Objective (Bloodlines #2)(17)

It’s a Thursday night two weeks into my job at the club and my stupid piece of shit land yacht has decided to bail on me on my way home from the club. I’m two miles from the trailer park, sitting in the car that decided to just die on the side of the pitch black road, and cussing like a sailor. I am exhausted from my shift. I don’t sleep enough in general and by the time I get home from my shift and relax it’s almost sunrise anyways. It’s messing with my head and I know I need to find that routine of sorts. Tears threaten to spill down my cheeks but I’m doing everything humanly possible to not let that first tear fall.

I swing the door open, pull the release lever for the hood, climb out of the car flashlight in hand, and stare at the engine. I have no idea what’s wrong with it. I know virtually nothing about cars. I pull the elastic from my hair and let my long black locks tumble freely down my back before I kick the tire. Headlights shine off in the distance and my spirits perk up a bit. A big truck comes into view and my perkiness instantly goes away. That stupid neighbor, Bentley. The truck slows to a stop next to me, and the window scrolls down revealing Bentley’s horribly handsome face. Somehow he manages to irk me and intrigue me simultaneously.

“Hey there!” he booms over the music from the cab. I cross my arms over my chest and straighten my shoulders.

“Hey,” I clip, hoping for indifference.

“Get in. I’ll give you a lift,” he says.

“No thanks.” I scrunch my nose up at him.

“Jesus, it’s not safe out this time of night, just get in, Magnolia,” he grumbles.

“No thanks. I’m a big girl,” I quip.

“What do I have to do to change your mind?” he asks, seeming genuinely concerned. I really am not in the mood for him. I just want to lock up the car and start walking. I’ll deal with the stupid P.O.S. tomorrow. I’m grumpy and tired and generally lacking the ability to be nice.

“Listen up, cowboy, I don't need my mind changed. I’m perfectly fine the way things are and you don't know a damned thing about me so if you don't mind, I really need to get home. Goodbye.” I grab my purse from the car and lock the doors before slamming the hood shut and start walking.

“Princess, get in the truck, I’ll give you a lift,” he calls.

“No!” I shout over my shoulder, and keep walking.

“What’s a man gotta do for a date with you?” he shouts back. Oh my God? Really!

“For starters use proper grammar!” I don't look back as I keep walking, but I swear I hear him busting a gut laughing which irritates me even more as I boil with anger. As I stomp my way home, Bentley’s truck speeds past me until it’s out of sight. As soon as I can’t see the taillights anymore, I relax slightly. It’s so dark out here and unlike home there are no street lights brightening the road. I sigh and wrap my arms around myself and keep walking.

I’d been on edge all day from our fight the night before. Cane had peeled out of my driveway after I’d stormed out of his car and into my house. Aster handed me some peanut M&M’s. I popped two in my mouth and crunched down on them. “God, these are good,” I groaned.

“Yeah, tell me about it. I only let myself have two,” Aster grumbled.

“Oh come on. You can’t live like that, Aster. Eat the damn candy.”

“You don't have to count calories, Cy. You can eat whatever you want and still look like that!” she stressed, pointing to my waist. I popped two more delicious candies into my mouth and stared out the window.

“You okay?” Aster asked.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “I’m just confused.” Aster gave me a sad smile and did what any cousin/best friend would do, she handed me the rest of the bag of M&M’s. Why were boys so complicated? One second they’re showering you with love and the next they’re flirting with someone else and talking shit with their buddies.



He looked beautiful. A beautiful mess. His jeans hung from his narrow hips and his shirt clung to the ridges in his stomach and the bulges in his arms. I want to go to him, to hold him. I want to not be fighting. My pride holds me back though, and I stand unmoving at the bottom of my porch steps staring dumbly at him. Luckily, Cane didn't give me a chance to work through any of my thoughts. In three strides he was off the porch and in my face. “I don't exist without you. Please, Mags, forgive me. I was a total dick and I’m sorry.”

My heart thumped in my chest. I knew I should put up more of a fight, but his eyes, his words, they all pointed to him being honest with me right now. I just needed to be brave and say this.

“I’m not a doormat, Cane. I’m not a gym junkie, and...and I’m not hard like the other people you’re around. You have to treat me with respect. Always.” He smirked at me as relief washed over his features.

“Come a little closer, Mags, so we can talk without the words,” he breathed at me as his hand splayed my waist and he tugged me to him. “Your heart is beating really fast,” he said in a low voice.

“I know,” I whispered, just before his mouth collided with mine. And just like that, all was right again with the world. I didn't exist without him either.

I wake with a jolt. Tears stream down my face. Status quo. I quickly wipe them away and steel myself. I will not let my memories dictate my days. I throw the covers off me and shoot out of bed. I let the scalding hot water of the shower wash away all my memories and calm me. After I’m dressed and have a sufficient amount of caffeine in me, I sit at my living room window and watch the random happenings of the trailer park. The lady across from me is old, wrinkled and ornery. She spends almost an hour out of every day yelling for her cat - a cat that I have yet to see. I think if I were that cat I’d leave home, too. In the trailer to the left of hers lives an older worn-looking couple with more kids than I can count. The mother constantly looks haggard as she commands the kids to do this or that while her husband keeps permanent residence on the small porch stoop, drinking. I suck down the dregs of my mug and push down the feelings of pity and disgust for the people surrounding me. They all look hopeless. Sad. Beaten down. Exactly how I feel. I am no better than they are. I am one of them. The only difference is I have money and choose to live here, and they don't. A little past eleven I call the club and let Penny know that I need a ride to work or the night off. She says a night off isn’t what I need and that she will send Brock for me and a tow truck for the car lingering on the side of the road. Sometimes I really hate Penny.