Four (Their Dead Lives,1) (4 page)

All unfamiliar faces.
It’s been a long time, not sure why I would see anyone I know or—

A fat woman tried to keep her young son quiet. The kid yelled in rebellion. The sound ravaged Scot’s ears worse than usual, probably because of his hangover.
Learn how to control your kid
, he thought, as if he knew any better.
Screaming kids should be banished to the darkness whence they came.
 

A few minutes later, he finished flipping through the magazine and tossed it down. He sighed, then gave the salon a more attentive scan. His gaze landed on one of the hairstylists.
Jackpot
. He found the young woman enticing. Early twenties, he guessed, with shoulder-length light blonde hair tied in a pony tail. His wandering eyes traveled from the rear of her head, past her slender back, right to her firm behind, which was squeezed in tight black pants. How he loved firm behinds. Scot’s mind drifted as the stylist spun around.
 

Their eyes immediately connected and the room froze.
Those green eyes.
Warmth shot through his body. A familiar warmth.
Kelsey
.

“Scot?”
 

He shifted in his chair while his mouth dangled open.
 

Do something.
He lurched to his feet, stared at her for a second, and then fled, rushing out to the parking lot.
Not this! What are you doing?
He made it to his SUV and fumbled with his keys. They jingled off his fingers, landing on cement. Bending down to pick them up, he accidentally kicked them in his hurry.
Fuhhh—

“Scot, what are you doing? You can’t say hi?” He felt her closing in on him.
 

What ARE you doing?
A deep sigh rolled off his lips as he turned to face her. “Uh, hey, Kels, how you been?” His eyes shifted around and would occasionally connect with her.
Look at her, you limp dick.
 

“What are you doing here?” Kelsey shined brightly under the beaming sun. Yet a dark bitterness consumed Scot’s gut.

“I had no idea you work here. I’m, um, sorry?” Scot shrugged sheepishly.
 

“Oh, you’re
sorry
? You just leave me two years ago and don’t tell me why, don’t answer my phone calls, you just, just
leave,
” Kelsey snapped and threw her hands up in frustration. Scot could tell she’d been holding this in for far too long. “Now you have the
audacity
to show up and you won’t even talk to me? Come on, Scot, grow up.”
 

“I. Uh. What?”

“You know what? Forget it. Act how you want, you’re not worth the headache—again.” She stormed back for the shop, but paused briefly.
She wants to say something. Say anything. I’m weak. Be my strength, Kelsey.

The door slammed shut behind her.
 

Scot leaned against his SUV, sliding his keys with his foot.
Well
,
that intensified quickly.
He laughed to himself at how poorly he’d handled the situation, picked the keys up, opened the car door, and stared at the barbershop one last time.
You’ve missed her so much. Go back. Go to her.
Knowing he would end up just driving away, his mind traveled back to the day that ended their relationship, a day that seemed to outweigh all the others but one . . .
 

two years earlier

His heart beat against Kelsey’s head as she rested on his chest. It comforted him. Six years they’d been together, and he never grew tired of this feeling. She rose, but he pretended to still sleep. Her gaze touched upon his face before she kissed his forehead. How he loved her kiss. She soon left and entered the bathroom, and the shower spurted to life.
 

A strong vibration interrupted Scot’s rest. A text message sent to Kelsey’s phone. Scot’s vision blurred into focus, his contacts dry. He felt the phone next to his leg on the bed. The text was from his ol’ pal Kale. At first, he ignored it. After all, Kale and Kelsey had both stayed in Green Hills after high school and still hung out a lot. Their friendship never bothered Scot, though he’d perfected his talent at avoiding the bastard Kale.
 

Scot fell back, shut his eyes, and listened to running water in the bathroom. Her phone vibrated, another text from Kale. Scot groaned
: What do you want, jackass?
 

The text message read:
Sorry it got weird :)
.
 

Ignoring the fact Kale used a smiley face, the text still bothered him. So, acting with vague rationale, Scot read the whole conversation.
Kelsey has gone through my texts before.
Although the couple
sometimes
had trust issues, he was never concerned. Well, usually never.
 

Kale - Hey, the other night was a lot of fun.

Kelsey - Yeah. I drank too much...

Kale - Ha ha! Yeah you did. Remember the end of the night?

Kelsey - Not really, got in your car, then...

Kale - I was getting ready to drive but you kept hitting me

Kelsey - Sorry, I know you hate it when I get aggressive.

Scot’s heart sped. Kelsey would never cheat on him.
Would she?
Scot had always been faithful to her—the thought of being with another woman wasn’t even appealing. Plus, with Kale?
I don’t think she’s attracted to Koreans, is she?

Scot pushed the phone away, fighting the urge to read more. Something wouldn’t let him stop.
You fool!
 

Kale – Yeah, you kept hitting me. We had sex in the back of my car. That part was pretty great, but then you started hitting me again...really annoying. Ha ha, ;).

A winking face?
Scot’s whole body went hot. His limbs shaking, he shut his eyes, prayed he’d hallucinated the whole thing, and then glanced at the text again. Its damning presence was still there. His control vanished and the phone flew from his hands, bouncing off a wall. He wanted to scream, wanted to confront Kelsey, wanted to kick Kale’s ass. Instead, something within him was buried. He went numb, felt nothing. He sat straight on the bed, remaining motionless in his empty corpse.
 

You knew it was too good, too perfect. You’re cursed.
 

Somehow, Scot’s clothes came on. He had no memory of getting dressed. He floated to the door in a numb rage, not looking back, not for a second. His body moved without his control and he eventually realized he was sitting in his SUV. Light rain mixed with dirt covered the windshield. His head dropped to the steering wheel as he closed his eyes again, fighting for something. Anything.
 

The SUV started. As he pulled out the parking lot, rain poured down harder. He didn’t make it far until he saw her. Brittany. Kale’s girlfriend—or whatever she was. Scot had met Brittany numerous times. He wondered why she was running out alone in the rain. Some life sparked back in him, enough for him to pull over to the side of the road.
Keep going, idiot.
 

He rolled down his window and called, “Hey, Brit, need a ride?”
 

“Scot! Thanks!” The short, dark-haired girl hopped onto the front seat. She was wearing jean shorts and a light blue low-cut tank top. Water beating off her cleavage mesmerized Scot, drawing him in like a fly to a light. How he loved a tantalizing cleavage. Rain had also soaked through her shirt, revealing a light pink bra. He didn’t care what color bras were, they simply contained what really mattered.
 

Or possibly protect the eyes.

“I can’t believe it’s raining like this right now, crazy right?” Brittany tried to get his attention.

Finally, he came to his senses. Briefly. He realized he’d been staring blankly at her cleavage for several long moments. He shook off his daze. “Huh? Yeah, sorry I’m out of it. Where you headed?”

“Oh, just up the street to my mom’s place. How long are you in town for?” Brit pulled out her lip gloss and puckered her plump, soft lips. Such lust-inducing lips.
 

Damn it. But chances are she doesn’t even want me, so forget it.
 

“I was planning on leaving tonight, how come?”

She smiled. “There’s a party I want to go to, but everyone is busy, and Kale is off somewhere with Howard, ignoring me once again, so I don’t know. I don’t want to go by myself . . .”

“That’s too bad.” Scot paused for a few seconds.
What are you doing?
He cleared his throat. “Well, I don’t mind going.”

“Really? That would be great! Kelsey, too! I’ll text her.” Kelsey was Brit’s neighbor, and she’d introduced Brit to Kale.
 

A real matchmaker.
Scot cleared his throat. “Actually, she’s busy tonight, but we can still go.”
 

Brit lowered her phone. By the glow in her eyes, she liked that idea. Would she embrace it, though? “Oh, I guess that’s cool. How about you come to my mom’s with me real quick. I need to pick something up. Then I’ll get ready and it should be about time to leave.”

Maybe she does want me? No. Blow off your steam, rationalize the situation, return to Kelsey.
They soon reached her mom’s place and he parked along the street. Brit got out first. He lingered in the car, pulling his phone out. It’d vibrated several times ever since Brit got in the car. Two missed calls from Kelsey. With no hesitation, he turned the phone off.
Can’t believe this is happening. Can’t believe I’m doing this. Talk to Kelsey. Listen. Maybe it’s a misunderstanding
 

He ignored his own advice.
 

Time was a lost memory as he got to the party, as he took shots with Brit, as he danced with her and finally, as he followed her to a laundry room. Of course it would happen — he knew it the moment she didn’t tell Kelsey they’d gone to the party. She wanted him. He needed her. Their lips pressed together in a hurried kiss, and he tossed her clothes aside. She leaned over a washing machine, and as he lifted her skirt, pulling down her thong, he didn’t think twice about Kelsey, about Kale, about anything. He went blank as he slid in to the girl who meant nothing to him.
The ones who mean nothing, who end up being there when you need them the most, and somehow, still end up meaning nothing.
 

On finishing, Scot went to a bathroom and faced the mirror. His blue eyes stared back at his own empty shell. He wanted to feel regret for what he’d just done, wanted to feel disgust, wanted to feel anger at Kale and Kelsey. He wanted to feel something.
What if the text was a joke? What if—

No. If it looks and sounds like cheating, kill the ignorance.
 

And as he returned to reality, locking in the present day, he found himself in his old bedroom once again. Angela sat, fully dressed, ready and excited for the reunion he just wanted to avoid. The obligation to attend became so heavy that missing it was an option that decayed long ago.
 

“You didn’t get a haircut.”
 

“Oh.” Scot paused then gave a sneaky-little-shit smirk. “I decided to stick with the ol’ Jew Fro.”
 

“You’re funny,” she said. Then the inevitable question arrived. “So am I going to meet any ex-girlfriends tonight?”
 

Scot couldn’t help but snort. “What? No. It’s just the guys tonight and probably Alec’s girl.”
 

“Nicole. How long have they been together?”
 

“Forever.”
 

Angela grabbed his hand and cooed, “Do you think we’ll be forever?”
 

No
. But could he say that? Could he be a decent human being and let her go?
She deserves better, naïve as she is. And I deserve nothing.
He parted his lips; the words hovered on the tip of his tongue.
Let her go. Just let her go.

Then his phone vibrated. He slid it open and saw a group text from Alec—the one friend he wanted to see the most.
 

Alec – Anyone hear from Jeff?

ALEC

He was sitting in his Jeep, staring at his own disappointed eyes in the rearview mirror.
Don’t cry, don’t you dare cry.
He was stronger than this.
He knew
he was stronger than this.
 

Grabbing his straight black hair, he fought off tears and turned away from the mirror, feeling like a little kid who just received the worst possible news, like if his dog had been run over, or if a poop had slipped down his pants.
 

Damn it.
 

Sniffling a couple times and wiping his face, he stared at the Green Hills Fire Department in the distance. An onslaught of terrible words wandered into his head but Alec didn’t believe in swearing.
Nicole despises such filthy language. So do I.
 

Ever since elementary school, he’d planned on being a firefighter, had even kept the dream alive throughout the years until he eventually landed a probationary period at the Lake Terrace Fire Department — a city neighboring Green Hills. But during his time at Lake Terrace, Alec had frozen up and cost the life of a fellow firefighter, and so had needed a break from the job.
 

Some time after the incident, Alec tried to realize his dream of being a firefighter again, and he’d just interviewed at the department in his hometown, Green Hills.
 

A third and final denial crushed his heart.
 

In 15 minutes, he’d have to face his fiancée, Nicole. Although they were both only in their early twenties, Alec had taken the plunge a few months earlier and proposed to his girlfriend of seven years. With the financial support of their parents, they’d moved into a small townhouse near the coast. He had a blessed life and he knew it. Nicole, a loving family, a fine house and good health — everything he wanted except that one thing: his dream job of fighting fires.
 

Green Hills was the perfect place to raise a family with Nicole.
Now a dying dream, I know it.