Mistletoe & Kisses (39 page)

Chapter Eight

MONDAY

I feel hung over.  My head is stuffed with cotton, and I’m nauseous.  My stomach is growling, which just makes the whole thing worse.  Plus I don’t have my keys, or credit cards, for that matter. 

I stomp down the stairs, my foul mood officially in the Popper zone of red as what I theorized last night is my barometer-of-self.  Six days out of the week, I’ll ignore on a good day, terrorizing people on the bad.  But for two Sundays in a row I’ve introduced myself as Sadie, answered to Sadie, and been more nice than I can remember being since I started middle school.

Most of the time, I’m putting on an act for people, giving them what they want from the lead singer of a grunge band.  But on Sundays I give them what they want to.  Except at night.  When Batty is in my house, in me, all of that is real.  Is there a middle ground?  Or is there an option where he can wear me like a top hat for the rest of his life?

I snort, almost falling off the bottom step when my eyes land on the kitchen island.  I run the short distance and rip open my purse. The purse that’s supposed to be at the hospital.  The purse that should not have been inside of my securely locked house.  I check my wallet, but everything looks to be there.  I think I finally got him when I can’t find my phone, but it was just at the bottom of the bag.

I fist the leather in my hands and walk to the keypad for the alarm.  “Son of a bitch.”  The alarm is still set, just like I had it last night.  I’m so mad I’m shaking when I turn it off to leave.  As soon as I get in my car, I call Brian to get a locksmith to my house right that fucking second.  Then I pull up the house app on my phone and change the code.

I have no way to get in contact with Batty. I’m not going to go back.  My mind was made up last night.  No way in
hell
I was going through that again.  But it seems I would have to go one last time to rip his delicious face off.

* * *

Two hours later, I’m in band practice for the tour.  We finish the song and go to grab some water while the guys keep playing to transition into the next song.  “What the hell are you doing?”  I sigh and put the cap back on the cold bottle.

“Whatever do you mean?” I ask in a flat voice, looking over at Brian.

“You aren’t even fucking singing the songs!”  I roll my eyes.

“Yes, that was actually what it was.  Singing.  Not screaming and growling the whole thing.  I can’t do that shit anymore just for practice.”  I move away from him before I miss my cue but Brian grabs my arm.  It’s his favorite place to bruise me.

“You go into practice pretending it’s the fucking Madison Square Garden.”

“But I won’t have a voice for the rest of the day if I do that now.  I barely speak on tour because it’s gone.  I don’t know how much more my voice can take.”  I lift my arm to try to get it away from him, but he doesn’t let go.

“How do I know you can still do it if you don’t prove it in rehearsals?  I can replace you with some young little thing in a second Pops.”

My worst fear spoken from the man who’s supposed to have my back.  He never has, though, and we both know it.  Speaking of Pops, I’m fucking Popper, Goddammit.  My hand holding the water bottle slams into the top of his head, splashing water everywhere, ruining his greasy comb over.  But his sausage hands are off of my arm.  I walk away with a smirk on my face.  Yeah.  It’s good to be Popper sometimes.

I didn’t even miss my cue into the song.

WEDNESDAY

“Do you think you were hard on the parents?”

I roll my eyes and pop my gum.  I’m rewarded with an eye twitch.  “No, I don’t.  Those people just left her there in a fucking cold room alone.  I was the last thing she saw.”

We had been going back and forth about this for thirty minutes now.  She wasn’t convincing me that I overreacted.

“Was she happy when she died, Popper?” the doc asks me quietly.  She’s solemn which is the only reason I answer.

“She was laughing.  I reached to grab another stuffed animal and the monitor went off.  She just looked like she fell asleep.”  I stare ahead, seeing it over again for the millionth time.

“Do you think she was happy, if she died laughing?  Do you think she was missing her parents and blamed them in that second her heart stopped?”

I shake my head, barely a movement at all, but she sees it.  I know Rachel wasn’t thinking about her parents not being there.  That was the whole fucking point.  To give them something their parents couldn’t or wouldn’t do for them.

She lets me process for a minute before prompting me.  “So you know that you are giving them something they won’t forget?  A little peace, happiness maybe, when their world is worry and pain?  Then what do you get from it, Sadie?”

I don’t miss that she slipped the name in there, but I’m trying to think of something besides Batty that I get from going to the hospital.  I think . . . and think.

“Do you smile when you’re there?”

“Yeah.  Some.”

“Do you laugh?”

“Yeah,” I say softly.

“How do you feel when you leave there?”

Horny.
  It almost comes out of my mouth.  Maybe Sadie comes with a filter?  Not a bad thing.

I take a deep breath and look at the ceiling.  “I feel . . . too many things to count.  They’re all jumbled together.”

“Like what?”

“Sad, angry, happy that they smiled, hurting for what they are going through, relieved I could do something, anxious that they won’t be there next time, anxious that they will.”

“How do you process that?”  I stare at her until she elaborates.  “What do you do when you get home?  Do you go for a walk on the beach?  Eat ice cream?  Take a bubble bath?”

Well, shit.  Imma try that whole list next Sunday, because I sure as hell am not bringing back my caped friend.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.  I do that.”  The doc’s eyebrows raise.

“Which one?”

I shrug and look at the clock.  “All of ‘em.”

Her shoulder’s wilt, and she sits back in her chair.  “You’re lying.”

I slap my hands down onto my bare legs.  “Welp!  Looks like time’s up.  See ya next week.”  And I get the hell out of there.  Somehow I doubt fucking a stranger is what she wants to hear, and Popper shouldn’t give a fuck, didn’t until two weeks ago.  Now I’ve got this chick in white on my other shoulder telling me that Dr. Pentir is genuinely trying to help me. And let’s face it, not a lot of people give two shits about me.

Chapter Nine

SUNDAY

I park my car and pull the e-brake roughly.  I’m ready for war.  As I walk to the elevators, my knee high boots ring out sharply on the concrete. 

Where does he get off coming into my house?  Touching my things?  He violated my privacy, while I was asleep upstairs and didn’t even come up to get in the bed?  Fuck him.  Well he’s about to get his ass kicked because I’m over it.  He—

My internal tirade is cut off when I’m jerked hard from behind.  My eyes get big, and I squeak in shock.  Who in the fuck would dare touch me tonight of all nights?  A hand goes around my mouth about the time I raise both of my stilettos and jam them into his feet, lifting them again to get his knees this time.

I hear a muffled curse as I’m pushed toward my car in the empty garage.  I stumble for a few steps, quickly coming up and wrapping my hand around the strap of my purse.  That’s when I take in the black mask, black cape, and black jeans.

“You,” I say through clenched teeth and take a swing with my overloaded purse.  Batty dodges it easily, leaning back as it whizzes by his head like the fucking
Matrix
.

“Will you stop it?  I knew you were going to come in here hotter than hell.”  Somehow I don’t think he’s talking about how I look.

“You broke into my house!” I yell, advancing on him with my finger raised.

He snatches it before I poke at his chest.  “I was doing you a fucking favor.  I think what you meant to say is
thank you
.”

“So you went back to the hospital and got my shit.”  I shrug.  “You still took my spare key, turned off my alarm, and went into my house!  You could have knocked.  You could have left it on the fucking porch.”

He takes a step toward me and lowers his voice.  “I put the key back.  I locked the goddamned door.  I set the fucking alarm.”

Our breath mixes as we pant against each other.  When did he get so close?  One second we’re staring daggers at each other, the next our masks are gone and our mouths are fused together.  We battle with our tongues, lashing at each other with teeth.  His hands go under my shirt and mold around my breasts.  My hands do the same, but I use my nails to scrape down his ribs.  Batty groans and yanks me hard to him.  My breath gusts out from the force of hitting his chest.  As fast as he brought us together he’s arching his hips away from mine to put a hand over where I’m hottest, between my legs.

He curls his fingers in and rubs, making me desperate.  When he pulls his lips from mine to work on the button of my jeans I ask, “How do you do this to me?”  Seriously, I was set to skin him alive, now I just want his skin to touch mine.

“I ask myself that every fucking day.  Bend over.”

I look around to where I’m supposed to be bending, almost doing it right there with the order in his tone.  That’s not Popper.  She doesn’t take orders.  Sadie must, because when he turns me to the hood of my car, I grasp the end closest to the windshield and hang on as he yanks my jeans down.

It’s completely unlike me to not worry about scratching the three hundred and fifty thousand dollar machine, but the sound of his buckle jingling erases the concern.

He palms me briefly.   “Always so fucking wet, Sadie,” he says with a mix of admonishment and approval, feeding both sides of who I am.  I push my bare ass against him, but he pushes back, so that my hips touch the car.  “Not yet.  Don’t make me spank your ass red right here.  Don’t you fucking tempt me.”

I take a shaky breath, and it fogs against the grey paint when I exhale.  As soon as my lungs are empty, as if he was waiting for it, he powers into me with no warning.  He leaves me with no breath to scream, but my body tries.  My eyes widen, my mouth opens, but there’s no sound.

With his withdrawal, my lungs expand. When he doesn’t immediately enter me again, I push back.  Smack.  Fuck.  “Ah!”

“I told you, you had to wait.  You don’t listen for shit.” He grabs my loose hair in a fist and lifts my head off of the car with it.  “You have to be quiet now, Sadie.  Can you do that for me?  No screaming, not this time.  These walls echo.  If you don’t keep it in, security will be here in a heartbeat,” he rasps in my ear.  He slowly enters me again and withdrawals.  Testing me.  “I would have to stop.  You don’t want me to stop, do you, baby?”

I immediately shake my head as much as I can and am rewarded with a powerful thrust that sends our thighs slapping loudly.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it Sadie?”  He continues to fill me.  The angle and my almost closed legs making things extremely deep.  Almost unbearably tight.

A little whimper escapes my closed lips, and he’s gone.  I quickly let go of the car to cover my mouth, then he’s back.  His pace picks up, his grip on my hair arching my back.  I close my eyes and just feel his body as it drills into mine.  Sparks shoot off behind my eyelids as his balls slap my clit, over and over, faster and faster.

There’s a sound that doesn’t belong.  A ding.  My eyes open to see the elevator doors parting.  Batty lets go of my hair to lift me by the waist.  My knees bend automatically to hold on the best I can.  He stays inside of me to the hilt when he lowers to the ground.  My palms smack the ground seconds before it would have been my face.  Then he’s got my hair again.  My body erupts in goosebumps when his lips touch my ear and he starts moving again, more slowly.

“Shh.  You don’t want them to see you.  You don’t want them to make us stop, do you?”  I shake my head.  His abs roll like a snake down my back over and over as he pushes inside of me.  The thought of getting caught, people feet away to give proof that this actually happened, knowing besides the two of us, makes me soar higher.  My muscles clench around him, making it harder for him, but he loves it.  I know by the small groan I’m rewarded with.

“Shh,” I say back, barely making a sound as the voices come closer.

“You’re such a fucking smart ass.  So fucking hot when you’re mad.”  He pushes in as hard as he was on the hood, and I have to stop breathing so that I don’t yell the parking garage down around us.

I come with muscle spasms that have me gripping anywhere I can.  His thighs do nicely where they’re pressed to the back of mine.  I dig my nails in as my body convulses.

“Your fucking heels are going to leave blood on my ass.”  I pull him tighter to me with them, and he hisses.  Then he’s coming inside of me, I feel each jet and pulse in the stillness.  My eyes open to see under my car as headlights flash over us before turning to the ramp.

Batty lifts me to my knees with a hand around my waist and pulls up his pants before helping me to my feet.  We’re both trying to catch our breath, the only sound the now faint sound of my car ticking as it cools down.  Was the hood hot?  I don’t even remember.

I lick my dry lips, pulling my jeans up from around my knees.  He hands me my mask before putting his back on.  I bend on shaky legs to grab my purse from the floor and look for my keys.

“Where the fuck are you going?” he asks me.  I look up, meeting his eyes.

“I just came to chew you out.  Now I’m out.”

He chuckles darkly, grabbing my neck and pulling me toward the elevators.  “Oh, no.  You’re going to go in there and make those kids smile.”

I stop in my heels that feel too high at the moment.  “No, I’m not.”

His hand fists in the back of my hair, his face getting close to mine as he says softly, “Yes you are.  Whether you like it or not, you’re a part of the routine now.  They’ll be looking forward to seeing you.  So you’re going.”

He propels me into the open doors and I glare at him.  “You need to stop putting your hands on me,” I warn him.

He advances so fast I crash into the wall as I retreat.  “You really want me to stop?  Is that what you want, Sadie?  Cause I’ll fucking stop putting my hands on you when you stop looking at me like that.”

Stupid eyes, what are you telling him?
  I think stupidly.

“I’m trying really hard not to slap you right now,” I growl. 

He smirks and looks at the doors.  “One day you will.  But it won’t be today.”

I know he’s not said anything more truthful to me than those four words. 
One day you will.

I both dread and look forward to that day, when I can see his cheek flare with red.

When the doors open, he leads me to the restrooms.  “Go get freshened up, we’re late.”

When I look at myself in the bathroom mirror, I can only stare.  My pretty sleek hair, sans grease, is wild and wet around my neck.  My hands are dusty from the cement, so I wash them first, then double over, almost going all the way to the floor as my leg muscles protest.  I wrap my hair into a huge knot on my head, then take a scratchy paper towel to my face. 

I don’t realize there’s someone else in the room with me until I hear the flush.  An old woman walks out, her face breaking into a huge smile when she sees me.

“Well my lands, child!”  She walks to the sinks and soaps up.  “I’ve heard so much about Batman and Robin from my Marcus.”  She shakes her head.  “He so looks forward to Sundays.”

I swallow and shift my feet.  “Is he in the Oncology unit?”

Her eyes go sad as she dries her hands.  “Oh, yes.”  She sighs and gives me another smile.  “But you make them smile.  And it’s not the where that it happens.  It’s the fact that it does.”

When we exit that bathroom, Batty’s eyes go back and forth between the old lady and me.  “You ready?”

I nod.  He keeps watching me, all the way up to the pediatrics ward.  Finally I can’t stand it.  “What?”

“Something happened,” he says as we hand over our IDs and sign in, his still illegible.

I slap the pen down and look up.  “Let’s go make them smile.”