Angel Dust

A/N: I keep telling myself to keep the chapters short, and they just keep getting longer. Sorry! Anyway, it's been about a week since I posted, and I'm sorry for the delay. The last couple of chapters took a lot out of me emotionally, but I hope this one was worth the wait. Enjoy!

Courtney let out an exhausted sigh as she flipped the "Open" sign over on the front door of her shop. It had been a long, busy day, and she was ready to go home and forget about work for the next twelve hours. As she reached to lock the door, a shining pair of blue eyes on the other side of the glass brought a wide smile to her lips.

As she unlocked the door, Randy let himself in and dropped a kiss on her cheek. "You ready to head home, baby?" he asked, checking his watch. "I don't know about you, but I could go for a long, hot bath right about now."

Courtney smiled in spite of herself. "Sounds like heaven, baby," she sighed. Casting a glance around the store, she sucked back a deep breath and wove her fingers through Randy's. "I've got a mountain of dishes to do, though. And my quarterly numbers are due to the accountant tomorrow afternoon."

Randy pouted just a little and rested his hands on her waist. "Can't you just come in early tomorrow?"

While there was nothing she wanted more than to go home and cuddle with him, Courtney knew that he would keep her up half the night, if not all night, and she would have a hard enough time making it to work on time, let alone early. "How about this?" she suggested. "You do the dishes, I'll do the numbers. Then we'll go home and do unspeakable things to each other."

Groaning as she wrapped her arms around his neck, Randy smirked and tightened his arms around her. With a smirk, he licked his lips. "Or," he kissed her nose, "I could go home and get shit ready while you finish up here," he offered. She knew full well he didn't touch dirty dishes in his own home, let alone some that had been used by total strangers. Especially strangers in the Village. "And when you come home, I'll have your bath drawn and we will enjoy being wet all night."

Her spine tingled as he kissed her neck and lifted her feet off the floor slightly. Pulling back, she winked. "Deal," she smiled as he kissed her again. With a soft pat on his ass, she nodded to the door. "See you at home."

Thoughts of what she would do to Randy in the bathtub filled her head as she soaped the dishes and hummed to herself. It had been nearly three weeks since she had visited Dave. Though it had been a difficult night, a calming sense had come over her when she thought about moving forward. And she had to admit that moving forward with Randy made the most sense. Though she wasn't sure how she knew, she was sure that Dave would approve.

Toweling her hands dry, she moved toward the counter and contemplated the stack of receipts awaiting her. Maybe I can just take 'em home with me. I'm sure Randy will have to sleep at some point. I can just work on them after my bath.

Her thoughts were cut short by a timid knock on the front door. Startled, she raised her eyes and smiled, her heart beating just a little bit at the shock of the late night visitor. Checking her watch, she made her way to the door. It was only seven thirty, but the winter sky had already turned dark. "What are you doing?" she asked with a chuckle.

He waited until she had unlocked the door to answer. As Nitro stepped past her into the store, he sat a large canvas against one of the tables and held up a non-descript paper bag. "Well, we didn't seem to be making much progress with the whole 'getting you to go to dinner with me' thing," he shot her a million-watt smile and tucked a long strand of blonde hair behind his ear. "So I figured I would bring dinner to you."

Stepping to the counter, he made himself at home as he unpacked take out containers, chop sticks, and napkins. Courtney locked the door again and walked to the other side of the counter, catching his eye as he unpacked. "You realize I could have already been gone for the night," she reminded him.

He nodded and pushed a carton of chicken toward her. "But you're not," he pointed out, the smile never leaving his face as he sank to a nearby bar stool and opened his own dinner.

Randy was waiting for her at home. But she could eat quickly and still get back to him before he started to worry. And the smell of the General Tso's he had brought was way too tempting to pass up. Dipping her chop sticks into the carton, she chewed a bite thoroughly and watched him. "What are you really doing here?" she asked finally.

With innocent eyes, Nitro met her gaze. He opened his mouth, no doubt to spill some exuse, but then shut it again. "Brought you a painting for that wall," he nodded to the bare wall opposite them. When Courtney cringed, he shook his head. "Not the one from the gallery."

From the moment he had made the suggestion that she hang the art in her shop, it had been evident that she had no interest. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the painting had evoked a deep sadness within her. Nitro had never seen someone as stunningly beautiful as Courtney when she smiled, and he wasn't interested in bringing any expression other than sheer joy to her flawless features.

Standing, he moved to the painting and turned it toward her. "The other one sold," he lied. "But I thought this one complimented your color pallet better anyway."

Courtney let her eyes drift over the abstract art. It's deep, rich gold tones and the pops of vibrant burgundy were a perfect match for the shop. After a long moment, she looked into Nitro's proud eyes and raised an eyebrow skeptically. "This is something you just had laying around?"

"Uh huh." He shrugged and opened the messenger bag that had been over his shoulder when he arrived. Withdrawing a hammer and a few nails, he moved to the far wall and began to size up the area for his creation.

"So what's it called?" Courtney asked as she climbed onto the counter and crossed her legs, still eating her dinner.

For a brief moment, he thought about lying to her. Instead, he finished affixing it to the wall and then turned, his eyes sincere. "Donna Bella."

Her heart dropped as the words rolled off of his lips. Donna Bella. The Italian words for "beautiful woman." She knew, instantly, that he had created this elegant work of art just for her. A part of her wanted to scream, smack him, and throw him out. But a bigger part was so flattered she couldn't stop the smile from spreading over her face.

"It's amazing," she complimented as he made his way over to the stool again and resumed eating.

For nearly thirty minutes, the pair talked and laughed like old friends. She learned that John Hennigan was born and raised in Los Angeles, but had moved to New York for college, and then stayed to pursue his art. He was now working part-time at a local art museum, while finishing his master's degree in Art History. He had dreams of supporting himself with his paintings and sculputures someday, but would settle for owning his own gallery.

Courtney found that talking to him about her own upbringing in Vermont, and about moving to Washington in high school, came easily for her. While he appeared to be nothing more than a neo-hippie artist, Nitro was politically aware, and had no trouble making conversation with her about the world into which she was born and raised.

"Okay," Nitro chuckled as Courtney checked her watch briefly. She was still perched on the counter as he leaned forward on his elbows, their dinner long since finished. "Most embarrassing moment?"

Blushing deeply, she shook her head. "Oh no. You first," she laughed, nudging him with her knee.

He sat back on the stool and brushed his hair behind his ear. "When I was dancing in college," he started.

"Dancing?" Courtney interrupted.

He nodded and reached into his back pocket. "I thought I told you I put myself through college by dancing," he winked, handing her a tattered picture from his wallet. "Stripping, exotic dancing - whatever you want to call it."

Rolling her eyes, Courtney took the picture, still holding his gaze. "Ah, so you've always been an artist then?" she asked sarcastically.

As her eyes lowered to the picture, Nitro folded his arms and waited for the impending jaw-drop. It wasn't that he was arrogant, but he knew he had a great body. And she wouldn't be the first woman to be impressed. And if she was, he couldn't say he would mind that much.

"Holy hell," Courtney gasped as she finally took in the image in the photo. Nitro stood next to another man, both holding cups of beer in their hands, wearing spandex pants and surrounded by at least ten smiling women.

The first time she had seen Dave naked, she had been stunned. Muscles rippling everywhere, cuts and hard lines begging to be carressed and licked. Randy was an Adonis, muscular and toned. He wasn't as bulky as Dave, but his shoulders and thighs demanded the utmost care and attention. And then there was Nitro.

His smile alone had been enough to cause her heart to flutter for weeks. But his broad shoulders and his defined chest caused it to pound like a drum. His abdomen was a thing of sculpted perfection, leading to a trim waist that she could clearly see her legs wrapped around. Thoughts of sweeping her tongue around each part of his exquisite six-pack lept through her mind as she handed the picture back.

"Nice," she raised an eyebrow, more thankful than ever that she was able to conceal her true emotions at that moment. "So you were dancing," she prodded him to continue his story.

Tucking the picture back into his wallet, he launched into a story about an 80-year-old woman who had grabbed him on stage one night, and refused to let go. "Everyone in the club were laughing their asses off, and I just kept thinking 'someone please get her wrinkley hands off my junk.' But, of course, I couldn't say that because it's business," he rolled his eyes and sipped from the green tea Courtney had given him. "I'm nothing if not professional."

Laughing until her stomach hurt, Courtney wiped a few tears out of the corners of her eyes. "That's priceless," she finally said, still chuckling.

He watched her laugh, fighting every urge to kiss her that was coursing through his body, and leaned back on the stool. "So what about you? What embarasses Courtney Lane?"

She cringed at the sound of her name rolling off his lips. Batista, she inwardly corrected him. My name is Courtney Lane-Batista. I am a married woman. I was a married woman. I'm a widow with a boyfriend. Checking her watch again, she turned on the counter and hopped off onto the floor. "I'd love to tell you about it sometime, Nitro," she turned and began tossing take-out containers into the trash. "But I have a boyfriend waiting for me at home."

He wondered for a moment why she chose that moment to mention the boyfriend - one that she hadn't said a word about all night. But he knew that he wasn't going to win her over by sticking his nose where it didn't belong. Gathering his own belongings, he nodded easily. "Thanks for dinner, Courtney," he said as she rounded the corner of the counter with her purse over her shoulder.

She smiled and tried to fight the warm feeling in the pit of her stomach. This wasn't supposed to be happening. She wasn't ready for this to happen. She was with Randy. She didn't need this guy. He wasn't anything like her ideal man. He wasn't what she was supposed to want.

He was nothing like Dave.

"Thanks for the painting," she answered, opening the door for him and then following him into the street.

Handing her a piece of paper, Nitro shot another grin her way. "This is kinda forward, and I know you have a boyfriend," he started, pressing the paper into the palm of her hand. "But if you ever wanna talk again."

The brief contact sent a shiver through her spine as she shook her head and slid the paper into her pocket. "I see you damn near everyday, kid," she reminded with a pointed grin.

He just shrugged and stuffed his hands into his pockets as they began to walk in the same direction. "Sometimes there's shit you can't talk about at work," he said easily. The long silence that followed nearly sent him running in the other way. Things had been going so well. Had he fucked it all up?

"Thanks," she smiled as they stood at a crossroads in the street. "For dinner. And the painting." She tucked a strand of fallen hair behind her ear and tightened her ponytail as she hitched her purse onto her shoulder again. Opening her mouth, she seemed to think twice and shut it again. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He didn't think as he reached out and held her arms, kissing the top of her head. "It's a date," he winked as he turned his back and began to walk the opposite direction.

Courtney didn't watch him leave, only continued on the path to her house. She didn't want to like the eclectic artist. She didn't want to feel comfortable talking to him about shit she didn't talk about with anyone else. She didn't want to feel her skin tingle after he barely touched her. And she certainly didn't want to be horny as hell after seeing one picture of his nearly naked body.

With a determined spring in her step, she sped up her trek toward home. Randy was waiting for her. Randy - the man she was supposed to be with. Randy - the man who belonged in her world, in her life, in her bed. He would fuck the echoes of Nitro's touch off of her skin. He would make her forget. Someone had to make her forget.