Cut & Blow: Book 1 Read online

  “A promotion? I guess I can. Sasha has one foot out the door anyway, eyeing a job in the new place on the other side of town, the one in the mall. I guess Ailee could take her spot. It might cause some fights, but she’s got thick skin.

  “And Gina, tell her no dating. I can’t deal with this shit, and my father is on the warpath.”

  She smiles, her yellowing teeth showing. “One would swear you actually cared about her, Rain.”

  I do care. “One should mind their business, Gina.” I leave the old woman counting her money in her crumbling castle and go to check on my wife.

  My wife, who is getting into another man’s car, dressed in a slinky little dress, and heels that make her legs look even longer than they are. Her hair pulled up in loose curls and her makeup is overdone.

  Fuck this.

  Five

  Curl

  AILEE

  Trent is fetching me from my place later. Our first date was fun and I really like him, but it was a first date, always awkward and weird and sort of a put on, so we decided to get together tonight. He has his afternoons off after he helps with soccer practice at the school, but I have to work until closing, and added to that it’s Monday and Gina is in.

  I get home later than usual. I don’t have time to shower, but I freshen up and change into something a little sexy. We are going to grab a drink at a local bar; he’s easy to talk to and really easy on the eyes.

  I get that fluttery feeling in my belly when he looks at me with those hazel eyes. I can look past the vegan thing – the rest of the package seems pretty awesome.

  Everyone asked me – all day today – about him. It was the salon gossip and even the customers were in on it, trying to pull information from me, like they wanted me to be easy and give it up just like that. I’m not saying the thought didn’t cross my mind, but he was all gentlemanly and the opportunity never presented itself.

  Now he’s here, holding the door to his very sensible Toyota open for me, to climb inside. He’s got those khaki’s on again and he smells like the mens counter at Macy’s, all soapy and sexy, and clean. I wiggle my dress so it’s covering everything while he walks around the car.

  I am nervous. I’m usually confident, cocky even, so why do I feel like a schoolgirl with a crush?

  It isn’t far from here, I don’t like going too far from home because it makes me antsy. I have this ingrained fear that something will happen to me, that I am not safe, simply because of who I am, of who my family are.

  My father always told me that no one liked us, they just tolerated us, and looking down for a minute could get our heads chopped off, and I was going to the be head of the family someday. I’d rather keep my head, so I became wary of everyone and everything.

  This feels like a bad idea.

  “You ready?” Trent asks, after an awkward silent drive.

  I was lost in my own head. “Yes, yes.”

  I give him my best ‘I’m totally fine and not freaking out’ smile as he gets out. I reach to open the car door, but he’s there opening it for me with a hand out to help me. My hand fits exactly inside his, and he doesn’t let it go, he holds it gently as we walk inside.

  The bar is dimly lit and has a warm glow coming off the wood paneled walls. It smells of smoke and leather. Very casually, Trent lets go of my hand and places his on the small of my back, guiding me forward, towards an open table.

  The place is quiet given its Monday night and not many folks are out drinking. You can spot the regulars at the bar, I’m sure their names are etched in the stools beneath their backsides. He pulls out my chair and I wonder if he is just trying to earn brownie points to get inside my panties.

  I’m not wearing any with this dress; I can’t.

  No guy is this smooth all the time.

  “What can I get you?” he asks, standing beside me.

  I crane my neck to look up at him, and my stomach does that swoon thing when I see his face framed with that long hair. “Southern Comfort and Lime, please?”

  With a little head shake and a smile he goes to the bar, and I take the moment to send Chels a message.

  He’s too good to be true. Tell me he’s too good to be true

  Make sure you have some decent gossip tomorrow. None of this PG shit. LeeLee

  Well, I guess that’s what friends are for; being useless, inciting reckless behavior and occasionally having your back.

  When I look up from the screen he is leaning on the bar staring at me. I look at him from under my lashes and feel my cheeks heat just a little, because that look is not an innocent one. Crossing my legs and squeezing them tightly together, I look down to avoid his intrusive stare.

  Placing my drink on the table, he says, “So, you’ve got your escape plan all set up then, have you?” He glances at my phone on the table. “I understand on the first date, but you agreed to meet me tonight … even suggested it. Are you going to pull a runner on me, Ailee?”

  I take a sip of the refreshing drink and look at him, at the animated way he talks, but his voice has a serious tone. “No escape plan, more of a plan of action.” I give him a naughty wink.

  Chelsey is right. What am I waiting for? It’s not like I plan to date the guy. I don’t date, I have fun.

  “So, you’re anticipate action then?”

  He licks the beer off his lips, putting down the glass, leaning back and opening up his body language, inviting me to look him over, like he was doing to me.

  “Maybe.” I shrug my shoulders and laugh a little. “I considered it when I put this dress on.”

  “Ailee, how is it that a girl like you is single? I mean you are so beautiful, clearly independent, yet you make light of relationships and don’t like being serious about anything.” He takes another sip. “Let me tell you something about me. If you plan to get any action from me, Ailee, know that I am taking this very seriously. I was dead serious when I went out of my way to come back and ask you out. Don’t jerk me around, I am not a toy you can play with.”

  Whoa, so serious! And shit, fuck me it’s sexy as hell.

  But I can’t be serious about anyone. I’m chewing my lip and running my finger around the rim of my glass; he has managed to make me feel horny and guilty in one fell swoop.

  “I’m not playing, I just haven’t really dated seriously before. My family is strict about dating.”

  I don’t know how else to explain it to him. I don’t exactly want to say, ‘hey, I’m married to a guy I’ve not seen in five years, who’s probably going to have you whacked when he finds out about this, but sure let’s get it on’.

  I’m totally playing, but he doesn’t need to know that.

  “I just want all the cards on the table, I’m not here to get lucky and leave tomorrow. I’m not that guy. Sorry, I’m getting all serious on our second date, I’m probably scaring you away.”

  He is scaring me a little, to be honest, only because when he says things like ‘serious’ my heart flutters and gives me feelings I’m not allowed to have.

  “Can we just go back to having a fun second date? We don’t even know each other yet, Trent.” I stir my drink with the little swizzle stick they left in it. ‘I’d like to get to know you, seriously. Is that good enough for now?”

  His shoulders relax, he lets go of the glass he was throttling, and the intense expression is replaced with that smile. “Okay, so seriously, what do you want to know?”

  “Siblings?” I ask right away.

  “One sister, you?”

  “None, I’m an only child.”

  Tilting his head so his hair falls into his face, he asks me, “Why hairdressing?”

  “I was not exactly top of my class and I wanted a job where I wouldn’t be bored or need an expensive degree,” I answer. “And also it’s not like hair is going to stop growing, so I am always going to have customers.”

  “That makes sense. What do your parents do?”

  Oh well, organized crime and stuff. “My dad is in shipping and my mothe
r is a housewife, slash, pain in his ass.” He chuckles at my answer and I take the chance to ask him, “You are not from around here, are you?”

  “No, I grew up in Atlanta, came here to get as far away from there as I could. And you?”

  “Born and raised here, so was my father, and his father and his father. Your plan sounds rather appealing when I think about it.” I can’t say I never thought about running away. “So you teach at the posh private school, you must be good at your job then?”

  “My father got me the job when I told him I was leaving. His friend is on the board at the school.”

  He doesn’t sound happy about the arrangement at all, but also doesn’t seem like he wants to talk about it either.

  My glass is empty and my head is a little fuzzy. I haven’t eaten since lunch and a vegan dinner just doesn’t appeal tonight, but my empty stomach has amplified the alcohol.

  “Do you want another?’ He points to my glass.

  I don’t really want another drink, I have to get up and be responsible tomorrow. I shake my head. “No thanks, I have to work in the morning, and I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t be drinking on a school night either, Teacher Trent.”

  “No, probably not, but I am enjoying the company. It’s an improvement on my roommate and his PlayStation.”

  “Roommate?” I lift an eyebrow. He seems a little old to be having a roommate.

  “His name is Blake and he’s an asshole.”

  “Noted, roommate is an asshole. I live alone, but occasionally Chelsey ends up staying for extended stretches of time. Her roommate is an asshole too, only it’s her sister, so she has to go home eventually.”

  We carry on with the smalltalk for a while longer, before Trent asks if I want to go home. I do and I don’t. I am enjoying just talking to him.

  He’s moved around the table now, sitting closer to me. He’s getting bolder and we have both let our guards down a little. Putting a hand on my thigh he leans closer to me, like he almost wants to kiss me, his hair falling like a curtain and blocking us off from the other two people still in here.

  “Can I kiss you now, Ailee?”

  He’s such a gentleman. Just fucking kiss me already, stop talking, just do it. I nod my head, because I’m afraid that’s what I will say if I open my mouth right now.

  When he finally kisses me, it’s one of those fireworks exploding above your head, straight out of Disney-princess-movie moments. My heart stops and my head spins. He holds me with one hand on my cheek and slowly kisses me, taunting me, treating me, driving me insane for more, but at the same time living in a perfect moment, savoring the taste of him.

  His kiss leaves me breathless, my heart thundering in my chest and my knees weak, as he holds out his hand to help me stand. No kiss has ever left me wanting more as much as his just did. The teacher knows a thing or two about kissing.

  * * *

  Trent kisses me again at my front door, and asks if we can do this again. I’m not sure if he means kiss or go on a date, but the answer is yes no matter which it is.

  I want to ask him in, I want to jump his bones and fuck his brains out, or have him fuck mine out, but I also like that it isn’t expected, this isn’t just a hook up to him.

  Shutting my door, I watch him drive away through the window before I allow myself a childish fist pump in the air.

  Kicking off my heels, leaving them on the floor by the door, I go the kitchen to make myself something to eat.

  While my frozen pizza grills, I text Chels.

  I think I have a lady boner for the teacher.

  Tell me he’s naked in your bed!

  No, I wish he was though. He kissed me this time.

  On the cheek kisses, or get a room kisses?

  Get a room kisses.

  Why is he not in your bed again?

  Because I’m not a slut!

  Goodnight, not a slut. Have fun getting yourself off :)

  The oven timer rings and I take out the pizza and go flip the TV on, and that’s when I notice it. The frame my mother gave me with my wedding photo in it is on the TV cabinet. The tarnished silver has been polished clean and placed in clear view of anyone coming in here.

  My stomach instantly wants to expel the food I just began to put in it. I look around the room to see if anyone is here.

  Suddenly I don’t feel like I am alone.

  Someone knows what I did tonight and now they are messing with me. I bet Gina told my mother, that move has her name written all over it. That picture was in my bottom drawer with everything else from that god-awful fucking day. She went to some serious trouble to find it and make her point.

  Placing my dinner on the coffee table I go pick up the frame, pry open the back, and remove the photograph. I crumple it in my fist, walk to the kitchen, and throw it in the trash.

  I finish my pizza and double check my phone for calls or messages from my mother, but there aren’t any. I flip through the channels and try to choose something to watch, but I am on edge. Between Trent’s toe curling kiss and the wedding photo, my hands are shaking and I’m starting to freak.

  I check my windows and put the chain on the door. When I get to my bedroom my bed is made, not like I make it but with precision like a hospital bed, and lying on my pillow is the diamond ring set that I should wear on my left ring finger, but don’t.

  Being afraid quickly changes to anger. How dare someone invade my home, my privacy, my fucking things. Grabbing the rings off my pillow I throw them across the room, not caring where they land.

  I didn’t want to see them again, that’s why they are packed away. The only reason I wear his stupid bracelet is because it can’t come off, literally cannot come off. I don’t know what it’s made of or what sort of sick joke it was. I even asked an ER doctor to cut it off with a surgical saw once, and the thing didn’t even get a scratch on it.

  When all my anger is gone I dissolve into tears on my bed, and with my knees tucked to my chest I rock back forth trying to stop them, but they just keep coming. The waves of emotion drown me in fear and sorrow, and anger.

  I just want to be a regular person. I want to fall in love with the teacher and live happily ever after with a white picket fence and a fluffy dog.

  But I can’t have any of those things because my mother didn’t have a son, and my father sold me to the Calligaris family as a peace offering in some twisted mob tradition.

  The sick realization that my days as just a regular girl are numbered settles in, and I resolve to enjoy every last one. To make them count, to fall in love if that’s what is meant to be. If they thought I was stubborn before, now I will be downright defiant.

  After cleaning my face, I strip down and climb on top of the neatly made bed, shoving my feet under the small throw blanket perfectly folded over the bottom.

  My phone buzzes where I threw it down beside me, and when I wipe the screen open there is a text from Trent.

  I had a good time tonight, Ailee.

  Me too.

  Goodnight. I will see you on Saturday to have my hair cut ;)

  You don’t need an appointment to see me anymore, you have my number.

  Maybe I like the feeling of your fingers running through my hair.

  There won’t be any left if you have it cut every week. I’m sure we could find other places for me to run my fingers.

  I can think of a few. Goodnight Ailee, you are making it hard for me to sleep.

  Oh, I’m sure it’s hard.

  As hard as steel. Go to bed.

  I’m in bed. Naked. Goodnight.

  I turn my phone off and leave the conversation there. If I have to nurse a blue bean all night thinking about his hard as steel body parts, then he gets blue balls too.

  But sleep is the last thing I manage. The eerie sensation that I am being watched keeps me awake all night.

  In my sleep deprived state in the early hours of the morning, I convince myself that Trent was sent by Rainieri as trap, that him showing up on my anniversary isn�
��t a coincidence.

  He was another anniversary gift, a reason for me to end up floating face down in the river, or wearing concrete shoes at the bottom of the ocean, dumped off a boat with my husband’s family crest on the bow.

  My mind plays over a hundred insane scenarios, and I list all the reasons I should just leave this thing with Trent, ignore the butterflies in my belly and the rapid pulse that happens when he gets close to me.

  When the sun rises, my heavy, puffy eyes still haven’t closed, and I turn on my phone and call in sick, something I have never done since I started working for Gina.

  Six

  Dye

  RAINIERI

  My wife is hard of hearing – I thought my message was very clear, the photo, the ring, the obvious evidence I’d been in her space, but no, here we are again.

  It’s Saturday morning and the guy with all the hair is back at the salon. She’s smiling, and laughing as her delicate fingers tangle in the long dark strands. The way she touches him is different to other clients, she likes touching him. The way she moves his head straight with both hands on his cheeks, and the eye contact in the mirror. My leg bounces as I try to contain my aggravation.

  “You want order?” the Chinese lady asks for the third time since I sat down.

  “No, thank you, I don’t eat sushi.” I shake my head, but don’t look away from her.

  “Why you come in here if you no eat sushi? This sushi shop. I no make anything else.”

  She sounds irritated, so I pull out a hundred dollar bill and hand it to her. “I like the view, okay?”

  “Okay. You want drink then? Can’t just sit with nothing, you look like a crazy person.”

  “Water please.”

  She scrunches up her nose at me but doesn’t say more, just goes off and returns with a bottle of water, and a glass of ice. “Okay, enjoy the view then.”

  I am certain I hear her mutter something about creeper as she leaves me sitting at the window bar. I watch Chelsey and Ailee laugh, their faces in the mirror and their backs to me.