Chapter 3

Another Saturday night forced to give into that empty existence that he no longer treasured. For a while, it had helped with the pain. He could flush out all the memories, all the hurt feelings with one joint. Getting high was something he had never even considered before, when he was still whole. But things were different now. He wasn't whole, and he couldn't hide the fact that it ate him up inside that he was alone in the world. Taking a last drag from the small roach that was left, he flicked the butt onto the sidewalk, extinguishing itself in a puddle.

He walked up to the place that had become his oasis, somewhere where he went when he felt this way. He walked past the burly bouncers that were too familiar and silently nodded. He wasn't in the mood for trouble tonight. He just wanted to find someone as equally screwed up and immerse himself in the uneasy atmosphere of the club.

The place was packed to capacity. There were many desperate looking girls for Brady to choose from, but there she was. On the ledge of the stairs that led to the second floor balcony, he spotted Chloe. She swirled the tiny plastic straw into her vodka and orange juice and took a small sip. Her lips devouring the tip of the straw, causing Brady to inhale sharply.

He looked around. She was alone like usual. Of course, there were men lurking around her. None that she would be interested in surely. The fast dance break bounced out from the overgrown speakers just behind him. His eyes foggy from a drug induced haze, he locked eyes with her brilliant blue gems. He walked toward her, slowly but surely. Stepping in front of her, he took her hand and wordlessly led her to the dance floor.

They reached the centre of the dance area and just stood there. She just looked at him with disbelief. She had no idea what this man she barely knew had in store for her. For the life of her, she couldn't think of why she was allowing herself to be dragged around by Brady Black.

He let go of her hand and waited. The DJ spun the next record onto the turntable, and another electric beat began to play. He covered her hips with his solid male hands and pressed her body to his. He began to move. Her body, so close to his, swayed and jolted with his. He ran his hand along her back and held her neck, gently pulling her body back, her head relying on his strong arm to keep her from falling.

In a matter of seconds, she was back up to eye level, and they continued their sensual dance. He pressed his hips into her, separating her knees with his own. His legs were interwoven with hers as they continued to claim the dance floor. She felt her heart race as she let him take over the club, commanding people to look at them with envy. Their bodies moved so well together, as if having been trained to do so.

She felt herself reciprocate his actions. Matching his turns and touches with her own spicy rhythm. The pace so fast, the actions so hot, their bodies so warm. It had to end at some point. It was too good. They didn't even talk, barely made eye contact. They simply touched, the heat and fury covering their bodies in sticky sweat as they melted together in the dimly lit room.

She closed her eyes as she shook her head to the vibrant bass that pounded deep into her soul. He watched her, closely studying the features of her delicate face. He lifted his hand to her cheek and gently caressed the half orb. He licked his lips at the feeling of her soft, slick skin under his hand. She opened her eyes just as he moved to her rose-coloured, pouting lips. His finger lightly trailed the bottom quivering half-moon. He turned her face and leaned closer to her. Whispering hoarsely into her ear, just before the music changed again, "Thanks for the dance." He untangled his lean body from hers and turned his back to her, walking briskly out of the darkened room and onto the brightly lit New York strip.

In a matter of three minutes, she had been duped by Brady. He had tortured her for his own pleasure, his own sick fantasies. A part of her wanted to rip him to shreds, but the other part admired him and the effect he had on her. She smiled in spite of herself. She didn't know how, but she was going to pay him back for that one. Two could play a game like that. The next time they danced, it would be on her terms; and he would be the one left standing in awe.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He had gone from complete ignorance of her, to utter temptation. He wanted her and bad. He walked the streets for a while and came upon his own shop. Having nowhere else to go, he went there to crash……

He opened the door to his apartment, flowers in hand. Tulips were her favourite. Pink ones. She loved the pink ones. Their fresh scent was wafted to his nose by his swift movements to his bedroom. He didn't call first. He wanted to surprise her. He wanted her to know that he loved her and had forgiven her. They were going to get past all of this pettiness and move on, together. He didn't care what she had done in the past. They were making a fresh start.

Hiding the fresh bouquet behind his back he gently pushed open the door that was already ajar. It didn't hit him all at once, just images scattered and blurred. At first, he couldn't comprehend what was happening. He remembered the jet black drapes were open. Clothes scattered on the floor. Not his clothes, but hers were there and someone else's. Not again. This couldn't be happening to him again.

He was quiet and would never forget the sound of the grunting and panting. His own breath, barely existent, caught in his lungs. Finally, he scanned the bed and found the sight that would forever haunt him. His body became weak, and he released his grasp on his token of affection for his love. What would bother him the most would be the fact they didn't notice him, or maybe they did and continued anyway, until they were completely satisfied.

He didn't care who the guy was on top of his soon-to-be-wife. It was nothing new to him. He didn't care if he was a better lover as long as she didn't love him. As long as her affections still were limited to only himself. He didn't care about any of those things, until HE rolled off of her. Until he looked into the eyes of his boyhood friend and knew what betrayal felt like. He knew what it meant to truly hate someone. But not her. He couldn't hate her. He couldn't love her any more either though.

Once they knew they were caught, they dressed. He didn't yell. He didn't curse. He didn't let them see any emotion. He just asked them to leave and never bother him again. While they walked out, they looked forward and never turned to see him slump down on the bed. When he heard the door close, he held his head in his hands, sobbing quietly to himself.

He must have spent hours like that. When he finally looked up, the sun had gone down and the room was fairly dark. Out of the corner of his eye from the doorway, he noticed something. Walking over and kneeling down, he picked up the crushed, dying flowers. The petals were broken and concentrated red from being stepped on. He couldn't help but think he knew how the flowers felt. He picked himself up and walked to the kitchen, dumping the flowers into the trash can.

He ran his fingers through his tousled hair. Again, he was alone. Then again, when was he ever really not? He'd never completely had someone's heart. Now, no one would get the chance to have his ever again. He promised himself that.

The blistering sun saturated his eyes with light, effectively waking him from a deep slumber. His shirt was soaked through with sweat, and it clung to his built form. Another night spent on the couch in his office, another night thinking about that day. Recounting every colour, every sound, every smell. Hurting so badly when he woke up, there seemed to be no relief.

He sat up, taking his shirt off and throwing it across the room. He searched his pockets for a lighter and smokes. He pursed his lips around the light brand of cancer sticks. Like it mattered. They were all the same. Effectively using his Zippo to ignite it, he threw it on the table with his other junk. He looked at the lit cigarette between his fingers, belonging to his calloused hand. It was time to quit. He'd had enough. This was the last, one and this time he meant it. Taking one last drag, he put it out.

Opening the shutters in his office window, he noticed some of the men already there to start their shifts. Checking his watch, he realized it was later than he thought and hoped he hadn't missed her. As if reading his mind, she entered the garage and stood in line to punch in. He watched intently, drawing closer to the window, and wishing to hell he hadn't given up smoking again.

He long, ravenous hair swung around her shoulders as she pushed it off of her face. A man approached her that she seemed to know. She laughed. Undoubtedly out of pity, he thought. Her lips curled into a smile, and again her shoulders shook from laughter. He couldn't help but feel envious. That she could be so free, so unaware. She didn't know what the real world was like. She had never had her heart broken. If she had, she wouldn't know how to laugh anymore. She would be paralyzed with knowledge. She would know that love didn't exist.

Chloe turned when she felt a pair of eyes on her. She searched the garage until she fell upon Brady's looming presence in his office. His eyes bore into her, daring her to question him. She turned back around and slid the plastic card slowly down the machine, sure of her actions. She turned to face her observer. Casually, she winked and strolled away shaking her hips.

He closed the blinds and slumped down on the couch. God, what was he doing?

Chloe went to her office at the front of the building. Third time this week, she smiled to herself. She wondered to herself why he wasn't wearing a shirt. Did he have another girl in there? She flashed back to catching him and some tramp having sex on his desk. Or was he just doing it to toy with her? She couldn't deny that he was carved perfection. The whole package. Chloe blushed, remembering how he had casually turned around baring all for her to see. No inhibitions. Free and blessed.

Her trance was broken by Jared. "What?"

"I said do you have Mr. Smith's phone number? His car is ready, and he wanted to pick it up as soon as possible."

"Jared, you know that's my job. I'll call him."

"Okay, I guess I'll see you at lunch."

"Yeah, lunch, sure."

"What were you thinking about just then?"

"Nothing," she said quickly. "Uh, I was just day dreaming."

"Oh."

"Okay, later."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The morning went inexplicably slow, and by lunch, Chloe was starving. She grabbed her purse and turned the sign off, putting the plastic closed sign in the window. She waited outside of the men's change room for Jared.

He came out, putting a coat over his uniform. "I invited Brady, I hope you don't mind."

"You what?"

"Look, if it's a problem..."

"No, it's not. I just wish you would have told me."

"Look, I can go tell him to forget it."

"No, don't do that," Chloe said with a sour look on her face.

"Come on. He's been nicer to you since that little incident." Jared suppressed a laugh. "You two have been getting along great."

"I suppose," Chloe said dryly.

"Suppose what?" Brady said, walking up to the pair.

"Nothing," Chloe said, walking ahead of them. She was still finding it hard to look Brady in the eyes after what she had witnessed. Not to mention the dance they had shared the other night. She found it even harder not to let her eyes travel down his pants to the centre point of his body.

Brady and Jared exchanged looks and smiled.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They sat together at a booth at a local diner. When Jared excused himself to go pay the check, Brady turned to Chloe and smiled.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Chloe said, touching her face to make sure she didn't have food on it.

"Like what?" Brady said innocently.

"Forget it," Chloe said, turning her head, hoping Jared would come back real soon. She didn't want to talk to him. Especially if he brought up their dance. Or maybe that's why she was so annoyed, she wanted him to talk about it.

"So Chloe, since I already know you can dance," he said, casually winking at her, "what else can you do? Do you have any other hidden talents?" He spoke coyly, jerking his eyebrows up.

"Yeah, Brady, I can definitely dance; but you haven't seen that yet. At least not when I'm really into it. So no, I have no other talents that I'd want to share with you." She couldn't help but add that extra bit of hostility in her voice.

"Well, Jared tells me you're a singer. What do you sing?"

"Opera."

"Opera? Hmm, interesting."

"Don't pretend you know anything about music just to appease me."

"Oh no, never. What would I know about music? Especially opera. What with me not even graduating high school and all."

Chloe bowed her head, feeling very ashamed. "Look I'm sorry about that. I was just really mad. I shouldn't have..."

"Don't. Don't apologize. I had it coming. But just to let you know, I did finish high school. It was college I dropped out of."

Brady stood up when Jared came back to the table. Chloe followed suit, and they walked back to the garage together.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chloe just could not figure Brady out. More than that, she couldn't get him out of her thoughts. When she brushed her hair, did the dishes and especially when she made her bed, she thought about him. All of him. When she first met him, he had been so obnoxious; and now, she found herself actually getting used to his moods.

Women were driven insane by him. She couldn't help but overhear sometimes. Even the female clientele wanted a piece and usually got it. He possessed this quality that made you drawn to him. Whether you wanted to be or not. He had this way of looking at you that made you forget he was the male equivalent to a whore. Those eyes. There was something there that was so sad. So much like a child, innocent.

How could anything about Brady be innocent? Chloe scolded herself. He was arrogant, self-satisfying and fearless. Chloe hated it and loved it at the same time. She tried not to be drawn in by his casual looks in her direction and his full lips beckoning her to do him a favour. But he still got through. He was still in the back of her mind, still present in her dreams……mostly X rated. But still, she couldn't escape him.

She would quit if she had other options, she told herself. Even she knew that was a lie. Although she might be having all these thoughts and feelings she would never act on them. She would never allow herself to become another notch on his bedpost.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

This never happened to him since her. He never thought about anyone while he was drowning in sin, screwing another nameless face. Lately, however, her name was at the tip of his tongue. Her face was what he saw when he closed his eyes. He remembered what it was like to hold her close against him and sway euphorically with her to tight dance rifts.

He tried to block it out, to forget that Chloe Lane even existed. But nothing he did would help. He promised himself that he would never get involved with someone again. Never would he allow himself to fall for someone who would only hurt him. So he pushed Chloe as far from his thoughts as he could manage, and struggled through another day.