Slamming the door on my way out, I toss my shit into the back of the truck. It's not easy working with my brother, but hard work is something I actually enjoy. It's what I know. I've been working hard since I was a kid, having to get a job early on to help my mother after our parents got divorced.
Grey and I saw the pain in our mother's eyes when our dad walked out, and we both stepped up to help. She needed us, and we were there. I've been working my whole life.
I think watching our entire life fall apart, and seeing the hurt and anguish our mother went through, is all we needed to know relationships aren't worth our time. Happily ever after doesn't exist in the real world. Pain is a truth I've seen firsthand. I lived through it.
Sex on the other hand, well that's nature. A good fuck does the body good.
I'd fuck that cute blonde across the hall in a heartbeat.
Just thinking about her makes my cock hard and my blood pump. I'll fuck her until her legs go numb and she can't see straight. I'll make her scream my name and beg for more.
That girl won't know what she got herself into if I'm in her bed.
But once she has me, she'll know what it’s like to be with a real man.
3
Heather
Spreading red lipstick across my lips, I run my fingers around the edges so it's crisp and clean. Smacking my lips together, I check myself over in the mirror.
With purple eye shadow, and cat eyes, I give my curls one more scrunch. Looking myself up and down for the last time, I'm happy with how I look.
I have a show tonight, my first one since moving here, and I had to jump through hoops to get it. It's not a big club; it's just a small bar with an open mic night. That's all right with me, it's the first step to reaching my dreams.
Checking the time, I realize I still have over an hour before the club even opens. Sitting on the couch, I grab my guitar, deciding to practice one more time.
Holding the pick, I start to strum. I'm pressing the strings, moving between the frets, ready to sing my lyrics. And then a siren blares from a cop car as it zooms down the street, throwing me off key.
I wait for the siren to fade into nothing, then adjust my hands on the neck of the guitar. Starting over, I begin to play again, when my phone rings beside me.
Dropping my arm to my side, I groan loudly. Grabbing my phone, I don't even look to see who it is. “Hello?” I ask, a hint of annoyance in my tone.
“Hey, honey, how's Memphis?”
“Hey, Mom,” I answer, laying the guitar on the couch and relaxing back. “It's good so far.”
“That's good, honey.” My mom pauses, and I hear her let out a tender breath. “I'm not saying this because I don't want you to try this or anything, but it's strange with you not here.”
“It's barely been a week, Mom.” Laughing, I can already sense where she's going with this. “I'm happy right now, I'm actually doing this. I'm not coming home.”
“I know, and I get it. You're an adult, and yada yada, I've heard it all before. It's just that you're so smart, you could do anything. You would do great as a CPA.”
A CPA. She wants me to become just like her. That's why I took accounting classes, because she made me feel like it was the right path. I get it, I really do. She wants me to take on the family business. Except that's not me. I'm don't belong behind a desk, working numbers, and pushing papers all day long.
I make music. It's who I am.
“Mom—” I start to say, but she cuts me off.
“I know, I know, it's a mother's dream, I guess.” She sighs, trying her best to make me feel guilty. “I love you, it's just this isn't what I saw for you as your future.”
“Well, this isn't your future, it's my reality.”
“Fine, do it your way. I just want you to remember if it doesn't work out, and I'm not saying that's what's going to happen, but if it doesn't you can always come home.”
“Thanks,” I say, rolling my eyes to myself. Hanging up, I rest my head in my hands. Rubbing my temples, I already feel a headache coming on.
No, don't let her get to you. This is your life, not hers.
She's good at getting in my head. It's one of her great talents. Not this time, though. I'm determined. I'm doing this. And there's nothing she can do or say to convince me otherwise.
I have to remind myself that I'm not living for my mother, or anyone else. I only live for me. And I deserve the opportunity to at least try. If I just ignore what I feel inside, then I'm already giving up. I won't quit before even taking one step forward.