My Vicious Demise (Demise #2)

  My Vicious Demise

  The Demise Series, Book 2

  By Shana Vanterpool

  My Vicious Demise

  Copyright © 2015 by Shana Vanterpool.

  All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: February 2016

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Limitless Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-510-0

  ISBN-10: 1-68058-510-X

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  For those who are afraid,

  but still strong enough to face their fears.

  For those who haven’t

  quite figured out they’re strong yet.

  And for my mom.

  Always for her. Every single time.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter One

  Becca

  I couldn’t believe my life had come down to this.

  No, that was a lie.

  It wasn’t that significant of a shock for me. My life oftentimes came down to unpleasant moments I had to maneuver and deal with. I shouldn’t be so dramatic. This instance wasn’t much different from other predicaments I’d been in in the past. The future wouldn’t differ either. There was no room in my life to roll around in self-pity.

  My boyfriend Jude—no, let me correct myself, my ex-boyfriend, Jude—slammed the door in my face after he tossed my purse over the apartment railing and my bag to the ground.

  I couldn’t help but laugh. I guess that’s what I get for sleeping with his best friend last night. But it hadn’t been as if I planned to cheat. It happened the way things happen. Too many drinks, a hot body, combined with the nefarious loneliness in my heart I struggled to forget, and you had the perfect recipe for a lapse in judgment and a terrible sense of self-abhorrence. And an orgasm, but those were a dime a dozen in my life. I didn’t require a man to obtain one. I did however prefer one.

  Self-indulgence wasn’t really my thing.

  I preferred to be pleased by people. Give me your attention, look at me, want me—love me. Well, that last want was one of those beautiful never-before-seen ideals we create as human beings. At this point I wasn’t sure love even existed; at least not romantically. I loved one other person on this planet and that was my little sister Raina.

  Thinking her name twisted the knife she implanted in my back the moment she married her, dare I think it, husband.

  I cringed on my way down the stairs with my duffle bag over my shoulder.

  Kent Nicholson stole my sister. He took the only person I ever loved and wrapped her in his disgusting, filthy arms. Never mind that she loved being there. It had been six months since they ran away to Vegas and got married. Raina called me on their way home with the news.

  “Becca?” her soft, sweet voice implored. She was trying to worm her way into my heart with that tone. She knew what she was doing. She had the most insane persuasive personality ever. I could never say no to her and she knew it.

  “What, Rain?” I asked warily, sensing her question was a precursor for something I wouldn’t enjoy.

  I was right.

  “Don’t be mad at me.”

  “What, Rain?” I demanded again, in no mood to be manipulated.

  “I love him,” she whispered. “Please don’t hate me for doing this.”

  My heart started to pound in my chest and my stomach dropped. “What did you do? Raina O’Connor, what did you do?” I shouted, bolting up on the couch in my friend Claire’s living room. Raina and I had been staying there after I managed to get her away from Kent, but like he’d done from the beginning Kent had found a way to steal her.

  “It’s Raina Nicholson now,” her frail voice whispered into my brain.

  My phone fell from my grip as my worst nightmare played itself in my head. A fat swollen Raina, pregnant with Kent’s bastard children, no money, and no job—no future. Just like our mother and father. Her tears, her broken heart, and her life over because of the man she loved, just like our mother. And Kent, handsome and drunk, screaming at her because he was as damaged as we were as children, just like our father.

  I’d never been more upset with my sister than I was right then. I picked up my cell phone. “You married him?”

  “Yes.”

  I was so mad and hurt I didn’t know what to say. I realized I couldn’t stand the idea of seeing her with a ring on her finger at only twenty-one years of age. And a ring Kent Nicholson bought. How did he manipulate her into marrying him? Was she pregnant already?

  “Are you pregnant?” I asked.

  “No! We’re in love.”

  I could have puked. “Come home. We can get it annulled tomorrow.”

  “We’re not coming home right away. We’re going back to Tampa. His parents are throwing us a wedding party. I want you to come. Please, Becca? You’re the only family I have.”

  His parents? I felt like she’d punched through my sternum and tore my heart from my chest. She was already moving on without me. Leaving me alone with our past while she ran from it like she’d always done.

  “Rain,” I moaned, biting back my own tears. I cried rarely. That she was making me do it infuriated me. “Please think about this. You’re so young—”

  “It’s done!” she snapped. “We’re married. You can either sit there and bitch about it or be a part of our life together. Pick, Becca. Because I’m tired of you ruining this for me.”

  “I will never choose to be a part of anything you and Kent do.” My voice was as cold as hers.

  “You’re not picking me?” She gasped. “Becca.”

  “I’ll be here when he leaves you,” I promised, and then I hung up the phone and sat on Claire’s couch for hours as this unrecognizable numbness spread over my entire body.

  It had been exactly six months, two weeks, five days, and twelve hours since I’d spoken to my sister. It was the longest we hadn’t communicated. And if I was being honest with myself, it was the most miserable I had ever been. The amount of alcohol I drank had doubled, the number of men I slept with had multiplied, and that loneliness I spent my life avoiding had grown hungrier. I hadn’t cheated on Jude to be evil. I cheated on Jude because sometimes it was hard not to.

  I stooped down on my haunches and started picking up the items that fell out of my purse when Jude tossed it over the railing.

  “Shit.”

  My cell screen was cracked. It was still on, but it was like talking to a broken window. I shoved it into my purse, along with my keys, wallet, and makeup, and then stood up and glared at Jude’s apartment.

  From where I stood I c
ould identify his silhouette in the window. The man was fine. I’d give him that. He was tall and ripped, with a tattoo over his penis that said Lawless. I blew him a kiss and left his apartment complex, having no idea where I was going, but positive once I left, Jude was as gone as every man before him.

  The only option I had was Max and Claire, my boss and close friend. But Claire was five months pregnant and I didn’t want to intrude on their happiness. It was so damn thick it suffocated me. I already had to deal with it at work. Plus they didn’t need me around to sour this time for them. I tossed my things into the back of my car and sank down in the front seat, leaning against the headrest and staring out at the street. Winter was leaving Jacksonville behind. This morning the sky was a beautiful combination of colors, interrupted with streams of airless white clouds breaking up the swirls of gray and blue. I wanted to take my sketchbook out and draw it, but I didn’t have time. My shift at Second Chances, Max’s bar, started at noon.

  I threw one last glance at Jude’s apartment before I left it behind for good. We were together two months. In the land of dating, two months was barely dipping your feet in the water. In my world that was a significant exchange of time. Or I needed a place to stay. It depended on what kind of mood I was in.

  I met him at Second Chances. One look at him and I’d wanted him right then and there. I had a thing for bad boys and boys I could control. There was no in-between. Either they were bad to the bone or weak to their hearts. I either wanted to be controlled or do the controlling. I’d never met a man that could last in the in-between, someone I wanted to be equals with. I ran my life. There was no way I was letting a man close enough to think he was running mine.

  When I arrived at Second Chances, I pulled beside Max’s black 4X4 in the back and stared at the maroon brick façade of the building. Graffiti traced the bottom where the taggers could reach. Words that meant nothing to me but were expertly cultivated. Gangs with their symbols, bored kids, starving artists—everyone left their mark. Large strokes of black spray paint created an intoxicating backdrop for the overabundance of color. On the top in black and white spray paint was Second Chances, wrapped around a beer bottle and a smoke trail. Max had let me paint it not too long ago. I thought it was his way of taking my mind off of my sister.

  Nothing could take my mind off of Rain.

  She was my life, the sole purpose of my existence. From the moment Mom and Dad came home with her from the hospital and I looked into her brilliant hazel eyes rimmed by her golden lashes, I fell fast and hard. She was my breath, my heart. And Kent Nicholson had stolen her from me, taking my reason to live right along with it.

  The emptiness I felt without her was starting to suck the life out of me. I’d never been on my own the way I was now. We always had each other. Even when I went to college she was a phone call away. Our parents were their own kind of messed up. My father was an addict, my mother addicted to him, and together those two wreaked havoc on both my life and Rain’s. I did my best to protect my sister. Obviously I didn’t do as great a job as I thought.

  She’d ended up with the kind of man I spent my life trying to protect her from.

  My eyes burned from holding back my tears. I missed her prude ass. There was no one to talk to, to laugh with; my purpose was gone.

  To occupy myself, I grabbed my purse and unlocked the back door of the bar. Raul, the assistant manager, was stacking boxes of Corona. I bumped into him and had to hop back.

  “Sorry,” I apologized, stepping over a box.

  “You’re late,” he said, moving the remaining boxes out of my way. “Max is interviewing someone in his office right now, so you got away with it. Try not to let it happen again.”

  I was always honest with myself. The last person I should lie to was me. I knew I was attractive, with long straight black hair and hazel eyes that looked more gold than green. My assets were agreeable and my attitude seemed to attract more people than it put off. Most men had a hard time ignoring me. But Raul wasn’t one of them. He was a hard ass. We had a twisted relationship. I admitted he was sex on a fucking Popsicle stick and he admitted he’d never give me a lick.

  With his dark olive skin and sexy Cuban accent, he was the kind of man I could ride for hours.

  “What are you standing there for? Go put your shit in my office and get to work. We need to stock the beer fridge. Dust the display bottles too and wipe down the bar. The lunch crowd will be coming in soon.” He shook his head at me and resumed sliding the boxes closer to the door.

  I smirked, amused by his attitude. “Raul, when are you going to stop this game and give yourself what you really want?” I leaned against the doorway and spied the flash of muscled back poking out the top of his jeans.

  “And what’s that?” he asked, not looking at me.

  “Me.”

  It was his turn to chuckle. “You’re a baby, cariño. What would I do with you?”

  “You’re thirty-seven, Raul. If you haven’t learned what to do with a woman by now I don’t know what to tell you.”

  “You’re twenty-three. I lost my virginity the same year you were born. Get to work before I let Max know you were late.” He looked over his shoulder at me with dark chocolate eyes. “Now,” he growled when I blew him a kiss.

  My ego wasn’t hurt. She had years of men in her bank, but I’ve always had a thing for a man who was this hot and still told me no. “Fine, Raul. You win. But know this. One of these days you’re going to come looking for me and I’m not going to be this willing to give you a ride.” I slammed the door shut and marched down the hall for his office, Raul instantly forgotten.

  Most men were forgettable the moment we were separated. I’d never had a man on my mind longer than it took for me to think of another.

  In Raul’s office I deposited my purse where I always did—behind his desk away from the others. I’d dealt with enough women in my life to know that for every good one you found, there were five bad ones right next to her. I had little and wasn’t about to risk being ripped off.

  Before I went to the bar I ducked into the bathroom to check myself out. Thankfully I was able to grab a shower at Jagger’s house before I came home to face Jude. Some men were pussies. Jagger couldn’t stand that he’d spent the night with me and texted Jude before I could get home. But he’d stood enough to take me to bed twice. He bought me the drinks. He drove me back to his place and undressed me. But I was the bad guy? I usually was when it came to men, but this time it felt like a joint effort. The minor guilt I felt over the probable ending of their friendship went in and out in the same breath.

  Me and men were like day and night. Our paths only crossed in the twilight when the moon touched the sun before they separated. There was a time and place for men and sex and I was the one who picked it.

  I ran my fingers through my hair and smoothed out the wrinkles on my black tank top, staring at my freshest tattoo. A gold angel wing was being devoured by a black-eyed demon, courtesy of Rain and Kent. Most of my arms were covered in colorful tattoos I’d designed. Second Chances appreciated those with tattoos, but Max wasn’t going to turn someone down because they were afraid of some ink. We had those who wanted to press their noses to the glass to get a glimpse of this life as well.

  What kind of life it was I wasn’t sure, but it was mine, and I understood it better than I understood anything else.

  “You’re late,” Christa, a blonde bombshell badass chick, pointed out when I stepped behind the bar.

  I grinned at her outfit. Black leather vest, tight black skinny jeans, and the words ‘Flying Classy’ tattooed over her double-D tits. “You couldn’t find a smaller shirt?”

  She looked down at her ensemble and shrugged. “Help me stack the beer fridge.”

  I grabbed the box of Budweiser and started filling the fridge, making sure the bottles looked straight and enticing from the other side. The door opened and a group of women came in dressed in business attire.

  A walk on the wild side for
lunch?

  I rose to my feet and smiled cordially at them. “What can I get you, ladies?”

  As I made their cocktails, frilly pink things with cute names, Max slipped behind the bar. He was huge and muscled, with the kindest heart I’d ever met. His bearish appearance suggested the opposite. I’d always gotten a kick out of watching people interact with him for the first time. They expected an ogre, and instead got a teddy bear. In a way he was the older brother Raina and I never had. He looked out for us. I had a soft spot in my heart for him the same way he had for us.

  He bent to kiss my cheek. “Not too much vodka,” he warned, pulling my hand back. “How’re things? I know I haven’t been here much, but moving is a pain in the ass and Claire’s got these insane mood swings.” He smiled, though, completely and utterly in love with his wife.

  “Things are things.” I shrugged, sliding the cocktail to its owner. I grabbed the towel and wiped down the water ring from the glass. “Would it be too difficult for you to give me more hours?”

  He stooped down to check the beer fridge. “Why do you need more hours?”

  “Jude kicked me out of his apartment this morning. I’ll have to figure out where to live.”

  “We have an extra bedroom in the new house,” he reminded me, aligning the bottles I missed. “Why don’t you come and stay with us? Claire would love the company.”

  I scrunched up my nose and turned away. “Claire and I aren’t on the same page anymore. I want to get shitfaced every night and she wants to pick out baby names.”

  “I have a feeling we’re going to wait until the last minute to pick a name.”

  “What’s up with Clax?”

  He chuckled deeply as he rose to his feet. “Maxaire was the worst. I’m leaning more towards a name that won’t get them picked on.”

  “Rebecca’s always a good name,” I hinted, although I hardly ever went by my full name. Becca worked fine for me.