A Long Time Coming (4 page)

He shook his head, knocking
his memories as far from his mind as he could. Apparently this was a down time
for most people because the hall was quiet, with only a few stragglers hanging
out. David didn’t like getting up early, but since he’d registered so late in
the summer, the later classes were all booked up—hence why he was there for an
eight o’clocker instead of a nooner.

He hobbled his way to the
registrar’s office, JT quietly hanging by his side. Just as David turned to
wave a short goodbye over his shoulder, he felt himself being jerked back by
the arm, “Hold up,” JT instructed, eyebrows raised as he waved towards a couple
of incoming guys.

David had met a lot of people
in his life—but the crew that joined him were by far the wickedest looking dudes
he’d ever seen in all of his nineteen years. Wicked meaning weird… One was
short, having glasses and a short military cut, while the other guy was a
little on the chubby side, but tall with black hair down to his shoulders.
David nodded, chuckling under his breath as the one with glasses pulled out a
handkerchief or some shit, from the front pocket of his collared shirt to blow
his nose. All that was missing was his pocket protector. How in the hell did
such a group of different looking dudes, manage to be friends?

“Hey, these are my buddies,
Carson and Paul. Guys, this is my pal David.” Blinking in disbelief still,
David nodded his response.

“What’s up?” guy number one
with the long hair asked—Carson was his name. He was not a Carson looking kind
of guy. “We were just talking about a killer party happening tonight out by the
lake.”

Glasses guy Paul got
giddy—literally—nodding with a shit–eating grin on his goofy face while he
bounced up and down on his heels, “Yeah, lots of hotties there I’m sure,” David
narrowed his eyes, pressing his hand over his mouth as he tried like hell to
fight off a laugh. Like these guys knew about hotties. He stopped himself short
and sighed. Hell, he wasn’t about to judge because he sure as hell didn’t know
about
hotties
any more than they did.

“You should totally hit this
party with us, JT. You too, D–man!” David narrowed his eyes at glasses Paul.
David was his name—he didn’t do the nickname thing—at least not with strangers.

JT turned his way, eyebrows
raised, as if he was testing him or something. “You up for it, man?”

David’s hands took turns
jack–knifing nervously through his hair, until each of his fingers got tangled
up in his dark curls. Hell no he wasn’t up for it, especially since the last
time he’d gone to one of those
parties
, he’d beaten the shit out of a
guy. Granted, he had a reason and all—
and
would do it again in a
heartbeat if he had to—but still, he would never be game for a party.

But as he stood there, staring
between the three guys who he instantly labeled the three weird–kateers, he
found his mouth responding in a way that definitely went against his brain’s
advice. “Um, not sure if you guys really want to go to a party with me, I’m
kind of a drag, but yeah, why the hell not.” David stared down at the tile
again, gripping his crutches tighter with his sweaty palms. Gone was his
confidence from so long ago, in its place stood the world’s biggest pussy. Now
all he needed was catnip and a litter box and he’d be set to go for life.

“Dude,” JT laughed bumping his
fist against David’s shoulder, “you’re a total freaking chick magnet, you do
know that, right?” JT shook his head, tearing his beanie off and squeezing it
between his hands. David cringed. The last thing he was, or wanted to be, was a
chick magnet
. “And if anything, you’re gonna steal all the damn glory
from us!” JT chuckled, motioning between him and his friends.

This was the part where he
should walk away, the part where he should say
you’re right,
but
instead, he found himself nodding in agreement instead, “What can I say, chicks
dig a dude with a sob story,”…fucking hell, where had that come from? The last
thing girls wanted was a guy with issues up the ass like his.

But really, what else
could
he say? Besides, he hadn’t gotten laid since… He swallowed that thought,
turning away, his face paling as he stared down at the white laces of his
Chucks. He wasn’t going to go there. It fucked him all up inside to think about
that night—the night from both heaven and hell on earth that nobody knew about
but him…and her.

“Sweet. We’ll swing by and
pick you up, right guys?” He heard their enthusiastic grunts of approval, but
didn’t bother looking up at them. He had to go—there’d be plenty of times to
think about his dumbass mistakes later in life.

Numbers exchanged, niceties
upheld, David strolled away, an extra–large chip on his shoulder hanging like a
second layer of unwanted skin. As he finally turned to leave, he couldn’t help
but blow out a breath—whether it was a breath of excitement or nervousness, he
wasn’t sure. For one, was this even the right choice to begin with? Probably
not. But did it at least
feel
right? Did it feel as if this was the
beginning of getting his life back maybe? Hell, he sure hoped so. All he knew
though was that somewhere out there either hell had frozen over, or pigs were
flying their little asses off, because he’d seriously taken a risk.

And David decided long ago
that he would never be a risk taker again.

Chapter Four

“Mom, this freaking blows. You
do realize that, right?” Abigail sighed in complete annoyance, throwing her
hunter green knapsack over the back of the couch. It landed on the floor,
spilling most of her supplies onto the precious white carpeting her mother had
insisted on, earning Abigail the monster of all growls in return. She shrugged,
her mom needed to just relax and take a Xanny or something. She had to wonder
if her mother’s sudden cleaning frenzy, and bad mood, had something to do with
the fact that her Bob the grown up builder wasn’t around.

Exhaustion had just about
ruined Abigail’s day. Besides that, she had a party to go to tonight, and if
she didn’t quit yawning, she’d never make it. Damn, why was she so tired?

“Abigail, you know you have to
get your license if you want to help me run the salon someday.” Her mother
barked, throwing her dust rag over her shoulder as she snapped to attention
like a lonely housewife–turned–drill sergeant. Abigail bit her lip to fight the
giggles erupting in her throat at the picture, throwing her body across the
couch onto her mom’s perfectly purple and totally fringy pillows. Those pillows
rocked as both a kick–ass resting place
and
the perfect color to
brighten up the pale, lavender room.

She shut her eyes at her
mother’s strangled yapping, opening one up a second later to see the
quintessence of all frowns across the woman’s face. “Screw the damn license,
Mother,” she sighed blowing out a slow stream of air, “you know as well as I
do, that I can cut, color and style hair better than over half the women who
work there.”

She kicked off her flats,
crossing her legs at her ankles, putting her newly pedicured feet under another
a set of pillows to keep her toes warm. “You, young lady, cannot just
screw
the license.
It’s the law, and I won’t have my only daughter refuse to educate
herself in the line of work she wants to pursue, just because she was
too
good
to do so, do you understand me? I have nobody else to take over one
day and I need you to be on board with this. This is the way things are
supposed to be done!”

Abigail closed her eyes.
Dammit, she hadn’t meant to come across as a stuck–up,
too–good–to–do–what–she’s–supposed–to snob. It’s just that she seriously needed
something to take her mind off of life in general because apparently
cosmetology school wasn’t going to be able to do the trick.

Her gaze met and held her
mother’s for a few seconds, but neither wavered with their stance on the
situation. Was her mom going for threatening, or just annoying with her
hovering? She shrugged. Either way, it wasn’t welcomed. Apparently she’d hit
some nerve with the ice queen though, because now her finger was pointed
outwards, and when her finger got moving, Abigail knew things would only go
downhill from there.

Seriously, you’d think a
little sex would lighten up her mood!

“Sorry Mom,” Abigail grunted
needing to nip this conversation in the ass before it got any worse. “I’ll deal
with the school. I’ll deal with the grunt work too, but you’ve got to at least
give me a few more hours or something,” …
or else I’m gonna lose my mind
with all the crap swimming around inside my head right now.

Her mother cleared her throat,
going back to her dusting, furiously this time. That poor helpless, yellow rag…
Her mother was a dust rag murderer! “Now, you are more than welcome to continue
working the register and washing hair, Abigail, and you can even pick up more
hours if you really want to. I just can’t allow you to do any styling or actual
cuts or colors until you have that license plastered to the wall in the back of
the salon, you got it young lady?”

Abigail fought an eye roll,
closing her eyes. The argument definitely wasn’t worth it tonight. “Whatever
Mom
,”
she groaned, just as the honk of a horn rocketed through the air from outside.

She shut her eyes and sighed.
Great! Lover Boy was there now.

One tiny beep of that horn,
that’s all it took for the woman who had managed to own the rights to the title
bitter–queen–bitch,
to appear as if she was suddenly on a high that
wasn’t caused by a joint, a pipe, or a needle. It was quite amazing how a
simple set of brightened eyes could make a woman literally look twenty years
younger.

Abigail curled her upper lip,
borderline snarling as she watched her mom primp like a wannabe hooker. She
yanked up the edge of her pinstriped, grey linen skirt, and patted her cheeks.
And without even glancing back at her slack–jawed daughter, the lady managed to
drop her rag, unbutton her top button down to the top of her boobs, all the
while long, pushing her lady lumps upwards and out to garner attention like a
regular old porn star.

Seriously…could
forty–two–year–olds actually turn slutty–fied? Because her mom had done just
that… The lady couldn’t get any more obvious—or desperate looking. It was damn
near disgusting, especially since it seemed she had written off her husband
once and for all. How could she not love the man who she had pledged her life
to—the man Abigail loved more than anything?

Her eyes narrowed at the
thought of her father, and she had to say something. That woman couldn’t get by
with this! It was wrong, damn wrong. And that was the nice word she had for the
situation. “So Mom, when’s
Daddy
supposed to be home anyways?”

Her mother froze in the arch
of the doorway leading towards the kitchen. Pressing her hands into balls at
her side, she stayed silent for a few seconds. She didn’t turn around, but the
stiffness in her stance was more than noticeable. She had to have known that
her daughter had her figured out, and Abigail grinned wickedly at the prospect.
“W–what’s that supposed to mean, Abigail?” she questioned, clearing her throat
as she glanced just briefly back over her shoulder. Her cheeks were bright red,
flaring down to her neck.

“Oh nothing Mom,” she paused,
wondering if now was the time to bring it up or not, “just curious, that’s
all.” Abigail shrugged, feigning innocence as she sat up and started to grab
the contents that had fallen from her purse and onto the floor. There was no
way she wanted to witness the hoochie crime in action.

“He’ll be home in time for a
late dinner, probably eight–ish or so I believe.” Yeah, she had it all planned
out, didn’t she? Get a quick sex romp in, only to serve up a full course meal
to the bill payer later. What a load of crap.

“Tell me something then, Mommy
dear? Why in the heck is that guy here to work on the basement at four o’clock
in the afternoon, hmm?” She gestured towards the door, not able to resist the
sarcasm that crept out over her tongue.

She turned, finally looking at
Abigail from over her shoulder—fully this time. “Umm, well…he had an earlier
job to do today and this is the only time he had to see me…” she gasped, it was
barely noticeable, but it was most definitely a gasp, “…I mean for going over
some other plans about the basement.” She cleared her throat, most likely
attempting to cover her sudden mistake in words. But otherwise, she didn’t say
another damn word before sauntering away.

Abigail shook her head,
disgust lined her voice as she yelled at her mother’s backside. “I’m going
upstairs now.
Enjoy your little rendezvous
.” She didn’t stop to look at
her mother’s face, didn’t stop to respond to her annoyed cry either. The woman
was as far from a mother as she could get anymore.

Abigail took the stairs two at
a time, needing to get as far away from the disgustingness as she could. She
turned the corner in the hall to head into her room, fighting her angry tears
as she threw her body across her bed.

What the hell was she going to
do now? How would she pass the time? Napping would only take a few hours, and
even then the pain would still be just as fresh when she woke up! Between her
mother’s torrid affair, and her father’s constant absence, her best friend
basically disappearing off the face of the earth, and her non–stop loneliness,
Abigail was on the fast track to insanity, with no return ticket back.

She had jumped at the
opportunity to go this party tonight because the last thing she wanted was to
be alone right now. Her life used to be so uncomplicated, so simple even! Now
though, everything seemed to be falling apart at the tiny, unknown seams. And
she had no idea how to deal with the crappiness alone either. She’d always had
a support system around her. Always had friends or a family to be there for
her, and it was becoming apparent that she never knew how much she needed that
until recently. Her life was slowly dwindling away to something she didn’t
know—wasn’t familiar with—but damn if she was going to let that happen.
Starting tonight, she’d make some personal changes in her life.

For one? She’d quit being the
downer her mind was demanding she be.

She just prayed that the
universe would agree with her once and for all on that aspect.