SIX
Eli
I had no right to put my hands on her.
Not even if I had fucking permission.
She didn't need to be near a man like me.
I had no right to even show up at her store, to exploit some weakness she obviously had toward me, for whatever reason she had it.
Then I went and kissed her?
And it wasn't just any kiss either.
It was the holy fucking grail of them.
It was like a dying man after a meal.
She should have pushed me away, scolded me for pushing too hard too fast. Instead, she was rubbing her hips against my cock, practically begging for fulfillment.
As for me, I was too fucking far gone even to realize the lines I was crossing with her.
Until Coop reminded me.
Was it a dick move to turn and walk away from her right then? Ah, yeah. But it would have been an even bigger dick move to keep going, to take advantage, to fuck her right against the wall in that alley, no matter how much every cell in my body was begging for me to do just that.
I walked back to my place more sexually frustrated than I had ever been in my life.
And I didn't relieve myself of it either.
Apparently, after six years of punishment, I still wasn't done getting down on myself.
Maybe I never would be.
On a growl, I grabbed a bunch of the bags left in the living room and hauled ass upstairs to my studio, planning to lose myself in some project until my brain cleared up, until I got the thoughts of her out.
I realized, just shy of sunrise, how impossible that would be.
Because, brain focused for the first time in hours, I realized what I had been so focused on.
A goddamn portrait of her.
Standing in her store.
Seeing me for the first time.
On her gorgeous face there was a look of shock, of complete disbelief and, if I wasn't mistaken, genuine relief.
Because I hadn't been shanked in a shower as her sister had suggested.
I should have turned and backed out right then.
She shouldn't have been relieved to see me.
But there seemed to be no reasoning with myself right then.
I think, above all else, something inside of me was begging for some kind of connection to the outside world, a connection that didn't tie back to my prison time the way my friendship with Bobby did.
Since my family was off-limits, Autumn was really all that I had.
Even though the only reason I knew anything about her at all was through prison letters, I don't know, it felt different. She never felt tainted by it, marred with its ugly the way Bobby and I were.
Through all the letters, I had learned a lot about her preferences for movies, music, food, TV, and weather. She hated horror, but watched Oz out of curiosity. She loved tomato soup, but hated tomatoes. She didn't listen to hard rock or rap, but loved indie and classic rock. She loathed summer with a passion, and thought snow was the most magical thing in the world.
Even in all those letters though, not once did she let on that she owned a sex store.
Thank fuck.
Honestly, I wasn't sure I would have been able to handle five years of that torture.
It wasn't what you would think when you thought 'sex store' either.
Was there such a thing as an upscale sex toy store?
If there was, this was that.
She had pristine, gleaming hardwood floors, off-white walls with glass shelving units. There wasn't a wire rack in sight. There were black display tables with chandeliers over them, giving the whole space a warm, welcoming, open vibe instead of the dark, seedy, and taboo feeling most sex stores had.
There were two doors leading to the back. One was behind the counter, saying 'employees only' which I figured for a stock room, bathroom, and maybe the break space for her. The other door was left slightly open, displaying several tables and chairs, likely the spot where she held her classes.
She had done something for herself, something she even believed in - educating the masses about enjoying sex without shame.
And she obviously had a very close relationship with her card of a sister. Cock God. What a trip.
She was everything I had made her up to be in my mind. And more. And then she fucking wanted me to boot?
Fuck.
I needed to walk away before I remembered that I was trying to be a good man about it. Because, the fact of the matter was, she deserved a man who didn't have to carve his heart out, who didn't need to become a hollow-chested monster so that he didn't have blackout rages anymore.
I wasn't going to let a good woman get involved in my mess.
"Yo!" Bobby yelled, followed by some banging on the floor below, making the dog next door start freaking out.
That was one thing too.
I hadn't expected Coop to remember me at all, let alone greet me like I had just left town for a week, not almost his whole life.
Dogs.
There was nothing in the world like them.
But he was her dog now. Her and her sister's.
They probably took better care of him than I ever did, and I took pretty good fucking care.
"Coming," I growled, scrubbing my hands down my face.
"What kinda lock is that?" Bobby asked as I pulled the door open, squinting a little at the harsh sun.
"Why? Did you try to pick it?"
"I was going to surprise you with breakfast," he said, holding up a bag and a tray of coffee. "That a crime?"
"If it involves picking my lock, yes," I said with a laugh. It had been a long year and a half on the inside without his ridiculous ass there to lighten shit up occasionally. "But thanks for breakfast," I added as he moved inside.
"Shit. You clean up house better than my woman."
"Pretty sure you're not supposed to say shit like that."
"Because it makes me, ah, how did she put it... oh, right. It makes me a misogynistic asshole. I heard that one when she came home from work and I asked what was for dinner."
"Yeah," I said with a chuckle. "Because she was at work while your lazy ass was lounging on the couch."
"Yeah, it didn't go over well. We eat out a lot," he agreed, smiling. "So, it looks like you've been busy. Nat said she saw you coming home from a walk when she was taking out the recycling. Do anything good?"
"Since I'm not supposed to be drinking, and the only place in town to drink is owned by the family I am not in touch with, not what you are thinking. I got coffee." I paused. Then, for some reason, it came out. "Then I went to see the woman who stole my dog."
"No shit! The chick who used to write you. Summer or some shit..."
"Autumn," I corrected, trying and failing to keep her face from popping up in my head.
"Yeah, Autumn. You get in?"
"Not your business, but she's not that kind of girl. And that wasn't why I went there."
"Haven't gotten your dick wet in six years, and that wasn't why you were there?" Bobby asked with an eye roll as he bit into his egg and cheese English muffin.
I decided not to get into details about how it almost went there. I knew Bobby; he would harp on it. Then I would never hear the end of it.
"It's not my main priority."
"Then your priorities are mixed up, man," he said, shaking his head as I reached for my coffee.
The raging hard-on I had been dealing with all night and part of the morning was definitely agreeing with him. But even if I did get to the point where I could consider having a woman in my life, was stable enough in my new career, could be sure that I could feel once more without it threatening to bring about my rage issues again, I knew that that woman couldn't be Autumn.
I couldn't have a woman like that, case closed.
"So what is the plan today?"
"I have to hit the gallery. They said they would give me a week to bring in some art for them to make their decision on for the next show. But I want that off my plate so I can work on the pieces for the show."
"Yeah, there's no way they aren't taking you on."
I wasn't sure if he meant because I was that good, or because I had a distantly connected wise guy to vouch for me. And while I knew Anthony Galleo had mentioned my name there when he got out a few weeks before, I wasn't going to be throwing that name around. I wanted to get shit on my own merit. Otherwise, what was the point?
"Well, here's hoping," I agreed, reaching for my food. "Because I didn't exactly have a backup plan."
Getting a straight job for an ex-felon was next to impossible. And, generally, the only places willing to take you on were the docks. Since the Grassis owned the docks, and I didn't want to have any connections to that old life, I was praying it didn't come to that.
As far as my legit businesses went, my family had obviously kept them running while I was away judging by the almost obscene amount of money in my bank account, just sitting there, not getting used, accumulating interest for six years. Eventually, I would have to find a lawyer that wasn't attached to the rest of my family, and figure out how to sign those businesses over to them without actually having them see me doing it.
Until then, it was bringing in an income, and what I had in the bank already was more than enough to, well, sustain me for another six years even if nothing came of the art.
Hell, if I had to, I could open another new business fully on my own.
But I would prefer for the art thing to pan out.
Otherwise, it had been a waste of six years working on it on the inside.
And when you did something really well, it was only fair to wish to make a living doing it.
Portraits were how I made my money in prison, but they weren't all I was capable of. My skills stretched into many different styles from landscape to abstract to post-impressionism. I planned to, if I was going to get a wall, put up a little bit of everything.
"Hey," Bobby said, making me snap back to the present, realizing I had drifted for long enough that I had nearly finished my breakfast without having even tasted it. Call it a habit of prison. It was always better to zone out so you didn't have to think about the slop shit they fed us. "You aight?" he asked, watching me with lowered brows. "That's not a good look, bro. I've seen a lot of guys get out of the joint and have that look."
"What look?"
"That look that says you aren't adjusting. Like you thought inside was easier."
"Easier? Yeah." When someone else dictated your whole life, it was a whole new kind of simple to get through a day. "But I'm not exactly in a rush to go back, Bobby. This is all just new to me."
Being as in-and-out of the system as Bobby had been for so much of his life, starting in juvie, he had never really needed to do what I did - start over completely fresh. He always had his friends and family. He always had a slower, smoother transition to the life outside.
It didn't seem to matter that, in the grand scheme of things, it was only a small fraction of my life spent in prison. It was still a fish-out-of-water sensation to be free after so long in the same rote routine.
"I get it. It might take a while to settle in, man. I just want to make sure you ain't fixing to rob a convenience store or some shit so you can go back in. Wouldn't be the first man I knew to pull that shit."
"Don't worry about me, Bobby. I'll adjust."
To the life outside, sure.
To this hole in my chest that felt a helluva lot more empty now?
That, I wasn't so sure about.
Already that morning, my thoughts had drifted to my family more than they had in months on the inside. I guess it was easier there, since there was no chance of seeing them since I refused visitation.
But now?
Now, I could chance by one of them on the street.
I could walk over there in a weak moment.
I had a feeling it was only going to keep getting harder day after day. At least, until enough time had passed that it became as easy as it was in prison.
Someday.
"Glad to hear it. I'm gonna get going. I gotta go get Nat some flowers."
"The fuck did you do now?" I asked, shaking my head. That woman was a goddamn saint from the sound of things.
"I was trying to help! She's always bitching about the laundry piling up when I'm around the house all day. I threw it all in and now all her whites are blue from my fucking jeans, and she is going to have my balls for it; I know it."
I chuckled at that. "Man, get her some jewelry too. She puts up with a lot of shit from you."
"For real, though," he agreed, standing, and slapping my shoulder. "Well, I gotta get to it. Good luck at the gallery. I'll see you sometime tomorrow."
On that note, I showered, dressed, grabbed my canvases, and called a cab, realizing I needed to get my ass to the DMV and a dealership as soon as possible because not having a vehicle was proving problematic.
"Yo, Doggy-Daddy!" I heard as I walked out of the gallery an hour later.
And, well, there was only one person on the planet who would call me that.
I turned to find Peyton on the sidewalk in bright ass yellow skinny jeans and a long-sleeved band tee, huge sunglasses hiding most of her pretty face - the sisters looked a lot alike in the features department if you looked past the wild hair dye, the piercings, and the tattoos.
"Peyton," I greeted, giving her a nod. "Nice to see you again."
"Mhmm," she said oddly, bringing up her iced coffee and taking a long sip as she looked me over. "Alright, so. You're going to come over for dinner tonight."
"I... ah, what?"
"Dinner. The meal before the fast. Usually consisting of a meat, a starch, and a vegetable. Traditionally, anyway."
"Yeah, honey, I know what dinner is."
"Then I don't understand your confusion. You come, you eat, you..." she trailed off, shrugging, trying for casual, but I could see the way her lips were twitching.
"This wouldn't, by any chance, be your way of blindsiding your sister, would it?"
"What! Me? How could you think such an evil thing?" she asked, smiling. "Come on. She will want to see you, I promise. Plus, no offense, but you look like you need a meal or two. Where did those hot abs go?"
"Hot abs?" I asked with a smirk, knowing I did used to have them, but hadn't done as much working out in prison as I did on the outside, since on the outside, my brothers and I used to meet for a weekly workout at Shane's gym.
"What? So I stalked your Instagram. I needed to make sure you weren't the kind of guy who might kill my sister and keep her eyelids in a jar next to your bed."
"Why her eyelids?"
"See? That's how I know you're not the type. An eyelid-peeler would have tried to deny it. So, see you at six-thirty? Awesome. Okay. Byeeee!" she said, turning and disappearing before I could get my wits about me to decline the offer.
And damn if I wasn't grinning as she walked away.
Part of it was because she was just such a fucking trip.
The other part, though, there was no denying what it was.
It was excitement. Anticipation.
Because, no matter how hard I had talked to myself about needing to stay away from her, the drive to see her was still there.
And I just couldn't seem to rally the determination I would need to stay away.
So... I went.