14. Rickon
Chapter fourteen
Rickon
Cigarette smoke clings to my skin as I down my fifth glass of cider. Could be my sixth. No one’s here to keep me in check. Something about drinking alone at a bar makes this situation even more pathetic. Right now, I could be fucking the world’s sexiest man alive.
He’s not that sexy to me, though.
Callisto wasn’t in the running, so Brad just got a free ride to that title.
I rest my head on my arm, sticky alcohol gripping my skin. My corset digs in everywhere, not really made for flexibility. I think I’ll regret that when I try to move, but for now I can’t care less. Let it hurt. Let it strip me like acid so I don’t have to be a stranger in my own skin. I try so hard to cultivate my style and be proud of myself, but maybe deep down I’m compensating for my inferiority. My designation is unclear. My parents left me. The man I love doesn’t even look my way, and now I’m jobless.
Just fucking perfect.
At the end of the day, I’m alone. An alpha mistaken for an omega. An al-mega , as Hudson likes to remind me. Maybe the problem is I keep returning to this base and torturing myself with proximity to Callisto. If I was remotely in control of myself, I’d pack up and move. This isn’t the only movie production hub in the country. Could even try going international. Alphalingo is said to be pretty good for learning a new language quickly. French? Or perhaps Italian?
“You’re kidding yourself, Ricky,” I murmur, flicking a nutshell across the table.
If I could cut ties with Callisto, I would’ve done it eons ago. What I should do is man up and tell him how I feel. Don’t wait for his call; just turn up at his apartment. Let him tear the bandage off my wound so the bleeding can cleanse me.
“Hey, babe. Can I buy you a drink?”
I don’t even look up to see who’s mistaken me for an omega this time. “Is your name Callisto?”
“What? No, it’s Eric.”
“Then fuck off, Eric.” That’s my inebriated tongue running away on me, but I’m so far beyond caring.
I expect the stranger to get mad, but he chuckles, and the table shivers as he slides into the booth. Would a one-night fuck get me out of this funk? I snort. If that was the case, I’d have taken Brad up on his offer.
The man taps a finger on the sticky tabletop. “Yeah, you’re right. But sounds like you’ve had too many to drink. You can’t even lift your head off the table.”
“Can too,” I shoot back, raising my head. My arm’s suction-sealed to the spilled booze like it’s glue instead of sugar. I move too fast, and dizziness hits me, making my stomach roll. I groan and flop back on the table.
He laughs again, the sound pressuring my ears. I press them to check I’m not bleeding, but my hands come away clean. Cleanish.
“You’ve been here awhile.”
I stiffen with the realization this dude’s been watching me and shift so I can stare at him without lifting my head. “Is there a law against that? You stalking me?” He’s a bit of a silver fox, hair spiky on top and graying through his neatly cut goatee. Looks a bit tired. Like me.
He smiles, the action scoring deep lines either side of his mouth. “Sheath your claws, kitten. No law, but it’s nearly closing time. And I’m the manager, not a stalker.”
“Oh.” Closing time means going home to my cold, empty apartment. I sag lower into the booth.
He takes my glass and sweeps a damp cloth over the table. My tortured nutshells whisk off the edge to the floor where they’ll be swept up later. “What’s a handsome fellow like you doing drinking alone at this time of night?”
“I was asking myself the same question,” I slur with a dry scoff.
“Pining for someone?”
I groan. “Is it written on a neon sign over my head?”
He laughs again. “Well, you did say I could only sit down if I had the other fellow’s name.”
“Not like you listened,” I grumble.
“Not my strong point.” The bar manager shrugs. “Would never have started a business if I listened to everyone. But if you wanna talk, I’ll listen for fifteen minutes.”
“So just until closing time? Nice to know I’m on a deadline.”
He leans back and folds his arms across his chest. “Well, you don’t sound like you want me to make you any other sort of offer tonight, so yeah, just until we close.”
I sit up and my arm squelches as I peel it off the sticky table. The manager leans over and swipes both my arm and the table. I try not to think about how many surfaces that cloth has wiped. “Would you believe me if I told you the Bradley Jacks propositioned me tonight?”
He opens his mouth to scoff, but then his eyes narrow as he takes another look at me. “You know, now that I’ve got a good look at you, I might believe it.”
I slap one hand to my cheek. “This baby face is a curse. If I’m not mistaken as an omega, someone wants me to sub as an omega ’til they get one.” I snatch back the glass and drain the last few drops. What total bullshit.
He leans back in the padded seat and folds his arms over his chest. “I didn’t think you were an omega. Your scent’s spilling out everywhere.”
I rest my head back against the seat and close my eyes. “Great. So, I just need to become an alcoholic to finally smell like an alpha?”
He chokes on a laugh. “Not a career path I’d recommend.”
I groan. “Don’t get me started on careers. I just got fired by the worst boss I’ve ever had. You know, I put up with so much shit from that woman, and she still threw me out on my ass.” I squeeze my hand around the cup, wishing for a moment the glass would crack under my palm. You’d need to have actual alpha strength to manage that feat, though.
“Well, fuck her.”
“Figuratively only, yeah.” I snort. “Good luck finding someone else to work with who’s as patient as me, bitch!”
The manager nods, lines around his eyes crinkling. He’s got dark circles under his eyes that are probably permanent from working night shifts. “That’s the spirit. Know your worth.”
I eye him over, taking in the amused crease of his cheeks. He’s enjoying this. “Glad I can entertain you. What’s your name again?”
“Not-Callisto.”
I snort.
He swipes the empty glass and passes it to a server as she walks by. “I’m not mocking you. I’m actually relieved to see you still have a fighting spirit. It’s the ones who’ve given up I worry about.”
I grunt softly. Give up? Do I even have those words in my vocabulary?
He knocks one knuckle on the table to catch my attention. “So, what are you going to do, besides forgetting this conversation ever happened?”
I shrug. “Go home, sleep. Nurse this hangover while wishing I’d never got drunk.”
“And after that?”
“Look for another job.”
“That’s the way. Get back in the saddle.” He stands. “Your fifteen minutes are up.”
I eye the bar wistfully. “One more for the road?”
He shakes his head. “As much as I enjoy lining my pockets, any more booze and you’ll face-plant the road.”
I chuckle and slide across the booth cushion. I stagger as I get to my feet, as much from the corset cutting off my circulation as from the alcohol. For a moment, I feel warm and fuzzy and can’t remember why I came here, but the moment I step outside, reality hits me in the face along with a cold slap of chilly air. Winter doesn’t want to release us.
My stomach rebels, and I rush for the closest trash can. Ever tried bending right over while laced into a restrictive corset? Not the easiest position in the world. Especially not when you’ve had as many drinks as I have and the body won’t stop expelling them all.
The manager catches up, the door banging loudly behind him. “Hey, I ordered you an Omuber. Hope that’s okay. You’re not looking too good.”
An understatement, for sure.
Not-Callisto’s hand closes on my shoulder, and he offers me a napkin from the bar. “Be safe and stop living your life on other people’s terms.”
Somehow that sounds rather profound, but my fuddled brain can’t seem to piece together why. “Like you did?” I mutter, flushing.
“Something like that.”
I dig into my wallet for cash to repay the fare but end up dropping my wallet. When I try bending over to pick it up, I sway dangerously, catching myself on a light pole just in time.
“Keep it,” he says, picking up my wallet and passing it over. “Spend it on headache tablets in the morning.”
People aren’t nice for no reason, are they? But before I can argue, he pushes me into the waiting car. I mumble my address and buckle my seat belt. It’s a bit of a drive, and I doze lightly. Not-Callisto’s words echo around in my brain, gaining traction as the drunk fog clears a little.
Am I always living life on someone else’s terms? Maybe it is time for a fresh start, which means losing some baggage. I smile as I dial up Hudson, not caring it’s one o’clock in the morning.
“Hey, Rick. Nice of you to call me first.” A dark humor coils in his tone. This guy is all-around nasty, and without being able to smell him, he doesn’t possess a single redeeming factor.
“Yeah, I did. Because I wanted to tell you we’re done. Through. Over.”
“Oh, really? You sound drunk, Rick, my boy.”
“I’m not drunk.” Maybe a little tipsy, but that’s all. I lean my head against the cold glass to cool my flushed skin. “I’m serious, Hudson. The only reason I hooked up with you is because you smell a bit like my childhood crush.”
The line goes quiet for a moment. “Are you headed home?”
“Don’t even think about it!” I snarl. “I said we’re done. You’re not good for me, and I don’t want you entering my house ever again.”
He laughs bitterly. “Well, that’s a real shame. I thought we had something beautiful, Rick. Was it only me who’s been invested all this time? You’re awfully cruel, you know.”
The sneer in his tone sets a creeping sensation slithering up my spine. The car pulls up on my street, and I mute the phone to thank the driver. The pale light over my door illuminates the narrow stairs up the side of the building. I trip once, landing on my palms. My phone clatters, reminding me I was on the call.
“Still there?” I ask cautiously.
“Still here, love.”
“What a shame,” I drawl, emboldened by the distance and alcohol. I tap the code into the keypad and shoulder my way inside. “Here I was hoping you’d fucked off already.” I wedge the phone against my shoulder as I shrug off my jacket.
“Such a nasty mouth,” he says, and the sound seems to come from all around me.
“Well, I wanted to be civil, but you made that—” I freeze as I process the echoing of his voice. Slowly I turn to find Hudson lounging on my couch, a cold smile slashing his face.
He scratches his stomach, his shirt lifted up his belly, a pack of my salt and vinegar crisps sitting beside his hip. “Go on. I was enjoying your little temper tantrum.”
Oh, shit! Did I forget to change the lock code again? Terror claws up my throat, catching my airways. Everything about his rigid posture and malice-filled expression says he’s pissed. Hudson never was the sort to take no for an answer.
I turn and flee, tripping over my own feet. His footsteps thump ominously behind me, and I shout as I tumble out the doorway, my gaze and hope all locked on those exit stairs.
Hudson catches me around the ankles and drags me back inside, kicking the door shut behind us. “You know, technically I haven’t entered your house again since that phone call.”
A sob catches in my throat.
“What was that about my scent?” Hudson growls, anger radiating off him. “If you liked it so much, you should have said so.” He slings me up off the floor like I weigh nothing, half-dragging me as I thrash in protest.
“No!” I scream as he flops me onto the bed and smothers me with his body weight.
“Breathe it in, precious.” He covers my mouth, and I kick out, trying to shake him loose. My chest spasms as my oxygen dries up. He’s so fucking heavy; what if he kills me? I could really die here.
Panic invades my body and a new sensation bubbles through me. I’m not ready to die. I bite down hard and Hudson yelps.
“You little bitch!” he shrieks. “Fine, you want to break up? Since I came all the way here, and you were so rude to me, I think I’m still owed a little something for my troubles, yeah?”
Tears blur my vision as Hudson strips my pants away. His thin beta scent lingers all over my skin now, and even through the fear it feels like a piece of Callisto’s here with me. I don’t want to be alone.
I stop fighting and curl into a ball. “Will you leave me alone then?”
He chuckles and his touch gentles. “For now, since you’re so adamant about taking a break.”
Just for a moment, I don’t have to be alone. Some part of me knows it’s the alcohol, but with my eyes closed, I can imagine it’s Callisto here with me instead. It’s always been him. I wrap my arms around his neck.
“Ah, here’s my pretty playboy al-mega .”
I stiffen.
Big hands turn me over. “Don’t worry. If you find me that terrible, I don’t need you conscious to fuck your tight ass.”
Too late I realize my mistake, as Hudson shoves my head into the pillow and pins me down. Nausea rises in my stomach as my body quivers, demanding air. I’ll be on the news headlines a week from now when the landlord comes looking for my rent and finds me dead and decaying. They’ll say I died choking on vomit after getting too drunk. Tears soak the pillow and my muscles cramp as I arch desperately against Hudson.
But I’m too small, too weak. White prickles flash behind my eyes, and then everything fades.
The shrill whirr of a siren filters into my ears. Maybe I’ll have an out-of-body experience while they take my corpse. It’s a pity, since I did like that body, except for when people were calling me an omega. Not the body’s fault, though.
I open my eyes slowly, wondering what death looks like. Will I just float free?
Morning light filters in through my blinds, crossing my floorboards with parallel golden lines. The sirens move on down the street and fade from hearing. They weren’t coming for me?
I push up against the mattress and a heavy weight drags on every muscle. I groan and flop back down. Yeah, no way I’m free of my mortal coil when I feel this shitty. Pain stabs through my head and the acidic scent of vomit burns my nostrils.
So I’m still alive.
A bitter laugh cracks through my throat, and I instantly regret it as white-hot agony lances through my skull. Yeah, I’m gonna be regretting those drinks for another two days. The need to pee shunts me slowly out of bed, and I wince as my weight settles on my ass. Hudson really fucked me good while I was unconscious, the son of a bitch. Feels like he’s torn me right open.
After taking care of urgent needs, I clean myself up and liberally apply lanolin cream. An iced coffee and several painkillers wake me up enough to recall everything that sent me spiraling yesterday.
Guess it’s good news I don’t have to go into work today, since I can barely walk.
I slip into a coat to warm up and take my coffee onto the landing for a bit of fresh air. An envelope propped against the threshold falls as I swing the door open. Surely Hudson wouldn’t have left me a message in this old-fashioned way. I stoop down, grumbling as I spill my coffee, my hands still unsteady. I rip open the flap and pull out a piece of plain lined notepaper.
Hello, neighbor.
Can you please keep the noise down after dark? You’re disturbing the building.
The chuckle that lodges in my throat sounds more like despair than merriment. I cough to clear my burning throat. A thin card inside the envelope catches my attention, and I draw it out. It’s a business card for a counseling service specializing in relationships.
I scoff. Even my neighbors know I’m a failure at love. The paper crumples pleasantly in my palm as I wad the letter up and shove it in my pocket before swiveling and staring at the keypad to my house, trying to think of a new number. Maybe I should ask Callisto if I can stay at his place for a while, in case Hudson decides we’re not done after all.
A shudder runs down my arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps. No, we’re done. He said it was a farewell fuck. If I go to Callisto’s house, he’d want to know why, and this isn’t a situation I can explain to him. I can’t even file for assault, because it’d be my word against Hudson’s. Could I even deny wanting sex, when I crave the tiny part of him that smells like my best friend?
I sigh and hug my arms around myself.
Time to start job hunting, and I might not limit myself to Laversham. Let’s throw it out there to the universe to decide whether I should stay or go. I’ll brush up my resumé.
But first, another nap. Maybe two.