Little Black Beginning (Little Black Book #0.5) - Tabatha Vargo

Little BLACK Beginning New York Times Bestselling Authors

Melissa Andrea Tabatha Vargo

Little Black Beginning Copyright © 2017 by Tabatha Vargo & Melissa Andrea All Rights Reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any hat manor whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events or real people are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Little Black Beginning/Tabatha Vargo & Melissa Andrea Editing services provided by Editing4Indies Cover Art by Romantic Book Affairs



To all the Sebastian Black lovers- this is for YOU!



LITTLE BLACK BEGINNING My name’s Sebastian, and this is my story. It’s not a love story or a sweet fairy tale. It’s the story of how I became dark and broken. Of how innocence was stained with unforgiving sin, and sex became my weapon. This is the story of me, and how I became BLACK.



PROLOGUE TWEETY HAS AN EXCEPTIONALLY TIGHT TWAT for twenty-five. Try saying that five times fast. Those were my thoughts as she lowered herself onto my cock. A tiny chirping noise rolled from her lips as she buried me to the hilt and pleasure stole her expression. The tweeting noise she made when she came was what sparked my nickname for her. That, and the slight speech impediment she had. Something about the way she pronounced all TH words as if the H didn’t exist reminded me of how Tweety Bird talked. My name wasn’t Sylvester, but Sebastian was close enough. And unlike the cartoon I so lovingly watched as a child, I caught this little bird. I’d even eaten her a time or two. Tweety was my number three these days, running close behind Rainbow Brite, who had pink highlights and sucked a mean blow job, and Strawberry Shortcake, who literally tasted like strawberries. What could I say? I was having a nostalgic year when it came to naming my girls. My way of doing things was fucked up. I was aware of that, but I refused to get close to any woman. And as far as I was concerned, knowing their real names was the first step. I wasn’t always this guy. I wasn’t always the asshole who named women after cartoon characters and kept them as pets until they bored me. In my defense, they made it easy for me. Apparently, all you needed these days was dark hair and light eyes to make a woman agree to anything for a chunk of change in their checking account. Luckily for me, I had both. Looks and a massive chunk of change to give. Because of that, my little black book was full of female cartoon characters ready and willing to meet my needs whenever I called. And I called constantly, sampling their goods every chance I got without the worry of becoming attached.

It was a good way to live. Once Tweety unloaded the stress I was carrying in my sack, we said our goodbyes. Leaving the five-star hotel where I conducted my affairs, I waited just outside for my car to be brought around. That was when I saw her. She was crossing the street, her arm locked in the arm of another man … a man I knew was her husband. She’d aged over the years, her face wrinkled with time, and gravity tugged on the body I’d once worshipped. She was the woman who made me a man. She showed me the things the female body was capable of before turning my warm, naïve heart into cold stone. Our relationship had been fucked up in every sense of the word. It had been wrong in all ways possible, but at the time, I hadn’t seen it that way. It was sick. It was broken. It was black … just like I was. I’d wanted her from the moment I stepped foot into her home, but I was just too young to understand my desires. Yet she took every chance she got to seduce my immature brain and starving body with her sweet words and calculated touches. If I closed my eyes and let my mind wander to the memories I had tucked away, I could still remember the way her skilled hands had moved down my chest. I could still feel the sting of her red fingernails digging into my flesh. “I want to be your first, Sebastian,” she’d whispered to me before moving her hips and shattering everything I thought I knew about women. She was indeed my first—taking my virginity and leaving behind a black hole I’d never been able to fill. Lust. Heartbreak. Murder. That was my life, and she was the trigger that fired the first round. I watched until she and her husband disappeared from my sight, but the damage had been done. Memories stiffened my spine, reminding me of my goals. Business. Pleasure. All with a blatant refusal to love or have a connection with anyone or anything.

That was until Jessica Rabbit stepped into my life. This was the story that brought me to her. The story of becoming broken. The story of how life’s darkest moments transformed Sebastian Stephens, marking his soul and dragging him into the depths of hell. This was how I became the man I was today. This was how I became Sebastian Black.



PART ONE Before the Darkness Sebastian Stephens



ONE CARTOONS—COLORFUL FLASHES OF HAPPINESS on the screen in front of me. I often wondered to myself if the creators of my favorite Saturday morning cartoons knew how therapeutic their work was for a boy like me—a boy with no past and no distinct future. My life changed constantly. It was an endless cycle of families and faces I was sure to never see again. Bouncing from one foster home to another, I dipped in and out of people’s real lives, getting only tiny glances of what it meant to belong. Through it all, though, one thing remained the same—the cartoons. I could always count on the Smurfs to make me smile or Bugs Bunny to make me laugh. They were the only family I knew—the only constant good in my life. I wrapped myself in their splashes of color, using them to push all the bad things about my life out of my mind. I laughed as Wile E. Coyote tried repeatedly to catch the Road Runner. He was seconds from being flattened by an anvil when suddenly, a faded, blue T-shirt blocked the TV. “Move, Ethan,” I said sternly, reaching out and pushing him to the side. He was small for a sixteen-year-old, and I often found myself playing the protector when the other kids in the group home teased him. His dark hair was too long since haircuts were few and far between, and it fell over his eyes just enough to hide the fact he’d recently smoked a joint. Being teased about his size had turned him into a bit of an asshole, which didn’t go over well in most homes. But the fact he constantly stole from the foster parents was the main reason several homes had given him the boot. “Come on, Sebastian. Let’s go outside, man,” he whined. “You’re too old to be sitting inside all day watching this crap.” He was right. I was too damn old to be watching cartoons. But it was a habit I wasn’t going to be breaking anytime soon.

“What’s your obsession with this stupid shit?” he asked, falling onto the couch next to me. He kicked his Converse-covered feet onto the couch beside me, and I looked down to see a worn hole in the sole of his right shoe. Turning my attention back to the TV, I shook my head and sighed in aggravation. “Call it stupid shit one more time, and I’ll punch you in the mouth,” I replied. “Just shut up and watch it.” I didn’t tell him the reasons behind my obsession with cartoons. I didn’t tell him about my strange connection with the characters who had somehow become my family. He didn’t need to know what made me tick … no one did. An hour later, just as Porky Pig was saying, “That’s all, folks!” I was called to my counselor’s office. Going into Mrs. Brown’s room, I moved my eyes over her faded, leather furniture and the chipped table that held a lamp and a few other desk accessories. The room was worn but inviting. It was homely, and in some ways, her office was home. I’d lived inside her office longer than any of the other “homes” I’d stayed in. “I have great news, Sebastian,” Deloris Brown said. I hadn’t even had a chance to sit down before she was bombarding me with bullshit. Mrs. Brown was good people. She always looked out for me, but I knew the world was a cruel place. I knew she couldn’t save me. No one could. Excitement was a cruel reflection in her eyes, and seeing that excitement let me know exactly why she’d called me into her office. A new home. A different place to get kicked out of. She was probably excited to be rid of me again, but the joke was on her. It didn’t matter which home I ended up in; I never stayed long, and I’d find myself in her office once again. The older I got, the harder it was for any permanent placement. More times than not, I’d end up in the group home with all the other unwanted kids. I’d stay there for months before some clueless family picked me, trying to make a difference in someone’s life. It was a joke. I felt like an old mutt, watching as all the puppies were snatched up and taken to forever homes. It was pathetic. I didn’t respond as I folded myself into the plush leather chair in front of her large desk. The chairs deceived perspective parents into thinking everything was fucking

rainbows and ponies. I knew better. I also knew Mrs. Brown was waiting for me to wag my tail and jump around excitedly, but I didn’t give her so much as a smile before she sighed and continued. “You may not be excited now, but you will be when I tell you my good news.” “I got placed in a home,” I said, ruining what I knew was supposed to be her happy surprise for me. I shrugged like it was no big deal. It wasn’t. Her face fell, draining the excitement from her eyes. “Well, yes, but it’s not just a placement. This couple is considering adoption. It could be a permanent home, Sebastian. This is a wonderful opportunity.” When I still refused to show excitement, she frowned. “Why are you not more excited about this?” she asked. A sarcastic chuckle bubbled from the back of my throat. “Nothing’s permanent when you’re a system kid, Deloris. You and I both know that. Don’t try to paint this as a pretty fucking picture because we both know it’s not.” Her frown deepened. She hated it when I called her by her first name, but she really hated it when I cursed. Tough shit. I didn’t like a lot of things. Things like being abandoned and then tossed around like trash. “You should start watching your mouth, Sebastian. I tolerate it, but your new foster parents aren’t going to like your colorful language.” I wanted to tell her she didn’t tolerate shit. She had no control over my language. But I was feeling particularly lazy and arguing with her was exhausting. “Colorful language? That’s a new one, Deloris.” I smirked. “So what’s the catch? What’s wrong with them?” I asked. “What’s wrong with them?” She repeated my question. Her forehead creased down the middle in confusion. “Oh! You mean your new parents.” My jaw tightened. “Don’t call them that,” I snapped. “They’re nothing to me but another bed to sleep in until they either get rid of me or I turn eighteen.” “Is that your plan, Sebastian?” I nodded.

“You definitely won’t go anywhere in life with an attitude like that. Listen,” she said, moving around her desk to stand in front of me. “Believe me, I know this isn’t an ideal situation, but you can’t go through life never trusting anyone. There’s still some good in this world, and I know you’ll find love.” She meant well, but I was jaded and jagged. The world had sharpened my edges. So I laughed in her face, pretending to find her ridiculous when deep down I wanted her to be right. “You’re a trip, Deloris. Seriously, you should find some other pathetic orphan to projectile vomit all your stupid ideas on. I’m not into that shit.” Her brown eyes filled with hurt, and I turned away, pretending to be disgusted. I tried to swallow the nagging feeling that clogged my throat, but I ended up choking on it instead. What was my plan? My plan was to wait out the next two years of my sentence in the system until I was considered a legal adult. Technically, I could probably walk away tomorrow, and they wouldn’t bother looking for me. Eighteen. Only then would I be released onto the wild streets of Brooklyn where I’d live doing whatever the hell I wanted. My plans were realistic. I didn’t have time for hopes and dreams. That shit was for family kids. It was for boys who hadn’t grown up in the hellhole I had. I’d never had a family, and at my age, I never would. “Someday, Sebastian.” Deloris’s soft voice interrupted my inner musings. “Someday it won’t hurt this much. And I pray to God that someday is soon for you.” I didn’t look her in the eyes. I knew better. I was always worried that if I did, the small part of me not broken would do something stupid. Like cry. Or believe her. Which was what I felt like doing. I closed my eyes and let the pressure build. Only when I knew it was safe and the tears would stay put did I open them again. “When do I leave?” I asked.



TWO NOBODY WANTED TO BE AROUND AN ASSHOLE. I didn’t even want to be around myself. But I packed my shit and climbed into the back of the same car that took me from place to place—home to home—every single time. It was an endless circle of dreams I knew weren’t a real possibility for me. Slouching in my seat, I pretended my stomach didn’t twist with nerves as I watched the world glide past outside the window. The scenery changed the farther we drove. Looking away from the world outside, I turned to Deloris. “You never answered my question about these people,” I said. “What’s wrong with them?” The radio was on, and gospel music littered the air around me with words I didn’t believe. Deloris was into Jesus. Meanwhile, I couldn’t understand why God would let anyone abandon young kids without love and leave them to starve on the streets. Needless to say, Deloris and I didn’t agree on the whole religion thing. And thankfully, the music was low, nothing more than whispered words. Deloris reached over and turned it the rest of the way down. “What makes you think something’s wrong with them?” I snorted. Wasn’t it obvious? “They want me, don’t they?” I asked. “My own damn parents didn’t even want me. That should tell them something.” She sighed, and a full minute went by before she spoke again. “Can you try not to be the kid with the whole freaking world on your shoulders for once, Sebastian?” She surprised me. “Whoa. Careful, Deloris. That’s some colorful language there.” I turned up the radio, ready to block out the rest of the car ride. It didn’t matter if I had to listen to Jesus jams. It was better than the bullshit I knew she was about to spew. As soon as I turned the music up, Deloris hit the button, turning the radio off completely. I frowned at her. “What’s your problem?”

“You’re my problem!” She smacked the steering wheel, making me chuckle. “Only for the next twenty minutes or so. Guess you’ll just have to deal with it.” “You’re my problem until I say otherwise. And just because you’re going to a home doesn’t mean I stop worrying about you. I want this to be a permanent solution because you need this, Sebastian. I’m afraid of what’s going to happen to you without the stability you crave.” I watched the trees shift outside my window and slowly started to realize how much I would miss Deloris. Other than my cartoons, she was the only consistent thing in my life. And as much as it pissed me off, she was right. I craved stability. No. I needed it. And it was wrong for me to be such an ass to her since her consistency was all that kept me from losing my mind. “There’s nothing wrong with this couple. They’re unable to have children of their own, and they want an older child because they want to be able to spend time with you. Also, the mom used to be a foster child herself, from what I gather. She probably wants to give you opportunities she wasn’t offered. From what I can tell, they’re good people, Sebastian. Embrace this adventure.” I rolled the back of my head over the headrest to return my gaze to Deloris. “The only thing I want to embrace right now is a cheeseburger.” Deloris’s lips tugged at the corners, and I could tell she was trying not to laugh. Finally, she gave in and threw her head back, laughing out loud. “You’re something else, kid,” she said as she pulled into the closest burger joint. An hour later, we pulled up in front of a large brownstone in one of the nicer parts of Brooklyn. Kids on bikes scurried beside the car, looking at me as if I was from another planet. When I got out of the car, I felt like I was on another planet. I’d never lived in a neighborhood or home as nice as the one looming in front of us. I slipped the strap of my worn backpack over my shoulder and shut the car door. A tiny seed of hope planted itself deep within, and I swallowed hard, hoping the feeling didn’t bite me in the ass. Maybe Deloris was right; maybe I could find my happy ending here. My hands were sweaty with nerves when I pulled the rest of my stuff from the back seat. My knees knocked as I walked behind Deloris up the six steps to the front door. She knocked, the sound echoing all around me, and then she pulled me in front of her. I glared at her, but she used her fingers to trace a smile on her face before turning me to face forward.

A lady in her late thirties answered with a smile. She was a few inches shorter than I was, brunette and tiny, I noticed, but then my eyes landed on her chest. Nothing was tiny about her tits. They were perky beneath the light sweater stretching across them. Dragging my eyes away from her chest, I took in the rest of her. She was pretty for an older woman. Her blue eyes sparkled with excitement, and her plump lips looked kissable as she smiled up at me. Pushing her chestnut hair from her eyes, she reached down and plucked a miniature dog from the floor before it could escape. Looking up at me with her big blue eyes, she smiled even bigger. No. She wasn’t pretty. She was beautiful. The longer she stared at me, the more my heart began to pump blood furiously through my body. Most of the foster parents I’d been placed with had never looked like the one standing in front of me. They definitely never made me feel the way she was making me feel. “You must be, Sebastian,” she said, her soft voice soothing something deep within. I stared at her as if I was a deaf mute. As if I’d completely forgotten how to communicate. “Sebastian,” Deloris said with a nervous laugh. “Yes,” I croaked My voice was squeaky as if I hadn’t already gone through puberty. I searched my brain for something more to say, but even my usual smartass comments were nowhere to be found. I was left standing there like an idiot. “Gosh, I’m sorry. Please, come in. My name’s Jane,” she said, ushering me and Deloris into the foyer and placing the tiny dog on the floor at her feet. “But you already know that.” She laughed nervously. “I’m sorry, I’m a little nervous.” Deloris smiled and patted her gently on the arm. “I think we’re all a little nervous, Mrs. Jepson. Excited, but nervous.” “Please.” She covered Deloris’s hand with her own. “Call me Jane.” I couldn’t help myself. A laugh burst from my lips. Both Deloris and my new “mom” looked at me confused. “Your name’s Jane Jepson?” Again, laughter bubbled from the back of my throat.

“Yep. Jane Jepson. I’m aware of how close it is to Jane Jetson.” She laughed along with me. I watched The Jetsons often. I couldn’t help but feel like maybe it was fate that I’d end up with the ultimate cartoon mom. A shitty foster kid like me and Jane fucking Jetson. “So …” She took a step toward me, but the fluffy dog at her feet darted in her way, and she stumbled. I put my arm out to protect myself in case she fell on me, and her fingers wrapped around my arm as she steadied herself. A warm smile spread across her face. “Thank you.” She was thanking me as if I’d meant to help her. I hadn’t. Her laugh was nervous—her smile shaky—when she released my arm. Her blue eyes moved from me to Deloris before landing on the floor. “She likes you,” Jane said. I looked down at my feet when I realized that was where she was looking. The small rat dog sniffed my dirty shoes a few times before she turned and ran away. “Did you find it okay?” Jane asked Deloris, filling the awkward silence. “Yes,” Deloris said politely. “You have a lovely home.” She reached out and patted Deloris’s arm. “Thank you. Once we’re done with the renovations, it will be my dream home.” Again, her blue eyes moved my way. “We moved in six years ago, and I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. The neighborhood is nice and safe. There are plenty of kids around here your age, and your school is only five minutes away. We’ll be able to walk there together.” “I’m not a baby,” I said firmly. That was the last thing I wanted her thinking. “You wouldn’t believe some of the crap I’ve been through. In some cultures, I’d be considered a man. If I was on the other side of the world, I’d be married and have a few kids by now.” “Sebastian!” Deloris scolded and began to apologize to Jane, but Jane surprised us both by throwing her head back and laughing. “It’s fine and correct.” She added for my benefit. “No teenager wants to be walked to school by his …” She stopped before she said the word, and her eyes darted toward Deloris. “Well, by me.” That wasn’t exactly true, I thought, but I kept my mouth shut. “A group of kids from the area walks to school together, but we still have a few weeks before summer vacation is over and we have to worry about any of that.” I didn’t respond, so Deloris filled in the silence. “Of course.” Jane Jetson, which was what I decided I’d call her from that moment on, twisted her

fingers together. “It’s actually perfect timing. You’ll be able to settle in before starting school.” “My thoughts exactly,” Deloris said, nudging me with her shoulder. “Right, Sebastian?” “Yeah. Sure.” There was a long pause before Jane Jetson was talking again. “Well, what do you think so far, Sebastian?” she asked, twisting her fingers nervously. “Think this could be your new home?” She was excited. I could see it dancing in the depths of her sapphire eyes. But for me, it wasn’t a big deal. I’d heard that sentence too many times in my life for it to mean anything anymore. I turned slightly to take in what I could see of the house. We stood in a large entryway. The chandelier above me was rusted and meant to look grand, but instead, it just looked creepy. The smell of sawdust and paint tickled my nose, which meant they were in the middle of renovations. “Yeah, Sebastian, what do you think?” A male voice came from my side, and I turned to see a man in his early forties leaning against the doorway. He moved into the house and planted a soft kiss on Jane’s cheek. He was a fucking joke. Tall and skinny with shaggy hair and a patchy attempt at a beard. All he needed was the green shirt, flare corduroys, and a brown Great Dane to talk to and he’d be part of the Mystery Gang. My eyes moved over his gray T-shirt and dark jeans. Something about him rubbed me the wrong way, and I didn’t like him. “Sorry, I’m late. I was hoping to be here before you showed up, but I got caught up at work.” “I’m Darrell Jepson. Nice to meet you, Sebastian.” He reached out his hand for me to shake it, and I stared down at it as if shit covered it. “Okay.” He dropped his hand and pulled Jane Jetson to his side and hugged her shoulders like they were two happy parents of a brand spanking new baby and not my fucked-up ass. I knew my worth in the kid department of life, and I was no spring chicken. When I didn’t say anything, Jane nodded to Deloris that I would be fine and then turned to the stairs. “How about I show you your room, Sebastian? Would you like that?” She was excited again, and I could tell she wanted me to be too. “Whatever.” I shrugged as if it was no big deal. I’d never had my own room before. I had a bed where I could crash for a few weeks until the “family” decided to dump me back with child services. So I couldn’t deny that a

tiny sprout of excitement was beginning to bloom. Although, I’d choke on the words before I admitted it to anyone. Deloris coughed and shot me a warning glance. I sighed in aggravation. I guess I needed to play the part just in case they decided to keep me. “Sure. A room sounds cool. This bag’s pretty heavy. Somewhere to set it down would be nice.” Jane shook her head, an apology forming on her lips. “Oh, gosh! Of course, it is. Here, let me take it.” Her fingers were gentle and soft as they moved over mine. She took the bag from me before I could protest and moved so we could follow. I’d never had anyone treat me the way Jane was treating me. It was strange having her fuss over me. I couldn’t afford to entertain the idea that my stay in this lady’s home would be anything but temporary. No matter how nice Jane Jetson seemed. She wasn’t my mother. And she never would be. I was a lost cause. The sooner these people realized that, the better for them. People didn’t step in the path of a runaway train, and that was exactly what I was. Free, unattainable, destructive. Yeah. My stay with the Jetsons would probably be the shortest of all. “Here, honey. Let me take that.” Darrell took my heavy bag from his wife, and I followed them up the stairs. My eyes settled on Jane’s round ass as it bounced up and down with each step she took. It was sick and disturbing, but my hormones controlled me these days. It was expected. Deloris poked me in the back when I paused to take in the view, reminding me to move my feet. Once we reached the landing, I skimmed the new space. They’d obviously already finished the second floor because, unlike downstairs, no smell of fresh wood and paint lingered. The walls weren’t spotted with fresh plaster and the wood floors had been refinished. It was nice, but again, I had to remind myself it wasn’t permanent. Jane moved toward a door on our left, and her elegant fingers wrapped around the antique knob.

“This is your room,” she said, her cerulean eyes lighting up once again. “And that door right there leads to your own bathroom.” She pointed at another closed door across the hall. Her eyes found mine in the dim hallway, and a happy smile illuminated her pretty face —a face I was quickly becoming infatuated with. Darrell stood behind her with his hand on her shoulder like an excited new father as she pushed open the door. They stood stiff, wearing nervous smiles as they waited for me to step inside my new room. The walls were blue as if they’d expected a young boy when they painted it. A fullsize bed centered the space, and positioned under the window facing the street was a wooden desk. It was nice—the nicest place I’d ever lived, but I gave it two weeks before they were shipping my ass back and returning me like a faulty purchase. “Sebastian?” Deloris called my name, breaking me from my thoughts. “It’s time for me to go and let you guys get better acquainted.” I wasn’t sure I was ready for Deloris to leave, which sounded stupid. I wasn’t a baby, and I’d all but tried to push Deloris out of my life over the years. Still, a tiny bit of panic slipped into my stomach at the thought of her leaving me with people I didn’t know. People who didn’t understand me the way Deloris did. People who didn’t get my sarcastic jokes or know my history. This panic wasn’t usually there when Deloris left me with a family. Something was different, and I wasn’t sure I felt okay with that fact. But when I turned around and saw Jane standing just behind Deloris, things didn’t feel so terrible. A smile I was slowly getting used to lit her cobalt eyes, calming my wrecked nerves. I breathed away the panic and tried to calm myself. I’d never let these people know how worried and afraid I really was. Fear was a weakness I wasn’t willing to let win. I was Sebastian Stephens. I’d been through it all. I could handle this situation the same way I’d handled the rest of my life. Calm. Cool. Collected. And just for a while, I would let myself believe that things were going to be okay even if I knew deep down it was total bullshit. Things would never be okay. Not until I was old enough to come and go as I pleased. Not until I was old enough to make my own decisions. Not until I was in charge of my own life. That time was rapidly approaching.

Once Deloris was gone, Jane lingered in the doorway for only a second after her husband had gone downstairs. “I’ll just leave you here to get comfortable,” she said, reaching for the knob to shut the door. “Welcome home, Sebastian.” Again, a nervous smile tilted her plump lips, and her eyes moved over my face once more before the door shut the view of her away. The door clicked with finality, and in my mind, the tiny click sounded more like a large iron door slamming shut—closing me in the space like a prisoner, yet surrounding me in a solitude I’d never been able to reach before. It was strange, feeling locked in a situation I had no control over, but if I was stuck somewhere, at least that somewhere was nice. So far, the place wasn’t so bad. Even if the man of the house was a watered-down version of a man. At least I had Jane. And if Jane was willing to try, then I supposed I should be willing, too. The bed squeaked beneath me when I sat and dropped my backpack onto the floor. It was a comfortable mattress—an expensive one—and I’d never slept on anything so nice. As I laid back on the plush comforter and enjoyed the first space I’d ever been able to call my own, I took a deep breath and exhaled. I suppose there was no harm in trying, which was exactly what I planned to do. Especially if it meant I could have nice things and admire Jane’s sweet smile every day.



THREE DINNER WITH THE JEPSONS WAS A SERIOUS AFFAIR. One that made me uncomfortable and itchy. They had the table all laid out rich people style. More than one fork lined up neatly on top of my cloth napkin, and a wine glass full of water sat on the side of my plate with tiny chunks of round ice floating on the top. It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced in all the homes I’d been in. Did people really live this way? One thing was for sure … my ripped jeans and stained shirt didn’t belong. I didn’t belong. That was obvious to me, and soon, it would be obvious to them, too. They sat across from each other staring lovingly like we were in an episode of Brady Bunch minus five other little assholes running around. Occasionally, Darrell would reach out and touch Jane’s hand. I found myself rolling my eyes more than usual. A crystal chandelier twinkled above our heads, raining drops of light on everything around us and reflecting off the expensive plates and glasses we were using. I took inventory, so the moment I felt they were getting close to giving me the boot, I could pluck anything valuable and pawn it. Either that or I’d sell it on the streets. Luckily for me, the Jepsons had expensive taste. I would make a fortune off these people if I played my cards right. Darrell had a good job. And if the degrees that littered the walls of an office I’d passed were any indication, he was also smart. But I was smarter. At least when it came to life and the streets—when it came to survival. He might know his shit when it came to books, but I could lift his wallet and smile in his face at the same time. His degrees didn’t scare me. Then again, nothing scared me anymore really. He reached across the table once again, his long, hairy fingers wrapping around Jane’s soft, delicate hand. They were having a secret conversation with their eyes that made me fidget in my seat. I looked away. It was too weird seeing people act normal, and I didn’t like the way it made me feel.

Poking at the leafy green shit on my plate, I silently wished it was a big, greasy slice of pizza. The rabbit food they were trying to feed me was all kinds of wrong. I wanted boxed frozen foods. I was used to processed meats and canned goods. The freshness on my plate was under seasoned and bland. Shifting through the pile of greens with my fork, I flinched when a red tomato rolled across my plate and landed into the pile of white goo on the side. “Is the food okay?” Jane asked. I looked up from my food, if you could call it that, just as the smile on her face was starting to fall. “I probably should’ve asked what you like to eat. I’m sorry.” She frowned and poked at her food as well, prompting Darrell to squeeze her fingers. He obviously didn’t like seeing her unhappy, and strangely, I was finding that I didn’t like it either. I wanted to tell her it tasted like stale ass and grass, but suddenly being an asshole wasn’t as important to me as bringing her happy smile back. Not to mention, I’d promised myself upstairs in my new comfortable bedroom that I’d at least try. Being my usual dick self wasn’t trying. My face ached as I forced my lips to stretch into a rare smile. “It’s fine. Thank you,” I choked. The words felt foreign on my tongue and thick in my throat, making me reach out for the glass of water and down it. The room went silent except for the clinking of forks against porcelain, and I avoided eye contact as I continued to take in the richness of the dining room and the big screen TV in the room next to us. I was in the middle of considering how much money I could pawn it for when Darrell spoke. “How about we go out and grab a pizza. How’s that sound?” He was talking to me, snatching my attention away from the Blu-ray player and sound system calling my name. I didn’t answer even though pizza sounded delicious. My stomach growled, but even though I was starving, and even though the thought of pizza made my mouth water, I shrugged as if it didn’t matter. They didn’t need to know I was excited about the prospect of pizza. They didn’t need to know what made me happy. In my experience, when people knew what gave you joy, they could hold those things over your head. I never wanted to give anyone anything they could hold over me.

Even if it was only cheesy, saucy deliciousness. “That sounds like a perfect idea. Just let me change, and we’ll get going,” Jane said, sliding her chair from the table and tossing her cloth napkin on top of her half-eaten salad. Darrell watched his wife leave the room, his eyes lingering on her ass and hips before turning his attention on me. He hadn’t gotten up yet, so I figured I had to sit there too. It was the last thing I wanted since I could already see the small talk forming on his lips. “So what do you like to do for fun, Sebastian?” he asked. His mannerisms changed once Jane left the room. His happy, easy smiles shifted into something forced and for show. Suddenly, I no longer felt welcome in their home. The atmosphere around me grew cold and heavy, and my shoulders stiffened in defense. “Mostly drugs and stealing,” I said sarcastically, leaning back in my chair and testing his reserve. “Sometimes, I dabble in a bit of porn.” I was lying … sort of. I had tried my share of drugs, but it wasn’t something I often did. Some people had addictive personalities, and I was one of them, but drugs never did it for me. I was already living in a fucked-up reality. I didn’t want to alter it and accidentally make it worse. Still, I’d been around every drug known to man, and that was mostly due to social services. The foster care system wasn’t always reliable, and with so many kids to place, they got sloppy with their background checks. I found out firsthand how shitty their vetting process was when I was placed with a family whose main source of income was supplying the streets of New York with the purest cocaine Columbia could produce. Vinny and Shelia weren’t looking for a family. They didn’t want children. They wanted free labor and a paycheck from the state. Four foster kids lived in their home, myself being the second oldest, and for the six months I was there, I was their drug mule, having thousands of dollars of deadly doses shoved in places I’d barely had time to explore myself. People were monsters, and the customers I dealt with were the kind of people normal parents warned their kids about. Not those parents, though. They tossed us onto the streets, selling their product and handing us over to some of the worst humans New York had to offer. The things I saw while living with that family weren’t soon forgotten, but I survived the way I always did. With my head down and my ass covered. Deloris pulled me and the three other foster kids from their care the second she got wind of our environment, and within hours of our removal, SWAT raided the place. I found out a week later that Vinny and Shelia had been shot and killed during the raid, and as despicable as it sounds, I smiled when I heard the news.

I vowed from the moment Deloris pulled me from their home that I’d never mess with the hard stuff. I’d seen what it did to people, and I never wanted to be so delusional. Stealing, on the other hand, was something I did more than my fair share of. I was good at it. It was survival that pushed me to lift things that weren’t mine, and I wasn’t going to apologize for doing what I had to do. I learned early on that the world was a fucked-up place. You had to do what you had to do to survive. Darrell laughed hard, his head rolling back as he smacked the top of the table, making me jump. “Porn, huh?” He chuckled and swiped at the moisture on the side of his eye. “You’re something else, Sebastian.” He thought I was joking. And while part of what I said had been a joke, it still pissed me off to be laughed at. My fingers tangled into my cloth napkin as the anger grew within. His laughter died, and his face cleared. “Sebastian? You okay, son?” I wanted to tell him not to call me son. I didn’t have a father, and being in his house for less than a day didn’t qualify me as his. I belonged to no one. Still, I was supposed to be trying. So because of that, I kept my mouth shut and breathed my anger away, my nostrils flaring with each breath I took. Trying would be a lot harder than I realized, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be able to keep myself in check. “I’m sorry I laughed.” He coughed. “But seriously, what do you like to do for fun?” I went for the generic answer to appease him. “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I guess normal kid stuff.” What did normal kids my age even do? The fact was, I didn’t know enough about what was normal to give him a detailed lie. Even though in the eyes of everyone else, I was just a teenage asshole, I felt like an old man. It was hard to hang on to your youth when your childhood basically consisted of moving from one house to another, never knowing where you’d end up. It was hard to hold on to innocence when your innocence was being ripped away from you every day you lived in the real world—and with every second, you realized nothing was like the fairy tales you’d once been read. Life was hard and unapologetic, and if you didn’t acclimate, it would swallow you whole. “Does normal kid stuff consist of video games?”

He was asking the wrong person. “I guess,” I answered. He nodded, happy with my attempt at an answer. “I thought we could hit GameStop this weekend and see what we could find. How does that sound? Think you’d like that, buddy?” Buddy? I was so fucking far from being this guy’s buddy it wasn’t even funny. He was survival. My next step to freedom. And while I was trying, this guy was making it awfully hard to bite my tongue. He talked to me like I was an innocent six-year-old boy when I was almost a man. I was on the cusp of stepping into adulthood. Hell, as far as I was concerned, I was more experienced in life than this guy was. Just because he was a legal adult didn’t mean he knew more than I did. It didn’t mean he was better than I was. He wasn’t. “Sure,” I said, the word feeling like sandpaper against the back of my teeth. I was seconds away from exploding. Being treated like a child wasn’t working for me even a little. But before I could burst, Jane walked into the room, and the heat she brought with her burned away the chilly atmosphere around me. “Sorry I took so long. You boys ready?” She’d changed into a dress. It was light blue, and it floated around her knees like delicate petals of fabric. She bent to pick up the yappy rat dog and the material lifted, sliding up the back of her thighs and revealing milky skin. I looked. I couldn’t help myself. My eyes followed the slow rise of the fabric, taking in every inch of flesh as it was revealed. When she stood with the dog in her arms, I was only seconds away from getting a full view of her perky ass and what I knew, from the lack of panty lines, was a thong. Fuck. I shifted in my seat, my balls suddenly feeling weighted and stiff. My eyes shifted over her stomach before moving up to her ample chest. The fabric clung to her body, the blue color highlighting her peachy skin and making her look as though she was glowing. The straps of the dress were thin, showing off her sun-kissed shoulders, and the low-

cut front gave just a hint of cleavage. However, when she leaned over to set the dog down, it tugged down, letting the voluptuous curves of the tops of her tits pop from the cover of her white lacy bra. My mouth felt like it was full of sand, and I couldn’t swallow. I choked a bit, the sound escaping me before I could hold it back. Jane looked up and smiled, and the simple gesture did something to my insides. My hardened corners softened beneath her gaze, spilling like a flash flood over the walls I’d spent the past few years building. I wasn’t as experienced as I liked to pretend I was. I’d had my share of heated makeout sessions with girls my age, and I might have hit all the major bases, filling my palms with young, undeveloped breasts, but this was different. With Jane, everything was suddenly different. She was doing something to me that I’d never experienced, and I wasn’t sure how to respond. I was out of my league for the first time in my life, and it left me feeling unsure and incompetent. In the back of my mind, I knew it was sick. She was supposed to be like family to me, after all. But my mind and my body were on two different stations. Darrell moved to her side, kissing her sweetly on the cheek. “You look beautiful, sweetie.” My thoughts were moving a million miles a second, and I could hardly believe I was thinking it, but Jane Jetson was kind of hot. No. Not kind of. Jane Jetson was definitely fucking hot. Especially next to a joke like Darrell. She was with him for the money. That must be it. I refused to believe she was attracted to a man like him. And the longer I watched the two of them together, the more I noticed how one-sided their relationship was. She was hot. Late thirties. He was a Shaggy look-alike. Late forties. Together, they didn’t work.

Not physically anyway. Again, I took in her slender legs and wondered what her panties looked like beneath her dress. I imagined her plump ass cheeks spilling over the sides of the fabric of her thong, capturing it between the two orbs as it rubbed over all the sweet places between her thighs. My eyes traveled slowly up her body, perusing the dips and curves, and my cock throbbed beneath the table with every inch of her that I took in. Finally, my eyes moved up her slender neck, and our eyes connected. She was looking back at me. Her cheeks reddened in embarrassment, and briefly, she looked away with shy eyes. Obviously, she’d caught me checking her out. Shit. I’d just been caught checking out my new “mom.” So much for trying. I was sure shit would go downhill quickly after that point. My young, probing eyes would probably disgust her, and I’d get shipped back sooner than I thought I would. I’d end up back in the fucking group home with the rest of the losers. Eating scraps and sleeping on the hardest mattresses made. It was the last thing I wanted, but I couldn’t help it. My eyes had a mind of their own, and I couldn’t force them away from her no matter how hard I tried. But I’d never been more wrong. Jane didn’t fuss like I thought she would. In fact, she didn’t even mention that I’d basically been eye fucking her. Instead, a secret smile tugged at the side of her glossy lips. She swallowed, the action pulling at her slender neck and drawing my attention back to her cleavage. She tilted her head down a bit, letting the loose strands of hair around her face fall and touch her cheeks. Her shy eyes changed when she looked up at me through thick lashes, and her grin followed suit—going from sweet and innocent to something entirely different. Something heated. Something wrong. I knew that look all too well. Fuck. Jane Jetson was flirting with me.



FOUR IT WAS PROBABLY ALL IN MY HEAD, but things changed a little bit each day I was there. Jane was changing toward me. Her sweet, shy smiles transformed, becoming less shy and unsure and growing more brazen by the day. Three days after our first “family” dinner, things had changed considerably from my first day in the Jepson household. Darrell worked all the time, leaving Jane and me plenty of time to get to know each other. Things grew warm between us, at least it seemed that way. I wasn’t sure if it was my wild imagination getting the best of me or what, but it seemed Jane was finding any reason to touch me. Whether it was leaning over me to grab something or sliding past me in the kitchen, her chest always touched mine. Even though their large kitchen boasted plenty of room, she would find ways for her silky skin to meet mine. And again, it was probably all in my head, but it seemed she was also making it a point to bare parts of her body to me. She wasn’t lifting her skirt to show me her pussy or anything like that, but the neckline on her shirts got lower and lower, and her shorts got shorter. The dog, which I hated when I first moved into the house, became my favorite. Because of that stupid ball of fluff, Jane was constantly bending over, showing off a round ass cheek when it popped from her shorts or the soft swells of her cleavage, depending on the top she was wearing. It was beyond fucking hot. And thanks to her, I was walking around the Jepson household in a constant state of discomfort. Not because I felt unwanted, but because my body stayed primed—hard and ready—begging for a supposed parental figure who was instead slowly becoming a sex symbol. Every day, I grew more comfortable with my new living arrangements, acclimating to my large, soft bed and the clean, convenient bathroom across the hall from my bedroom. Some days, I would sit at the window in my room and look down at the street below. Memories of the life I led before moving in with the Jepsons would overwhelm me, leaving me to feel grateful for my circumstances for the first time in my life. Home. In a matter of days, Jane had somehow managed to make me feel like I belonged, and

for the first time in a long time, I was able to breathe a sigh of relief without worrying where I’d end up or who I’d end up with. Even though I was becoming comfortable with my surroundings, I still didn’t talk much. It wasn’t that I avoided conversation; it was more that I just didn’t have much to say. However, during the day when Darrell went to work, and it was just Jane and me, she would manage to pull a few sentences from me on occasion. It was summer, which meant I didn’t have to get up to go to school. Instead, I spent most of my days planted in front of the flat screen watching cartoons. Jane would join me, sitting quietly by my side as if she understood and respected what the scenes on the screen meant to me. They were my solace—the one constant in my life—and while I didn’t feel I needed them as badly as I used to, I still enjoyed the comfort brought to my world by the silly actions and bright colors. We would sit with our eyes glued to the screen. It was nice not to have any expectation for conversation when people always seemed to try to force me to communicate. People always wanted inside my mind so they could steal my thoughts and use them against me. Not Jane. She was calm and content, never pressing to fill the silence of the room. Every now and again, I’d peel my eyes away from the TV and turn to find her smiling at me, but that was the extent. Things were comfortable. Comfortable and, in a lot of ways, curious. “I can’t believe I’ve been sitting around watching cartoons with you all day.” She chuckled, shifting at my side and sending a wave of her fruity body spray my way. “It’s good for you,” I said, keeping my eyes on the bright colors of the large screen. I’d promised myself I’d stop looking at her so much. I needed to keep my head on what was real, and I’d convinced myself the night before that the steamy situations I imagined with Jane weren’t real. I was seeing things. Period. End of subject. “Good for me?” Her laughter trickled over me. “I don’t see how. My butt’s going to get even bigger with all this sitting,” she joked. I clenched my eyes closed, thinking of how tight and perky her ass was. For a woman her age, she had the body of a twenty-year-old. Soft.

Curvy. Supple. All words I never truly understood until I had the luxury of watching Jane move around the house in her tight shorts and low-cut tops. Without thinking it through, I spoke. The words bounced from my lips without the protection of a filter. I’d never been one to censor myself, and even though I wouldn’t say crude things to Jane the way I did to girls my age, I couldn’t pull the words back once they left my mouth. “I think your ass is nice.” The second the words were out there, my body grew tense. I hadn’t meant to speak that way to her; even if I was thinking certain things, I had no right to say them. Especially not to the woman who was supposed to be like family to me. I closed my eyes and awaited the backlash. Sure, she handled my eyes all over her well, but I was sure once I started speaking the things I was thinking, she would kick my ass to the curb. The last thing I wanted was to end up back in the group home. The Jepson’s house was my last chance—my last stop before I was old enough to make my own choices—and I didn’t want to fuck things up with them. Either I walked away from the group home with nothing and no future, or I walked away from the Jepsons with something and a prospective future. We both went silent with only the sounds of Bugs Bunny and Daffy moving throughout the room. I waited for her response, hoping she hadn’t heard me but knowing she did. I’d spoken clearly. Loudly. Honestly. Sure, over the past few days, she’d shocked me with her too short shorts and low tops, but I was sure that wasn’t on purpose. The last thing I wanted to do was purposely shock her with my coarse words. Braving it, I turned and faced her, sure I’d see shock and disgust on her face, but that wasn’t the case. She was smiling through her fingers, holding back laughter as if I’d just said something funny. “What?” I asked, my tone defensive. Even though she was trying to hold it back, her laughter slipped through her tiny knuckles. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said since you got here.” She pushed playfully at my

shoulder, her small fingers sending a strange sensation through my arm. “I think you might be warming up to us, Sebastian.” Pulling away, I shook my head. “Highly unlikely,” I muttered. Even though I tried to contain it, a grin pulled at my lips, earning me an even brighter smile from Jane. Mostly, I was just relieved she hadn’t mentioned how completely out of line it was to discuss her body or how beautiful it was. Girls my age considered vulgar talk a compliment, but I was sure Jane would think it offensive. I had no experience with older women, but it was as if my words hadn’t affected her at all. Instead, she’d taken my words as nice. She’d taken them as a concession of some sort. Like I was becoming comfortable and friendly with her. Which, in a lot of ways, I was, but I didn’t want her to know that. If you let people in, they disappointed you, and if you started to care about anything, then you had something to lose. I needed to remember my situation wasn’t permanent no matter what my paperwork said. Never get comfortable, and then you’d never forget what it was like to be uncomfortable. As long as I stayed in that mindset, I could handle any blow dealt. The fact was, Jane was older—married—and my guardian for the time being. And me … well, I was just another underage punk who couldn’t keep his dick out of his hand at night or the pretty lady out of his mind. It was wrong, but at night, when my palm slid over my flesh and my fingers tightened around my rod, it felt all kinds of right. “Let’s celebrate,” Jane said, standing from the couch and tugging her shorts down over her thighs. “We need ice cream and fun.” I chuckled sarcastically. “Yeah. No thanks.” Leaning over me and allowing me a nice peek down the front of her shirt, she plucked my hands from my lap and pulled. “Come on, Sebastian! It’ll be good for us.” She tugged again. “You need fun. Look at how serious your face is right now. You’re too young to frown so much. Frowning bad. Fun good,” she said. Pulling back, I laughed for the first time since I’d moved into my new place. The sound was broken and foreign even to my own ears, but I had to admit it felt good. It was a release in some way. I hadn’t truly laughed in so long, and it was as if my soul took a much-needed breath. “But I don’t wanna.” I pretended to try to tug my hands free from hers. “Yes, you do. You just don’t know it yet. Come on. Let’s go somewhere fun.” She tugged at me, forcing another smile on my lips.

What we were doing was fun, and I was enjoying myself. I wasn’t ready to give in yet. Again, I pulled back; sure she would continue to pull on her end. Except she didn’t. And this time when I tugged, I wasn’t careful, and I pulled a little too hard. She tumbled into my lap, her thighs straddling mine and the sweet spot between her legs rubbing against the zipper of my worn-out jeans. Her shorts rode up her hips, letting a tiny peek of black lace show on the side. My cock jumped to attention at the spiral of sensations that settled heavy in my balls. It grew. Hard. Pressing against the warmth between her thighs that filled me with so much pleasure, I thrust against her without realizing what I was doing. Her eyes widened. “Sebastian!” My name exploded from her mouth. I’d shocked her. Over the past few days, I’d eye fucked her. Just a few minutes before, I’d told her she had a nice ass. All things she was willing to overlook. But I guess she drew the line at my dry humping her, which made perfect sense. I’d pressed my luck just as surely as I’d pressed my cock into her like an inexperienced teenage boy. “What are you doing?” she asked, leaping from my lap. Losing her balance, she fell onto cushion beside me in an ungraceful heap. “I—” The word cracked over my throat, rusty and unsure. I started to apologize, but I couldn’t seem to push the words from the back of my throat. Embarrassment splashed over me, sending my emotions into overdrive, and somehow making me irate. Swiping the hair from her face, she straightened herself on the couch beside me. “I think we should discuss this,” she said, twisting her fingers in her lap nervously. I let my eyes latch onto the large screen in front of me. Pink Panther moved into the scene, and I kept my eyes on his every move. I wanted to disappear into his intricately drawn world and never return. “There’s nothing to discuss,” I snapped, my lips going tight and my teeth clenching. “Sebastian.” She muttered my name.

Her voice was strained—broken—with just a hint of what sounded like arousal. At least I think. I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. I was so confused. And so out of my league. I didn’t know which way was up and which way was down, and I especially couldn’t understand the woman who had taken me into her home. “Yeah?” My body was still primed and ready. Even with the embarrassment, and even though it pissed me off even worse, my fingers still itched to touch her. “What is this?” she asked. “What is what?” I knew what she was talking about—I wasn’t stupid—but still, I pretended to be clueless. “Sebastian.” My name slipped from her lips once more. But this time, her voice wasn’t strained. It sounded soothing and cajoling as she attempted to coax me sweetly into a conversation I did not intend to have. I couldn’t help myself. I looked over at her, allowing her eyes to connect with mine. She nibbled on her bottom lip, unsure and nervous about the situation we had landed ourselves in. Her actions were somehow sexy, and my dick grew even harder and hotter, burning against the fabric of my boxers. “What?” I answered. “I’m so sorry,” she said, pressing against the back of the couch to move away from me. “That’s not what this is.” I caught her meaning right away, and my lap cooled. The fire within me sizzled out, deflating my dick and leaving it instantly soft. I’d read everything wrong, just as I’d thought, and my embarrassment grew, sending me back into my defensive stance. “Whatever,” I said, lifting from the couch and heading to my room. I took the stairs two at a time, slamming my bedroom door behind me like a child throwing a tantrum. Collapsing on my bed, I grabbed my headphones, slipped them over my ears, and turned the volume on high. Shit. It was like my dick had a mind of its own.

Didn’t it understand that Jane Jetson was supposed to be like family? Didn’t it understand she wasn’t like the girls who let me touch their boobs and finger them? This was a different situation. It was a seriously fucked-up situation. I lay there letting my eyes grow heavy until I finally fell asleep.



FIVE “AND ARE YOU GETTING ALONG with the Jepsons okay?” Deloris asked. It was the first time I’d seen her since she dropped me off on their doorstep like a lost puppy. Even though I knew it was protocol for her to check on me, it still made me feel good that she was there to see how things were going. I missed Deloris in a strange way. Sure, it was her job, but at the same time, she gave more than was required of her. I knew things about Deloris. Like the fact she had two kids and a husband at home, but that didn’t stop her from giving everything she had for the kids who weren’t biologically hers. “Yep,” I answered, kicking at a rock on the concrete step just outside the Jepson’s house. I had yet to refer to their home as mine. “You sure everything’s okay?” she pressed. “You know you can talk to me, Sebastian.” I knew that, but it wasn’t like I could tell her that things were uncomfortable in the Jepson house because I was fantasizing about Jane. I couldn’t tell her I’d dry humped Jane and now things were tense between us. What would Deloris think of me? Would she think I was as disgusting as I felt? “Everything’s good, Deloris. Don’t stress yourself worrying about me.” I reached over and ripped a green leaf from the bush beside the step I was sitting on. Ripping the leaf to pieces, I avoided eye contact with Deloris, instead opting to watch the kids across the street play on the sidewalk. Silence fell between us, but I could feel Deloris’s eyes all over the side of my face. She knew something was up. She wasn’t stupid. And while I liked to think no one in the world really knew me, I knew better. Deloris knew me. She knew. She sighed. “Okay, but promise if that changes, then you’ll contact me. I want you to be happy, Sebastian, and if this place doesn’t make you happy, then we’ll make other arrangements.” Yeah, fucking right.

Other arrangements like a group home where I shared a nasty little bathroom with twelve other kids. Other arrangements like never having a comfortable bed again, and either running away as soon as I turned seventeen or being freed when I turn eighteen. Other arrangements like no kind of future. Nothing but a life on the streets where I froze in the winter with my threadbare jacket under a graffiti-covered bridge. No thanks. I’d stick it out. I could handle anything life had to throw at me and that included a stiff dick thanks to the lady of the house.



SIX A WEEK PASSED. A week of tiptoeing around Jane. Of pretending she hadn’t practically taken a short ride on my hard cock. Sure, it was through my jeans, but in my mind, it counted enough to make things awkward for me. She wasn’t oblivious. She had to know how she affected me. Had to know the things I was thinking about her. It didn’t matter how well I hid it; she’d felt it that day. So for a week, I basically avoided her and pretended she didn’t exist even though I was living under her roof. I didn’t start conversations with her. Not that I ever normally did, but when she tried to engage me in conversation, I was quick and to the point. When Darrell was at work, things felt tenser. Probably because in some ways I considered him the brick wall between me and Jane. With him gone, we were alone. And while she obviously only considered me to be her foster fuck up, I couldn’t help but think of her as so much more. She was all thick thighs and sweet swells of cleavage. I couldn’t just turn those thoughts off. I tried and failed. When Darrell was home, our nights consisted of polite conversation over dinner before I disappeared to my bedroom and hid out until the sun peeked through the window. It was the most tedious and most exciting thing I’d ever gone through. My life had become a contradiction, and I didn’t hate it. The strange thing was that even though we barely spoke to each other, things got even hotter between us. At least, it seemed that way to me. To me, her glances held promise. Her smiles held secrets. Her words and actions held a hidden message I spent hours every night trying to decode. After a week of avoiding her, I wasn’t even close to being over it. I tried to let it go. I tried to keep my head in the game. School was coming soon, and I knew I needed to focus, but it wasn’t something I was capable of. Not when I could see her curves through her thin sundresses and the outline of her thongs through her tight shorts.

Usually, it was at this point in other homes when I got bored and decided to fuck up and get into trouble. But suddenly, I didn’t want to get away. I didn’t want to get into some trouble like I usually did when I was beginning to get fed up with my situation. Probably because I wasn’t even close to being uninterested in my new home. Probably because I was becoming obsessed with seeing her and being around her. I had a crush on Jane, as fucked up as it sounded. She was in her thirties, and I was as experienced as someone my age could be, but it was happening, and it was tumbling out of control. And as with the typical crush, I wanted to be near her. The only way I could do that was if I was in the same household. Running out and getting into trouble would take that away from me, so it was the last thing I wanted. The streets didn’t call to me as much when I had a woman’s tits and ass to stare at all day, and that was exactly what I did. As long as she wasn’t paying attention, and as long as Darrell, aka the husband of the woman I jerked off to, was at work or out, my eyes were on her. We fell into a routine, and honestly, it wasn’t an exciting one. If it wasn’t for Jane, I would have been bored out of my fucking mind. But the usually dull things became exciting as long as Jane was doing it with me. Hanging out around the house. Doing laundry. Loading the dishwasher. Jane did it all, which surprised me. The Jepsons obviously had money. Enough so they could hire a maid, yet Jane spent her days being a housewife—cleaning for her husband and cooking his dinner—while other wives in her position were busy going to salons and blowing their husband’s money. Watching her move around the house as she cleaned became my favorite thing to do. She didn’t know I was watching her, but the way she stretched when she dusted or the sway of her hips when she danced to the music in her headphones were enough to drive me crazy. The differences between Jane and Darrell became even more obvious as the days faded away. Jane had the levelheadedness of a woman who’d spent more than a few nights eating ramen while Darrell had obviously never gone without a day in his life. Darrell was a money man, and I had the feeling Jane had jumped all over that rich dick and took a ride all the way to comfort. I couldn’t blame her really. I’d gone to bed hungry before, and I couldn’t say I wouldn’t have done the same because honestly, I knew I would have. “Can you hold her head while I rinse her?” Jane asked when I walked past the bathroom. “She’s being difficult today.”

I hadn’t even heard the running water in the hall bathroom when I left my room, but inside, Jane was busy giving the fluffball, whose name I’d found out was Lulu, a bath. She was kneeling beside the tub; strands of her hair darkened by water fell from her hair tie and stuck to the sides of her face. More water and soap covered Jane than the dog. My mouth went dry at the scene in front of me. She was wearing a white T-shirt and a pair of shorts. It was a simple outfit—nothing overly sexy—with everything completely covered, yet water had changed it drastically. She was soaked. The white cotton of her shirt plastered to her body, showing off every dip and curve of her frame. Her nipples stabbed through the fabric like daggers. She was practically naked with the way her wet clothes stuck to her body. The light above her shined down just so, enhancing everything, and I couldn’t take my eyes away from her body. My heart grew heavy in my chest, and my cock inflated with blood, hardening to a painful point. “Sebastian? A little help here please,” she called out again, breaking my attention from her body and back to the moment. I moved into the small space, feeling as though I couldn’t breathe from the steam of the warm water and the heat of her soaking wet body. The floor was cold and hard on my knees, and the water puddled everywhere soaked my jeans. Lulu’s tangled curls caught my fingers as I held her still so Jane could rinse the thick lather of white soap from her fur. With my hands in warm water, I watched as Jane washed and rinsed the dog. She hummed softly as she worked her long, slender fingers through the dog’s fur. Her movements were relaxing. Lulu squirmed in my grasp as she tried to move away from the spray. I tried to keep my attention away from Jane’s soaked shirt, but her hardening nipples were like a bad accident I couldn’t look away from. I was failing miserably at trying to pretend the moment was totally normal. It wasn’t. It was sexy. It was wet. And I was rock hard. Did she know her body was visible through her clothes? Was she aware of what she was doing to me? And if so, was she enjoying my attentive young eyes all over her thirty-year-old flesh? I bit my bottom lip to quiet the growl that pawed at the back of my throat.

I wanted her more than I’d wanted anything in my entire life. And for a boy who had spent his life wanting things he could never have, that was saying a lot. “Lulu, be still!” she yelled, making the dog pause. She was trying to climb out of the side of the bathtub, splashing even more water across the front of Jane’s shirt. My breathing quickened, and suddenly, the walls of the small space seemed to be closing in on us. The smell of the hot bathroom mixed with her shampoo. The scent of her skin. It was intoxicating. The sheen of humidity and sweat on her skin … My eyes followed the curve of her flushed cheek and down the side of her neck. I wanted to taste her skin. Slurp the water from her skin and lick the droplets that escaped down her body. “All done, Lulu,” she sang, pulling the soaked dog from the water and wrapping her in a white towel that had been sitting at her side. I slid back from the tub, getting my jeans even wetter. Standing wasn’t an option at the moment. Not when I couldn’t seem to feel my legs. And especially not when I was sure my hard dick was more than visible through my jeans. I tugged at my shirt, pulling it lower to cover my crotch, but even through my T-shirt, it was noticeable. There was nothing I could do but stand and pray she didn’t notice. I didn’t want to make things even more uncomfortable. My sneakers squeaked against the wet tile as I stood, and thankfully, Jane’s eyes stayed glued on Lulu as she scrubbed the towel against her to dry her. “Good girl, Lulu. You did such a great job, sweet girl,” she cooed. My brain was screaming for me to leave, but my knees wouldn’t cooperate. It felt as though the water on the floor and the bottom of my shoes had become one with each other. I was as good as glued to the spot. “Oh, my God!” Jane exclaimed. “She got you, too.” She pointed at the front of my shirt, and I hadn’t noticed it, but I was soaked as well. My shirt stuck to my stomach and chest the way Jane’s was sticking to hers. Except what I had to show was less appealing. She turned, reaching for a dry towel, and while she wasn’t looking, I allowed my eyes to dip to her soaked chest. Her nipples had hardened even more, and I could see their dusty pink coloring through the shirt now. I swallowed, the pressure of my dick against my wet jeans making me even more uncomfortable.

She shoved the towel into my chest and smiled up at me. I loved how short she was. How small. And cute. And just … everything. I wanted to pull her to me. I wanted to feel her wet body against mine. I wanted to do it all. Everything forbidden and wrong. Everything I could never do. I wanted it. She dropped a dry Lulu to the floor, and she skittered out of the bathroom and down the hallway. Her tiny nails tapped against the hardwood until she disappeared into Jane and Darrell’s bedroom and onto their bed. “Here,” Jane said, surprising me and tugging at the bottom my shirt. “Let’s get this thing off you before you catch pneumonia.” And then it happened. She pulled my soaked shirt up and away from my jeans revealing the tent in my warm, wet jeans. Her eyes widened, and her slender throat bobbed up and down as she swallowed. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, embarrassment settling deep into my stomach. This kept happening with her, and I felt stupid. It was like I had no control over my body when it came to her. Her cheeks reddened, and a shy smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “It’s okay.” She reached out and laid her palm against my chest. “These things are natural, Sebastian.” “I can’t help it with you.” Honesty rushed from my lips. “It’s never been this way.” I wished for sarcasm and attitude. I wished to be my normal self, but with Jane, in the humid bathroom with her perfect body visible through her wet clothing, I couldn’t be anyone but the horny teenage boy who wanted nothing more than to feel the inside of her ripe body. She opened her mouth to respond, but Darrell’s voice echoed in the room around us, bouncing off the tile like an acoustic hammer to my cock. “Jane, what the fuck are you doing?” he growled. I backed away from her quickly. My back slammed into the wall behind me, the towel rack digging into my spine. I wasn’t sure what I expected to happen, but Darrell stumbling into the small space drunk off his ass wasn’t it. He leaned onto the countertop, his red, glazed eyes taking in the scene before him, and his lip curled in disgust. The familiar smell of vodka swirled around me, sending memories of my past homes crashing into me.

“We were just giving Lulu a bath,” she said, trying to make light of the heavy situation. Darrell looked down at the floor, his eyes scanning the space for the dog who was nowhere to be found. “Where’s the fucking dog then?” Her spine stiffened at his words, and I felt my anger spike. I was used to drunken assholes, but when it came to him speaking to Jane that way, I wasn’t having it. With wide eyes, she stuttered over her words. “She was just here. She must’ve run off.” “Yeah, right!” he yelled, his booming voice bouncing off the tile and making my brain vibrate. “That’s not what it looks like to me.” “What’s it look like then?” she asked, her voice cracking. “It looks to me like you’re standing in the middle of the bathroom with your tits showing. Sebastian’s getting an eye full.” Her eyes went even wider as she quickly looked down at herself. Snatching the dry towel from my grasp, she covered herself. “You like that, Sebastian?” he asked, his angry eyes turning in my direction. “You like looking at my wife’s tits?” “Darrell, please,” Jane started. “I swear we were just giving Lulu a bath. I had no idea that …” She stopped, motioning to the front of herself. “Yeah, but Sebastian knew.” He turned his attention back my way, his eyes dipping to my crotch. “Didn’t you, Sebastian?” I didn’t respond. Thankfully, my cock had deflated with his arrival, but still, he was pissing me off, and I could feel myself spiraling. I saw a whole other side to the Jepsons. A side that included alcoholism and jealousy. A side I wanted no part in. The fact was, their life wasn’t as perfect as it seemed from the outside. Instead of doing what I wanted to do, which was put my fist through his old face, I pushed past him and left the bathroom. I heard him call out to me as I made my way down the hallway to escape to my bedroom, but I didn’t turn back. Instead, I went into my room and slammed my door behind me.



SEVEN THE JEPSONS ARGUED. Well, Darrell argued, and Jane spent the entire time trying to soothe his drunk ass. He slurred asshole remarks at her about her body and how she was trying to fuck their teenage fuck up. I heard every word, and I took it all in. The things he said about me didn’t bother me because I’d heard it all before. As far as I was concerned, he could suck my sack. But the shit he said to Jane pressed into my chest, settled into my gut, and rotted until I felt nauseated with fury. I gripped my pillow so tightly my knuckles ached. Whatever it took for me to stay put and not go out there and put a stop to him. “Is that what you want, Jane?” he yelled. “You want his tiny cock?” His words echoed throughout the second floor and crept through my door. “He can’t get you off. He’s just a fucking kid!” “Stop it, Darrell. You’re being ridiculous.” She tried to soothe him. “He can hear you.” Her words were hushed, but still, I could hear her voice break through the thick wooden door of my bedroom. “I don’t fucking care if he hears me. He’s not going to fuck with what’s mine!” Drunken piece of shit. Soon the argument cooled, and things suddenly went quiet. I knew from other homes that when a drunk argument went quiet, it was because someone passed out. I imagined Darrell out cold in their bed and secretly wished I could take my pillow, put it over his face, and suffocate him. Soon after the house went quiet, I heard tiny footsteps in the hallway outside my room. The old, wood floors creaked the closer the footsteps got, and then there was light tapping on my door. “Come in.” I sat straighter in my bed when the door popped open. Light from the hallway spilled into my room, blinding me and reminding me that I was sitting in the dark. Jane stood at my door, nibbling nervously at her bottom lip. She tried to smile, but it was weak. Her emotions danced in her eyes, pulling at me, begging me to go to her. I didn’t.

I sat there, staring back at her and waiting for something … anything to happen. Finally, I found my voice. “What’s up?” I asked, pretending I hadn’t heard every word the two of them had said during their heated fight. She moved into the room and shut the door behind her with a whispered click. “I just wanted to come in and apologize for Darrell,” she whispered, and her voice sounded broken and gritty. “He doesn’t drink often, but when he does, it’s usually because he had a stressful day at the office.” Lies. I’d seen this before. Women who covered for their shitty other halves. When I was nine, one of my foster moms had blamed me for the beating her husband had given me. Apparently, it was my fault for angering him while he was taking pain medication for his back. It was one of the “side effects.” The bitch had said that with a straight face. I’d seen many medication commercials in my life, and I’d never once heard them say … Medication may cause you to flip your shit and beat the fuck out of an innocent kid. “Is he usually a massive asshole when he drinks?” I snapped, quickly wishing I had tamed my attitude when it came to Jane. She’d just had her ass handed to her by the one man in her life supposed to protect her. She didn’t need my shit, too. Her shoulders dropped, and her eyes watered, making me feel like an even bigger piece of shit than her husband. She moved across my room and sat on the edge of my bed. “Not usually, no.” Nodding, I wasn’t sure what else to say. I feared what words would come out of my mouth. I didn’t often filter myself for someone, especially not for a foster family, but for Jane, I’d do whatever it took to take the tears out of her eyes. “Listen, Sebastian; I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m sorry for the things he said. Things have been kind of tense lately.” She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. It was wavier than usual, and I knew it was because it’d gotten wet while washing the dog and she hadn’t blow dried it afterward. My eyes followed her delicate fingers as they sifted through her chocolate waves, and I had to shake myself to get back on track when she began to speak again. “I promise he won’t talk to you like that again. It was wrong of him to suggest you

were looking at me.” I was beginning to think she wasn’t just playing coy with me. That she really didn’t know I’d basically eye fucked her in the bathroom. That my mouth watered to taste her nipples through her soaked shirt. “It was?” I asked; my voice croaked, forcing me to swallow. Her eyes connected with mine as confusion swept across her brow. “Yes. Of course, it was. We both know you weren’t looking at me like that.” Nope. I was completely wrong about her. She really had no idea what I thought about doing to her. She moved around her house in her low tops and short shorts and skirts, and she did so innocently, not realizing how unbelievably sexy she was or how badly I wanted her body. This realization only fueled my desire for her. If she was attracting me so hard with her innocent ways, how badly would I want her if she purposely drew me in? She needed to know. I needed to tell her how incredibly sexy she was. I wanted her to know how badly I wanted her. To hell with the consequences. “I wasn’t?” The words bounced from my tongue, and as soon as they hit the air around us, her body language changed. She tensed, her shoulders becoming stiff and her expression dropping. I could hardly believe I was so completely open with her. It took a lot for me to open up with people, but with Jane, I wanted to expose myself. I wanted to feel her tiny fingers all over me—inside me—digging deep and soothing scars and the constant ache of wanting her. Younger girls always threw themselves at me, so I was aware I was an attractive guy. The girls were sure to let me know, and usually, I exuded confidence. It wasn’t like that with Jane. I wasn’t sure how things worked with an older woman, but I was sick of beating around the bush. I was sick of the tension. And even if they booted my ass out and I ended up back in the group home, I would say what was on my mind. I wasn’t going to deny looking at her. I wasn’t going to deny how hard she got me. Pressing a hand to my knee, she laughed. “Oh, Sebastian, stop joking like that.” I didn’t respond. My words stayed glued to the roof of my mouth as my body went into hyper drive because she was touching me. A single hand on the knee and my body already responded

to her. She thought I was joking, which I guess was fine by me. I’d basically told her differently, but if she thought I was joking, then so be it. I wasn’t a saint. I’d done my fair share of stupid shit, but fucking with a married woman who was possibly considering adopting me was pretty fucking sick, even for me. Her laughter died. I’m not sure what it was on my face that made her become serious, but her eyes moved over my expression, and her cheeks flushed scarlet. “Unless, of course …” She swallowed, the action drawing attention to her neck. “Were you looking at me, Sebastian?” My eyes leapt from her neck and clashed with her sapphire beauties. Her dark lashes fluttered with her question as she stared back at me. Fuck it. Instead of denying it, I nodded. Her eyes widened, the black pupils of her eyes growing in shock and invading the soft blue of her irises. “I see.” She stood from my bed and turned to look down at me. “Why were you looking at me, Sebastian?” Why? Was she seriously asking me that shit? Because she was the definition of sexy. Because every time I even looked at her, my dick came alive and the blood drained from my brain, leaving me stupid and horny out of my mind. Because her insides called me, and I wanted nothing more than to push myself in there and feel her warmth. But mostly because she was everything I couldn’t have. Family. A friend. A lover. And like every other person in the world, I wanted what I could never have. Jane was a symbol for everything I had missing in my life. She was forbidden love in all forms. I couldn’t tell her any of that, though. Not without sounding like a sick fuck.

So instead, I opened my mouth and let the first thing that came to my mind flow out. “Because you’re nice to look at.” It was the edited version of my thoughts. My filter had held back the filth that had originated with that sentence. Any second now, she would walk away from me. Tomorrow, Deloris would be at their door telling me to collect my things, and by the end of the week, I’d be back in the group home, sitting in front of their shitty TV with Ethan while watching cartoons and wishing for the very thing I was about to give up. Home. Family. And then something strange happened. The temperature in my room spiked, and the air grew thick. My chest began to burn with the speed of my beating heart, and my shoulders stiffened against the heat. She blinked and closed her eyes. A shudder moved over her lids when she closed them, and when she opened them, she was altered. The heat around us had washed her innocence away, and in its place was a new woman. “Do you like what you see when you look at me?” she asked. Her voice was different. Deeper. Softer. Darker. Seductive. Holy shit. The moment was real. It was seriously happening. I’d dreamed of it since the moment my body started recognizing her as a need and a want, but I’d always known it would never happen. Jane Jetson was using her seductive voice, and the more I stared at her face, the more I noticed a change in her expression as well. The softness of her delicate features changed before my eyes, becoming harder—sharper—sexier. My words became lodged in my throat, and for the first time in my life, I felt unprepared and unsure. I nodded. “No,” she said, moving closer to me. Her knee brushed against mine, and it was like an electric shock to my body. “Say it, Sebastian. Tell me you liked what you saw.”

And then once again, she shocked me when she climbed onto my lap and straddled me. It was like the first time she’d straddled me—only this time, it was on purpose. This time, her eyes weren’t shocked when she looked down at me. This time, her eyes were lazy slits in her beautiful face. She was turned on. I could feel it in the way she was looking at me. In the way she slid her arm around my neck and moved closer. But most of all, I could feel it in the heat between her thighs. It was then I realized she was no longer wearing any shorts beneath her long shirt. Instead, only my jeans and her thin pair of panties separated us. Her shirt was the same one from before, and it was still damp from giving Lulu a bath, but instead of seeing her perky nipples through her shirt, I saw bra lines from where she’d put one on during her argument with Darrell. “Say it,” she whispered in my face when I still didn’t respond. Her hot breath struck my lips, and I felt myself begin to shake. Her actions were stealing my words, but I struggled through and gave her what she wanted. An answer. “Yes,” I croaked. My throat was thick, closing up as if I’d eaten something I was allergic to, and I swallowed hard to clear the path for oxygen. “Yes what?” she questioned, still not satisfied with my response. Who was this woman? And when did she get there? Her thighs tightened around me as she pressed against me, forcing the zipper of my jeans into my hard flesh. “Yes. I liked what I saw.” Then she shifted once again, her top meeting mine as she leaned into me. Her lips skimmed my chin, and I shivered. “I want to try something. Could you do something for me, Sebastian?” I nodded fast, willing to give her whatever the hell she wanted. “Anything,” I muttered. And then she surprised me once again when she leaned in and kissed me. Her lips moved over mine slowly, and her tongue swept across my lips, making me open for her. Her flavor rolled over my tongue when she pressed hers against mine, and I moaned at the sensation of her experienced kiss. It was different from anything I’d ever known in my life. She was no teenage girl.

Unsure. Shy. Inexperienced. She was a woman. Kissing me bravely and surely, she probed my lips with her sweet tongue like a professional until I felt like I would come in my jeans like a little punk. I pulled her to me, kissing her back and enjoying the sounds she released into my mouth, but as soon as I pulled, she pushed against my chest and broke the kiss. My lap cooled as she climbed off me, and by the time I opened my eyes, she was across the room from me. She looked back at me, wearing a strange look of guilt on her face, before she opened my bedroom door and stepped into the hallway. She shut the door behind her, leaving me in the dark room. My room felt different—heavy—hot, and my skin felt tight and prickly. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was my dick. It was so hard it hurt, and my balls were so tight I worried they’d pop. I sat with my back against my headboard as I tried to figure out what the hell had just happened. Obviously, it had been wrong, but fuck, it felt so right. It was different with Jane. She was so ripe—so mature. Her hands moved differently against me—her kisses more sure and experienced. It was mind blowing for me. I couldn’t just sit there with my blood speeding through my body at the speed of light. I needed to move. I needed to burn off the desire she’d left behind. Standing from my bed, I crept through my room and pulled my door open. Secretly, I hoped Jane would be standing on the other side, but she wasn’t. The house was quiet and dark as I stepped into the hall and made my way toward the stairs. If she had gone to her room instead of down the stairs, then at least I could get something to drink and maybe watch some TV until my body was calm enough to sleep. My bare feet padded against the wood flooring, my toes stinging with the cold of the night. When I got to the stairs, I took the first step down, but I paused when I heard a moaning sound behind me. I stilled, everything going quiet until once again a moan filled the hallway, calling out to me. Curiosity dug its unforgiving fingers into my core and pulled me toward the sounds. Again, a moan echoed through the hallway, and I knew what it was before I even saw them together. The master bedroom door was cracked, and I peeked through, my eyes adjusting to the soft lamplight spilling out of their room.

My eyes latched onto Jane, who was straddling Darrell. She rode him, her body moving up and down while his fingers dug into her hips to help control her movements. His back was to me, and I could see her face over his shoulder as she rolled her hips and rode his cock like a champion bull rider. Her mouth was open in ecstasy; her eyes closed, and her head tossed back as she moved in a frenzy. His body hid hers, but her legs were wrapped around his waist, and I could see her thighs all the way to her hips on both sides. Her skin glowed in the lamplight, and for the hundredth time since I stepped foot in the Jepson’s house, my cock grew hard. She leaned up, crushing her tits against his chest, and her eyes opened, connecting with mine. I couldn’t move. I was stuck to the spot as I watched her have sex with her husband. Only minutes before, she was in my room, riding my lap similar to the way she was riding his—except he was inside her. The smacking sounds of her wetness filled the silence; wetness I was sure I’d pulled from her body. I had been the one to turn her on, and he was reaping the benefits. Her lips tilted into a knowing smile as if she knew my thoughts, and she moved faster, fucking him relentlessly while her eyes stayed glued to mine. I was angry, but at the same time, it was the most erotic thing that had ever happened to me. And while I knew I should have looked away and left, I couldn’t. She was holding me captive with her eyes—making me even harder with her sounds and movements. My fingertips teased the top of my cock through my jeans, and the sensation that shot through my balls was overwhelming. I was breathing heavy, my eyes slowly closing in pleasure as I palmed myself and worked my hand up and down. It was live-action porn with the woman I’d been dreaming about for days. Jane’s eyes followed my movements, and I gasped when she nodded her approval. She wanted me to touch myself, and for her, I’d do it. I’d done a lot in my life, but this was by far the most brazen I’d ever been. My jeans were rough against my palm as I pressed and enjoyed the sensation against my dick, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more. Skin to skin. I closed my eyes and imagined it was Jane’s hands on me—working my cock up and down through my pants until the pressure was slowly building in my balls. When it became unbearable, I unbuttoned my jeans and shoved my hand inside to grip my dick. Jane’s eyes stayed glued to my motions as I began to jerk myself off and watch as they fucked.

She licked her lips, a sensual smile tugging at the side of her mouth. Her nails dug into Darrell’s skin, and he groaned his approval as she began to move faster and faster against him. “Yes. Fuck me,” he muttered. He roughly pulled on her body, bringing her closer and harder against him, but she seemed to enjoy it that way. Her mouth opened in ecstasy, and her eyes flickered closed briefly. His shoulders flexed with the action, but I blocked him out, my eyes only taking in Jane as I wished he was out of the way completely. I wanted to see her body—her tits— her flat stomach. I wanted to see the wet space between her legs glisten like the women in the porn I’d watched. As if understanding my thoughts, she pressed Darrell back onto the bed and leaned back. Her body came into full view. Her perky breasts bounced with her rhythm, and my eyes followed their movement. Her skin was shiny from her sweat, and I imagined myself licking the drips of her perspiration from her honeyed skin. I tugged at my cock, pulling the pleasure out of my balls and into my shaft. My body tensed as I felt myself slowly losing control. Reaching out, I grabbed the doorframe with my free hand and slumped over when sensation tickled at the bottom of my spine. I would come in my pants. Right there as I watched Jane and her husband fuck. She nodded as if she understood, her teeth digging into her plump lips. “Yes. Come for me, baby,” she whispered my way. Darrell moaned his approval at her words, thinking they were for him, but I knew differently. She was looking at me when she spoke. Everything she was doing was for me. “Ah, God,” she groaned, picking up speed as her fingers moved across her breast. She pinched her nipples, making them redden in her grasp. “I’m going to come so hard.” And I was done. My balls tightened hard, sending a shocking sensation throughout my body, and I experienced pleasure as I never had before. We came together. Me in my jeans, and her all over her husband’s cock, but I knew in her mind it wasn’t him she was fucking. It was me.



EIGHT “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” A group of people yelled in unison when we stepped through the front door. We’d gone out to dinner for my seventeenth birthday as a family. It was a fucking joke. A week had passed since we’d washed Lulu in the tub. A week since Jane kissed me and I’d jerked off to Darrell and her going at it in their bed. It was as if nothing happened. Darrell, I knew, didn’t remember shit about walking in on us. He didn’t remember Jane being so wet I could see her naked body beneath her shirt, and me, hard as a rock, turned on out of my mind. He was so drunk he probably didn’t even remember his wife fucking him like a porn star. But Jane, I knew she remembered. She remembered every second but was pretending it didn’t happen. And so for a week, I’d played along, acting as if nothing had happened between us, and it was killing me. I was officially seventeen, which meant if I left, there would be no fuss kicked up over me. I could run away, and no one would care enough to look for me. But, before I flew, I wanted to know what the fuck was going on with Jane and me. I had questions that needed answers only she could give me, and I’d kept quiet for a week. No more. I’d decided at dinner that I would get her alone, find out what the deal was, and either run away or stay and ride the crazy train, but I hadn’t expected to come home to a surprise party. Hence, the word surprise. I’d never had a party thrown in my honor before, and with so many people staring at me, I wasn’t sure I liked it very much. I scanned the room, seeing a few familiar faces. Deloris was there along with a few kids from the group home. Deloris waved and smiled while the kids stared around the room in envy. I understood their looks. It wasn’t often one of us kids landed in such a nice place. Mostly, though, it looked like a bunch of Darrell and Jane’s friends and family. A few

I’d seen around a couple of times. They didn’t have much family but seemed to be a popular couple with their friends. Darrell put a hand on my shoulder and ushered me into the crowded space, and I shook his hand from my body before I stepped into the room. Deloris stepped forward first, and her familiar smile eased the anxiety of having so many eyes on me at once. “Happy birthday, Sebastian. How’s it feel to be one year older?” I shrugged. “The same.” She shook her head and smiled at my response, understanding it was my way of dealing with being uncomfortable. Ethan, a friend from the home, stepped up beside her. “Looks like you landed in a nice place, lucky asshole.” He smirked. Deloris tapped him on the back of the head. “Language, Ethan.” Ethan pulled me to the side, and I followed. “Tell me you’ve seen her naked, man,” he said, his eyes lit up with humor. “Who?” “Don’t play stupid with me, bro. Mrs. Jepson. She’s fucking hot.” My shoulders stiffened, and a rush of jealousy flowed over me. “She’s like fifty,” I exaggerated. “You’re so full of shit. She’s barely thirty.” “Try again,” I said dryly. “She’s almost forty.” His eyes moved over Jane as she laughed with a group of friends across the room. “Forty, huh? Well, I’d fuck her wrinkled pussy.” My hand whipped out, and I wrapped my fingers around his neck. His eyes bulged from his face, wide in shock. “Don’t ever fucking discuss her like that again,” I growled. My eyes met Jane’s from across the room, and I dropped Ethan quickly when confusion touched her brow. “What the fuck, Sebastian?” Ethan choked, grabbing his throat. “What’s your fucking problem?” Instead of responding, I walked away. My eyes remained on Jane the entire time until I disappeared into the kitchen. Too many people were in the room. Too much was going on around me. It wasn’t often I had anxiety issues, but a guy could only take so many people looking at him with sorrow in their eyes.

And that was exactly how Darrell and Jane’s friends looked at me. I could practically hear their thoughts. That poor boy. No family. Nowhere to go. At least Jane and Darrell took him, so he’s not all alone in the world. Alone. It was starting to sound better and better. I leaned my forearms against the counter and let my hot, embarrassed forehead touch the cool granite. I’d stuck it out with these people in hopes of a better future, but standing there, with my knees weak with anxiety and my brain full of questions and desire, I wasn’t so sure my life was any better than it had been when I was living in the group home. And at that moment, I made the decision it was time to leave the Jepson’s home. The world outside their doors was scary, but at least it was free. There were no sorrowfilled stares; no one to look down on me for being dealt a hand I had absolutely no control over. Out in the world, I could be me and only had to worry about myself. It would be cold. It would be lonely. But I would survive because that was what I’d always done. Survival was kind of my thing. “Everything okay, Sebastian?” Jane asked from behind me, making me pop my head up from the counter and stand tall as if nothing was bothering me. “I’m good. I’m just not a fan of fake smiles.” The kind worn by the people outside the kitchen. Fake smiles. Supposedly, they were there for my birthday. In reality, they were there to gawk at the Jepson’s new addition. Their new plaything. Their new purchase. Fuck that. I belonged to no one. And once the night settled over the house, and I could make a run for it, that was exactly what I’d do. Leave.

“Their smiles aren’t fake. They are genuinely happy for you and for us.” I sniffed. “Yeah, right.” She moved closer, tapping her pink painted fingernails against the granite countertop. “This could work, Sebastian, if you’d just give us a chance. Believe it or not, I want good things for you. I want you to be able to graduate and walk away from this household with a future.” She moved even closer, her sweet perfume moving into my space. “I know what you’re going through. Trust me.” At that, I laughed. “You don’t know anything,” I snapped. “Just look at this place,” I said, motioning to the exquisite kitchen around us. “I bet you’ve never felt hunger. I bet you’ve never felt cold.” She gasped when I moved into her, my hand sliding around her waist and pulling her tight to me. I looked over her flushed cheeks, my eyes landing on her lips and the memories of our kiss shifted into my mind. “Look at you.” My voice went low as I wrapped a single strand of her hair around my finger. “I bet you’ve never felt unwanted in all your life.” I couldn’t imagine anyone not wanting her. She probably had an amazing childhood with caring parents who were involved in her life. She probably had a full ride to college where she met Darrell, who was loaded and giving her the life she was used to. I’d once thought maybe Jane was like me—a ramen eating poor kid—but seeing her with the crowd of rich fucks in their living room, it was obvious she was comfortable with them. She shook her head. “I know all those things, Sebastian. My parents left me on a set of church steps when I was four, and I spent most of my life moved from one home to the next. I’ve been hungry, and I almost froze to death when I was twelve. I never felt wanted in all my life until I met Darrell.” Shit. Suddenly, a memory of Deloris telling me that Jane had once been in the system invaded my mind, and I couldn’t help but feel like a total asshole. She pulled away, sadness altering her beautiful face and making me feel even worse. I didn’t let her go. Instead, I pulled her closer, and she came to me, resting her head on my shoulder as I rubbed sweetly at her back. “I’m sorry.” I said the words for what could have been the first time in my entire life. I meant them.

Two tiny words and I meant them more than anything. She pulled away and looked me in the eye. I didn’t look away, suddenly feeling comfortable with her seeing my inner demons and the hurt from the life I’d led. I was only seventeen, but I had the mental scars of an eighty-year-old man. Somehow, I knew Jane understood that now. She’d lived a similar life, if not worse, than my own. Growing up in the system, I knew the terrible things that happened to little girls in foster homes. I knew all about the sick fucks who got off on children, and looking down at Jane and seeing the understanding in her eyes, I knew she’d had things happen to her that left her scarred as well. “Sebastian.” She whispered my name. Her eyes dipped to my lips as she nibbled her bottom lip nervously. I swallowed, the tension in the room choking me. “Yeah?” “Do you think it would be okay if I gave you a birthday kiss?” My stomach dipped in preparation for her lips. I wanted nothing more than to taste her again. It was all I could think about since she’d kissed me the night before. I nodded. “I think it’s the only thing I want for my birthday. You’re all I want.” My voice sounded different. Deeper. Desperate. I sounded like someone else. Someone who apologized and practically begged for another person’s touch. Her touch. She moved in, and I could smell the mixed drink she’d had earlier in the night on her breath. It was fruity, mixed with just a touch of something strong, and I felt drunk on her instantly. Just as she was about to place her lips against mine, the moment was broken. “Sebastian?” Deloris called out seconds before stepping into the kitchen. Jane and I had just enough time to pull apart, but not enough time that Deloris didn’t see the movement. She might not have seen our almost kiss, but she for sure saw that we jumped and were obviously up to something. “What?” I snapped, feeling irate that I’d lost out on the one thing I wanted at that moment. The moment was gone, and I knew we wouldn’t get it back. “I’ve been looking for you. We have to get going here pretty soon, and the kids want

to say goodbye.” Jane moved across the kitchen, leaving me feeling cold and stiff everywhere. “I’ll just leave you two alone,” she muttered as she passed Deloris and left the room. Deloris’s eyes moved accusingly over me, making my chest feel tight with guilt. I tugged at my T-shirt, trying to relieve the pressure. “Is there something I should know, Sebastian?” Deloris asked. Leaning against the counter, I pulled out sarcasm to shield the moment. “I’m sure there are a lot of things you should know, Deloris.” “You know what I’m asking you. Don’t play coy with me, boy.” She moved into the room, her beady dark eyes devouring me and making me feel ten years old again. “Is there something going on with you and Mrs. Jepson?” I chuckled and rubbed the back of my neck while I tried to think of a quick explanation. Nothing was coming to me, which meant I went straight into my go-to … sarcasm. “Seriously, Deloris, don’t you have anything better to do with your time than to harass me over bullshit?” “That’s not answering my question, Sebastian.” She crossed her arms, and I knew she meant business. I needed to feed her a lie and quick. “I’m not into old ladies, but the minute I am, I’ll let you know.” I laughed and moved toward the kitchen door to escape. Before I could leave, she grabbed my arm, her ruby red nails digging into my arm. “I know you, Sebastian, and I know things are not okay in this house. If you and Mrs. Jepson are into something, I need to know, so I can pull you out of here.” I tugged my arm from her grasp and adjusted my shirt with a dry chuckle. “Nothing’s happening, and if it were, I’m seventeen now. There’s nothing you can do, Deloris. Just leave me alone. I can come and go as I please. If I want to bang some old hag, I will.” I swallowed hard, feeling guilt over calling Jane an old hag. “And if I want to leave, which I’m seriously considering, I can leave. I’d be just fine. I know how to survive.” And I did. I was confident I could run the streets and take care of myself. I just wasn’t sure if it was what I wanted anymore. Especially not with Jane in the picture. “You think so, huh?”

“I don’t think so. I know so.” “Well, Jared thought the same thing.” I hadn’t heard Jared’s name in a long while, not since we had lived together with some crazy fucks who were partial to meth. It wasn’t good times. He was one of the strongest dudes I knew—had been in the system since birth and housed so many times the system had all but given up on him and left him in the group home permanently. He was older by a year and had the kind of street smarts kids like us envied. He was a friend, but in my world, when you lived pillar to post, you didn’t see your friends often. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked. “Jared’s been gone for over a year now. He left this shit behind, and I’m sure he’s doing just fine out there. He’s handling business.” I had no idea what I was talking about, but I could only assume, knowing how smart Jared was to the streets and the people on it. Deloris’s eyes dropped, and sadness moved over her expression. “I never told you because I didn’t want to upset you. I thought it best you think Jared had aged out and moved on with his life, but that’s not what happened.” I swallowed, nerves rushing up my throat and nearly choking me. “What are you talking about?” That was what happened. Jared had aged out and left to live on his own. Deloris made it sound like he had an apartment somewhere, a shitty paying job, and a life, which really meant he was slinging drugs on the street, making money the best way he could, and was living the life he had always talked about living. The free life. The same life I’d envied and thought about living myself. At least until Jane stepped into the picture. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but Jared froze to death on the side of the street last winter.” I could hardly believe her words. “You’re lying. Get out of here with that bullshit.” I chuckled, knowing she was full of shit. Jared was a better survivor than I was. He was fine. I was sure of it. He must be okay, but if Jared couldn’t make it, I knew in the back of my mind and in my heart that I couldn’t make it either. I needed the option of leaving and being free. I needed it because without that option, I felt trapped and I became irrational.

No. Deloris was lying. It was that simple. She was trying to scare me into staying in the system—scare me into leaving the Jepson’s house and going back to the group home. Well, I refused to let that happen. “I’m so sorry you had to find out this way. I should have told you the minute I found out, but you were already going through so much. I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.” “Jared’s not dead,” I said willfully. Because if Jared was dead, then so were my dreams of ever being on my own and living a semi-decent life. Tears filled Deloris’s big, brown eyes, and I knew without a doubt she was telling me the truth. Anger ripped through me. I should have been told. If I had known, I would have never put so much stock in a plan to survive on the streets. I would have let go of that dream and just prepared for the shitty life I was set to live. “Just come home with me, Sebastian.” I backed away from her, shocked by her words. Deloris had always said if she could take me in, she would, but apparently, there were rules against that or whatever. I never believed her. I figured it was her way of earning my trust—her way of making me feel like she cared about me without actually having to take care of me. “I can’t. We both know I can’t,” I muttered. I tugged at my hair, suddenly feeling the trapped feeling I’d always hated. “No.” She shook her head. “You’re seventeen now. You can leave if you want without a fuss. Just leave and come home with me. I can’t stand the thought of you going out there on your own and freezing to death on the streets.” She swiped at her tears and sniffed. “I’ve always considered you one of my sons, Sebastian. You know that. And we’d be happy to have you there. You can get yourself a little job, finish school, and we’ll go from there.” I couldn’t lie to myself. Her argument sounded nice. Deloris was one of the few people I felt comfortable with—she was the only real mother figure I’d had in my life, which made no sense since I’d never actually lived with her. She was just always there. From foster house to foster house and all the way back to the group home, which was the one place I always ended up, Deloris was always there. Guiding me. Trying to keep me on the straight and narrow.

She moved closer to me and placed her cool hand against my cheek. My first instinct was to pull away, but after the news of Jared and everything that was going on around me, I couldn’t move. “Enjoy the rest of your party and take the night to think about it. Whatever’s going on here is wrong. I know it, and you know it.” Ethan came to the door with white cake icing on the side of his mouth. “Hey, man, you’re missing the good shit out here,” he said, licking his lips. Deloris looked away as Ethan took her attention. “Language, Ethan.” She moved across the kitchen in his direction before turning my way once more. “I’ll call you tomorrow, and we will figure this out together. Happy birthday, Sebastian.” And then they were gone, leaving me alone in the kitchen completely confused about my life and where I was headed. The rest of the night was a blur. I nibbled on a piece of cake and sat stiff as a bunch of people I didn’t know handed me gifts I’d never use. Like a robot, I thanked each of them while Jane and Darrell sat by and watched with loving parental smiles on their faces. I let the words Deloris had said before she left simmer, and I knew she was right. What was going on between Jane and me was wrong, and I couldn’t expect it to continue. Nothing lasted, and I needed to hold on to the sure thing. Deloris was that. She’d always been the one person I could depend on. Being around Jane and seeing how the other side lived didn’t change that. Once the house cleared, I went to my room, leaving Jane confused behind me and Darrell tipsy from the beers he’d popped with his “buddies.” I had a lot to think about, and I needed to be away from Jane and her curves and sweet smiles in order to concentrate.



NINE I WAS IN MY ROOM FOR AN HOUR when I heard a soft tap on my bedroom door. “Come in,” I called out. The door popped open, and Jane poked her head in. “Everything okay?” she asked. I nodded. “Yep. Just peachy.” I was lying. Things weren’t peachy. I was confused and aggravated. I was sad that Jared was dead and no one had bothered to tell me. It made me wonder if any of the other kids who knew Jared knew he’d froze to death on the mean streets. And to top it off, I was experiencing a serious bout of sexual frustration because of the woman who was supposed to be family to me. I was living in a nicer place—eating better food and more comfortable than I’d been in my life—yet my life had somehow become more fucked up than ever. “Anything I can help with?” she asked, closing the door softly behind her. I never knew what to think when it came to Jane. Was she offering herself to me? Because surely an offering like her would make everything feel better. But I knew that couldn’t be it. Just an hour ago, she was hugging him and kissing him sweetly against his drunken smile. Surely, she wouldn’t be flirting with me if he was still awake downstairs. “Where’s Darrell?” I asked, not realizing the venom that left my tongue with just the mention of his name. “He passed out on the couch.” She moved across the room toward me. The moonlight sliced through her silhouette the closer she got. She looked like a goddess. Ethereal. Beautiful.

She was the one thing holding me under their roof. My mind was screaming for me to call Deloris to come and get me, but my heart and my dick pounded for Jane. My eyes bounced over her body, taking in her movements and wishing I could touch her freely. Quickly, I turned away and leaned back against my headboard. “What do you want, Jane?” I asked in aggravation. “I just want to talk. Is that a bad thing? Talking is good. Communication is key, after all, right?” She sat on the edge of my bed, making the side of the mattress dip. Her dress slid up her thigh as she rested her knee on the mattress beside her. I swallowed and clenched my eyes closed in hopes that my mind could remain in control of my body and its actions. “What did Mrs. Brown say in the kitchen? Did she see anything?” My eyes popped open, taking in her tense shoulders and tight lips. She hadn’t come up to talk to me—to check on me. She’d come in my room to make sure her secret flirting with her teenage foster child was still secret. Selfish. She was selfish. There I was, considering staying under her roof and possibly screwing up a good opportunity with Deloris—a real thing with Deloris. Meanwhile, all she could think about was getting caught flirting behind her husband’s back. I chuckled sarcastically to myself. I shook my head as realization moved over me. Jane didn’t care about me. Deloris did. The choice was clear. “I’m leaving,” I stated, making Jane gasp. “What do you mean you’re leaving?” Sitting up and looking her in the eye, I spoke the truth. “Deloris saw us. She knows something’s up. She thinks this environment is lethal and offered me a place to stay. I agree. This shit’s lethal, and Deloris cares about me. I think it’s a good move for me.” She nodded, nibbling on her lip as she thought over my words. “You think we don’t care about you?” she asked. I chuckled, not feeling any humor whatsoever. “I think I’m a fucked-up foster kid you want to save.” “That’s not true, Sebastian, and you know it.”

She stood, standing beside my bed and staring down at me with what looked like hurt and devastation in her eyes. “Deloris is the only family I’ve ever known,” I said, looking away from the emotion burning behind her watering eyes. “I see.” She breathed deep. “So we mean nothing to you?” she asked, referring to her and Darrell. “I mean nothing to you?” Her voice dipped with her second question as if she knew she shouldn’t be asking it. I hated the crushed expression on her face. I wanted to wipe it away, but I couldn’t keep falling into her traps. Moving on from the Jepson household and thinking realistically about my future was essential. There was no future with Jane. She could never be what I needed in my life. “Don’t think of it like that,” I said, trying to soothe the hurt in her eyes. “It’s just, I know Darrell doesn’t want me here. I hate feeling unwanted. Deloris wants me. She wants what’s best for me.” “You think we don’t want you? That I don’t want you?” She stabbed herself in the chest with her thumb with her words. The hurt in her eyes transformed into something mean and angry, scratching behind her light eyes and begging to escape. “You’re all I’ve wanted from the moment you stepped foot into this house! It hasn’t been easy, Sebastian, and trust me, I know it’s wrong, but it’s not like I can help it. It’s not like I can just cut it off.” She turned away, making her way toward my bedroom door as if she were going to leave. “And you’re just going to walk away. I’ve been beating myself up about this entire situation with you, trying to suppress the way I feel, and you can just walk away like I’m nothing. Like I mean nothing! Well, I guess I’m the fool because I thought we were on the same page.” She reached for the knob, her breath coming out in heated, angry gasps, but before she could leave, I grabbed her arm and stopped her. “Stop.” The word came out harsher than I intended, making her jump. Again, she grabbed for the knob, but before she could turn it, I took her hand in mine. “Stop, Jane.” And then I heard it. Her tiny sniffle. She turned her face away, trying to hide the tears, but I saw the light glisten in the wet trail on her cheek before she could hide them. Turning her, I reached up and swiped the moisture from her soft skin.

“We’re on the same page, trust me. I know what it’s like to want someone you’re not supposed to want. I fight the way I feel about you every day, too, but the shit won’t go away. I thought leaving and going to Deloris’s house was a smart decision because if I don’t leave, I don’t know how I can continue like this without touching you … kissing you … being with you.” Her eyes crashed with mine, and she swallowed the emotions dancing in her eyes, leaving behind only raw desire. I’d seen Jane this way before. Every time we got close to doing something forbidden, her eyes turned fierce and determined. She moved into me, her small arms going around my neck and her petite frame brushing against mine. “I can’t fight this anymore, Jane. Something has to give.” She moved even closer, her perky breasts squishing against my stomach. “Stop fighting it, and I’ll do the same.” Her whispered words felt like feather soft caresses against every inch of my skin. Her tongue peeked from her mouth, swiping at her seductive bottom lip. Just like that, the temperature in the room changed—the atmosphere around her becoming thick and humid with our lust. My mouth watered for the taste of her, so I leaned in, ready to indulge in my craving, but before my mouth could touch hers, my name rang out all around us. “Sebastian!” It was a boy’s voice, screaming for me from downstairs. The front door slammed, and again, my name echoed through the house. “Sebastian, please!” It was Ethan. I’d know his voice anywhere. He’d been there a few hours before with Deloris for my party, but why was he back? There must be a damn good reason for him to be out so late at night. Pushing away from Jane, I left my room and started toward the stairs. My feet moved quickly, taking the steps two at a time until I landed in the foyer. The hardwood creaked beneath my feet, making Ethan swing around from the direction he was facing to face me. Tears stained his face as his wide eyes took me in. He was pale, a dark bruise dotting his cheekbone and his lip bleeding from a tiny crack in the corner. “What happened?” I asked, feeling my heart drop to my heels. “She’s dead.” His words danced around me. A blur of letters that had no meaning to me.

What the hell was he talking about? He moved, rushing into my arms like we were family or something. I didn’t hold him or hug him, but I didn’t push him away either. “Dude, what the fuck? Who’s dead?” Maybe he was having a breakdown or something. Kids in group homes did that from time to time. I’d seen my share of crazy walking the halls. Then again, maybe he’d found out his biological mom was a goner. Even for us unwanted kids, it still sucked when you found out your blood relatives were dead. They were the only connection you had really. The only blood that was pure to you. “Deloris, man! She’s dead!” And then his words zoomed in, becoming clear as if I’d slipped on a pair of muchneeded glasses and was reading them from a page. Buzzing filled my ears and a feeling I’d never felt before swarmed in my chest. I choked on the words settled in the back of my throat, and pressure built behind my eyes. I would cry. I’d done so a few times in my life, so I knew what it felt like, but I fought it as hard as I could. Pushing Ethan back from me, I settled my eyes on his bruised face and cracked lip. If someone had hurt them—if someone had killed Deloris—they would pay. “What happened?” I asked, my voice soft and steadier than I felt. I wanted him to give me a reason to explode. My blood was starting to feel thick in my veins as if my heart wasn’t beating hard enough or fast enough to circulate it. I needed a reason to burst, which was what I felt like doing. A reasonable reason for me. I never broke apart because of hurt—only anger—and if Ethan didn’t give me something to be angry about, I was sure he and Jane would see right through me—see my softness. “We were going back to the home, and a car came out of nowhere, man. T-boned the driver’s side. She didn’t stand a chance. It was the worst thing I’ve seen in my entire life. Fucking blood every—” “Stop!” I cut him off. I couldn’t hear the details. I didn’t want to know if she suffered or bled. Knowing she was gone was enough to bring me down. Losing all the feeling in my knees, I bent and took a seat on the bottom step. If I didn’t sit, I was sure I would embarrass myself and fall. All the years Deloris had stuck by me. All the trouble I’d given her.

All the heartache. All the bullshit. And not once did she walk away from me. I’d spent most of my life looking for a mother figure—most of my life looking for love and family—but what I hadn’t realized until that moment was I’d always had it. I got a mother the second Deloris walked into my life, and her family was my family. Now my mother was gone—dead from a fucking car accident—and all I could think about was how much grief I’d given her over the years. How much shit she’d put up with from me. I should have told her I loved her. I should have told her what she meant to me, but I hadn’t, and now, she was gone. I’d never have that opportunity again. “Are you okay, Sebastian?” Jane asked. I’d forgotten she was behind me, and when she placed her tiny hand on my shoulder, I jerked in surprise. Holding it together was vital, especially with Ethan staring back at me. The last thing I wanted was for him to go back and tell everyone I’d cried like a baby, which was what I felt like doing. Either that or I wanted to put my fist through something. I wanted to make someone or something hurt as badly as I was. The police showed up an hour later for Ethan. The home had reported him missing, and a few of the kids told them he’d probably come to me. I guess Ethan considered me more of a friend than I realized. The second he was out the door, the tears started developing in my eyes, and I couldn’t stop them. They flowed and flowed until I knew there was no way I could keep them in and a single tear dripped down my cheek. Jane’s slender finger captured it before she pulled me into her arms. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay,” she soothed. “I’m so sorry, Sebastian. I’m sorry you’re hurting.” In Jane’s arms. It was where I belonged. It must be because the minute she put her arms around me, I felt safe—I felt loved—I felt cherished. Deloris had made me feel that way but in a motherly type of way. She’d died never knowing how much I loved her. I wouldn’t make that mistake with Jane. I was in love with her, and she needed to know. I refused to lose another person I loved without them knowing. “I love you, Jane.”

The words came out rushed and tear-filled, but I meant every syllable. I’d never meant something more. She owned my heart—my soul—and no one would ever take them away from her. Her arms tensed around me, and she sucked in a breath. I’d shocked her, but that was okay. As long as she knew I loved her, I didn’t care. I waited quietly for her to respond, but she didn’t. Instead, Darrell’s voice rang out, cutting our moment in half like a machete. “Well, isn’t this fucking sweet,” he snarled. Darrell had been sleeping on the couch, but I guess Ethan’s loud intrusion followed by the police showing up to collect Ethan had woken him. Jane and I leaped apart as if we were doing something wrong. We weren’t, but I guess technically, we had been for the past few weeks, and the sense of guilt was there even in the innocent moments. “Darrell, you’re awake. I’m sorry if we woke you,” Jane said sweetly, trying to avoid an argument before she could explain. “Yeah. Obviously, I’ve surprised you.” He motioned toward us. “Damn, Jane, you could at least take that shit upstairs. I know you like to be wild and sporadic but on the stairs? That’s just sleazy.” “That’s not what this …” she started, but he held up his hand, cutting her off. “Stop. I don’t want to hear it.” He moved toward her, running a finger over her cheek softly before he turned to me, his drunken, red eyes staring me down. “Let me ask you something, kid. Has she used her slutty little mouth to suck you off yet?” he asked, pinching her cheeks tightly in his grasp and making her lips push out. I moved, ripping his hand from her face and slamming him against the wall. I wanted to feel anger, and Darrell had given me that chance. Anything was better than the hurt weighing my heart down over the loss of Deloris—the only mother I’d ever known.



TEN



“SAY YOU’RE SORRY,” I growled, pressing my palm into Darrell’s chest. “Say it, or I’ll rip your fucking face off.” I could hardly believe how angry I was. I’d never felt this kind of rage before, but hearing him call her slutty was my undoing. Too much was happening at once, and I was breaking. First, Deloris, the only true mother figure I’d ever had, was gone, and she wasn’t coming back. I was for real on my own now, and I knew the hurt I felt for her loss would send me spiraling down the wrong path. And second, my feelings for Jane had shifted over time, and after our little talk upstairs, I felt like I could express those feeling more freely with her. That freedom only enhanced my feelings, and hearing Darrell speak to the woman I cared about that way had sent me over the edge. I could imagine what it looked like when he walked into the foyer. Me, embracing her like she was the only thing holding me to Earth, and her, sliding her slender fingers through my hair to soothe the heartache from losing Deloris. I was sure it looked like we were holding each other—touching each other—loving each other. Still, that gave him no right to speak to her that way. “I’m not apologizing for shit,” he spat. “She’s your wife, dude. You just called your wife a slut.” “That’s right! She’s my wife. Mine! You’d do well to remember that, you little shit!” He pushed at me, giving himself the space he needed to move away from me, and then he was gone, storming through the house and toward the front door. He was a fucking loser, and I was done. Deloris was gone. I officially had nowhere else to go, but I still hadn’t decided whether I wanted to leave. With Jane’s openness about her feelings toward me, I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to leave her side. Then again, I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to stand by and watch her with her husband either. I was starting to think maybe it was wiser to take my chances on the streets while I tried my hardest not to freeze to death once winter came. Freezing to death suddenly didn’t sound as bad as sitting around while Darrell touched what I was slowly beginning to feel was mine—while he spoke to her the way he’d spoken to her just then.

I was only sure of two things. One: if I left, I’d probably die. And two: if I stayed, he’d probably die. Jane let out a cry beside me and pushed her face into the palms of her hands. “Are you okay?” I asked, reaching out to smooth a stray hair from her ponytail. She looked up with tears in her eyes and nodded, turning away in embarrassment. “Has he always drunk this much?” I asked. “It seems it’s all he’s done since I’ve been here.” “It’s stress at work.” She repeated her bullshit lie. She’d said it once before when I questioned why Darrell was such a douche. “Yeah, right,” I muttered. “Has he ever hit you?” I didn’t know why I bothered to ask. Obviously, she would lie for him. All I knew was if he ever laid a hand on her while I was around, I’d blow his fucking head off. “No. Never. He’s never been this way.” If that were true, then something was triggering his behavior, and I knew exactly what that something was. It was me. It had to be me. I was the only thing different in their household. Maybe he could feel the sexual tension between me and Jane? “He’s an asshole,” I muttered, running my fingers down the side of her face. She giggled, her cheeks turning pink. “Agreed.” “Then why are you with him?” It was a question that had plagued me since I stepped foot in their household. What did she see in Darrell? She was too beautiful for him—too sweet—too perfect. What in the hell was it about him that made her stay? The money? The security? The sex?

I felt sick to my stomach, thinking of her with him—thinking of his cock inside her warmth when it was the one place in the world I wanted to be. “It’s complicated.” She shrugged. “It’s always complicated.” I stepped away, ready to escape to my room. I wanted to mourn the loss of Deloris without the embarrassment of someone else watching. I also needed to figure out my next step. Before I could leave her, she grabbed my hand, stopping me. “I know you’re hurting, Sebastian. Don’t pull away from me. Let me make it better.” Sex should have been the last thing I could think about, but when she moved into my body, and her warm spread over my skin, all I could think about was her. Feeling her. Losing myself in her. Forgetting all the pain I was feeling and enjoying all the pleasure I knew she could give me. I closed my eyes and pushed the feelings of loss and pain away, and when she pulled on my hand and told me to follow her upstairs, I went along without argument. Darrell could have come home at any moment, but that didn’t mean I would stop her when she closed my bedroom door behind us and turned off the light. It was early morning, and the moon was high, streaming into my window and filling the space with just enough illumination that I could see her lacy bra when she pulled her dress over her head and tossed it to the floor. “I saw you watching me with Darrell. You came for me. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen in my life.” My balls tightened. I’d never had a woman talk so freely to me in all my life. Girls giggled. But women … they spoke their minds and could make your dick hard with just their words. I swallowed as she pressed against my chest, backing me toward my bed. “Did you like watching me fuck my husband, Sebastian?” I shook my head. “No.” Working her hands beneath my shirt, she pulled it over my chest, and I lifted my arms to help her undress me. “Would you like it if I told you I was thinking about you when I was riding him?”

I nodded, my words becoming lodged in my throat. “Because I was. I was imagining it was your cock I was riding. You were inside me, Sebastian, and when I orgasmed, my juices flowed down your shaft. Did you feel it? Could you feel it when I came all over you?” Before I could answer, she pushed me onto the bed and slowly peeled her panties over her hips and down her thighs. My jeans slid from my hips and down my legs as she pulled them off. The cool air of the room sent chills down my legs, but my dick stayed rock hard, not bothered one bit by the cold. My heart was racing, throbbing in my ears so loudly I almost didn’t hear her when she said, “I’m so wet for you. I feel the moisture when I rub my thighs together.” I closed my eyes, feeling like I was coming all over myself with just her words. She climbed over me, her legs opening, allowing me to briefly see the glistening between her thighs in the moonlight before she straddled me. “What are you doing?” I asked. I don’t know why I did. I knew exactly what she was doing. I also knew it was wrong, but I wasn’t sure I could stop her even if I wanted to … which I didn’t. “Something I’ve wanted to do since you got here.” She was old enough to be my mother. Technically, in the eyes of the state, she was, but that didn’t stop me from wanting her. And it certainly didn’t stop her from seducing me— from wiping away all the heartache of losing Deloris for a brief time. For taking me and turning me inside out. Her skilled hands moved down my chest, red fingernails digging into my flesh. My fingertips skimmed her waist, and she pushed my hands to the side before intertwining her fingers with mine. She held me to the bed, and it made me feel as if I would never move again. Beneath Jane. It was where I belonged. I knew that now, and knowing my place meant there was no way I would leave her from that moment on. Already, I could feel pre-come wetting my tip and rubbing into my boxers, leaving a cold spot. “I want to be your first, Sebastian. Am I your first?” she asked. When I didn’t respond, she ran her hot tongue across my erect nipple, making me gasp before she bit down. I jerked, the pain mixing so completely with the pleasure and confusing me beyond belief. It didn’t make any sense for something to hurt yet feel amazing at the same time, but

with Jane, apparently anything was possible. “Tell me,” she said, moving to the other nipple and doing the same. I growled when the pain shot through my chest and melted into hot pleasure down my dick. “Tell you what? I’ll say anything you want me to say.” I’d never been so willing to please someone in all my life. Anything. She would have anything I had. All of me. I was hers completely. “Tell me I’m your first. Tell me my pussy is the first you’ll ever feel.” A moan slipped from my lips as she brushed lips and tongue over my smarting nipple once again. “Yes.” I wasn’t beyond saying more. It took everything I had in me to push that single word from my lips. “Yes, what?” she asked. I swallowed, struggling to speak with her mouth on me—kissing me—licking me— biting me. “Yes, you’ll be my first.” She purred, the catlike sound moving over my skin and sending yet another shockwave of pleasure down my body before it settled into my balls. “That turns me on. I want you so bad, Sebastian. Tell me you want me, too,” she said, moving up and running her heated tongue across my lips. I’d made out with girls. Actually, I was pretty skilled with girls, but I’d never gone all the way. Also, I’d never been with a girl who knew so much—one so skilled—so mature. My body responded to hers in a way I didn’t know was possible. “I want you. God, I want you so bad,” I hissed. She kissed me, her tongue probing my mouth and filling me with her flavor. It was exotic—ripe—nothing like the other girls. The fabric from my boxers felt rough as she pushed them to the side, exposing me. The cold air rushed over my hard-on before her warm fingers wrapped around me. “Shit. Oh, shit,” I groaned, trying my hardest to hold back.

I was scared I’d come in her palm—scared I’d finish before things even really started —but she moved slow and easy, teasing me to the point of insanity. For the first time in my life, I found myself begging for something. “Are you ready for me?” she asked, rubbing her scorching wetness all over me. “Yes. So fucking ready,” I panted. And then she moved, settling her body onto mine until she’d buried me deep within her. Her slickness glided over me, making me lean up and my body go tense. My mouth dropped open at the sheer pleasure of her wrapped around me. Everything I’d ever known about women was shattered in seconds. She covered my length in her heat, grinding her hips and coating me with more pleasure than I’d ever known. My hot breaths moved fast over my lips, drying them and forcing me to lick them to keep them moist. “Do I feel good, Sebastian?” Rational thought was gone, and I was unable to speak. Instead, I nodded my head. She slid up my pole all the way to the tip before slamming her body back down in one swift movement. “Shit,” I hissed. “I’ll ask you again. Do I feel good?” She rolled her hips, moving up my length and down again. My fingers dug into her skin—pulling her to me—pressing her down onto my cock. “Yes. Ah, God, so good, Jane. You’re so good.” She rotated her hips again, moving back and forward and causing me to lift from my pillow. My elbows dug into the bed, and I stared down at the spot where we connected. Watching myself disappear into her depths was slowly sending me over the edge. Her lips smashed into mine, and the sounds that escaped my lips rushed into her mouth. Muffled groans rumbled between our locked mouths, intensifying every sensation I was feeling. I slid my tongue against hers and guided her hips with my fingers. Sweet sounds of our two bodies coming together filled the room, and my balls tightened as she worked her body on top of me. I wasn’t going to last long. No way was it even possible with the things she was doing to me. “I …” I tried to speak, but the words got stuck. I forced them out, choking on them as they worked their way across my tongue. “I can’t.” “You can’t what, baby?” she asked, speeding up and making my legs shake. “I can’t control it. I’m going to … I can’t.” I was stuttering, my words a jumbled mess of letters that made no sense even to

myself. She chuckled, rolling her hips once more before grinding on me. “Are you going to come?” she asked, picking up her speed and making my breaths come hard and faster. “Uh-huh,” I mumbled. “Good. Come for me, baby. Come deep inside me. Fill my hot little pussy up. I want to feel it.” And I was done. Her words sent me spiraling over the edge, and I growled as hot desire tightened my balls and shot down my shaft like lightning. My fingers dug into her hips, sending pain into my knuckles as I pulled her body to mine harder and faster. I came hard. I came in a way I never had before. My hips jerked from the bed, begging to be deeper, and I bit my bottom lip until I was sure it would bleed. When I released my lip, words flew from my mouth. Words I meant. Words I had no desire to take back. “I love you.” My words were strained like my muscles—tight and full of passion and sensation. They were the same words that made her go tense before, but this time, she looked down at me and smiled softly. Once I’d emptied myself inside her, she lifted from my body. Cold air rushed over my deflating dick, making me shiver even more than I already was. Her lips were soft when she kissed mine, and then the bed creaked as she stood and began to put her clothes back on. We didn’t speak. There was nothing I could say anyway. Not when my heart was stuck in the back of my throat, and my balls were metaphorically in her grasp. I’d said all I needed to say, and now, all I could do was wait until she was ready to say it back. She tugged her dress over her body and adjusted it around her knees. It was as though she couldn’t get away from me fast enough—as if she was done with me completely. I was young and stupid, but I knew better than to ask her to stay. I wanted her to—I wanted to hold her and relish the moment—but I kept my mouth shut. Instead, I just lay there and watched as she quickly put herself together and left my side. She moved across the room and stopped at the door. “Good night, Sebastian,” she whispered. But before I could respond, she opened the door and disappeared, leaving me in my dark room and shutting the door quietly behind her.

I knew then that she’d ruined me for all other women for the rest of my life. I was just unaware of how badly.



ELEVEN “LIKE THIS?” I asked, moving my fingers deep inside her the way she’d instructed me. With my palm up, I pressed the pads of my two fingers against the soft, warm tissue of her G-spot until I felt her clenching against my knuckles. “Yes, just like that. Don’t stop, Sebastian!” She called out as she squirted on my fingers, her sweet juices rushing over my skin and seeping into my palm. The past two weeks with Jane had been magical. She was everything I’d ever wanted in my life. Supportive. Loving. Attentive. And when I stood at the graveside as they lowered the only mother figure I’d ever known into the ground, Jane stood by my side and rubbed my shoulder. She didn’t know it, but her hand on my shoulder was the only thing that kept me from breaking apart. Losing Deloris had been the biggest blow of my life, and if there were a God, I would like to think he knew he was putting Jane in my life at the perfect time. I wouldn’t have made it without her. “You’re getting really good at that.” She sighed. “Even Darrell can’t make me squirt.” She lay beside me, her beautiful body glistening with perspiration. “You’re a wonderful teacher,” I said with a smile as I ran my nose over the side of her neck and breathed her in. “Am I? Maybe I should have gone into teaching.” She chuckled. I kissed her cheek, sliding my lips along her jaw until my mouth was on hers. Between kisses, I spoke. “Never. You’re not allowed to teach anyone else the things you’re teaching me.” At those words, she giggled. I’d gone most of my teenage years thinking I knew how to please a woman. I’d had my fingers inside many virginal girls who would moan and fake it. I was fucking clueless until Jane.

Over the past two weeks, I’d learned how to please her. I’d learned how to make her squirt all over my fingers—how to tongue her sweet slit and suck her throbbing clit until she came in my mouth. But most importantly, I’d learned how to control myself long enough to feel her tighten around my cock. The expressions that moved over her face in the midst of an orgasm were the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. And knowing that my dick was hitting every spot she’d taught me and giving her that pleasure made it all the more sweeter. I’d never been so happy. I’d never felt more loved. Wanted. Needed. Kept. I was home when I was with Jane. She was home. The only home I’d ever known. And while it caused an enormous amount of panic on my part, I couldn’t help but feel myself falling harder for her. It was more than the sex. It was more than the flirting. It was her. Her personality. Her smile. The way she looked at me. All of that and so much more wrapped into one petite package that I couldn’t seem to keep my hands off. I’d never understood worship before. I didn’t get how someone could fall at another’s feet and praise them, but I knew in the back of my mind and in the center of my chest that what I was feeling for her was the symptoms of the plague I’d spent most of my life avoiding. Love. I was in love with Jane. She was my first everything, and I knew I had to get her out from under Darrell’s fingertips and us into a home of our own. It wouldn’t be as nice as what she was living in now, but we would have each other, and I had a feeling that would be enough for both of

us. We’d finished in just enough time. Jane had barely gotten dressed when we heard the front door open and slam downstairs. “Jane?” Darrell’s deep voice rang through the house as he called for his wife. She left my room, and I watched her through the slit in my door, wishing he wasn’t in the picture. Wishing he couldn’t take her away from me. She stopped at the bottom of the steps and breathed deep. Her breasts moved up with her inhale, and I knew she was readying herself to act “normal” around him. I grew hard again when she ran her palms down her body to smooth her dress. Knowing she was touching herself—caressing the body I’d grown to adore so much—was enough to make me want to go for a third round. She ran her slender fingers through her hair before meeting Darrell in the kitchen. From where I stood, I could see him wrap his arms around her waist and pull her in for a kiss. My fist clenched, and I pushed it into the doorframe until my skin turned white. She was mine. All mine. At least I could feel satisfaction at knowing every time he kissed her, he was sucking my dick.



TWELVE DARRELL SEEMED TO BE WORKING more than before. Not that I was complaining, but I had never had great luck in my shitty life, so I considered myself lucky on the nights when he would call and say he’d be working late. We both knew he wasn’t working. Darrell was drinking himself to death. I wasn’t sure what it was that was sending him over the edge, but I was sure he was clueless I was fucking his wife. At least, I hoped he was. Not that it mattered. What was the worst that could happen? He’d kick her out? Again, that would be lucky for me. So we enjoyed the nights when Darrell was “working late.” On those nights, Jane and I would eat a romantic dinner alone before crashing on the couch to watch some of my favorite cartoon characters. About an hour in, I’d make my move, and before long, she’d be beneath me while I fucked my name from her plump lips and unloaded deep inside her just the way she liked it. We never used protection, and I guess maybe I should have wondered about that, but every time I even mentioned it, she would say having me come inside her was her favorite part. It didn’t bother me one bit. What was the worst that could happen? She’d get pregnant. Maybe if I knocked her up, I could keep her. Then again, I remembered Deloris telling me the Jepsons couldn’t have children, which was why I was living under their roof and having the best time of my life with the lady of the house. “You’re beautiful,” I whispered, drawing a line with my fingertip down between her perky tits. “You must be blind.” She giggled. “Now you, on the other hand,” she said, turning me onto my back and straddling my hips. “You’re the beautiful one.”

Her lips skimmed my chin before she kissed my jawline and then my lips. Combing her fingers through my thick hair, her nails scratched against my scalp as she fisted a handful of my dark locks and pulled tight. I growled. I never thought I’d love pain mixed with my pleasure, but it was my favorite part. Her biting. Pulling my hair. Digging her nails into my flesh. Once, she’d drawn blood, and I came harder than I ever had before. “I see just fine. You’re fucking gorgeous, baby. So you think I’m beautiful, huh?” I flirted, rolling her onto her back and settling between her thighs. My dick was already throbbing hard. It seemed to stay that way for Jane. She wiggled beneath me, lining my hard cock up with her wet slit. Grinning up at me, she pulled my hair harder before forcing my mouth against her erect nipple. I sucked, releasing the bud with a pop, and then sucked harder, marking her with my mouth. I closed my teeth around the pink tip and pulled until she arched her back and my name slipped between her parted lips. “Sebastian.” I loved watching her face change with the heat of my mouth and the touch of my fingers. I slipped my hand between her smooth thighs, finding her slippery nub with my fingertip. I didn’t stop until she was trembling beneath me and screaming my name. I had no idea a woman could have so many orgasms, but Jane could. She’d taught me the codes to her body, and I entered those codes for her release every chance I got. I was jealous. While I was completely capable of going a few rounds myself, I always needed at least twenty minutes between each time. Jane, on the other hand, needed seconds. Sometimes, when I fucked her especially well, she’d have multiples. Those were my favorite. Afterward, we lay together, and I watched her sleep in my arms. She glowed like a goddess in the lamplight, her glistening skin shining like priceless diamonds. Her skin wasn’t as supple as the young girls who’d let me touch them, but it was better. Better because I was in love with the woman I was touching. It had been a little over a month, but I’d known from the very beginning that I was falling. I couldn’t and I wouldn’t deny the feelings I had for her. She’d done things to me

no other person ever had, touched me the way no young, inexperienced girl could. Jane had taught me the most valuable lessons, and I was only too willing to use those lessons on her in hopes that one day—if she didn’t already—she would love me the same. My life before her was one shitstorm after another, and I had more ups and downs than I cared to admit, but I was where I finally belonged. I’d lost a lot in my life, but all of it was worth it just to have her in my arms. I’d never felt more at home anywhere else. Soon, I dozed off myself, and it wasn’t long until Jane was pushing against my shoulder to wake me. “Time to get up,” she said, peeling the covers back and revealing her naked skin. A small tattoo of a butterfly on her hip had begun to age and fade, but it only added to her appeal. “Five more minutes,” I said, pulling her back into my arms and onto the bed. “Sebastian,” she whined, pulling against my hold. She turned and pushed against my chest as she hurried and climbed from my bed to dress. “I love your stamina, believe me, I do, but you’ve worn me out.” She laughed, but it sounded off … forced. Something was up. She already had her T-shirt back on, and I knew there was no talking her back to bed once she was completely dressed, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to at least try. Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I stood, letting the blankets fall to the ground. “Are you going to leave me like this?” I pointed at my semi. Her eyes moved down my body before she closed the distance between us. Her fingers were cool as they wrapped around my length. She moved her finger over the pearl-size drop at the head, smoothing it over me. My breath hissed between my teeth, and I pulled her to me, my mouth coming down hard on hers. Her fingers tightened around me, and she sucked my tongue into her mouth the way I wanted her to suck my cock into her mouth. But then she was gone, falling back a few steps and putting space between us. “Stop it, Sebastian,” she warned and hurried to finish getting dressed. “Stop what? Making you wet? You love when I make you wet. Five minutes, baby, that’s all I’m asking for.” “We can’t,” she insisted, checking her flawless face in the mirror above my dresser. “In five more minutes, he’ll be home. Do you want him to catch us this way?” she asked.

Honestly? I kind of hoped he would catch us. Maybe then he would leave us be, and I could have her all to myself. She’d promised me she’d quit fucking him, too, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew that would never happen as long as she lived under his roof. It killed me knowing that across the hall he was invading what was mine—knowing he was doing all the things to her that I wanted to do. I couldn’t take it. It wasn’t going to be long before I finally snapped. “Let’s not ruin this for five minutes when you’ve had me all afternoon,” she said, patting the side of her freshly fucked hair down. “It’s not enough, Jane.” I came up behind her, slipping an arm around her waist and moving her long hair to the side. I sucked hard on the soft skin where her shoulder met her neck, hoping to leave a noticeable mark. “Sebastian!” she scolded, pulling away. She pushed me away before turning toward the mirror. “You know the rules. No marks.” She examined her neck in the mirror, rubbing at the red blotch I’d left. “He’d shit bricks if he saw one.” “So what?” I snapped angrily. She met my eyes in the mirror and frowned. “What do you mean, so what?” She turned around and put her hands on her hips. “We have a good thing going. Why are you trying to ruin it?” We had a good thing going? I wanted to ask her what kind of thing we had going, but I didn’t want to sound needy and stupid—I didn’t want to embarrass myself. Part of me knew she loved me, too, even though she had yet to tell me, but another part of me thought maybe she’d cut and run if I pushed for more. That was the last thing I wanted. “I’m not.” I shrugged as I fell back on my bed. “It’s just … I don’t like sharing you with him. It’s driving me fucking crazy thinking of you fucking him at night. You should be in my bed … not his.” Her face softened, and she moved between my legs and cupped my cheeks in her soft palms. “You know I care about you, Sebastian.” “But you still sleep in bed with him every night. You still fuck him. I hear you from across the hall!” I pointed at my bedroom door, which was almost directly across from theirs. “I can’t stand it, Jane. I don’t know how much longer I can take it. Knowing he’s touching you—knowing he’s inside you.”

“Sebastian.” She said my name sweetly. She tried to look me in the eyes, but I turned my head. Looking at her made me weak, and at that moment, I needed to hold my ground. “Look at me, Sebastian,” she cooed, knowing I couldn’t resist anything she asked of me. Her tiny hands pressed firmly into my cheeks, forcing me to look at her. “I only do it so he doesn’t get suspicious. Plus, I think of you when I’m with him. He doesn’t touch me the way you touch me.” Her fingers found my wrist, and she pulled my hand to her ribs, slowly moving it up to cup her breast through her shirt. I felt her hard nipple beneath my fingers, so I pinched it hard, making her cry out. “He doesn’t make me respond like that. He doesn’t know my body the way you do, Sebastian. I fake it with him. I promise.” She moved her lips over mine, and her sweet breath filled my parted lips until she was all I could taste. “You’re mine,” I said against her mouth, pulling her closer to me. She pulled away and nodded. “You’re right,” she said, taking another step back. She lifted the long T-shirt she was wearing until I could see the bare skin of her pussy. “Now, hurry and come fuck me like I’m yours. Show me what you can do in five minutes.” I’d asked for five more minutes, but I had her screaming in two.



THIRTEEN JANE GOT HER PERIOD THE NEXT DAY, which meant a few days with no sex, but that was fine by me. Being with Jane was my favorite thing about life. Sex was just the icing on an already delicious cake. “Wow, Jessica Rabbit? Really, Sebastian?” Jane laughed. “What?” I asked confused. My favorite movie was Who Framed Rodger Rabbit. Not because it was an amazing movie, but because of Jessica Rabbit. She was perfection, and I thought everyone could see her flawlessness. How could anyone not see how every intricate line defining her character was perfectly drawn? How curvy she was? How sexy? How succulent? “You’re serious?” she asked with a chuckle. Again, I was confused. “Yes, I’m serious. If I could fuck any cartoon character, it would be Jessica Rabbit. She’s hot.” “You’re sick. You know that, right?” She laughed, tossing a piece of popcorn at me. She was adorable in her sweatpants and long T-shirt. I’d spent the morning giving her a massage since she was complaining about cramps and muscle aches. She said no man had ever been so attentive, but I didn’t mind one bit. Anything I could do to touch her, I was doing. “Says the woman who wants to use a strap-on in my ass,” I teased. At some point, I knew I’d give in to that if it made her happy, but I was holding out as long as I could. Let Darrell be the one to take it up the ass. He was already such a bitch. It suited him well. “Oh, shut it. You’d love it. I promise.” She winked, making me laugh. “Doubt that.” I dipped my hand into the bag and grabbed a handful of popcorn. “So

what about you?” “What about me?” she asked. “If you could fuck a cartoon character, who would it be?” “Hmmm.” She tapped her chin as she contemplated her answer. “I’d say Fred Flintstone.” I laughed hard, my stomach muscles aching. “You’re not serious.” Her eyes went wide. “I totally am!” “Why in the fuck would you want to bang Fred Flintstone?” “He’s a caveman … hello? I like it rough. I think Fred could make my bed rock … hard.” At that, we both laughed. “And you call me sick,” I said. Being myself with Jane meant everything to me, and I’d never been myself more with anyone else. “Shit,” she said, standing and dropping the bag of popcorn in my lap. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “He’s home. I need to get dinner started.” Lifting the remote, I turned the TV to ESPN for Darrell and cleaned off the coffee table in front of where we’d been sitting. “Hey, Sebastian, any good games on?” he asked when he came into the room. Tossing his coat onto the back of the couch, he fell onto the cushions and began to remove his perfectly polished shoes. “Nope,” I said, leaving the sounds of the sportscasters on the screen behind me. I walked into the kitchen to find Jane standing with her back to me. Her hands were in the sink, and the water was almost drowning out the sounds of the TV Darrell was now watching. Looking behind me, I checked that he was still sitting on the couch before quietly going up behind her. I pressed myself against the back of her ass, pushing her into the edge of the porcelain sink. She made a startled sound before turning with soap suds stuck to her dainty fingers. Her face went pale, and her eyes widened as she pushed me away from her. Her reaction caught me off guard, and hurt seeped into my stomach, igniting a fire within. “What’s the problem?” I whispered.

Again, she pushed at me when I tried to get closer. “Are you insane, Sebastian? He’s right there,” she whispered, pointing in the direction of the couch where he was sitting. From his spot, he couldn’t see her, and technically, we couldn’t see him, but I was listening carefully for the sounds of the creaking couch. “Are you kidding me? He falls asleep in front of that TV every night. He’s going to ignore you … just like he always does. Thankfully.” I trapped her between the sink and myself, and she struggled once again to get away from me. “Wow. Thankfully? Are you happy my husband ignores me?” What the hell was her problem? Of course, I was happy her husband ignored her. When he was ignoring her, he was giving me plenty of time alone with her. That was all I wanted. To be with Jane. Alone with Jane. “Ecstatic. You’re mine. Not his.” I grinned down at her, sure she would become playful as usual, but she didn’t. Instead, she glared up at me. “Knock it off and go to your room,” she demanded. I blinked at her several times; sure I was hearing her wrong. “Go to my room?” She nodded again, and her eyes widened as if she heard him coming. “Yes, go upstairs.” “You’re serious?” I could hardly believe my ears. She was chastising me like I was a child and not the man who’d been fucking her senseless over the past few weeks. “Yes,” she hissed. Anger struck me deep, fueling the flames in my gut. “I’m not a child, Jane,” I said loudly. “Don’t treat me like I need a time-out.” She hushed me, sliding her palm over my lips to keep me quiet. Her breathing picked up as she stretched her neck to get a peek of Darrell on the couch. “You can’t do things like this, Sebastian. He’ll send you away. Do you want that? Because I don’t.” Again, I tried for playful, hoping to get her in the mood.

“Why?” I asked, moving closer to her yet again. “Would you miss the way I touch you? The way only I can touch you?” She swallowed and shifted on her feet. “Stop it, Sebastian.” “Why? Are you scared I’ll make you wet, and we won’t be able to do anything about it for a few more days?” I chuckled. “I bet it’s torture knowing you can’t fuck me.” She turned away from me, but I caught her chin and forced her to look me in the eye. “I’m not doing this—” She tried to turn away again, but I grabbed her arm and pushed her into the wall next to the opening of the kitchen. Her eyes sparked, a flame I knew well dancing behind her irises, and she pushed against my cock with her hips. She was turned on and so was I. Not being able to have sex only made it sweeter for when we finally could. I pressed against her again, enjoying the desperate noises I was drawing from her. In the background of our heavy breathing, Darrell’s snores were becoming louder than the TV. “Told you he’d fall asleep and ignore you.” I taunted and lifted her leg, holding it against my hip. “Guess you’ll just have to play with my cock instead.” She surprised me when she dropped to her knees in front of me and pulled my dick from my jeans. And when her hot mouth covered the head, I hissed in pleasure. And there, with only a thin wall between us and her sleeping husband, she gave me the best blow job I’d ever had in my entire life. Two days later, Darrell went on a week-long business trip, which I was pretty sure was code for a drunken week with his buds. I was happy to be rid of him but angry at the same time since literally the day after he left, the summer came to an end, and I started school. It was my senior year, which I could hardly believe I’d reached, and while I despised the idea of sitting through classes all day when I could be home with Jane, I knew it was what she wanted. I’d give her anything she wanted. I’d accepted the fact I was in love with Jane, which meant I needed to be serious about my future since she was my future. I wanted to do right by her. Finish school Get a job. Take care of her. And so I got up at the crack of dawn, got dressed, kissed my girl goodbye, and went to high school feeling like a chump. The day dragged as I met new teachers and people and got a new syllabus for each class I was taking.

Six. I needed six freaking classes to graduate since I’d been so slack over the past few years. Honestly, it had more to do with getting moved from pillar to post—home to group home. It was hard to keep up when you switched schools constantly. But it was a new day—a new school year—and I had a fresh resolve. By the time I walked in the door that afternoon, I was mentally exhausted from all the social aspects of school, and I was starving. Lucky for me, the one thing I was hungry for was waiting in the kitchen for me with a snack. “So how was your first day?” Jane asked from across the table. I stuffed a chip in my mouth and took a swig from my Pepsi. “Eh.” I shrugged. “It kind of sucked balls.” She shook her head. “Sucked balls? Really, Sebastian?” She hated when I showed my age. I think it made her feel better about fucking me when she could pretend I was older. I was fine with that, considering I had never really felt my age in the first place. I’d lived a hard life; therefore, I was wiser than my years. “Learn anything new?” “Yep.” “What did you learn?” she asked, pressing for more information on my day. Standing from my seat, I went around the table to stand in front her. My knees cracked when I kneeled. “I learned I miss you a ton when I’m away from you for too long.” She giggled, her face filling with color and making her even more radiant. “You’re a mess,” she said, pushing playfully at my shoulder. I grabbed her hand, pressing it again my chest. Looking at her in the middle of the afternoon with the sunlight on her hair and her cheeks rosy with happiness, my heart swelled. “I love you, Jane,” I said once more. It was only the third time I’d said it, mostly because I was afraid to push her away, but I couldn’t help it anymore. I wasn’t much for feelings, and I definitely wasn’t one for expressing my feelings, but with Jane, I needed to say it. It was an urge that burned in my chest, and the only way I could get relief was to say the words. Her face cleared. Her rosy cheeks turning pale, and her eyes wide. “Sebastian, I …” She nibbled her thumb on her free hand as she searched for words. All my life, I had been let down by people.

Well, all except for Deloris, but she was gone. All my life, I’d been dealt blow after blow, being tossed around by life with nothing concrete to hold on to. But at least with those storms, I had warning. Jane was a shock in my life, and the sad expression in her eyes let me know her feelings weren’t on the same page as mine. It was like a bomb exploded in my heart. It felt as though pieces of vessel and artery were launched throughout the rest of my body and my heart had instantly stopped with the blow. I stood and released her hand, watching as it fell weakly on her lap. “You don’t love me,” I said, sure that nothing had hurt quite as much as that moment. “It’s just …” She started again. “No.” I held up my hand to stop her. “It’s okay. You don’t love me now, but you will. One day, you will, and that’s all that matters.” At that, I walked away and went to my room. It wasn’t ideal, being in love with a woman who didn’t love you back, but it was better than anything I’d ever had before. I was alone in my room for three hours before I heard the stairs down the hall creak with her steps. The door to my room opened, letting the hallway light in and giving me a perfect view of her beautiful face. “Sebastian? Are you awake?” she whispered into the dark space. “Yeah.” “I just want you to know I’m almost there. What I feel for you can’t be explained, but what you give me each day is more important to me than a lot of things in my life. I’m sorry if I can’t say it back yet, but you’re right; I will one day soon.” When she closed the door, I felt strangely hollowed by her words. There was something almost cold about them even if she was trying to be warm and caring. Almost as if they were rehearsed. Almost as if she didn’t mean them at all.



FOURTEEN THINGS WERE OFF THE ENTIRE WEEK Darrell was gone. I was sure it was because I’d expressed my love for Jane while she had expressed nothing. Maybe all we were good at was sex. Maybe that was all she wanted from me? Sadly, I got my answer. I left for school excited that it was Friday and I’d have the weekend off. Since I’d started school, it seemed Jane was coming to realize how young I was. Sure, she was the one who had pushed me to go to school, but I didn’t miss the way she looked at me when I walked in the front door with my book bag on and a notebook in my arm. I was just a teenager, and that was becoming clearer and clearer to her every time she caught me sitting at the kitchen table doing homework. She didn’t have to say these things. I could see it in her eyes when she looked at me. I could feel it in her touch, which was cold and unfeeling. Her soft kisses were gone, and instead, I got a smooch on the cheek or a kiss on the forehead like I was a fucking child. It was wrong. I missed her. I missed us. And I was seriously considering quitting school. Had it not been for Jane expressing how important it was to her that I go, I would have already quit. Halfway to school, I realized I’d left my notebook on the kitchen table. Checking the time on my phone, I knew I had time to run back and get it. My sneakers smacked against the asphalt as I ran back to the house. Jane had offered to take me, but I didn’t want her to have to get out of bed early for me. The front door was unlocked, which was strange because I was sure I had locked it when I left. Opening it, I moved through the foyer and toward the kitchen so I could grab my notebook and get back on my way so I wasn’t late, but just as I was about to step into the kitchen, I heard Darrell’s voice. “So you’re definitely not pregnant?” he asked.

“I’m definitely not pregnant. I thought for sure it would work. I took my basal temperature every morning and had him come in me every time we had sex, but—” “Stop,” Darrell interrupted. “I don’t want to hear the details. I know how a woman gets pregnant. Just because I can’t knock you up doesn’t mean I don’t know how.” “I’m sorry, Darrell.” Her voice was tear-filled and broken. I leaned against the wall, my heart feeling as though it was turning to dust. “It’s not your fault. Apparently, our little Sebastian is shooting blanks, too.” He chuckled sarcastically. Closing my eyes, I held back the tears that burned behind my lids. “It doesn’t always happen on the first cycle. Sometimes, it could take up to a year. Let’s just stick with the plan and keep trying.” “No!” he exploded. “I can’t take this shit anymore, Jane. I want a baby just as badly as you do, but it’s killing me knowing you’re sleeping with him. I’m drinking myself numb just to deal. I can’t live this way anymore.” He knew. He’d known the entire time. My knees grew weak, and I slid down the wall until my ass was sitting on the floor. I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t help but stay and listen. “Please, Darrell. I know this is hard for you, but it’s hard for me, too. I want a baby!” she cried. “No. What you want is to keep fucking the young buck. You don’t think I hear you up there when I’m pretending to be passed out. Yelling in pleasure. You say you’re faking it, but it sounds awfully real, Jane. No. He has to go. I’m done with this. We’ll adopt a baby if that’s what you want, but I can’t sit by and pretend anymore.” “Don’t do this, baby. I know it’s hard on you, but let’s just try one more cycle. Just let me get pregnant, and then we can get rid of him. I promise.” My chin dropped to my chest, and I struggled to breathe. It was all a lie. All of it. No wonder she couldn’t tell me she loved me. Because she didn’t. She wanted me, all right, but only so I could get her pregnant. Only so I could do the one thing her husband couldn’t—knock her up. They had only wanted me for one reason and one reason only … a baby. I had questioned why they wanted an older foster child, and Deloris had soothed my

worries like she always did, thinking she was doing what was best for me. In reality, I was just an ordered stud, and Jane, my sweet Jane, had planned the entire thing out with her husband. She had seduced me. Fucked my brains out. Touched me as I’d never been touched and taught me the ways of a woman’s body. She made me fall completely in love with her. All so she could have a baby. My baby. “No, Jane, I’m done with this. This isn’t normal. This isn’t how it’s done. There are other ways. We can afford other ways. I want him gone.” “Please, Darrell,” she begged. “I can’t fucking believe this. Why are you fighting so hard for this? Do you love him or something? The room went silent, and while I knew I should get up and leave, I was glued to the hardwood beneath me. I wanted to hear her say it. I needed to hear that while she had started out using me, she had accidentally fallen in love with me. I would go to the kitchen, grab her hand, and we would leave together. We could go wherever we wanted—be whatever we wanted to be—as long as we were together. I would take care of her, no matter what. “Of course, I don’t love him. It was hell having him inside me, but if it meant having a baby, I’d do it all over again.” And just like that, the iron walls went up around my soul, trapping everything I was inside and pushing all feeling out. My heart felt sore for a bit as if Jane had spent the week punching it, and my ability to swallow seemed to go away. But after a few seconds and three deep breaths, I no longer felt anything. I sat there, staring at the room in front of me, and something shifted. Things changed —altering me from the inside out—sucking away my past and anything that had ever stung my soul and leaving nothing. The last bits of remaining emotions I had seemed to stall, turning to dust around me and getting caught up in the breeze of the overhead fan. There was no pain. There was no happiness. There was nothing. “Just let me try with him for one more cycle. If I don’t get pregnant, then he can go. Come on, Darrell. This could be it, babe. A sweet little baby for us to love and cuddle.”

I could hear her kissing his skin, trying to win him over. Little did she know, there would be no more trying. There would be no more anything. Darrell chuckled, obviously enjoying the attention he was receiving, and then he conceded. “One more cycle. But only because I love you more than life, and I want to have a family with you.” She squealed with happiness before the sounds of them kissing reached out and smacked me. I stood, feeling completely transformed. I was no longer Sebastian Stephens. I was no long the poor orphan no one wanted. I was something different—something darker— something broken beyond repair. I swallowed the hate working its way up the back of my throat. Disgust mixed with bile and rage. And I adjusted the strap of my backpack, ready to go upstairs, collect my things, and leave. Just then, Jane and Darrell came around the corner wearing happy smiles on their faces with love dancing in their eyes. And when they saw me, they froze. My eyes went straight to hers, taking in the soft blue hues, and for the first time since the moment I fell for her, I felt nothing good. Hate. Disgust. Rage. But nothing hurt anymore. “Sebastian,” she said, her eyes wide with shock. “I thought you left for school.” “You thought wrong,” I said, my voice strong and deep. “Hey, bud, how’s school going?” Darrell asked, quickly trying to soothe the situation. But there would be no soothing. I’d heard enough to know what the fuck was going on. “It’s going great. It’s more fun to stay home and fuck your wife, but a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do, right?” His face went pale with my words. “Look, man.” I kept going, hoping to dig deeper. “It sucks you can’t be a real man and get your wife pregnant, and as much as I love unloading inside her and leaving you with some sopping wet sloppy seconds, I think it’s time for me to go.” I started toward the door, forgetting all about my belongings upstairs. Before I left through the front door, I turned back, needing one final dig. “It was fun, Jane, but there’s only so much old lady twat a boy can take.”

Her face dropped, tears floating into her eyes making them look glazed, and she opened her mouth to speak. But before she could say anything, I pulled open the front door. “Fuck you very much.” I chuckled as I left the house and slammed the door behind me.



PART TWO After the Burn



FIFTEEN I CROUCHED IN THE SHADOWS of the night. The cold seeped through my threadbare hoodie, turning my skin to ice and making me shiver. I shoved my fists into my pockets, avoiding the small holes that let the bite of cold air in and lifted my shoulders past my neck. The fear of freezing to death was real, and it was only September. I wasn’t sure I would survive the winter when it finally hit. I’d be just like Jared … dead on the streets at seventeen. Such was life for a boy like me. The bark of the tree I was leaning against scratched at the fabric of my jacket as I blew between my palms and rubbed my hands together. My fingers were numb, and the hot air from my breath spilled from between my hands and into the night around me in white clouds of warm promises. My feelings came back two days after I left their house, which sucked since not feeling anything was much preferred. I was sleeping under a bridge, dreaming about my warm bed at Jane’s house and wishing she was there for me to hold, when it hit me. Pain. The anger had subsided. The shock of it all was gone. And I felt shredded on the inside. I was hurt beyond words, my heart feeling colder than the freezing temperatures around me, but still, seeing her seemed to make the cold bearable. Seeing her somehow managed to melt my frigid heart just a bit. So just like every other night since I left the only home I’d thought I’d found love in, I’d wait until I saw her, and then I’d disappear into the night and try to find a warm, clean spot to sleep. Soon she would appear across the street from me, and nothing else would matter. Not the cold that ate at my flesh or the hunger pains that burned my stomach, making it twist and growl. Not the stink of living on the streets or the raw ache that consumed me every second of every day that I was away from her. All that mattered was seeing her face. Headlights from a passing car flashed brightly against the house next to me, causing me to push myself farther behind the tree. I wasn’t worried anyone would see me. Not

only was I covered from head to toe in black, but the tree was safely hidden between two houses. Even if someone was looking for me, they wouldn’t find me. I was invisible. Always invisible. Hiding in the shadows every night, I would go to the same street and look through the windows of the same house, but I was sure to pick a different spot, which allowed me different views of her. I missed her. I longed for everything about her, and the only way I could relieve the pressure building inside my chest was to let my eyes feast on her face. The situation was making me sick. I was slowly becoming a pathetic, pussy-whipped joke, and I knew walking away was the only thing that would make me sane again. Leaving her behind and forgetting her and the twisted things she had done to me could make me the person I was before I came to her home, but before I could be normal, I would have to go through withdraws, and I wasn’t ready for that. I wasn’t ready for the sick feelings—the nights sweats—the pain in my stomach that addicts went through when they went cold turkey. Even though Jane wasn’t a drug, she had gotten into my veins just the same. Drawing me in with her lust and sweet touches, she made me addicted to all things her before turning against me and rotting me from the inside out. I backed away from the tree, willing myself to walk away and deal with the bullshit so I could move on from her, but just as I moved to turn around, the kitchen light came on in her house, and she was there. My breath caught, my stomach feeling compressed as if I’d just been punched in the gut the second she came into view. The urge to run to her had me gripping the bark of the tree in my hands until it broke away, crumbling into dust and settling around my ragged shoes. She had to miss me, too. I was sure if she saw me again, she would realize how much. She would understand how much she needed me—almost as much as I needed her. All I had to do was walk over to her. She just needed to see me, and all this would be a bad nightmare. We could go back to the way we were, or we could move on together and leave Darrell behind. I had no doubt she only said those things to appease him. Maybe he had caught us, and she only told him she was trying to get pregnant so she could continue to be with me? I didn’t know. I just knew she loved me. She had never said it, but I felt it in her touch. I needed to

feel that love again before I felt apart completely. I took a step away from the tree, ready to close the gap between us, but before I moved into the beam of yellow light streaming down from the closest streetlamp, I saw him. His hair was shaggy as always, prompting me to think of Scooby Doo. Sadness swooped in once again when I realized how long it had been since I’d visited my beloved cartoons. My life wasn’t the same, and with Deloris gone, there was no going back. There was no fixing things. There was only me—alone. He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back against him. She smiled and tilted her head to the side, the way she’d done for me so many times before, and offered the soft skin of her neck to him. A hot knife punctured my chest. At least it felt that way. And the air left my lungs. Her face lit up as she giggled when he flipped her around and lifted her onto the table. My eyes watered, the feeling of jealousy raw as it settled into the pit of my stomach. He moved over her, lifting her shirt and slowly undressing her, and I had to look away. It was too much to bear, watching him have his way with her. Watching him touch her —kiss her—caress the skin I knew was so soft and sweet. Anger got the best of me, and I reared back, slamming my fist into the side of the tree. Fire flickered in my fingers and pain shot down my wrist. I hissed loudly between my teeth, trying my best to ignore the stinging pain from the bleeding knuckles. “Wow. You’re really fucked up.” The sound of a foreign voice scared me, making me jump and trip over nothing. Falling back against the tree I’d just punched. “I mean, I figured you must be since only sick fucks watch women through their windows, but I didn’t realize it was to this extent.” “Fuck,” I cursed. “You scared the shit out of me.” I glared at the stranger who had been watching me watch Jane and Darrell, and embarrassment and shame smothered me, making me feel aggressive and angry. “What the fuck are you doing back here? This is private property,” I spat. The truth was I had no idea who owned the home of the yard I was squatting in. The figure scoffed and pushed away from the side of the house, heading toward me. “I could ask the same thing, seeing as how you’re on my property.” Beads of sweat began to form along my hairline and down my back. I didn’t respond. I couldn’t think of a reasonable excuse fast enough.

The stranger laughed, a deep and strange sound that confused me. The voice sounded deep and raspy like a guy, but the person’s body was curvy like a female. “Relax. I’m not going to call the cops or anything. But if they catch you gawking at them, they might,” the stranger said, pointing at the window where Jane and Darrell were hardcore fucking on the kitchen table. Pain shot through my chest, making me gasp and turn away. The stranger came closer, nodding in the direction of Jane and Darrell’s house. I caught a full view of the face in front of me and was taken aback. She was a girl—younger and small—with a fierce case of resting bitch face and hair as black as the night around us. Her pouty lips lived in a perpetual frown, and her cerulean eyes almost glowed like a cat’s. She looked familiar, but then again, I’d been around a lot of different kids in my life. After a while, everyone began to look familiar. Black clothes covered her body, and the boots she was wearing were obviously too big with holes and untied shoestrings. She was a mess, but something about her told me she wasn’t someone who took a lot of shit. “Holy shit,” I whispered. “You’re a chick.” Her face twisted angrily, and her fists planted on her hips. “Of course, I’m a fucking girl! Why the hell would you think I wasn’t?” I shrugged, not really sure how to tell her she had sounded like a guy at first. She scowled at me for the longest time, but I refused to say another word. I didn’t know this chick’s level of crazy, and I wasn’t exactly up to finding out with no witnesses around. “Shit,” she hissed before she turned away and moved back into the shadow of the tree. “Come on, Peeping Tom, let’s get the hell out of here. Just because I’m not calling the cops on you doesn’t mean she won’t.” She pointed in the direction of Jane and Darrell’s house, and I twisted around to see what she meant. Walking down the driveway was Jane, looking freshly fucked with a smile plastered on her perfect face. The trash bag in her hand crinkled with the beat of her walk as she headed toward the curb. I moved deeper into the shadows and watched, wondering how much shit I would get into if I just walked across the street and took her in my arms. Just as I was about to move from my hiding spot, a loud whistled sounded from behind me, catching Jane’s attention and making her look in my direction. I gasped, pushing myself behind the safety of the tree like a coward while still

watching Jane. She peered into the darkness, wrapping her sweater tighter around her, before turning and all but fleeing into the safety of her house. “Why the hell did you do that for?” I asked. She laughed and shook her head. “You’re welcome.” “For what? Almost getting me caught?” “No. You’re welcome for saving you from doing something stupid, stupid.” She chuckled before disappearing behind the back of the house. When I didn’t move to follow her, she peeked around the side of the house. “Are you coming or what?” I debated my next move, but I figured I had nothing left to lose. Following her steps, I went around the back of the house to find her standing at the back door, jiggling the handle. “What are you doing?” I asked, confused. “Chill, dude. This is my house.” “Then why does it look like you’re trying to break in?” She shrugged. “I forgot my key.” Lifting on her tiptoes, she felt around the top of the doorframe. Unconsciously, my eyes traveled down the length of her body, stopping where the hem of her shirt had lifted to show her flat stomach. She had a nice body. I wasn’t so far gone with Jane that I couldn’t see that, but she was a girl, and I hadn’t been interested in girls since Jane had shown me what a grown woman could do. “Yeah. Well, it’s been interesting …” I started, rubbing the back of my neck. “But I’m going to get going. Your parents probably wouldn’t be happy with you bringing home dirty, strange boys.” I laughed, feeling sick to my stomach for even referring to myself that way. Just a few days before, I’d been living the good life. Just a few days before, I was with the woman I loved, sleeping in warm bed and eating good food. Not so much anymore. “Nobody’s home,” she replied before popping open the back door. She stepped inside before I could respond, and I stood there not sure what I should do. A light brightened the doorway, and the sound of a can popping open drifted through. Taking a step closer, I did a quick sweep across the backyard before I peeked through the open door.

The girl, whose name I had yet to learn, was leaning against the counter, sipping a soda. The refrigerator was still open, letting the delicious smell of food waft right in my direction. My stomach growled loudly, making me settle my hand over my abs. She snickered and took another swig from her drink. “Come in and help yourself.” She gestured toward the refrigerator before pushing away from the counter and disappearing into another room. Not even a little bit curious as to where she had gone, I made my way to the fully stocked refrigerator. I made a sandwich faster than I ever had before and then sunk my teeth into the bread, meat, and cheese. The flavor exploded over my tongue, and I was positive at that moment that it was the best damn sandwich I had ever eaten. I flipped on the kitchen light and made my way around the kitchen until I found the pantry. Pulling open the door, I found it stocked full as well. I snatched a bag of Doritos and pulled the bag open when suddenly the lights went out, and I found myself standing a pitch-black kitchen. The strange girl was standing across the kitchen from me, the light from the still open refrigerator shining right on her. She stared back at me with her hand on the switch. “No lights,” she said before spinning around and leaving me alone in the kitchen once again. I frowned. She was fucking nuts, but I was too hungry to care. Instead, I ate in the dark and enjoyed the first bit of real food I had had in days. Five minutes later, two sandwiches and half a bag of Doritos rested comfortably in my full stomach. Done with the kitchen, I made my way to the next room. Crazy girl was nowhere to be found, but I was hesitant to go look for her. Leaving was my best option, but I had never been a smart guy. So instead, I found myself moving from room to room, checking out the goods in the house and waiting for the crazy girl to come back. The house was full of unnecessary shit, but I was sure most of it meant something to her and her family. The house was lived in. The sofa was large and comfy and expensive, and plush rugs decorated the hardwood floors. Knickknacks and junk filled every shelf, and picture frames full of family portraits covered the walls. I followed the frames down memory lane, starting with a couple getting married. The next picture was that couple standing in front of the house, followed by them holding a baby with loving smiles. With each picture, the baby got bigger, growing into a toddler, and I chuckled to

myself at how much she looked like a boy growing up. When I got to the next picture, I frowned and leaned in closer. “What the …?” I grabbed the picture from the wall, bringing it even closer just in case I was seeing things. I wasn’t. It was definitely a boy in the pictures with the couple and not a single one with the crazy girl with them. Something cracked behind me, making me turn toward the sound with the picture still in hand. I moved toward the cracking noise, leaving the room until I found her hunched over a table with her back to me. “Hey,” I called out. “Why the hell aren’t you in any of these pictures?” She turned, holding a backpack in her hand, and her eyes found the picture I was holding up for her to see. She stared at it for only a second before she looked back up at me and shrugged. Another cracking noise sounded as she dropped an item into her open backpack. She ignored me as she moved to something else and picked it up, dropping it into the bag as well. It was then I knew. “This isn’t your house, is it?” I asked. Fuck. “Nope,” she answered casually. “Why the fuck did you tell me it was?” I yelled. “Keep your voice down, dumbass,” she hissed. “You wouldn’t have come with me if I had told you I was here to rob the place.” Reaching up, I pinched the bridge of my nose. Only I would walk into some bullshit like this. “I’m fucking out of here. If you were smart, you’d leave, too.” I took two steps toward the back of the house when the room suddenly lit up with flashing blue lights. “Shit,” she groaned. “This is why you never turn on the fucking lights.” “Well, excuse me. It’s not like I knew you were robbing the fucking place.” “Yeah, well, we need to go,” she said, stuffing one final thing into her backpack.

“No shit,” I muttered. We shuffled through the kitchen and fled out the back door into the blackness of the backyard. “Follow me,” she whispered into the night. I ran behind her as we crossed the yard toward a tall wooden fence. She was up and climbing over before I could blink. “You have to be fucking kidding me.” I hadn’t scaled a fence in years, and I wasn’t sure I could even do it anymore. “Come on,” she hissed before she disappeared over the fence completely. I was out of options. It was either stay and get caught or follow the crazy girl over the fucking fence. The fence was easy, and within a few seconds, I found myself in the alley behind the house. Searching around me, I saw the girl halfway down the road swinging her backpack merrily as if she hadn’t just almost been busted by the cops. “Hey,” I called out. But just as the word left my lips, a cop car pulled around the corner behind me. I ran. “Jesus, you’re slow. Come on,” she screamed. And then she took off running, laughing with her head back the entire way. She was on some next-level shit for sure, but I followed her once again, sure that if I didn’t, I’d get snagged by the man and booked for breaking and entering. She called me slow, but I caught up with her easily, and when she looked over at me, her eyes sparkled with excitement. Her laughter and excitement were contagious, and I found myself smiling in her direction. Maybe it was the past couple of weeks of my life or maybe it was the bullshit and the hurt I had recently endured, but at that moment, I felt alive again. The weight of the system and the loss of Deloris—of Jane and the pain she had inflicted—and the weight of my shitty existence, in general, didn’t feel so heavy on my shoulders. Another cop car appeared in front of us. They surrounded us on two sides, so we could only go in one direction. A direction that ended up being a dead end. “Shit. Now what?” she asked as if I knew what the fuck we were doing. I’d run from the police plenty in my day, but it had always been in familiar territory. This side of town wasn’t my stomping grounds. All I knew was that at any second, the cops would be out of their cars and cuffing us.

At any second now, I would be in the back seat and headed to jail. Strike three was what it would be, and I wasn’t about to let that happen. A crack in the fence beside me caught my attention, and without hesitating, I grabbed her hand and pushed her through the opening. An empty field waited on the other side of that fence, which meant no place to hide. But I knew if we ran fast, the cops wouldn’t be able to catch us. We had barely fit through the crack in the fence, so there was no way they would fit. They would have to go around. I didn’t know where the hell we were or where we were going, but when she took off running toward the right side of the field, I followed, hoping she knew where she was going, and we weren’t about to get caught.



SIXTEEN “HERE WE ARE,” SHE SAID. Here consisted of a dilapidated building in the middle of nowhere. Broken and boarded windows kept me from seeing inside, but I could tell just from the outside that I didn’t want to go in. Weeds as tall as me surrounded the building, and rusted tin panels covered the outside walls, making it look as though dried, crusty blood drained down the sides. It was creepy as hell. “What is this place?” I asked, sure that at any minute some crazy fuck would come out and murder us. She crouched down next to a small opening in the building and pulled back a piece of the tin siding. The edges were jagged and sharp, and I knew that with one wrong move, she would probably sever an arm or a leg. She gestured at the opening she had made. “You want me to go in there? You’re fucking kidding, right?” She smirked, her conniving smile annoying the piss out of me. “What’s wrong? Are you scared?” I tensed, my jaw going so tight it felt like it would pop. No guy liked being called a coward, especially when it was far from the truth. I had done my fair share of stupid shit, which meant I learned the hard way that it was probably not a great idea to enter the decrepit building. “I’m not scared. I just have enough sense to know wrong from fucking right. Common sense tells me not to enter an abandoned building with some chick who conned me into robbing a house.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to kill you or anything.” I threw my head back and barked a loud laugh. “Believe me, sweetheart, I’m not worried about you. I’m worried about the diseases I’m going to get just by being near this place.” “Just shut up and get in,” she snapped. “I’ve never heard a boy whine so much.” “I’m not a boy,” I corrected her. “And I’m not going inside until you tell me what we’re doing here.”

She cursed under her breath. “Suit yourself. Come in or not. Doesn’t matter to me.” She crawled through the small opening, and the sound of scraping metal made me flinch when she released the panel and it snapped back into place. I sighed and dragged my fingers through my hair in frustration. I was cold, but at least I still had a full stomach. The main problem was, I knew nothing about this chick, and after the stunt she pulled back at the house, I knew it was probably better to cut my losses and run rather than to hide with her. The vacant lot beside me was pitch black, making me feel even more alone. Even though I wasn’t convinced I could trust the girl, I honestly had no other place to go. The truth was, even though she had put me in a bad position, she technically didn’t have to help me when we had almost gotten busted. She could have climbed the fence and left me to deal with the police, but she didn’t. Maybe the inside of the building wasn’t as bad as the outside. Never judge a book by its cover, right? Maybe it was warm and cozy inside—maybe it was clean. Staying the night wouldn’t kill me. I could get a good night’s sleep and figure out my next move in the morning. If I managed to stay alive until then. Making a quick decision, I pulled back the dangerous, rusted tin and eyed the tight entrance. It was silent and black inside, but I crawled in anyway. Once I was able, I stood and grimaced at a sharp pain in my arm. I was much bigger than she was, and I wasn’t as lucky. The tin had scraped me good, leaving a long gash in the arm of my hoodie. Great. Now I would have a hell of a time keeping out the cold. “Finally,” she said from somewhere inside. I squinted into the black, trying to make out her figure, but the darkness inside the building was even more intense without the soft glow of the moonlight outside. Waving my hand in front of my face, I couldn’t even see the outline of my fingers. “Where the hell are you?” I asked, stumbling blindly around the unfamiliar space. “Give me a minute,” she snapped, her voice laced with annoyance. I didn’t take it personally since that seemed to be the only tone she was capable of. After a few seconds, a small glow illuminated the corner at my side, allowing me to see her and a bit of my surroundings. She stared back at me in a way that made me a bit uncomfortable, and I looked away. “Are you going to tell me what this place is?” I asked, scratching at the back of my neck.

She shrugged. “Home sweet fucking home.” “This is your home?” I said with a frown as I quickly tried to smooth the disgusted expression from my face. “Yep,” she said, falling back onto an old ripped recliner I was sure someone had tossed out. “Got a problem with that?” The stench of mildew and rust filled my senses, making me cover my nose with my finger. “Nope,” I said, taking in the bits of her place I was able to see in the soft glow of the candle she had lit. I didn’t have a cardboard box to call my own, much less an entire building. Who was I to judge? It wasn’t clean, and it smelled like old ass, but at least she had something over her head at night. She stood from her recliner and moved to another broken down table to light yet another candle. When she did so, I was able to see more of the space. There wasn’t much there. Mainly a few broken pieces of furniture probably tossed out that she had managed to recycle and reuse. “Hungry? I have some water and food,” she offered as she picked up her backpack and began to pull out the things she had stolen. Candles, a lighter, and a few other items that would make her stay inside the abandoned building a bit easier. “It’s not gourmet steak or anything like that, but it’s something,” she muttered, pulling a piece of rope from her bag and tossing it onto the table. Obviously, she only took what she needed. I guess if you were going to rob someone, at least make it for things you needed to survive and nothing else. Then she pulled out a handful of jewelry, destroying my new opinion of her. Jewelry wasn’t a necessity. Food and light were. Not that I could say anything. Just because I had lived in a nice place for the past few months didn’t mean I hadn’t ever been a thief. Steal to survive. I understood that, but living with the Jepsons had given me new insight on how the other half lived. “I’m fine.” I turned away from the jewelry and moved deeper into her space. She moved over to the opposite corner and grabbed a box of matches to light yet another candle. She tossed her now empty backpack down, and it landed with a thump on an old, flattened, piss-stained mattress. Stuffing bulged out a large rip down one side, and a few springs popped out of one corner, bent and broken. It was her bedroom.

Ratted blankets were folded on a chair next to the mattress, and a black T-shirt looked to be drying from a rusty nail sticking out of the wall behind it. Clothes and bags littered the floor around her bed, but the rest I wasn’t able to make out. “Holy shit. You really live here,” I whispered in shock. She had someone managed to make the run-down place a semi-decent home. It wasn’t clean, and it smelled like hell, but it was warmer than outside and kept the rain, which I could hear slowly beginning against the tin roof, from getting inside. “No,” she said. “I was just telling you that to impress you.” She was all sarcasm wrapped in a monotone voice. “Of course, I live here. Again, if you have a problem with that, you can get the fuck out.” “Easy. I was just saying … it’s nice.” “Yeah, whatever,” she mumbled under her breath. “Sit down.” She kicked the back of an old chair, making it slide across the room toward me. “Excuse me?” I asked. Motioning to the chair, she repeated herself. “Sit. Down.” “No, I’m good. Thanks.” The chair was disgusting, and even though I needed a good shower, I wasn’t about to make it worse by adding whatever was smeared all over the seat of the chair to the back of my jeans. She bent over another bag and dug through it. With her hands full, she stood and started my way. “Oh, my God. You’re such a baby.” She chuckled. “I have Band-Aids.” She held up a box and shook her head in aggravation. When I stared in confusion, she rolled her eyes and huffed. “For your arm? You hurt yourself coming in, didn’t you?” At the mention of it, I lifted my arm and saw my blood had drenched the arm of my hoodie. “I mean, if you want your arm to get infected and fall off, then suit yourself.” She turned to drop the first-aid stuff back into her bag, but I stopped her. “Okay,” I said, unzipping my jacket and peeling the bloody material from my arm. I hissed in pain when the long-sleeved shirt I was wearing beneath the hoodie tugged at my wound. She walked over to me, and her fingers moved over my shirt before she tugged open the hole there. Her fingers probed inside and onto my cut, and I flinched, hissing.

“Watch it,” I snapped. She snickered. “Such a baby. Take off your shirt.” “What? Why?” “Will you stop being a fucking girl and take off your shirt? The light isn’t bright enough, and I can’t see anything through the hole in your sleeve.” I grumbled, but I pulled my shirt over my head and off my body. The cold air of the room hit my naked skin like a sledgehammer, making me start to shiver. The rustle of paper sounded as she opened bandages and soaked a clean rag in alcohol. That would burn for sure. “Where did you get all this stuff?” I asked. “I’m a big collector.” She grinned at me. “Anything I might need, I take.” “So you need all that jewelry over there?” I asked sarcastically. “Nope, but I need the money I’ll get when I pawn it. A girl’s gotta eat.” She moved close to me—the closest she’d gotten yet—and I was able to make her facial features for the first time. I had barely gotten a good look at her before, and all I could really see was covered in dirt and ripped clothes. But looking at her in the candlelight up close, she looked like she was about twelve. Still, something about her was familiar. “How old are you?” I asked. She paused just before placing the alcohol soaked rag onto my cut. “Why does it matter?” I chuckled, suddenly feeling exhausted from our night. “Now who’s being difficult?” “I’m not being difficult. I’m just trying to figure out why you care how old I am.” I yawned, feeling as though I hadn’t slept in days. “I don’t care. I’m curious. There’s a big difference.” “I’m sixteen,” she answered. “Really?” I asked in surprise. “Yes, really.” She moved closer and wiped at the blood on my arm without touching the cut. “How old did you think I was?” I shrugged, preferring the antiseptic smell of the alcohol over the rotting mildewed smell of her home. “I don’t know … twelve maybe.” “Twelve?” She hissed in outrage before pressing the rag on my cut and making me yell out.

“Shit! That hurts!” The sting settled into my arm as the alcohol cleaned up the dirt and blood from my arm. “I don’t look fucking twelve.” She was calmer as she peeled the soaked rag from my arm and blew at my cut. “What the fuck?” I growled at her as the sting subsided. “It needs to be cleaned so it doesn’t get infected.” “The hell it does. You did that shit on purpose.” “Prove it.” She snickered. “Are you done?” I asked between my teeth, trying my hardest not to get annoyed with her. She was doing me a favor, after all. She was right. The cut looked pretty bad, and the last thing I needed was for it to get infected. No healthcare and all that. “Done,” she said, covering my cut with several Band-Aids. She tossed my shirt back at me, and I pulled it over my head. “I’d better get going.” “You can stay here,” she said quickly. She avoided looking in my direction by picking up the wrappers from the bandages. “What?” “I mean, you don’t exactly look like you have a place to go. Do you even have a home?” No. I didn’t. Not anymore. But I wasn’t about to say that out loud. She was a stranger, and honestly, she seemed a bit off her rocker, but she seemed to be doing the best she could. She was obviously in the same position as I was, and for some reason, that made her presence a bit comforting. “It was just an offer. If you have some place better to go, then, by all means, leave.” Despite her tone, which was all cold and annoyed, it was obvious she wanted me to stay. She was alone too, and even though the night had been insane, I think she enjoyed having someone around.

I didn’t blame her. It could get lonely. “If I stay, where will I sleep? You don’t expect us to sleep together on that thing, do you?” I pointed at the piss-stained mattress. While I didn’t mind the company, the last thing on my mind was fucking some sixteen-year-old on a gross mattress in an abandoned building. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure I would be able to get it up with all the bullshit swimming around in my brain. She made a face that matched the disgust I was feeling. “Eww. Don’t be stupid. There’s another cot, and I have extra blankets. Besides, I don’t want to catch any of your crotch crickets. There’s no telling what kind of diseases you have.” I laughed. “Crotch crickets? Really? And I don’t have any diseases. That’s a fucked-up thing to say.” “Well, so was assuming I wanted to share a bed with you while making a disgusted face at the thought of it.” I laughed again. “It’s not that. I’m just not into girls.” “Okay, okay got it.” She looked at me and nodded. “Yeah, I guess I can see that.” Realizing how my words sounded, I corrected her. “No. That’s not what I meant.” “Hey, I’m not one to judge.” She held her hands up. “You can’t help who you love. I just thought since you were watching the chick through the window … but I guess it was the dude,” she continued. “No. Fuck that asshole. That’s really not what I meant,” I repeated through my teeth. She smirked. “Yeah, okay. Whatever.” She moved around the room, pulling out another mattress and a stack of blankets. I watched from the side as she threw together a pretty comfortable looking spot for me far from her bed. “I have water bottles and a place where you can brush your teeth over there. Unopened toothbrushes in the box beside the bucket. Are you sure you’re not hungry?” For such a young girl, and considering her situation, she was extremely accommodating. I smiled at her sarcastic way of helping me out. “Nope. I’m fine.” And I was. Thanks to her breaking and entering earlier in the night, I was still pretty satisfied from

the sandwiches and chips. I brushed my teeth, and after days of not brushing my teeth with water, it was heaven. Once I had cleaned up a bit and was feeling better than I had in days, I fell back on the run-down mattress, which was surprisingly comfortable and didn’t smell, and stared up at the tin ceiling. “Hey,” I said into the darkness. “What?” “What’s your name?” I asked. She fell silent for a long while, making me think she had fallen asleep. “Victoria, but everyone calls me Vick.” I knew I had to at least tell her my name, even if she didn’t ask. But at that moment, I was considering giving myself a new name. The problem was, no name seemed to fit all the bullshit I had gone through in my life. I was me. I was altered. And I had learned many things along the ride I called life. And while I could slowly feel myself become hollow and dark, I knew a spark of the boy I used to be still lingered deep inside. I couldn’t disrespect him that way. “My name’s Sebastian,” I said, deciding I was okay with keeping my first name. “I know,” she muttered. “I remember you.” And then I remembered why she looked so familiar. We had been housed together for a few weeks once, but she was taken away when her caseworker learned the man we were living with had been molesting her. Deloris pulled me out a day later, and I never saw the girl again. I wanted to tell her I remembered her, too, but something told me she didn’t want to think about the past or that asshole’s hands all over her. Instead, I rolled over on the strange mattress and slept for the first time in two days.



SEVENTEEN VICK AND I STUCK TOGETHER from that night on, making our dilapidated building into a semi-decent home with the things we took from houses that wouldn’t be missed. I insisted we only take what we needed. Warm blankets when the weather turned colder. Clothes and shoes in our size. Unopened toiletries and food. And on occasion, when we were having an exceptionally hard week, we would take something we could pawn. Hard weeks weren’t happening very often anymore, though, since I had made friends with a local drug dealer named Anthony and had become his errand boy. Selling drugs was something I had experience with, but back when I had done it, I was messing with small amounts. The packages Anthony sent me with were huge, and I knew it would land me quite a few years in prison if I were to get caught. Luckily for me, I knew my way around the streets, and what I didn’t know, I learned fast. Getting caught wasn’t something bound to happen to me anytime soon, but I knew if it ever did, I would be quick to turn in Anthony to get the charges dismissed. It wasn’t anything personal, but it was business. The one thing I did know was the police around town would give anything to catch the big dog, and Anthony was the biggest of the dogs. When I wasn’t running the streets with Vick or selling drugs for Anthony, who owned half of New York City, I was back at our place, making it feel like a home as much as I could. With blankets hanging from ropes, we made ourselves two separate spaces and even managed to pull an old couch we found outside a nice brownstone back to our place. With the exception of electricity or running water, the place was home. And I found myself staying indoors with Vick more and more and visiting Jane’s place less and less. Actually, the more I sat on the situation, the angrier I became about it. They were using me—trying to get pregnant—trying to steal my little soldiers like I was a fucking sperm bank or something. Bullshit. So after a few weeks, I was done. I changed a lot in that time, becoming darker and colder to everything and everyone around me, with the exception of Vick. It felt amazing not to feel much of anything anymore.

By the time we ended the summer and fall was moving in, we were celebrating my eighteenth birthday. After Jane and the past year of my life, I was completely shut off emotionally. The streets knew me, and I knew the streets, and I was earning a bit of a name for myself given that I wasn’t taking shit from anyone. Even Anthony, the drug lord who had murder under his belt, understood I wasn’t one to fuck with. I was just a shell surviving with revenge simmering in my gut for over a year. I couldn’t let go of the fact someone had used me. Jane had taken any emotion I had once felt and shoved it back in my face without a care for me—wrecking me and my trust for the rest of my life. Revenge. It was why I convinced Vick that the Jepson’s home should be our next hit. They had nothing I needed or wanted, other than the things I’d left behind, but just the idea of taking from them the way they had taken from me was enough to bring a grin to my face. “You’re sure you want to do this?” Vick asked as she took the back stairs one at a time. “Yep,” I said with no doubts. “There should be a key under the mat.” If the key was still there, then they were total dumbasses. They knew I knew the key was there. They also knew I was a delinquent—a delinquent they had wronged. One who would be coming back for revenge once the hurt ebbed and anger took its place again. Vick bent over, pulled up the black mat, and snatched the silver key that opened the back door. “I’ll be damned.” She giggled. “It’s like they want to have their shit stolen.” She pushed the key into the door and unlocked it. A smirk tugged on the side of my mouth when she turned the knob, and the door popped open. I went in first, unarming the alarm with the same code the dumbasses didn’t think to change. Once it was off, Vick followed me inside and closed the door. “Is there anything in particular you want from these assholes?” She knew the rage I housed inside me. I’d told her the complete story one night while we lay in bed in the pitch black and listened to a winter storm blow outside our tin covered home. “Take anything and everything you can. Jewelry. Money. Anything that might hurt them.” “And what about you? What are you taking?” I chuckled, enjoying the sting of the cold air on my cheeks. “I’m getting my shit if it’s still here, and then I’m filling my bag with anything and everything I can.” And I meant it. I didn’t matter what it was. I just didn’t want them to have it. They could fuck with me

so easily—use me and toss me away like I was nothing. They had a surprise coming. I took the stairs straight to my old room and pushed the door open, ready to see if they had thrown my things away. They hadn’t. They’d stripped the room completely of me, but in the corner, a box full of my things sat, ready to be taken to Goodwill. I knew that since someone had scrawled the word donate along the side. Snatching up the box, I sat on the bed and pulled back a piece of the cardboard. There on top was a picture I’d secretly kept of Deloris and a few of the kids from the group home. My eyes itched with tears I refused to shed. Life had tilted on its axis, leaving me to grab onto anything to keep from floating away, but looking down at the picture of the only person in the world who had ever loved me, I knew one thing. I had the one thing I’d spent my entire life looking for, and I didn’t even realize it until it was gone. A family. Love. Deloris. I missed Deloris, and as I smoothed my finger over the aging picture, I even found myself missing a few of the kids from the home. But I couldn’t let it rock me. I had to stay the course. I had to stay focused with my mind on the matters at hand. Matters like food, shelter, and warmth since winter was on its way back to town and about to take its toll on New York. Matters like staying alive and keeping Vick’s shit together. She was a wild one, no doubt about that, and obviously had a problem taking things that didn’t belong to her. I did the same, but it was different. Vick stole wallets and cash; Vick stole jewelry when we didn’t need to pawn. Hell, she would have stolen candy from a baby if I had let her, but after some time together, I helped her control her klepto ways. Until today. I’d given her free reign over the Jepson’s house, hoping she would take anything that might leave a lasting mark on their lives. “What the fuck are you doing, Sebastian?” Vick asked from the door, her arms full of expensive goods—things I’d used when I lived in their house. Things I knew would piss Darrell off when he realized they were gone. Good.

“Getting my things. You ready? Or you want to take more?” She laughed, obviously enjoying herself. “Fuck it. Let’s take more.” We left the Jepson’s house with two backpacks full, a box full, and our pockets full. And when we left Sal’s pawn shop later that afternoon, we had enough money to actually go to a restaurant and sit down for a nice meal. I only wished I could be a fly on the wall when Darrell and Jane came home and realized I’d taken all their valuables. To see the utter shock and devastation of knowing their things were gone. Things they could never get back—mementos of their lives. I laughed to myself as I stuffed a piece of steak in my mouth. “What’s so funny?” Vick asked as she chewed at her own medium-rare beef. “Nothing. I just hope my baby batter was worth all their expensive shit.” She laughed. “Doubt it.” Later, as we lay in our beds separated by the blankets we had stolen, we laughed with our bellies full of good food. “Jessica Rabbit? Should I know who that is?” Vick asked as I explained my cartoon obsession. I sat up on my elbow and faced the blanket as if she could see me from the other side. “You’re not fucking serious?” She laughed. “Yes! It’s not like I sit around watching TV all the time, Sebastian. I mean, I couldn’t tell you the last time I watched a movie.” I plopped back on my pillows in shock. I thought I’d had a hard upbringing, but at least I had the colorful fun of cartoons to get me through. Apparently, Vick had even less than I did. “Soon,” I promised. “We need electricity, and we need to buy a TV and a DVD player.” Again, she laughed. “Sure. We’ll just hook it up in the den and relax in our leather recliners,” she joked. “I’m being serious, Vick. We won’t always live like this. It will get better.” She didn’t respond, and I knew it was because she didn’t believe me. Nothing had ever been great in our lives. We couldn’t expect it to get better when it was only bound to get worse. But I had determination. And if I had to lie, cheat, and steal to get somewhere in this life, then so be it. Honesty was always best, but honestly, I was hanging on the edge of everything. I wanted a real life. One that didn’t consist of a tin building without electricity

and no idea where my next meal would come from. Soon, I promised myself before turning on my side and drifting off to sleep.



EIGHTEEN DETERMINATION WAS APPARENTLY MY GAME. After that night, I stalked local businesses for the items we would need to get electricity at our place. A generator. Extension cords. The works. I wasn’t usually one to steal things I didn’t need—always putting wants behind the necessities—but this was different. Everyone should experience the joys of entertainment in their life because without those things, you are only surviving. I wanted to live. Also, we had nearly frozen to death the winter before. Even wrapped in all the blankets we could find while burning anything we could in a large burn barrel we had snagged. That wasn’t going to happen again. We wouldn’t survive. If it was the last thing I did, I’d find us a way to generate some heat. My fingers and toes depended on it. So after casing a few places, I convinced a local kid to help me steal a generator from a Chinese restaurant around the corner from our place for the last ten bucks I had in my pocket from pawning Jane’s grandmother’s ring. He was an obvious tweaker—his eyes wide and red and his hands shaking for his next fix—and I knew he would do anything for his next hit. It worked out. I had the manpower I needed to drag that heavy son of a bitch home, and he had enough money in his pocket to get his high that night. “Holy shit!” Vick exclaimed when I turned on a light for the first time. “This is amazing!” I laughed as she turned a lamp I had snagged on and off with a wide grin on her face. Electricity. Light. Such a normal thing to have and this girl was flipping out because she wouldn’t have to use candles anymore. We would have to make sure we had plenty of gasoline to keep the thing running, but that was fine by me. We only needed light at night, and we only

needed heat on occasion. A source of heat was next on my list. I had cleaned the area around the building we made a home and checked to make sure the place was secure. I didn’t want to wake in the middle of the night to find some crazy fuck standing over me. If we had found shelter in the building, I was positive someone else would try to at some point, and we needed to protect ourselves. Thankfully, we hadn’t had that problem yet, but I wanted to make sure to cover all our bases. Burning the brush I’d cleared to get heat was no longer an option since it was gone, but I knew I would come up with something. If I could steal a generator, stealing a heater should be cake. “I can’t believe you did this, Sebastian,” Vick whispered with emotion in her eyes. I looked away since emotion wasn’t something we ever showed. She was hard as stone, and so was I. We didn’t need to go getting soft now, not when things were slowly looking up. “Well, there’s more to come. I promised things would get better, and I always keep my promises.” Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to keep that promise. A week later, we celebrated Vick’s birthday the weekend before the actual day. We dined and dashed at a seafood restaurant since she was determined to try lobster, and then we managed a few cheap bottles of vodka and drank and laughed on the corner under Graffiti Bridge. Street kids left their stories there, marking their madness with spray paint and sadness under a broken, unused bridge on the edge of the city. Vibrant colors swirled as pictures depicting life, love, and sorrow played out around us. Names in thick unique fonts stood out, naming those who had been in the same predicament as us—homeless, alone, and taking on New York City. “We need to leave our mark on this place,” she slurred, lying back on the dirty concrete and staring up at the artwork plastered on every available surface. “Next time, we’ll bring paint.” “Yeah, you can draw your Jessica Rabbit everywhere.” She laughed. I snorted. “Yep. Except I draw for shit.” She turned on her side, facing me with a smile. “Is Sebastian actually admitting that he sucks at something? No fucking way.” I pushed at her shoulder, rolling my eyes, and took a swig from my bottle. The burning liquid somehow warmed me from the inside out. “I’m great at everything I do.” I chuckled.

“Yeah, right.” Silence moved over us as we stared at the cracking concrete above us. “Sebastian?” “Yeah?” “What’s your last name?” I knew my last name, but for some reason, it had never held any meaning to me since I had no family to hold that name with me. I wasn’t even sure how I had gotten the name or where it had come from. And at that moment, as her question bounced around my brain, hitting all the receptors and triggering terrible memories of my life, I knew I had to drop Stephens. One day, I would make my own name. Something that belonged to me and only me. A name that matched me as a person and the life I had led since I had no family name to claim. “I don’t have a last name,” I muttered, swallowing more of the burning liquid. She sighed. “Yeah. Me either.” Vick was my friend, and somehow, she was slowly becoming like family, but I wasn’t about to hold on to her. I had lost every person I had ever dared to love, and something told me the second I claimed a connection with Vick, I would lose her, too. “This shit is depressing. Let’s do something fun,” she said, standing and throwing her bottle at the colorful concrete wall at her side. The bottle exploded, shattering into bits of glass before falling to the ground. I stood and brushed off my ripped jeans. “Like what?” “I don’t know. Something exciting.” I could see the wheels working in her mind then I watched as her eyes went wide and she grinned. “I got it,” she said, pulling on my hand and dragging me along with her. “I think it’s time I learn all about this Jessica Rabbit.” I laughed. “Oh yeah, and how’s that going to happen?” After emptying my bottle, I threw mine against the wall as we passed; it shattered like hers had before glittering to the ground. “With a TV and a DVD player, of course.” “And where are we going to get those?” I had a feeling I knew the answer, but I asked anyway.

She turned and faced me, her smile growing evil and determined. “The same way we get everything we have. We’re going to take them.”



NINETEEN “BUT IT’S MY BIRTHDAY,” SHE WHINED. “Come on, Sebastian. I promise it will be okay.” I dug my feet into the grass and pulled my arm away. I had no idea when I agreed to go along with stealing a big screen TV that she already had a house in mind. “I’ve had my eye on this place for a while now. If I could live anywhere in the world, it would be in this house. They will have everything I want. I just know it.” “Are you sure there are no alarms?” I asked as I stared up at the enormous house that loomed in front of us. The place looked expensive, and expensive places always protected their shit. I had no doubt an alarm was in place, and if not, a big fucking dog was sure to be on the other side of the fence ready to take a bite out of our asses. “No alarms. I used to sit across the street and watch the dad leave every morning. It’s like the perfect fucking family lives here.” She began climbing the fence, and when she realized I wasn’t following, she turned and sighed. “Just trust me.” “Darrell has a big screen. Let’s just go back to the Jepson’s and take his,” I said as I crept across the lawn toward the fence. “Nope. I want this house.” I stopped. “It doesn’t matter which house it is as long as we get what we want,” I stated. Something in my gut was telling me to turn around. A darkness shivered up my spine, telling me what we were doing was wrong. Usually, I was along for the ride, but this night was different. Something wasn’t right. “Come the fuck on, Sebastian,” Vick whispered as she disappeared over the side of the fence. She was faster than I was, but she still had clumsy moments, which was why I never let her do jobs by herself. She thought she was a professional, and while she was good at stealing, she wasn’t very good at not getting caught. Several times, she had accidentally tripped the alarms.

I thought back to the first night I met her and how calm and cool she had been about breaking into the house. She seemed like a professional then. It was only after working together I noticed that she was carefree about it, never careful enough to cover her back and watch for traps. I lifted myself over the fence and fell to my feet beside her. “You’re getting slow.” She grinned over at me. “Fuck you,” I said. “Let’s get this shit over with.” We moved across the perfectly manicured backyard toward the house Vick had her eyes on for the past few weeks. She said it was the house of her dreams. She wanted a home and family like the one inside. We all had our dreams and envisioned the kind of life we would have if we hadn’t been given away, so I understood her obsession with the house. Even though I’d told her over and over again that I would pick the houses, I knew her birthday was soon. So like a dumbass, I went along with her plan. “Okay, are you sure the people are out of town?” I asked. “Yes. Now quit worrying. We’ll be in and out before you know it.” I trusted Vick with my life. I had no reason to believe she would lie to me about anything. “Fine, but still no lights. The neighbors around neighborhoods like this watch each other’s backs. Let’s just get in, get the shit, and get the fuck out.” “I’m not an idiot, Sebastian. I’ve done this more than you have.” The stolen credit card I used on the back door bent as I pressed it into the lock. Pulling on the knob, the door popped open. “Like a pro,” Vick whispered with a smile. She bumped her shoulder into mine playfully. That was the problem. She played too much in serious situations like this one. I gave her the evil eye, telling her to shut the fuck up, and then moved stealthily through the house. Vick was on my heels as we moved through the place, looking for valuables along the way. The bottom floor was spotless, and we didn’t find much of anything. “Come on,” Vick whispered, taking the stairs to the second floor. I followed her into the master bedroom. “Jackpot,” Vick whispered, tugging on my arm. “Help me get the TV.” Nodding my head, I moved toward the wall with the TV, and we both lifted it from the stand and set it on the floor. It was at that moment, the bathroom door flew open, and a man in a pair of silk pajama pants stepped out. He was yawning with his eyes closed and scratching his head. Once his eyes opened, they landed on us. Vick and I both froze in the

light coming from the bathroom. “What are you doing in my house?” He moved toward the side of the bed with the phone. It was then I saw a lady sleeping on the other side. I held up my hands. “No need for that. We’ll just leave.” I moved toward the door, hoping Vick would follow. Neither of us needed to be arrested. I was standing in the doorway when I looked back. Vick wasn’t there. Instead, she was standing in front of the man, and she was holding a gun aimed at him. “What are you doing?” I said, making my way back toward her. “No. This is not how this is going down.” I broke into houses to survive, but carrying a gun around and pulling it on people was not okay with me. “He’s going to call the cops, Sebastian,” she said in a hushed tone. “Fuck, now he knows your name. I’m sorry. Shit, I’m so sorry.” Her eyes were wild. She was freaking out. “Vick, just give me the gun. We’ll get the hell out of here, and no one will know anything. Let’s just go,” I said calmly as I reached out for the gun. Her hand was shaking, which meant her trigger finger was shaking, too. And then everything moved in slow motion. The husband stood there with his hands up, fear in his eyes, while the wife started to stir. And then she sat straight up in bed and screamed. The gunshots rang out, deafening me as I watched the man fall to the floor. Blood oozed from his neck, and he choked as he tried to breathe. I moved quickly toward Vick, but it was too late. The wife was running toward the door, and Vick was shooting over and over again. Everything went silent except for the sounds of the husband taking his last breath and the wife beginning to choke and gasp for life. And then, the screams of a baby in the room next door. Vick dropped the gun and took off running as if I wasn’t even in the room with her. Her loud footsteps on the wooden stairs echoed through the house. I stood there in shock, sure that I was dreaming, but then the woman started moaning. I should have run, but I didn’t. Instead, I dropped to my knees next to the woman dying on the floor, and I grabbed her hand. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered to her. “I’m so sorry.” Her wide eyes were trained on me as her body started to shake. Blood splattered from her mouth and landed on her lips. She was trying to say something, but I couldn’t

understand. Leaning down closer to her, I turned my head so she could speak in my ear. “Please,” she struggled to say. And then I felt her shaking fingers on mine as she placed something hard and cold in my palm. She closed my hand around the object and pleaded with her eyes. I didn’t know what she was asking me for, but I couldn’t help her. I should have called the police or 911, but I wasn’t thinking straight, and I was scared. I’d never seen anyone die before, and my stomach was twisting with fear. All I did was lean over her and watch as a tiny tear fell from her eye as she took her last breath. I opened my hand and looked down at the locket in my palm. What was she trying to tell me? And then a sound to my left made me jump, and I looked up to see a young girl standing in the doorway looking back at me. She was no more than ten. Her tiny feet peeked out from under her nightgown as her fear-filled eyes took in the scene around her. The woman obviously wanted me to have the locket. I didn’t know what else to do, so I popped the chain from around her neck. I stood holding her locket in my hand. My eyes clashed with the little girl’s once more, and then I took off, running past her and down the stairs. Once I lifted myself over the fence, I puked all over the ground before running off into the darkness. As badly as I wanted to turn myself in, it meant turning Vick in, too, and I wasn’t willing to do that. She was the only family I had—my baby sister. What she had done was wrong, but I couldn’t let her go to jail. I couldn’t. That night, I changed. I lay in bed and blocked out all the memories of the night, completely cutting off my emotions so I didn’t feel the guilt or the hurt tearing me apart. Popping open the locket the woman had given me, I saw two pictures inside. One of the little girl and another of the baby I’d heard screaming. I’d witnessed two people die— parents. I’d left two children without a mother or a father. I’d sentenced them to a life like mine. I’d never get over that for the rest of my life … never.



PART THREE INTO THE BLACK One Year Later



TWENTY I SPENT MY NINETEETH BIRTHDAY ON THE STREETS of New York … alone. And I knew once the colder months came, I would be in hell, but I had no idea how bad it was without some kind of wall to block the winter winds. My shoulders stiffened against the frigid breeze. I had been living on the streets for a while, but no matter how many nights I nearly froze, I never adjusted to the cold weather. Most of the shelters were at full capacity and were turning people away with threadbare blankets. I had accepted one and wrapped it around my shoulders before going on my way. The holidays were around the corner, which had a lot to do with the shelters being full. No one wanted to spend the holidays alone, and everyone wanted a full stomach and a celebration. The shelters always provided turkey and gravy. I wasn’t fast enough, thinking I could wait a day or two before they filled, but that wasn’t the case. It was my fault I would spend the holidays alone and hungry. The one shelter I knew was open and wasn’t at full occupancy had banned me. I had stayed there for a while and had evidently worn out my welcome. Apparently, they didn’t like it when the homeless slept with their volunteers, and since I’d basically fucked every single female volunteer in the place worth sticking my dick in, the place was uncomfortable. When they started skipping you in the chow line and leaving you on a cot with no pillow or thin blanket, you knew it was time to go. I skipped out in the middle of the night, and with no other place to go, there I was, in the middle of winter in New York City, looking for any abandoned place I could find that had enough walls to block the ice-cold air. I was familiar with the area after living there for the past year, but it wasn’t the part of the city I had grown up in. After the night that changed my life—after watching two people die right before my eyes—I had run away and left Vick and everything on that side of the city. I didn’t want to see Vick. Even looking at her would be enough to send me over the edge. Just being close to the street where the murder happened was too much, so I had to go for my sanity. Otherwise, I knew I’d turn myself in and spend the rest of my life behind bars. Behind bars might be a warm place where I could get three hot meals and a cot, but something about being trapped behind the iron bars with someone telling me when to take a piss didn’t sit well with me.

A week after the murder, I had found the article in the newspaper about the deaths. I kept that article along with the locket the mother had given me in my pocket at all times. Weighing me down with regret, it reminded me of the blood on my hands, and that I had left two children parentless. I had essentially killed their parents and cursed those kids with a life like my own. Many times, I would think about finding their graves so I could apologize. So I could stand next to where they rested and wish they could hear me and forgive me. Wish I could take that night back. Wish I could give those kids their lives back. But I never did because no matter how hard I wished, I could never make it go away. I could never take it back. So from that moment on, I followed my gut instincts. That night I had known something was wrong, but I had allowed Vick to convince me otherwise. Never again. I stopped to cup my hands around my mouth and blow hot air into them. The feeling in my fingers would sort of come back when I did that. At least they would tingle, letting me know they were still a part of my body. I eyed the buildings down the street, scoping out my prospects. The street was nice with newly opened businesses and fresh signs, leaving me to think that maybe I should find a better street. Something a little more run down—something with closed businesses with boarded windows. Then I saw it. A building that looked promising. A few stragglers roamed the streets, trying to get home at four in the morning after drinking themselves stupid, but I knew they wouldn’t pay me any attention. And if they did, they wouldn’t remember it in the morning. I jogged down the sidewalk, double checking before I crossed the street, and ducked into the alleyway. The building looked abandoned, so I was hoping to get lucky. I was praying things were looking up for me, and I would find an easy way to get in. There was a door on the side of the building with a busted glass opening covered with plywood. I checked the knob a few times, jiggling it while trying to turn it, but found it locked. The knob had been like touching a ball of ice, making my fingers and palm burn like fire. I blew into my hand again, soothing the burn with the tingle of my warm breath. Looking around for another place of entry, I spotted a window toward the back of the building, but I couldn’t find anything to break the window with. My elbow. It was my only choice even though I knew it would hurt like hell. Pulling off the thin blanket I had draped over my shoulders, I wrapped my arm with the ragged fabric to keep

from cutting my arm, and then I shoved my elbow through the window. The shattered glass came down louder than I wanted, so I sat quietly for a few beats, prepared for someone to appear. When no one came to investigate the sound, I knocked out the rest of the broken glass and climbed in as smoothly as I could without cutting myself on the leftover jagged pieces in the window frame. As I dropped to the floor from the window, I accidentally knocked over a box of pots and pans, and the sound echoed through the room I was in. I cursed before I moved, tripping over things as I moved through the maze of boxes and broken chairs. Finally, I found myself in the front of the building, which looked like it might have been a bar once upon a time. The outside looked run down and abandoned, but the inside wasn’t all that bad. There were tables and chairs and a long wooden bar. Bottles of liquor lined the mirrored wall behind the bar, and dusty lights hung over two pool tables on one side of the room with beer advertisements etched into the colored glass. I moved to explore the place, hoping to get my hands on one of the bottles to warm myself from the inside out, but before I could get a few steps, something cold and hard was shoved into my back. “You could move, but then you run the risk of being shot in the back by a stranger.” I stood frozen with my heart lodged in my throat. “What’s my other option?” “You can start by explaining how the hell you got in here.” I slowly lifted my hands above my head, palms out. “I broke a window in the back and climbed through.” He chuckled behind me, the sound gravelly and broken. “You did a piss-poor job of breaking in here. You made enough noise to wake the dead.” “I thought the place was abandoned. I didn’t think anyone was here.” “Sounds like you didn’t think at all, son.” “I’m not your son,” I snapped. “Are you going to shoot me?” “I haven’t decided yet.” His raspy voice sounded aged with liquor and cigarettes. “What are you doing here?” “Breaking and entering.” “Why?” If I would go to jail anyway, I didn’t see any reason to lie. “It’s freezing out. I needed a warm place to crash, and this place looked about as good as any.” “Do you have anything on you? Guns, knives, nunchucks?” I snorted. “Nunchucks? What century do you think we live in, old man?” “I know how you young kids are. Stupid. The whole lot of you. Now, do you have

anything on you?” I sighed, sleep catching up with me and making my knees knock. “No. I was just looking for a place to stay.” And that was all. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a decent night’s sleep, and I could literally feel my body giving up on me. The only reason I had broken into the place was because it looked empty, but I knew no matter what I said, the man wasn’t going to believe a word. I would get shot in the back, and with how exhausted I was physically and mentally, I wasn’t in any shape to try to fight back. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, and then the pressure from whatever he was shoving into my spine lessened. He moved away from me and headed to the bar, but I remained absolutely still just in case he changed his mind. “A shotgun?” I asked when he settled the cold steel down on top of the bar. “Yep. You never know what kind of hooligans run the streets at four in the morning.” He chuckled, obviously enjoying calling me a hooligan. The little bit of hair he had on top of his head was white and springy, and his beard matched. He was in an old pair of pajama bottoms with what looked like American flags all over them and a too small T-shit that said “Army Strong” across the front. I’d obviously woken him up, which made perfect sense. Most people were warm in their beds at four in the morning. He reached beneath the bar and pulled out two shot glasses. “Drink?” he asked, holding up a bottle of something dark. I frowned. “Really?” Why in the hell would he offer me a drink? I had broken into his establishment … literally. I still had some glass from the window stuck to my shoestrings. Either he was old and crazy or he was trying to drug me. He shrugged. “It would be rude if I had one and didn’t offer, right?” He was confusing me. Why wasn’t he calling the police and having me arrested? Maybe he had another gun behind the bar pointed in my direction. Obviously, my paranoia was getting the best of me, and I knew it was the lack of sleep that was doing it. “What’s going on right now?” I asked, confused. “We’re having a drink,” he said before sliding onto one of the busted leather barstools.

“Now sit. Have a drink with an old man.” “I don’t get it. Why aren’t you calling the cops right now?” He shrugged. “Did you steal anything?” I shook my head. “No, but I broke in.” He rubbed his bloated stomach and then scratched at his beard. “Did you plan to leave in the morning?” I nodded. “Yeah.” He yawned. “No need to go pulling the police out their beds, too then. Seeing as you were just going to sleep and leave.” My eyes took in my surroundings. Something was totally off with him. What man in his right mind wouldn’t call the police when a stranger broke into his place? “Is this some kind of joke?” I asked, feeling insecure and tired. “Son, the sun will be up in a few hours. I’m too damn tired for jokes.” I nodded as I moved across the room and slid onto a barstool beside him. He pushed the shot glass in my direction while he poured himself another drink. Cautiously, I lifted the tiny glass to my lips and tossed the liquid down the back of my throat. Fire streaked across my tonsils, making my eyes water. I gasped and quickly hid the cough that threatened to explode from my lungs. I’d had my fair share of liquor, but nothing that literally burned like fire. I could practically feel the blisters forming on the back of my throat. The old man chuckled and slapped me on the back before he poured me another shot. “Drink another. It gets better the more you drink.” “Yeah, better because you’re dead.” He laughed, his strained vocal cords popping and cracking. “What the hell is this stuff anyway?” I asked as I cautiously downed the second shot. “It’s my own concoction. A little something I cooked up. It’s strong as hell. Just the way I like it.” “It tastes like death,” I muttered as I tried to tame the burn of the second shot. “It’ll put hair on your chest.” “It’s terrible.” “It’s a man’s liquor.” I scoffed. “Yeah, well, it tastes like ass.”

His aged eyes assessed me, taking in my ripped clothes and dirty hands. “How old are you?” My age wasn’t important. He didn’t need to know anything about me, and I was too tired for a lengthy conversation about how I ended up where I was and what I was doing wrong with my life. I didn’t want to hear it. “Why?” I asked, my voice slurring from the burning liquor and lack of sleep. “You broke into my bar. I think I have the right to ask some questions and get some honest answers.” I rolled my eyes, too tired to fire back with sarcasm. “I’m nineteen.” He nodded as if he’d already known the answer. “Nineteen, huh? I figured you were around that age.” He scratched at his scraggly beard once again. “And you’re on your own?” “Yep. I’ve been on my own since I was a kid.” He chuckled and tossed back another shot. “You’re still a kid.” “Yeah. Well, I feel like I’m older than you are.” “Not old at all then, huh?” He winked and chuckled. “Boy, you were the last thing I expected tonight. Of all the places in this city, why the hell did you break into my bar?” “Honestly?” He nodded. “Yep.” I looked around, taking in the rusted chairs and threadbare pool table top. “I thought this place was abandoned.” His smoker’s laugh filled the room as he threw his head back and clutched his stomach. “I guess it’s not the most elegant establishment around, but it’s got character.” “Mike’s?” I asked as I read the fading sign above the door. “Yep. It was my dad’s name. He was a real asshole, so I named the place after him out of spite.” I snorted, enjoying his reasoning. It sounded like something I would do if I had an asshole for a dad. Hell, if I had any kind of dad. “I’m assuming since you broke into my place that you don’t have a home? No family or friends you can stay with?” It was embarrassing to admit, but since the loss of Deloris followed by the bullshit Jane pulled and basically running away from Vick’s crazy, I literally had nothing and no

one. “Nope. No family. No friends. No home.” Fuck it. I was sure it was more than obvious to him I was a piece of shit no one wanted to claim. A nothing that no one wanted to house. He stared at me, making my skin feel itchy from the attention before he screwed the lid back on his bottle and stashed it back under the bar. “Okay. Well, come on, then,” he said, leaving the bar and heading to a set of stairs I hadn’t noticed before. I frowned. “Excuse me? Where are we going?” He stopped, again scratching at his frizzy beard. “Upstairs.” A sick feeling moved into the pit of my stomach. The old man had the wrong idea about me. “Look, old man, I appreciate the drink and all, but if I had to choose between going upstairs with you and going to jail, I’d choose jail. I’ll even call the cops myself if you want.” He stared at me with a weird look on his face before his deep, gritty laughter filled the entire space. When he finally calmed down long enough to wipe away his laughter tears, he shook his head and patted at his pot belly. “I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time, kid. Thanks.” Anger struck me deep. I was tired. Hungry. Pissed off at the world. I had survived some of the worst shit I could think of—things no child should ever have to endure—and he had the audacity to call me a kid. Fuck that. I lost my childhood before I was even able to become a child. “I’m not a kid,” I snapped. He ignored my fit, starting toward the stairs once more. “Hey,” I called out, stopping him. “Where are you going?” “Upstairs. To sleep. In my own bed. By myself.” He emphasized each word. “If you want to crash on my couch, then come on. If not, you can leave the same way you came in.” He disappeared up the stairwell, leaving me to debate my options.

I could trust that the old man wasn’t going to molest me in my sleep, or I could climb out the window and try to find another place to crash. I looked out the window at the cold night. I was running out of moonlight. Soon the sun would be up, and the streets would be bustling. That would mean yet another sleepless night. I didn’t have it in me to go another night without sleep. My body would fold, and I would end up passed out somewhere. Sliding from the stool, I slugged my way toward the stairwell, feeling dead on my feet. My body dragged as I started to climb them step by step. When I reached the top, I knocked lightly on the door, making it creak open the rest of the way. He had left the door cracked for me, knowing I would choose to crash on his couch. Once the door opened, I was surprised to find an entire apartment above the bar. It was open; the kitchen and living space all one room with a short hall on the side that probably went to his bedroom and a bathroom. It was small. Quiet. Warm. I stepped into the apartment just as he was coming down the short hall with his arms full of blankets. He said nothing as he dumped them on a couch that looked as if it had survived World War I. He knew I would stay. He knew I didn’t have any other choice. And as tired as I was, I didn’t care what he thought about me, but I did wonder why he would choose to help a total stranger, much less one who had broken a window and slipped into his bar uninvited. “Why are you doing this?” I asked, my voice cracking with exhaustion. “I broke into your place, and instead of calling the police, you’re going to let me sleep on your couch?” He stood and tossed a pillow onto the couch. “You seem like a decent kid to me. The way I see it, you owe me for that broken window downstairs. You can work it off tomorrow night when we open.” I couldn’t believe my ears. “You’re giving me a job?” I had never had a job before. I didn’t think anyone in the world would hire me, so I never tried. He shrugged. “We could try it out. See how you work out. You can pay off that

window, and we’ll go from there. In the meantime, you can crash on my couch.” I was getting more out of the deal than he was, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. “Thanks,” I muttered. He nodded. “Yep.” He moved back into the short hall, a light from above the kitchen sink slicing across his aged face. “Hey, kid.” “Yeah?” “If you’re hungry, there’s food in the fridge. Don’t drink my beer, though,” he said firmly, pointing a finger in my direction. “I won’t.” After the liquor downstairs, beer was the last thing on my mind. Food, on the other hand … just the thought of it made my stomach rumble painfully. “The bathroom’s right here,” he said, pointing at a door beside him. “And if you get cold, there are more blankets in the closet in the bathroom.” I nodded, hugging myself, ready to raid his refrigerator. “The name’s Clive,” he said. “Yours?” “Sebastian.” He stood a minute longer, his eyes taking me in before he backed away. “Okay. Well, get some sleep, Sebastian.” And then he was gone, disappearing into his room and shutting the door behind him. Sleep was calling my name, but hunger was clawing at the insides of my stomach. I moved into the kitchen area and slung open refrigerator door. There wasn’t much, but I was starving and far from being picky. I made a sandwich and washed it down with a Coke. My stomach growled its thanks, and I felt satisfied for the first time in days. Peeling off my coat, I laid it on the back of the couch before I slipped off my shoes. The couch creaked beneath me as I stretched out and melted into the cushions. As I stared at the faded wood ceiling, sleep slowly claimed me. And for the first time in a year, I slept peacefully without fear of what the streets could do to me when I wasn’t watching my back.



TWENTY-ONE TIME FLIES WHEN YOU’RE LIVING AN ACTUAL LIFE and going to work every day, and the day almost a year before when I had broken into Clive’s place was a distant memory. One that Clive and I laughed about regularly. I’d learned a lot in that time. A lot of things about myself became clear in the months I lived with Clive. The most important thing I learned at that time was I loved to work. All day. All night. Anytime Clive wanted me to work, I was there. It wasn’t even about the pay, which wasn’t great but it was enough. It was about staying busy. It was about starting a project and seeing it through. Even something as simple as stocking bottles in the back, cleaning up after last call, or locking the door before going up to bed. It gave me so much pleasure to get a task and complete it. There was no doubt about it. I was a workaholic. Life was going okay. I didn’t want to think too hard on that since I knew things could change at the drop of a dime, but until then, I decided to enjoy my good fortune and take in everything Clive wanted to teach me. He was a wise man. One who had traveled the world and lived one hell of a life with the pictures to prove it. And he was an honest man, which was something I wasn’t used to after growing up with dealers and crooks. But I liked that about him. I liked that I could trust him, and I really loved knowing that he trusted me. Earning his trust only made me strive to be more trustworthy. It was strange how that worked. When someone gave you respect, you became respectful. He made me a better man. Although you would never hear me tell him that. He became like a father in a lot of ways, showing me the ways of being an adult with a firm hand. And while that sometimes scared the living shit out of me, I couldn’t deny the fact that I loved feeling wanted and cared about by someone in the world who meant it. Clive didn’t have to take me in that night, and he sure as hell didn’t have to give me a job and a place to stay, but something in the back of my mind told me that he was giving me a second chance at a real life. I wasn’t entirely sure I deserved that second chance after

the shit I had done and the people I had hurt, but I couldn’t turn it down. Just thinking about the night that gave me nightmares—the night that made me undeserving—made my stomach twist with nausea. No matter how hard I tried to be happy with my new circumstances, remembering the look on the faces of those I murdered kept me from being completely content. How could I ever be happy when two kids out there were without parents because of me? I’d screwed their life up. I didn’t deserve happiness. It didn’t matter who was there that night. It didn’t matter who pulled the trigger. I blamed myself for the death of the husband and wife—of the mother and father of those poor kids—and of the death of the last remaining remnants of Sebastian Stephens. I wanted to let it go. I didn’t want that life anymore, and with the help of Clive, I knew I was becoming a new man. I was seeing things different and becoming an honest and respectable person—a person Deloris could be proud of. But that didn’t mean the weight of death and murder wasn’t heavy on my heart. “Hey, Jerry,” I greeted the liquor delivery guy as he came around the corner of his truck and opened the back. I wasn’t technically supposed to serve the alcohol. I did some nights, but only when the regulars were around. I wasn’t allowed to serve it, but that didn’t mean Clive didn’t make me stock it. So when Jerry brought the merchandise, I made sure it was stored properly. The boxes were heavy, but I was never one to shy away from hard work. “Sebastian, my man,” he said, straining to pick up the first box load of bottles. “You ready for the weekend rush?” I reached out, taking the box from his arms with a grin. “Always.” “Yeah, I bet. I wish I had a job working in a bar full of good-looking women.” He laughed, and I did, too, because he wasn’t wrong. There were nights when Mike’s would get so packed full of beautiful women I’d find myself walking around with a stiff dick all night. It didn’t matter that Clive’s bar looked like a hole-in-the-wall establishment; on the weekends, the place stayed busy because everyone loved the comfortable, laid-back atmosphere. It also helped that every patron who walked in the door was treated like family. Clive had a way about him that made people love him. He was everyone’s favorite thing about the bar. He was my favorite thing, too. After Jerry had unloaded Clive’s favorite whiskey, I signed the invoice and started

carrying the cases into the supply room. That was my job. I stocked the supply room, kept stock of the alcohol, and cleaned up after last call. I also went down an hour before Clive to get things ready for open. It wasn’t the best job in the world, but I loved it, and I was good at it. Numbers were my thing. Who knew? “Everything here?” Clive asked, coming into the supply room. “Yep,” I said, checking off the final tally. “Eight cases of your expensive shit.” “Language, kid.” He tapped me on my shoulder, reminding me of Deloris and making me smile. Almost a year. That was how long I had been with Clive. And it didn’t matter how many times I bitched about him calling me a kid, he never stopped. Eventually, I gave up and accepted his nickname. I even grew to like it a bit. “Yeah, yeah,” I griped. I didn’t hate it when Clive scolded me. As a kid who grew up with next to no structure, it was more than welcomed. Deloris had tried, but it was different when you lived with the person who was trying to mold you into a decent human being. Clive was the first person since Deloris who had the balls to tell me what was right and wrong. He was the first person since her who cared how I presented myself to others. When I had first started working for Clive, I knew the difference between right and wrong. I understood I was a rude and sarcastic little fuck, but after living on the cold streets, I had become numb to it all. It was different with Clive. Seeing how people responded to him and the respect he earned from others both personal and business—I wanted that someday. It was my goal. Respect. Power. I wanted it all and more. People would one day look at me like I was a king, and if I had to follow the rules that Clive laid down for me to get to that point in my life, so be it. He spoke. I listened. Period.

The rules weren’t bad. Keep your language clean. No getting stupid drunk. No drugs. No exceptions. But the biggest rule of all was I had to get my GED. I wasn’t too happy about that one since school had been my least favorite place in the world, but I wanted to give something back to Clive after all he had given me. So I sucked it up and took the damn test, passing it with a higher score than either of us had expected. “When you’re done here, I was thinking of cleaning out these boxes here,” he said, motioning toward a large pile of boxes that occupied most of the supply room. “You mean the boxes I’ve been telling you to get rid of for the past six months?” He laughed. “This is sentimental junk. You don’t just toss out sentimental junk, kid.” I smirked. “Whatever you say, old man.” I picked up a box and strained under its weight. “What do you want me to do with them? The dumpster out back work for you?” I joked. “Don’t even talk about throwing these babies out.” He patted the box in my arms. “Just move them upstairs so I can go through them. We need the room in here.” Setting the box back down, I returned to the stocking. “Okay, I’ll get started on them as soon I bring in the last few cases.” “Sounds good.” He turned to leave but stopped. Tapping his fingers against the trim on the door, he scratched at his beard with his free hand. “Maybe next week I’ll start showing you how to run this place.” I frowned. “What do you mean?” Did he know something I didn’t know? Was something wrong? Paranoia moved in. I had known good things didn’t last, but I wasn’t sure what I would do if something happened to yet another person I was starting to care about. He shrugged. “I was just thinking it’s time to start showing you the ropes. I could really use your math skills on the books. There’s no sense in you wasting all that good brain power on

stocking shelves.” He laughed and turned and left, leaving me beaming from ear to ear. No one had ever told me I was good at something—with the exception of Jane who enjoyed my fingers and cock in her twat. Clive basically called me smart, and his praise somehow made my heart lighter. I had asked Clive many times before to show me all the steps to running Mike’s, but he had always refused. I was curious what had changed his mind, but I didn’t follow to ask. An hour later, I had only managed to move half of the boxes upstairs. Clive had way too many “sentimental boxes.” I couldn’t understand what the hell was so important that he had to hoard it. A few times, I peeked inside the box as I took it up the staircase to the apartment, but nothing inside looked of any importance to me. I mean, seriously, who needed a beer hat? The way the boxes were stacked originally sucked, making my work even harder. I had to be strategic when moving them to keep the others from crashing down on top of me. But I screwed up once when I slid a box from under another, making the top box fall and spill all over the supply room floor. Setting down the box in my hand, I bent over to pick up the worthless crap that covered the floor. An endless supply of papers covered postcards and old keychains. I picked the stuff up by the handfuls, hoping to make quick work of the cleanup. Sliding some papers to the side so I could stack them, I revealed a little black book sitting on the floor at the bottom of the pile. It was leather, the edges rough and worn down smooth. The pages inside looked yellowed with time, and the binding cracked from overuse. I picked it up, curiosity getting the best of me, and flipped through the pages. Clive’s slanted handwriting covered the pages, but I couldn’t make sense of what he’d written. Mustang. Bucks from behind. Hell of a lube job. Then a phone number. The rest of the pages followed. Cars and notes next to cars. Things like long legs, strong mouth, and wildcat. Camaro. Charger. Corvette. The names went on and on as my eyes moved over the pages. Clive’s chuckle startled me, and I closed the book quickly as if I hadn’t just been reading his personal stuff.

“Looks like you found my little black book,” he said, moving into the supply room. “Little black book?” He laughed. “Damn, you make me feel old, kid. Let me see it.” He held his hand out for the book, and I handed it over to him. He opened it and began flipping through the pages. His grin grew as he read over page after page. “Are you going to tell me what that is?” “It’s where I kept all my ladies’ numbers.” He chuckled, happy memories written all over his smile. “Don’t make me gag.” I gripped my stomach. “Plus, there’s nothing in there but names of cars.” “That’s how I labeled them. It was my system. No real names. Only nicknames. It keeps you from falling into that nasty get to know them pit.” He continued to flip through the pages. “Each lady was named after a car with notes about all my favorite contributions from them, and then I have their number. See?” He pointed at the page. Suddenly, the words made sense. My eyes scanned the page he held out for me. Jaguar. Likes to scratch. Growls. I laughed as it all made sense. “Clive, you’re something else, man.” “What? It worked.” “There are a lot of cars in there. You were a bit of a slut in your time, huh, old man?” I laughed. I couldn’t see it. Clive with his stringy gray hair and frizzy beard. It was funny to think of women lining up for him. “You laugh, but I was quite the ladies’ man. I had no complaints ever. They loved me.” He snapped the book shut. “It seems like a million years ago, but I was something.” I took the book from his fingers and put it back into the box. “Enough reminiscing, old man.”

I turned and started toward the staircase with the box in my arms, but he stopped me and plucked the book from the box. “Keep it,” he said. “What?” Honestly, what was I going to do with a book full of numbers of ladies I was sure were either dead or long dried up in the sex department? “Am I supposed to call them?” He laughed. “No, kid. I’m passing down my legacy to you. Start on a fresh page and fill the rest of the book. Live your life. Love and be loved, but never get attached.” His words made sense to me since becoming attached was the last thing I ever wanted to do again. “Thank you,” I muttered, taking the book. No one had ever given me so much. Even though it was just an old book full of names of old chicks, it was something that had meant a lot to Clive. And for him to hand it over to me, it meant a lot to me. Later that night while lying on the couch, I flipped through Clive’s little black book, his legacy, which was now mine. At the time, I was only joking with Clive about him being a stud, but he had over a hundred numbers in his book. The dates spanned a twenty-year period, but still, I was seriously impressed. Never get attached. The book kept him from doing that, and so it would keep me from doing that, as well. He told me to start my own list, and that was exactly what I intended to do. I hadn’t gotten laid in a while, and it was time I quit thinking about the past and moved on. No more Jane Jetson. No more Vick. No more foster homes and crazy bullshit. Cold streets and empty stomachs. It was all going to change for me. Hell, it had already begun to change for me. I switched positions on the couch, pushing away the bad memories and focusing on the little black book. This book would help me.

Clive had asked me once why I didn’t go out with girls my age. I joked that I didn’t have time because he was a slave driver, but the truth was, Jane had fucked me up, and Vick had fucked me over. Women were evil. Jane made sure I could never love. She fucked with my head and ruined me. And Vick made sure I didn’t deserve anyone’s love. We had destroyed a family. I couldn’t love. And I wasn’t worthy of anyone else’s love. So I would stick to sex only. No. Not sex … fucking. No emotion. No getting to know one another. Just hardcore fucking so I could release the pent-up crazy. Convinced the little black book was a sign, I decided it would be my new escape. Again, my fingers flipped through the pages. The last half of the book was blank except for the very last page. There was only one name but no information or number. Shelby Mustang. I made a mental note to ask Clive about it later. But until then, I needed to come up with a different system. Something that suited me. Clive might have been obsessed with cars, but that wasn’t for me. I knew next to nothing about cars. There was only one thing I was positive I knew enough about. Only one thing that made sense to me. A grin tugged at my lips. I knew exactly what my new system would be. Then I closed the book, set it on the floor beside the couch, and went to sleep.



TWENTY-TWO MINNIE MOUSE’S MOUTH WAS THE HAPPIEST PLACE ON EARTH. I had never had a woman suck me off with so much gusto. She made up for her short frame and small tits with the best deep throat action a man could receive. She earned the name Minnie Mouse because she was the smallest woman I had ever met. Not even five feet tall, the top of her head barely reached my chest. The first time she came into the bar, she was carded. I had no idea a twenty-three-year-old woman could be so small. She was a blast, always willing to do whatever it took to please me. And it didn’t matter what time I called; she came ready and willing to take my cock in any hole I felt like sticking it in that particular night. She didn’t even mind that I called her Minnie Mouse. In fact, I think she liked it. She played the part so fucking well with her squeaky voice and her red pouty mouth. Sometimes, when I caught her directly after work, she would arrive wearing glasses and sporting a ponytail. The ponytail and I became great friends. I would wrap her ebony hair around my fist tight and pull until her neck was taut, her back arched, and I could see her perfectly round face and swollen mouth. She was one of my favorite girls, and always the first one I called when I needed a fast fuck in the supply room while Clive was out running errands. He probably wouldn’t hesitate to commit murder if he knew I was fucking girls in his precious supply room, but what Clive didn’t know wouldn’t kill me. My little black book was coming up on a year old. After Clive had passed it down to me, I began filling it instantly. Eight names had been added to the book since I received it, all cartoon character names, which Clive got a kick out of. Cars weren’t for me. Cartoons were. Minnie Mouse, Daisy Duck, Sleeping Beauty, Smurfette … the list went on. Clive liked to joke that my dick would fall off if I didn’t slow down. And as much as I appreciated his concern, there was no stopping me or my dick. It had a mind of its own when it came to the ladies I met at the bar, and since I worked there every single night, I met a lot. They came in all shapes, sizes, and ages, and thanks to my good looks and sexual

prowess, they rarely said no. And the few who did were still curious about me. I could see it in the way they looked at me. The more I spent time with women, the more I learned about them and the way they responded to me—the things they loved—and what I needed to say and do to make them be everything I needed them to be. “Mmmm, you’re delicious,” Minnie said around the head of my dick. Her words and sweet moans brought me back to reality. I pulled her up from her knees, spun her around, pulled up the back of her skirt, and pushed my sopping wet cock inside her ass. Covering her mouth to keep the noise down, I fucked her unmercifully until her legs went weak and I was holding her up. And when I couldn’t stand it anymore, I squeezed her throat and unloaded inside the rubber covering my shaft. Never go bareback. Never. The last thing I needed was a little one running around when I could barely take care of myself. Not to mention, if these women were so quick to jump in the sack with me, who was to say they weren’t jumping into other sacks. I didn’t want anything long lasting. Whether it be a relationship or herpes. No names. No personal bits of information. Just fucking. We both slumped against the counter, our heavy breathing filling the room. My busting a nut signaled the end of her little session, which meant it was time for her to go. Especially since I knew it wouldn’t be long before Clive returned. Sometimes, the hardest part was getting them to leave afterward without any conversation but not with Minnie Mouse. She was tugging her panties up and smoothing her hair out before I could put my deflating dick back inside my jeans. It was one of my favorite things about her. No doubt she had someone else at home waiting for her, but I was just fine with being a side fuck for her. I didn’t want details about her life, and she never asked about mine. It was a match made in heaven. “That was amazing as usual,” she said, smiling over the compact mirror as she checked her makeup. “You’re welcome.” I grinned. Rule number one: be cocky. Women loved cocky assholes. I didn’t know why it worked for them, but it totally did. There were exceptions, but those were extremely rare.

She laughed, snapping her mirror shut and stuffing it into her purse. “Until next time,” she muttered, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to the side of my cheek. Rule number two: no kissing. Ever. Kissing was too personal. I loathed personal. “I’ll call you.” And I would. Over and over again until she began to bore me. It was the life. Just as she was about to leave the supply room, I heard Clive’s voice calling out my name from the front. “Fuck,” I cursed. “Come on.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the front. Clive appeared in the doorway of the supply room before we could leave, His eyes narrowed, and Minnie Mouse and I came to a halt. Neither of us spoke as I searched my brain for the perfect lie to tell Clive. “Thanks again,” Minnie Mouse blurted out as she held up her purse. “I can’t believe I forgot my purse here this weekend. He was just getting it from the lost and found for me.” I grinned and covered my cough since I knew Clive was never going to buy her lie. Especially since we didn’t even have a fucking lost and found in the bar. “Well, bye.” She hurried past Clive and hauled ass out of the bar. I folded my arms over my chest and attempted to look innocent. “I’m not stupid, kid.” He pushed past me and collected a bottle of whiskey from the shelf. “What? You heard her. She was just getting the purse she left behind.” “Yeah from our lost and found. Since when do we have a lost and found?” I grinned. “Since today?” He pointed a finger at me. “No more screwing in the supply room, you hear me? That’s unsanitary, for Christ’s sake.” I couldn’t help myself. I laughed. Clive rolled his eyes and stepped around me. I followed, laughing hard enough to

make my stomach hurt. “Hey, you’re the one who gave me the little black book. I’m just doing my part to fill it in. Look, I already have the first half filled out.” I held the book out for him to see. He squinted as he tried to read my handwriting. “Daisy Duck? Sleeping Beauty? Rapunzel?” He read off a few of the names. “What the hell did you do to my book, boy?” “Don’t forget Minnie Mouse.” I winked. “Let me guess; Minnie Mouse was the forgotten purse?” “How’d you guess?” “She’s the tiniest thing I ever did see.” We both laughed. “So you traded my classic car system for cartoon crap?” I was officially offended. “Yep. Cars were your thing, not mine.” He shook his head and scratched at his thick beard. “Look, I’m all for sowing those wild oats, but sooner or later, you’re going to have to get serious about someone.” “Whoa,” I said, holding my hands up. “Slow down, old man. I’m still young. What’s the rush?” “I’m just saying. You don’t want to miss out on the one while you’re sticking it to everyone else.” The way he said, “sticking it,” made me chuckle. “I think I’m fine, Clive. Besides, you’re still a bachelor, and you don’t seem to have any complaints.” Hell, as far as I was concerned, Clive was living the dream, and I was beyond happy he had invited me on the ride. He snorted. “I have plenty of complaints, kid. Just no use in crying about it now.” “Oh, come on. What complaints? You have it made, Clive.” Again, he shook his head and turned away from me. “Do what you want, kid. What do I know? I’m just an old man, remember?” Clive had never acted discontent. I had always thought he had no regrets about his playboy past, but it suddenly occurred to me that maybe he wasn’t as happy with his lot in life as I had thought. Had he missed out on the one because he was too busy sowing his wild oats?

“Does this have anything to do with the Shelby Mustang?” I asked, knowing I was entering dangerous territory. Staying out of each other’s personal business was our way. It was what worked for us. His eyes cut to me. “Excuse me?” “You heard me. The Shelby Mustang in the back of the book. You left it blank,” I said, holding up the last page so he could see it. I had planned to ask him about it months ago but never got around to it. Now seemed as good a time as any. “Any particular reason you left it blank?” He pushed the book into my chest, and I closed it, sticking it in my back pocket. “Just forget it, kid.” “Was the Shelby your one?” “I said forget it,” he snapped. I paused, taken aback by his sudden harsh tone, but I couldn’t help myself. I pushed back. “Not going to happen, and you’re the one who brought it up, anyway. Who’s the Shelby, Clive?” He sighed, scratching at his beard before tugging at the tip. “The Shelby is the car of all cars. The car who doesn’t compare with all the others. At least that’s what it was for me. She’s the unicorn of all women. The perfect woman. The myth, the legend. Whatever you want to call her. She’s the one you don’t think exists, until she does.” “So you never found your Shelby?” “I did,” he said before he turned away and started toward the staircase as if the conversation was over. It wasn’t. “And?” I pushed. He paused at the bottom of the stairs and wrapped his aged fingers around the back of his neck. “And I was young and stupid. Now I’m old and alone.” “You’re not that old. There’s still plenty of time to find your Shelby Mustang.” He shook his head, his back stiff and his eyes full of sadness. “That’s where you’re wrong, kid. You’re young now. You think you have plenty of time, but you don’t. Time has a funny way of sneaking up on you. Then the next thing you know, it’s gone. You’re out of time, and you have no one to blame but yourself.” Little did he know, I would never find my version of the myth. The part of me that

could connect with another human being on an intimate level had long been destroyed. It didn’t matter if a “unicorn woman” was running the streets of New York. Even if I did find her, I wouldn’t keep her, and she could never keep me. “I figured you liked being alone,” I said, trying to push my thoughts out of my mind. He sucked at his teeth and tugged at his beard once again. “I’ve adjusted. I’ve accepted my loss. I won’t grow old with someone, and I’ll never have grandkids banging on my door.” Sadness consumed his features, and his voice was slow and depressed. The creases in his face seemed deeper, and suddenly, Clive seemed like so much more than the happy-golucky bar owner. He was lonely. Of course, he wanted a family of his own. No one wanted to grow old and die alone. No one but me, that is. Like Clive, I too accepted I would never have a family of my own. Of course, I was used to that, since I’d never had a family. There would be no wife. No children. No grandkids. But unlike Clive, I was completely okay with that. “I’m sorry, Clive,” I said sincerely. “You have nothing to be sorry for, kid. They are my mistakes. I just hope you learn from them. Having a black book is fun for now, but it’s not forever. You hear me?” I nodded. I heard him, but it didn’t change anything. The sins of my past would never allow that kind of future. So there was no need to even consider it. “What’s on your mind, kid? You look like a ghost just walked through you.” He could see right through me. He always could from the moment we first met. I hated that. “Nothing. I just wish you had a different ending to your story.” He scoffed. “I don’t. Just because I’ve made some mistakes doesn’t mean I wish my life had gone any other way. I worked my ass off to build this bar—to earn respect—to give my life meaning. It led me to this point … it led me to you.”

I frowned, my heart suddenly feeling heavy. “To me? I don’t exactly see that as a high point in your life. I broke into your bar. I’m just a young punk, remember?” “Well, that’s because you’re stupid and young.” He smirked. “I may not have kids of my own, but you breaking into my bar was a good thing, kid. For both of us.” Things were getting too personal—too deep—and I didn’t like it. It made me feel like I was suffocating—like someone was trying to see into my black soul. “I know you have demons, son.” It was the first time he had called me something other than kid. I didn’t hate how the word son sounded. “I just hope you know you can talk to me about anything.” “Thanks,” I muttered, knowing in the back of my mind that it didn’t matter how much I trusted Clive; I would never speak of the demons that tortured me. If I did, I would end up spending the rest of my life in prison for murder.



TWENTY-THREE “MAYBE I SHOULD ADOPT YOU,” Clive said, filling the silence of the bar. I was wiping down the bar top while he counted out the register. It had been a long night, and we were both exhausted. Needless to say, his words came out of left field. “What?” Obviously, I had heard him wrong. First of all, I was too old to be adopted, and second, who in the hell would want to willingly make me a part of their family? No one. That was who. “You heard me, kid.” He chuckled. “What do you think about calling me pops?” “What I think is that you’re crazy.” He closed the register and scratched at his beard. “I’m serious, Sebastian.” Hearing him say my name made me pause, and I stopped wiping the bar. He never called me by my first name. It had always been kid, but after our conversation a few nights ago, it went from kid to son. He was probably the only person in the world I was okay with calling me son. Usually, it pissed me off, but when Clive said it, it warmed me for some reason. Still, something about the way he was looking at me made me believe he was serious, and even though I was all for Clive calling me son, it still scared me. Probably because the only other time I had felt part of something, I found out I was just being used as a sperm donor. Then the time after that, I watched as a family was murdered and broken apart. “You can’t adopt me, Clive.” He frowned. “Why the hell not?” “Because I’m not a kid anymore.” “What the hell does being a kid have to do with it? You don’t adopt someone because they’re a kid.” “Then why do you want to adopt me?” He moved toward me, dropping his stack of the night’s money on the counter in front

of me. “You’re family now, Sebastian. We’re a family. It needs to be legal.” When I was a kid, all I wanted was a family of my own. A perfect grouping of people who would love me for me and accept me into their life. That was something I never got. Clive wasn’t the picture-perfect family I had imagined every night before bed, but he was better. He was real. A perfectly imperfect person in my world who made me feel like I was a part of something bigger than myself. I thought of Clive as my family, too, but I wasn’t about to legally make my fuck ups his, too. If anyone ever found out about what I had done, it would be linked to Clive, and that was unfair to him. After everything he had done for me, I couldn’t curse him with a legal connection to me. “You don’t need to adopt me for it to be real, old man. You’re my family, and no piece of paper is going to make a difference.” “True, but it makes a difference to me.” “Why?” It was not like it mattered. We were in this thing called life together, and until he kicked my ass to the curb, I was there to stay. He chuckled, obviously annoyed with my questioning. “Because I said so.” I ran my fingers through my thick hair, feeling uncomfortable with the conversation. “Sorry. That answer’s not good enough.” I moved away and began wiping down the bar again. I wanted that to be the end of the conversation, but Clive had other plans. “Yeah, well, I don’t really give two shits about what you think is good enough. It’s already done.” Again, I paused, the wet cloth dangling from my fingers. “What the hell does that mean? It’s done? What’s done?” He tugged at his beard and then scratched at the new growth on his cheek. “The process.” I glared at him, a spark of anger igniting in the pit of my stomach. It was one thing to bring up the subject, but it was something else entirely to start it without asking me first. “How the hell can there be a process when I haven’t even given my consent? You can’t

just adopt me without my say-so.” “Sure, I can. I know people.” “Oh, so you’re a part of some New York mafia now?” “Don’t be ridiculous.” I threw the cloth down on the bar and turned to face off with the old man. “For once, I don’t think I’m being the stupid one.” He glared, slamming his hand down on the bar. “I said ridiculous.” “I heard what you said. Now, listen to what I’m saying. You’re not adopting me, and that’s all I’m going to say about that.” “Frankly, son, I don’t really care what you have to say.” “I’m not your son, Clive. I’m no one’s son, and I never will be. I’m damaged goods. Consider yourself lucky we’re not legally related.” Other than my name, and my first name only, Clive knew nothing about me. He never asked, and I never told him anything, and that was the way it would stay. He was better off not knowing how damaged I really was. He’d be disgusted for sure. “I don’t share your opinion, Sebastian. You’re a hard worker, you show respect, and you’re a good kid.” Aggravated, I tugged at the ends of my hair. “I’ve done things, Clive; things in my past I’m not proud of.” And then he laid a grenade on me. “I know about your foster mom, Sebastian.” My tongue felt thick, my throat closing up with shame. An explosion went off in my brain the second his words registered. “What?” I asked, swallowing the shame and disgust of my past. “I said, I know about your foster mom. I know what—” “You don’t know shit,” I snapped, cutting him off. I had never spoken to Clive with so much contempt. Since the night I met him, something about him demanded respect, and after playing the part of the smartass kid for all my life, I stopped and gave him the respect he deserved. That changed the second he even mentioned the woman who fucked me up so badly. I moved to leave the bar, but he reached out, grabbing my arm and stopping me in my tracks. “You listen to me, Sebastian. There ain’t shit in your past that would make me turn my back on you now.” “How the hell do you know? Just because you think you know whatever it is about

where I was before you. You have no idea, Clive. No fucking clue!” “I met the Jepsons,” he said, dropping another bomb right in my lap. I didn’t think he could top anything he told me he knew about Jane, but I was wrong. So fucking wrong. “What are you talking about? And no more bombshells. I want the truth. All of it.” He stared back at him, his yellowing eyes taking in my expression and seeing something that made him cave. He nodded and released my arm. “Fine. You deserve that much.” He moved away from me and slid onto the closest stool. I followed, being drawn in by whatever story he was about to tell. “A few months after you started working for me, I started looking into your past. It was clear you had secrets, and it was even clearer you weren’t going to tell me any of them willingly. So I needed to see how bad they were. I needed to know what I was facing.” I swallowed hard, worrying over exactly how much he knew about my past. Did he know I murdered a family? Did he know I ruined the lives of two small kids and left them parentless? “How did you do that when I didn’t even give you my full name?” He grinned and nodded. “I told you. I know people. A little DNA and I was able to find out your last name.” I was seething, but not because I was angry he had investigated me. I was angry because of how close I had come to losing my new happy life. There was no way Clive knew about the family—about the two people I had basically murdered—about the biggest regret of my entire life. He didn’t know because if he did, he would have put me out on my ass a long time ago. I didn’t say anything. Instead, I let him continue as my nerves ate away at my insides. “I was sorry to hear about Deloris,” he said. And just like that, my stomach bottomed out. Nausea swept over me, and I gripped the bar to keep from falling over. It had been so long since anyone had even said her name, yet the pain was just as severe as the night I had found out she was dead. “She seemed like the only real thing you ever had in your life,” he followed up. I nodded, too afraid that if I spoke, he would hear the devastation in my voice.

“The ladies at the group home were real nice and thought highly of you. They told me all about Deloris and how she thought of you like her own son. They told me how you were moved from one foster family to the next, and then they informed me that you had run away from the last family you lived with.” He stood from his stool and moved closer to me. I wanted to step away from him—I wanted to run—but my feet were firmly planted on the concrete floor beneath me. “They wouldn’t give me names, but as I said, I have my ways. I contacted Mr. Jepson. He had little to say about the situation, but as I was about to leave, his wife came in.” At the mention of Jane, my head shot up and my eyes moved over his face. Did he think I was disgusting? Did he look at me differently, knowing the things I had done with the woman who was supposed to be like a mother to me? “Yeah. I figured that would get your attention,” he said, his grin melting into a frown. “She was a pretty little thing.” I nodded, the embarrassment of my situation choking me. “I don’t know the details,” he said. “But I’m not a stupid man. I’m guessing something happened between you two?” I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Instead, I nodded and looked away in shame. He grabbed my face, his fingers pinching my cheeks until I faced him again. “You listen to me, son. You have nothing to be ashamed of. She was the adult. Not you. Whatever happened was on her. Not you. Do you understand?” He didn’t know the details. At least I had that. I nodded, trying with all my might to agree with him, but my mind wouldn’t process it that way. Suddenly, the bar felt too small for the both of us. My lungs felt deprived, and I sucked at the air around me only to feel nothing. I needed air. I needed to think. These were things I couldn’t do inside the small bar with Clive eyeballing me. Not when he knew that little tidbit from my past. The shame was too much. It was even worse knowing that he had known these things for months. I walked around him and to the door of the bar. He didn’t try to stop me nor did he ask

where I was going. I kept going, holding my breath until I pushed the door open and stepped outside. Only then could I breathe. Only then could I think. I didn’t stop walking until the bar was far behind me and the shame had stopped burning my face.



TWENTY-FOUR “YOU SEEM OFF. WHAT’S ON YOUR MIND GORGEOUS?” Smurfette asked in her signature scratchy voice as she placed soft kisses all over my chest. Her voice was the reason I had given her the name Smurfette. That, and the long blond hair that hung loosely down her back. She was a sweet girl, always willing to give me anything I wanted, but she was my number three. The only reason I ended up at her place and not with Minnie Mouse was because I had called her at almost four a.m. “Nothing,” I muttered, running my fingers through her yellow locks. Closing my eyes, I tried to remain focused on her lips and the places on my body they were touching, but no matter how hard my cock got and no matter how sweetly she sucked at my balls, my mind kept wandering back to Clive and his words before I had left the bar. Having an old man in your mind made it next to impossible to fuck. I ended up leaving an hour later completely unsatisfied and marking a big black line through Smurfette’s name since she almost refused to let me leave her. Clingy was out. I spent the next hour walking the streets to get as much fresh air as I could. Still, I hadn’t processed everything Clive had dropped on me at the bar. I started toward home about the time the sun began to rise over the city. I couldn’t hide from Clive any longer. He respected that I needed space to sort things out, but I didn’t want to push it. I knew him well, and I knew he would have no problem calling out an entire search party to drag my rotten ass home. Home. That was what I had with Clive. He was the closest thing to a father figure I had ever had. The tiny apartment above his bar was more of a home than the expensive brownstone the Jepsons had offered. Everything I ever wanted, Clive had given me without hesitation. Even going all the way back to the night I had broken into his place when he could have turned me in. He could have called the cops and had my ass thrown in jail, but he hadn’t. Instead, he gave me a job, a safe, warm place to sleep, and had filled my stomach and my life.

Even after knowing what little he knew about Jane, he wanted to make me a permanent part of his family. That said a lot about the man he was, and I wanted nothing more than to be just like him when I grew older. I owed everything to Clive, and if his only request was to adopt me, then so be it. It didn’t make sense since I was old enough to be on my own, but somehow, it still meant the world to him. And if I was being honest, it meant the world to me. It might be just a piece of paper, but it was also my life. My chance to legally belong to a family—my chance to have love. Lost in my thoughts, the walk back to the bar flew by. Before I knew it, I was face to face with the door and breathing deeply as I talked myself through opening it. My family was behind that door. My life. And the future I had always wanted for myself. My nerves were on edge, and I felt sick to my stomach, but I knew I couldn’t run from this. Not when I spent all my life chasing after the very thing that waited for me behind the door. Pushing open the door, I crept through the closed bar and to the stairwell that went to our apartment. The place was dark and still, so I was careful not to knock anything over and wake Clive. Once I was on the couch, I was out like a light. I knew it wouldn’t be long before he was waking me and telling me to get my ass up and eat some breakfast. I fell asleep with a smile on my face and my stomach growling for bacon and eggs. When I woke, the sun was setting. I was surprised Clive hadn’t woken me up but appreciated it since my brain and body had needed the sleep. There was still time before we opened, which meant I still had time to talk with him. The shower water was hot and woke me as it splattered against my skin. After my shower, I dressed and made my way downstairs to the bar. Clive was bringing in a case of liquor, and when he saw me, he grinned up at me as if the night before hadn’t happened. I appreciated that about him even though I was ready and willing to have the talk now. “Don’t just stand there, son. Get the rest of the cases and bring them in.” I nodded and did as he said, keeping myself busy until the open sign was on and our regulars started to come in. An hour later, we were packed. The night flew by as I worked to clean and keep things moving so Clive could run the bar efficiently. Before long, Clive was shouting last call, and we were helping George, the resident drunk, into a cab. A few stragglers stumbled out into the night air, and I locked up behind them and went

about cleaning while Clive closed out the register. “It was a busy night,” Clive said as he counted the money. He officially broke the awkward piece of ice that had formed between us. “Yep. Definitely busy,” I muttered. He took a deep breath and set the cash on the counter in front of him. “How do you feel about closing out by yourself tonight?” My confused look made him snicker, but Clive had never gone to bed without closing out. It made me worry. “You feeling okay?” I asked. “Actually, I’m a little tired tonight. I’m getting too old to manage a bar.” I chuckled, tossing empty bottles in the trash can beside me. “About time you admit it, old man.” He laughed and scratched at his beard. “Seriously, though,” he said, the smile melting from his face. “You’ve watched me close out the register enough. Do you think you can handle it?” Again, worry struck me deep. “Of course, I can.” He nodded and slammed the register before making his way around the bar. “Then it’s all yours. I’m going upstairs.” “Wait,” I called out, making him pause. “You’re leaving me here to do it alone?” “Yep. Don’t screw anything up.” “Damn, you really aren’t feeling well, are you? Old age is a bitch.” I smirked, trying to make light of the situation. He chuckled. “Watch it, son.” I snickered, running the cloth over the beer covered bar top. I watched him go upstairs without even the slightest bit of nervousness about closing out on my own. Clive was right. I had watched him close a hundred times. I could close his place in my sleep. Two hours later, I was exhausted. I climbed the steps to the apartment at almost five in the morning. Way more work was involved when you closed alone, but I wouldn’t dare tell Clive that. I could handle it, but it made me realize how hard Clive worked. He was too stubborn

and controlling to hire help he could fully trust. He had done it all alone until I literally broke into his life. I could see why he wished he had a family to share the responsibility with. I could understand all his reasons because I wanted the same. Not for help around a bar, but for the support of another person in my life. I felt like a zombie when I opened the door to the apartment. I wanted to fall on the couch first thing, but I would never get back up, and I needed to piss and brush my teeth. “Holy shit, old man,” I cursed when I spotted Clive sitting at the kitchen table. A soft glow from the dim light above the sink shined across his wrinkled face. “Your first night off in thirty years, and you would rather sit at the table and watch the sun come up?” “Thirty years?” He scoffed. “Try fifty.” “Then what the heck are you still doing up? And why are you sitting in the dark?” “Can’t sleep.” “Why?” I frowned. “I forgot to tell you we have an appointment with my lawyer tomorrow to sign the papers.” My stomach flipped, and if I was being honest, a tiny bit of excitement settled over me. “You couldn’t just wait to tell me that later?” “Nope.” Of course not. “You had the papers drawn up before you even knew whether I would say yes?” He scratched at his beard and nodded with a grin. “It wasn’t a matter of if, son.” “Cocky old man.” He shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.” I sat at the table in front of him, my chair scratching at the linoleum floor, and my heart began to race. I could wait until later to say what I needed to say, but there was no point in prolonging the conversation. I wiped my hands down the tops of my thighs, my jeans collecting the sweat from my palms. “Before we sign anything …” I paused, taking a deep breath. “There’s one more thing you should know about my past.” His expression didn’t change.

“Okay. Shoot.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “It doesn’t matter what you say. Nothing is going to change my mind, but if it makes you feel better, then go ahead and tell me.” I had a feeling he might change his tune once I said the words. My throat felt thick with emotion as I closed my eyes and remembered the look on the woman’s face as she handed over her locket. Death. All I could see was death. “About a year before I broke into your bar, I was breaking into houses.” Just saying the words embarrassed me. Clive believed in me. He thought I was a good person, and telling him these things could change his perception of me. I hated to lose that, but I knew it was something I had to do. “Okay. Go on.” “I wasn’t alone. I had a friend, and we would steal whatever we needed to survive. I didn’t like taking things I didn’t need, but sometimes, we did, so we could pawn them and get the money. “One night, I let my friend choose the place. It was her birthday, and I wasn’t thinking clearly because we had been drinking. I knew it wasn’t a good idea, but I went along with it anyway.” Unexpected tears clogged my throat, and when Clive reached out and patted my hand, I didn’t pull away. “The house was supposed to be empty.” My voice cracked with emotion. “My friend said the family was out of town, but once we got inside, we realized the family was still there.” Clive cleared his throat, his fingers growing tighter around my hand. “Go on, son. Get it off your chest,” he said reassuringly. And just like that, the flood gates opened. I told him everything. I told him that even though I wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger, I felt responsible. I told him about the young girl and the baby I had turned into orphans. I told him there was nothing I could ever do to make it right. I spilled my guts there at the kitchen table as the sun slowly rose to greet us. Tears I didn’t know I was crying ran down my cheeks as I explained all the reasons he didn’t deserve a piece of shit like me in his life, and when I was done, I looked up to find Clive —my father—looking back at me with a look of pure acceptance in his eyes.

“What happened is definitely a tragedy, and nothing you can say or do will change that, but even though you were there, that doesn’t make you responsible. “You can’t control what another person does. I learned that a long time ago, son. And as long as you keep weighing yourself down with the guilt, you’ll never allow yourself to be happy. “I’m not saying forget; I’m saying allow yourself to heal. You can still find happiness, Sebastian, even though those bad things happened.” “How?” He chuckled, leaning back in his chair as the sun sliced across his cheeks. “There’s no magic answer to that. You just have to take it one day at a time.” “One day at a time and never forget,” I repeated his advice. He nodded. “That’s all you can do, son.” The tension between my shoulder blades slowly eased away. Him calling me his son even after knowing my deepest, darkest secret somehow altered me. He shifted in his chair until he was sitting forward. A yawn spilled from his mouth as he scratched at his beard. “Was that everything you wanted to tell me?” I nodded as exhaustion slowly moved in on me, as well. “Yes.” And it was. If I had known how much better I would feel after telling someone, I would have told Clive long ago. But I was so afraid of being turned in—afraid of prison—of facing the truth and having everyone else know what I had done. He patted my hand once again. “Good. Now get some sleep. Our appointment with David isn’t early, but considering you’re going to sleep as the sun comes up, I’m sure it will feel that way.” I stayed seated as he stood and headed for his room. I was too stunned by the moment to move. “So we’re still going then?” I asked. He stopped just outside his bedroom door and looked over his shoulder with a smile. “I told you it wouldn’t make a difference, Sebastian. Family sticks together, and that’s what we are … family. Get some sleep.” He went into his room and shut the door. Once his door was shut, I went into the bathroom and splashed my face with cold water. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I

watched as the icy droplets ran down my cheeks and off my chin. I looked younger as if the burden I had been carrying around had turned me into an old man. The secret had been inside me for so long, and I felt relief knowing that I had released it into the world. The second I was on the couch and my head hit the pillow, I was out. And for the first time since the night that changed me forever, I didn’t have a single nightmare.



TWENTY-FIVE “CHANGE OF PLANS,” Clive announced when I got downstairs the next afternoon. Change of plans or change of mind? It would be my luck that Clive had woke up having changed his mind. Maybe what I had told him this morning really did make a difference? Either way, I had to deal with the consequences. “What do you mean by change of plans?” “My lawyer dropped off the paperwork here. We’ll sign it later and then make it official.” I wanted the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach to be wrong, but I knew there was a real possibility that despite what he was saying, Clive had changed his mind. “Go grab your coat. We’re going out.” I panicked. What if he was turning me in? Where were we going? He slid a piece of paper down the bar toward me, and I picked it up. There was only an address written down on the front. “What’s this?” I held up the paper. “You’ll see. Let’s go.” When we pulled up to the cemetery gates, my heart was in my throat. I looked over at Clive, but he was expressionless behind his aviator sunglasses. He drove through the gates with no hesitation as if he had been there a million times. “Do you know where you’re going?” I asked. He nodded. A moment later, he pulled up alongside a random curb and cut the engine. We didn’t move or speak as we stared out the windshield. “You ready?” he finally asked. “Nope, but let’s go anyway.” He walked beside me, and I was relieved I didn’t have to face the past alone.

He led us to two graves side by side, and we stopped in front of them. The names etched into the shared headstone hurt my eyes, and I had to close them to relieve the pressure building. I was grateful that Clive had brought me to visit them, but at the same time, I felt as though my heart would stop every time my eyes moved over their names. And then it all made sense to me. Coming to their graves wasn’t to ease the guilt. It was to make sure I was feeling the full extent of what we had done that night. I wasn’t alone in this. I hadn’t pulled the trigger. But I was just as much to blame. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, wishing I wasn’t saying those three words to tombstones. “You didn’t deserve this. Your kids didn’t deserve this. I never wanted to rob you of your life together. Please forgive me.” The words came out broken as my sobs slipped free. My remorse—the guilt—shook my entire body as I stood there and cried. An emotional breakdown was long overdue. I cried for them—for their children—for myself. And as I did, Clive put his arm around my shoulder and held me as I shook. “Thanks for bringing me here,” I said. He nodded. “You needed this, son. You can’t ever undo what happened, but you can do your best to make it right. Let this push you to be a better man than you already are. Let this steer you in the right direction.” I nodded, agreeing with him completely. Something good had to come out of all of this, and I was hoping that something good would be the changes I would make to give myself a better life. Maybe one day, I could reach out and help a kid like me the way Clive had helped me. He was right. I couldn’t right the wrong, but I could spend the rest of my life trying to make up for what happened. “Let’s go home, son,” he said, turning me toward the car. After everything I had done, Clive saw beyond my past. And when we got back to the bar, we signed the paperwork to make it official. I was no longer some kid on the street. I was no longer alone. Once we’d signed those papers, I was Sebastian, Clive’s son. It was the happiest moment of my life. I finally had a family.

I returned to the cemetery at least once a month after that. It felt right to visit them and bring fresh flowers. Usually, I found myself alone with flower arrangements and headstones as far as my eyes could see, but that changed when I pulled up. I spotted them the second I pulled Clive’s car up to the curb. At first, I wasn’t sure if they were standing at the very graves I was there to visit, but then I saw her blazing hair and I knew it was her. The little girl from that night. The daughter. The person whose world I had destroyed. I wanted to go over and tell them I was sorry. I wanted to drop to my knees and beg for their forgiveness, but instead, I sat there, watching them grieve for the very lives I had taken. I didn’t leave the car. I couldn’t force myself to open the door. It hadn’t occurred to me that they would visit their parents, but it obviously made sense that they would. Starting the engine, I put the car in drive and drove away. I would visit another day. I was too much of a pussy to face them. When I got back to the bar, Clive wasn’t in the front. “Clive?” I called out, but I was met with steely silence. Moving toward the hallway at the back of the bar, I heard him coughing. It didn’t register as off until he was coughing so hard he couldn’t catch his breath. Alarm bells went off, and I moved quicker to his back office. Poking my head through the door, his back was to me, and he was leaning forward, coughing into a napkin. When the episode subsided, he spun around in his wooden desk chair so fast I didn’t have time to prepare either one of us. “Hells bells, Sebastian!” he snapped. “What the heck is wrong with you? Why are you standing there without saying anything?” “I literally just poked my head in, old man. Relax.” I looked him over. “Are you okay? I heard you coughing.” He waved his hand in the air and stood, walking past me. “You said it yourself, son. I’m an old man. We tend to cough, fart, and drool a little more than we’d like to.” I smirked. “Thanks for the overshare.” “Well, if you’re going to be making a fuss over a little cough, you might as well be aware of everything.” “I wasn’t making a fuss. I was just asking.” “You have better things to be doing. Like getting us ready to open.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, making my way to the supply room. I didn’t want to fuss over Clive, but that cough sounded serious. In the end, I decided to just keep a closer eye on him. If it got worse, I could always make him go to the doctor. And since the adoption was official, he had to listen to me. Seeing as I was his son now and all.



TWENTY-SIX I WOKE WITH A START, the blanket sliding down my chest and letting the frigid air of the room hit me like a block of ice. Sitting up, I blinked until the small room became clear. It was still dark, and I rubbed my eyes to clear my sleepy haze. I wasn’t sure what woke me, but I was left with an uneasy feeling as I listened to my surroundings. The room was quiet … too quiet. I missed the obnoxious hum of the heater running throughout our apartment. It had finally given out on us after having survived two decades with Clive. We were left to survive with small portable heaters and the gas stove until we could get a new unit put in. The end of the year wasn’t a busy time for Mike’s. Most of our regulars were off enjoying the holidays with their families instead of getting sloshed at the bar, so it would be at least a month before we could afford a new unit with the bills piling up. I wasn’t worried about me. I could handle the cold conditions. I had lived through far worse before I met Clive. But I was worried about him. From the couch, I could hear him coughing, the hard, strangled sound echoing throughout his room and working its way out into the hallway. I shivered, realizing that apartment was at least a couple of degrees colder than it was before we went to bed. Noting that the small heater next to the couch was off, I grumbled to myself, knowing we had once again blown the breaker. It was like the tenth time in the past three days, and it was annoying as fuck. The quick drop in temperature in the city, along with the unit going out, had resulted in a cold for Clive. He swore he was fine, but his cough wasn’t getting any better. I was starting to get anxious it would turn into something worse, but getting him to agree to go see a doctor was next to impossible. Clive was my father—I had the paperwork to prove it—and I worried about him as a son would. I owed him more than I would ever be able to repay him. And if getting up to flip on the breaker was all I had to do to give him comfort, then I was doing it. The floor was freezing, and my breath hissed from between my teeth when my bare

feet touched it. I moved through the darkness toward the breaker box and flipped the switch until there was a low buzz, and the small heater beside the couch lit up. Making my way down the narrow hallway, I stopped at Clive’s door. It wasn’t shut completely, and I stood there listening to Clive’s shallow breathing. The hoarse sound made a knot form in the pit of my stomach. Pushing the door open, I stepped inside the room. It was colder inside his room than the entire apartment, and I shivered. “Shit,” I cursed. How long had the fucking power been off? I made my way toward the small heater next to his bed. It hadn’t turned on automatically as mine had, and I cursed again. Some nights, Clive would just fall into bed without turning it on, and it had been one of those nights. No wonder his room felt like the North Pole. I made a mental note to make sure he turned it on every night from then on. The last thing Clive would want was to feel like he was being babysat, but that was too damn bad. I turned on the heater, but five minutes later, the room still wasn’t warm enough. Making my way back into the living room, I pulled the plug from the wall to the heater by the couch, ignoring the spark as the plug came free. Back in Clive’s room, I plugged it in and turned it on high. After twenty minutes, the room felt like a small tropical island. I was satisfied, so I pulled the door closed. Before heading back into the living room, I grabbed another blanket from the hall closet and settled back on the couch. Under a mountain of four blankets, I finally started to get warm. Sleep quickly claimed my warm body, but not long after, I was being woken up by Clive in the kitchen only a few feet away. Pans clanged together, and the water was running. He stomped around, making the apartment feel as though it was shaking. There was no way I could sleep through that. “Are you trying to wake the entire neighborhood or is all that noise special just for me? What time is it anyway?” Twisting, I reached for the alarm clock above my head. The time read twelve, but it was blinking, and I remembered that the power had gone out and reset the clock. Putting it back, I threw my long legs over the couch, and my foot hit the heater that was now back next to the couch. “What the hell are you doing sneaking into my room in the middle of the night?” Clive snapped. He was usually a morning person, but someone had clearly woken up on the wrong side of the bed. “I wouldn’t exactly call it sneaking, old man. The breaker flipped again, and I went in there to turn on your heater that you forgot to turn on before you went to bed. Your room

was freezing, so I put mine in there, too.” “It was like a freaking sauna in there this morning. I woke up in a puddle of sweat thanks to you.” “You’re welcome,” I answered sarcastically. I wanted to pull the blankets back up over my head and attempt to get another hour of sleep, but with Clive’s bad mood and all the noise he was making, I knew that wasn’t going to happen. I got up and made my way down the hallway to get in a quick shower before I headed down to the bar, but apparently, Clive wasn’t done bitching. “I didn’t ask for you to creep into my room in the dead of night and check on me so you can take—” I slammed the bathroom door without bothering to listen to the end of his rant. He was being a damn baby, and I knew it was just better to ignore his whining. By the time I got downstairs, he would be over his attitude. At least I hoped he would. Thirty minutes later, I emerged from the bathroom, and Clive was gone. I knew he would be busy with getting the bar ready for open, and if I didn’t hurry and get my ass downstairs, I was only going to give him another reason to bitch. When I reached the bottom step, I could hear the racket Clive was making in his office from across the bar. I moved in that direction, and as I got closer, I could see Clive bringing in a shipment of liquor. I picked up the pace so I could help him with the last few boxes, but before I could reach him, he did something that scared the shit out of me. I stopped in my tracks and watched as a fit of coughs rattled his old body. He stopped, clutching the box in his arms as he lurched over. Soon, the coughing became too much, and the box tumbled from his grasp and crashed to the floor. Using the doorframe as support, he clutched the wood to hold up his weak body while the fit of coughs shook him. Finally, they let up, and he was able to move away from the doorframe, but I didn’t miss the way his feeble body seemed slower. It was as if his health was declining right before my eyes. At that moment, he saw me standing there watching. His eyes clashed with mine, and we stared each other down for a moment. The knot that had started to form in my stomach the night before grew into a dark fear—a fear that I had never known before. He looked away, breaking our eye contact, and disappeared into the supply room. I followed him in, and without a word from either of us, I started to help him unload. Once we finished unloading, I grabbed a mop and broom and began cleaning the broken bottles and wasted liquor from the floor where he had dropped the box. I wanted to beg him to see a doctor, but I knew that would only make his mood worse. I needed to wait until the perfect time if I was going to get him to agree.

Clive was a proud man, and he wasn’t going to take my concern without a fight on his end. He didn’t like being fussed over, and he was definitely not going to like me questioning his health. But honestly, that was too damn bad. It was his own fault I was so invested in whether he lived or died. He made the choice to take me in and make me a part of his family, which meant now he was stuck with me and my nagging. We had just become a family. I wasn’t about to lose that because he was too proud to take his ass to the doctor. Later, after we had closed the bar and were upstairs in the apartment going through our nightly routine, Clive was drinking a beer and watching whatever had caught his attention on his tiny black and white TV, which annoyed the fuck out of me. Trying to watch my cartoons with no color was a bitch. “I made a doctor’s appointment for next week,” he said without taking his eyes away from the screen. His announcement took me by surprise. I had spent most of the night preparing myself for a fight. I expected a lot of screaming and cursing, but none of that was happening. Relief flooded my veins knowing he had taken the initiative to get himself checked out without me having to step in. “You did?” He scoffed at the TV, but he meant it for me. “Yes. If it will keep you out of my room at night, I figured I’d better make it soon.” I grinned. “You’re a stubborn old man; you know that, don’t you?” He shrugged and took a long swig from his beer. “I’ve been called worse.” The following week, Clive stuck to his word and went to see the doctor. I wanted to go with him, but he wasn’t having it. I could have argued, but I knew it would be a waste of my breath. So I kept my mouth shut and waited patiently for him to return. I was choosing to pick my battles when it came to him. Technically, I had already won since he was actually going to the doctor. I didn’t need to push my luck. Two hours later, when he pushed through the bar entrance, I breathed a little easier. Up until that moment, he hadn’t gotten any better, but sending him off to the doctor alone had made me feel like I might never see him again. “What did they say?” I asked with my arms crossed over my chest. I nibbled at my thumbnail as the nerves took over while I waited for him to answer. He didn’t. Instead, he took a seat at one of the stools and rested his elbows on top of the bar. “Pour me some of the good stuff, kid.” He tapped the top of the counter twice. Pushing away from my spot against the register, I grabbed a shot glass from beneath

the bar and poured him a drink. Sliding it across to him, I poured one for myself. “Is that part of the doctor’s orders?” I asked, pointing at his shot glass with my own before I downed the fiery liquid. “Yep.” He lifted his shot and poured it down the back of his throat. I sighed, my patience wearing thin. “What did they say?” I asked again. He eyed me over the rim of his glass before he set it down on the counter with a loud clank. “Pneumonia.” He shrugged. “No big deal.” “I’m pretty sure that is a big deal, Clive.” He waved me off. “They said it was a touch. It’s basically a glorified cold. They gave me some meds.” He pulled a brown paper bag from his pocket and tossed it onto the bar. “I’ll be good as new in a few days.” I eyed him suspiciously. Part of me worried there was something more, but an even bigger part of me wanted to believe what he was saying was the truth. A glorified cold. We could handle that. No biggie. “You were gone for a long time. Anything else happen?” He tapped the counter, and I poured him another shot. He downed it before answering me. “I had to make another stop.” He slid from the barstool and walked away. I followed right behind him. “Where?” “Hey, I don’t ask you where you go and what you do every time you leave.” I rolled my eyes and leaned against the doorframe of the supply room. “That’s because I never go anywhere, old man.” “Well, maybe you should change that so I can be nosy every once in a while. See how you like it.” “Go where?” I chuckled. “I’m here all the time. I have no time to make friends.”

Not that I wanted any. Friends were highly overrated. “Plenty of girls eye you when they come to the bar. Ever think about making one of them your girlfriend?” I cringed. “Hell, no. I don’t need that kind of drama in my life. I’m good right here running Mike’s with you.” He looked up from his papers with a smirk. “Oh, so you’re running the place now?” I shrugged. “Pretty much.” At that, he laughed. “Since I’m here running things, maybe you should get a girlfriend. Since you’re so fond of the idea.” He scoffed. “There’s no hope for an old man like me.” It was then that the coughing fit started. He grabbed a tissue and covered his mouth as his body weakened with each cough. “You sure you’re okay, Clive?” He looked up at me, stuffing the tissue into his pocket, and I knew he could sense my worry. “For now, I’m fine.” He swallowed hard, choking back a cough. “But there’s going to be a time when I’m not. I’m old. It’s bound to happen. When that time comes, you’ll be fine. Trust me.” I nodded. I opened my mouth to say more, but nothing came out. He needed to know how much I appreciated everything he had done for me, but the words wouldn’t come out. The fear of losing him, as well, was too much. I just hoped deep down he knew what he meant to me. “Promise you’ll tell me if you get worse?” He sighed but nodded. “Fine, but you have to promise you’ll try harder to make friends and meet a nice girl.” I laughed. “Fine.” I had no intention of finding a girlfriend, but if it made Clive happy to think I was looking, then so be it. My focus was getting him better, and then maybe I would try to fulfill my end of the promise. Maybe I would find my Jessica Rabbit and settle down. It wasn’t likely, but he didn’t need to know that.



TWENTY-SEVEN FROM THAT CONVERSATION ON, I DREAMED ABOUT AN ENIGMA. My Jessica Rabbit. Even when I spent time with the other ladies in my book, my thoughts would go back to the mystery girl without a face that I dreamed about almost every night. The only thing I could remember when I woke was her eyes and her mouth. Misty green pools and a set of luscious pouty lips. It didn’t make any sense to become obsessed with a dream, but it was happening. It was embarrassing, to say the least. I was a man who had women, yet the only woman who seemed to keep my attention wasn’t even real. That wasn’t the only bad thing going on around me. A month passed after Clive’s appointment, but it seemed to me that he never really got better. In fact, I was pretty sure he was getting worse. But the more I nagged him about it, the more he hid his sickness. Tucking away into corners to cough and hiding his blood-trickled tissues. I stepped into his office to find him having another coughing fit. When he finished, he wiped his mouth with a tissue and went about his business as if he hadn’t almost coughed up his lungs. “This is stupid,” I said, interrupting him and making him snap his head up in my direction. “Why don’t you just take the night off and relax? Let me oversee things for once.” He chuckled, and his voice sounded rougher than usual. “Keep dreaming, kid.” I moved into his space, taking a seat on the old chair in front of his desk. “I’m serious. I can do this. You taught me everything you know.” He shook his head, his jaw tightening at my words. “I’m sorry, kid, but no.” I tried a different approach. “I really need you to get better. Working all the time isn’t making you better.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in aggravation. “I’m fine, for the hundredth time. Now get out of here and let me finish.”

I wanted to stand there and argue. I was as stubborn as the old man was, but I wanted him to get better not have a stroke from arguing with me. “Fine,” I mumbled. I left and made myself useful, stocking heavy boxes and doing all the things I didn’t want him to have to do. Hours later, we were too busy for me to find time to stress over Clive and his sickness. “What can I get you, sweetheart?” I asked without looking up. All I knew was it was a woman, and women loved it when I called them pet names. That was one of the first things I learned when Clive finally let me start bartending. The more pet names I gave out, the bigger my tips were at the end of the night. “Jack and Coke to start with, and then maybe your phone number to finish?” I looked up to find her staring back at me with a sly smile. She was cute in a sweet and innocent kind of way. Her short auburn bob and round face instantly reminded me of Velma from Scooby Doo. She wasn’t like the usual women I spent my time with, but suddenly, she appealed to me. I was having a hard time with my ladies since my dream woman seemed to be coming out of my dreams and affecting my real life. Maybe a change was what I needed. I smiled at her and cheered inside when a sweet blush spread across her plump cheeks. “Sure thing, sweetheart.” We flirted on and off for the next hour, and when closing time rolled around, she was one of the last stragglers hanging around. I watched as she said goodnight to the girls she had come with and then made her way over to the bar where I was. It was Thursday, and we only stayed open until ten on weeknights. “I know it’s kind of late, but I know a great diner on Jefferson Street that’s open all night and makes the greasiest cheeseburgers on this side of the Village. It will be the second-best thing you ever put in your mouth. Want to go grab one with me?” I grinned and continued to wipe the same spot over and over again. “Oh, really. And what’s the best thing?” I flirted back. She looked down, letting her hair fall on her face before looking back up at me through the lush strands. “Me.” I chuckled, liking the way she brazenly flirted. She looked so innocent and sweet, and to hear her say such dirty things was a major turn-on. Still, I couldn’t leave Clive to close out on his own. As it was, I was trying to do as much as I could so he wouldn’t have to. “That sounds delicious, but I have to take a rain check on that. My old man …” I

started, nodding at Clive. “He hasn’t been feeling very—” “Get out of here, kid,” Clive said, cutting me off. “But …” “I said get the hell out of here. Go have some fun. You promised.” He pulled the cloth from my fingers and started cleaning the bar top. The last thing I wanted to do was go out. Not because I didn’t want to. I did. I hadn’t been fucked properly in a month, and something about Velma, which was what I officially named her, told me she could give me the night I needed. My little black book had been put on hold as soon as I saw that Clive was getting worse. I couldn’t leave him. What if he needed me? “I’ll be fine!” he yelled out. “Now, get the hell out of here before I fire you.” He pushed me from behind the bar and took my coat off the hanger, tossing it at me. I caught it in the air before it could hit me in the face. “Go stuff your face.” He winked. “I don’t want to see your face again until at least noon. Velma looked back at me with a smile as she shrugged her shoulders and waited for me to respond. “Fine, but I’ll be back before noon. Please make sure you turn the heaters on this time. And close that damn window in the kitchen. You’re letting all the winter in through that damn thing. We’re going to end up freezing our asses off one of these nights.” I was procrastinating. Thinking of every reason I could to stay with him a little longer. It was weird how badly I didn’t want to leave him, but the more I thought about it, the more I knew he was right. I needed a night away, and I was sure he probably wanted a night away from me, as well. Clive waved a hand at me, dismissing everything I said. “Get, kid.” “I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” I repeated firmly. “And I’ll be here.” “You’d better,” I mumbled as I turned to Velma. “You ready?” I asked. I had to go. If I didn’t, I would never hear the end of it. Besides, I was only going to be gone a few hours. Nothing would happen to him in a few hours. I pulled open the bar door and moved so Velma could go out ahead of me.

“Oh, before we do this, you should probably know my name is …” I stopped her, covering her pouty lips with my warm palm. “Velma. Tonight, your name is Velma. Got it?” Her eyes lit up with excitement. Some women were weirded out with my cartoon obsession and the need to keep myself separated from them mentally. But more often than not, they enjoyed the mystery of me and the fun of being someone else in bed. Turning before I left, I took Clive in once more. He scrubbed at the bar and cracked his neck. “Night, Clive.” “Night, kid,” he said, smiling up at me with a smile I hadn’t seen since he started getting sick.



TWENTY-EIGHT I GOT HOME JUST AS THE SUN WAS COMING UP. When I walked in, I was relieved to see that Clive had turned on the heaters before bed. It was dark in the living room, so I flipped on a light. Peeling off my coat, I tossed it onto the couch and frowned when frigid air met my arms. Despite the heaters being on, it was still freezing in the place. “What the hell?” I grumbled as I turned to the kitchen. He hadn’t closed the window. I rushed over and closed it, cursing as the cold morning air met my arms. And that was when I saw him. The door to his bedroom was open, and instead of sleeping in his bed, he was sprawled out on the floor. I took off to his room, stumbling into the wall as I made my way inside. I pushed the door open farther, and it slammed into the wall with a loud bang. Still, he didn’t move. “Clive?” I called out from the doorway. When he didn’t respond, my lungs ached with the sudden stop of my breath. “Clive!” I called out louder. I moved into the room, my feet feeling like twenty-pound weights, and moved above him. His eyes were closed, his mouth opened just a bit, and I squeezed my eyes shut and silently prayed that he was just sound asleep. “Clive,” I whispered desperately, hoping his eyes would pop open and he would bitch about me waking him. He didn’t move. I bent over and shook him, and when he didn’t move, I just knew. Pressing my fingers against his neck where his pulse would be, I was met with no movement. Clive was dead. My father was dead. The only family I had ever had in my entire life was dead. Everything inside me shut down. Everything Clive had restored in my soul over the past few years collapsed, and my impenetrable walls fell back into place with a loud slam.

If I couldn’t feel anything, then it wouldn’t hurt. If I couldn’t feel anything, then I wouldn’t die inside knowing the only person who gave two shits about me was no longer a part of our world. I moved away from his cold body and walked in a zombie-like state into the living room to call 911. As soon as I hung up the phone, I left the apartment. Being there knowing he was lying lifeless just a few walls away from me was too much. Fifteen minutes later, the paramedics found me downstairs at the bar. I remained on my barstool as I pointed at the stairs without a word. Another paramedic began questioning me, but I was only capable of single words. No full sentences. No emotional pleas. Just a word for every question. “What time did you find him?” “Seven,” I mumbled, not even sure that my answer was correct. I just knew the sun was coming up, and it usually did that around seven. I kept my head down, focusing on my fingernail as I picked at it. “And he was already deceased when you found him?” I nodded, my head feeling heavy and weak. “Yes.” Before the paramedic could ask me another question, the sound of more voices brought my attention to the stairs where they were wheeling Clive’s body out of the apartment. Our home. My family’s home. The only true home I had ever known. “I just have one more question,” he said. I nodded, my eyes stuck on the sheet covered body of the man I called my father. “What is your relationship to Mr. Brown?” It was strange hearing him call Clive, Mr. Brown. I had always known that was his name, but it was rare that I heard it. They wheeled Clive outside and lifted him into the back of the coroner’s van. I turned away to look back at the paramedic, and one of my walls slipped out of place, allowing a single tear to roll down the side of my cheek. “I’m his son.”

And no matter what, he would always be my father. As soon as they pulled away with his body, I locked the bar and left. I couldn’t be there without him. It wasn’t right. I stayed out all day and throughout the night. The thought of returning to an empty place was sickening. Instead, I froze on the streets as if I didn’t have a warm place to stay. I figured I might as well get used to it again. Word of Clive’s death filled the streets, and anyone who didn’t already know found out when they tried to go to the bar only to find it closed. By the time I got up the nerve to return, it was already morning again. When I opened the door to the bar, the rising sun filled the dead space with a dusty morning glow. I slammed the door behind me and locked it before I moved straight to the bar and pulled out two bottles of Jack. I unscrewed the first bottle and brought it to my lips to swallow down a mouthful. The liquid splashed over the top when I slammed the bottle down on the bar top. Gripping the edge of the bar, I breathed hard. All I could see was everyone who ever existed in my world and exited. Deloris. Jane. Vick. And finally Clive. Whether it was me running from them or them dying on me, everyone was gone, and there was only me. Nothing. No one’s son. No one’s anything. Squeezing my eyes closed, all I could see was Clive’s lifeless body. My nostrils flared as I pulled oxygen in, but it seemed to get stuck somewhere on the way to my lungs. I didn’t want to see Clive anymore. It was enough that I had nightmares about the people I murdered, but to see the body of the man I cared for—my father—was the last thread holding the seams of me together. I dug my fists into my eyes, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t erase the image. So until I could, I would drink. I’d drink every ounce of alcohol in Clive’s bar if it meant it would all just go away. I would drink until I couldn’t remember anything. Not Clive. Not the murders.

Not Vick. Not Jane. And not Deloris. I wanted to forget it all. Drink until the entire world around me went numb. By the time I finished the first bottle, the world around me was fuzzy. And halfway through the second, I went numb. I couldn’t feel a damn thing, and a sad sense of relief came with that numbness. Once I was no longer able to feel my arms and legs, I climbed on top of the bar and laid back. I took short, shallow breaths as I stared up at the ceiling and let my mind drift away. It wasn’t long until the liquor lulled me to sleep, and I welcomed the unconsciousness with open arms. A loud pounding on the door of the bar woke me. I wasn’t sure how long I had slept, but when I moved to sit up, pain shot down my stiff spine. My headache roared, pounding through my brain with each obnoxious knock. “Go away!” I yelled out. Magically, the knocking stopped, but the pounding in my brain remained. Bringing my legs over the bar top, I slid off the bar and fell on weak knees. My fingers twisted in my dark hair as I latched on to my head and prayed for the pounding to stop. Running my palms over my face, I felt wetness on my cheeks. I frowned as I looked at the ceiling, thinking maybe there was a leak somewhere. But then I remembered, and the pain came back hard and fierce. I looked at myself in the large mirror behind the bar. My eyes were red and puffy, my tears making a sloppy trail down the side of my face. A broken sob ripped from my lips when I closed my eyes and saw Clive lying lifeless on his floor once again. It would never go away. The nightmares would haunt me for the rest of my life. My buzz was long gone, replaced by a rage that seemed to fill out the blackness within me. There were so many emotions; no matter how hard I tried to shut them off, the only one I felt comfortable settling on was the anger I felt at knowing I would never see Clive again. It was as if a part of me had died with every person who exited my life, and Clive had taken the last piece. I felt so fucking dead inside. There really was no point in trying anymore. Giving up was the only thing I knew how to do. After years of surviving and losing, I was done. No more.

I no longer wanted to exist. My eyes landed on the bar top, and a box of matches with the bar name printed on the top caught my attention. Without a second thought, I lifted the bottle I had been drinking from earlier and tilted it, letting the brown liquid splatter onto the floor around my feet. Once the bottle was empty, I dropped it, the bottle shattering into hundreds of pieces all around my shoes. Grabbing the box of matches, I pushed it open and pulled out a single match. I struck on the side of the box and watched as the flame danced on the tip, mocking me with the bleak future I always knew I would have until finally, I snapped. I dropped the match, and the flames grew all around me. I was done. I was already in hell. Might as well burn.



TWENTY-NINE I SHIFTED ON THE COT IN MY JAIL CELL for the millionth time, but no matter what position I was in, I still felt fucking lousy. I’d been sitting in the jail for the past five days, and I hadn’t even seen a judge yet. They arrested me and threw me behind bars. The only other person I saw was the guard who brought me three meals a day. No one came. And I knew no one would. I had nobody to call, and even if there was, I wouldn’t have called them anyway. The jail wasn’t exactly where I wanted to be the past few nights, but oddly, I felt comforted by the bars surrounding me. I was still so angry about losing Clive, and I knew I couldn’t be trusted on the streets alone. Not only had I almost drunk myself into a coma, but I had also lit the only real home I had ever known on fire and then passed out. I still didn’t know if the building survived, but suddenly, it mattered so much that it was still there—that all of Clive’s life was still in our apartment. I needed something to hold. I wanted something from him even if I lost the only home I had ever known to someone else. The way I saw it, jail was the best place for me until I figured things out and got myself under control. I only wished I knew when I would be getting out and exactly how much damage I did to Mike’s and the apartment above it. Keys jingled in the distance, and I tilted my head to see the guard coming my way. He wasn’t holding his usual tray, and considering it was lunchtime, I was curious as to why. Sitting up, I threw my legs over the side of the cot and ran my fingers through the knots in my hair. “Good news, Stephens,” he said, making me cringe at the last name I no longer used. “Looks like you’re finally getting out of here.” I stood and walked over to the bars. “Not possible,” I muttered. I had been sitting in jail for five days twiddling my thumbs without so much as a peep from anyone. That was because there was no one. “Hey, all I know is your paperwork is being drawn up, and your release is scheduled for noon.”

He didn’t say anything else as he walked back to his post, and forty-five minutes later, he was back to release me. I stepped out of the cell and in front of him, and he followed me. “Someone’s here for you,” he said, his deep voice echoing against the cinderblock walls. I frowned. “Who?” “He said his name is David Spencer.” “What does he want?” Curiosity was getting the best of me. Where I came from when someone wanted to talk to you or see you it was for a bad reason. “I don’t screen people, kid. It’s not in my job description.” “Don’t call me kid,” I snapped, snatching the plastic bag with my belongings as we reached the front. I had never met David Spencer in my life, but it wasn’t hard to figure out who he was. When I walked into the lobby area, he was the first person to smile at me. As I walked toward him, he set his briefcase down and held his hand out for me to shake. I shook it, eyeing him as he smiled at me apologetically. “Mr. Stephens,” he said, shaking my hand. I hated that fucking name. “Sebastian,” I muttered, hoping he would never call me Mr. Stephens again. “Sorry. Sebastian,” he corrected himself. “I’m David Spencer. I was very good friends with Clive, as well as his lawyer. Do you have a minute to speak with me?” I nodded. It wasn’t like I had any other place to be, and rushing back to the bar wasn’t something I was looking forward to. “Why don’t we sit over here?” he said, leading me to a bench next to the entrance of the police station. “First, I want to say how terribly sorry I was to hear of Clive’s passing. I imagine it’s been very hard for you. Losing a father is a very hard blow.” I nodded again. I didn’t really know how to respond to that. Obviously, he was the lawyer who dealt with our adoption. Otherwise, he would have never called Clive my father. Not to mention, I could feel the raw emotion climbing its way up my throat and begging me to release a painful sob. “Yes. So let’s get to business, shall we?” Reaching over, he grabbed his briefcase and popped it open. “A couple of months ago, Clive came to see me and asked me to draw up a new will to include you.”

I frowned. “I don’t understand. Clive never mentioned you or said anything about a will.” “I’m not surprised. That sounds like him. He asked that I draw up a new will to state that when he passed, everything went to you.” Shock shook me, making me feel as though the world took a big spin. “What?” He chuckled. “I know it’s a lot to take in right now, but Clive left everything he owned to you, Sebastian.” Where did the air go? Suddenly, there didn’t seem to be enough air to fill my lungs. I bent over, sucking in as much oxygen as I could as once again the world spun on its axis a little too fast for my tastes. “The bar, the money, and the building he owns in the city… it’s all yours now.” A crushed feeling filled my chest. I should have been happy to hear that I had so much handed down to me, but nothing, not even money and the bar, could take away the ache of missing Clive. “Why didn’t he tell me any of this?” I asked, knowing David Spencer probably wouldn’t have the answer to that question either. “Maybe he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. You know Clive. He didn’t like making a fuss over things.” A grin tugged at the side of my mouth even though the pain of his loss was still so fresh. David was right. Clive hated making a fuss over things. “But it is a big deal,” I blurted, anger moving back in. “It’s a big fucking deal. How could he leave everything he owned to me? How could he leave …” I couldn’t finish my sentence. The words choked me as the real reason for my anger threatened to suffocate me once more. I missed Clive. “I’m really sorry, Sebastian. I know this is hard on you.” “What if I don’t want it? What if I don’t want any of it?” I expected him to look surprised, but he didn’t. Instead, he just smiled. “Clive suspected you might respond that way. So he told me to give you this. He also had some very colorful responses to that question, but I’ll refrain from repeating those.”

As he spoke, he reached into his briefcase and pulled out a white envelope. On the front was my name, and I recognized Clive’s twisted handwriting. I took the envelope from him, my fingers feeling numb. “Why don’t you read that and then stop by my office later this afternoon.” He handed me his business card and then took a deep breath as he stood. Before he got very far, I called him back. “Why was I released? What happened to the charges?” He shook his head, a blazing white smile on his face. “They were dropped.” “Dropped?” I could hardly believe my ears. “But why?” He shrugged. “The bar’s in your name now. Technically, there can’t be any charges against you.” I didn’t respond. I didn’t have a response. “I’ll see you this afternoon, Sebastian. Take it all in.” And as I left the police station with my belongings and an envelope from Clive, I planned to do just that. FOUR HOURS LATER, I found myself outside the office of Spencer, Walters, and Associates. I stood outside the building, staring up at the massive construction. I hadn’t been to this particular part of the city in a long time. Inside, I let the guy at the front desk know who I was there to see, and he sent me up to the tenth floor. The elevator doors opened to a snazzy reception space with a smiling redhead behind the front desk. After telling her who I was there to see, I sat in the waiting area until David came out. “Sebastian,” he said as he made his way into the waiting area. “I’m glad you came. I had my doubts that you would show, but Clive assured me you would.” I snorted. “Clive thought he knew everything.” David laughed. “That he did. Follow me.” I followed him to his office, which was larger than the reception space I had waited in and took a seat in one of the two chairs across from his desk. He plucked a folder from his desk and began pulling out papers. Spreading them out, he lay them down in front of me. “I just need to get your signature on these, and everything will be finalized.”

I took the pen when he handed it to me then paused above the paperwork, not even sure of what I was reading. “Can you walk me through everything?” I asked. “Of course.” He leaned forward until he could see the documents in front of me. He pushed one set toward me. “This first set of documents is your taking ownership of the bar. Take your time and read through it. Then I’ll just need you to initial and sign the last two pages.” I nodded and leaned over the document in front of me. My eyes scanned the words, but I didn’t actually read them. I probably wouldn’t have understood them anyway. All I needed to know was that Clive trusted the guy, and if Clive did, then so did I. Flipping to the last few pages, I initialed and signed where he had indicated. I hated signing the name Stephens on the line, but I knew it was something I had to do since legally Sebastian Stephens was my name. When I was done, I pushed the document back to him and waited for him to go over the others. “These last three are all stock and bonds, bank accounts, and the building in the city. It’s a nice place but a little run down. Could use some love, if you asked me.” I scanned the pages, barely listening to what he was saying. “So if I sign these?” “Well, once you sign, it all belongs to you. The property, the money, everything of Clive’s would now be yours.” “His legacy,” I whispered with a smile. “I believe that’s what he called it. So yes … his legacy would be yours.” I initialed and signed where David instructed, and then he left the room to make copies of everything. When he returned, he handed me a folder with my copies of the documents I had signed. I hesitated when he offered the folder because this was the final moment. Taking the folders meant I was accepting Clive’s legacy, which in my mind felt like I was accepting his death. I wasn’t. But he was gone, and I was all alone once again. Clive had kept so many of my demons away by keeping me busy with work and life. He made me realize the bad things I had done all those years ago weren’t my legacy. He made me realize I had much more to offer, but with him leaving me so suddenly, I was reminded once again how evil and cruel the world was.



THIRTY One Year Later THE PAST YEAR OF MY LIFE SEEMED TO FLY BY IN A BLUR. I closed Mike’s, since it was nothing without Clive, but lived in his apartment. I ate mostly ramen since I didn’t have a job and still slept on the couch even though Clive’s perfectly good bed was just a few steps away. I couldn’t do it, though. I had issues even going in the room, much less sleeping there. Instead, I closed the door, hoping the memories of finding him dead on the floor would stay locked behind the door, as well. I drank way more than I should have, considering I had a supply room downstairs full of liquor. And when I felt like the loneliness would eat me alive, I left and walked the streets, letting the cold air sting my skin until I went numb again. I was on one of my lonely strolls when I ran into someone I never thought I would see again. I had reached the end of the curb when my ankle buckled in my drunken stumble down the darkened sidewalk. I fell into the wall, hitting my shoulder against the brick building that caught me. A cloud of beer-tainted breath hissed between my teeth. My shoulder felt like it was on fire, but the alcohol running through my system quickly dulled the pain. I would be feeling the pain when morning came. Pushing against the bricks, I flipped around until my back was against the wall. The cold air burned my lungs when I sucked in a deep breath as I tried my best to stop the world from spinning. Closing my eyes, I took a few more deep breaths, mentally preparing myself to move again. Normally, I would be smart and drink at the bar, but I couldn’t stand to be in that place. Not when it was officially the one-year anniversary of Clive’s death. For the entire day, I sat alone and dwelled over the date as the walls of the place closed in on me, making me feel like I was suffocating. Being in that place alone left me feeling raw and angry. I felt rage for everything I had lost in the past year of my life. I was falling apart, and even though I knew it was wrong to feel that way, I felt like it was all Clive’s fault. So many times over the past year, I wished I had never crawled through the window of Clive’s bar. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be feeling the pain I felt. I was alone and broken inside

before I met Clive, and I had accepted that life. When he came into my life, he had slowly put the pieces of me back together. But when he died, I came apart in ways I hadn’t known was possible. Of all the losses in my life, Clive’s left the biggest scar. I stayed wasted, hoping to numb myself from everything. Hating Clive felt wrong, but I couldn’t help it. I hated him for leaving me. I was angry with him for not getting better like he promised he would—for leaving me his legacy, knowing I would screw it up and never fulfill it. He set me up to fail and didn’t even have the decency to stick around and watch me destroy my life. That was what I did. Destroyed things. I was sure I ruined my birth parents before I was even born. I blew through every foster family I ever had like a category four hurricane, including the one where I fell in love with Jane. I devastated a family I had never met, leaving two kids orphaned, and for what? For a fucking TV and hope that maybe, just maybe, I could show Vick all about Jessica Rabbit and my sick, fucked-up fascination with cartoons. Clive had been wrong to think I could do anything with his long-forgotten future. I was fucked up in the worst of ways, and the type of stupidity I was cursed with had no cure. Rage moved through me, making my bones feel broken and my skin bruised. I pushed away from the wall in search of more liquor, needing not to feel. I hadn’t gotten two steps when I heard a noise in the dark alleyway at my side. Everything was fuzzy, including my hearing, so I wasn’t sure exactly what I was listening to. I stopped and tried to focus on the sounds. “I said get the fuck off!” The angry words were cut short, and there was another muffled sound. “Do you think I care what the fuck you said? I paid for this; now you’re going to fucking deliver.” “You paid for twenty minutes. It’s been twenty minutes.” “It’s not my fault you took so long to get me off. Now you’re going to give me something extra.” “The fuck I am!” I could hear the struggle of the two in the dark of the night, but I couldn’t make out their shadows. Instinct told me to mind my own damn business and keep walking. I wasn’t exactly in the state to fight, but something about the girl’s voice stirred my insides. No

matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t convince myself to walk away. “You bitch!” the second voice hissed. “You fucking bit me, you stupid slut! That’s fine; you want it fucking rough, that’s exactly how I’ll give it to you.” “Touch me again, and I’ll fucking kill you!” He laughed, and I knew if I didn’t step in, there would most likely be two dead bodies in the morning. “She said to leave her alone,” I growled into the darkness. The sound of struggling stopped, their deep breaths echoing through the night. I moved to step deeper into the alleyway but figured that wasn’t a smart move since I didn’t have a clear view. One stranger stepped out of the shadows with a knife in his hand, ready to strike. But once he moved into the light and got a good look at me, he stopped. I wasn’t sure what it was about me that made him pause, but I liked to think it was the absolute disregard for anything in my eyes that put fear in his heart. “Listen,” he said, licking at his sweaty top lip. “I got no beef with you, all right? The slut owes me. So why don’t you keep on walking and forget what you saw here?” The Earth was still shifting around me, the alcohol in my blood making me dizzy and unbalanced, but I stood tall, hoping he thought I was sober enough to put up a good fight. “Not going to happen,” I said. “You have two choices. Get the fuck out of here, or see how good my aim is. If I were you, I wouldn’t bet on me missing.” I didn’t have a gun on me, but he didn’t need to know that. I didn’t blink as I stared back at him and watched the conflict in his eyes. His gaze moved over me, searching for a gun, no doubt. His swallow was visible as he debated the choices I gave him, and then with a curse, he decided not to take the chance. “Whatever. Keep the slut,” he hissed. His steps echoed through the alley as he walked away. I stared at him until he was no longer visible before I turned away. That was when I saw her. Her dark hair was loose around her face; trash stuck to the ends of a few strands. Her face was so pale it practically glowed in the dark, and her lips were swollen and bruised as if she had been punched in the mouth. Her features were older, her eyes harder, and her body language was that of a cobra; poised and ready to strike. My gaze moved away from her face, taking in her dirty, ripped clothes. She was dressed in a worn leather jacket, a ratted old shirt, and a short denim skirt that had more holes than fabric. I looked away, allowing my eyes to settle once again on her familiar face.

Vick. “Sebastian? Is that you?” The deep rasp of her voice instantly sent me spiraling back to another dark time in my life. Murder. The liquor in my stomach soured as it danced its way up my throat and threatened to spew. “Vick.” Her named tumbled from my lips. She wrapped her arms around her middle, and her eyes lit with anger and embarrassment. But just as fast as it appeared, it was gone, and she squared her shoulders. “Stop fucking looking at me like that, Sebastian,” she hissed. “What are you doing here, Vick?” She was the last person in the world I expected to run into. Especially on such a terrible anniversary. I was busy mourning the loss of Clive. The last thing I wanted to think about was the loss of the family I had destroyed. “Like you care,” she bit out angrily. I shrugged. “You’re right. I don’t.” Hurt softened the hard lines around her eyes and mouth, and a very small part of me felt bad. Maybe I wasn’t as dead inside as I had hoped. “Fuck you, Sebastian.” I sighed. “It’s been a long night.” “It’s been a long couple of years,” she snapped. “Again, not that you cared.” I lifted my arms in the air. “What do you want from me?” “Some answers to start with.” “I don’t have answers. At least not to the questions you want to ask.” She ignored me and asked anyway. “Why did you leave me behind, Sebastian? Why didn’t you come find me? Where have you been this whole time?” “I told you I don’t have answers, Vick.” “You owe me, Sebastian.” “I don’t owe you shit. I’ll see you around.” I turned to walk away, but she was right on my heels and followed me down the street. “The fuck you don’t. You just disappeared. No note, no ‘goodbye, Vick, have a nice life,’ nothing. Why, Sebastian? Why?” She grabbed my arm, forcing me to stop. “Why?” “You murdered two innocent people, that’s why! I couldn’t stand to be around you.

You reminded me of everything I hated about myself.” My words cut her deep. I could tell by the gasp that exploded from her mouth. Replaying my words in my head, I even winced at their harshness. But the truth hurt, and what I had said was all truth. She didn’t back down. She didn’t walk away. “And now?” she asked, quietly. She was desperate and seemed fragile. Both things she had never been before. Taking my first real look at her, I could see what the past few years had done to her. It made me wonder where we would be if I had never left. “Now.” I sighed. “Now, I have new reasons to hate myself.” “I never meant for you to hate me, Sebastian.” I didn’t respond. What was really left to say anyway? I didn’t know exactly how I felt about Vick, but seeing her and walking up on her and that guy left me with an uneasy feeling. “You want a drink?” I asked. I wasn’t sure why I offered the olive branch, but I did. It was probably because I was lonely. I was sick and tired of being alone and sad. Sure, we had a past, but for just one night, I could forget about that if it meant having someone around to help me forget about Clive. She smiled. “After the night I had, I could definitely use a drink.” “Let’s get out of here before that guy comes back with his friends.” It didn’t take us long to get back to Clive’s. We stood outside the dead building. Just looking at it made me feel as though I couldn’t breathe. Every time I stood outside the place, the reality of what I lost was like a blow to my chest. “Mike’s?” Vick mocked. “Sebastian, this place looks like a dump. I doubt they even have any alcohol in this place. Let’s just find somewhere else.” “It has alcohol,” I told her, and when I walked up to the front door, Vick looked around nervously. “I know you’ve been out of the whole breaking and entering game, but it’s best if we find a window or something in the back.” Her words twisted painfully in my chest, but I pushed away the memory and fished for the keys in my pocket.

“Sebastian, seriously, let’s go around back.” I pulled out the keys and held them up in front of her face. “Chill, okay?” She frowned. “How the hell did you manage to swipe the keys to this place?” “I didn’t swipe anything,” I said, unlocking the door and pushing it open. “I own it.” Her eyes went wide, and her mouth sagged open a little as she stared at me. “What the fuck do you mean you own it?” “Exactly what I said; it’s mine. Now, are you going to go in or are we just going to stand outside and freeze our asses off?” A million questions formed on her lips, but she kept her mouth shut and walked in. Shutting and locking the door behind me, I passed her and made my way to the bar. “How the hell do you own this place?” she asked, looking around. “And what the hell happened to it?” She was referring to the half of Clive’s still charred from the fire. It had been a year since I tried to burn the place down, and I had no plans to clean up my mess. The place couldn’t run without Clive. There was no way I could handle doing it on my own. What would be the point of fixing it up? “There was a small fire.” “Okay, now can we get back to my other question? How the hell do you own this place?” I sighed. There was no way to get around the question. I knew Vick, and she wasn’t going to drop it. “Drink first, answers second.” I placed two shot glasses on the bar. She took a seat on the other side and waited while I poured. Setting the bottle of Jack down, we picked up the glasses and downed them in one swallow. “Okay, we drank. Now, spill.” And so I did. The story came out, filling her in on everything I had been up to since I left her. I told her about Clive, his death, and the legacy he left behind … left to me. I told her everything, and I knew while I was speaking that it was more the liquor talking than me. When I finished, she told me what she had been doing since I left, and how she hadn’t been lucky enough to find someone like Clive. Instead, she had spent time running with Anthony, my ex-boss and biggest drug dealer in New York, and his crew. Things were different after I left, and Anthony had become too intense without me

there to balance things out. She fought her way out of his grasp and left, going into hiding since he didn’t believe in women leaving him. With no money, she fended for herself and had turned to selling the only thing she had worth anything … her body. It killed me that she had felt forced to do that, but I couldn’t regret my decision to leave. We spent the rest of the night drinking and catching up. “Do you ever think about them?” I asked, releasing the words and thoughts before I could stop them. “Who?” she asked with a frown. At first, I thought she was purposely being clueless, but I realized she really had no idea who I was talking about. “From that night, Vick. The family.” “Oh.” She looked away. “No, I don’t. Why would I? It’s over and done with.” I took a swig from my bottle, the liquor fueling the fire in my stomach from her words. “We killed them, Vick. We took those parents away from those kids. They will never see each other again because of what we did.” “We didn’t have parents.” She shrugged. “The world is unfair, Sebastian.” “It’s not the same. We couldn’t help what happened to us.” “I can’t change what happened, Sebastian, and you running away from me wasn’t going to change it either.” I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. We sat in silence as the sun slowly started to rise, melting away the night fog and sending a spark of light through the boarded-up windows of Mike’s. It bothered me that she was so indifferent toward a night that had basically blackened my soul. She so easily put it behind her. How could she never think of them again? “You have a good life here, Sebastian,” she said several minutes later. “It’s not much, but it’s much nicer than the place we used to have.” At that, I chuckled. I could barely remember the terrible tin building we tried to survive in and how difficult it was with no electricity or water. “Why are you wasting it?” she asked, breaking through my memories. “I’m not.”

“The fuck you aren’t. Look at you,” she said, pointing her bottle at me. “You expect me to believe this is a one-time thing? You expect me to believe you don’t live your life drunk out of your mind? We know addicts. We know drunks. You’ve got the yellowed eyes of a man who drinks too damn much.” “I expect you to mind your own damn business.” “Well, too bad. You could really make something of yourself. It’s not every day people like us get handed a future wrapped in a pretty little bow.” “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Maybe, maybe not, but I can see that this Clive person meant a lot to you. And he obviously cared a lot about you, too, if he left you everything. How would he feel if he knew you were wasting it?” “Stop,” I growled. “I told you; you don’t know what you’re talking about.” Despite my snapping at her, she pushed. If Vick was nothing else, she was persistent. “Come on, Sebastian. You could really make something of this place.” “No.” You could open your own place. I can help you.” “No.” “I’ll be your assistant. I’ll do whatever the fuck you need.” “I said no!” I growled, throwing the bottle of Jack over her head and smashing it into the wall behind her. I slammed my fists down on the bar, and she flinched. I was breathing hard, and the sound filled the now deadly quiet space. “Fine,” she said coldly. “You said no.” She crossed her arms. “You didn’t need to waste an entire bottle of Jack, though.” My lips twitched as her sullen words managed to melt my anger. I held back my smile. I could have strangled her if I wasn’t so busy trying to shake the guilt of her words away. It was true. Clive would be kicking my ass if he knew I was wasting away his legacy. Legacy. The word left a bad taste in my mouth. I was tired of saying it, of thinking it. Clive wasn’t thinking when he left everything to me. He was wrong about me. He was so fucking wrong about me. “Let’s go,” I said, standing from my barstool. “What? Where?” Panic moved across her expression. “Upstairs. There’s an apartment up there where I stay. I’m beat, and I’m assuming you

have no place to crash tonight. No place warm anyway.” “I don’t need your pity. You left me a long time ago, and I’ve been doing just fine.” “You call selling your ass just fine? You and I have a different definition of the meaning just fine then.” “Fuck you, Sebastian.” “I’m not in the mood to argue. Follow me or don’t, but I’m locking up, and you’re either staying or getting lost.” “You’re a dick now.” “Wrong; I’ve always been a dick.” “Not to me, you weren’t.” She looked hurt. “I’m going.” I made my way up the stairs to the apartment. Seconds later, I heard her footsteps creeping up the old wood stairs. It would be weird to share the small space with someone after so long. After Clive died, I was so hell-bent on keeping myself in an alcohol-induced state that I hadn’t bothered bringing anyone into my space. “So this is your place,” she said, leaning into the door and looking around. I went around, picking up old food containers, dirty laundry, and cups. “You’re welcome to stay somewhere else if it’s not good enough for you.” “Oh, shut it. I’m just giving you shit. It’s better than the streets.” “You can sleep in the room in the back. Just let me get it ready.” She shrugged. “I don’t mind taking the couch.” “Nope. That’s my bed.” “You have a room in the back, but you sleep on the couch? Why?” “Why do you have to question everything? That shit’s annoying. It’s a bed. When’s the last time you slept in a bed?” “True. Fine. I’ll take the bed.” “There are drinks in the fridge, and I’m sure there’s something edible in the kitchen. I’ll be back.” I made my way to the back room and stood in front of Clive’s bedroom door. It was closed. I’d closed it the day I left David’s office, and I hadn’t opened it since. Taking a deep breath, I turned the knob and pushed it open. The room was dark, cold, and empty. Not that I had gotten rid of anything of Clive’s,

but he just never had anything to fill the room. He wasn’t big on material things, and that showed in the way he lived. It wasn’t until after I came around that he decided to make the place more of a home. I didn’t need all that stuff. It was already more of a home than I had ever had. Pulling Clive’s blankets off, I stripped the bed and put a new sheet on that I’d found in the hall closet. I dropped a folded blanket on the bed and shook out the pillows. I didn’t like being in his space, so I turned to leave, letting Vick know her bed was ready. “Okay, I got some blankets. The bathroom’s down the hall if you need it … Shit, are you fucking kidding me?” I cursed. “You couldn’t wait five minutes?” There was no reply. She was passed out on my bed … the couch. Walking over to her, I draped my blanket over her, and she snuggled under the warmth. I hit the light switch on the wall and made my way back to Clive’s room. I had no choice. I wasn’t about to cuddle up with Vick on the small ass couch. In the room, I sat on the edge of the bed and looked around. It was one night. I could sleep in his room for one night. Standing, I moved to walk around the bed, and that was when I saw it. The envelope David Spencer had given me. Clive’s familiar handwriting had scribbled my name across the front, and my heart ached from missing him so much. I hadn’t opened the envelope. I couldn’t. Instead, I tucked it away in Clive’s room with the rest of the paperwork I had gotten from David, hoping to forget. I sat on the edge of the bed again and stared down at the envelope. Until then, I hadn’t been one bit curious about what he had written to me, but at that moment, my fingertips burned to tear at the seal and hear from Clive once more. His final words to me could either make it worse or make it better. Either way, I needed to hear from him. Turning the envelope over, I slid my finger under the flap and tore it open, pulling out a yellow piece of paper. My fingers stung from the cold as I unfolded the paper and stared down at more of Clive’s handwriting, without comprehending the words. Finally, I settled on the first sentence …

To my one and only son, You brought purpose to my lonely life. I know you think you’re a black spot on this Earth, but what you don’t realize is you shined a lot of light on all the dark places in my life. Thank you for giving me something to smile about before I left this world. Now, don’t you be a stubborn ass like me and turn this opportunity down. I firmly believe you came into my life for a reason, and it was so that I could have someone to remember me when I’m gone. So I could have someone to leave my legacy to. Take it. Enjoy it. And when you find your Shelby Mustang, you hold on for dear life and spoil the hell out of her. I love you, son. LIVE. My breath rushed from my body, leaving me breathless and weak. For the past year, I had convinced myself that Clive had made the biggest mistake of his life by leaving everything to me. Clearly, he hadn’t been in the right frame of mind because if he had, he would have known better. But after reading his words, I felt like I could do it. For the first time since he left me, I felt like it was possible. From the very beginning, Clive had seen something in me that I hadn’t, and it was time I proved him right. I would build what he left behind and make it everything he ever dreamed I would and more. But first, there would be some changes. For starters, I was no longer the boy I had once been. I had been groomed by the darkness of life—changed and formed by evil—landing in the shadows of a past I never wanted to look back on. Sebastian Stephens would always live there … in the shadows. But I couldn’t be him anymore. I needed to get away from that name—that life—those memories. Sebastian Stephens was no more. The darkness had taken him completely, leaving everything black. Sebastian Black.



THIRTY-ONE Two Years Later SCHEDULED TO OPEN IN UNDER A MONTH, I stood staring up at my nightclub’s building and its unique architecture, taking a minute to grasp what I had accomplished in the past eight months. Construction inside was nearing an end; all employees had been hired, thanks to Vick, and I’d finally chosen a head chef and bar manager. Vick handled all my employee communication. She had become my right hand in all things since the night I had found her selling her ass on the streets, and honestly, I couldn’t imagine the club opening and running smoothly without her. I would never tell her that, though. So much had changed in my life over the past three years, and finally taking it all in left me feeling proud of what I was able to create. It was more than what I built—more than the money I had managed to triple—it was the changes in myself. I was no longer lost—no longer visibly broken. I was no longer a nothing. I was molded and changed thanks to my past and thanks to Clive. The power I held was addicting, and I held strong to it—making myself someone—making myself irreplaceable to a lot of people. There wasn’t a soul in the city who didn’t seek my respect, and that kind of power was raw and inviting … consuming. I instilled fear in the hearts of people, making sure no one ever tried to mark me, and so the name Black spread, and Sebastian Stephens ceased to exist. “What are you doing standing out here?” Vick asked, coming up behind me. She had changed as well. Becoming colder and stronger—only allowing me inside her brain—she broke the bones and hearts of many a man. “I’m admiring the sign.” She stood next to me, her shoulder bumping into mine. “It looks good.” “Yes, it does.” I shoved my hands in the pockets of my expensive suit. It had been cut specifically for me as were all my clothes. “Clive’s is going to be the hottest club in the city, just you wait.”

Her words were true. I would make it so. “I have no doubt.” And I didn’t. Clive’s, the club I was opening, was much more than my accomplishment. It was Clive’s dream, his legacy. If it weren’t for him, I would have nothing … be nothing. I would make the club a success if it was the last thing I did. “Are you coming in any time soon?” Vick asked. “No. I have something to do first.” “Are you going to tell me what that is?” “No.” “Didn’t think so. I’ll see you later, then?” I nodded, rocking back on the heels of my expensive leather shoes. “Yes. Make sure to send that envelope to David’s office, okay?” “You never said what’s in it.” “And I don’t plan to. Send it,” I demanded. “Whatever you want, boss.” “I’ll be back. Have Martin bring the car around?” “Will do.” “One more thing … make sure the movers deliver those boxes from the old apartment to here. All except the one box marked office stuff can go into the new apartment.” “I’ll send them over there now. They’ll be here by the time you get back.” And then she was gone, her heeled boots clicking into the night. Minutes later, Martin pulled the car in front of me and got out to open my door. I disappeared behind the tinted windows and watched the city go by as he drove to my destination. Thirty minutes later, we were across the city in another time, another life. We pulled through the gates of the cemetery and alongside the grave I hadn’t visited in a long time. The guilt never fully went away, but I could keep it under control when I paid my respects. Getting out of the car, I made my way toward their headstone. They were side by side, together in life as well as in death. Wilted flowers dotted the top of their plot, and judging by their state of decay, I knew it had been a while since she had been there, too. Thinking about her—about them, the children I had left orphaned—tugged at the knot in the pit of my stomach that I knew would forever grow and fester.

I didn’t show emotion anymore, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there, tucked just behind the beating organ that metaphorically felt all things. Kneeling, I plucked the dead flowers from the grass and set them down next to my feet. The fresh wildflowers I had brought with me fell from my fingers and filled the metal vase at the base of their headstone. Visiting them always reminded me I would never fully be rid of my past sins. No matter how much success I had or how big Clive’s would become, I could never really be completely happy. I didn’t deserve it. Their daughter and son would never know happiness because of me. It was only fair, since I had made my bed all those years ago, that destroying their family would haunt me until I died. Being around Vick only stirred those feelings. I wasn’t even sure being around her was something I would be able to do and still look at myself in the mirror the next day, but seeing her and what had become of her, I knew I couldn’t turn my back on her. Part of me felt like if I could save her … I could save them. As idiotic as it sounded. Vick was my responsibility now. As long as I kept my eye on her, she could never hurt anyone again. As long as I knew where she was and what she was into, I was keeping her and everyone in her path safe. If her hands were clean, then so were mine. Just because there was no fixing me didn’t mean I couldn’t at least try to fix her. I stared long and hard at the graves, knowing it would be the last time I would come and visit for a long while. She was getting older, and the risk of running into her was too great. I would have no way to explain why I was there or how I knew her parents. Part of me wondered if I would be able to hold in the truth about what I had done if I ever did see her and look her in the eyes. Thankfully, I had only seen her from afar. I turned when I heard the vehicles approaching behind me. My heart gave a hard pound against my chest, but I could breathe easy when I realized it was a procession for another funeral. Car after car passed, blocking me in as they made their way to say their final goodbye to their loved one. It would be a while before I was able to get out of there, but that was fine. I had one more stop. I walked across the cemetery until I was standing in front of Clive’s grave. I hadn’t been to see him in a while, but I knew he wouldn’t be upset with me. It was with good reason. “It’s almost finished, Clive,” I said, kneeling over his marble headstone. “I think you’d like it.” I smirked. “No, I think you’d love it. It’s … our legacy, old man.”

Once the procession cleared, I went back to the car and gave Martin directions. The club. When I arrived, the box I had been waiting for was in my office perched on top of my desk. Pulling it open, I sifted through to make sure everything was there. Pulling out a stack of folders, I watched as two things fell from the pile. One landed on my desk, the other at my feet. Picking up the piece of paper on my desk, I recognized a date scribbled on the back in Clive’s handwriting. Flipping it around, I stared down at the picture. It was old and worn, the corners bent and torn. Faded lines splintered out, distorting the picture some but not enough that I couldn’t make it out. Clive stood in front of Mike’s with a smile plastered on his face. By the looks of the place, Mike’s had just opened. Seeing this picture was bittersweet, knowing that Mike’s was no more. I had sold it to a lady who planned on turning the place into a yoga studio. A place like that wouldn’t do well in that kind of neighborhood, but a sale was a sale. Bending over, I opened the bottom drawer of my desk and put the picture inside. Shutting the drawer, I saw my little black book on the floor. A smile tugged at my lips as I bent to pick it up. Sitting in my chair, I flipped through the pages. I had only begun to fill it before Clive got sick. A light tap sounded on my door before the door opened and Vick walked in. She sat on the other side of my desk. “I see you got the box.” “Yes, I did.” She leaned forward in the chair, and her brows pulled together as she eyed my fingers. “What the hell is that?” “My little black book,” I said simply. “Your little black what?” I flipped the book across the desk, and it slid before she caught it. She opened it to the first page, and her eyes moved over the words. She flipped through the empty pages before stopping on the last one. She stared at the name I knew was written there before closing it and tossing it back at me. “So it’s a fuck book?” I smirked. “More or less.” “Cartoon characters? Isn’t that a little childish?” I shrugged. “It’s my thing. Fuck off.” “So who’s Jessica Rabbit?” I stared at her for a moment before getting up and standing in front of the window that

looked down over my new nightclub. “I don’t know yet, but maybe someday I’ll find her. Until then, I think it’s time I start filling up the rest of those pages.”



WILMA AND BETTY FUCK LIKE porn stars. I knew from experience because I’d been fucking them for the last four months. I dug my fingers into chocolate hair and pressed down until the back of her throat massaged my slippery tip. A flat tongue added pressure underneath my shaft as a dainty hand massaged my sack. A moan pressed against the back of my teeth and Betty giggled on the head of my cock. The loud slurping filled the hotel room, as she sucked me like my come was the answer for world peace. Strawberry blonde hair moved up and down between Betty’s thighs. She moaned over and over again, as Wilma licked and sucked her sweet, pink folds. The wet smacking noises were an aphrodisiac, pushing me faster toward release. It was a beautiful thing to hear and watch—nerve candy for the five senses. I couldn’t hold back any longer—especially not with two sexy women fucking and sucking everything in the room. I let go, coming hard and fast with a string of curse words. Both ladies captured my spray, lapping it up like a fine wine, licking their lips as my personal flavor coated their tongues. It was truly a thing of beauty. Later, with both women asleep beside me, I peeled back the sheet and crept from the bed. Wilma muttered something in her sleep as I slipped on my pants and buttoned my shirt. My expensive jacket covered my arms and the tie around my neck was perfectly tied. When I left the hotel room, I was thoroughly sated and ready to take on the chaos of New York City at night. By the time I made it back to the club, Vick was waiting in my office. “You look like you’ve been thoroughly fucked and sucked into oblivion,” she said, pouring me a glass of my favorite scotch. “Wilma and Betty…” I hummed. My fingers wrapped around the glass of Johnnie Walker, as I melted into the leather of my favorite chair.

I’d spent many nights with the redhead and brunette. They were my favorite threesome go-to girls. Wilma ate pussy like a starved woman, and Betty sucked dick like she was going for a gold medal in blow jobs. “I’m surprised you’re not bored with them yet,” Vick snorted. She pulled off her jacket and threw it across the back of the black leather couch in my office. “Not yet.” A grin stretched my face, and I swished my scotch around, making the ice clink against the sides of the glass. Victoria, a.k.a. Vick, was my assistant and had been for the last six years. We grew up in foster care together, and she was my right-hand man. We covered each other’s asses when shit got out of control, which it tended to do when we were younger. She was the only person in the world who knew every detail of my life—the biggest hard-ass I knew— and the only woman in my life I hadn’t fucked. It wasn’t that Vick wasn’t attractive, she was sexy in a Laura Croft: Tomb Raider kind of way; it’s just she was more like a sister to me. I didn’t have any siblings. Hell, I didn’t have any family, so our relationship was special, even if I never told her so. Men found her attractive. Her long, dark hair was always pulled into a tight ponytail, and her wardrobe consisted of black. She had pouty lips that were formed into a permanent frown and big cerulean eyes. Vick made her resting bitch face look sexy—like she was minutes away from slinging a whip and fucking you senseless. I kicked lots of ass over her growing up. Then, I ran away from the system, leaving her to fend for herself. It killed me when I found out she’d earned money selling her ass during the years we were apart. Needless to say, when I became the rich fuck I am today, I pulled her along for the ride. I made sure she’d never have to lie on her back for money again. “Any luck finding your Jessica Rabbit?” she asked, fingering the night’s paperwork, putting together figures. Tilting the glass to my lips, the smooth liquid slid down my throat, igniting a burn in my chest. I set the glass on a table and stood. “Jessica Rabbit is a myth. There are no Jessica’s in the world, but if I find one, you’ll be the first to know,” I winked. “What’s it looking like?” She held up a paper with a smile. “Tonight was good. Ten grand more than last night. Looks like the article in the New York Times paid off. Of course, the fact they named Clive’s the ‘hottest new nightclub in New York’ didn’t hurt.” I took the paper from her and looked down at the percentages. She was right. Clive’s had brought in almost double the revenue from the night before. The fact I was banking so much on a weeknight meant I had single-handedly built Clive’s into a success. I’d come a long way from the seventeen-year-old punk I used to be. I owed it all to Clive… the nightclub, and the man himself.

When I was nineteen, I came face to face with the end of Clive’s shotgun. What could I say? I was into some crazy shit. He could have turned me in. Hell, he could have killed me, but instead, he gave me a job at his hole-in-the-wall bar and taught me everything he knew about the business. He became like a father to me. The only father I knew, since mine had dropped me off on a set of church steps with a shitty diaper wrapped around my ass. Sadly, Clive died when I was twenty-two, leaving me the bar and some old stock and bond certificates. I sat on those certificates as I worked the bar and lived in the tiny apartment above it. It wasn’t until years later, I found out those certificates were worth millions. I took that money, opened my own place, naming it after the man who gave me everything and became the twenty-nine-year-old success I was today. I rubbed elbows with celebrities, and some of the wealthiest men I knew became rich due to my advice. Women threw themselves at my cock like it was made of pure gold. I didn’t turn anyone away. Until eventually, I got bored with the same tedious women and their dull positions. Taking matters into my own hands, I started a little black book. Inside my book was a buffet of women who were willing and ready for my call. Each one specialized in something different, and each one was named after a cartoon character of my choosing. “Okay. Good work, Vick. Go home and get some sleep. It’s almost three in the morning. If we’re doing this well on a Thursday, you’ll need tons of rest for the weekend.” I set the papers on my desk and turned toward the door. “Also, hire a new waitress. When I was coming through earlier, I saw a few tables waiting for service.” “I’m on it,” she said, turning the desk lamp off and heading my way. Locking the office door behind us, I walked her to the black Chevy Camaro I bought for her birthday two years before. It wasn’t the most expensive car, but it was what she chose. “See you tomorrow,” I said, shutting her car door. Going back into the club, two bartenders were still inside closing up. The lush crimson and black décor made the place look dark and sexy. Once the lights went out, you could barely see your hand in front of your face. The walls were wrapped in blood-red swag, and black chandeliers hung from the ceiling like sinister diamonds of light. The twenties-style pieces placed throughout the room topped it off. It was designed exactly as I requested. “Good night, Mr. Black.” The petite blonde bartender said when I walked by the bar. “Lock it up tight,” I instructed. Taking two stairs at a time, I moved quickly toward my apartment above the club. Not many people knew I lived and worked in the same building, but the paranoia that came with teenage years full of drug slinging kept me from leaving the club unattended. Once inside, I stripped down and went for a hot shower. Eight, strategically placed,

shower heads beat my body with steaming water. It felt good to wash away my earlier encounter with Wilma and Betty. Sighing out loud, I knew this would be the most relaxing part of my night as the ability for a good night’s sleep had eluded me for years. My history took away all the peaceful moments in my life. Sleeping through the night like a normal person wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. A couple of hours here and there was all I needed. Before going to bed, I flipped through my book and examined the names—ranging anywhere from Disney and Looney Tunes, all the way to Hanna-Barbera. My eyes landed on the B’s and then bounced around until the name Bambi caught my attention. Losing myself in a wet and ready woman always kept the past from rushing up on me… and it had been weeks since I’d lost myself between Bambi’s thighs. Maybe a change of pace was what I needed. It was time to give her a call tomorrow. I STOOD AND ZIPPED UP my slacks. Shoving my arms into my shirt, I pulled the collar close and buttoned each button quickly. “What’s the rush?” The seductive voice came from behind me. Turning around, my eyes devoured a pair of long, shapely legs. The perfectly shaved V between her thighs glistened and reminded me that not five minutes before, it had milked me dry. She sat up and put on the purple, silk panties I’d bought her a few months before. “This will be our final visit,” I muttered dismissively, tying my tie. She was developing feelings, and I wasn’t down for that shit, at all. Touchy-feely nonsense was something I wanted nothing to do with. Also, I was bored with her, which I remembered was the main reason I hadn’t contacted her for weeks. She was a bad investment, who had taken an obscene amount of time getting me off. That was all the proof I needed. Because of her, I was going to have to get a quick lunch versus my usual at Red’s Lounge. “Excuse me. May I ask why?” she questioned, slipping silk bra straps over her shoulders. Her name wasn’t actually Bambi, but I never asked for their names. They were irrelevant. I only needed to know their bodies, and they only needed to know mine. I gave my women a name that suited them. For this chick, Bambi was a perfect fit. Every time she wanted something she’d look up at me with big, pleading, doe eyes. It was annoying. When I told her Bambi was her new name, she smiled like it was a compliment. Little did she know, she was just a fill-in until something better came along—my myth, my Jessica Rabbit. She didn’t even get full payment and thought the grand I paid her each week was worth what I made her do in bed. I plucked my jacket from the back of the chair and stepped around the bed.

“Wait a minute. Let’s talk about this.” She whined, hopping on one foot, attempting to put on her sex kitten heels. The hotel room door slammed in her face before she could stop me. I adjusted my tie and pressed the button on the elevator. An aggravated sigh pushed past my lips, and I shook my head when the door opened behind me. Thankfully, the elevator opened at the same time. She gawked at me with those big doe eyes, clad in only a bra, skirt, and heels. As the elevator doors closed, I could see a mascara-filled tear sliding down her cheek. It disgusted me. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my book and opened it. Licking my thumb, I shuffled through the pages until I came to Bambi’s. I drew a thick black line through her name and number, and then called to have the payments to her account stopped. STANDING IN FRONT OF THE two-way mirror in my office, my eyes admired the crowd of dancers below. This was mine. The building, the club, everything was mine. It was the only thing I truly loved. The only thing I would never get tired of. The beat of the music shook the glass, and I pressed my palms against it to feel the vibrations. The door to my office opened, allowing the music to come in and blend with the sensations running through my fingers. I didn’t bother turning around; I knew who it was. She shut the door behind her, making the room silent again. “So I tried to pay my monthly mortgage today, but the lady told me I no longer had a mortgage. Apparently, my condo has been paid in full. Know anything about that?” Vick inquired, accusation dripping from her tone. I was hoping she’d never bring it up. With my back to her, a knowing grin tugged at the side of my mouth. “Nope.” I quickly changed the subject. “Any deep pockets out tonight?” She didn’t push the whole money situation, and I was glad. I never wanted to be put on a pedestal as some financial hero, and I could always count on Vick to keep me grounded. “Definitely some deep pockets.” I heard the smile in her voice. “You coming down? There are a few red-carpet walkers asking for you.” Spending the night in a VIP room full of celebs used to be exciting, but not so much anymore. I’d slept for shit the night before—nightmares waking me every time I closed my eyes. I wasn’t feeling it. But like any other good businessman, I knew I had to make an appearance—act the part of the rich club owner. It was total bullshit. I knew it, and Vick knew it, too. “Yeah. Let them know I’ll be down in a bit.” Vick didn’t respond, but the door opened and closed again.

Turning away from the mirror, I grabbed my coat and buttoned it up as I took the steps. I was instantly hit with loud music and red lights when I stepped onto the main floor. I moved along the outside wall to the bar for a drink. I’d need the good shit if I wanted to make it through the night. With my back to the bar, I had a front row view of the sweaty bodies grinding against each other. The distinct smell of alcohol and sexual desire floated around the room. Once I got the attention of one of my bartenders, I nodded at him, signaling I was ready for my first drink. I didn’t have to wait long before a glass was sliding in my direction. Turning, I leaned against the bar and took in the room, sipping my drink. My eyes bounced from one half-naked woman to the next. And then I saw her. Long waves of crimson fire shimmered in the lights, as she worked her way across the room. She turned and smiled at a table full of guys who were talking to her and making obscene gestures. Her thick-lipped smile kindled something deep in my groin—a tiny spark ignited and made my balls ache. Long lashes skimmed her cheeks, amplified by the eye-batting she gave the guys before walking away. When she turned my way, I saw the name Clive’s stretched across her full chest. The yellow T-shirt material clung to her breasts, and I could see the white lines of a simple bra underneath. She was oblivious to her seductiveness, which made her all the more appealing. Maneuvering around the room, she turned from one side to the next, giving me different views of her curves. She obviously worked for me but had no business in a place like this. Her face full of makeup wasn’t fooling anyone. Her inner beauty shone through in the way she moved. Even with the tight shirt and short shorts, she stood out. She was a bright, white beacon of beautiful innocence amongst all the sin swimming around the club. She was pure perfection, with flawless, ivory skin and round hips that begged for my touch. She was exquisite, she was timeless, and little did she know, she was as good as mine.

LITTLE BLACK BOOK

My name’s Sebastian Black, and I want to buy you. I could have any woman I want, but I choose you. NO RELATIONSHIP, JUST SEX. Here’s my offer… I’ll put your name in my LITTLE BLACK BOOK, and when I want you, I’ll call you. When I call, you’re going to come, in more ways than one. It will be mutually pleasurable for both of us. There are only two rules: DON’T EVER DENY ME. DON’T FALL IN LOVE. If you do either, I’ll remove you from my book and payment stops. Do we have an understanding? AMAZON US AMAZON UK

LITTLE BLACK BREAK

My name’s Sebastian Black, and my life as I know it is over. My little black book days were numbered the minute I met Rosslyn. She became my one and only and lightened my dark soul. But now my past is threatening my future—threatening the woman I love. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her. Even if I have to lie—pretend to cheat—I need her to leave my world and remain safe. Breaking her heart is killing me, but I refuse to let my old sins destroy the only good in my life. If you love her, let her go. If you’re dangerous like me, pray she stays away. I won’t let her get caught in the crossfire. No matter who I have to break. AMAZON US AMAZON UK

Be sure to check out more from Melissa Andrea! Darkness Duet Series The Edge of Darkness The Grace in Darkness The Discover Series Flutter Shatter – Coming Soon The Black Trilogy Little Black Beginning Little Black Book Little Black Break The Wrath of Sin The Procedure Jack Hammer

Stalk Melissa Andrea www.melissaandrea.com www.Facebook.com/m.andrea.author www.twitter.com/melissa_andreaa www.instagram.com/melissaandreaink/ Newsletter Andrea’s Addicts

Be sure to check out more from Tabatha Vargo! Slammer Sacked Black Sheep The Chubby Girl Chronicles On the Plus Side Hot and Heavy The Blow Hole Boys The Blow Hole Rock Hard Box Set Playing Patience (Zeke) Perfecting Patience 1.5 (Zeke) Finding Faith (Finn) Convincing Constance (Tiny) Having Hope (Chet)

The Black Trilogy Little Black Beginning Little Black Book Little Black Break The Wrath of Sin The Procedure Jack Hammer

Stalk Tabatha Vargo FOLLOW ON AMAZON www.tabathavargo.blogspot.com www.facebook.com/tabathadvargo www.twitter.com/tabathavargo Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/R29_5 BE A WICKED BITCH! Join Tabatha in her Facebook group for a kickass time.

Represented by Jane Dystel of Dystel & Goderich Literary Management



YOU! Yes, you! Thank you from the depths of hearts for reading and loving Sebastian Black. We knew when we first started Little Black Book that he was going to be hated and loved. It was truly our pleasure and a joy to write these characters. We love you guys so freaking hard. SO. HARD. To Leticia at Romantic Book Affairs, thank you for dealing with our special brand of crazy. We ADORE you and your sweet face. It doesn’t hurt that you kick so much cover ass it’s unreal. WE. LOVE. YOU. Jenny Sims at Editing4Indies, you’re amazing. That is all. Thank you for taking our madness and making it clean and pretty. You’re fabulous and we’re so grateful to have snagged you and your friendship. We shall stalk you from here on out. That’s how much we adore you. To the WICKED BITCHES! You girls rock so hard. SO. HARD. Sebastian Black style. You show us so much love and take the time out of your day to promote, pimp, and just hang out in our little wicked group, and we’re so grateful to have each of you on our little team. To the bloggers/page administrators. YOU. MAKE. US. Thank you for sharing. Promoting. Pimping. Loving books. Just being all around kick ass supporters of all things books. THANK YOU! There’s really nothing else we can say here. WE LOVE BOOK BLOGGERS HARD! To our hubbies: you’re welcome. You’re both super lucky to be married to sexy girls with filthy minds like us. KIDDING!! Thank you to the both of you for holding down the fort when we locked ourselves in the cave and banged it out. BANGED. IT. OUT. HARD. To our babies. Ashlynn, Jaxson, Katie, Rhys, Rylee, Sara, and to the angel that we’ll never know but love so dear. There is nothing more precious to us. NOTHING. You’re our reason. Our everything. We love you more than love. More than words.