4. Chapter Four Lakey
Chapter Four: Lakey
"Mmmm, babe, do that again." I rolled over and faced Cam as he pinched my nipple.
The sun smacked me square in the face through our paper-thin curtains and illuminated the most beautiful man I've ever seen.
Cam was the complete opposite of me. Where I was tiny and blonde, he was tall, dark and handsome, with bronzed skin, wavy hair that fell into his dark eyes, and perfectly straight teeth.
He had my name tattooed in big jail script across his chest and I smiled as I ran my finger over it before allowing my gaze to run over his other ones.
Some were professional, others he'd let me do with the tattoo gun we'd bought online on a drunken whim.
His sleeve was a giant, salivating wolf that looked like it wanted to devour me and behind the wolf, sat a naked woman tied to a pole.
I loved it. The symbolism warmed my soul.
Tracing the tattoo further down to the scarred heart, I tickled his skin.
"Remember when I did this one?"
He chuckled, running his hands over my skin before nuzzling into my neck. "Yeah, you went too deep and almost made me bleed out. But I like it."
I think I'd done a heart for every year we'd been in each other's lives.
Twenty in total, all scattered over his skin in various places.
Some were tiny, tucked behind his ear or on the inside of his wrist. Others were bigger, messier, done on nights where I was drunk or angry or both and he'd just sat there and let me carve into him because he knew I needed to mark him.
Not for anyone else to see. For me. Proof that he was mine and that every year we survived was a year I'd written on his body in ink and blood.
He had scars too, underneath some of the tattoos. We both did. But his were the kind you cover with art and mine were the kind I covered with long sleeves and attitude. Between the two of us, there wasn't a square inch of undamaged skin, and I wouldn't have traded a single mark.
"Why the frown?" He stopped playing with my tits to cup my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his gaze.
"Just thinking about that one social worker who kept us together all these years. I wonder how she knew we were better off together."
His lips pursed. "Probably because she knew what was going on in those homes and didn't want you to be alone."
"You didn't deserve to be alone either. Not after—"
"Don't." Cam snarled, getting out of bed. "Don't say his name." He paced for a moment before grabbing the towel dangling off the chair in the corner of the room. "I'm going to shower."
Rolling my eyes, I flopped on my back. We'd had our share of what they call 'childhood trauma.
' Still, I wondered how that social worker was doing, and how she got away with moving both of us together for so long.
Every time a placement fell apart, every time one of us got pulled or a foster parent filed a complaint, she'd show up with paperwork and a tight smile and somehow, somehow, we'd end up at the same address again.
She was even at Cam's hearing before he got sentenced.
Sat in the back row. Didn't say a word. Just watched.
She sucked, but at least she moved us as a unit. Small mercies.
Maybe I should pay her a visit. Find out what she knew. What she'd seen. Why she'd fought so hard to keep a feral little boy and a broken little girl in the same orbit when every institution in the system was designed to separate kids.
"Ughhhhhhh, I wanted to fuck," I said just loud enough so Cam could hear before jumping out of bed and pulling on a sundress. Fuck it. I'll grab us some breakfast from the cafe. Don't feel like sitting in today. "Cam, you got any cash. I wanna go get us breakfast."
"Should be some in my wallet." He yelled.
"Right, that explains exactly where it is," I muttered under my breath and started rummaging around, trying to find it.
Just as I was about to tell him I couldn't find it, I noticed it peeking out of his sweats.
Rolling my eyes, I snatched it out of the pocket and flipped it open. Twenty? That's it?
Fuck.
I'd have to go dance tonight 'cause rent is due next week. "Babe, I'm gonna go dance tonight. Just thought I'd let you know. Be back in a bit, I'll grab brekky."
He stuck his head out of the bathroom. "Lakes, if you just wait, I can come with."
"It's fine. Honestly, I just want some air." While that was true, I also wanted to see if that little girl was home. "Be back in twenty."
It was the perfect day, and my chest expanded gratefully as I inhaled the crisp morning air.
Setting off on my bike, I made it to the cafe in record time, placing our usual order and sat down to wait.
People watching was my favorite past-time.
Making up stories about who they were, what they did for work and how they performed in the sack.
Some couple was sitting in the back. She was pretty with long dark hair.
He was absolutely obsessed with her from the look in his eyes.
Dark hair, baseball cap. Seems like he'd fuck her missionary and then they'd make some tea and biscuits after, asking each other "was that good for you? "
The woman next to them was eating alone, reading a book with a half-naked man on the cover.
Good for her. The barista was definitely sleeping with the cook because every time she went back to the kitchen window, she came back with pink cheeks and a crooked apron.
And the old man by the door was on his third coffee and hadn't looked up from his crossword once, which meant he was either a genius or completely full of shit about being able to do crosswords in pen.
Two teenagers in the window booth were sharing headphones and pretending not to be holding hands under the table. Cute. Boring. They'd date for six months, lose their virginity in someone's basement, and break up over a text message. I gave them until prom.
Just as I started giggling to myself, a man got up from his corner seat, his chair scraping obnoxiously on the linoleum.
"I've been here for fifteen minutes and I'm late for work. Where the fuck is my breakfast." He jabbed his finger in the direction of the waitress who had taken my order.
She looked nervously towards the kitchen before softly replying, "Sir, I'm sorry, we are unusually busy this morning. Please take a seat and I'll go see about where your order is in the line."
"Unusually?! The place is dead in here." He scoffed, looking around. "Fine, but if I don't get my fucking eggs and bacon in the next two minutes, I want to speak to the manager."
He turned around and stomped back towards his table, but not before I got a good look at him. He was stocky, bordering on fat. A greying beard, untrimmed. Wearing an ill-fitting navy-blue suit, so he must be someone important. Or at least, someone he thought was important.
I recognized him but couldn't place from where.
His eyes landed on me, a spark of recognition flashing through them before he shook his head, his ruddy face flushing as he averted his eyes from my prying ones.
He recognized me too.
My mind was spinning, trying to sift through years of faces, trying to sort them into categories.
Foster system? Group home? One of Carmen's visitors?
One of the men from the houses we'd bounced through before we landed at Carmen's?
There had been so many. So many faces that blurred together into a smear of adults who shouldn't have been left alone with children.
This one was in there somewhere. I could feel the memory sitting just out of reach, the way a word sits on the tip of your tongue, and you can taste the shape of it but can't make your mouth form the sound.
My brain was doing that thing it does, the thing that drove Cam insane, where it latched onto something and wouldn't let go but also couldn't focus on it long enough to resolve it.
The ADHD special. I'd be lying in bed at 3 a.m. and my brain would suddenly go, "THAT'S WHERE YOU KNOW HIM FROM," and I'd bolt upright and wake Cam up and he'd threaten to smother me with a pillow.
Honestly, if Cam wasn't waiting for me, I'd lure this fuck behind the dumpster and drive my knives through his soft midsection.
Something about him just felt off. The way he talked to that waitress.
The way his eyes slid off me too fast, the way you look away from something you don't want to remember seeing.
I knew that look. People who'd done bad things wore it when they ran into the kids they'd done those bad things to.
I made a mental note of the time and his face. Corner seat. Eggs and bacon. Navy suit. If he was a regular, I'd find him again.
Shaking my head, I resumed people watching until finally, she called my name.
"Thanks, um..." Looking down at her name tag, I cracked a smile. "Emma. Have a nice day."
She nodded and I left the cafe, still wondering who the fuck that asshole was. Rounding the corner to head home, I hesitated. If I went left, I'd go through the suburban neighborhood that took me to her house.
Just a peek, to see if she's home.
If she wasn't, I'd run back, and Cam wouldn't even notice the extra minutes I'd spent taking a detour. Sitting on my bike opposite her house, I watched the window.
The cars were gone from the driveway and the house was empty. I guess that made sense. It was a weekday. Didn't normal kids go to school or something? They'd tried to make me and Cam go to school, but we never really went. The schools just pushed us through because they didn't want to deal with us.
Not sure I would have actually learned anything anyway. Everything I knew was self-taught. The way the world should be if you'd ask me.