Let everything happen to you
Beauty and terror
Just keep going
No feeling is final
- Rainer Maria Rilke
Tommy backs Heather into the wall slowly, his lips moving softly against hers, his tongue hesitantly asking permission to dance. His hands find their way to each side of her face and he cups her jawline in his palm, relishing the feel of its movement as she opens her mouth to accommodate him. She moans lowly as their tongues tangle and the sound seems to go directly to a part of him that hasn't shown interest in anyone in a while. He moves his hips away from her body, ashamed of the way he's tenting the front of his sweat pants. Heather grabs his hips and pulls him back up against her, the difference in height putting his erection against her stomach. He tries to pull away again but she holds tight to him, growling in protest.
"I keep telling myself that I can't sleep with you, Tommy, not yet. I'm not the kind of girl who can just fall into bed with a guy regardless of how absolutely fucking sexy he is," she breathes into his ear causing the throbbing in his pants to increase by a thousand percent, "but I'm having a real hard time sticking to my morals. All night I've been watching that mouth, those lips and wondering what it would feel like to have them all over me."
Heather moans as he pulls her hair forcing her head back and exposing her neck. He runs his tongue from her collar bone all the way to her ear causing her to shiver. He breathes in her perfume and buries his nose in her hair. The smell of her is enough to drive him insane but to hear her talk like that is lovely and painful at the same time. He grabs her around her waist and picks her up. Heather wraps her legs around his hips and clasps her arms around his neck as he carries her to Colt's office. There's a couch in there that might be big enough to accommodate the two of them for a while.
Kicking open the door he flips on the light and closes the door behind them without ever breaking the kiss.
"You don't have to sleep with me, I won't pressure you. But god, don't make me stop kissing you," Tommy moans hoarsely, his voice shaking. He's not concerned with the actual act of sex but he craves this intimacy, needs to feel close to someone; he's aching to feel alive again.
Heather wraps her fingers in his hair and presses her mouth tighter against his. He breaks the kiss long enough to lay her down on the couch and she scoots to the back to make room for him.
"Take your shirt off, I want to see you," she requests, her eyes looking him up and down unashamedly. He strips the t-shirt and tank underneath off without hesitation and Heather sighs one word loudly. "Beautiful."
Tommy lays down on the couch beside her and claims her mouth again. This time the kiss is less hungry and more sensual. His hands never move from her hair and her side. Heather on the other hand traces her fingers up and down his abs, outlining every muscle. The feel of her finger tickles, causing his abs to contract; the sensation only makes him harder. Grabbing his right hand Heather moves it up inside her shirt, underneath her bra.
"It's okay to touch me Tommy," she moans. Her frankness in words and actions stun him a little but he's happy to oblige her. He can feel her nipple harden as soon as his fingers brush it and another longing sigh escapes her lips. He pulls her shirt and bra up and lowers his head, taking her into his mouth, sucking lightly. She moans louder now and the sound electrifies him. He clutches at her ass, grinding into her as he runs his tongue around the stiffened peak. Her hand clasps the back of his head, urging him to continue. Then, from out in the gym they hear the sound of a phone. It's an unusual ringtone and the spell is broken as soon as Heather recognizes it.
"Shit, shit, shit!" Heather sits up and pulls her shirt down, breaking his hold on her. "That's work. Jesus, Tommy I'm so sorry. I have to answer that. Let me call them back and see what's going on, okay? Don't go anywhere, more than likely it's nothing but I have to call…"
Heather backs out the door still apologizing and Tommy lays on his back on the couch. He's almost thankful for the interruption; too much more and there wouldn't have been any way he could have stopped himself from taking her regardless of if it was too soon or not. He can hear her talking in mumbled tones, the words indistinct until he definitely hears her say, "Oh my god… no."
Sitting up on the couch he looks out into the gym and see's Heather with her head down, clutching her forehead as she closes the cell phone. He starts to leave the office but sits back down on the couch as she heads back towards him. Looking at her is like looking at a ghost, she's as white as a sheet and looks positively ill.
"You okay? What happened?"
"Oh my god, Tommy. I don't know how to tell you this. Oh sweetie…"
"What?!" Panic rises in him, he can feel the blood pounding in his ears and his pulse in his mouth.
"Tommy, Penny's dead. She jumped off the roof of the hospital and killed herself."
"You're lying, why would… why would you say some shit like that?" Tommy stutters. He feels stunned like he's taken a blow to the head. More like a blow to the heart.
Heather sits on the couch next to him, tears rolling down her face. "Oh Tommy, I wish it wasn't true. That was Sandy from the ER, she called me to tell me since she knew I'd taken an interest in getting Penny into River's Bend." Heather moves to put her arm around Tommy but he pushes her away and stands.
"Don't… just don't touch me!"
"Tommy," Heather pleads, her face turned up to him. Her tears make him furious and sick all at once. This chick doesn't even know Penny. Why the hell does she even care?
"Maybe if I hadn't been here fuckin' around with you I woulda been there to stop her. Maybe if I didn't have you in my ear, givin' me all this false hope I coulda been doin' something real for that girl!"
Heather's mouth is open and she stares at him in shock. He grabs his shirts off the floor and storms out. He doesn't hear her call for him as he passes the bag and picks up his jacket. He knows why she did it, he knows where he's going, what he's going to do once he gets there and he hopes the cell they put him is the last place he'll ever live.
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The cab drops Tommy off in front of the house at the address on the pilfered license at eight a.m.. After walking around some of the worst areas in the 'burgh, just hoping some thug or hoodlum would try and start some shit with him, he'd waited until now to come here.
He can see shadows moving past the windows and lights on so he knows Jeff is up. The sonofabitch is probably packing but it doesn't matter; his next home is going to be a fucking pine box.
He sees who he assumes is Mrs. Clarke back out of the garage in a rental car. He bolts across the road to the front door as soon as the vehicle is out of sight. Ringing the doorbell he steps to the side so Jeff won't be able to see it's him before he opens the door; then it's gonna be too late for that sick fucker. Tommy means to exact the ultimate revenge for Penny's miserable life and pointless death.
The door opens and Jeff looks outside warily, barely opening the glass outer door. Tommy's on him in the blink of an eye, has him by the lapels of his pajama top and is shaking him furiously before he even has a chance to scream.
"I never went back! I won't go back, I won't bother her, Joan's gone to rent the moving truck! Please! Tommy I swear I didn't go back!"
"It doesn't matter!" Tommy screams, so enraged that spittle flies with every syllable and sprays Jeff in the face, "She fucking killed herself this morning! She jumped off the goddamned roof of the hospital and splattered her brains all over the pavement. YOU FUCKING KILLED HER!" Tommy puts his hands around Jeff's neck and starts to squeeze, feeding all the anger and hatred into the fingers that are already causing Penny's tormentor and murderer to turn blue in the face.
"Daddy? Who is that?"
Tommy's head snaps around towards the sound and sees a little girl of no more than four or five. She's walking into the room holding a stuffed pink pony, rubbing her eyes as if she's just woken up. Tommy moves his hands quickly down to his side and stuffs them into the pockets of his hoodie. Jeff gasps for air as he realizes the stranglehold is gone and Tommy can see him fight for a look of normalcy as he turns to face his daughter.
"Kiki, this is my friend Tommy, Tommy this is my little girl, her name is Kendra but we call her Kiki for short."
"Tommy, why were you hurting my daddy?"
Tommy doesn't know what to say, the innocence of her voice stuns him into the violent recognition of what he was about to do to her father.
"Oh baby, Tommy wasn't hurting Daddy, we haven't seen each other in a long time and we were kidding around, playing." Tommy turns back to Jeff, stunned that he's covering for him. Or is he protecting his daughter, Tommy thinks to himself.
Kiki wanders over to Tommy and holds out her hand. "Very nice to meet you Tommy. I'm sad that I won't get to know you though. We're moving away today. Daddy finally decided to work for my Pappy Ralph in Mannashupeets or someplace like that. He says we can't live here no more since our car got stoled last night."
Tommy turns to look at Jeff and then looks down at the little girl who's still holding her hand out expectantly. Tommy reaches down and takes her hand in his, shaking it up and down a couple of times. He wonders at how the hands that were about to murder the father can be so gentle when dealing with the child.
"I'm very pleased to meet you too Kiki. If you'll give me just a second to talk to your daddy alone I'll get out of your hair and he can help pack up all your ponies." Tommy smiles as sweetly as he can manage and the little girl toddles off towards the other part of the house.
"I know…"
"Shut the fuck up Jeff," Tommy growls, pointing his finger in the man's face. "I got not use for anything you have to say to me. Just know this…" Tommy stops, breathing in deeply to try and quell the anger long enough to say what he needs to, "That little girl? She's the only redeeming thing about you, she just saved you and she'll keep saving you as long as you don't fuck it up. You watch her like a hawk and protect her like she's the most precious thing in this fuckin' universe because she is. Save her from all the fucking scumbags like you in the world."
Tommy spares one more second to glare down at him before turning on his heels and jogging back across the street. He doesn't stop jogging until he crosses paths with any place that serves alcohol at 8:30 in the morning. In Pittsburgh it doesn't take Tommy too long to find one.
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"Grab his legs…"
"I got his wallet, just makes sure the car door is open…
The voices sound as blurry as the figures look to Tommy. The last thing cohesive memory he has is of buying a round of Boilermakers all for himself.
"You fuckin' robbing me man?"
"Tommy, I'm your brother and you're nineteen kinds of pissed right now. I'm taking you outta here."
"But I got more beers to drink, man. Come on Bren, have one with me." Tommy sounds sloshed, even to himself, but he doesn't care. He likes the loss of control that comes with drinking, he's always liked it too much and that's why, for a while at least, he stayed away from it all together. "Heyyy, lemme go man!" Tommy struggles against the hands that are hauling him out of the bar and into the cool night air but he's too drunk to resist with any formidable effort.
"Let's get him back to my place. I have two bedrooms, you can take one and that way you'll be there if he needs you and I can keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't have alcohol poisoning," says a female voice. A face comes to mind and then a breast under a shirt; there's a name too but he can't recall it through the alcohol induced fog.
"Yeah, if he's ok in the morning I have to head out to Philly to get Tess and the girls. We'll be back for the funeral."
"What funeral?" Tommy calls out as he's shoved into the backseat of a vehicle that smells like baby powder and apple juice. He grabs something from the seat behind his head and tries his best to make his eyes focus on it. It's a red hair tie, one like Penny used to wear in her hair. They're talking about Penny's funeral. It all comes back to him in a painful rush and leaves him breathless, the pain in his chest white hot and stunning in its intensity.
First there was his Ma, he hadn't saved her from the cancer that ate her from the inside out. He hadn't prayed hard enough, hadn't begged god hard enough for his mother's life. She'd died screaming in agony, begging for death to take her from all the pain she was in. He'd failed her.
Then there was Manny. They'd waved the fucking white flags, tried to let their own troops know that they were bombing the wrong men, killing their own. He'd screamed and shouted in unison with Manny until it was only him screaming. He'd seen his brother in arms lying on the ground, seen that most of Manny was missing from the waist down. He'd done his best to piece him back together, to keep the blood from emptying out of his wounds. He'd held him in his arms and promised him that he was going to be fine, that it wasn't as bad a wound as he thought but it had all been fucking lies. He'd failed him.
And then there was Penny. He'd failed her the worst of them all. He hadn't listened hard enough to realize she'd been telling him about her trouble all along. It had been written in her eyes, in her movements, in the way she'd cryptically say things to him. He'd been too wrapped up in his own silly shit to realize that his best friend from his childhood was living in hell. Then he left her to rot just so he could avoid getting slapped around. Her pain compared to his own at the time was tremendous and he'd turned a deaf ear and a blind eye towards her. He'd come home too late to salvage anything that might have been left of the girl that once was. He'd failed her. He'd failed them all and now there was another funeral taking place because he was a human fuck up of epic proportions.
"It should be me in that casket," he mutters as the engine starts up and he passes into dreamless, drunken oblivion for a little while.