16. No Good People Here
The kisses Luke pressed so passionately to my lips aren’t even four hours old before gagging noises fill the quiet space of Tommy’s car while his cock hits the back of my throat. His hands fist in my hair as he pushes my head down and holds me in place. He flexes his hips and his shaft slides in and out of my mouth as he face fucks me.
My eyes instantly water. I sniff back my runny nose, the smell of rusty car and Tommys’ balls filling my nostrils only resulting in worse gagging. Trying to relax, I breathe through my mouth, but being face down, ass up in the front seat of Tommy’s cramped and rusted out 1995 Toyota Celica GT isn’t exactly Oasis-level relaxation.
My lungs burn as I try to catch a breath, but each thrust from him shuts my windpipe off. My stomach threatens to empty itself as I gag again. Fucking hell, get off me. Yanking my head back, I try to not lose the dinner I paid for. Anger simmers in my chest.
Tommy’s impatience leaks into his words as he pants, “I was nearly done.”
I nod and try to summon some of that dark feminine power from the night before to put myself in the mood. I stroke his shaft and run my tongue over the flared tip, flicking extra hard in the spots he likes.
“Oh, shit yes, fuck, baby, just like that. You’re gonna make me cum.” Fucking finally.
Grabbing my hair again, he shoves me back down and rams his cock against the back of my throat. “Fuck yeah, take that dick.” He moans loudly and thrusts a few more times before blowing his load. I wince at the salty flavor and tamp down on the desire to bite his dick.
I’m not sure what’s wrong with me tonight. Normally, Tommy swinging by and us finding a place to park is the highlight of my week. The thrill of getting caught, the fresh air, and a bit of naughty freedom bent over the hood of his car is just what I need.
Like the moon controlling the tides, impatience rules me tonight. Instead of getting down to the actual issues, I was forced to listen to Tommy regale me of tales from his “business” adventures and the drama his buddies get into as they fuck around. The real question is why Tommy thinks I’d give a shit about seventy percent of our dinner conversation. Especially when my situation’s unsettled.
It doesn’t help that I wasn’t horny when Tommy pulled out his cock. Or that I suspect my reason for not being interested is due to a certain mustached bullshitter that gets off on harassing me.
A wave of nausea rolls through me as my stomach settles into a more natural position as I fold back into my seat.
“Damn, babe, that was so good. I totally needed that,” Tommy says.
Tommy tucks his softening dick away by pulling up his gray sweatpants. His black studded earrings flash in the reflection of the streetlamp. Trash tumbles across the empty parking lot of the abandoned fast-food joint we parked behind. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a pack of smokes and lights one up. My brows pull down as I watch him. Light flares from the cigarette and the cherry glows brightly in the car. Normally by now, it’s my turn to cum, or he works up another hard-on and we go fuck.
Tommy’s slim, angular face turns toward me. He’s buzzed his pale blond hair down to the scalp. It makes the jutting cheekbones, jawline, and nose that dominate his features stand out. It’s a harsh look for him and if I’m being honest, it makes his head look small.
Tommy props his arm up in the window, letting the smoke curl around his fingers before the wind carries it away. “So, you gonna get yourself off or what?” Tommy asks around his cigarette.
I stare at him, unsure if I heard him right. “That’s normally something we do together,” I say.
“We don’t have to do it together all the time. I mean, I can watch.”
What’s his problem tonight? I should have bitten his dick.“No, that’s okay. Another time. I wouldn’t mind a baggie, though, if it isn’t too much trouble.” It’s a miracle that I’m able to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
He flashes me a smile before reaching into the back and pulling forward his livelihood, a portable pharmacy of illegal substances. He unzips the pack and rifles through it before tossing me a rolled-up Ziplock bag of weed. “That’s gonna be forty.”
My head swivels up, and this time, I know my face reflects the frustration brewing in me. Tommy”s eyes widen. “Damn, I’m kidding. I don’t expect you to pay. Shit, maybe you should smoke some of that now. You’ve been so serious and on edge tonight.” He takes a drag off his cigarette before tucking away his pharmacy.
“Tommy, my crazy fucking aunt is looking for me and lives only thirty minutes away. Yeah, I’m stressed out.”
He nods. “That’s true. When you said you were taking off, I figured you meant, like, leave the state, not skip to the next town over.”
I fold my hands over my chest. “Can’t get far with no money. Plus, you think I’d just cut out on you like that?”
Tommy snorts a laugh. “I’m not anyone to get arrested for, which could happen. To you.”
His words sting as they bring more merit to what Luke said to me before I left. But to be fair, I didn’t stick around for Tommy. I literally had no place to go and no money to get me there. Crashing on mutual friends’ couches only goes so far, and once the cops started asking around and bothering the few acquaintances I had, they made it clear I’d overstayed my welcome. Luke was more than right. The streets aren’t kind and most people aren’t either. Which brings me back to Gloria.
“How has Gloria been?” I ask.
He low whistles. “That woman is a ripe cunt. I’m still fixing the shit she broke the first time she swung by after you left. I can’t get over how she just walked into my place and started tearing things up. Opening doors, screaming she knew you were there. Fucking crazy bitch.”
My face is hot with shame as I imagine the position Gloria put him in. It’s not like he could call the police without incriminating himself. Guilt gnaws at me.
“She drops by every now and then, asking if I’ve heard from you. Which I always give her and the cops the same answer. No, and fuck off.”
“So the cops are still looking?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, I assume so, considering the felony you got slapped with.”
My eyes round. “What?!”
“C’mon, Carmella, you don’t gotta lie to me. I know about the money.” Shaking his head, he puts the cigarette out in the already full ashtray of the car.
My brow pulls down. “What does that mean?”
“Gloria told me about the stolen two grand.”
“What?” I ask, flabbergasted.
“Yeah, she found the money missing and went back to the police. Told the cops she lied about how you were just missing and that you had attacked her and while she was locked in the bathroom, scared for her life, you stole two thousand dollars and took some kitchen knives.”
My mouth gapes open and I squint my eyes at him, trying to tell if he is joking or not. My brain doesn’t compute what he is saying. The night I left my aunt’s replays through my mind. Gloria was high off her ass and had some guy over. They had forced me to listen to them fuck on the couch, with my aunt’s fake porno moans permeating through the headphones I used to help drown them out. I figured after a couple hours of quiet, it was safe for me to slip out. That was a mistake. The resulting argument ended up with her punching me in the face repeatedly as we fought down the hall. Gloria’s guest hit the road while we tussled, and it ended with me locking myself in my bedroom, stuffing as much as I could into a couple bags, and scrambling out a window.
“No, there was no money, Tommy. No kitchen knives. She attacked me. How can she just go back and change her story like that?” I stare in horror out the window. “When did this happen?”
He shrugs and glances out the window. “Maybe a month ago. I don’t really remember. I’ve been busy.”
“What the fuck, Tommy? Why didn’t you say anything?!”
“Whoa, whoa, I figured you already knew, hence why you lit out of town like feds were after your ass.”
“They will try me as an adult, Tommy. I can’t afford a lawyer on top of all the other legal shit she has put me through.”
“So, there was no money?”
“If there was money, I wouldn’t be here, now would I?”
He shrugs again. “I don’t know why women do half the shit they do.”
Oh my fucking God, he’s an idiot.
He sighs. “Well, if you are worried about it, there is one lawyer you might be able to afford. His name is Daniel Tunnell, but he goes by Dan. He enjoys helping pretty, single women, but only as long as they will let him help himself to what’s between their legs. He’s a youngish guy, so at least it won’t be Grandpa.” He looks at me. “You know, if it gets that bad.”
I’m too shocked to be offended that Tommy just told me to whore myself out for legal counsel. My eyes skate across the desolate parking lot. Its crumbling emptiness reflects the emotions that swirl cold and ugly in my chest. It’s moments like these I don’t know why I try anymore. Better off just to end it.
The desire to lash out at anyone, even for a moment, is overpowering. I’m so angry and cornered. The sharp feeling turns inward and not for the first time, I wish I had a razor.
If self-harm hadn’t landed me up in a psych ward twice in my younger years, I’d probably still be cutting. My fingers curl into a fist, nails biting into the palm of my hand. Cutting had only made my situation worse, so I promised myself never again, but fuck, I need an outlet. Something to release myself into. Any way to check out for a moment.
Eyeing the baggie of weed in my lap, I’m about to ask Tommy for some paper when I freeze. Tommy knew I was a wanted felon. He knew and didn’t even care enough to ask me about it or have a conversation with me. He knew I was struggling, he knew how bad it was, and I didn’t hear from him for three weeks. He rarely answers the phone anymore and… I replay our whole night together. The hours wasted hearing about parties I won’t go to. The money I spent on our dinner. The unreciprocated sex.
Hurt crushes me, finishing what’s left of my fight. Sadness wells up in me and floods my entire being. Luke was right. Tommy doesn’t give a shit about me. Things have been done with Tommy for a long time and I’m the fool that kept holding on. Tommy’s using me, and I’m the pathetic fucking homeless girl that jumps on the first flimsy excuse he gives me.
“So, what are you going to do?” Tommy asks.
I can’t even bring myself to answer him. A white paper bag dances across the parking lot as I fold my arms across my chest. Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I shake my head.
“Well, White Cove is bigger than Dotteville, and you don’t know anyone here. I’m sure it will be fine until you can get some cash from your job. Don’t worry.” He pats me on the shoulder, triggering a desire to rip out his eyes. Fuck him.
Tommy thumbs the steering wheel in my silence. “This conversation sucked. Do you want me to drop you off at your friend’s place? That way, I know where to pick you up next time?”
“No.” There won’t be a next time.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, just drop me off at 32nd Street.”
We pull out and drive for a bit before turning. My skin itches as the rage builds every time Tommy glances at me. We pull alongside the curb half a block away from the stop. “Hey, before you go, I wanted to let you know there is a big party tomorrow night here in town at the abandoned storage facility. I’m gonna go, and I sorta told Sarah I would take her.”
His words process in my brain like a bomb going off. “Sarah who?”
He rubs his shaved head and puts the car in park, sighing. “Sarah Longcryer.”
“Sarah the whore? The whore Sarah? That Sarah?” I snap, no longer able to control myself. Wow, that didn’t take long. Who does he think he is? Must be so nice to just move onto the next, most convenient, piece of ass.
“It ain’t like that. We haven’t even fucked. She definitely isn’t blowing me in the front seat like you do.” How nice.
“Oh, poor you, she isn’t blowing you in the front seat. Well, that’s just fucking sad, isn’t it?”
He snaps, “I’m just taking her as a friend. Plus, you have problems. You can’t go to a party, and it’s not like we are official, anyway. I can take someone else.”
“And it just so happens to be the girl who has been instant messaging you for months, whose primary goal in life is to steal boyfriends and men. Okay, well, you know what… you and the whore have fun together. I wish you all the best, jackass.”
Swiveling in the seat, I pop the door and kick it open. It lashes out, bouncing against a sign pole, clanging loudly. I get a little thrill knowing I put another dent in his rust bucket. Tommy grabs my arm and yanks me down into the seat. “Hey, I’m putting up with your crazy bitch aunt and lying to the cops for you. I almost got busted because of you and her. I think you could stand to be a little nicer to me.”
My hand flies at his face before I can stop, slapping the snarl from his lips. I’m so livid I could kill him. Tommy has never been like this to me before. Ripping my arm from his grasp, I scramble out of the car and slam the door. Bending down to where he can see my face, so he can read the anger in my gaze, I go off. “Your weed fucking sucks. This car is a piece of shit, and I’m not going to be responsible for my orgasm. Wash your fucking balls. They smell like asshole and nearly made me vomit in your lap. You”re a loser, Tommy.” I flip him the bird, turn, and stomp all the way to the bus stop.
The engine of his piece-of-shit car revs and the screech of tires rips through the air as he tears off down the road. What a massive asshole. I hope he gets a ticket and an STD and a boil on his dick from Sarah’s stank pussy. And his engine falls out. Yeah, all of those.
I’m still fuming when the bus pulls up. It’s a Friday night and every drunken tourist and pickpocket is out on the town. From my seat next to the window, I stare out at White Cove and the neon of the main drive comes alive. The bright colors of restaurants and nightclubs reflect off the glass and blur past.
In the back of the bus, some idiot thinks we all want to hear his taste in music and starts playing his phone loudly. Just what the crowded space needs more of: noise. Between the ruckus of drunken friends barhopping and the ramblings of the headcase up front, who has spent the last twenty minutes talking to his invisible friends, I’m surprised I can hear anything.
The bus stops close enough to Luke’s that I disembark, feeling on the edge of a mental breakdown. A sobbing girl in a dark hoodie on a public bus brings too much attention. I shuffle home, and as the store comes into view, I’m thankful the place looks dead. Aside from the broken, flashing neon blue that outlines the windows, I’m pretty certain all the lights are off. He must be out. Thank God.
In the shadows outside of Luke’s, the tears finally come. I can’t hold them back anymore. It’s just too much for one person. Sliding down the red brick, I let grief wash away all the walls between my pain and me.