Love Broken Page 6

  I hit the elevator button. “Hurry, hurry, hurry…” It dings and I jump in, jabbing my floor number. Just as the door shuts, a large set of hands stops the door and Charlie jumps in.

  “Oh, how nice, you waited for me. All those sexual passes you were making at me during dinner, I thought you would never get up and leave. Your room or mine tonight?”

  I look at Charlie, not feeling his laid-back sense of humor. I’m not even in the mood to pretend I’m okay with our situation anymore. Sometimes there’s that elephant in the room and it just gets so big, you have to acknowledge it or leave. Since I’m a wimp, I’m choosing to leave.

  “Sorry, Bates, I’m really tired. You’re gonna have to be a big boy and sleep in your own room tonight.” The elevator dings and I get out, leaving him behind.

  He follows closely behind. We make it to my door, and I insert my key as he bends forward, his breath hitting my cheek. “Can I come in now or shall I enter through my secret passageway?”

  I open my door and walk in. I don’t hold the door. “Good night, Bates.” And it shuts. I squeeze my eyes closed, wishing he were more of the jerk I originally pinned him to be. Wasn’t so kind and easygoing, making this harder for me to cut ties.

  I make it past the television stand before the connecting door opens. I turn to tell him to beat it, but he’s on me, lifting me up and carrying me to the bed.

  “Get out of your head, Bailey Swan.” He kisses my lips quick, then drops me.

  I bounce on the bed, and before I have a chance to start yelling he pounces. His lips cover mine, stopping any sort of hissy fit I’m about to have. His kiss is rough. Almost bruising. As if he’s getting angry with me. I get angry wanting to know what the hell he could be angry with me about. I bring my hands into his hair and pull, knowing I’m hurting him, but he doesn’t even stop me. He lifts my shirt and tears his mouth off mine and brings it around my breast. One clamp, and he bites my fucking nipple!

  “Ouch!” I wail, pulling at his hair to release me. “What the fuck, Bates!”

  “Yeah, what the fuck, Swan? Why are you suddenly shutting down on me? I can see it. You hardly looked my way at dinner. I saved you a seat and you sat on the opposite side!”

  “Because it would’ve been obvious! Plus, I wouldn’t want any of your groupies to know. It might ruin your image to think you were with someone.”

  His eyebrows shoot up, that playful smile back on his face “Oh, I’m with someone?”

  Shit, how did that come out of my mouth? “Oh, you know what I mean. Being caught with someone like me. I might ruin your image.”

  His eyes now look wounded. “Why do you do that? Why do you always talk so down about yourself? You’re fucking beautiful, Bailey. You’re perfect. Why don’t you see that?”

  Because I’m nothing next to him. I’ve never been anything but just plain ole me. And us together would always make me a laughing stock. I would be the whispered gossip. The joke who caught the eyes of the beautiful Charlie Bates.

  “Stop. Just stop, okay? Get out of your head.” He bends down, and this time his lips are gentler. I allow him to take mine and suckle them. Our tongues meet and we embrace in something that’s more than just a kiss. It’s unspoken words. Maybe he’s telling me it’s okay. Maybe this is his way of also saying goodbye. I don’t regret anything that’s happened between us, despite all my reservations. But my heart is going to heave the wrath of this very bad decision. And I can already feel it.

  I wrap my arms around his neck and increase the pressure of our kiss. I lift my pelvis, connecting with his already hard cock, and we both moan. The silent moment is broken and we both lose it. Our control breaks and it’s both of our hands ripping at one another, trying to free ourselves of our clothes. The need for skin on skin contact is unbearable, and the second we’re both free, he positions himself between my legs and pushes in.

  A careless moment lost on both of us, but we don’t stop. This is not slow and sexual. It’s primal. We fuck and we fuck. Pulling, biting, words of passion, and lust filling the air. We take everything we can from one another until the sun breaks through the blinds and our bodies can take no more.

  We don’t speak when the alarm goes off, or when he sneaks back into his room to shower. Nor do I say a word when I throw my things into my suitcase and leave without saying goodbye.

  I know Kristen’s going to be ticked with me for ditching out on the interviews, but I’m sure I can do them through email. I check out over the phone on the way to the airport and offer to pay the shipping for half the shit I left in the room so I could jump ship. I bitch at the cab driver for his air freshener that makes my eyes water and blame the awful steak from last night on why my chest fucking hurts. I knew I shouldn’t have done this tour. I know nothing about love and romance and all that sappy shit. I just know why it’s bad. And why women should stop falling for it. I’m mad at myself for feeling vulnerable and letting Charlie see a side of me I’ve never really shown anyone. A side I never knew worked. I’m mad at myself for being a coward and leaving like I did. I could have at least said goodbye. He never promised me anything, but he also didn’t lead me to believe I was just a hookup either.

  To be honest, I don’t know what I was. Maybe just a fool. I trudge with my suitcase through the airport, sucking in deep breaths because for some reason I feel like I’m about to cry and I know if I start, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop. “It’s because I feel so bad I left Kristen like that,” I say out loud. Pulling out my ticket, I bend down to search for my license.

  “Katie Beller!”

  I hear my name being yelled behind me.

  “Katie Beller!”

  Again, there it is. I stand and turn, surprised to see Charlie running through the airport. He makes it up to me and stops, trying to catch his breath. “Katie Beller,” he says as he sticks out his hand.

  “How… how did you know my name?”

  “Kristen sold you out. Katie, my name is Chase Green. My real name. Green like the color, Chase like what I just had to do to catch you.” He grabs for my hand and shakes it for the both of us since I’ve gone into shock.

  “Katie Beller, I want to get to know you. All of you. I’ve gotten to spend an amazing two weeks with Bailey Swan, and now I want Katie. The real Katie. I might not be your normal type, and fuck, maybe you’re not mine. But you’re something I want more of. Not just the way you bite and scream my name.”

  I swat at him, turning a deep shade of red. We obviously have a crowd and at his words people gasp and awe.

  “Jesus, Bates, what are you doing?”

  “It’s Green, actually. But I would like for you to call me Chase. Because that’s who I really am. And I would like to call you Katie. Can I call you Katie?”

  My fucking lips keep twitching, and that crying thing I was talking about earlier is seriously going to happen. I can’t speak, so I slowly nod.

  “Great. Great,” he says, looking relieved. He hands me a piece of paper and it looks like a goddamn “in case of emergency” contact list.

  “This is every single way you can get ahold of me. I know you have reservations about us. And I get it. But I want a chance. I won’t push you. I get it. But God, do I want you. Let me in. Let me get to know you and show you that what we started can be something pretty fucking amazing.”

  I swear, if anyone’s taking photos and catches me crying I’ll kill them. I swipe the tears running down my cheek, the smile slowly making its way across my face. I look at Chase Green, and I see something beautiful in him. Trust.

  I take a deep breath. “Okay, Chase Green, I’ll get to know you.”

  Chase’s face lights up and he goes in for the kill, offering me his perfect, beautiful lips. The crowd around us erupts into cheers and clapping.

  “Excuse me, sir, but you’re holding up the line. Buy a ticket or step off to the side.” The security guard breaks our connection, and we pull apart.

  Staring at one another, Chase steps back and puts hi
s hands in his pockets, all of a sudden looking nervous. “Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Katie Beller. I look forward to your call.”

  I smile back, feeling just as nervous. “And you as well, Chase Green, like the color. I guess I’ll be giving you a call sometime.”

  His mischievous smile returns. “FaceTime works too. So I can see what you’re doing with your hands.”

  Go figure. Never without his wit and charm.

  “Goodbye, Chase Green.”

  “Till that call, Katie Beller.”

  Coming home and going back to my simple life turned out to be not so simple.

  When you decide to exploit yourself, it seems social media takes that little bit of your life and turns it into widespread media footage. People who didn’t know who Bailey Swan was before, knew her now. And they also had a face to the name.

  When I finally made it home, my answering machine was full. I know, who the hell still has an answering machine? Well, I do. I like things simple. I’m a simple girl. I came home to thirty-two messages. Some from friends I haven’t spoken to in some time, some family, a few cousins, a random ex-boyfriend, and then a shit-ton from work. They all pretty much had the same message. “Holy shit.” My family all gushed over how proud they were of me. My grandmother cried for almost five minutes. It could have gone longer, but I had to abort the remainder of it.

  I had friends from all eras of my life, telling me they saw me on so and so, and how awesome. They never thought I had the talent to write a book. I guess that’s also why most of them are no longer my friends. The ex-boyfriend was Jeremy. He went on and on about how his girlfriend, which, later in the message he tried to retract saying she was just a friend, showed him my photo on Facebook. Had the nerve to ask if when I wrote any sex scenes I was remembering him. He told me how great I looked and that we should get together. I also threw up in my mouth, then deleted the message.

  The ones I did kind of feel bad about were from the crew at the bar. Dex, who I’ve known for the whole seven years simply left me a message saying, “Heard you write porn.” And hung up. Typical Dex just to get to the point. We got to the point the first couple months we worked together and realized the point being was that we really didn’t click well outside of the bedroom. So, we decided to just remain friends. Not that there was any regret. Dex was smoking hot. The typical tall, buff, tattooed guy, who ran with his biker posse half the week, ran the bar the other. He had dark eyes to match his dark hair and he was a walking mystery. But that’s why he got a lot of tail. Including me. Too bad I figured him out right away. Ever since our test run, he’s always been protective over me. Watches over me at the bar when fights begin to brew, when drunk idiots try and get too touchy or just when he knows I need a time-out even when I, myself, don’t. He always has my back. But again, that’s Dex.

  Moving past all the random bar patrons, which I have no idea how they got my number, asking me out, was Randy. Randy, whose father wanted more than anything to have a boy, named his daughter the name he wanted no matter what sex popped out of his wife’s vagina, is a knockout. She’s all blond and boobs, making everyone who walks through the bar’s doors look bad. She started just a year after I did and I couldn’t have been more thankful for her as a friend.

  Thinking about work reminds me of all the reservations I have about returning back. I think about all the explaining I’m going to have to do and possibly some apologizing. But I’m still unsure if I actually owe anyone one. I do feel like a jerk keeping this part of my life a big secret. But I just didn’t want to feel the wrath of the judgement. I didn’t plan for it to go this well. I actually planned for it to fail. And then no one would ever know about my explosive attempt at becoming someone I clearly was not. But then, when it exploded in a good way, it all happened so fast I didn’t even know how to bring it up. People would here and there talk about the book and the infamous Bailey Swan. I wanted to hear what they had to say without changing their opinions knowing I was right in front of them, so I fed them booze and got them to talk. And damn was it entertaining.

  Betty Meyer, an older single woman who works at the tattoo shop a few blocks down, got wind of the book from her sister who was getting her hair done and her stylist was talking about it. Told her she swore by the book. The author was a love guru. Told it how it really was. That it was the next “he’s not that into you” kinda read. So, she picked it up, and when she was done, she literally kicked out her boyfriend of two years and told him until he learns to appreciate her for her, and not all the stuff she is forced day in and day out to prove her love for him, then they were done! Good ole Betty Meyer no longer does the dishes, takes out the trash, or feeds the dogs. And her man now cooks half the week! I was shocked!

  Steph and Dee, twins and weekend regulars, came in telling us they both read it, well out loud to one another, and they were on a sex sabbatical. They weren’t allowing any more duds into their beds until they found the real deal. No more fake lines to get them naked. I was honored they took my words so far that they were choosing to actually be better people. By the end of the night I caught an eyeful as some dude had his hand fully up Dee’s skirt, but in the end, she stuck to her guns. She kept her clothes on.

  Then there were people like Chrissy Baker or Stacey Wright. They just couldn’t be happy for anyone. They took the book and murdered it with their opinions. Said they guarantee some overweight troll wrote it while eating Twinkies in her trailer, and has probably never felt the touch of an actual man in her life. I would have been more offended, but I actually do love Twinkies and when I was younger my parents used to take us camping in a trailer, so they technically were on the right track. Either way, their feedback was harsh. Poorly written book. Horrible, weak advice. How can someone who has never been in love act as the expert liaison for all love hungry women? While I wanted to take both their faces and bash them into one another, I knew they also did have a point. I had never been in love. But I had been played. I’d been used, lied to, taken advantage of and felt weak and betrayed. You don’t have to know what the real thing is to know what the fake version looks and feels like. And yes, you bitches, I was the expert. Because I’d spent my entire life getting played. And when that’s your specialty, you learn how to become the expert on how to avoid it.

  In the end, I knew not to get upset. Because I knew deep down that Chrissy Baker’s husband was actually sleeping with Stacey. And when that shit hits, smacks, and fucking splatters all over that fan, I will be here, behind my bar, silently saying I told you so. Well, I guess not so silently anymore since my gig is up.

  I just knew that when I walked back into that bar, it wasn’t going to be the same. I wouldn’t be seen as the laid-back chick who likes to talk and pour booze. I guess I never thought about how I would be exposing myself. I guess I didn’t expect a billion people to take my picture then tweet, post, Instagram, snapchat, shit, everything possible to post my face around the universe. I don’t want to have to look at Chrissy Baker and vocally say I told you so. I want to do it behind her back while I smile and jam out to outdated alternative music.

  Four hours, two layovers, and a delayed baggage claim incident later, I walk over to my bed and drop my things. I say hello to my bird Gerdie, who looks just as content as when I left him. I make little kissing noises to let him know I’m home and I watch as his feathers shiver at the sound of my voice. I got Gerdie three years ago on a whim. I had a weak moment with a guy who worked at a pet shop and while he was cleaning the counters with my bare ass getting it on, he kept talking dirty, referring to himself in the third person. At that point in my life I was experimenting in ‘anyone sex.’ Not just random, anyone. I just wanted sex. I wanted to lose myself to an orgasm and simply not have any sort of attachment. I didn’t even want to worry if he was educated, had nice eyes, ate his vegetables, and flossed daily. I just wanted his dick to work. Hence, how I ended up being banged on the counter of the pet shop. Nonetheless, he kept talking dirty to me and lo and behold,
the parrot that was “for sale” kept repeating him. Through the entire experience all I heard was this bird chirping “yeah, Jerry’s gonna get it. Jerry’s gonna get it.” And as pet boy grunted out his release, I couldn’t control my laughter. He didn’t give me anything close to that orgasm I so desperately needed, but I did go back the next day and buy that damn bird.

  “Guess who’s home?” I sing, pulling the cover off Gerdie’s cage. More kissing sounds and I see him flap his wings in approval. “Hello there, handsome. Did you miss me?” I ask, opening his cage and allowing him to climb into my hand.

  “Why isn’t my boyfriend calling? Why isn’t my boyfriend calling…” Gerdie chirps, and I smile, knowing for the next couple of days he will be repeating anything the bird sitter said.

  I allow him to perch himself on my dresser while I wash my face. I try not to acknowledge the weight in my pocket as I brush my teeth. When I change into a pair of shorts and a tank top, I stare at the discarded pair of jeans, holding that heavy weight. Seven little numbers. I shake my head and kick my pants, running over to my bed and jumping in. I cuddle into my covers, pulling my blanket practically to my chin.

  “Maybe I’ll wait to call tomorrow. I don’t want to look all eager. Because I’m not.”

  “You’re eager. Call, you’re eager,” Gerdie chirps as his nails click on my dresser, before taking flight and landing onto my bed.

  “I am not eager. I can wait. I don’t need to talk to him. He’s probably not even home yet. Or flying. Or already forgotten about me. That’s probably not even his real number!” Ugh, that thought kinda hurts. The feeling in my stomach, I blame on indigestion from the airport food, swirls inside making me feel unsure. Would he give me a wrong number? I mean, that was pretty theatrical, the whole airport stunt if he was just wanting to end things on good terms. Which we did since we had incredible sex. And he got to avoid that uncomfortable ‘so, I’ll see you around’ talk.