Grey
I am abruptly awakened by the overwhelming feeling of drowning. I shoot up in the king bed and gasp, choking on water. I lean over the bed and cough as I try to catch my breath. What the fuck? I lean back against the headboard and pant as if I just ran a 5K and flash my eyes open. Water soaks me until my clothes and the golden bedspread cling to my body like a second skin.
Lena or whatever her name is—the fucking help—stands over me with an empty bucket. Did she just…she just fucking splashed a bucket full of water on me! While I was fucking asleep! What the absolutely fuck? I can only pray she didn’t wake Liv up like this every morning when she lived here. If so, I’m amazed she survived this crazy lady.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I scream and push my soggy hair out of my eyes. I tilt my head from side to side and literally feel water pour out of my ears. A loud pop sounds, and I hear her ranting in Spanish before shifting to English.
“I should kill you!” she hollers and lets the bucket drop to the floor. “Mrs. Westerfield doesn’t seem fond of you, anyway. I don’t think she’d mind. In fact, I think she’d thank me! You hurt my little girl, and I will a pinche matarte, tùe aspirante a punk!” (Fucking kill you, you wanna-be punk.)
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I have never laid a hand on a female, but this lady is really fucking pushing it! I glare at her and flare my nose, clutching the soaked sheet beneath me so I don’t raise my hand.
She doesn’t even flinch. It’s like she isn’t scared of me even the tiniest bit. I am both shocked and impressed. But anger and confusion trumps both greatly.
“Liv ran off last night—or this morning, I don’t know when—but I do know she is heartbroken anywhere to be found. And you.” She points a wrinkly finger and scowls like she’s putting a hex on me. “You are the cause of it. I know you are.”
“Liv’s gone?” I ask breathlessly. All the anger pent-up inside me evaporates into thin air. I push the sheet off and stand. “Do you know where she could have gone?” According to Liv, this psychopath woman practically raised her and knows her more than anyone else possibly could.
I take out clean—probably—jeans, boxers, and a black shirt and throw them onto the bed. I turn to the woman after tearing off my shirt. “Well? Fucking speak, lady!”
She smacks me on my arm. Hard. What the fuck is happening? How is she so damn strong? I curse and rub my arm, stepping back when she comes toward me and points that witching finger at me once again.
“I will tell you nothing!” Wow. So helpful. “You have hurt her too many times to count, and last night, you really broke her. She was better off without you, boy! I will not have you hurting my girl anymore.”
“She is not your girl. She’s mine,” I correct her with a scoff. I pull on the new shirt, which clings to the wet, but slowly drying, parts of my skin. I’ll dry once I’m combing through this pretty little rich town looking for my girl.
She shakes her head and opens her mouth to curse me with her witch finger, but I cut her off. “Turn around, old lady. I don’t want you looking at my junk. Only Liv can.” I give her a smirk that makes her gasp and pray for God in Spanish. But, with an evil-casting glare, she turns around.
I take off my soaked boxers and discreetly use the end of the soft sheets to wipe off my dick. I am not getting a fucking rash or getting chafed because of this lady. When I feel mildly drier than before, I tug on my new pair of boxers and my jeans. I sit on the bed, and she turns, still glaring. I shove on my boots and stand.
“All right, now you’re going to tell me where she may have gone. Now,” I command her, using my finger to jab at her chest. Gently. She still is my elder. And if there’s anything I learned from my insane mother, it’s that I should always respect my elders. I just never expected to have an urge to slap one so bad.
“¿Eres sordo, muchacho?” she snaps. (Are you deaf, boy?)
“Podría hacer la misma pregunta, señora,” I snap right back. “¿Dónde diablos está Liv?” (I could ask the same question, lady.) (Where the hell is Liv?)
“I am not telling you anything!” she screams, cursing under her breath. “You will only hurt her. Again! I don’t see what she sees in you. How is it that you can fool her so well, to the point where she thinks you’re actually good for her?”
“I don’t have her fooled,” I say incredulously. “She loves me, and I love her.”
“Then why do you keep hurting her?” she questions. “She said you did something terrible to that little girl who visited last night. What did you do?” Who the hell is she to question me? This is only between Liv and me. I’m so fucking pissed she’d just pack up and run away. What, is she twelve or something?
“I don’t have time for this.” I pull out my phone and dial up Liv. I look away from her knowing glare. Straight to voicemail. Why won’t she answer me? She’s being so fucking immature about this. What? Because I don’t want to divulge my fucked-up past she runs away? So much for communication.
“What did you do so bad that you are willing to give up the girl you claim to love so much?” she asks, fuming with indescribable anger.
“You wanna know?” I snap. I tell her, and she gasps like I just told her I live on Mars. I turn away from her and wonder if Liv would react like her. Of course. What I did was unforgivable. But would she leave me? Of course she would. Why wouldn’t she? She’s smart. Smarter than anyone I’ve ever known. She’d be a fool to stay with me. I wouldn’t. Rose didn’t. And she most definitely won’t. It’s why I am so terrified to tell her. It’s why I won’t. Ever. “Happy now?”
“You’re sick!” she says in horror as she backs away from me, making a cross over her body.
I roll my eyes. “It isn’t that bad.” Shit.
She points a finger at me. “It is very bad.”
I roll my eyes again. She’s wasting time.
“Mrs. Westerfield probably paid that woman to come and cast you two apart. That woman that came does not care for her child. That’s why she left crying. That poor child,” she cries. She shakes her head, holding her chest. Is there anyone in the world who doesn’t sympathize for that girl? “I always knew Missus was unhinged, but this—this is pure evil!”
“Yada, yada, yada—will you please just tell me where Liv is?” I nearly plead and give her my best puppy face.
She doesn’t buy it for a second.
“Sobre mi cadaver,” she spits. (Over my dead body.)
“Please!” I shout, breathing heavily. She frowns deeply, watching me rub the back of my neck. I’m losing my shit. Fuck. I need Liv. She’s the only thing that keeps me calm. Fuck those pills I’m supposed to take. She’s my chill pill.
“I love her, okay? I know it may not look it, or you may not see it, but I do. I love her. More than life. More than my own…and I may fuck up more than I should, but I can’t—I just need her, all right? She keeps me stable. She is everything to me.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Please, you have to believe me.” I catch her averted gaze. “You may not trust me, but you can damn well trust that I love that girl. More than you could ever know. And I—I need you to tell me where she is, so I can straighten all of this out.” This gets her attention.
She snaps her head at me. “You seriously think she would stay with you after?”
Not in a million years…
“No. But I need to tell her. Whatever she chooses after that is up to her.” I take a deep breath and feel my cool exterior crack as I basically beg, “I just need to let her in before she lets me go. I need her…please…”
She stares at me for a long while, trying to decide if I am telling the truth or not. But she can rest assured that I will not let Liv slip away. I love her too much to let that happen. I try as hard as I can to convey it on my face.
I guess it works, because she grumbles, “No me hagas arrepentirle, chico…” (Don’t make me regret this, boy.)
I look her square in the eyes. “Nunca.” (Never.)
***
Almost an hour later, I am standing in front of a cabin. More like cabin-mansion. These people have way too much money…The moment that Grandma told me where my girl was, I high-jacked that driver guy’s truck, whom I still don’t trust alone around my girl, and hauled ass here. I’m surprised I didn’t get pulled over, especially since it’s currently raining cats and fucking horses. It started to drizzle when I threatened to knock out that Travis driver guy, but it increased more and more as I drove—more like bulldozed—down the freeway.
Apparently, the fucker drove her out here because she told him she needed to “cleanse her mind.” I almost ran him over with the fucking truck. He must have seen how distressed she was. What if, even though she’s much, much smarter than that, she wanted to come out here and…kill herself? Fuck the consequences, I should have run him over. Her family’s loaded. She would have bailed me out of jail and thanked me for it.
Anyway, back to the present. I’m soaked for the second time today, and it’s barely twelve. Fuck showering. I’m squeaky clean by now.
I jog up the wooden steps and search for the spare key Liv put back. I know her well enough to know that she likes organization and replacing things the exact way she finds them. I find the jackpot in a fake rock. I shake my head and mutter, “Dumb rich fucks.” I wouldn’t be surprised if this place has squatters or gets robbed frequently. If so, I won’t hesitate to kill anyone who tries to harm my girl.
I enter the large house and lock the door behind me. “Liv?” I call out her name, but the thunder claps behind me. I doubt she heard me. I don’t know where to start first, but I run up the steps, taking two at a time. I repeat her name over and over as I search every room. They have eight. How many fucking bedrooms does a house need?
I jump down the steps and go off to the left. I come up in a large living room. No Liv. I run to the first random room and find what looks like another living room. Why there’s a need for more than one living room, I don’t know. It had a fucking plush rug and a gigantic fireplace.
I end up back in the front of the house and grip my hair. Where the fuck is she? Frustrated to the max, I punch a wall and lean my forehead against it to cool my erratic heartbeat.
Think, Grey. Think. Where would Liv go?
“Of fucking course.” I am so stupid.
I run off to the right, where the kitchen has to be since I didn’t find it. I count three more fucking living rooms and a dozen more rooms before reaching an immaculate and—fucking finally—modern kitchen. I run to the patio door and push the door back.
I step out and look to my right when I hear a very Liv gasp. I snap my head to the left and find her with a wool blanket around her and a marble notebook in her hands. A mug of tea is in front of her, and dark circles ring lap under her beautifully haunting eyes. She once told me that whenever it was storming, she’d curl up with a book and tea and “enjoy the soft breeze.” I thought it was gay, but here she is.
“Grey, what the—”
“I got her pregnant and demanded she get rid of the baby. I blackmailed her into leaving town with me, but she refused, so I spread news of the abortion and a rumor that she’d fucked the entire football and baseball team around town. Her family shut her out, she lost a college scholarship, and she tried to kill herself,” I blurt out.