Girl In Pieces Read online

  And I hadn’t known that was what I was missing from my bed until last night, until every touch hurt and healed at once. Until every breath and every moan and every choice ached with guilt and relief and a bewildering sense of gratitude. Every release had been hard earned, every fantasy possible and terrifying. What Kat gave me was a gift. What Michelle offered was efficiency and consistency. Considering how base and wicked our appetites ran, efficient and consistent seemed more like failures than anything else.

  One ginger brow lifted as I passed her.

  “Girlfriend?” she asked.

  Michelle followed me into the living room where she climbed onto the couch, tucked her feet beneath her and drew her knees to her chest. I fell into the chair across from her and rested my head in my hand.

  I could feel the pain in my chest smoldering until the moment when I realized, really realized what had just happened.

  “No.”

  She looked surprised. “Playmate then?”

  I scowled. “No.”

  “She looked a little … young.”

  “Old enough to make bad decisions, just like the rest of us. She’s a friend.” I hesitated before correcting myself. “Was a friend. Brian’s little sister.”

  Michelle’s hazel eyes widened. “That’s the girl you take care of? I pictured her, I don’t know, like thirteen or fourteen. A kid.”

  I threw her a hard look, surprise making me tense. “I never told you about Kat.”

  “You didn’t have to.” She shrugged and drew her fingers through the length of her hair as if this conversation hardly registered her interest. “Hers was the only call you’d interrupt a scene for. At first I thought it was another woman but your conversations were more overprotective big brother than hiding your secret Dom life from your vanilla girlfriend. You’d also call her sometimes when we got in late. I guessed she was your little sister, but I just figured she’d be, you know, little. A little kid.”

  With her pink hair, boots to her knees, and cat ears - it was easy to think of Kat as a kid sometimes. But then she bit her bottom lip bashfully as she swore like a sailor, swayed her hips out on the dance floor and she became ageless. Some nights, surrounded by people chasing after something they couldn’t name between loud music and too many drinks, I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

  “She’s not a kid.” I shook my head. “And she’s not mine.”

  Wasn’t that the truth, and here was another – she could have been. If I’d just reached out and claimed her, she would have given me her heart. Happily. If I’d asked. If I hadn’t been such a coward.

  As if I had any idea what to do with someone’s heart. I couldn’t even take care of my own.

  Michelle leaned forward, a sly smile spreading across her full mouth. “Intriguing. Something did happen though, didn’t it? You’ve got the look of a guilty husband caught eyeballing the backside of a younger woman. I’ve never known you to be interested in the young, innocent school girl thing. Seems a little beneath you.”

  I didn’t answer her, not a first. Before the night I’d indulged in a fantasy about kissing Kat’s mouth, strawberry shaped and a little wet…I’d never looked at her that way.

  And after…I’d been careful to never let myself indulge in daydreams of her again. I’d felt like a creep every time I’d stared too long at her parted lips, though after what I’d done to her mouth last night I’d pretty much blown that to hell.

  Michelle tucked an arm around one knee and turned serious, small wrinkles forming across her brow. I watched her, tried my damnedest to want her. To crave her. Half naked on my couch and my mouth should have been watering for her. I stroked her bare thighs with my gaze, the sliver of stomach I could see behind her knees, and willed my body to react to her.

  Nothing. Nothing happened. Mostly I kind of just wanted her to go home.

  A physical memory came unbidden into my thoughts. Kat’s body pressed against the wall outside the bathroom, my hand in her hair, pressing her cheek to the wallpaper. I’d wanted to consume her. She’d made wanting her intoxicating and unbearable. Every one of her breathy pants and gasps I’d felt in my chest.

  Her whole body vibrated against mine with anxiety and arousal. She knew nothing before she walked into that house last night and I’d been overcome with the pleasure of showing her my secret world.

  Wanting her with me in it.

  Not wanting her anywhere near it.

  Wanting to have her.

  Wanting to protect her from what I could do to her.

  Which was I? The monster or the hero?

  Neither. Both.

  “Things got carried away.” I shook my head. “I should have expected her to come here this morning. I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

  “I don’t mind. You know I don’t mind. I do wonder though, why did you kick her out of your bed then immediately order me into yours?”

  I didn’t answer her. How could I? It had seemed like a completely reasonable response at the time. I had to replace her smell and the memory of her touch. I had to replace her mouth so I didn’t go mad longing for it.

  It had been a knee-jerk, impulsive reaction when everywhere there was vanilla and brown sugar, her laughter, and the way her eyelashes brushed against my cheek as she clung to me.

  “Let me guess then,” Michelle said quietly, her expression softening. “You feel guilty. She’s just a kid, after all. She’d never understand you and even as much as she might want to, she’d never want what you want. Not really. So you needed someone to erase her.”

  I ran a hand across my forehead and stared towards my bedroom, towards Kat’s apartment. I imagined her unhappiness as she realized that’s what I’d done, that I’d left her after the things I’d done to her and gone to find another playmate. One I’d have sex with and share my desires with. One I didn’t pull away from. One I wasn’t afraid of. One I didn’t regret.

  Oh, god. What had I done?

  “She must mean a lot to you.”

  “You have no idea.” I laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “I’ve known her since she was twelve for fuck’s sake. I can see her bedroom from my bedroom window. I know that she thinks pancakes taste better when they are shaped like animals. I know her favorite superhero, color, movie. I know that she can eat an entire pizza by herself without feeling even a little bit guilty about it. And last night I taught her how to safe word and she loved it.”

  Michelle rolled her pretty green eyes and I kind of hated her for it. “Why not keep her then, if she’s so special?”

  Why not?

  “As if it were that easy.”

  “It’s not?” She flicked her wrist between us. “It’s always been that easy for me. Of course, I never invited trouble into my bed either.”

  Her tone jarred me, so cavalier and condescending. She had no right referring to Katrina that way.

  But I also knew until last night I’d have warned my friends away from the dangers of inviting trouble into their bed, too. Love was certainly the worst kind of trouble.

  I’d never been ashamed of my desires until last night, until that beautiful blonde girl had asked me to show her what I liked and I realized I couldn’t risk her reaction when I told her the truth. What we’d done in that back bedroom barely scratched the surface of what turned me on. How could I tell her I wanted to take her over my lap and leave hot, red handprints all over her pale thighs? How could I ask her to bear the pain of a flogger in front of a room full of other Doms? How could I order her to beg, on her knees, for permission to please me? What if she said no? What if she looked at me with horror and disgust?

  My God, what if I scared her? What if I turned her love into fear? I didn’t know how I’d be able to live with that.

  I exhaled and realized my hands were shaking again.

  “She was such a pleasure to tie up,” I murmured as I stared at my hands. Michelle was right, I’d invited trouble in and now I’d pay for it. “She took the ropes beautifully and she’d enjoyed it.
Everything about her calmed and intensified at the same time. I’d barely touched her and she almost slipped into sub space. I couldn’t stop watching the other players watching her. It was extraordinary. Excruciating, but extraordinary. God how they wanted her.” I hesitated, my heart sinking. “Not as badly as I did, though.”

  She exhaled and uncurled herself from the corner of the couch, stood, and made her way over to me. I followed her with my eyes. Nothing rose to attention, nothing stirred in my chest.

  Michelle settled onto her knees between mine, a practiced position she held a little too perfectly. She set her hands on my thighs and gazed up at me. I should have wanted her. I should have loved seeing her down there. I should have taken her by the hair and maneuvered her while I lowered my zipper.

  I didn’t move.

  “I can’t say I’m not jealous as hell.” She sighed and arched between my legs. “But you didn’t answer my question. Why not keep her? I think I know the answer. I can tell that’s not the path you want to go down. You and I both know that long term relationships don’t work out for us. You’d break her heart if you tried. Or worse. Maybe you’d break her completely. That’s what you’re worried about and you’re smart to worry. She’s a tourist and the charm will wear off the first time she gets jealous at a party. She’ll hate you once she gets tired of being expected to obey you.”

  Her hands slid up my thighs and settled precariously between them. I didn’t stop her, but I didn’t make room for her either.

  “You can’t hurt me, though, Josh. Sir. I can help you. I can erase her. You can have me.”

  It’s better this way.

  That’s what you tell yourself when you know you’ve made the wrong choice but there’s no going back.

  THREE

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  Weeks.

  After my father died, I thought I would never stop crying. I thought - this is what it feels like when your heart breaks and it’ll never ever heal. That’s what happens when you lose something important and irreplaceable.

  And you cry into your pillow and you take extra-long showers and people bring you 10,000 calorie casseroles you eat out of cereal bowls because you haven’t done dishes in two weeks. You watch a lot of Katherine Heigl movies and eat a lot of ice cream.

  But eventually you get tired of casseroles and ice cream. Eventually your landlord wants rent and people stop calling to ask how you’re holding up. Eventually you’ve got to go back to your life because your heart didn’t break enough to actually kill you and you need to shower and go to the grocery store because you’re starting to smell a little funky and you’re almost out of toilet paper.

  Three weeks. That was how long anyone ever gets to feel sorry for themselves before being expected to move on.

  I didn’t hear from him for three weeks.

  So I moved on.

  Because I didn’t know what else I was supposed to do. And Katherine Heigl always got the guy in the end and I kind of hated her stupid guts.

  FOUR

  Beneath bands of bracelets, two rings of pale circular bruises colored Julie’s wrists. I watched her pace across her living room with her phone glued to her ear, and every time she flicked her hands I saw them. I didn’t know what had made them. Not hands, they were too clean edged and parallel. Handcuffs, maybe, or fabric. Not rope. Something with a tight weave. Stiff. Each line was smooth with long, faded coloring.

  While Julie argued with her mother, I followed her bruises and felt longing sink into my chest. Her nights had become an endless carousel of experiences with a guy named Tyler, the Dom who’d co-hosted the party with our friend Kelli where my life had gone sideways. He’d become smitten by her long, thin arms and overlarge smile and bursting personality. I watched them together on the rare occasion I went out with them and the way he looked at her was enviable. Sitting next to her wasn’t enough. He had to graze her hand, her hair, her elbow. Whenever they didn’t have an excuse to touch, he found one. I couldn’t not be happy for her, but watching them felt a little bit like torture.

  Julie made a strangled noise, ended the call, and tossed herself down onto the couch beside me, arms and legs slumped out in resignation.

  “My mother is ridiculous. Ridiculous. She met Tyler last night and she gave him her number. Who does that? She said he’s too experienced for me and that I should be dating young, silly men my own age. She told me I was embarrassing myself.” Julie scowled. “Washed up botoxed freak. If one more person points out or age difference, which is only six years I might add, I’m going to explode. Like, all over. Blood and guts and grey brain bits. The works.”

  “You’re disturbed.” I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and collected her in a hug. “What did Tyler do with the number?”

  “He gave it to the waiter. Asked him to deep fry it and leave it out back for the cats.”

  “Shut the front door. He didn’t actually say that.”

  “Swear to God.” She sighed and slumped lower. “He’s too perfect. I expect to discover he’s got his crazy wife locked in the attic any day now.”

  “Well, that sounds reasonable.”

  “Not that I would mind of course. As long as she doesn’t set the house on fire, it’s not a deal breaker.” I laughed and she patted my arms. “Want something to drink? We could get smashed, order pizza, and watch a Jane Austen movie where the heroines always win, even when they don’t deserve to.”

  “As much as I would love that, I actually have to go to work in the morning.” I cringed away from her. “At my new job.”

  “What!” Julie sat up and spun around to face me. “Like, a for real job? With hours and taxes and shit? When did that happen? And why didn’t you tell me? You’re not bearing cleavage and letting drunken men smack your ass for tips, are you? Because I could get you a job in the lab doing some humiliating physical labor you’d hate, but you’d get to do it fully clothed. You could have just asked.”

  “As far as I know, casual dress, no cleavage required. Although, ironically, I am editing sections of the Midtown Edge and organizing the personals, so there might be some spanking requests in there.” I shrugged and pulled at a loose thread at the knee of my jeans where I’d allowed a hole to form. I tried not to look too embarrassed, though giving in and getting a normal job had felt a lot like failure.

  A week after the horrible Halloween party, my landlord showed up with a notice. Pay all back rent or I had 30 days to get out. My clients were drying up and several hadn’t yet paid me for the work I’d already done. I’d finished the South River website but had no intention of charging Josh for it. It became painfully apparent when I hadn’t eaten in two days that something had to give. So I gave.

  It was actually painless, applying. No one pointed out that I was selling out my dreams to work at someone else’s desk, making someone else’s dreams come true. Two days after I dropped off the application, they called. The sun didn’t explode. The earth kept spinning. The whole process had been painless and unremarkable. Trade in your dreams here kids. Punch a clock, abide by the dress code, get health insurance and a parking spot.

  “I’m barely making rent again this month. I have no food in my fridge. None. Poverty is the best diet I’ve ever been on. And I’ve been dodging Brian’s phone calls about how much I owe him. I can’t deal with the bar and so by default I can’t deal with him. I’ve got to figure out a way to get on top of my bills if I want him to stay on his side of the street.”

  Three weeks and I hadn’t stepped foot towards the South River Bar. I’d watched it some nights through my curtains, especially on the weekends. I could feel the bass through my walls and I could hear laughter of people saying goodbye or hello on the street. Sometimes, if I was lucky, I could catch little glimpses of him behind the bar when the door opened and someone came or went. He tossed bottles, poured shots, and laughed like he had his whole life ahead of him and thank god he hadn’t let that crazy girl across the street get him tangled u
p in something serious. It wasn’t fair. In my whole life I couldn’t remember going more than a few days without clamoring through the doors for a piece of the music, my friends, the two most important boys in my life.

  Sometimes I even missed my annoying brother.

  Josh had taken more than his friendship with him when he replaced me. That loss yawned wide and aching inside me and I had nothing to fill it but time and obsessive overthinking.

  “I was considering,” I said quietly. “Maybe this is a good time to downsize to a place across town.”

  Julie sobered, watched me picking at my jeans, and then nodded a little. “Still no word?”

  “Nope. But the gorgeous red head’s car has been back a couple of times.” I hesitated. “I’m trying not to pay attention. I swear. I’m not starting down the crazy stalker girl road. It’s just, it would be a lot easier if I couldn’t see into his bedroom after I get out of the shower, you know? The stalking is completely unintentional. Most of the time.”

  “Ugh, that woman.” Julie stood and crossed the room to the little kitchen nook. I watched her bang some cabinet doors before starting a kettle of water on the stove. “I asked Tyler about her finally. I wasn’t sure about the protocol, asking about the others in the community. But he said he’d tell me anything so…”

  She turned, two packets of hot chocolate mix between her fingers. “Do you want to know who she is?”

  “No.” I sat up, gave my heart five seconds to slam against my rib cage and try to knock itself out. “Yes. No. Yes. Ok, yes.”

  “Mi-chelle.” She pronounced each syllable as if the redhead was one of the bacteria strains she studied at the hospital. Looking at the tiny blonde, you’d never guess she spent her days bent over microscopes, saying things like - This Escherichia coli looks just like grape Skittles. “She’s a performer, I guess, at some of the local clubs. She makes corsets and does some leather work, too. She used to be a wedding dress seamstress before catering exclusively to the alternative scenes for their costumes and props. Apparently drag queens adore her work. Tyler made her sound…”