Kisses and Lies

“You had something terrible happen to you, Tan. It’s okay to not be yourself,” I say to her, as she bites her lip.

Sad eyes look up at me. “It’s just so hard. So fucking hard. If I could right now, I would get high. It takes away the pain, it makes it better. It helps me forget, even if just for a little while.” She starts scratching at her arm.

I change the subject.

“I told Marcus he’s being too needy of my time,” I say, smiling.

She stops scratching and looks to me. “You did?”

“Yep. He says he doesn’t want me. Just my body. But I see him as much as I would someone who I would be in a relationship with.”

“Blaze says he’s all kinds of fucked-up,” Tan says.

“Yep, he is,” I agree.

“But you want him all the same.”

I nod at her words. “I do.”

“Do you think you want more?”

“I do, but he doesn’t. So, I haven’t asked.”

“You should. Because you’re going to get hurt. Call it off, Rochelle. Especially if he doesn’t want you.”

“He does,” I say in my defense.

“He wants your body. There is a big difference.”

I smile at her. “When did you get so smart?”

“I just know what hurt does to you. You lock yourself away.”

She’s not wrong. I’m good at hiding when I need to. The last time I did it, after my grandparents died, I was trying to hide with Marcus.

“I have to go,” I say, standing, then I lean down to cuddle her. “Can I come back next week?” I say into her shoulder.

Tanika tenses but relaxes at my touch. “Yes, I’d like that.”

I smile down at her. “It’s good you’re getting help, Tan. It takes a strong woman to do that.”

Sad eyes look back up at me. “You wouldn’t call me strong if you knew what I had planned to do.” A tear leaks free from her eye and slowly rolls down her cheek.

“But here you are.”

“Here I am,” she repeats my words, trying to smile for me.

I give her a small wave and off I go.

Looking at my cell for any missed calls from Marcus, I see none. It’s been a week now, and I know I said I would be the one to call, but I was silently hoping he would.

Chapter Seventeen

Marcus

“Do it,” Blaze yells next to me.

“Will you shut the fuck up,” I argue with him.

“If you had done it already, we wouldn’t be arguing,” he yells back.

“Well, if you shut the fuck up already, it would be done.”

“Fine, call me when it’s done.”

“Nope.”

“Arghh… just fucking ask her.”

“Nope.”

I can hear him grunting into the phone. “Ask her.”

“No,” I argue back. He won’t win, and he knows it. But that doesn’t stop him from trying.

“Just ask, you owe me this.”

“Nope. Now, I have to get back to work. So, fuck off.” I hang up on Blaze, pulling my mask back down and working on the body in front of me.

My brother once asked me when I was eighteen and he was seventeen, did I know what I wanted to do with my life.

At that time, I didn’t.

It wasn’t until our drugged-up mother had an overdose, and we had to go view her body at the crematorium, that I knew exactly what I wanted to do.

There was a viewing room and a man who showed you the bodies. I stayed well after everyone was gone. I sat in the dark corridors and watched him work. I was fascinated. I could see myself doing what he did, and when he placed my mother into the fire, it was then I knew it was my calling.

I loved my mother once, so fiercely despite all the bad. I loved her. It was the last time I swore to be blinded by a woman’s love.

My mother never once cared for us. We were irrelevant to her. Just a check which I ended up taking to feed Blaze and myself.

Blaze fell into a gang.

I fell into the dead.

Ironic.

It was poetic justice, really.

A loud bang comes on the door, and I know who it is straight away. Pulling my mask off, I walk outside to see Blaze. He’s leaning on the side of the building with a cigarette to his lips.

“Is she single?”

“Aren’t you with the other one… in rehab?” I argue back at him. He wants to know about pretty girl’s sister. I haven’t spoken to pretty girl for at least a month now. She hasn’t called, and I haven’t bothered.

My need for her is fucking strong, though, and it takes everything in me to stay away. So, I’ve taken on extra work. And extra workload from Blaze too.

“Yes, I just want to fuck her. Nothing more.”

“You sound like me,” I say, shaking my head and walking back inside. He hates this place. Hates it with a vengeance, so much so he hardly ever walks inside, always stands at the door.