A prude? In that skirt she had on? I don’t see that at all.
No, I see her bent over with that skirt around her waist and my hands in her hair as I fuck her from behind.
Shit.
Shaking my shoulders, I get back to work.
Chapter Three
Theadora
I don’t go back to work that night to get my car, even though that’s where they took me from. I can’t seem to get up enough courage to go back there. Not yet. I stay in my small house all night, and the following day I struggle to get up in the afternoon.
Was it a dream? If it was, it was an unbelievably bad dream.
I call Lucy more than once, five times to be precise, and not once does she call me back.
Does he have her? Is she okay?
We may not be the best of friends, but she is my baby sister. And that has to count for something, right? I mean, I agreed to do whatever it was that man wanted from me to protect her.
For fuck’s sake, what has she gotten herself into?
Throwing off the covers, I get out of bed and quickly pull on whatever I can find, which consists of gray tracksuit pants that have seen better days and a hoodie that’s ten times my size. Putting on my old sneakers and placing my cell in my pocket, I start the trek to Lucy’s place. She’s living with a friend, and it’s not too far from where I live, but we still hardly see each other. Running my hand through my messed-up ponytail, I start to run. She has to be there. If she isn’t, then what happened wasn’t a dream. Which, right now, I am really hoping it is.
But what about my car?
You left it, so you will have to run. But it doesn’t matter, I like running because, for some reason, it calms me.
I slow down when I reach the building where Lucy lives with a roommate. Hers is more open apartments, this one is a block, and Lucy lives on the third floor. There’s an elevator that is always broken, so I know I will have to take the stairs.
Kids are out the front kicking a football as I make my way into her building complex. Glancing at the elevator, the closed sign taped to the front confirms my previous thoughts. Taking the stairs two at a time until I reach the third floor, I walk to her door and notice it’s open. Knocking anyway, Mandy ducks her head around and offers me a smile as she stands there with weed in one hand, a lighter in the other.
“Sis.” Mandy says with a wave.
I hate when Lucy calls me that—you can guarantee it comes with her wanting something.
“Lucy with you?” Mandy looks past me, then starts to roll the joint in her hand.
“You haven’t seen her?”
The joint goes to her lips, and her hair, almost every color of the rainbow, covers her face as she goes to light it. I wonder how often she’s set herself on fire, then shake my head at the thought.
Mandy looks up at me, taking a long drag. “Nope, but when you do, tell her rent is overdue. She can’t keep expecting me to cover for her.”
“You shouldn’t cover for her to begin with, Mandy,” I say.
Mandy shrugs. “Lucy doesn’t have much help. I’m it, you know?”
What a load of shit! Lucy can get anyone to do anything for her. She has that type of charm. She can weave me around her little finger, and I know it. And now look where the fuck that has gotten me. It’s also the reason why I’m here. This little visit isn’t to see my sister. No, it’s to work off her damn debt.
Fucking hell, Lucy! I want to scream the words so loudly, but I hold myself back. Will this sister of mine ever grow the fuck up? She has to. Lucy’s twenty-three, and it’s time for her to work out what she’s going to do with her life.
I’m not her mother.
I’m not even her guardian.
Even if that hurts to say.
I have looked after her for way too long. I cut the strings with her when she reached twenty-one, when she showed me she wasn’t planning to do anything but drugs and party for as long as she could.
I won’t be an enabler.
I can’t because my mother enabled my alcoholic father, and in the end, it’s what killed them both.
I will not be the same.
“How long has it been since you’ve seen her, Mandy?”
Mandy, who’s clearly forgotten I’m standing at her front door, looks up and smiles. “Ummm…” She scratches her head, and I can see the nicotine marks all over her fingers. “About two weeks or so.”
“It’s been ten days, to be precise.” That dark, menacing voice comes from behind me, and my heart takes a leap in my chest. My hands, which were by my side, reach up to grab the door frame.
“Mandy, do you know this man?”
Mandy, who’s way too busy getting high, doesn’t even look up, nor does she care by the looks of her.
“No, she doesn’t,” he answers for her. “I’d prefer to keep it that way. How about you take a walk with me, Theadora, since you’re clearly dressed for one.”
Removing my hands from the door frame, I manage to turn around to face him. It’s slow and awkward, but I need to turn around to make sure he’s real.
My eyes stay downcast as his shoes come into focus—black boots. His jeans are rolled up at the bottom—they are ripped and hugging his legs. And as my eyes move farther up, he’s wearing a long, white T-shirt.
“Are you working up the nerve to look me in the eye, Theadora?” he teases.
“Yes,” I answer truthfully, my eyes sitting at his neckline.
He doesn’t move closer, simply reaches his hand up and goes to touch me. I freeze on the spot as he caresses my cheek ever so softly, and pushes up so I have to look at him. When my eyes meet his, his hand drops, and he wipes his fingers on his jeans, as if touching me was somehow dirty. I don’t have any makeup on, so I’m not sure why he felt the need to do that.
“How about we take a walk?” He turns then and starts down the stairs.
Contemplating if I should follow, I wait, just watching him. Looking back over at Mandy, she’s now lying on the floor, face toward the ceiling with her eyes closed.
“Theadora.” My name comes impatiently from his lips.
“Do you have her? Answer me, and I will follow. Do you have Lucy with you?” I yell. I can’t see him anymore, so it means he’s already down the first flight of stairs.
“Yes, I have her. You know this.”
Something inside of me deflates as I close my eyes. I put one foot in front of the other and walk to the stairs. Touching the railing, I feel its cold metal between my fingertips and look down. He’s there, standing halfway down the next flight of stairs, looking up, watching me with his hands at his sides, his mouth in a straight line, and those eyes locked onto me. Does he know what emotion is?
Stepping down the stairs quickly, I come up behind him, stopping until he starts to move again. I can smell him. The scent is of smoked wood and the ocean, and I think, How is that even possible?
When we reach the bottom, he holds the door open for me, letting me walk out first. The sun hits my face as it starts to set. Turning back to look at him, he’s watching me, eyeing me up and down, which makes me feel like I shouldn’t have left the house in what I’m wearing in the first place.
“You dress like this normally?”