Hawk

 

It rained the next days. Not a heavy storm, just a continuous shower from morning to the afternoon. I remained in the studio, painting.

River’s song came on next in my playlist. His dark voice rode the guitar. “I want to fuck your soul, dive deep until we lose control.”

I picked up my remote control and shut the damn thing off. His lyrics were the last thing I needed to hear. They always made me crazy and hungry for Yaz.

I switched to jazz instead, losing myself in a sad saxophone.

Neither Yaz or I contacted each other. A few times, I spotted her outside of my window, handing out umbrellas to guests and grabbing the mail. For a few seconds, I considered going out to talk to her.

But I never did. There was too much of an ache in my chest. When she left me in the studio that day, this ache came, and it wasn’t a little cut. Pain sliced through me, and I didn’t fucking like it. I wanted it gone. Didn’t I already have enough to deal with—the darkness and depression, the insomnia and the memories of pain? That sick bitch, Lisa had robbed me of my dreams. My heart was underground. And here I was, dealing with an injury—a pain in my chest— that I no longer understood.

I could’ve settled all of this by just giving Yaz what she wanted. I could’ve tried to open my heart. For her, it was no big deal. But for me, it was like I was trapped in a dark cave with a little flame from a candle. Although I slowly crept along the cave’s rocky walls, searching for an opening or some way to escape, I couldn’t find it. All I could get was an echo of her voice and a chilly breeze.

Am I just finding ways to trick my heart?

Getting close to her didn’t just mean opening my heart. It meant opening myself to more possible grief and losses. I’d done the right thing, but that still didn’t soften the blow.

She’d left, and it hurt.

She wanted me out of the cave and ready to feel again. I wasn’t so sure I wanted to get out of the safety of my cave. Was it better to live a long life in darkness, or was it better to die fast while basking in the sunshine outside?

And so, I did what I always did. I closed myself into my studio and painted the days away. When I didn’t paint, I gazed at the window and searched for her.

After Lisa, Yaz was the only woman to drive me to this sort of madness.

Even my art showed it. I’d created the gloomiest images. I captured all the hurt from Yaz walking away, drawing her as a half-woman, half-skeleton creature covered in wilting roses. In image after image, she strolled an enchanted garden of death. Moonlight hit her skin and bones in a majestic blaze. She glowed on the canvas. I’d outlined her in such a way that I’d somehow enclosed color and breath in each image. She lived through the paint. For the viewer, sight was also touch.

For the past few nights, I lay on the studio’s couch with her fur warming me. Sleep never came. Instead, I thought about that moment where she took the bikini off. We’d been so close to falling over the edge. Did we make the right choice? Or were we both stupid cowards?

And her body. So soft. So silky. So wet. Jesus.

But even though I’d been ready to explode from not fucking her, that horniness she’d caused couldn’t even compare to this vicious ache. It was all scalding emotions, anger, frustration, severe unease. I’d been so close, too damned close to having her and I threw it all away.

I could’ve told her that I would try. I could’ve told her that I wouldn’t hurt her. I could’ve told her any goddamn thing that would’ve made me deserve her.

A knock sounded at the door.

I continued loading colors onto my palette, looking for a way to make the bones appear more real. “Come in.”

Brett walked in with a small box. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

I set the paintbrush down. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You haven’t left this studio in days.”

“I’m painting.”

“I see.” Brett studied the painting of Yaz surrounded by bones and death. “It looks like you’re in a great mood too.”

“What’s in the box?”

“The letters from Lisa.”

“Put them in my bedroom’s closet.” I didn’t want any more bad memories in this studio. Yaz’s leaving was enough.

He looked at the canvas and shook his head. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Painting.”

“Everyone on the island is going to Dark Haven tonight. Blood Rain has a concert there to kick off Fantasy Fest. It’ll be packed. I bought us a table.”

“You wasted your money.” I picked up the brush and added more color to Yaz’s eyes.

“Come on, man.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine.”

“Okay, but you’ll regret it.” He remained right there.

I glanced at him. He smiled. I returned to the painting.

Ever since we were kids, everyone knew that Brett was the trickster of the family. He always did crazy things behind people’s backs. When we were teens, Brett paid a Keys high school beauty queen to take Stone’s virginity. Mom found out and lost her mind that whole winter. The next time we came down, Brett snuck into a club, drank illegally, and then went into the club owner’s office to threaten him into letting River play a song there on a busy night. And there were so many times he’d tried to fix Yaz and me up.

This trip, I was hoping the women and booze would keep him busy and minding his own business.

I doubt it. What are you doing, Brett?

His smile widened.

I sighed. “Why will I regret it?”

“I bought Cindy and Yaz a table too. It’s next to ours.”

I held the brush in midair.

He’s like a fucking teenage girl, hoping to set her BFF up with a prom date.

Brett continued, “Cindy was excited. She’s making it a Ladies Night. She talked about inviting her friends from some place called Soul Tribe. Have you heard of it?”

“Yaz told me about it being a holistic center and that it offered some art class that talked about healing.”

“That’s boring. What did you hear about the women? Hot? Sexy?”

“I got the feeling it’s one of those one-stop alternative medicine places. Like yoga and whatever.”

“So, these women are probably flexible?”

I set the brush down and rubbed my face with both hands. “Did Cindy say she was definitely coming tonight?”

“Yes. And Yaz is going, along with two of Cindy’s other friends. So, if they’re into yoga, then do you think they shave under their arms?”

“How does that even correlate?”

“Some hippy chicks don’t shave.”

“Leave my studio before you drain the area of all my genius.”

“Everyone will be there. Too bad you’re staying here. Plus, the rain has stopped. Everyone’s probably tired of being cooped up all day. It’ll be insane and packed.”

“I know what you’re trying to do. It won’t work.”

“Sure, it won’t.” Brett patted my back. “Be ready by eight.”

I didn’t respond. There was no need to. If Yaz would be there, I would be there too. The last thing I wanted was her in some club surrounded by hungry men ready to bite her sexy flesh. She had no idea how fucking captivating she was.

And I told myself that I would protect her from other men because I was a good friend. She wanted to heal. She didn’t need any douche-bags around her. But on the inside—my subconscious—it knew what was really going on in my mind. There was no way I could deal with any other man in Yaz’s life right now. Maybe in a month or a year, but right now, I couldn’t deal with it.

Maybe I could try. It’s only been a day since seeing her and I feel like I’m losing it.

After I finished the painting, I showered and dressed. Brett drove his car and I took mine. There would be no doubt that he’d take a ton of women home tonight. He loved making our house the after party.

We arrived there in no time. I spotted Cindy’s purple beetle in the back of the lot. My heart sped up. I had to breathe in and out to calm down. I felt like I hadn’t seen Yaz in weeks.

Brett got to my side as we entered. “Thursday nights at Dark Haven are always crowded, but this is crazy.”

People had already started parking several blocks down.

Dark Haven was a lot of things, but it definitely wasn’t part of the real world. Since it was a big tourist spot, they always had some fun dress up theme and a live band. And once a month, they removed all the electrical equipment and furniture and filled the whole place up with bubbles. I hadn’t gone to one of these suds parties, but Brett had raved about them.

Is she here?

Inside, the club burst with activity. People rocked and swayed all over the dance floor. Blood Rain stood above them on the stage, jamming as always.

“He danced wild like a beast, on the dark side of the moon.” The lead singer strummed his guitar and leaned toward the microphone. “And she was the seed of a forbidden fruit, picked too soon.”

Brett guided us to his table. We’d only been here for barely three weeks and he already had his own table in the VIP section on the second level. He’d explained that it was reserved for him nightly.

“They met on a quilt, patched from burning dreams.” The drums picked up. “And then he kissed her soul, until her heart screamed.”

“We’ll get a good view up here.” He pulled out my chair. “It’s always the best for King Brett of the Keys.”

“Stop showing off.” I sat down and looked at the empty table next to us. Red balloons dangled from the four chairs. A large bouquet of colorful roses and lit candles sat in the center along with four glasses full of champagne, and four plates with lobster tails, truffle fries, and bowls of chocolate covered strawberries next to the dishes. There were lipstick marks on two of the glasses.

“That’s their table. I ordered the stuff for them.” Brett winked at me. “I did good, right?”

“That depends. Are you trying to seduce Cindy and Yaz?”

“No, just saving you from yourself.”

“How’s that?” I asked.

“It’s clear you want Yaz and she wants you. When you two are together, you already look like a couple.” He shrugged. “I figure that if you two aren’t already fucking by now, it’s because of you.”

I frowned and turned to the dance floor.

It wasn’t hard to find Yaz. Those crimson-red dreadlocks greeted my eyes first. Once I spotted her, there was no need to look at anyone else. She had all my attention.

“Don’t look back now, baby. You’ll burn alive,” Blood Rain sang together. “They’ll be ashes in your heart and fire in your eyes.”

She wore a pair of red heels and a matching slip dress with a little black shawl wrap. The dress barely hit her knees. It was classy, but so fucking sexy—and too goddamn revealing for my sanity.

“Don’t look back now, baby. He’s so sweet. Keep on closing your eyes so you won’t burn from the heat.”

From side to side, she swung those hips. Cindy and her friends danced around Yaz. They looked like they were enjoying themselves, shouting out the band’s lyrics and clapping.

The image of her, naked, flashed in my head. The tip of my dick throbbed.

“You’re welcome,” Brett said on my side.

Our waitress came over and set water down. Brett ordered two glasses of whiskey on the rocks for us. Once the waitress left, he nudged me. “So, am I right? You’re still working on Yaz?”

“Something like that.”

“Either you’re going to fuck her or not.”

“We decided it would be a bad idea.”

“You mean, she decided?”

“She wanted more.” I took a swig of my drink. “We hadn’t even started fucking and she wanted to know the parameters of what we would become.”

“Of course. Because you two have history. Had it been a chick you picked up from a bar, it would’ve been a hit or miss and repeat the next night.” Brett tried his whiskey. “Yaz can’t be a fuck buddy.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not interested anymore.”

“No?” Brett nodded. “Oh good. Then, you can paint someone else and let me have a try with Yaz.”

I snapped my face to him.

He raised his hands and laughed. “Yeah. I thought so. It does matter.”

“Fine. It does matter.” I gave up on anymore conversation. Once Brett shifted into Mother Hen mode, there was no yanking him out of it. Protecting my shattered and unstable mind was a hobby for him and my whole family. They coddled me like a sick child.

And the last thing I need is Brett working anymore angles behind our backs. He’ll end up having us both in jail.

“Still painting?” Brett wiped the bar with his cloth.

“You know I’m painting.”

“What about doing something else?”

 “I might sign up for a literature class next week at that Soul Tribe place we were talking about.”

“Good. Find out if they shave.”

I didn’t want to laugh, but it came out of me. “That’ll be the first thing on my list.”

“Good.” He took a swig of his drink. “And I’m glad you’re going to check this place out. Writing could be a great way to, you know.” He shrugged. “Heal.”

Heal?

I struggled with not cringing. Heal? There was no possibility of healing from what I’d been through. All I could do was keep moving forward and try my best to forget about the past.

“Yeah. Writing could help me heal.” I grabbed the glass of water, put my back to him, and took a sip as I leaned back in my chair.

While Yaz had given me an erection, Brett’s conversation had taken me out of my horniness. The blood began to drain from my dick, little by little, turning into a flaccid tool once the word heal was mentioned. Mom said it all the time. River wrote a song about it and dedicated the damn thing to me. Stone called me drunk in the middle of the night and wondered how he could heal me, and then cried the rest of the phone call. My family used other words and ways to inquire about my mind state—Are you okay? How’s things...you know...going? Still having nightmares?

They didn’t really want to know the things that stirred my thoughts because if they did, it would injure something within them.

Forget about it. He’s just looking out for me.

On the dance floor, Yaz continued to dance to the beat. She looked so fucking sexy. Those curves, those hips, how that ass bounced. Her breasts jiggled, barely remaining in that tiny dress. She’d caught more than enough attention from the men around her. A few inched her way, probably waiting for a slow song before asking her to dance.

The song ended and a new one came on with a slow tempo.

I finished my glass. “I’ll be right back.”

Brett nodded.

Cool liquor slipped down my throat. The bitter taste of key lime clung to my tongue. The drummer slowed his pace. The music taunted the audience. The singer lowered his lyrics to almost a murmur over the song.

“Haunting.”

I headed down the stairs and toward the dance floor. People danced around me in violet dim light.

The crowd moved to the mellow beat, swaying, gyrating, and rocking into their partners. Sweat and sex drenched the air.

“I’ll chase you. I’ll run your way. I’ll take you. Oh baby, won’t you stay?”

Lost in the rhythm of the music, Yaz hadn’t seen me yet. And so, I watched her within the shadows of the night club, wanting to touch her the way the light danced on her skin. Even several feet in front of me, her scent lingered my way. Her presence drowned the space. I could taste Yaz on my tongue, sweet and bitter. I imagined her soft flesh between my teeth as I tenderly bit down on her flesh.

“Rose-wet. Sweet sex.”

And then, for some reason, Yaz turned around and her eyes targeted me.

“Haunting me. Taunting me.”

I couldn’t read what was in her eyes. However, I struggled with moving and couldn’t budge an inch. Her focus imprisoned me in that spot as violet light flickered across her face and people partied around us.

“Drink. Let’s both be drunk off each other.”

Her view remained planted on me and I was paralyzed, unable to flee. My heart pumped blood into my ears in a rhythmic motion like the bass of a techno song. My stomach clenched into bound knots of tension. Beads of sweat formed at my temples. And then something simple happened.

Yasmine looked away, and I was free.

Fuck.

There was no denying it any longer. Yaz had power over me.

I wanted to walk away, get to the house, pack my bags, and get the hell out of there.

“Not again,” my heart would say, if it could speak. “Not again. Don’t you fucking fall for anyone else! We’re still repairing the damage from that bitch.”

But who was I kidding? Was it only me? In these few days, she’d been softening my hardness down without even trying. Pushing away at my walls and making me want again.

“Honey kisses. Velvet caresses. She undresses and then I lose control.”

With her back to me, she didn’t return to the upbeat dancing. Instead, she remained frozen while Cindy and the other women rocked and sang out the lyrics.

“Haunting.”

Yaz glanced over her shoulder again and I motioned for her to come to me. She shook her head, and I damn near raced toward her.

Wild. She made me wild and untamed. She turned me into a beast in the night. Shape-shifter. Some creature dragging itself out of a swamp, hungry for soft flesh.

“So delicate, you’re haunting me.”

Some guy walked up to her. He was around my build and height, but with dark brown skin.

I frowned.

Walk away.

There was no way I could watch her dance within anyone else. She had to know I wouldn’t stand by and allow it. Did she have any fucking idea how I felt about her?

But the guy looked like he was on some sort of mission. Determination blazed in his eyes. He got her attention by slipping his hand around her waist. She turned to him, jerked back, and moved his hand away. I couldn’t make out her words, but she looked pissed as she backed up and angrily said something to him, her hand wagging back and forth.

Don’t fucking go over there. You know you’re not going to act right.

The guy pushed his mission further. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, but in a way that suggested he was trying to eat her face. Jealousy knotted my gut.

It was barely two seconds before she reared back and slapped the shit out of him.

Now, my turn.

With no hesitation, I walked over to them, ready to break open his head. I already didn’t appreciate the way he’d touched her, and now it was clear that she possibly knew him and didn’t want his company.

In no time, I got to them. They both looked my way. She widened her eyes. Rage decorated his face.

“Excuse me.” The guy put his arm around Yaz’s shoulder. “I’m talking to my fiancée right now.”

“We’re not together anymore, so stop it.” She moved his arm and turned to me. “Hawk, I’ve got this. I’m fine.”

I looked at him. “Go away.”

“Excuse me?” He twisted his face in confusion. “Yasmine, who’s this?”

“Hawk, I have this.” Yaz got between us and turned to me. “This is Greg. He’s my ex.”

“You don’t have to explain who I am to this motherfucker.” Greg wrenched her his way.

Furious, I yanked him away from her. “Don’t touch her.”

Cindy appeared. “Oh shit! Greg, what are you doing here?”

The other women surrounded us. Some of the people near us slowed from their dancing and pointed our way.

I leaned toward him and whispered in his ear, “Go away, before I embarrass you in front of these people.”

Greg widened his stance, and I knew then he wasn’t planning to go anywhere. I knew by the change in his expression, the sudden hard jut of his jaw, he was going for it.

I clapped a hand down on his shoulder and spun him around. “You’re leaving now.”

“Back off. Who the fuck are you?” He stumbled to the side, his eyes widening. Surprise flickered over his face as he glared at Yaz. “You’re fucking with him now? Already, bitch?!”

“Bitch?” I grabbed him by his neck and dragged him to the wall. People yelled. I was sure one of them were Yaz. Someone grabbed at my back. Others yelled. The music stopped. Yet, nothing stopped me. Adrenaline and rage fueled inside me.

I slammed him against the wall. “I said go away.”

I punched him in the face. “Now.”

He tried to hit me back, but was too busy guarding his face as I crashed my fist into him again. More people yelled. Others screamed.

Brett’s voice came next. “Hawk!”

Big men pulled us apart. The lights came on. People scattered away. Others took out their phones.

And finally, I let him go.

He fell to the floor, dripping with blood.

“Hawk, get out of here, man.” Brett pulled me back.

Yaz was on his side, walking over to Greg as two bouncers helped him. Greg stumbled around and mumbled something.

“Hawk, let’s go.” Brett grabbed my arm. “They might call the cops.”

“Throw some money at them.” I walked after Yaz and touched her arm.

She turned to me with horror on her face.

“Come with me,” I said.

“Why? I told you I had him, Hawk. Why did you—”

“He called you a bitch.”

“You can’t fight everyone that calls me a bitch. You would be tired for days.”

“Let’s talk about it outside.”

“But—”

“Please.” I gestured to half of the crowd looking at us and the rest taking in Greg as he was carried away. “I’m sorry, okay? But we need to talk.”

“Fucking hell.” Brett wrenched his wallet out of his pocket. “At least get her and you out of here so I can clean this up.”

“Thanks, man,” I said.

“Get the fuck out of here.”

I motioned for Yaz to follow me. She reluctantly obliged. Her expression said she was pissed as she kept glancing over her shoulder at Greg.

We got outside and continued to my car.

She stopped in front of it. “Are we talking inside of your car?”

Police sirens blared off in the distance.

I ran my fingers through my hair. “I was thinking we could go somewhere quieter.”

She looked off in the siren’s direction and sighed. “Are you calm?”

“Yes.” I walked over to the passenger side and opened the door. “I’m sorry.”

She got in. I closed the door, hurried over to my side, jumped in, and sped off in the opposite direction of the police.

My heart hammered in my chest. It wasn’t that I was scared to go to jail. I just needed time to make this up with Yaz. If the cops wanted to grab me later, it would be fine. But I had to make this right with her now.

I rounded the corner and sped down the boulevard. Restaurants and clubs raced by us. The bridge appeared in front of us and I continued onto it. Thankfully, Yaz made no sound of protest. I just had to get off Key West and give us some distance.

After a while, I’d continued so far, we cruised down the Seven Mile Bridge that connected Marathon key to Bahia Honda. On the left, old unused bridges jutted out of the dark rippling water. Some were recycled structures used as fishing piers. In silence, we passed others that still stood, but were abandoned and obsolete, crumbling, dead skeletons hovering over the ocean. During the day, when I looked down, I could see strings of coral pearls below. Tonight, it was only various shades of black rippling under us.

I looked Yaz’s way. Her chest rose and fell like she’d been running.

Guilt hit me. “I’m sorry. I might’ve gone too far.”

“You beat him like you caught him raping me.”

“He kissed you.”

“I already slapped him for it.”

“Doesn’t matter. I didn’t get to slap him.” I gripped the steering wheel hard and turned off to Bahia Honda, following the signs to an old friend’s dock. It was the only place I could think of for us to have complete privacy. There was a mini, man-made beach out there and nothing but quiet and shadows.

After a minute of silence, she said, “Greg was drunk. He usually isn’t that bad.”

“So, I shouldn’t have punched him?”

“I don’t know.” She let out an exasperated breath. “Either way, he’ll live.”

Silence filled the car for a few moments and then I broke the quiet. “He calls you Yasmine?”

“Yeah. I never told him my nickname.”

“Because only the people that love you call you Yaz.”

She sighed. “Why did you that? I had him under control.”

“How many times did he cheat?”

She blinked. “It doesn’t matter.”

“He deserved a few punches.”

She shook her head. “That’s not the point, Hawk. I was dealing with him. That doesn’t give you the right to show up like some deranged super hero, slam him several times into a brick wall, and punch his fucking lights out.”

I turned the car into the docking entrance. No one was supposed to be out here now, but the local police barely patrolled. At least, that was how it had been in my day. I parked within the shadows and got out of the car.

She left too. “Why did we come out here?”

I walked back to the trunk, opened it, and grabbed a huge blanket. “I wanted to talk somewhere far away.”

She wrapped her shawl tight around her. “And what do we need to talk about?”

“Us.”

“I thought we settled that.”

“You thought wrong.”

She frowned.

“I want to add some things,” I said.

“Like?”

“Anything that would get you back on my couch and naked.”

“What you did to Greg can’t happen again.”

“I know.”

“Do you punch people a lot?”

I closed the trunk and set the blanket on top. “Are you asking if I have an anger management problem?”

“Yes.”

“I do, when it comes to any man touching a woman that I don’t want touched.” I walked over to her. “You don’t want your ex punched again, make sure he doesn’t kiss or call you a bitch again.”

“No, you don’t punch anyone over me again.” Sighing, she leaned against my car.

“Had he not touched you and walked away, he would’ve been fine.” I continued her way, got in front of her, and trapped her between the car and me, placing my hands on the car behind me. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Don’t punch anyone over me again.”

“Okay,” I lied, tilting my head and studying her for a moment. “You smell amazing too.”

“Thank you.” She stared into my eyes. “You scared me.”

I stepped in close and pressed against her. I loved being so close. Her nipples hardened against my chest. “I won’t scare you again.”

“Okay.” She shivered, and I knew right there that she craved me as much as I craved her.

I bit my lip as heat radiated between us. “That was stupid. I’ve done a lot of stupid things recently.”

“Like what?”

I kissed her. Needing to taste her, I increased the pressure of the kiss and touched the tip of my tongue to hers. She tasted sweet, but I wanted more. I wanted all of her.

Yaz wore the innocent and sweet look all day, but on the inside she was an evil, evil woman. She already had me strung and I hadn’t even put my dick inside of her. And damn, I wanted to with every cell in my body. But I had to get things clear first. If she thought this was going to be a one-time thing then she was wrong. I didn’t even know if I would let her go. It felt too good to be around her. I wanted to bask in the sunshine for as long as I could. I needed the heat before the storm came.

And the storm would come. There was always rain and winds and tornadoes in life. But right now, I wanted my sun, my Yaz, naked and on her back in front of me.

She’d incited sparks of life in me. In fact, that was an understatement; she was a fucking nuclear bomb. Fire filled me, so many flames it was hard to not dive into her body and swim inside her for days.

I kissed her some more and when I let go, she whispered, “Hawk, we said we would just be friends.”

“That’s another stupid thing I’ve done this week.” I nipped at her lip.

She trembled against me. “But—”

“I have regrets. I should’ve said I would try to open my heart to you. In fact...I should’ve just tried. And most of all, I should’ve made you come.” Without hesitation, I pulled up her dress, found soft panties, and delved my fingers beneath the waistband, encountering wet, silky skin.

She moved my hand away.

“Damn it,” I groaned. “Let’s try it.”

She trembled against me. “Try what?”

“Whatever you want.”