So Much It Hurts

By Dellani Oakes

Alone in the big city, Pia Donovan is feeling rather lost when she finally arrives at the majestic, old hotel in the downtown area. Flynn Chancellor and his roommate, Yancy Fredrick, take an interest in Pia, introducing her to their city. Pia seems to have found her niche, and has made friends with the welcoming residents in the old hotel.

Life seems perfect, until one weekend when everything changes forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tirgearr Publishing
• Release date: Nov 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370737581

Dellani Oakes

Dellani is a happily married mother of four—three boys and a girl. She also has one beautiful, golden haired granddaughter. She lives in the sunny, hot climes of Florida's east coast, not far from World Famous Daytona Beach. Dellani once told her publisher that she had enough books, finished & unfinished, to keep him busy for the next 10 years. He didn't believe her, but he should have. A few years later, she's upped that number. She has 53 finished novels, Conduct Unbecoming is her sixth published novel. Dellani hosts two shows a month on Blog Talk Radio – Dellani's Tea Time and What's Write for Me, which air on the Red River Radio Network. Look for Dellani's shows the second Monday of the month and the fourth Wednesday. Both shows air at 4:00 PM Eastern time.

Book preview

Alone in the big city, Pia Donovan is feeling rather lost when she finally arrives at the majestic, old hotel in the downtown area. Flynn Chancellor and his roommate, Yancy Fredrick, take an interest in Pia, introducing her to their city. Pia seems to have found her niche, and has made friends with the welcoming residents in the old hotel.

Life seems perfect, until one weekend when everything changes forever.

SO MUCH IT HURTS

Dellani Oakes

Published by Tirgearr Publishing

Author Copyright 2017 Dellani Oakes

Cover Art: EJR Digital Art (www.ejrdigitalart.com)

Editor: Christine McPherson

Proofreader: Barbara Whary

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not given to you for the purpose of review, then please log into the publisher’s website and purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting our author’s hard work.

This story is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to my wonderful husband, Joe: Your belief in me has kept me strong. To my children: You're the reason I work hard and why I'm almost completely insane. I love you all. Thank you for putting up with my absentmindedness, preoccupation and dinner delays.

To my mother, who ignited the creative spirit inside, and teaching me how to tell tales. To my father for correcting my grammar, whether I wanted him to or not.

Above all, this novel is dedicated to my beautiful granddaughter, Audrey—not because she had a thing to do with it, but because she is my precious angel and my timely revenge on her mommy. And a very special dedication to Audrey’s new baby sister, Amberly.

SO MUCH IT HURTS

Dellani Oakes

CHAPTER ONE

Sweet, sultry music poured from the open second-story windows as Pia walked across the pitted, uneven ground. Scattered with puddles and trash, it wasn’t a very inviting aspect. The old, grand hotel building loomed above her, intimidating in the dusky light after sunset. Sighing, she forged ahead, dragging her rolling suitcase after her. It bumped into a particularly deep hole and caught. Yanking, she lost her balance and teetered to the right.

Watch out! Strong hands caught her, setting her on her feet. The same hands lifted her suitcase. You all right, little lady?

Pia wasn’t sure she liked being called a little lady by any man, but when she turned to look at him, she decided he had the right to. He was at least six foot three, maybe taller. She, a petite five three, was indeed a little lady. He flashed a brilliant smile at her.

You’re the newbie. He extended his hand. Flynn Chancellor. Welcome to the fold.

Pia Donovan. Thank you. How does this work, exactly?

Didn’t get orientation? He tugged her suitcase, ushering Pia inside.

Sort of? They told me to report here this afternoon, but I took the wrong bus and ended up on the way to Maryville. I got as far as Walnut Street and finally figured out I was in the wrong spot.

Ooh, not a place for a lady of your delicate sensibilities to be.

Yeah, tell me about it. The driver wouldn’t let me out on the street. He dropped me at a satellite station and told me the right bus to take back.

That was nice of him.

He said he has a granddaughter my age. He wouldn’t set her loose to the wolves.

Flynn chuckled. Apt. I grew up in that area. It ain’t pretty. He opened the door for her, letting her walk under his arm. It was an easy fit. Where are you from, Pia Donovan?

Out of state. I moved here from Nebraska. Outside Kearney.

No kidding? What brings you up here?

I got a scholarship to City University.

In?

He opened a set of inner doors which led into a large, open area. To the right and left there were arched doorways which had once led to reception and lobby areas. They were now full of cast-off furniture and crowds of men and women, all about her age. Every ethnic blend imaginable greeted her small-town Nebraska eyes.

Music.

We’ve got several music majors here. I’ll show you around, if you want.

I’d like that, thank you. How do I get settled?

We talk to Amita. He pointed to the desk area. It had formerly been the receptionist’s desk — a tall, dark wooden structure that wrapped around like a bar.

When was this place built?

Early 1900s.

And they’re tearing it down?

No. It will, eventually, be renovated.

She nodded, looking around her at the early elegance of the place. It sported dark wood wainscoting, light walls, brass wall sconces. This was in stark contrast with the battered linoleum laid over the original hardwood floors, holes in the walls, and pieces of plywood over missing glass panes.

You wouldn’t know to look at it, but it was a showplace in its time. Celebrities from all over the world visited. It was built by one of the founding families, so they will never tear it down.

It’s still got a stateliness to it, doesn’t it?

It does, he agreed.

No one was at the desk, but he leaned over and called through an open doorway. Oi, Amita! Found our newbie!

A tall, mocha-skinned woman with wildly curly hair came out, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Hi! You must be Pia. I’m Amita, I’m the resident manager. We expected you ages ago.

I got lost.

Ended up on Walnut Street, Flynn added.

Oh, my God! And lived to tell about it!

Flynn chuckled and leaned against the tall desk, hands in pockets. Pia had a moment to take in details she hadn’t noticed outside in the dusk. He was broad-shouldered, with dancing green eyes. His chestnut colored hair was nearly to his shoulders, thick and straight, covered by a faded black fedora. Steel gauges, about the size of a quarter, stretched each earlobe. His arms were covered by intricate tattoos, forming sleeves from the wrist up. His shirtsleeves were rolled just past his elbows. Rusty black pants, which looked as if they had seen better days, dangled from colorful suspenders. His huge feet were covered in clunky, leather boots. Every piece of clothing was spattered with different colors of paint.

You’ll be in the Ambassador Suite, Amita said with a grin, handing over a registration card for Pia to sign.

Sounds elegant.

It’s great! Flynn said with a grin. I didn’t realize that Angie and Bob had moved out.

They got that transfer to Englewood and Vine that they were after. You’re lucky, Pia. This opening just came open today, and you were the top of the list.

No one here wants it?

We’re all comfy where we are. You’ll show her to her room?

Happy to. Flynn smiled.

When is orientation?

Tomorrow at breakfast. We have a free breakfast like most hotels—waffles, coffee, cereal. Other meals, you have to fend for yourself. There are kitchens set up on each floor and refrigerators in each room—little ones. There’s a bigger one in the kitchen, but label your stuff! Is that your only luggage? She handed Pia her copies of the registration information.

For now. The rest is being shipped. I didn’t want to drag it all with me. This will do me for a few days.

There are extra sheets. Flynn can show you where. We do have quiet rules after eleven. I think that’s all you need to know tonight.

Thanks. All kind of overwhelming.

You’ll get used to it. She smiled, giving Pia a key for her room. Hey, y’all, this is Pia. She’s in the Ambassador, she called to the gathered residents.

Hi, Pia! A multitude of voices yelled from every room.

I’ll never remember all their names.

Doesn’t matter. Flynn smirked as he led her to the ancient elevator. Just remember mine. Winking, he opened the wrought iron grate and lifted her suitcase inside before helping her step in. This is a little tricky and sometimes temperamental. If you get stuck, holler until someone hears you, or call the desk and Amita will rescue you. The number is on your registration forms. Or call me, and I’ll set you free.

He showed her how to work the mechanism to get them started. Hopping a few times, he waited for the elderly electronics to engage and start moving.

Got to give it a bounce for it to get the right idea. But, hey, at least it works now. When I first moved in, it was broken and we had to hump my stuff up five flights.

Awkward.

Very. But everyone is really helpful. Will you have furniture?

Seemed like a bad idea. I presume there’s a bed?

Yeah. Wait until you see.

Her room was directly across from the elevator. Flynn unlocked the door and opened it with a flourish. Pia found herself in a beautifully appointed Art Nouveaux dream. Graceful furniture filled the space—love seat, divan, roll-topped desk, comfortably imposing wing chairs. In the bedroom, she found a massive bed with an ornate headboard, two side tables, and a dresser that was nearly as long as the wall. Her closet was bigger than her bedroom back in her old apartment in Kearny. Her entire apartment could, in fact, fit in the bedroom alone.

"The pièce de résistance," Flynn announced, as he stood before a closed door. Opening it with a bow, he waited for her to walk forward and inspect.

Oh, my God! Pia danced through the door, spinning in a circle as she took in the beautiful bathroom. Done in black and white, it was nearly as big as the bedroom.

A claw foot tub stood in the center. The commode was in its own little closet. The double sink graced the wall opposite the glassed-in shower. The walls were covered with tiny pink flowers that looked hand-painted.

Angie did those. She’s an art major. She thought the walls were too stark.

It’s beautiful. Just amazing. It’s incredible!

Flynn leaned against the wall, arms crossed, smiling at her. It’s so cool seeing it through your eyes. I’ve gotten used to mine. It doesn’t seem to make the same impression anymore. But you feel it.

I do! I’m so excited!

How about you unpack and grab a shower and I’ll take you to dinner? There’s a good Thai place around the corner.

That would be really great, thank you. I could sure use a shower. I was on the bus for hours! I feel grungy.

I’ve got to get another one myself. I didn’t get all the paint off.

You’re an artist?

Yes. I’m a body painter. I also model for others. You can’t tell now, but I was most recently the subject of a camouflage painting along the wharf. He took out his phone and showed her pictures. It took her a moment to pick him out of the background.

That’s very cool! You did that?

No. I’m good, but I still haven’t figured out how to paint my own ass.

Pia stared at the picture and picked out the pose. He was facing the water, a perfect depiction of a weathered wood piling on his right leg. His left was on a packing crate, making him look rather like the Captain Morgan’s Rum pose. He had a very nice ass under all that paint.

Very cool. Even if you can’t paint your own ass. But think how much money you’d make if you could!

Not sure there’s a big demand for that.

You never know. Great gimmick.

You get your shower, I’ll get mine, and I’ll come get you in thirty minutes?

Sounds good.

We could share, he suggested, giving her a wink as he leaned closer.

Dream on.

Oh, I will. Giving her a last look, he backed out the door and swung it shut.

Laughing, Pia locked her door and stripped out of her clothing. She felt sweaty and not very fresh. Her dark mahogany locks went up on a stretched-out, faded scrunchy, and she started the water in the tub. She couldn’t resist it. The feet were shaped like lions’ paws, the legs thick and sturdy. The porcelain-coated cast iron was cold until the water filled it. She got out her favorite soap and luxuriated in the water for a short time. She didn’t want to spend too long, since she was meeting Flynn. Exactly thirty minutes later, she was dressed and heading to the door, when someone knocked. It was Flynn, and he had a friend with him.

Pia Donovan, my completely undeserving roommate is tagging along. I hope you don’t mind.

Not at all. Pleased to meet you— She waited for one of them to supply a name.

Yancy Fredrick. I hear you’re a musician. He held out his hand, grinning.

Yes. What do you study? She closed and locked her door.

He’s a sellout, Flynn remarked as he opened the elevator door. Business major.

Someone has to write the checks, Pia said.

Yancy flashed her another grin. He wasn’t as tall as Flynn, but more solidly built—all muscle, if she didn’t miss her bet. Where Flynn looked like a swimmer, Yancy was built more like a rugby player. His russet hair was full and curly, though he tried to tame it with hair gel. His eyes were vivid blue and he was, for lack of a better word, gorgeous.

Flynn was no slouch, but he didn’t have the style of his roommate. Dressed in chinos and a polo shirt, Yancy carried off the prep look with flair. Flynn was dressed in another pair of faded, baggy pants, this time brown; an oatmeal colored shirt clung to his lean but muscular frame, and he had on another pair of suspenders. These were dark red and blue stripes. The fedora had been replaced with a coordinating red and brown roadster cap.

We decided Thai? Yancy asked as they rode downstairs.

If that appeals, Flynn replied. There’s also Italian, Mexican, or a Mongolian grill.

That’s a fun place, Yancy replied. The guy has a big steel drum on his food truck and goes all over the city. He’s not there tonight, dude. That’s Thursday.

You are correct. Pia, what sounds good?

I’m actually in the mood for Thai, she said with a grin. I’m real picky about Mexican. I’m half.

Do you cook? Yancy asked.

I do. Why? Her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Because we get tired of eating out. If we pitch in on ingredients and assist in the kitchen, will you cook?

I’d love to.

Sweet. You don’t mind cooking for a crowd, do you? Because when word gets out…

Not at all. Dad runs a restaurant back home. I’ve worked there since I was ten. I can make a vat of chili that will put hair on your chest.

As long as it doesn’t put hair on my ass, Flynn said, shoving the elevator open. I don’t like waxing.

Pia snorted. Yancy leaned over, speaking in a stage whisper. Flynn hasn’t reached puberty yet. His ass is hairless as a baby’s butt.

Flynn reached around and rapped him on top of the head. At least I don’t have back hair.

I don’t have back hair.

Seriously, you should see him at the full moon, Flynn remarked as they walked out the front door. Werewolves howl and try to hump his leg.

Pia looped her arms through theirs, laughing loudly as they crossed the yard. I’m going to love it here. You guys remind me of my brothers.

The men smirked, sharing a glance over her head.

Thai Garden, here we come! Flynn yelled, waving his cap in the air.

Is it far?

You’ll learn that everything you need is within walking distance. There’s a grocery store two blocks that way. Flynn pointed south. A variety of restaurants in every direction. A movie theatre that shows the classics. A bookstore, an art supply, a music store, pharmacy…

And a Dollar Tree three blocks west, Yancy added.

We’ll be happy to show you around. Do you know how to get to campus from here?

No. I don’t have a car and I don’t know the bus schedule. So much to learn.

Lucky for you, my friend and I grew up in this city, and if we don’t know where to find it, it’s not worth finding, Flynn bragged.

You grew up together?

Met during our undergrads, Yancy explained. We were roommates then, too. So, when we transferred here and started our PhDs, it seemed like a good system.

Yeah, I don’t want to break in a new one. He’s a putz, but I’m used to him.

My roommate got married and moved out. I’ve mostly lived on my own. Except… she paused. Never mind.

Except for Bill, Flynn said.

Jerald, Yancy added.

Huh?

Dwight.

Clark.

Steven, she finished her sentence.

"The love of your