Flesh: Part Sixteen (The Flesh Series Book 16)

Flesh

Part Sixteen

SKY CORGAN

Text copyright 2015 by Sky Corgan.

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CHAPTER ONE

“Amy, wait!” My name is a choked sob on Janice's lips.

I want to be deaf to it. I pretend to be deaf to it, opening my closet to find my suitcase. I can't stay in this apartment any longer, not knowing what I know now. Being ignorant was blissful, though there was always the slightest hint of suspicion in the back of my mind.

There aren't many Doms at Flesh. Common sense should have told me that Janice would end up with Lucian. The part of me that truly believed she cared for me as a friend, and that he loved me, tried to pretend that there was no way possible they would do this to me. It was wishful thinking though. Reality is cruel. Everything has been cruel in my world lately. Why should this be any different?

Curse words linger on the tip of my tongue. I want to tell Janice to fuck off, but I remain silent. The goal is to be bigger than her right now. Bigger than both of them. I will gather my things and leave and never speak to either one of them again. That's the best way to handle this.

“We didn't do anything.” Janice leans against the door frame of my bedroom, tears streaming down her face in torrents.

Oh, you didn't? Really? Those marks on your body tell me otherwise
.

I'd love to take my time packing, but desperation is getting the best of me. I know Janice isn't going to leave me alone. She's going to trail behind me like a puppy, crying and whining and begging for me to forgive her. Silence is the best punishment. Well, next to my permanent absence from her life.

“
We didn't kiss. He didn't touch me. We just did the scene together.” She boldly takes a step into my room, standing between me and my dresser. I push past her, practically knocking her over before opening my top dresser drawer, grabbing two fistfuls of bras and underwear and returning to messily shove them into my suitcase. “You have to believe me. I knew it was wrong, but...”

But what? You wanted him so badly that you stopped caring. Pft. I know how that is. He's charming. He gets what he wants. Always. You two have secretly lusted after each other from the first time you met. Be happy. Now you can have each other. I won't be in the way anymore.

I close my suitcase, realizing that I'm leaving behind over half a dozen things that I need. I don't care anymore though. I have to get out of here before I snap. That point is so close. I feel like a rubber band wound too tightly. It's only a matter of time before I break and destroy everything around me.

I don't even bother changing my clothes. I simply slip on a pair of flip flops, grab my suitcase and my keys, and head for the door. I'll come back to get the rest of my stuff later after I've had time to cool off, whenever I know that Janice won't be home.

“Please, Amy, don't leave.” Janice clutches at my arm, but I jerk it away from her. “I never meant to hurt you.”

The tension in my jaw has built to an insurmountable level by the time I reach the front door. I've been clenching my teeth so tightly that I'm surprised they haven't shattered. My mind is screaming for me to keep my mouth shut. She wants me to break my silence. If I do, I feel like she'll win in some way. I can't help it though.

I turn to her, hatred plastered across my face like a dark mask. “You did hurt me though. You hurt me on a level I never knew I could be hurt, and I will
never
forgive you for it.”

***

My strength fades by the time I pull out of the apartment complex parking lot, tires screeching. I'm a mess of wracking sobs all the way to my parents' house. My heart feels broken beyond repair. It's a different feeling than anything that Lucian has put me through before. The pain is on multiple levels like my heart was made of layers of glass and someone took a hammer to each one individually. I've lost the man I love and my best friend in one night. It feels like there's not much left to lose. All I have now are work and Derrick and my parents. And things at work are shaky at best.

I know I won't feel well enough to go in to work tomorrow. Hopefully, it won't matter. It's not like there's going to be anything for me to do anyway. Tyra will likely still be upset about Lucian ending his interior design contract, but I don't know if that will make it better or worse that I don't show. I'm not sure it really matters right now. I doubt I'll get fired, so I'll deal with whatever consequences calling in causes when the time comes. There's no point in me going to work if I'm just going to be a sniffling, blubbering mess all day. And I definitely would be. Lucian has officially filled his 'make Amy cry quota' for the week, as Derrick would call it. He's filled it for the last time. Topped it off to the max by fucking around with Janice. Good God, I hate them both.

My mother greets me at the door with an embrace. I cry and cry and cry. Even though she keeps asking what's wrong, I can't respond. I'm too tired to talk about it right now.

“Not tonight,” I say weakly as I pull away from her. “I just want to go to bed and forget about today.”

Thankfully, she doesn't pry. My mother is good like that, knowing when not to push me. Besides, it's getting late. My father has already gone to bed. This isn't something worth having a family discussion over.

She follows me to my old bedroom—which was converted into a guest bedroom after I first moved out—kisses me on the forehead, and leaves me alone with my demons. For a few seconds, I just stand in the doorway, looking around, wondering how things went so wrong. It's Lucian fault, of course. Or maybe it's Janice's. If I never met Lucian, none of this would have happened. But if Janice hadn't gotten me into the lifestyle, I never would have met him in the first place.

They definitely belong together, I think with a heavy sigh before closing the door behind me, setting my suitcase down, kicking off my flip flops and crawling into bed. The scent of the sheets is comforting. It smells like home. But nothing will soothe the aching in my heart. Perhaps now I'm just as damaged as Lucian is, never to be healed again. It's a disconcerting thought and one that makes me cry late into the night.

The next morning, I wake up and call in to work. Both of my parents have jobs, so I have the house all to myself. I sit in front of the television, eating a brand of cereal that's practically tasteless, and I stew. Somehow, during the night, my sorrow turned into resentment. Well, to be truthful, I resented Janice and Lucian the moment I found out they had been together. But I feel like they're both getting off easy. Lucian more so than Janice.

The sense of injustice is overwhelming. He messed up my friendships, threatened my job, and broke my heart. Calmly disappearing and letting him get away with all of it just seems wrong. That thought is amplified by watching a whole lot of Lifetime Movie Network. I'll never understand why a channel for women has a whole bunch of shows with women getting cheated on, beaten, murdered, and raped. Where's the justice in the world? How can men get away with so much, yet women can't even seem to grow a backbone most of the time without facing some type of backlash because of it? The thought makes me seethe. Even worse, it makes me plot.

Lucian is at work right now. It would be the perfect time to...what? Break into his house and destroy his precious dungeon. That sounds absolutely lovely. I know he has thousands of dollars worth of equipment in there. But this isn't worth going to jail over. And I know his home has a security system. All I'd probably have to do is tap on one of the windows and cops would be at his door in less than fifteen minutes. It's always a big deal when someone breaks into a rich guy's house.

Mark that thought off of my list of possibilities for vengeance.

Lucian said he drives himself to work most days. I could go to his practice, find the nicest car in the parking lot, and go to town on it with a baseball bat. That wouldn't take me anywhere near as long. But I have no idea what he drives, and with my luck, I'd end up accidentally targeting some celebrities car and still go to jail.

Not a good idea either.

I slump against the sofa, screwing my face at the television. If only this stuff was as easy as they make it look in the movies. Why does getting revenge have to be so difficult? All I want is a little bit of retribution for my pain and suffering, but I don't want to have to deal with the consequences of it. Is that so much to ask for?

The show I'm watching cuts to commercials. I stare at the television blankly, internally pouting at the realization that there's absolutely nothing I can do to get back at Lucian. He's won, as he always does. Fucking asshole.

But then a commercial for Home Depot flashes across the screen. I'm so lost in thought that I practically miss it. Apparently, my mind is still processing the images though, because they're running a special on a certain product, and the second that I see it, a light bulb instantly goes off inside of my head. I now know what I'm going to do. I know how I'm going to get revenge against Lucian.

CHAPTER TWO

It's funny how quickly my mood can shift. One minute, I'm giddily filling up a shopping cart with cans of spray paint. The next minute, my palms are sweating profusely and I'm second guessing my plan as I pull into Lucian's driveway.

This is a bad idea. A really bad idea.

That's the good girl inside of me talking, the one who has always played by the rules. Well, this is what playing by the rules has gotten me, a broken heart and a damaged friendship. That girl is the one who got me into this mess in the first place, chasing the idea of a perfect romance with the wrong man.

You deserve this. Sure, he probably has video surveillance so he'll know it's you, but I highly doubt he'll turn you in for it. And even if he doesn't have video surveillance, he'll still know it's you. That's all that matters in the end, I think. The mess will be easy enough for him to clean up, but at least he'll get the message.

I jump my car up onto the curb, making sure to run over some of his landscaping and give myself room for what I want to do. From the second that I arrive, my eyes are glued on the front door of Lucian's house. The paranoid part of me is worried that he'll walk outside and shoo me away. Then this would have all been pointless. The reasonable side of me though knows he's at work. I came here to do this, and I'm going to do it, but not without some internal coaxing.

I take a deep breath and kill the engine before quickly leaning over to grab two cans of spray paint from the plastic bag on my passenger's seat. Even though Lucian lives at the end of a cul-de-sac that hardly anyone ever drives down, I need to do this quickly. I want to do this quickly. My heart feels like it might burst free from my chest, the adrenaline is running through me so strong.

I pop the tops off of both cans, then force my car door open and step outside, taking one final look at the house before heading to the driveway. I shake one of the cans, listening to the clicking sound that it makes. I'm so nervous that I feel like I might choke. My brain is screaming at me not to do it, but my body doesn't listen. I bend over and start spraying the word 'MANWHORE' in letters big enough so that they could be seen from space.

By the time I'm done, a lot of the jitters have worn off. Realizing that I'm not going to get caught gives me more confidence. I straighten myself and suck in a deep breath of victory, my eyes dancing around the front of his property, picking out other targets to vandalize.

I'll spray paint the front of his house, and then I'll do his lawn and trees if I have paint left. He'll come home to a nice big mess that blatantly screams 'I hate your fucking guts.' Then perhaps I can feel like I've won for once. At least this is making me happy at the moment. That's all that matters for now. One sliver of happiness in my otherwise miserable day.

I toss the empty cans in my car and take out new ones, walking to the front of his house to spray paint 'Dr. Douche Bag' across it. I was going to write out the word Doctor, but I don't think there will be enough room if I want people to be able to see it from the road.

I'm gleefully putting the loop on the 'e' when something walks into my peripheral vision.

“Amy?”

The voice makes me cringe, and my body instantly goes into flight mode. I toss the spray paint cans into the shrubbery and start running, then I curse myself at the realization that I just left evidence behind. It's too late to go back though. If I try to retrieve the cans, Lucian will catch me for sure. What in the hell is he doing home on a weekday?

The adrenaline pumping through my body doubles. I know that Lucian runs for exercise, so he's very capable of catching me. By some miracle, he's too confused to give chase. Instead of coming after me, he rounds the corner of the house to look at what I've done, which gives me the chance to get to my car.

I fumble with my keys, dropping them.

“Shit,” I squeak, splaying my fingers on the ground to find them faster.

I glance up, but Lucian isn't coming towards me. He's reading what I've written across the wall with a scowl on his face. Maybe I'll be able to get away after all, not that that guarantees he won't call the police.

I manage to locate my keys and get into my car. I don't even bother buckling up before jamming the key into the ignition, turning it, and putting my car in drive. When I look up, Lucian is finally walking towards me. He seems absolutely pissed. If I wasn't so afraid of getting in trouble, I might feel happy. As it is, the situation is way too awkward for me to glean any joy from it.

I step on the gas, peeling out, my tires kicking up grass as they struggle for traction. My car flies by Lucian, and I can hear him calling my name. I look back for a fraction of a second, wanting to savor his displeased expression. He's not giving chase, just standing there with his arm outstretched and a remote in his hand.

I turn my head back around a moment too late. A line of road spikes is coming up from the ground at the edge of his driveway. I slam on the breaks, knowing that I won't make it over them in time. My car wheels screech and the smell of burning rubber fills the air, the sudden abrupt stop throwing my torso forward against the steering wheel. I brace myself and pray, but I was going way too fast. The sound of my front tires exploding instantly draws tears to my eyes.

I can't win. I can never win with him. All I wanted was to cause him a tiny inconvenience to make myself feel better. Now I'm stuck in his driveway with blown tires and a pretty good chance that I'll be going to jail.

I quickly lock the car doors, and then I hug the steering wheel and sob against it, feeling defeated for the millionth time. There's nothing left to do but wait until the cops get here. I'll take my punishment like an adult.

There's a knock on the window, and I can hear Lucian calling my name, but I don't look up
.
“
Amy, are you alright? Amy, open the door so I can take a look at you. I thought you'd be able to stop in time.”

Why does he sound so considerate? It pisses me off. He should be yelling at me for spray painting his house, not trying to play doctor.

“Amy, open the door.” I feel the car shake as he tries to open the door.

I just want him to go away, but I don't want to say it. I don't want to say anything to him. I don't feel like I owe him anything, including acknowledgment of his presence.

By some miracle, he eventually walks away. Maybe that's not such a miracle because I'm pretty sure it means he went to call the police. Whatever the case, I'm happy that he's gone.

I lift my head slowly, like a turtle emerging from its shell. Lucian is taking long strides toward his house. I sigh and lean back, placing my hand against my chest to help calm the beating of my heart. This is all too much for me. I should have listened to that little voice inside of my head that told me this was a bad idea. My luck is way too shitty to have a moment of justice.

Now what am I going to do?

Most criminals would make a run for it right now. Lucian isn't around, and the cops aren't here yet. I could get out of my car and take off, but where would I go? Nowhere that I wouldn't get caught. I'd call a taxi to pick me up, but I'm pretty sure that the police will be coming to give me a ride down to the station, so that would be a wasted effort. I really don't want to just sit here waiting though.

Lucian walks back out of his house with something in his hand, and I groan before hugging the steering wheel again. I refuse to look at him—refuse to speak to him. Even though it's not really revenge, it feels like the only thing I have at my disposal to piss him off further. Silence.

“Amy, open the door,” he tells me one more time when he reaches my car, but I'm not listening.

My jaw tenses as I hear a squeaking noise at my window. I glance under my arm to see him shoving a straightened clothes hanger between the weather stripping and the window of my car door. Internally, I huff. I highly doubt his stuck up, rich ass knows how to jimmy a car. I roll my eyes and then close them, trying to relax against the steering wheel, despite the annoying sound assaulting my ears.

Then I hear something pop, and my mind goes back into panic mode. I reach for the door lock a second too late. Perhaps he knew I would try to lock him out again because he didn't even bother pulling the clothes hanger out of the door before he opened it.

I fight to close the door, but he's too strong, ripping it out of my hands and wedging his body in so that I can't close it. With that option taken away from me, I go back to hugging the steering wheel and hiding my face from him, refusing to say anything.

“Are you alright?” He grabs me by the shoulders, trying to push me back against the seat so that he can look at my face. When I don't budge, he stops, letting me go and standing beside the car. “Just tell me if you're hurt.”

I don't respond.

The cool wind wafts in from outside, carrying the scent of his cologne with it. Just smelling him makes me want to cry, makes me think of what I lost—of what he did with Janice. It hurts so fucking bad. If I had known how badly this would hurt, I never would have come here. I wasn't supposed to get caught. I wasn't supposed to see him. This wasn't supposed to happen.

His tone hardens, perhaps because he's growing weary of my brattiness. “So this is it then, you come to vandalize my property, and now you're not even going to talk to me about it. How should we handle this? Do you want me to call the police? Is that what you want?”

I cower at the suggestion, silently thankful that he hasn't called them yet though I know it's only a matter of time, especially if I keep acting this way. Still, I feel like staying quiet is the smarter thing to do. If I try to talk to him, I'm just going to break down again, and I don't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing that. I'd rather be carted away in the back of a cop car, even though I know that thought process is illogical. A police record would ruin my life more than it's already ruined. I really would lose everything then.

“You weren't supposed to be home,” I mumble.

“How unlucky for you.” There's not a drop of sympathy in his voice.

“Who in the hell installs road spikes in their driveway?”

“My parents.” He sighs, taking a step away from the car.

Briefly, I think about closing the door. What will that solve though?

“I'm going to call a taxi to come pick me up,” I tell him, still not moving.

“No, you're not.” He places a hand on the door and another on the roof of my car, caging me in. “We're going to talk about this.”

“No, we're not.” I shake my head weakly.

“We're going to talk about this or you're going to jail,” he says each word clearly as if talking to a child.

I groan, slumping against the steering wheel. I should be appreciative that he's giving me another option besides jail, but I'm oddly not. The reasonable part of my brain must have gotten jostled around a bit too much when I slammed on the breaks. Still, subconsciously, I know that I need to suck up my emotions and try to handle this situation like a mature adult.

“I'm mad at you,” I grumble.

“No fucking shit.” He gestures back towards his house. “What does that say in my driveway? Manwhore. You're fucking crazy. You know that, right?”

“I'm crazy?!” My head snaps around to glare at him. “You don't think my actions are even the least bit merited? You fucked around with my best friend, and I'm the crazy one?” I point to myself.

His lips form a hard line, and he bobs his head, looking around his property before turning back to me. “Yeah, I would say that.”

I put my head back down and scream into my arms, the stress of the situation finally boiling over. This isn't going to be a discussion, it's going to be a fight. And more than likely, I'm still going to end up going to jail because of it, so I might as well make it count.

I exhale deeply, squeezing my eyes together before opening them again and twisting my body to get out of the car. Lucian gives me room, crossing his arms over his chest. He looks as imposing and serious as ever.

“Why aren't you at work?” I ask almost accusingly.

“Probably for the same reason that you're not.”

His answer catches me off guard, and I quirk my head back in confusion. “Surgeons don't take mental health days to get revenge on their ex.”

“Their ex?” He raises an eyebrow, adding insult to injury. Of course, he never saw me that way. I was always just something to be owned to him. An object, not a person.

I draw my hand up to my face as if not seeing him will help to temper my anger. “Look. I get it. I never meant anything to you. That is crystal clear to me now. But don't you think that makes my actions all the more justified?”

“Oh, don't start with that bullshit.” He lets out an exasperated sigh.

“What bullshit?” I drop my hand, staring at him in disbelief.

“The bullshit where you say you mean nothing to me. That's not true and we both know it.” He shifts his weight.

“If it's not true, then why in the fuck did you mess around with my best friend?”

“She was a client, Amy. I don't turn down clients.”