Black (8 page)

Stella is here, she’s always here. I can’t seem to rid her. No matter how harsh my words, no matter the number of times I reject her, she doesn’t leave. She’s on my couch, naked, with only heels on her feet. She’s laying down, her heels up on the edge. Wanting something from me, something I can’t give her. I didn’t come last time, I couldn’t.

I turn my back to her. I hear her disdain. Just choosing to not acknowledge it.

“Put your clothes on.” I pick up my phone, not even bothering to turn around to face her. I have several messages, most from numbers I don’t know, probably requesting work.

“Black,” she moans, and I turn around to look at her. She didn’t even bother heeding my request. She’s now touching herself, and my dick bounces. But nothing more comes from it. I turn to leave, stopping in front of her and grabbing the blanket to throw over her. She stops, and as I begin to leave a shoe is thrown at my head, barely missing me.

“I will leave and never come back!” she yells after me. I stop on my stairs. She’s now standing at my door, watching me. I turn slowly.

“Please do,” I say then continue walking. The shoe hits me on the head this time. But I don’t stop, I keep walking until I’m in my truck and pull away.

I’m meeting Jake in the city tonight. And as I pull up, I see his Harley parked in the street. It gleams, brightly polished. I step out and see him automatically through the doors. He’s sitting with two other men, his posture straight, not relaxed in the slightest. He isn’t comfortable, that much I can tell before I even step in.

The hostess asks for my jacket. I dismiss her and continue walking to Jake. His body seems to relax at the slightest sight of me. I sit next to him, across from two men in suits. One doesn’t even look up to acknowledge my presence. The other stares at me intently. I stare back, and he starts to smirk. I don’t.

“Black, these men require your service.” I look to him, then back to the men. Both are now looking at me. Waiting for me to reply.

“Jake,” I warn. He knows my answer. I don’t deal with people who meet with me. That’s how trouble is caused, accusations happen. Blame.

“It’s a favor for the club,” he murmurs. I shake my head. I’m not doing this, it’s not happening. He may be one of my closest mates, but I’m sick of cleaning up for the club, too many times that shit has happened.

“It’s not happening!” I go to stand and the man in the blue suit stands with me. He looks me directly in the eyes.

“I need this done. Clean. Fast. You can do that! I have heard of you. Just do it and I will pay you double.” My head shakes again, and his face morphs to angry. It doesn’t bother me. These men, these types of men, they’re lazy. They think killing a scorned lover or a work rival will fix all their problems. It won’t, and I won’t deal with it, even if the money is good.

I don’t stand there any longer and listen to any more pleas. I walk out and head straight to my truck. A hand grips my shoulder, making me turn. I know who it is already. If I didn’t and someone touched me that in way they’d be on the floor.

“Hands.” I clench and Jake backs up a step. Seeing how it makes me feel, he shows his hands in surrender.

“Drink, we need a drink,” he says, nodding his head to a dive bar across the street. I want to go back home. Hopefully it’ll be quiet. No Stella there. Though I won’t bet on my luck.

“Stella still whoring around?” Jake asks as we slide onto the stools in front of the bar. He nods to the bartender for two beers and I shake my head.

“She’s a stage ten clinger, and I don’t even let her touch me.”

He bursts out laughing. “You don’t let anyone touch you. But seriously, you want me to come around and ride her?” He leans in close, waiting for my answer.

“If she’s there when I return, I’ll call you.” His head bounces up and down while the beers are set in front of us.

“I fucked this bitch last night. She was like a fucking gymnast, man. Ever been with a gymnast?” he asks excitedly. I shake my head as he’s way too excited. “So anyway, got the bitch doggy style, she’s taking it good from behind when I lift her ass up in the air higher. You wanna know what she does?” He leans in close, a smirk touches my lips. “She does the splits, mid-air, cock buried deep inside of her, like holy mother fucken shit…” His head shakes back and forth.

“Gymnast, ha?” I ask, trying to contain my smirk. This fucker is way too excited.

“Yeah, I fucked her three times, three motherfucking times without the help of any drugs. The way she bends…” he whistles loudly, “…had me going back for more.”

“You’re a stallion, three times my man, a new record.” I tap his back and he shrugs me away.

“What? You did it more than three times?” he questions.

“More,” I mutter, picking up my beer and putting to my lips.

“How many more?” he questions, waiting for my answer.

“Many more.” I smile.

“Fuck you, Black,” he says, nodding to the bartender. My phone beeps and I look down reading the text.

Unknown Number:
I know I shouldn’t contact you. But thank you so much. Rose.

He never wrote back and it’s been days. I expected something, anything. But I got nothing. I’ve been staying at Casey’s, our friendship is on the mend, and even her fiancé has warmed up to me. He was the one that gave me Black’s number, but not to use it excessively, just to say what I needed and then I should delete it.

Some days are hard, so much harder than others. Some days I feel the need, the need to sell everything I own and buy what I need. The hit, the high.

I was hired and am now working at the local ice cream shop. It’s simple, nothing drastic, but it’s helping keep me distracted until I can achieve what I need to.

Casey has also spoken to my mother. She said that she wants to see me and that I should go and see her. I don’t know if I can. I need to feel better about myself first by trying to get my body and health back. I’m still way too skinny, too unhealthy. Though thanks to all Casey’s and Sax’s cooking so far all that’s changing. I can feel the clothes that I came with are fitting a little tighter, the dress now hugging instead of hanging on me. Casey had a few of my old clothes which she gave me. They’re still too big, but slowly I will get back into them.

I have to start work in an hour, so I decide to leave now. I don’t want to burden anyone, so I choose to catch a bus and walk the rest of the way. It’s not too far from Casey’s and is within walking distance. Once I get off the bus, it’s about a fifteen-minute walk to the shop. I stop along the way, admiring clothes in the boutique stores when my phone beeps. I look down and see that it’s my mother asking to see me. She’s sent that same message twice already and I still haven’t responded.

A hand lands on me, my foot misses its next step and I almost fall forward into hard and lean muscle. With my hands now on his abs, my nails almost digging in, I hear a sharp intake like I’m hurting him. I look up, and the man I see makes me gasp.

“Black?” I whisper, his face looks stricken and pained. He looks down and I notice my hands still on him, touching him, so I quickly remove them and his body relaxes instantly.

Was me touching him that bad?

“Rose,” he says, stepping back so we aren’t so close together anymore.

“I messaged you,” I say, not knowing what else to talk about.

“I know.” My head shoots up to stare at his face, sunnies covering over his eyes.

“You got it?” I ask in disbelief. I look at him. I always seem to be lost in his appeal. Appeal I’m sure he doesn’t even know he possesses. Always dressed the same, though, a black suit, a silver watch, white shirt, and black boots. So mouth-wateringly gorgeous.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you write back?”

“I don’t deal with phones, they’re for business purposes only,” he says, like that’s the only answer I will get.

“Okay…” I mutter, looking behind him. I need to continue walking so I won’t be late.

“You working?” he asks, finally looking at me, noticing the outfit I have on. It’s a pinstriped skirt and blouse top in red and white.

“Yes, and I can’t be late for my second shift,” I say, stepping to the side to go around him.

“I’ll walk you then.” I start walking, Black keeping up beside me.

“You’re very full on,” I say, more to myself than him.

“How so?” I look to him, his eyes straight ahead. I can feel that he’s well aware of my stare though, like he knows it’s there. Though he chooses not to acknowledge it.

“You’re different, mysterious, dangerous, but kind.” I list the things I already know about him.

“I’m anything but kind, Rose.” I stop and turn to face him. He goes to keep on walking, but notices I’ve stopped and faces me.

“You are. Why would you think otherwise?”

He leans in close, so close his breath is on my ear before he talks, “You would hide and wish you’d never met me if you knew the truth. Let’s leave it at that, shall we?” He stands up tall and continues to walk and I run to catch up with him. “It’s best if you don’t contact me again,” he says, stopping outside the shop where I work. I give him a puzzled look. Like that will happen. He’s somehow stuck in my head, like a lion trapped in a cage just waiting for its escape.

“Okay,” I mutter, walking into the shop, trying my hardest not to look back.

My shift is almost over. I’m working with a teenager, and he has more experience than me, which kind of makes me sad. Luckily he’s nice and helps me when I have no idea what I’m doing. A ding chimes, letting us know that customers have just walked into the store. I move to make my way out the front and just as I do I hear
his
voice, laughing loudly. I stop, looking around painfully for Brett. He’s sitting on a stool, playing a game on his phone. I wave to him, hoping he’ll look up. I don’t want to yell out. I’m sure he’d recognize my voice if I speak.