Mayhem: A Twisted Hearts Love Story Book 2 Page 5

  “Consultation? If I could find him, I guess I would do that.” I spit at him again and I just don’t have it in me to feel guilty for taking all of my anger out on him. How obtuse can he be? Her father hasn’t been around or in the picture since he walked out on us not long after Lelia began her treatments. Claiming that he couldn’t stand by and watch our daughter die. I scoff out loud. Our daughter has more courage in her pinky then he has in his whole body.

  “You don’t know where he is?” Doctor Joseph’s eyes widen.

  I stiffen at his comment. “Come on, Doctor Joseph. You’ve been to Leila’s room numerous times and he’s never been there. I know how the staff gossips.” I know I’m being a royal bitch right now, but how much is a girl supposed to take before she snaps? “No. He left two years ago. He didn’t bother leaving a forwarding address.” I can’t hide the bitterness in my voice.

  His cheeks are pink with embarrassment and pity is clear in his eyes as they soften. I lower my head and play with imaginary lint on my lap as I try to get my emotions under control. I’ll never forget that night when my ex-husband came home after pulling a disappearing act for three months. He reeked of cheap perfume and even cheaper liquor. He had one of those quickie divorces in hand and demanded that I sign the papers, claiming that a sick kid and a needy wife were holding him back. I chuckle out loud as I think back to that night. I give Dr. Joseph, who stares at me with mild concern, a fake smile and give the lint on my pants some more attention.

  I’d signed those damn papers just to get rid of him. A needy wife… Ha! He was the needy one. Never could hold a job. Not once did he ever put me or our daughter first. Occasionally, when he would get drunk, he would slap me around. Coming from a household where my father would beat up my mom, I knew it wasn’t right, but I thought it was something I had to live with. It was when Lelia was born that I knew the madness had to end. I didn’t want her to grow up thinking it was okay for a man to ever put his hands on a woman. My ex-husband left before I had the chance to leave, just for him to show up months later with papers in hand for me to sign.

  Obviously feeling awkward, Dr. Joseph shuffles papers on his desk that I’m pretty sure were fine where they initially were. “We can place her on the list. For now, she has time until we find a match.”

  My husband and I were both tested years ago when Lelia first got sick. My ex was a match, but I, on the other hand, was not. Lelia’s father disappeared before we had the chance to do the procedure. At the time it didn’t seem as bad because she started responding to treatments and the doctors thought the transplant was no longer needed. These lists can take years for someone to find a match.

  “Okay. Is there anything more?”

  “No. I’m sorry about this. I’d hoped….” His voice trails off as his gaze drops to the paperwork on his desk.

  “I’d hoped as well.” I stand up to leave, offering him my hand to shake. “Thank you, Doctor and I’m sorry about my outburst. I know it isn’t your fault, but we all have our breaking point and you just happen to be the unfortunate victim.” Heat flushes my face and I can’t meet his eyes.

  “It’s fine Ms. Sawyer. I couldn’t imagine being in your shoes.” He pauses a moment before shaking my hand, his eyes show genuine concern. “I’m here if you have any further questions.”

  I nod my head. Quickly releasing his hand, I turn and leave his office.

  Leaning against the wall, I begin to cry. I need to get this out of my system before I enter the room with my daughter. I only want her to see tears of happiness not sorrow. She’s had enough sorrow in her short life. I head to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face, hoping the puffiness around my eyes will go down fast. Once I feel presentable, I head back to my daughter’s room. Opening the door gently, I see Brenda sitting with my sleeping cherub. She stands and smiles at me.

  “She ate the rest of her meal.” She whispers loud enough for me to hear but not to wake Lelia.

  “You’re an angel from up above.” I whisper back.

  “Go home and get some rest. I’ll call you if anything changes.”

  I hesitate for a moment, but my limbs become weak and I know I need to go home and get some sleep before my shift tonight. I don’t want to leave my daughter as I so often have to but what choice do I have? This is the only way until I pay off my debt to Wheeler. I shudder at the possibility of missing a payment to him and what he would do to me and worse my daughter.

  Leaning over my daughter’s bed, I kiss her gently on the top of her head. She used to have such lovely hair that hung in curls. The chemo treatments have ravaged her body. She has never once cried over the loss of her hair. She soldiered through as she does with everything that comes her way. God, I wish I had her strength. I say goodnight to Brenda and leave for home.

  On my way home, I say a silent prayer, hoping not to run into my landlord. I’ve been dodging him for weeks now. His patience with me and my lack of money to pay rent is running out. I grab the mail from my mailbox and scurry down the hall like a thief in the night to get to my door. Searching through my keyring for my house keys, I unlock the door as quickly as possible.

  “Mrs. Sawyer, how nice of you to come home,” my landlord says from behind me.

  I turn around slowly and brace myself for his words. “I know I’m late again. I can give you what I have if you could just give me some more time to make up the rest.”

  “You’re already four months behind on your rent.” He crosses his arms and taps his foot impatiently on the ground. He’s a short, stocky, bald-headed man, who reminds me of Elmer Fudd. The only difference is Elmer Fudd would smile and laugh; this man only scowls.

  “I know and I’m sorry. It’s just that the hospital bills and treatments are so expensive, even with insurance.”

  “Listen, Mrs. Sawyer, I think I’ve been more than patient with you.” A sob escapes my mouth.

  “Hmm, fine! Give me what you have for now! But that is it. I’ll give you one more month to catch up on your back rent, or I’ll have you out on your ass. Do you understand?”

  “Yes. Yes, I do.” I scramble to reach inside of my pocketbook before he changes his mind and pull out my last twenty dollars and hand it to him.

  His brows furrow as he stares at what would’ve been my grocery money in his hand before he gazes at me. “That is all you have?”

  “Yes. I work tonight. I can give you my tip money.” The words run out of my mouth in a rush.

  “Fine. I expect to see that tip money tomorrow morning. No later.” He crumbles up the money and shoves it in his pants pocket.

  “Of course. First thing in the morning, I’ll have it for you.” I place my hand over my pounding heart.

  With disgust in his eyes he goes back to his door. I open my door, throwing my bag on the floor since I had to sell my couch and table for extra cash a few months ago. Most of the furniture in the apartment is gone. The only room that I’ve not touched is my daughter’s. She doesn’t deserve to come home to an empty bedroom. Inside her room, I collapse onto her small bed and fall asleep, dreaming of that handsome stranger from a few days ago.

  Chapter 6

  Let’s Ride ~ Montell Jordan

  Tick

  At our final stop for inspections, Manny and Magnum stand off to the side in conversation. The two of them have plans to go to the party that Wheeler is throwing at his bar. The party will be an opportunity to spy on Wheeler and try to get a feel for what he’s been up to. The strippers he’s hired will just make for a more enjoyable night and view.

  “You two dickwads through over there?” I flip through text messages, not bothering to look up.

  “Yeah, let’s go. The strippers should be coming out soon.” Manny and his priorities.

  Taking out my car keys, I toss them to Manny. “You drive. Gotta answer these messages.”

  Manny drives the three of us to Wheeler’s bar. I’ve been in his joint a few times before. It’s your typical mob hangout, nothing special. But that’s the p
oint. You never want to bring too much attention to yourself.

  We quickly grab some seats at a table and don’t have to wait long for drinks to appear. Some of our associates stop by our table to chat with us. Everyone knows I’m Tony’s right-hand man, and they all try to stay in my good graces. Since Manny is my right hand, they extend the same courtesy to him as well. It’s all about who you know in our world.

  Some strippers come out and begin their routine. The only type of stripping I like is in my bedroom. I pay my drink closer attention. Manny and Magnum on the other hand empty their wallets into the strippers G-strings.

  “Wheeler sends his greetings,” the waitress says as she sets down a row of shots for us. I tip her a twenty and grab my glass. I see Wheeler and nod to him from across the room. We each slam back our shots.

  “I know Wheeler’s a shady fucker, but he knows how to throw a party.” Manny can always see the brighter side of shit. Wish I had that ability.

  “How much longer you wanna stay?” If I get back to the club in time, I can catch Tallie. I’ve an itch she can scratch tonight. The type of scratching I’m thinking about, though, we’ll need the headboard of my bed, along with some recently purchased handcuffs I think she’ll enjoy.

  “What the fuck, dude! We just got here. Chill the fuck out.” Manny punches me in the arm and I glare at him. He laughs at my bad mood.

  “The things I do for you fuckers,” I mutter under my breath. Then I hear the beginning of “Let’s Ride,” an old Montell Jordan song. The lights dim and the lit stage becomes the focal point. That’s when I see her, the girl from a few days ago. The one I rescued in that alleyway. All eyes are on her as she saunters onto the stage seductively.

  “Fuck me,” Manny murmurs, and I punch him in the arm in return. “What the fuck was that for?”

  “She’s off limits. Anyone in this place who touches her, leaves here in a body bag, you feel me?”

  Manny stares at me for a moment before nodding. Magnum shakes his head in disbelief at my reaction to a woman. I turn back to the stage, ready to make my threat a reality if any fuckers make a move toward her. My hand is at the ready to grab my gun in my ankle holster.

  Her dance is slow and hypnotic. Fuck, she’s even more beautiful than I remember her from a few days ago. Her innocence makes her look even more erotic. As she twirls around a pole, I imagine her dancing up and down the pole in my pants. Most of the assholes in this place rush the stage with dollars in hand, shoving money into her tiny G-string. Manny and Magnum remain seated, keeping a watchful eye on me as my trigger finger twitches at my side. Cyma finishes her performance without me having to lay dead bodies at her feet. She quickly exits the stage and goes to the back, leaving me sitting and wondering how a girl like her ended up in this lifestyle.

  Standing, I barely notice my chair falling backward to the ground from my sudden movement. “Be right back,” I say as I take long strides toward the back offices. I don’t bother to knock, as I push open the door. She’s startles and holds a blouse over her bare breasts. Recognition appears in her eyes.

  “What the hell?” she screeches.

  I take a step closer inside the room, closing the door behind me. “You ran off the last time I saw you. Didn’t want you running again.” I stand with my legs apart, taking her in, all of her. She is a sight to behold standing in front of me in just her panties, holding a blouse over her naked breasts. I envy that blouse.

  “So busting in when I’m changing clothes is the way to do it?” she accuses, still clutching tightly to her blouse.

  Okay, not exactly the reaction I was looking for. “Look my bad. I should’ve knocked.” I look down at the floor, hoping that the right words will come to me. For the first time in my life, I feel lost for words. Staring her in the eyes, I ask, “Do you want me to step out and we do this over again?”

  My comment must catch her off guard because she throws her head back and laughs. Wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, she smiles widely at me. “No Dante. It’s not necessary.”

  I smile back at her, relieved that I was able to make her laugh and not throw me out the door. I decide to push my luck some more. “Ya know you still owe me a lunch date.”

  Her eyes twinkle. “That I do.”

  Her smile only enhances her beauty. Even after performing such a seductive dance a few minutes ago her innocence still lingers. “Well, lunch has passed. How ‘bout dinner instead?” There’s no way I’m letting her disappear on me again. I got a second chance, and I’ll take it.

  A slight frown appears across her face. “Umm, I can’t.”

  “Can’t? Are you marri--”

  The door slams open, both of our heads turn and there Wheeler stands. “Cyma, that show was fucking incredible. I need you to get your ass back out there. They want another performance.”

  Oh, hell to the fuck no! She isn’t going back out or else there will be a bloodbath, and it won’t be my blood that’s shed. I turn to face Wheeler and size him up quickly. “Cyma’s an old friend of mine. She isn’t going back out there. We’ve got some catching up to do.” My fists clench at my sides, waiting for him to make a move.

  Wheeler starts to protest, but common sense must have sunk in. He gives me a quick nod and exits the room. I turn back around to face Cyma, and her face seems to relax.

  “You okay?” I’m starting to wonder if Wheeler may end up taking a cement bath, depending on her answer.

  “Yeah. I just didn’t want to perform again, or even tonight, actually.” She bites her bottom lip.

  “If you didn’t want to perform, then why did you?” I didn’t put a lot of thought into my question and my words rush out. She bends her head without answering. Fuck! Did I just put my foot into my mouth? I try to make a recovery. “Don’t worry about it, babe. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If he gives you any problems, just let me know.”

  She looks up, flashing her green eyes to meet mine. “Don’t call me babe. Most customers call me that. I’m not their babe and I sure as hell am not yours. Besides, why would you offer me your help?”

  Stunned, I stare at her for a moment and realize she is right. She is not my babe because she is not a babe. I often throw that word around to women who I fuck and won’t remember their name the next day. “You’re right. I’m sorry for calling you babe, Cyma.” Her face relaxes at my apology.

  “You still didn’t answer my question. Why are you offering me your help?”

  “Because I can and because I want to.” I remain still as I stare at her, waiting for my words to sink in.

  “I’m not used to that.” She drops her hands, exposing her magnificent breasts. Her figure is perfect and must bring most men to their knees. The heels she is wearing accentuate her long legs that seem to go on forever.

  Her words hit me and snaps me back to reality. “You’re not used to what?”

  Her cheeks are now tinged with a bright pink. “Men like you. Men who help and not …” She doesn’t finish her words as her brow creases.

  I want to push her for an answer but she looks like she is lost in thought. I decide to leave it alone and pick it up another time. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I feel like a kid asking a girl out on a first date. “Need a ride home?”

  She blinks rapidly as if realizing that I am in the room with her. “Umm, yeah. But I have to get dressed first.” She stares at me for what feels like a minute. Thrown off by this, I rub the back of my neck and stare at the tiles on the floor. Then it dawns on me. She wants privacy while she gets dressed.

  “I’ll wait outside your door. Come out when you’re ready.” Stepping into the hall, I shake my head. I can’t believe my luck. What were the chances of me running into this chick again? I remember that Manny and Magnum are waiting for me at the table. I shoot off a text to them, letting them know they’ll have to find their own way home tonight. They both respond back quickly, stating they’ve already found some bed partners so no worries on their end. I lean against
the wall and wait patiently for the beauty to make an appearance.

  Chapter 7

  Shadow Dancing ~ Andy Gibb

  Cyma

  Something bothers me. For Wheeler to be afraid, does that mean Dante is a worse monster than he is? I think back to that day in the alleyway. He was kind and gentle. He stepped in when he didn’t have to. Wheeler would never do anything like that. Wheeler is a selfish asshole who gets off on causing pain to others. Dante, even though I barely know him, has shown me the complete opposite. My gut tells me I can trust him. However, I also need to tread the line cautiously.

  I can’t deny that I’m attracted to this man. It’s been a long time since I’ve paid attention to a man or even felt pretty myself. Yes, I strip for a living when I’m not waiting tables at the local diner, but those people see me as an object. I never feel beautiful when I strip, but the way Dante looks at me, makes me feel like I am.

  I couldn’t possibly consider anything with Dante with all my problems. Besides, he’s only offered me a ride home, probably just being generous. I wouldn’t dare bring him into the chaos that is called my life.

  I finish getting dressed and gaze into the mirror one last time before I leave. Butterflies flutter around in my stomach as I realize Dante will be driving me home; we’ll be in a car alone together for the first time. Grabbing my purse, I open the door with sweaty palms, and as promised, Dante is standing in the hall waiting for me.

  “Hope I didn’t keep you too long.” I never noticed he has a cleft chin; it makes him appear even more devilishly handsome.

  “No worries. I waited six days for you, so six more minutes doesn’t matter at this point.” He gives me a toothy grin and my cheeks warm. He holds his arm out and I link mine through it. As we head toward the exit, most of the men stop to say good-bye to him. He must be someone important. This can’t be good, he can’t be a decent guy after all. My instincts must be wrong about him.