He picked her up in his arms, carried her to his bathroom, and ran a tub of warm water. Without much fanfare, he placed her inside, discarded the condom, then situated himself behind her in the bathtub. His long legs cocooned her, knees up. Her new favorite resting place. Relaxing her head against his chest, she listened to Justin Bieber’s, ‘Peaches,’ featuring Daniel Caesar and Giveon. He slowly washed her back, neck, shoulders and arms, and she washed the parts of him she could reach. Limbs up. Kisses down. Dripping faucet. Trickling thoughts that made no sound.
She placed her arm along the edge of the tub, toying with sleep. The last thing she remembered was Axel intertwining their fingers, and him humming softly to the music…
Somehow, she’d drifted away to the point where there were no dreams. Just blackness. When she awoke, she was situated in his bed, a soft ache between her legs. She didn’t recall leaving the bathroom and being placed under the covers. How strange. Now she was lying here dressed in a gray wrinkled t-shirt that read, ‘Free breast exams.’ Chuckling at his choice of attire, she pushed the sheets down that he’d wrapped around her body. The television was off, the sun was ushering in.
She looked over to the other side of the bed, and saw no one. He was gone. She looked around, then noticed a glass of juice and what appeared to be a piece of toast on a small white plate, laid out on the desk where they’d fucked a short while ago.
She got to her feet, her pussy sore and happy, and made her way over. That was when she saw the note he’d written…
800, I could have sent you a text message, but this seemed better. I told you I had to go to work in a few hours. I’m at work. I didn’t want to wake you. It looks like I did good on my promise and put you to sleep. I’ll be back by 4.PM. If you want to stay in my house until then, that’s fine with me.
Watch TV. Relax. Whatever. The WIFI password is: I-AM-THE-GOAT-1989. There’s some fruit, juice, eggs, bread, ham, and leftover cheese and sausage pizza in the refrigerator. Cereal, pasta, beans and rice in the cabinet closest to the table. Help yourself to anything in the freezer, too. Feel free to make a fresh pot of coffee. If you need to leave, set the alarm. The code is 3212953. The front door will lock as soon as you close it behind you. If I come home and find you still there, then I take that as an invitation. I’ll be putting you back to sleep. It’s not up for discussion. I went easy on you today, but the next time, you may sleep for 3 days straight. The Sandman Cummeth…
Axel
She grinned as she folded the letter, then placed it aside. Staring at the stained-glass windows, she picked up the glass of juice and took a taste. Freshly squeezed.
I want to freeze this day in time. I want to pretend, for just a moment, that only the moment I arrived here, in the now, is all that has happened, and all that exists…
She continued to drink her homemade orange juice made just for her, swaying to the sounds of, ‘Heartbreak Anniversary,’ by Giveon.
He’s mine. I’m his. I’ll make him listen. Not by force, by design. I’ll make him hear my heart, and memorize the lyrics word for word…
Chapter Thirteen
Axel turned off his truck, and tossed his cigarette out the cracked truck window with a flick of the wrist. It was unusually hot that evening for an Autumn day. He’d been blasting the Nashvillains’ ‘Chickasaw Bayou,’ as he pulled up and parked in front of the small gray house with missing shingles on the roof. When his truck went quiet, all he could hear was rap music playing from a nearby apartment building, dogs barking from various directions, and people yelling back and forth to one another.
He checked the time on his phone, slipped it in his jeans pocket, and got out of his vehicle. As he made his way up Legend’s walkway, the concrete uneven and weeds taking it over, he realized the house was practically pitch black, as if empty. It was a big tombstone with its paint peeling, and surrounded by a front lawn that desperately needed care. Before he could ring the doorbell, he could hear aggressive barking from the inside.
He rang the bell and waited.
Knocked and waited.
No answer.
Suddenly, he saw a light turn on, and a tall, big shadow approaching from behind a curtain. Seconds later, the door was unlocked, and pulled open. Legend stood before him in a crisp wife-beater, two guns strapped across his heavily tattooed chest, and three big ass dogs at his side. A Rottweiler, a Doberman, and a German shepherd. The dogs began to bark, snarling and gnashing their teeth, going apeshit.