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Your Ex-Lover is Dead

By: miserybusiness



Dr. Morris crossed her sexy legs and pulled her skirt down to make sure her cooter wasn't showing, Sharon Stone style. She picked up an ice-filled tumbler from the table and reached over, handing to me.

I grabbed it with quivering hands. "Thanks." After a few sips of water, I decided it wasn't enough. In my bag was a flask of whiskey. After adding the secret ingredient, Dr. Morris waved a stern finger at me.

"Alcohol is not the answer," she looked at me over her glasses. God, this woman was sexy. She had this fuckable librarian vibe to her, with her curly ginger hair. 

"You know there are better ways to deal with your emotions."

The whiskey went down hard. I shook the ice in my glass and sighed heavily, shaking the hair out of my face. "Dude," I looked at her with my soon-to-be bloodshot eyes. "You have no idea."

She smiled. "I think I have some idea."

She was sitting in this big leather chair. It reminded me of the one from fucking Dr. Evil in Austin Powers. When I was a kid, I was scared of Dr. Morris for exactly this reason. I mean, she was always pretty, but as a six year old, hot woman or not, some strange bitch asking you about your fucked up life was still frightening.

As the years progressed, Dr. Morris definitely felt like someone I could talk to, rather than someone to be petrified of. We started to click when I was a teenager. I always had to suppress my raging boner when I was sitting on her leather couch, which felt like butter, spilling my guts out to her.

"I've known you for almost 14 years now. You know you can express whatever you're feeling." She checked her phone for the time. "Plenty of time left in our session. And I always gave you an extra ten minutes, as I recall."

I chucked, still knocking the ice around in my glass. Those days were for when my mom pissed me off, I got rejected by a girl, or I didn't nail an audition the way I envisioned.

Opening my legs—to let my balls breathe a little more—I started, "Dr. Morris, this is the fifth time this has happened. And I think I deserve to be just a teensy bit pessimistic about whatever the fuck curse is happening to me or whatever."

Dr. Morris uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, balancing her pointy chin on her hand. "What did we say last time, though?"

"Oh come on, don't make me repeat that bullshit."

"It's not bullshit. It's what we decided. And it's what made you feel better about the situation."

"It's not like you can say some fucking magic words and make the situation go away, though! Logic only goes so far. I am a magnet for this type of shit to happen!"

"Charlotte's death had nothing to do with you. And you know this."

Two weeks ago, one of my ex-flames died. It was sudden. Her roommate said it was a drug overdose. I honestly wasn't shocked. She had that pin-up scene girl thing going and I honestly thought it would be a matter of time before she ended up all coked out. Especially after she was scouted by SuicideGirls. I'd heard rumors that she was doing a bunch of crazy shit just to get modeling gigs, like having orgies with a bunch of strange men for coke and sucking countless cocks for a photoshoot.

"She was prone to this sort of behavior. You said this."

I nodded. I couldn't look at her, though. Not because she was beautiful. It was because she could see right through me. I decided my red Chuck Taylors were enough of a view.

It was everywhere. It seemed like so many people were talking about her dying, for such a big ass school. I didn't know why I felt guilty, but I did. 

Ever since I started dating, it seemed like every girl I ever had any involvement with, either sexually or romantically, they always just...died. I never had anything to do with it. I never put hands on them. Nothing.

I lost my virginity when I was fourteen to a pretty blonde emo chick named Ashleigh. When I woke up the next morning—I liked to stay the night because I thought it was rude to just bail like that—she was dead. 

Shit got real pretty quickly. I didn't do anything, but everyone thought I killed her. Her parents got super pissed off at me until it was revealed in the autopsy that she had an enlarged heart. Even though I was off the hook, I still remained 'that kid who killed Ashleigh Pederson.' 

Something that like could fuck a guy up for life.

"I know I said she was prone to this behavior, but after 2005, I didn't think this would still be a problem."

My very last incident, which made me think the curse was over. Andorra Rafe was her name. She was gorgeous. Half Latina, half German, and whole beautiful. I had a crush on her for about five months before we finally had our cherished make out session. We talked about getting together but she always seemed so standoffish. When Andorra finally said she liked me and she was on her way to come see me because she wanted to talk, I was upset because she never arrived. Then I get the call from her best friend saying she died in a car accident. 

For years after that, I labeled her my proof that I would never fall in love after that. I cursed everyone. No one could be loved by me, and I couldn't be loved.

Dr. Morris worked with me through my emotional hardships. I cut myself. I purposely OD'ed twice and tried my hardest to break out of rehab when I was sent there. The only thing that kept me from fully jumping off a clip was my music. Dr. Morris suggested I revisit a habit I'd been neglecting to keep my mind off of life. And it worked. Music saved my life. If I hadn't been distracted, I probably wouldn't have even gone to college, either. I almost didn't go. 

"You went so many years without experiencing anything. And I think that's good. But you told me your involvement with a few more women in college never amounted to anything. They're not dead."

She had a point. I had a few trysts with other chicks. And they were still alive.

At least, to my knowledge they were.

"And I understand that you're worried your current girlfriend might be next?"

I gripped the tumbler and closed my eyes. I almost started crying. But I'm a man. Men don't cry unless they're near onions. "Yeah." I cleared my throat to rid myself of the chunk that was accumulating. "I've been withholding some of the more important parts of my past for fear of freaking her out. I thought, since it's not a part of me anymore, there's no need to repeat it."

"But it's always a part of you. It's always going to be a part of you. Just like your estranged relationship with your mom. Just like your suicide attempts. Just like your—" she gestured toward my bare arm, with my sleeve tattoo—"tattoo. It's a symbol of an excerpt of your life that defines you and everything about you. It's a song that reminds you of a time or an event. The emotions and the memories that they are attached to? They're not going anywhere. And it would be best if you try your hardest to reconcile with these emotions and tell your girlfriend. She deserves to know everything about you, like you deserved to know everything about her. Even when she was lying about some of it."

I'd only spoken to her a few times, and on completely non-morbid subjects. Just girlfriend drama. She knew what was going on between me and her. She knew how rocky our initial stage was. And as soon as I heard that Charlotte passed, I had to phone her. 

"You're right. You're absolutely right. But the last thing I want to do is scare the shit out of her. She's a great girl, and I don't want to lose her."

Dr. Morris folded her hands. "You don't fear losing her. You fear that what you're withholding will not only alienate her but alienate yourself in the process. But this is something you have to conquer. It could be your biggest trigger."

The plants in each corner of the room reminded me of the Pokemon Oddish with its huge floppy leaves. She had shelves full of a bunch of thick books that would Stephenie Meyers' literature to shame. I even spotted that porn book Fifty Shades of Grey squeezed in between some of them.

This was a technique she taught me when I felt I was having a panic attack. Bring myself back into reality by identifying the things around me. It helped to say them out loud, but I wasn't in full on attack mode.

She got up and snatched the flask out of my hand, replacing it with a bottle of water she'd just gotten out of the fridge. 

"Like I said. Alcohol won't solve everything." 

But it was definitely worth a shot.

"I see you almost had a panic attack. Have you ever had one in front of your current girlfriend?" She sat back down, re-crossing her gorgeous legs.

I shook my head, wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. "Once. She freaked out, but I snapped out of it before she called 911. She even knew the protocol for stopping them."

"What does she know about your past? What's keeping you from exposing the darker part?"

"All she knows is that me and my dad have a great relationship, me and my mom don't, and that I have terrible luck with women. If she finds out about something that might scare the shit out of her, then she might grow distant. Once you grow distant," I looked out of the window. The sun was setting and an orange and yellow glow was peering through the window. 

"You fall apart. And once its done, its done. I can't be done with her."

"I think you also said," Dr. Morris thumbed through a small black notebook on her table, "In our phone session, you admitted to wishing she was dead when you caught her with another guy, the situation that ended your involvement with her. And that because of you wishing that, you felt even guiltier. But people wish morbid things on others all the time, am I right?"

I nodded. "Yes. But what's your point?"

"I'm saying," she closed the book, "people die all the time. You seem to be falling into a strange set of circumstances that are preventing you from fully living your life. It also seems that the 5 year gap between the last death and this one made you feel as though everything was on the up-and-up."

"What am I gonna do if she dies next? I got enough of a reason to kill myself from Charlotte's death. If she dies, I'm gonna kill myself. We can skip the suicide watch, skip the rehab, skip the countless medications to keep me from going over the edge, skip all that shit. I'm gonna fucking kill myself."

"You can't base your happiness on another individual." She got up and sat by me. Uh oh. Whenever she did this, she could sense I was fucked up.

"You've learned to separate your need for your mother. You did this when your relationship with her deteriorated. I understand that she was a terrible person and that she never really cared for you, but you gained a nurturing relationship with your father in the process. And you became more independent and self-sufficient because of it. Even during your therapy sessions when you were showing me all of your self-harm bruises, you told me that you felt better about the situation in the end because you helped yourself through everything. No one else. Just you."

Throughout the remaining 45 minutes of the session, Dr. Morris explained to me that everything I was going through was another test of my sanity and whether I liked it or not, I'd have to explain to my girlfriend what was going on with me. And if she dumped me, I had to remain strong. Going through all this just to off myself would be "a waste," as she put it.

"Okay. I get it. I'll explain to her what's going on with me." I stood up, and she followed me. 

"You've grown so much. I'm amazed." She gave me a hug, and I returned. 

"Can I have my flask back now?" 

She chuckled and touched my shoulder. "You work at Urban Outfitters. I'm pretty sure you can get another one."

I held my head down. "Alright. Thanks again."

As I was leaving, Dr. Morris called, "One last thing, Christopher?"

I turned around, slipping my Ray Bans on my face.

"I hope everything works out. Roshanda seems like a wonderful young woman."

I nodded. "Now you see why I don't want to lose her." 

Your Ex-Lover is Dead Ch. 02



I had the reverse "Good Luck Chuck" effect going. Every girl he ever got with ended up meeting their respective matches...but not with him. Eventually he met a girl who fell for him, though. Then they made penguin porn.

I couldn't stop thinking about how much Dr. Morris's words meant, though. She was right. I went through a lot of bullshit to get where I was. Only a pussy would lose sight of that just because things were unraveling at the moment. 

That was what I kept telling myself.

I was supposed to be over at Roshanda's an hour ago, but I wanted to stop in the city on the way to her neighborhood to deliver her favorite cupcakes. She always went apeshit over Sprinkles. Her favorite flavor was mocha.

What can I say? I'm whipped.

She lived in the hood, as she so eloquently put it. This would be how we hung out until we chose a proper time to live together. It was coming to that. We were beginning the next year of school in a few months with me as a junior and her as a sophomore, but we already thought we were fine enough to cohabitate. 

After parking up the street, I dodged a lovey-dovey couple and rang the doorbell. She came down a few seconds later, her feet pounding the stairs loudly.

When she opened the door, my jaw dropped. She'd gotten a lovely new hairstyle. Before, it was black with blonde streaks. Now, it was magenta-y colored. All over. With her spiderbite piercings. And her new nose ring. And she was wearing booty shorts. And a ratty old Beatles tee.

Man, I hoped her parents weren't home.

"Hey, boo." She threw her arms around me and gave me kiss.

"I come bearing cupcakes for the gorgeous girl with the gorgeous hair." She smiled and took the box. "Thank you. You want one?"

I kicked the door behind me. "No, no. I don't want to ruin my body with that shit." I lifted up my shirt to show her the work I'd put in. She always rolled her eyes when I did that, but I know she liked it.

Roshanda's house was cozy but small. Her mom and dad were still together, so they lived here too. Just a simple house with a simple living room by the stairs, kitchen, and all the usual shit. When I was over before, we just chilled and had dinner with her folks. But I didn't hear any soft jazz emanating from the parents' room. I assumed they were gone.

"Are your parents gone?" I flopped down on the chair and kicked my feet up. 

"Yeah," She was texting. Most likely Andi, her BFF. "They went to a concert in Millenium Park."

"Who?"

"Umm," She was distracted by texting, but then she set her phone down. "Esperanza Spalding."

"Really? She had a show?"

She settled into the couch with her box of cupcakes. "Yeah. You sure you don't want one?" She offered me a lemon coconut cupcake.

"I'm fine."

Silence. And then Roshanda asked, mouth full of frosting—no pun intended—"So what took you so long? You out there sticking your dick where it doesn't belong?"

I laughed. I knew she was joking. We always joked like that. I'd leave and yell, "See you later, honey! I'm off to go suck titties that ain't yours!"

"I uh..." Fuck. In cleansing my moral plate of Cherry's death, I forgot to come up with an excuse as to why I was late coming home. "I got stuck in traffic trying to get those cupcakes. You know how it is downtown."

She licked her lips. "With that concert and all."

Yes. Oh my God, even better ammo for my lie. "Most likely." I felt bad. But she connected the dots herself. I wanted to tell her, but now wasn't a good time. Besides, she made me so horny when I saw her that I just wanted to take care of what was in my pants first.

"When did you get your hair done?"

She put the box down. "Yesterday. Andi's friend did it for me. I love it." She started flipping it back and forth. Cock, calm down.

She walked over to me and sat in my lap. Then she began playing in my hair. Roshanda loved my hair. It was chin length by now, and it was totally brown, unlike before when I dyed it black, or black and blonde. Roshanda told me my hair was sexy and I should never go bald. I said I had no intention of looking like a cancer patient.

"I'm really sorry about Cherry, baby." She kissed my forehead. "Even if she ruined both of our relationships, she still didn't deserve that."

I grabbed Roshanda's hand. Her beautiful mocha-colored hands with her bright orange colored nails. "You don't have to apologize."

"But I know it's hurting you. I mean, you liked her."

"Yes, but it was so long ago. I kind of don't even want to talk about it."

She held her hands up, surrendering. "Okay."

I gave her this smirk of a look, and she giggled. "What?"

I pinched her shirt. "I love this shirt on you."

She looked down. "Thanks."

"George Harrison's head is on your nipple." I touched it and she snorted. 

I reached out and grabbed a handful of her left breast. "That's where my head should be." I pulled her into me and started kissing her neck. That was her spot. And I took full advantage of it. 

"Oh, Chris. What if I parents come back any minute?"

"When did the concert start?" I touched her spiderbite piercings as she mulled it over and then said, "Three hours ago."

"Maybe they got hungry. Maybe there was an encore. Maybe they ran into friends and they're having dinner afterwards. Maybe traffic is bad." I picked her up and made her straddle me, her perky breasts pressing into my shirt.

She buried her head in her hands, laughing. "You always do this to me. You suck so hard."

"I do. And you like it." I bit my tongue, amused at my own dirty joke. My hands caressed her warm skin under her shirt, then grabbed her plump backside, squeezing each cheek. We made out like rabbits, flickering tongues, biting lips, and rubbing crotches.

"You wanna play the game?" She asked, in a coy whisper. Even though I hadn't seen her in a week, I had a feeling she made it seem like it was more like a month.

"Duh!" I slowly sat up and then I took my shirt off. "Let's go to your room, though."

"The game" was simple. We'd 69 each other and try to see who could make the other cum first. Winner got a full ten more minutes of extra service. She always won, though. Once, we tied. Twice. We had to do a suck-off twice. We couldn't even declare a winner because our mouths and lips were so sore.

I loved Roshanda's room, filled with tons of artifacts disclosing her personality. Posters, nic-nacs, magazines, painted skulls. Her room had a certain charm to it. It was painted green, had a single window, and felt more like an attic sometimes. But I liked that. It was cozy and cute.

We were both fully undressed in a matter of minutes. Then we got on her bed and got into position.

"Go!" I yelled, and we were off. Her beautiful ass was in my face, and my tongue was painting her clit. She was so good at sucking my dick. Her mouth was a suction damn near. And her spiderbites actually made it feel even better. We were both moaning like crazy while we attempted to go for the gold.

I spread her lips open and started making out with her pussy, the stubble from a recent waxing growing back and tickling my chin. As I was doing the flicky-tongue thing that she loved, I felt her completely stop sucking to enjoy the flicky-tongue. That's when I knew I was going to win, because a few minutes later, her writhing around the covers and yelling my name, she had a ridiculous orgasm that made it hard for me to even control her. 

"I win!" I held a defiant fist in the air. But Roshanda was too busy breathing heavily to say anything.

After a few minutes, she laughed and sat up. "First time in years," she joked, elbowing me while she started going down. 

I should have enjoyed it. I should have enjoyed my dick in her mouth, her luscious lips sucking and licking. She was looking up at me in the most seductive way to see if I was enjoying it. She palmed and caressed my balls and then started sucking on them. She even let a little strand of saliva fall from the tip of her tongue onto my dick head the way I liked. It just looked hot to me.

But I didn't enjoy it.

This whole Cherry thing was ruining my day and my ability to ejaculate. I didn't like it. The last thing I needed was to make her think she was doing something wrong. Or that I was feeling guilty about anything, because the first thing she'd think of was that I was cheating.

Even she sensed it. "Babe," She got up. "I've been doing this for like five minutes, and you just went soft. What's the matter?" She ran a hand through my hair and I shook my head.

"Nothing. I guess I'm out of it. I don't know."

"You want me to keep going?"

"No. Just quit," I relented, inching off her bed to put my boxers back on. "It's fine. I think I'm just really tired."

She folded her arms. "Being tired never kept a guy from enjoying a dick suck."

She had a point. Damn her.

"Can we just, I don't know..." I got back in the bed with her and held her, "Cuddle?"

She gave me the weirdest look. "You'd rather cuddle than let me suck your dick?"

In some cultures, most girls would like this reasoning. But not my girlfriend. Oh, no. She actually thought like a guy sometimes. 

I looked around and then nodded. "Yes."

Roshanda shrugged. "Whatever." She put her t-shirt back on and got under the covers with me. "I'll find out what's bothering you soon enough." Roshanda wiped her mouth with her shirt and then grabbed a scrunchie to put her hair up.

There was a considerable silence before I asked, "Have you been feeling okay lately?"

"Umm," she began, obviously confused. "Yes. Why?"

"Like, you haven't experienced any near-death shit?"

She sat up, propping her up with her elbow, head resting on her hand. "Chris, baby, what are you getting at?"

"Just answer the question."

"No."

"Have you been feeling ill?"

". . .No. I mean, I had a cold a few weeks ago, but—wait a minute, why are you asking me all this?"

"I'm just trying to make sure you're okay."

"But you never ask me any of this. You're really starting to freak me the hell out. What, do you think I'm fucking around on you?"

"No!" Shit. "I don't! I swear."

Roshanda added, "Because if you think I would do that because of what happened with us when I was still with Roy, I understand, but you gotta believe me, I would never cheat on you."

"I know you wouldn't."

"So then why did you ask me that stuff?"

I couldn't think of a reason. What was I gonna say, 'I'm worried because I think you might die if you keep dating me?'

"Chris, are you being unfaithful to me?"

FUUUUUUUCK.

"No, baby." I grabbed her and held her close to me. "I've never cheated on anyone. And I would never cheat on you."

She jerked away from me. "Well, there's a first time for everything. I mean, you were late coming to my house, you didn't wanna talk about the whole Cherry thing, and now you're asking if I'm sick?"

When she put all that shit together, it definitely looked like that. Logical sensible Christopher would just tell her the truth. But in light of her recent putting-two-and-two-togethers, adding that would just make me look like a fucking idiot.

"I'm paranoid sometimes. I just worry about you because I care so much."

She looked at me, half-heartbroken, half-pissed. Then, she just turned off the light. "Good night, Christopher."

I knew she was mad. She never called me by my full name. Ever.

The next morning, I woke up to what looked like Roshanda coughing up blood.

"Oh my God! Roshanda!" I jerked out of my sleep and propped her up so I could examine her, but she pushed me away and looked at me like I was insane.

"Chris! What the actual fuck?"

I looked through my sleepy eyes. She was drinking fruit punch, and she choked a little. Nothing to act crazy over. 

"You ruined my sheets," she huffed, setting her glass down and getting up to rip the comforter off of the bed.

"I'm sorry." I said to her back as she walked away. 

Nice going, Chris. Very nice going.

Roshanda's parents still weren't back yet. They'd left her message on her phone saying they'd spent the night over at a friend's house drinking so they wouldn't have to drive back home. We had plans to go down to Wicker Park and snag a few records from Reckless, our new favorite place in Wicker Park. We always bought a record or something equally cool, got coffee from Caribou, went thrifting, and hung out with a few of my friends until nighttime, when we'd hit up the bars and then find a sweet spot to smoke weed before leaving.

Today was decidedly different. Due to my idioticness of last night, she was a bit distant. Add that to a very hot day in the Windy City, and you knew shit would not end well.

The wind was blowing her skirt up Marilyn-style, so I stayed close behind to make sure I didn't see her green thong.

"Gotta be careful about these things," I cautioned, walking across the street. She didn't even chuckle. 

I was pretty sure she'd told Andi about what happened and they had sharpened their pitchforks. I was expecting her to hate me the next time she saw me. It sucked, because me and Andi were actually great friends.

I opened the door for Roshanda and she went straight for the vinyls while I decided to give her some space and look through the movies. Sometimes, they had really cheap deals that I wouldn't even find on Amazon.

All I had to do was act normal. Today was a day like any other. I would probably walk out with some vinyl, enjoy a nice iced coffee, and find some hipster clothes that would be to both my and Roshanda's liking.

After deciding the movies had nothing going for them, I thumbed through a few vinyls. Roshanda was talking to one of her friends by the alternative section. I was stalling between the Clash or the Sex Pistols in the punk section.

A few minutes of thinking and I made my decision. I carried my Sex Pistols vinyl over to the counter. No one was there at the moment. I was listening to the new Jack White playing in the store while I waited for someone to ring me up.

Finally, someone came. "Hello, how are y—"

Oh fuck. This was not happening.

It was Ashleigh's best friend Raquel Winters. Probably the only girl I ever met with dreads. Who was white. She always colored them differently. I guess this week, they were blue.

When Ashleigh died, even though it wasn't my fault, she was fully and 100 percent convinced that it was a cover-up. No one could tell her that, despite the coroner ruling her death as part of a pre-existing condition. She thought someone was covering for me.

She outright hated my guts. Part of me thought she hated me because she secretly wanted me, and when her friend got me instead, she just had to direct her rage somewhere. I was nothing but nice to her, but she was the queen of snark whenever we were in each other's presence.

And here she was, working in Reckless Records of all places. Last I heard, she'd moved to Portland to be with all the other dogged hipsters. After she damn near ran me and my dad away from our old town because she'd turned everyone against us, I never thought I'd have to deal with her again.

She instantly frowned at me. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

I countered, "What the fuck are YOU doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in Oregon?"

"If the manager wasn't here right now, I'd kick you the fuck out."

"You have no right to kick me out of a record store that you don't even fucking own. Now ring me up so I can get on with my life."

"Wish I could say the same for Ash."

I looked down and sighed. Then, I leaned into the counter. "I did not kill her. And you know this."

She shook her head. "No. That's bullshit. You were right there. You fucking did it. And you got away with it."

At that moment, Rashonda walked over. "What you got there, Chris?"

I showed her the album. Raquel folded her arms. "Is this your new girlfriend?"

She looked up. But she knew Raquel wasn't friendly, so she didn't say anything.

"You definitely have a type."

"Stop it," I warned, practically throwing the vinyl at her. "Ring me up."

"A type?" Rashonda shot her the "bitch back up" look. "What are you getting at?"

"Just be careful. This one," She pointed to me with her ringer-upper-thingy, "He likes to kill girls and then run away."

"I DIDN'T FUCKING KILL HER, YOU BITCH!"

"OTTO! GET THIS ASSHOLE OUT OF MY STORE! HE'S THREATENING ME!"

Rashonda yelled at her, "DON'T YOU FUCKING CALL MY BOYFRIEND AN ASSHOLE, YOU CUNT!"

Raquel countered, "IF YOU HAD ANY SENSE, YOU'D LEAVE HIM BEFORE YOU END UP DEAD, JUST LIKE THE REST OF THEM!"

Everyone in Reckless was staring at us, and I could feel my chest tightening. We didn't need to wait to be thrown out. I grabbed Roshanda, who was still yelling at Raquel, and left the store minus my sanity and a very sought after Sex Pistols record.

I couldn't even become angry. I was too busy trying my hardest to breathe. Everything was folding in on me, it seemed. I was staggering around like I was drunk, but I felt Roshanda's hands try to steady me. I fell down in an alley and started grabbing at my chest, hiding under my white t-shirt which was accumulating sweat from the heat and from my freaking out.

"Sweetie...." I heard Roshanda's voice, but I was losing it. She started administering the panic attack protocol, but everything went dark before I had a chance to respond.



Your Ex-Lover is Dead Ch. 03



I had never in my life had a foursome.

But shit happens. 

Ashleigh, Andorra, and Cherry were standing before me, looking like a trio of godly angels. All wearing white, all looking fucking sexy.

Ashleigh's hair was long, curly, and red, the way she said she would dye it once. Before she passed. It was kind of like Rihanna's, but it worked for her. Her snake bite lip-ring-piercings looked delectable, and her gorgeous skin was glowing. She wore a long white slip that gave her itty-bitties a bit of cleavage boost.

"Hello, Christopher. Did you miss us?" Andorra cooed, dark, caramel skin contrasting perfectly with her white slip. She had long, black hair and beautiful eyes. Andorra was the most beautiful Latina woman I'd ever seen in my entire life. And her plump lips felt great on my damn near non-existent ones. She was the first "normal" girl I'd ever liked, as all the other ones looked all scene-y or emo-ish.

I rubbed my eyes like a two-year-old, the way I used to whenever I woke up. I was still wearing the clothes I'd had on earlier. I looked at all three girls, all fucking sexy as hell, standing there like they were about to ravage me.

"Uh," I chuckled to myself. "What is this?"

Cherry stepped toward me, pin-up makeup and platinum blonde hair in full effect. She'd even acquired a few more tattoos on her skinny arms. "This is where you want to be," She stretched her arms out and encompassed the area, which looked like purgatory. It was whiter than white, but it felt more like utopia than a colorless prison. Everything felt peaceful here. It was like an acid trip that didn't make you paranoid.

I scratched my head. "This is where I want to be?" I echoed.

Cherry nodded. "Exactly. By the way, thanks for falling in love with us. We could have never made it here if you hadn't!" She merrily skipped back over to Andorra, and then they started holding hands.

I'm all for lesbian action, but this was getting just a bit too "Jerry Springer" for me.

"Are you guys together?" My apparent shock made Ashleigh laugh. "No, silly." She pointed to the girls. "You gave us the gift of the afterlife. That means we can do whatever we want. Here, we are not gay. We are not straight. We just are. The only link that binds us is you. And now that you're here, we are complete." She interlocked her hand with Andorra's.

What the fuck was this? I knew I had to be dreaming. This shit was just too freaky for my tastes. And I am a man of freaky tastes.

"Umm—I"

"Chris," Andorra came toward me. "There is no need to overthink this." She cradled my head in her hands. "You don't have to feel guilty. We are where we're supposed to be now."

I stared at her, into her deep brown eyes, the ones that made me fall for her to begin with. 

"Am I dead?"

She laughed. "No. Of course not. You are more alive here than you've ever been."

As much as I wanted to savor in Andorra's touch, I realized that reality was coming back soon. I trailed off, "So where's Roshanda..." 

"Roshanda's not here. Not yet," Ashleigh put in, coming toward us. "She's not due for a while. You guys aren't in love enough."

My eyebrows met. "Wait, what? If I'm not in love with her enough to be dead, then how did Cherry get here?" I pointed to the tattooed Suicide Girl. "We were barely dating for like, two weeks."

Cherry scoffed. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I fell for YOU?"

No. Because she cheated on me with jerkass Roy.

"No. Because you cheated on me with that jerkass Roy."

"Well," Cherry Kanye-shrugged. "Shit happens. And besides, just because you cheat doesn't mean you don't love the one you're with."

I gave her a blank stare. "You never tried to fix anything. I never even heard of you again after me and Roshanda got together."

Again, she shrugged it off. "Godammit, Chris, you felt something for me and I you. The point is, I'm dead because of you. You fall in love too easily. You really need to put a handle on that shit."

Andorra laughed to herself, arms folded. "Yeah, like, 3 weeks after he met me, he had a huge crush."

Ashleigh laughed even harder and touched Andorra's arm. "Oh my God, it was just 3 for you? It was 2 for me! He even suggested we wait to have sex because he didn't want me to think he was just after sex!" Both girls started laughing uproariously.

What the fuck.

"Umm, I can hear you!" I shut them all up, but Ash and Andorra were still smiling.

"So I'm being punished for not being a dick?"

Cherry scoffed, and out of the blue, she was carrying a bottle of Svedka over to a suddenly magically-appearing glass table. "Oh my God, I told you guys he'd take it the wrong way. No, sweetie. But your dipshit psychologist won't admit the truth, and that's what we're really getting at." Cherry opened the bottle and poured some into a waiting ice-cube filled glass.

"You destroy people with your selfishness when it comes to love."

I followed her with my eyes as she offered each girl a glass. She gave me one, but I didn't want to drink it. Besides, vodka was gross without pineapple juice.

"Part of that whole childhood trauma because your mommy didn't love you, displaced longing for affection, transference to a new maternal figure because your original one was long gone, constant fulfilling of the hole she left, blah, blah blah, do I sound like a shrink to you?" Cherry ended her tirade by downing the contents of her drink in one gulp.

"But," I stupidly began, knowing she basically had a point. "You died of a drug overdose." I pointed to Andorra. "You died in a car accident. And Ashleigh died—"

"Because you killed me." She finished.

My heart sank. "Ash, I did not—"

"No, no, not literally, Chris. But you did kill me. The night we were together," She grazed her hand over mine, and I swear, my tears were about to spill. "The night we were together was magical. We were each other's firsts, and I knew you loved me more than anyone ever could or would. You fell asleep, but because you're such a heavy ass sleeper, and because you were knocked out from fucking all night, you didn't know. I was crying all night, extra hard, because I was sooo goddamned happy. You made me so happy that I overwhelmed myself, crying so hard and whatnot. Add that to my enlarged heart, and bam! Christopher Davis has ended my life."

She let go of me. "And I'm sorry about Raquel. She turned into a mega bitch after you went for me instead of her. She even had a notebook with your name doodled a thousand times."

I knew it!

Somewhat relieved, but still confused, I looked at all three beautiful girls and felt my heart sink again when I thought of Roshanda being added to the mix.

"So, what about Roshanda?"

"Roshanda will be here soon. And then we can add some chocolate to this all-vanilla cake." Ashleigh giggled behind her hand and looked at Andorra. "You won't be the only minority anymore, girl!"

Andorra snorted. She folded her arms. "Chris likes everything. But I knew he would eventually go for a sista. She's quite, gorgeous, I might add."

I half-smiled. "Thanks."

"Don't be so depressed, baby. You've got us right now. And when you see what we have to offer, you won't be mad when Roshanda joins."

Andorra came over to me, touching my neck and my face. I wanted to stop her, but I couldn't. "What do you guys have to offer?"

Stupid question. All three girls snapped their fingers, and the they were naked.

And then I got a boner.

"Umm, wait. I—"

Andorra smashed her hand over my mouth. She shook her hair from her face and over her shoulder. "Just go along with it, Chris. Call it a final tryst." She removed her hand and kissed me. There was red lip gloss all over my mouth. It tasted like peaches.

She turned around. "Ladies?"

Andorra pushed me onto a bed, and then they all inched toward me. 

I'd be lying if I said I did not enjoy this.

Cherry's huge tits were dangling in my face as she lifted my shirt up and over my head. Andorra was taking off my shoes, and Ash was unbuckling the belt of my jeans. Cherry bent down so her tits were hovering above my mouth. I started sucking her pink gumdrop nipples and fondling her shaved pussy lips.

I could feel Andorra's mouth on my cock, going up and down with ease. There was another tongue on my balls. Obviously Ash's. This was the best feeling in the world. I sat up to get at Cherry's tits a little better, all the while still fingering her clit.

"Mmm, you like my big tits, don't you baby? You used to always go right for them whenever we fucked," She was rubbing my head like a dog, while I was looking up at her, tongue flickering her large areolas. I sucked my fingers and continued playing with her pussy, pulling my head back every now and then to enjoy my balls and dick being sucked.

Cherry was close to coming, using the precise combination of nipple and vaginal stimulation until I motioned for her to sit on my face. I could see little flecks of glitter lotion on her stomach and her vaginal area as she mounted me, and I continued eating her delicious pussy, hands caressing her flotation devices.

"Chris, you're so good at eating pussy!" She yelled, wiggling around on my tongue. "Roshanda's a lucky girl!"

Boner kill, much?

I fought through the name-drop and continued. My hardened dick was on the brink of ejaculation and I was ever-so-slightly losing my mind.

"Yeeeeesssss! OhmyGodChriswhydidIevercheatonyouRoykeptpushingmyheaddownthatnightandhemadememadbecausehesaidhewouldntgodown...GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWD!"

She had her orgasm, and I basically pushed her off me to go for Andorra, whose face was all but covered in pre-cum. 

"Your turn," I seductively purred, picking her up and throwing her where Candy used to be. I missed her body. She was almost as voluptuous as Rashonda, but in a lighter shade.

I started eating her pussy, and then Ashleigh sat on her face, and Andorra began eating her pussy! Cherry was off to the side, masturbating, fully enjoying all of this. Then she began making out with Ashleigh, stroking her red hair and Ashleigh started groping and caressing Cherry's tits.

"You have such beautiful breasts, Cherry," Ashleigh breathed, mid-moan from Andorra's tongue work. 

"You want them in your mouth?" Cherry asked. She hoisted her tits up and Ashleigh lowered her head.

"Mmm everybody loves my tits," Cherry said, holding them so Ashleigh could start tonguing them. She was smacking and sucking away, and Cherry started masturbating, her moans starting to become a bit annoying after a while.

"Mmm, you suck them so well..." Cherry threw her head back and her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

I must have been doing some crazy shit to Andorra, because she kept lifting her hips up, her muffled moaning under Ashleigh's pussy turning me on. I upped it a notch by sucking my fingers and sliding them into her vagina, fingering her g-spot, and watching her body move up and down like a wave. She was grabbing the covers and Ashleigh's body just to remain stable.

Ash was fingering Cherry now, and I guess she'd given up getting a proper orgasm from Andorra, because she hopped off of her face and starting making out with Cherry while she fingered her pussy and sucked her tits.

"You're so fucking hot, Ashleigh," Cherry was pulling her hair out of her face so she could get to her tits easier.

Once I made Andorra cum—I never heard a woman scream so damn loud—she and I started making out. 

"Yeah baby, taste yourself," She began sucking my tongue to get her own juices off of me and laughed as we kissed. "That mouth is something to be proud of, Chris. Where the fuck did you learn that?"

I sucked her neck nice and slow and whispered, "To be honest, I have no idea."

She smiled and wrapped her arms around me while I continued kissing her neck. I looked over at Ash and Cherry having their own little lesbian moment and started jerking it automatically, but Andorra would have none of it.

"We're here to please you, Chris." She grabbed my dick and started kissing my neck. "But they're a nice distraction."

Cherry and Ash were fingering each other and playing flicky-tongue. A few seconds later, they started scissor-legging, Cherry tits bobbing up and down every two seconds. Damn, I forgot how hot she was. No wonder the SuicideGirls wanted her so bad. She was like Shirley Manson, only younger and more attractive. But still, every bit as edgy and kinda scary. In a good way.

Andorra was jerking me good, and some minutes later, I jizzed everywhere, staining her hand and growing completely out of breath in the process.

Cherry and Ash traded girly squeals and moans. Ash was yelling, "Cherry, your clit feels so good!" To which Cherry would respond, "No, yours feels better!"

Then came the orgasms. My jaw had dropped all the way. I couldn't believe this was happening.

I wanted more of Cherry. I needed to fuck her. I wanted my dick inside her.

I picked her up after her orgasm, and she, still breathing heavily, squealed, "Oh my God, you guys won't give me a break!"

After I slowly plunged my cock into her awaiting pussy, her eyes widening with each inch inserted, she closed them and then lay down. Andorra and Ash started right for her tits, and I began pumping her slow at first, then with reckless abandon.

Andorra and Ash were practically eating her boobs at this point, so I knew her orgasm would be unreal, when combined with my fucking her. I knew I was hitting her G-spot, so I would alternate between soft and slow and fast and hard, just to tease her until she hit orgasm.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Cherry turned red and grabbed onto both girls while she rode out her epic orgasm. And then Ashleigh got off of Cherry's left tit and came rushing toward me. We began making out the way we used to, and I almost wanted to cry because I missed her.

Boner-fucking-killer!

I think they knew when I was about to get all emo because the girls would do something to completely take my mind off of anything mushy. We all engaged in a four-person kiss. It was the best and most pretty-smelling group hug ever. I couldn't tell whose tongue was whose. 

Eventually they all parted and it was just me and Ash. I sat her on my lap and she straddled me the way I straddled Roshanda the day before. We were fucking a little before I decided to be fair and give her what I gave the other girls...who were all over each other's tits. 

I knew girls loved boobs as much as guys did.

"Do a headstand." I smiled and she pushed hair out of my face. I was so happy to see her, and I knew she could tell.

"A handstand?" Ash blew a bright red strand of hair from her face and grinned that beautiful grin I'd loved forever. "You were always freaky. Even when I lost my V-card to you. You were freaky without being weird. And you kept asking me if I was okay." 

I laughed. Then, I said, "Well, if you won't do one,"

"Aah!" I caught her by surprise, throwing in my high school wrestling moves and flipped her so fast that she started cracking up. I parted her legs and started tickling her pussy with the tip of my tongue. Coupled with my magic guitar fingers, I could feel Ash start to tense up and orgasm before I even got to do much of anything.

I was kissing and making out with her pussy while I looked over to the girls, who were rubbing each other's tits together while they made out.

I barely even touched Ash's clit and then she came, but it wasn't as crazy as everyone else's orgasm. I picked her back up and held her again and she went, "Sorry. I just got a little excited."

Girls never have to apologize for coming early. Ever. It was such a double standard.

"Baby, it's fine. But lay down so I can do this right." I threw her down gently and started eating her pussy. She grabbed the sheets and the back of my head and started pulling and tugging at my scalp. Ouch. 

"Suck my pussy, Cherry," Andorra sat down and Cherry dove into her muff.

Meanwhile, I was sending Ash into a frenzy. The frenzy of her life. The girl was screaming each time I almost sent her into orgasm. Geez, I really had no idea that my pussy-eating abilities were this superior. What the fuck kind of losers were they dealing with before me?

5 minutes later, and Ash is breathing like she just ran a marathon. Her titties were heaving up and down, and she was looking at me, totally satisfied.

I saved the best for last. I fucking missed her.

I looked over at them, and she turned my head back to her. "Don't worry about them. They've secretly been crushing on each other for the longest." She inched off the bed and grabbed a robe. "Come here."

I followed her down the invisible white path, the bed with the two girls becoming farther and farther as we walked.

"Chris, you've seen lesbian porn before." She noticed me continuously looking back.

"Yeah," I slipped back into my shirt. "But never in real life."

After running a hand through my hair for the umpteenth time, Ash caught on. "Okay, Justin Bieber. Slow your role."

I playfully pushed her. "Shut up."

Silence. Then, she asked, "How's Shitty Pilots coming along?"

I nodded. "Pretty good. We're on the verge of signing to a label soon."

"I always knew you guys would get big."

More silence. For someone who was happy to see her, I was definitely an awkward fuck.

"So if Roshanda dies too, then she'll end up here?"

Ashleigh smiled. "Exactly. So enjoy the real-life time you have with her now."

This was too depressing. Even if I turned around to watch Andorra and Cherry fuck each other, it still wouldn't make everything better. 

"Do you know if she's gonna die for sure?"

Ashleigh sighed. She touched my shoulder. "Yes. She is going to die. And you are the catalyst. You love so hard that it cripples and it kills. But it's okay. When you come back here, you'll get all your love interests back, and you can be with all of us any time you want."

I didn't want some supernatural, interracial porn version of "Big Love." I just wanted to be with the girl I loved.

"I don't want that. I just want Roshanda."

"You can't have it all, Christopher. Nobody can. That's why all of us girls are here. We all wanted you. But you have so much love to give that you have to spread it evenly."

"Ashleigh, I don't wanna spread it all evenly. I just want to give it to one person. If you were still alive, it would be you."

She held my face and kissed me. "Go enjoy the rest of your time with Ro. Come back when she's gone."

Ash turned around and started walking, before she faded off into the distance.

"Wait! I'm not finished!" I kept running but she was gone. "Ash! Ash, come back!" I was distracted by a rather large bulge in my jeans that was still there.

"My dick is still hard! What the fuck did you guys do to me?"



Your Ex-Lover is Dead Ch. 04



When I woke up, a male doctor was hovering over me, giving me the strangest look. When I followed his eyes, I saw he was looking at my boner, which was stabbing my blanket.

I snatched the pillow from underneath my head and put it on my crotch. "I had a dream."

"Sure you did," He didn't even look at me. He kept tinkering with his doctor supplies or whatever the fuck they were.

"What happened to me?" The IV in my arm pretty much gave everything away.

"You're in a hospital, Mr. Davis."

No shit.

"No shit, but why?"

Dr. Monotone Asshole was shuffling through manila folders, totally ignoring me. 

"You had a panic attack and passed out. We revived you, but we kept you for observation in case anything else happened to you." He turned on his heels. "You have a history of self-harm. You've overdosed before. Twice, actually. We'd be fools not to keep you overnight."

Fuck. I hated medical records. Just when I thought I was over that shit.

"Has anyone visited me?"

He said, without even thinking, with his old ass, "A Roshanda Thomas and Andi Carson."

I was relieved. Just hearing their names put me at ease. "Did you tell them about my medical history?"

"No. Just that you had a panic attack, which is what Ms. Thomas already knew."

I nodded, sitting up further, and snagging a rubberband lying on my bedside table to put my hair into a ponytail. "Can I see them?"

"I'll let the nurse know." He sounded so distracted, yet he knew everything. It was annoying and helpful at the same damn time.

Shit. I just quoted a song on the radio. 

A few moments later, Roshanda and Andi entered. Both of them looked like they just woke up, clad in sweatpants. Roshanda was wearing the Beatles t-shirt from the other day, her hair up in a ponytail. 

"Hey, you guys." I sat up even more to give Andi a hug. Even if Ro had told her anything bad about me, she still hugged me like she missed me. Roshanda gave me a kiss and a long hug.

"Don't scare me like that again," she warned, squeezing me.

We let go, and I yawned. "What time is it?"

"Noon. We were here last night, waiting for you to wake up. But then they said they were keeping you overnight." Andi tossed her head back and gave herself a ponytail, too. 

"I'm glad you're okay, though," Andi looked at Roshanda to see if she would try to kick her out I guess. When she didn't, she threw herself out.

"Well," she breathed, clapping her hands together once. "He's alive and it's been real, but I'm fucking starving. Y'all want anything?"

Roshanda answered, "I'm good. You want anything, Chris?"

I shook my head. The last thing I wanted was to tell her to get me a double cheeseburger loaded with mushrooms and bacon. I was starving too, but I'd feel rude asking her for something, especially if she thought I was screwing around on her bestie.

"Okay. I'll be back." Andi pulled out her phone as she walked away, most likely phoning her Chris Brown-looking boyfriend to let him know that I was okay. Even though he was friends with Roy, we had become pretty cool, too. Whenever Roy came around, it was kind of awkward. He'd just stare at me, but not in a mean way. More like a, I-know-I-fucked-up-and-now-you-got-what-I-wish-I-still-had stare.

Ro lingered, playing with her thumbs like Butters from "South Park." Or Leonard from "The Big Bang Theory." She looked awkward. She wanted to ask me something, but was nervous. So instead, she just pulled up a chair and sat next to me. She held my hand and rubbed the top of mine with her thumb. Then she stared at me with those soulful, emotional eyes and sighed.

"Baby, are you okay?"

I smiled. "Now I am." With my free hand, I traced a finger around her face. The face I couldn't bear to lose to some unexplained phenomena going on with me.

She looked at the pillow on my groin area and frowned. "You getting hard around the nurses now? Am I that ugly to you?" She joked, sounding confrontational on purpose.

I laughed. "Girl, please." After I held up the hand, I contemplated telling her about my dream, but I still didn't wanna spill my guts just yet. It wasn't a good time. I didn't know when a good time would even come around. Dr. Morris said I should just say it. But damn, how do you say something like, "Every girl I've ever been with has died for absolutely no unexplainable reason. But I hope you last the longest out of all of them!"

She smacked my hand away and rolled her eyes. "I'm worried about you," she began, still holding my hand. "You really scared me back there. We've been through this before, but you never blacked out."

I looked away and then placed my eyes back on Roshanda's face. "I know. I'm sorry I put you through that, baby."

Roshanda scoffed. "It's not that you put me through that that worries me. You should never apologize for something like that when it's beyond your control, baby. That's like me apologizing for getting sent to the hospital if I got shot or something."

I nodded. "You're absolutely right."

"Now," Roshanda scooted closer, still holding my hand in hers. "You wanna tell me about that little incident in Reckless? I was about to fight that bitch for you, you know that right?"

I tried to laugh through the sorrow. Tears were forming in my eyes. I did not want to tell her the truth. It was too much. 

Maybe if I just explained the part about Reckless. Maybe then she would leave me alone and this would never come up again.

"Raquel. . ." I cleared my throat. "Raquel was friends with the first girl I fell in love with. Her name was Ashleigh. We lost our v-cards to each other and everything. We knew we were in love."

Rashonda inched back a bit, astounded I guess? Not so sure. "Then what happened?"

Fuck. Here came the waterworks.

"I woke up the night when we. . ." A single tear fell down my cheek and Rashonda leapt from her chair to give me a hug. But I was okay after I smelled her sweet strawberry-scented perfume.

"I'm fine now."

Roshanda sat back down, still holding my hand. "Continue."

"She died the morning after. I didn't do anything. I swear. I just woke up and she was gone. Doctors said she had a pre-existing condition. An enlarged heart. So it contributed to her death. But Raquel basically told everyone that I killed her and that it was a cover-up. Everyone who was already not so sure if I killed her before was convinced when Raquel opened her mouth. All because she was jealous that I chose her friend instead of her."

Rashonda's eyebrows were holding hands at this point. "Chris, that is terrible! Did you and your dad sue her?"

"Honestly, the whole ordeal was draining. We tucked our tails between our legs and moved. She basically ran us out of the neighborhood. My dad saw the effect it was having on my mental health. Thought the best way to combat that would be to stop being surrounded by it. That's why we moved to Glenview. We wanted a fresh start. I mean, it wasn't so fresh for me, but it definitely helped. I mean, I almost ki—kicked my smoking habit, but remembering everything about that night...it didn't help."

I couldn't say that I tried to kill myself. Not yet. It was too risky. I'd scare her away. I was surprised what I was saying now wasn't freaking her the fuck out. No, instead she was kissing my hand and I saw her crying, too.

"I'm sorry, Chris. That's horrible. She was your first love," Roshanda held me close, close enough for me to feel like I could tell her anything. But I really couldn't. 

I hugged her back, rubbing her back up and down.

"Sweetie, please don't scare me like that again. You were holding all of this in," she wiped her tears away with her wrist. "You could have just told me this. You can tell me anything, baby." She held my face in her hands, still crying a bit. 

"Is there anything else I should know? You only had a few panic attacks, but if anything else can trigger them, I wanna know. I wanna know so I can save you if it happens."

"Just say NO" I kept repeating in my head over and over again.

Like the fucking idiot I am, I said "No, Roshanda. That's it."

Knife, meet own back. The hand that holds it is a moron. ..... I was discharged later that day. The nurse gave me a prescription for some Prozac and after picking it up, I took Roshanda to my dad's place in Glenview. I didn't want to think about how I just super lied to Ro, and how I was battling my demons all over again with the whole Cherry situation. I just wanted to spend some time with my girlfriend while my dad was out. He'd be back in a few days. Him and his friends decided to hiking and explore nature and whatnot. My dad was always doing something.

Me and him and were besties because of two reasons. Our united hatred for Susan, my mom, who decided that her image was more important than her family, and our love for practically the same stuff. 

When I was younger, my mom abandoned me and my dad because she decided we weren't good enough. My mom was one of those rich bitch types. She was loaded when she met my dad, and even though her parents didn't approve of him—he was basically me, but without the mental issues—she married him anyway. He had his own job and could afford to put them up in a nice place, but no matter what, he was a "gold-digging asshole who just wanted to use Susan as a sugar mom," as Susan's sister put it. So one day, Susan let them get into her head, and she started seeing some guy who basically looked like Buzz Killington and they had a secret affair, which led to her up and leaving my dad. She'd come back to tell him what he already knew and then demand a divorce. With a pre-nup, my dad basically got nothing. But he didn't care. As far as he was concerned, money wouldn't be able to make up for anything she did to him. The fact that he loved her enough to sign the pre-nup anyway speaks both volumes and complete irony to the situation at hand.

He had a nice little home in Glenview. Two floors, two bathrooms, a huge kitchen, and a big ass television in the living room. We'd watch so many movies on that thing. That was our bonding time before I went off to college. My dad was my best friend. We bonded all the time.

"You want anything?" I asked, throwing my jacket down on the couch. 

"No, that Wingstop that Andi damn near shoved down my throat was enough." She put her bag on the couch and walked into the kitchen to wash her hot sauce-stained hands.

"What are you about to do, Ro?"

From the kitchen she yelled, "Take a shower, I guess. I know I'm funky."

"Girl you stank, take a bath, girl you stank!"

She threw a sponge at me for my joke and I plopped down and started watching television. Nothing was ever on. Plus, I was sick to death of watching the same shit on FUSE over and over again. I missed the days when it was good, not when it was a copycat MTV.

Nothing. Nothing. "Fight Club." Okay, now we're talking. Even though I'd seen this movie a million times, I just loved the concept. Plus, I had a man crush on Edward Norton.

Sue me.

Fifteen minutes after I settled in, I heard a door slam. I knew it was Ro. I wanted to fuck with her in the best way possible, so I got up, in the midst of Brad Pitt's first appearance, and ran up the stairs. I knocked, and Roshanda gave me the okay to enter. When I did, she was butt ass nekkid, drying off.

Damn.

"Let me help." I closed the door behind me and she waved me off. "I'm fine."

"No no, let me." I walked over and watched as a frowned up Ro folded her arms when I snatched the towel from her. I started drying her off all slow, taking in every inch of her beautiful body, the same way I did when we had sex for the first time after we both showered.

"Lay down," I whispered. I was highly grateful for the setting sunlight that was peering through the window. Ro did as I asked, getting up on the bed and lying down so I could oil her.

I grabbed the baby oil bottle and started generously pouring some on her legs. I made sure to coat them with the oil and then started massaging her legs nice and slow. "Does that feel good, babe?"

"Yes," she delicately whispered, throwing her arms behind her head and relaxing. I loved her thighs. They weren't too big and they weren't too small. And they felt like putty in my hands, all nice and slicked up. 

I massaged her feet, kissing her toes and smiling when I saw the corners of her mouth curl. Then, I moved onto her torso, rubbing baby oil on her tits. I got down to her stomach and kissed every inch as slow and gentle as possible. I heard her heart beat and watched her nipples become erect. Pouring more baby oil on her tits, I started massaging her breasts, paying close attention to her nipples, which looked like melted chocolate at this point, except for her erect black diamonds. I started blowing on them, which she really liked.

"Oooh, Chris, that feels so good," she breathed, rubbing my hair and watching me continue to rub her down. I lifted a finger and motioned for her to turn around so I could massage her back, but I was distracted by her lovely round ass.

After I oiled her ass and her back, I massaged her shortly and then turned her over, my hand resting on her pubic area. I whispered, "You want me to play with it?"

She was breathing so heavily as she nodded repeatedly. "Yes. Do it."

I kept my hand lingering over her awaiting pussy, which I know was wet as hella wet at this point. "You want me eat your pussy?"

"Yes, baby. Do it. Do it already."

My finger was two inches away from her clit, and I was breathing on her neck. "You want my dick inside you?"

"Oh my God, yes. Baby, please. Do it!"

I swear, I was about to laugh. I held it in and instead, whispered, "Psych. That's the wrong number."

I quickly got up and started to run out of the room. Roshanda was running after me. "You asshole!"

We both loved the whole "But I'm Not a Rapper" vids that had us dying laughing from time to time. And to kill her whole horny mood like that was funny to me. She knew I'd give her the D eventually.

She caught me and started beating me, her itty bitties shaking as she hit me. "I can't believe you!"

I let her hit me because she knew I was stronger. "That feels great. Oh yes. Keep hitting me."

She stopped and I picked her still-oiled body up and mounted her on the wall. I plowed into her repeatedly and we both made noises louder than we'd ever heard on some of the porn we watched. I was fucking her so good that she had to grab onto me and hold the position until she came. Then I came, my warm jizz filling her up, and I collapsed onto her. We almost fell, but I picked her up and we were laying down on the nearest couch. She straddled my lap and we started making out. When she grabbed my head and held it, I knew she was still thinking about earlier.

I decided to pussyfoot around the issue, grabbing and squeezing her foot and running a finger up and down her leg. "Do you think I'm weird, Roshanda?"

She lifted her head up, which was previously on my shoulder. "No. Why do you say that?"

"I mean, you must think I'm at least a little crazy. Panic attacks. Fucked up family. Penchant for slight violence when fucking. Tattoos and piercings. Come on."

"Chris, you're not weird. And anyone who thinks you are doesn't understand you."

"But people called you weird—"

"Any black girl who doesn't act stereotypically is weird to most people. Ignorant people. But you, you're not weird."

"So you think I'm normal?"

She was playing in my hair when she giggled and said, "I didn't say that either. You just are. You're a beautiful human and I don't know why you don't see that."

"Roshanda, be honest. What's the craziest thing I could tell you that would scare you away?"

She scoffed. "That you hate Beirut. Come on Chris, nothing you could tell me would scare me away."

Fuck. She was making it so easy. I could say it now. I could just let it out.

Her massaging my head felt good. It almost distracted me from the loud noise that came from downstairs.

"TOPHER!! YO, TOPHES!"

It was my dad. I laughed out loud.

"Who is that?"

I pulled back from her and smiled. "My pops." I hopped off of Roshanda. "Put some clothes on, you can meet him now." Roshanda had seen a vague picture of him before, but not in person. My dad was me, but older. Two sleeve tats, an eyebrow ring, and he was at least six-three. 

Actually now that I thought about it, Roshanda might mess around and like my dad. So many people thought he was a hottie.

I came downstairs and saw my dad, wearing cargo shorts, his beat-up slip-on checkered Vans, and an RHCP t-shirt. He'd just set his bags down. 

"Hey dad! I thought you weren't coming back for a few days!"

We hugged and he when he pulled away, explained, "Rick got bit by something, so we had to rush him to the hospital. But he's fine. We just called the rest of the trip off." There was a cigarette nestled on his left ear, the one with his industrial piercing, the first he ever got.

"How are you, son? Everything's okay?"

Soon as he said that, Rashonda came down, wearing her Beatles tee and some cut-offs. "Mr. Davis!"

My dad walked over and picked her up, spun her around and then set her down. "Nice to meet you, Rashonda." He extended a hand and they shook. "Chris gushes over you. He's always talking about pretty you are, how awesome you are, all that stuff." 

Rashonda was eye-fucking the hell out of my dad. I knew she would. He had an eyebrow ring, more tattoos than me, and he was tall. 

"I'm gonna fix dinner for you guys. Any requests? I got chicken, steak, pork, what?" He looked at both of us and Rashonda gestured toward me, letting me decide.

"Surprise us." I nodded. "Yeah. Surprise us."

"Do you want any help?" Rashonda offered, still eyeballing him.

"Sure. Just gimme a minute. I need to make a phone call." 

She came over to me and whispered, "Your dad is so hot. I see where you get it from."

I laughed. "I knew you would think he was hot."

In the background, I could hear my dad calling Dr. Morris of all people. Why, I didn't know, but before she caught on, I had to distract her. We sat down.

"So your mom is never coming back into the picture?"

I looked at her, with a great deal of sorrow in my eyes and just heavily sighed. I put my arm around her. "No. She's too busy fucking Buzz Killington."

She laughed and started playing with my skullhead belt buckle. "Well fuck her. She missed out on two awesome guys." She looked up at me with such adoration that I was convinced she was in love with me. Then she kissed me. I swear, she was the most amazing girl ever. To lose all this would be to lose a lot. And then some. She really fucking cared about me.

"Roshanda! Get in here so I can get to know you," My dad bellowed, ushering her into the kitchen.

A few hours in and they seemed to be hitting it off pretty well. They had similar tastes in music at some points, though my dad was more of a metal/alternative rock guy. He did, however, enjoy the Beirut and Feist CDs I lent him, and he was very partial to A Tribe Called Quest because they were jazzy, and he loved jazz.

At dinner, Roshanda and my dad were basically becoming besties over their freaky concert experiences. She said she went to Warped when she was younger, going through her hardcore phase. My dad went to go see Gallows in the earlier days of Warped. 

"But right now," my dad swallowed a mouthful of chicken stir-fry and washed it down with some wine. "Right now, you got these little shits on the Warped Tour. Fucking girly, sissy bands who don't know the first thing about what Warped is about. I mean, come on! Fucking Katy Perry was at Warped!"

"Exactly! When I went, I wanted to see bands that, though not exactly as hardcore as you'd like, they still represented Warped. Bands like MCR, Bli—"

"No, no. Don't mention MCR. I respect them for not wanting to be emo and having a fanbase that seems to associate itself with them being emo, but no. I hate them. They're like Fall Out Boy. Soon as they got famous, their music changed. When Fall Out Boy started, I respected the fuck out of those guys. And they were from Chicago! Representing us well, right up until 'Infinity on High,' when they pissed on the diehards."




Your Ex-Lover is Dead Ch. 04



"They didn't piss on the diehards! And they said in the opening of the song that they lose crowds but their hearts beat for the diehards. Maybe Pete's off fucking models and just being hot, but Fall Out Boy is legendary, dude."

My dad laughed and pointed to Ro with his fork. "She's a good arguer. Never get bored with this one, Chris. You never will." He smiled and winked at her, then kept eating.

I was glad my dad liked her so much. I could tell they would be besties. He always had to feel out my girlfriends because he would hate for me to meet another Susan. Most of them he didn't like, but Roshanda? I knew he would want me with her forever.

"Well, she does make an excellent cook," I said, mouth full of chicken and veggies. "AKA, a woman's main job."

Roshanda laughed. "Long as you buy the food, provider."

My dad chuckled. "And she can take a joke. Awesome."

The whole time we were eating, I was just glad that my dad and Rashonda had so much awesome chemistry. They instantly clicked. It was beautiful. Very few of the girls my dad met clicked with him. They just seemed so distant. 

Dinner ended. We were all wrapping up a conversation about 90s television. "Daria" vs. "Beavis and Butt-head." Very engrossing.

"Well, it's getting past my bedtime," Roshanda yawned and stretched. "I was up all night."

"Why's that, Roshanda?" My dad grabbed everyone's plate and started putting them in the sink.

I wasn't listening. I should've been paying attention, but I was texting my friend Mike, who was going to be my roomie for the next semester. "No, Chris—"

I had to cause a distraction before she said too much. So I did the easiest thing I could. I pretended to knock over a glass.

When it shattered, I automatically pretended to act like I fucked up.

"Shit! I'm so sorry, dad." Right before I started to pick up the pieces, my dad shooed me away. "I'll get it. It's fine. Show Roshanda to the guest room."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure." He gave Roshanda a hug. "I'll see you tomorrow. It was sooo nice meeting you." 

Roshanda laughed as she was embraced by my dad. "I can't breathe, Mr. Davis."

He let go. "No, you are my new friend. You call me by my first name."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, Nick."

"There we go." He looked to me. "Chris, hold onto this one, will ya?"

I grabbed her hand and whisked her out of the kitchen. "I will!" I yelled over my shoulder. I saw him bend down to start picking up the glass as we headed upstairs.

"You gonna tuck me in?" Rashonda asked, stripping out of her jeans. She had this thing about sleeping with no pants on. 

I pulled the covers over her, waiting for her to lay down after she tied her hair up. 

"If you want me to. I'm really good at that," I flickered my tongue at her and she hit me. 

Once she settled in, she stared at me the way she always did when she was about to tell me how much she liked me.

"Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve you. You know that?" She asked, with wide eyes. Everything she told me was genuine. I believed it. The least I could do was be straight with her, but I couldn't.

I sucked my teeth. "You deserve everything you want, Roshanda. I wouldn't hold that whole Roy drama against you. It's in your past. You know better now."

She traced a finger around my face. "I know. But I look at you, and sometimes I wonder how you even like me. I mean, you're like this, gorgeous, mysterious, uber-talented musician whose all...you know, all deep and shit. And I'm just this random girl with a white guy fetish who's nowhere near as interesting."

Roshanda was tripping. I know she fell into her little self-conscious bouts sometimes, but to hear this when I was withholding from her was about to make me sick.

"You're fucking insane, woman. If anyone's lucky here, it is me. And you're hella interesting. Are you kidding me? I could never talk to anyone the way I talk to you. You're the most amazing girlfriend I've ever had."

Her sleepy eyes blinked repeatedly, like she was about to cry. Like she was about to say something to me. Something she'd been holding back. 

Just like me.

But instead, she chickened out. She fake-yawned and looked at the clock. "I need to sleep. But it was so nice meeting your dad. He's the shit."

"I know. I was born of greatness. I'll be back up soon. Gonna talk to my dad. But I know you'll be sleep by then." After I kissed her forehead, I turned off the lamp. "Good night, brown sugar."

She giggled. "Night night, boo." 

I closed the door, right before taking another look at her. A lasting one. 

I went downstairs and back into the kitchen. My dad was sitting down, having just cleaned up all the glass.

"You had a panic attack, didn't you?"

Shit. He knew.

I rubbed the back of my neck, aware of the shit I'd just gotten myself into. "Yeah."

"And you didn't tell me."

"Dad, I'm trying to put this behind me."

He frowned. "How the fuck can you if it keeps happening?"

Silence. He pointed to the chair in front of him. "Sit your ass down. I wanna talk."

"But dad, I—"

"Sit. The. Fuck. Down."

I sat down hard, annoyed already. He was about to lay into me. Couldn't wait.

"Why didn't you tell me? I could have cut the trip short, and we could've even avoided my friend getting rushed to the hospital if we left earlier."

"Because," I answered, to no one in particular.

"Christopher, you can't hide from this. This, whatever it is. It's not healthy. Dr. Morris—"

"Why did you call her?"

"Because you don't tell me everything!" He yelled, unaware of the sleeping, unaware girlfriend. I told him to keep his voice down because she might hear. 

"So you haven't even told her, I assume?"

I was digging myself into such a deep hole. I really was.

"Dad, I—" I banged my fist on the table. "I can't!"

"Well she deserves the right to at least know! You don't bring a girl like that around here and then lie to her about everything! I know true love when I see it, and you and Roshanda are the perfect example!"

I started crying right then and there. My dad got up and knelt before me, trying to get through to me while I had my head down.

"Dad, I will scare her away. She will not come back. She will be too fucking freaked out."

"She's not Susan, Tophes. She's nowhere near Susan. Roshanda is not gonna hurt you."

Through tears, I managed, "I know she won't hurt me. But if I lose her, then that's it. I'm not gonna find anyone else like her, dad. Everyone is gonna leave me in the end. Either they just die, or I tell the truth and they go."

My dad rubbed his hand up and down my back. "She's different, Chris. I know it. You're distraught over Ash and now Cherry. I get it. But you can't live in fear forever. You have to fess up eventually."

Okay, okay. It had been drilled into my head long enough. First my therapist, and now my dad. The big "duh" that was in my face the whole time, dangling menacingly.

We wrapped up the conversation and ended it with a big cliché hug. 

"Do the right thing, Chris. Don't lose her. She'll stick around. Trust me."

I believed him.

I crept into bed with Rashonda to find her totally asleep. I cuddled up next to her, held her in my arms, and felt her warm, breathing body against mine. It was all I needed to go to sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, Rashonda wasn't in the bed with me. I figured she just went to the bathroom or something. But then I saw the note on my nightstand, in her lazy scrawl, and immediately snatched it up and read it, eyes still crusty and red from just waking up.

"The easiest way to lose me is to not tell me anything. I learned this when I first met you, and you're learning it now. Goodbye, Christopher. –Rashonda."



Your Ex-Lover is Dead Ch. 05



Before I knew it, I was at Andi's place, which was a few blocks away from Roshanda's. Everything was racing. My thoughts, my heartbeat, the speedometer. 

I was glad Andi lived where she did because any further, and I'm pretty sure I would've gotten pulled over.

Slamming the door and locking the car, I ran to the porch of Andi's crib.

Why didn't I go to Roshanda's house at first? It was simple. Every girl confided in her best friend whenever something happened between her and her man. Or in my case, ex-man. In the case of something this drastic, Andi, being the good friend that she is, came over to Roshanda's and swooped her up, brought her to her house, and bought a whole bunch of ice cream and chick movies to soothe the pain.

I rang the doorbell. After waiting a full ten seconds, I grew apprehensive and kept stabbing the doorbell with my thumb until it began to hurt.

Andi opened the door. She looked at me like she was sad but at the same time had a duty to her friend. Her hair was pulled back and she was wearing a cropped tank top and sweats, like she'd been dancing.

"Hey, Chris." She opened the door, and though I tried to edge inside, she slinked through the door and stood between me and the door.

"Hey. Is Andi here?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "But she don't wanna see you."

Well duh.

"I know. I fucked up. But I need to talk to her." I tried to push past her, but Andi held up her hands.

"Chris, you know you my dude and everything, but she needs her space right now. Can't you come back later? We're not done talking."

"When did she come over?" I asked, with my hands shoved in my jeans pockets like a scared little boy.

"About two hours ago. We just started talking. Can you just come back later."

Andi wasn't usually this defensive. I know her friend was in pain and all, but something seemed off. 

I turned around. That's when I noticed there were three cars in front of her house. Not just me and hers.

"Who else is here, Andi?"

Andi didn't say a word. "Chris, please. Just go."

I peeked in through the little crack of space in the door and saw a black guy moving around inside. But it wasn't Andi's Chris Brown-looking boyfriend.

It was Roy.

"Andi, let me in."

Andi put up a fight, but eventually relented.

Roshanda was sitting on Andi's couch, covered in a red Snuggie, looking tired as all hell. Roy was handing her a bottle of water. Andi's boyfriend was flipping through channels.

"What the fuck is this? We have one fight and you call Roy?"

Andi closed the door, slamming it shut. "I tried to stop him, Roshanda. Chris, Roy was with my boyfriend."

"That's bullshit. She called him over."

"I can lie if I want, Chris. You've been doing that to me all along," she said, without even looking at me. Roy came up to me. But he didn't even seem confrontational. As a matter of fact, he looked way different than when I last saw him, given we were fighting. He looked calm and unthreatening.

"Chris, I'm sorry about what happened between us. But right now, Roshanda just wants to be around people she can trust."

I glared at him. 

"Okay, I know she can't trust me anymore, but despite all we've been through, that's still my friend."

He had a point, but I didn't know they even still talked.

Andi's boyfriend seemed way too distracted by something on BET to care, but he eventually got up and tried to drag me away.

"Come on, not now. Just give me five minutes. That's all I need."

Roshanda rolled her eyes. "Chris, fuck off. You're a hypocrite."

"No, I just—" I sighed deep. Everyone in the room was staring at me. Even Andi's ugly cat statue that was giving me death eyes as it sat atop her mom's mantle.

"Chris," Andi began, pleading with her hands, "Just give her some time. She'll talk to you eventually."

"No." Roshanda stood up. "He can say what he wants, but I want him to say it in front of everyone."

She stepped closer to me. "You got so mad at me for lying to you about Roy. That was me lying to get with you. But everything you lied about, you lied to keep me from knowing the real you. What else don't I know about you? Are you a woman? Did you kill someone? Have I been fucking a known criminal?"

Roy looked away, obviously feeling awkward that his ex-girlfriend was talking about fucking her current boyfriend. Er—ex-boyfriend. "Sorry, Roy." She said while still looking at me.

I attempted to put my hands on her shoulders but she jerked away.

"Baby, listen. I was looking for the right time to tell you what was going on with me."

"Chris, I told you every deep dark crazy thing about me. You could have at least let me decide whether or not I would think you were insane. But you didn't. You had no faith in me. You. . .you just assume I wouldn't get it. I fucking don't understand! And you know what the crazy part is? After hearing all that shit you and your dad were talking about, I would have still stayed with you. Had it come from your mouth." She pointed to the door. "Get the fuck out. I don't wanna talk to you right now."

Just like that, I was the white elephant in the room. Everyone was staring at me. I felt like Macaulay Culkin's character in "Home Alone" when all the adults were glaring at him after he charged into his bro for eating all the pizza.

Even Roy was level-headed and civil. I knew I fucked up when he seemed like a better option than me. It made perfect sense, though. You never forgot your first love. Hers was actually alive. Of course she'd run back to him. 

"I'm sorry, Roshanda. I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused." My bottom lip was quivering. Her arms were folded, and she was looking away from me, like she'd start crying any minute.

"I hope you can forgive me one day. I love you."

When I turned around, Roy was about to embrace Roshanda. Yep. She started crying. Because of me.

Soon as I left, I felt all the emotions rush to me. Pain, anguish, sadness. My anger was boiling over, but I had nowhere to direct it. Usually, when shit like this happened, I took it out on myself. So I hopped in my car and picked up a few razors. Then I sat in the car, blasting Elliott Smith, parked in some dingy lot by a dilapidated grocery store, and started slicing my wrists. This wasn't for Roshanda. This was for me. I had to punish myself for losing someone because it was my own dumb ass fault.

Soon as the blood started bursting through my cuts, I felt better. Okay, not really, but you get what I'm saying. I did two lines on each wrist. The scars from my previous cuts had faded away enough for me to lie to Roshanda and say I scratched them up in a weird skateboarding accident, back when I thought I could actually skateboard. 

Fresh wounds for a fresh tragedy, right?

This was pathetic, and I knew it. But what else did I have? No, it is not healthy to depend on another human being for your sanity, but I wasn't a sane person. I was fucked up. I had co-dependency issues. I knew this. But how did I go about solving it when the one person who made me feel normal was now out of my life?

I must have sat there for at least an hour, blotting my cuts and smoking up the rest of my cigarettes. Severe chain smoking. Big time. My dad kept calling, but I turned off the phone after the third consecutive ring. I didn't want to be found. I didn't know what I wanted. 

That night, I slept in my car. In that parking lot. And I really contemplated killing myself. But then I thought of how much that would hurt Ro, and I backpedaled. Okay, suicide wasn't the option here. But I needed to go somewhere and collect my thoughts. And get a new pack of cigarettes.

I drove to my favorite think spot. Wicker Park was filled with old people, as usual. And by old, I mean guys with tattoos and piercings who were well into their forties. Since I was banned from Reckless, I had to find a new hangout spot to indulge in my love of all things obscure. So I hit up Myopic Books for a few, then journeyed over to Caribou for coffee. I stood outside, sipping my expensive latte and smoking cigarettes. Got a few stares from loads of hipster girls with multi-colored hair and waifs with no ass and pixie cuts. 

None of them did anything for me. I was more attracted to Roshanda than anyone else. And I loved her round, plump, fat ass. I loved to grab it when we made out. I couldn't do that with these skinny broads. I thought my day couldn't get any worse until I saw Raquel leaving Caribou and looking dead at me. 

Instead of glaring at me and looking like she wanted to kill me, Raquel actually stopped and gave me this sympathetic glance. Her dreads were flung over one shoulder, and she looked me up and down as if reading me.

"Are you okay?" She asked, stepping closer. I, of course, stepped back, blowing smoke in her general direction.

"What do you care? Are you gonna get me kicked out of Caribou, too?" 

She looked down at the ground and then back up at me. "I'm sorry about that. That was rude of me. I can get Otto to let you back in if you want."

Oh, by the mercy of her goodness, she was going to lift the Christopher Davis ban!

I scoffed. "Why are you talking to me? You're still convinced I killed your best friend."

She shrugged her shoulders. "I've spent too much time blaming you. I just really miss Ashleigh. And I know you do, too."

The one time she was right. However, this was still too weird.

"Look, I wanted to apologize for being such a bitch to you for so long."

A bitch? That was an understatement.

"You ran me and my dad out of our hometown. I think being a bitch is a bit of an understatement, Raquel."

She came closer and I backed away again. I contemplated walking the fuck away and getting a taco or something. But she insisted, and honestly, I was curious.

"I want to make it up to you." She pulled a rubber band from her wrist and put up her dreads. "I was a terrible person, and I regret everything I ever did to you." After looking me up and down again, she offered, "You need a place to stay? You look like you're going through something."

This was too easy. I was fully aware that she might still have a crush on me, and catching me in my fragile state was her way of seducing me the way she always wanted.

"How do you know I'm going through something? And how do I know you're not just trying to get in my pants?"

Raquel touched my shoulder. "I've changed."

"Yeah, a few days is a long time."

"I mean it." She stepped aside, seeing as we were blocking sidewalk traffic, and bent down to re-tie her black Creeper shoes. Roshanda had a pair just like that. They looked better on her.

"You just don't look too good, no offense. Like you slept in your car. Like you've been chain-smoking at least five packs in a row."

Silence. When my eyes met hers, she quipped, "You're broken up, aren't you?"

I didn't say anything. I honestly didn't even know why I was still sticking around. I guess, in my time of need, where I was close to being driven over the edge, anyone would do. 

Next thing I knew, I was in Raquel's apartment, taking off my Chucks. She put some Ramen noodles in a pot and started cooking.

"Welcome to my humble abode," she called from the kitchen. "My roomie is sleeping on the couch, but you're more than welcome to use the La-Z-Boy."

I looked at the big, fluffy recliner in the corner of the living room, perfectly nestled between two shelves containing CDs. 

"Thanks," I half-heartedly offered, laying my hoodie on the couch. "It's a pretty decent set-up."

Raquel must have made a lot of money from her Reckless job, because she had a flatscreen HD television, a big comfy leather recliner, matching sofa, some very expensive-looking oil paintings, and Jeffrey Campbell shoes lined up neatly by the coat closet. How did I know they were Jeffrey Campbell shoes? Because I had a shoe-obsessed girlfriend.

Past tense.

"All I have for now is Ramen until I get paid," she said to the fridge as she opened it, procuring some water bottles. Fiji water. Yeah, she was rich. Most normal people drank from the sink or got those dollar bottles.

She tossed me one. 

"So, did she dump you or was it the other way around?"

I looked at her, holding my chilled water, puzzled. How did she know?

She slammed the fridge door shut and then backpedaled. "Sorry. Too soon?"

I actually wanted to talk about it.

"Well, not really. It's just," I sat down and ran a hand through my hair. "It was my fault." 

"Your fault? How?" She sat down next to me, but kept her distance.

"Long story." 

"I don't have anything better to do. Plus, it's the least I could do after. . . you know."

True. She did fucking owe me. Monetarily and otherwise.

I explained the stupid story to her, and she instantly felt bad. Because she knew I wasn't crazy and this affliction didn't kill Ashleigh. I just had shitty ass luck. And it just ruined the best relationship I ever had.

Raquel served us both the noodles, but she was definitely feeling bad.

"I'm so sorry," she didn't even start into her noodles, other than raking them around with her fork. "You have to try to get her back!"

"Not going to work. I think she's serious." Tears welled up. "I miss her already."

Raquel didn't give me a hug, but she did give a lot of cliché advice.

"You should fight for her. Show her you fucked up. If you really care, that is."

I shook my head and coughed to try to shove back the tears. The lump was already there, though. "No. I uh. . .I just. . .can I use your shower?"

She nodded. "Sure. Oh, and um, take this."

Raquel reached into her pocket and pulled out two hundred dollar bills. 

"I know it's not nearly enough to cover what I did, but if you're as bad off as I think you are, it's a start."

I had to give her props for not being a psycho hose beast. And for giving me unnecessary cash.

"Thanks." I gave her a quick hug and then made for her bathroom. I was crying in the shower while I washed my hair with whatever scented shit was lined up on her windowsill. My life was turning into a clusterfuck. I was looking homeless, running into the arms of a woman who made my life a living hell, crying in her shower, and using her girly shampoo. All of this could've been avoided if I wasn't such a pussy. Isn't it amazing how life seems to fuck you over when you think you're doing yourself a favor?

I was crying so hard that I didn't hear anyone come in. Because the next thing I heard was Raquel go, "Chris? Are you okay? I can hear you crying from outside."

I wiped my tears away. "I'm fine." Turning around, I said, "Can we just talk when I'm done?"

But she didn't want to wait. The curtain was pushed aside, and when I turned around, she was behind me. Naked. 

"Whoa!" I grabbed a towel and nearly fell back, getting drenched by the shower even more, and almost falling out of the tub. After I wrapped up my man bits, Raquel stepped out of the tub, naked as fuck. She had small boobs with huge areolas and one nipple pierced, a bushy landing strip, and a huge rose tattoo that started on her hip and extended out to her thigh.

Here I am, drenched, cold from leaving a warm shower, and fucking naked almost. "What the fuck."

"I want to make you feel better. Come on."

"I was just dumped a whole day ago. Pussy is not going to make it all better."

Raquel's bottom lip quivered. "But I thought—"

Oh my gaaaawd. Did she really think I wanted her?

"Raquel, I. . .you were being nice! I thought you really meant—"

"A girl doesn't offer you money and a place to stay if she doesn't like you, you fucking idiot!"

"Raquel, calm down!"

"No!" She snatched a towel off of a rack and wrapped it around herself. "You fucking cocksucker! I want my money back, and I want you gone!"

Crazy bitch. I was only there for a few minutes and she was already going apeshit. "Look, I'm sorry I never liked you, but it doesn't give you an excuse to be a bitch to me!"

"Yes it does, Chris! You went after every fucking floozy with weird hair. Those scene wanna-be bitches? You ate that shit up. And you never even looked at me, not once!"

"Well, I'm sorry! And come on, did you really wanna end up like everyone else? You wanna fucking die because you like me?"

There was an awkward silence. Then Raquel smiled. That did not sound good. Crazy bitches smiling meant they just got an idea to be even more crazy.

"You're right." She threw her hands up. "You're the problem. I don't want to get attached to it." She left the bathroom and I was instantly scared. 

No point in asking what she was about to do. I left to get my clothes, but before I could even put one foot into my shoe, she came out of her room, armed.

I held up my hands, surrendering. "Raquel. . .don't—"

"Fuck you," she said, aiming the gun at me. "You self-righteous, self-loathing piece of shit. I'm gonna make it so that you never have to put another girl through your bullshit ever again."

She was a terrible shot. Instead of hitting me in the neck or the head or the heart, she shot me in the arm. Fucking hurt like hell, and I instantly blacked out. All I remember was a door opening, because whatever happened next landed me in the hospital. Again.