We Are Both In The Dirt Ch. 18

Mira finally removes her hospital wrist band as she sits in the Benz she purchased fresh out of the trauma ward. She is all dolled up with butterflies in her stomach. The sun is high in the sky and she exhales as she lets the relief of complete solitude wash over her.

She'd lost it for a moment; lost her bearings, lost her sense and Mikowski had apparently taken her to the hospital. He was nowhere to be found when she came to in a hospital bed with tubes in her arms. She is not surprised that he didn't stick around. He is never one to welcome any of the attention he gets as an Irishmen with a scarred face and a mouth full of gold teeth.

She'd left the hospital-against doctor's orders-with the promise that she would return for surgery the next day. An epidural hematoma requires immediate surgery they told her, and since she does not, in fact, have a death wish she will be there the next morning with bells on. Today, however, she is going to say goodbye to the love of her life. She is going to finally let him go.

She steps out of the car and straightens her dress, checks her makeup in the side mirror. "You look gorgeous honey!" A gaggle of passerby's call out to her. She smiles at them, feels a bit of excitement as she watches them enter the large gaudy estate belonging to Scott Delray.

Despite her fuzzy thoughts and the dull but persistent ache in her head she does her best strut to the front gate. She is going to enjoy herself as she knows she is on borrowed time.

A tall man in a suit jacket and well-pressed jeans stops her and checks her name off of the list before he allows her entry. Once he lets her pass she takes in the amazing décor, the sparkling pool and the beautiful party-goers.

As Delray promised, the place is packed full of celebrities, reality stars, and a couple of men Mira recognizes as former business associates of Montana. She avoids their gazes as she takes in the scenery. The women are stunning and the music is amazing. She hasn't eaten anything since the night before so she makes a beeline for the horderves.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in!" Mandrake exclaims when he sees her. He is hand in hand with Mecca Bates, a beautiful con woman with a degree from MIT who'd aided Montana in a bank fraud scheme a few years back.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mira asks as she pops a green olive into her mouth.

"Well, I was told that it means that I didn't expect to see you here."

"Well, here I am," she says wearily. "Hello Mecca," she says.

"Mira, great to see you again!" Mecca says as she pulls Mira into a hug.

She smells like Mandrake beneath her perfume, and Mira smiles to herself as she soaks in the implication. She is done with Mandrake. Why she had ever started up with him in the first place is only a small mystery, however, because as she stands there making small talk with Mecca, Mandrake eyes her hungrily and she feels heat gather between her legs.

Mandrake has a way about him that she can't fully describe. His gaze reminds her of Mint's-but more feral-more aggressive. She can see all of the thoughts circling in his mind, maybe memories of the sweaty nights they'd shared, fucking until they couldn't walk and such.

"Your brother. Where is he?" She asks, hoping Mandrake misses the huskiness that has crept into her voice.

"Upstairs reading his psalm book. He hasn't come down yet. He said he wasn't feeling that well. I think he's heartbroken, honestly, some evil succubus is actively tearing his heart to shreds, you know, cavorting around with a metal-mouthed lunatic, I hear."

"Fuck you Mandrake," Mira says. She turns heel and leaves them behind. She isn't ready to see Mint yet. If he's reading his psalm book he's having one of his moments of regret-one of the moments he doesn't like to admit he experiences.

He'd always been so lackadaisical about their crimes, remorseless for the most part-but he has his moments. Mira thinks everyone but Mandrake experiences moments when they feel the world they have crafted for themselves out of blood and violence is not the most palatable existence.

She sees Delray before he sees her. He is sitting on a man's lap with a martini in his hand, laughing at something an eerily familiar man says to him. When he catches her gaze he smiles and bolts from his perch.

"Everyone, you must meet the legend, Mira!" He hugs her tightly and Mira suppresses a wave of nausea. She feels like shit for the most part, she is on pain medicine that can't touch the general "off" feeling she has. She manages to smile as Delray introduces her around.

The familiar man ends up being the lead from one of her favorite childhood movies. He holds her hand while he talks and looks her dead in the eye. He offers to take her out on his yacht the following week and hands her his card which she tucks into her clutch. She is trying to go straight after all and this silver fox could afford her the type of straight life she wants.

Soon Delray steals her away and takes her to the bar where he fixes her a vodka soda. She takes it and drinks it down, and he makes her another.

"The three of you can sure put liquor away," Delray laughs.

"Well now that I've bested all my drug habits liquor is my only chemical vice and I definitely need it," she says with a smile.

"You know, you are ridiculously gorgeous. How does that feel? To have every eye on you in a place?"

"I don't notice. I'm so rotton on the inside that I barely have time to contemplate what the outside of me looks like," she says. "How is Mint?" she asks.

"Not good, seems sad. I'm sure it's you," Delray says.

"I heard as much from Mandrake. The thing is, had Mint been this taken with me years ago we wouldn't be here right now. Before I fell into my man-eating ways Mint was the only man I could see, believe it or not. Intelligent, calculating. Easy on the eyes. I've been wrapped up in him since I met him. Damn to even contemplate it. His eyes, his hands, his mouth."

"I can only imagine. You three make a striking trio. I must tell you, it's been a blast to have been along on this ride. What a vivid storm."

"Vivid storm?" Mira shakes her head, recalls with no small amount of terror all the needles and poking a prodding she'd suffered during her brief but jarring hospital stint. A sudden strike of fear about her impending surgery crops up and then subsides nearly as quickly. She should be in the hospital but she's here risking her life to get one last look at him. "More like shit storm," she says.

She catches Mandrake's eye across the party. He is holding onto Mecca but his eyes never leave her.

"That one follows his most basic desires. That's the impression I always got," Delray says as his gaze follows hers.

"And that's putting it nicely," Mira says. She turns away and downs her drink.

"So what's really up with you three, if you don't mind me asking," Delray says as he leads her to an out of the way sitting area where they can hear one another clearly over the music.

"I'll tell you, but I've got my own question. How are you able to maintain the façade of a clean cop while throwing shindigs like this? And your house? How can anyone think you can afford it on a cop's salary?"

"I've planted a few tidbits here and there about coming from money-which isn't far from the truth. And honestly, you'll find that not many officials and lawmen and lawmakers care that much for upholding the law when it comes to those within their circle. Dirty doesn't mean what normal folks think it does. I'm dirty. So is everyone. Look how great dirty is. Look how happy everyone is," Delray says.

"I suppose," Mira says distractedly. She takes a look around, thinks about how deceiving looks can be.

"So spill, explain this interesting tangle of hotness that is you and the Murder Twins," Delray says.

"It's truly not as interesting as it seems. Everything just kind of happened. I met Montana when I was a teenager and he was just getting his feet wet in the underworld-and I loved him for a long time, even while he beat my ass, cheated and killed people before my eyes.

"When I met Mint I was done with Montana. I would've killed him the night Sela died if I hadn't been so wasted. After that I didn't have the nerve. Mint and I would talk about it-jokingly at first-killing him and running off into the sunset. We never went through with it, of course."

"Mandrake, when did he come into the picture?"

"Fairly recently, about five or so years ago. His father passed and he came to the US to visit, see their mom. He ended up staying and fell in with Montana eventually after doing some jobs with Mint," Mira pauses, takes a drink. "Why am I telling you all of this?"

"I imagine it's because it's fantastic shit and you don't have many people to share it with," Delray laughs.

"True. Since I lost Sela, I haven't had a single person in my life other than these three men. No one real, no friends," Mira begins.

You remind me of her. I think that's why I'm spilling my guts. It feels right."

"Wow, that means a lot Mira. It truly does," Delray says, his gaze far away for the slightest of seconds.

"Alright...me and Mandrake, well, that sort of just happened. Mint was locked up and I hadn't heard from him in forever. Mandrake was Montana's new right hand and he would try and try to get in my pants. One night I let him. It was the next best thing for me, next to Mint."

"Yeah, but they're so different," Delray says.

"On the surface," Mira says. She is finally feeling the alcohol and the music beckons to her. "Let's dance!" she says to Delray who doesn't give an iota of resistance as she yanks him from his chair and pulls him out to the dance floor.

She loses herself in the music, drinks from her glass which Delray refills with the bottle in his hand as they move and sway together. She ignores the dull ache in her head and catches herself when she gets lightheaded. She knows this is the last thing she should be doing, but there is something about this day fast turning into night that feels final, endless, as if the morning will not come.

Before too long she extricates herself from the sandwich created by she, Delray and a male model and makes her way to the house, barely steady on her feet. The living room is filled with sparkly, dead eyed people, the tables littered with champagne flutes, wine glasses, and other assorted intoxicants.

Mint appears at her side where she stands on the second floor, gazing out over the display while trying to clear her thoughts which are becoming increasingly blurry. The silence between them is easy and is finally broken by the even deepness of Mint's voice. "I love you, don't leave me. I know that's what you're trying, and I'm asking you not to," Mint says

He pulls her into an embrace and then leads her into a large bedroom decorated in so much white she feels off kilter for a moment. She is trying to produce the right words with which to answer his plea, but comes up short.

When he lays her down on the large feather bed and pulls her panties off from beneath her dress she sits up on her elbows and watches him, her head clear, her body warm and electric. He pushes up the hem of her dress and runs his fingers up and down her clit, spreads her open, licks her slowly with his eyes on her.

"God, you taste so fucking good," he says. When he says that she knows that she declined emergency surgery for this reason. She'd ignored her nausea on the long drive to Delray's, had to pull onto the shoulder multiple time to puke. Right before she'd arrived, she checked into a tiny motelto shower, brush her teeth and reapply her makeup.

The doctors told her a lot in her short stay. They told her that she should've stayed in the hospital when she was first injured, that she needed surgery immediately, that they wanted to perform a trephination immediately in preparation for the neurosurgeon's arrival a few hours later. They told her they would not take any responsibility for her leaving without going into surgery immediately.

They told her that because of the severity of the bleeding and how long she'd waited to get proper medical treatment, she might not survive even a few more hours. They made it clear that there exists only a 50% chance she'll survive at all even after surgery. She decided to come see Mint for that very reason-because she could have the surgery and sit for days with blood draining from her head only to die anyway. To die without telling him that all she'd ever wanted was him.

She runs her hands through his hair and grabs his face, pulls his mouth to hers. She can die like this, beneath him and only him.

"I won't leave you," she says as she cries. All walls down, that quickly. "I love you!" She cries and kisses him, she surrenders to him as he clumsily wriggles out of his pants, takes himself in his hand and then slides inside of her, hard. It feels as if it is the first time. He rocks against her, covers her with his weight goes as deep as he can, sliding her across the bed as he pushes and pushes and thrusts. She opens herself to him, takes all of him and wants him to know that that is what this is-she is surrendering-she is claiming him.

It is a quiet affair save the sound of their bodies moving together and messing up the sheets. When she comes he does, too. His semen is warm, fills her and runs down the crack of her ass. When he pulls out she wraps her hand around him so she can feel the last few pulses and the dwindling firmness of his large damp warm cock.

"Before I saw your cock, I referred to male genitalia as, you know, penis," she says when the are finished and lying entwined. "When I'd recall the way someone felt inside of me, I always thought of their penis. Their penis is this, their penis was that. Then I saw yours. It looked like a cock and looked every bit of all the dirty raunchy things I always imagine when I hear the word. And even now, when I see other penises. They are just that, penises," she finishes with a shrug.

"I think that is the single nicest thing any woman has ever said to me," Mint says. They laugh, she can't remember the last time she really, really laughed. The share a comfortable silence and then she falls asleep content and calm in his arms, and does not awaken when he is ripped from the bed in the dead of the velvety night.