Tasting, Finding, Keeping: The Story of Never (43 page)

STORY #2: Before Never Became Forever

"Before Never Became Forever" is the longest story in this bonus collection and starts at the same moment "Tasting Never" opens up with Never Ross. Instead, this time we're beginning the journey with Ty McCabe at work at the grocery store and moving onto the bar scene where he first meets the love of his life.

Ty McCabe

Fourteen boxes of condoms sit before me.

I raise my eyes up from the register and try my best to hold in a sharp burst of laughter. First off, the guy behind the counter looks like he'd want to get into it with me. And second? I've got no reason to laugh. Nobody needs fourteen boxes of condoms. Except for maybe me. And that's the saddest part of it all.

“I got a hot date tonight,” the man tells me, tugging at the earring in his left lobe. Hey, I'm a big fan of jewelry – I wear a shit ton of rings and a circle of silver between my nostrils – so it's not like I'm opposed to guys with bling, but this dude? He looks like a fucking pirate on a meth run. I watch him pick at the skin on his face and I'm temporarily grateful that my addiction runs a slightly different path. Just as deadly though. Definitely deadly. Maybe I should follow this weirdo's example and go grab a cartful of love gloves myself? “Gonna screw this bitch all night long.”

I sigh and ring up the purchases as quickly as possible, more than a little doubtful that Captain Black Beard here is going to be able to find a chick to score with – let alone get it up enough to use all of these babies.

“Enjoy the rest of your day,” I say, dropping the last box of condoms into a grocery bag and handing it across the counter. The man leaves, giving me a moment to breathe. The store is relatively empty right now. There's me, a co-worker of mine I know only as 'K-Bird' though I have no fucking clue what it stands for, and a pair of teenage girls giving me goo goo eyes from the feminine hygiene aisle. I do my best to smile at them, but my heart just isn't into it.

I don't
want
to work at a grocery store. I mean, who the hell does? But it sure as shit beats fucking for a living. Ringing up loaves of white bread and boxes of soda is a fuck of a lot more fun than bending over for some guy with a wad of green, or praying to god my dick gets hard enough to fuck a housewife from who-the-hell-cares-where.

“You closing the store tonight?” K-Bird asks. I glance over at him, his arms full of clearance merchandise stamped with orange stickers. I'm fairly certain he steals that shit, but I don't say anything about it. It's not really my place.

I run my fingers through my dark hair and sigh. K-Bird watches me with narrow eyes, his front tooth gleaming silver in the fluorescent light. I still haven't been able to determine if the filling is cosmetic or just poorly executed dentistry. Based on the backwards baseball cap and the tribal tattoos smeared across his pale pale skin, I'd say it was intentional.

“Yeah, I guess.” I tuck my hands into the pockets on the front of my apron and notice how K-Bird's eyes follow them. The butterfly tattoos that decorate my skin aren't everyone's favorite, but that's only because they don't know what they mean. They don't feel that
need
, that desperation, that I have inside of me.
I want to fly.
I just haven't found anything to soar towards. I could really use some inspiration in my life.

“Cool, bro,” K-Bird says with a sniffle. The leer he tosses the teenage girls as they pass really bugs me, but I try not to judge. I'm about ninety percent certain that K-Bird is a virgin. I've worked most of my life as a whore, so I consider myself fairly adept when it comes to sex. K-Bird just strikes me more as a tissues and lotion kind of a guy than a Casanova. “You want to like, party after this or whatever?”

I take a moment to pull my cell out of my apron, glancing over my shoulder to make sure none of the managers is around to see me using it. I'm praying for an excuse to blow K-Bird off, and thankfully, I've got a text waiting for me that manages to do just that.

Hey Ty. It's Korina. You want to meet up with me and some friends for drinks and pool tonight? I know a good spot. I can text you the addy.

I shoot off a quick response, holding back a sigh of relief. Much as I'd like to scope out chicks with K-Bird, I think I'd rather hang with Korina. She's another one of my co-workers and while I don't know her all that well, she seems nice. Plus, I get along better with women than with men. And the fact that Korina's gay? It means I can't sleep with her. It's like the perfect storm.

“Sorry, man, but I've got plans.” I shrug and smile tightly. K-Bird nods, flips me some sort of hand symbol that I think means
cool story, bro
and walks away, pants hanging halfway down his ass. My eyes drift to the clock above the front entrances. Just a few more hours. A few more hours and I can get some drinks, maybe find a girl to chase away my troubles? I'm not looking for anything permanent, but I need someone to hold, someone to take me away from myself and all of the broken memories that crowd my mind and threaten to shatter me like glass. Do I like feeling this way? Fuck no. But I've spent most of my life using sex as a weapon, a job skill, an excuse. I don't know how to stop.

Maybe it's too late for me to even try?

Ty McCabe

I put on a black T-shirt and some low cut jeans – nothing fancy, just enough to grab the attention of the fairer sex. The whole time I'm getting dressed, kicking aside piles of dirty clothes on my floor, searching desperately for the hair gel I just know is somewhere in my fucking bathroom, I feel guilty. I feel guilty because I'm doing all of this to grab a heart, crush it against my soul and toss it away like garbage. I don't mean to do it, but that's how it is. I wish I were the kind of guy who could court a girl the old fashioned way, you know? I
want
to love, but I just don't know how. I'm not sure that anyone has ever loved me before. Okay, maybe that's not true. My grandma did. She really, really did, but now she's dead and there's nothing I can do about it.

I sigh and slam my hands onto the bathroom counter.

Dark eyes stare back at me, framed perfectly above a smirk that's meant to deceive. It's there to say
I want you
when all I'm really feeling is
please save me.
Help me. Rescue me. Take me home. I drop my gaze and close my eyes. I've come a long way, really, I have. Yeah, my demons still haunt me and my heart is still as fragile as blown glass, but I'm different now than I was. Stronger. I'm not screwing people for money; I've got a real fucking job. I'm not living with a trick or on the street. I have my own apartment. That's progress. Real motherfucking progress, and I don't care what anyone else has to say.

I could make tonight different. I could forget about finding someone to fuck away my worries and my nightmares. I could try something
new
. The thought alone is about enough to give me a friggin' heart attack, but I like the idea of it. I like the premise.

“Doesn't hurt to try,” I whisper into the empty apartment, my heart beating frantically inside my chest. If I weren't such a badass, I might cry. I smile and look up again. In the mirror, Tyson McCabe stares back at me. We don't know each other all that well, me and him, but I think deep down he's a good guy. “Don't be a pussy. Reach in those tight ass pants of yours and find your balls. Ask a girl to dance.”

I take a deep breath and step back, fully aware that I'm bullshitting myself. People don't change overnight. Miracles never happen.

Or at least I don't think they do.

Ty McCabe

I hit the bar fashionably late, happy to see that the place is small and intimate, if a little seedy. But that's what makes a bar, a bar, right?

“Ty.” Korina approaches and does this weird
kiss-kiss
thing against my cheeks. She's into this weird phase where she's constantly obsessing about
Europe,
like it's not a whole continent but a single country where everyone is fashionable and perfect. I don't know where the double kiss comes from, but I'm sure it's just something she's seen in a movie or read in a book. Korina's like me – come from nowhere and going nowhere. “You're late, as usual.” She gives me a tight smile that I don't even bother to try and pick apart. I can't handle anybody else's problems, but my own. That's why I don't have friends, not really. The people standing around this pool table, slapping me on the shoulder, grinning big, inviting me into their game, they don't really care about me and I don't care about them. Any one of us could disappear and I doubt the rest would notice. But that's okay. I'm alright with that.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Korina asks as I study the pool table and the colorful balls glowing in the dim lighting.

“Just a beer, you know. Whatever.” I give her a tight-lipped smile of my own and tuck my hands into the pockets of my jeans. The conversation I had with myself earlier comes flooding back as I lift my head and scan the room, looking for girls. The pickings are pretty slim tonight which is surprising since this bar is one of the big college hot spots.

I smirk and shake my head. Maybe it's a good thing there are no possible prospects here tonight? I'm in a weird mood. I do strange things when I get like this. Maybe I really would've asked a girl to dance? And then what?

I snort and Korina's friend, Darwin, gives me a skeptical look. He's wearing twice the eyeliner I am – oh, and a shirt that says
I Only Troll Poles.
Huh. Take what you want from that. I smile at him, a light twitch of lips that says nothing about how I really feel.

“Count me in for the next game.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a twenty I can't really afford, waving it around with a wink and dropping it onto the side of the table. I always lose in pool, but who cares. Consider it a ticket to a good time, a slice of space in my lonely life where I can pretend I'm not all by myself in this world.

“Here's your beer,” Korina says, handing me a questionably clean cup overflowing with cheap frothy alcohol. I take a sip and try not to cringe. Ugh. I set the drink down on a nearby table, trying to keep my arm from brushing the sticky surface of the wood. “Winner buys both?” she asks, raising her own glass with a smile on her pink painted lips. I nod, even though I know I'm going to lose, and lean back against the railing.

I take a deep breath of the heavy air and consider heading outside for a cigarette. You'd think I could smoke in here, at the very least, in this den of inequities, but nope. I gotta step outside for a smoke and it is butt fuck cold out there. I decide to stay right where I am, watching the game, laughing at the jokes that flutter from the mouths of the people around me like butterflies. Unconsciously, I run my ringed hand up my left arm, feeling my tattoos whispering across my skin like they're alive. Each time I got a new one, I promised myself that I would fly. That this was it, my time to move on and figure out what the hell I'm doing here on this earth.

Eh, guess that kind of sentiment is all mixed up with purple puppy dogs and rainbow shitting kittens. It's not real. Not in this universe.

I pause, a sensation tingling up my spine like fire. My body tenses and I swear to God, I can just
feel
it. Eyes. On my back. I think at first that I'm imagining it and try to pay attention to the ongoing conversation around me. I'm not sure what they're talking about anymore, but Korina is smiling and gesturing at the green silk halter top she's wearing
without
a bra. We're back to her faux, fantastical version of
Europe
again. Hmm.

My curiosity gets the better of me and I glance over my shoulder. I only intend to look, but holy shit. I find my entire body follows my head until I'm staring at a vision in red.

Oh fuck.

I have a physical reaction that fires up more than just my dick. Who the hell is this? Before I even realize what I'm doing, I've got a smirk crawling across my face and I'm starting across the bar towards her. The girl's attention is focused fully on me and in her eyes, I see something that interests me.
More than just a pretty face, huh, Ty?

I pause, maybe a little too close, but I can't seem to control my forward motion until I feel the heat of her body. I come to a stop inside her personal space, letting my gaze take in the heavy coat on her shoulders and the skintight red dress underneath. Hazel eyes peer back at me and I can't help myself.

“Hi, I'm Ty.” My voice oozes out in a horrific display of flirting. I'm laying it on way too thick. The girl's already interested. No need for me to jump her the second she walks in the door.
But those eyes, that hair, that fucking
dress.

“I'm Never,” she says, and I can feel my lips start to curve into a smile. “Never is my first name. I don't give out my last name to strangers.” I stifle a laugh and reach out, taking a strand of her hair between my fingers. It's dyed black with a rebellious red streak in it. And it's soft, oh so soft. I'm worried for a second there that she's going to slap my hand away – not that I'd blame her for it. I'm usually more subtle than this. I feel my body react to hers from my head down to my fucking toes. My muscles tense slightly and I find myself swallowing more than I should, running my tongue over my lower lip.

Another girl to add to the list of blank faces and forgotten names, huh, Ty?

I hesitate a moment and consider walking away. I should walk away. I'm trying to change, really I am, but it is so fucking hard. My hands are cracked and dry, my fingernails rough, and they look ridiculous against the silken perfection of Never's hair.
Never.
An unusual name, but I like it.

Time seems to still in that moment, like the hand of the clock is watching us, waiting to see where we take this thing. Where
I
take this thing. In Never's face, I recognize echoes of my own pain.

I decide to take a chance.

“Do you want to dance, Never?”

I feel the words fall from my lips like drops of rainwater, crashing to the floor in a puddle at her feet. I'd never tell anyone this, but in that second, my words are not a pick-up line, a phrase to weasel my way into her bed. Really, they're not. It might seem that way, but I can swear it isn't true.

“This is a bar, not a club.” Never looks away from me and fiddles around inside her coat, emerging with a piece of gum. Her reaction deflates some of that strange mystery brewing inside of me.
Damn.
If she'd only said yes. God, if she'd only said yes. “You can buy me a drink though.”

Disappointment snakes through me, hot and fast, almost as rapidly as the desire I felt when my eyes first fell on her face. How stupid am I? A sad smile eats at my lips. See what I mean? Fantasy and feelings and optimism. It's all part of a massive charade, a conspiracy against the human spirit. I open my mouth and let the hurt fall out of my lips.

“Are you sure you're legal?” Maybe she's not, maybe she is, doesn't really matter.

“Cute. I bet you say that to all the girls.” Never drops her jacket down her shoulders, flashing me smooth skin and a slight sprinkle of freckles. If I said I didn't want my mouth on them, my tongue teasing a path along that perfectly imperfect flesh, I'd be a fucking liar. Unconsciously, I find my gaze drawn down to Never's chest and the gentle swell of cleavage peeking above the fabric of her red dress.

“Maybe you're right?” I ask, dropping her hair and taking a step back. There are a few ways I could take this. Obviously this girl wants me. In her eyes, I see the same pain that I'm nursing inside of myself reflected back at me. A broken heart winks at me from those hazel eyes, cutting deep into my chest.
I could use her, like I always do. I could bury my pain inside of her and go, walk away, steal a slice of relief in the painful stretch of my existence. For a second, a few moments, maybe even an hour, I'll feel like a person again and not like a walking, talking disaster of a human soul.

But I told myself I'd try tonight, that I'd tilt my head to the side and look at things different, see the world crooked. Lookin' straight ahead hasn't done me any good. I keep my lips twisted into a semblance of an actual smile.

“Are you jealous?”

I see a look flash in Never's eyes. She's done with me now. She came here for the same reason I did: to find someone to indulge my addiction, help me hide the pain that's so embedded into my soul that it's no longer just an emotion but now a part of who I am. An intrinsic mark, tattooed on my spirit the same way butterflies are tattooed on my flesh.

“Hardly.” Never tries to move forward, sweep past me and end this encounter before it even really gets started. For some reason, I decide to fight. Not very hard, not yet. I don't exactly know what it is I'm fighting for, but I will. Someday soon, I really, really will.

“Want to go somewhere else, somewhere we can dance?” The words come without my prompting. I don't even
think
about them. They're just there, sitting in the open air, curling around our heads like smoke. I guess Never isn't feeling what I'm feeling. She stares at me, wondering maybe if I'm serious or if I'm just fucking with her. After a second of silence, something shifts in her eyes.

“We can go somewhere else,” she says to me, stepping forward and rising to her toes. Her fingers press against my chest, warming me in more ways than one. I definitely want this girl. Oh, God, baby, maybe I
need
this girl to stay sane, but it's not right. It's not right what I do with these women, the way I treat them. A one night stand is different from what I do. I take. Too much. I take their desires, their heartbeats, their breaths and I steal them away. In exchange I leave nothing but rot. Fuck, man. Deep down inside of me I'm nothing but mold and frigging mildew.

Never's lips press against my jaw, cutting through me with a surge of heat that I want to indulge, take advantage of, conquer.

“But I don't want to dance.”

I look down at her and smile. It's a real smile this time. I can feel it in the muscles of my face, muscles that are underworked. They feel stiff, like maybe I haven't smiled this way in years. Too bad it's a sad smile, a goodbye smile.
Sorry, Never, but I just can't. Not tonight.

“No,” I say, shutting down, pulling back, letting this girl go. I feel like I'm doing her a favor, but from the set of her face, the tightness of her shoulders, I don't think she sees it that way. “But that's alright. Enjoy your night, okay?”

I turn away and spy Korina eyeing me from the pool table. She raises her drink and wiggles her brows. I hope the
Europe
talk is over and we can get down to the nitty gritty. I have this uneasy feeling in my stomach that I don't much feel like nursin'. A few sips of my beer, some idle prattle with my friends who aren't really friends at all, that'll make it all better. I can go home tonight
by myself
and just take it easy.

“Yeah, that's alright,” Never says from behind me. I can hear the anger in her voice, that sting of pain that connects us even at the same time it pulls us apart. I shouldn't go after girls like this, like Never, because we're both so broken, two pieces of ragged glass ready to cut. I can already see the metaphorical blood splatters on the walls. “Because I don't pay for it anyway.”

“Are you calling me a whore?” I ask as I turn around and shake my head. There are some things I can't deal with. This happens to be one of them. Too close to the truth for comfort. I've been called a whole lot of things in my relatively short life, but this one … man, why'd she have to go there? I feel my fingers curling with anger, but it's not worth it.
She's
not worth it. “You know what,” I tell her as I raise my arms up in surrender. I've been through so much shit in my life that I know when to quit and when to fight. I've been through crap that would turn most people's fucking stomachs. Life isn't always beautiful; sometimes it's rancid, festering even. In fact, I don't know that I've ever even
seen
beauty. Just the absence of it. An empty fucking abyss. “Just forget about it. You're not worth it.”

This girl is gorgeous, obviously full of pain, but I'm the last person on this earth who can help with that. I'm done.

I turn around and walk away. I make it about halfway to the pool table before her words cut through my skull.

“Fuck you!”

I glance back in time to see her burst through the doors of the bar and disappear. There's this slow second, stretched like taffy between my fingers. It curls around me and forces me to hold my breath, to think for the slightest moment that I should go after her. Why? I don't know. This girl's a stranger, a mirror of my own insecurities and fuck-ups. One look at her and I could tell we were demons from the same devil.

I sigh.

“Ty, we're getting started without you!” Korina's voice cuts into my brains, draws my eyes away from the door and away from possibility. I don't think I'm ever going to see Never again.

Thank the fucking Gods that I do.