Torn - Part Three (The Torn Series) (2 page)

“But you were so good,” Jen purred, tugging the hem of his sweatpants. “I miss it.”

Holy. Shit.

It was like a blinding blow to the head. They were
liars
. “You lied to me?” I said in a near-whisper. The expression on Mallet’s face said it all - panic. Guilt. Not denial, not confusion. They’d lied about their past relationship. They were probably lying about the present, too.
Surly knows that we’re fucking. We’re fucking
.

They were fucking and my heart was breaking. How could I have been so stupid? It was too much to deal with on a hungover morning. It was too much,
period.
I turned on my heel and left.

I heard Mallet arguing with Surly while I waited for the elevator. I heard the punches land - who was fighting who, I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t look.

But a cruel part of me hoped Mallet was getting his ass kicked.

CHAPTER 1

November

I was beginning to think that I was drinking too much. But my job was bartending and my hobby was playing punk music and my heart was broken - it seemed like a natural progression to hit the bottle a little more aggressively at the time.

Mallet and Jen. Jen and Mallet.
It was so hard to believe, which was why I’d never suspected. But they’d lied to me. How could I believe Mal’s protests when they’d lied about being together at all in the first place? How could I take their word that nothing was happening in that apartment before I showed up, before I demanded answers?

I couldn’t. I’d be a fool if I did. Hell, I’d been a fool from the start. But no more.

I quit the band.

“Fucking figures,” Jen had mumbled when I told them. She was one part hungover and one part pissed off. I’d already taken two shots of vodka to work up the nerve to do it.

“Are you sure, Riley? You don’t want to just take a break?” Poor Robin was caught between us. I’d heard her admonishing Jen before I entered the basement, but she would take her good friend’s side when it came right down to it, right or wrong.

“I’m sure,” I said.

“I knew she was too young,” Jen said to Robin, “Still too much of a little girl to just get the hell over dumb shit like this. I never should have encouraged the two of them.”

“You’re right about that,” Robin said, “But you don’t need to be cruel.”

Jen rested her head in her hands. And I left. I never fully quit Coconut Cup, the tiki-bar I was a bartender for up in Queens, and I’d requested a couple extra shifts. Between the two bars, I could keep busy all nights of the week. No more time for the band. It was time to save up some money and figure out what exactly to do next. Where I wanted to go, maybe think about a proper career. Time to take advantage of the fact that I worked with alcohol and use it to wipe Mallet out of my brain - him, the Mistresses of Mayhem, all of it.
And Tyler. Don’t forget to forget about Tyler.
My ex-boyfriend still sent random texts and emails. I hadn’t had the heart to fully block him off, but I wasn’t exactly quick to reply, if I replied at all.

It was all growing so tiresome. I missed the simplicity of my old life - the one where I had plans for the future.

I’d really managed to blow it and in seemingly no time at all.

"Maybe we're even." I was venting to Shawn one Saturday night while we worked the bar. He must have been sick to death of my obsessing about Mallet and everything that had happened between us. Hell, I was sick of listening to myself. But he took it like a good friend, listening patiently and just letting me vent.

"'Even' shouldn't matter, honey. Relationships shouldn't be a contest." It sounded like wise advice. And he ought to know what he was talking about. He'd been with his boyfriend Martin for three years. Three
adult
years - worth far more than the four carefree college years I had spent with Tyler before he dumped me.

"Everything's a contest," I muttered, with little conviction. I was just quoting something my father liked to say.

“Are we hanging out tonight?” Shawn asked, as eager to change the subject as I was.

“Sure, if you guys want to.” He and Martin had become my drinking buddies, along with the other two girls that worked at the bar - Adele and Vanessa. They were all much more fun than the people I was hanging out with before. Jen and Robin were either focused on the band or busy getting wasted and picking up guys - or at least Jen was. As for Mallet and his roommates, they only cared about their stupid fights.

I wasn’t being entirely fair. I’d had plenty of good times with them, but my memories were colored with bitterness after I found out about their lies. Despite everything, losing friendships hurt, no matter whose fault it was.

Still, the bar folk were much more laid back.
That’s because they’re satisfied with just being bar workers,
a nagging voice in my head said, but what was wrong with that? I was hardly full of ambition or higher aspirations myself.

“Martin will be by in a little while,” he said, “And Adele will want to tell us all about her date, if she doesn’t go home with the guy.”

“Oh, right,” I said, “Yeah, let’s hang out.” Adele was into the online dating scene and I was always eager to hear her new and terrible dating stories. Maybe I was living vicariously through her, but it was in a horror movie sort of way. The last guy she went out with talked endlessly about his mother. And he was amongst her better prospects. The poor girl was a magnet for crazy.

I grinned wider and worked faster. Just the thought of hanging out with my new friends, sharing drinks and joints and laughing the night away, was enough to elevate my mood and make me push my troubles out of my mind. Soon they would be nothing but memories - maybe they’d always be a little painful, but even that would fade. Soon I wouldn’t think about them at all.

○●○●○●○●○

We gathered at Martin and Shawn’s apartment, as usual. Their place was ideal since the rest of us had roommates who weren’t so appreciative of parties that only got started after last call. Particularly not on a weeknight. It was fine for us, though, night workers that we were. I’d get to bed sometime during sunrise and I wouldn’t need to be awake until the late afternoon.

“Cheers, my vampire bitches!” Adele announced, and we clinked our shotglasses together. She was sitting on some cushions on the floor next to Martin on one side of the coffee table while Shawn and I shared the couch across from them. Adele had brought along a bottle of some fancy whiskey that the guys got excited about. They said it was some expensive and hard-to-find brand but I could hardly even taste the difference. Though it didn’t burn quite as much as normal whiskey going down. Still, I was beginning to wonder if I was simply the worst bartender ever.

“So, this date,” Adele said, slamming her glass back down to the coffee table, “was one for the books, let me tell you.”

“Are you sure you weren’t a theater student in a past life?” I teased her.

She shot me a playful middle finger before continuing. “First thing when we meet up, he insists that I let him pay for everything. So I said fine. Whatever, we can do the traditional first-date thing, and I’m broke as shit anyway.”

“Cheers to that,” Martin said, pouring another round of shots.

Adele went on, “So we went to this like, Japanese fusion sort of place. Not fast food but not expensive. And he says ‘I’m short on cash, you can only get something that’s under ten bucks.’” Martin snorted. “I told him we could just split the check but he was really fucking insistent!”

“Since when are you a pushover?” Shawn asked. “I’d expect you to shove the cash in his mouth if he wouldn’t take it.”

“I was trying to be nice,” Adele pouted, “It was a first date. I try not to unleash the bitch until at least the third.” I giggled - Adele certainly could be a bitch when she was in a mood but she did have a thing about proper manners. “May I continue?” she asked. We waved her on. “Anyway. So I go along with that even though I totally would have paid my share. But whatever, he’s broke and old-fashioned.” She snorted. “But
then
he scratches his head and gets fucking
dandruff
on the food!”

We all groaned. “Where do you find these people?” Martin asked.

“Internet,” Adele said, rolling her eyes at herself. “On top of all that he wouldn’t quit talking about his ex and about how I look so much like her. And then he was shocked and offended when I didn’t want to go home with him.”

I shook my head. Adele seemed to have the worst luck. I blamed online dating overall, but a dark cloud with a wicked sense of humor was following that girl around.

It occurred to me then that I’d never dated around like she was doing. I had few funny stories to share, few experiences, had met very few people since moving to the city.
Maybe once I’m over Mallet I ought to ask her advice.
I knew Adele would love nothing more than an “internet dating buddy.” She’d brought up the subject more than once. None of us were in any shape to join her, though. Martin and Shawn were happily together and Vanessa - who was absent that evening - was afraid of most things online-related. The girl didn’t even have a Facebook page.

Sitting there with my new friends, fantasizing about the future, I still felt that lingering sense of loneliness that had settled in my chest since I walked out on Mallet that morning. I wasn’t over it just yet, wasn’t over
him.
But I was damn well going to try to get there.

CHAPTER 2

I woke to the sound of the buzzer near the front door. It must have been the late afternoon - if it had still been morning, I doubt the thunders of heaven could have pulled me awake. I looked out the front window to see who had hit the buzzer and spotted a delivery man waiting on the front stoop. Robin usually warned me if she was expecting a package. On the other hand, I'd been nearly comatose all morning. I threw on my jeans and a hoodie and ran down the steps to open the door.

"Delivery for Alexa Riley," the man said, not even looking up from his clipboard.

"Oh. I didn't order anything."

He raised an eyebrow. "You're Alexa Riley?"

"Yes."

"Sign here." He shoved the clipboard and a pen at me, leaving me no choice but to take it.

"Where's the package," I mumbled as I signed my name.

"In the truck. Prop your door open and we'll be right up."

I watched him jog back to where he'd parked the big white van and was about to turn and head back upstairs when my phone buzzed in my pocket.

My heart seized in my chest. The sender was Mallet. It wasn't the first text I'd received from him since that day in his apartment, but I reacted the same every time - excitement and dread, joy and pain. I missed him but I couldn't trust him.

"Sent you something, don't turn the delivery guy away. Should be arriving about now."

That explained it, but what the hell had he sent? Not to mention that he shouldn't have been sending me gifts - we were over.

I listened as the deliverymen struggled at the doorway at the bottom of the stairs. There were two of them, now. Whatever he had sent, it was pretty big. I saw it as they made it to the stairs. It was a bookshelf - wrapped in a protective layer of padding, I couldn't make out many details, but it was a large, dark wood bookshelf.

I fought the tears that threatened to gather in my eyes. I knew it bugged him that I was living in such an empty room, but even when we were together I never would have imagined he'd do something like this.

"This way," I said, leading the guys to my room.

It was a real piece of furniture. I could see that as they unwrapped it. It wasn't something anyone had needed to assemble first, not something from a big box store. It had a sort of vintage style to it, too. I wondered where he had found it. Maybe an estate sale or something?

I had to shake my head and unscramble my thoughts to remember I needed to tip the guys before they left. Once they were gone, I ran my hands over the wood. It looked freshly stained. Did he have that done?

And could I keep it?

I obsessed over the question the rest of the afternoon. I placed a few things on the shelf - books, knickknacks - only to take them back down and return them to their cardboard boxes. I stared at it from my bed, contemplated moving it to another wall, wondered how I could get it out of the apartment if I did want to send it back to him. Hell, could I even afford the shipping cost?