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Damn Madelyn Stone for whatever magic she wove around people.
And damn me for falling under her spell.
I didn't want to go home alone where thoughts of Maddy would be waiting. I wasn’t sure how I felt about the way Maddy was eclipsing my memories of Claire. After all, I loved Claire. I didn’t love Maddy. And even if I did feel something more for her, it was too soon to label it.
You felt something for Claire right away, my inner voice reminded me.
Yes, but lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same place, I argued.
True. Maddy’s more like the tide that keeps rolling in, eroding those chains around your heart.
"Steelers fan, huh?" A sultry voice warmed my ear and blessedly distracted me from my internal debate.
I glanced up to see the blonde I'd been watching earlier slide onto the barstool that had been vacated by James. Her black leather skirt slid high enough I could see the lacy tops of her thigh-high stockings. She lifted a hand to signal for the bartender, causing her blouse to fold in such a way to further expose her bra that was filled out nicely. Quite nicely, actually.
"I'd like a Screaming Orgasm," she said, shifting sideways in her seat to face me.
I bet you would. I realized she was talking to the bartender, but she was definitely dropping a hint to me. Maybe not the most original flirtation, but she was pretty in a rocker girl kind of way, and I could use the distraction, so I grinned back at her.
"Thanks, sugar." She gave the bartender a wink then turned back toward me. "Are you here alone?"
"Turns out I am." I shrugged and deliberately made my tone non-committal. I didn't want to give the wrong impression that I was up for more than anything other than a good fuck, if indeed this led where I thought it might.
The bartender brought her creamy looking drink. I studied her as she offered me a coy look and slid her brick-red fingernails up and down the cocktail stick. She pulled it from the drink knowingly puckered her lips around it, then slowly sucked one of the cherries into her mouth. It didn't take a genius to see what she was mimicking. My cock strained against my zipper, reminding me of how long he had been lonely.
She glanced again at the television then leaned forward and rested a hand on my knee, her fingers rubbing small circles on my thigh. "Are you really interested in this game?"
I stared at her exposed breasts and gave her a slow grin that usually made women practically fall into my lap. "As a matter of fact, I am. But I could probably be convinced to check the score tomorrow." I reached for her hand.
Maybe I did need to let Claire go, but in the end, this was the only way I knew how.
15
Maddy
My clothes spun round and round in the machine, mimicking the churning in my stomach. After all this time, I couldn't imagine why Charly was reaching out to me. Biting my lip, I reached for the first envelope she had left for me at the prison. My fingers shook slightly as I pulled the letter back out and scanned the page. I wasn't the only one with a flair for drama; Charly's was demonstrated in the swirls and flourishes of her handwriting. It wasn't a long letter which could be good or bad. I sucked in a sustaining breath and began to read.
I read the letter a second time to make sure I'd read her words correctly. My initial reaction was anger. She was wrong about me. The big heart she remembered belonged to the girl I used to be, not the woman who'd been reshaped after six years in hell.
Life was hard enough living with the knowledge I'd taken someone's life, images that still caused me nightmares. During the entire hearing process, I'd been treated as if I was a cold-blooded killer, a danger to all of society. The insinuations cut deep, and Charly was responsible for them. So how she believed she was keeping me safe was beyond me.
And how dare she imply I was the reason communication had fallen off between us! Initially, despite my anger toward her, even her familiar face or letters would have been welcomed in my isolated world. She said she wrote to me but never once had I received any letters from her. No phone calls or messages of any kind. I couldn't understand why she'd lie about this, other than she was trying to build me up with sweet words because she wanted something more from me now that I was free and might have something to give to her.
Angrily, I tore open the large brown envelope only to gasp as a thin, hardback book with ragged edging fell into my hands. Bambi. I couldn't prevent the tears that welled up as I held my favorite childhood book. I'd read the pages so many times the pages were soiled and dog-eared. When I was a little girl, I related to Bambi, stumbling along motherless and lonely, trying to navigate a world that might have been different if she had survived.
I reached for the note that had fallen out with the book.
I anxiously reached for the envelope and peered inside. Something gold was lodged in the corner. I tipped the envelope, and my mother's locket spilled into my palm. My stomach twisted in knots as I rubbed my thumb over the engraved scrolls and swirls on the penny-sized heart. My mother apparently hadn't owned a lot of jewelry, or at least my father hadn't kept much. But one day when I was around four and Charly was ten, we snuck into my dad's bedroom snooping for something I don't even remember. When we came across the necklace, Charly recognized it immediately, and when she snapped the hinge open there were two pictures inside. One was of a trio - Charly, her brown hair in ponytails on either side of her head and a silly grin gracing her face, a younger, less haggard version of my father, and a pretty woman dressed simply in a green shirt and pair of jeans. The other one was of my mother standing sideways, her stomach obviously pregnant. Her face beamed while her hand lovingly touched her baby bump. I remember Charly trying to explain that I was the baby inside our mommy’s tummy.
The locket held the only pictures I'd ever seen of my mom. My dad never put out any pictures, and he refused to talk about her unless he was rambling in his drunkenness. I would stare at her for long periods of time, sometimes smiling in response to her smile, sometimes shedding silent tears because I'd never experience those arms embracing me or hear her voice speaking words of love and comfort.
It was my only proof that my mother had loved me at one time. I wondered if she had known the sacrifice she would make, whether she would have made the same decision to carry through with the pregnancy. After all, she had another daughter and a husband who needed her.
I did remember the times Charly mentioned about fighting for the necklace. There were times Charly would take the locket, saying I'd never known Mom, so why should I care so much? She argued she was the one who had truly lost her since she'd had a mom up until I'd been born. I'd cry, and we'd fight over who should be allowed to wear the special piece of jewelry. Sometimes she'd hide it from me, and I'd spend hours searching for the hiding place, but Charly wasn't very creative, and I'd always find it. Then it would be my turn to hoard it.
This generous side of Charly was new. Or maybe it was her manipulative personality showing through; it was hard to tell. But as much as I wanted to pretend I didn't care, she'd gotten to me. Mission accomplished. The very fact that I thought maybe she was doing this out of the kindness of her heart proved that. Most people would take the gift and ignore the meaning behind it. Instead, I was torn between wanting to believe the best of her and knowing the kind of person she'd been in the past.
But people change. I had changed, even if maybe for the worse. Was it so hard to believe that she had been changed by the experience also, only perhaps for the better?
