Forever Loved (The Forever Series) (19 page)

“It’s always the mechanics who have shit for cars,” I shouted over the music.

Mario banged the steering wheel in time with the cymbal smash. “We’re going to get fucked up!”

He pulled into a space in front of our usual pool hall. My anxiety ratcheted up. All the hookers I used to frequent knew this place, and I’d run into one or the other more than a few times. One in particular, Lorali, had made quite a show of stripping half-naked in the corner, and at this point in my life, I lived in fear of her repeating the performance.

“Maybe we should pick another place,” I said.

“Don’t be a pussy,” Mario said. “I know what you’re thinking, but I can handle all the women.”

“You haven’t had a piece in months, Romeo.” I flung my door open.

He came around the car and snared me with an elbow around my neck. “It’s no good to be wingman to a hooker lover. I’m too poor.”

I shoved him aside to get loose, laughing. “You can’t even pay to get laid.”

“I’m promoted. I’ve got money now.”

We crossed through a cloud of smokers and entered the half-empty hall. “Probably not going to be too many chicks on a Monday,” he said, heading for the bar.

I was happy to see it so empty. Fewer people meant fewer chances for a disaster.

I headed for the cue racks to find a stick that wasn’t too thrashed. A number of the serious players were sitting around, league teams and gamblers alike. There weren’t a lot of women, another good sign that the night would go easy for me.

Mario returned with the beer as I shoved quarters in the machine to release the balls. The crack of a cue was familiar and calming. Even the smell of chalk and beer helped settle out the day.

I racked up for the first play and took a long pull on the bottle as Mario started working the table. He’d clear a good number before his first fail, if he was having a decent night. I half watched him, half listened to the room, when a laugh made the hackles on my neck stand up.

I wasn’t especially good at picking out voices, but that particular little-girl giggle was pretty damn familiar. I circled the table. “We’ve got to get out of here,” I told Mario.

“What are you talking about? I’m going to kick your ass here. I’ve nearly cleared the stripes.”

“Fine. Kick it. Candy’s here and I’m not dealing with her tonight.”

“Was that the one who got nekkid?”

“No, that was Lorali.”

“I can’t keep up with your hookers.” He leaned back over to take a shot.

I nudged his shoulder. “Seriously, Mario. I’m not up for it.”

“I’ll handle her.” He braced his fingers on the table and sent the cue ball into no-man’s-land, barely grazing the thirteen. “Well, shit.” He stood up. “Now I’m off.”

Candy weaved through the tables but didn’t look our way. I turned my back to her. “Mario, I really don’t need this shit. She wrote me a week ago. Corabelle found her texts. It was a brutal scene.”

He downed a swig of beer. “So block her.” He reached for his wallet and dropped it on the ledge of the table. “Or give her to me. She’ll get hot for my dollars.”

“That’s messed up,” I said. I didn’t have a claim on any of those women, but imagining Mario with the same girls I’d been with was a damn freak show.

“Yeah. It is, actually.” He stuck the wallet back in his pocket. “But she’s coming over here anyway.”

“Shit.”

“Gavin? Is that you?” She came up beside the table, dressed in a vivid orange tank that hugged her breasts like a wet T-shirt. A short frayed denim skirt barely skimmed her thighs. She looked a lot like a sexed-up college girl, her hair curled away from her face, other than the lines around her eyes.

“Forget him,” Mario said. “Come over here and talk to me.”

Great. Now she’d never leave.

“You’re cute and all,” Candy said. “But Gavin owes me some texts.”

“You into sexting?” Mario leaned on the pool table, separating Candy from me.

She stepped around him. “How come you never wrote me back? I thought you cared a little.”

I didn’t even want to look at her, the mega-lashes, bright lips, and nipples poking out a mile. “I think it’s great you’re out on your own,” I said. “I’m just seeing somebody now.”

“Oh, that girl isn’t going to be enough for you,” Candy said, pushing up against me. “You’ll want a little something on the side.”

I glanced over at Mario, who shrugged.

I grasped Candy’s arms as gently as I could and set her aside. “You’ve been great, but I’m done.”

Her face took on a tragic expression. “You can’t leave me now! I have to find my own jobs, and half the men didn’t care if it was me or some other bimbo that Jerry set them up with. I’m way, way down.” She tried to come close. “I even offered you a freebie.”

“I’ll take it,” Mario said.

Candy flashed into rage. “You’re a little putz,” she said.

He backed away, hands in the air. “Sorry!”

“I’m sure there are lots of prospects here,” I said. “I’m going to have to go.” From the corner of my eye, I could see a couple dudes watching our little exchange with their cue sticks standing on end like swords. “See, those guys over there seem awfully interested.”

She turned to look. “Uggh. Whatever. They think I’m an easy sorority girl.”

“Really?” Mario choked on a laugh.

Candy scowled at him. “You can just shut up now.”

I stuck my cue back in the rack. “I’m done here.” I took off across the bar, planning to just walk home if I had to. A few miles in the cold would chill me out.

Candy raced up to me, hanging on to my arm. I’d really had it. I couldn’t do anything for her. I tried to shake her off.

She tottered on her spike heels and fell back on her ass. The pair who’d been watching decided now was the time to get involved, and I saw trouble racing toward me like a monsoon.

Mario must have seen it too because he came up beside me and clapped me on the back. “Time to go, buddy. Right now.”

I turned to help Candy back up, but one of the men smacked my hand away and did it himself. Normally I would have jumped his ass immediately, but I had enough trouble for the moment and just headed for the door.

“I don’t think so,” one of the men said, laying his meaty hand on my shoulder to whip me around.

I predicted the blow and ducked below it, coming around his back. “I’m not interested in a fight,” I said. “So walk away.”

“If I have anything to do with it, you won’t be walking anywhere.” He charged at me, but he was clumsy and large, and I dodged him easily.

“Bartender’s on the line,” Mario warned. “Three-minute warning.”

I really did not want to get arrested today. The man circled around, embarrassment probably fueling him as much as his misplaced chivalry. His friend held on to Candy, who squirmed against him. I hope he kept holding her, as I didn’t need her tangled up in this. I flashed briefly to Rosa, aiming the Glock at Sideburns. Who knew? Maybe she was just as scrappy.

“Whatcha think, you need to run away from me?” the man asked, doing a poor imitation of a boxer, thrusting his fists in front of him.

“Seriously, bro, did you learn that from a video?” Mario asked.

“They’ve already called the cops,” I told the guy. “Unless you want to post bail tomorrow, bring it down.”

He charged again, but this time he got lucky, and when I dodged to the side, he picked the right direction and moved with me. He tackled me like a linebacker, knocking over a bar table as we went down.

I didn’t want to strike even a single blow, but I had to shut this guy down. He was trying to pin me from on top, which was about his only advantage due to his size, but a hard elbow to his groin sent him reeling to one side.

I jumped up, expecting the other guy to take his place, but he held on to Candy, his hand on her ass, and I guess she decided something was better than nothing, as she quit trying to get away.

“We done here?” I asked the guy. “Because we’re about to have an official visitor.”

He grimaced and refused to acknowledge me, getting up painfully from the floor.

“Time’s a’wasting.” Mario pushed me to the door.

We were pulling out of the lot when we saw the lights flashing down the street.

“Hell, you could have fucked with him a whole extra minute,” Mario said. “You’re losing your edge.”

I stared out the window. If I was going to make any of this work with Corabelle, or with a kid, I had to do a major life overhaul.

24: Corabelle

The doctor leaned over me the next day, pressing the stethoscope in various positions on my chest. I’d cleared my parents out of the room, tired of their omnipresence, and snatching any excuse to get a little privacy.

He stood up. “I’ll wait on the X-rays to be sure, but you’re sounding pretty good.”

“So going home today?”

“Let’s look at those images first.”

“So not today.”

He patted my shoulder. “Probably not today.”

I flung myself back against the raised bed. “I haven’t even coughed in hours. The last suction came up pretty empty.”

“All good signs. But relapse is common when you’ve been as far down as you were. Let’s take some precautions.”

“I am never going swimming again.”

He laughed. “I hear you want to go to art therapy.”

“You going to let me out of the room?”

He tucked the tablet under his arm. “I’ll clear it. But if you do start expelling phlegm again, don’t go. For everyone’s safety. Deal?”

“Deal.”

The moment he left, my parents filed back in, resuming their positions.

“So,” Dad said. “Any ‘get out of jail free’ cards?”

“Not yet. They’re going to look at the X-ray.”

Mom pulled out her knitting again, something new, probably another endless throw.

“You know, you guys don’t have to stay here. I’m going to be fine. Dad, don’t you have to get back to work?”

“I’m allowed to take sick time for family.” He snapped open a newspaper. “This is better than work any day.”

I reached for my backpack even though I was caught up on all my reading. Gavin had brought the astronomy work home, but I had no idea what the assignments were for my lit classes. My e-mails to the profs had just gotten kind replies of “Get well.” I didn’t want to lose those credit hours, and I couldn’t even imagine the work that was piling up. I’d write them again today, tell them I was up for writing the papers, at least.

Yet another new nurse came in and introduced herself as Helen. “The good news is, you can take a shower today.”

I threw back the covers. “Really?”

She opened the bathroom door. “Don’t get chilled. Make sure the water is good and hot, and dry your hair immediately.”

I was already turning on the faucets. I didn’t even care about the industrial shampoos. I could do it again later with nicer stuff.

“Remember there’s a help cord if you need someone.”

I nodded and waited impatiently for her to leave.

I closed the door and stripped off the infernal cotton gown I was so sick of. The spray was delicious, pounding and hot. I washed my hair, then washed it again, finally starting to feel like the sand grit was really gone.

I wished for Gavin to be with me, pressing against my back, his arms around me. We’d only showered together once in this brief time we’d been back together, but it was seared into my memory. The water had gleamed on his arms, running in rivulets along the indentations of his biceps. I’d been mesmerized by their trailing paths, and turned in to him, to see all the other places the water would go.

He’d had droplets on his eyelashes, little diamonds that flew off when he shook his head. He’d taken my heavy wet hair in his hands and twisted it up, turning me around again so he could run a washcloth across my back.

His lips followed the path, skimming across my shoulders and coming up to my neck. He released my hair over the opposite shoulder so his hands could come around, kneading my breasts, slippery with soap.

I could feel him hot and hard against my back and pressed into his body. We had never gotten far in a shower when we were young, either afraid of being caught when I lived at home, or later, in our own apartment, refraining due to my girth from the baby, and my clumsiness. But this, I could see how it could work.

One of his hands slid along my belly and down below, toying with the folds. My knees started to waver, but his other arm came around my waist, holding me solidly against him. He found the little nub he was searching for, and began to work it in lazy circles. I reached out to steady myself against the tile wall as the world tilted.

The water splattered against my skin, heightening everything. He spread me wider, probing more deeply, and a mewling sound squeezed out of my throat. The steam rose off my body, and he moved faster, pressing his hips into my back with every stroke of his fingers. I felt a dam threatening to burst and leaned forward, wanting more of him, all of him.

I wasn’t sure what to do about the height difference when he lifted my thigh to prop one foot on the side of the tub. I understood now, bending over. He braced my other foot with his so I wouldn’t slip, then guided himself into me. He was shockingly hot, waiting on the edge as I wasn’t as slippery as he was used to, but then he was in, thick and throbbing.

I had to keep my eyes open or I lost all sense of space, up and down, just skin, water, steam, and the pressure of his body both behind and inside me. His rhythm was steady, easy, and languorous as he moved with strength and power, holding me up, keeping us balanced, and still, easing his fingers against the bud.

I wanted it harder, faster, not sure I could take it without collapsing but needing to try. I pressed my palm into the tile, bracing myself so I could push into him, two opposite forces, crashing together, again and again.

My thigh was starting to quiver, so he picked up the rhythm, his fingers fluttering with practiced intent. His breath sped up, puffing against my ear, and that confirmation that he was feeling it too charged through me in a flash. The muscles tightened around his fingers and the pleasure began to spread, first in small ripples, then blasting out. I let out a small cry, and Gavin worked faster, easing his fingers away, holding my hips, and then he was over the top, groaning into my hair, and the shattering of reality began to fall in sparkles, like the water glittering in the spray.