Authors: M. A. Stone
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Contemporary, #Literary, #Contemporary Fiction, #Literary Fiction, #Romance
Riveted: A Drawn Series
By. M.A. Stone
Copyright © M.A. Stone
All Rights Reserved
Find a place inside where there’s joy and
the joy will burn out the pain
were dragging, and I could not wait to get my heels off and sink down into my
big couch. There had been a work function I had been talked into attending, but
my fiancé Carl had managed to bow out, being a psychiatrist for a busy
treatment facility, he was on call. Lucky. Glancing at the read out on my
cellphone, I saw that it was nearly one am, and he should be home in another
hour or so. I quietly slid the door open and stopped. I heard noise. Like
someone was hammering or pounding something into the floor. I slipped out of my
heels, grabbed an umbrella that was propped against the wall, and tiptoed
through the kitchen. My loft was an open floor plan, with the exception of the
bathroom and bedroom. There was a light on underneath the bedroom door and I
relaxed a bit, remembering that I had a bookcase half put together in there and
Carl had probably come home early. What a sweet fiancé I had, he was putting it
together for me. I released the breath that I did not realize that I was
holding and slowly pushed open the door. WHAT THE FUCK!!! There was Carl. But
he was definitely NOT building the bookcase I had in there. Instead, my boss
Amanda was riding him like she was trying to win a rodeo championship.
“Son of a bitch!!!!!” I yelled, chucking the umbrella
that I was still holding. Amanda squealed, jumped off of Carl and clutched the
sheet to her massive fake chest, typical reaction for sluts I guess. Carl lay
there, with a smug look on his face.
“Bleu!!! I ...uh...this...it’s not what it looks like!”
“Really? Because it looks like you were giving my
fiancés’ cock one HELL of workout!” I replied nastily. Her pale skin turned
bright red and she nervously twirled her bleached blonde hair. I would love to
rip it from its roots right now.
“Jealous?” asked Carl. I looked from Amanda to him and I
was so pissed, I could not respond for a minute. He smirked again. I walked
over to him, as he inched his way up the headboard. His smirk faltered a
“I'm sorry; could you please repeat the question?” I
whispered. Smirk back in place, he nodded eagerly. Like I had asked him to
fucking tell me what the weather was going to be over the coming weekend.
“I asked you, if you were jealous?” he said slowly, like
I was mentally challenged.
“Jealous? Of her??”
“Well just the fact that someone else is doing your job
for you,” he replied matter of fact. Oh boy, he did not know who he was fucking
“I'm sorry. But when we met, you never mentioned you were
into skanks,” I bit back. He interlocked his fingers and put them behind his
head. He was getting awfully close to being a victim of a homicide.
“When we met, I thought eventually we would be having
sex. I thought it was a done deal when I proposed. You know, I put a ring on it
like the song says? Man I was wrong. So, I had to find a way to scratch my itch
elsewhere. Amanda, as you can see, was more than happy to accommodate me,” he
stated. He nodded again and smiled.
“You are such a dick!!! She is my boss you douche bag!!!
And we are supposed to be getting married!!!!” I knew I was screaming and I did
not care. I wanted to hit something.
“Be that as it may, you are a frigid bitch. You get
caught talking on the internet with some random guy. I figured I would forgive
you and then things would start rolling forward in the bedroom, “he explained.
“You forgave me to get some pussy?!”
“Well I would not put it as crude as you are right now.
But if that's the way you want to look at it.”
“You fucking took me back to get some???!!! And then you
ended up fucking my boss??!!”
“Yes,” he replied with a smirk. I saw red. And then I
throat punched him. Repeatedly.
I sat in the holding cell, my hands cuffed. And I still
had those damn heels on. I personally thought that the handcuffs were
unnecessary, but the police had their protocol. I had beaten the living shit
out of Carl and Amanda had called the cops, the little bitch. They had hauled
me away and he ended up in the hospital. I think I broke his nose and maybe his
esophagus. The one female cop who showed up did give me a sympathetic look when
she cuffed me.
“Ms. Drawn?” called a deep male voice. I looked up and
there stood a very tall, very pale policeman with fire engine red hair and
freckles. He opened the cell door. I could have just sat there with the door
open, I mean I was cuffed and all.
“You can make your call now Ms. Drawn,” he stated. I stood
up and followed him to a small room with a table and chair in it. There was a
phone on the table. He motioned for me to sit. He uncuffed one hand and cuffed
the other to a metal ring on the table. What the hell? He was treating me like
I was Hannibal Lecter.
“Take all the time you need. It’s not overly busy in here
tonight,” he told me with a reassuring smile. He walked out and shut the door
behind him. I looked around at the dark dingy room and sighed. Not how I pictured
my night ending. I sat there and tried to figure out who to call. My dad was in
jail, so he was a definite no. And my brother would end up in the cell next to
me if he found out what had gone down. He hated Carl. My cousin Spike was in
Taiwan, so no on that and he was as hot headed as my brother. The only option
was my Aunt Almeida, my dad's sister. After my dad went to jail when we were
ten, she and her husband Tangler raised us. Sighing heavily, I picked up the
phone; it was a rotary phone, holy shit. I dialed her number.
“Aunt Almeida? It’s Bleu. I need you to come bail me out
of jail,” I said in a rush. She laughed. For like ten minutes.
“I will be right there,” she replied.
A few hours later, my aunt appeared looking worn out. She
had just driven three hours to come pick up her wayward niece in a jail in the
middle of the night. Her normally perfect black hair was tied up in a messy bun
and she was wearing yoga pants and a wife beater, her pregnant belly showing a
little. She was six months pregnant with baby number four. She had on neon
orange flip flops. I bit my lip and tried not to laugh, figuring that if I did,
she would make my ass stay in jail. My fashion plate of an aunt looked like a
“Let's go Bleu,” she said, putting her arm around me and
kissing the top of my head. We left the precinct and walked to her BMW. I sat
in the passenger seat, buckled and we drove off.
“Spill it baby girl,” she told me as we sat down in the
24 hour diner near the policed station. We had ordered coffee and breakfast.
She fiddled with her massive wedding ring and poured packet after packet of
sugar into her mug of coffee.
“I came home after a HUGE launch party for work to find
my boss riding my fiancé,” I said with a sad sigh. She choked on her coffee and
grabbed a napkin to wipe up the mess on the tabletop. Shaking her head, she
wadded up the napkin and put it beside her plate.
“Is that why you hit him? “She asked, an elegant black
eyebrow raised, her lips trying not to smile.
“No. It was when he blamed me for it and told me that he
had only asked me to marry him so he could get some. That just pushed me over
the edge,” I said softly. I silently willed myself not to cry. She put her hand
over mine. The tears just fell.
“Well that was a douche move,” she said angrily. I looked
up at her. What the? I don’t think I had EVER heard my aunt use that word. My
uncle yes, but not my aunt.
“With my boss. The only reason I did not beat her was
because I did not want to lose my job,” I said with a snort.
“You will probably get a promotion now,” she said
laughing. When the waitress brought us our food, we were laughing so hard,
tears were streaming down our faces. The waitress gave us our plates and walked
away, shaking her head.
“What are you going to do honey?” she asked after we had
composed ourselves. She wipes tears from the corner of her eyes and looked at
me with motherly concern.
“Well everything is pretty much in his name. I make
decent money, but after he fucked my boss, I am not sure who I can trust
anymore. I want to come back home,” I stated with finality. She nodded.
“Well I bet Axel would be happy to have you around. He
has been “off” lately, just acting weird. I bet he could use his sister
around,” she said.
“If I call him, he will kill Carl. I am thinking I just
show up and deal with the shit hitting the fan,” I told her. She chewed her
food thoughtfully and then nodded.
“Okay then. Luckily your uncle is in California at a
tattoo convention, so we won’t have to deal with him going to jail either. Why
don't we get a hotel room for the night in town and then in the morning you go
do what you need to. “
“Sounds like a plan. I just have to go into work
tomorrow, I think with everything that has happened, I am going to ask for a
leave of absence,” I told her as I tucked into my food.
“I would say so, especially with the fact that he had sex
with your boss. I mean is there anything that you can do about that?” she
asked. I shrugged.
“I am not sure. Normally I would ask Axel, but he is such
a hot head, he would kill Carl and then we would be visiting Dad and Axel in
jail. That won't solve anything. I am just going to go in there, ask for the
leave, and then look for another job while I get settled,” I replied. She
“Well let's finish up here and we can get some rest,” she
replied. She patted me hand and smiled at me.
“I just wish I could have been there when you throat
punched him. I would give my 401K to have seen that,” she murmured, an evil
grin on her lips.
The next morning, or rather, later that morning, I felt
like someone had removed my insides and replaced it with cotton. I felt empty,
numb and just dried out. I pulled on black dress pants, a wine colored dressy
blouse and my black ballet flats. Tying up my long black hair and pinning it up
with two black chopsticks, I kissed my aunt's cheek as I walked out of the
hotel room. She was reading some nursing textbook and she smiled and wished me
luck. The drive to the office was a silent blur. I pulled into a parking space,
grabbed my laptop case and purse, and walked inside.
Cassie, the receptionist, smiled at me and I hurried by,
giving her a brief smile. People greeted me and I am not even sure that I
responded. I hurried to my office and shut the door behind me quickly. Sitting
down at my desk, I pressed my balled up fists into my eyes and bit my lip,
tears burning behind my eyelids. I just wanted to get this over with.
“Bleu?” said a male voice. I jumped, wiped at my eyes and
looked up into the face of Kyle, the VP. He was a tall, lanky guy with spiked
blue hair and multiple piercings. He was leaning in the doorway with a
concerned look on his face.
“Uh, oh hey. I was just coming to see you,” I said
quickly. He smiled. He walked over and sat on the edge of my desk. He placed a
hand on my knee. What the fuck?
“No need. I am here now. What’s going on? You look
upset,” he said softly. Ok, we had spoken a handful of times in the past year.
He was a partier, known for his wild crazy nights filled with bottle service
and blonde bimbos. He was not known to be Mr. Feelings.
“I have a personal issue and I need to take a leave of
absence,” I replied. He studied my face and then he took a deep breath.
“You haven't talked to Amanda yet have you?” he asked,
still speaking in almost a whisper. I shook my head.
“We had an early morning meeting. We have had to re
organize some departments,” he explained. I did not like where this was going.
“I am sorry Bleu. You have the least seniority in your
department. We are going to have to let you go,” he replied.
“Kyle, the reason I have the least seniority is because I
was JUST moved to this department, BY YOU!” I snapped. He toyed with his lip
ring and it made me want to rip it right out of his face.
“I realize this, but we have to look at the welfare of
the company,” he replied.
“Hmmm, let’s see Kyle. Last night I catch Amanda fucking
my fiancé and today I am fired?? Awful funny coincidence,” I remarked. He
gasped a bit and it gave me the smallest bit of satisfaction.
“Oh yeah. She was riding him like a rodeo star. WHILE I
was here, at a function for THIS company. A company that is firing me,” I
pointed out. He paled.
“We are not firing you. You are being laid off, with a
full severance package,” he said hurriedly.
“If I am not being fired, what is the reason for the
severance package?” I asked. He looked at me and sighed.
“Amanda's father owns the company Bleu. There is nothing
I can do. I realize that I sound like a total tool. He heard about last night
and she wants you gone. Apparently, she is afraid of you. This could not come
at a worse time, especially with that whole seminar we just had about a
non-hostile work environment. You are one of our best developers. I am pissed.
“He truly did look pissed.
“So they make it look like you guys are downsizing and
pay me off?” I ask in disbelief. He nods.
“Yeah it looks that way. It sucks. I am so sorry. You are
a cool chick; you have saved my ass on more than one occasion. I am going to
miss you around here,” he replied. He handed me a huge manila envelope. And
then he gave me a card.
“Call me. Please. If you need a reference or
recommendation, I will more than happily give you one. Fuck them.” he said with
a smirk and pulled me in for a hug. I hugged back and willed the room to stop
spinning. Calling the whole interchange surreal would be an
I found myself single
and unemployed, in less than 24 hours.
There are some things you remember from your childhood.
Losing your first tooth, riding a bike for the first time. Things like that.
But there is always something, something so significant, that you will remember
For me, my most significant memory is the smell of blood,
the sight of it. When there are mass quantities of it, it smells like a
slaughterhouse. It can make a place feel empty, cold, depressing.
How did something like this enter into my childhood you
ask? Well it’s simple. When I was seven, my mother was killed violently while
my brother Axel and I were at school. Our oldest brother Beau was away at a
basketball tournament, we had had a half day at school. Axel and I were 10, we
are twins. Beau was 12. I thought about all of this in times of extreme stress,
Checking my rear view mirror, I pulled into the right
lane, preparing to take the exit to Jasper Falls where my family lived. Never
in a million years did I picture myself at 23, crawling back to my brother, my
other half. I also never pictured myself getting fired because my boss fucked
my fiancé, but oh well, shit happens right? Aunt Almeida had told Axel, Uncle
Tangler and my cousins, that I was only coming for a visit, and I truly felt
bad for the lie. He had no idea I was coming to stay, having nowhere else
to go. Pathetic, sad, but it was reality. The weird thing was, my brother, seemed
distracted. He usually asked me a million questions about everything, but this
time, he did not say anything. Aunt Almeida had left to go back home to be with
my cousins Iris and little Sid, mentioning it to me briefly in the hotel after
I had come back there.
Driving from New York to Pennsylvania gives a person a
lot of time to think. Now I know I am better off, but it still hurts. A
lot. The image of Amanda on top of him keeps playing over and over in my
head like some sick movie trailer. I cannot make it stop. And it just makes me
angrier and angrier. My brother was going to flip out, and I would probably
have to restrain him from getting into his truck and killing Carl. The
question, the real question is, how in the hell do I explain this to my brother?
Axel is a good guy. No, I am not making excuses for him.
He may be a man whore, but he is one hell of an artist. We both went to art
school; always sketching, drawing. I was more of a painter. My aunt gave us
free reign, let us sketch and draw all over the walls in the house. Her
husband, Tangler, was a tattoo artist himself when we were kids, but went to
work at the junior high as an art teacher when we moved in after my mom died.
Their oldest son Spike is a whiz with numbers but ended up going into nursing
like his mother. He is 23 like Axel and I. Iris and little Sid are 13 and
twins. And she won’t confirm or deny it, but I think my aunt is pregnant with
twins again. Either way, she is definitely pregnant. Back to my brother, Axel
is really talented. When we were kids, he always had a sketch pad or some
random scrap of paper he was doodling on. He drew on his bedroom walls, his
clothes, sometimes even me. When he graduated, he found a job at an
advertising firm. That job lasted a week. He hooked up with two friends of his
from school, Jack and Skeeter, who were working at my uncle’s old tattoo shop
and garage. He earned his reputation, did his apprenticeship and has been there
ever since. Me on the other hand, I ended up going to college, took graphic
arts and software design. Except now I was homeless and unemployed.