Willows, Jennifer - Lust for Life [The Moreland Brothers 2] (Siren Publishing Allure) (22 page)

“Something like that. Why are you here Ms. Morris?” He decided to get to the point.

“I just wanted to see her.”

“Why is it that I have a feeling that she won’t be happy to see you?” Deven could feel in his gut that this was the beginning of the end. He knew he was about to get the truth, all of it, and not just the bits and pieces Charli fed him when he asked her about herself.

“I know she won’t.”

“Why is that?”

“I was a fucked up mother. I’ve been on drugs my whole life. Do you know I’m only forty-five years old? That tells you how young I was when I had Charlene. Her father was ten years older and knew how to sweet talk young girls. He liked the idea of having virgins, using, and dumping them. When I became too big to hide my baby, my momma kicked me out. She already had ten mouths to feed and wasn’t going to feed one more.” With that said, she stopped, and Deven got up and got her a bottle of water. She took the cold bottle and smiled. Surprisingly enough, she had beautiful teeth. They were the cleanest part of her and looked whiter than his. Geraldine saw what he was thinking and stopped drinking long enough to answer the silent query.

“I may have a monkey on my back, but my teeth are the only vanity I have left.”

She finished the water and capped the empty bottle.

“Now, I’m going to give you the whole sordid tale, and I want you to realize that it isn’t nice. Only thing good in the whole of it is Charlene.” He watched her take a deep breath and resume speaking.

“When I found myself on the street, the only thing folks did was look the other way. People I knew would walk around me, like I was gonna taint them. Make them a Jezebel with a bastard baby. In the country, people don’t take well to those types of problems. If I found someone, they only wanted sex, and since it was all I had to offer, I did it. Three months after I had Charlene, her daddy blew back into town. He took one look at me and laughed, and told me if I was gonna whore myself then I could for him. Just like that he was my pimp. He didn’t start forcing me to take drugs until I tried to run away. After that he would beat me until I let him shoot me up. At that point, I was useless, worse than. By the time he murdered a cop and went on death row, I couldn’t make myself stop the drugs. He had too many years to get me hooked. From then until now, I’ve been a junkie. I see my reflection in storefront windows, and I hate myself. I wasn’t strong enough, for my child, let alone me. When I got to my worst point nearly at the bends, a man offered me a fix in exchange for Charlene.” Deven saw red at that moment. He thought he might snap on the woman in front of him and the only thing saving her was the solo virtue of birthing her daughter.

“But I told him to come back later on, and I called Sharon to come and get her. I knew if I said no, the man would just beat me up and rape her. But Charlene has always been resourceful and ran away. I let him think that I was okay with him doing it. But then and there I knew I wasn’t going to hell when I died. I was living in it now. So I did what I could for her, sent her away, so she didn’t have to live like me. Be me.” By the end, Geraldine was openly crying, and Dev offered her a stray napkin that he saw on the counter. He was sure he would cry himself, and he didn’t have to live the events she described.

Deven dug in his pocket and found a business card. He wrote on the card and handed it to Geraldine. “These are my personal phone numbers, cell, home, and office. If you want to get clean, I will help you. I can’t guarantee Charli’s feelings about you, but I will assist you if you want it.”

He watched her put the card away, tucked in a random pocket in one of the jackets she wore. Deven stood and went to get another bottle of water, when he heard the front door open.

“Honey! I’m ho-ome! I know you’re still here, Deven, I saw the Tesla out front.” Charli’s voice sounded exuberant and ordinarily he would be grateful that she sounded like that with him, for him.

Deven ducked toward the front door and kissed her. He knew when Charli saw her mother, there were going to be fireworks.

“Charli, baby, wait. I’ve gotta tell you something.”

“Bet it’s not better than what I’ve got to say!” Charli was doing a little happy dance, and Deven was sicker than ever. He didn’t want to have to utter what he was about to.

“No, baby, I know it’s not. It’s just that—”

“He’s trying to tell you that I’m here, Charlene.” Geraldine had emerged from the kitchen and stood to the side of the open archway Deven blocked with his body. He felt the moment Charli realized who was in her house. She went from a lively, willing woman in his arms to frozen stone in an instant.

* * * *

She looked at Deven and knew the sorrow reflected in his eyes was pity for her. Charlene hated the idea of another person ever pitying her again. She swore she wouldn’t let anyone see her weak enough for that to happen. The inevitable outcome was what happened seconds later.

Charli lurched away from Deven, skidding backward at least three feet across the floor in her haste. “What the hell are you doing in my house? I want you”—she pointed at Geraldine—“gone. Now. I don’t know why in the world, after abandoning me for nearly twenty years, you step foot in my house. You have some nerve to think that I want anything to do with you. Or be near you.” Charli opened the door, and the broken junkie shuffled out. The motions were dejected, and no hope lived in the footsteps sidling out the door.

When Geraldine left, Charli looked at Deven, and she saw red.

“How dare you let anybody in my damn house! You have some kind of nerve, and I hate you for this Deven... I can’t even express how disgusted I am with you. I don’t want a damn thing else to do with you. Never again!” Deven’s face crumpled, but Charli refused to back down, even as her heart sank with the knowledge of what she was doing.

“Look, Charli, I knew that you would be upset. But I think you should at least speak to her. She may have something you would—”

“Where the hell do you get off defending her to me! You have cojones, pal. What do I want to hear from a junkie hooker? How to suck a dick? I think I figured that out on my own, or rather you taught me. Know what? I want my key back.” Charli pulled the carabineer with Deven’s keys off and flung them, hitting him square in the chest.

Deven wasn’t giving up. “Charli, stop it! Damn it! Listen to me.”

* * * *

“No, Deven, there isn’t anything you can say to me. I just want you out of my house now.” She opened the door and waited. Deven walked to the kitchen and slipped on his shoes. When he looked at the cake, it made him want to cry. It was the tangible representation of his hopes and dreams, and showed his intentions were honorable, no matter her background.

Deven left and drove until the Tesla ran out of power. He was someplace, but didn’t know where. He didn’t care either, and as luck would have it, there was a hole-in-the-wall bar just a mile back the way he came. Deven climbed out of the car, shut the door, and walked stiffly back up the road. He’d call someone to get the car later, but for now he was going to drink until he felt numb. He reached the tiny shanty and walked inside. The bartender had the look of man who had seen much and not all of it good. His face was weather beaten, and he sported a full beard of mostly gray hair. His bald head gleamed, the only thing in the dingy space that sparkled, except maybe the glass he rubbed to a shine with a short cloth.

Dev took one of the gritty stools and pulled out his credit card.

“Gimme the strongest liquor you’ve got, on the rocks. And keep
’
em coming.”

The bartender took the glass he was polishing and added a few cubes of ice.

“Woman problems, huh?” The bartender’s voice was pitched low, tones of a man who didn’t say much.

“Yeah, how’d you guess?”

“Well, a man that looks like you doesn’t seem to lack for much. You probably have a nice job, home, drive a nice car. Only thing that can run a man who has everything ragged is a woman.”

“You’re good.” Deven wasn’t surprised. The man had an alert look about him. He might have been a veteran, with that hawk-eyed gaze of men who had seen war, famine, and pestilence. The man introduced himself as Bill.

Deven took the glass of liquor and tossed it back. It burned all the way down and promised to smolder worse if he let it come back up. He sipped the next, and another. Deven lost count of how many he had, but when he looked up, the hole-in-the-wall was jumping with activity. He looked at Bill and pointed at his glass. Bill gave him refill, and when Dev tasted it, he sputtered. It was water.

A glance at the front door had him squinting. It was dark outside. Damn, he drank way too much. Deven dug his phone out of his pocket. Maybe he should call somebody. But his hands wouldn’t cooperate. Bill leaned over and took the phone.

“Who you trying to call?”

Deven mumbled, but his lips were numb and irritated, he managed to scribble his brother’s name on a napkin.

Bill looked in the address book and dialed the number matching the name on the paper.

Chapter Eleven:

Bitter Coffee and Burning Moonshine

When Deven left her house, Charli slid down the wall and sobbed in her hands. She felt so ill, like she wanted to vomit, and as the thought came to her, she did, but there wasn’t anything to bring up but coffee. The hours-old brew burned worse than bile, and the bitter aftertaste never left her mouth. She did the only thing she could, stripping her blue suit off, her Hermes scarf flung to the floor. Grabbing a bucket and scrub brush, she scrubbed her hall way in her panties. But when she finished the wall and floor, she couldn’t stop.

Four hours later she made it to the kitchen and saw the seat her mother used. Charli kept scrubbing and emptied water for fresh, washing everything her eyes saw and her hands touched. She scrubbed the walls and floors, beat rugs, washed clothes. Charli opened the fridge for a glass of water and saw the cake.

Fresh tears sprang to her eyes, and Charli pulled the single slice of plated and wrapped cake from the fridge. Sitting on the freshly mopped floor, she took the slice and sniffed it. It even smelled the same. When she took the first bite, Charli moaned and cried harder. She nibbled on the cake, eating bits with her fingers. When she got to the fattest section of the cake wedge she felt... something. Licking crumbs from her lips, she pinched at the cake, looking for a stray eggshell. But as the cake crumbled in her fingers, Chari saw the glint of metal. Her heart sank. It couldn’t be—but it was.

An engagement ring.

Charli washed the ring off and looked at it. The ring was beautiful. The setting was antique, delicate rosy gold in a fragile wide-lattice pattern, dainty enough to remind her of lace. And the diamond in it was amazing, oblong, and nearly three perfectly flawless carats. Charli felt the urge to hurl again and leaned over the sink. But she was able to keep down her cake, and the nausea passed. In her bedroom, Charli put the ring in a Manolo Blahnik shoe box. There was no way she could face the ring without the man.

The cleaning spree continued, and by the time she looked up, it was nightfall. Charli spent the night crying and hugging herself, and she didn’t sleep.
Couldn’t sleep
. She hadn’t slept alone in months, and her body needed him to rest. He kept her warm and close, safe in slumber.

The next morning Charli woke to her bedroom door slamming closed.

“Charli, what the hell is going on?” Makenzie had swooped in, and it was barely past dawn.

Charli was barely there, her mind worn through from exhaustion. She rolled in the general direction of the door.

“Whadda—”

“I mean why in the hell did Dev get drunk at some hole-in-the-wall outside of Charlotte.”

“Geraldine came back... Makenzie.” It was all she was going to say.

“Oh... So I take it didn’t go well. Since the house smells like Clorox and Ajax got in a fight and all.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Charli rolled back over, pulling the blanket around her in a cocoon. She just wanted to sleep. If she could sleep until the pain went away, that would be so much better.