Venomous

1. Prologue

May, 2010.

I snapped the keypad on my Blackberry shut, sighing as I checked my messages for the 20th time in the last five minutes. She wasn't answering me. I squeezed my eyes shut, pinching the bridge of my nose before sliding the keypad open again and pulling up my contact list. I clicked on the name and watched the curser blinking in front of me.

Natalie: I'll be home by 6

Me: It's 7:30, where are you?

Me: Natalie?

Me: Rushman, answer the phone.

I sighed and clicked the phone closed again, reaching for the remote control for the television instead. I flipped on the news just in time to see a press conference discussing the Stark birthday party that was apparently happening this evening. Wait, Stark? Tony Stark? The nimrod my girlfriend was working for? I rolled my eyes, grabbing my phone, my wallet and snatching the keys off of the entryway table as I slammed the door shut behind me, my hands shaking too much out of anger to be able to lock the door on the first attempt. Or the second. Or the..fuck you, this is my story.

I knew I probably shouldn't drive angry, but I couldn't help it. I veered on the interstate towards Malibu. If my girlfriend was at that party instead of at home eating the meal I prepared for our one-year anniversary, there was going to be hell to pay. Natalia was gorgeous but intimidating. I had my sights on Stark. He kept her late a lot, she seemed to be away from home more than she was there at this point. I couldn't remember the last time we had a meal together or went to bed at the same time. I had a job, too, and I still tried to make time for her. I pulled up to the house, fearful momentarily that I would need some kind of invitation, but I didn't have to worry. A valet smoothly opened my driver's side door and offered me a hand to help me out of the sleek, black, corvette. I rolled my eyes, handing him a twenty instead. I followed the crowd to the stairs outside the main doorway – it looked like the party was in the basement, but who could tell in a house this size? I made my way to the bottom of the staircase just in time to see something that I immediately wanted to remove from my brain. My girlfriend. In a tight, stunning yet inappropriate animal-print dress. Tony's arm was around her waist and – was the fucking wearing the iron man hand? And firing it? She glanced across the room and locked eyes with me. Her green eyes widened and she immediately removed the hand, shoving it into Tony's chest, excusing herself and coming my direction. Nope. Not today, miss hottie. Your tricks weren't going to work on me again. Not another apology, covered with kisses, smiles and suggestive whispers. Not another promise that tomorrow would be different, or that she would make the effort.

"Parker," her voice was even raspier than normal. I paused on the stairs but didn't turn around. "Parker, look at me. Please." I turned slowly, resting my hand on the railing. Since my eyes were on the floor, it took awhile for them to make their way up to her face.

"You'll give yourself wrinkles, frowning like that," I murmured. Natalie frowned deeper, shaking her head.

"Parker, I..." I shook my head and swallowed the lump that had suddenly appeared in my throat, threatening to choke me.

"Natalie, don't." She stopped talking, her plump red lips pursing together as she recognized the futility of anything she was planning on saying. I cleared my throat. "I can't do this anymore, Rushman." She took a step forward, and I took a corresponding step backwards. I reached behind my neck, unclasping the delicate silver arrow necklace that she had given me on our sixth month anniversary, choking back a sob. I handed it to her, flinching involuntarily when our fingertips touched. She swallowed hard, looking down at the necklace in her palm. She reached for hers – a red hourglass necklace that I caught her eyeing in the store one day. "Keep it." Now my voice sounded almost like hers. Natasha nodded, moving her hand away from her neck, looking up at me.

"So that's it?" I watched her rub her lips together, waiting patiently for an answer.

"I guess so." I turned back towards the exit, moving a few steps higher before her voice stopped me again.

"Parker?" once again, I didn't turn around. She didn't continue until I finally sighed and turned to look at her for the last time. I raised my eyebrows, waiting for her to continue. "I really am sorry." For the first time this evening, I caught myself almost smiling.

"I know."

I tapped my foot on the ground outside as I waited for the valet to return my corvette. I paused one last time, looking back at the house behind me as if reminding myself what I was clearly less important than to the first person I had ever truly loved. I finally slid behind the wheel as the valet closed the door behind me, thanking me for his second twenty-dollar tip. I made my way down the PCH, willing the tears to evaporate before they blinded me on this very narrow, winding, road. It turns out, I didn't have to worry about the tears. I did have to worry about the tanker truck that was skidding out of control on the slick patch of pavement in front of me. I remember ironically admiring the view as the front tires of my car teetered over the edge of the steep embankment, leading down to the water. Then everything went black.