I drained half the bottle. “Think I’ll call it a night.”
Amber frowned. “I got a key lime pie from Noëlle’s.”
“Naw, I’m beat.” I made a silent burp into my fist and pointed the Corona at the dishes. “Need some help with those?”
“No worries, shug. Go on up.” She started collecting the plates, but then she set them back down. “On second thought, I think you could use a little ‘help.’” With a wicked gleam in her eyes, she took hold of my arm and tugged me into the living room. After she stood me in front of the La-Z-Boy, she undid my jeans and yanked them and my boxers to floor.
I blinked. “What the—”
Amber shoved me into the chair, then slipped to her knees. Once she took me into her mouth, the bottle hit the floor, spewing suds. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I ran my fingers through her short hair. Two minutes later, I was ‘thisclose’ to storming the pearly gates when the phone screamed. Scowling, I wilted into the worn leather chair. Sweat trickled down my forehead, stinging my eyes. I wiped at my brow with a fist and groped for the phone with my other hand while Amber continued to torture me.
“Daaawson,” I breathed, jamming the receiver to my ear. Dead air answered, but below my waist, things were pulsing to life. My lids trembled shut against the pleasure. “H-hello?”
More static, which meant another crank call.
Amber’s wicked tongue beckoned, so I dropped the phone, threw an arm over my eyes and let nature take its course. Weird thing was, instead of Amber’s face, another rose from the darkness. Golden hair. Chocolate eyes. Lips as pink as cherry blossoms, and the heady, seductive scent of Poison….
Shit. She’d snuck inside my mind again.
I drew a ragged breath, forcing myself to focus on Amber’s perfume, Amber’s tongue, and the toe-curling sensations they gave me. Yet minutes later, when my body exploded in pulsing waves, my eyes widened in shock. Strange couldn’t begin to describe the scary realization that rocked me. I sagged into the cushions as Amber sank back on her heels, but not before kissing my cock, which now rested like a spent warrior against my thigh, semi-limp, damp, and sated.
Brows furrowed, she studied me. “What’s wrong?”
“Uh, nothin’.” I blinked twice. “Nothin’ at all.”
“Stop lying. You look…weird.”
I started righting my jeans. “It’s nothin’, now hush.”
She was still frowning when she headed back into the kitchen. Meanwhile, I sat in dazed silence, trying to wrap my mind around—
What was that fifty-dollar word Shannon had used before? Enigma? No, enigmatic. Yeah, that was it. Enigmatic, meaning mysterious. Enigmatic, meaning hard to understand. That’s what had just happened here. Something enigmatic.
Because when frustration trapped me in limbo, and orgasm seemed like an impossibility, visions of Shannon’s hair, Shannon’s face, Shannon’s mouth and Shannon’s tongue—not Amber’s—crept back into my mind.
Only then did I see those pearly gates.
TRACE
____________________________
Four days later, I threw my street clothes on and left the men’s john at Fontana Exxon. Running a comb through my wet hair, I skimmed the jungle of Post-it notes on the garage corkboard. One coded message from my watchdog Zander, warning me of a ‘surprise’ home visit next month, two from Tori Mills, an old flame, but still no word from Amber.
I’d awakened to an empty bed yesterday and no note. Hell, things hadn’t been the same since the night she’d made dinner. I’d tried to make it up to her the next day with a bouquet of flowers, but she’d acted uncharacteristically distant.
Okay, she might be pissed about me being distracted in the sack. My plumbing had worked, but she’d said I was a million miles away. Then she’d hit below the belt by saying she may as well have been fucking a robot. The fact that I’d had a couple wet dreams didn’t help. I thought those would’ve ended after stir, but maybe I was still adjusting.
As the bay door lifted, I pushed my bike out into the cold. Sidewalk trees, stripped bare by winter’s kiss, swayed when a gale howled across the lot. I straddled my Harley and drew a lungful. The air had a bite, but I didn’t mind. Seeing the sun for more than ninety minutes a day made up for it.
The bay door thundered back down. I slipped some gloves over my hands and glanced down the road, my attention straying to that damn billboard.
Her billboard.
I raked my gaze at the sky. “Not again.”
See, this was why I couldn’t think straight. It was all Shannon’s fault. She’d called me a coward. Claimed I shoved folks into boxes. That I was angry and resentful. As if I didn’t have a right to be. What happened to my mama was a prime example. She’d been bedridden for months, and the only thing she wanted was to live to see me make parole. But God had other plans.
To survive Gainstown, I’d had to prove myself 24/7. Yeah, I’d gotten into some trouble—through no fault of my own—but I’d also put my associate degrees to good use and taught a weekly dance class. I’d even gone to sunrise service every day, despite the fact that I’d lost faith in God a decade before. All this, so I could see Mama one last time.
When they gave her six months, I begged God not to let her lose hope, but apparently, The Man Upstairs wasn’t taking requests. A week after she learned I hadn’t made parole, my mama, Dorotea Annabelle Dawson, downed a vial of sleeping pills. She died believing her son was a pervert.
Soon after my father found her body, he put a shotgun in his mouth. His suicide note said he didn’t want to live without Mama. Since he’d made her life hell, it seemed fitting. But what happened to Cole was a major injustice. The kid had a bright future. Multitalented with mega brains, he was a self-taught musician, had the voice of an angel, and could draw like nobody’s business. He even earned a free ride to college, but fate dealt him a devastating blow.
A recent visit to Cole at Saint Mary’s had nearly wrecked me. The sight of my baby brother wearing a straightjacket and mumbling to invisible friends would never go away.
Nyle Weathers. Bev and Icky’s marriage. The parole hearing. Mama’s death. Daddy’s suicide. Cole’s breakdown. It was the old domino effect. They all had the same first cause….
Shame melted the steel in my spine as an awful truth, one I couldn’t deny, rammed me in the gut.
Shannon was right.
“Heard from Amber yet?”
Cholly’s voice broke into my thoughts. Hands bunched inside a pristine Washington Wizards jacket, he strolled down the salt-covered walkway, shoulders hunched, his breath misting.
“Naw,” I muttered distractedly. “Prob’ly her time of the month. She’ll call once the fog clears.”
Fontana shrugged. “Females. Who can understand them?” He leaned a shoulder against the garage door. “You decide what you’re gonna do about Shannon Bradford?”
I zipped up my jacket. “Haven’t given it much thought.”
“Want some advice?”
“Not particularly,” I said, tugging my helmet on.
“Too bad.” Cholly nodded a few times. “Now you see why I wouldn’t tell you what was in the damn letter. I still can’t believe that witch showed it to you.”
“Cholly—”
“Don’t even start,” he insisted. “I was here. I saw what it did to your mom.”
“She didn’t write it.”
Cholly stared at me in stunned silence. “You been snorting Icky’s dope?”
I lurched up, kick-starting the bike. “It wasn’t her.”
“Yeah, right,” Cholly yelled over the rumbling engine. “I’m telling you, she’s bad news. The girl had a hood on when she left. It covered half her face. She’s ashamed to be seen here.”