“Dancer! Open up, man!”
The old hotel door vibrates with the pounding it receives. My head goes down, both hands raking over it again. I don’t want my brothers here. Why couldn’t they just leave me alone? I told them to.
“Dancer, open this fucking door or I’m kicking it in!” Crusher yells as he pounds the damn door again. I wince at the pain the noise brings.
I struggle to stand. I may not have had shit to do with my brothers since I got out of the joint, but I know that he’s not going to give up. Before I can fully pick my ass up out of the floor, the door slams open and bounces off the wall with a huge cracking noise. I wince in pain the noise brings and close my eyes against the glaring light that is now in the room.
“Fucking hell! Close the damn-motherfucking-son-of-a-bitching door!” I growl, not bothering to turn around and look at Crusher. It’s better to keep my back against the light.
“Oh god.”
I turn my head against my will when I hear that voice. I know that voice. That voice is imbedded in my brain, my motherfucking black soul. Carolina Grace, the woman who offered me heaven, and brought me hell.
I’m going to rip Crusher’s head off. My eyes lock with the one person in this world that I never expected, nor wanted to lay eyes on again.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
She jerks back like I just physically hit her. I’ve never hit a woman in my life, but I have so much anger stored up, she’d be smart to stay away from me.
“Hi, Jacob,” she whispers into the room and it makes me want to scream and roar at her. I don’t want her here. I don’t want to see her, I don’t want to deal with her and I sure as hell don’t want to hear that sweet voice saying my name. She’s poison; she’s a fucking knife to the gut that repeatedly stabs. She’s the reason my head is all messed up, that my life is all screwed up and most of all she is the reason I want to swallow a fucking bullet.
“GET THE FUCK OUT OF THIS ROOM!” I roar pulling myself up and charging towards her.
She gasps and backs up against the hotel door. I’m almost to her. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I reach her. I really don’t. I might even strangle the life out of her. I know I will push her out of my room, out of my space, out of my life. I know it. In the end the point is moot though because Crusher jumps in front of me and stops me from reaching her.
We’re pretty evenly matched, but if I had been sober he wouldn’t have stopped me. As it is, he contains me and looks over his shoulder.
“Red, wait for me by my bike, darlin’.”
“Okay, Alexander,” she whispers and gives me another tortured look.
Her green eyes are filled with tears, but I don’t care. Her and her tears can rot in hell. Her auburn hair shines too bright in the dark room. It’s like a beacon of hope, a memory of a better time, a better life. That pisses me off even more. Wait. Hold up! Alexander? What the hell?
“Are you sinking your dick in that cunt?” I ask in disgust, pushing away from Crusher.
“Jesus H. Christ, Dance! You smell like a damn gutter,” Crusher says. His face is curled in disgust.
The bitches from last night are sitting up in bed looking at me and Crusher and it pisses me off. I told them to be gone by morning. I don’t even know why I keep trying to bury myself in pussy. It’s not working anyway and I sure as fuck don’t want them around after.
“Get dressed and get the hell out,” I growl, walking towards the small bath, intent on taking a shower.
“If you’re going to wait around till I get out, make sure those bitches leave,” I order Crusher.
“Dance man…”
“And you sure as fuck better keep that gash you came with outside.”
I make it to the door before a crash is heard. I turn to look and Crusher has taken one of the empty liquor bottles and smashed the old mirror hanging on the wall opposite of the bed. I look at my brother, his body is rigid with anger and the laid back country ol’ shucks cocky vibe he normally has is gone.
“Dance, I’m warning you, lay off of Red. I know you’re fucked up, but that woman doesn’t deserve your wrath or insults.”
“I’ve rotted in hell for two years because of that woman.”
“Bullshit.”
I want to argue, but truth is I don’t give a fuck. The sooner I shower and talk to his ass the sooner he’ll leave and I can find a new bottle.
“Whatever. Sorry I insulted your Twinkie of the month,” I grumble and slam the door on his curse.
Chapter 2
Carrie