Love is Hell Ch. 01

"Damn shame," Ray told his best friend as he watched his ex-girlfriend's car drive away behind the U-Haul truck driven by her brother. It was a beautiful spring Friday on the block and the sun stood high in the clear noon sky so he quashed the desire to be cold and wave a snarky goodbye. Instead, he chose to be content that his experience with a narcissistic partner was over peacefully.

"Dude, are we talking across two different dimensions right now or something? If not, you gotta be delusional. Mike's been telling you for years that Lanii was toxic, and I for one, agree. Then there's Ethan, brother. That guy never has a cross word to say about anyone, he's like a fucking saint... but he does not like her, never did. She tried to suck the life out of you, man", his friend retorted.

"I know that, Rawn," Raiden sighed. "That's why I stopped fighting and let her draw her own conclusions every time she wanted to argue. I couldn't deal with it anymore. She chose to see it as me shutting her out... besides, sometimes you have to give someone a chance to change. Stand by someone you care about, yanno? Hell, The Railroad would have killed each other a long time ago if not for that, what with the way we four have had our heads up our asses at times."

The Brotherhood of the Railroad, or The Railroad, as they called themselves, consisted of the four friends: Michael Satko, Ethan Glade, Raiden Bane, and Arawn Stonebrook.

Arawn, or Rawn as his friends and what little family he had called him, reached up to pat his tall friend on the shoulder as he laughed. Ray was Raiden Bane, and the two had been friends since they could walk.

"True enough, I guess. Still, are you sure you're okay, buddy? She put you through one hell of a ringer...," Rawn asked his friend.

Ray gave him a smile and a nod.

"I'm good, man. Been good for a while, actually. What you guys have seen lately was the stress from just having to deal with her. Trust me, it was necessary. If I'd tried to openly drive her out, things would have gotten messy, quick. Letting her push her own self out the door over my intransigence was much easier, even if it was a lot more drawn out. I'm just glad it's over."

Rawn chuckled, "So what you're saying is that she called you a cold-hearted asshole so many times that you finally decided to actually be one?"

Raiden had an odd look on his face and shrugged, "...something like that."

Rawn nodded and sat down on Raiden's patio and pulled out a pair of emerald green cigars from a case in his pocket. They were about the size of a corona and he handed one to his friend. Ray examined the strange thing in his hand and immediately recognized the leaf used for the wrapper.

"Rawn, what the hell is this? It's wrapped in pot leaves..."

His best friend laughed and gave Ray a wry grin.

"That, my good man, is a hand-rolled cannabis cigar, wrapped in fresh picked leaf from plants of the same strain and cured to perfection in mason jars."

Ray smirked, "Read that on the jar at the dispensary, did you?"

"Nope," Rawn answered without hesitation. "Made 'em myself. I call them Cannapedoes. This would be a corona grade in a traditional cigar, and I also make them in churchill grade. These are made from strawberry diesel. I get a hundred and fifty bucks a stick for them at the dispensaries here in Detroit, they sell them for almost three hundred, and I'm the only one in Michigan who makes them right now. I'm getting requests from all the way up in the U.P., but there's too many hostile counties between us to chance the drive upstate."

Ray rolled his eyes and shook his head as he lit his friend's latest creation and put it to his lips. Doesn't taste bad at all, he thought to himself. Then he sat down next to Rawn and drew a mouthful of smoke and let it roll over his tongue. Damn, this tastes pretty nice. My buddy might be onto something here...

That would be his last coherent thought for the next half hour. When Raiden inhaled the smoke, it hit his lungs like a sledgehammer and triggered the worst coughing fit he had ever experienced. It felt like he had tried to inhale a dozen joints in a single puff, such was the concentration of the smoke, and his lungs just could not take it. His eyes bulged and tears poured down his cheeks from all four corners of his eyes as he struggled to suppress the cough and hold in the smoke. When his body escalated the fight, he sputtered and snickered each time his shoulders bucked with the convulsions of his lungs against his own stubborn resistance. Finally, he lost the battle and erupted into an unending cascade of coughs, wheezes, gasps, gags, and drool.

Rawn found the whole situation hilarious as he watched his friend cough himself cross-eyed and barely managed to suppress his laughter. When Ray could breathe well enough to speak again, Rawn decided to apologize.

"Sorry about that," he snickered, "There's a lot of weed in those things, they weigh almost half an ounce. It doesn't stop with dry herb, either."

Rawn's friend looked a question at him as he wheezed to catch his breath, so he explained further... "The bud inside is dipped in liquid resin and allowed to cure three separate times before it is ground, mixed with kief from the same strain to keep it from being too sticky, and finally rolled. No glue on the leaves, either, just more resin to hold them in place."

Ray backhanded Rawn's arm and scowled while he finished collecting himself.

"Fucker...," Raiden croaked at his former-friend and wiped his face on a handkerchief from his breast pocket, "Warn a man next time, you sneaky bastard. I thought it was just a fancy blunt!"

Ray had flopped onto his back to rest for a moment after he slapped Rawn's arm. When he finally sat up again, he instantly regretted it. His hands clutched the sides of his head while the whole world wibbled and wobbled about his field of vision.

"Jesus Christ, Rawn! Are you sure that's all you did to that thing? Put it out unless you want some, I'm already deep-fried to a crisp! Talk about a one-hit-wonder..."

Arawn laughed at his buddy, snuffed out his creation, and tucked it back into the case. They had always shared an easy friendship. The two had been through hell together since childhood and their bond was unbreakable. It made him happy to hear his friend complaining about the weed and calling him names. That was their way: jokes, tricks, and rude endearments. The last few months with Lanii were hard on his friend, but Ray would never admit it. Ray had a tendency to internalize his stresses.

"Mike says he's coming home soon, bringing his girlfriend this time. She's from India, he said. It will be nice to have him back around. The Railroad just isn't the same without him," Rawn told him in a none-too-subtle attempt to change the subject. "Ethan wants to meet us at Pars when Mike gets here. Says he wants to introduce us all to his new girlfriend."

"I'm not surprised about Mike, he has never had a problem getting a date, he was just always too busy to bother. About damn time Ethan found someone, though. It's been, what, ten years?"

"Yup," Rawn answered as he lit his 'cigar', "we had better be careful or we'll end up bachelors at 80. None of us seem to have much luck with ladies over the long term."

"You got that right," Raiden agreed. "Ethan broke up with Shae right before Lanii and I started dating."

"Hah! Ten years alone versus ten years of Lanii, I'm not sure which of you had it worse."

Ray laughed, "You and Mike don't have much room to talk. The pair of you live like monks. I don't think either of you have had a steady woman as long as I've known you."

"Yeah, well, I might be the Scorpio, but you're the kinky bastard of the bunch. Just remember that..."

Ray decided to change the subject before his friend got on a roll, "The crews are getting solid work done out in Oak Park. Those three blocks we picked up and restored have raised property values more than we expected. We have people lining up to rent, and... we are getting inquiries from homeowners looking to put the boys to work on their own houses."

"...and on that note, Ray, I gotta go. I'm heading out tomorrow to do some scouting for property out in Brighton, and I have to finish cleaning up the house before I go out tonight. We can talk business on Monday, I will not jinx my weekend by discussing work after-hours."

Raiden laughed, "I still can't believe you are looking to build a farm out in Brighton, Michigan, of all places. Alright, I need to let Cain out of the crate and into the backyard, anyway. He never warmed up to Lanii's brother and the guy has been helping her move out all morning. The poor boy has to be dying for a piss."

They said their farewells, and he watched his childhood friend drive away on a new Harley, his third new bike this year. Raiden turned and went back into his house. Cain, his blue bulldog... Ray refused to call him a pit bull since he had not and would not ever engage in dogfighting, greeted him happily when Ray opened the door to his crate and the dog dashed out through the doggy-door and into the backyard in urgent need of relief.

Ray watched Cain play for a while and gathered his thoughts. When he decided upon his plan for the weekend, he turned and made for the shower.

*********

Cerina smiled and leaned her tall frame against the tree. She had gotten here just in time. The man had just finished his warmup and now, the music of Muddy Waters rang out from his guitar. What amazed her was that it felt as though this white man channelled the spirit of Muddy himself. It was also the reason that she had returned every weekend for the past month just to hear him; everything he played came to life as if he were the original artist. The cool breeze kept the May afternoon just right for the groups that had started to pop up with food for their grills, and the sounds of spring in Rouge Park further lifted her spirits. Cerina closed her violet eyes and let the music wash over her. She loved the way the human seemed to bend sound itself to tease her ears with his aural magic... aural magic, aural magic! That was it!

Her eyes snapped open and she leaned her head forward just a bit as she studied the human more closely. He dressed simply; a silly print t-shirt, faded denim jeans, a slightly worn, black fedora sat atop his head, and a grey zip-up hoodie sat on the bench beside him. She found him rather attractive, especially his eyes. He was tall and well built but didn't seem to be overly muscular, and she could tell that he didn't spend time in the tanning bed because his skin had the rich bronze of a man who spent his time outside... not that orange shade that always seems to result from tanning lights. His strong jaw was covered by a thin black beard that had been tastefully sculpted into a chin-strap style, which, together with his long, graying black hair made his steel grey eyes almost glow... and oh, how they called to her! They were almost hypnotic!

He was completely lost in the music as he segued into Robert Johnson's Sweet Home Chicago at a slower tempo than she expected. His eyes were unfocused, it was clear that he was a million miles away, drifting on imaginary winds that only he could feel as he displayed his mastery of the guitar strings. Cerina decided that he had no idea what he was doing or he would most certainly be more careful. It was as if she bore witness to the Pied Piper of Rouge Park as the attendees all slowly forgot what they were doing and lost themselves in the music as they swayed gently with the rhythm of his guitar. The raw emotion he radiated through the guitar and his voice enthralled the crowd, while he remained totally unaware of his effect on them. For a time, she lost herself once more in the spell of his music.

About an hour and a dozen songs later, she drifted back to reality and sighed in bliss as he wound down with a number by John Lee Hooker. There was plenty of applause. The crowd was disappointed that it ended, but they understood and weren't about to complain about a free show. Cerina smiled to herself as she watched the park visitors rush in to speak with him.

********

Once the well-wishes, thanks, compliments, and congratulations had ended, Raiden packed his guitar away and tossed his hoodie over his shoulder. When he picked up his guitar case and turned around, he came face-to-face with the most beautiful example of an ebony goddess that he had seen in quite some time. He froze in his tracks and drank in her features, oblivious to the greeting which had already issued from her full, succulent lips.

The lovely creature before him was dressed in simple, classy activewear that tactfully, but loudly proclaimed her femininity. Her skin was a rich, deep brown that almost shone black in the sun. A form fitting black top and matching sport leggings with a band of teal on turquoise down the outside of the arms and legs covered her shapely form, and her feet were clad in a pair of white Chuck Taylor's with black trim.

That was on the pass his eyes made from top to bottom. When his eyes made their way back up, the body beneath her clothing took center stage. From her feet all the way up, her legs were a work of art. Beautifully shaped calves ended at the knee and gave way to strong, thick thighs that did not look big on her at all as they blended into the soft curves of matronly hips. His eyes were more than halfway there when they reached the gentle curves of her waist, which appeared smaller than it actually was due to the flare of her hips and her smooth, flat tummy. A large and prominent bust sat in stunning proportion to shoulders that were not quite as wide as her hips. Upon those shoulders rested endless tresses of wavy black hair that had been prepared in a feather cut to frame her face.

It was then that Raiden realized just how tall this woman was. He was six-foot-five and she could almost stare straight at his nose, which put her around six-two. His eyes widened a little with the realization, and he skipped everything else as his eyes locked with hers. Holy hell, I could lose myself in those eyes for days, he thought. He found his mind flooded with salacious images of the them engaged in wild sex, bondage, and other hedonistic pleasures, and did indeed get lost for a moment in the endless fantasies that engulfed his mind's eye.

Vibrant violet irises encircled the pupils of eyes that regarded him with amusement. The spell was broken when she gave a slow twirl for his benefit, and Raiden had the good grace to blush at his blatant staring, especially with the imagery so fresh in his mind. Nice ass, though, he thought. Full cheeks, but not a bubble-butt. Definitely a double-handful, though... what the fuck? When did I turn into such a hornball? He shook his head to clear the nonsense and looked back to her eyes and almost immediately, it happened again. He settled for staring at the tip of her nose, and hoped that when he opened his mouth... he didn't sound like a fool. Her entertainment was unmistakable.

"Get lost on the way up?" She asked.

"I uh... busted," he laughed. "I'm really sorry about that. I don't know what came over me. I'm usually more of a gentleman. My name is Raiden"

She waved him off.

"No sweat, honey. I'm Cerina. I'm always flattered when I can make a gentleman break decorum. Where did you learn to play the blues so good? I don't think I have ever heard anybody cover Johnson like that."

Her voice was liquid honey. Rich, and sensual without effort, he felt he could listen to her ramble about nothing for days just for the kiss of her sultry tones upon his ears. Raiden shrugged and gave her an easy smile, "Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it. That's actually the first song I ever learned. I picked that one out, one note at a time, before I ever took any lessons. Took me two months to get it right. Over the years, I just kinda made it mine."

Her eyes twinkled and she touched his elbow. With the touch came a surge of energy that passed into him.

"You most certainly did. Say, I haven't seen you at any of the clubs. With just the following you have here, you could kill it on the weekends with the set you just played. I don't know how long you've been doing this out here in the park, but I've been coming for a month and so have most of these people,... you've already got a fan club."

It wasn't enough that she actually put the effort in to sound sexy at this point. The moment her skin came into contact with his, Raiden had to fight to control himself. The flood of lust-filled thought returned once more and he drew a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, his control restored yet again. When his mental vision cleared, he fixed his gaze on her nose and let his eyes fall slightly out of focus as he replied.

"I... don't actually do this for exposure. I've been coming to this park off and on since I was a kid. This is just a way for me to relax and de-stress. I only live a few blocks away."

While his eyes adjusted, Raiden missed the energy that returned to her body. Her aura came into view just in time, however, for him to see a pulse of reddish-purple energy flare up from within. Without the benefit of the full event, he cynically wrote it off as groupie lust. Still, he considered, she seemed a lot more intelligent than the average groupie. She gasped in surprise and unexpected arousal, and recovered just in time to cover it with a reply.

"Oh my! A local boy..." she hooked her arm into his free one and purred. "So, handsome, where we going tonight?"

"Well, I didn't actually have any plans for the weekend. Let's pick up some Lebanese after I take my guitar home and have dinner somewhere out in Hines Park."

He was still so caught up in the disconcertion from his sudden attack of libido that he missed the fact that she'd just snared him for a date so easily on the same day Lanii moved out. She reached up and pulled him down into a slow, simmering kiss, then pulled away with a smack.

"Mmmm, I love a man of action," Cerina purred.

"Action? We haven't even gotten to the set and the director is still asleep in his trailer. Hit the brakes a little, baby girl. There is absolutely no need to rush. Did you drive here?"

Oh my god. When did I turn into Sir Smooves-it-out?

She shook her head and flashed him a dazzling smile, "No, I don't live far away either. Did you?"

Raiden pointed to the edge of the park where a few motorcycles rested just off the curb.

"Mine's the red and cream Indian."

She squealed like a schoolgirl and made a beeline for the bike while the bounce in her step did delightful things for his view of her shapely ass. Ray laughed and shook his head. By the time he made it over, she was already on the backseat.

"I love bikes, and it's a Roadmaster! These big beasts make me so squishy... what model year?"

Ray nearly choked on his own breath as he walked to the back of the bike and secured the guitar case to the luggage rack with a trio of ratchet straps. His face was beet red and he paid extra attention to the strap that went through the case's handle while he tried to regain his color.

"It... it's a 2016. I picked it up, used, at a dealership for a really nice price. It had low miles, more maintenance than necessary; it was well cared for. Someone must have cried when they gave up this bike even though it's pretty much stock."

Ray had finished with the guitar and was ready to join her on the bike when something came to mind, "Shit, forgot the spare helmet. Hang on."

"You assume that I'm going to let you put a helmet on this natural hair, sweetheart... not happenin'. It's not required here, anyway."

"You assume that I carry the required insurance. It's not as cut and dried as do-or-don't-wear-a-helmet."

He had her with that one. Cerina smirked, "Hmmm, fair point. Do you carry the insurance I need to ride without a helmet?"