For A Good Time, Call... (27 page)

“Come
on,” he said, turning his head back toward the sidewalk. “we're
almost there.”

He
stayed about two feet out to the side of me the rest of the walk as
my eyes got heavier and heavier and my steps more and more unsteady.
“I don't know where you think you're going,” I said, my
heel caught a grate and I stumbled, his arm reaching out to steady
me. “because you don't live here anymore,” I went on,
gesturing toward my building.

“I'm
just getting you home safe, Fee,” he said, shaking his head at
me, his light eyes sad.

“You
have no right to be sad,” I said, climbing up the front stairs
and looking down at him. “You're the one who left. You're the
one who left me all alone. When you knew I needed you. I fucking
needed you, Hunter,” I said, my lips trembling, dangerously
close to crying.

“I
know. Fee, fuck. I know. I just...”

“No,”
I said, shaking my head. “It doesn't matter. It's over. It's
done. I'm fine. I'm good. Better anyway. So just leave me alone,
Fourteen,” I said, turning back to the building. “And I
am keeping this coat as retribution.”

–

I
woke up the next morning on the floor next to my bed, curled up next
to the heat grate in a jacket that wasn't mine, still wearing my
shoes from the night before.

Fuck.
So much for not drinking. I pushed myself up, looking down at the
jacket and not comprehending its existence for a moment. Until I took
a deep breath and I smelled him. And then the memories flooded back.

There
had been drinking. Oh, dear lord, had there been drinking. I might
have actually broken a personal record last night. I didn't even want
to think about how much vodka was in my system. An image of Guy
flashed into my mind, offering to walk me home. And then... yup...
there was Hunter. Arrogant, helpful fucking Hunter.

I
put a hand over my eyes. I had admitted that he hurt me. I let out a
long, low groan at that. So much for having the upper hand. Stupid,
stupid drunk me.

As
I stood up, slipping out of my shoes and unzipping the coat, I
remembered telling him I was keeping his jacket as punishment. One of
my finer nights, for sure. I grabbed clean panties and a tank top and
headed to my shower. It took the better part of half an hour to feel
like I had washed the night away.

Walking
into the hall, I got the distinct smell of brewing coffee.

Oh,
that bastard.

“Good
morning, sunshine,” he said, coming into the doorway of the
kitchen with two cups of coffee. His hair was wet.

I
glanced outside and, seeing no rain, felt my anger reignite. “Did
you take a shower here?”

He
shrugged a shoulder, holding out a cup of coffee to me. “I
didn't want to leave you.”

“Leave
me?” I asked, grabbing the coffee. “I left you,” I
reminded him, remembering turning and leaving him outside the
building.

“Yup,”
he agreed. “And then I came in a few minutes later to check on
you because your light didn't go on in your apartment, and you were
asleep against your door.

Of-fucking-course
I was. Because the night hadn't been humiliating enough without that
little tidbit. It also explained why I had passed out fully dressed.
“Why was I in front of the heating vent?”

He
raised a brow, smiling slightly. “That was all your own doing.
I had you on the bed.”

“Great.”
I took a sip of my coffee. “Well, I'm awake now. You can go,”
I said, walking past him into my kitchen.

“Those
look fresh,” he said instead, following me and gesturing toward
my thigh.

“Yeah,”
I agreed, going in my fridge for the mixed berry parfait I had
learned were infinitely better than leftover take out in the morning.
“I had a slip up.”

“You
were doing better.”

“Yup.”

“Until?”
he asked and I shrugged a shoulder and put a spoonful of food into my
mouth. “Until I showed back up,” he guessed. He looked
down at his coffee for a long minute and was about to speak when
there was two sharp knocks on the door before it unlocked and opened.

“Fiona,”
Isaiah called, strolling in.

“What
the fuck?” Hunter asked, looking between the two of us.

“Oh,”
Isaiah said, looking at Hunter for a second before looking at me.
“Were you two... in the middle of something?”

“Ew
gross,” I scrunched up my nose. “You're not ever allowed
to imply that, dude.”

“Sorry.
Still new at the whole sex talk stuff,” he shrugged and I knew
he had actually come a long way since I left him the porn mag back at
the house. He had shown up a week later full of questions and I had
steeled my stomach to answer them. Eventually, I had pointed him to a
“friend” of mine for some hands on experience. And by
“friend” I meant a hooker I paid to teach him the ropes.
A fact which I still hadn't told him. Maybe in a couple years, he
would find it funny. “So...” he said, looking at Hunter.
“You're back.”

Hunter
nodded. “I'm back.”

“This
is where I am supposed to be a good big brother and tell you to not
break her heart again or I...”

“Break
his face,” I supplied.

“Right...
I break your face. I think we both know that that's not gonna happen,
but you know... don't be such a...”

“Dick,”
I added.

“This
time,” Isaiah finished, handing me a bound pile of paperwork.
“No rush on these,” he said, glancing again at Hunter.
“You want me to hang out or are you alright?”

I
considered it. I could have him stay. Maybe Hunter would eventually
give up on the whole talking to me thing with my brother around.
Especially given that he had no idea what had happened between us.
But, a bigger part of me knew that there was no deterring Hunter. He
was a stubborn jerk when he wanted to be.

“No,
I'll be fine. I'll call you about these once I've read them over.”

“Alright,”
he said, nodding stiffly at Hunter. “I'll see you later,
Fiona.”

“Bye,”
I called, but he was already out the door. He was still a little
lacking in the manners department.

“Fee...
what the hell?” Hunter asked, turning back to me with a
disbelieving look. At my raised brow, he sighed. “Please, Fee.
Can you just... stop hating me for five minutes and talk to me?”

Maybe
it was the 'please'. Or maybe it was just the tone. But a part of
the wall slipped. “Fine,” I said, going into my living
room. “I went and said my peace to my father. He died a few
hours later. Don't,” I said, holding up a hand out of habit
whenever I told people about my father. “tell me you're sorry.
I know it's fucked up, but I'm glad he's dead. But anyway. I went
back to my old house and found my old bible filled with letters to me
from my mom...”

“That's
great, baby,” he said, looking down at me as he leaned against
the wall. “Did she say anything interesting?”

“A
lot actually. But the highlights were: she had been in love before my
father, that my brother was just as abused as I was though I didn't
see it, and that not all men are bad. That last one though,” I
said, looking at him pointedly. “is still proving to be false.”

I
wont lie, I took a little pleasure in his wince. “What about
you and your brother?”

“He
came by while I was in the house. He was wrecked. I left him a dirty
magazine and told him to contact me when he wanted to learn about the
real world.”

“He
obviously took you up on that.”

“Only
after my grandmother died,” I said, holding up the pile of
paperwork. “She left us her estate. Isaiah needed help figuring
it all out. And then once he was around here for a few days, he
started to see that he did want this normal kind of life.”

“You're
really amazing, Fee,” he said, shaking his head at me. “To
help him like that. That's really big of you.” He paused,
looking down at the paperwork. “That's a lot of paperwork for
some little old lady's estate.”

“Yeah,
well,” I said, smiling down at the paperwork that would tell me
that I would never have to worry about money again for my whole life.
For two lifetimes. Five maybe. “Grams was loaded. And we were
the closest relatives.”

“That's
really great news,” he said, but sounded sad. At my raised
brow, he looked down at his feet. “I just... I wish I could
have been here for you. To see things finally falling into place for
you. To watch you start to heal...”

“You
could have been,” I reminded him, not caring about the
bitterness in my voice.

Hunter
rubbed his chin, taking a deep breath, then walked over and sat at
the edge of the coffee table in front of me. “Are you going to
let me tell you what really happened?” he asked.

“I'm
all ears,” I said, not quite believing that anything he could
say would make up for what he did.

“I
never really told you anything about my past because... well, because
it's kind of fucked up...”

“Umm...”
I broke in, holding up a hand. “hello?”

He
smiled. “Yeah I know, baby. But your past is fucked because of
something that happened to you. Mine is fucked because of the things
I have done.”

“What
have you done?” I asked, not sure anything he said could make
me think he was as messed up as I am.

“My
father, ha,” he said, rolling his eyes. “there's really
no good way to say this. He owns a lot of businesses. But the only
way he funded those businesses was by starting a money loaning
business.”

“Your
father is a loan shark?” I asked, unable to stop myself from
laughing at the word.

“I
know,” he laughed too. “It sounds ridiculous. But it's
true.”

“So
he like... what? Broke people's kneecaps when they couldn't pay up?”

“He
used to,” Hunter nodded and I felt a rock in my belly, starting
to understand where this was going. “Until me and my brothers
got old enough to pitch in. And by 'pitch in' I mean we fucking loved
it, Fee. I loved it. In a sick and twisted way, we were taught to
love doing the job.”

Which
made his anger at that guy on the street that night make a hell of a
lot more sense. “Okay. So both of our fathers screwed us up,”
I said, shrugging. Knowing he needed me to not be horrified. And I
actually wasn't. Loan sharks were necessary in the sleazy
underground. Beatings were needed to keep people from welshing on
their deals. It all made a sick kind of sense.

“You
cant possibly be so calm about this,” he said, squinting his
eyes at me.

“Hunter,”
I said, leaning forward. “I grew up with a man who beat and
carved into me. I really don't think a little violence is going to
shock me.” I went to reach out, to reassure him, then
remembered I wasn't supposed to do that and let my hand fall down at
my side. “So that's it? You had to take off because you didn't
want to tell me about your past? That's kinda cheap, Fourteen.”

“No,
see... you don't just get to leave that lifestyle. And I just ran off
one day. Tried to start my own life here. But the day after you
left... one of my brothers showed up and dragged me back. My father
wasn't... pleased. I got a nice solid beating from my brothers. And
then I got a visit from my father the next day. He told me that if I
had wanted out, I should have went to him first. But I wasn't allowed
to come back until I stayed there for a while. I needed to parade
around my busted face, take care of my business, show everyone that
my father was letting me go... that I wasn't defying him.”

I
sat there quietly for a long time after he stopped speaking, not sure
if I was going to accept that. True, it seemed completely fabricated
and unlikely. But, then again, so did my own past. “So in...
three months,” I said, making his face snap to mine. “you
didn't have access to one phone?” I asked, my eyes on his,
begging for some kind of explanation that I could believe in.

He
reached out, placing a hand on my knee and I didn't push him away.
“Would you have answered?”

“You
have a point,” I smiled, thinking of how much pleasure I would
have taken from hanging up on him.

His
hand was starting to whisper back and forth over the skin of my
thigh, reminding my body of how much it missed it. Him. Being
touched. Everything. “So...” he said and I know how
vulnerable he was feeling, like I had felt when I had told him my
story.

“So,”
I said, looking down at his hand, feeling my chest get tighten with
my desire. “I am afraid I am going to need proof.”

“Proof
of what?” he asked, looking up at me.

“Proof
about your story,” I clarified.

“How
the hell am I supposed to do that?” he asked, his hand moving
higher on my thigh and I could see his eyes getting heavier.

“You're
going to take me to meet this family of yours,” I decided and
his eyes went wide.

“What?
Fee... no.”

“I'm
afraid it's a deal breaker,” I said, standing. “But
first,” I said, reaching for the bottom of my tank top and
pulling it up and over my head. I watched his eyes automatically go
up toward my breasts, but stop short.