Fear of Falling(105)

Tinkling feminine laughter accompanied him, stopping right beside me. Uncle Mick snorted before climbing to his feet. “Remember what I said, son,” he said before heading to the back, shooting his son and his company a frustrated look.

I could feel CJ’s eyes on me, but I continued to look ahead. CJ was a lot of things but he wasn’t stupid. He knew when no words were necessary. Too bad his entourage didn’t get the memo.

A small hand slipped over my shoulder, squeezing the tight tendons. I was too numb to even care enough to brush it off. “Hey, Blaine, it’s so good to see you again.”

I recognized the voice as Wendy’s, but I didn’t bother to offer my own greeting. Judging by the way her manicured fingers raked down my arm, it didn’t seem to offend her.

Without saying a word, CJ slipped behind the bar, earning a frown from Corey, the other bartender. He bypassed the liquor displayed on the shelves and dipped down to a hidden cabinet where we stored the premium alcohol reserved for big spenders aka pretentious douchebags.

Two glasses and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Platinum were placed before me. The girls behind us nearly shit themselves when they saw it, until they realized there were no glasses for them. Luckily, CJ handed them apple martinis to shut them up before opening the scotch and pouring a good amount in each glass.

“To not giving a fuck,” he said holding up his glass.

Another petite arm snaked around my shoulders, and Wendy pressed her double Ds into my back. I could almost feel her hardened nipples through the thin barriers of clothing. I looked down at the amber liquid before me and picked it up. Wendy giggled and ran her fingers through my hair.

“To not giving a fuck.”





The familiar buzzing of my cell phone grew louder and more annoying as I worked to ignore it. I couldn’t acknowledge it. Couldn’t even begin to let myself wonder who it could be. That involved feeling and right now with my emotions pressing at the dam of my resolve, feeling was out of the question.

I packed away the food on the table including the uneaten flan—the flan that I had made especially for Blaine that he would never try. My stomach twisted and roiled as my heart dropped into my gut.

Don’t go there. Don’t do that to yourself. He’s gone. He’s done with you. That’s what you wanted. Don’t start that pity party shit now.

I shook my head, trying to quiet my cynical, inner asshole, and focused on washing each dish with thorough precision. I wanted everything spotless, everything beautiful and sparkling. I could control this. I could clean and make everything neat and tidy. But my life? My life was shit. Dark, vile, filthy shit. I couldn’t change that. I couldn’t control it. And every time I felt like I had gotten a handle on it, fear bitch-slapped the taste of hope right out of me.

I fingered the jar of tiny iridescent stars between my fingertips and sat down on my bed. 253. Two hundred fifty-three reasons why I couldn’t let Blaine love me.

I hated these fucking stars and everything they represented. I hated that I couldn’t just throw them away and never feel the impulse to count them again. But most of all, I hated myself. I hated what he created, what he left behind…and what she forgot.

The jar shook in my hands until I let it tumble onto the comforter. I flexed my fingers, staving off the trembles that preluded the panic attack on the horizon. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t revert back to some pathetic, wounded bird every time this shit happened. This was how it would be; this was my life. There was no reason to cry about something that I couldn’t control. I needed to just suck it up and stop letting it affect me.

The buzzing started back up again, and this time I jumped up to stop it. Anything to distract my mind from the breakdown that was on its way in 5…4…3…2…

“Hello?”

“Kam? Damn, girl, it’s about time,” Angel shouted from the receiver. Rock music blared on the other side, accompanied with random peals of raucous laughter. “We’ve been calling you all night!”

“Why?”

“Well…um…we came into Dive, and…”

“And if you don’t get your ass down here right now, I will be spending the night in jail,” Dom’s voice boomed. Angel furiously whispered for him to calm down and shut up before she was back on the line.

“Kam, sweetie, uh, I just think you should come by. Like, the sooner the better.”

“No.”

“No? But why not?” she whined.

“Because I don’t feel like it.” That wasn’t entirely true.

“Please? Um, I’m really drunk. So is Dom. We need a ride home.”