has no fucking clue how lucky she is to have lived twenty-one years without any scars. In this world, it’s a gift to have wide eyes and believe in possibility.
I don’t know if it’s her innocence that draws me to her like a moth to a flame, but I can’t deny that I’m counting down the minutes until I can see her again.
Taste her again.
Fill her up for the first time.
The front door opens, and brings me back to reality. Gina and Chad are back with a six-pack of Coke and a bottle of cheap rum. Fantastic.
“Hey, motherfucker,” Chad says. “Wanna drink?”
I shrug. I was all spun up after the morning photo shoot, and it took nearly fucking a virgin to clear my head. I want to keep it on straight.
Gina struts in, then plops on the couch, picking at her long shellacked nails, nails I know she fucking loves. No matter how tight the money is, she always has enough to sit and get her nails done.
Not that I care. Gina grew up in the school of hard knocks. If shiny red nail polish dulls some of her pain, good.
I just wish I had something I could use to coat over the places she cut into my heart. To seal the wounds. Seeing her makes my skin tighten and my jaw tense. She and I still haven’t dealt with any of our shit. She left my bed one night and went to my brother’s the next.
Does that make me a weak-ass motherfucker? I don’t know. I want to believe it makes me strong—because, dammit I don’t want to push her, when I know how far she’s come to the edge, and how many times I’ve had to pull her back up to the land of the living.
I don’t want to destroy her just so I can say my piece. That isn’t what it means to be a man.
At some point, what she and I had was love. Maybe it was childish, love borne from desperate fools clinging to whatever they could find, but we found one another.
That counts for something.
* * *
C had’s pouring rum and Cokes. Gina’s pursing her lips.
The air is thick and I want out.
Gina’s next to me on the couch, in stilettos and skintight pants. Her blazer from this morning is gone, and she’s left with a sheer top with a black bra, hair knotted and tight. Nothing left to the imagination.
I can’t help but compare her to Evie, who wore a dress and flats, who had loose hair and an open heart.
“So what do you guys want?” I ask them, cutting to the chase. Chad hands me a drink, and I know it isn’t a peace offering—but it’s liquor, and that counts for something.
“Gina and I are having drinks tonight with the KMG people, but we have a few hours so we thought the three of us should have a business conversation, bro. Before we meet with the big guy. Make sure we’re all on the same page.”
I scowl. “Who are you meeting with, exactly?”
“Actually, we’re having drinks with the head fucking honcho: Marshal Kendrick himself, at his pad. We were invited, personally.” He looks over at Gina, smiling like they have big plans for tonight.
I fucking want them out of my business.
“He’s the CEO. What do you have to do with him?”
“I’m considering finding more talent. Becoming a scout. Meeting with Marshal Kendrick is a step in the process. I want his endorsement.”
“You want to be a talent scout?” I scoff, shaking my head. Sure, Chad was able to mold me into something profitable, but that doesn’t mean he can replicate it.
Or is that my gut instinct, to cut him down, because of the shit I’m holding against him?
“He’d be good at it,” Gina says, scooting closer to me. Too close for comfort. She smells like my childhood, like memories I want to lay to rest.
Maybe now is my chance to break ties with Chad. Maybe he’s looking for a way to let me go without hurting my fucking feelings.
Though he’s never seemed to consider them before.
Two can play that game.
I look at Gina. “This what you want, Gina? To be with fucking Chad?”
I don’t know why I say it like that. It’s not like I want to be with her, not at all. It just
I don’t know if it’s her innocence that draws me to her like a moth to a flame, but I can’t deny that I’m counting down the minutes until I can see her again.
Taste her again.
Fill her up for the first time.
The front door opens, and brings me back to reality. Gina and Chad are back with a six-pack of Coke and a bottle of cheap rum. Fantastic.
“Hey, motherfucker,” Chad says. “Wanna drink?”
I shrug. I was all spun up after the morning photo shoot, and it took nearly fucking a virgin to clear my head. I want to keep it on straight.
Gina struts in, then plops on the couch, picking at her long shellacked nails, nails I know she fucking loves. No matter how tight the money is, she always has enough to sit and get her nails done.
Not that I care. Gina grew up in the school of hard knocks. If shiny red nail polish dulls some of her pain, good.
I just wish I had something I could use to coat over the places she cut into my heart. To seal the wounds. Seeing her makes my skin tighten and my jaw tense. She and I still haven’t dealt with any of our shit. She left my bed one night and went to my brother’s the next.
Does that make me a weak-ass motherfucker? I don’t know. I want to believe it makes me strong—because, dammit I don’t want to push her, when I know how far she’s come to the edge, and how many times I’ve had to pull her back up to the land of the living.
I don’t want to destroy her just so I can say my piece. That isn’t what it means to be a man.
At some point, what she and I had was love. Maybe it was childish, love borne from desperate fools clinging to whatever they could find, but we found one another.
That counts for something.
* * *
C had’s pouring rum and Cokes. Gina’s pursing her lips.
The air is thick and I want out.
Gina’s next to me on the couch, in stilettos and skintight pants. Her blazer from this morning is gone, and she’s left with a sheer top with a black bra, hair knotted and tight. Nothing left to the imagination.
I can’t help but compare her to Evie, who wore a dress and flats, who had loose hair and an open heart.
“So what do you guys want?” I ask them, cutting to the chase. Chad hands me a drink, and I know it isn’t a peace offering—but it’s liquor, and that counts for something.
“Gina and I are having drinks tonight with the KMG people, but we have a few hours so we thought the three of us should have a business conversation, bro. Before we meet with the big guy. Make sure we’re all on the same page.”
I scowl. “Who are you meeting with, exactly?”
“Actually, we’re having drinks with the head fucking honcho: Marshal Kendrick himself, at his pad. We were invited, personally.” He looks over at Gina, smiling like they have big plans for tonight.
I fucking want them out of my business.
“He’s the CEO. What do you have to do with him?”
“I’m considering finding more talent. Becoming a scout. Meeting with Marshal Kendrick is a step in the process. I want his endorsement.”
“You want to be a talent scout?” I scoff, shaking my head. Sure, Chad was able to mold me into something profitable, but that doesn’t mean he can replicate it.
Or is that my gut instinct, to cut him down, because of the shit I’m holding against him?
“He’d be good at it,” Gina says, scooting closer to me. Too close for comfort. She smells like my childhood, like memories I want to lay to rest.
Maybe now is my chance to break ties with Chad. Maybe he’s looking for a way to let me go without hurting my fucking feelings.
Though he’s never seemed to consider them before.
Two can play that game.
I look at Gina. “This what you want, Gina? To be with fucking Chad?”
I don’t know why I say it like that. It’s not like I want to be with her, not at all. It just
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