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grim surroundings.
    Marijuana only magnified everything that was wrong
with her life—that desperate dead-end feeling that was hard enough to shake off
while you were straight. When James offered her a few puffs off of his peculiar-looking
cigarette, Cara had learned what “peer pressure” meant. She’d only taken two
puffs, but the potent THC had raced through her veins, causing her body to go
limp, sucking all the defensible energy out of her.
    James had taken her virginity that night. He wasn’t
the one Cara had wanted to give it to. It hadn’t been violent, and in the end
she had consented, though her body felt too lifeless to rebel.
    That night was the night Cara learned that fiction
was fiction, and real life was cruel. She had welcomed James during the
foreplay, only to have every fantasy shattered to pieces with his forceful,
insensitive conduct. Would she ever experience better? To be left with that
negative impression was a stain Cara didn’t think she’d ever be able to wash
away.
    Thank God she’d gotten on the pill through a reduced-insurance
program due to her mother’s ever-fluctuating income. Cara had even snuck an
appointment in at the clinic, petrified that there might have been a
possibility that she’d caught something from the hard, cold encounter. She’d escaped
unscathed physically, though the emotional trauma still lingered.

 
    Chapter
Ten
     
    “Take forty-five for lunch,” Barry told him. “Things
look great, Mick. I can’t thank you enough. You’re a goddamn workhorse.” Barry
laughed, nodding with approval.
    “I’m glad you’re pleased. I needed the work, man. You’re
helping me out, believe me,” Mick said.
    Barry had left for a few hours, bringing lunch back
from a local deli, pleased with the progress he’d made.
    Mick had moved in all the tables and chairs. He’d
just begun to assemble the stools that would line the coffee bar. Barry’s Morning
Joe would be a nice place to gather. It was rustic and artsy, decorated with
dark finishes and an earthy color palette.
    Mick wouldn’t ever see the full effect of Barry’s
new business, but he was thankful for the work.
    The men sat outside, the weather a bit warmer but
still holding the characteristic chill of being back home in Pittsburgh. Mick unwrapped his sandwich. When he lifted the bulging roll to
his mouth to take a bite, he noticed Barry’s eyes. Mick shifted his gaze,
meeting the view that had distracted Barry from his lunch. Mick knew when a
man’s eyes were feasting.
    Cara walked down the street. Her ponytail swung
behind her, her cheeks flushed with a rosy healthiness. Mick set his sandwich
down, needing to freeze over any thought that might be racing through Barry’s
mind . Why are some men such pigs? It
ruins it for the rest of us.
    “Excuse me,” Mick said, sliding off the tailgate of
Barry’s truck. He closed the distance, escorting Cara with his eyes, the view
always pleasant.
    Cara’s shapely mouth curved into a wide smile. A
large, gray sweater hung on her slender frame, resting right at her hips. Her
jeans were faded, aged like a fine wine. A fleece vest in a bold, cobalt blue
was unzipped. Mick swallowed, seeing the slight swell of her cute breasts. Her
voice called out to him, slapping him upside the head.
    I
have to reel it in.
    She waved. “Hey, how’s it going?” Cara asked,
stopping right in front of him. Mick instantly regretted telling her to come
down. He glanced behind him, only to see the other worker, Russ, whom Barry had
rounded up at the last minute to check over all the plumbing in the kitchen and
bathrooms, leaning against Barry’s truck, his eyes leering.
    “It’s going good… I’ll be done in like an hour,” he
told her, falling into her soft brown eyes. Her lashes fluttered, her eyes
tearing from her windy walk.
    “Okay,” she shrugged. “Um…”
    Heaviness settled in his gut. He did ask her to come
down. Sending her back to the hotel felt rude and wrong. Barry’s