CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  Four.

  Five.

  Filthy 2

  Filthy: A Serial Novel

  Book Two

  Megan D. Martin

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Filthy 2, Filthy Book Two: A Serial Novel

  Copyright © 2014 Megan D. Martin

  Cover by Najla Qamber Designs

  Chapter Header Design by JN Sheats-Illustrator

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  www.MeganDMartin.blogspot.com

  First Printing, 2014

  For Maranda,

  Because you deserve a million dedications for putting up with me and my neurotic ramblings.

  She would let it go

  One day

  When the moon glowed with unshed tears

  And the world was a different place.

  ONE.

  I didn’t know what made me more nervous—the fact that I was about to see my mom’s dead body or that I was about to see him. Her husband, Rhett’s father. He was the reason I stood outside the doors of my mother’s funeral wearing an outfit I could never afford, an outfit that tried to cover up the truth. That I, Faye Turner, was a homeless prostitute. A dirty, filthy whore.

  My hand shook as I pressed the cigarette to my lips. I wasn’t ready for this.

  Will I ever be ready? No. My body already ached even though I’d taken a bump of cocaine less than twenty minutes ago. I was almost out. Only one hit left of the little package I’d paid for with a rough face-fucking.

  Rhett, my step-brother and his girlfriend Sarah had already gone inside, leaving me out here alone with my thoughts, my trembling hands, and my cigarette.

  I inhaled deeply taking the warm smoke inside my lungs, letting it fill me up. Maybe if I breathe in deep enough it will carry me away? I looked up at the pale blue sky. Maybe I could float to the moon and make my home in a crater. I almost giggled at the idea.

  “Can I bum a smoke?” The voice to my left startled me, making me jump and I nearly lost my balance. I knew that voice. It was the same one that had haunted my thoughts for the past three years. I stumbled back a few steps and looked up into the face I promised myself I would never see again.

  Taylor Hale, my step-dad, stared down at me, his blue eyes familiar, so full of lust they made my skin prickle. His brown hair had more gray in it than the last time I saw him. His face a little more lined. But he was still the same man. Still tall and broad, towering over me.

  “You’re my good girl.” Words whispered from years ago echoed in my mind. I shook my head and dropped my half-smoked cigarette on the ground.

  Taylor bent down and picked it up. “Here, ma’am. You dropped this.” He took a step toward me, the cigarette poised between his fingers. I stared at it like it was infected with poison.

  “Just stay away from me while I’m here,” I said, regaining my voice. My palm itched to reach in my purse and extract the switchblade inside.

  “Stay away from you?” His eyes twinkled with their familiar fire. “I don’t think we’ve met.” He held out his hand to me, as if I would really take it. As if he didn’t remember the way he damaged me. The way his fingertips caressed my body until even I couldn’t deny their pleasure. Seven years of raping me and he doesn’t remember who I am?

  To anyone else he was a kind, attractive, business tycoon with a big heart. Everyone loved him. I used to love him too. But I knew the dark twisted parts of him. The parts no one else would ever know. “Don’t play this shit with me Taylor. Don’t act like you don’t know who I am.” I took a step closer to him, even though the movement made my skin crawl. “Just remember I’m not a little girl anymore. I will gut you if you try anything.”

  He smirked. It was that all-knowing, superior smirk I knew too well. Even three years couldn’t erase it from my memory. “I missed you, Faye baby.”

  My stomach clenched at the use of his pet name. I could remember when he used to moan it in my ear when he came inside me. I bit the inside of my cheek.

  His blue eyes raked up and down my body. “Your hair is longer.” His hand snaked out and toyed with the end of my braid.

  “Don’t touch me, Taylor.” I jerked back, but he followed me, leaning in. The scent of aftershave and Gain laundry detergent toyed with my senses.

  “I always liked it better when you called me daddy.”

  I shuddered.

  The door to the funeral home opened, revealing Rhett clad in a black suit. His presence was like a balm to my frazzled emotions. “Faye,” he paused his gaze jumping from me to his father, who was now taking a drag on my dropped cigarette. “Dad? I was wondering where you were.” He looked back at me. “The service is going to start soon.” His words were emotionless. It was the same monotone sound he’d been using since he kissed me in his kitchen two days ago. For me that kiss changed everything. I’d been waiting for it for the last four years, hell, all my life. But it only seemed to make him angrier, the mask of hate he wore more firmly in place. Just thinking about the kiss made my heart flutter, and that was saying something considering Taylor, the devil, stood mere feet away from me.

  I rushed forward and wrapped my hand around one of Rhett’s biceps. He frowned down at me.

  “Will you walk me down to see her?” My heart raced in my ears. I was suddenly terrified that he would deny my request. Then where would that leave me? Walking down to see her with Taylor. My bottom lip trembled.

  “Okay.” A look of concern fluttered over his features before he covered it up.

  Rhett led me inside. I was surprised to see how packed the little chapel was. People filled every row, all of their eyes turning to look at me at once. My skin crawled. I was used to people looking at me, the wandering eyes of men sizing me up in my little black skirt, wondering what I looked like underneath, wondering if my pussy was as tight as my pouty lips. But I wasn’t used to this. The eyes seemed to look through me, to pry into my very soul and rip me apart from the inside out.

  Do they know who I am?

  With each step on the dull pink carpet the probing eyes seemed to press against my skin, enclosing me in a box I couldn’t escape from. A box like the one we approached. My fingers started to rattle against Rhett’s arm as I took it in. The shiny dark wood coffin, half open. A spray of colorful flowers covered the lower part. A sudden feeling of dread washed over me, dousing me like acid. I rubbed my nose. The urge to snort another line became overwhelming. Escape. Don’t go closer. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.

  But I did. I let Rhett lead me down the rabbit hole, the empty eyes following us asking hundreds of questions I couldn’t answer. And then we were there as if the walk hadn’t taken as long as my mind had thought. I was there. Staring down at the woman in the box, the casket, the coffin. My mom.

  I sucked in a breath. She looked the same and different. Her hair was longer, grayer. Not the bright blond she used to dye it, but brassy and discolored. Her face was too thin, her skin too pale. But it was her. There was no denying it. The likeness of the woman who raised me. The lipstick on her mouth was all wrong, though. Too dark for her. I frowned. I expected to feel something. Looking down at her was supposed to rock my world and change me forever.

  That’s what I expected.

  But it didn’t change anything.

  I stared down at her and felt nothing. The same feeling I felt the last day I saw her before I ran away and left the pain of this life behind. I could remember her there in our fancy kitchen, her skin an orangey tint from her spray tan, blending a fruit smoothie, humming her favorite song. I could remember staring at her and wondering who she was, because I didn’t know her. She was in her element in the life she had always coveted. The trophy wife of a rich man—and that’s what she was today. A silky dress hugged her body, probably the best money could by. Like that day in the kitchen, the woman I looked at wasn’t my mother, but a stranger.

  The blistering heat of anger dropped into the pit of my stomach like a brick. “Are you happy now?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, ringing loud over the soft music and quiet murmuring in the room. “Are you fucking happy?”

  “Faye,” Rhett said quietly beside me.

  I jerked my hand out of his grasp and looked at him wildly. His green eyes stared down at me, a look of utter shock and embarrassment plastered across his face.

  I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry. It all seemed so ridiculous all at once. “She deserved this.” I kept my gaze on his, remembering the day she drove me home from the hospital, a day like so many others that ruined me as a person, a day that broke me down and changed me.

  “You’re not to tell a soul, Faye. Not one fucking person.”

  “She deserved worse than this.” The back of my eyes were hot, the tears threatening to spill over.

  “Stop it, Faye.” Rhett grabbed my arms. “This is her funeral, pay your respects.” There was venom in his voice, bitter hateful venom he seemed to only reserve for me.

  I smirked. “Fuck you.” I turned to look at the full chapel, all the eyes on me. They didn’t press against my skin like they did before. “Fuck all of you!” I jerked away from Rhett and hurried back down the aisle and outside. The hot Texas sun beat down on me, roasting me in its rays. I didn’t stop. Instead I kept going, letting the new flats on my feet carry me out to the parking lot and farther. My lungs burned.

  “They said I won’t be able to have babies, mom. They said I’ll never have one of my own.” I sobbed.

  “Just shut up, Faye. You wouldn’t want kids anyway.”

  I pushed the voices out of my head and ran faster, but I couldn’t block them out, couldn’t keep them away.

  “Why, mom? Why do you let him do this?” I don’t know why I bothered asking. I hadn’t asked her in a long time. The last six years were long enough for me to know that she wasn’t going to have a good answer for that question.

  She glanced over at me from the drivers’ seat of her plush Lexus, her manicured fingers gliding over the leather steering wheel. She didn’t even look like she was sorry, her brown eyes, so much like mine, held nothing but animosity.

  “It’s part of being a woman.”

  My feet slowed and I fell to my knees on the grass, realizing I was in the middle of a cemetery now. Tears, hot like lava, streamed down my face. I let myself slump over, my back pressing against the soft grass. A large sprawling tree obstructed my view of the sky. It looked like withering arms through my veil of tears, all of them reaching for something they would never grasp.

  “Faye.” The sound of Sarah’s voice made me jump. She was the last person I expected.

  “Why the hell would you follow me out here?” I dug in my purse for my cigarettes, gaze still fixed on my obstructed view. My hand brushed against my knife and I mentally acknowledged that if she tried to make me go back with her, I would stab her. The idea made me smile. I’d killed someone before. More than one person, in fact. Men who didn’t play by my rules. Because once I left my mother’s house, left Taylor, I didn’t let men push me around, not if I could help it.

  “You need to come back in with me.”

  “I don’t need to do shit,” I spat, shoving the cigarette between my lips.

  “She was your mother. You will regret running out like that. You will regret it if you don’t go back in.”

  I inhaled deeply on my cigarette. “And you’re going to regret it,” I sat up slowly, exhaling smoke. “If you don’t leave me the fuck alone.” Our gazes locked, my big dark eyes to her smaller make-up slathered, hazel ones. She looked absolutely terrified, practically shaking in her grandma-style black dress that made her look like a square. I almost felt bad for her. But then I remembered that she was the woman who went to bed with Rhett every night. She was the woman who got to put his cock in her mouth. The woman who got to love him. And then I felt nothing but hate. “Leave me alone!” I shouted and she jumped back, though I hadn’t moved at all. My legs were still sprawled out in front of me, my body aching in ways she couldn’t understand.

  “I told Rhett I would come get you,” she said meekly, though I could tell she was trying to be defiant.

  “Guess what,” I sucked on my cigarette. “I don’t give a fuck.”

  An irritated expression cloaked her face. “You don’t have to act like such a bitch all the time.”

  I blinked in surprise. Where did these balls come from? My hand sunk down in my purse, fingering the hilt of my knife. I considered what it would feel like to plunge it into her pale flesh. The blade tearing through muscles and organs. Her blood would be so red, so vibrant when it spilled from the wounds I created.

  “Look.” She fidgeted with her dress, glancing away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I just want to take you back. This is a hard day for Rhett too and I don’t want him to have to worry about anything else besides his grief.” She glanced back at me. “He really loved her. She was like the mother he never had.”

  I snorted and let go of the blade. “At least she was a mother to someone.”

  “You want to talk about it?”

  I jerked back in surprise.

  “It’s what I do, you know.” She moved a step closer, fumbling with her fingers. “I’m a psychologist. I specialize in trauma counseling.”

  Of-fucking-course she is.

  “No one can help me.”

  TWO.

  “Sarah, are you okay?” Rhett’s deep rumbling voice made both Sarah and I jump. He came from the direction we had, taking long strides his penetrating gaze fastened on Sarah alone.

  She gulped air and nodded, seeming relieved he had showed up to save her from the horrible me. He wrapped his arms around her and she snuggled into his chest, no doubt breathing in the woodsy notes of his cologne. His tight grasp on her body was protective and loving. I didn’t want to watch, but I couldn’t help myself. It was like a car-accident. My eyes were glued to them and I let the jealousy rip through me like a rusty knife. That was the Rhett I knew. The caring man he was with Sarah. That’s the guy I knew four years ago. The step-brother who would have done anything for me, anything except what I wanted.

  “Make love to me, Rhett.” The words of my fifteen year old self came back, bringing with it all the hurt, all the hope that he had shattered when he turned me down.

  “You head on back. We’ll be up there in minute,” he said to Sarah.

  She said something back, clearly arguing with him, but he was resolute in his answer and after less than a minute she was heading away from us, back to the funeral home.

  Rhett didn’t say anything as she left. Just watched her leave. He sat down on headstone across from me, his hand resting on one knee. He looked so sexy, so clean cut and pristine. He was a far cry from the guy I knew four years ago. The twenty-five year old had been sloppy with longer, floppy hair. He wore board shorts everywhere he went and would go weeks without shaving. This new version of Rhett had neatly trimmed spiky hair, designer clothes, and harder, thicker muscles.

  After several minutes Rhett finally turned his gaze on me. The hate and anger in his face shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. I supposed it always would.

  I sighed and tugged on my braid, not in the mood to argue with him. The run over here, though it hadn’t been far, had made me weary; the feeling seemed to settle into my bones simultaneously with Rhett’s hate-filled gaze. If he just goes back I can take my last bump and hitch a ride back home. To my home. To my best friend Shauna.

  I could just leave all this bullshit behind and go back to my life. The thought was tempting. So fucking tempting. But I hadn’t had Rhett yet, not like I wanted him, his cock buried deep in my cunt, his moans in my ears.

  I glanced down at my purse, where my last good bump of coke was tucked away safely. My fingers throbbed, desperate to jerk it out. I looked back up at him and rubbed my nose.

  “Why?”

  The question surprised me. “Why what?”

  “Why did you do that?” He flexed the fist perched on top of his knee belying his casual stance.

  “Do what?”

  “Don’t play dumb. Why did you say those things about her?” His voice was lethal.

  I eyed him and thought of all things he didn’t know about the woman he thought of as a mother, about the man he called dad. “You live in a fantasy world.” I looked up at the tree above us.

  He snorted. “You’re the one who doesn’t live in the real world.”

  “Oh, I live in it. You live in it too. You just don’t know all the dark secrets like I do,” I said quietly.

  “You made the choice to run away and sell your body—to leave a perfect life to find out those secrets.”

  I blanched and rolled my eyes. “Like I said,” I gestured to him. “A fantasy.” I reached down in my purse to grab another cigarette. “You should head back. Wouldn’t want to miss—”

  But the words were knocked from my throat by Rhett’s big body slamming into mine, pinning my back to the grass.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he hissed gripping my jaw tightly.

 

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