But, as the days turned to weeks, and weeks to months I was forced to watch the Tayla and Cal show. I had to force myself to move on when it became too much.
So, I gave CD my number when he asked. I listened to both Noah and Sully tell me how amazing he was. It felt like they might have had a man crush on him. Once I saw CD though, I got it.
Now here I was. Twenty-six and single trying to make a name for myself in the PIT world as the piercing and branding specialist while crying myself to sleep every night wishing for shit I could never have.
Me: I know you're crazy that’s for sure
Before he could respond I hear a knock on my door and take the phone with me so that when CD texts I will open the door and save him the trouble. This is his new routine and though I like his effort and hanging with him, I am scared he will end up hurt chasing someone who is unavailable.
But, as I open the door it isn’t CD I see. No, it’s Cal and he looks stressed and worried and mad as hell.
Cal
I wait for that damn text she sends me every night and after twenty minutes I call Skin and her supervisor tells me she left over an hour ago. Skin is seedy as fuck and I don’t trust a single mother fucker that sits in that shithole.
I get in my Jeep and head over to her place and see her Escalade in her stall. Everything goes a hazy shade of black as I picture her with that CD dude that’s up her ass. So here I sit and contemplate the bullshit brewing inside me, planning my next move and talking myself out of it at the same time.
I don’t deserve Jen, hell I am the one person who doesn’t deserve her. Not a lot of people see my opinion the same, but fuck them and their judgement. I was the main factor in what destroyed the once innocent and sweet hometown Gig girl.
I used her, more times than I could count. It started in eighth grade when seven minutes in heaven turned into an all of thirty second blow job the summer of eighth. My first and still I think back to it as a damn near spiritual moment.
From there it was always a little further. A ton of that third base grind and I recall with absolute clarity that first orgasm I gave her with my fingers and tongue. I felt like a God and it only fueled the asshole inside that wanted more. In eleventh grade, I took her to bed and continued to fuck her for four years, then destroyed her and called her the worst things imaginable. I never once looked at my part in who she became. I don’t take all the blame, but my reluctance to be anything but her booty call is what lead her to our lifestyle. And she didn’t have the cred to keep herself safe. No managers or labels, she fell down the rabbit hole I left her at. She was sucked into a life she didn’t deserve...
And in it all I still used her. My friends used her. We passed her around like a joint, then called her a whore and a junkie.
My stomach rolls when I see her on the bus, legs spread as I cum in her mouth and Noah cum’s on her pussy. What was deviant and crazy hot back then, is disgusting and cruel now. I cannot think of her in that perfect pink prom dress dancing with James Denahee at the dance, and fucking me in my car that night after we both ditched our dates for not being fun enough... and then picture her behind the stage six years ago as Noah, Myself and the members of Sinners of the Slipstream took a vote on who wanted to party with the hottest redhead there.
I didn’t take her back to the bus with me that night, didn’t care that anyone did. I was fucking Tay that night and Jen was sent to party with the others. I would be lying if the look she gave me, this sad and disenchanted sorrow as she left with the guys from Sinners. I knew she wanted me and I had some sick joy in knowing she wished it was me and most likely thought of me as they railed her.
Shit like that only served to boost my ego and destroyed her as well as countless others I am sure.
We were all good to those we knew and loved, to our families and friends. We were grateful for the fans and the devotion, but behind the scenes we were womanizing bastards.
Despicable.
Loathsome
Arrogant
And now I am left with the memory of the damage, the knowledge I had part in it and I watch her hate herself for what I excused as ok, then used against her when I found out about our son.
I know the majority of what caused his issues. DCFS reports and a shit load of counseling to tell me what I think I always knew deep down inside. Jen wasn’t a fit mother, but she had the intentions to be one. Had I known she had my child, I would have provided for them andthatis what rests on Jen.
I hate her for that because I missed so much and could have helped to keep him from seeing shit and going through shit no kid deserves. She didn’t neglect him in the junkie whore mom way we all accused her of. In fact, it was Tayla of all people who finally sought the truth. Jenny was working double shifts to keep the roof over their head and food in their bellies. She was using, but Jens addiction was the life not the drug. She still had to detox and get it out, but she was just a part of the seedy world we lived in and thought we were better than.
Now I watch her excel at motherhood and I have no fear. I have watched her take in my darkest days and not flinch. She is my rock and my home and everything I should have always protected. I lead her to the life and she dove in headfirst thinking I would see her. I saw her and I turned a blind eye.
I look at the clock for the hundredth time and I loosely convince myself she is in grave danger and I should just make sure she is ok. Chances are she is in there with my replacement, CD and I am about to be a major cock block.
That has me smiling as I slam my door.
How fucked up am I? It isn’t if I want her, I do. It is an issue of having her and that I can’t. My world is in shambles as is our sons. I cannot risk hurting Jenny and Axe both in my need to seek comfort. That’s all it is, its comfort and I need it from her like my next breath. I am a thief for it and I accept it, accept the dirt bag I am for it.
I knock on her door, hands stuffed in my pockets as I pace waiting for her to save me from my own mind. By the time she opens it, the worst possible images of thrusting and skin and cries of pleasure have assaulted me and I am barely breathing.
"What are you doing here?" She asks me and looks ten shades of worried.
I instantly realize at seeing her fresh from a shower and wearing some tight ass pink pants and a black tank top (sans bra, god dammit) I know I have over reacted. Luckily for me this was a first on my crazy train tour and hadn’t appeared in the middle of the night claiming concern.
