Loving the leech (Guardians of Red Moon city #4)

I’ve always been the one nobody sees; whether or not I’ve tried, I’ve consistently failed. Believe me; it has happened more times than I dare think of. At first, it was hard for me, but I’ve managed to get used to it over time, and it doesn’t feel as heavy anymore. My mother died at the hospital when she gave birth to me, and although my father loves me, I know that somewhere inside him, there’s a feeling of contempt towards me because I’m the reason he lost the love of his life. He has never said anything about it or been mean to me in any way; he would never do that considering what kind of soul he is.

But I can see how the feelings swirl in his eyes when we encounter neighbors, old family friends, and relatives when we shop, walk in the park, or sitting inside the cafe. He’s always polite and friendly towards other people; his pride is what stands in the way of that contempt to appear outwardly. It’s enough with him seeing couples walking together on the street for the little darkness he desperately tries to bury within himself to become visible, not to others, but me. I feel no shame about it anymore as I did when I first realized what feeling it was his soul mirrored in his eyes; I don’t believe it’s my fault that mom died; I know that now.

But at the time, it was indispensable for me. A twelve-year-old girl, to bear such a debt that was neither mine nor anyone else’s to take. Dad has always been a fantastic support, and we can talk about just about everything, except for my mother. It’s much more painful for him than it is for me, given that I never got the chance to meet her in life and get to know her. My parents have been together since they were both fifteen years old, I was born twenty years later, and those years my dad had with my mom he’ll never get back. He feels lonely, and so do I.

The difference is that he chooses his loneliness while I’m cursed with it like it’s my destiny to be by myself in a world where everything belongs together. The little piece of the puzzle that’s always lost under the sofa. Which you unconsciously suck up into the vacuum cleaner. Who knows? Perhaps this is the debt I have to bear and pay off in return for my mother’s life. However, I don’t feel that loneliness inside Dawson’s cafe with a coffee cup in my hand and my smiling dad across from me.

“Have you decided what you want to do for your birthday?” he asks me and takes a sip of his coffee.

I smile and slowly shake my head. My birthday doesn’t mean anything to me; it never has. But dad has always been careful and adamant that we celebrate it, no matter what.

“No, I don’t know,” I answer. “It doesn’t seem like there’s a point.”

“Of course, it’s worth celebrating the birthday of my little girl, twenty years!” he exclaims. “It’s not every day it happens, my baby. You need to take advantage of your time while you’re young; otherwise, you’ll regret it later.”

He smiles when he says it, but I can see and hear the double meaning behind his words. “Embrace the time because you never know when you or someone you love dies,” that’s what he means, and the dark feeling of guilt makes me remember our loss.

“I don’t have any friends, dad, and I’m not exactly the social type anyway,” I reply, and he shakes his head with disappointment.

“Well, you do as you like,” he sighs. “But can we at least order some pizza and watch a movie together.”

He looks hopeful when he asks, and I can’t stand to deny him that little wish even though I prefer to just crawl under my soft sheets that day and forget about everything regarding birthdays. Not everyone shares their birthday with their mother’s deathday, after all.

“Sure, we can do that,” I reply, smiling.

“I have to get back to work now, but I’ll see you at home for dinner,” he says, kissing me on the forehead like he always has since I was a kid.

He gets up and walks out of the cafe while I remain, thinking about what I want to do with my life. I’m smart and finished high school almost two years earlier than everyone else; college isn’t for me. Instead, I want to travel out into the world and experience new things, creating memories that I can look back on when I’m old with a smile. But on the other hand, it’s not exactly fun to do it alone; I was honest when I said I don’t have any friends. The closest thing I have to call a friend is my cousin Britney, but she lives in Virginia, and I exist here in Oregon.

A forty-hour drive one-way route makes none of us just hang out over one day; instead, it’s when one of us visits the other and stays for a week or two. Britney is the social and cheerful person that everyone likes. She has dark blonde straight hair that extends down to the middle of her back and has forest-green eyes. Her body is tall and slender but not muscular; she’s beautiful, which is the exact opposite of me. I have clear blue eyes, black-thick-curly hair falling below my butt, and a curvy body, I guess you’d call it a time glass figure.

There’s nothing in me that I find attractive, except my eyes that I inherited from my mother. You could say that’s all I’ve got after her. Besides, I don’t look like any of my parents, not my father either. I’m not unattractive in any way, at least no one has ever said that I am, but I don’t understand what could be striking about me. What’s always most important to me is to work on my personality and be sure to treat others well; it is and remains my life goal. I get up and walk out of the cafe; I’ve got to work tonight and must prepare before it’s time to go.

It has always been my dream to work with people, and I do now; people with problems. Believe it or not, but my teenage years were anything but simple. I was partying and doing drugs every day; eventually, it became too much when I ended up in the hospital, floating between life and death. Since that day, I’ve been clean and devoted my time to helping others in the same situation. It’s liberating to know that if I at least reach one person, I’ve done a slight change for the better; one is better than none.

“Chris, do you want to try sharing today?” I ask and smile at the young man opposite me.

We usually have evening meetings with the young people, in the daily hours I work primarily with administrative work. Chris looks around the room, and it seems that he feels a little uncomfortable, but he eventually decides to tell his story.

“I was fourteen years old the first time I tried ecstasy; my dad was a deadbeat alcoholic who didn’t give a shit about anything but beating my mom and drinking. There was nothing left for me there anymore after my mother died, which is why I left when I was fifteen.”

I listen carefully to his story and nod encouragingly at him as his gaze lands on me from time to time. Chris is a few years older than me; most of them are. Even so, they see me as the “oldest” because I’m practically at the moment the one who has been clean the longest. They admire my strength to keep clean while admiring their courage to share their experiences and continue fighting forward towards a sober life.

“Very good! Thank you, Chris, for wanting to share,” I say, smiling and clapping my hands with the others for a job well done. “Unfortunately, that’s all we have time for today, guys. But as usual, I’ll be on “Better roads” on Monday during the day if anyone needs to talk. Otherwise, I’ll see you on Tuesday again. Thank you for coming!”

The others get up and move out of the room. I stay and put away the material we used; the landlord we rent from for our meetings is an idiot. Believe me, if there’s one small crumb left on the floor after we go, he’ll notice. I’m not such a character who automatically hates a person just for what they look like or what personalities they have; I don’t quickly dislike anyone, but Mr. Gordon is an exception to that rule. It’s effortless not to like him because he’s simply an unpleasant bastard who hasn’t learned manners and consideration.

I lock the door behind me and start walking towards the car; a sound from the alley obliquely behind makes me stop. No more noise or movement comes from the place; even so, I feel uneasy. Without turning around more, I get in the car and drive out of the parking lot. The feeling of discomfort accompanies me to my other workplace, Polly’s lagoon, which is a bar I work extra at on certain days, especially weekends. Fridays are always the worst because that’s when all businessmen and young people come in to drink their weighs in drinks after a week of adult responsibility.

Yes, it’s a little bit of “hypocrite” over me since I lead meetings regarding addictions but work at a bar, I know. On the other hand, I’ve got to pay my bills just like everyone else somehow. I quickly change into my work uniform in the dressing room consisting of a white short-sleeved blouse, high-heeled shoes, and a knee-length black pencil skirt. My reflection looks back at me when I put up my long hair in a sloppy bun on my head; even though I’ve got makeup on, you can see that I’m tired. I work more than what’s healthy, and the reason is that someday I want enough money to be able to move out of here.

The opportunity to start all over again in a new city attracts me more than I dare to admit. At present, that isn’t possible because my father needs me, and I still can’t afford it, but I refuse to allow that dream to remain just a dream. Someday I’ll get out of this godforsaken hellhole and live my life the way I want, just not today.

“Kaylin! Come in here and get started; I have eight drink orders you must prepare!” Gary, my work colleague, calls out before running away with a tray full of beer glasses.

Yep, you guess right. I’m a bartender, which means that I can’t finish working until the last guest leaves the venue; it’s going to be a long night. I begin directly to prepare all the guests’ drinks, and it isn’t easy because none of the orders are like the other. Someone wants a drink with hard liquor; another wants a beer, while a third wants to have a sugary beverage that contains more calories than ten pizzas. Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but you get the point.

It’s half-past one, and my feet are already killing me. I haven’t had a quiet moment since my shift started, and it doesn’t seem like it’ll calm down in the next one and a half-hour that’s left. At the moment, I have no order to arrange and take the opportunity to lean my head against the bar to breathe a little. Someone clears their throat above my head, and I quickly travel my eyes to meet the most beautiful green eyes I’ve ever seen. The man in front of me looks to be my age, maybe a little older. His dark, short curly hair hangs down his forehead and gives him a “boyish” style while retaining his masculine radiance.

The suit he’s wearing is tight around his muscular 6’1 tall body, and I think I even glimpse an eight-pack under that thin cotton shirt of his.

“Excuse me, miss,” he says, and the grin on his face highlights the thin lips that look to be able to work wonders with a woman’s body.

“Huh?” I ask stupidly, still in my haze.

“I ordered four whiskeys without ice,” he says in his dark bass voice.

“Sure, of course. Just one minute,” I ramble and shake my head to get my mind out of the gutter.

I work fast and put the glasses on the tray, my eyes sweep over the room, but Gary isn’t visible anywhere. With a sigh, I lift the tray and walk towards the table as the man sits at with three other gentlemen around.

“Here’s your order, sir,” I say, putting the glasses on the table. “Enjoy!”

I give them a polite smile as we’re supposed to do to customers before going back to the bar where a whole bunch of young athletic men is waiting for their beers. There’s nothing special about the men more than that they behave like snobby boys who think they can get any woman they want in this world.

“Hey, baby,” one of the grinning athletes says while the rest of the kid gang laughs behind him. “How about coming home with me tonight?”

“I wouldn’t put my money on it, kid,” I respond, grinning with irritation in my head; I’m a spitfire and have a hard time shutting up when someone is creepy or sexist.

“Come on, baby. I can give you the whole world for one night,” he continues.

“You hardly have the age for it,” I reply with a snort and now notice that he’s probably younger than I am; younger men aren’t my taste and aren’t allowed to drink here either, for that matter.

“What the hell do you mean?” he asks with his eyebrows furrowed together in a frown, and I lean up to him to fake whisper.

“You still have your mommy’s tit in your mouth, baby, and I’m not sleeping with anyone who’s still suffering from mother issues.”

His friends make a drawn-out “oh,” and the man in front of me gives me a dark look while I grin back and then turn around to the glasses that need to be stacked. I know what he’s going to do and am well prepared for it, so when his hand is incredibly close to my ass, I turn around and grab his wrist before twisting it. I can break his wrist with a bit of snap if I want to, but how is this poor boy going to be able to jerk off then?

“As I said, little boy, don’t even try me. Unfortunately, you didn’t listen,” I say, punching a fist at his nose bone, causing him to fall backward on the floor. “Touch me again, and I promise you that several body parts will hurt.”

Gary laughingly comes up to me, and we make a high five before he waves the guard to us to bring the sexist dude out of the bar. The men I served whiskey look at me with surprised eyes, and I wink back. This evening is long, but alas, if it doesn’t get damn funny too!

A/N:

Hello everyone, and welcome to “Loving the leech”!

I’m happy that you decided to give this book a try, and I also hope you’re going to like it. This is a continuation of Aleida’s story, but with another main character. Don’t fret though, Aleida and other of your favorite characters will appear in this book as well. I want to take this opportunity also to warn you that this book will contain certain subjects that might offend or trigger you. Please read with caution and don’t come condemning me later since I now have warned you about it. By the way, some of my readers asked me to put more music in my books so you can listen to it during the chapters. That’s why I put several songs throughout the book, but not in the same way as before; hopefully, you’ll notice. Enjoy!

❀ Does Kaylin seem like a regular person you’d recognize in real life or just a shell of a person?

Please let me know your thoughts since they help me develop in my creative process! Thank you for reading, lots of love.<3