Body Lock
Authors: Kimmie Easley
BODY LOCK
By
Kimmie Easley
Wine Worthy Romance
COPYRIGHT © 2015
Kimmie Easley
Body Lock
Wine Worthy Romance
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
This book contains material protected under the International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means either electronic or mechanical. Including but not limited to, photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
If you received this book from any vendor other than Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, iBooks, or Createspace, please go to one of the vendors listed and purchase the book legally.
DEDICATION
I dedicate Body Lock to the Purple Cobras.
Cover Design: Graphic Expressions by DeLaine Roberts
http://www.drgraphicexpressions.com/
“D
akota, you cannot be serious. No one with the sense God gave a piss ant goes throwing themselves out of a perfectly good airplane.”
I rolled my sea green eyes for the umpteenth time. Megan and I had always been polar opposites. I have light eyes, fair skin, and a head full of strawberry blonde curls. In my opinion, I have too many curves and my size D boobs didn’t match my short frame. Megan was exactly what every girl wished she could look like. Her long, straight, black hair hung down past the middle of her back. Her vibrant, blue eyes danced as she talked, especially since she was a social butterfly, unlike my shy, introverted self. Megan’s beautiful, tan skin was flawless and her make-up was always impeccable. She had so many beauty pageant crowns for winning different Texas titles that her daddy built her a special room just to hold them all.
The bitch was a size-two for God’s sake.
How are we even friends
?
I had wondered that very thought ever since we were ten years old and Megan offered to teach me to ride horses. My father was a self-employed landscaper and worked for the Satterwhite family, of course, only when he had money for the proper equipment. One afternoon, I fell asleep on a hay bale while waiting for my dad to finish a job when Megan came bouncing into the barn, swinging her perfect ponytail and chewing on a wad of pink bubblegum.
Things were never the same after that. And to Megan’s disbelief, I still can’t ride a horse.
We remained best friends all through school. There were times when it looked like the death of our friendship, but we survived. Wounded, but survived. I busted my ass and received full academic scholarships allowing us to roommate together during college. I put my head down and focused. The only thing that mattered in life was my business degree.
All that education and now I’m standing behind a counter as a bank teller.
Yeah, makes about as much sense as jumping out of a plane.
Megan struggled with school. She finally dropped out and went on to cosmetology school. Daddy Satterwhite wasn’t thrilled, but she’s building an impressive client list. She loved all things makeup, hair, and fashion, spending all of her time shopping and playing.
I, however, spent all of my time working or curling up with a good book. If it hadn’t have been for finding myself repulsive in the mirror, I would never have joined a gym.
The place where my life changed forever... twice.
Now, looking at my best friend, I stifled a giggle. “Do you have to be so dramatic?” I tossed a couch pillow at Megan. No matter how different we appeared to be, there was one thing we had in common. We would both drop anything and everything to be there for one another, and that’s exactly what Megan was doing. She had stepped in to play mother hen. She even went so far as to move into my less than stellar apartment. And trust me when I say it was a true testament to her love for me, because the shabby apartment was nowhere near Megan Satterwhite approved.
“Dammit, D. I’m not being dramatic. I’m a hell of a lot crazier than you are and you would never catch me throwing my fine ass out of a plane. There’s no way I’m going to let you kill yourself.” Megan defiantly planted her hands on her hips.
“Aw, that’s so cute. But you have no say in the matter.” I playfully pinched my friend’s bronze cheeks.
“This is bullshit! You’re eventually going to get hurt, and I won’t be there to help pick up the pieces.”
I offered a weak smile. “Yes, you will. You love me too much, and you know it.”
Megan was only halfway joking. She had made it very clear lately that she didn’t agree with my newfound love as an adrenaline junkie.
Maybe getting hurt wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
***
“A
re you fucking kidding me?” Megan came barreling through the curtain acting as a partition and glowered at me. “The hospital? You gave me a fucking heart attack! Are you happy now?”
I tried not to laugh, but the way she was waving her tan arms in the air made me chuckle. But I was thankful that Megan’s reaction wasn’t as bad as I had imagined it to be.
“It’s no big deal. I twisted my foot on the landing,” I attempted to appease my over protective friend.
“I don’t give a rat’s ass if you’re here because you swallowed a damn bug on the way down! It doesn’t change the fact that you’re in the damn hospital!”
I propped myself up, ignoring the mounting pain jarring through my foot and up my leg. “Are you going to get me out of here or do I have to call a cab?” I shoved myself up from the gurney and hobbled across the room. I tried not to show the pain on my face, but the searing jab from the slightest movement was intense. Heat rushed through my belly. I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out.
I heard a defeated sigh. Megan couldn’t help herself. It wasn’t that she was the nurturing type; she just had a soft spot for me. Her charity case. She came over and helped me slip my sock over my foot, which now resembled a fairly large eggplant.
The car ride home was more torturous than jumping out of the damn plane. Once we managed to get me up the four flights of stairs, Megan insisted on tucking me into bed. She handed me a glass of water to wash down the horse sized pain meds the doctor had prescribed.
Scared they would numb the pain and cause me to forget, I slipped the pills under my tongue, waiting to toss them in the trash.
I can’t allow myself to forget.
“H
ow’s the foot?” Megan sashayed across the kitchen, pouring herself a generous cup of steaming hot coffee. Her long, straight hair fanned out across her slender back, once again making me self-conscious. I tucked the stray strands of curls back into my unkempt bun.
I had never been one to be comfortable in my own skin and Megan made me feel like a pigeon among peacocks.
“It’s been almost a week. You can stop worrying about it, Momma Megan. I’m fine, look.” I hopped off the kitchen stool and danced around the room. My ankle throbbed from the abrupt movement, but I bit down, clenched my jaw, and grinned.
Pain was quickly becoming my driving force. Without it, I would probably be lying in my bed, with the covers pulled up over my head, withering away.
Megan pouted, sticking out her bottom lip. “When did you become such a smartass?”
I blew her a kiss, causing her to roll her eyes.
“Fine,” Megan continued. “What’s on the agenda for today?”
I debated whether or not to divulge my plans. There was no doubt that she would be pissed. Not that I was going to change my mind.
“Well, funny you should ask.” I tried to be coy, which never worked with Megan. She could see right through me, always had, ever since the time I tried to lie and say I didn’t have a crush on Bobby Wheeler. Who was I kidding? Everyone had a crush on Bobby Wheeler.
Megan caught wind of my not so sly comment and spun around on her heel. She tapped her perfectly manicured nails against the kitchen counter.
“I’m heading downtown.”
“By yourself? That’s insane, especially on a Saturday. Why don’t you just wait until I finish up my appointments and I’ll drive you? I have that songwriter’s event, but I can be done before six or seven. Where’re we headed?” She nonchalantly checked her reflection in the tiny magnet mirror on the refrigerator, as if she had just made a decision and I was to follow along like a whipped puppy.
Instead of being worried what she might think, Megan’s flippant attitude only pissed me off.
“Yeah, I don’t think this is your kind of place.”
That really caught her attention. “What the hell are you up to, Dakota?”
I attempted to busy myself by snatching up my cereal bowl before wiping down the counter. Not that it helped. There she stood, staring, with her doe eyes boring a hole through me.
“Fine. I’m going to Sharky’s Pawn Shop. I’m going to buy a gun.”
I gripped the chair in front me and waited for the hammer to drop. Instead, Megan looked point blank at me and drew her lips into a hard line.
“Like hell you are.” The stone expression on her face never changed as the words escaped through her clenched teeth.
“Look, I don’t want to get into this with you. I know how you feel. I
always
know how you feel. Let’s just skip the big argument.” My chest heaved from the quick breaths. The anxiety was kicking in. I didn’t have it in me for another knock down drag out.
“Dammit, Dakota. Don’t walk away from me.” Megan followed me to my room where I tried to shut the door, but she was too quick. “What the hell has gotten into you?”
My breakfast sloshed around in my stomach. “Nothing has gotten into me. Why does everything have to be a fucking fight with you lately?” My insides were twisted in knots.
“You know why. And you’re not bringing a gun into this apartment.”
“I am a grown ass adult. You’re not my mother. Besides, this is
my
apartment. If you don’t like how I live, go find yourself another place to live.”
I instantly regretted the words. Megan’s head snapped back as if I had just slapped her across the face.
“Come on, Megan. You know I didn’t mean that. I just want to able to live my own life. I’ve been doing it for a long time now. You have to trust me.”
I noticed the glint in her eyes soften, the anger fading to hurt. Thinking about it made my chest tighten. She crossed the tiny living room and grabbed her shoulder bag without saying a word.
I really screwed up this time. Megan was the only person in the entire world who gave two shits about me. The left over emotions from the encounter flooded my head as anxiety crept from deep in my gut.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
I’ve been masquerading through life for eight months now. The angst is exhausting. I’m tired. I thought it would get easier being without him, but instead I feel as if I’m suffocating. I can’t seem to get enough air and my heart is shriveling up in my chest.
I want him back. I want to touch him, to feel my skin on his, to feel the brush of his lips across mine as he leaves for work in the morning.
I want him to back.
I stripped away his old t-shirt, the one I never sleep without, and started the hot water for the shower. The water was steaming, and more importantly, pain inducing. I stood in front the medicine cabinet, staring at myself. My haggard face was pale, more so than usual. There were enough pills on the other side of that mirror to end my misery in a matter of seconds. I must have considered the possibility a hundred different times since he’s been gone. But in all that time, I’ve never been able to pull the proverbial trigger.
I stepped into the shower, ignoring the harsh sting of the scalding water, allowing it to pebble off my face. The saltiness of my tears nipped at my sensitive flesh. It was the only time I allowed myself the indulgence of a release. I have a horrible habit of holding everything in just to make others more comfortable.
I just want him back.
***
A
fter beating myself up all day over the fight with Megan, there was no way I could go get the gun. Not yet anyway. Megan was right; I wasn’t in the right frame of mind. I scrubbed every inch of the apartment, minus Megan’s room. I even tried to take a nap, but I was still a bustling ball of energy.
I can’t handle being alone. The walls felt as if they were closing in and my throat tightened, as if a vice was squeezing off my air supply. With shaking hands, I grabbed my wallet and rushed out the door, gasping for fresh air as I all but fell down the four flights of stairs.