Toxic Page 2

  “What the hell? What’s wrong?” the now-forgotten waitress asks.

  “Nothing. Keep the change,” I dismiss her, take a sip of my drink, and search the room. When I don’t see my vision anywhere, I lean back, my mind in chaos wondering if I’m drunker than I thought. “Who the fuck even cares?”

  I lift the glass to my lips as a single spotlight hits the stage. I choke when the woman who I have wrapped my hand around my dick to more than any other fantasy graces the stage.

  The light is shimmering down on all her beauty. “It can’t be.” But it sure the hell is.

  Brown, long, wavy locks fall over one shoulder, the other side giving me a teasing hint of her smooth, bare flesh. She is gorgeous. Her long black dress tightly hugs her breasts and flows to the floor.

  It’s her.

  The smart-mouthed woman from Montana. The one woman who I’d enjoy watching a sunrise or a sunset with.

  2

  Maria

  When my aunt Peaches found out I’d be attending Boise State University, she moved here and opened a bar.

  The Shade Tree in Nashville is her home base. The first bar she opened. It’s still going strong. One of the hot spots in the country music scene. Now, there’s a Shade Tree in Montana and in Idaho. She’s moved around with us. The crazy aunt everyone deserves. One of the best people I know.

  I smile down at her as soon as I pull my guitar over my head. This acoustic baby was my mom’s. Worn, loved, and has played hundreds of songs over the years. It was the one I learned to play on and will play the rest of my life.

  I begin strumming the opening chords of Ed Sheeran’s “Photograph.” My nerves flare up for a flinch of a second until the sound of the guitar echoing around the bar settles me. Singing is the fuel that keeps me going in life. My passion. Obsession. I love all kinds of music. I tend to sing soulful, deep songs. I’ve been called a mix between Norah Jones and Alicia Keys.

  The song flows in the free-spirited kind of way I like to be, wrapping all around me in comfort. On the stage with my guitar is where I get lost, dream, and feel powerful.

  Halfway through the song, I squint when I see a man sitting in a booth by himself. A man I didn’t think I’d ever see again. The sight of Alex Diamond knocks me off my game, nearly making me lose track of the words I’ve sung many times. Please, God, tell me Idaho cannot be that small that he’d be sitting here in this bar.

  Seriously. What in the hell?

  He better stay put if he knows what’s best for him, or he might get a good old-fashioned country girl kick in his balls.

  I pull my glance away, not once looking back to the table he’s at during the rest of my set. I pour everything I have into each song, getting lost. After the applause and my little bit about the drink specials, the nights I'll be singing, and a special thanks to my aunt, I turn to leave the stage. My self-discipline weakens as I glance at his table. Alex stares unabashedly at me, as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing. That makes two of us.

  I glance back down to my heels, adjusting my guitar on my back and steadying my legs as I take each stair, bound and determined to ignore him. He was a constant thorn in my side when he stayed at the bed and breakfast, and whatever he’s doing here is none of my concern.

  “You're not going to say hello?” I pause in my steps, swallowing hard. I might be young, but ignoring him is childish, and that I am not.

  “Hello, Alex.” I turn around to face him. My breath catches and some weird foreign feeling scatters across my flesh.

  The man is almost too handsome to look at, and yet, as I look at him now, his appearance makes me want to cry. He looks worse than I remember. Darkness coats his eyes. My God, what is he doing to himself?

  “Maria.” He reaches his hand up, bringing it close to my face.

  It all happens in slow motion. It’s as if he needs to touch me to make sure I’m not a dream. I watch it the entire time, pulling back out of the hypnotizing gaze his shaky hand has me in before he makes contact with my skin. I step back, the back of my leg hitting the steps.

  “Wh-What are you doing here?” I manage to stumble out. Feeling trapped by not only his large body but his soul-searching stare.

  He winces at my question as if I’ve slapped him. When he peers back up, there’s fire in his dark eyes. “Drinking.”

  It’s a one-word answer, yet it says so much more. That glimpse of wanting to help this man floods in. I seal it shut just as fast. The man is nothing but trouble. The kind of trouble I do not need.

  “Ironic, seeing you at a bar, wouldn’t you say?” I jerk my chin, wanting my words to feel as cold as they were delivered.

  “See you’re still a stuck-up bitch,” he replies, crossing his arms over his tight black T-shirt showcasing his well-defined biceps. Alex is nothing like the men back in my hometown. They are guppies, and he’s a shark. His body is ridiculously cut with muscle under an olive tan. Utter perfection. I should know after walking in on him a handful of times while he was passed out completely naked on his bed.

  “And you are still a drunk. I guess some things never change.” I try to step past him, but Alex grabs my upper arm.

  “Why are you here in Idaho?” he growls, baring his teeth. The powerful scent of whiskey strikes me in the face.

  I don’t answer him; it’s none of his damn business.

  “Answer me, dammit, Maria.” He releases my arm, moves a little closer into my space.

  “Fuck you. Why don’t you tell me what you're doing in Idaho? And, by the way, I’m not a woman who can be bought. Your pitiful excuse for leaving a shit ton of money because of your behavior doesn’t work in my world. I don’t want anything from you, Alex; that includes you in my presence.” I glare at him.

  A sliver of remorse flickers across his features. I’m done talking to this arrogant asshole.

  “That money was my apology.” He runs a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up in every direction. Even all messed up he still looks good. Thinking those thoughts boils my blood. He is not my type, not by a damn long shot.

  I scoff. “Alex, let me school you on a few things. For one, there’s not enough money in the world to justify your behavior. Two, all a woman like me needs is honesty. ‘I’m sorry for the way I acted, for the way I treated you, Maria,’ would have been enough. Sober up and realize that little fact.”

  My skin burns under his gaze, only pissing me off even more. I hate this man. One manufactured by his arrogance and out-of-control behavior. The things he did while at my family’s bed and breakfast are unforgivable. His behavior escalated day by day until he left. My dad would’ve hurt him, possibly even killed him if he knew the way he treated me. I didn’t mention one thing to my parents, not wanting to ruin their vacation. Honestly, I was too damn busy putting out fires Alex ignited to even think straight half the time.

  “Do we have a problem here?” Peaches forces her way between us, causing Alex to step away from me.

  “No,” I answer in a rush. “I’m going to change before I’m late for my waitressing shift.”

  I brush past the two of them. Hear her start to lay into him. Alex’s response that we are old friends reacquainting has me laughing. Not hardly. Far from it. The man ignites my anger to a point where I’m curling my hands into a ball. My nails are biting the insides of my palms, piercing the skin.

  He’s toxic. Plain and simple. There’s no other explanation. I’m not about to be pulled down right along with him and his addiction.

  Peaches slings drinks behind the bar. I keep up with my section thankful she told Alex to stay clear of me, or she would kick him out. She’s my momma bear here in Idaho. Even though Alex isn’t in my section, I find myself glancing over at him every now and then. His thick biceps flexing under his T-shirt magnetizes me and pisses me off at the same time. Several women have settled at his table with their cleavage on full display, one of them being Lexi, whose shift ended when mine began. Alex’s head sways from side to side. I can tell from across
the bar he’s one drink away from being cut off.

  I breathe a sigh of relief when he and his harem settle their tab and stand. Lexi and another blonde loop their arms through Alex’s one on each side. I’m certain it’s the only way he can walk. How in the hell does the man have sex in a state like that?

  “Jesus, Maria,” I whisper, ridiculing myself for even going there.

  “What’s this for?” I hear Peach’s stern voice say from behind me.

  “Maria,” Alex replies.

  “She wasn’t your server.”

  “She’ll know what it’s for.”

  I keep my hands busy to avoid looking over my shoulder. It’s not until the front door shuts that I move. When I whirl around with a tray in one hand and a rag in the other, I find Alex has gone.

  I refuse to ask what he left for me. If it’s money, I may stab him in the eye.

  The rest of the night goes by without incident. Time flies as the newest bar in downtown Boise flourishes. I swear my aunt has a magic touch.

  I plop down on a bar stool after cleaning up. Peaches sips quietly on a mug of coffee while the two of us count out our tips. I’m a smart girl and even though she tried telling me to keep my money, I still tip her. I do it for every bartender I work with.

  “Stay away from him.” She slides over a napkin and a stack of bills. “He’s bad news.”

  My jaw goes slack when I focus on the thick pile of hundred-dollar bills that I’m going to bury him with. It’s not the money that shocks me. Hell, the amount he left me back home showed he has plenty of it. It’s the cocktail napkin with five letters scrawled across it in his slanted print that angers me when it shouldn’t.

  Sorry, Alex.

  I smooth my finger over the four letters of his name. The man is haunted, and now he’s haunting me.

  “I will,” I whisper, staring at the apology.

  “How in the hell do you know him? He’s too old to go to college.”

  I laugh at her old-school mentality. “Peaches, anyone can go to college. I met him in Montana. He stayed at the bed and breakfast when Mom and Dad were on vacation.”

  I bite down on my bottom lip. Shit, I shared too much information. She’ll be on the phone with my dad in no time. Leave it up to Alex to fuck things up; seems it’s all he’s done since he entered my world.

  “I know you’re an adult now and all that fancy shit, but if I’ve learned one thing in life, men like him are nothing but trouble. The kind of trouble that will break your heart and shatter your world. I’ll say one more time. Stay the hell away from him. You’re better than that,” she finishes.

  I chew on the inside of my cheek, letting her words sink in. I agree with everything except the last part. I’m no better than Alex. He’s a man who's fighting something that he thinks he can’t recover from.

  If my dad has taught me anything in life, it’s not to judge others, especially when they’re at a low. Hell, he and my uncles who are not blood relation experienced the same shit in spades when they returned from war a band of broken brothers. It wasn’t pretty. But they fought and came out the other side better men. And my dad is the strongest, bravest person I know, which only proves his point not to judge others.

  I bow my head in shame wondering if I’m judging Alex for his drinking or for the repercussions he left me to clean up because he was drunk.

  I nod. I won’t argue with her. Nor will I tell her any more about him. It’s her protective side coming out. We are both exhausted mentally and physically after this huge transition in our life. I grab my purse and car keys from behind the bar, giving her a kiss before exiting through the back door. I walk to my car in the well-lit parking lot. Chills race over my skin when I remember the gunshot I heard last spring out here when visiting the campus and finishing up paperwork. Everyone told me it was my imagination since there was nothing reported to the authorities or printed in the newspaper. But I know I heard it. I also recall a man’s fierce scream. It startled me, scared me, and I almost ran to see if they needed help, then fought within myself to stay clear. That scream haunted me so much because it wasn’t a scream for help. It was the kind of scream that put all my other thoughts on hold; it pierced my skin and ran my blood ice-cold.

  I shiver as I reach into my purse for my keys. I look down when the toe of my Converse kicks something, sending it gliding across the parking lot. My vision zeroes in on car keys. I shake my head. Damn drunks. I bend over, pick them up, and tuck them in my purse. I’ll text Peaches about them to let her know I’ll bring them to the bar first thing in the morning before class.

  A blacked-out BMW is the only other car in the parking lot and more than likely the partner to the keys I have in my purse. I start my truck, reach into my purse, and grab the keys to the abandoned car. I press the lock button on the remote dangling from the keychain, and sure enough, the headlights flash.

  I’d bet every dime I made tonight that car belongs to Alex.

  Streetlights zip by in my peripheral as I drive to my apartment off campus. It’s small and perfect for me. When I told my parents I wanted to live by myself, they weren’t happy and made sure it was one in a nice neighborhood. Hell, I guarantee it’s nicer than any other college student has.

  I attended the community college not ready to leave home for two years after graduating high school. Then I decided I needed to transfer to a university to pursue my degree.

  I sigh. The thought of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, Netflix, and my pajamas makes me melt back in my seat, and yet the thought of being alone saddens me.

  Sure, I have plenty of girlfriends, but none of them are here.

  On that thought, I feel something else, a strange prickling sensation of awareness gliding over my skin.

  If I’m lonely, then I can only imagine how a man like Alex must feel. So lost in whatever driving him to drink that the loneliness inside of him has to be unbearable.

  The man is obviously wealthy; he’s young, too. No amount of money can buy happiness, though. So, what could it be that has turned his insides into chaos? Something is eating away at him. Something is hurting him. Something aches inside him. For some ungodly reason, it causes my heart to break for the arrogant man. He’s screaming for help the same way the person in the alley was.

  The torrent thoughts shatter when I step into my apartment. Dixie, my Yorkie, bounds up to me. She’s getting old; it makes it so she can no longer jump up on the back of the couch for me to easily scoop her up. I was insistent on bringing her with me, making the apartment search that much harder.

  “Hey, baby.” I bend over and scoop her overweight self up and kiss her forehead.

  Dixie nestles into the crook of my neck, her panting a sign she’s happy to see me. She’s been mine since I was eight years old. The best birthday present I’ve ever received.

  I forgo the ice cream and pour myself a glass of sweet, crisp white wine after taking Dixie out. Only three more months until I can buy this myself and not have Peaches do it for me. It’s not a vice for me but a way to relax.

  I unbutton my jeans and relax on the couch, glass of wine in hand. I kick up my feet on the coffee table. The edge of my Converse nudges the envelope that holds Alex’s supposed apology. It’s burned every surface it’s landed on.

  Hell, I’ve been careless by leaving it to sit there because I don’t want anything to do with it. Never in my wildest dreams did I think our paths would ever cross again.

  An idea strikes through my tired brain. This may not be the smartest idea. But then again, I want nothing more than to throw his money right back in his face.

  I lean forward to grab my MacBook. “Let’s find out exactly who you are, Alex Diamond.”

  I take a sip of wine and choke it down when I realize who he is.

  “This has got to be a joke,” I mutter, only to lay my head back. The joke is on me.

  3

  Alex

  “Hey, Justice, it’s Alex,” I clear my throat, the ache in my head pummeling the hell out
of my ears. “I’m going to be late this morning. I’ll be there in time for the meeting. I have all the documents in a file on my desk if you want to go over them and make sure I haven’t missed anything. I’ll explain why I’m late when I get there. Sorry.”

  I hang up, toss my phone on my bed knowing full well it will be another lie I tell her. I bow my head, nostrils flaring, brain bouncing against my skull. I’m so fucking angry at myself for reasons I can’t grasp hold of. This being late, making up excuse after excuse with everyone, is just a part of the vicious cycle I’m spinning in.

  “If you don’t pull your shit together, you won’t have a job, you dumb fuck,” I mutter, and yet the way I feel right now, I can’t manage to give one single fuck even though I know I should. I should be worried because my dad flew out here to check on me. Wouldn’t be a bit surprised if someone called him and told him how I’m screwing everything up.

  You’re sweating and shaking, Alex. What is going on with you? Stay away from my daughter and me if you're sick. Go home and take care of yourself.

  Those were the last words I recall Justice saying to me yesterday before she left. I went and took care of myself, alright. Booze and women. Another night that left only pieces of memories. My normal. The one way that gets me through the loneliest parts of the day.

  I’m sick, alright. It isn’t the kind of sickness she thinks. The only cure for what I have is light golden brown in color, hints of vanilla, subtle notes of honey, and a taste of warmth that pleasantly eats at my stomach.

  I push myself up from the bed. My head starts to spin when I feel vomit creep up the back of my throat. I try swallowing it down just as much as I try blocking out the voice in my head. You killed a man. That man was me.

  Even though he’s dead, he rarely leaves me alone.