Yesterday's Tomorrows (10 page)

My blood turned to ice. “What do you mean by ‘try out’?”

“Anything from trying to intimidate you to use your script to buy something they want from the canteen to outright stealing something like hygiene products. Sometimes they’d gang up on a girl and try to feel her up or get her to engage in sex play. They could get a little forceful about it. If you were lucky, they’d eventually leave you alone or move on to more willing girls or new ones.”

I was horrified at the idea she’d been abused in any capacity. “Didn’t the guards stop it?” I asked incredulously.

She laughed, not the happy kind, but cold and sharp. “Oh, come on, Holt, you’ve heard the stories. Sometimes the guards were the worst offenders.”

“Maddy, were you…were you ever…” I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.

She filled it in for me. “Raped?” It sounded even worse spoken out loud than it did in my mind, but I nodded.

I breathed again when she shook her head.

“No, but I was ganged up on a few times, sucker punched in the stomach and touched inappropriately. I went in thinking if I treated everyone with respect, they’d reciprocate. I learned right quick it doesn’t work that way. It was hard for a quiet girl like me, but you learn to be tough or get eaten alive.

“It’s a paradox in some ways. The women in your cluster become like your family. You live with them and see them every day, all day. You learn about their families, their habits, their likes and interests as well as what they hate, their moods. Some you like better than others. Some you genuinely care about what happens to them. At the same time, you don’t feel anyone is truly your friend because every single one of them is about survival. Some are just more willing to do things than others.

“In my block, there was one woman who was older than the rest of us. Her name was Nancy, but most people called her Mama Nan because she’d been there the longest, which earned her a huge level of respect. She’d been sentenced for dealing drugs, but she used the time to get herself clean. She liked to read and take classes, kind of like me. She took a liking to me and no one messed with me afterward, because they knew she could make life tougher for them. I was lucky.”

I couldn’t help but stare at her. I guess I’d never really given a whole lot of thought behind what went on inside the prison walls. I was a litigator, not a prosecutor or defense attorney, so I wasn’t involved in cases like Maddy’s. But hearing her story helped me understand why she was so defensive and reacted the way she did when touched or in crowds. I stroked the back of my knuckles down her cheek. “I’m so sorry, Madelyn.”

“Thank you. It’s over and I survived, thank God.”

She made a funny noise and tried to cover her mouth, but I could still see her lips twitching. I was surprised. "What's so funny?"

"It's been quite a day. Accosted twice. I never thought I'd say this, but maybe I was safer in prison. At least there I didn't have to watch out for cheating repairmen and flying vegetables," she giggled.

It was hard to believe she could joke about her past. I teasingly tugged on her hair. I pulled back and held out a piece of wet noodle. "Yeah, you can never anticipate hair-eating pasta," I chuckled.

She crinkled up her nose and laughed. “Nothing that won’t be cured with a good shower.”

I squirmed in my seat and pushed the accelerator a little harder.

God bless America. A
friend
wouldn’t picture himself spreading soap all over her wet, naked body.

H
olt insisted
on escorting me to my door, but once there he seemed fidgety while I unlocked the door. I'd asked if he'd like me to take a closer look at the burn on his arm, but he insisted he was fine and wanted to hurry home and clean up. While I believed him, I also sensed he was a bit anxious to put some distance between us.

I couldn't blame him. Drama seemed to follow whenever we were together. I doubted he'd paid attention to where his hand had landed when he tried to pull me away from the crowd, but my body had. A funny flutter still resonated deep inside my pelvic muscles thinking about it. His touch on my breast had startled me at first, but within seconds, the warmth of his hand almost made me forget about the chaos that had surrounded us. I experienced the oddest desire to press further into his touch. Thankfully, the reaction of the crowd surrounding the spill prevented me from doing anything that stupid.

Holt and I seemed to have put aside our confrontational ways. The trouble was, I understood confrontation; I'd dealt with it most of my life. What replaced our spats was much more confusing. I didn't know how to label our new status. Friendship? I wasn't sure I knew how to be friends with a guy. I didn't even have any girlfriends anymore, but I was pretty sure Holt didn't want to sit around and talk about boys or clothes or whatever girls talked about.

I'd never had a boyfriend in school. I was quiet and shy and focused on my studies. There were girls I talked to in class and during lunch, but we each went our own way once the bell rang ending the school day. I'd never really taken the time to develop close friends. Maybe because I hoped I'd be leaving someday. More likely because I was afraid to bring them home in case my father would come home early.

I grudgingly admitted to myself I was attracted to Holt, but chalked it up to the equivalent of a schoolgirl crush on the star athlete. The night he'd brought me home and stayed for dinner was etched in my mind. He'd made me laugh until he asked about my past. Thankfully, he hadn't pressed that issue. But then he'd gone and thanked me for making his evening better and kissed me. It was only a friendly peck on the forehead, a token gesture I was sure, but I still felt the warmth of his mouth as if he'd branded me.

I reached up and grabbed two fistfuls of my hair and sighed. I was being ridiculous. There was no way a man as good-looking as Holt would ever give another glance at me outside of friendship. Any number of beautiful women were more likely to snag his attention, like the one I'd observed on my bus ride. She was more suited to a professional man like Holt. Besides, even if I were able to mimic her looks, he would never choose someone with my record.

Moments later, I stood under a sharp spray of hot water to wash away any remaining vegetable smell. If only washing away the events of the day was just as easy. Not only was I rattled by Seth and the soup debacle, but in my gut, I was certain Misty was going to stir up some kind of trouble at work. I needed to keep an extra eye on her. I rolled my eyes and groaned. Why couldn't life give me a damn break? All I wanted was to avoid drama and move on with my life, even if I hadn't quite figured out what that looked like yet.

Take your time, child. Even a broken clock is right twice a day. You’ll get there.

I sighed. Gammy’s wisdom was often right. Maybe I was putting too much pressure on myself to figure it out all at one time. I rubbed some shampoo into my hair, but that action served to remind me of how Holt had massaged my stinging scalp. At first, I’d been suspicious at being touched, and had to withhold the instinct to hit back. But as his strong fingers and soothing tone broke through my surprise and confusion, I'd allowed myself to enjoy his comforting touch, almost as if I was receiving a lover's caress.

Damn it!
Was everything going to start making me think of Holten Andrews?

The water began to grow cold, helping to douse thoughts of Holt. I hurried through the rest of my routine and pulled on a pair of soft pants made to look like jeans and a comfortable sweatshirt since I didn't have anywhere to go that required dressing in something nicer. It wasn't even mid-afternoon. I wasn't scheduled to tutor tonight, so I had a ton of free time on my hands, a concept I still struggled with. I wrinkled my nose as I scooped up my soup-stained clothes from the floor. Laundry was definitely in order later. For now, I needed a more satisfying distraction and decided I'd take my extra time today to whip up some meals for the upcoming week. It was one of my favorite ways to relax.

Several hours later, I had heaps of chocolate chip cookies piled on the counter, a chicken pot pie baking in the oven, and leftover chicken parts simmering on the stove with some vegetables to make soup. I settled in to watch some television while I waited for the food to finish cooking.

A frantic knocking at my door pulled me from a heated argument between family members on a popular talk show. Alarmed, I looked through the peephole saw the top of a head covered with long, black hair. I opened my door a couple of inches, cautiously leaving the chain lock in place. Seeing my frazzled neighbor, I quickly shut the door, undid the chain and reopened the door.

"Serafina! Is everything okay?"

"Please, Maddy. Please you watch Miguel for me for few minutes? I be back quick. He running a fever, and I need go to store and buy some medicine while he sleeps." I noticed the worry lines around her eyes.

"Yes, of course. I'll be right there." I tried to smile reassuringly at her. I turned off everything in the kitchen and a few minutes later I entered her apartment. It was laid out identically to mine and as neat as a pin. The rooms were simply decorated, but still warm and inviting with bright throw blankets and pillows. Miguel was curled up on a couch where he had apparently fallen asleep while watching cartoons.

"I so sorry to ask, Maddy. Mi madre, she is sick, also. I don't know no one else to ask."

"I’m happy to help, Serafina. I happen to be home early today, and I don’t have any plans."

"Si. I see a man bring you home. He is muy guapo, no?" She winked as she grabbed her purse.

I wasn't sure what ‘guapo’ meant, but I could guess by her sly smile. I shook my head. "No, it's not like that. We work together."
Repeat the idea often enough and maybe you'll believe it someday
, I thought.

Her expression fell. "Oh. Too bad. He has nice voice and nice...how you say? Politeness? Walking you inside?"

"Manners. Yes, sometimes he is very nice. Other times, he's got a sharp tongue."

She looked at me questioningly. "He no have good mouth?"

I laughed. "No, it's an expression that means he isn't afraid to say what he thinks even if it's not very nice."

"Oh!" Her eyes twinkled. “All the more reason you go out with him. We women like a man with a little bite, eh? Shows they are passionate!"

I shrugged, not sure how to answer. I was sure she knew better than me. With her silky black hair and flawless olive complexion, Serafina could probably have her pick of men if she chose to.

Serafina left for the store. I curled up in a chair and watched the silly antics of the cartoon, choosing not to switch channels in case the change of noise woke the sick child. Miguel was still asleep when she came back about forty minutes later.

After assuring her I hadn't minded coming over, I headed back to my apartment. I was surprised to find an envelope taped to my door. I hadn't noticed it when I'd left to go across the hall, but then, I'd been in a hurry and had pulled the door shut behind me without any thought. Entering the apartment, I slid my finger under the flap and pulled out a sheet of paper folded in thirds. As soon as I recognized the handwriting, I let the paper slip through my fingers as I ran to the living room window to scan for any sign of someone familiar. Nothing.

I scanned the letter from my sister, Charly, again. Had she been to my apartment, or had she sent someone? Regardless, the knowledge that she knew where I lived unnerved me, as if a specter of memories and not-so-buried feelings were haunting me.

I turned from the window, stubbing my toe on something. I looked down and noticed the laundry basket in my path, the sheet of paper I'd dropped earlier resting on top.

How appropriate. Allowing Charly back in my life would be like allowing dirty laundry to be left lying around.

I'd spent the past six years of my life without her, and I’d convinced myself I was better off that way. She hadn't bothered to show up for my hearing nor had I had any contact with her until the day I was released. So what could she possibly be up to now? At the same time, she was the person I’d looked up to when I was little, who in her own way, had been there for me. Despite an oftentimes selfish personality, at least she was there, which was more than I could say for our father who chose drinking over his girls.

I reached into the drawer where I'd dumped her first unopened letter. Too many other things had happened that day and dealing with my older sister was not something I’d been ready for. After staring at the envelope for several minutes and debating what I should do, I dropped it alongside the other one in the clothes basket. It was time to either fish or cut bait, as Gammy would say, and I was tired of waiting on the sidelines to see what happened.

Scooping up everything else I needed, I left for the two-block walk to the closest laundromat before I talked myself out of my decision. I needed to learn what was in these letters. However, call it superstitious or call it silly, I didn't want to defile my new home with whatever she had written. Taking it out with the dirty laundry seemed appropriate.

T
he bar crowd
around me cheered as the quarterback ran the ball across the end zone himself. James and I lifted our glasses toward the television screen closest to us in salute. This time, when James invited me to meet him for a drink to celebrate another end of a work week, I didn't decline. I had my eyes on the game, but my heart wasn't really into caring who won or lost. I simply needed to find some way to eliminate Madelyn from my thoughts, and hoped a drink with a friend did the trick. If not, maybe a bar bunny at the end of the night would work.

It shouldn't be such a struggle, but ever since we'd established a truce, I found her on my mind more and more. And after the accidental boob botch, as I’d labeled that particular incident, I was thinking about her in ways and in places that friends shouldn't.

Like how she fit my hand perfectly.

Like how I noticed her respond to my touch. How I responded to
her
accidental touches.

Like how when I took a shower and grabbed hold of my morning erection, it was a vision of her hair framing her face as she made that deep, throaty sound while she pulled my bone-hard cock deep into her mouth that helped me get off quickly. I stifled a groan, willing the image out of my mind.

"Must be a quite an interesting picture running through your head over there." James was grinning at me, a knowing look in his eye. "Something you want to tell me, or should I go ahead and light up a cigarette for you?"

I grimaced and flipped him a middle finger. I took a long sip of beer, slamming the glass down a bit harder than necessary on the polished wood. "Nothing to tell."

He watched my actions and gave me a sideways grin. "If you say so."

I could say it all I wanted, but it wasn’t changing the fact I couldn’t get her out of my mind.

A burst of laughter from a corner table drew my attention. A group of young women were holding shot glasses up in a toast. They were all laughing and cheering before they drew their hands back and downed their shots. One girl, in particular, was a little louder than the rest. She had long, blonde hair that she had pulled to the side in some kind of fancy ponytail style, probably to show off her long, graceful neck. I couldn't identify the color of her eyes in the distance, but they were made up to pull off a sultry look. Her white blouse was sheer enough to reveal her black bra. I never quite understood why women liked to show off their underwear while their clothes were still on. Well, I did, but it was a bit too much like free advertising. Didn’t mean I wouldn’t mind a sample, though, if it helped me get my mind off someone else. She looked up and happened to catch me staring at her. After a few seconds, a knowing smile curved her lips, and she winked at me.

"She's pretty." James tipped his glass in the direction of the woman.

I shrugged. She was attractive - if you liked bold and brassy. Shy and with a bit of sass was growing on me.

James nudged me with his elbow. "You know, it's okay if you want to get to know a woman beyond just her pussy. You're not cheating on anyone."

Fucking hell. Was the entire cosmos in on the 'push Holt into a relationship movement?'

I raised an eyebrow. "You been talking to Cal?"

His look was genuinely puzzled. "No. Why?"

I scowled. "He's on some 'you need to move on' kick, too."

He kept his eyes glued to the screen overhead. "Sounds like big brother might be onto something," he commented with a casual shrug.

I took another long drink of beer. "It's not that easy, J."

He turned in his seat and stared hard at me. "The fuck it isn't, Holt. You talk, you go out somewhere casual, you get to know her, and I don't necessarily mean in the biblical sense." He grinned. "At least, not until after dinner."

I couldn't hold back my snort, but shook my head. "And then what? Do we keep dating? And then maybe she starts to have more feelings and ends up getting hurt because ultimately I can't give her what she wants? Then I'm an even bigger ass than just laying it on the line right from the beginning."

"You still have a heart, asshole. You're just acting more like a pussy because you're afraid to acknowledge that little fact." He turned to face me. "Do you think Claire would want to see you this way? Because if she approved of you being this miserable, then she was a bitch."

Everything around me faded as I stood up and leaned in close to him. "What the hell did you call Claire?" The words were almost hard to distinguish through my clenched teeth, but James understood. He didn't back down but went for the kill. He'd always been one hell of a warrior.

He gave me a knowing look. "So, you're saying she wasn't a bitch? Are you saying she loved you enough she'd want you to be happy, even if it meant without her? Cause if she didn't, then she never deserved you in the first place."

I opened my mouth and fought for a reply, but nothing came to me. He had me against a wall, and he fucking knew it. I slid back onto my stool, sliding my beer mug the few inches back and forth between my hands. "Of course, she loved me," I mumbled.

"Then stop using her as an excuse not to live. Be happy, man, and I don't mean this fucking crap you spew that you've moved on. Changing careers was just another way for you to hide. Hell, man, we almost had to put you in the ground once before. I'm not going to keep letting you bury yourself under piles of paper and meaningless sex as a fucking substitute for the dirt." He slapped my back and squeezed my shoulder to soften his harsh words.

He threw up his hand before I could make an excuse. "Think about it." His phone chimed. He smiled as he read the message and typed something back. "That would be my lovely Kelly." He stood as he finished his beer. "Sorry, dude, but her face is prettier than your ugly mug, and frankly, she keeps me saner than you do."

He reached for his wallet, but I waved him off. "It's on me."

He grinned. "As it should be. I don't just give away my invaluable advice, you know?"

I rolled my eyes. We did the manly back-slapping hug and then he left.

I sat back down to finish my beer. I didn't blame James for ditching me for Kelly; she was good for him. She softened his hard edges while calling him on his bullshit, and he'd lay down his life for hers, I was sure.

James and I had met in the Corps during boot camp and then were stationed together with the Second Division at Camp Lejeune. We'd become fast friends as well as brothers-in-arms, and we'd had each other’s backs ever since. So even though I wanted to rearrange his face for questioning me about Claire's love, I knew he was coming from a good place, much like Cal had been.

I'm not sure anyone would understand why I found moving on so difficult. Oh, I knew others who'd lost someone they’d loved were able to find love a second time around. Some were as happy as the first time, and some were maybe even happier. But I'd made promises, and I hadn't found a reason yet to break them.

That had been one of the last moments we had to ourselves before I left for Parris Island for boot camp.

Now James's words had me questioning that promise I'd made.

Damn James and his talk about finding someone.

Damn my interfering family telling me it was time to move on.

Damn Madelyn Stone for whatever magic she wove around people.

And damn me for falling under her spell.

I didn't want to go home alone where thoughts of Maddy would be waiting. I wasn’t sure how I felt about the way Maddy was eclipsing my memories of Claire. After all, I loved Claire. I didn’t love Maddy. And even if I did feel something more for her, it was too soon to label it.

You felt something for Claire right away,
my inner voice reminded me.

Yes, but lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same place
, I argued.

True. Maddy’s more like the tide that keeps rolling in, eroding those chains around your heart.

"Steelers fan, huh?" A sultry voice warmed my ear and blessedly distracted me from my internal debate.

I glanced up to see the blonde I'd been watching earlier slide onto the barstool that had been vacated by James. Her black leather skirt slid high enough I could see the lacy tops of her thigh-high stockings. She lifted a hand to signal for the bartender, causing her blouse to fold in such a way to further expose her bra that was filled out nicely. Quite nicely, actually.

"I'd like a Screaming Orgasm," she said, shifting sideways in her seat to face me.

I bet you would
. I realized she was talking to the bartender, but she was definitely dropping a hint to me. Maybe not the most original flirtation, but she was pretty in a rocker girl kind of way, and I could use the distraction, so I grinned back at her.

"Thanks, sugar." She gave the bartender a wink then turned back toward me. "Are you here alone?"

"Turns out I am." I shrugged and deliberately made my tone non-committal. I didn't want to give the wrong impression that I was up for more than anything other than a good fuck, if indeed this led where I thought it might.

The bartender brought her creamy looking drink. I studied her as she offered me a coy look and slid her brick-red fingernails up and down the cocktail stick. She pulled it from the drink knowingly puckered her lips around it, then slowly sucked one of the cherries into her mouth. It didn't take a genius to see what she was mimicking. My cock strained against my zipper, reminding me of how long he had been lonely.

She glanced again at the television then leaned forward and rested a hand on my knee, her fingers rubbing small circles on my thigh. "Are you really interested in this game?"

I stared at her exposed breasts and gave her a slow grin that usually made women practically fall into my lap. "As a matter of fact, I am. But I could probably be convinced to check the score tomorrow." I reached for her hand.

Maybe I did need to let Claire go, but in the end, this was the only way I knew how.