Ace of Hearts Ch. 05

He returns his attention to me. He tilts his head. "This isn't a movie. I'm not an animal you can just throw rocks at to trick into running away for their safety. There is no airport runway. There is no stereo under the window." he almost looks amused, but he isn't. "You can tell me that this has to end but don't insult me. This was not bullshit. It's never been bullshit, and that's what's got you spooked."

"Do you love my sister?" I demand.

"Don't do this, Jonathan," he shakes his head and looks down.

"Fucking answer me, Mr. Perfect," I press. "Do you look at my sister the way you look at me? Do you make her scream? Do you wrap around her at night and tell her you love her?"

He doesn't answer.

"Does she know what fucking chair you are in the orchestra? That you're performing one of your favorite Tchaikovsky pieces but you prefer a different arrangement? Did she learn what an arrangement even is?"

I'm shouting now, and he's silent. His eyes are wide and wet but no tears fall.

"Do you talk about the same shit with my sister after sex? Does she know you're worried about being far from your Dad? Does she know you still drive your piece of shit truck because it was your grandfather's?"

Still he's silent. I'm furious.

"Do you love my sister? " I enunciate every word. I slam the panel between the passenger side door and the backseat next to his head. He doesn't flinch. He doesn't look. He doesn't react at all and I hate it.

"Because guess what? She loves you!" I roar.

He stands abruptly and stares me down, his face inches from mine. He searches my eyes but I can't read his. I can only see my anger reflecting back at me. I tip my chin up, challenging him to do something.

"You don't know shit," he intones, eyes flashing. Asa walks away from the car and makes his way to the gas station door.

I slam my passenger side door closed, kick my fucking tire like that child I am and climb back in the driver's seat.

I scream.

I scream until I'm hoarse. I dig the heels of my palms into my eyes until my vision explodes with stars. I slump against the steering wheel.

After a bit, Asa returns with two bags of ice. He throws them into the backseat.

"It's getting late," he murmurs. "Let's get back. They'll be wondering what took so long."

"I'm proposing to Tara," I blurt out, and I immediately regret it. This time he does flinch. This makes him recoil like I hit him and it's physically crushing to see. He still doesn't respond. He just stares out the window.

The short ride home passes in a painful silence. When I pull in and cut the engine, he opens the door immediately. I feel awful and everything feels wrong.

He opens the back seat and grabs the ice.

"Asa--" I whisper.

"Don't," he stops me, his voice thick, the first display of emotion tonight. His eyes are wet. "Don't." His adam's apple bobs with a hard swallow and he shifts the ice in his grasp.

"I wish you both the best," he manages, nostrils flaring as he tries to keep his composure. Composure that I have never seen him lose.

He turns his back to me and heads inside. I sit there, alone, in the dark and in the cold, with only the heat from my shame to keep me warm.

"FUCK!"

***

Inside, it feels stifling. By the time I get up there, Asa is on the couch with Rakeem, having a lively conversation about something, anything. I don't know. Mia, Tara, and Audra are squealing over something on Audra's phone. The soundbite loops again. They squeal again.

I feel like I'm a million miles away. I'm in the kitchen making myself a drink while watching the party over the counter. I feel like a voyeur. I don't belong here.

When Veronica slides onto Asa's lap, he pulls her in and I'm hit with honest to god jealousy. And I'm angry. How sick is that? After everything I've said and done?

He kisses the top of her head, and she drapes her arms around his neck. I watch him run his fingers through her straightened hair. He doesn't look at me. I want to puke. I drain my Jack and Coke. I pour another.

This is fucking ridiculous. It's been what, a month?

Five weeks and four days, immediately comes to mind. Ew, why do I know that?

I don't know anything about this guy. I just fucking met him, take it easy Anna of Arendale.

Veronica tilts her head back and laughs. "I'm serious! He's so talented! He's performing in a concert in January, isn't that right, baby? He's playing the standing bass like a hipster. Isn't he amazing?"

He's playing the cello, not the bass this time, I think at the same time that he laughs and rubs her back and says. "Ha, no, not this time."

Why doesn't he correct her?

"He's the best one," she slurs. She's drunk. I finish my drink. "I got the best one."

She's not wrong about that. Asa drops his gaze.

"Do we need to step into my room and smoke a blunt?" Rob's voice pops up from next to me. He looks concerned. I just feel heavy. I shake my head and add more Jack to my drink. Is this number three? Or is it four?

"C'mon man, you look like shit, let's go," he says gently, his hand on my shoulder. I grab the bottle of Jack. Let's make it five.

I overhear Veronica's laugh, "No, no, like a farm with animals and crops and shit. I can't remember, babe, you have chickens right?"

I look at Rob and say, "They have two coops. There's no crops though, it's not that kind of farm." I raise my glass. Rob follows my gaze to where the two of them are sitting. Asa nods, with a half smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

I don't like the look on Rob's face. His brow is knit and he's watching me with something like sadness? Pity? "C'mon," Rob begins to usher me down the hall. "You need to relax."

"I'm fine," I grumble, but I let him. I overhear Veronica's giggles and I find myself hating her. My own sister. There's something so fucking wrong with me, I love her more than anything. If I caught any man doing what Asa was doing to her, I would beat his ass bloody.

Rob closes his door and I sit on his bed, staring at the sports museum that is his room. His room is always crisp and neat, and very him. His furniture is quality, dark and masculine. I'm surrounded by men. Actual men. And here I am, an insufferable fucking little boy just faking it.

"Man, I don't know what the fuck is going on with you two, but I do know what you look like when you're finna make a scene, and you can't be doin that," Rob breaks up his weed, and looks at me. "And that shit?"

He gestures to my bottle.

"You need to stop with that shit right now."

I look him dead in the eye and take a drink directly from the bottle. I hate when I get like this. I'm sure nobody else is a big fan either. Rob shakes his head. He's not wrong. It's just I already made the scene, and the employees at Shell are already updating their statuses about it.

"Don't ruin Tara's night because you're an impulsive asshole," Rob warns. He turns on his music to give us more privacy. He taps the weed into the cigar paper. He licks the blunt leaf. That's always so fucking gross but whatever.

"I'm not doing shit. I'm going to bed," I mutter.

Rob studies me and lights his blunt. He offers it to me. I decline. I've already drank more than I know I can handle.

"Did you know that he likes flowers?" I mumble watching the amber liquid slosh as I turn the bottle of Jack Daniels.

"No, Jon, I did not know he liked flowers. Why the fuck would I know he liked flowers?" he looks at me. I take a long drink from the Jack and set it on his dresser.

"She should get him flowers. It'll make him smile," I try to clear the rasp from my throat. Rob's staring at me. Ugh.

"Leave me the fuck alone, Rob," I threaten.

"I didn't say shit. But you have only known this man for what, a month?" I do not clarify. I am not making anything worse for myself.

"And you are head over heels in love with him?" he's squinting at me.

"I never fucking said that, you asshole, what the fuck is wrong with you?" I slam up to my feet. The room spins. "This isn't one of your body rippers shows."

"Okay, first off, it is 'bodice ripper'. Body rippers are a completely different genre, and frankly, not my style. Sit your hyper ass down, will you?"

I do, but not because he says so, but because I'll fall otherwise.

"So not love, excuse me. You are smitten," he rolls his eyes and holds his hands up.

"Rob. Shut the fuck up," I grit out. I grasp my head.

"What if--and hear me out--what if you were just honest with everyone?" He purses his lips.

"Always a fucking comedian," I grunt and I get up, sway until I stabilize, and make my way to his door. He catches my wrist before I can go.

"I am fucking serious, J. Why the fuck not? I literally have never seen you this fucked up over anyone ever. This isn't gonna go away. Admittedly, I truly did not expect it to be a man, but whatever. Talk to him. Talk to Veronica."

I scoff.

"And fucking ruin everyone's life? More? Shit on everything like I always fucking do? Fucking leave it, Rob, I didn't ask you," I bark. I yank my arm back and open his door, kicking it shut behind me. I cross the hall to my room, half expecting to see Asa there but of course he isn't. There is no runway. There is no stereo outside the window.

Nobody is in there.

I lock the door behind me, despite knowing this will be a huge fight with Tara tomorrow.

"Nah, he's had a couple of drinks too many, and my mans has a headache. He's aight, but this blunt isn't gonna smoke itself," I hear Rob through the door. Good man.

I throw myself on the bed and stick my earbuds in, and within moments I'm asleep, fully dressed, and listening, like the emo fuckboy sucker that I am, to Chopin.

***

I dream.

I dream of fitting him in my throat. I dream of kisses mixed with cum. I dream of his rough hands on my body, his mouth on my cock.

I dream of the nights past at his house, watching him lower himself onto my throbbing prick and using me to make himself cum. I dream of his mouth. I dream of his eyes. I dream of his smile.

I dream of Christmas morning, just he and I, drinking coffee, him on his guitar and me watching.

I dream, and in my dream he leans forward and captures me with his searing lips and he says, 'Nican niyez', and I have no fucking clue what that means.

And within the dream, Asa leans over me and takes me on the rug, the Christmas tree towering above me and when he says "I love you," I cum.

I wake with a start and a wickedly hard cock. Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat the fuck was that. My heart is racing. I grasp my cock and close my eyes and begin to work the tension out, imagining his face and his mouth. It lasts for less than a minute before I remember where I am, and desire drains away.

I roll onto my back.

My mouth tastes like regret.

My head feels like regret.

My heart...well. Fuck that thing anyway.

My phone pings. I grab it. I know it's not Asa because he has his own vibration. I know, I know. It's bad.

Veronica: hey butthead can I ask a favor

Me: i was hoping so u know i sit here waiting until u need me

Veronica: as u should

Me: car?

Veronica: how'd u know

Me: that's the only time u call me

Veronica: not true

Veronica: I also call when I need money

I laugh.

I feel better. I remember that family has always come first, and Vivi is my sister. My sister who despite all appearances is one of my favorite people in the world.

Me: what's it doing

Vivi: making a sound

Me: they do that

Vivi: not the vroom vroom kind

Vivi: more like HnnhHggGggGgggggg

Me: lmfao

Me: u stupid

Vivi: u ugly

Me: ur outside aren't u

Vivi: *heart eyes* *kiss* *glittery heart*

Vivi: ur my favorite

Me: u know my price

Vivi: *middle finger emoji*

I scroll through my other notifications, noting that not even Tara has texted to check in on me. I take a piss and change out of last night's clothes. I slide my beat up Mets cap on to annoy Veronica.

I head downstairs.

Veronica is sitting in her car in the driver's seat with the door open and heat blasting, scrolling her phone. She doesn't even look up at me.

"I know I said you were ugly but you've really outdone yourself. You look like shit."

I don't have the energy for banter. I walk around the front of the car. It's not making any obvious noises.

"What's it doing?" I ask again. I don't know why I ask. Maybe one day she'll give me something I can work with.

"It's being stupid here drive it. When I turn, it clunks and the back does a weird thing, here," she sighs and beckons me to come drive. I oblige.

"All the time or sometimes?" I ask, musing over the possibilities.

"Always."

"For how long?"

"Eh, a month maybe?"

"You really are the dumb one," I snort.

She punches my arm with her bony knuckles right in my bicep. It was a good punch. My arm tingles and I laugh. If nothing else Veronica can beat ass. I rub my arm.

"You wish that was true," she sniffs.

"Ok, go away," I say, shooing her.

She heads to the curb and sits on it, her hands stuffed in her pockets. I drive the car around the parking lot. She's right. It feels like the engine is literally shifting in the front. The car bounces so hard on the speed bump, the back of her Nissan almost spins out. I pull the car back to the parking spot where it angrily shakes enough for my teeth to chatter. I feel my rage start to climb.

Cutting the engine, I pop the hood and storm to the front of the car. I glare at her. She looks at me completely confused.

"What the fuck you looking at me like that for? What'd I do to you?" she gives me her pissed face, but it's pouty, at best.

I use the flashlight on my phone and examine under the hood to confirm my suspicion. I feel my rage starting to boil over. "Almost fucking killed yourself. I know I said you're stupid but you've really outdone yourself," I spit back at her.

She stands up, and I glare at her but she doesn't have her face screwed up to chew me out. Instead she looks really worried.

"What's wrong, Jonny?" She chews her lip.

"Your fucking engine mounts are bad! And you've been driving like this for a month? Veronica, you could have fucking died, you've been riding a time bomb. You're lucky it didn't detach or fuck up your transmission! It didn't occur to you to talk to your mechanic brother when you thought that the fucking engine of your car is moving? This isn't driveable!" I am so fucking angry with her. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you have a death wish? For something that I could handle in a fucking day? Jesus fucking Christ, Veronica!" I bellow. My head is slamming.

But the Veronica's face I'm shouting in isn't the defiant, scrappy Veronica I expected to see. I realize that Vivi's eyes have welled up with tears and she has shrunk back from me. I blink. I straighten and take a step back. I didn't realize I had gotten that close.

"I meant with you," she whispers. "I was asking about you."

I wince. I roll my eyes.

"Stop acting like I'm going to hit you, dummy. I've never hit you," I mutter and look at the car again. When I look back at her, a few of her tears have spilled.

"Nah, but you've never screamed in my face like Dad before either," she bites her lip and I hear her swallowing down her tears. "You've never looked at me like you've hated me. I--I don't know what I did to piss you off like this."

I stare at her and my rage gives way to a deep intense shame. I look down, and squeeze my eyes shut. When I look up she's on her phone, intensely focused.

"What are you doing?" I ask quietly.

"Ordering an Uber," she snaps.

"Vivi, I can take you home," I sigh.

"No, asshole!" She barks. "You don't get to scream at me like you just fucking did and expect me to be in a fucking car with you!"

"You could have died, Vi," I say quietly.

"So what? That doesn't give you the right-" her voice cracks with her anger and she looks away. She cries when she gets angry, and that frustrates her. I look at my hands.

"I don't know what the fuck is up with you lately, but it fucking sucks," she says finally. She's jogging her leg and avoiding my face. She's searching the parking lot expectantly. I feel like a pile of dog shit.

"Why you hatin on me," she says, but it's not actually a question.

"I am not fucking hating on you, Veronica!" I throw my hands up. "Every single thing I do is because I love you and want to keep you safe! Everything I EVER fucking do is to fucking protect YOU!"

"YEAH WELL NO ONE FUCKING ASKED YOU TO," she yells, and now she's the one in my face. She shoves me. I let her.

I don't know what to say.

"You ever fucking think of that? Hiding behind your smart mouth, acting like people are forcing you to do the shit you do. You don't protect me. You protect yourself, because if you get to be the savior playing Dad, you don't have to deal with your own fucking life. Grow the fuck up, Jonathan."

"Thats..that's not--" I stammer, but there's a hard lump in my throat. That's not why.

"I'll tow it, and bring it to a mechanic. Triple A is coming," she mutters.

"Vivi, come on, I will have your car towed to the shop and fix it tomorrow," I sigh.

"No. I don't want your help," she snaps. "Not if it means you act like this."

I flinch.

The Uber arrives. Or has been there I guess. I don't know how long. But I do know the woman in the driver's seat with fluorescent pink lips reminds me of my third grade teacher, Miss Franklin, down to the look of complete disdain.

Veronica gets in the car without another word.

I watch the car go, calling my tow guy to bring her car to my shop. My ears are ringing. Long after the Uber clears the lot I head up to my apartment. I rip every article of clothing off, and curl up in my sheets. I'm shaking. I am sick with self loathing. I put on my earbuds to listen to Chopin.

That's when I notice the text.

Asa: she doesn't.

Asa: know those things you said

I hold my breath.

Asa: only you It's all you

Asa: and I wish it wasnt

At that and because I can't hold it in any longer, I burst into tears, pull the comforter over my head and sob myself to sleep.