Warning Track (17 page)

“I am!” Jane practically shouted as she stomped out of the car and went toward the entrance of the restaurant. Hello hormones!

She heard Brady call her name from behind her, but she ignored him as she pushed through the restaurant doors and looked around for Albert, who already had a table reserved for them looking over Piedmont Park. When Albert spotted Jane, he waved her casually over, as she steamed from head to toe. Her phone was ringing, but she refused to pick it up because she knew her infuriating husband was on the other end.
 

Jane plopped down in her seat and tossed her purse on the ground, then picked up the menu and huffed while looking it over.
 

After a few minutes of sulking and her phone going off, Albert pulled her menu down so she had to look him in the eyes. Amusement and curiosity ran through his eyes, only making her madder. All the men her life were getting on her nerves, even the extremely flamboyant ones.

“What?” she snapped, not being able to rein in any of the emotions that were boiling to the surface of her brain.
 

Albert cocked an eyebrow at her and held up his finger like the perfect gay man that he was. “Oh girl, don’t you dare sass me. I’m not the one who got your panties all in a bunch. Now, why don’t you quit creasing your forehead with those heinous worry lines, because I don’t want to have to suffer down Botox Boulevard with you. You’re too pretty for that.”

Jane shook her head. “I’m sorry, Alby. That man is just so infuriating.”

“That man? As in the hunkiest man ever to walk the planet? Girl, if I were you, I’d be praising every god that has blessed your white ass because that man is a walking orgasm.” Albert fanned himself as he looked outside. Albert had always had a big crush on Brady and never let it go unnoticed.
 

“Looks can only take you so far…”

“Let me stop you right there,” Jane’s phone went off again, but they both ignored it. “I’m just going to make some general assumptions that I know are right based on the way your lip is curled and your left nipple is pointy.” Jane looked down at her shirt and confirmed that, in fact, her nipple was saying hello to everyone. “Brady was being protective of you and instead of you allowing him to take charge, like he likes to, you got all I-am-woman-hear-me-roar on him and stormed away when poor Brady was only trying to make sure you were going to be okay.” Albert took a bite of the celery that was in his Bloody Mary. “Am I right?” he asked with a mouthful of celery rolling around.
 

“You always take his side.”

“That’s because he’s a rational human being, whereas you are a crazed lunatic walking around on two toothpicks and three inch heels with a couple packs of flour sitting on the forefront of your stomach, whose emotional needs are more demanding than a professional birthday brat.” Casually, Albert raised an eyebrow at Jane as he took a sip from his Bloody Mary.
 

“Well, tell me how you really feel.”

“Don’t get all disgruntled at me, Jane. It’s not very becoming on you.” Albert grabbed Jane’s hand and patted it with the soothing calmness that only a best friend could. “Now listen young lady, you have a good thing going for you, don’t ruin it because your hormones are out of whack and you need to prove something to the world. Brady is a good man and only wants to protect what’s his. You’re carrying his child, you’re the one who gets to feel the little girl kick and you get to have that special bond with her that only a mother can experience; give Brady the privilege of protecting you, even if he might be overbearing.”

Jane’s fists itched to punch Albert right in the schnoz because of how damn right he was. It was annoying. Just for once, she wanted her best friend to not be the rational adult and be the bitchy gay man who ganged up on her side.
 

“Ugh, I hate you,” Jane gave in.
 

“No, you don’t. You love me and you know I’m right.”
 

Jane’s phone rang again and, instead of ignoring it, Albert pulled the phone out of her purse and answered it.
 

“Why, hello you fine piece of meat.” Albert giggled to himself like a little school girl. “Yes, she’s sitting across from me and looking more beautiful than ever.” Jane felt herself blush. “Yeah, you are a lucky man, but I’d say she’s even luckier. You know, I’m always waiting on the sidelines for the moment the screw finally loosens in Jane’s brain; I’ll be there to swoop right in. You and me, Brady, it will be a love affair for the ages.” Jane could only imagine how tongue-tied Brady must be, so she grabbed the phone from Albert’s hand.
 

“Hello?”

“Jane?” Brady’s voice sounded desperate and relieved at the same time.
 

“Yes, hi. I’m sorry I didn’t answer my phone…and for leaving without finishing our conversation.”

“God, Jane. I don’t know what to do with you. I just want to make sure everything is alright and I don’t know…”

“It’s fine, Brady. I overreacted and everything is good now. Albert helped me see the light.”

Albert winked at her and took a sip from his drink while swirling the nub of his celery stick in his drink.
 

“Remind me to kiss that man when I see him.”

“No way in hell. No one gets to touch those lips but me.”

Albert sat up in his seat and said, “Did he want to kiss me?” He started fanning his face. “Jane, don’t you dare cock block me.”

Brady laughed through the phone as Jane tried to calm Albert down. “He is not kissing you. If I let that happen, I’ll never be able to pry you away.”

Albert crossed his arms like a petulant child and sat back in his chair, making Jane smile.
 

“Thanks for answering my call, sweet thing, but I have to get into the cages; Marc is waiting for me.”

“I thought that old man retired,” Jane teased. Marc was in his late thirties, nowhere near being old, but in baseball age, he was a geezer.
 

“Apparently, he doesn’t know what to do with his life when Patty is working or at an event, so he bothers me.”

“You like it.”

“I like you.”

“Just like?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Albert chimed in. “You two can fuck like porn stars later, let’s move on with this meeting before I upchuck from the nauseating display of affection.”

“Got to go, handsome.”

“I hear that. The queen has spoken.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, pip-squeak.”

Chapter Nine

**Luke**

Looking up at the ceiling, Luke examined the hole from the bullet that was supposed to be lodged in his skull right now. The cool metal of the gun surprisingly burned his hand from the power it had, the power to remove him from the cruel and fucked-up world he was living in.
 

He was sprawled across the bedroom floor with Molly across his body. He’d loaded more bullets, he still had a chance. He had a chance to end everything…the terrors, the nightmares, the flashbacks, the loud noises that either put him on edge or made him practically wet himself. PTSD was some fucked-up shit and never in his life had he actually comprehended the complexity of it until he was living it. He’d seen some of the strongest men he knew taken down by the illness and always judged them for not being emotionally tough enough to withstand what they were going through, but fuck Luke in the ass because he knew exactly what they went through now. He was an ass for thinking any less of anyone with even a mild case of PTSD; it was an illness that could destroy a person and everyone around them.

One moment, he would be living his life the best that he could, maybe watching TV…and one wrong smell, one wrong sound and he found himself breaking out into a fit of sweats, reacting the only way he knew how, by going into protection mode, watching his six every chance he got and trying not to fall into the dark abyss that took over his brain and brought him back to the cold, rotten warehouse where he was beaten, abused and taken advantage of.
 

He went through all of that torture and pain for what? For some measly drugs? So some foreign fucks could get high? Fuck that! If Luke had the choice, he would blast the motherfuckers with a flame thrower and laugh as he watched them burn to death.

This morning, it was the slam of a neighbor’s door that set Luke off. The door sounded the same as the door that the terrorists/drug dealers used to walk in and out of. The sound set his synapses into full alert. He sat in the corner of the room, where his back was protected and he could scan the room, making sure the men didn’t come back. He was fighting a losing battle against drifting off into flashbacks. That was where his mind was when Molly found him.
 

Luke glanced at the gun in his hand again and brought it back to his head. Molly didn’t know who she was saving. She thought he was the man she once knew, the man who could protect her, take care of her like a man should, but she was wrong. Luke wasn’t even a quarter of that man anymore. He would be doing her a favor by dying, just like she originally thought.
 

He was about the pull the trigger again when his hand was swatted away from his face and he was punched across the jaw.
 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Molly screamed, as tears streaked down her face. “What the fuck, Luke?” she sobbed over his body. Her body heaved as tears continued to fall from her eyes. “You can’t fucking do that, you can’t leave me again.”

“You were better off without me,” Luke screamed, as he scrambled to get off the floor. “I can’t do this, Molly. I can’t live this life anymore. I don’t want to live this life anymore.”

“But…”

“No!” Luke shouted. “You don’t fucking get it, do you? Your stupid blonde head can’t actually comprehend what I’m going through. Why would you understand? All you’ve ever cared about is fucking, booze, and yourself. Not once have you ever cared to think about others or do something for others. I’m surprised you even have fucking friends who can stand to be near your self-absorbed personality. I can’t believe I stayed around for as long as I did.” Luke paced the room and then turned on her. “The only reason I proposed was because I felt fucking bad for you. You were a good fuck, so I would have been satisfied, but I didn’t love you. I only proposed so you would have someone to call family. I gave in to your pathetic ass.”

The words that were coming out of Luke’s mouth were foreign to him. He didn’t know why he was saying them. He didn’t by any means mean them or believe them, but one thing he did know, by the look on her face, she was shattered. That was what he needed. He needed to destroy her because that would be the only way he could set her free and get away. He needed to get away.

Tears flowed freely down Molly’s face as she sat on the floor, looking up at him.
 

“You don’t mean that,” Molly said weakly. “You’re just upset, you’re hurt. You’ve had a really rough morning.”

“Don’t fucking tell me how I’m feeling, you dumb-ass bitch. You have no fucking clue how I’m feeling, so don’t try to act like you do.”

“Then tell me!” Molly screamed as she got up from the floor with a renewed confidence. “Fucking tell me!” She pushed him in the chest as she screamed in his face, shaking uncontrollably. “Tell me!”

Rage built in Luke’s core as Molly pushed him across the room while screaming at him, screaming at him to open up, to fight back. Something in him snapped, something deep down fucking broke and the cage that was holding up all his pent-up anger busted open.
 

Without even a second thought, Luke tossed Molly to the ground like she was a piece of kindling in his way, grabbed the chair that was in the corner of the room and chucked it across the room, slamming it into the wall, making a chair-sized dent in the plaster. He then proceeded to rip the closet doors off and slam them against the window, breaking them with ease.
 

“Stop!” Molly shouted as she grabbed ahold of his back. In a matter of seconds, Luke was hit with a flashback that he had no chance of holding off.
 

The room turned black as the smell of piss, blood and puke filled his senses. The loud footsteps of the man who would take him from behind entered the room. Adding to the mixture of human excrements that graced Luke’s nostrils, was the putrid smell of body odor and cheap cigarettes. Luke’s body fell to the floor, as he crouched into a child’s pose, clenching his thighs and ass cheeks together as tightly as possible, even though he was as weak as a mother fucker. He needed to put up a fight; he needed to show that he was still a man.
 

Sirens sounded in the distance as Luke prepared himself, prepared to escape reality like he always did when the men came after him with whatever form of torture they found appropriate that day, whether it was their dicks, whips, water torture, swinging rocks, or ball ties. With his hands at his sides, he held on tight as voices filtered through the room.
 

Molly’s voice was faint as he fought his demons; he couldn’t understand what she was saying, but her voice was shrill as two pairs of hands grabbed ahold of his body. This was it, he needed to find his happy place; it was the only way he’d survived. As he was manhandled, Luke drifted off to a place where no one could touch him; he drifted off to the beach where he and Molly held each other on a beach towel, enjoying the sun and each other’s bodies. He was at peace.