Shattered Chances: A Breaking Black Companion Novel (14 page)

48.

Cheyenne

I didn’t stay in Nebraska long. It was hard to maintain a lifestyle of sobriety when Tessa kept singing about day drinking all day long. I love her to death, but I needed to make things right with Randy. I drove back in the used car I bought with the money made working for our uncle’s auto garage. I ran the office, answering calls, filing invoices, and managing the money. Uncle Rick was upset when I left, but I had something I had to do. Thoughts of Randy upset my sleep, and every time something good happened, all I wanted to do was call him. The ride back to Texas was long and arduous – fourteen hours of highway through Kansas and Oklahoma, with hardly anywhere to stop. Thank God for mini markets because I would have starved otherwise. Part of me felt like this was exactly what I should be doing – the other part of me felt like I was making a monumental mistake.

***

Not much had changed in Oakeley since I left. Black Horse was gone, but the Devils were all up in arms, making it seem like the old bastard wasn’t dead at all. I pulled my car outside Randy’s apartment – the same one we used to share. I needed to talk to him. I had to make things right.

49.

Randy

Stephanie Rogers rolled over in my bed, hung over and disoriented. Her long blonde hair fell over her face, and her heavy eye makeup from last night was smeared across her skin. She had an ordinary face – not the kind of beauty you write home about, but she was willing and able, and that’s exactly the kind of girl I was looking for last night. Someone who could fill a void, make me forget about Cheyenne for a bit. Someone I had no emotional attachment to that I could forget about in the morning.

We had a history, sure… A history of one-night stands. My heart belongs to someone else. Someone I couldn’t trust enough to be with. 

Stephanie’s hand smoothed across the sheet that covered the futon mattress. The early morning light shone in through the window, glaring in Stephanie’s eyes, causing her to squint. She shot up in bed, hardly remembering how she got in my apartment. Her head pounded and her vision was cloudy, the after effects of one too many Cement Mixers – my go-to shot for when I wanted to get obliterated… and last night was one of those nights. 

Stephanie wrapped her naked body with the wrinkled sheet and looked around, but she couldn’t find me. She walked around the side of the bed, trying to maneuver her way to the bathroom. She stumbled, tripping over her pair of black stilettos that were left in the middle of the floor. She bumped her knee into the corner of the metal futon frame, and crashed into my nightstand, sending a lamp falling to the floor. Groaning to herself, she bent down, picked up the lamp and noticed that in the semi ajar drawer of my nightstand there was a photograph sticking out. Pulling it out, she found a picture of me with a woman she immediately recognized. Cheyenne West. The ex-girlfriend of all ex-girlfriends. It was a photo of us from our senior prom. She knew Cheyenne as the woman I nearly married. The woman who broke me. Rage boiled within Stephanie’s body. Flipping the photograph over, she screamed when she read Cheyenne’s feminine scrawl on the back. 

To Randy, 

I’ll always love you, whether you love me or not.

Love, 

Chey

Stephanie’s face scrunched up in anger. Slamming the photo face-up on the nightstand, she stormed from the bed. Finally, Stephanie arrived at the bathroom door. She turned the handle and cast a nasty look at the post-it note and twenty dollar bill that was taped to the surface. I had left Stephanie a note, only it wasn’t addressed to her at all, but a Cindy. I did this on purpose. Stephanie was a pain in the ass.

“Cindy, Here’s twenty. Call yourself a cab. Later, Randy.”

“Who the fuck is Cindy?!” Stephanie screamed ripping the note and the twenty off the door. She was livid. I knew Stephanie could hear the rushing water of the shower from inside the bathroom. 

“Randy!” Stephanie yelled, trying to get me to unlock the bathroom door, but as her voice became louder, the radio that sat on the bathroom counter intensified in volume. A sound blared out the radio. A song that she knew all too well. N’SYNC’s
Bye Bye Bye
blared out the speakers and I knew she could faintly hear my wonderful singing voice as I sung the pop track completely out of tune. 

“Randy!”

I sung louder and Stephanie was furious. She ran to the kitchen and splashed water on her face, hurriedly got dressed and slammed the apartment door so hard, my neighbor, Mrs. Drummer, peeked out into the hallway. 

“It’s nothing Harold… Just one of Randy’s floozies!”

“I am not a floozie!” Stephanie yelled at the old woman.

I love Mrs. Drummer. She fucking rocks. 

Stephanie stood there, her cleavage popping out of her low cut blouse, her skirt riding high on her thighs. 

“Could’ve fooled me…”

Stephanie would be one of many who tried to bed me in an attempt to build something more. I don’t have time for that crap. My heart belonged to someone else, anyhow. Someone who had trampled upon it. Someone who I was sure that I would never see again.

50.

Cheyenne

I parked my car outside Randy’s apartment and just as I was about to step out of the car, the front door swung open. Stephanie Rogers, dressed in something that a Fourth Avenue prostitute would wear, came stumbling down the steps. Randy poked his head out his out the bedroom window.

“Hey Cindy!”

Oh, he was fucking with her good.

“Asshole!”

“Oh, Cindy! You forgot something!”

“What?”

“Your dignity. Here. Put a t-shirt on before people think I paid you.”

He threw a white t-shirt out the window at her leaving Stephanie speechless. He didn’t smile, he didn’t laugh. He looked miserable.

“Still in love with that crazy bitch!”

As Stephanie lifted her arm in the air for a cab, I chuckled as I pulled off. When Randy is in love, he treats that woman like a princess. When Randy doesn’t love the woman he’s with, he can be a total dick.

I still had a chance.

51.

Randy

The last person I expected to see when I walked into Patton’s Steak House was Cheyenne West. I was in the middle of helping my sister and Colt move into the house at our grandparent’s ranch and we were starving for something to eat. So me, Colt, Averi, Tim and Shelly headed out. They all picked Patton’s. There she waited for us. Dressed in a waitress’ uniform, she looked good. Cheyenne looked friendly with a faint smile on her face. She put on a happy front while her eyes told a different story. There was a deep, innate sadness in them.  Her hair was colored in ombre style with her black hair fading into blonde tips, falling past her shoulders. Her bright pink name tag read Cheyenne.

Cheyenne greeted us warmly, but instead of coming out with the Texas drawl that was typical around these parts, her voice had a distinct Midwestern accent. She caught eyes with mine for a moment but broke the contact as she led everyone to an empty booth along the wall. Averi had noticed the exchange and was trying to stifle her amusement. I knew I was red in the face – blushing, almost. I could feel the heat rush to my head. Averi shook from the laughter she was holding in. Her eyes watered and finally, she had to excuse herself to go to the bathroom where she could laugh it off. As everyone but Averi sat down at the table, Cheyenne smiled sweetly at me. But like a light switch, she seemed to suddenly remember something I said or did because just like that, her smile turned off. The appearance of a woman scorned overtook her pretty features.  I just wanted to reach out and touch her hand, turn her scowl into a smile, but then memories of my own came to the surface.

“Hey Chey…” I mustered as Colt, Tim and Shelly watched with curiosity. 

“Hey yourself…” Chey said with a set of pursed lips. “You haven’t called me…”

“I know… Sorry… It’s been a crazy couple of months.”

Cheyenne gave me a knowing look and shrugged nonchalantly. 

“That’s life for ya…” Cheyenne said trying to act like my distance didn’t bother her. It did. I know it did. More than anything.  “Alright folks, here are your menus,” Cheyenne said trying to seem unfazed as she passed out the large glossy folders.

She read off the daily specials, highlighted her favorite dish – the chicken parm – and waited to take our orders. 

“Do you guys need a few more minutes?” asked Cheyenne, noticing that Averi was still in the bathroom. 

“No!” I barked. “I’m starving. We’ll just order for her. I will have the-“ 

But before I could complete my sentence,

Cheyenne had finished it for me, “The meatloaf with the mashed potatoes, green beans, a bowl of applesauce and a biscuit.”

Fuck, she knows me well.

Looking surprised, I said, “Yeah… That’s it.” 

“It always was your favorite,” Cheyenne said with longing in her voice. 

I heard the need in her voice, and with her here I couldn’t act like I didn’t care. I did. She hurt me bad, though. As a distraction and a reason to continue talking to her, I asked, “A healthy serving of meatloaf, too. Please?”

I found myself smiling at her when I didn’t want to. 

“Hungry much?” Shelly asked with a perplexed look upon her face. 

“He’s hangry. Not hungry. Get it right,” Colt corrected. 

I gave Colt an annoyed look but I didn’t back down from my hearty menu selection.  

“Alright, Colt… What can I get ya?”

“Rib special and a baked potato. Averi will have the grilled chicken with broccoli and rice.”

“Tim?”

“Sirloin with whatever vegetables you have back there.”

“And Shelly…”

“The shrimp platter.”

“Great. Your food will be up shortly. I’ll bring ya a pitcher of iced tea.”

“You don’t have Coke?” I complained. 

“Sorry hun, the machine is busted.”

The corners of my mouth turned down as I watched Cheyenne walk away. My dark mood intensified as I noticed the screen on his cell phone had lit up again. 

“What the hell…” I complained. 

“What?” Shelly asked staring at me with a quizzical look upon her face. No sooner had Cheyenne got to the kitchen to put in our drink orders, she had sent me a text. 

“Call me later. We need to talk.”

“Damn…”

“Randy… You can’t ignore her forever. You need to talk to her, and explain to her why you ended it.”

“Shell… I don’t want to get into it. She knows why I ended it.”

“At least that makes one of us…” Colt said. “She’s your ex-girlfriend who you went out with for six years. You damn near married her! Even if you’re not invested, she is.”

“Dude, you know she’s right…” Tim said. 

Shelly gave him a mushy look as she pulled his arm closer to her. I rolled my eyes. 

“You guys make me puke.”

“Talk to her, Randy. I’m not kidding,” Shelly said with a worried look in her eyes. 

Maybe there was truth to the saying, “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

52.

Cheyenne

I pulled off my work clothes and swapped it out for a pair of heather gray yoga pants and a Dallas Cowboys t-shirt that used to belong to Randy. Sinking down onto my bed, I breathed out a sigh of frustration. My cell phone sat idle, dark in the already dark room.

What I wouldn’t give to see the phone light up with an incoming call from Randy. But as it was, it was another lonely night. A night of self-loathing. A night of what-if’s. After waiting by the phone for an hour, I gave up. With tears flooding from my eyes, I fought my demons. The urge to get high to drown out my need for Randy was overwhelming, but I refused to allow myself the release. My addiction was half the problem. But I hadn’t used at all since that day. I hadn’t talked to Trent either. If only Randy knew the truth. The real, honest to God truth. Then he would be here. But first, I needed to have the opportunity to tell the truth for what it was. 

Picking up the phone again, desperately hoping that something came through and I had just not heard it, I was disappointed to see that no one had called or texted. Tossing my phone on the bedside table, I rolled over and drowned myself in my tears. 

If only he knew…

53.

Randy

I sunk down into a lawn chair at my sister’s house, letting the stress from the day melt off of me. So many thoughts were going through my head at once, but still, I couldn’t keep my mind off Cheyenne. My phone was dead from all the messages she had sent, and I had no desire to charge it just yet. Before I spoke to her, I needed to decide where I stood on the subject. The matter of “us.”