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No matter how hard one tries, they can never outrun love




Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


Chapter One

       Peaceful waves of silence, soft murmurings of a simple life, a simple life that Olivia Morgan, or Livvy, as she was known to her small cadre of friends, longed for but could never seem to grasp. Silence would be a great precursor to the night, giving the nerves time to settle, allowing a sliver of clarity before the descent into depravity and debauchery.  Yes, silence would temper the questions of morality, expose the doubts and fears, and possibly provide an out from the constant grind of the cycle of life. Yet as much as Livvy prayed for, it never came. If it wasn’t the muffled sounds of the bass booming from a passing car on the street at any given hour, or the tinny sounds of the irritating cartoons drifting in from the living room, it was the rhythmic thumping of what she assumed was a headboard catching contact on the wall mingling with the moans of ecstasy that wafted from the apartment above her. Moans, by the way, she had to explain to her nine year old son one too many times.

Mama, are they wrestling up there or something?

Why yes son, they are. But it’s a special type of wrestling.

 Yeah, what she wouldn’t give to be on a farm somewhere surrounded by nothing but the soothing serenity of nature.

 Who was she kidding- one day on a farm and she’d go insane with boredom and probably kill someone.

          Livvy exhaled heavily as she stared at herself in the mirror, her hand poised just above her cheek, readying to apply the mascara. This life of hers was hard but it was what she knew, what she could manipulate. And she’d become a professional at that manipulation, showing the world the face of a determined, strong woman when underneath that façade, she was vulnerable, exposed, the visceral wounds of her past eating her alive by the second.  She’d perfected the art of hiding in plain sight simply because she had no choice in the matter. Every decision she made predicated on their survival and she wasn’t taking any chances. Especially since she knew she had the goods to make it work and she worked it to precision.

   It had taken a total of two hours to achieve the expected perfection and she wasn’t nearly finished. Her hair was artistically swept to the side, the springing honeyed curls falling over her right shoulder like a golden waterfall, highlighting the length of her delicate neck. She was appropriately shaved and scented, her gear lying on the bed behind her, the sparkling of the rhinestone encrusted chain halter top bra with matching panties standing as a glaring reminder of what tonight was all about. She was to be the entertainment, the star attraction of an exclusive party and she had to dress the part. Usually, her evenings amounted to a few costumes running along the lines of naughty nurses and decadent school girls but tonight was different- a whole new stratosphere of different. And as such, she had to step to the plate and bring her game with her.

 Slacking off was unacceptable.

As if reminded of this fact, Livvy refocused and lifted her hand, the delicate upsweep of the bristled brush, steady despite the knot of nerves that were growing in her stomach. Staring at her reflection, she saw the remnants of dreams and memories within her piercing green eyes. Memories of potential , of love, of a place in this world that didn’t have shit to do with how  fast she shook her ass and how long she could hold herself up on the pole. All too quickly, those hazy images clouded her sparkling bejeweled orbs and she averted her eyes, allowing the rage to inch just that much closer to the surface. She didn’t like that she had to take shit at work every day because the men in the office couldn’t keep their leering eyes and roving hands to themselves and she for damn sure hated that she had to dress up just to strip it all off at night under some misconception that her beauty made her desirable. She hated that she had to resort to exotic dancing just to make ends meet. More than anything, she hated that she had to lie to her son, to face him knowing that every word spoken after seven o’clock was filled with deceit.

 Livvy wasn’t fooled; she wasn’t beautiful nor desirable, only a byproduct of shitty decisions and an even shitter outcome. Yet, she wasn’t discouraged enough to stop dancing or to stop taking the bullshit at work every day. She had to survive, to provide for her son and she was going to do so by any means necessary.

Still the same, she couldn’t quite lift her eyes to face the woman in the mirror with any sense of pride. Determination fueled her at the moment and it was all she had to go on. And so, she made quick work of her make up job and stood swiftly, turned toward the closet to retrieve her dress for the night. Her mind was a flurry of thoughts, the prevalent one being that she was ready to get this night started. The quicker she got out the door, the quicker she could return and forget, if only for a couple hours, how truly fucked up her life was.

A soft knock pulled her out of her depreciating thoughts and she grinned as she pulled her blue silk robe tighter, cinching the belt around her waist. Her heart pounded against her chest as she glanced at the bed, remembering at the last moment that the gleaming set was exposed and she absently tossed a towel over it.  Her Damien knew nothing of what his mother did for a living, what kind of sacrifices she’d made for him and if she had anything to do with it, he wouldn’t.  Livvy would never saddle him with that kind of burden, shattering his wondrous innocence prematurely.

He knocked again, its soft pounding conveying a hint of annoyance, “Mama, open the door. I got a question.”

Livvy took a deep breath and calmed her nerves and opened the door. Before she could get one word out, he exploded into the room, heading directly for the bed. Livvy followed and reached out for him, gently grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the safety of the vanity. She didn’t have time or the patience to explain the necessity for rhinestone underwear.

Settling him on her lap, she   turned him inward, her gaze tracing a path from his wildly curly, dark brown hair to his refined nose and his luminous hazel eyes that held more than its share of curiosity. His perfectly shaped lips were turned upward in a brilliant smile, as she tickled him gently, a slip of laughter echoing through the room. He twisted and turned in her grasp and finally, he begged on a whisper of a breath for her to stop, his laughter segueing into a faint whine.

Livvy stopped tickling him and brought him close, running her hand through his soft curls to calm him. After a second, she then pulled him away slowly and cupped his face between her palms, staring once again into the eyes that haunted her for nine years. He was the splitting image of his father in every way even down to his mannerisms but she didn’t linger on that thought. She could ill afford to let her emotions reign over logic. Logic kept food on the table, clothes on their backs, and a roof over their head. Her heart and its sorry existence had done nothing more than expose her to the harsh realities of life under the guise of love. Love existed on one plane only and it had nothing to do with a man.

 Not for her.

Not anymore.

Caressing Damien’s face, she asked quietly, “Alright, so you’re in, little man.  What’s your question?”

Damien bit his lip and inhaled, letting it out slowly, “Mama, why do you have to go out tonight? I thought we were going to watch our shows. You promised.”

Livvy’s brow narrowed as she glanced away briefly, feeling the darkness erupting from the pit of her stomach. Tonight’s event hadn’t been scheduled but it was a priority and as such, she had to make an appearance.  As she ran her fingers through his hair, she sighed and shook her head, “I forgot to tell you that I had a date tonight, lil’ man. It just totally slipped my mind.”

“Why can’t you bring your date here? We can eat, watch our shows together,” Damien asked petulantly. He cast his eyes downward and poked his lip out for good measure, the action sinking the dagger further into Livvy’s heart. A second passed between them before his breath hitched and he sniffled, “You promised we’d watch our shows, Mama.”

 Damien’s sorrowful plea washed over Livvy, her body stiffening at the thought of having to break his little heart again. If she had a choice, she’d throw on a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt, lock the doors, turn out the lights and plop down in front of the television with a bowl of popcorn between them. If she had a choice, she’d forget tonight’s event, her job at the club, even that shitty temp position and just hang out with her son, nurturing his delicate sensibilities, watching him grow into a man of worth.  If she had her choice, she’d have an effortless life, no strife, no broken hearts or broken homes. If she had her choice, she wouldn’t be at the end of her rope with nowhere to go.

 Tonight was going to reap bountiful rewards and as she stared at her beautiful son, she ticked off the bills that would be paid one by one.

She had no choice in the matter but it didn’t make it easier to explain to Damien why Mama couldn’t sit and watch their favorite shows. And she felt like a piece of shit for it all.

Her cell phone rang, shattering the moment and Livvy took Damien’s face between her palms once more, lifting it slightly so that she could see his eyes. Instead of the dazzling warmth they always held, they were dull, uninterested. It was as if he knew that the next words coming out of her mouth would be lies.

“Baby, we’ll watch our shows tomorrow, I promise,” Livvy said with a wistful smile. She exhaled and brought him closer, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing tightly, “I know I go out a lot but I wouldn’t do it if it weren’t important, Damien.”

“I don’t want a Daddy if you have to go out to get him, Mama. I want you!” Damien shouted suddenly. He struggled against Livvy, pushing his little body away from her, his voice growing, “I hate this, Mama! I hate going to Ms. Wells’ place. I hate that you’re never here!”

“Damien!”

Damien gave one final push and ran for the door, “I hate you, Mama for missing our shows!”

“Damien!” Livvy exclaimed wearily as he retreated. His little feet pounded angrily on the hardwood floors, each step feeling like a slap in her face. It wasn’t long before she heard him slam his door and in its wake, blessed silence. Livvy sunk down on her bed, staring at her opened door, wondering just how much more she could ruin her son’s life. Despite her determination to keep the grim realities away from his ever impressionable eyes, she was failing miserably. When he needed her the most, she was grinding her body against a pole, working her ass off just to become some stranger’s fantasy wrought into reality.

A familiar ring tone shattered the silence and she moved quickly, reaching for the cell on her night stand and then crossing the room to close her door.  Empty, that’s what she felt but it didn’t change the fact that she was going to have to go out there and make that money.

Livvy stared at the screensaver on her phone, Damien’s perfect smile staring back at her sending a jolt of disappointment through her. No matter how much she tried, she always fell short, just like her father prophesied.  That fucker ,with his sick perversions, drilled her failures deep into her psyche,  so deep that she began to accept what he was doing to her both mentally and physically.  Damien deserved better but she deserved exactly what she was getting.

And that was a boat load of nothing.

Shaking herself, she slipped her finger across the screen and answered, “I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.” She didn’t wait for a response as she hung up and then tossed the phone down on the bed. A minute passed, then two and she seriously considered  calling her boss back and cancelling but she thought of the thousands of ways that would fuck up what she had going.

“Fuck,” she exclaimed breathlessly as she stood and snatched the towel away from the bed in one seamless action, revealing the shimmering stones that would garner wealth of tips. She shoved on the undergarments as her eyes welled with tears she wouldn’t dare let fall. She couldn’t show weakness, not in this moment, not ever.

Besides, she didn’t have time to reapply her make up.

Twenty minutes later, she was at Ms. Geraldine Wells’ apartment with a very silent, angry nine year old in tow. He hadn’t said two words to her as she raced through the apartment, gathering her things at the last minute and she felt the heated waves of fury at her back, further unnerving her.  The unspoken words hurt more than those words of hate he’d spewed as he fled her room and she had wanted to take him in her arms and hold him until he forgave her. But that didn’t happen and they had walked down the corridor to Ms. Wells’ door in complete silence.

His refusal was fucking her up pretty bad but she worked through it. Exhaling heavily, she knocked on the older woman’s door and then glanced at her watch, ever mindful of the time. Her boss, Red Dickerson, was a stickler for punctuality but he was known for making concessions for Livvy. She knew better than to push her luck however.

A few seconds passed before the door open and revealed a stout dark skinned woman with a radiant smile. Livvy couldn’t help but smile back as a feeling of comfort seemed to embrace her immediately. Geraldine Wells had been her guardian angel in more than one manner; the day that she and Damien had moved in, she had appeared at her door with a fresh baked apple pie and a knowing smile. There were no judgments, no recriminations, only an understanding smile and a willing ear. Livvy knew that Ms. Geraldine wanted the best for her but the older woman wisely kept her thoughts and observations to a minimum, giving Livvy the space to process them. Ms. Geraldine was the mother that Livvy had always wanted but never had and that thought always brought her back to her grim reality.

Livvy cleared her throat roughly and tried to smile, “Thanks for taking Damien at such a short notice, Ms. Geraldine.  I couldn’t cancel this date.”

Geraldine glanced down at Damien and then back up to Livvy with a frown, “What’s going on with my little guy? He’s some kind of mad.”

Livvy sighed and shook her head, “He’s mad at me. I promised him that we’d sit and watch his shows tonight. I totally forgot about this date and as I said, I can’t cancel.” Going to her haunches, she reached to caress his cheek, forcing her lips into a wider smile that she just wasn’t feeling, “But I promised him that we’d do it tomorrow, isn’t that right, Damien?”

Damien shifted out of his mother’s reach and plowed against her, mumbling, “Whatever.”

Saddened, Livvy   stood and watched as he sulked into the apartment, out of sight. A tight knot formed in her throat preventing her from saying anything. It was just as well; she had no words to express just how sorry she was for this mess.

Ms. Geraldine stepped forward and placed a warm hand on Livvy’s shoulder, the act provoking another round of blinking. She didn’t want to cry and it wasn’t just because she wanted to save her perfectly made up face. If she cried, she’d be surrendering to the notion that she was a complete failure, a fuck up in the worst way. Yes, she was at her lowest, taking shit from all corners of her life but she was surviving. It wasn’t pretty but it was necessary. She wasn’t proud of what she was doing but she functioned on the knowledge that she was giving her son all he needed.

Wasn’t she?

The question roiled over in her mind as she bent her lips forward in the attempts to find the words to puncture the sudden and awkward silence that fell between the two of them. When none was forth coming, she inclined her head and whispered, “Thank you, Ms. Geraldine.”

Geraldine reached forward and pulled Livvy into her frail embrace, the scent of cinnamon and vanilla filling her nose. Geraldine was the epitome of everything that Livvy wished she could have and in that moment, she reveled in the fact that someone cared enough about her to just be there.

When Geraldine let her go, the older woman sighed and shook her head, “You know, I’ve never seen you smile, Olivia.”

“What?” Livvy asked in disbelief. She shook her head and averted her eyes, calling up one of her painted on smiles, “I’m smiling right now.”

“That’s not a genuine smile, Olivia. It’s what you want the world to see. You don’t want to let the world in; you don’t want to let love in so you put up a front.” Geraldine quirked a graying brow and pursed her lips, “One of these days, baby girl, you’re going to have to stop running from love, from life and face it head on.”

Livvy’s spirits dropped just that much more as she huffed, “I’m facing life right now, Ms. Geraldine. I work hard to provide Damien with what he needs. It’s not like I’m huddled in some corner, waiting for someone to save me.”

“Damien’s not standing here anymore so I don’t have to be polite but you and I both know, girl that you can do so much better than taking your clothes off for that Red Dickerson. You’re a smart, beautiful woman; you can do so much better!”

“I’m doing what I know how to do! I’m doing what I have to do!” Anger licked at Livvy’s bones and she, for the moment, forgot  that she was standing in the corridor of the building as she stood toe to toe with  the diminutive woman, “ Don’t judge me, don’t stand there and strike me down for doing what so many other women are doing to survive. Keep your nosey ass observations to your damn self!”

Geraldine didn’t back down, crossing her arms at her chest, emphasizing her pleasantly plump form, “You want a judge; look in the mirror, girl. You think I’m not the only one who can see that you’re faking all of this strong mother mumbo jumbo? You know it, every time you look at yourself in the mirror; you see just how much of a fraud you really are. It’s plain to see; even your son sees it. He’s not stupid, Olivia. He’s figuring it out each night you leave him to scrape for the pennies that they throw to you.”

Incensed, Livvy took an ominous step toward Geraldine, her nostrils flaring, “I make good money for what I do…”

“So does a whore. Is that the next step for you, Miss Livvy Morgan?”

A deathly silence descended between them and Livvy glared at the older woman, the warmth she’d felt mere seconds ago now dissipating under the heat of the words spoken. Livvy was furious but it wasn’t because of what she said. It was because it was true. Every goddamned word of it was true and she could do nothing but let them wash over her. Again those godforsaken tears appeared and she grimaced and turned away. There was nothing she could say to refute the truth.

Fuck.

~*~

    The stream of heat felt good as it rained down, the wafting steam easing the aches that had become a prevalent part of life for Jack Eton. Standing under the unforgiving torrent of the water, he braced himself against the tiled wall, willing the stinging deluge of the shower to wash away the darkness that he’d felt surging from  deep within. Another day passed on the streets, following leads, busting up gangs, questioning but getting no answers. It was a relentless cycle of bullshit but it was his mantle and he had chosen to take it up knowing full well what he was getting into. 

     As a kid, he relished figuring out the impossible, working every angle for the solution, investigating every questionable avenue, so it made sense that he’d go into police work. What didn’t even out was the path he’d taken to get there. High school had been a dream, even more so when he’d fallen in love with a girl who with just one smile knocked the breath out of his lungs. From afar, he had watched her, waiting for just the right moment to approach. By some measure of luck, that moment came and for a while, it was …heaven. But as with everything in Jack’s life, it hadn’t lasted and she disappeared just before Christmas vacation in their senior year. He’d been devastated and had even tried to find her but it was all for naught. The one girl that held his heart in her hands had broken it and from that moment, he had changed his tune altogether.

After graduating high school, he’d sprinted to college, promptly got in with the bad crowd, developed a nasty drug habit and found himself on the verge of flunking out. By the skin of his teeth, he got his degree in Criminal Justice and decided that he was ready for primetime. Within a month of graduating college, he was at the academy, getting his chops busted during the day and at night partaking of the debauchery that hadn’t quite died during his college years.  He was constantly getting reprimanded for conduct unbecoming and sexual advances from the women recruits and even some of the female instructors. The one thing they hadn’t caught on to was his dallying into drugs which had become a full-fledged problem by the time he graduated from the program. Within two years, he’d made his name both on the streets and within the department, ascending the ranks at a rapid pace. Year three found him on the short list for Homicide but the inner demon in him salivated for Vice.  Before the start of year four, he’d been inducted into the brotherhood of the elite and was dealing with the scum of his fair city on the daily.

And he’d been on the rollercoaster ever since.

Jack groaned as he turned his back on the shower relishing the duality of the pounding force of the water and the serene cascading rivulets as it beat on his aching shoulders and flowed over his body. That was him in a nutshell; a rolling ball of confusion and contradictions but he wouldn’t have it any other way. After a day on the streets and a couple hours between the sheets with one of his nameless lays, he was beat to the bone but he wasn’t done. Jack had become a beast in his later years, learning how to function on a twenty-four hour cycle. He spent the majority of his nights learning the lessons of the streets; from stake outs to crackdowns, Jack had been in on every bust and was well known in many circles as the one with whom no one fucks with.  It wasn’t beyond him to use every tool in his bag to get the answers he was searching for and it was that mentality that had made him a kick ass detective.

But it didn’t do shit for his morality.

 He’d been in the shadows for five years and he’d done as the shadows did, surviving off of wits and unmitigated bravery. Some said he had a death wish, others said he was doing his duty as an officer of the law but Jack knew it was far  simpler than that. He was searching for that first rush, that first thrill of discovery. What he was looking for was an undiluted push of adrenaline, the purest form of ecstasy that he’d had all those years ago …

Jack shook himself free of the fog of memories and snatched up the soap, gathering the lathering and running the cloth over his body quickly. Each delicious twinge of his muscles reminded him of the two hours he’d spent between the legs of his latest lay and he grinned wickedly, thinking that there was much more to be had by the end of tonight.  By some form of a miracle, he’d managed a night off and he itched to get into as much depravity he could handle.  His best friend, Dominic Lawson, was throwing one of his exclusive parties and had mentioned that he was providing a bevy of beautiful ladies at their disposal. Just the thought of the decadent misdeeds that awaited him had pricked at that familiar well of degeneracy that never ran dry.

As if spurred by the thought of holding court among the trappings of the rich and powerful, he rinsed quickly and stepped out into the steam filled bathroom, wrapping the towel around his lean waist. Running his hand over the mirror, he stared at the man before him carding his hand through the darkened strands of his short chestnut brown hair. Taking in the sharp slope of his nose, his full lips, and the slight droopiness in his cerulean blue eyes he remembered how he’d been picked on about those eyes, how they seemed to droop with disinterest. He used to bemoan his loopy eyes and the harsh names he’d been called because of them but as he grew older and understood the power that he wielded with just one look, he learned to like that little quirk. It was about how one used what they were given and Jack had undoubtedly become the king of perception.   On more than one occasion, he’d bedded a woman with no more than a wink and a smile, taking advantage of the headiness of his own attractiveness. He grinned again and eyes sparkled with a hint of licentious intent.

A night of indecent wickedness awaited him and he was more than ready to drown in the sea of sin he’d grown so accustomed to.

 

 






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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.