Page 2 of Addicted to Love

My head is spinning and the taste of copper tells me that I’m bleeding, either my gum or my lip, something I’m trying to work out from where I’m sitting on the floor, when a face comes close to mine.

“Are you okay?” A gentle hand cups my face and I’m looking into a pair of blue eyes, the colour of the ocean, the type of ocean you only see in travel magazines. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean…”

His dark hair is mussed and his lip is bleeding, reminding me again of my own wound. Shrugging away from his touch, I glare. “Don’t touch me.”

I don’t need his kindness. It was my boyfriend's fault that I had a bloody mouth, not this stranger’s. I didn’t need his kindness suffocating me. I didn’t need his warm hands or his gentle voice, I needed fresh air.

He opens his mouth to say something, but he’s tugged back into the foray by Mark, and that’s when I decide I’ve had enough. I can’t sit on the floor and wait for this to be over, I had work in the morning. I had been lucky to land the job at TapeWorld, and I couldn’t throw that away for a fight over nothing.

Mark and the others don’t even notice me leave, but as I make my way to the door, I can feel eyes on my skin, and I know without looking that there is someone in the crowd determined to kill me with kindness. Clenching my jaw, I ignore it and step out into the night. Pine Grove is a tiny parish filled with gossips, and by tomorrow afternoon everyone would know that Mark Lawson had started yet another fight at The Tipsy Cow.

Grabbing a cup of coffee from the food court, I virtually speed walk to the Galleria, cutting it close since I’m due to start at work in six minutes. I hadn’t seen Mark since that night two days ago. He'd obviously slunk away into some hole and would reappear when he needed to borrow some money, or he wanted to hook up.

My father hadn’t been conscious when I had slipped back into the trailer that night, but when I’d left for work today, my purse had been emptied once again and he wasn’t parked on his usual spot on the sofa. No doubt he’d needed a little top-up for his habit. My father wasn’t a particularly bad man, he just wasn’t a good one either, always putting his needs before anything else... like the rent or food. His addiction issues were nothing new, he’d been a junkie on and off for most of my life. A small, very guilty part of me was almost glad that my mother was no longer around, living with one narcissistic drug user was enough, two would have me going insane. I couldn’t even say that her death had caused him to go off the deep end, he was already drowning before she passed. In fact, when I’d found her in our tiny trailer, skin cold and pallid, chest stiller than anything I’d ever seen in my life, he hadn’t even been able to look at me. He was tweaking so hard, I’d had to run across to Mrs. Jones, three trailers over, for help calling an ambulance. I was seven.

It scared me sometimes, when I looked at Mark and saw echoes of my parents. But he was different. He promised me I’d never have to live like that once we got out of this town, once we’d saved up enough to leave Pine Grove for good. And again, a small, guilty part of me wondered if that would ever actually happen. I’d graduated almost four years ago, and yet I was still in the same trailer, same town, with the same people. I knew it was a cycle, and I knew I was stuck.

“Tammy! Come on, girl, it’s almost time to open up,” Tiffany, the assistant manager of TapeWorld calls as I almost skid through the door. She’s wearing yet another pink outfit, complete with pink fishnet tights. Tiff was all about the pink—like Barbie but prettier with crimped hair and hazel eyes. Barbie was too perfect, too plastic. And I was the opposite to both of them, with my dark eyeliner, faded, ripped jeans, black long-sleeved crop top and oversized denim jacket, complete with my own personalisations. I’d spent all evening a few years ago adding safety pins, badges and patches to my jacket, which had been a bargain find from a small secondhand shop just on the edge of town. Modifying clothes was my passion, and I was kinda pleased with myself over the finished product. I often had compliments from people who came into the store.

“I know! I’m sorry, I missed my bus...had to walk.” It was a lie, I had no money for the damn bus, and the only reason I’d been able to grab some coffee was thanks to Louie, who’d been on the counter at Burger Town and saw me coming. He never charged me, instead I repaid him by listening to his dating woes during our lunch breaks.

“Well, come on. You’re on the shop floor today with Lana. I need you to put out the new delivery and do an inventory on the tapes, put together a list of anything that’s missing or low.”

“Got it,” I say as I quickly dash to the back of the shop, where I dump my bag and jacket. My little walk had left me sweating, and I was only going to get warmer lugging around boxes.

* * *

Two hours later I’m regretting my clothing choices. My belt buckle cuts into my skin when I’m bending down to grab things from the floor and place them on the shelves, and I’m very aware of the way my usually flat stomach seems to have rolls when I move, as the group of teenagers have been discussing from the other side of some Whitney Huston tapes. My jeans are high waisted, so there’s only a band of skin showing, but it’s enough to make me weary of the leering from the boys, so when Tiffany’s back is turned, I flip them off and pinch my rolls, letting them know I heard every fucking word. They’re only kids, and their faces turn red before they start shoving each other out the door, embarrassed at being caught.

With a soft sigh, I side-eye the remaining tapes that need to be stacked and decide instead of leaning down, showcasing my rolls in all their glory and breaking my back, it might just be easier to reach up from the floor. Dropping to my knees, I instantly feel more comfortable and stretch out the ache that had been building in my lower back. With my hands reached out above my head as I loosen myself up before resuming the restocking, I almost jump when my fingers brush against something soft.

“Well, if this isn’t a sight,” a familiar voice murmurs, and I tilt my face upwards.

Of course, it’s the rich guy from The Tipsy Cow, looking down at me, on my knees, with a smirk. “I didn’t realise you were the submissive type, this look suits you.”

I snort, “Not even.”

“Ohhh, very even.” I can’t seem to look away as the tip of his tongue darts out and trails lazily across his bottom lip. It’s like I’m hyper aware as citrus notes seem to fill the air. Did he bathe in lemons? What was that?

Grabbing a handful of Madonna tapes, I start putting them out, trying not to look at the guy invading my space. “Can I help you? Or are you just here to be a giant creep?”

He chuckles softly, and I look away, my cheeks warm. “Actually, I’m looking for that charming boyfriend of yours.”

“Can’t help.” I stiffen, and it’s like there’s a rock settling in my stomach. What the heck had Mark gotten himself into now? Was that why he’d been avoiding the trailer park? “How did you know where to find me?”

“I saw your badge on Friday, Tammy.” I glance down at the badge pinned to my chest, with my name and TapeWorld clearly visible. A piece of paper is waved in front of my face. “Well, here’s my phone number. He’s going to want to call, since I spoke to my lawyers and it could get nasty if I decide to sue.”

I push myself to my feet, pocketing the scrap of paper. “Sue?”

Immediately I feel stupid for not noticing the black sling he’s wearing. With my tongue feeling heavy in my mouth, I ask, “Mark did that?”

He adjusts the sling, giving me a chance to take in his expensive clothes and the silver watch he wears. He oozed money, and arrogance. “After you left, yeah.”

Crossing my arms, I tilt my head. How had the scuffle escalated so much? Was Mark on drugs? No. He’d promised me...“Why?”

Rich boy smiles, and it’s gentler this time. “Said he didn’t like how I looked at you.”

“And how was that?” I can’t keep the frown from my face, so Mark had broken this guy’s arm over something stupid?

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