Killing Kate Page 6

  “She’s in here,” I hear my daddy say. I am in my room from when I was a child. I recognize the yellow bedspread and the stain in the corner by the white wooden door. My stuffed tiger named “Bunny” is propped up against the windowsill, and I suddenly feel the urge to run over to him and squeeze him and cry. I sit on my bed afraid for the man who will inevitably come inside and lay on top of me. They always come and do things I don’t like and laugh and leave. Daddy gets money and buys me a new toy, but I don’t care about the toys, I just want to be left alone. “I told you she’s beautiful.”

  It’s not one man, but two. I can’t see their faces, but they are wearing dark clothes and look rich and mean, even though they’re smiling. One sets up a tripod and puts a camera on top of it. He leaves his clothes on. The other is about to take his clothes off but my daddy stops him. “Money first,” he says. “And you stop when I say stop. I told you what you can and can’t do and don’t think I won’t kick the shit out of you if you break my rules in my house.” The man nods, ready to agree to anything. He throws his suit jacket over Bunny and pulls his tie off quickly. He is eager and something in his eyes tells me that he isn’t a good person. No one who comes over to visit me is a good person. Now he is in his underwear, and my daddy stands by my head and tells me to lie down and be still, stroking my hair away from my face. He always stays there the whole time, whispering to me, telling me he loves me, but I don’t believe him anymore. I told him if he loved me he’d stop and he doesn’t ever let it stop. It just happens again and again, week after week, sometimes a lot. The other man stands near the camera and I see a red light on. The man in his underwear lies next to me and begins to touch me and rub himself against me, and I am sinking inside the hole in my bed….

  Drake is on top of me and I can feel his bare skin on mine. He is so warm, and I am suddenly cold and pull him closer to me so I can feel his warm body next to mine. He slips inside of me and fills me up and inside so deeply. A few thrusts and I come almost instantly, and he follows a few seconds later. “You are beautiful,” he mumbles in my ear. “From the moment I first saw you, I wanted you.”

  I note that my cheeks are wet and hope he doesn’t notice. Stupid Jenna, I think. Grow the fuck up and get over it. He is about to pull himself off of me but I pull him back toward me. “Don’t go yet,” I say. I wrap my legs around his waist and roll so I am on top of him. He is still hard inside of me, and I sit up and begin to grind against him with my hips, making him moan. I pull his hands up to my breasts and he squeezes to the point where the tears on my face increase and have a reason to be there. We take a bit longer this time around, maybe ten minutes of me riding him, but I am back to myself before I slipped away to never-never-again-land. My ass feels completely sore and numb by the time I come but this time it’s much more intense. I feel like my spine fell asleep, numb with pins and needles inside. Drake pulls himself out of me and gives himself a firm stroke and hot white liquid shoots all the way up to my breasts and slides down to my stomach. He pulls me down so I am pressed firmly against him and then rolls me off of him.

  “Clean me off,” he says to me. I look around in search of a towel, about to get up and find one. He grabs my wrist to stop me and shakes his head. “Clean me off,” he repeats. “With your mouth.” I smile and nod in understanding and crouch over his sticky stomach, starting close to his chest and tasting him with long strokes using my tongue. I start again, licking him from chest to crotch with a long stroke and see it doesn’t take much to get Drake hard again. He’s fucking insatiable, I think, and I place my tongue against the tip of his cock and lick off the dab of liquid that’s building there and pull my tongue slowly away, building a line connecting my mouth to him. It breaks and I go back for more, placing the head gently in my mouth and letting my saliva drip down the shaft, making him wet. My hand wraps around the base and I push my mouth down and my hand up and make Drake moan. His hand travels to the back of my head and pushes it gently down so my mouth fills with his cock, sliding all the way to the back of my throat and making me gag slightly. I’m not sure why the sound of a girl gagging always gets a guy going, but Drake is no exception.

  As my hand slides wetly around the base of his cock my mouth and tongue play with the tip and shaft. Suddenly he pushes my head away and I feel him spurt all over my cheeks, mouth and chin. Now I definitely want a towel, because I somehow doubt Drake is willing to lick his own cum off of my face.

  Drake has a bathroom inside of his bedroom, down a small hallway and across from a huge walk in closet. I step in and begin to splash water on my face and observe that my reflection isn’t exactly as enticing as it was when I left my apartment at the beginning of the evening. I have sex hair, and my skin is flushed and red. There’s a hickey on my right shoulder, and when I turn around and look at my back in the mirror, there are definitely some faint claw marks just above my ass. I look at Drake’s shower longingly and notice that it’s the biggest shower I’ve ever seen, with a bench and jets coming out of the sides. I vow that once I get my inheritance I’m going to buy a shower just like it. Fuck it, I think, and step inside. I pull the knob over all the way to the hottest setting and let the water pour all over me, washing the juices off of my thighs and more thoroughly off of my face. When I open my eyes, I gasp, surprised to see Drake watching me with a silly smirk on his face.

  “Sorry,” I call out from inside, feeling the echo bounce off the marble walls. “Do you mind?”

  He responds by opening the glass door and letting himself inside, along with a burst of cold air conditioning. “Jesus fuck, it’s hot,” he says. He turns the knob a bit more toward the middle and presses something that turns the side jets on, making me gasp again. “Since you serviced me so well,” Drake says, “why don’t you let me take care of you?”

  I shrug and see that he means to wash me down. He takes some liquid soap and puts it on a loofa and gently rubs it over my breasts and shoulders. He motions for me to turn around and does my back and reaches around and cleans my belly and slips his hand inside of me to wash out where I feel the dirtiest at the moment. The soap slides down my thighs and legs and pools around my feet. The way Drake is handling and pampering me I feel like a little girl. In fact, I feel exactly like I did when I was a little girl and too numb to move and Devin sometimes had to help me to take a bath and clean off the filth and corruption that was coated on me from whomever Jack’s last patron was. It’s not something I’d like to think about now, and turn to kiss Drake hard and fill my head with his tongue instead of diseased thoughts that deserve to die. “That’s the first time we’ve kissed,” I remark. “A bit backwards, I’d say.”

  Drake smiles and pushes a wet strand of hair off my cheek. “I’m not very traditional,” he tells me and then kisses me again. I feel him grow hard again. Again? He disconnects the shower head and holds it between my legs and turns another knob I didn’t know about and I feel the water pressure increase. I feel my knees buckle and Drake catches me in his arms as I come and practically black out. Luckily there’s the bench, and I sit down and part my knees and hold my head in my hands as I catch my bearings. I hear Drake groan and look up and see he’s used the shower head on himself. How many times did that make, I wonder? I stand up, feeling less dizzy and give myself a final rinse and step out. There are fluffy grey towels hanging on the wall and I grab one and bury myself in it. In the mirror I look beat. My makeup has washed off and there are remaining smudges of black under my eyes. I am still flushed from my last orgasm but overall I look tired.

  “Do you have clothes I could possibly wear home?” I look behind me and see Drake wrapping another towel around his waist. I need a cigarette. The air around me is almost too sterile. I couldn’t possibly spend the night with this perfect man, who I am not sure wants me to anyway, so I feel it’s best to broach the subject and make it my idea.

  He doesn’t really question it either. “Might be hard to find you a pair of pants or shorts that will fit,” he says. “Let me see
what I can find.”

  “I’ll be on the balcony,” I tell him. I walk over to his living room and find my purse and my cigarettes. I note the clock on his oven says its 2:37 am. Holding the towel around me, I stand outside and smoke and practically choke on the humid air. When I come inside, Drake is sitting on his sofa next to a pair of faded jeans and a white t-shirt.

  “Thanks,” I mumble and slip the t-shirt on. It’s an undershirt and very obvious I’m not wearing a bra but it’s better than going home topless. The jeans fit better than I expected and I realize that although Drake is well built on top, he’s very narrow from the waist down. I give them a roll at the waist and they stay up. I don’t ask for my underwear back and Drake doesn’t offer them. I would rather not put dirty underwear on anyway.

  Drake drives me home. We are silent the whole way back and I am nodding off to sleep, completely spent from the evening’s activities. Drake plays music through the stereo and I realize we are listening to The Velvet Underground, which was one of Jack’s favorite bands, I remember. Weird and not at all something I’m pleased about, although I still like the band. The song playing is “Heroin”, and it’s somewhat of a perfect depiction of how I feel, which is strung out.

  When we get to my building, I thank Drake and let him squeeze my leg, but we don’t kiss. Only the one kiss in the shower for the whole night, I think. At this point I can barely see straight, and stumble up the stairs to my apartment, cigarette in my mouth the moment I step out of the Audi and lit the moment I walk in the door. I fall asleep with it burned out between the fingers of my right hand hanging off the mattress, still wearing Drake’s clothes.

  Chapter 7

  Drake’s worn out jeans and t-shirt are perfect for moving day, but I add underwear this time. Devin has recruited Justin to help me load boxes onto the moving truck, which is already loaded with Devin’s things, showing me up as the huge procrastinator that I am. I haven’t seen him since Jack’s funeral, and find that seeing him outside of the previous context is a lot more pleasant. Kate hasn’t helped me with packing at all this week, which is my lame excuse to myself. All she’s done is sit around smoking my cigarettes and ask me if I’ve taken my birth control pills, which is a good reminder to maybe get a new prescription for some. It’s her way of being sarcastic and simultaneously reminding me that sex gets you pregnant. Luckily I’ve never found that out the hard way, but the last thing I needed in my fucked up life was a baby. I can’t even take care of myself, obviously, which was why I was moving in with my big brother. I haven’t spoken to Drake much since our “date” night at Crimson which ended up in the throes of passion at his apartment except to drop the finalized paperwork for the property tax transfer on Jack’s house. I had Devin sign it and then it took a week to finalize everything on Drake’s end. He called to tell me that we could move in anytime, so I took three days to pack up. I probably could have done it in three hours but I’m slow and I tend to forget what I’m supposed to be doing and end up sleeping or wandering to the liquor store to refresh my supply, since Kate has been binge drinking lately and I always seem to be out. Surprisingly, I’ve cut back on my alcohol intake since my date with Drake. I guess I just needed to get laid.

  Kate disagrees. She has been pissed at me ever since the morning after that night. She won’t say why, but I assume it’s because she feels like I don’t need her right now and I summoned her back, yet she still lingers. I’m handling things rather well lately. I go to work, I come home. I had a few lunches with Devin that went well and came over to help him pack up his things. Devin’s apartment is much more grown up and lived in than mine is, so it takes longer to pack. First of all, he can actually cook and seems to have every kitchen gadget and appliance known to man. The kitchen took the longest to pack, and then I helped him box up his impressive collection of vinyl records, canvases and art supplies.

  “Devin, some of this is amazing,” I tell him. “I mean really good. If you’re not going to put it in a gallery we should get this framed and decorate the house with it.” I’ve stopped calling it “Jack’s house” and have progressed to saying “the house”. Maybe one day it’ll be “our house” but I’m not there yet.

  Devin is modest. “Some of that stuff is old, and some of it I painted when I was strung out on heroin. I try not to make that stuff my signature.” I just give him a “you’re crazy” look because his artwork really is amazing. “It’s hard to explain,” he finishes.

  I kind of get it. I guess I wouldn’t want to be known for anything I do when I’m Kate. Not that she paints or anything, but she’s been known to be a bit…promiscuous when she’s out and about. The things I did with Drake were nothing compared to what she’s done when she takes me over. I’ve had men come up to me in the past and address me as Kate and it creeps me out. I’ve found myself in sex dungeons, orgies, on camera and in alleys behind clubs without knowing how I got there, sometimes in the act. It’s hard to get out of those situations gracefully. Sometimes I have to finish up and go home, sometimes I run. Once I got a knife pulled on me for trying to run and had to stay and let the guy finish. What the fuck was I supposed to do? Sometimes it sucks being me. No, I take that back, sometimes it sucks turning back into me, particularly when your alter ego is a nymphomaniac slut with no taste in men.

  Justin and Devin do all of the heavy lifting, and I am grateful that I live on the first floor and not the fourth, since my apartment is a walkup and there isn’t an elevator. Even though there isn’t much, it takes a few hours to get everything loaded up. Looking around where I’ve lived for four years without anything in it gives me the creeps, and so I don’t linger. Devin drives the U-Haul truck we rented. He drove his motorcycle over to the house this morning and Justin picked him up. Justin gives me a ride to the house in his Honda Civic. I note how it’s no Mercedes, but of course don’t say a word. Why am I comparing?

  “I’m glad you and Devin are going to live closer,” Justin says as we merge from Lake Shore Drive onto 55. “If you guys are up for it, my mom says to come by tonight for dinner. I mean, if you’re not too tired.”

  “That’s sweet of her,” I say sincerely. “I feel like we should bring something, though, and we really aren’t going to be able to find anything for at least a week. Can we stop and at least grab a bottle of wine to bring over?” And a bottle of Jack Daniels for when we’re done moving, I think to myself.

  “She knows you’re moving, Jenna, she just wants to fill your bellies and then subsequently fill your fridge,” Justin says, smiling. “She’ll probably send you home with a microwave to go with the leftovers she’s planning to unload on you if you tell her you haven’t unpacked yours yet.”

  “I’m pretty sure Jack’s microwave is still intact,” I say, “Though it’s probably from 1968 and full of radiation or something toxic.” He laughs and I look out the window at the old sights. I haven’t been down 55 in forever. Maybe since I was a teenager. We get off at Cicero and as usual, the homeless guys are out panhandling and some are selling roses that are wilting in the ridiculous heat. “You know what I never understand?” I say, “Why the hell do these guys sell cotton candy when it’s freezing out and socks when it’s 100 degrees?”

  Justin shrugs. “No idea. About a month ago I pulled up here at this light and this lady knocks on my window and asks to use my cell phone. She pointed to that same car right over there,” he points to a car parked under the overpass with the hazard lights on, “and tells me that her car broke down and she needs to call Triple A. I said no, of course.”

  “Of course,” I agree. I wouldn’t have rolled down my window either. Which might sound rude to someone who doesn’t live in the city, but you never know.

  “Anyway,” Justin continues, “Last week here I am again, same spot. Same lady knocks on my window and points to the same car and says the same shit.”

  “Of course!” I laugh. “I guess she expected you to believe that she’s been waiting all week for someone to help her.”

  �
��Right,” Justin agrees. “At least they tore those projects down. I’m thinking eventually it might get a little better over here.” We pass by the gaping area where the projects once were and I see what he means. There used to be people all over the place, but now just a random bum or prostitute. Some of the gas stations I used to pull into to pick up a quick pack of smokes are abandoned. The same “four hour nap” motels are still in business, I note, along with fast food places and small quick marts and a barbershop that specializes in “fades and perms”. After Midway Airport, things start to get a little bit better as we head to Oakdale. I see Judy’s restaurant and Marlin’s Pub and feel like I’m back home, although it’s not exactly a heartwarming feeling, but it’s not filled with dread either just yet. We wind down a few streets and get to Central and turn down 99th and then left to Menard. Justin and I pull up to the house and Devin isn’t there yet.

  “I’ll give him a call,” I say and pull out my phone and dial Devin. He tells me that he stopped for some fast food and will be at the house with something for us to eat in about five minutes. I relay the information to Justin and I get out of the car and look at what is now my new home. The house is a bungalow, built in the 30’s, with one and a half stories and a full basement. The outside is red brick and well landscaped with bushes that Devin or I will need to learn to maintain. Trees line the street. I notice that there are a few more new constructions in the neighborhood than the last time I was here, which somewhat comforts me. Things aren’t the same as they were.