Erased (12 page)

Later that night, she wakes me with her screaming again. I slip into bed beside her and hold her until she calms down and relaxes back into a deep sleep. I keep her in my arms, looking at her achingly beautiful face, trying to keep the guilt away, until the sun begins to break over the sky. I lay a soft kiss on her forehead before I drag myself out of her bed and go back to my cold, empty sheets.

This morning, when I come down to breakfast, she is once again sitting at the piano, this time playing a soft, somewhat melancholy tune. After listening for a moment, I realize she was playing “Say Something”
by A Great Big World.

When she leans over the keys, her eyes shut as she becomes one with the music, I feel an ache and rub the spot over my chest, trying to dispel the pain. When she finishes the song, she hangs her head and a couple of tears slide down and hit the keys. She looks lost. I have no idea how to find myself, much less her. So I walk back to my office, leaving her alone.

Later that afternoon, she knocks on my door. I call out for her to come in, and when she steps inside, she asks if I want some lunch. I glance up, expecting to see some residual hurt in her eyes, but there is . . . nothing.

To make matters worse, the frat boy shows up again at the bar. I gave her the night off, but without anywhere to go or anything to do, she ends up out in the bar anyway. When I go out to check up on things, she is sitting with him in a booth, laughing. He even dresses like a fucking Ken Doll all the way to down to prissy loafers. Fucking loafers.

My jaw clenches and I call her over. Then she says something to him before walking to me.

“What did I say about that guy, J?” I ask through my teeth, jealousy ripping through my chest.

“Relax, Slade.”
Slade, not Derek.
“For crying out loud, I’m in the bar and Jack and I are having a conversation. It’s not like I’ve snuck out after curfew with the local bad boy.” Her voice holds a little bit of ice, but her eyes are once again blank. I wanted to see some emotion towards me—even if it was anger.

“Jack and Jill? Isn’t that just fucking cute.” My tone drips with sarcasm.

She continues to stare vacantly at me. “Are you finished?”

“For now, Cupcake,” I growl.

She rolls her eyes and makes her way back to the booth, where she speaks again to frat boy and they both laugh.

The bastard comes back the next night. And the night after. Even when she is on shift, he waits around until her breaks and they spend them together.

Laughing.

He comes back every evening this week.

And each night after close, I lie in my bed and wait. Eventually, the screaming starts and I rush over to hold her until she calms down. She never once wakes up, and I grasp her tightly in my arms until the sun begins to crest over the horizon. Then I slip back into my own bed and fall into a restless sleep.

For a week, her expression remains empty when she looks at me. And for a week, she has nothing but smiles for frat boy. This morning when I come to listen to her play the piano, she is playing “Brighter than Sunshine” by Aqualung. Singing about belonging to someone and how it makes things shine. She softly sings the words, swaying with the melody as she plays. A soft smile is on her face, and she continues to absentmindedly tinkle with the keys.

What the fuck?
Who is she singing about? The jealous beast inside me once again rears its ugly head and I stalk off to my office. I know that what I’m about to do is wrong, but I’m consumed with rage. Picking up the phone, I place a call I know will bite me in the ass eventually. At this moment, I don’t care.

I’VE STOPPED CARING. Stopped emailing Dad begging him to let me leave. Stopped trying to get Slade to notice me.

I think I’m depressed. Being depressed is a new concept for me. Sure, I had plenty to be depressed about growing up without a mother and living with an overbearing father. But it was my life. And even though most wouldn’t understand it, I truly did love it.

Now that I’m in this new life, I feel like a prisoner. Slade is the warden and he rules with an iron fist. The only opportunities I’ve had to be me, Joss, are when I’m in front of that old piano downstairs. It’s the only thing that keeps me going every day.

My mind flits to Jack. I’ve spent a lot of time with him over the past week. And even though I can’t truly be myself around him, I enjoy his company. Poor guy wants to know me so badly, and I wish I could give that to him. Instead, I’ve spun lie after lie about my past, upbringing, and plans for my future. He seems to sniff out my lies but never calls me on them. One day, after this all blows over, maybe I’ll come clean to Jack. He can be the new Kent. The old Kent thinks I’m dead, so I can
never
go back to him.

And where does Slade fit in that equation?

I bite my lip as I remember that earth-shattering orgasm he gave to me, which now seems like an eternity ago. We kissed. Touched. Grabbed. Scratched. But when he tasted me, I wasn’t at all prepared. So many times, poor Kent had tried—God love him. I’m pretty sure he’d used the whole “write the ABCs with your tongue” approach. Each time, I pretended as not to break his heart. And with Slade, I’d prepared myself once again.

But Slade broke the rules.

His tongue twisted and twirled to an unknown dance during an unknown song. I nearly died when he slid his finger into me and found someplace deep inside me that longed to be touched. Each flick of his tongue and stroke of his finger pushed me further into a blissful oblivion. Into a place I’d never treaded before. A place I’d never successfully journeyed to—even with my own fingers. It was always so close but seemed miles away.

Slade changed that.

My body responded to his and danced right with him. It knew the song and played its part perfectly. He composed the perfect piece with his tongue and my body performed with perfection. My orgasm was a symphony.

Since that night, I’ve craved more, but it has been pointless. He doesn’t want me. Not even in the least. Nobody wants me except Jack—and I’m not even sure I want him like that. He’d be a great friend. He’d be like Kent. But for some reason, I just know deep down he’d never be able to draw out what Slade was able to do.

With a sigh, I roll out of bed. I need to play like I need air. The melancholy thoughts about my life—or lack thereof—are starting to consume me. But when I push down on those ivory keys, I forget. I get lost in my music and everything else falls by the wayside.

For those brief moments, I’m actually happy.

I’m still in my nightgown and have no desires to change. Slade won’t be there. Ever since the big O night, he’s avoided me as much as humanly possible. Our conversations have been simple and only when necessary.

Quietly, I slip out of my room and brush my teeth before I’m all but bouncing down the stairs. With quick steps, I stride over to my saving grace. My fingers twitch, already eager to play “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.” But as I near the dusty, dark corner of the bar, my heart sinks.

No.

My heart ceases to beat as I frantically search the bar. Tables. Chairs. Walls. Floors.

Nothing.

Tears blur my vision as reality sets in. It’s gone. The piano is fucking gone.

I fall hard to my knees on the wood floors and cry out in pain. Then an unearthly wail rips from my chest as I curse him with every ounce of my being.

He took it away from me.

My shoulders shudder violently as I sob. The pain in my heart is too much to bear.

When I was torn from my life and fucking
erased,
I held my chin high and dealt with it. When I had to answer to another name every single day, I did what was needed for my father. But when I saw that the piano was gone, I lost it.

I’m distracted from my loss when his scent greets me before he does. Placing my palms on the chilly floor, I continue crying, ignoring his presence by smashing my eyes shut.

“J . . .” His voice is tight.
Guilty.

Ragged gasps of air burst in and out of me as I cry. My lip is quivering wildly out of control as the tears soak every surface of my cheeks. At this point, I’m hyperventilating. The room spins when I peek my eyes open, and I become dizzy.

“J . . .” He says it again, but I can’t. I can’t fucking look at him. He won. I am nothing now.

I continue my breakdown when I feel him stroke my hair. It’s too much and I fucking flip out.

“Don’t touch me!” I hiss between sobs. “I hate you!”

He curses under his breath when I swipe at him with my nails bared and dead set on drawing blood. He’s too quick though, grabbing my wrist before I can exact any damage.

“Calm down, little kitten,” he grumbles.

“Let go of me and leave me the hell alone!”

I’m losing it, because when he wraps his arms around me, I let him hold my quivering body even though I hate him with every part of my being. My body sags, the fight gone.

“You’re freezing,” he whispers into my hair.

As if I am just now realizing, I shiver in his arms. But I make no attempts to get up. My body is completely immobilized. I don’t give a shit about anything anymore. Not one shit.

When the tears dry, I find myself staring at the pattern of the wood grain on one of the planks. Slade is saying something, but I can’t be bothered to listen. The wood is just so pretty. I bet that wood doesn’t have a worry in the world. It’s only job is to be sturdy. I’m envious of the wood.

Goodbye wood.

I’m floating.

Across the bar.

Up the stairs.

This is the closest I’ve ever felt to flying. I bet the wood is jealous of my wings. Jealous it has to stay put and be stepped on all day.

Briefly, I see my haggard reflection in a mirror. I grin at it. That woman in the mirror is spooky.

The sound of rain penetrates my thoughts.

Wait.

What the fuck?

Icy water showers down over me and yanks me from a weird place in my mind. I jerk my head to meet the terrified stare of Slade. Why is he scared? I’m the one fucking freezing in the water.

“S-s-so c-c-cold,” I chatter out my words.

He climbs into the shower, completely naked, and turns the knob behind me. The heat instantly replaces the cold and I burst into tears. What is wrong with me?

When his fingers find the bottom of my soaked nightgown, he struggles but finally manages to peel it away from my body. I watch his dark head squat down as he removes my drenched panties. Then both are discarded from the shower. Strong arms pull me to him in a comforting embrace. And as he gently strokes my back under the hot spray of the water, I bury my face into his chest.

His scent is always so addicting. Shamelessly, I inhale him. I may hate him, but I’ll use him right now for this. I need this.

“I’m so sorry, J.”

His apology is heartfelt, but it just causes more tears to spring forth. I break down again and cry like a baby.

We stand for a long time, neither of us moving. My arms stay hanging at my sides while he holds on to me. Finally, when the water grows cold, he shuts it off. I shiver, but he quickly wraps me in a thick towel. Once he’s tied one around his waist, he scoops me into his arms again.