Brutally Beautiful (10 page)

Stunned, furious and explosive, I held my chin up to him, “That’s all there is, just the black and white cover of a book?  Never even opening it up to see the inside.  So I’m just a waitress or, as you explained so eloquently, a whore?”  I closed the small distance between us, wanting the confrontation, wanting to fight with him.  “Then all you are is a pathetic storyteller who lives in a world full of
make-believe
.  You’re like
Mister Fucking Rogers!
”

Without warning, he hauled me up by the waist onto the counter, gripping my skin tightly.  His fingers splayed out over the bare skin of my legs, the tips of his fingers pressing against the edge of my cotton boy shorts.  Holding a steady gaze, his thumb lightly brushed across the skin of my inner thigh, before gripping me tighter.

“Get your hands off me, Grayson.  Don’t make the mistake of underestimating me,” I whispered, our faces less than an inch away from each other.  “I’m more than what I do for a living.  I’m a friend, a lover, a sister. I’m
ANYTHING
I want to fucking be.  I pity you for defining yourself because of the four walls you box yourself into.  And stop looking at me like you’re going to kiss me again, because it’s not going to happen.  If I’m not good enough because I’m a waitress, don't settle for me, don't sink down to my level. You don't deserve anything I have to offer.  Let that shit hurt for a hot minute, simmer in it then leave me the fuck alone.  Repeat that shit to yourself in your head when you walk out of here, rinse and repeat.”

His expression darkened, “You can still feel my lips on yours, can’t you?”

“Shut up, Kade, and get your hands off me.”

“
Tell me
I’m wrong,” he hissed.

I pushed forward, moving him away with my body, “You’re wrong.”

“
Prove
me wrong,” he hissed again, louder.

Jumping off the counter edge, I walked past him and scowled, “You kissed me, not the other way around.  I think you need to look into therapy.”

He laughed darkly and shook his head, “I don’t want proof about the kiss; I know you still feel my lips on yours.  We both knew the truth after that kiss. I wasn’t moaning all by myself in here. You kissed back just as hard. We both want to fuck each other until we can’t walk straight. I want you to prove me wrong that you’re not like every other person on this planet.”  A minute or two passed as we stared at each other.  Ardent slate eyes bore into mine, waiting; wanting. 
He didn’t want me to prove him wrong. He wanted me to be like whatever it was that had hurt him; that was plain to see on his face
.  What the hell happened to him?

“You don’t want me to prove anything to you.  You want me to be just like everybody else.”

Kade was silent for a few long moments, and then he slowly moved past me to the door.  His eyes gave everything away, but he said the words anyway, “You’re right,” he whispered, “because then, I’d have a tangible reason to stop thinking about you.”

Clearly not thinking, I stepped in front of him, blocking his way to the door.  “Kade?” 
This man has to be suffering from dissociative identity disorder.
 

He lifted his head up to meet my eyes, “Don’t, Lainey.  Don’t listen to anything I’m saying. I’m drunk as hell and I liked what I saw through your window, that’s it.” 

I nodded my head sharply, “Right, because I’m only good for a dance.  Well, you got what you wanted, so no charge either.  I guess you were right about how easy I was to label into your lap-dancing-gold-digging-uneducated-waitress-trailer-trash file,” I smiled.  “Oh, wait.  Hold on,” I said, pulling my aid-bag off the hook by the door and rummaging through it.  When my hands felt the small-foiled package I was looking for, I grinned wider at him, flicking the condom right into his face. 

Kade caught the condom with a quick flick of his hand. 
Yeah, great reflexes for a drunk, right?
  He arched his eyebrows up at me.

“It’s a condom, Kade, because if you’re going to act like a dick, you might as well dress like one,” I explained, smiling so wide my cheeks actually hurt.  Then I grabbed his jacket from the hook I hung it on last night and tossed it at him.  “Thanks for the pleasant visit.”

“Well, love, maybe you are one step above trailer trash,” he smiled sadly.

“Well,
fuck me gently with a chainsaw
and no lube. Thank you for the compliment!”  My head started to ache from all this crazy. 
This man needs an array of meds.

A knock at the door silenced our immature conversation.  Both of us realized we were mere inches away from each other, and ready to either claw each other’s eyes out or lick each other silly. 

I swung the door open to find Fran standing behind the screen with a dozen red roses.  He’s eyes bulged out of his sockets when he looked at me, and I felt the deep flush of embarrassment across my cheeks when I realized I had not gotten dressed the whole time I was fighting with Kade.  

“Excuse me,” I snapped, shoving past a sneering Kade as I stalked through the trailer, straight to my closet to make myself look decent.

Through the thin slats of the trailer blinds, I looked out in time to see Kade kick a huge dent into the side of his truck, swing open the door and furiously climb into it, slamming the door shut so harshly that his jacket got caught in it. I hoped to God, he wasn’t drunk, then felt guilty as hell for not making sure before letting him drive.  I’ve seen the results of too many drunk-driving accidents, and my stomach knotted.  I yanked a sweatshirt over my head, slid my legs into a pair of yoga pants and ran back into the kitchen to my phone on the counter.  I typed out a quick text to Dylan telling him his brother just left here and that he was drunk, and to maybe check on him to make sure he got home and didn’t kill any innocent people.  Slamming the phone back down on the counter, I tore my hands through my hair and almost jumped clear out of my skin when I heard a throat clear behind me.

I completely forgot that Fran had come over.

“So…is there anything that I should know?” he asked sadly, placing the beautiful flowers across the counter and gripping his long fingers on the edge to lean forward.

“Not at all.”

He cocked his head at me, and offered me a sarcastic chuckle under his breath, “Last night that man couldn’t keep his eyes off you and today I come here at 9:30 in the morning and you’re half dressed with him, looking quite
flushed
.”  He tapped one hand on the counter, and continued, “Lainey, I know we’ve just met, but I really would like to know if you’re having any sexual relationships elsewhere.”

I burst out laughing. 

Poor Francis looked heartbroken.

“Trust me; I am not having any sort of relationship with that idiot.  He came here this morning because he forgot his jacket last night and all we did was to go at each other’s throats.”  I picked up the bouquet of flowers with my trembling hands and pulled out a plastic dollar store vase Bree had bought the first week we were here, and placed the flowers inside.  “And for your information, I haven’t been sexually active for a very long time.” 
But, seriously, what I would give to be fucked until I couldn’t walk straight
. 
Just to see what the hell I’ve been missing
.

My stomach coiled up into thousands of little hard knots, because I knew my next sentence would be a lie. “Kade is not even a thought in my mind.” 
I still felt his lips on me and I knew he was pushing me away from him because he was just as attracted to me as I was to him
. 
He said he pushed people away on purpose
. But, let’s break this down right now, shall we?  I will not fool myself.  Kade would never be healthy for me. He’s too wrapped up in whatever it is that consumes him. 
He’s sick
.  I let that shit seep into my brain the minute Kade came here throwing his invisible demons at me. It pissed me off for a minute, and then I moved on.  The man had dangerously glaring-in-your-face character flaws, and I knew there was no such thing as believing love will conquer all and change everything.  If it did, I wouldn’t have a missing person’s file out on me in the tri-state area, and the police probably wouldn’t want to take me in for questioning. I’m not surprised, nor could I bring myself to give any fucks about the situation.  Seriously, my fucks had been all used up already.

Fran cautiously shifted his body in front of mine and tenderly lifted my chin with his finger, attempting to make me look him in the eyes.  “What do you think of being in an exclusive relationship with me?”  His eyes scanned my face, searching for an answer he wanted to hear.

“I just ended a long monogamous relationship, Francis.  I explained that to you.  I don’t want to be part of another relationship right now.”

He leaned closer to me, his breath hot on my face, “I would like getting to know you though.”

My stomach churned as he brought his other hand to my cheek and dipped his head closer to me, kissing me slowly and softly with closed lips.  I opened my lips against his and he pulled in a sharp breath.  I wanted desperately to feel a spark, or a flutter of something, but all I thought about was how different his lips were from Kade, or how Fran kissed just as softly, robotically and clinically as the man, I had once been married to did.

I pushed the thoughts out of my head. I wasn’t Samantha Matthews any longer.

Fran buried his face in my hair and pulled me in tighter for a hug.  “Okay, I will take this as slowly as you need me too.”  Raising his head, he slowly ran his nose along my cheek and kissed me on the forehead.

Breaking away from his embrace, I moved along the counter, grabbing my phone to find no new messages.  My stomach ached a little, worrying about anyone in the path of Kade’s truck. 

“Anyway, I came over early to help you clean, but I see that you stayed up all night and scrubbed this place raw,” he said, looking around in amazement.

I laughed.  “It only took me an hour, Fran.  I like cleanliness, what can I tell you?  I have this thing for sterile environments.”  I walked over to the coffeepot I used as a mug earlier and placed it in the sink, running soap and water over it.  “Would you like some coffee?” I asked. 

“I have a better idea,” he said running his hand down my arm.  “Why don’t you go put something nicer on and I will take you to the quaintest street festival you’ve ever seen.  Then, I want to take you to an early dinner and then to the best little book store on earth.”  The man bounced a little on his heels, “Bree told me last night how you love reading.”

“A street festival?  It’s the middle of winter. Isn’t it too cold to be outside at a festival?”

“Not for this one.  It’s under enormous tents and has outdoor heat lamps that line the streets.  You will love it, I promise.  Artisans line the streets and sell their wares. There are antiques you could buy, and up-and-coming artists selling their paintings; it’s lovely.”

“Okay, but I need a huge cup of some sort of sugary caramel coffee to get me through the rest of this morning, maybe even more than one.”

“You
do know
how unhealthy caffeine is for your body, right?  I’ve read that if you drink more than a cup a day that you can suffer from insomnia, upset stomach, jitters, and a rise in your blood pressure.  It will lead to heart attacks, tooth decay, slower metabolism and has…”

“Okay.  Thank you,” I said cutting him off.  I walked into my room and tried to find
something nice to wear
for a day outside.  “I guess coffee is my vice then,” I called from my bedroom.  “I used to drink only one cup a day, but for the last few months, I find that I need to make up for the time I spent refraining from it.”

Dressing quickly in a pair of jeans, a form fitting turtleneck sweater and a pair of boots, I walked out to Fran still assaulting me with statistics of the nine rings of hell that you allow your body to go through when drinking coffee.

I practically shoved him out of my door; desperate for the coffee he was trying to forbid me from. 

We hopped into his brand spanking new hybrid car and drove for a good forty-five minutes with Fran discussing
with himself
the benefits of driving a fully hybrid electric car.  I wished I owned a pair of earplugs.
Maybe I could find some at the festival
.

“…Some people argue that it seems like an odd dichotomy that a hybrid car that has
two energy sources
could be better for our environment as opposed to a traditional car that has just one.  Now the facts about the hybrid are…”

“STOP! Stop the car!”  I yelped gleefully, making Fran swerve into the shoulder of the road.  “A STARBUCKS!” I pointed happily, bouncing in his tiny electrical shit box of a car.

Driving into the parking lot, he pulled into the first empty space he saw and placed his hand over his heart.  “You almost gave me a heart attack,” he chuckled.  “I really thought something was wrong.”

“Something
is
wrong,” I winked at him.  “I haven’t had enough caffeine yet.”  Opening the car door, I smiled at him, “Would you like a cup?”

“No, thank you.”  He touched his hand to mine, “Didn’t you understand what I said before about drinking too much coffee.”

I stared at him, confused.  “Yes, I did.”  I blinked my eyes rapidly, trying not to burst out laughing.  “I guess I’m just too far gone into my addiction.  There’s just no saving me.” 

I came back into the car with three coffees, putting my lips to each one in turn, and slurping them loudly.  Fran slowly dragged his eyes from me back to his windshield and continued his drive to the street festival he promised to take me to.

Fran was correct about one thing; the street fair was lovely.  Antique shops, small novelty stores and a few bed and breakfasts lined the small cobblestoned main street of the quaint nameless town.  Old, yet well-maintained Victorian homes littered the twisting back roads and when you drove by, the inhabitants offered you a big wave and a friendly smile.  Covered bridges crossed over flowing streams and tents were set up for blocks along the main road of the town, and people milled around laughing and drinking
coffee
, warm cider, or hot chocolate.