Brutally Beautiful (17 page)

“Sorry,” he muttered, fumbling to turn his audio system off. 

“Don’t!” I yelped.  “Don’t shut it off. I love this song.  I was obsessed with Metallica when I was younger.”

“
You?
  You listened to Metallica?” he laughed harshly, doubting my honesty. 

I despised it when people didn’t take my word for truth, and I hated when people doubted me.  So, I sang the words to him as the music played,
“…stand and deliver or the devil he may take you…
”

His eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t respond at all.  He quickly looked out his windows for any oncoming traffic and pulled out onto the dark road. His eyes found mine again and narrowed.

“…
I took all of his money
…”

His brow wrinkled.

“…
It was a pretty penny
…”

He bit down on his lip to keep from smiling.  I sang louder. 

When he finally let his smile free, I danced around the cab of the truck singing and playing air guitar, until the song ended and he clicked off the audio system. 

Emptiness
.  It was thunderous.

With the sudden loss of the music, a heavy
white-noise-roaring
silence fell over my ears. It had a tangible weight to it and my shoulders felt its heavy burden.  I hoped I hadn’t push too far.  I hoped that being myself for a minute with him wouldn’t cause him any more damage.  Shifting over, I quietly leaned my forehead against the cold window and glanced out at the darkness of the tall trees that rushed by us alongside the road.  Kade must have been speeding, because the trees were blurring past my eyes too fast.  I said nothing though. If he needed to drive this fast, I needed to let him. Besides, I was the mother of all lead-footers; nobody drove as fast as I did. 

Pulling into a large parking area off the main road, he parked his truck in front of an all night diner that sat in the middle of an empty highway.  With both hands, he tightly clutched the steering wheel until his knuckles were white from lack of blood flow.  The muscles of his arms tightened and bulged, his back was rigid and his face stared straight out the windshield into the dark trees the grill of the truck was pointing towards.  He had turned the engine off, so the temperature inside the cab of the truck was dropping fast and I could once again see the mist of his breath.  “How do you do that?” he whispered, coldly. 

Unbuckling my seatbelt, I shifted my body around to face him, “Do what?”

“Act comfortable around me,” he said, as his head turned and his intense eyes collided with mine.

Pulling the handle of the door, I pushed it open and climbed out.  Standing in the open door of his truck with the dome light on, I looked at him dead in the face. “I’m never comfortable with anybody, Kade.  Ever.  I just deal with whatever situation I’m in the best way I know how.”

Slamming the door, I walked around the truck towards the front entrance of the diner, practically dragging his enormous jacket on the ground.  Kade’s door echoed mine, and instantly, he was in front of me blocking my way, his body so close to mine, but not once…not once touching me. 
And, I wanted him too; I wanted him to touch me
. Leaning his face closer to mine, daring me to look up at him, I did.  Pain was evident in his features; confusion, struggle, and heartache were embedded in his skin.  My heart broke for him.

“How?” he asked, leaning closer.

“Easy,” I smiled, hoping to lessen his tension with humor.  “You just gotta find your happy place, Kade.  Mine is with Tatum Channing and a bottle of rum.”

Caught off guard, his smile lit up the night, “Tatum Channing, huh?”

“Yes, please,” I smiled, walking into the diner, melting with the warmth of the air that hit me as soon as we stepped foot inside.

Without speaking, we both headed for the first booth by the exit. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. He just sat down, back against the wall, eyes scanning the handful of customers that had ventured out just as we did.  I could see the tension in his rigid posture and the tightness in his jaw as he surveyed the layout of the building, and I understood, more than he would ever know, I understood.  When his gaze landed on mine, his tension seemed to slacken some, but not completely and I understood that too, I was just glad to notice that I helped in some sort of relief for his coiled body. 

The waitress, an older lady with an impressive grey head of hair swept up into a 1960s beehive hairstyle, leaned her knee against the cushion of my seat and snapped a wad of gum in her mouth, “Hey, kids.  What can I getcha?”

“Two coffees,” Kade mumbled, “and I need a cheeseburger deluxe.”  He looked at me shrugging, “Sorry, I’m hungry.  Would you like to eat anything?”

“Actually, a cheeseburger deluxe sounds like heaven, so make that two,” I smiled at the waitress.  His eyes continuously scanned the room as the waitress walked away. Then after about three sweeps, his eyes met with mine again.  He muttered another apology about being hungry, and held his eyes in a steady unwavering stare with mine.

“Don’t be sorry. I am going to destroy that cheeseburger with my soul, I’m so damn hungry,” I laughed.

Two huge mugs of steaming coffee were placed in front of us and he smiled tightly into the dark liquid as he poured in milk.  “So what’s the story with you and Francis?”

Sipping at my coffee, I rolled my eyes, “There’s no story.  I explained to him weeks ago, and I seem to have to remind him daily that I don’t want a relationship with him.  He has a hard time listening.” 

“He’s about as fun as a funeral.  And he’s a big dick,” he stated, trying to hide his small smile behind his coffee.  “Dating him must be mind-blowing,” he said dryly.

“You know what they say, having a small dick is the leading cause of acting like a big one,” I quipped.  He laughed at me and his smile was exhilarating, making me want to hear more.  “And we’re not dating.  Dating sucks.  Relationships suck.  There are too many creepers out there.”

“Creepers?”

“Yes,” I said, smiling and winking.  “There are all different kinds of creepers too.  Let’s see,” I said, tapping my finger against my lips.  “There’s the touchy feely, hands-on creeper, the boob-gawking-mouth-drooler creep, the dirty talker creep, oh, or the fetish dude creeper, who stares at your feet during whole conversations. The dominant creeper who likes to victimize, is the worst in my book.  There’s the creepy geek freak, who talks Vulcan or quotes Star Wars facts during sex, or the dirty old man creeper.  Can’t forget the married creep or the cat guy creeper, or the creep your friend set you up with.  There are so many,” I laughed.  “My favorite is the online creeper.”

“Online creeper?” he asked, chuckling.

“Yeah.  You know, the guy you meet online with an affinity for sending photos of his penis with every contact.  For some strange reason, they love sharing pictures of their dicks publicly, like they are trying to promote them, make them famous or something.  It’s the equivalent of being a flasher in an overcoat on a train platform.   And they’re always trying to
sex-message
you some God-awful picture of themselves next to a can of soda to boast their size.” 

Kade’s shoulders were shaking from his laughter, “What the hell is a sex-message?” 

“It’s one of those sex messages that you constantly get from people. 
Hi.  I am so-and-so and I just saw your profile and think you are kind and lovable.  I want to be your friend and share my life with you.  Here is a photo of me
, blah, blah, blah. 
Do you have any naked pics
?”  I sipped at my coffee, enjoying the warmth of it.  “I’m dead serious, Kade.  Just look at sites like Twitter, Instagram, and Tumblr, you’ll realize the internet is a veritable sausage fest.  Everybody is showing off their dicks these days.  Creepers.”

Laughing, Kade asked, “And what kind of creep was Fran?”

“Oh, he was the creep your friend sets you up with, touchy feely,
and
the cat creep all rolled into one.”

“Must be hard pickings around here for you ladies to lock your ball and chains on someone, if all the eligible men are as
creepy
as Francis is,” Kade said, reaching for a napkin. 

I drew in a deep breath, blew it out dramatically and laughed, “Why do
all
women constantly get dragged into the same stereotypical group when someone is talking about relationships, and women
needing
to be married, like it’s a universal constant?  Not every woman wants to lock a ball and chain on somebody.  It’s like saying that all men actually do think with their dicks.”

Our plates of food were placed in front of us, the smell of delicious greasy diner burger hit my nose like a freight train, and I moaned out loud.

Kade eyes snapped to mine, and a shiver ran down my spine.  I just stared like an idiot back at him, holding my burger in both hands above my plate.

“But, men do.  Take that moan, for instance. That had me thinking of you spread out over this table in nothing but a pair of black lace panties and your legs wrapped around my neck with those old white Converse still on your feet.”  His eyes pierced me and he shrugged his shoulders and smirked.

I froze at the thought, with my mouth just about to take a bite of my burger.  “Subtle.  Kade.  Very subtle. I should give you a taste of your own medicine and go all
Harry-Met-Sally
on you.”

A few minutes passed by as we both watched each other and ate, listening to the sounds of the kitchen and the wind whipping against the thick glass of the window next to us.

“Tell me about your brother,” Kade whispered, low and cautious.

“What would you like to know?”

“Everything, anything.  I don’t know.”

Staring down at my hands, I began unconsciously folding a napkin and playing with its creases.  “Michael was my best friend.  He was brilliant, a doctor, funny, and was unbeatable at playing pranks on people.  Part of me is still holding onto the small hope that everything that happened was a cruel prank, and he’ll just pop up from behind the bushes somewhere laughing his ass off.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips.  “I think that’s everybody’s default setting on death. Everybody hopes it was just a big sick joke.  But, think about it, why would you want a person you love to be that cruel to you?”

“I wouldn’t care.  I’d just give anything for one more of our talks,” I whispered.  “Are you and Dylan very close?”

Glancing up at him, I noticed his face was twisted in grief.  His brows creased in the middle of his forehead and he rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m not close with anyone.”

“Not even Morgan?”

“Least of all Morgan.”

The waitress leaned across our table, then gathered our emptied plates and poured us more coffee.

“Bree mentioned you both lived in Manhattan.  Must have been culture shock coming all the way up here from a big city.”

“Probably just as big as coming here from England.  When did your family come to the states?”

He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.  “I was seventeen.”  His expression darkened and I could visibly see his chest tightening.  “So what was it like living in a big city growing up?” he said, struggling to think of anything else to talk about.  

“My father always worked, and my mother was always busy, so my brother and I pretty much had the entire city as a playroom,” I tried to explain without giving too much information about any personal subjects.

Slipping the check over the table, the waitress winked at me and walked away.  Kade grabbed for the check, and I reached into my purse for some cash. When I tried grabbing the check from him to see what to put in, he practically bared his teeth at me and snarled.  I watched him leave a hundred dollar bill on the table and he placed his hand on the small of my back and led me to the door.

“So, what’s your story then, Lainey?”

“I don’t have any stories you’re going to want to hear, Kade.  Do
you
have stories
you
want to talk about?  Or you want to make this evening light and unheartbreaking?”

His lips curled up playfully, “Oh Lainey, I have tons of stories…” he said as we climbed into his truck and started the engine.  “But my story?  Let’s see…my past is heinously horrid.  Born with extremely powerful, yet flawed super human powers, I accidently melted my mother into a heaping pile of goo as soon as I fell from her womb.  The guilt was unbearable and drove me to wear a mask to hide my deadly grey eyes, deliberately living a life of solitude as I search the world for a cure for my
flaws
.  Everyone thinks I’m not living up to my heroic potential and that I should work for the government, fighting America’s villains, but the reality is that I’m just saving everyone from my hell.”  Kade had pulled out of the lot and the dark road was racing under the wheels, and the trees were a blur of tangled blackened branches blocking out the moonless sky.  For miles, an awkward heavy silence hung in the air when his story finished, both of us knowing there was some strange truth to his tale.  Turning into the trailer park, he slowed the truck down from warp speed, pulled into the dirt road next to the trailer, and turned off the engine.

“I googled you,” I whispered.

His eyes nailed me to the seat.  Vaporous breath escaped through his lips as his chest rose and fell faster and faster.  His eyes flickered and searched my face maniacally; his breathing became more erratic, intense gasps of air.   “Goodnight, Lainey,” his voice croaked huskily. 

I leaned forward and laid the palm of my hand over his chest. I felt him tense and strain beneath the tips of my fingers.  His eyes searched mine, as my fingers felt for the beat of his heart, listening to it, feeling it as it slowly settled into its regular pace. 

“Kade.”

“Don’t.  Just go, please.  I can feel you in my darkness, Lainey, and you’re shining, lighting up my way.  Please go.  Leave me to my darkness,” he smiled bitterly.

 “Kade, I know the mess you’re dealing with and how it makes you feel.  More than you know.”

“You don’t know anything!”  He screamed, nostrils flaring and red-faced.  He goes hot and cold like the flip of a switch.  On-flip-Off.  Hot-flip-Cold. 
“
Yes. I have the characteristics of a real person.  Flesh, hair, bones, blood, whatever…but I have
nothing on the inside
.  Empty, devoid of any emotion, dead.  Like I did die that day, and only my body remains here.
 
Maybe you could feel flesh and pulse, see my blood and bones and you think I'm just as human as you, but I'm not. I’m fucking empty.  There is
nothing
inside me.  Nothing but violent scenes and pleading echoes.  Then I saw you, and something small flickered deep inside the dead dark recesses of my mind. I don’t need some stupid little girl like you telling me how you
understand me
, when you never would be able to conceive the unthinkable shit I’ve lived through. Just fucking leave me here, Lainey.  Walk the fuck out and leave me here.”