Healing Hearts by @SexyMuffyWilson ~ Thursday Tasters Excerpt 2 ~ #ASMSG #flashfiction #ThursdayTasters

Thursday Tasters is just a tidbit from each of our work-in-progress projects. Today I thought I would give you a little excerpt from my Healing Hearts. You can read the excerpts from the other participating authors here or they are listed below like beautiful life changing moments.

Enjoy ~  ☼ღஜ ﾚo√乇 ¸.☆¨¯`*.✿.*˜"*° ♥

Blurb:

Brianna Denton walked the night and crawled the pubs searching for her sister’s murderer. Drugs and alcohol drove her twin to prostitution in the shadows and rat holes of the underbelly of North Beach society.  Brianna lived her sister’s life on the tight edge of the raw reality until she pushed someone too hard, too fast.

Tatianna’s life drew Brianna into the bowels of the dark underground society, but to who’s destiny—her own or Tatianna’s?

Someone wanted her dead too.

He’d seen her on the streets, in the flea bag bars and pool halls the midnight scum frequented. She fascinated him with her Mediterranean beauty and her disdain. She was fast, unapologetic, but her curves were slow and yielding. He ached for her until one night slithered into the wee hours of the early morning at Blu’s Balls. The smoke in the pool hall hung in the air like a noose from the ceiling.

She wanted a bath but she wanted the blond-haired, blue-eyed man with the heart-shaped face and the gentle mouth more, first.

Dr Ben James recognized Brianna immediately when the EMT’s brought her into his ER. He hadn’t seen her since that night—the night she picked him.

Can he save her life? If he can’t, can he forget her?

Excerpt:

If Brianna remembered, she showed them Tatianna’s photograph and asked if they’d ever met or seen her. If they had, it was sure they’d fucked her so there was little reason to ask them that. Sometimes she forgot to show them the photograph. It was those times she asked herself what was she really doing out here if she wasn’t looking for her sister’s killer?

She liked the seedy, smoke-filled pool halls and honky-tonks where there was a foregone conclusion that the women who frequented joints like that were looking for “joints”, medicinal or meaty, of their own. She was no different and the joints she favored were prolific. Someday, one of them would be attached to Mr. Right maybe, but until then, there were plenty to keep her busy enough to feed her demons—and fight her sister’s battles.

But, if she wasn’t chasing her sister’s killer, what was she doing? Her sister brought her out here, onto the cold heartless streets of despair, just like she pulled the cops into the sordid peep show that was her life. If they couldn’t find Tatianna’s murderer, why did she think she could? Maybe, the loss of her sister, her twin, was just the excuse she needed to find herself while searching for the answers in Tatianna’s life. Tatianna, poor Tatianna…When she grieved for Tatianna, she mourned for herself as well. They were both dead, in one way or another.

She lost sight of her purpose as she fell, tumbled—out of control—into the depths of her own personal Hell.

She rarely went to the same place night after night. She preferred to dot her sordid experiences in the arms of new men, occasionally a repeat, but she would never find Mr. Destiny or Mr. Murder if she kept repeating the same mistakes and the same creeps.

It actually seemed like a good plan. Last night it was The Bitter End, a real cesspool where the beer was warm and the women were cold, but everyone played great stick and didn’t ask questions.

She wondered briefly how long before tempting Lady Fate looking for Mr. Right in an ocean of Mr. Wrongs would result in her own bitter end.

Tonight she planned on going to Baby Blu’s Sticks & Balls. Everyone called it Blu Balls…for a reason, she surmised. She had seen her share of blue balls in the past—plenty of them. She had been the source of inspiration for them.

She smiled to herself, straightened her skirt before pushing the door open. The place was hopping and it was so smoke-filled, her eyes instantly teared. Why these places always stank of piss and sweat never ceased to amaze her. She wore leather all the time because the fabric never absorbed any of the odors and the clinging crap that floated in the air or stuck to the barstools around the bar. When she was done, she didn’t want to smell, see, or feel any evidence of her descent into the bowels of city nightlife. She told herself she was doing it for her sister and would leave it with her, in the dark, when she headed back to her apartment each night. It was what it was; she didn’t want to take it home with her. 

She left it all on the streets her sister loved, shrouded in the nights her sister sought.

She walked into Blu Balls with her cue case, thigh high boots and attitude. The tables were cracking and as expected, he was there. He was there every time she showed up. She really wondered if he had a life, or if he was just waiting his turn, but then why would she? Why would she wonder—them’s not the rules. It was none of her business and she really didn’t care. But, she’d caught him watching her on several occasions. He watched her from the dark recesses of the smoke-filled saloon. With the crack of slapping balls and sticks as noisy as monkeys with tambourines and drumsticks as a backdrop, he watched as she picked the lucky man for her night. He always watched. He always waited. Hell, maybe he was her Mr. Right or Mr. Murder. She looked over at him, with confidence oozing from her every pore, full-faced, proud. No one ever turned her down. He wouldn’t either. She didn’t care what he was.

Tonight, it would be him—the black-haired blue-eyed hunk of honeyed sex with the heart-shaped baby face.
She wondered if he ever fucked her sister.

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