Skypunch (The Skypunch Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  That was before I fucked it all up in one drunken night after making one really stupid decision. It was the week before Christmas and we had just attended a holiday party together at a mutual friend’s home. I was in one of my moods again but Plum absolutely refused to let me talk my way out of it. She insisted it would do me good to see people and socialize. She was all too familiar with how introverted I tended to be. In the weeks before the Christmas party, I preferred my own company to anyone else’s; but reluctantly agreed to go. That was my first mistake.

  Plum was a social butterfly so I wasn’t surprised when not long after our arrival, her friends whisked her away, probably anxious to bask in the radiance of her warm glow. So I found myself alone and rather uncomfortable in my solitude. I was just hanging out next to the refreshment table like a wallflower so I started to drink. One drink soon turned into two, which turned into six. That was my second mistake.

  Tina, Plum’s best friend and coincidentally a recent divorcee, was also drinking. I didn’t flinch when she sidled up next to me because it was no secret (at least not to me) that she had the hots for me. I never really regarded her as anything more than Plum’s narcissistic, immature and self-centered friend. As far as her looks went, she was okay I guess. Nearly as tall as me, she outweighed me by at least twenty pounds but she wasn’t fat. She was big-boned—the size of woman who could hurt me if she decided to take a swing at me. Probably even do permanent damage. Tina was mostly known for her hot temper, which burned as red as her hair.

  We stood there at the refreshment table, discussing life after divorce and how delicious the crab dip was. She told me about John, the published author, the bachelor who suspiciously was taking an active interest in Plum’s art. Of course, I already knew who John was although we’d never been formally introduced. Plum said he came by her studio a few times, boasting about his big ideas of working with her on a graphic novel. Plum spoke about him in friendly terms. Judging by the innocently naïve excitement in her eyes when she did, it soon became obvious to me that she was completely oblivious to how badly John wanted to fuck her.

  Tina told me that she suspected there was much more going on between them than anyone was aware, so I found myself gulping down my drink before eagerly pouring another. I didn’t ask Tina to expound on that, a fact that didn’t stop her. She told me about all the presents John had given Plum, which I’d never heard about until then. There were also numerous lunches they shared week after week. Apparently, Tina thought it was also important to tell me that Plum told her she found John very handsome in a “mature, older man” sort of way. After that, I lost track of how many times I refilled my drink. In fact, I lost track of pretty much everything else that happened that night. All I remember now was looking down at my feet and thinking how far away they seemed from the rest of me.

  And then I was looking in the mirror, seeing a face I barely recognized as my own. I was sweating but my cock was hard…and wet. Glancing down, I found Tina bent over the sink in front of me, and both of my hands were holding onto her enormous ass. I was watching myself thrust in and out of her.

  In truth, she wasn’t memorable. It was no more than a disastrous mistake, the consequences of which I could never truly comprehend until it was too late. To this day, I can barely recall any of it. All except the moment when I erupted all over Tina’s back and became nauseous. Luckily, I managed to turn my head in time to vomit on the floor rather than on Tina’s back. Either way, the message was the same. I fucked her and immediately regurgitated the entire contents of my stomach all over the bathroom floor. She had to clean herself and the bathroom up.

  The only part of the whole ordeal that really lived on in me was the all-consuming guilt. I wanted to tell Plum what happened but I couldn’t bring myself to admit it. I knew it would hurt her too badly. Even though Plum was a very strong woman, I was convinced that this was unforgivable and something she could never get over. Which meant, I would lose her. Those stakes were too high and I wasn’t prepared to risk them, not by any stretch. Fucking her best friend was no more than an enormously stupid mistake, something that would never happen again. What Plum didn’t know could not, and would not, hurt her. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

  Tina, however, didn’t quite see things the same way as me. After subsequently approaching me like a cat in heat on more than one occasion, all she received was my cold indifference. Consequently, she took it upon herself to tell Plum what happened between us. As a result, my entire world came crashing in on me. The foremost image in my mind now is the sad way Plum looked at me after demanding to know the truth. I couldn’t respond but my inability to form the right words gave her all the answers she needed. It was my turn to hurt and I did. I witnessed those beautiful blue eyes filling up with tears as her eyebrows furrowed in the middle of her forehead and she fought desperately to keep her emotions at bay. But she lost her struggle.

  I’d broken her. I’d broken us. In the days that followed, I tried to talk to her and show her how sorry I was. We eventually agreed to work on the relationship, but the damage was done. Something changed—perhaps it was the innocence or the magic that once bonded us, but whatever it was had vanished. The very moment that I stuck my cock inside Tina was the same moment that I murdered my relationship with Plum. I relegated what was once a mutual fantasy into an apocalyptic, scarred wasteland. Our relationship would never be the same again. Of course, you can’t do something like that and expect everything will be rainbows and roses afterwards. That being said, we were both victims in our frustration of trying to heal and move forward. Granted, there were moments when we both felt innocent again, but even more where we didn’t and the proverbial elephant took up the whole fucking room.

  Plum and I made plans to spend New Year’s Eve together just like two people who love each other would do. When today came, however, we’d gotten into another fight and Plum had stormed out of my house. Adding insult to injury was that she hadn’t called, texted or returned any of my attempts to apologize throughout the entire day. Every attempt I made to contact her resulted in only reaching her voicemail. Yes, I could have driven to her house and done my best to smooth things over, but at the time, I was too stubborn. I was always too stubborn. In my mind, Plum had virtually shut me out.

  By the time nine PM rolled around, I had not received a phone call or had any of my texts returned, so I was pretty convinced I would be spending New Year’s alone, a realization that landed in my stomach like an anvil. I contemplated taking a few sleeping pills and crashing early just to get myself through the night as quickly and painlessly as possible but in true masochistic fashion, I chose instead to acquire some cocaine before handpicking a desolate bar where I could drink myself to the point of oblivious stupidity. I knew it was a terrible idea…but I did it anyways.

  Seemingly out of thin air, a drink appeared in front of me, snapping me from my feverish thoughts. Without hesitation, I reached for it and threw it back. I slammed the shot glass down onto the bar with a loud crash that sounded over the music playing in the background, causing more than a few pairs of concerned eyes to look my way. But I didn’t care.

  Fuck them. That good, old liquid courage was definitely starting to set in.

  The night was still young and I had no intention of going home now that midnight had come and gone. I wanted to stay up for a while longer. However, getting that drunk was not helping me stay awake. I reached into my pocket and fingered the little baggie. It was time. I signaled the bartender for another drink, this time a much larger one.

  When it was finally served in front of me, I placed a napkin over the glass to let the blond bartender with the way-too-short skirt know that I would be coming right back. Getting off the stool, I walked towards the bathroom at the far end of the bar. Amazingly, there was no line waiting for me. Shocked at my good fortune, I walked in and went right for the lone bathroom stall that had a door. As soon as I walked in and latched it, my hand was in my pocket,
pulling the bag out.

  I opened the bag and poured some of the powdered contents onto the stainless-steel toilet paper dispenser on my right. As I did, I noticed that the dispenser had already been covered with a thin white film. Cocaine!

  Great. I’m not the only degenerate here tonight. Something about knowing that others in this bar were also indulging in something more than alcohol gave me comfort.

  I crushed the small amount of cocaine into dust and broke it up into two very substantial lines. Then I reached into my pocket for a dollar bill, which was already rolled up. I brought the bill to my nostril, plugged the other nostril with a finger, and inhaled deeply. One of the lines disappeared. The sensation hit me instantly. My nose burned. Then I did the same thing to the other nostril. I felt instantly energized; and the effects of all the alcohol began quickly dimming down.

  That should balance me out. All kinds of getting fucked up tonight to do still.

  I placed the bag and the dollar bill back into my pocket hastily, unlatched the door and quickly walked out. When I made it back to my seat, I was pleased to find that no one had taken it. While placing a napkin over a drink was the supposed universal symbol that meant the seat in front of it was still taken regardless of whether it was left unoccupied, you could only count on that so much before someone decided to take it anyways. Thankfully that wasn’t the case in this instance.

  Someone must really be looking out for me tonight! And whoever it is must also want me to get completely hammered. I refused to disappoint whoever it was.

  I sat back on the stool, took the napkin off my drink and gulped a swig. I had to do everything in my power not to spit it back up. I placed the drink back down on the bar and gave it an angry look as my throat continued to burn. Every ounce of the liquid seared its way into my stomach. I had to keep myself from throwing up as soon as I recognized the poison.

  Tequila.

  I hadn’t ordered tequila nor would I have, not even if it were the last thing on earth left to drink. My experiences with tequila never began or ended well. I looked around for the blond bartender to let her know she made a mistake. She was busy mixing another drink and her back was turned towards me. I wasn’t too disappointed after being offered a perfect view of her milky white legs. I panned up her legs to the back of her thighs and my breath instantly caught as I noticed the tattoos on each of them. Black garters! Very intricate designs with lines that seemed to travel on and on until they met in a perfectly tied bow, smack dab in the center of each thigh. I had to remind myself to start breathing again as my eyes followed the lines of the garters up to her perfect ass. Her short skirt was practically no more than a simple piece of cloth and not an actual skirt. I could make out the very beginnings of her ass cheeks that proudly wriggled beneath the skirt’s lining…

  And that’s when she turned around and looked directly into my eyes.

  At one time in my life, I might have tried to quickly avert my gaze and pretend that I was looking at something else or, at the very least, not staring at what I’d very obviously been staring at. But that was then and this was now. I was drunk and high out of my mind. I slowly walked my eyes up to hers and gave her a knowing grin. She didn’t return it but seemed to float over to me, keeping her eyes fastened on mine the whole time.

  “I’d say you should take a picture so it’ll last longer but I won’t and you had better not,” she said, her voice surprisingly calm. Her tone didn’t suggest that she didn’t mean exactly what she said.

  The grin on my face disappeared. “I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.” But I really wasn’t sorry and it would happen again.

  A smile lit up her face. She was definitely good looking—but not in a wholesome, sweet kind of way. She was good looking in a throw-her-down-on-the-bed-and-push-her-legs-behind-her-ears kind of way. Brown hair, brown eyes and freckles upon freckles upon freckles. Her nose was turned up slightly and she had perfect white teeth that I could barely glimpse through her lips.

  She’s not Plum, my inner voice sounded from deep inside me.

  I could taste the metallic residue of the cocaine as it dripped down the back of my throat. You’re right, I countered. She’s not Plum and who the fuck knows where Plum is? Or who she’s with? So, shut the fuck up!

  “I’m just fucking with you. Not about the picture part though,” the bartender said with a laugh. “They make us dress like this, so you’re not doing anything I’m not used to already.”

  “Okay, well, I will try to be a little lower pro about it the next time then.” I tried to match her laughter.

  “Deal.” She showcased that cute little smile again. “So, what can I get you?”

  “This drink. It’s very good,” I lied. “But not what I wanted and definitely not what I ordered.”

  She looked at me, studying me quizzically. “Well, can you tell me what you did want then?”

  I began to blurt something out but stopped. What had I ordered again?!

  She noticed my confusion and dropped her head as her petite, sweet body shook with laughter. I couldn’t keep my eyes from traveling to her smallish breasts as they bounced and jiggled with her outburst of humor. I was sure I stopped looking at them when her head popped back up and her eyes met mine. She flashed me a knowing smile.

  “You actually didn’t order anything. You seemed to be in an awful hurry to get to the bathroom. All you did was wave at me. So I took it upon myself to make you a drink, the kind that I wanted.” Her explanation made my brow furrow. Could I have been in that much of a rush that I forgot to order a drink?

  “So, what?” she continued. “My drink’s not good enough for you?”

  “It’s not that. It’s tequila. It doesn’t sit well with me.”

  “Well, that’s funny,” she pressed. “Who does it actually sit well with?”

  “Definitely not me,” I smiled.

  “Well, I’m sure you have your reasons.” She took the drink from me and set it down on the lower countertop in front of her. “So, what can I get you, handsome?”

  “I’ll have a Moscow Mule,” I shrugged.

  “Coming right up.” She nodded at me and her hands began to move around the bar in front of her, quickly grabbing a cup and then one bottle after another. She was good and fast. All the while, my eyes were riveted on her amazing hair and how nicely it traveled down her backside. I imagined touching it, and how it would feel clenched in my fists as I took her from behind.

  Stop it! This isn’t doing you any good! I scolded myself. You don’t know if Plum is with someone else. She could be at home alone!

  On New Year’s? I railed back defensively. Besides, don’t be so hard on yourself. You aren’t fucking the bartender—you’re just imagining it.

  I was convinced that all guys must imagine railing whatever hot girl they happen to be looking at. I could be wrong but I doubted it. In any case, this line of thinking was the whole reason I was sitting here alone on New Year’s Eve in the first place.

  She finished making my drink and held the cold copper cup out to me. I reached for it and grabbed it with both hands. Her eyes moved from my eyes and landed on my forearms.

  “What is that?” she asked, nodding at my left forearm.

  “This?” I angled my forearm to give her a better view of the tattoo that was sprawled all around it.

  “Yes, that. You were busy admiring my artwork, now it’s my turn.” She laughed, which was intoxicating. In that moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the bar. We weren’t of course; there were people on top of people but her attention was solely fastened on me, and mine on her. The chatter in the background seemed so distant, we might as well have been on an island. And that was exactly what I needed at the moment – her full attention. I needed it because it soothed the ache of being without Plum on the most important day of the year.

  I extended my left forearm toward her so that she could see the tattoo more closely. She reached out and brushed her fing
ers along my skin, causing goosebumps to appear immediately. My pants suddenly felt tighter in the crotch.

  The tattoo on my left forearm was also of a clock and, like the one on my right forearm, it was also steampunk style. Other than that, and their similarity in size, this one, however, stood in sharp contrast to the one on my right in every other way. The numbers on this clock were Roman numerals that wrapped around my forearm in a giant circle but the numbers went backwards, counter-clockwise from twelve to one. Within that spiral of numbers were the gears of the clock itself. Copper in color, they gave the intentional appearance of being quite aged and weathered. There were three large, toothy circular gears, each stacked one atop the other. The teeth of each gear were intertwined within the next, each one relying on the other for movement. Off to the side, below and above the three larger gears were several smaller, circular gears. The long black jagged hands of this clock were also pointed to 12. In the background of this mechanical amalgam of gears and roman numerals, lay a gaping and swirling maw of blues and blacks. Clearly a black hole, the streaks of blacks made up the dark matter of space while the blues represented the pulling force emanating from the brutish force of nature. The tattoo artist, the same one who had done my other forearm, had applied the appropriate amount of ink shading to give it a very real, 3-D effect.

  During the time in which I’d been busy getting the tattoo on my right finished, I’d also gone about creating a concept to express my fascination with the other and equally polarizing aspect of time, the past and its many alternate realities for my left.

  In the beginning, I spent a lot of time agonizing over the right form for this concept, much as I’d experienced with the first one. Then, I came to an eerily similar and abrupt moment of clarity. And the rest, as they say, was history. An amazing piece of work, it was every bit as spectacular as the one on my right forearm. Of course, they really needed to be viewed together for one to truly comprehend their majesty. Just like life and death, good and evil, order and chaos, they complemented each other and represented the past and the future, both working in unison.