C H A P T E R   E L E V E N

Holli

Each step I took on my walk to the bus from Lincoln’s house—after I snuck out with him still sleeping—off the bus to my shitty little apartment, reminded me of him. The throbbing soreness between my legs just one sign that that beast of his was inside me more times than I can count.

But it’s more than just a vague reminder.

He is still inside me. His cum is making itself known as the remnants of his multiple deposits soak my jeans.

Because he kept my panties. Took them and disappeared out the bedroom door, saying he was putting them in a special place. A place reserved just for royal princess panties.

Up three flights of steps, I shove my hip into my front door until it pops open because in this old, converted Victorian house, everything swells and shifts with the seasons, making windows drafty, floorboards creak, and doors stick.

Inside the cramped space, it’s too warm because the radiator doesn’t communicate with the thermostat properly. Yet another thing that could do with being looked at. I grit my teeth when I see the blinds, pulled half up and left at uneven angles. I hate that. Hate it even more than the sight of Angela and Cruzer in a heap on the couch.

A tidal wave of sadness hits me. On top of everything else, just looking at Angela takes me back to a place I’d rather forget. My mom. Beautiful, but lying naked in the middle of the bathroom floor, shower running, empty vodka bottle in her hand. She got sober when I was around eleven, but in the years before that, it was a rough show going on behind the cheerful red front door of our middle-class life.

I should leave, I know. I could find some other housing situation if I tried. But some days I look at Angela, beautiful and lost, and I see my mother’s eyes looking back. I guess that little girl inside me who so badly wanted to help her mother is still trying. I know that’s why I put up with so much from Angela.

They’re totally oblivious to the presence of another human being. Their heads thrown back in ignorant bliss of the shitstorm of a situation we’re all in, their mouths gaping open and snoring so loud I could hear them in the hallway as I fumbled in my purse for my key, desperately praying that I hadn’t lost it yet again.

My landlady said the next key she has to have made she’s going to have to charge me. And I can’t blame her for that—it would be the sixth one. Mrs. Templeton is a patient lady, but she has her limits.

When she called me about an hour ago, I was lying warm and safe next to Lincoln Kirk. The whole night played over and over in my head, some beautiful tapestry of moments that now seem even more distant, as if they might have happened to someone else. I mean, it doesn’t seem real. Just what was I thinking when I agreed to spend the night with him to repay my debt?

Just what was he thinking to make that kind of offer?

But could any night have been more perfect?

Then, in the midst of it all, as I watched him lying beside me, I heard the Tinker Bell tone on my phone going off. There was Mrs. Templeton on the other end, apologizing for bothering me, but letting me know the sheriff would be there to padlock the apartment door in four days and wondering why I hadn’t stopped by to at least try to talk to her about the three months of unpaid rent.

She said she’d left me notes taped to the door. And I know how much it took for her to do even that. She’s also agoraphobic. Leaving her apartment even for the simplest of tasks or nearly any face-to-face interaction with other humans can easily set her into a panic attack. And she hates talking on the phone, too. So I know how hard it was for her to call.

I had no idea what she was talking about. None of it made any sense at all. But as I listened, it became abundantly clear.

Rent hadn’t been paid. Not just for a week. Not just a moment of forgetfulness. That would have been forgiven in a heartbeat. No. A fuck-pile of rent arrears had accumulated to the point where we’d actually been summoned to court. And my stupid roommate, whose name was on the rental agreement, didn’t even bother to show up at the eviction hearing. So at this point, Mrs. Templeton had no other options.  So it’s pay the full amount or we’re out.

Which sucks because she’s such a really decent person, and I’m sure if I’d been kept up to date with the facts, I could have sorted it all out. Her only income is this place.

So what could I say to her? I actually thanked her, for Christ’s sake, told her I’d be round to move my things in time and that I’d make sure the place was clean before we moved out. Then I left Lincoln where he was and headed straight over, wondering how in the absolute fuck I would sort this mess out.

It’s not so much that I need a place to live. I mean, I do. Fuck. Everything is so uncertain. The plan was to be on an airplane in four days. Pay the balance on my tuition when I got to school, as well as secure my room and board for the next year. But as it stands right now, I don’t have the balance and may need this shithole of an apartment after all.

I hate that I need Angela like this. Hate that I feel beholden to her for allowing me to live here. And the hell if I’m going to leave Mrs. Templeton hanging out to dry. I’ll pay her before I pay my tuition.

Guilt rips at me as I toss my purse on the counter.

I shouldn’t have left like that, without a word. If Lincoln had done that, I’d be burning his effigy on a man-hating pyre.

He told me he doesn’t sleep, that he would just watch me all night, but I guess I must have tired him out because he didn’t make a sound while I took the call from Mrs. Templeton. I even managed to slip out of the bed, unwinding myself from his arms and legs like satin ribbon, and fumbled to get dressed in the half-light without him missing one smooth, steady, sleeping breath.

Anger flares up again when I spot the eviction notices now stacked on the counter in full view. Clearly, even Angela realized it’s time to come clean.

“Hey, babes.” Angela finally stirs, her eyes bleary as she coughs until she gags and then rakes her hands through her hair. “You gotta pay that old bitch today, you know. She said she was gonna call you.”

My fists ball at my sides. “I’ve got to...? Where’s all the money I’ve been giving you for rent?” I snap, watching Angela immediately raise her hands in annoyance.

“I had an emergency. Fuck.”

“For three fucking months? You haven’t paid the rent for three months!”

I’m annoyed at myself, too. I shouldn’t have trusted Angela. It’s my own fault for not delivering the money to Mrs. Templeton myself. Instead, I just believed Angela when she said the landlady only wanted it from the actual leaseholder, and the fact that I was even allowed to live here without being on the lease was her doing me a big favor.

So much for my ironclad people-reading skills. I doesn’t help that I have really no one else in this world. Both my parents were only children, so I have no other family. I’ve never been particularly good at any kind of relationships. And clearly, that shows with the dysfunctional pseudo-friendship I have with Angela.

“Hey...” She rolls languidly on the cushion to look my way, her face screwed up in an expression that’s somewhere between annoyance and vague confusion. “I don’t need any more pressure right now. I’m going through a really hard time.”

Cruzer groans, and his hands go up to rub his face. They both look like hammered shit. There are empty beer cans and an empty bottle of Popov vodka sitting on the coffee table.

The air is stale, making the temperature only feel more oppressive. A slight sweat is gathering in the indent of my spine, and Cruzer’s gray T-shirt shows dark circles under each arm. Takeout containers from the Thai restaurant down the street are strewn on the counter. The contents are spilling out, and a troupe of happy ants travels in an organized line to and from the buffet of spoiled food which frames the stack of eviction papers.

“You make your own hard times,” I mumble as I work my way over to the small dresser that holds most of my stuff here. I’d love to scream at her, but right now, I just want to get back out of here as quickly as I came in.  Where I want to go I’m not sure, but I’m not staying in here with them.

Believe it or not, this living room is also my bedroom. Because it’s Angela’s name on the lease, not mine, and of course, she wanted the bedroom.

I’d like to say I don’t know how I let myself get so intertwined with her, but it wouldn’t be true. I’m a sucker for a sob story. Especially one that tugs at certain heartstrings, and boy does Angela have stories. We met at the laundromat, of all places. She was there with Cruzer, so I got a two-fer one deal on the closest thing to friends I have by meeting them.

One thing led to another. I was getting kicked out of the room I’d managed to end up renting for the last couple of years, a tiny wooden box above an illegal chop shop, and Angela said she needed a roommate. Yeah, right. Roommate. Someone to pay the bills is more like it. But she had a place, a lease, and I was looking down the wrong end of homeless, so I figured it was just for a year until I left for Utah and my future, so what the heck.

“Don’t judge me.” She’s on her feet, wobbling a bit before she gets her bearings.

I take a breath, trying to settle the rage that’s bubbling just under the surface. She really knows how to push my buttons. I honestly don’t care if she gets evicted. I mean, I was planning to be on a plane in four days to start the next, and hopefully better, part of my life. But now, without the five thousand dollars I lost last night, even that dream is in jeopardy. I needed that tuition money and broke my one rule about never touching school money for a hustle.

So much for that rule.

“I’m not judging you. But she needs the money. You can’t just not pay her.”

“You coming home empty then, I take it?” Cruzer is up and moving on the couch. His gray sweat-soaked T-shirt also has what must be sauce from the Thai food dribbled down the front, and the ink that covers him from neck to wrists shines with perspiration.

“It did not go as planned, no.” I snort, shaking my head at them both.

Cruzer doesn’t look all that upset. Or surprised.

I mean, granted, this isn’t his apartment. He should probably pay rent, as much as his butt sits on our couch, but apparently, he has a place of his own. But he sure seem to enjoy our place.

I pull open a dresser drawer to grab clean clothes.

He shrugs. “Just a bad night. You’ll do better next time.” Cruzer lifts himself with a grunt off the deep indentation he’s made on the end cushion of the couch. “As a matter of fact, I can get you into another game. Friday night. It’s a big one, though. Another ten to get in.”

“I don’t have another ten.” I raise my hands to the ceiling. “I didn’t even really have the five I lost last night. I needed that money. I told you I couldn’t lose it. You said the guys there were flashy. Donkeys. But they fucking ganged up on me. Shoved me out. I lost it all.”

The reality that I may not actually get on that plane Saturday morning hits me hard, and the burning in my eyes only fuels my anger.

“Hey, there are never any guarantees, you know that. The cards don’t go your way sometimes. You’re good. Go to this game on Friday. I’ll get you in.”

“He knows people.” Angela loops her arm around Cruzer’s back, but he immediately takes a side step away from her, his eyes trailing up and down from my head to my feet. “Nice shoes.”

Angela huffs. “So you gonna pay the old bat or what?”

I slam the drawer shut and turn to face her. “With what, Angela? I lost last night! Are you not listening? And I already gave you money for rent. Last month. The month before that. The one before that, for fuck’s sake!”

Angela screws up her face and gives me an irritated sigh. “You have more money. You said you have it saved. So just pay her, then win it back on Friday. Geez.”

“God, this is a nightmare. I am not using any more of my fucking money to bail you out, Angela. The little I have left is for tuition. Tuition I’ll probably now never get.”

Cruzer raises his hands to the ceiling in a loud, dramatic stretch as he walks toward the window. I feel my life being sucked out of me. Even the bliss from last night has evaporated so that the only reminder is the dull pain between my legs.

I sigh and shake my head. “I already lost a bunch of that money. The tuition money.” It suddenly hits me, the reality of it, the bleak future. “What am I going to do?”

Cruzer turns, and I swear I see a twinkle in his dead eyes.

“Easy. Friday, you can win back what you lost, get the rent paid, and everyone will be happy.”

“You know.” I set down the clothes I pulled out on the dresser and gather my hair into a messy knot on top of my head, remembering how it felt when Lincoln’s hands were tangled into it just a few hours ago. “I could lose. I lost last night. It could easily happen again. You both realize that, don’t you? You just don’t care. And the sheriff is coming in a few days to padlock the place. What we don’t take out of here by then we lose if the rent isn’t paid in full. Am I not speaking English?”

I swore I wouldn’t touch another dollar of that money, but I already feel it slipping from my fingers. I’m a fucking idiot. Just taking the five thousand for last night’s game killed me inside, but I was so confident I would win. Confidence I’d somehow let Cruzer stoke up with his attitude. Now, I’m stuck down the rabbit hole, and there’s no ladder in sight.

I may not have a choice. All or nothing. As it stands right now, I’m short on the tuition. The school has already given me an exception by letting me pay it late, but if I’m not there on campus Monday morning with the money in hand, my spot in the program is gone. I’ll have to reapply for next year, and who knows what can happen in a year?

Angela sashays into the kitchen, ignoring me as usual, shaking her head like it’s me who’s being the asshole.

I grab my bottle of Febreze off the dresser and spritz it around the apartment, Cruzer walks to the window, opens it and lights up a cigarette.

“Hey! No smoking in here. It already smells like a fucking drunk tank!” My anger turns. My eyes well up, and I slam the spray bottle down on my dresser. “And no sitting on my bed, you piece of shit!” I shout, just as his big butt is making itself at home on my mattress next to the window.

I can’t let them see me cry. I won’t. I will not.

“Hey, we’re out of coffee.” Angela slams the cabinet door closed in the kitchen, stomping her feet like a toddler. “Holli, would you pick up some from the store? I swear I’ll pay for it next time.”

I’m done. I can’t take it anymore. I don’t even bother to reply. I pick up the clothes and walk toward the hall, heading to the bathroom.  I slam the door and take a freezing shower to regroup, letting the tears flow while I think over what I’m going to do to get my life back on track.

After I gather myself, I dress, take a deep breath then head back through the living room.

I don’t even bother to say anything. Cruzer is on my bed, but I don’t care. It’s not my bed anymore. A few days from now, we’re evicted anyway. I grab my key off the counter, stuff my purse and a couple granola bars into my backpack and I’m out the door without another word headed God knows where until I can get my head straight.

The sun blinds me as I pull open the door at the bottom of the steps and run outside. I wave of nausea hits me and I almost throw up, but I manage to hold it, taking a few calming breaths. I stand there, burning eyes squinting, convincing myself it’s just the glare of the sun making me tear up.

My hair is still sopping wet, blowing heavily in a gust of wind that also whips up the ever-present trash in this shithole alley. A plastic grocery bag and an empty Tim Horton’s cup settle around my feet as the gust abates. Looking down, they draw my attention to the worn-out toe on my white Keds. Who was I trying to kid, walking in there last night? I’m no more a high-roller than Cruzer is a Chippendale.

Blinking away tears, I smooth down my skirt before it can expose my bare ass. Laundry day didn’t happen this week, and I was on my last pair of clean panties when I went to Lincoln’s game last night.

And those panties are nothing more than a distant memory. Just thinking about Lincoln right now has the tears streaming down my cheeks, wondering if that was all just some sort of a game.  The way he took me to his place.  They whole, ‘just until morning’ routine.

A week ago, I had it all planned. I was finally turning the corner in my life. Fulfilling dreams and promises I made to myself a long time ago. Now, it’s all falling apart, and I feel like I’m drowning. I’m not even sure where I’m going to sleep tonight. Or tomorrow.

My phone goes off in my backpack as I stand on the street, not sure what I’m doing there or where I should go. I reach in and grab it, seeing a number I don’t recognize. A single tear falls from my nose and plops onto the glass, distorting the message.

248-555-0900: Look up.

I raise my eyes, managing to stop the sob that tightens my chest, sure that it’s going to be yet more disappointment.

Then I see the black Lincoln.

Relief and disbelief wash over me. Lincoln is there, dressed in a white T-shirt, jeans, and a dark suit jacket, staring at me.

As soon as I catch a glimpse of those wild eyes, I’m reminded of just how he looked at me when he entered me for the first time last night. More than just lust. A deep longing that looked almost sad and pulled at my heart. A look that still elicits a moan from me, even across the traffic moving between us.

I watch as he brings his phone up and starts tapping the screen. A few seconds later, my phone dings and I read the message.

248-555-0900: Don’t move.

Me: Why are you here? And how did you know where to find me?

248-555-0900: You are even more beautiful in the daylight.

I look up to see a smile crest those magnificent lips. Lips that did things to me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes last night. Lips I wish were on mine right now.

Me: You are avoiding the questions, dammit!

248-555-0900: I’m not avoiding them. I’m tending to more important matters first. Making sure you know just how stunning you are.

Me: Okay. Well, I’m sort of busy.

I want him to leave almost as much as I want him here. I’m not certain what happened when I walked into that poker room last night, but my world has been upended, and I’m not even sure what’s real anymore.

Maybe he’s a mirage. Maybe I’m dreaming.

I reach down and pinch my forearm until I yelp, then my phone dings again.

248-555-0900: Don’t do that.

Me: Okay, listen. I’m not having the best day. So it’s been fun, but I have things to take care of.

Without another look, I stuff my phone back into my backpack and head north on West Fulton. There are few people walking around most of the time in this part of town, mainly because there’s not really anywhere to go. A few abandoned buildings dot the neighborhood, but overall, it’s just old and tired. No real shops or places to go, but I just know I need to move. To think. To figure out how to pick up the pieces of my life plan that have fallen around my feet in the last twenty-four hours.

I pick up my pace as I near the corner. There’s an alley that will take me back around to the apartment for another pass. Hopefully when I get back there, he’ll be gone, because just the sight of him is making me weak.

Making me want him.

And I have no room in my life for wanting anything right now, least of all him. I’m stomping each step. The grit of the sidewalk crunches under my fifty-cent white Keds I bought at the thrift store a year ago. One of my two pairs of shoes. The other are my work shoes.

The red Dolce pumps I wore last night. Keds and red pumps. That pretty much sums me up right there.

I hook my thumbs under the straps of the backpack and pull. I need to feel compact, under control. Something small, even. I need to hunker down and control at least this stupid backpack as it bounces, hitting just above my ass with each step.

I want out of this life, not back into the bed of the poster child for the gambling lifestyle.

My phone dings in my backpack. Twice. Then a third time.

As I round the corner, I drop a hand to touch the rough bricks of the building as I pass. The masonry scratches my fingertips as I turn into the darkness, my heart thundering in my chest, my face hot, even as the cool breeze in my wet hair. I’m halfway down the alley when I hear the squealing tires.

Brakes lock up just behind me, and there’s a slamming car door.

I should turn, but my forward motion compels me not to look back. I feel like I’m spinning in a hurricane with no way out. There’s no air here. And in the next second, I stop dead. I’m not sure why, but I know that no matter which way I turn, he’ll be there.

The next thing I know, there are fingers on my cheeks, making me shudder. He’s here, in front of me. His warm, masculine scent loops an invisible noose around my throat and begins to tighten. His lips come down on the crown of my head, then he whispers there, cool and soft.

“Why did you leave? When I woke up, you weren’t there. I’ve never felt so alone before. I hated that bed. That room. That fucking house. Because you weren’t there.”

“I left because my debt was paid. Wasn’t that the agreement? Just until morning, right?”

“I need more mornings. One will never be enough.”

I laugh. Not at him. But at this. The comedy of it. The cosmic joke that’s just been played on me. How is this happening to me now? I’m leaving in a few days. Well, that was the plan, at least. And now him? What have I done to deserve this kind of punishment?

His hands cup my cheeks and force my eyes up to his.

Just in that moment, I also remember his moving boxes and realize I don’t know this person at all, do I?

“Last night...it was just too much,” I say, my voice shaking. “I’ve never done that before. Spent the night with someone I barely know. Someone I just met. When the morning came around, I had to go. I have stuff to do. Being in your house, it just felt overwhelming. Waking up there, knowing what sort of life I had to come back to. I’m sorry, I just have a lot of things I have to do right now.”

“Whatever it is you have to do, I’m going to help you.”

“This is crazy. Why? Why would you help me? People like us don’t just do things for nothing, you know. And I gave you what you wanted last night. So what else is there? What, didn’t I do it right? Do you have some crazy fantasy that I have to fulfill before my debt is paid?”

There is a pain in his face, and I realize my words have hurt him. His jaw muscles tighten, and his hands slip from my cheeks, grazing down my arms until my fingers are entwined in his. Warm and firm as he steps into me.

“You are coming to breakfast with me. Then, lunch. Then, I’m going to pick you up for dinner. Same thing tomorrow. And the next day. You got that? Three days. You’ll know I’m not who you think I am. And then, if you still want me to leave you alone, so be it.”

Relief and disappointment fight for control of my thoughts as he continues.

“My heart will break, but I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you still want after three days. But for now, you will have breakfast with me.”

I should say no. I have to say no. I do have things to do. I have to figure out how to be on a plane with my tuition money. Not to mention, when I get there, I need a real job. No more hustling. No more wondering if it’s a week I get to go to the grocery store or not. I want something better for myself. For the promises I made to my mom.

“Okay.” The word falls from my lips, making my throat tighten. “On one condition.”

He raises his eyebrows, and that cleft in his chin shows up.

“What?”

“No matter what, I’m not fucking you.”  I chuckle.

“I’ve heard that before.”

A smile breezes over his mouth, leaving me breathless. He’s so hard to fathom, that serene intensity, an intensity that could only come from living a life of careful calculation, but with a heart I’m beginning to realize is bigger than anything I’ve known before.

With that, his arm is around my shoulders, drawing me into him. His head moves, snapping back and forth, looking up and down the street. What he’s looking for, I’m not sure, but it feels protective, and I sense a deep breath release from my burning lungs.

Finally, I feel safe.

When we get to the car, he opens the door, lowers me in and buckles the seat belt around me. His lips come down to mine in a sweet, long kiss before he pulls back and brushes my crazy hair from the sides of my face.

“I meant it, you know.” He blinks, regarding my face before he continues. “You are even more beautiful in the daylight.”