. It sure as shit wasn’t anything I’d normally drive, but it was a set of wheels. At this moment, I’d get on roller skates if it would get me away from the guitar I’d always wanted, sitting there mocking me.
Julia tried to smile but didn’t. “Be careful, Johnny,” were the last words I heard before I sprinted to the driveway.
“I’m in the weeds!” I called out to Cal, who nodded and made his way back behind the bar. The sounds of the band, ironically called Outrigger (I made a note to ask Cal about that when we weren’t buried) were bringing the people in droves off of the beach. I hadn’t stopped pouring beers and shots and mixing drinks in the two hours they’d been playing.
It was a good thing I’d been bartending for two years and wasn’t looking for training on my first night because it would’ve been trial by fire. I tapped my foot to the beat of the music. They were good, too. The all-male band wore all black, and they all had long hair and piercings.
Fingertips on my forearm snapped me back to the bar. A hot as hell woman stood in front of me, a small smile on her face. My arm stung from where she touched me. She wore a very small dress that barely covered her backside and was low cut in the front, showing off the fact that she wore no bra. Her blonde hair touched her shoulders, and her bright green eyes watched me in amusement. She knew I thought she was hot.
Did I still have a 'don’t take someone home from the bar' rule? Even here in Florida? Because she looked like she’d been on the beach tanning for days, and I wanted to see if she had tan lines. My eyes scanned down her dress and then back up. Yeah. I wanted to see those legs wrapped around my waist. Certainly I could break my rule this one time, right?
Maybe she had a room nearby. That was exactly what I needed tonight to forget what awaited me back at Julia’s. “Can I get you a drink, sugar?” I winked, knowing I was laying it on thick. It didn’t take long for me to get my way, especially with a woman like her. She’d already scoped out my body, tattoos, and face. She’d decided I was on her list. I figured since I was in Florida and didn’t know how long I was staying she was fair game.
She leaned over, putting her perfectly manicured hand on my arm again, tracing one of my tattoos with her fingertips. “I’d like a . . .” Her breath smelled like mint, and when she licked her lips, it was all I could do not to grab her and hike up that dress right here. It had been over a week since I took home ‘Zoey’ in Denver. It was time to silence the demons again.
“Sex on the Beach.” Yes, please. I’d take sex on the beach with her right here, right now. My eyes flitted out to the dark beach and then back to her.
I smirked, standing up and crossing my arms in front of my chest. My black shirt stretched tight across my pecs, and I knew she appreciated them. “Coming right up, sweetheart.” I grabbed a glass and mixed the liquids together, never taking my eyes off of her. I was the master of seduction, and damn if I didn’t know it.
“Here you go,” I slid the glass across the bar to her, winking as she dribbled some while trying to get it to her mouth. Oh, I had plans for that mouth later.
She sucked the straw into her mouth, sending lust straight to my groin. She downed it quickly and placed the glass back on the bar. “That’s so good. I’m Geena. What time do you get off, sweet thing?”
“It’s my first night, sugar,” I said. I’d show her that there wasn’t a fucking thing sweet about me. “Come see me in a few hours, okay?”
She nodded. “I’ve got a room upstairs,” she offered, and I almost cheered. I knew it. “It’s just me. My friends have their own room.” Geena indicated across the bar where a few other women stood, watching us.
I winked, mixing her up one more drink before walking to the other end of the bar. I felt her watching me before finally going back and joining her friends. Looked like I was going to have myself a good time tonight, after all.
“Thank God you’re here,” Cal said, appearing next to me. “This place is crazy tonight!”
“Seems to be this band bringing them in and keeping them drinking,” I said. “Do you have them booked for any more gigs? Are they local?”
“Yeah, local enough,” Cal said. “They live about an hour away and have played here a couple of times. I think they’ve got some groupies now.” He indicated the gaggle of girls standing around, swaying back and forth to their music.
I slid a beer across the bar and then wiped it down, ignoring what he said about groupies. “How late are we open tonight?”
“Three,” Cal answered. “But you can take off once it slows down. I don’t want to kill you on your first night.”
I nodded, glad that I was going to be able to get out of here before Geena was too wasted to remember what she was doing. I was all about a good time, but I wasn’t about to take advantage of a girl that wouldn’t remember consenting. I’d had enough trouble in my life. I didn’t need that, too.
Geena unlocked the door to the hotel room with her keycard, dropping it twice before getting it in correctly. She was definitely feeling good, though not too much for me to back away. She’d been watching me all night long while dancing with her friends, making me hard as steel for no less than three hours. I knew from my inspection while we’d been in the elevator that she wore no underwear under this dress, that she was bare for me, dripping wet, and also very willing to give me what I wanted.
“What’s your name?” Geena dropped her heels on the ground before I could tell her to keep them on.
“Johnny,” I said, kicking my shoes off and pushing her against the door. There was no time for talking. I hiked her dress up to her waist and pulled my pants down, springing myself free. I crushed my lips to hers, tasting the many drinks she’d had. My fingers dipped into her wet pussy, making her groan into my mouth as I found her spot. One of her hands snaked down my abs and then farther, wrapping around my shaft. Her other hand ran through my hair as I continued pumping her with my fingers and assaulting her with my mouth. I broke free, scrubbing my short beard on her neck and then down her cleavage. I pushed the flimsy material aside and sucked on a bare nipple. Geena tightened on my fingers, moaning and pulling on my hair.
I set her down on the ground, lifting her dress and tossing it, so she was naked in front of me. I turned her and pressed her against the door, rubbing my dick against her ass as she wriggled, moaning and calling out my name.
I bent over and retrieved a condom from my wallet, rolling it on as she writhed in front of me. She’d get what she wanted in just a second. Safety was paramount in this type of situation. I gripped her hips and pounded into her, both of us grunting and moaning at intermittent times. She was hot, tight, and exactly what I needed to stop thinking.
It was over too quickly to exercise the demons floating around in my head. Once we both got off, I disposed of the condom and walked her to the bed, laying her out so I could really see her.
Her cheeks were flushed, and her blonde hair was fanned out behind her on the bed. Her chest rose and fell from our frantic race to the end. “Johnny,” she purred. “That was fantastic. I could do that all night long.”
“Good,” I said, hitching her legs up on my shoulders. “Because I’m just getting started.” I closed my mouth over her, causing her to tighten her legs around my head and grab my hair. And after a few more hours of pleasure, I forgot the pain.
I closed the bedroom door quietly and threw my wallet on the bedside table. I smelled like the bar and sex, but I was too exhausted to care. After round after round with Geena, I’d left without any issues, just the way I liked it. She was going to be around for a few more days before she went home, so I’d see her again. Thankfully, she hadn’t asked to exchange phone numbers or any of that shit. She said she’d come to the bar and we could ‘hang out’ after, and we both knew what that meant.
The girl was talented. I only knew how old she was since I’d checked her birthdate at the bar (twenty-eight) and where she was from (Chicago), but I didn’t know what she did for a living, or what she was doing in Florida specifically. And I didn’t care. She didn’t ask me anything other than my name, which I’d heard shouted out more times than I could count tonight. I knew I was gifted in that area. Hell, it was really the only talent I had anymore.
It was almost six in the morning, and I knew Julia would be up soon with the baby. I flopped down on the bed, my eyes trained on the ceiling. Julia’s question from earlier resonated in my head. What did I want to do with my life? From the time I’d been barely an adult, someone else had planned out my life for me. Hell, my whole life before that had been dictated, too. My parents had always wanted me to do what they wanted me to do, never encouraging my dreams or desires. Then when I left home thinking I would do what I wanted, that’s when shit got real. Getting mixed up with drug dealers and trafficking and drug rings had made me a prisoner long before I’d actually become one.
The last two years had been the first time in my life that I’d been able to make my own decisions, and what had I done with it? I’d tended bar. I’d hooked up with many women. So many, I was embarrassed to realize I didn’t have a clue on the number. I’d shut out everyone except my sister and now her husband, Carter. I had nothing outside of this house. Yet I’d possibly alienated Julia earlier, too. All she’d wanted to do was do something nice for me, and what did I do? Run away like the pussy I was.
When I’d seen that guitar, I’d had to get out of there. The panic attacks didn’t come as often anymore, but they still came without warning sometimes. Seeing the dream of mine all wrapped up in the smooth wood and tuned strings of the only guitar I’d ever wanted had sent me directly into one of the worst ones I could remember for a long time.
It had taken sitting in the rental car for at least a half an hour before I felt like I could breathe again, and even once I’d made it to the bar, I’d walked the beach for another twenty minutes before I could face anyone. I’d just kept telling myself over and over that it was okay.
My eyes settled on the chair across from my bed, and I shot up. The Gibson was sitting there, mocking me. How had I not seen that there before? It was like the elephant in the room. My chest tightened, and I looked away.
“Stop being a pussy,” I hissed to myself. “It’s a goddamn guitar. Not a fucking drug lord ready to shoot your ass.”
I stood up, standing in front of the chair. It was gorgeous. Everything I ever wanted was personified in this guitar. My sister knew what she was doing when she got me this. I knew the exact amount of days it had been since the last time I’d touched a guitar. It was 5,984 days ago that I played on a stage for the last time. Before my already shit life went even further south and I lost everything.
I reached my hand out, hating myself for the way it was shaking. I got within millimeters of touching the taut strings, my breath coming out in spurts. Just touch it, I willed my hand.
I couldn’t do it. I dropped my hand, my eyes never leaving the smooth exterior of the beautiful guitar. I wanted so badly to pick it up and move it so I couldn’t see it anymore, but I couldn’t. I reached up and pulled my shirt off and threw it over the guitar. It covered enough to make me be able to breathe again.
I flopped back on the bed. Light was infiltrating the blinds, but I didn’t care. I had to sleep, pronto.
