Rewired (The Progress Series) (6 page)

She shook her head. “I don’t know why we thought this would work—you and me. It never has before,” she said solemnly. “And trust? We can obviously throw that the fuck out the window! How am I supposed to get close to you when all you do is shout at me? You really need to get a better grip on your temper; otherwise this is all going to fall apart,” she continued, as though this speech were planned. “And yes, I will go running back to
Sam
if you don’t start treating me with some respect.”

The name sliced through Jesse’s ears as he pursed his lips together and the tendons in his neck bulged.
Wait a minute.
Stop.
She’s testing you. Calm yourself down. She’s trying to get a rise out of you. Show her you have control over it.

He took a deep breath before he spoke. “You’re going to throw that in my face every time? That you have the perfect little man waiting for you, and all I need to do is screw up
once
and I lose you?”

Her face flushed in agitation, as though her plan had failed. “What about when I gain the weight back? What are you going to do with me then?” she asked suddenly.

His mouth slung open and his emotions flung forward, leaving him unable to censor himself. “What? Now you’re just looking for reasons to leave!” he said in disbelief.
Where did that come from?

“At least I wouldn’t have to worry about Sam leaving me for the next skinny piece of ass that comes along.” Her eyes narrowed, waiting for Jesse’s response.

“What the fuck are you doing, Charlie? Are you trying to piss me off? Mission accomplished. I mean, what are you trying to get me to say?” he yelled.

“Are you still pissed off?”

“Yes!” he bellowed from his chest.

“Wanna hit me?”

“Yes!”

Her eyes widened. “Do it. Hit me.”

With his nostrils flaring and his blood boiling, he attempted to collect himself. He tried to think of anything that would cease the rage.

“You should. Just start beating me, you crazy fuck,” she snapped.

His jaw tensed as his crazed eyes narrowed. “You want me to admit that you’re the only one for me? Because I don’t have the luxury of choice here! You are
all
that I have!”

Satisfied with his admission, Charlie nodded. She stared through him with a smug grin. “So now that you have me, how are you going to keep me?”

Shaking his head and setting his jaw, he looked at everything in the room
except
Charlie. “Fuck this,” he said flatly, and dropped her phone on the floor. “I’m going out for a drink.
Don’t
be here when I get back.” And with that, he slammed the door.

*

Charlie definitely stirred something in Jesse that evening. He felt the adrenaline coursing its way through every nerve ending, every appendage, and every hair follicle. His stomach twisted and his mind emptied. A sensation took over his body, sucking all the thoughts from his mind, causing him to focus only on his desire for sex, anger, drugs, and anything that could require violence—the kind of fight that would leave his victim in agony.

On his drive, phrases would pop into his head and quickly vanish as the erratic high his body was experiencing ripped them into the back of his mind where they couldn’t be retrieved.

I’ll find someone to fuck tonight.

That thought, now gone.

I’m going to fucking kill Sam…

His fists gripped the steering wheel and that thought slipped.

I’ll find the biggest fucker I can and wrap my hands around his neck…

He lit a cigarette in the car while his knee bounced.

I bought a fucking chicken.

He turned a corner to see a neon Miller Lite board and a flashing red
Open
sign. Conveniently, a parking space in front was just opening up.

I’ll find someone in here and thrash his head against the concrete floor… How could I have been so stupid to think she’d be over him?

Hopping out of the car, he bounced his way into the bar. He slapped open the door as loud music pierced the sidewalk outside. His jaw constricted as he surveyed the room. Thoughts were still floating in and out, and the adrenaline was now showing immense physical side effects, causing his limbs to shake.

He loved every second. The elation of hypo-mania was a nice place to visit. He welcomed it, as he hadn’t seen this old friend for many months. It’s the kind of high that people pay good money for, and he wasn’t about to let it go to waste.

All of his senses were on high alert: colors were more vivid; a slight breeze felt like a wind storm; his nose filled with the scent of whiskey, beer, perfume, cologne, greasy food, and remnants of stale cigarette smoke from when the bar once allowed it; and the old piece of gum he had been chewing now stung his tongue with peppermint, as if he had just popped the piece into his mouth.

What was a dark room suddenly illuminated with the dilation of his pupils. A few quick blinks were all it took for his eyes to adjust and see everything: the bartender, the six patrons, and one waitress. Standing near the entrance, he identified a slight change of pattern in the wooden floor boards across the room, three bottles on the shelf behind the bar on which the labels weren’t facing outward, the waitress stuffing a five-dollar bill in her apron, two flies mating on the cheap plastic of a dim overhead light, and a drug deal taking place at the small table in the back.

From the unlaced shoe of the drug dealer to the cleft chin of the waitress and the fan in the corner blowing streamers into the warm room, he saw it all at once.

His senses flooded like the rumblings of a nonstop freight train—sight, smell, taste, touch, sound.

Smiling with his head back, he closed his eyes—delighting in the euphoric symphony his mind was conducting for his body—and stretched his trembling arms out to his sides.

It would take less than a minute for it all to erupt. His hypo-mania was now becoming an extreme manic episode.

Like watching a scene in fast forward, his emotions switched from pure joy to devastation within seconds. From unity to disparity, from gain to loss, from freedom to suffocation. Small movements suddenly became threats, laughter became his ridicule, and the first person to look at him would become his target. It was all he could do to breathe it in and let the rush run its course.

Blocking the exit for one very unfortunate customer, Jesse stood brooding over him and waited. Waited for a word. A look. Anything.

And he got it.

“Excuse me, sir.” A man almost half the size of Jesse tried to step around him.

That was all it took. It was nothing in the man’s tone or demeanor. It wasn’t because he acted strange or said something wrong; he was just the unlucky bastard who got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

In what now felt like slow-motion, Jesse turned his head to survey any witnesses before pulling his arm back, winding up for his attack. His head snapped back toward the stranger, whose jaw ricocheted from Jesse’s fist. Hearing the crack of the patron’s jaw and watching the saliva spray from the man’s mouth, Jesse felt his arms bulge at his sides as his posture straightened. Letting out a relaxed sigh, he smiled as the man fell instantly to the floor.

No one had heard any commotion over the music, and the scene hadn’t drawn any attention yet, so Jesse’s knee stretched back, supplying his foot with the momentum it needed to snap forward, punting the unconscious man on the ground twice. Jess snatched the man up by his shirt and brought his dangling head closer. It wasn’t until Jess felt a stinging sensation on his lip that he realized someone had finally intervened.

It wasn’t a bouncer, the bartender, or the tiny waitress. It was another customer, coming to the innocent man’s rescue. “What the fuck are you doing?” the customer
yelled, crouching down beside the wasted man on the floor. Looking back up toward the bartender, he shouted, “Joe! Call the police!”

Wiping the blood from his lip, Jesse’s head twisted back, meeting the glare of the bartender, who already had a cell phone to his ear.

Fuck.

Sobering from his natural high, Jesse ran out the door and quickly got into his car. He was driving down the street before he realized that he had even put the key in the ignition.

When he had left his apartment an hour earlier, a carnival had been delighting his senses: The loud music had been horseplay and fed his ears like cotton candy—sweet, uninvited, and boisterous. Constant movement had danced around him as colors and lights pierced his delicate and oversensitive eyes. But just an hour later, on his drive back to the apartment, he felt like a hangover had already begun. His head ached and his stomach turned.

Watching for the police on the freeway, six miles away from his apartment, Jesse caught a glimpse of his swollen lip in the rearview mirror. He wiped his teeth and licked his lip with his tongue, tasting the metallic bitterness of his own blood as he felt the waning rush of adrenaline pace itself.

Distracted by the mirror’s reflection and the thoughts of Charlie creeping back into his head, he didn’t notice as the line in the center of the road disappeared. He was now driving on the shoulder of the highway. Jerking the wheel too far to the left to find his lane, he found himself spinning backward, then forward, at sixty miles per hour.

When his vehicle finally came to a stop, it was in the weedy and overgrown median, facing the opposite direction, deep inside the ditch. There was no way he’d get it back onto the freeway.

He let out another exaggerated sigh with his neck against the headrest. Scratching his forehead, he unbuckled his seatbelt, fished out the receipt from his pocket, and dialed Charlie’s number.

After slamming the front door, Charlie stood, lightly shaking her keys in her hand. With her frustration at its peak, she seethed, unable to control the twitch from the corner of her mouth.

Silence.

Don’t do it, Charlie. Not tonight. I’m in no mood for a lecture.

“You’re a FUCKING coward!” she shouted.

Shit.

She threw her purse across the room, its contents splashing against the wall and bouncing to the floor. Jesse remained with his hands in his pockets and his body motionless, with the exception of a small eye twitch.

Her tone fierce, she continued, “You fight. You fuck. You run. And you’re
gonna
fucking drown! Welcome to rock-fucking-bottom, Jess.”

“Oh wake up, Charlie! Take a good fucking look!” he shouted, pointing to his face. “This has always been and
will always be
rock bottom. It doesn’t get much more desperate than this.”

“Then why don’t you do something about it! Be a
man
for once in your life, and take responsibility for who you are and who you’ll become. What the hell are you waiting for? You think this is going to get any easier?” she continued screaming, emptying her lungs. She took a deep breath before continuing, “Goddamn it! You’re infuriat—”

Grabbing her arm and jerking her forward, he stopped her just as she was about to crash into his chest. His mouth, now devouring hers, removed the fury, the tension, and the rampage. Their lips were engaged in a fiery entanglement and Jesse began tasting the blood from the cut on his lip again. But it wasn’t enough to stop him.

Nothing would be enough to stop him now.

And Charlie showed no hesitation. Her fingers fumbled with the button on his jeans as Jesse ripped her cotton shirt from her back. Taking a moment to absorb the sensation, he allowed his fingers to glide down the length of her back, knowing that the feel of her smooth skin wouldn’t deceive him. His hands found her breasts, and as the white lace of her bra caught his eye, his intoxication with her flared.

I don’t care that none of this makes sense. I’m not going to stop this to ask her why she’s doing this.

I need her.

He lifted her up by her backside as she spread her legs, locking her ankles around him; he then carried her to the kitchen island. Slamming against it, she arched her back for him to set her down.

He pulled himself out of his jeans and boxers and stripped Charlie of the rest of her clothes. With one swipe of his hand, the roll of paper towels, vase full of daisies, and the perfectly arranged dishes went crashing to the floor behind her. He lay her down gently and spread her legs wider.

“I want to taste you,” he whispered.

His tongue, teasing her most sensitive area, began a devoted dance. He slipped two fingers deep inside of her with his lips whispering a secret meant only for Charlie. She wailed in sweet desperation.

He let out a guttural groan, a reflex of wanting her to hear his desire for her. Her insides flexed around his fingers and he was unable to control his craving any longer.

Grabbing her calves, he slid her toward him. The countertop at a perfect height, he slipped himself inside, reveling in her immediate constriction. She gasped with her eyelids shut tight. After a few seconds, her entire body relaxed as Jesse ran his finger up the side of her leg.