Scars (Marked #2.5) (3 page)

“Can I buy you a drink, sweetheart?”
Time to turn on the charm, Janice...hide the claws for a rainy day. Play nice, and the boy will be obedient.

“How about we get out of here instead and head back to my place?”

“Drink…nothing else.” This time, my anger and impatience seeped through my tone.

“This is getting weird. I’m out.” He took a step back and gave me a nervous smile. In reality, he looked constipated.

For someone who threw his money and his family’s position inside Miami’s society around, he was nothing more than a cocksucker. No wonder Maya hated him. He was no man. Nowhere near my Talan’s league.

The only reason I hadn’t sent him to hell just yet was that he’d soon be useful—the means to the end of my suffering.

4

“You don’t seem to realize the opportunity I’m presenting you here with my mere presence. What I am offering.” How dense could one human being be? For a man who claimed to love a woman so deeply, he was blind. We’d seen each other in the past. He was there the night at the Halloween party keeping an eye on her.

Salivating.

Lusting.

Staking his claim from afar.

“Unless its pussy, I’m not interested, sweetheart.” Brian licked his lips then, and for a minuscule second, I envisioned his eyes being gouged out by the heel of my shoe.

His blood pouring and tinting everything he touched red.

His screams of pain echoing throughout the crowded club.

However, I couldn’t do that. Instead, I smiled and batted my long lashes at him. Like any man, his eyes darkened as he watched my silly attempt at seduction.

“Maya Owens.” That changed everything. The sly smirk on his face fell, and the sinister look I’d been attracted to in the first place returned.

“What about her?” Brian asked, the unbridled lust he felt for her dripping from those three simple words. The mere mention of her name brought forth the dormant, angry beast I needed to help me reach my ultimate goal. To make Talan mine.

“You want her,” I cooed. There was no need for a confirmation; we both knew what the bitch did to him. “Or am I wasting my time?

“She’s mine,” Brian snarled, lip curled at the corner. His fists clenched and unclenched—chest heaving with each inhale he took in. “Don’t fuck with her.”

“I’m offering you my assistance.” I ignored his earlier statement. I’d kill them both if he pissed me off enough. “It would be so easy.”

“Why the fuck would you do that?” That dark twinkle in his eyes shone bright. He was intrigued by my proposition.

“Because she has something that doesn’t belong to her.” I shrugged while inspecting my nails. Couldn’t show him the utter disdain I held for her just yet. “Talan isn’t hers…he’s—”

“I get it.” The sincerity in his tone caught me off guard. He felt as I did and didn’t care about anything but owning that proverbial, unattainable cake, and eating it too. Brian didn’t say anything else after that—there were no questions regarding the where, what, or how. Instead, he held out his hand toward me and pulled me over to sit at a corner table. A total gentleman in the way he took out my chair and invited me to sit before taking his own chair across from me.

The man surprised me in the best of ways. With a devilish smile on his face, he signaled a waitress over and turned to face me head on. “What can I buy the beautiful lady?”

The confines of my small one-bedroom apartment felt cold as I entered. Not in the literal sense, but in the emptiness it exuded.

No noise.

No companionship.

No love.

Love…such a silly word. A small group of letters put together to sum up the epitome of human emotions. The one word people killed and died for on a daily basis. The entire premise behind its meaning was nothing more than utter bullshit.

Deceived.

It betrayed all those it touched into believing that there was more to life than misery. Sadly, I learned that lesson at such a young age. There was no reprieve, nor was there any leniency on how much pain I lived through and still dealt with to this day.

My world until the age of twelve had been relatively a happy one. I had a supportive parental unit, good grades, was outgoing, and popular. There was nothing missing in my life up until that point.

Inside the small bubble my parents’ created, sad thoughts and tragedy didn’t exist. Maybe that was where they went wrong? Sheltering and overprotecting me, only to let me crash and burn with not an ounce of cushioning to catch my fall. But then, it was all taken from me in the blink of an eye.

My sister was dead.

My parents both abandoned me physically and emotionally. Shut me out as if I were dead as well. I was left alone to raise myself—to wander through my adolescent years feeling guilty for being alive, when Sarah was dead and gone.

The only time they half-assed involved themselves in my adolescent years was when the outside world interfered and demanded they do so. A school counselor concerned about my being withdrawn from my peers and dropping all extracurricular activities. My teachers noticing and voicing their concerns over my rapid weight loss—the straight A’s I kept since elementary school slipping past the point of no return.

Then, and only then, would they show up and play the role of concerned parents. Appointments to see a therapist would be made; pills prescribed, but never picked up. It was all a show, and the sad part was that everyone believed them.

Suffering in silence became my norm. It was why I trusted no one.

If I sat down and thought about it now, it angered me how the meddlesome system let me down. Why didn’t they come and take me away from my own personal hell? Why wasn’t I important enough to save?

But then again, my silver lining was Talan. Life, no matter how fucked up it seemed, had given him to me. For me, a world without him was unlivable.

He was my one.

The constant in my life I refused to let go. No matter what destiny threw my way, I couldn’t. Fucking refused to—I needed him.

I remember the day we met as if it were yesterday. We met years ago, long before he took over Cox Tattoos from his father. The shop had been a godsend for me, an oasis from the fucked-up reality my world was. In my late teens and early twenties, it was where I felt safe. First place I was accepted in a long time.

Surrounded by people who loved, and found, beauty in body modification as much as I did. No judgment. Acceptance and understanding was given without any questions. Well, everyone but Mrs. Cox. The old bat had always disliked me for some reason. Was it jealousy over her husband and son’s attention toward me?   Who knows, and I never gave a shit either.

Her distaste toward me was, in a sense, familiar territory at first. With everyone else, I waited for the other shoe to drop, but with her, I always knew where I stood. Short and clipped greetings were normal—comforting in a sense, as sad as that sounded.

I’d been hanging around for only a few weeks at the shop when he walked in.

Tall—muscular, even then—handsome, and with the warmest eyes I’d ever seen. The first thing I noticed about him was that sexy boyish smile he wore while greeting everyone in the lobby. It reached his eyes, made them crinkle at the corners as he joked with the owner.

An owner that took one look at me and made me feel like family. He would never know how much he changed my very sad existence. How I found my purpose in life at a time when all I wanted was an out. To end my own misery.

“Cool ink,” the tatted cutie I’d been eyeing said before taking a seat across from me. Fuck, he smelled good. His scent infiltrated my every pore and made me tremble. What the fuck? “I’m Talan, by the way, that jerk over there’s son.”

My eyes followed his toward the person he was pointing at and was shocked to be greeted by the owner’s smirk. Well, shit. “Thanks,” I managed to stammer out while doing something I’ve never done before…I blushed. “It’s all the jerk’s work.”

This caused him to laugh, a rich sound that warmed me from the inside out. Made me feel alive.

“Are you getting anything done today?” His lip curled up at the corner, a devilish fucking smile that disarmed me. It warned me of all the dangers this one man could represent if I fell for his charms. I swallowed hard. My palms were sweaty as the butterflies in my stomach fluttered wildly.

Shaking my head, I let out a nervous giggle. “Nope, just hanging out until my friend finishes his last session. All that’s left is some coloring.”

His eyes turned toward the man in his dad’s chair, and then he frowned. “Boyfriend or friend?” he hedged, and it was my turn to smirk cockily. Maybe he found me as attractive as I found him?

“Nothing more than a friend, Talan.” I liked the way his name rolled off my tongue. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” Standing up from his chair, Talan walked around the counter and retrieved a bottle of water from what I assumed was a small fridge. “You look like a cool chick,” he said before twisting the top off the bottle and taking a small sip. “I’m not in the mood to have ‘Bubba’ over there starting shit because I’m talking to his girl.”

“Talking?” I cooed and fluttered my lashes in a ridiculous way. It did its job and broke the sudden tension between us.

“Talking.” Talan laughed and tossed me a bottle of water, which I caught mid-air. Thank God for the distraction of the bottle. Being in the same space as this man was garnering reactions from me I wasn’t accustomed to.

Mouth dry and hands fidgeting to reach out and pull him closer, the simple offering was the perfect diversion I needed and I used it, taking a long pull of water while trying to gather my thoughts and not make a fool out of myself.

For the first time in a long time, I wanted something, and I’ll be damned if I lost him.

No man had ever paid me so much attention before. It was always the same line:

I love your tattoos.

Damn, you’re sexy.

Let me fuck you.

Instead, Talan made me laugh that day—made me feel normal for once, even though I was anything but. To me, it was a godsend.

The man that sat with me for hours on end saw past my ink and piercings. Past the tough-as-balls exterior, and accepted me flaws and all. I was a part of the Cox family before Maya came along and took away my only hope. She ruined me—us. What could’ve been…no, fuck that. We would be together again.

What I felt that night he took me in his arms couldn’t be faked. Nor duplicated with another.

It was real.

Happiness made flesh and bones. In my motherfucking grasp. How did anyone ever expect me to walk away and not fight for my happiness? Im-fucking-possible when his taste after all this time still lingered on my tongue.

All man with a hint of sweetness that was uniquely Talan Cox.

5

The blinking red light across the room pulled me from my thoughts. It was them; my ever-loving family. I knew this without having to hear a single message on that recorder.

Wonder what they want now? Wasn’t the conversation we had earlier today enough?
I mused aloud while walking across the room and toward the blasted machine.

Fuck it, I was entirely too sober to deal with them. Liquid courage sounded good right about now; the constant pleading and guilt trips were easier to with deal that way.

Pulling open my freezer, I pulled out my emergency bottle of vodka and grabbed a small shot glass from my cupboard. Once the items were in my hands, I turned back toward my living room. The light continued to blink. Eyeing the machine, I poured a generous shot and threw it back. The burn hurt in the best of ways.

Poured another shot and pressed play. The first message was not what I was expecting at all.

“This message is to remind you of your scheduled appointment for tomorrow at one in the afternoon. We ask that you please arrive thirty minutes prior and bring all your prescriptions with you to this appointment. If, for any reason, you are delayed or cannot make this appointment, please call the office as soon as possible. Thank you, and we will see you tomorrow.”

Who the fuck made that…fucking meddlesome bitch! How dare she? Just because I suffered from severe depression didn’t mean that I needed her to function. What part of “back the hell off” didn’t my mother quite understand? They would be disappointed, because I was not going.

After pouring another drink, I erased the message and waited for the next one to play. Now this…
this
was more like it.

“Janice, sweetheart, please call your mother. We love you and are worried.”
Insert eye roll.
“Today, Pastor Davis prayed for you in our home…”

Delete.

I didn’t need his fake, sanctimonious bullshit. You didn’t become a good person, much less parent of the year just because you had a miracle—a come-to-Jesus moment.

Next message.

“Hi, baby, it’s Mom. I know you don’t want to talk, but honey, I need to see you. Make sure with my own eyes that you are okay.”
My eyes watered, and a lump rose in my throat. Why now? It was too late to save a person that no longer cared. That could care less if she lived or died.
“Sarah’s death hurt us all. We miss her just as much as you do.”
That felt like a knife to the gut. Even in the middle of their fraud of an act, it was still all about her. Don’t get me wrong; my sister, my twin, was and is a part of me, the part that died. But for once, I’d like to come first. Not just be the afterthought.
“Don’t punish us…I need my little girl back.”

Thank God that’s over. Pressed delete and poured another. I was going to sleep well tonight.

“I hate talking to this blasted machine,”
my mother began and I downed two shots back to back. This was torture.
“You need to change the opening message of your voicemail, Janice. ‘Leave me alone,’ is not appropriate.
Hate it.”
Then please don’t call.
“Jan, your father and I would love to have you over on Tuesday. I know you don’t like to celebrate your birthday, but it would mean a lot if this year we could change this. Please, call me. Love you.”

“Of course, Mother,” I sneered aloud while attempting to stand. The room spun and my stomach churned. Maybe that last drink wasn’t such a good idea? Another attempt, and as I stumbled back onto the couch, the bottle slipped through my fingers and landed on my floor with a muted thud. “Fuck.” There went my plans for the rest of the night.

Lying down, I laid an arm across my face and closed my eyes. I tried like hell not to let their words hurt me, but it was inevitable. The sole reason I avoided them like the plague. Every time I saw or heard them, it all came back. The abandonment. The fear. The loss.

How could they expect me to pretend that everything was okay? It would never be. Make believe that our family wasn’t torn apart by their selfishness. Were they in their right to mourn their dead daughter? Of course, but the problem was that in their despair, they abandoned the one still breathing and lost.

Only their hurt and Sarah mattered. Fuck me for living and breathing. If my bottle wouldn’t have been on the floor, I would’ve spilled a little in remembrance for the life I once had.

Fuck you all very much.

“You have one more message. New message from…”
My heart sped up while the number of the caller was relayed.

“Janice, you there? Can we talk?”
His voice—all sweet and low—was like a soothing balm to my aching flesh. He held me together more times than I cared to admit. 
“I’m sorry, baby girl. So sorry for walking away, like I did tonight. You know me…know that all I want is to see you happy at the end of the day. Call me, love. Let me know we are okay.”

Now that was a message worthy of my time. At the very least, it showed me that I mattered to someone. That I still held all of Jaime’s attention.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

“What the ever-loving fuck?” I groaned aloud, and then winced. Every muscle—every cell in my body protested when I tried, and failed, to sit up. The room spun, and I ungracefully fell back against the cushions. At that very moment, I could’ve damn well killed the sales-asshole of a man who sold me that couch.  

Uncomfortable. Irritable. Damn well pissed now that I was awoken from my slumber and on this overpriced piece of shit that hurt my back. Best piece of furniture my ass. The sofa was fine for watching a movie, a quick cat nap, but a whole night…fuck and no.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

“I’m coming!” Yelling that out at the top of my lungs wasn’t my brightest idea to date. Oh, how my head pounded in time with each syllable that passed through my lips. “Never again.” My low and still painful promise didn’t do a damn thing, especially since I knew that tonight I’d do it all over again. Broken vows were the norm for me. They brought comfort.

Turning on my side, I swung my legs over the edge of the couch and pushed myself up and into a sitting position. My vision blurred for a second, and my friend nausea decided to make a sudden appearance. Jesus. The world around me spun, and at the moment, all I wanted was to lie back down and beg for mercy.

To forget the world.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Whoever was on the other side of the door had better have a solid reason as to why they were here. Blood and broken bones are the only excuse I’d take after the night I had. Using the last of my strength, I managed to stand and drag myself to the door. What greeted me on the other side of the peephole left me almost speechless.

“What the—”

“Open up, Jan. I know you’re in there.” If someone would’ve told me yesterday that I would be awoken by this man today, I would have laughed. According to our last sets of interactions, he hated me.

Turning the locks, I opened the door just enough to see his face. He was unwelcomed. Had betrayed our friendship by defending a bitch he didn’t know.

“What do you want, Lance?” With one hand holding on to the slightly ajar door and the other on the frame, I held firm in my non-friendly stance. He would never be welcomed in my home again. “Say what you need to say and leave.”

“Move,” Lance spat from between clenched teeth, while one hand pushed on the door I tried and failed to keep closed.

Defiantly, I raised my chin and cocked a brow. “No.”

The flash of pure red anger that flashed through Lance’s eyes scared me for the most minuscule of moments. I’d seen this fucker mad. Witnessed him lose it and break a few faces in our day while in the middle of a fight. He might be the oldest of the crew, but by no means was he a saint.

Many of those same fights had been over me. Defending his friend when someone at a bar got a little too grabby or didn’t understand the word no. Always the gentleman when it came to the women in his life, yet a crazy asshole when pushed. This, to him, was a push.

I took a step back, and he advanced. His hand against the door pushed it open wide, and I stumbled back. That was all the room he needed to follow me in.

“Get out.” My demand was ignored. Instead, he closed the door. The click of the lock was loud inside my tiny apartment, and my anxiety spiked.

“Janice, cut the crap and sit down.” Lance strode past me, only stopping once in front of my makeshift bed for the night. The now-empty bottle of liquor lay on the floor. The smell of alcohol permeated the area.

For a moment, I was embarrassed of my actions last night. There was no way for him to know how low I’d sunk for the sake of revenge, but the look of disgust on his face was enough to tell me he knew. As if he could see what I was capable of in the name of taking back what was mine.

Instead of being insulted, Lance gave me a contemplative look. One I hated with every fiber of my being. It screamed of pity. “What happened to you, doll? You weren’t like this when we met, or were you? Fooled everyone around you…hid those demons inside well enough to function in society without tipping everyone off to the fact that you were a ticking time bomb.”

“Shut the fuck up!” I snarled and marched over to the door. My breathing was choppy; my hands shook with the spike of renewed ire that burned through my veins.

“We were too blind to see it.” Shaking his head, he took a look around the mostly empty room and ignored me. Those judging eyes scanned every nook and cranny, taking in the empty pill bottles that sat atop my side table. The pristine photo frame that sat beside those empty bottles—it held inside a picture of Talan and me from more than two years ago at a Halloween party. We were both smiling into the camera.

A fist-sized dent and the broken glass from the night he banned me from the shop.

Lance saw it all, and I’d never felt so exposed in my life.