Page 3 of Tesoro: Mayhem Makers

“There is a convention at the hotel, some book signing bullshit,” Frankie announces, keeping his attention on his screen. “Presidential suite is available though.”

My heart clenches at Frankie’s mention of books, another slash of pain to remind me of what I’ve lost. Reaching for my glass, I drain the contents, silently hoping the burn of alcohol can scorch away the anguish inside my chest.

“Hey, baby.” A soft voice purrs in my ear as a set of blood red nails slide down my chest. “You look like you could use some stress relief.”

Standing to my full height, I toss several bills to the table as I grab the arm of the owner of the voice. Not bothering to look her in the eye, these girls are all the same, using whatever they have in an attempt to claim a place in my world. Little do they know, the part of me they hope to claim is damaged beyond repair.

“Let me know when to be at the airport,” I call over my shoulder.

Lightning flashes in the distance,the deep rumble of clouds colliding competing with the obnoxious snores of the naked girl beside me. She’d been a decent fuck, enough of a distraction to tamp down the emotions Frankie stirred with his mention of books.

Throwing my feet over the side of the bed, I make my way to the window which overlooks Boston. Glancing to the right, spying the edge of the city, I can almost see what is left of the smokestacks to the foundry where my father worked until the accident that killed him. I turned thirteen that year. Angelo and Iare Irish twins with eleven months separating us. We went from average teens to breadwinners in the blink of an eye.

“What time is it, Dante?”

A raspy voice questions from behind me. The deepness which not an hour ago helped to send me over the edge, now gives me a headache.

“Time for you to leave,” I say, keeping my focus on the blinking light of an airplane as it crosses the sky. I hadn’t bothered to ask her name, hell, I hadn’t bothered to make sure she got off before I did.

“I have a better idea,” she counters, and I can hear the rustle of the sheets as she climbs from the bed. I know what she has in mind, one final attempt at trying to become a permanent fixture. However, just like the sheets she slept on, she will be discarded for something new.

“There is money on the dresser. Make sure you grab all of your shit, the door locks automatically.”

Not bothering to wait for a rebuttal, I make my way to the ensuite. “Make sure you take only what you brought. I have cameras all over this motherfucker,” I warn before closing the door. It’s a dick move, yet not the worst way I’ve chased off a bitch when I’m tired of her.

Twisting the handle of the shower, I feel the guilt blanket me. Not waiting for the temperature to rise, I step under the spray, needing to wash off the stench of what I’ve done.

“I’m so sorry, Tesoro.” I confess, the most truthful thing I’ve said all day. I hate what I’ve become, the shell of a man she left behind. She would be disgusted with me if she knew the way I live my life.

“I’ll make you proud tomorrow,” I lie, mostly to myself. Tipping my head back, allowing the water to wash away the remnants of my sins and the stench of the nameless girl who failed to rid me of my nightmare. I’ll light a candle at church nexttime I’m there, not that it will matter much, God gave up on me a long time ago.

Chapter

Three

KATE

“What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were done with clinicals,” Andi questions as I drop my bag into the seat beside her.

“I did, I’m working as a nurse today for Simon.” Keeping the part of avoiding being at home today to myself.

“That’s right,” Andi smiles. “His wife had their baby last week.”

Nodding, I take advantage of the situation. “A little girl, who, according to Simon, demands that her daddy hold her constantly. Besides, the ER this time of year is the perfect place to study.”

Dallas Memorial was a teaching hospital, which meant during the school year, it was filled with interns and student nurses who were all too eager to interact with patients.

“You’re not wrong.” Andi admits, typing away on the keyboard. “Besides, I imagine it’s hard to study with Brady up your ass all day.” Turning toward me, she wags her eyebrows suggestively.

“That too,” I agree automatically, an immense amount of guilt blanketing me as I lie to my best friend's face. I'm such a chicken shit. If Andi knew of my plans, she would be my biggestcheerleader. Why I lack the courage to tell her my secrets is beyond me.

“Well.” Standing from her chair, Andi moves around the desk, “I’m off to save muscles. Page me if you need me.” It's a joke between us. Andi is a physical therapist who volunteers to be on call for the ER. Why the hospital administration demands PT on call is beyond the both of us, but they pay her well, so we don't question it.

“Don't forget, I'm picking you up bright and early tomorrow.”

“I haven’t forgotten, I'm looking forward to it actually.” Having nearly preordered the latest book from Cayce Poponea, I was looking forward to having some time after my exams to read something other than medical textbooks.

“Looking forward to what?” An automatic cringe commandeers my body, forcing my eyes to slam shut, bile rising in my throat at the sound of his voice. The owner, another issue I’d swept under the rug in avoidance of dealing with the aftermath.

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