Swagger (Radioactive Tales of Love) (2 page)

Chapter 2

Cruz

Roxanne Waters,
the girl who’d gotten away, well the girl I basically made go away—when I got arrested. I told myself I would stay away from her, yet here I was back in her life. I mean I have issues. Deep issues that may possibly never be healed and she didn’t deserve any of it. I can’t shake the feeling though, that she might be the one thing that could get me on the road to being healed. I try to argue with myself about how I should’ve definitely stayed away. I couldn’t deny that I wanted to see her again and I guess that’s a bit selfish of me.

In the last nine years I’ve been away, all I thought about was her. The memory of her along with a few other things is what got me through a lot of the tough times. I mean the last time we saw each other was pretty crappy. I’d been taken off the bus and handcuffed by the police. Not a stellar way to endear oneself to their high school girlfriend.

Wait—I hadn’t even asked her out back then, so she wasn’t even technically my girlfriend. This in itself when I thought about it, made the whole situation with Roxanne even sadder. I hadn’t gotten to the point of asking her out before the whole arrest fiasco. I’d planned on it and yeah well…we all know where
that
plan fell through. I chuckle as I got to my room and opened the door. The room though older, didn’t smell stale and for that, I felt grateful.

I feel like I should’ve just stayed in the background and not asked her to have some coffee, but I did and she accepted.
It’s only to catch up.
Yep, I’m arguing and lying to myself. It’s more than that and I know it. I want more with her. A chance to go back in time to see what happened to the pretty girl who’d turned into such a beautiful woman. In the back of my mind, an old tape plays, repeating the saying…
You can never go back
. I always argue with myself about this belief—if I can’t go backward, why can’t I go forward?

I close the door behind me and toss my keycard on to the dresser, placing the duffle bag on the large king size bed. The room has a small table with a chair, TV stand with a TV. I swear the room is a throwback to the early eighties. With its gaudy shag carpet in a mustard yellow, but it was a roof over my head and would do for now. It must be the time Roxanne’s dad acquired this place and I remember Roxie telling me, how her dad wanted to preserve the ambience. This place would do for my purposes. I don’t need anything fancy.

All I really need is a place to lay my head at night, so I could try to get a decent night sleep. Decent sleep might just be an illusion. I shook my head and unpack my clothes, placing them in the drawers. After all the clothing is put away, I searched in the bag and brought out the sleeping pills I received from the doctor a while back. There were eleven pills, minus one.

It was zolpidem, and I hated how it made me feel. So, I didn’t take it.
Seriously, who wanted to go around feeling loopy all the time?
My doctor said it was supposed to slow my brain down, so I could get some sleep. Yeah, it helped me get to sleep but then afterward, I would feel as if I were moving in slow motion. The drug itself had a shit load of side effects, but I’d been willing to try anything when they prescribed it.

Constipation, red eyes, muscle aches, cramps, back and neck pain just to name a few.
So yeah, no zolpidem for me unless I couldn’t help it. The bottle would stay closed and only broken into in case of an emergency. I had enough problems without feeling extra shitty. I set the pills on the tall dresser, folded the duffle bag and put it in the closet. Just in case I did fall asleep, I set the small clock on the nightstand to get me up at four, so I’d be able to go make good on that coffee with Roxie.

The thing is, I haven’t had a decent sleep since being a kid and even then, I had dozens of nightmares. Oh yes, my nightmares stemmed from the childhood I had. From a mother who basically, checked out on life and was never there once she hit her breaking point.  An alcoholic father who
was
always there and always abusive. My back became a tapestry of scars while my dad had beaten me with a belt—or anything he could find for that matter—causing enough scars and leaving it as his artwork.

Let me change that, mom was there for a bit when I was like six and then my father’s life spun out of control. So, I spent most of my time drinking coffee and energy drinks to stay awake. Healthy? No, not in the least but it was a survival tactic I’ve used since I can remember. I even tried the holistic route and that didn’t help either.

I should feel guilty about asking her to coffee because it wasn’t just to get to know her as much it was to get the caffeine my body craves to keep itself awake. It’d been getting harder and harder to use coffee for that. My body seemed to be building a tolerance to it. I didn’t want to become addicted to the pills the doctor gave me, but I held on to them like a life line—thinking I may need them later. When I did sleep, it would be like the friggin dead. In those instances, it was because I’d not slept for so long that finally when I did…I’d be totally gone. I didn’t want anything disturbing me.

I took a look at the drapes in the room; they were nice and thick and wouldn’t let much light in. Lovely, just what I needed—complete darkness. I turn on the TV with the remote, hoping the sound will help lull me into a stupor long enough to fall asleep. Perhaps now, that I’m in a more permanent sort of situation, I’ll be able to sleep. I sat down on the bed and tested its firmness it felt good. Curling up and grabbing the pillow, I hope because it’s earlier in the day, I could sleep and the demons would stay at bay.

I laid there for what seemed like forever. I told myself I needed to think good thoughts which inevitably meant they would turn ugly. So of course, my thinking turned inward to the darkness that always simmered to the surface.  Whenever this happened, I would think of the fresh faced Roxie. When I was in juvie, she was the one thing that would help to keep my dark thoughts away. Between her, exercise and writing, I stayed preoccupied. One of the psychiatrists I saw while I locked up by the state said the night terrors would eventually stop. Years later, I still had them. Some days were worse than others.

I stared up at the ceiling, trying to think of anything but sleep. The paint up there seemed to be peeling in places, letting the age of the motel show through. Granted, I think it gives the place a lot of character.

I hadn’t slept for two days so far.

I want to rest, so that I can be presentable in a few hours for her. So, I do the one thing my therapist said should help me rest. I close my eyes and picture Roxie with her beautiful and engaging smile while I chant her name over and over in my head as if I’m counting sheep.
Roxie, Roxie, Roxie, Roxie, for the love of all that’s holy—Roxie.
I feel my eyes close and I have a feeling that being close to her and saying her name was like a miracle drug.

I think about touching my lips to her lips. I’ve been dreaming about how she’d taste for years. I kissed her for the first time, when we were at study hall and no one was looking—it’d been mind blowing. She’d dropped a piece of paper and we both leaned down to grab it when our eyes met. She made a little strangled sound and closed her eyes. Her lips pursed and I knew right then and there, that I should kiss her. So, I did. The taste of her had haunted me for years now.

I wanted it again. It was so self-centered of me, but I knew somehow her taste, her touch would heal me from the inside out. It was funny. I’d been with other women since that day, yet only her kisses were what I dreamed of and could soothe my demons. I wouldn’t go so far as to say the sex with those others wasn’t good. It was, but the dream of having Roxanne Waters seemed forever present in the back of my mind.

I needed to know if that same feeling would be there if I kissed her again. I wanted to know if she possibly would feel the same. Roxie and I felt something back then. I could only hope she could forgive me. In the back of my mind though, I wondered if she forgave me, could I forgive myself? I also knew she didn’t deserve the misery of getting involved with me or to know the darkness that follows me. I must be a cold bastard for even thinking I could have just a kiss—and then walk away.

Roxie, Roxie, Roxie, Roxie.

Chapter 3

Roxie

I couldn’t believe I told him yes, I’d have coffee with him. What was I thinking? It’s plainly obvious that he’s trouble. A sexy, grownup trouble…a trouble I can’t afford. I didn’t even know if I could handle this kind of trouble. It came time for my shift to be over. Maybe he would let me out of my misery and not show. Okay, well misery is a harsh word. I’m way out of my league here and I knew it. Bad boys didn’t usually want me.

“Hey boss, I’m ready to take over.”

I look up and my relief is in and as always, she’s thirty minutes early.

My friend, Candy Minton. She and I have been friends ever since high school.

“Thanks Candy. I’m going to go into the office and reconcile something. The front desk is all yours. Make sure you remember to put down that you came in thirty minutes early, so we can pay you for that.”

“I will. Thanks for always letting me do that. Every little bit helps, need to get these damn bills paid.”

“No problem.” I smiled. I didn’t want any thanks but I didn’t tell her that. I’m definitely preoccupied and struggling with the fact that I was going to see
him.
I hurry over to the office and close the door behind me. I’m excited. I move to the small bathroom and check my makeup in the mirror. I needed to refresh it. I go to the desk, grab my makeup bag and head back to the bathroom. I have to make quick work of it.

Scrutinizing myself in the mirror, I brush on a little more eye shadow, and a little more eyeliner, then a last bit of lip gloss. My makeup is always light. I don’t overdo it. I’ve been blessed to have one of those faces that really doesn’t need much enhancing.

I sigh and head back into the office to look at the paperwork on the desk. I don’t want to touch it; not right now anyways I know it will be waiting for me later. I’m so hyped about Cruz and I can’t help but wonder what life would’ve been like if I’d gotten more than just those stolen kisses from Cruz.

It really wasn’t just about the kisses. It was everything before and after that. I always had plans to be an actress. To leave this small town and prove I could be somebody, not just Roxanne Waters from across the tracks, whose father owned the motel on the hill. Most of my days were spent at the motel and my nights were spent taking night classes at the local college. I wanted out of Arlington Heights well—that
was
true about 5 hours ago, before sexy Cruz came back into my life.

A quick glance at the wall clock tells me it’s time to get out of the office, so I can wait for Cruz at the front desk. I grimace as my stomach once again, becomes aflutter with nerves. He makes my heart beat fast and my insides heat up. I head out of the office, and as I walk up behind the counter, Cruz is there with a brilliant grin on his face.
Damn. That smile, this man equaled to something very lickable.

His dark hair looked damp and combed back. He’d changed into a pair of blue jeans and a black button down Oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up. “Are you ready for that cup of coffee, Roxie?”

Hell.
I felt ready for coffee—ready for anything right at this moment. I barely, just barely hear the goodbye from Candy and manage to mutter a goodbye back. “Yep, I am.” I move from around the counter and walk next to him in a comfortable gait that soon matches his. This was going to be fun. Well, I hope it’s going to be fun.

“So, is that little coffee shop still on fifth and Exeter?” Cruz asked me as we stepped out into the fading sunlight.

It looked like such a beautiful evening, I couldn’t help but pause. The summer breeze seemed cooler in this part of the state because of the ocean. Though, for the area we’d had some record highs. Today wasn’t one of those days. The smell of the sea filled my lungs and I like it. I take a deep breath and sigh. “Mmm-hm, Mr. Bonaventure still owns it.”

“I remember him having the best coffee and cinnamon rolls. Huge cinnamon rolls. Would you like to head over there with me? I’m buying, and of course you can get what you want.”

I wondered if he realized that even though he’d been gone, a lot of people from the town had never left. This meant we were bound to run into people who recalled who he was and what  happened. If he didn’t care, I wasn’t going to care about it—at least I was going to try. “I’m starving; I’d hoped you’d say that, you’re buying.” I giggled.

He rolled his eyes. “Damn, I forgot you had a serious appetite back in the day. In school, you could eat with the best of them, I see that hasn’t changed.”

“Nope it hasn’t.”

Cruz looked me up and down. “How do you keep such a sexy figure?”

“I do Pilates and jogging when I get the chance, plus I’ve always had a great metabolism.”
He thinks I’m sexy!

“You look fabulous Roxie.”

I grin. Its great knowing he thinks I look sexy and fabulous. Yeah, I mean I’ve been told it before but it didn’t seem cheesy to me since it came from him. Cruz saying those words seemed magical somehow.

He leads me over to his car. I remember this car well and had seen it a lot throughout the school years with Cruz. A sixty series mustang in mint condition, painted in a fabulous cherry red. He held the door for me. I climbed into the passenger seat and buckled up. I watch him get in and start the car.

There was nothing sexier to me than a mustang. Other than this man who drove it, hot being just one of the words to describe it. There were so many other words that came to mind, concerning the overwhelming sex appeal. “Wow, you still have this?” I ran my hand over the side of the car. This car was a powerhouse in my opinion, so sleek.

“Yeah it’s one thing that I was unwilling to leave without. He owed me this at least.”

Owed him
? I could only guess he meant his father. What’s that tone I hear in his voice and the look  in his eyes when he gazes at me? It sounds like a mixture of anger and something I couldn’t quite place. Just as soon as I notice it, the look was gone and he turned on some music. In my heart of hearts, I totally figured out that it wasn’t meant for me. All of that emotion is meant for someone else.

Cruz then put on some soft classical which was a definite surprise.

Classical? Deep.
It’s amazing how a memory of something can bring a mood down. I want to ask him more, but I feel it isn’t my place to ask. I find myself hoping he’ll tell me at some point. Which I think is asking for a bit much, we haven’t seen each other for years and to think he would just open up like that? I gazed out through the window, watching the scenery go by as he drove.

“I know what you’re thinking.” He said with a hint of laughter in his words.

I turned to look at him. “Sure you do, you’re psychic right?” I scoffed and rolled my eyes at him.

“Yep, that’s exactly what I am.”

“Ha!”

I heard him chuckle and he continued to drive, not letting me in on his little secret of why he knew what I was thinking. I let him get away with it for a few more minutes. The tension finally seems to dissipate and I can breathe with ease again.

“You’re wondering about the classical music.” Cruz was right on the money, this wasn’t a question but a statement by him.

With his voice, I jump, as I’d gotten lulled into complacency by his silence. Peering at him beneath my lashes, I give him a brilliant smile. One of those full smiles that show teeth, it was a practiced smile I’d taught myself years before when stardom was the goal.

We arrive at our destination and he parks. Cruz doesn’t say anything else. He gets out and like a gentleman, comes over to my side and opens the door, helping me out on to the cooling asphalt. He places his hand at the small of my back and we walk to the door together.

Even in my work heels, I’m not a petite woman but against him, I always felt small. The scent of his cologne wraps around my head and entices me into more salacious thoughts of him as if I hadn’t gone there enough already.

He opens the door and we step in, pausing for a moment as the change in lighting causes the need to adjust one’s eyes. The loudness usually heard in a restaurant dies down and all heads turn our way. There’s recognition in the eyes of the people who’ve lived here all their lives.

I square my shoulders and stay close to his side.
Fuck them
. I’m with him and I wasn’t going to let them make me feel bad about it. I can’t resist asking him if he’d rather go somewhere else. “How about we try one of the places on the boardwalk?” The boardwalk is about an hour away and it would get us out of town.

Cruz is shaking his head. “No, I belong here just like anyone else.”

There’s truth in those words, but not everyone seemed to be feeling this way by the looks aimed our way. Finally, everyone went back to talking and eating—though I am sure, the buzz in the room is all about Cruz being back in town.