Forever Waiting

  Forever Waiting

  Copyright ©2014 Penelope Stevens

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Cover by Wicked by Design

  Editing by Self Publishing Editing Service

  Formatting by Champagne Formats

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  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  “I need these orders to be delivered, Tony!” I barked out. It was busier than usual at Blane’s Bar and Pizzeria, and I was feeling the stress. I was the de facto manager at Blane’s, although I was never really given the title—the owner had just assumed that I would do the job, and I did. I had known Blane all my life, it seemed, and in a town as small as Geneva, that meant we were almost family. He was a great guy, but not always a great businessman. I ran the place, and right now we really needed to hire another waiter, and quickly.

  Tony stuck his head around the corner to see into the kitchen, where I was surveying the build-up of to-go orders. “Hey Landrey, there’s someone here that says he works here now. He asked for you,” he called.

  “Ok, I’ll be right there,” I responded. I was the only female on staff, which was kind of nice at first, but I’d worked there for so long that the guys had become more like my brothers than potential dates. Besides, I wasn’t big on dating after my last relationship, which had been a disaster. I just kept myself busy with work.

  “How can I help you?” I asked, as I walked into the dining room. The guy standing there almost made me stop in my tracks. Immediately I noticed the waves in his sandy brown hair and his ocean blue eyes, the bluest I’d ever seen.

  “Hi,” he said. “I talked to Blane last week and he said to come in and start work today.” Blane was notorious for surprising me with unannounced staff, and expected me to show them the ropes at a moment’s notice. I never complained because he helped me out when I needed him, and his hiring decisions were usually pretty good—except for the fact that he hired a lot of stoners. They all smoked so much pot that if they weren’t stoned they couldn’t function at all, but I still loved them anyway. Every once in a while I’d even join them; even so, I was hoping this guy wasn’t as into the weed as the rest of my staff.

  “What’s your name?” I asked him. He just stood there staring at me until I snapped my fingers in front of his face.

  “Uh, Zaine... Zaine Brooks,” he sputtered.

  “Well Zaine, my name is Landrey and I’m the manager. Let me show you around and get you set up.”

  The night raced by. Zaine was actually just what we needed and I was surprised he picked up on things so quickly, thank God. We closed up shop at two in the morning, as usual, tired but too wound up to sleep. The guys always got together after work to drink a few beers and do some bong hits. I would sometimes cook for them—just small appetizers and finger foods. Every once in a while I would go all out and cook them a full meal. Even though we worked in a restaurant, we hardly ever had time for a decent meal.

  “Hey Zaine, you wanna come hang with us for a while?” Tony asked.

  Zaine replied as if he had been working at Blane’s for a couple of years instead of a few hours. “Sure that’s cool. I don’t have a class till two tomorrow,” he replied.

  Geneva is a college town in upstate New York, so I should have guessed Zaine was here to attend Hobart. A lot of the guys at work did, and he seemed to know some of them already. I had never seen him before though, and as we were walking through the quiet streets toward my house, I asked him if he was a transfer student.

  “Actually, I’m just here for one semester,” he replied. “I’m on an exchange program from USC. I’m a film student there and they have this set-up where students can check out other programs to ‘broaden our perspective.’ I’ve been taking Media and Society classes, and it’s been pretty cool. It’s a nice little town.”

  “California, huh? You must think we’re pretty hokey here in this ‘little town,’” I said defensively. I don’t know why I got upset when he called Geneva little—it certainly wasn’t big. Somehow, though, I wanted this hot guy to appreciate my hometown, even though I complained about it all the time.

  “Um, yeah,” he said, raising his eyebrows and giving me a sideways look. “No offense—I mean, I like it here. I’m not into all the glitz and glamour of LA. I’m a pretty simple guy, really.” Embarrassed at my outburst, I mumbled something apologetic and stayed quiet for the rest of the walk.

  I lived in an apartment above my mother’s garage. I moved there after my last relationship collapsed and I found myself without a place to live. My mom and I had always been close, though our lives hadn’t been easy. My dad left when I was only six years old, and mom had struggled to support the two of us on a secretary’s salary. Fortunately we had the house, which had been my grandparents’, and my mother was a rock. She kept us together even during the hard years.

  When we got to my place, the guys came in, plopped down and made themselves at home. As usual, we watched a few movies, had some munchies and drank our beer. I made sure to sit next to Zaine. I wanted to get to know Mr. Brooks. I had no intention of starting anything romantic, but I still loved to flirt, and Lord have mercy, he was flirt-worthy!

  “So, Zaine, what exactly are you studying at film school?” I asked.

  “I’m into cinematography—you know, movies, commercials, and different production-type stuff.”

  “That sounds cool. What made you want to do that?”

  “It runs in the family, I guess. My dad has been in the industry for a long time, so when I move back to California I’ll have some good connections to get started. This is my senior year so it’s almost time to get a job. What about you? What are you doing here?” he asked.

  I didn’t have anything exciting to say, so I just kept it simple. “I grew up here,” I shrugged.

  Zaine glanced around the room, as if he were trying to discover something. He picked up a photo album that lay on top of a pile of books stacked next to the couch. I cringed and tried to pry the album away from him, but he held on tight. Flipping through the pictures, he whistled softly.

  “Whoa,” he said, “these pictures are hot. Is that you?”

  I shrugged again, as if it was no big deal. The pictures were from a time when I’d done some modeling for a few small agencies and some clothing ads in a local magazine. It was an exciting time in my life, but I had given it up. At the time I was with my last boyfriend, in an abusive relationship from which I still hadn’t recovered completely. When I finally got the courage to end the relationship I just never went back to modeling. I wasn’t about to tell Zaine a
bout that—I never really talked about it to anyone. It was still too painful.

  “I did some modeling from time to time,” I said, with a fake smile on my face. I had never really dwelt on my looks, but I did tend to get attention. I had a curvy body, with breasts that were a little bigger than I would like, and I had long, wavy brown hair. I got my mom’s olive skin and my dad’s height. I didn’t really see myself as anything special, though. There were a lot of pretty girls.

  “That is awesome. You still do it?” Zaine looked at me like I was some kind of super model, which made me blush.

  “I lost all my contacts and I just stopped. If I had the opportunity I might do it again,” I said weakly, then quickly changed the subject.

  The guys eventually got tired and decided to crash. It was common for them to just fall asleep on the floor of wherever they were hanging out, and I didn’t mind the company, so I pulled out some blankets and threw each of them one. As I was heading into my room to sleep, Zaine pulled me aside.

  “There’s something about you Landrey. I don’t know what it is but … maybe we could hang out sometime outside of work.” He was tentative, almost sheepish, and it was so cute! I was taken aback, my head full of thoughts of him. Hell yeah, I’ll see you outside of work, I thought to myself, and I smiled back at him.

  “I would like that, Zaine,” I replied.

  I found it hard to sleep that night, thinking about the past that Zaine’s question had stirred up. The “what if” factor always lingered in the back of my mind. I liked to imagine how different my life would be if I’d never gotten involved with my ex-boyfriend Ryland, and had continued pursuing modeling and fashion. Even though I had put that relationship behind me, the abuse I suffered had left its scars. I was full of self-doubt, and no matter how much I missed my career, my fear was stronger than the drive to move myself forward.

  When I met Ryland I was only 18, fresh out of high school and trying to make it as a model. He was great at first; kind, attentive, and sexy, and I was able to overlook the fact that he was a little intense and drank too much. We moved in together, and things went downhill fast. He started using cocaine, then methamphetamine. He lost his job and started to demand that I take care of him. I was waitressing at the time in between modeling gigs, and he took my confidence, my money, and anything he could sell just to go out and get high. If I didn’t have money to give him he would make me regret it.

  He showed up at the restaurant once and demanded the money I had made that night in tips. When I refused he left too quietly, which I knew was bad. When I got home that night the shelves in my living room were turned over, my stuff thrown everywhere. The dishes my grandmother had left me when she passed away were broken to pieces, and I cried when I saw them.

  “Why are you crying, you bitch? I told you what would happen if you ever said no to me!” Ryland yelled when he saw my tears. The more I cried the more he yelled, so I learned to bottle up my emotions after that night. He knew how to hurt me and he tried every day.

  One night I was late coming home from work. He was sitting in the chair next to the door, waiting for me. He asked me why I was late and I told him it got busy at work. He called me a liar and said that I was out screwing someone else. I could see him getting mad but I just kept insisting that I was telling the truth. He slammed me against the wall and put a gun to my head, and told me that if I didn’t have sex with him to prove it, he would make me regret it. I didn’t want to—I dreaded any intimate contact with him. It was never about love. Sex to Ryland was about control.

  Something came over me and I told him no. He smacked me in the face and tried to force himself on me, but I fought back. I had suddenly found the drive to be free, to live my life and be happy. I hadn’t been happy for a long time. I raised my knee and hit him in the balls so hard I think he stopped breathing for a minute. Then I grabbed my purse and drove to the police station.

  The next day he was arrested, and when they frisked him they found his drugs. He got a seven-to-10 year sentence, and I was finally free. I was free from that asshole, but couldn’t escape the fear and the cruel memories. He’d killed my confidence and self-esteem so completely that I stopped going to auditions, and walked away from my career in fashion. I never went back to modeling. I always wanted to, but I harbored a deep, dark fear that if I were to allow myself to be happy he would return to take it away from me.

  ###

  After that night Zaine and I started to hang out a lot, both with the guys and on our own. We would go on walks, go to a bar, or hang out at my house or his. We were definitely attracted to one another, but he never made a move, and we slowly became good friends. I was used to being hit on by guys, and it was refreshing to have a relationship with someone who wasn’t always after me for something.

  We had so much in common and always had fun no matter what we did. I learned about his family back in California, and how close they all were. He had two brothers who were his best friends, and his parents were so supportive of his dreams. I told him about my family too, and my life in Geneva; in fact, I told him almost everything about me, except for my relationship with Ryland. I still couldn’t talk about that, not to anyone. The weeks went by and we got closer every day. As much as his friendship meant to me, a part of me wanted our relationship to be romantic. I was really starting to care about him, and I thought he felt the same way, but he never acted on it.

  It was the last week of the semester. During a typically busy night at work, we had a small window of time before the bar crowds came stumbling in for their late-night slices of pizza. I was in the cooler pulling beers and sodas out to restock and Zaine was helping me. A bottle of beer rolled off the shelf, fell to the floor and broke. We both stooped to pick it up, and our hands touched.

  Suddenly he pulled me to him, and I could feel his eagerness for me. We started kissing, and it was like no other kiss I’d had before—deep, passionate, and needy. He pressed against me and a small moan escaped my lips. We kissed like that for a while, when through the fog in my brain I heard Tony ask “Have you seen Landrey? I need her to sign for a delivery.” I pushed Zaine away and we stood staring at each other, breathing heavily as if we had just sucked the life out of each other.

  He smiled and said, “I’m having a party tomorrow night to celebrate the end of the year. I want you to be there.”

  Flustered, I tried hard to regain my composure. When I could talk again, I smiled back and said, “We’ll see,” then left the walk-in. I turned the corner and ran right into Tony, who had a smirk on his face. “What are you looking at me like that for?” I questioned innocently.

  “Just wondering how long it takes to replace six bottles of beer,” he replied sarcastically. When Zaine followed me out of the freezer, Tony added, ”Oh, and you had assistance, I see.”

  “Shut up Tony,” I said. He started laughing and patting Zaine on the back. I growled and walked away.

  I was confused. I knew Zaine and I had grown attached to each other, but he was leaving next week. He was moving back to California and I didn’t want to start something, once again, without finishing it.

  When I left work that night I told the guys they couldn’t come over, that I was too tired. I really just wanted to be alone and think about my situation. Once home, I put on some shorts and a tank top so I could lounge around. I grabbed a pint of ice cream from the freezer and was about to sit down when my doorbell rang. I looked through my peep hole, wondering who it could be at three in the morning. Zaine was standing there. I opened the door and he slowly looked me up and down, peeking past me to the living room where my ice cream was melting. “I know you said you were tired and didn’t want company, but I didn’t buy that,” he said, holding up a bottle of wine.

  “Oh yeah? What makes you so sure of yourself?” I asked.

  “Well, I’m pretty sure I can offer you something better than ice cream,” he said. He moved past me to put the wine on the kitchen counter, brushing against me. Then turned to me and
took my face in his hands as he backed me up against the door.

  “And what exactly do you have to offer?” I asked, trying not to let my voice tremble. I felt nervous and excited all at once, but I didn’t want to let him see that he had me. He wrapped his arms around me and leaned down and gave me a deep kiss. I could still feel his lips on mine after he was done.

  “Is that all you’ve got?” I said, and I lifted his shirt over his head, exposing his rippled abs.

  Zaine raised his eyebrows at me, and said, “Well, that depends. Do you think you can handle what I have to give?” He slipped his hand under my shirt and caressed my breasts, my nipples hard with anticipation.

  “Try me,” I said, and I took my shirt off and threw it on the floor. Zaine picked me up and carried me to my bedroom. I needed to feel him. I longed for him. I was just waiting for him to show me he wanted me as much as I wanted him. He set me down on the bed and leaned me back slowly, resting his body on me. He tucked a tendril of my dark hair behind my ear and looked into my brown eyes.

  “I wish I could always have you like this, Landrey. Right now you’re mine, and I am going to savor every bit of you.” I felt myself melting at his words, but I knew I didn’t want to get lost in them—I knew that he would be far away from me soon. What I was about to do was probably a big mistake, but I needed this. I needed him.

  Zaine placed his soft lips on mine and kissed me. I felt like my body was made of glass and I could shatter from the quaking I felt. My world at that moment revolved around the pleasure he wanted to give to me, and the lust I had for him. He was an aphrodisiac, a temptation I couldn’t resist no matter how much I tried. He caressed my body with his tongue, leaving nothing untouched. I was so wet, and he was drinking me in, pleasuring me more with each enticing stroke. I was coming undone; my orgasm was consuming every bit of my body, and I couldn’t control the tremors. He came back up to my mouth and I could taste myself on his lips.

  “Are you all right?” he asked softly.