Chapter 7
SEVEN
Alex
The fuck is she doing here? With him? Fuck’s sake.
I throw open the door to my Jeep then peel out of Britain’s drive. I’d just wanted to check on my sister, make sure she was eating, see if the girls needed anything. I'd known something was off the minute I walked in, though. The house was too quiet. At first I thought no one was home, so I texted my nieces to see where they were.
J
Hey, I’m at your house, where are you guys?
C
We’re at Sandy’s in Spearhead, spending the night.
E
I think mom’s in a bad way, check on her?
C
Dad and Jess are coming, they’ll be there soon.
All they needed to say was Jess and I was ready to go, but the giggles coming from the guest suite gave me pause. There was that old feeling, back again, stopping me in my tracks. There’s a part of me that couldn’t move, frozen, standing there, waiting. Fine, hoping.
And lo and behold, who stumbles out, but Jess…followed by Damian. It was fucking suspect. I didn’t mean to say anything, but her name just sort of…came out. Haven’t seen her in a long time. Purposefully.
I avoid her like the plague. Haven’t talked to her in, I don’t know, maybe 6 years? Fine, I know exactly how long it’s been, but that’s besides the fact.
I head straight back to my mom’s house because I should probably eat. But suddenly I don’t feel even remotely hungry.
What the fuck is Jess doing here?
She’s like a parasite. Pesky, tough to get rid of. She uses people. And most of the time, people don’t even know they’re being used. Don’t like it. Not for my sister, not for my best friend. But just like she does, she embeds herself in your life. Wasn’t any different for Britain. It’s not any different with Damian.
Maybe it’s my fault for introducing her. Getting her the job as Britain’s assistant. I’ll accept the fault there, but everything else? That’s on her.
It comes on quick and it’s almost impossible to ignore. But it’s there, that urge to flee is making the slow rise up my spine. Eventually it’ll take root in my mind, and it’ll be all I can do to no t load up a rucksack and walk away from it all.
But I promised Britain I’d be here. She’s got no one looking out for her, and yeah, she might be 35 and not completely helpless, but I’ve seen her like this before.
This time is worse.
This heartbreak is different. This is the kind that’ll put you in the fucking ground if you aren’t careful.
We’re runners, Brit and I. We both have the same problem. When shit hits the fan, we bolt. I retreat, she just goes. But things are changing. We’re both trying. I’m trying for her and she’s trying for her girls. We used to be tight until I ran away. The last time.
In my absence, I might as well have thrown her to the wolves because when we finally caught up again, she was just a shell of her former self, passed out on the floor of a bar in Spearhead Lake.
If that’s not a wakeup call for the both of us, well, I’d wonder if we still had a heart beating in our chests.
Brit was fine in the end. Passed out because she forgets to eat…also she’s pregnant and anemic, but all that tells me is, again, she needs someone looking after her. And “fine” is relative. Health-wise, she might be fine, but everything else-wise, she’s fucked.
We’re fucked up, I know. Both of us. Nothing about either of our childhoods was particularly good. Mine might have been bad, but then sometimes I think Brit had it worse. I knew love, but I’m not sure if she ever did.
Up until I was six, life was pretty good. My mom loved me, she didn’t let my asshole father near me on the bad days, and we had friends. I was normal, running through sprinklers and playing soccer in the street with the neighborhood kids. Shit was normal.
Until that day, when life turned upside down, and everything went to shit. It was the day my mom almost died at the hands of my dad. I didn’t see it, but I heard it. Still hear it in my nightmares if I’m honest.
On nights when I don’t hear my mother screaming, it’s the sound of the jaws of life scraping against metal.
That day changed the entire course of my life, though. And my sister’s, too. She wasn’t even born yet, but that day was the day Britain went from not existing to being. I hate saying it, even thinking the word because its fucking terrible, but just to give you an idea: My father Ray, he’s an abuser, a rapist, and an addict.
Can’t blame the abuse or the rape on his addictions, because those didn’t come till later. He was just that shit of a human being.
After that day, I chose to live with him.
I was six. It was stupid, but in a way I’m grateful I chose that life. It made me who I am. I never had to worry about him hurting my mom or Britain. And all the shit he put me through ended up being the start of my training for my life in special operations.
I was already battle-worn and tough when I showed up to basic. They still broke me, but no one would ever break me to the same level that living with Ray Palomino did.
Britain escaped Ray completely, but got left to be raised as the unwanted byproduct of a night everyone wishes they could forget.
It poses the age-old question: Better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all? I haven’t figured out the answer to that yet myself. I think maybe I’ve been loved, but I’m not sold that I’ve loved. Except Tally. And Georgia, and Britain and her girls. But that’s a different kind of love. That’s protective love. Lay-my-life-down type of love. Not passionate love. Not sure that’s happened for me. It might have, or maybe it could have, but not yet. Hopefully at least.
That’s another reason I’m here. I’m trying to stick. Trying to see if there’s a chance for the two and a half kids, picket fence, and a dog. Though I’d settle for a warm body right now… Fuck , I didn’t mean it like that. I’d settle for a partner. Is that better? Maybe I don’t need the “normal” shit, but I’d take someone who understands me, a friend, someone to love and be loved in return. That’s not too much to ask, is it?
For people like me, though, it probably is. Not entirely sure I’m deserving of any of it. I’ve done horrible things in my life. I had a chance and I failed. I was a horrible husband, horrible father, and if it wasn’t for me, the two of them might still be here.
My palms get damp and my knee starts bouncing. The itch to go is almost unbearable now. It’d be easy, too. Everything I need is at Georgia’s house. I could just walk into the Sierra Nevada mountains and just…not look back. It’s tempting. So goddamn tempting.
But Brit needs you. Her girls need you. I can’t leave her. Again.
I pull up to my late mother’s house that I inherited when she passed, which is weird because I never even lived here, but Brit did. Yet all Georgia left Brit was a box.
It’s weird and it’s things like that that I resent Georgia for. Like leaving my sister a box filled with notebooks? Really, Mom? But not her childhood home ?
Not much makes sense whenever I try to examine my mom’s life choices. And I’ve tried. All I can come up with is she was trying her best given some shit circumstances. Don’t know that I’ll ever agree or be on board with them, though.
I turn on the drip system to water the vegetable garden in the back, then head for the fridge. Should probably eat.
It’s a fucking miracle any of the appliances in here still work. The house is sort of crumbling, but I’m planning to sell it. I’m also just sort of dragging my feet about it because this place works as well as most at the moment.
It’s just a basic ranch house that was thrown together in the 70s. Was probably pretty nice in its heyday, but now it just needs work. The kitchen is a gut job, needs new siding, new roof, new flooring. Walls need to be redone and painted. I could work on it myself, but that’s not really my bread and butter. Doesn’t interest me, and I’ve got real work to do. Which reminds me, I can’t keep holding Blanks off.
I pull up his last message that’s a week old and an empty threat to track my ass down if I don’t respond.
A
Wouldn’t be much of a tracking job…you know where I am.
B
Now you’ll text me back!? Pick up your phone asshole!
Nah, don’t feel like it.
We owe Axe Corp an answer yesterday. If you don’t want to do it, just say so.
I don’t want to do it.
You fucking prick.
Sorry.
I’m not. I knew you’d want to stop doing this shit eventually, take a break. Just tell me sooner next time, ass clown.
Also, when do I get to come visit? Your hot sister single yet?
Not single for you. Also she’s sort of dating someone. I think.
The fuck, man? She moved on fast.
Nah, more like she never moved on from him at all. I give it a 27% chance at success.
God you’re a debbie downer.
Yup.
So…when do I get to come visit? Meet your adoptive Daddy?
You’re such a fucking ass. Constantine isn’t my adoptive daddy, alright? He’s just…
An adoptive daddy?
Fuck you. Don’t come see me.
You can only hold me off so long!
Maybe, but I think your latest booty call/model of the week will do an alright job of it for me.
It’s been two and a half weeks.
You want a gold star?
My text is followed by ten middle finger emojis. I shrug, tossing my phone on the eat-in table then head back to the fridge. Chicken and broccoli. It’s practically the only thing in here, so I pull it out and start prepping the food for the grill. It’s the same shit I’ve been doing and eating for the last couple of weeks.
It’s starting to get old. Maybe it’s because I’m tired of the food, maybe it’s because I’m tired of eating alone. But I shouldn’t be. Because “alone” is good. Alone is where I thrive. I think it's the stagnation that I hate. The staying in one spot. Maybe it’s because you need to get laid and get it out of your system. That’s Blanks’ voice talking, not mine.
After running into her today, maybe he’s not wrong.
I step into Jimbo’s for the first time since I was probably 21. Jimbo’s is exactly what you’d think it’d be. Saw dust on the floor. Everything is raw wood on the interior. Same neon hanging on the walls since the gold rush of 49’. Not literally.
I head for the bar and some habits just die hard. At least four exits, probably 5, 16 total windows, best vantage point is far, left-hand corner of the bar turned out at a 45 degree angle. Bars aren’t really my scene, too much can go wrong. Too many people, and it’s typically too loud. But desperate times, right?
I case the joint, quickly spotting a familiar face. Not here for that, though, so I draw my ball cap down a bit more and make my way to the bartop .
I order a beer, read some news on my phone, and rudely let the bartender know I’m not interested in small talk about the Dodgers or the Giants. Neither are my teams. Baseball isn’t my sport.
The hardest part about being at Jimbo’s is going to be finding someone who’s not already shit faced and doesn’t have long dark hair. Too painful.
There’s a lot of pretty women in here, and a tall blonde catches my eye. I noticed her when I walked in, too. Instant eye contact, and it looks like she’s still interested. All good signs.
Haven’t done this in a while, but here goes nothing. Literally nothing, all I have to do is pocket my phone, make brief eye contact, and wait.
And bingo. She approaches, walking like a supermodel in cowboy boots. Heel toe, heel toe. She takes the seat next to me and leans forward like she might be getting the bartender's attention, but really it’s mine she’s seeking. Her drink is still 3/4ths full.
She looks at me with a smile, then back towards the bartender who is dutifully ignoring her, almost like they both know the drill here. I don’t care. That’s fine.
“Has anyone ever told you you look like a Hemsworth brother?” Only the last girl who picked me up.
“Nope,” I reply.
“That’s surprising. You look just like that guy in Avengers.” Hating this already.
“Huh, haven’t seen it.”
“WHAT? Get out!” She exclaims then lightly shoves at my shoulder.
“Seriously. ”
“Well, if you ever want a buddy to watch it with, I’d be happy to volunteer.” She’s being quick about this, great.
“Alright, let’s do it.” She’s surprised when I’m quick about it, too. I make a little nod towards the back where the bathrooms are and her cheeks turn pink. I throw a twenty down on the bar, drain my beer, and walk towards the back hall that leads to the restrooms.
She’s right behind me, losing her drink somewhere along the way. And right on cue, I enter one of the single bathrooms, leaving the door unlocked, and she follows right behind. She closes and locks the door on her way in.
This part’s always a bit tricky. Don’t love kissing on the lips, but most people are offended when you just bend them over without any foreplay. I turn my ball cap backwards, then with a gentle push, I pin her up against the door with a hand on her shoulder and one at her waist. Nudging her neck to the side, I drag my mouth down her tan skin. Fake tan , tastes slightly chemical, smells like too much perfume.
So I shut my eyes…and see someone else.
That always helps. I push a hand into her hair, and tug gently. I slip one hand into the front of her pants, but check her with a question before I dive further. Our eyes meet, I ask.
And she says, “Yeah, please do.”
I quickly unbutton the jeans that practically hit her ribcage and push them down. With a hand holding her neck, I keep sucking and nipping and kissing, and with a hand down her pants I slide between her folds and find she’s already slick.
She lets out an exaggerated moan and I close my eyes again. Turning, I move her away from the door and towards the sink. I push h er jeans down to her boots, and quickly undo my belt buckle. I pull a condom out of my back pocket, roll it on, close my eyes, and with her back to my chest, I push into… fuck . I realize I don’t even know her fucking name. Not that it matters because I’m seeing someone else right now.
It’s a balance because right now sex is just clinical. I can think about someone else, but if I let it go too far, I’ll start acting like it's someone else I’m thrusting into, and we don’t want that. That behavior causes attachment. I need this to be just good enough to get us both off. Just quick enough, no one’s the wiser, and just quiet enough I don’t hear the moaning in my nightmares at night.
Just like I anticipated, she lets out another overly loud moan and I shush her. It’s not so other people don’t hear, it’s so that I don’t hear.
Need to wrap this up , so I start pressing into her, harder, riding her deeper. I push one of her hands to her clit and she starts rubbing. I feel her start to clench, so slamming my eyes tighter, I slide a hand into her long hair and tug gently, and it brings me home. Over the finish line.
I see her . I feel her . I still want her . I almost say her name, and when I open my eyes, I sober quickly.
Tall blonde is looking back at me with expectation and heart eyes, but I don’t want it. Don’t want to be rude, but I gotta go.
“So, do you want to come to my place to watch a movie?” she asks sweetly.
“No, I’ve actually gotta go. You good?” I ask. Her smile fades, but I get the feeling she knows how this goes.
“Yep, I’m good. Thanks, bubba.” I get the chills because I fucking hate that nickname. All too quickly, this feels fucking dirty and disgusti ng, and all I want is a shower. It takes me a minute to clean up, wash hands, and then with a kiss on the cheek, I say goodbye to the tall blonde. She watches me go then locks the door behind me once I’m out in the hall.
As I leave, I take a couple glances around and damnit .
“Fuck.” I mutter under my breath.
I can’t help that I notice shit. Sometimes I wish I didn’t. There’s a certain bliss in ignorance, but this . Can’t be fucking ignored.
I give him a quick tap on the shoulder and he turns around surprised to find me glaring at him.
Matt Scala is at a fucking bar, with some chick who is not my sister. Chances of him successfully getting with Britain have just fallen to 1%.
I nod, giving him a chance before I say anything. I think I know what’s happening here, but I could be wrong. Hope I’m wrong. But odds are I’m not. Because I have eyes, ones that are trained to pick up slight nuances and deduce body language. And this, what I see now, is all fucking wrong.
“Alex!” he says, eyes a bit glossy, then drops the girl's hand that he’d been playing with underneath the table.
“What are you doing?” I ask, cold as the blue mountains on his beer can.
“Just grabbing a drink with an old friend.”
I nod towards the girl. Cute. But I’m not buying the old part. She looks like she just turned 22, just past jailbait.
I scoff at him and shake my head. “Alright, we’re doing this then. I’m going to ask again. What the fuck are you doing?”
Matt’s demeanor shifts and his back straightens. “We were just talking.” I nod, not buying it for one second .
“Mmkay. I will just say this,” I lean forward, getting in his face. He’s tall, but I have at least a half inch on him. “You make Britain cry, and you’ll never stop crying. I’ll ruin you, your business, and any chance of you ever having a happy life.”
I lean back, slapping a hand down on his shoulder and say, “Make good choices, Matt.” Then I walk out of that dusty shit hole.
A
Your brother is about to do something stupid. He’s at Jimbo’s. If I stop him, there’ll be cops and broken bones. You want to come get him? Or should I take care of it?
M
On my way. Wait for me.
Only reason I don’t leave is to make sure Matt doesn’t walk out that door with jailbait on his arm. I stand up against my Jeep until Max rolls into Jimbo’s gravel parking lot in an Aston Martin. Looks like being a CFO and owning a ranch pays.
Max jogs over to me, giving me a handshake.
“Max, if he fucks with Britain…” I say in warning, but he’s already shaking his head.
“Nah, I won’t let him either. I’ve got something in the works right now. Promise, I won’t let him do anything stupid before then. Can’t make any promises for later, though.” I nod in understanding. I may have threatened Max to get Liam back here. If for no other reason than I can kick his fucking ass.
“Need me to stick around for backup?” I ask Max .
“I think I’ll manage.”
“K, I’ll see you around, man,” I say to Max as Matt comes waltzing out of Jimbo’s, with his “old friend” draped around him.
“Christ’s sake,” I mutter under my breath at the same time Max says, “This fucking idiot.”
“You warned him, didn’t you?” Max asks, and I nod. He gives me a stern look. “I got it, hang back.”
He walks straight up to Matt, takes the hand of the cute girl, pulling her off to the side, then shoves Matt hard, causing him to trip and fall into the gravel parking lot. Max proceeds to rip him a new asshole, and I laugh, then get in my Jeep and drive away.
Won’t be doing any of this again. At least not anytime soon. And for sure not in this fucking town.