Текст книги "Jagged Love"

Автор книги: Nicole Simone

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

Suitcase in hand, I knocked on Monica’s door. Her apartment straddled the border of the East Side and was smaller than mine was. She rented from an old lady who converted her basement into a cozy open living concept. There was a galley kitchen, a living room, and a bedroom separated by gauzy linen curtains. I hated to impose on Monica but I had nowhere else to go. The atmosphere in Andrew’s loft was uncomfortably strained and unwelcoming. He was too polite to kick me out so I did it myself. Nine in the morning, I wrote him a note, packed my meager belongings and closed the chapter on us. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but it was better now than later when he had captured my entire heart.

Giggles could be heard on the other side of the door followed by a gruff male voice. Knocking again, I blew on my hands to warm them. A low rider car drove by blasting “I Need a Doctor” by Doctor Dre. How appropriate. The door cracked open and Monica peered out.

I gave a weak wave. “Hey, it’s me.”

She unlatched the chain. Wrapped in nothing but bed sheets, she looked flushed and had sex hair. A man was lying on her bed in the background, shirtless. I had forgotten about the negatives of renting a studio. There wasn’t any privacy and or additional room for guests. Falling asleep on the couch next to Monica’s moans wasn’t appealing in the least.

“Hey.” Her gaze wandered over my face with concern. “Are you ok?”

I felt like a truck had run over me, backed up and finished me off. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied. “I was wondering if I could stay here for a couple of days, but you’re busy.”

“What happened to your apartment?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll explain later.” Picking up my suitcase, I stepped off the stairs. “Have fun.”

Monica clutched the sheets to her body. “You sure? I can kick him out and fix us some tea.”

She had to be really concerned because not once in the many years of our friendship had Monica ever offered me tea. Whiskey was her poison.

“It’s fine. Just because I’m not getting any doesn’t mean nobody else should.”

She flashed an unsure smile then nodded. “Alright, but promise to call me later.”

“I promise.”

Spinning around toward the street, the door softly clicked closed. My breath hung in the frigid cold air. Slipping my cell phone out of my pocket, I scrolled through my contacts and was dismayed to find very few options. There was my old friend from my brief stint at community college but last I’d heard, she moved to Las Vegas. My finger stopped on Mallory and while we were more co-workers than friends, she had a weak spot for strays.

Pushing the call button, she answered on the second ring. “Hello.”

“Hey, it’s me, Haven.”

I was relieved when she sounded genially happy to hear from me. “Hey girl! Are you calling to tell me that the coffee shop has re-opened because I’m bored to tears over here.”

“Um, no. I’m actually calling because I was wondering if you might have a spare room. My apartment caught on fire last night.”

“Oh heavens, that’s awful!” In my mind, I pictured her slapping her hand over her chest in shock. “Of course you can stay with me and Clint.”

“Thank you so much. It won’t be for long.”

That was a bold faced lie. The amount of money that had to be acquired now was staggering and Rogue didn’t provide enough income to cover half. I’d have to get a second and third job or else I would be living with Mallory and her boyfriend for the next three months.

“No worries. We have the room and with Clint gone most of the time, it will be nice to have the company,” Mallory said.

She gave me the address of her house, which was in the suburbs of Detroit. If I wanted to fall off the grid for a while, this would be the place to do it. Nonetheless, as much as that sounded heavenly, Big Ted’s threat echoed in my mind. Since the building had been old, faulty wires could have been the reason for the fire but my gut said otherwise. Big Ted had showed up at my work and threated to kill everybody close to me. Conveniently, my apartment burned to the ground two days later. It looked like a message to me.

“Hey!” I looked over my shoulder at Monica who was running barefoot down the walkway. “I called you a cab.”

“Thanks but you didn’t need to do that.”

“You have been standing out here for the last forty minutes.”

“I have?”

“Yeah.” Her tone became gentle as if she was talking to a fragile toddler. “What happened to Andrew, Haven?”

I winced. His name was a jagged piece of glass that cut my chest wide open, leaving my heart vulnerable and exposed.

“Nothing happened. I couldn’t crash with him forever,” I said.

“It’s been three days and when we talked last, it seemed like everything was going fine, so obviously something happened.”

The cab arrived, saving me from an explanation. “I have to go.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m staying with a friend for a couple of days.” Monica’s expression of worry made me blurt out one-half of the story. “There was a fire at my apartment last night so that’s why I can’t go home. I don’t have one.”

Monica and I weren’t huggers. I could count the amount of times we hugged on my fingers but when the situation called for it, we did. She wrapped me in her arms as my eyes sprung a leak. I sniffled against her shoulder.

“Oh honey,” she counseled. “I’m so sorry.”

“So am I.”

“If you need anything, blankets, linens—anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Stepping apart, Monica had teared up as well. She wiped her face on her white t-shirt and I laughed. “We are a mess, aren’t we?”

“We are always a mess but remember when we lived together and were too poor to buy toilet paper?”

“How can I forget?”

At twenty years old, Monica and I had roomed together in a crummy studio apartment above a porn shop. We lived off ramen noodles and viewed toilet paper as luxury item. While it had been a year a growth, I wouldn’t want to relive it. Nor did I want to relive the years when I lived on the streets. The day I moved into my own place was considered one of the best moments of my life. However, that only happened because the landlord felt bad for my poor ass. She let me pay off the security deposit in installments. Who knows if luck would strike twice?

Monica clamped her hands on my shoulders. Steely determination twinkled in her eyes. “Repeat after me. If we can survive that, we can survive anything.

“If we can survive that, we can survive anything.”

“Good.”

“You are like a younger and skinnier version of Dr. Phil,” I joked.

She cocked her hip and put on her best impression of her grandmother. “Honey, I’m like the modern day Oprah. Dr. Phil is a joke.”

Monica’s grandmother, Mrs. Lovette, had been a fan of daytime talk shows to where it bordered on a religion. She would plop herself down in front of her 1980s boxy television until Monica came home from school, where she would then proceed to tell us how she would counsel the guest differently. Mrs. Lovette passed away two years ago, but she was greatly missed by everybody who knew her. The cab honked twice, impatiently.

I shifted my weight. “Alright, I better go before the cab driver blows a gasket.”

“Ok. I’m really sorry you can’t stay with me. My apartment isn’t suited for two people.”

“It looks like you were doing just fine with having Marco there.”

She rolled her eyes skyward. “Well yeah, it’s fine when you are doing the naked tango.”

The cab driver stuck his head out the window, yelled time was money, and tapped his watch. Monica held up her finger to signal one minute. He mumbled something in a foreign language that sounded like stuck up princesses.

I gave Monica another hug and rolled my suitcase to the cab. Climbing inside, my cell phone vibrated in my pocket. Andrew’s named flashed on the screen and I hit ignore.

“5432 Hampton avenue, please,” I told the cab driver.

The city sprawl soon spread into wide-open spaces, white picket fences, and beige as the theme color. Welcome to the suburbs.

Mallory’s bright red door was a cute touch to the old brick home. So were the black and white striped rugs on the porch. I wouldn’t have guessed by the way she dressed, but Mallory had an eye for home décor. I rang the doorbell and waited. Through the stained glass panels, I saw her approach.

She opened the door with a smile. “Hey!”

“Hey yourself.”

“Did you find the house ok?”

“Yeah, easy peasy.”

Mallory stepped aside and gestured me for to enter. “You are just in time. I was making hot chocolate.”

Wiping my feet on the doormat, I walked into a cozy hallway. Cinnamon and chocolate scented the air, reminding me of snowy winter days. Above the staircase, pictures of Mallory and her boyfriend hung on the cream colored walls. Shoes haphazardly tossed on a shoe rack made me smile. It was exactly the kind of home I hoped to have one day.

Gathering the mess off the floors, she tossed it into a hallway closet. “Sorry. I’m not used to having so much square footage to clean.”

“Don’t apologize. I was just thinking about how cozy your place was.”

“Oh, well, thank you. It’s the first place Clint and I have called home together. I wanted to make it feel special with little things that hold meaning to us.”

“That’s really sweet.”

Mallory blushed as she straightened her ponytail. A rough-cut diamond on her ring finger caught the light. It was simple in its beauty, like Mallory.

Squealing, I grabbed her hand and admired the ring more closely. “You are engaged! When did this happen?”

“The other night. Clint planned a romantic picnic in our backyard and asked. It was only six years over due.”

“Better late than never.”

As a young girl, I was more focused on getting through each day than planning a hypothetical wedding. Honestly, marriage seemed like a pointless institution. A signature on a piece of paper was less meaningful than choosing to be together because you wanted to be, not because you were stuck. Nonetheless, Mallory deserved her happy ever after.

She gazed dreamily at her finger. “I can’t believe it’s real. Clint is the love of my life and the thought that we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together makes me stupid giddy, like yesterday I had a dance party for one in the kitchen.” Mallory looked at me straight faced. “I don’t dance, Haven, yet I busted moves like nobody’s business.”

She seemed so concerned I couldn’t help but laugh. “I think you’re experiencing a well known disease called love sickness.”

“God, I think your right.”

Dropping her hand, I took a step back and admired Mallory’s glow. She looked like she had just gotten back from a vacation in Mexico. If the beauty industry could bottle love and sell it as a skin cream, they would make a pretty penny.

“If you want, you can leave your stuff here and we can gossip some more over cups of hot cocoa.” Mallory said.

“That sounds amazing.”

Her welcoming kitchen mirrored the rest of the house. An ache pulsed behind my breastbone. Andrew and I could have had this if our hearts had room for each other. Sitting at the counter, Mallory handed me a mug.

It smelled heavenly and as I sipped the velvet mixture, my bones sighed. “If Clint wasn’t marrying you, I would.”

“We can probably work out an arrangement.”

I grinned. Mallory and I had a similar sense of humor that went unnoticed at work. While my apartment burning to the ground sucked majorly, I liked how it brought the opportunity for us to become friends.

“Have you guys set a date yet?” I wondered.

“We’re going to elope. I want the day to be about us and not pleasing our families.”

“So the wedding venue will be at the Detroit courthouse?”

Mallory’s lip curled. “No that building is butt ugly, but we are scouting different courthouses. Have you seen the one in Santa Barbara?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“It’s gorgeous. I have to show you.”

She jumped out her seat and retrieved her laptop. Setting it on the counter, Mallory pulled up pictures of the Spanish style courthouse. Her excitement was contagious and pretty soon we were discussing the logistics of plane tickets, what hotel to stay at, and honeymoon destinations. A knock at the front door interrupted our girl talk.

“I wonder who that could be,” Mallory mused. “I wasn’t expecting anyone. I’ll be right back.” Muffled voices were heard from the hallway. Seconds later, she came back with unreadable expression on her face. “It’s for you.”

I pointed to my chest. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Who is it?”

Mallory grabbed our mugs and set them in the sink. “Go see.”

Uneasily, my feet walked into the hallway. Big Ted had no idea where I was, yet I didn’t doubt his ability to find me. Turning the corner, the air left my lungs. Andrew stood on the porch holding a can of paint and a paintbrush. Our eyes locked.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey. How did you know I was here?”

“Monica told me.”

Of course she did, traitor. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

Andrew’s brown eyes laughed. “That’s a first.” He closed the distance between us and looked at me with sincere regret. “I’m sorry about last night. It’s not easy talking about what happened between Camilla and me, but trust me when I say I’ll tell you eventually. Just not now, ok?”

It wasn’t what I was hoping for, however, like Monica said, Andrew was allowed to have a past. I saw now my emotional outburst earlier this morning was caused by fear. Fear that Andrew would break my heart, fear of putting my trust into somebody and most of all, fear of the depth of my feelings for Andrew. Running away was my attempt at sabotaging the blooming relationship between us. Andrew obviously wouldn’t let that happen.

“Ok, but I’m sorry for snooping. It wasn’t right of me.” My eyes glanced at the paint can. “Should I dare ask?”

“It’s bright pink fuchsia. You told me that the only time you felt true happiness was when you painted your bedroom pink. I want you to feel that everyday, even if that means my house will end up looking like Barbie’s Dream World.”

Mallory was at the dining room table scribbling on a notepad when I walked back into the room. She glanced up and shyly tucked her hair behind her ear at the sight of Andrew. Aware of the effect he had on Mallory, he showed off his knee-weakening dimples. She practically swooned.

“Hey, change of plans. I’m going to stay at Andrew’s,” I said.

“I figured. Do you want any hot chocolate for the road?”

Andrew answered for me. “Yes, she does.”

Mallory and I laughed at his boyish enthusiasm. Getting up from the table, she poured hot chocolate into a thermos. Ever the gentleman, he thanked her and professed it as the best hot chocolate he had ever tasted. I had to agree, it was amazing.

Andrew set the paint can on the floor and dug into his front pocket. “If you don’t have plans tonight, I would love it if you and whoever else came to my art show tonight.

Due to the tumultuous twenty-four hours, I had completely forgotten about Andrew’s art show. I felt like a rotten human being. This was an incredibly important event in his life.

Mallory took the invitation with the utmost care. “I’ll check with my fiancé but I think we are free. What’s your medium?”

“Oils. Do you paint?”

“I do charcoal sketches and have recently started to sell them online since my schedule has freed up.”

“Can I see them?”

She lit up at his offer. “Really?”

“Yeah, I always love to see what my peers are doing in the art world.”

“My notebook is on the table.”

Andrew opened the notebook she had been scribbling in when we walked into the kitchen. He flipped through the pages. “Haven, why didn’t you tell me your friend was incredibly talented?”

“Because she never told me.”

Uncomfortable at the amount of attention on herself, Mallory waved away our praises. “It was a hobby I did in my free time until Clint encouraged me to sell them. I still have a lot to learn.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” Andrew stopped on a particular page. “I love this one. What is it called?” He flashed the notebook toward Mallory and me.

Fluid lines smudged in a configuration of light and dark to create an outline of man was sketched on the white paper. It was good—really good. Hanging around Andrew, I was starting to realize everybody had a hidden talent like Matthew and his photography or Mallory and her charcoal drawings. I wonder what mine was. Grilled cheese artist?

“It’s called Man in Shadows,” Mallory said.

“I like that,” Andrew murmured.

She blushed crimson from head to toe. Finishing his assessment, Mallory wilted with relief.

“If you come tonight, I can introduce you to some people. They might be able to help organize a showing for your artwork,” Andrew generously offered. “I think you have a lot of raw untouched talent.”

I figured since Mallory’s personality border lined on shy, she would rather crawl into a hole then to let that happen, but once again she surprised me.

“Thank you so much. I would love that.”

“Great, then it’s settled. I’ll see you there.”

We said our goodbyes and Andrew and I exited into the bitter autumn air. He swung his arm over my shoulders, tucking my body against his.

“I’m glad you’re coming home with me. It was lonely there without you,” he said against my hair.

“I was gone for less than four hours.”

“Longest four hours of my life.”

Tipping my chin up, I met his eyes and grinned. “You are such a cheese ball.”

“You love it.”

I did love it more than I would have liked to admit. Andrew had the rare quality of wearing his emotions on his sleeve. Sometimes they weren’t ideal but you could always tell where you stood. Compared to the other guys I dated who’d played mind games, it was a breath of fresh air.

Andrew opened the car door. “After you, my lady.”

Climbing into the buttery leather seats, a sense of belonging washed over me. I belonged in this car with Andrew, heading home. Home. That was what Andrew’s loft was. The thought was paralyzing. What had happened to the barbed wire wrapped around my heart? It was supposed to be indestructible, yet Andrew had torn it down within three days. Before I could tip into a panic, the car roared to life.

“Do you have a dress for tonight?” Andrew wondered.

“I have a dress—whether it is appropriate is the real question.”

“What does it look like?”

My mind searched for the right description. “It looks like Minnie Mouse got into a catfight with a hooker.”

“Ha! I would love to see what that looks like.”

“I can model it for you when we get home.”

Andrew’s heated glance said he would like that very much. My inner thighs twitched in anticipation. Tonight my two-year dry spell would end and my orgasm reclaimed. Hallelujah. I grabbed my bag between my legs to search for a breath mint.

“Why did you have bruise marks?”

My eyes fell to the exposed skin on my right wrist where my jacket sleeve had ridden up. Big Ted had left behind faded black and blue impressions of his fingertips from our confrontation. Lying wasn’t an option—not with Andrew—not anymore.

“I had a run in with Big Ted the other day,” I said.

Contained anger crept into his voice. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I guess because it would make it real. He has shed his skin and showed the monster hidden beneath. That monster wasn’t there when I was kid. Then again, it could have been and I had no idea.”

“He’s a drug dealer, Haven. He was never a saint.”

“Duh! But he shed light on things my mother did that I never thought she would.”

Andrew looked at me from the corner of his eye. “Like what?”

Fiddling with the tassel on my purse, embarrassment coursed through me. Being seen as a drug addict’s daughter was shameful enough. Andrew waited patiently for me to speak.

“My mom used her body to pay for drugs when she didn’t have money,” I said quietly. “Nothing mattered more than that sweet high.” My voice cracked. “I didn’t matter.”

Andrew flipped on the turn signal and coasted to the side of the road. I looked around, confused at what he was up to. He turned off the engine, unbuckled his seat belt and did the same for me.

“Get out,” Andrew ordered.

“Why?”

He ignored my questioning gaze and stepped out onto the busy highway. Cars zoomed past at dizzying speeds. A shallow river next to the guardrail stretched into a wide-open piece of land. An abounded house sat on the property, windows broken and the roof half collapsed. Andrew knocked on the passenger window then pointed to the house. He jumped over the guardrail like a gazelle, leaving me no other choice than to follow.

Andrew stood waiting for me at what used to be the front door, now a splintered board covered in moss. Old houses and their untold stories gave me the creeps.

I shivered and wrapped my arms around my waist. “What are we doing here?”

“This was my fort when I was a child. I lived a half a mile from here in the Pinecone development.”

The Pinecone development, known for its lavish houses, bright green lawns and large gold fountain at the entrance, screamed wealth. One year Monica, Sumiko, and I tainted the water of the fountain bright purple as a metaphorical middle finger.

“My fort when I was a child was a cardboard box until Billy, the homeless man claimed it as his. I couldn’t blame him. It was a really sweet box.” I said.

Andrew lips quivered as he held back a laugh. “You are so weird.”

“Weird is just another term for awesome, as Monica says.”

“She is onto something there. Do you want to see the rest of the house?”

I glanced at the dilapidated structure. It looked like a one room shack from the outside unless a basement was hidden below. Andrew shoved the door open and dust particles floated in the air. Coughing, my feet refused to budge from the tall grass. This was how every horror movie started out. Stupid girl walks into abounded house, finds a dead body, screams, and subsequently runs into serial killer who murders her with a butcher knife.

“You are crazy if you think I’m going to go in there with you.” I arched an eyebrow. “Is this like a metaphor for with ugliness blooms beauty?”

“Nope, I just wanted to show you a sliver of my childhood.” Off my befuddlement, Andrew explained further. “Since we met, there’s been more drama in my life than my twenty-five years of being alive.”

“Hey! You always had the choice to leave, still do.”

He stepped into my personal bubble, placing his hands on my hips. I sucked in a breath as he looked at me with unconcealed affection. “That’s the thing—I don’t want to leave. Me and you, baby, are in this together until the bloody end.”

Andrew’s use of the word baby made me giggle. “Did you just call me baby?”

“You hate nicknames, don’t you?”

I inched my pointer finger and thumb together. “Just a little bit.”

“Figured. What I was trying to say was that I just need a break from the drama. Not being able to help you is driving me insane, Haven. If I had it my way, Big Ted would be behind bars and your stepsister in rehab.” He tightened his hold. “Can we just pretend for an hour that we are on our first date? You laugh at my jokes, we flirt, and maybe at the end we share a goodnight kiss.”

His dark eyes flickered with hope, igniting a sense of bravery inside me.

I moved his hands to cup the round curve of his ass. “I think we have moved past first base Andrew and are running toward home.”

He grinned wickedly. “Are you coming onto me, Haven McClain?”

“I don’t know? Am I, Andrew Foster?”

“Mmm,” he dipped his head and whispered in my ear. “I like when you say my full name. It sounds sexy coming from your lips.”

My heart rate tripled as his minty fresh breath sent shivers down my spine. “Is that so?”

“That is definitely so.”

Andrew slid his hands up underneath the back of my shirt, racking his short-cut fingernails against my skin. Pleasure heated my bloodstream. The sound of a truck barreling past reminded me we were in plain sight, yet I couldn’t care less. I had waited long enough. My sexual dry spell ended now. Tipping my chin upwards, my mouth found his. Andrew growled, losing the control he so desperately held onto and kissed me like a man starved of oxygen. His fingers tangled into my hair while he sucked my bottom lip between his teeth. I moaned and pulled Andrew closer until we were one and the same. Dizzy with desire, the world around us faded. A whimper of protest left the back of my throat when we separated, breaths ragged.

“If you keep it up, I won’t be able to wait until we get home,” Andrew said.

“Why wait?” My gaze flickered to the abounded house. “We can act out your teenage fantasies in your childhood fort.”

“I knew there was a vixen inside you yet.”

He swung me off my feet and into his arms. Kicking the splintered door open, I breathed in a lungful of damp earth. Wooden boards nailed on the windows blocked out the sunlight. The small one room shack knocked up to a ten on the creep factor. I began to regret my decision. Sensing my discomfort, Andrew put me down and clicked his cell phone on. While meager, it provided enough light to better see our surrounding.

“There might be a few candlesticks and matches,” Andrew mused. “Let me check.”

He raided the set of chest of drawers next to a shell of a bedframe missing its mattress. I hugged my arms around my waist and pretended not to notice the structure’s dilapidated state. Otherwise, my dry spell would stay intact for another day.

“Ha! I knew they were in here,” Andrew struck a match and begun to place the candlesticks around the room. A faint glow flickered against the walls. “I could also start a fire too, if you’re cold.”

“I’m good. Thank you.”

Recognizing the unease in my voice, Andrew strode to where I was and flashed a heart-stopping grin. “We are perfectly safe. Relax.”

“This is how every horror movie starts.”

His eyes darkened. “Then let’s rewrite history.” Taking off his jacket, he laid it on the scratched hardwood floor like a makeshift blanket.

“Romance at its finest,” I mumbled.

Andrew laughed softly while our gazes locked. My doubts were forgotten as I tumbled into his arresting eyes. Location didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the feel of him inside me. We began right where we’d left off, lips locked, bodies pressed together, and our moans of pleasure shattering the dusty silence. He guided me down onto the jacket. Grabbing the hem of my t-shirt, reluctance churned in my stomach. The last time Andrew saw my scars was in the middle of our first and last argument. He hadn’t uttered a word about them since.

As if he felt my body stiffen, he lifted his mouth from mine. Concern creased his eyebrows together. “If you don’t want to do this, say the word and we will stop.”

“No! It’s just….” I hesitated. “Usually it’s darker.”

Awareness dawned in his eyes. “You are completely and utterly beautiful. Do not hide from me, Haven. I want you, all of you.”

The plea in his voice untied the knots in my stomach. Andrew didn’t fall in the same league as the other men I had been with. He saw beyond my body to the fragile soul underneath. This time when Andrew inched my t-shirt over my head, I didn’t stop him. Resisting the urge to cover myself with my hands, they curled into fist at my sides.

Andrew drank in my half naked torso and sighed. “God, how did I get so lucky?”

A rush of affection spilt me into two and the unspoken question—How did I?—rang in my head.

He pressed a kiss against the saw-toothed scar above my bellybutton and spoke. “These scars are simply a part of you, but they do not define you.”

As the night proceeded, Andrew showed me exactly what he meant with every caress on my heated skin, each thrust between my legs, and every lick of his tongue until my scars no longer held the meaning they once did.