Homeless Heart Read online

  She sat down, suddenly feeling exhausted. She’d find Steve tomorrow and thank him for the sandwich. Despite the darkness, a thicker gloom seemed to slowly drip over her. Seeing and talking to people like him just made her circumstances all the more ugly.

  * * * *

  A female was the last person he expected to come to his aid. Not that he was a chauvinist. Drake wasn’t even sure where she’d come from, not seeing her approach clearly. He shook his head. Did she work there? What was that place? Aside from her clothes being a bit dirty, he really didn’t have much to go on.

  She seemed too intuitive to be a vagrant, though he knew they were around. Maybe she worked the night shift, security or something at wherever the hell he just was. Why am I even thinking about this? Was it because there was a certain kind of attractiveness about her?

  Though her hair was up, the strands were a dark gold, looking like brandy, unless the lighting had fooled him. Her eyes were big, expressive, and maybe green. Who knows? Through the dark shadows he’d gotten a look at her body. She had a nice stature, petite but not skinny. She had nice, sensual curves that belonged on a woman. She had everything she should and nothing she shouldn’t, except money maybe—not that he gave a shit about that. It appeared that his economic status had forced him into a circle that disgusted him.

  Surely Nina had given up on him and gone home, home to a daddy who never let her sleep over. “I’m gonna hear a rash of shit for this one,” Drake muttered. It’d been a brutal day, in and out of meetings all day. He found himself hoping that Nina had gone home. Some nights he just didn’t have the stamina for her.

  As Drake drove through Cypress Hill, his mind wandered. He never went through Marshall’s Creek on his way home. Why tonight? If he’d taken the interstate, he may have been in worse trouble.

  Marshall’s Creek and Cypress Hill was where the definite division of the classes was separated. The line was bold enough for anyone to see. Drake tried not to think like that, but being raised by the type of people his parents were made it difficult. He often questioned where he came from. His parents irritated him as much as his associates did.

  Drake checked his phone that he’d plugged into the car charger. It was still dead. Drake disconnected the cord. He added the purchase of another phone to his list of things to do.

  He slowly pulled into the gated community of Berkley Ridge. Drake felt an exhausted breath huff out of his mouth at the sight of Nina’s silver BMW parked at the curb. He looked down at the dash. The numbers glowed: almost nine. He reached above and pressed the electronic opener to the garage door. Drake eased the car in, pressing the button again. Darkness enveloped him as the door descended.

  Leaving his briefcase in the back seat, he ambled inside, feeling tired but edgy. When Nina opened the door wearing a red negligée, Drake knew the night wasn’t over.

  Chapter Four

  “What happened, baby?” Nina’s face pinched with what Drake saw as a glower of suspicion.

  “Car trouble,” Drake said, leaning into her cheek, giving her a quick kiss.

  “Well, it looks like you could use a drink.” She smiled, handing him his scotch. Drake took the glass and raised it to his lips. The tension that was already wrapping around him with a deadly suffocation had Drake tipping the entire contents of the glass back. The liquor scorched down his throat, numbing him.

  “That bad?” Nina asked, leaning a hip into the edge of the sofa. Drake slipped out of his jacket and laid it over the arm. It slid against the polished leather, pooling on the cushion.

  “Just a lot of bullshit today, that’s all.” Drake downplayed it all, needing her animated cooing to stop. Her dark nipples looked like small raisins that wanted to sprout through the rosy-colored lace.

  “Well, I’m a bit itchy.” Nina giggled. Bourbon vanished between her vibrantly painted, red lips. Drake knew what that meant. After almost two years of a draining relationship, Drake knew Nina wanted to fuck.

  “Can I shower first?” Drake asked, loosening his tie.

  “I’ll be waiting.” Nina crooked a brow.

  * * * *

  Drake toweled off, mustering up the energy for Nina. Beneath all of her good looks, fat wallet, and well-practiced social charm, Nina Verance loved to fuck. If her rich daddy knew all the kinkiness she was into, he’d suffer a coronary.

  Once the steam cleared after Drake opened the bathroom door, Nina came into focus. She was naked, sitting in his favorite upholstered chair. Her legs were spread wide, draped over the curved mahogany arms. She no doubt could make his cock stir and stand at attention. It was the emotions that were lacking in their relationship. Her slender fingers combed through the bare lips of her pussy, which she kept waxed diligently. Her brown eyes blazed, her nostrils flaring with a hunger Drake could never seem to feed.

  Nina was the epitome of wealth, prestige, and getting what she wanted. The only problem was she was never satisfied. She had an appetite that was overwhelming. Nina claimed that he met her needs. Unfortunately, she didn’t savor the results for long. Once her demands were met, she always wanted more, rushing on to the next item on her agenda.

  That’s what Drake often felt like, an item on Nina’s list. He swore their marriage was arranged by the time they were seventeen. His parents and hers had been tight when they were younger. Their fathers shared the same brokers, their mothers played tennis at the same country club, shared the same hairdresser. The pricy engagement ring he’d purchased from Tiffany’s with her endless hinting still lay buried in his dresser drawer. It taunted him every morning when he reached in for a pair of socks.

  Drake felt his dick begin to throb. Nina was attractive, but she was a polished beauty, needing many products and accoutrements to achieve her stunning looks. It was a miracle that she didn’t sleep with her makeup on. Opening the door to retrieve a newspaper off her doormat without primping first was asking a lot. Her childlike whine filled the quiet room.

  “Come on, Drake…I need for you to lick me,” she said, her teeth catching her lip. Strands of chocolate-brown hair slithered over her shoulders, holding a slightly reddish tint from the low lighting. Nina massaged her small, pert breast with one hand while she fingered her clit with the other. Her hips tipped toward him, wanting his mouth. “That cock looks delicious,” she whispered. “Come fuck my brains out but lick my pussy first, please,” she voiced huskily.

  Drake lowered to his knees. Her intimate tissues spread open before him. Her pussy gleamed with an arousal she had provoked. Nina jammed a finger up inside herself. Her head flung back. Her breasts lifted as she gasped for breath. “Come on…lick it,” she begged.

  Drake crawled closer. Her body writhed in the chair. She was a bit too thin for him. Drake liked having something to hold onto, a palm full of soft, pillowed flesh. Nina was slender and wiry, always insisting that a waif figure was sexy and very “in.” Nina’s body felt warm to the touch, but inside Drake knew she was as cold as ice.

  Her tangy, spiced scent settled in his nose. Some days she smelled good, others she didn’t. She was as unpredictable as her uppity opinions, which tended to shift along with everyone else’s. He didn’t dare tell her that he thought her scent matched her superficial temperament.

  Nina rested the balls of her feet on his shoulders, spreading herself wider in anticipation. Drake touched her with his tongue.

  “Suck my clit, Drake,” she ordered, thrusting her hips at him. Drake lashed his tongue out at her. Nina released a howl. “Yes! That’s it,” she gasped. Drake peeked through his lowered lashes, seeing her teeth clench, her breaths hissing. He assaulted her pussy, knowing how she liked it. Her finger was still pushing in and out of her drenched slit. Drake pulled back and stood. He grabbed her shoulders, yanking her from the chair. She liked it this way—fast, hard, and expressionless. The problem was he found himself getting angry with her, tired of her sexual antics.

  Nina spun around and bent over the chair, spreading her legs as if being searched by a lawman. He
r sharp voice tore through the silence.

  “Fuck me hard, slam it into me,” Nina said, her voice rough. Drake smoothed his hand up and over her spine, wanting to coddle and soothe, but Nina would have none of that. Bones poked at the thin surface of her flesh. He shut his eyes and dove into her. “Yeah, fuck, Drake…”

  “That’s what I’m doing,” Drake told her, laughing.

  “I love it when you fuck me deep and hard, so hard it hurts,” she said, her words cold and stiff between a tight jaw.

  Drake rammed his cock into her. He didn’t need to go to the gym. Nina was his workout. Their flesh slapped together. The chair skipped over the carpet below them. Nina arched, lifting her ass higher, needing him as deep as Drake could go. Sweat beaded on his brow. His balls filled. Getting lost in it for a few minutes seemed to work. His dick was as hard as an iron claw.

  It was difficult to not make fun of her. Whenever they engaged in this rough play, it was all about her. During these escapades, the only visuals that came to mind were Nina at the club, holding her drink and tilting her head while conversing with the other stuffed shirts.

  It was all a façade, so phony. Behind closed doors this woman had the sexual characteristics of a truck driver. Drake didn’t mind this conduct once in a while, but what happened to the deep, emotional bonding experience of sex? Why couldn’t they just slow it down and gaze into each other’s eyes as their bodies moved and swayed? It’s because it isn’t there, and never will be. His shrink had told him that the sexual behavior that Nina exhibited meant that her parents had never modeled their own affection and that Nina didn’t know any better.

  Drake had tried to teach her, coach her into slowing it all down and allowing themselves to really connect and feel, but Nina wanted no part of that. Drake often asked himself where that left him.

  Chapter Five

  “Sounds like you had an interesting evening,” Steve said, handing Kelly a large, steaming coffee. Kelly peeled back the plastic tab, savoring the strong, nutty brew.

  “It was weird, sort of scary,” Kelly told him. “I wasn’t sure if I should go out and lend him a hand, you know.” She eyed him over the lid of her Styrofoam cup. It was 3 a.m. She’d gotten more sleep and was glad Steve had dropped by to visit before Sam arrived to open up.

  She glanced across the small fire pit, the flames flickering against Steve’s face. He was rummaging in his jacket pocket. He pulled out what looked to be baked goods wrapped in plastic wrap. Steve laid it in his lap and carefully opened the decadent-looking snack. Any type of confection was a hot commodity on the streets.

  Steve was a small man, petite and thin. He’d confessed to her that at one time he’d been in better shape, with more strength and a muscular build in what he referred to as his “pre-heroin life.” Steve had blond hair that fell over his brows and ears with the most amazing blue eyes Kelly had ever looked into, the shade of a pastel-colored stick of chalk, the type she used to play with when she was a little girl, often drawing hopscotch boxes on the asphalt in the schoolyard. Steve’s soft-spoken voice edged through her thoughts.

  “Have a few cookies. The food bank never showed up tonight at ShopRite. You should’ve seen the stuff they threw out,” he said, shaking his head in disgust. “Come to think of it, maybe we should go back before first light. I know there’s stuff there you’d like.” Steve munched between his words. “You wanna go check it out?” Steve asked, shoving another cookie into his mouth. “You should stock up. They’re calling for rain in the next few days.” He nodded knowingly. Kelly laughed. Steve always had the latest news. How he obtained all this information, she didn’t know. He told her he was the world’s best eavesdropper. Working in the salon business had taught him well.

  “Yeah, let me clean up this place before we leave,” Kelly told him.

  “We’ve got time.” Steve stood and pulled out a tarnished pocket watch, lifting the cover open.

  “I’m already on Sam’s shit list,” Kelly said, stifling her laughter when Sam’s irate expression bled through her thoughts. She stood and kicked dirt over the small fire while Steve rolled up her bed and started untying the tarp. After stuffing her tarp and bedroll into a hole she’d dug, Kelly arranged the stacks of wood over top before she and Steve set off into the last two hours of night.

  * * * *

  They walked down the railroad tracks. The last glow of the moon bathed the rails with a gleaming light. The night air held the damp promise of rain. They both tried to stay off the streets as much as possible after dark. It was a safety rule Kelly followed more than Steve. The rails ran right behind all the “hot spots,” as Steve had taught her.

  They stopped right behind the ShopRite, seeing the eighteen-wheelers backed in at their loading decks. Kelly squinted into the painful fluorescent lights. Her gaze darted to a pile of boxes that appeared damaged. There were bottles of shampoo and body wash. God, what I would give to take a hot bubble bath. Nearby were a few more open parcels of canned goods. Steve’s hand landed on her upper arm.

  “Glad we came back,” he whispered, grinning. “You go for the HABA stuff, I’ll get the cans,” he said quietly. He tilted his head in the direction where their treasures lay. Kelly chuckled. HABA items stood for health and beauty aids. She had most of the “Steve jargon” down now. In the beginning it’d often been a riddle.

  “Okay,” Kelly said, waving Steve ahead. “You lead.” Steve usually did lead. He was much more experienced at this than she.

  They scrambled down the rutty embankment, stopping at the clearing. Voices parroted through the darkness. When they saw several night workers retreat back into the store, they bolted to the boxes and quickly grabbed all they could.

  Kelly shoved bottles of shampoo and two large bottles of body wash inside her jacket. Steve worked fast, his hand tossing cans into her backpack, which thankfully he asked her if they could take along with them on their jaunt. The scuffling of feet resounded from the loading bay above. Steve grabbed her arm. Shadows lined his concerned face as he motioned her back toward the railroad tracks.

  They ran across the parking lot and up the hill, their breaths heaving. Once up on the tracks, they sat on the rails. When their jagged breaths slowed, Steve spoke.

  “You’re getting good at this, Kel.” His tone was hoarse as he stifled a cough.

  “I have a good teacher.” She smiled, unloading her jacket of the extra weight.

  They sorted the items on the ground. Steve repacked her backpack and slung it over his shoulder. His head tipped to the sky, the first steaks of dawn breaking through.

  “We better head back,” he told her, helping her up.

  Chapter Six

  “I’m going to need you to fly out to Chicago,” Drake informed Keith.

  “Not an issue. When?” Keith slid the file into his briefcase.

  “I’d like you to go tomorrow,” Drake told him, tipping back in his chair. “I’ve got charity stuff I’ve got to deal with tonight with Nina.” Drake felt his lips twist into a scowl. Nina needed him to go to some dinner event. It was just another showcase for another one of her theatrical performances.

  “Consider it done,” Keith told him, slipping out of his office.

  Being owner and founder of Larson Strategies, a management consultant firm, made it easy for Drake to delegate. He used to travel, but Nina now kept him on a short leash, with a collar that was getting tighter and tighter. Keith was his confidant, as well as his most favored employee. Keith loved the travel and fat expense account Drake offered. Drake could trust him with any mission and know the turn-out would be successful.

  Drake spun around in his chair and stood. He gazed down into the streets of Cypress Hill. The world moved below him. He’d created a monopoly, and at a young age. There were no other companies in the area quite like his. Larson Strategies was the only game in town that aided surrounding businesses and small companies across the country on how to operate with the highest efficiency, training the small guys on how to do more
while spending less and reaping the highest rewards.

  Nina’s father, James Verance, was always reminding him of just that, as well as hinting for a wedding date that would keep both Nina and her mother appeased.

  Money wasn’t the problem. His parents had schooled him well. He had everything he could want: a luxury condo, a house in Blue Mountain that was, of course, miles from the ski resort that Nina’s parents owned. It was something else that was missing.

  The first four months he and Nina were together, he felt it, that burning ache and butterflied stomach that one associated with love, but it was Nina’s icy ways of reciprocating that’d left Drake cold and starved.

  He’d been on ice for almost two years now. At thirty-four he wasn’t getting any younger. First he’d thought it was just Nina’s immaturity, their ages nine years apart, but what Drake saw and felt was inbred and inside of her for life.

  Drake had been seduced—seduced by Nina’s parents’ charm and praise. It was her father’s sense of making him feel that he belonged to something bigger. Only that “something” was a selfish greed and a sense of entitlement, an attitude that everyone in their social circle was above all other human beings. That wasn’t what Drake was about. They were sucking his identity right out of him, like aspirating marrow out of his bone.

  It’d happened quickly. He’d been swept off his feet by it all, but these last few months, Drake had landed hard. He wanted out, and he knew it. When he tried to admit it out loud to himself in front of the mirror most mornings, the route of escape looked too overwhelming.

  They’d mixed no monies. Nina had her fat accounts and so did he. The condo and house were his and his alone. She’d suggested that he sell the rustic A-frame house in Blue Mountain so they could buy some larger monstrosity, but Drake had stood his ground. Thank God.