A Fallen Star Read online

  Grabbing the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s, he pulled the little baggy from his pants pocket lying on the floor. He swallowed two oxy—just enough to take the edge off.

  He could lie to himself and say his actions last night were the cocktail of adrenaline and vodka—and whatever else was in those blue pills June had passed him—but the truth was, he wanted Remy. He’d had a taste of her, and that was enough to make him rock-hard this morning. Her skin had been buttery soft and she’d smelled like pure heaven. That little moan she’d let out—so sweet and innocent. She had no idea of the terribly bad things he wanted to do to her.

  A knock startled Mikel out of his thoughts.

  “Yeah?”

  “You decent?” Bently called through the door.

  Mikel slipped the pills under his mattress before he answered, “Yup.”

  Bently walked in. “You almost ready?” his older brother asked, studying his messy room. He frowned when his eyes narrowed in on the bottle of whiskey. Always the cop.

  “For what?” Mikel asked, his brain fuzzy, though the headache was beginning to dull.

  “The barbecue at the beach with Andre. Jasmine’s been all set for an hour.”

  “Give me ten minutes,” Mikel said as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

  “Sure. Meet you there.” Bently hesitated as if he wanted to say something else, but nodded and left, closing the door behind him.

  Mikel jumped in his truck fifteen minutes later with a cup of coffee in hand. Jasmine opened the passenger side and climbed in.

  “Thought you would have left with Bent.”

  She buckled herself in and placed her bag on her lap with the ever-present cell phone on top. “No one wants to hang out with the deputy’s sister. The last thing I need is to show up in his truck marked ‘Deputy of Shattered Cove.’ Might as well say, ‘Fun police.’” Jasmine brushed the black hair from her face, showing off her beautiful almond-shaped eyes.

  Before their mother had decided life wasn’t worth living, she’d had an affair with a man from Korea—nine months before Jasmine was born. One more reason Jasmine had been a target of his father’s brutal abuse.

  “If your friends are that shallow, you shouldn’t be hanging out with them anyways,” he said, sternly.

  “You sound like Bently.” She smirked.

  “Take it back.” He laughed, lightening the mood.

  Her fingers moved across her keyboard at lightning speed as he drove towards Shattered Cove’s secret beach, hidden from tourists.

  “Who are you texting?” he asked.

  “Remy.”

  The name shot iced water through his veins. Had Remy told his sister about last night?

  He cleared his throat. “She gonna be there?”

  “Duh.”

  He wasn’t going to get any more details from her without making it awkward and obvious, so he remained silent for the rest of the drive.

  * * *

  In the parking lot, Jasmine took off without a second’s hesitation towards the beach that was already filing up with locals. Mikel followed her through the hot sand. Jasmine ran right up to Remy, standing at the edge of the group near the rock wall that disappeared into the ocean.

  He had always admired how Remy seemed to sense a need in Jasmine for connection with an older female. He was pretty sure Remy had been the one to talk Jasmine through the whole period thing. The girls had always hung out when he, Bently, and Andre got together. Today would be like any other day with the group of friends. He just had to keep his eyes off that sweet little body in that tiny white bikini.

  Who am I kidding?

  He was fucked.

  She waved towards him, a shy smile curving the lips he’d tasted only hours ago. Mikel turned to the picnic table. Ignoring her, like he usually did, was best.

  “Guess sleeping beauty is finally awake,” Andre teased, handing him a beer. No fists had been swung, so he was sure Remy hadn’t said a word to him. Mikel scanned the beach already half full. A few surfers were on the water, paddling out farther.

  His eyes found hers again and she waved again, exaggerating her arms in a bigger gesture. She must have thought I didn’t see her the first time. He turned back towards Andre. “That’s why I’m so good-looking. Don’t be jealous.”

  Andre smirked and took a sip of his own drink. “Jealous of you? Now that’s what I call a joke.”

  “You’re both pretty. Now do you feel better?” Bently chuckled.

  Andre set his beer on the picnic table. “Should we kick his ass now or later?”

  Mikel put his drink next to his friend’s and pulled off his shirt, leaving it in a pile on the table. “No time like the present.”

  Bently’s eyes grew wide with shock before he started running. Andre and Mikel chased after him and tackled him to the ground. They wrestled in a ball of sand and grit, dragging Bently towards the water as he fought against their hold. Pain erupted in Mikel’s foot as Bently stomped down on it.

  “Son of a bitch!” Mikel crashed on top of his brother, pulling Andre with him as a wave washed over them. They all ended up a salty sandy wet mess.

  “Fuckers. I have sand in my ass crack,” Bently sputtered, as they came up breathless.

  Mikel and Andre laughed at him.

  “Bout time someone brought you down from your high horse,” Andre teased.

  Mikel walked farther out into the cool ocean waves. He swam to the first buoy. Holding his breath, he floated under the water, enjoying the cold silence that mirrored his insides. He hadn’t experienced anything but pain and hollow numbness for as long as he could remember, unless it was in drug- or sex-induced stolen moments that slipped through his fingers faster than quicksand. Except for Remy’s kiss.

  His lungs burned. Relief and comfort temporarily flooded over him at the ache—at the fact that he could control this pain. What if I just stayed down here? Drowning seemed like a peaceful way to go.

  The image of his mother’s lifeless body hanging in the basement came to his mind. I couldn’t do that to Jasmine and Bently.

  Mikel relished the agony in his lungs for a few seconds longer before swimming to the surface. Remy came into view the moment he glanced at the beach. Her gaze followed him as he swam back to the shore. She was probably wondering why he was ignoring her after last night. It was for her own safety. He was dangerous. She had no idea of the beast that lived within him. The sinister wickedness lurking in the hidden recesses of his black soul.

  The monster that would kill his own flesh and blood.

  The rest of the afternoon passed in a dull haze. Sunshine, salt, beer, and good food. Friends and family he didn’t deserve. He put on his mask, and played the happy friend and brother, joking along with them and smiling at all the right times. His mind wandered every now and then, distracted by that tiny white bikini and those dark brown curves. But he controlled it. And forced himself to look anywhere but at her.

  As the day wore on, his skin began to itch. His mouth was as dry as cotton. He needed a little help to get him through. Keeping up the circus act was draining.

  Mikel walked to his truck and opened the door. Patting under his seat, he found the small baggy. He washed two pills down with his beer. He stuffed the bag back under the seat and closed the door behind him.

  “Whoa!” He jumped back, slapping a hand over his racing heart. Startled to see that bikini he had been ogling all day up close—those exposed dark brown legs that went on for days that he wanted to wrap around his waist. Mikel would defile her in the best of ways. “Shit, Remy. You scared me.”

  She was leaning against the front side of his truck with her arms crossed, pushing up those round gorgeous breasts. She had no idea what power she held. So innocent. Dove.

  “Sorry.” She looked at her feet sheepishly.

  “What are you doing over here?” he asked. Had she seen him take the oxys?

  “I wanted to talk about last night,” she said, glancing at his face for only a moment before she looked away shyly.

  His relief at not being caught mixed with anxiety. “I’m sorry about that. It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have kissed you. Won’t happen again.”

  Hurt flashed in her eyes and his chest tightened. She nodded and took a deep breath before walking towards him. Gazing up at him, she said, “The thing is, Mikel, I kissed you.” Her beautiful round face showed nothing but vulnerability. She was the epitome of light and goodness. Purity and light.

  Last night was fuzzy, but he was sure he’d remember if she’d been the one to kiss him. Wouldn’t he?

  “I could tell you wanted to kiss me, but you stopped yourself. I’ve thought about kissing you for as long as I can remember.” Her confession was like a punch to his gut: sweet agony. Guilt slithered up his spine, twisting around his rib cage and squeezing, suffocating the sliver of hope that had blossomed from her words. He beat it down until there was no trace, like he always did. Good things were never real. They never lasted.

  You filthy animal.

  You disgust me.

  You ruin everything you touch with your dirty hands.

  He bit his lip until he tasted blood. “I’m no good for you, Remy. You should stay away from me. Besides, your brother would kill me if he found out I touched you. People like you don’t belong with guys like me.”

  She stepped closer, erasing the distance between them. Anticipation wound thick with her nearness, making it hard to draw in a breath. Warmth radiated from her. Sunshine and light. She laid her hand over his still-racing heart. Her touch ignited a full-body blaze as she poured some of that goodness direct
ly into his black hollow soul. Pinpricks of light scorched the hidden recesses deep within him.

  Her hand trembled as she stated, “You might just be the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  “Hurry up, bro! Volleyball game is starting. Fifty bucks each if we win!” Andre called.

  Mikel’s heart throbbed as he denied himself yet again. “We’re friends, Remy, and that’s all we’ll ever be.”

  He didn’t bother to watch her face that would surely fall with disappointment as he walked past her. Nor did his gaze wander to hers the rest of the afternoon, but his skin tingled in awareness as her eyes bored into him.

  Remy was better off without him. He’d do what was right for her and stay clear of any further entanglements.

  The last thing he needed in his life was another complication.

  Chapter 3

  Mikel

  Mikel turned the television up before taking a long sip of his cold beer. His pocket vibrated. He pulled his cell phone from his pants. The screen flashed an unknown number.

  Unknown number: Is it safe to text you? Or is this too dangerous for me as well?

  Mikel: Depends. Who’s this?

  Unknown number: Remy.

  Surprise laced with concern spiraled in his belly. Vicious hope clawed at his insides as his chest tightened.

  Mikel: You should stay away from me.

  Remy: I thought we were friends?

  He chuckled. Where had the shy little girl he used to know gone?

  Mikel: We are.

  Remy: Friends have conversations, no?

  Mikel: What could you possibly have to talk to me about?

  Remy: I could think of a lot of things.

  She was persistent, he would give her that. Telling her “no” was the right thing to do. But since when did he ever choose the right path in life? Those choices had been taken from him when he was born as an Evans. When he’d discovered his father’s putrid secrets. When he’d taken a life.

  What harm could friendly banter be?

  Mikel: Fine.

  Remy: Is owning a business everything you hoped it would be? What else do you want for your life?

  Apparently, she was jumping right into the deep end. But what he wanted and what he was capable of were two very different things.

  He’d go with a safe answer.

  Mikel: That’s two questions.

  Remy: Humor me.

  Mikel: I love being a partner in our own business. It’s more than I could have ever hoped for. In the future, I want to be successful with our contracting business, like your brother and I always talked about. You?

  Remy: I love to bake and read. I’m working at a bakery for a year to see if that’s what I want to go to school for. I like the idea of being my own boss. I’ll take this gap year and then attend college for business.

  Of course she did. She wanted to bake treats—sweet things, like her.

  Remy: What is your best childhood memory?

  Pain clawed at his chest, eviscerating any lightness he’d had a moment before, shredding it into pieces. There were no happy memories from his childhood at home. Just abuse, loss, abandonment, and traumatic violence.

  Fuck this. He threw the phone on the cushion as his rib cage tightened, making it harder to draw breath.

  Mikel rose from the couch, switched the television off before walking up to his room. Lying on the bed, beer in hand, he dug under the mattress and swallowed the last two pills. He would need to go to Isaiah’s later for a pickup. After draining the last of his beer, he set it on the ground before sinking into his sheets.

  Sleep came, and for once he had a good dream—a memory. Darkness broken by the pinpricks of millions of stars. He was on the roof of his old house, peering at them with a telescope he had rigged by himself. It wasn’t perfect, but it got him just a little closer to the light in the black void of his life. The book he had stolen from the library was open, guiding him as he searched for the Phoenix constellation. The story of the bird resonated with him, and provided him an escape for a little while. When he focused on the stars, he could leave his broken world. He pretended he was among the myths and legends painted in the sky in stardust, planets, and galaxies.

  Mikel woke several hours later, rested. He couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t had a nightmare in his sleep. It was flashbacks or nothing. He never dreamt.

  He picked up his phone—seven in the evening. He needed to get some dinner and then head over to Isaiah’s. He clicked Remy’s message open, finally having something to answer her with.

  Mikel: Stargazing. I built a crappy telescope and tried to find the Phoenix.

  He set down his phone and jumped in the shower to get ready. He checked it one more time before he got in his car.

  Remy: Did you ever find it?

  When Bently hadn’t been home, their father, Paul, would take his rage out on him. Mikel had been a willing sacrifice if it meant keeping that bastard away from Jasmine. He had closed his eyes and imagined he was looking up at a sky that mapped out the stories of Greek tragedies and made his family seem a little more normal. Some had given him hope that there were at least a few happy endings—like the Phoenix. But even in that story, inspiration had been born from the ashes of pain and grief.

  Mikel: Nope.

  * * *

  He didn’t bother to knock at Isaiah’s. He walked into the house, past the neatly organized recycling bin full of beer cans and glass bottles. The rooms were clean and modern. Several people were spread throughout the place, their stoned, glassy-eyed faces smiling as they rocked to the beat of the techno music. You would never expect the nice house in this suburban neighborhood to be a drug den. Moms, dads, husbands, wives, daughters, sons, people with different backgrounds all coming together for the same reason: to forget for a little while. To escape to a place where no one could hurt you and you were never powerless. A place of only euphoria.

  Unfortunately, that high never lasted long enough. Each time, it seemed harder to get to. One pill turned into two, which turned into snorting white powder or shooting poison into your veins. Addiction was a ruthless oppressor—a dictator that ruled your thoughts and actions in selfish tyranny. It morphed you into the worst version of yourself while tricking you into believing you were at your best. Until nothing mattered anymore, except that high. Your next fix became your sole purpose of living, your constant focus.

  Mikel didn’t see himself as an addict. In fact, he felt sorry for all these people. He wasn’t like them. He could stop if he really wanted to. He just didn’t want to yet.

  “Mikel! You finally made it, man,” Isaiah said walking up to him, bottle of vodka in hand. No one bothered with pretense here.

  “Yeah. You got something for me?” he asked.

  “Joe sent a new shipment. He told me not to give you anything on credit though. He said you owe him.” Isaiah shifted nervously on his feet and sniffed.

  He would pay it back if only he could, but fifty thousand dollars didn’t just grow on trees. And the money he’d borrowed from the loan shark wasn’t the only thing Joe had on him. “Yeah. I’ll catch up with him soon.”

  Isaiah tipped his head so that others couldn’t hear when he spoke. “Don’t know what business you got with him, man. None of my concern. But Joe ain’t the kinda guy you want to owe anything to. Whatever you gotta do to pay him, you better do it.”

  Too late. Mikel nodded. “Sure thing.” If his friend only knew what the man held over him, he’d understand there was no way he’d ever be free from Joe’s clutches.

  “Tell him I’ll bring him some of the money next week,” Mikel said.

  “My sister’s in the kitchen. She’ll hook you up.”

  “Thanks.” Mikel walked down the hall towards the lemon-yellow kitchen.

  “Hey, sexy. Did you come all this way to see me?” June teased, her blond hair swinging from a high ponytail as she cocked her head to the side. Her smoky eyes raked over him like he was a prime cut of meat.

  She ran her hand over his cheek and down his chest. Maybe this was what he needed. She could erase this sinking feeling if only for a fleeting moment, take his mind off what he couldn’t have. He and June were both damaged goods, both from the wrong side of the tracks. He’d sampled what she offered several times over the past few years. She was always down for a quick and dirty fuck. Sex and drugs. Highs and lows. Love for the moment, hate for himself.