Rex (10 page)

Twisting around, I rest my head on my hand, staring at her. Her blonde hair is cascading over the pillow, face at peace, troubles temporarily at bay. I raise up on my elbow and edge closer, placing a kiss just above her brow. “Goodnight, Blondie,” I whisper.

It’s just one kiss. I can handle it.

“I don’t know how on earth you got me to the gym at six thirty a.m., V. This has got to be the definition of crazy,” Olivia says, huffing and puffing as she walks on the treadmill beside me.

“Liv,” my breathing is steady when I respond, “I do this almost every single day. Once you get used to it, it’s a piece of cake. It gets you energized for the day.”

“Well….” She lets out a wide yawn. “I prefer to be sleeping in the comfort of my bed when the sun comes up. Which reminds me, what happened last night? I texted you a couple of times and you didn’t respond.”

“Oh,” I answer with a grin, trying to keep my balance while thoughts of Rex tap dance through my head.

“And you’re grinning because….?”

“I was at Rex’s. We… you know, and then we hung out and watched a movie, actually two, but I fell asleep.” I smile, vaguely remembering Rex carrying me to his bed.

“You watched a movie? With Rex?” Her eyes pop open in surprise when she glances over at me.

“Yeah, why?” I look over at her, awfully curious what she means.

“Well, he doesn’t typically,” she bends her fingers in an air quote, “‘hang out’ with women. He only, you know, has sex with them. At least that’s what Hunter told me.”

My cheeks pull in at her insinuation. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you. He hung out with me, so maybe he’s changing his policy. Plus, I don’t know if you remember, but
you’re
the one that got this little ball rolling when you invited me out to the club.”

“Hey, I’m sorry, V.” She wipes the sweat from her forehead. “I don’t mean to imply anything. It’s just that Rex isn’t the relationship type, you know, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Liv,” I take a quick sip of bottled water, “who said anything about a relationship. We’re fucking and watching movies. Lighten up,” I urge, and she bursts out laughing. “You already know my take on relationships. They suck, remember?”

“Yes, I know. But I’m only bringing it up because I know Rex fits your profile,” she says, breathing heavy, pushing the button to slow the treadmill down.

“Profile, what profile is that?” I use the towel to wipe beads of sweat off the back of my neck.

She clicks her tongue against her teeth, staring at me like I should have the answer to her riddle. “You know, hot and seriously twisted.”

I laugh so hard I nearly fall off the treadmill. “Well, yeah, he’s definitely that.”

“So,” she steps off the treadmill, “do you want to hang out tonight?”

“I can’t tonight. I need to head over to Ryder’s bar. One of my clients is having a small informal gathering there next week and we need to go over the details. Maybe I’d be up for something tomorrow night, though.” The treadmill slows and I hop off, walking with Olivia toward the locker room. “So, what’s on your agenda for today?”

She lightly flicks her towel against my arm. “You know the usual, writing hot sex scenes and then re-enacting them with Hunter during his lunch hour… hopefully on his desk.”

I shake my head and snort. “Ah, just another day in the life of an erotic romance author.”

“Precisely.” She grins, waggling her eyebrows at me.

I walk into Ryder’s place distracted, digging through my briefcase to find notes for the event, when I notice the hint of a familiar tattoo staring me in the face, and smile. Rex is sitting at the bar, his back to me. With a few short strides, I make it over and snag the stool next to him. His head swings to the side when the stool squeaks beneath me.

“Hi y-ya B-blondie,” he slurs, before turning away, his eyes cast down, hand flicking ice around in the empty glass. His words, bloodshot, glazed-over eyes, and red cheeks tell me everything I need to know. With fierce determination, he taps three times on the counter to catch Ryder’s attention and order another drink.

“Rex, what’s wrong? You okay?” I ask, placing a hand on his arm.

His eyes stroll over to where my hand is then up to me. “H-here we go with the twenty questions again, huh? Maybe I’m just not in the f-fucking mood to answer your questions, did you ever think of that?” He glares at me, his head bobbing from side to side. “What do you want to know for anyway? So you can use my answers against me? Because that’s how women are, you know… they can’t be trusted.” He stands up, gripping the edge of the bar when he nearly falls over. “But fucking, yeah… now we’re talking. Women are great for that.” He latches onto my arm. “Do you want to go fuck? Because I’d be up for that.”

Suddenly, all my concern for him goes right out the freaking window. I rip my arm from his clutches, grasping the handle of my briefcase so tight that my knuckles turn white. “You know what, Rex,” I bite back, staring straight ahead. “Whatever. Sorry I asked, or even cared for that matter.”

“Yeah, you cared… right. It’s all bull-sh-shit,” he mumbles into his drink.

Ryder comes over but when he sees Rex’s current state, doesn’t refill his glass. “Hey, darlin’,” sweetness oozes from his voice, “you didn’t get my message?”

“No, what message?” I ask, trying to shrug off this sudden coat of anger, and the fact that Rex gets to me this way.

“I don’t have the time to meet tonight. It’s too busy, so I was hoping we could meet late afternoon tomorrow?” He stocks the bottle of liquor back on the shelf behind him.

“Oh, no I didn’t get it, but that’s fine—”

“Darlin?” Rex interrupts, glaring at Ryder. “What’s up with that?” Then he spits his venom back on me, spewing angry words in my direction. “Something I should know? You screwing him, t-too?”

“Rex,” Ryder warns, “you’re out of line, man.”

My mouth is still hanging open but I manage to compose myself, holding a finger up in front of Ryder. “I got this.”

I wait until Rex turns to face me, my muscles burning, seeing red everywhere I look. “You know what, Rex, I don’t know what your problem is
now
, but I don’t really give a shit. And for your information,” I bark, “I’m not screwing Ryder, but if I was, it’s none of your God damn business. And you know what else?” I seethe, raising my voice, drawing the attention of patrons nearby. “I don’t even know why I’m wasting my breath talking to you right now.” I stand up from the stool. “Because you’re not worth it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Ryder,” I say, starting for the exit.

“You’re right. I’m n-not,” Rex grumbles as I walk out the door.

My breathing is noisy, legs crackling with disgust as they power me toward my destination. I happen to glance up at the sky, a deep, dark gray that reflects my state of mind. I don’t know what the hell that was about and I don’t even care, or at least I’m trying hard not to. Olivia was right. I sure do know how to pick men. To think I actually believed there might be a decent human being inside of Rex, but it turns out he’s an asshole just like the rest of them.

I push the glass door to my apartment open, nearly hitting a woman with bright red hair and freckles in the face with it before offering a quick apology and darting to the elevator. “Hurry up,” I say out loud, my foot doing an impatient tap. But no one’s listening and it takes forever to get to my floor. All I want is to close the door to my apartment and completely shut out the world.

Finally, when the car stops, I stomp out of the elevator and down the hall, jamming my key in the lock. When I get it open, I throw my briefcase on the black leather couch and cross the living room to the kitchen, honing in on the fridge. I need something to take the edge off. There’s a bottle of white Zinfandel on the bottom shelf. And while it’s not hard liquor, it will certainly do.

After retrieving a glass from the cabinet, I pour the wine, the glugging sound serving to calm me. With heavy feet, I carry myself and my temporary solace back out to the sofa. I plunk down, toeing off my heels and crossing my legs before propping them up on the table. Within two seconds, I’ve polished off the glass and am making my way to the kitchen for a refill.

My mind is whirring with anger and a couple of other emotions I can’t seem to put a name to. I don’t know why I’m letting Rex get under my skin. He’s just a guy—one of the many that have disappointed me in my life, beginning with my father.

I laugh to myself. It’s amazing how the people that bring you into the world set the tone for your entire life. We try to flick them away—their habits, their mannerisms, their stupid actions—but somehow they manage to crawl their way in, when all you want to do is scrape them off.

There’s not an ounce of my being that wants to be like my mother or my father, because quite frankly, I’m not seeing many redeeming qualities there. And that little fact, in and of itself, makes me wipe away the dampness now sitting on top of my cheeks.

Since I’ve been sulking, I have no concept of how much time has passed when there’s a knock on the door, tearing me from my depressing train of thought. I wasn’t expecting anyone so I consider not answering, until the pounding grows louder.

I squint when I reach the door, peering through the peephole to find red eyes amidst a ruddy complexion—Rex. How did he even know my address and what is he doing here? For a second, I think about ignoring him. But the problem is, even after the way he treated me, some sick part of me still wants to see him. I’m basically an asshole magnet, a plague I can’t seem to escape. With a deep breath, I turn the knob, steeling myself for whatever else he has in store for me tonight.

Rex jerks his head back as the door opens, seemingly as surprised as I am that I answered it. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, feet shuffling on the floor. A softening settles in his dazed eyes, and yet again, I’m curious what that’s all about.

My grip on the door jamb is strong when I decide to speak to him. “How did you find me, Rex? I never gave you my address, and more importantly, what do you want? I don’t know what you’re doing here, but you’re drunk. Just go home.”

“I texted Hunter for your address, and… I can’t go home. I don’t want to be alone,” he admits, his voice gravelly from drink.

My tongue pushes against my cheek, attempting to control the anger threatening to spill out at his audacity, thinking I’m actually going to sleep with him after the way he treated me. “Are you kidding me? If you honestly think I’m going to do anything with you after your comments at the bar, you’re sadly mistaken.”

“I’m not here for that,” he says, and I’m unsure whether to trust him. “I just want to talk, that’s all. Can you just give me a few minutes?”

I wave him in, closing the door, but not budging from my spot. “So talk, Rex, you’ve got fifteen minutes.”

He stumbles over to the couch and collapses onto it, scrubbing a hand clumsily over his face. “I’m fucking drunk.”

“Yeah, I know,” I retort, arms folded over my chest, feet planted firmly on the carpet.

“I never get drunk.”

I let out an exasperated sigh, tapping my foot on the rug. “Why are you here, Rex? What do you want?”

He raises his head to look at me, eyes drooping, shoulders almost sagging as if in defeat. I know something’s tearing at his insides, but I refuse to ask questions. I’m not interested in getting beat up again. If he has something to say, he’ll just have to own up to it.

“Today is my brother’s birthday,” he murmurs, taking a brief pause, his eyes darting around the room before they fasten themselves to mine. “He’s fucking dead though, so he won’t be celebrating.”

The puzzle pieces fit together, and my hard shell cracks because I know what it’s like to put up a shield to block out the pain. And when I look at him now, that’s all I see—years of pain filling his eyes, creasing his skin, seeping into his soul. Empathy softens my resolve and I walk over, dropping down beside him. I want to reach out, but fear of rejection keeps me at a distance.

“What fourteen-year-old commits suicide?” he says bitterly, and while he asked a question, I know he’s not looking for an answer. “I’ll tell you. A fourteen-year-old boy who’d been molested for almost two years… who couldn’t handle the memories anymore… whose mother had no fucking clue about it because she was too busy drinking and fucking anything with a dick,” he spits out, swiping a hand across his mouth. “She was so fucking useless. If he hadn’t finally confided in Hunter, we would never have known.”