So. Long.: Bad Boy Next Door (7 page)

A bouncing Spike greets me at the door. He snuffles my cargo
pockets.

As quietly as I can, I say, “Sorry, boy. I forgot to grab
some new treats. You’ll have to settle for the ones you already have.”

I head to the kitchen to give him some biscuits. My phone
beeps. I fumble to grab it from my pocket before it wakes Kelsey.

I whisper as I let Spike into the backyard. “Hello?”

“Hardick? How’s it hanging? I haven’t talked to you in a
while. Thought I’d check in on you.”

I push through the screen door and grab it before it slams
the frame behind me. “Romans, glad you called.”

“How’s life treating you?”

“I woke up on the right side of the dirt.”

“I hear you on that one, bro. So you still down in Texas
turning houses or whatever?”

“Flipping. I’m
flipping
houses. Or I was supposed to
be. I’m working on my first, and it’s a cluster of fucks in epic proportions.”

“But you’re breathing. And ambulatory. And your dick’s
intact. Your dick
is
still intact, right?”

“And hard as my fucking head. How are you?”

“I’m good. Really good. I’m working. I’m being fitted for a
new prosthetic next week. Life is—well, it’s not shitty right now.”

“Romans, you’re one positive mother-fucker. Especially for a
guy who lost his leg.”

“Hey, not
all
of my leg. Only from the knee down. And
you know what I say,
IEDs will fuck a dude up, but they don’t have to fuck
up a dude’s whole life
.”

I smile. “Wisdom from the back streets of a small province.”

“Tell me about this gig you were talking about in your
email. You’re gonna go on some speaking tour? You?”

“Yeah. I was talking to the shrink at the VA. She told me
that after an injury like mine, that talking to other wounded vets might be
good for me, and them too. She says it will help with the nightmares and the
other shit we deal with.”

“I guess. It definitely helps me when I have a sit down with
other amputees. It’s like we belong to this club and no one else really gets it
unless they’ve been through it.”

For a second or two, we go quiet.

Then Romans coughs. “So, I need to live vicariously through
my closest friend. You been getting any lately?”

“Wow.
That
didn’t take long.” I sit on the steps of
the small deck leading down to the yard.

“Aw, c’mon, man. Don’t hold out on a brother. I’m not
getting any action these days. I think it’s this scar under my eye.” He
chuckles, like he’s a fucking comedian.

The scar under his eye was the least of his injuries. Barely
an inch long, it was almost invisible a few months after he came home.

Romans was there when Rachel walked out of my hospital room
for the last—the
only
time. He was the first one I confided in about my
current lack of ability to bust a fucking nut. I guess he’s my best friend—now.

Carter Shulls was, but he’s gone. I’d trade places with him in
a heartbeat. The shrapnel he took to the neck snuffed out his life in a matter
of seconds. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. He was cold and wearing a toe tag
by the time I woke up from the drug-induced haze, after they stitched me back
together.

I pull myself to the friend who isn’t six feet under. “No.
That scar only improved on your ugly-ass looks, man. Your problem is that you’ve
got no game.”

“No game?
Me?
Fuck you.” He chuckles. “Shit, who am I
kidding? You’re right. I got no game. That’s why I have to call my man, Hardick,
and find out what it’s like to actually fuck a
girl
instead of stickin’
it to a pocket pussy.”

I grin and shake my head. “You called the right guy. Fucking
girls is what I do.”

“Yeah you do. So, who’re you banging now?”

“You gotta quit asking questions like that. It isn’t
gentlemanly to fuck and tell.”

“Guess it’s a good damned thing you aren’t a
gentleman
then, isn’t it? C’mon, give me some deets.”

In the past, I may have run my mouth about women who meant
nothing to me, but Kelsey’s different. She
feels
different. Like she
could
mean something. Like she
might
mean something.

But I can’t let her mean anything—life is too uncertain. I
could be here today and zapped tomorrow. Who knows when my expiration date will
come up?

I shrug. “No one special. You know how it is. A pussy is a
pussy.”

“Uh oh. What is that I detect in your voice? Has my man,
Hardick, found someone special?

Spike’s head jerks to attention about the time the screen
slams against the door frame behind me.

I whip around, but there’s no Kelsey.

Fuck. “Hey, man. I’ve gotta go. I’ll try to give you a shout
one day this week. Need to talk to you about a fundraiser I want you to MC.”

“Oh. Okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

I stand and head toward the door. “You take care, okay?”

“Sure. Sure. You too.”

As I let myself into the kitchen, I swipe my finger over the
screen.

A steaming cup of coffee sits on the counter, but Kelsey’s
gone.

I head out of Adam’s house, cheeks hot and no idea why I’m
so upset.

It’s not like we’ve been dating. Or even seeing each other.
Of course I’m just another pussy to him.

He doesn’t orgasm. He’s probably out there looking for the
woman who will
finally
get him there.

A robe-clad Mr. Alberto picks up his morning paper. As he
straightens, his gaze falls on me. He stops halfway to standing and cocks his
head. Even from this distance his busy brows clearly dive to the center.

With my hair a hot mess, and me traipsing down my new
male
neighbor’s sidewalk, I’m sure it’s quite obvious what’s happened here: walk of
shame.

Mrs. Alberto leans out of their front door and waves. “Hi,
Kelsey. What are you doing out so early in the morning?”

Fuck it. I’m twenty-six years old.

I lift my shoes in salute. “Just enjoying the Get Laid
Parade, Mrs. Alberto. That’s all.”

The two look at one another, both of their faces puzzled.
The Mister shrugs and turns toward his house. Mrs. Alberto opens the door
further and ushers him inside. Once he’s in, she leans outside.

“Kelsey,” she calls.

I plaster on my best
I don’t give a shit what you think about
me
smile. “Yes, ma’am?”

She points to Adam’s house and gives me a thumbs-up, winking
before she ducks back inside.

Well, I’ll be damned.

I grin, feeling slightly better than I did when I walked out
of his house thirty-five seconds ago.

I step inside my front door, and Chloe careens down the hall
into the living room, her back end almost passing up her front legs as she tries
to stop. Her meows are insistent, as though whatever she’s saying is of utmost
importance and I’d best listen-up.

I pick her up. “Did you miss me? Or are you hungry?”

In the kitchen, I set her down by her dry cat food. A
dime-sized hole has been eaten out of the middle, where the stainless steel
bottom of the dish is visible. I jiggle the container enough so that the food
fills in the small space. Chloe’s wailing immediately ceases as she settles
down in front of her now
full
dish to eat breakfast.

I shake my head at my silly kitten, glad she’s here to greet
me and bring me back to my everyday world. A world that existed before my hot
neighbor moved in, and will exist long after he leaves.

It was only meant to be fun. Something to get my muse in
gear. That’s it. That’s all he offered, and that’s all I accepted.

So what if he’s a man-whore? Maybe that’s what I needed.

So what if he held me and entwined his body with mine as we
slept? So what if I woke several times in the night to find him stroking my arm,
my back, my side, my hip, even my hair, as though he couldn’t touch me enough?

So what if Adam made me feel more cherished in one night of
out-of-this-freaking-world oral sex and cuddling than my husband did over the
last few
years
of our marriage?

It’s not a big deal. It really doesn’t matter.

I mean, he’s a hard-core bachelor and not going to want
anything long-term with a
mom
.

He’s obviously been banging a shit ton of women.

Do I want to waste my emotions on a man-whore?

I shut my laptop and set it aside before I throw it across
the damned room.

Nothing.

I’ve been sitting in this seat since seven forty-three this
morning, with the exception of a couple of trips to the bathroom and a twenty-minute
break for lunch. Now, it’s almost four in the afternoon.

I have so little to show for all that time.

“Sir Rodrigo, unhand me!” I twist away, my wrist at my
forehead.

“Nay, my lady love. You have escaped me for the last
time.” He grabs the bodice of my gown, ripping it asunder. “I shall have you.”

My bared flesh burns for him. Though I know it is wrong,
my loins long for his touch.

Alas, I must not allow myself to be consumed by this
wretched fire.

He clasps my hands behind my back, his mouth falling
against the rosy tips of my budded globes. “I shall plunge my manly sword into
your velvet sheath.”

My heart flutters beneath my breasts. “Your sword, sir?”

“Aye. It is long and steely hard. It must be wetted and
sated by you this night.”

One-hundred and twenty-two words. That’s all I’ve written.

I needed to write
four thousand
words.

I
used
to be able to write four thousand words in
that span of time. Until my life fell out from under me and one of my best
friends left me for my husband.

Or was it that my husband left me for one of my best
friends?

Either way, they
both
abandoned me.

My stomach clenches, and that weird nausea that I get when I
think of her rolls through me.

I’d have wiped Marcy’s ass if she’d needed me to—we were
that
close. I’d have given her a kidney or a lung. I’d have done just about anything
for her.

I considered her my heart-sister, because I was closer with
her than I was my blood-relations. She and Leigh are the sisters I chose, the
people I invited into my life and kept close because we held each other up and
made each other’s lives better.

Until she betrayed me.

I drag in a sharp breath.

Matt’s infidelity didn’t really surprise me. It was the
third time he fucked around on me. I only stayed with him because of Clarissa.
I didn’t want her to grow up in a broken home.

And frankly? Being a single mom is tough. My mom told me so
enough throughout my childhood. I had no illusions that things would be better
without him. So…the other times, when he begged me to take him back, I did.

But Marcy?

I’d never have thought she was capable of this type of thing.
Elementary school teachers are supposed to be wholesome and good. And she was—
or
so
I thought
. And we’d been best friends for almost six years. She
threw six years of friendship away on a guy she already knew is a cheater.

Three times makes him a serial cheater in my book. Thus the
exit from my life.

Well, I like to
tell myself
that’s why he’s gone.

In reality? He doesn’t want me back—I’m not so sure he ever
really wanted me at all. I was dumped.

In fact, I was dumped
twice
—in one day—by people I
loved.

Love. Actively love.

Present tense.

That’s the thing that burns my ass. Even though they’ve
ripped my heart out, I still love them.

I mean, I don’t love Matt the same as I did when I was
in
love with him. But I do still care about him. Though I so wish I didn’t
care at all. Oh, how I wish I didn’t.

I suppose that’s just not how everyday love works.

The shitty thing about love? It only lasts if it’s true on
both
sides. One-sided love can never withstand the rigors of life—or a best friend
on the prowl.

Tears sting the backs of my eyes and my chest tightens.

An oddly high-pitched version of
Joy to the World
plays somewhere outside, pulling me back from the brink of an emotional break.
I shake myself out of my own head.

Haven’t had a breakdown in three or four months. I’m
not
having one today.

I let myself outside to see what the wretched music is all
about. When I get to the end of my driveway, a big boxy truck rounds the
corner. On its rooftop, a speaker disguised as a giant ice cream cone pumps out
crackly music.

The Pied Piper pulls over at the curb across from Adam’s
house.

I step inside and grab my wallet.

When I come back outside, there’s a small horde of
neighborhood kids vying to be noticed by the lady in the side window of the
truck.

Adam meets me at the end of his front walk. “I haven’t seen
one of these trucks since I was a kid.”

I shrug.

No need to get excited. He didn’t come outside to see me. He
just wants what
all
the boys want—sugared cream.

I’m just another
pussy
to him.

“How’s the writing? Did we loosen up those words for you?”

I avoid meeting his eyes. “Not a bit.”

A smaller kid steps up to the window, but a couple of bigger
boys push him aside and rush in to take his place, laughing as his knees hit
the concrete.

Those little shits.

I grit my teeth and move toward the truck. Adam gets to them
first.

He leans so he’s face to face with the two bullies.

“Now, boys, I know how much you want to buy your friend here
some ice cream.” Adam nods to the kid brushing his knees off from where he fell
to the ground. “But let’s let him do it for himself. All right?”

The boys’ eyes widen as they nod and step aside. The little
boy steps to the window. He looks over his shoulder to Adam, his smile timid.

Then he turns to the lady. “I-I wa-want a choc-chocolate
bomb. P-p-please.”

The older kids giggle at the stuttering boy. Adam sends them
a hard look and clears his throat.

“I’ve got his.” He steps in behind the little boy. “And hers
too.”

I wave my wallet at the lady in the truck. “Oh, no. I’ve got
mine.”

The woman hands the boy his chocolate bomb and he runs off,
stopping a few yards away to turn and wave to Adam.

Adam’s smile is enough to melt so much more than my ice
cream.

I turn away before he catches me watching him. “Ice cream
sandwich, please.”

The woman hands me my treat and I pass her the money.

Adam steps in close behind me, his chest hard against my
back. I inch to the left, but he follows.

“I’d have been happy to buy you an ice cream.” His breath
brushes past my ear, sending tingles down my arms and into deeper parts as
well.

I dodge his big hands as they reach for my waist. “Thanks
anyway.”

Adam pays the woman for his lemon chill cup and the boy’s
treat.

We stroll across the street toward his front porch.

He pops open his container and digs in with the tiny plastic
spoon. “I was going to make you breakfast yesterday, but you left in a hurry.”

“Yeah. I needed to get home and feed Chloe. I hadn’t planned
on staying the night.”

I carefully unwrap my ice cream, focusing on it rather than
looking at Adam, who I’m pretty sure is studying me. Is he comparing me to all
those other women he’s had?

He nudges my arm with his elbow. “I’m glad you did.”

Is
he?

The ice cream truck starts up its obnoxious music, and the
engine roars to life.

Be nice. Keep things friendly—gotta live next door to him,
after all.

I say, “You were good with those kids. I wanted to rip them
a new one.”

He gives a one shoulder shrug. “I have a couple of kiddos in
my life, so I know a few things. Kids are a pain in the ass though.”

“Oh? You don’t like kids?” Of course, he doesn’t.