Between The Raindrops Page 2

  Today is my eighteenth birthday and some birthday it is shaping up to be. I have no money to my name and no roof over my head. I lost everything the day I left, but I know it was for the best. The family I did have, never truly loved me the way I thought they did to begin with. You can’t force a relationship to be real when it’s fake. You just can’t.

  I’m using a single snare and a couple of garbage cans to play on. I take requests, but also do solos of my own. I put on a show for all the pretty people. I know how to get tips. I get by the best I can. I’ve started to draw a crowd and normally I would be nervous as all get out, but not anymore. This is life or death. These people’s pockets are lined with money for my dinner. All very pertinent to my survival. If only my parents could see me now. They’d shake their heads in shame. They probably wouldn’t even throw a tip down. That’s just the type of people that they are. It is in moments like this, that I vow to myself, I’ll starve to death before I ever turn out anything like them.

  My stomach growls loudly and I know that I need to find something substantial to eat to get it to stop. Dumpster diving has become part of the everyday for me. I pack up my snare just as a handsome guy walks by and stops in front of me like he wants to talk, I don’t give him a chance. I grab my stuff and practically run away. He didn’t look like a creeper, despite his rough appearance, his eyes were gentle. But you never know out here on the street, and I’ve learned not to take any chances with a too good to be true situation.

  After walking down different streets and staring up at the bright stars, I decide to head to the one place I know I can get food out back. Sometimes the wait staff even puts specific orders that they’ve messed up on out there for me to eat. I walk past the front of the bar and wish that I was going into it tonight like all the girls that were so excited and standing in line to get in. I quickly wipe the tears out of my eyes. There is no room for that out on the streets. People take any weakness they can find and run with it. I’ve learned that the hard way after months of being here.

  I make way to the back of the place that I’ll never be accepted in and begin to dig around for my dinner. I hear a noise and lunge down, hoping to go unnoticed. I’ve learned to be pretty invisible. I hear a girl laughing and feel compelled to look up and see what she is giggling about. I inch my way up impulsively and am in awe at the scene unfolding before me. A man and a woman, a force to be reckoned with. She’s tall in sky high stiletto heels and the shortest possible dress I’ve ever seen without going out of the house completely naked. Her body rivals even the best and the man wrapped around her waist is even more delectable. He towers over her, even in her heels, with a lean body and curly mess of dark hair. She starts to kiss his neck and he tilts his head ever so slightly, allowing her greater access.

  I’ve never wanted to be someone other than myself so bad as I did in that moment. He seemed dangerous, dark, and lethal. But I wanted a hit. I wanted to get high off of everything that this man encompasses. He opens his eyes and catches mine with his.

  “Oh shit, it’s you!” I find myself saying out loud. The guy from the street. The one with the kind eyes.

  It’s probably too late for me to hide, but I try to dive back down just in case. I hear the girl screech and peer around the corner of the dumpster to see why. As I do, I land face to face with an angel, a dark one. He’s beautiful. I want him. I of course had no idea at the time that this would be the day I’d meet my savior, Jamison. I had no knowledge of the unraveling and reworking my life was about to do.

  “You okay, darling?” His voice shook me to the core, not easily forgettable.

  “Been better.” I snorted and turned my head away ashamed. Why he was even wasting moments away from the pretty girl to check on the ugly one was beyond me. Surprisingly, he laughs. Something that a person just pitying someone wouldn’t do.

  “Me too, darling, me too.” He smiles and places his hand gently on my cheek, turning me to face him. “Had one too many, I’m sure my breath smells like a damn brewery.” Now it’s my turn to laugh.

  “My breath smells like dumpster, ass, and week old hamburgers.” He smiles and it catches me off guard, I smile back; genuinely, for the first time in forever.

  “You almost done with the creeper girl, baby?” pretty girl’s voice whines.

  “I’m not your baby. I’ll help you back inside and then I’m going to spend some time with...?” she scoffs at him, but knows not to challenge. No girl looking the way she does would want to be left alone in a back alley in New York City. He looks over at me in watchful anticipation. I think about this carefully while he studies me. A chance for a fresh start. I say the first thing that comes out of my mouth and roll with it.

  “Kit.” I respond confidently. I miss my drums. It’s sad that it is one of the things I miss the most about being at home. I was really passionate about them until I found myself in the situation I did.

  “Kit...” He murmurs and my body yearns for him to speak again. “I like that. I’m Jamison.”

  He takes off his bomber jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. I search his eyes questionably I can’t quite figure out what he wants from me yet. I can’t get a good read on him.

  “Follow me.” He doesn’t ask. Not that I would need him to. I do as he says. His presence begs you not to, dares you in fact and I’ve never been one to follow the rules. My legs find their steady and I walk the path he leads. When he reaches the door of the club, I falter. It’s like the reality rubber band is snapped and everything is suddenly clear. No fucking way can I go in there. I am a coward. He realizes I am no longer beside him almost instantly. Pretty girl wastes no time walking inside and tossing her hair off her shoulder, I briefly see the lights and hear the music pulsating before the door slams shut again.

  I’m scared to death to go in. Not scared about what people will think, but more scared to put such a nice guy in a bad position. To walk in that place with someone that looks like I do has to put a halt to his reputation in an instant. I don’t want that for him. But I have a very good feeling that he doesn’t care.

  He grabs my hand and doesn’t say a word, just a glance and a smile is all it takes to get my feet moving again. He opens the door and I follow him on to the crowded dance floor. He nods at a bouncer and no questions are asked thankfully. I can feel the stares follow me as he pushes our way through the packed crowd. I try not to let it get to me, but it’s difficult. He makes way quickly to the bar and I can’t hear the interaction from him and the bartender, but before I know it several beers are in front of him and even more shots.

  “Bottoms up.” He leans in to whisper in my ear. He grabs a beer, brings the bottle to his mouth and licks his lips just before taking a large drink. I catch fire. Bottoms off is the only thought on my mind.

  I grab the closest shot, bring it to my lips and tip it back. It doesn’t go down as smooth as I was hoping, but it has a peppermint after taste. At least that’ll make my ass breath a little less frightening. I never thought I’d find myself in this position. Jamison and I finish off the shots and he chugs another beer. I know I am well on the road to drunk, probably not the best idea. The streets are hard enough to maneuver sober. When he offers to buy more shots, I politely decline. He doesn’t push the issue.

  “Want to meet my band?” he asks calmly. A band? Well that explains why this guy oozes sex appeal.

  “Sure. But I can’t stay long.” Like I have something better to do. He laughs and shakes his head. He grabs my hand again and it’s sad how comfortable I feel with a complete stranger. More comfortable than I ever even felt around my own family. I feel like I can be myself, the dirtiest, shittiest version of myself and he doesn’t care. He isn’t ashamed. It’s like he sees something more deep down inside of me. He makes me want to unearth it. Lately, I’ve just been in not give a fuck mode. I’m so deep down in the hole it feels as if there is no escape. Just for one night, I’m going to take advantage of a small reprieve of the shitty bed I’ve made. I’m going to
enjoy this.

  Before I know it, I’m lead behind the stage in a small secluded area. It feels like a whole new world. It’s not hip hop, grinding on each other, sweaty and drunk...instead, it’s pure rock and roll. I like this much better. Some of the people back here are purposely dressed like they’ve been digging through a dumpster, I almost fit in.

  “Jamison...where the fuck you been?” A gorgeous, tall man saunters over and claps Jamison on the back. “Where’s that chick?” he asks, but doesn’t actually appear to be interested in the answer. His eyes drift to one of the many half-dressed girls that are lingering back here. By the time his eyes find me again, I lower my head feeling suddenly self-conscious. “What’s your name, beautiful?” he smirks and I can’t tell if he’s being genuine or not. Jamison quickly wraps his arms around me protectively. I attempt to shrug him off. I’m a big girl. I’ve had to deal with plenty of creeps out on the street. I’m sure I look like shit and smell even worse right now, but I’m young with a decent body and a pretty face. I’m not naive as to what men are thinking when they look at me; desperate and easy. Neither of those will ever be right.

  “Kit.” Jamison husks out as he grits his teeth. I grab his arms and gently squeeze. He needs to calm down.

  “I like it.” The tall man murmurs. He really is attractive in a weird way. He has a tall purple Mohawk and every piercing imaginable, I’m sure he has more than just the ones on his face. My imagination runs wild at the thought. He is a piece of walking art. He has piercing blue eyes and a deadly smirk. He’s like a shark in bloody water; straight predatory. “I’m Reid.” He puts his hand out to greet me, but Jamison growls and his hand immediately retreats back to his sides. I have a feeling Jamison is the leader of this crew. I shouldn’t be surprised. He has that effect on me and I’ve just met him.

  “So is that your real name or just a nickname, Kit?” Reid asks genuinely. I’m almost shy to tell him the truth.

  “It’s a nickname. Well, one I’ve given myself just outside.” I can’t tell a lie, as much as I want to. It was a spur of the moment decision and a dumb one at that. Reid and Jamison both laugh and I’m sure my face is a bright shade of red.

  “I like to play the drums...well, I used to.” I haven’t played since leaving home. It used to be an outlet for me. To unleash some of my demons. But now it was just another hobby, one that didn’t pay the bills.

  “Oh, hell yeah! Let’s hear ya drummer girl!” Reid shouts excitedly and now I’m regretting my decision on being honest.

  “Oh no...I can’t.” I start to back away but Jamison is right there. His hands go instinctively around my waist and he ushers me forward and right into a beautiful dark blue drum set.

  “Go ahead...” He continues pushing me towards the set, “Jace won’t mind.” His voice is soothing on my nerves. When my legs hit the set, I walk around behind it, take a seat and find the sticks. When I place them on the drum heads, it all rushes back naturally. I play an honest rendition to an old rock song without taking a second longer to think it through. I play my heart out, the pain I’ve been feeling out and all the frustrations of life on the streets out on the set. I pound it like I’ve been wanting to do to memories, to life. When I’m finished and exhausted, having exerted every ounce of energy I had left, I breathe a long sigh of relief. That felt damn good.

  “Damn.” I hear a gruff voice I don’t recognize. “She’s better than I am.” Oh shit, this must be Jace. When I meet his eyes I’m shocked about how similar him and Jamison look. Nearly identical. But Jace is a lot more burly, with a thick beard and wide shoulders like a linebacker.

  “Damn right she is dude...” Reid half shouts, “Sorry.” He smiles at Jace. He’s not really sorry.

  “Where’d you learn to play like that, kitten?” Jamison purrs next to my ear. I had no idea he was so close. I turn around and meet his eyes instantly. His gaze is burning a hole through me.

  “I taught myself...” I stammer. I’m not sure why this man makes me lose every sense of self confidence I have. I guess lately I don’t really have much anyway. “So anyway... It’s getting late. I better be going.” I need to find a place to sleep, I’m physically and mentally exhausted at this point.

  “Oh no...” Jamison blocks my path. My heart begins to race. Maybe I should be afraid? He’s a stranger to me. But I’m not, I’m excited. “You’re not ever going back out there again, Kit.” His voice has such conviction, I know he means it. I can feel a warm tear slide down my cheek before I can stop it. He’s too quick for me, reaching out his hand and wiping it from my face.

  “You’re one of us now, Kit.”

  Chapter 3

  I wake up in a cramped twin bed with a heavy body lying on top of me, only his head hung off to the side. I run my fingers through his familiar dark mass of curls. I’ve found myself in this bed, too many times to count. Not that I mind and I’m pretty sure Jamison doesn’t either or else he’d probably have said something. He’s pretty blunt like that. Not always very compassionate of others feelings. He protects his personal interests first and foremost, and apparently I’m one of them.

  Sometimes I convince myself it’s because he doesn’t want anyone else to have me, but I know that isn’t the truth. I’m pretty sure he cares about me just the same as the other boys in the band do. But things with us are a bit more complicated. We hook up when we aren’t with anyone else. We are each other’s go to, in betweens.

  We’ll never be together, only when we’re wasted. It has its perks and saves me from waking up next to strange creepers that want to chop me up and wear my skin. So in that sense, I’m good with our arrangement. Jamison is the only reason I’m not still playing for change in the dark subway. He doesn’t look like it and he sure the fuck doesn’t show it, but Jamison has money. He always makes sure I’m well taken care of. Even when we are not getting a lot of gigs. He doesn’t make me get a job, the band’s my job. He saved me from the lifestyle I was living. He saved me from the streets. It was my own fault I was out there to begin with. I couldn’t continue to compete with my twin, the pressure got to be too much. So I ran and I not once thought about the ramifications of what I had done.

  He opens up his whiskey colored eyes, one at a time and yawns loudly.

  “Morning, Sunshine.” He drawls in his thick, raspy voice.

  “You’re crushing my bladder, J.” I respond. I really need to go. All the alcohol I drank last night, I’m surprised I didn’t piss the bed.

  “If you weren’t made from girl parts and if I hadn’t felt, saw and kissed said girl parts, I’d bet money that you were a dude.” He quips and cracks a shit eating grin. That same grin that makes all the girls soak their panties on command. Well, all girls except me. I must admit, he’s hot as hell. But he’s a man whore and I’m fully under the impression that’ll never change. He rolls off of me and stares at the ceiling.

  “Like you know the difference. You get more action from your hand than any chicks.” I smirk. I rush out of bed immediately when he moves. Damn, I’ve got to go. I race towards the bathroom.

  “Not even my Momma, God rest her soul, believes that and you know it, Kit!” I sigh in relief after I’ve used the bathroom, wash my hands and head back to bed. I really didn’t want to get up and face the day. I’m dreading leaving the band and heading home for Heaven’s... I mean my funeral.

  “I know that’s right you whore!” I climb into bed and burrow under his thick flannel blanket. It smells like cigarette smoke, sex, and just a hint of cinnamon. He always smells like fucking cinnamon. I don’t even want to think about how many girls have rolled around in these sheets. It’s almost pathetic that I get turned on by his slutty ways. I’m not really the jealous type, never had a reason to be. If I want it, I get it; plain and simple. Most of the time, I don’t want anything from anyone. My music is my other half, my drums and my sticks...all I need.

  “Only for you, darling.” He replies. Of course I know it’s not the truth, but his words still warm my ice cold h
eart just a bit.

  “Show me.” I state unaffected. I rub my hands up and down his washboard abs. He groans and rolls on top of me, pinning my wrists above my head. He starts to trail kisses along my neck, nibbling on my collarbone. I look at his gorgeous face and just then actually notice how discolored it is.

  “What the hell did you do?” I bring my hand up instinctively and touch the big bruise lining his jaw and cheek. He flinches so I pull away quickly.

  “You don’t remember?” He looks at me questionably. I rack my brain, but come up blank.

  “Some dude tried to scare you...or maybe worse. “ He closes his eyes tightly, looking extremely pained.

  “I wasn’t too far from you when he tried. He and I had a little discussion about how women deserve to be treated. He raises his arms up and clenches his fists to show me his bruised and cut up knuckles.

  “Believe me, he looks a lot worse than I do. That’s not just some line I’m trying to throw at you either. That’s the honest truth.” He smiles and I believe him. I shutter at what the other guy probably looks like. But I’m glad it wasn’t worse for Jamison.

  I feel really bad that my poor decision making skills of last night led to all of that. Jamison is usually a really laid back guy. He definitely doesn’t seek out fights. He could care less about pissing contests.

  “I’m so sorry.” Not that it will take back anything that happened. But I definitely mean it. This man has gone to great lengths to make sure I’m happy and healthy. Getting him a black eye isn’t really a nice way to thank him for all that.

  “You can make it up to me.” He murmurs.

  Before I can respond, he gently pushes me down, grabs my wrists and thrusts them above my head. The anticipation of what is to come next, sets me on fire. When he finally reaches my lips, I moan. I suck the cold hard metal into my mouth. I love his snake bite lip piercings. It doesn’t take long before I’m primed and ready to go. With him, it takes zero foreplay. Without warning, he slams inside of me and all current tension in my body is released.