Jameson Hotel - the Dark Suite Series: Parts One, Two & Three (12 page)

PART TWO

FIXING

“W
hat did you
say?”

Julia’s delicate
frame is restrained in a solid grip. She gasps with mammoth eyes, but doesn’t
fight to get away.

“What the fuck did
you say?” I repeat.

“Be nice to me,” she
whispers. “I heard you and your brother-in-law in the garage and I think you’re
in need of fixing.”

“What?” I push her
away and get my ass out of bed, grab my gun and demand she get dressed.

“Fucking son of a
bitch!” I shout.

“What? I don’t
understand. It didn’t sound like you had much of a choice but to kill him.”

“Put your goddamn
clothes on.”

“Mark...”

“I said put your
fucking clothes on!” She dresses quietly under a watchful eye. Fuck, I really
don’t feel like killing another person tonight.

“You need help.”

“What the hell does
that mean? Help with what? You know... just shut the hell up, don’t say
anything right now. Let me think,” I utter. “Damn it, I wish you wouldn’t have
opened your mouth.”

“Excuse me?” She
stands and struts forward with a finger pointed toward my face.

“Sit down, Jules,” I
say sharply.

“No, you sit down,
Mark.”

“I said sit your ass
down!”

She stops an inch
from my face, places her hands on her hips, and stares into my eyes with a
pissed off expression.

“Are you fucking
kidding me?” I whisper.

“No,” she says.
“Stop acting like a dick, there’s no reason to be afraid of me.”

“What? Who the hell
do you think you are?
Afraid of
you
?
Seriously, sit your ass down!”

She’s motionless,
showing no sign of backing down. “I’m not putting up with this shit,” I say,
lifting her into the air.

“Mark, put me down!”

“You’re the one who
should be scared.” With my arms securely around hers, I carry her to my
bathroom and slam the door. “Lock the door. Lock it!”

“What?” she asks in
complete annoyance.

“Lock me out until I
can clear my head! Do it!”

“Fuck’s sake. I
understand what happened.
Dayne
didn’t give you a
choice... and the things you said about your past, how do you even function after
all that shit? Mark? Are you listening? I could’ve called the cops when you
left, but I...”

Her voice fades as I
reach the bottom of my stairwell, in need of a drink. I take the cap off my
bottle of whiskey and down two shots then carry the bottle back upstairs.

Maybe she’s a
figment of my imagination.

“Did you hear me?
I’m coming out if you don’t answer.”

Nope. She’s real.

“Jules.” I stand
naked outside the bathroom door with a gun in one hand, the bottle of whiskey
in the other, and cum from our recent ‘fuck and suck’ crusted on the tip of my
dick. “What you heard about my past is like a speck of sand in an endless
desert. You don’t have a clue.”

“I want to know.”

“No!”

Cold air floats
across my flesh, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end. I
don’t believe in ghosts, but every once in a while there’s a moment when I
sense someone’s watching me, like my bastard father, although tonight this
frigid air feels more like
Dayne
.

“Shelter yourself
from me,” I whisper.

“You’re going about
this all wrong.” It sounds like she’s pacing. “Who ever heard of this sort of
kidnapping? I’m not supposed to lock
myself
up. Geez.”

She’s insane. I’ve
fallen for a crazy woman who’s playing Ping-Pong inside my head. “You’re not
kidnapped.”

“Good, so I can open
the door?”

This isn’t working.
She should be cowering and pleading for her life.

“Mark, are you
rubbing your chin with the barrel of your gun?”

How the hell does
she know that?

“One of these days
you’re going to accidentally blow your head off!”

It won’t be an
accident.

“Are you there?”

“Tell me why you
didn’t call the cops?” I ask. “Is it because you didn’t want to give up your
free room?”

The door bursts open
and she stomps toward me with her fist shaking in the air.

“You dickhead!” she
shouts. “You’re damn lucky I know how to restrain myself or you’d have a bloody
nose right now. No, it’s not because I’ve got a warm bed! God! I already told
you I overheard you in the garage.”

“And what the hell
were you doing sneaking around and listening to a private conversation?”

Her finger is back
in my face. “Don’t interrupt me,” she snarls. “You idiots were yelling, how
could I not overhear? If you want to kill someone, do it in the privacy of your
own home.”

“This
is
my home! And what the fuck do you
know about killing someone?”

Her mouth drops
open, in shock that I would butt in again.

“As
I
was saying,” she pronounces each word
slowly, taking charge of the conversation, “that guy, Roland, the one who hurt
me... I’ve often replayed that night in my head. What if he had tried to kill
me? What would’ve happened if he was worried about me going to the police and
he wanted to shut me up? If he had attempted anything, I would’ve tried to take
his life to save my own. That’s what you did, right?”

I’m hesitant to
answer.

“I think that’s what
happened. At least, I want to believe that’s what went down,” she sighs,
sitting on the edge of the bed. “If I didn’t know you, I would’ve called the
police, however, my heart’s involved and I’m being led by my feelings.”

She
doesn’t
know me, but those words just
relieved the storm in my head. There’s another person in this room with a
hijacked heart. To hurt Jules because she overheard my big mouth would be
absurd. It’s my fault. Of course, I’ve killed for less, but never a woman. That’s
the main issue. I’ve never physically harmed or killed a woman. If it were life
or death I would, but this isn’t. Or maybe... shit, she better not be playing
me. I take another sip of whiskey then hand her the bottle, but she turns it
down.

“I’m too good for
you,” she says. “Yet I think you deserve a chance with me. You need a good
woman to set you straight.”

“Oh yeah?” I laugh,
not knowing whether to lock her up or marry her. I guess they’re one and the
same anyway. “What do you mean by ‘set me straight?’”

“If I’m open with
you then you should be with me. No more lying. I know you didn’t fall in the
fucking pool.”

“Screw that. You
pretended to be asleep when I got in. Don’t call me a liar, you hypocrite.”

“Okay, see, this is
good. We have a lot in common,” she says approvingly. “We both lied earlier.”

I shake my head and
let out a deep exhale as I fall into the chair next to the bed. This woman has
to be imaginary. Seriously. I mean, maybe I’m starting to hallucinate.

She crosses her legs
and kicks her foot in the air as she speaks. “I’m sure this is hard on you.
When I say you need to be set straight, I mean someone needs to help you
through this mess. You’re probably still in shock and unable to process the
events of the night. I bet that’s why you’re so calm about it. Right?”

I offer a fake nod.

“And once you come
around and reality sets in, you shouldn’t have to deal with the stress on your
own. It’s not easy. Trust me... actually, you need to trust me with everything.
You know you can.”

Wordy woman. She’s
speaking so quickly that I wonder if she’s on speed.

“And you know I’m
decent. I stayed, and the police weren’t called. I didn’t run away because you
and I both know you’d be lost without me.”

I pretend to rub my
lips so she can’t see the smile on my face.

“Oh, and by the way,
you should be thanking me. I didn’t say anything about
Dayne
until our fuck was over because I didn’t want to be rude.”

Yep, she’s flat out
cracked. Senseless and wild even when sober, like myself.

“Breathe,” I
request. “Relax for me.”

She leans back with
her arms stretched and takes a deep breath.

I’m doubtful I can
trust a person who’s perfectly fine with the fact that I just killed a man, but
I’m not about to let her go. I’ll have to sleep with one eye open for a while.

“Tell me you’re
okay,” she whispers. “Does your head hurt? Is your brother-in-law alright?”

“Cove’s fine. And
yes, my head’s pounding.”

“Let me get you some
ibuprofen.”

“No.” I stand,
getting them from the bathroom myself.

She grins. “See,
you’re fearful of me.”

“You’re such a
comedian,” I say sarcastically. “I’m not worried about you drugging me, if
that’s what you think. I just don’t feel like explaining where I keep them...
and I don’t need you to look after me.”

“You’re wrong. You
not only need
fixin
’, but
lovin
’
too.”

I place my hands on
the bathroom counter and gaze at the mirror. Shit, my forehead looks like it
was hit with a baseball bat. And I’ve got drowsy eyelids too. What a fucked up
day.

“I’m tired,” she
calls out. “Can we go to sleep now? Arguing with you is downright draining.”

“Unbelievable,” I
whisper. That’s it? She’s done discussing
Dayne
and
everything else? Just like that?

I leave the bathroom
and open the door to my deck, allowing the crisp fall air to flow into the
room.

“That’s chilly.”

“Good, you’ll have
to curl up next to me to keep warm.” I lift the comforter and she crawls
underneath, keeping her clothing on, but eyeing my dick as I slide in next to
her.

“I need a while to
recharge,” I say. “But I’ve got other ways to get you off if you need a
thrill.”

“Actually, I’m
pretty sore from earlier,” she whispers. “I’ve never fucked liked that before.
It was intense.”

I apologize by
weaving my legs with hers, running my toes along the arch of her foot, and
massaging her back. She moans in appreciation and nuzzles her head against my
chest.

She’s really
finished talking about this? Huh. This is baffling. And now she’s humming The
Police song again.

I’m her nest,
shielding her from harm. But she’s the one flying in, rebuilding my walls
piece-by-piece so I stay intact. Fuck, I’m thinking about nests? What a pussy.

I sigh and stare at
the open door, inhaling a deep breath before closing my eyes. My body’s
dog-tired, but my mind won’t relax. I keep replaying the evening in my head.
There were too many mistakes -
Dayne
in the truck,
needing Cove’s help, Julia eavesdropping, and getting snagged on the rope then
nearly drowning. Fuck, this is the sloppiest I’ve ever been. I’ll end up dead
if I’m not careful... and who the hell was that woman in the sleazy motel? A
random washed up porn star with my dad’s old company tat on her shoulder. To
hell with her if she comes looking for
Dayne
. I’m not
worried about her though; I just want to know
who
the
fuck she is.

And all of that shit
is nothing compared to my biggest gaffe - the one drifting to sleep in my arms.
I’m pussy-whipped and heart-hitched which has turned me into a half-wit.

My wicked woman
breathes slowly and deeply. It appears that what just happened is an everyday
occurrence to her. She’s too calm. Her restfulness is disturbing. No, Julia
Alison
Barringer
, I’m not afraid of you; I’m fucking
terrified.

BREAKFAST

“W
here the fuck
is she?”

The bed’s cold where
Jules slept so I know she’s been awake for a while. I check the shower, my
deck, the kitchen, and then notice the open door. She’s in my garage.

The scent of bleach
snuffs out the fresh mountain air, causing my eyes to tear as I walk down the
two flights of stairs. My plan was for us to have a loud morning fuck and then
eat breakfast together, but this is bullshit. I told her last night not to
leave my bedroom. She’s been snooping. The bleach is kept in my laundry room
off the guest bedroom, and
..
.
wait
.
Hell, no. Bleach?

“For fuck’s sake,” I
whisper, frozen on the stairs as she walks toward me. Her hair is in a ponytail
and she’s wearing nothing but panties and a pair of bloodstained yellow rubber
gloves. She swings the bottle of bleach in one hand and carries a bucket in the
other, whistling a happy tune with
Dayne’s
blood on
her knees.

“Morning.” She nods
and passes me on her way to my suite.

Holy shit, she
cleaned the blood.

“You left a mess,”
she says. “But’s it’s impeccable now. Your garage and truck are spotless.”

I follow her into
the laundry room, fully erect, and worshipping her every move as she dumps the
bucket of bloody water and washes the gloves in my sink.

 
“I wasn’t in the mood last night to tidy up.
And didn’t I tell you to stay in the bedroom?” I ask. “What made you think you
could go downstairs?”

“Well.” She rolls
her eyes. “I was curious. And if you can stick your dick in me, I think it’s
okay for me to stick my head in your garage. It only seems fair. Besides, I
wanted to do something nice for you.”

“Why?”

She gives me a
glaring look like I’m an idiot. “Do I even have to answer that question? Jesus,
Mark. Because you’re supposed to do nice things for the people you care about.
Like, you gave me a roof over my head, so I...”

“So you cleaned up
the blood of the man I killed? Yeah, that seems equivalent. I don’t want you to
be involved in this shit. It’s bad enough you know about last night, and now
you’ve got blood on your hands. Literally, Jules, blood on your fucking hands!”

“It’s too late.” She
turns off the water and light then heads for my bedroom. “Nice morning wood, by
the way.”

I follow close
behind, being led around like I’m some sort of submissive. This obedient boy
bullshit ends now. My balls have been tucked away since our argument last
night.

“And what if I want
to be involved?” she asks. “Think about it. Who in their right mind would want
to spend their life doing the same boring crap each day? No offense, but I hope
I’m not working your front desk when I’m sixty. I know some people get trapped.
They end up doing the same shit twenty-four seven and then they die. Fuck that,
what happened last night was electrifying. I felt like I was in a Quentin
Tarantino film. Well, not all of it. That dream about your sister’s head in a
pie was crazy dark, but it was just that, a dream.”

“And
Dayne’s
blood in my garage isn’t dark? This isn’t a game
you know. My guns and blades are real. This bump on my head hurts like a son of
a bitch... and it’s fucking real.”

She looks at my head
with her lips tightly pursed and arched on one side then slides out of her
panties and turns on the shower. “I suppose you’re right,” she says under a
heavy breath. “I need to get this bleach scent out of my hair. It’s driving me
nuts.”

“Is that what’s
wrong with you? You’re high on bleach fumes?”

“No, I think I’m in
love.”

“Oh,” I blush, “so
you don’t care at all that I killed
Dayne
?”

“You’re still
alive... that’s what I care about.”

Steam rises and her
body becomes a cloudy haze behind the glass door. I rub my eyes and let out a
soft laugh, thinking about my freakishly outlandish life. “Jules?”

“Yes?”

She washes her neck
and breasts and my hand reaches instantly for my dick. I’m surprised I didn’t
cum when she walked up from the garage donning
Dayne’s
blood. That was hotter than Hell. I’ve never experienced anything more
stimulating in my life.

“Yes?” she repeats.

My free hand rests
on the glass as I continue jerking off; seduced by the figure being swallowed
in a heated mist. Her head turns and she watches me, lathering her hair,
rinsing, soaping her arms and legs, still watching, setting her hand over mine
on the opposite side of the glass... and then opening the door and pulling me
in by my cock a moment before I’m about to cum.

“You haven’t a clue
what you do to me.” I fight for a breath as she strokes my dick. “Fucking
hell.” My head drops back.

She moves closer,
grabbing my ass and rubbing her pussy across my thigh. My legs are rigid, my
abs firm, and her racing hand devoted to gifting me a temporary blackout.

“Uh.”

Cum
lands on her stomach.

Her hand slows.

My legs quiver.

Our lips touch.

I’m dazed and
winded.

“Swoon,” she
whispers, turning off the water with a satisfied grin. “That was your fastest
orgasm yet.”

“It’s your fault I
have no self-control,” I pant.

“Mine?” she laughs
while toweling off.

“Come back,” I hold
out my hand, “that’s two to zero, it’s time to even things out.”

“I’m good. I need to
get some clean clothes from my room and then eat. I worked up a pretty big
appetite this morning.”

“Exactly. You
deserve a thank you.”

She looks at me and
waits.

“What?” I ask.

“I’m waiting for you
to say thank you.”

 
“Come on, you know what I mean.” I shake my
head. “Let me lick your pussy.”

“You’re weak,” she
calls back to me. “I don’t need to cum every time you do. A verbal thank you
would’ve been nice.”

I turn the water
back on and grab the soap. “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way
out!”

“Hey Mark?” Her head
pops back into the shower room.

“Huh?”

“Is it okay if I eat
in the restaurant, or is that too weird? Do I need to hide that I’m living here
from the other employees? Should I get something from McDonalds instead?”

“No, it’s fine.
Don’t you dare eat one of those egg muffin things when I’ve got a healthy
buffet waiting for us downstairs.”

“Us? So I have to
wait like two hours for you to get ready?”

I give her the
finger then finish washing my body. “Thirty minutes. I’ll meet you in your
room.”

“Great. It’s a
date!”

“No.”

She walks out.

“It’s not a date,
Jules!” I yell after her. “We’re not sixteen!”

And there’s her head
again, making another appearance. “Then stop acting like a sixteen-year-old,”
she laughs, disappearing this time for good.

Shit, she’s playful.

I dry off and rush
to get ready, putting on my favorite black cashmere sweater, a pair of faded
jeans, and a baseball cap. Going casual is the only way to hide the lump on my
forehead. I’d look asinine wearing my Phillies hat with a suit. With a new
switchblade in my pocket and my gun in my ankle holster, I’m ready to walk out
my door.

A hair dryer whirrs
as I pass Jules’ room on my way to my other suite. It’s time to discuss a few
things with my sister and brother-in-law... if they’re still around.

I can imagine they
argued last night, and knowing Cove, he would’ve insisted they pack up and head
home on the first open flight to St. Louis. Only my sister would’ve bitched him
out and insisted they stay to say goodbye. I know when I knock on the door that
this isn’t going to be a pretty scene.

“What?” my sister
says.

“You always say
that. Sophia, open up.”

The door unlocks and
her chestnut brown eyes sparkle in the hallway light. She flashes a pretty
smile, looking surprisingly well rested and perkier than she was when they
first arrived.

“You just get laid
or something?”

“Get in here.” She
pulls me inside. “I was so pissed at you last night when you asked for Cove’s
help, but I’m thankful he came home in one piece. And no, I didn’t just get
laid. He passed out after a night of almost drinking himself to death.”

“That figures.”

“Thanks, by the
way.” She gives me a hug, something she hasn’t done in years. “So you saved the
day? Everything’s taken care of?”

“Drunk boy didn’t
fill you in?”

“He said he
couldn’t.”

“That’s surprising.”

“Yeah, he came home,
grabbed a bottle, and sat on the back deck for an hour then stumbled inside and
crashed.”

“Wake him up. I want
us to have breakfast together.”

“Really?” She spins
and her short sheer skirt and black blouse float away from her fit body. “God,
I’m so excited to get the hell out of here. Boys!” she calls out. “Put on a
pair of shorts and let’s go for a swim!”

“No, wait. I said I
wanted to have breakfast.”

“Are you kidding? My
kids need to enjoy the rays of the morning sun and get some fresh air.”

“
Yayyy
!”
Two high-pitched voices bounce off the walls.
Daxton
and Xavier race down the stairs, stepping into swim trunks and nearly falling
on their ass as they hurry to the door.

“Fuck
Soph
, can’t you...”

“Don’t!” she scolds.
“Watch your mouth, Mark. I just got them to stop using that word.”

“Yeah, like they
don’t hear you and Cove swearing all day long.”

“I love to say
fuck!”
Daxton
laughs. “
Xav
,
that’s my fucking towel!”

“Fuck off!” Xavier
yells as they play tug-o-war with a beach towel.

“Thanks, asshole,”
Sophia whispers while putting on a pair of sunglasses. “Come on boys, pool
time.” She takes her purse and opens the door.

“
Yayyy
!”
They run out of the suite. “We love you, Uncle Mark,” they say in unison,
flying past me like a couple of mini tornados.

“Race you there,
farthead
,”
Daxton
says.

Sophia looks at me
then at the staircase leading to the master bedroom. “Get him out of bed and
I’ll meet you in the restaurant in a half-hour. Deal?”

“Do I have a
choice?” I mumble, walking toward the stairs. “Keep an eye on your kids and
come inside if you see a woman with big tits.”

“What?”

I stop on the
landing and peer down at her. “Just be safe. We’ll talk over breakfast.”

“I’m always looking
out for them, that’s why we’re here.” She closes the door and I’m left in a
darkened suite.

My sister
is
a good parent. She prides herself on
being the antithesis of our mother, who was both physically and verbally
abusive, but more to Sophia than me. Victims of abuse often become abusers
themselves and I always thought my sister would be a terrible mother. Shit, she
proved me wrong. I’ve never seen her lose her cool with either of her sons.
It’s surprising since she has her hands full with the two beasts. They’re not
easy to deal with, especially at the age of ten. I can only imagine they’ll be
worse in a few years when they’re teenagers. Fuck, she’s screwed. She wanted
more kids too, but has a hard enough time keeping these two in line.
Daxton
and Xavier where just born devious. It was the luck
of the draw. Even when they try and act loving their voices go cold. They sort
of give me the creeps. And that’s coming from a guy who enjoys killing people.

My son has problems
as well, but he acts out because he feels abandoned. That’s obvious... and
different.

Maybe it’s just the
age. Swearing, belching, farting, and running wild are all big fun when you’re
ten. Or it could have something to do with being twins, or some kind of sibling
rivalry, or... it’s a way to cope with their alcoholic father.

Cove is sleeping on
top of the comforter, wearing only boxers and snoring like an ox. I observe him
for a few minutes, noticing the bottle next to the bed, the smell of body odor
in the room, and his dark tousled hair. He suffers from depression. No one’s
told me that, it’s just evident after observing his behavior over the past
decade.

I slip out of my
shoes and lie alongside him, caressing his back until he stirs.

“
Soph
,
I helped your brother,” he says, completely hung over. “I’m going to hell.”

My hand slides down
his abdomen and rests over his dick. This knucklehead is so easy to tease.