Moments In Time: A Collection of Short Fiction (47 page)

Finally relenting, Paul took my hands in his and started moving with me.

Star for the win.

As the night progressed, I kept catching Jarred’s gaze on me, watching me, assessing me, and it turned me on. Paul was going to get fucked well tonight, but it wouldn’t be him making me come; it would be the vision of Jarred’s face in my head.

As three in the morning rolled around, I was feeling good. Really good. It might have had something to do with the five-plus vodka Red Bulls I’d downed during the evening.

“Take me home and do dirty things to me,” I said to Paul, running my nails down his chest until I reached the bulge below his belt. As I did, I couldn’t help but look up to meet Jarred’s dark stare. I gave him a little extra show, just so he would know what he was missing, and hopefully call.

I followed Paul out to his Jeep and climbed into the passenger seat, feeling like I was on cloud nine. Everything I’d worked toward over the last ten years was falling into place. I was twenty-six, and hopefully by the time I was twenty-seven, I would be Star Sins. It would make a great porn star name if things went south, too.

Paul was rather quiet on the way home, definitely still pouting about what went down earlier, so to lighten the mood I decided some of Star’s special road head was in order.

After unbuckling my seat belt, I leaned across the console and worked on freeing his cock. It didn’t take long before he was rock hard in my mouth. His hand found its way into my hair, wrapping around the base of my neck so he could guide me.

“God damn.” He moaned as I picked up the pace.

The next thing I knew, the car swerved and careened off the road, then hit something hard and came to an abrupt stop. My body flew forward and my ribs cracked against the dash as the airbag deployed in my face.

Fuck. It hurt.

Warm blood trickled down my face. In shock, I could hardly move, but managed to lever myself off of Paul’s lap.

Paul
. Paul wasn’t moving. I couldn’t make his name come out as I did my best to shake him. Please wake up, I pleaded silently, but he didn’t respond.

Frantically, I searched the floorboard with my hands, looking for my phone, not that it would do me any good at the moment because I couldn’t even formulate a sentence. My fingers were getting sliced from the broken glass that littered the front seat and floor mats, but I finally managed to find my phone. Hands trembling, I brought it to my face and managed to dial 911.

“Nine-one-one. What’s the emergency?”

Trying my best to find my voice, I stammered, “W-we’ve been in an accident. I think we’re off Dewey Road, going westbound.” There I did it.

“Okay, ma’am, we’re sending help. Stay on the line until they arrive. Is there anyone else with you?”

“My friend Paul. He’s unconscious,” I said, then started to cry.

The dispatcher spoke soothingly, trying to keep me engaged, but her voice was like a buzz in my ear. I glanced around the car, trying to take stock of the situation, and realized that this looked really bad. With feeble hands, I managed to zip Paul’s fly up.

In that moment, I had an epiphany. It was my selfishness that had caused this. If he didn’t make it, I was going to have to live with that for the rest of my life. At the same time, I didn’t know how else to live. So many years I’d spent using my looks to get what I wanted out of life.

As things started coming into clarity again, it dawned on me that my face was bleeding. I touched my face gingerly and pulled back my hand to see it was red and wet. I was afraid to look in the mirror; I didn’t want to see.

Moments later, sirens sounded in the distance and grew louder as they approached.

“They’re here,” I choked out to the operator, before hitting the
End Call
button.

The groaning of bending metal was the last sound I heard before slipping into unconsciousness.

• • •

Apparently Jarred had gotten wind of what happened and stopped by to check on me while I was in the hospital recovering. He came while Jax was there, which caused a total who-has-the-bigger-cock contest, the chest-puffing kind that would eventually lead to fists meeting flesh. I tried to convince Jax to leave, but he insisted that he wasn’t going anywhere until he was sure I was okay.

“Star, I’m so glad you’re all right. I’m sorry about Paul. He was a good guy, and is going to be greatly missed in the music industry,” Jarred said sincerely as he handed me a card. “If you need anything, here’s my number. I’ll make sure it’s taken care of.”

“I’ll get her anything she needs,” Jax said, coming to stand next to the bed.

“Knock it off, Jax. You’re being an asshole,” I said, rubbing my temples from the headache I felt coming on. “Thank you, Jarred, I really appreciate it. It hasn’t really had the chance to sink in yet.”

My eyes burned as the tears I’d been holding in threatened to come to the surface, but I refused to let them. I didn’t want to show weakness. Yes, I knew that having a vagina gave me the right to be a moody bitch at almost all times, but I wasn’t weak, and didn’t like being seen as anything less than totally together. I would let the tears fall when I was alone, without the fear of judgment or anyone thinking I needed coddling.

Jarred leaned over and placed a soft kiss at my hairline, being careful to avoid my stitches and cuts. The bruising probably looked fantastic, too.

• • •

It had been exactly three weeks since the accident. My face was starting to heal and, thanks to the plastic surgeon, I would barely have any scars. I kept thinking of how Paul wasn’t so lucky, and started drinking heavily after the funeral. I couldn’t believe he was actually dead, and even worse, that I was to blame. My friend Bri jokingly said at least he died happy, but he should still be here.

Jax came by almost every day to check on me, and no matter how hard I tried pushing him away, he still came back. Until today, that is. I knew I had pushed him to the point of no return.

“You make me feel like a piece of shit!” he yelled. “You think you’re so fucking beautiful and because of that, it’s supposed to give you the right to walk around like you’re the best thing that ever happened. You have some type of mental illness or something!” Then he turned and punched a hole in the sheetrock. His tattooed arm pulled back, taking part of the wall with it, before he punched another hole right next to it.

“You mean to tell me that I’m not the best thing that’s ever happened to you?” I pouted playfully, feigning innocence, knowing it usually calmed him down.

Jax just glared at me. “See, it’s these fucking head games you play. You know you’re an asshole, and then you play the cute little innocent card and rope me back in, but not anymore, Star. I’m done. Don’t call me, don’t text me. In fact, if you see me on the street, don’t even fucking look at me!”

If I had a heart, I was pretty sure it would have broken right now. But I didn’t.

“You know you don’t mean that, Jax,” I told him. “I get it, you’re mad, and maybe even feel betrayed, but let’s be realistic here. You’ve known from the beginning that this was just sex. You’re a great guy and an even better fuck, but that’s all it’s ever going to be. I thought you realized that a long time ago. The fact that you let your emotions rule you into loving me isn’t my fucking problem, it’s yours. You need to grow a set of balls and learn to go after what you want in life.”

“Are you kidding me?” he gritted out, then blew out a breath. “You’re fucking kidding me, right? What do you think I’ve been trying to do this entire time?” Jax roared.

I let what he said sink in for a minute while chewing on my bottom lip. “Huh. Well, in that case, you can’t always get what you want.”

“I give up. Like I said, I’m done. Delete me from your contacts list.”

I watched stoically as he made his way to the door and slammed it behind him. Part of me wished that I could feel even remotely guilty for hurting him, but one would need feelings for that, and I’ve hardened so much I wasn’t sure I had any left. A normal person would be crying or trying to get to him before he made it to his car. Instead, I stood there debating what I was going to do that night. If I was on a downward spiral, I was going to do it right, for fuck’s sake.

After showering, I sat at my vanity and began applying my makeup, making sure to go heavy around the still-angry scars near my forehead. The hollow brown eyes staring back at me made me feel sad, which wasn’t a feeling I was accustomed to. I didn’t think I had feelings left.

Jax had always joked that I could have been in a six-year relationship only to have it end and my first thought would be
whatever
. It was pretty close to the truth, too. I’d spent so many years doing what felt good for me that I felt little for anyone around me. If I were being honest with myself, I’d liked Paul. I had enjoyed his company. At the same time, I refused to ruin my mascara over him.

Rummaging through my closet, I found a tiny silver dress and a pair of black pumps. It was one of my go-to outfits because it was sexy and sassy. I quickly got dressed before heading out the door. After climbing into my Beemer, I looked in the rearview mirror and ran my fingers through my hair, triple-checking my makeup before putting the car in drive. Then I headed to Liquid to meet up with a couple of my girlfriends for a night of drinking and fun.

Jarred

“Bro, I told you for the thousandth time, I’m not up for going anywhere tonight. I have a fucking hangover and I just don’t want to,” I said through gritted teeth.

Aaron, my bass player and one of my oldest friends, was sitting on the couch adjacent to me. Recently, I had hired an interior designer to come in and work their magic to transform my bachelor pad into something more suitable for someone in their thirties. The walls were painted a pale gray, which looked a tinge more blue at the moment with the sun streaming in the bay window. Two black leather sofas sat across from each other with a coffee table in between. The coffee table was one of my favorite pieces in the room since it was very industrial looking, made with metal and rivets.

Choosing to avoid further conversation, I looked up at the television mounted above the stone fireplace and started flipping through channels. I was beginning to regret letting his sorry ass in.

Aaron looked at me with a smug look on his face. “Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure that little blonde number you’ve been lusting after is there.”

“I have lots of little blondes I’m lusting after,” I shot back, and the thought made my cock stir.

His face turned serious. “It’s that chick that was with Paul when they got in the accident.”

“Oh, you mean Star? I’d fuck her, but she’s a little too high maintenance for me.”

Star was the total package in the looks department. She seemed like she had a brain, but something about her was just off, and I couldn’t quite peg what it was.

“Does that mean you’ll come?” He laughed. “Get it?”

“You’re a moron, and yes, I
get it
. I’m not sure I want to tap that. What if she starts following me around like a lost puppy afterward? Are you going to go file the restraining order for me?”

Aaron laughed. “If that’s what it takes, then sure, dude. I’ve got your back.”

Using my forearms, I lifted myself off the couch and headed back toward my bedroom so I could get ready.

By the time we showed up at Liquid, it was almost eleven. Star was huddled with her girlfriends at the bar. They were laughing about something and had an audience.

Aaron and I headed up to order some drinks. Whatever was playing on the speakers fucking sucked, and I almost instantly regretted coming here. It was a younger crowd than what I normally went for. At thirty-four, I was pretty much done with the big party scene, although I still liked the girls and drinking on occasion. But going and hanging out at an actual bar? It seemed overrated, even though the locals were pretty cool, and gave me space even though they considered me a celebrity.

Being the front man in a decent rock band meant that I had money, lots of it, in fact. I was living the dream, and had the big house, the nice car. My life was pretty good. But I didn’t date because the last girl I dated and almost proposed to had crushed me.

The raven-haired bartender came over when she saw us approach. “What can I get you?” she asked with a bright smile.

“Two, make that three Jäger bombs,” I said as I pulled out my wallet and tossed some bills on the wooden bar.

When she brought them back and set them down, I handed one to Aaron and took the other two, then walked over to where Star was sitting. She looked like she was doing much better than the last time I saw her. I held out my hand, gave her the shot, then clinked my shot glass against hers.

The wicked gleam in her eyes made my cock harden. Her pouty lips wrapped around the rim of the glass as she tilted her head back and swallowed.
Fuck me!

As I moved in, the crowd around her started dispersing. Aaron was having a conversation with a couple of girls at the other end of the bar, and he looked over and grinned at me, since he knew Star was the only reason I came out tonight.

“Hey, pretty lady, how are you feeling?”

Star shrugged. “Hanging in there. It’s been a rough couple of weeks but it gets better each day. You can hardly see my scars anymore.” She gestured at her forehead, where the faint scars showed through her heavy makeup job.