Текст книги "Degrade"

Автор книги: T. L. Smith

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

Love can sometimes be magic. But magic can sometimes…just be an illusion.

~Javan~

I wake to voices, arguing voices. I recognize both, both people who shouldn’t be in the same room as one another. His voice is angry; I can tell he’s holding back. Trying his best not to shoot or murder my father. My father doesn’t help, he likes to get a rise from people, and he’s good at it. That’s why he’s in charge.

“You can’t pick her up,” Zeke seethes at my father.

“She isn’t staying here,” he shoots back.

“She needs to heal,” he responds.

“And she will, in my care. Now, tell me what happened?” my father demands.

“I got to her as fast as I could,” he says his voice lower than before.

“You can’t protect her, and you don’t love her.”

I open my eyes to see them standing nose-to-nose, anger rolling off of both of them. I cough and it pains me to do so, but both sets of eyes fly to me. Zeke walks straight to my side, grabs my hand and holds it in his.

“Can you stand?” my father asks from behind him. I think about it and try. When I manage to get my hands in the right position to lift myself, it hurts, worse than before. Zeke’s face looks more pained, and his hands come behind to support me. He helps me stand and I do just barely, thanks mainly to the strong painkillers I know are pumping around my system.

“Please stay,” he pleads with me, his voice unlike anything I’ve heard.

“I love you. Falling in love with you was easy, yet hard for me. Hard, because I fought it, easy because I knew it. But staying in love, being in love, it’s harder. You don’t make it easy,” I say to him, his hands become softer, like he’s trying to break loose but can’t.

“Don’t,” he manages to say, but it’s weak. So unlike him.

“I have to, Zeke. It’s broken. We’re broken…beyond repair.” His eyes shut, he doesn’t look at me as he stands.

“You don’t have to go.”

“Yes I do,” I say and my father holds his hand out for me to take, I take hold and don’t look back. This is it! This is the time I need to separate what the heart wants and what the head knows. I can’t do this with him anymore. I wanted love, but not under these circumstances.

He’s quiet on the drive, my father isn’t much of a talker, never has been. But I was expecting to be grilled, or at least questioned.

“You’re just like your mother,” my father says. Which is unusual, he doesn’t speak of her at all. She died when I was young, I don’t have many memories of her.

“Why?” I ask not looking at him, staring at the road ahead.

“She left a trail of broken hearts wherever she went,” he says.

“How does that make me like her?”

“You do the same. That man, despite all his flaws, loves you.”

Wow! That’s not something I thought I would hear him say.

“He only thinks he does,” I mutter, lying back on the seat and closing my eyes.

“No, he does. Just like Tragger.”

“I don’t want to talk about Tragger, Papa.” It always comes back to him, he’s the man my dad wants me to marry more than anything.

“He will be good to you, keep you safe. Keep your heart safe.”

“Yes, he may, but I don’t love him.” He won’t listen to me, he never does.

“You could learn to.”

“Did you learn to love, Mom?”

He huffs at my statement. “I loved your mother from the first time I met her, she had me spellbound.”

“And you want less for me?” How can he expect me to learn to love someone?

“No, but I prefer you safe. And that man is not safe.”

“I know that, why do you think I’m here with you.” I want to scream at him, but nothing ever works with him and screaming won’t get me anywhere.

“We’re going home, I booked us on the next flight,” he tells me. I wonder why he’s here. Then I remember he had to come for work, and he didn’t even bother calling me to let me know he’d arrived.

The flight is quiet, nothing is spoken. And my mind doesn’t stop thinking of that man, that man that I know is not good for me.

****

My home is quiet. It’s been two days since the day I left Zeke. Tragger has visited me once, I asked him not to bother coming back. I don’t want to give him false hope when there’s nothing to give him. My father dropped me off, did some grocery shopping, and then I asked him to leave. I’ve done nothing but lay on my couch, watching reruns of old television programs.

My phone beeps from the couch, and I know it’s him. It’s been beeping the last couple of days, ringing as well. I’m wondering when the battery is going to die; surely it has to be soon?

I don’t want to look at it, don’t want to know what he has to say. I’m trying to separate us, but he just doesn’t seem to want that. He doesn’t understand that it will never work. He’s destroyed us, wrecked us from the start.

“Hey,” I hear from the couch. I stand and unlock the door to see Benji standing there. I haven’t seen him since the night I left Tragger. A small smile takes over my face and he leans in to cuddle me softly, then he steps back.

“Your father told me you were back,” he says following me inside. I go back to the couch where I was before and bring my legs up under me.

“I’m sure that’s not all he’s said,” I say rolling my eyes knowing he’s probably said a lot more.

“So you found it?” he asks and it takes me a moment to remember our earlier conversations. He told me to go and find love, to fall in love, and to fall out.

“Yep,” I say not looking at him.

“Did it destroy you?” he asks sounding serious.

“Might as well have,” I tell him.

“So he didn’t love you back?” It takes me a moment to answer that, I don’t know what to say.

“He says he does, but I doubt it.”

“Why?”

“Why did it take him so long to tell me? Why did he treat me so bad? Why did he use me for sex? I don’t know, he said it himself he doesn’t love. So why would that change now?”

“Because of you.”

Though lovers be lost love shall not.

~Dylan Thomas~

It has been two weeks, and I feel way better than I did. I’m still hoarded up in my apartment because I don’t have to be anywhere. My phone has died and I don’t want to deal with any of that. A package arrived yesterday from him; I haven’t opened it yet, afraid of its contents. It’s big and sitting in my doorway. I know I should open it. I think my heart is broken, I think he was the love of my life. You know, the one you never forget the one that’s always there, that others will never compare to. Even though it would be so easy considering he never wooed me.

After the last episode of the Gilmore Girls, I have nothing left to watch. I’ve managed to watch all of the Charmed, Dawson’s Creek (don’t laugh) and True Blood episodes. But the box still sits there and stares at me, goading me to open it. I grab a kitchen knife and walk to it slowly like something may jump out at me if I open it. I slowly run the knife along the tape and pull open the box. When I look into it, its contents confuse me. I pull the first thing out and it doesn’t make any sense. It’s his shirt, one that I’ve slept in many times, and when I smell it, it still smells of him. I rummage through the rest and see it’s all his clothes, ones that I’ve worn, and ones that he has worn that I’ve loved on him. It still doesn’t make any sense.

I tip the box upside down to empty the contents and in the bottom there’s a letter, in his handwriting.

Meet me tonight, 7 pm at your apartment door.

I didn’t open the box when it came so the note confuses me, is he here? Surely he hasn’t been waiting for me? I walk to the front door and am reluctant to open it, not knowing what I’ll find. When I do, he’s there. Sitting on the floor, typing on his phone. He hears the door and looks up; a wave of relief seems to wash over his face. He stands and his black jeans hug him tightly, his black shirt and baseball cap make him look bad, so bad and yet so good.

“Pixie?” he says, looking me up and down and taking a step toward me. I stop him by putting my hand up and walk backward slamming the door in his face. My breathing becomes heavy, and I slide down the door wondering what he’s doing. Why is he here? I even out my breathing and feel the door move, it must be him leaning against it. I stop breathing and try to listen.

“I need you, Bexley,” he says, his voice rough. I don’t respond, I don’t know what to say. I’ve told him it’s over. “Let me stay in love with you, let me help you remain in love with me. I want to be your end, Bexley, you’re last in everything.”

“Please leave,” I manage to say. He doesn’t respond, and I don’t look to see if he’s left. It’s wrong, so wrong to be in love with someone who is so bad, especially when I come from the type of background I come from. I used to put people like him away, for life. Hell, I even tried to do it to him. It’s wrong, it’s wrong to fall for someone so bad, and with no morals. No respect for the law.

I manage to crawl back to the couch and restart the Gilmore Girls. I’ll just go back to the beginning, and think if only life was that easy.

****

Today is the day. I need groceries, food, and drinks other than water. I dress myself this morning, which is something I haven’t done for almost two weeks. I’m wearing long black pants and a black shirt. I guess it matches my mood.

When I open the door to walk out, I didn’t think he would still be there. I thought for sure with no more words spoken last night, he’d be gone. But he isn’t, he’s in the same clothes, sitting in the same position. I contemplate walking back in and shutting the door, but I really need food. I ate my last packet of noodles last night.

I walk past him without looking. He stands, and I know he’s following me. His footsteps echo behind me. I exit the building and am glad the local supermarket isn’t far from where I live. I cross the street hoping he won’t follow, but I’m also fighting the battle of wanting to see him.

He doesn’t disappoint, he follows. I knew he would. Some part of me wants to tell him to fuck off, but I don’t, not just yet.

I grab a basket and toss in bread and milk first, then junk food, lots of it. As I’m checking out the candy, he steps next to me, and I have no choice but to acknowledge him.

“I’m not a chaser, Bexley,” he says, and it makes me angry. I didn’t ask him to chase me.

“Good, go home,” I say to him.

“I am home. You received my clothes?” he asks. It takes me a moment to understand what he’s just said to me.

“What?” I ask with my mouth hanging open. He reaches over and his fingers run along my jaw before he lifts my jaw up and closes my mouth.

“I’m all yours,” he says like it’s so simple. I ignore him and walk away. I watch as ladies heads turn when he stands behind me in the checkout line. Some not so subtle about it. Some even whistle and I want to laugh at them. But I refrain, and pay for my groceries and walk back the way I came, back to my home.

When I reach my door, I turn to see him there, not even three feet away from me. He watches me but doesn’t say a word. I walk in and leave my door open, I don’t know why, so he walks in after me. He looks at his clothes strewn across the floor and back to me. He doesn’t come in any further.

“You can shower,” I say to him pointing toward the bathroom door. He smiles like he’s just won, but he hasn’t. “Then you leave,” I add the last part. He grabs some clothes and walks to my shower. I listen and hear it start up. Sitting up on a kitchen stool, I open a packet of chocolate just waiting, for what I’m not sure.

When he’s done, I’ve eaten almost half the block, and he comes out without his shirt on. Just a pair of blue jeans that hang low on his waist. I can’t help but look and admire, he is the devil after all.

“Would you accompany me for dinner?” he asks. I shake my head, for more reasons than the one. “Okay,” he says and walks out the door closing it behind him. I sit there just staring at the door, like he’s just played a joke on me. I jump up and swing the door open, and there he is sitting on the ground, where I first found him. He looks up and I walk back in and slam the door shut.

What have I gotten myself into?

All night I think about him, but not once do I reopen that door to see if he’s still there.

****

I wake to the sound of banging on my door, followed by the yelling of my name. It’s Ember. I open the door to her smiling face staring at me. She walks in and slams the door shut behind her, and follows me to the kitchen where I make us a coffee. “You know you have a man on your doorstep asleep?” she says with the biggest grin on her face. I make three coffees. I hand her one and take the other to the door and give it to Zeke. I don’t make eye contact, and when his hand brushes mine to take it, I walk straight back inside shutting the door.

“So you wear his clothes, but let him sleep outside?” she asks smiling brightly. I look down and realize I do have on his shirt and then realize he’s probably just seen that too. I run to my bedroom and find the closest clothes that are actually mine and take his shirt off and replace them. Ember is smiling wide when I return.

“This is interesting,” she says clapping her hands like a child.

“Shut up,” I mutter, picking up my coffee and sipping on it.

“How long has he been out there?” she asks pointing to the door. I shrug my shoulders because I really don’t know. Could be two days or longer, I just don’t know.

“Well, are you going to let him in?”

“Ember, you came for what exactly?” I ask. Her eyebrows raise and she laughs at me some more.

“Lance is here for work. Just came by to wake you up and take you out for lunch,” she says.

“Okay, let’s go,” I tell her picking up my keys.

“You aren’t wearing that, are you?” she asks pointing to my clothes, making a face at them.

“I can just as easily stay home,” I tell her. She shakes her head and walks to the door. I follow her and lock it on the way out. Zeke is still there and watching us.

“Toodles,” Ember says with a wave. I don’t look at him; I don’t want to see him.

We walk to a nearby restaurant and when we’re seated Ember laughs loudly.

“Is he your bodyguard?” she asks, and I wonder who she’s pointing to. When I gaze out the bay windows of the restaurant, I see Zeke standing there. I cover my face with my hands and try to calm my breathing.

“Why won’t he leave me alone,” I say in exhaustion.

“He got bit by the Pixie,” she says still laughing. I hit her on the head with the menu and she stops and rubs it. It’s not just Zeke that calls me that, Ember used to when she couldn’t remember my name when we first met, she says it’s all about my size and my hair.

“What? It’s funny,” she says shrugging. “Seriously, why’s he following you everywhere and sleeping at your door?”

“I don’t know.”

“Didn’t you two break up?” she asks me.

“Yes,” I reply.

“He seems to think otherwise, you know. I’ve heard rumors about him lately,” she says leaning over like she’s about to tell me a secret.

“What?”

“He sold his house and some of his businesses,” she says.

I look over to him, wondering if it’s true. A part of me is screaming not to care, but the other part wants to know.

The quarrels of lovers are the renewal of love.

~Jean Racine~

Ember left after lunch, leaving me at the restaurant by myself. Not entirely by myself as Zeke is still here. Though he hasn’t entered, he’s not even looking in my direction. I wonder what I should do about him? I want to know if what Ember said is true. But a part of me doesn’t want to engage in any conversation. It will just bring heartbreak, of that I’m sure.

As I walk out, he watches me. I stop and stare at him and he stares straight back. His blue eyes assessing me. He doesn’t say a word though he never has been big on words to begin with. Only when it suited him.

He follows me all the way home and once again says nothing as he walks with heavy steps next to me. Once we reach the apartment door, I wonder what should be done. How long will he stay without me talking to him? Would it be easier if we talked this out, so we can both go on with our lives? To stop whatever this is, that’s happening here, even though I’m not quite sure what that is.

“Why are you here, Zeke?” I ask turning to face him, as I open my door and take a step inside.

“I want to talk,” he tells me. I open the door further and allow him entry. His clothes that came in the box are still sitting on the floor in the entryway. He steps over them and doesn’t say anything about them as he follows me in. I sit on my couch, and he goes to sit next to me, but I want distance between us. I shake my head before he has the chance to sit, and point to the single chair located across from mine. He does it without a word and sits down.

“Talk,” I tell him, watching him carefully. His face is straight like he’s trying to think of the correct words, but he’s struggling.

“I fucked up,” he says playing with his phone in his hand. I nod, agreeing. Fucked up doesn’t even cover it. “So did you,” he says. I want to scream at him, telling him he’s wrong. But I don’t, because I did as well.

“Have you come here to clear the air, so you can go back to where you came from?”

His face scrunches and his eyes hold mine. “No,” he says shaking his head.

“Then why are you here?” I demand.

“I want to start over. I want to help you fall back in love with me,” he says and I can hear the meaning in his voice, his eyes are locked onto mine waiting for my reaction. I don’t give him one at first, I just sit there. Running everything through my mind. He can’t change; he’s the man and will always be the man I met, the one that’s dangerous, bad, and the devil. But that’s the man I also fell in love with. But so much has happened, so much has changed. I was put in a dangerous situation because of him and ultimately I was hurt because of who he is and what he does.

“Stop thinking, I’ll explain everything tonight. Just meet me out the front at seven,” he says and stands. He watches me and walks a few steps forward and kisses me on the top of my head and walks out the door shutting it behind him.

I sit in my seat not moving, thinking about what he’s just said. And what his plans are for the evening.

****

Later that night I’m dressed in a black leather skirt and a black matching top. My hair is straightened, framing my face and I’m sitting bouncing my leg up and down nervously as I wonder if this is a good idea.

His knock comes softly on my door. I stand in my heels and am afraid I’m going to lose my balance, my legs are that shaky. When I open the door, he’s a picture of sex. Total sex appeal oozes from him; his stubble that was on his face earlier is now gone. He’s dressed in a black suit, with a purple tie against his crisp white shirt. He looks me up and down and produces a bouquet of gorgeous flowers. They’re yellow, my favorite color. I smile against my better judgment and take them from him, thanking him and his sexy smile doesn’t leave his face.

“Are you ready?” he asks. I don’t know how to answer that, am I? Will I ever be? I decide to not use words and nod my head instead. He places his hand out for me to take and I decline. It’s too fast, too soon.

****

On the car ride over not a word is spoken, he hired a driver and we sit in the back. His eyes on me, my eyes straight ahead.

“Are you going to look at me tonight?” he asks from right next to me. I don’t answer, words have gone blank in my head and nothing is reaching my mouth. “I hope you do,” he says. The car comes to stop and he exits coming around to my side to help me out.

He walks into a very chic restaurant, there are waiters waiting in line at the front as we enter. It’s hidden, and extremely high class. I wonder how he knows about such a place, and I also wonder where all their customers are.

“Mr. Takon, we have your table ready,” the waiter says and escorts us back to a single two seater table in the middle of the restaurant. All the tables are empty and are pushed away from ours. The restaurant has glass chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling. The décor is white and gold. There are golden flowers lining the room everywhere.

Once we’re seated, wine is poured and the waiter tells us our first course will be arriving soon. Zeke is looking at me as I continue to be mesmerized by this stunning establishment.

“Do you like it?” he asks, breaking my thoughts and bringing them back to solely him.

“It’s charming,” I answer him truthfully. “But where are the customers?” I ask him and he smirks.

“I booked it out for just us, for the night.”

“Why?” I say.

“Because you need special, and we never did special. I want to start again,” he says.

“I can’t forget everything, Zeke. There’s too much to forget,” I say looking down to my hands in my lap.

“I know, but we never did this. I never wooed you. They say that’s what you’re meant to do. I didn’t, I went straight for what was mine, what I wanted.”

“I was never yours,” I squeak out.

“But you were, as I am yours.”

I try shaking my head. “You’re not, you had your rules. I accepted the rules. I didn’t ask for more. So I left.”

“You didn’t have to ask for more, you had it all to begin with.”

“That’s not true.”

“I’m gonna make you fall back in love with me, Bexley because I love you.”

“You can’t do that, love doesn’t work like that. Don’t say those words, because you think that’s what I want to hear. Say it because you want me to be your last breath. Say it because I’m all you see. Say it because I’m in you, I’m stuck to your soul. Say it to me like you mean it, not to make yourself feel good.”

“You said falling in love was hard, but staying in love was the hard part. It may have been hard for you, but it was never hard for me, Pixie. Your fucking stuck to me, I don’t think I could ever stop loving you. It may have taken me a while to get to that, to say that. But you will see, I’ll make you see,” he says and stops as the first course arrives at our table. We eat without so much as another word, the heavy words have now been said. What else is left?

Conversation is kept light after that. I start to wonder about what Ember said and want to ask him. But I don’t want to give false hope, where hope isn’t there yet.

“How long you staying here for?” I ask, touching the subject but not delving in too deeply.

“For as long as you do,” he says quietly.

“What do you mean?” I ask not understanding.

“I mean, I’m here for you. I’ll go wherever you go.”

“What about your club? Your work?”

“What about them?” he says inclining his head to the side, not giving me answers.

“You’re very work orientated,” I tell him with a scoff.

“I’m very Bexley orientated, too,” he says smiling. I try to hide the grin that touches my lips, but I can’t and he sees it.