Pretty Reckless, page 12
Chase grasps my knees and turns me to the left just enough to see behind me. His fingers roam the bare skin on my back showing above my tank, fingering the twisty twigs until he finds the first scar. I feel his thumb caress the uneven skin under the thick black lines of ink concealing my shame. I wasn’t strong enough. I blindly trusted Costas with my heart, my body, and everything I had. And that weakness almost killed me.
His lips graze the uneven flesh. He tugs the top of my shirt down just enough to show the second scar, and drops his mouth against it, too. To find the third, he lifts the hem and runs his fingers up my spine until he feels it, and then graces it with the same attention. When he’s done, both hands land on my shoulders, his forehead resting between them. “Good as new.”
A fresh batch of tears form in my eyes; only these aren’t for what I’ve lost—they’re for what I’ve found. A person who sees and still cares. I don’t deserve this compassion, this acceptance. I’m not a good person. I’ve done nothing but take, yet Chase continues to give with no question.
I’m not good enough for him.
Chapter 17
Chase
A bright ray of sunlight slices across my closed eyelids. A meager moan flits from her lungs; her body squirms against me.
“Chase.” My name is a breathy sigh floating on air. I tighten my grip, running a hand up her spine to the nape of her neck. Another whimper, another wriggle. So warm, so soft.
Apples. I can almost taste them on my tongue. I shift, attempting to deeper inhale the delicious body in my arms. Petite hands find my chest and push. “Chase. You’re squeezing me to death.”
Consciousness returns. My heavy eyelids crack open and survey my surroundings. I was drowning in dreams, clutching Kat like a life preserver. “Aren’t we cuddly in the morning?” she jests, sitting up with a yawn.
I press my palm against the mangled tree limbs peeking up from the edge of her tank. The sky was a dusky shade of purple before we finally fell asleep. She released the burden of the past holding her down and somehow seems different now. Her usual defense mechanism still sits on the surface, but her entire aura has shifted. Almost as if she’s lighter than she was before. Less guarded. Athena’s words ring in my ear. I'll never let anyone hurt her like that again.
Neither will I.
When my fingertip slips under the spaghetti strap, it falls down her golden shoulder. The semi I generally wake with is saluting at full mast this morning. The bed sheet draped across our bodies doesn’t hide the fact that I’m completely aroused. My abs contract under the warm touch of her fingers. She peers behind her, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, and then slides off my bed. “I’m going to take a shower.”
I sit up and kick my legs over the side. Those little red shorts are going to put me in an early grave. The muffled sound of running water blasts through the paper-thin walls of my house. Thinking of Kat in the shower isn’t going to help the solid steel erection standing between my legs, and she doesn’t need another guy leering at her.
Grandma sits quietly in her room as I pass her doorway on my way down the hall. I wonder what today will bring. Maybe she’ll know me; maybe she won’t. Maybe she’ll break into show tunes and do a little soft shoe. It could happen. Nothing shocks me anymore.
I pace back and forth in the front yard with Aphro hot on my heels and a cigarette dangling from my lips. It’s barely ten a.m. and hot as balls out here already. The deep rumble of an engine calls my attention. The brakes squeal on the FedEx truck stopping in front of the house. Kat’s results. It must be.
My heart begins pounding in my chest. The cigarette falls from my lips as the man approaches holding a parcel bearing the company logo. “How ya doing today?” he asks.
Kat’s ridiculous dog yips from the landing. I pick her up and deposit her inside the house as the delivery guy holds out the electronic pad for me to sign. After scrawling my name with the plastic pen, he hands me the envelope and says goodbye. I watch him get back in his truck and drive away, my hands shaking down to the bones. The future of Kat’s well-being rests inside this package clutched between my fingers. I hold the truth, and now that it’s here, I’m terrified to see what’s inside.
I turn on the stoop and rush through the door. “Kat!” Speed walking through the house, I burst through the bedroom door without thinking twice. Droplets of water dapple the front and back of her clean blue top. I barrel into the room in a hurried frenzy to unload the mental weight of the secret we’ve been dying to know the answer to. “It’s here.”
Her jaw goes slack. She drops to the edge of my bed, looking at the envelope in my hand as if it were a bomb. “I can’t open it,” she whispers, pushing back the raven strands of wet hair sticking around her ears. “Please, Chase. You do it.”
The lump in my throat makes it hard to breathe. How will I tell her if it’s positive? How can I possibly be the bearer of the news that changes the course of her life this dramatically? I can’t. It’s impossible. But the terrified look in her warm, brown eyes hurts my heart more than whatever I’ll find in this envelope. “Whatever’s inside, we’ll deal with it. Okay?”
I flip it over and find the tear here tab. The sound of it ripping open shreds the tiniest bit of my heart in the process. My eyes feverishly scan the letter reading the results and all the fear, anguish, heartache, and worry leaks from my body in an instant. “It’s negative.”
“It is?” she asks, snatching the letter from my hand to see for herself. “Oh, my fucking God!” She jumps from the bed, hurling herself against me. Her arms and legs wrap around my body. I hold her tight, keeping her close, thankful for her second second chance.
“Thank you for coming with me. I can’t bear the thought of coming back in here alone.” The acrid smell of acetone hangs in the air as Kat and I walk through the salon at Luxe to collect her final paycheck.
“Katarina!” Devin, dressed as a man today, claps his hands together with a grin. “Girl! I’ve missed you so much!” With light footsteps, he meanders over and wraps his slender arms around her shoulders.
“Dushka here?” Kat’s voice is soft and weak. Coming back to the spa after being canned is hard for her.
“You just missed her.”
The breath she’d been holding blows out hard. “Awesome-sauce. I’m going to run back and grab my check.” She offers up a quick two finger wave before disappearing through the darkened hallway.
When the phone begins to ring, Devin jaunts back to the desk to answer. I hang back, just taking it all in. The drone of electronic filing drowns out the low hum of voices in the room. Desks hug the perimeter, each with a woman bent over another woman’s hands, but as I grab a seat on the red velvet bench, I feel all eyes fixed on me.
“You want a manicure?” The girl at the desk nearest to me giggles. When I look up, she smooths back her absurdly long hair. It’s sleek and shiny. Fire-engine red. The sunlight filtering in through the glass-front store actually bounces off it. She blinks her eyes in two rapid successions. Is this babe flirting with me?
“Nah. I’m just waiting for a friend.” She smacks her bubble gum pink lips and reaches for a bottle of clear acrylic. I remain aloof, but the chick doesn’t leave. She leans forward, shoving her chest in my face as she runs her perfect manicure over the snake tattoo that extends the length of my arm. “This is cool.” Oh, yeah. She’s definitely flirting with me.
Once upon a time, I would have jammed my dick so far inside this woman she’d have been begging for mercy, but that's not me anymore. I don’t need it. Life’s too short to waste time on empty conquests.
“Thanks.”
“How far up does it go?”
My gaze rolls toward Devin, who’s too busy on the phone to notice anything. Not that I’m doing anything wrong. She’s just asking about my ink. “It coils up the back of my shoulder to my neck,” I tell her, casually tugging on the neckline of my T-shirt to expose the top of the snake’s head.
“Don’t you have work to do, Lydia?” The stinging tone in Kat’s voice is a cotton ball compared to the vicious glare in her eyes. If looks could kill, this Lydia chick would be a corpse already.
“Thought they let you go?” She crosses her arms over her ample chest with a jutted-out hip.
Rawr! Hiss! Girls are so catty with one another.
“You want my job? It’s yours. Chase isn’t part of that deal.”
Lydia lifts her palm out in front of her. “Take a pill, Katarina. I didn’t realize he was yours, okay?”
Kat’s lips press into a thin pink line. Her gaze slides toward me then back to her ex-coworker. “He’s not mine, but it will be a cold day in hell before he’s yours.” Without another word, she takes me by the hand and drags me to the door, not stopping her hasty retreat until we’ve reached the car.
“Don’t let girls like that get under your skin, Kat. You’re better than that.”
“Lydia’s a bitch. I can handle myself around her. It’s just . . .”
With my finger on her chin, I force her to face me. “Just what?”
“Seeing her touch you. It bothered me.”
I raise both brows, letting her admission sink in. “You don’t have to be jealous—”
She tears her face away. “I’m not jealous! Lydia is gross, and I didn’t want her to get her cooties all over you. That’s all.” She glares out the window with her arms crossed over her chest in a huff as I start the car and pull away.
Chapter 18
Kat
Every car in the parking lot of the First Presbyterian Church is festooned with some motivational bumper sticker. Ridiculous quips like One Day At A Time, Easy Does It, and Higher Powered. Black Betty swings into the next open parking spot. I’m nervous. There’s a long running joke my dad always says: “I’m not an alcoholic, I’m a drunk. The difference? Alcoholics go to meetings.” Being here makes it feel too real.
Feelings of inadequacy and regret churn in my gut like a virus. I don’t belong here. I’m not an alcoholic; I just want to have a little fun while I’m still young enough to have it, but Chase insisted I come, and I’m willing to see it through. To at least show him I’m trying. To prove to everyone that I don’t have a problem so they get off my case.
The cloud of smoke surrounding the group of randoms milling about the entrance shines brightly in the dim yellow lamplight. People from all walks of life. Men and women—some old, some young—talk and laugh as if they’re old friends. If I walk over now, I’ll disturb the herd, so I wait, leaned up against my car, and bring another cigarette to my lips with shaking fingers.
I should have taken Chase up on his offer to come with me. My stupid pride and insecurity told him I’d be fine, but I’m so far from fine I can see it in the rearview mirror getting smaller with each step I take toward the entrance.
One hour of my life. That’s all it is. Go in. Smile. Listen to some stories. Go home. Those are the key elements to surviving your first AA meeting. That’s what Chase told me.
The low din of voices greets me as I approach. The deep fragrance of coffee wafts in from the door. Off to the side, a small banquet table with cookies and cake sits before rows of chairs facing a table at the front of the room. That’s at least somewhat relieving. For some reason, I assumed they’d all be in a circle where everyone sits and talks about feelings and shit. I’m not ready for that.
Light wisps of shoes trek across the low-grade carpet as everyone wanders to find a seat. I grab the one closest to the door, resting my palms against my knee to keep it from bouncing. I’m a spastic ball of nervous energy all the time these days, which is crazy since I’m still not sleeping. It’s weird. Every part of my body feels alive. My brain feels sharp, and food even tastes different. It’s hard to explain. I guess that sounds crazy, but so am I, so it goes with the territory.
One of the women sitting at the table clears her throat before speaking. “I am Stephanie, an alcoholic. I would like to welcome you to the Monday evening AA meeting. We would like to give a special welcome to new attendees and have you introduce yourselves.”
I can feel their judgments from here. Timidly, I extend my hand and feel all eyes on me. “Hi. Um, I’m Kat. This is my first time here, but I’m not sure if I’m in the right place.”
“Do you have the will to stop drinking, Kat?”
My throat’s as dry as the Sahara. I lick my lips in a futile attempt to wet them, but the fruity taste of my gloss only makes things worse. “Yes.”
“Well, you’re welcome to stay and listen.” Her warm smile offers a minute sense of comfort. She lifts a laminated flier from the stack in front of her. "Alcoholics Anonymous is a fellowship of men and women who share their experience, strength, and hope with each other that they may solve their common problem and help others to recover from alcoholism. The only requirement for membership is a desire to stop drinking . . . ” As Stephanie keeps reading, my mind begins to wander. There’s so much to know. So much to learn.
After going over The Twelve Steps and The Promises, my thoughts are racing so fast I can barely keep up. What is this? A religious cult? People can’t honestly buy into this crap, can they? Some of it makes sense, I guess. I like the idea of becoming a better me because the current version is pretty shitty.
“Today we’re going to discuss the consequences of our drinking. Does anybody have something to share?”
Consequences? Nope. Can’t think of one.
A man with a large belly and thinning hair raises his hand then stands. “Hi. I’m Mark, and I’m an alcoholic.”
“Hi, Mark!” the group instantly replies with emphasized zeal.
I listen as Mark shares a story of a family long lost. Children who no longer speak to him and an ex-wife who’s moved on with a new husband. Chills slither up both arms. The remorse in his voice arcs over the small crowd of people listening and rotates around me before heading back. This guy let alcohol destroy his life. Sheesh, what a loser.
“Thank you, Mark,” Stephanie says. “Anyone else?”
Another man stands, this one younger. A trimmed thicket of dark black hair covers his jaw and curls up from under the beanie resting on the back of his head. Well, hello there, Bearded Cutie. The second the thought crosses my mind, my blood runs cold. I could have slept with this guy. My eyes slide to each of the faces in the room, both young and old. I could have slept with any number of people walking past me on the street, the only evidence being a silly nickname saved in my phone along with a number I never had any intention of calling.
A consequence of my drinking.
One of many, I’m sure.
I feel instantly pathetic.
“I performed oral sex on a police officer to escape the ticket that would ultimately strip me of my license. When he finished, he wrote me the ticket, anyway. . .” Lost in my own head, I missed the next speaker’s introduction. A woman, about thirty or so, is sharing a story so riddled with frightening similarity it makes my palms sweat.
I’m taken by the intense sensation of ascending on a roller coaster. She’s calm. I stare directly at her face, trying to find the faintest hint of shame, but there’s none. Only stark serenity as the sordid tale of her rock bottom moment comes to an end.
This isn’t a cult. It’s regular people living regular lives who lost their way. I don’t pity them the way I thought I would. I’m one of them.
“Hi,” —I raise my hand and pull myself up on shaky legs— “I’m Kat, and I’m an alcoholic.”
“How did you learn how to be such a bitch? Did you take a class or something?”
“Don’t you talk to me like that, Miss Thing! You got no right cussin’ in my face! I am your elder!” Her palm raises to the sky as her head rocks back and forth on her neck. The veins in her forehead are bulging out so far, I feel like I need to duck and cover to avoid getting splattered when they rupture. This woman is a goddamned lunatic.
“You’re so dramatic! Talk about respecting your elders, you barely even speak to Grandma! All you do is sit on your fat ass and play on your phone! You suck!”
The front door opens and shuts as the word suck rings through the house. When both our heads whip toward Chase, he winces. This is the third time he’s had to come between us this week. It’s been a month of this, and I just can’t with her condescending, Jesus preachy bullshit anymore. I’m so done.
“Chase!” I stalk to the front entryway where he greets me with a weary expression. A black smudge whisks across his forehead and a stain of sweat leaks down the neckline of his torn-up tee. “Tell Haggie she’s being completely unreasonable!”
“Kat.” He sighs. “What happened now?”
“Oh, I’ll tell you what happened!” The thin material stretched across Maggie’s gargantuan thighs makes a swish sound when she walks. “Painted Granny up like a three dolla’ prostitute, this one! One hooker in this house is enough!” When she hooks her thumb in my direction, I have to stop myself from breaking it off her ham hock hand. I’ve taken down tougher dudes than her. An open-handed chop to the throat ought to take her down a peg.
“You callin’ me a hooker, you fat, lazy bitch?” Chase’s strong arm comes between us as I dive toward Maggie ready to kill.
“I don’t have to take this! I’m a Christian woman! I ain’t gotta be comin’ to work and dealin’ with this abuse! I quit!”
Maggie turns and storms out the door. “Well, don’t let the door hit ya’ where the good Lord split ya’!” I spit, flipping the bird at her back.
“Great!” Chase shouts. “Now I need to find a new home healthcare nurse! Thanks a lot, Kat!”
“Whatever! Grandma hates her anyway! Her biggest accomplishment of the day was converting oxygen to carbon dioxide,” I bluster, following him through the living room.
