Rewired (The Progress Series) Page 3

  The third day was a little harder. Roxanne, Charlie’s caretaker, had attached flyers on everyone’s doors stating that the front parking lot would be closed due to re-striping the stalls, which meant he’d have to use the back door. And using the back door would require him to pass the office—and Charlie’s apartment.

  But he didn’t waver. He kept his head down and marched toward the stairwell, never trying to steal a glance at her, no matter how much he felt her absence.

  The fourth day was shit.

  The fifth day he began to grow weak. His parents still didn’t know he had moved back to the Twin Cities, and he wasn’t prepared for the kind of reunion his mother would plan if she knew. Lily was busy at the restaurant and he didn’t have any spending cash to go to the bar or buy more marijuana—of which his supply was running dangerously low. He had pawned his bike and his drums, so those two hobbies were definitely out of the question. With little to consume his time, he played a round at the golf course after work that afternoon, which brought him to the late evening before he arrived home.

  He walked straight to his computer and clicked on his mp3 folder. As the trumpets and bass started, the Bosstones managed to lighten his mood, but only temporarily.

  A constant flurry of thoughts flew through his head and he couldn’t manage to stay ahead of them. They began jumbling together, like one long run-on sentence—overlapping, colliding, and bouncing back and forth against each other.

  She’s…what is she? Charlie is my foundation. Everything I’ve done in the past two years has been for her, to her, or because of her. I can remember seeing her; just a quick glimpse, sitting on the chair on the patio at The Crimson, all dressed up. He smiled. It was that stupid patio party. Her hair twisted, her dark eyes and pale lips, smoking a cigarette; trying so hard.

  And what did I do? I brought a date. I’m such a fuck-up. I can’t even remember that chick’s name. Shit, I can’t even remember what color hair she had. But I do remember Charlie. She looked incredible that night. Everything about her was incredible.

  He took a deep breath and could almost smell her. Reaching for the volume icon on his laptop, he shot the dial upward, trying to drown out his tornado of reasoning, ideas, and frustrations. But the music was never loud enough. The trumpets failed and the quirky reggae sound soon diminished.

  Fuck. Things can’t just be simple with her, can they? She’s gotta go and say something to mess me up again. I can’t afford my meds anyway.

  Thunder crashed outside, and Jesse walked over to open the window. Pressing his forehead against the screen, he felt the rain ricochet off the frame and splash against his face. He closed his eyes and recognized the fresh scent of the spring showers dampening the grass two stories below. Oh god, and that body. Those soft, sexy curves. Not too much and not too little. And those legs do not stop.

  But then, she opens that fucking mouth of hers. What is she thinking? Trying to bribe me with meds? What a joke. Does she think I can’t do it without them? Does she think I can’t live without her?

  He slammed his laptop shut, ripped his iPod from its jack, and stomped to his bedroom to lie down on the mattress. With his hands propped behind his head, his anxiety about a life without Charlie began to surface. A scowl imprinted itself on his face and his brow formed a thin layer of clammy moisture. The only thing to be heard was the echoing sound of raindrops slapping against the glass of his bedroom window. He put one earbud in and pressed play as the music released a surge of unease through his mind.

  Jesus, and she thinks I’m emotionally elusive. What about her? First she’s with what’s-his-name, then she’s with me. Then she’s teasing my cock, and then she acts like she wants nothing to do with me. See, this is why I haven’t been in a stable relationship: women are fucking crazy! Every last one of them. Just when I thought I had found the exception, she goes and… He jumped as a bright flash of lightning, followed shortly by the crash of thunder, interrupted his obsessive fixation.

  And yet here I am, terribly alone in my own bed. Shit, I’ve even come close to crying twice. What the fuck is this girl doing to my head? All I can think about is the torture it is to stay away from her. I want her here. But she’s like an empty syringe, a promise that once I shoot it in my vein, I’ll be satisfied. But the second I pull out of her, I just want to bury myself back in. It’s never enough. I always want more. I’m completely obsessed with a woman that will probably never give me all I want, even if she gives me all that she has.

  He rolled onto his stomach and threw his head down on his pillow, watching the rain splash down through the window, dampening his carpet. He stared through the raindrops splattering against the glass as they slid down slowly, creating a dark blur and disguising the view. She has no idea what it’s like for me. Every time I meet someone new, I’ve already accepted the fact that they’re going to leave because I’m going to mess it up somehow. But not Charlie. She sticks around. Even after reading the goddamned label written across my chest that says I’ll be fucked up for the rest of my life—a big beautiful diagnosis of “You’re batshit crazy, Jesse. Tough luck”—still, she stays with me.

  Damn it, Charlie! Quit making me think about you.

  As he closed his eyes, he couldn’t block her smile from his mind. His eye traced the tendon in her neck, and the light blue vein barely visible through her pale skin, her wavy scarlet hair flowing down around her clavicle and tucked behind her ear.

  He rolled over onto his back, rubbing against his erection with his eyes closed. Thinking back to the first night they made love, he envisioned Charlie on her side, watching her move up and down with the force of each thrust.

  Oh, god. Those lips staining my pillow as she cries my name. Her tits threatening to escape the lace of her bra. Her long leg bent up toward her chest, trying to get me deeper, making her stretch, making me moan. Holy shit, she feels so good. So tight. God I’ve wanted this for so long.

  His hand dipped inside the opening of his boxer briefs as he took a firm hold of himself. Taking his time and fantasizing about all the ways he wanted her, he started slow, teasing himself and envisioning Charlie.

  Then she’ll sit up, straddling me. I’ll bury my face in her chest as she eases up and down around me. Guiding her hips with my hands, I’ll drive her to quicken her pace. She’s going to come again, and I can feel her closing up, constricting, getting slicker. God I love to watch her face when she’s about to come. So sweet, so sexy, so sassy.

  Gripping tighter and feeling her all around him, his rhythm increased with the beat of the music and he threw his head back to his pillow. Compared to his paranoid thoughts just minutes earlier, he now had no guilt or dread about what he was doing and pulled off his boxers. She was there, inside his head, securing a calm within him.

  I’ll grab her hips and flip her over. Yeah, this is how I want her. I’m on my knees, and her skirt is pulled up to her waist. She loves every second of this. Teasing her with my fingers, I’ll smile as she turns to watch me. Slipping one finger inside of her quickly, I’ll pull it out again just to taste my sweet Charlie, and lick my lips in satisfaction so she can see it, watch how I love her flavor. And she adores me for it.

  I’ll tease her, for just a little while. She hates that. And she loves that. And just as I bury myself inside her, I’ll reach my hand around to her and watch as she throws her hair to one side, begging to come. Begging for me.

  Every whisper, groan, whine, plea, and grunt: she’s fucking exquisite. She’s mine. She’s my Charlene.

  And with his last thought, he roared her name as he reached his climax.

  He sat up and tried to remove the slick coating from his leg, wiping it away in disgust with himself. A cynical laugh escaped his mouth as he rolled his eyes.

  Christ, I even came too fast in my own hand. I don’t think I’ve jerked off since I was sixteen.

  With his forearm, he wiped away the sweat from his temples as his ragged breathing slowed. The shame of what he had just done was sta
rting to fester, along with the realization that she could live without him, but he couldn’t live without her.

  This girl is going to haunt me forever. God, I’m such a fucking joke. She would probably never have to deal with Sam being this pathetic.

  Fuck.

  Sam!

  I’ve given her a whole damn week to get back together with him!

  *

  Still wide awake the next morning, Jesse dialed three times before someone finally picked up the phone.

  “Thank you for calling Doctor Jackson’s office, how may I help you?”

  “I need to make an appointment, today, if possible,” he said urgently.

  “Your name, please?”

  “Anders, Jesse Anders.”

  After he made his appointment for later that evening, Jesse hung up the phone and got ready for work, trying to get images of Charlie and Sam out of his head.

  The day droned on, and Jesse felt his motivation slipping. Spring clean-up on the golf course was in full effect, as they would be opening that weekend. But working ten-hour days just to get the weekend off was making him impatient and anxious.

  Fertilizing the grass, removing sand from the greens, and picking or spraying weeds consumed his day. But the work was instinctual; trained monkeys could do it. It was a job that didn’t require him to be around people, but more importantly, a job that didn’t require people to be around him. For as much as he craved some company, there was only one person that he could think of when it came to occupying his time.

  As the day came to a close, he punched out and retrieved a clean set of clothes from his locker. After a fresh coat of deodorant, he was on his way to Doctor Jackson’s office.

  He checked in with reception and sat in the uncomfortable waiting room chair, planning what he was going to say to the doctor.

  Just get in, get out, and don’t let him trap you. He’s going to try to make you stay. So just tell him everything is fine and that the meds are working just great. Remember to smile. Remember to offer things about your personal life. Remember to tell him things are good. Just keep smiling, asshole.

  “Jesse?” Doctor Jackson said as he peeked his head around the corner. “You can come back now.”

  He followed the doctor back to his office, making sure he had a tiny bounce in his step. After entering Jackson’s office, he plopped down on the chair and slung his ankle over his opposite knee, smiling.

  “Hi, Jesse. It’s been over a year since you were here. What brings you in today?”

  In a babbling rush, Jesse began speaking. “I’m good. All is good. I’m working, and it’s good. My girl, well, she’s good too. Just here to get a refill on my meds,” he added with a smile.

  Jackson’s eyebrows rose and he stroked his jaw with contemplation. “I see.” He paused before continuing. “And do you feel as though the medication is working okay for y—” His eye caught Jesse’s bouncing knee just as he interrupted.

  “Oh yeah. I’m good.” Jesse scratched the back of his head and smiled quickly.

  “Got it.” Jackson exhaled. “Would you like to tell me how long your knee’s been bouncing?” Jackson nudged his head downward to see past the line of his bifocals. “Your pupils are dilated and you’re fidgeting. I’ve known you long enough to know what this means.”

  Jesse exhaled and his shoulders slouched. “Come on, Doc. Just give me a refill, would ya?”

  “How long have you been without?” Jackson said, reaching for a prescription notepad from his top desk drawer.

  Jesse shrugged. “A couple of months.”

  “What took you so long to get your refill prescription?”

  “Well, I was living in New Hampshire. I just got back last week, and made an appointment as soon as I could.”

  Chalk that up to another lie I’ve told this man.

  Seemingly somewhat placated by Jesse’s response, Jackson scribbled on a notepad and prescribed Jesse’s medications. “You know, these meds don’t always work well for my bipolar patients. If you find that they’re not helping, please come back and we can reassess your treatment and doses. Your moods might also switch rapidly in the first few weeks. Just make sure you keep an eye on it and give us a call if you need anything. You could also experience stomachaches—”

  “I’m good. Just needed to get these—” Jesse ripped the four sheets from Jackson’s hand and shoved them in the back pocket of his jeans as he stood. “—and I’m good to go. Thanks, Doc. See you next year.” He turned for the door and before he could escape, Jackson snuck one last remark.

  “How’s your girlfriend?”

  Jess paused for a moment and smiled. He reached into his pocket and held up the folded prescriptions. Nodding his head in appreciation, he said with confidence, “She’s good. Thanks again, Doc,” he said as he shut the door.

  Taking a deep breath, he sat in his car outside the pharmacy.

  My entire first paycheck will be gone after this. Three weeks’ worth of work—over a thousand dollars—gone. I don’t know how I’m going to afford rent after this.

  He walked into the store, quickly found the counter, and handed the pharmacist his slips. Waiting to hear his name announced over the intercom, he wandered the store looking at nothing and everything.

  She better be worth it.

  What am I saying? Of course she’s worth it. I just don’t know if I am. And how am I going to pay for food and gas and smokes and weed and rent? Damn. Well, I might be able to convince my landlord to wait a week or two…

  The first few weeks are the worst too. God, if she thinks I’m unstable now, I can only imagine what she’s going to think after seeing me—

  “Jesse Anders, your prescriptions are ready. Jesse Anders,” a voice called overhead.

  Approaching the counter, Jesse’s mouth cut a terse line as the pharmacist gave him a warm smile. “Insurance?” she asked.

  He sighed. “No.”

  Her eyes opened wider as she scanned the barcodes on each bag. Clearing her throat, she muttered, “Your total is one thousand, one hundred twelve dollars and forty-two cents.”

  He looked toward the ceiling as his shoulders dropped. Nodding, he handed her his cash card.

  She hesitated and looked back at each bag. “Would you like me to see if we have the generic in this one?” She held up the white sack and shrugged. “It might be a little cheaper.”

  He offered a smile and she went to the back. Several minutes later, Jesse’s hands trembled and unrest washed over him. He could feel the hair growing on his scalp and his skin prickled with every violin chord playing from the Musak above.

  “We had it.” The pharmacist smiled as she voided out the old prescription and scanned in the generic. “That’s a little better.” She smiled and hit the subtotal. “Nine hundred ninety-eight dollars even.”

  As soon as he walked in the door to his apartment, he went to the kitchen and let the cold water run from the faucet. He had a little trouble with the child-proof caps, but managed to press down and turn at the same time. Placing four different pills in the palm of his hand, he stared down at the colored tablets, hovering over them for a moment before popping them in his mouth. His hands gripped either side of the sink as he lowered his mouth to the cold water, rinsing the pills down his throat.

  Only after three hours’ sleep did Jesse wake, his eyes wide open from another storm and another dream. But this one was brand new.

  Charlie was in a white wedding dress, barefoot. He watched her walk down the aisle toward him; white rows of chairs were chained together with strings of daisies. With a burst of flutters in his stomach, he smiled at the twinkle in her blue eyes as she smiled back at him with a wink, biting her bottom lip.

  As she slowly approached the altar, she took one last glance at him as the man to his right offered his hand to her. She accepted with a flush. It was at that point in the dream that he realized she had taken Sam’s hand instead of his.

  He sprang from his bed and set his feet down in a p
uddle of watery carpet as the rain poured down outside. The window had been left open all night and there was significant damage to the wall below it.

  After taking care of his morning routine in the bathroom, he leaned in to the mirror and wiped away the steam with his fist. Staring at the gray of his eyes, restlessness stared back at him as he splashed his face with cold water.

  I am not screwing this up again.

  Charlie is mine.

  Chapter Four

  “Good morning, two-OH-nine,” Roxanne said lustfully, letting her eyes sweep across him as he entered Charlie’s office.

  Ha! I love that woman.

  Charlie’s head darted upward to Roxanne and her eyes shifted to Jesse’s as she quickly ended her phone conversation. After hanging up the receiver, she stood and straightened her black pencil skirt, watching him with firm expectancy.

  “Good morning, Jes—er, Mr. Anders. What can we do for you today?”

  “I…uh…” Clearing his throat, he passed Roxanne’s desk—giving her his signature smile—and walked to Charlie. “I have a maintenance request.”

  Charlie’s shoulders fell. “Oh, okay.” She sat back down, brought up a different screen on her computer, and began typing. “What’s going on?”

  “Oh, not much. I’m just on my way to work,” he said.

  “I meant with your apartment. The maintenance request?”

  “Oh, right.” He sat down across from her. “I left my window open during the storm last night and a lot of water got in. The wall is soaked, and the windowsill was pretty rotted out as it was. I’m not sure what you want to do about it, but that storm was pretty bad. I wouldn’t doubt if there was water damage inside the wall, maybe even down to the first floor.”