Текст книги "Near and Far"

Автор книги: Nicole Williams

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

THOSE PEOPLE WHO claim it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all? Yeah, they’re full of shit.

The last few weeks, I’d felt like my heart was being sliced and diced every morning when I woke up and realized that Jesse was gone. There was nothing good left in the world. Life was more a chore than a celebration. The ache in my bones, the pit in my stomach, the memory of him that made me wish I didn’t have a brain . . . all of it made me doubt the whole loved-lost debate.

Alex and Sid decided to force a night on the town on me, making me certain I’d rather have never loved than lost. Every chump who eyed me like I was a notch to be carved on his bedpost. Every loser who thought a Hey and a lame smile was the height of romance. Every man who looked at me like I was something he wanted reminded me of him. The good looks and the bad looks. All of them reminded me of Jesse in some way.

It wasn’t just that night, though. Just about everything everyday found a way to remind me of Jesse. The one man who’d been brave enough to love me. The same one who’d looked me in the eye and said good-bye.

That night, the one I’d never forget a single word of, had ripped me to shreds. Not only because Jesse had broken us apart, but because of all he’d shared. I’d known he’d gone through hell before being adopted, but I never had it spelled out for me. Those things he shared with me had seemed unimaginable . . . unthinkable. How could the grinning, happy man I’d fallen in love with been exposed to those types of things and come out of it still able to smile, let alone love? He was a true testament to what the Walkers had done to help him, as well as what Jesse had done to help himself.

People who’d gone through those kinds of things didn’t turn into Jesse Walkers. Statistically speaking, people who’d gone through what Jesse had generally went on to spread the same kind of horrors. Jails were overpopulated with people like that. Mental institutions too. A small gravestone that was never visited, etched with the dates of someone who’d lived a short life, was another likely outcome for so many people who’d been abused.

So why had Jesse turned out so differently? Why had Jesse been the one to break free of his past? Or why had he?

Although I was nowhere as convinced as he was that he was doomed because his past had seeped into his present, the suddenness of it all was staggering. What had been the trigger for it? I didn’t have a clue. I didn’t need to have one. All I’d needed to do was help him through it. All I’d wanted to do was repay him the favor he’d paid me last summer. I wanted to pull the curtains back for him like he had for me so he could see the person he was in my eyes. Seeing the person I was in Jesse’s eyes had done more healing than a lifetime’s worth of therapy ever would have.

But that didn’t matter anymore. It didn’t matter how badly I wanted to walk alongside him in his battle, and it didn’t matter how much I wanted to spend my life with him, scars and all. He was gone. He hadn’t pushed me away. He hadn’t shoved me either. He’d forced me away.

There was nothing I could do. He didn’t want me. Even at his worst, his rock bottom, Jesse Walker didn’t want me. That insecure, guarded girl I’d arrived at Willow Springs as was just begging to be released. I’d managed to keep the lid on her so far. I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be able to keep it up.

“So still no sign of Mar, right?” Alex asked, nudging me. The three of us were crammed into her El Camino, and even though I gave it a lot of crap for looking like it needed to go spend its golden years in a junkyard, it had gotten me to Willow Springs and back. After hanging up with Rose, I’d managed to stop Alex right as she was leaving for school. After I’d explained the situation, she let me take her car and she took my bike. Having good friends was a good thing.

“No sign, and that’s okay because a part of me doesn’t want to go to prison. It’s not okay because I know landing a few punches on her would help with some of this crazy rage I have inside of me.”

Sid, bless the dude, did the guy thing and gazed out the passenger window like he couldn’t hear a word. I wasn’t sure if Alex had told him what I’d told her, but I’d only given her the surface story. I’d told her that Mar was Jesse’s birth mother, that she and his birth father had abused him, and that was why he had to be removed from their “care.” She hadn’t probed for details and that had been a relief because the details weren’t mine to share. The details were enough to give a person nightmares for life, like they had me for the past few weeks.

“You realize she’s probably sick. Really, really screwed up in the head. Right, Rowen? What she needs is a psych ward, not a smack down.” Alex whipped the El Camino into the parking lot of the club they were forcing me to visit.

“No, Alex, she might need a psych ward, but she also needs a serious smack down. She deserves it.” I glared out the window and tried not to picture her face. It didn’t work. Every time I spoke or thought about her, my blood heated to boiling. The woman who’d done unspeakable things to Jesse had been sitting across a table from me sharing my food . . . and I hadn’t known.

The universe had a perverse sense of humor.

“What about his birth dad? Whatever happened to him?”

“I don’t know. Mar mentioned once that her ‘good-for-nothing’ husband had bailed on her and died of alcohol poisoning a few years later. I don’t really know. And I don’t really want to know either.” Whatever had happened to Jesse’s dad, I hoped it had been as horrific as the things they’d done to him. I hoped if he did die of alcohol poisoning, it had been an excruciating, prolonged death.

I knew having so much bitterness inside of me was poison. The revenge and rage swelling in my stomach was just as toxic. But there were only two ways to deal with it. One: to forgive, try to forget, and let love and light lead the way. In other words, bullshit. An entire galaxy of love and light wasn’t up to the task of taking on what had been done to that young boy. An entire fucking galaxy.

And two: to let the unsavory emotions take over. Obviously, that was my choice.

There wasn’t a third. There wasn’t a way to move on and play ignorant. Some things I could do that with, but that wasn’t one of them. A person who could move on and play the ignorant card on that kind of abuse didn’t have a conscience. Or a soul.

Alex found a parking spot at the back of the parking lot and threw open her door. “I can’t believe that Jesse came from an abusive situation. He’s just so damn . . . happy-go-lucky all of the time. I never in a million years would have guessed it.”

“I know.” I slid out her side while Sid got out the passenger side. I glared at the club. I wasn’t in a club mood. I wasn’t in any kind of mood that could put up with loud music, strong alcohol, and dry-hump-dancing.

“He’s pretty much got to be the strongest person ever.”

I answered with a nod.

“Not to mention he’s good looking in a holy-shit-are-you-real kind of way, takes the best care of his girl, has the best smile I’ve ever seen, and has a strength of character that’s unparalleled.” Alex draped her arm over my shoulders. From the suffocatingly-tight vinyl top she had on, the motion made a strange sound. “You’re letting him get away because . . .?”

Jesse was a hard topic for me those days. Like it was hard to talk about a person I’d loved right after burying them. That was the same kind of feeling I had when it came to Jesse. Essentially, I had lost him. He wasn’t six feet under, but the five hundred miles of separation felt just as bad.

“I’m not letting him get away, Alex. He broke up with me.” I don’t know how many times I had to tell her that, but that was the last time. I couldn’t say those words again.

“Please. That boy adored you, Rowen. That boy would walk through a fire for you and, when he looked at you, I swore I finally understood what that whole unconditional love thing was all about.” Thanks to Alex’s six-inch spike heels on her red boots, our journey to the club entrance was slow going. Even though I didn’t feel like clubbing, I felt less like talking about Jesse. “And with all of that, you expect me to believe that he had a few bad days and decided to call it off with you? You expect me to believe that right now, that boy, wherever he is, isn’t feeling like a damn knife’s sticking out of his chest?”

“I don’t know. Jesse and I haven’t exactly talked in a while, so I don’t know what he’s up to or how he’s feeling. I can give you his number, and you can find out if you’re so interested.” Cue the bitterness making its way into my voice.

“You really haven’t tried calling him? Not even when you wake up in the middle of the night and your finger happens to accidentally bump his number?”

“No, I really haven’t. And you know what? He hasn’t tried calling me either.” I didn’t care that she had on stilts; I booked it toward the entrance. All the talk of Jesse made me need a drink. Even though I had a fake I.D., I didn’t drink every time I went out. Given my excessive history with alcohol, I figured that was a good policy. But that night, I needed a drink. Actually, I wanted to get rip-roaring drunk because at least then I wouldn’t be able to think about Jesse anymore.

Alex wanted to say something else. I could tell from the look she gave me, but that was when Sid suddenly decided to join in on the conversation.

“How’s the decision coming along with the internship? You know, if you choose not to take it and stay at Mojo over the summer, I’ll give you another raise,” he said.

I exhaled. That was a topic I could talk about with relative ease. “I still haven’t decided. They said they’d give me another week to make up my mind before offering it to the student behind me. And thanks for the raise offer. I’ll make sure to take it into consideration.” I shot Sid a little smile. He was a pretty good guy, and I could always use one of those in my corner. There were too few of them out there as it was.

Someone else I’d had little to no contact with over the past few weeks? Jax Jones. First, the little weasel pulled that stunt in my apartment, then later told me it was an honest mistake. Then after finding out through the grapevine about Jesse’s and my split, he’d called me, not even a week later, to ask me on a date. After the earful I gave him, he hadn’t so much as looked my way when we passed in the hallway. As much as I wanted to give people the benefit of the doubt, some people had reputations for a reason. Apparently Jax was one of those people.

Alex gave me a quick squeeze before we wove through the club’s entrance. “Let’s have a good time tonight, okay? You deserve one.”

I nodded. Not because I thought I was actually capable of having a good night so soon after the break up to end all break ups, but because Alex had gone out of her way to try to cheer me up. I could pretend it was helping as a way to show my gratitude.

The club was very Seattle cool. During spring break my senior year of school, I’d gone to a nightclub in L.A. with my boyfriend of the month. It’s a long story . . . Anyways, that club, the L.A. glamour scene, was the polar opposite to a Seattle club. Seattle was full of rich tech nerds who still lived with their moms, gray-suited business women who’d forgotten how to smile, and young hipsters who thought world peace was a possibility. There wasn’t a market for glam up there.

The club was understated, the music wasn’t too loud, the majority of people had some locally made craft beer clutched in their fist, and there wasn’t a single sequin to be found. As clubs went, it was a solid spot to get together and pass the night away with friends. There were worse places I could have been.

There were also better places, much better places, but I tried not to think about that anymore. I could have called any of the Walkers, Garth, or Josie to talk. I knew none of them would hang up on me. They were the closest thing to family I had. But they’d been Jesse’s family first. They were his before they were mine, and I didn’t want to put them in the awkward position of choosing sides. I would never force them to make that choice, but it was human nature to pick sides. It was hard to be neutral. So I hadn’t talked to anyone at Willow Springs in weeks. It wasn’t a tenth as painful as not talking to Jesse, but it hurt like hell just the same.

I followed Alex and Sid through the crowd as they made their way to a free table in the back.

“What do you ladies want? I’ll go start a tab.” Sid pulled out a chair for Alex and one for me.

“Surprise me,” Alex answered, tugging on one of Sid’s dreads.

“Rowen?”

I wanted a shot. Actually, I wanted a line of them. Hold that . . . How about just bring me a bottle? That’s what I wanted. It’s not what I needed, though. I plopped into my chair and sighed. “I’ll have an amber.”

Sid waved his acknowledgment, then disappeared into the crowd.

“So I know this probably isn’t a great time to bring this up”—Alex scooted closer to me—“but have you decided what you’re going to do when I move out? Are you going to find another roommate or move into something smaller?”

I groaned. Alex had told me a while back that she’d be moving out at the end of the school year. Sid had asked her to move in, and she’d agreed. When I’d told Jesse over spring break that I was pretty sure Alex was making one giant mistake, he’d laughed and said sometimes what we think are the giant mistakes in life turn out to be the best decisions. As usual, thoughts of Jesse delivered a sharp pain to my chest. I tried to bury those thoughts. At least temporarily. They never stayed permanently buried.

“Do you really have to move out? I mean, do you really think Sid’s going to be a better roommate than me? I bet he walks around naked and drinks milk out of the jug.”

Alex smiled wickedly. “A girl can dream.”

“What happens if you move in together and then break up a week later? Talk about hostile living conditions. You really should just stay with me and save yourself the worry.” I knew it was a futile argument, but I still had to make it.

Then Alex flashed her hand in front of my face. Her left hand. “If that man calls it off, he is not getting this back.”

An engagement ring. A sparkly, emerald cut engagement ring. I felt two things at that moment: excitement for my friend and sadness for myself. I shoved the second emotion aside; that moment wasn’t about me. It was about Alex, a girl I’d been certain would never let an engagement ring come within arm’s length of her left hand.

But then she found her soul mate and that all changed. I’d found mine, too. And I’d lost him.

I had to force a smile, but I didn’t have to force the genuine happiness I felt for her. “Holy crap, Alex. Congratulations.” I gave her a big hug before taking a closer look at her ring. Truly, it was lovely. Sid had to have sold a lot of doughnuts to pay for that baby. “Let me guess. The wedding dress is going to be black?”

Alex feigned a look of insult. “With a few splashes of scarlet thrown in.”

“I’m so happy for you. My little girl’s growing up so fast.” I gave her cheeks a pinch before she slapped my hand away.

“We’re pretty damn excited about it, too. Sid and I are kind of one giant mess on our own, but when we’re together . . . Well, it’s a beautiful thing. We’re functionally dysfunctional, but somehow, it works, Rowen. It works.” Alex was staring off into nothing and smiling. She was so happy. I’d give anything to feel that way again. Any. Thing.

I glanced toward the bar, hoping Sid was on his way back because I really needed a good chug of that beer. Then I saw another familiar face coming our way.

“Shit. That is Rowen Sterling. And now I can die a happy man because I got to see the face of the girl who rocked my fucking world one more time.”

I had to do a double take, but the giant panther tattoo running down his arm confirmed it. “Cillian? Cillian Sullivan? And now I can die a happy woman because I got to do this one more time to your face.” I lifted my middle finger at him.

He laughed first, but mine followed shortly after.

“Hey, girl. How’s it going?” Cillian gave me a hug, which took me by surprise. Back when we’d “dated” in high school, he hadn’t been one for showing physical affection. Or at least, not the fully clothed kind.

“I’m doing okay. How about you?” I asked after he settled into the fourth chair at the table.

“Can’t complain. I’m in town because my band’s playing a few opening gigs, then it’s another town, and another one after that.” From what I’d known of Cillian, that meant fresh cities of women who couldn’t have heard about the love ‘em and leave ‘em guy Cillian was.

“Living the dream, eh?”

He nodded, shooting me a wink.

“This is my friend and soon-to-be traitor roommate.” I smiled over at Alex, who looked like she wanted to flip me off. “This is Cillian. We went to school together and were . . . friends.” I’d told Alex enough about my past for her to know exactly what kind of friend Cillian had been.

Cillian tilted his chin at me as if to say, our secret’s safe with me. “I was the foreign exchange student with an Irish accent who drove the prim and proper American prep school girls wild. Plus, I had a lot of tattoos and smoked.”

“Hold up.” Alex held out her hands. “You play in a band, you have tattoos, and you smoke? That’s, like, a combination I’ve never heard of. You are a rare find, my exchange student bad-boy friend.”

Cillian nudged me. “I like this girl. She reminds me a bit of you when we first met.”

“What bit?”

Cillian’s dark eyes glimmered. “The crazy bit.”

“It takes one to know one.” I kind of wanted to wipe the smile off of his face, but it was a nice smile. I hadn’t appreciated it back in high school. What had turned me on then was a cigarette dangling from his lips, or that unimpressed expression he’d meticulously perfected. A smile meant a lot more to me now than it once had.

“I’d cheers to that if I had a drink.”

“Looks like I’m one short, brother.” Sid came up behind Cillian balancing three pints of beer.

“No worries. I couldn’t drink one even if you’d brought an extra.”

“Why not? Did you wear your liver out already?” I asked him. Cillian and I had singlehandedly consumed so many bottles of alcohol that we’d probably kept a tequila factory in production during our high school years. We got drunk together, then had sex in our drunken stupor, then got even more drunk so we’d forget about having sex. Which we’d have again when we’d gotten shit-faced yet again. It had been a vicious cycle, and one part of me always assumed our fast lives would lead to early graves.

But there we were, a couple years later, both alive and sober.

“I kind of had to go through a court-ordered twelve-step program,” he answered, shifting in his seat. “If for any reason a cop were to test me and I had even a trace of alcohol in my system, I’d be spending a few nights in a cell.”

“That’s extreme. What extreme thing did you do to deserve that?” I asked.

“I wrapped a car around a pole because I was drunk.”

“Yikes,” I muttered.

“Dumbass.” Alex’s reply wasn’t a mutter.

I smiled. “So that earned you court-ordered sobriety?”

Cillian shrugged. “Since it was my second time doing it, yeah.”

Sid’s face ironed out in surprise.

“And it was a stolen car. Not intentionally stolen,” Cillian added, lifting his hands. “I was just so rip-roaring drunk I couldn’t tell the difference.” Alex shook her head and grumbled another Dumbass. “And the pole happened to be a streetlight in front of the police commissioner’s house. Whose grandkids play in his front yard a lot. In fact, I think they might have been there that morning.” Cillian looked up, thinking.

“That morning? Shit, Cillian, what were you doing drunk driving in the morning?”

“I was still drunk from the night before.” I did my best to give him a parental look of disapproval. All he did was laugh. “No one was hurt, Rowen. Insurance fixed the car, the city fixed the streetlight, and the court fixed me by not letting me drink.”

“And how’s sobriety going for you?” From the looks of it, he’d had a few. Maybe I was wrong, but I knew that lazy smile of his and the way he liked to lean in real close when he was talking to someone.

Opening the flap of his jacket, he reached into one of the inside pockets and pulled out a tiny glass bottle. “Fucking fantastically.” He twisted off the top, lifted it ceremoniously, and downed the whole bottle in one gulp.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” I said, shaking my head.

“One of us had to. And it obviously wasn’t you.” Cillian eyed my full beer before reaching in for another bottle.

Through the rest of the night, I surprised myself by actually having a decent time. I was out with one old and a couple new friends, laughing, dancing, and trying to pretend my life was as great as it had been the past year.

Cillian downed a couple more bottles, but really, from what I knew of his tolerance, a handful of tiny glass bottles was like anyone else having a sip of beer. After chatting and bantering, I realized that high school wouldn’t have blown so badly if Cillian and I could have been real friends. The kind that didn’t only use friendship to cover up getting wasted and laid. Oh, well. There was no going back and, even if there was a way, I’d rather die—not an exaggeration—than relive my high school years of hell.

Sid came back from the dance floor, so sweaty his shirt was drenched, and grabbed Alex’s hand. “Come on, woman. I’m ten years older than you, and I’ve got twice the energy. We’re going to need to work on that.”

“Yeah, but I’ve got double the flexibility and three times the stamina so I win.” Alex shot me a wink as she let Sid pull her out of her seat.

“Now that right there is an argument I am happy to let you win.”

“Finally.” Alex elbowed him and waved at Cillian and me. “You kids be good now, you hear.”

Cillian lifted his arms. “No promises. Good isn’t really my thing.”

I chuckled, taking the final sip of my beer. I’d been good and milked the one pint all night long. “No, good really isn’t your thing. Not even close.”

“From what I recall—some of my best memories actually”—Cillian smiled widely—“good wasn’t exactly your thing either.”

“It wasn’t,” I answered matter-of-factly.

“And it is now?”

I shrugged. “I’m not really sure.” That was the honest answer. I wasn’t sure about much in my life, least of all if good was or wasn’t “my thing.”

Cillian draped his arm over the back of my chair and leaned in. The look in his eyes was a familiar one. “Why don’t you let me help you figure it out? You know, for old time’s sake?” Wetting his lips, he studied my mouth, then moved lower. “I’ve got the old Chevelle out back. You remember? And let me assure you that the back seat is just as comfortable as it was before.”

My stomach turned. Once. Then twice. It was a good thing I hadn’t had more to drink. I shoved his chest. “And let me assure you that I’m just as confident now as I was then that your dick wouldn’t know how to pleasure a woman if its erection depended on it.”

Cillian’s brows came together. “Someone’s turned into quite the downer. You used to be more fun.”

“And you used to have more hair.” I waved at his hairline, which was still full. That was just the first thing to come out of my mouth. “Why don’t you go have a little fun with yourself in the backseat of your Chevelle? Because I’d have more fun getting an enema than joining you.”

“You know, they say the longer a woman goes without orgasming, the moodier she gets. From your moody level, I’d guess the last guy that was between your legs was me.”

I resisted the urge to push him off of his chair. Cillian was harmless, unless his ego of mass destruction was considered dangerous. “You did mention a woman orgasming going hand in hand with her mood, right? Because you between my legs and me orgasming are not synonymous.”

“Look at you. All smart and shit. When did that happen?”

“When I stopped hanging around the likes of you,” I said with an overdone smile.

“Come on, Rowen. We always had a good time, right? I always took care of you? Come on, just one last ride”—he looked devilishly amused with himself—“in the Chevelle, and I promise I will hook you up. I’ll make you feel so good you’re going to want me calling you up every time I’m back in town.”

It was nauseating how highly he thought of himself. It was that much worse because I knew from personal experience what a let-down he was when it came to being intimate. I was considering dumping the melting ice from Alex’s empty mojito onto his crouch when something else popped to mind. Something that was eight thousand times better payback. The club we were in might have been one of those easy-going, chill Seattle kind of places, but right next door was a fun and outrageous gay club known for its weekend performances put on by drag queens.

I smiled. My plan hatched. “You know, you’re right. I could use a night of total and reckless abandon, and who better to share that with than you?” Cillian licked his lips and leaned closer until it looked like he was about to fall off his chair. “Why don’t you head out there now, wait for me in the backseat, and I’ll meet you in just a few minutes,” I said, getting up.

“Why don’t you just come with me now? No sense in putting off a good thing.” Cillian’s hand dropped to my waist, his fingers skimming the material of my dress. My skin crawled.

“Because,” I answered, lifting a brow, “I want to go to the restroom and take my panties off so we don’t have to waste any time.”

Cillian smiled went higher on one side. “Solid plan. I’ll see you in a few.”

“See you in a few,” I said sweetly. As he turned and rushed into the crowd, I called after him. “Cillian? I hope you don’t mind me being on top tonight.”

His eyes widened. “Nope. I definitely do not mind.”

Good thing because I was definitely coming out on top.

I waited a few more seconds until I was sure he had a good head start before following him. The front doors were as far as I followed him, though, because the parking lot was to the left and the Man’s Lady Club was to the right.

On any given night, there were two different types of drag queens around the Man’s Lady Club: the ones who performed on stage, and the ones “for hire” who saved their performances for backseats or cheap hotel rooms. Thank my lucky stars there were at least a dozen of the kind I was looking for, dotting the parking lot. I jogged up to the tallest, widest one. Her biceps were as thick as my abdomen. Perfect.

“Hey, sugar,” she said, giving me a wide smile. “You lost or something?”

“Nope, not lost at all. I’m exactly where I need to be.”

“Oh, well, in that case . . .” She looked me over, the skin between her drawn-on eyebrows creasing. “Female equipment?” Then it was my turn for the skin between my much-needed-to-be-plucked brows to come together. “My rate is double if you’ve got lady parts because it takes twice as long to get off.”

For maybe the dozenth time in my life, I blushed. It didn’t last long. “Actually, this isn’t about me . . . but thank you . . . This is for a friend.”

“Male or female equipment?” she asked, straightening her platinum wig.

“Male. All male,” I said, winking.

She clapped her hands and smacked her lips. “Point me in the right direction.”

“He’s in the back of the old Chevelle in the parking lot over there.” I motioned in the general area. “Oh, and he’s kind of shy, so don’t be afraid to take the ropes and show him the way. If you know what I mean.”

“Sweetie, if I didn’t know what you meant, I wouldn’t be driving my fine ass around in a brand new Benz.”

“Point taken.”

“What does he like?” she asked, already clacking toward the parking lot.

“Why don’t you just start by giving him a full kiss on the lips and see where it goes from there?” I wanted to pay Cillian back, not scar him for life.

“Here’s my card. You have any more ‘friends’ who might appreciate me and my line of work, you give me a ring, you hear, sweetie?” She held out the card for me, and I jogged to get it.

“I will keep you on speed dial,” I said, glancing at the card. “Lotta . . . Sugar. Sweet name.”

“Sweet name for a sweet ass. Sweetie.” She shot me a wink then continued on her way.

“Oh, wait!” I called after her, pulling a bill out of my purse. “Here, I’m paying. It’s my gift to him.”

“You’re a good friend.” She took the bill and shoved it down her Marilyn Monroe-style dress.

“He’s about to find out just how good of one I am, too.”

Lotta Sugar patted my cheek then continued on her fierce, Chevelle-finding way.

A few minutes later, I caught sight of Cillian streaking half-naked across the parking lot, screaming his bloody lungs out.

That was the best money I’d ever spent.