by Nikki Ash
My eyes go back to—fuck! What is her damn name?—and I’m no longer feeling it. Pulling a hundred-dollar bill out, I drop it onto the table. “I’m not feeling well. I’ll take you home.”
She huffs. “Seriously? But we haven’t even had sex yet.” And we won’t be…
I shrug and stand. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I need to get going. Grab your jacket and I’ll drop you back off at school.” She pouts, but it does nothing to me.
After I drop her off at her sorority house, I go home. Tristan and Lexi are both there as well. She’s sleeping, and he’s watching television.
“You’re home early,” he says, no judgment in his tone. That’s why he’s my best friend. Tristan just gets me. He accepts me the way I am and lets me be me. I met Tristan almost twelve years ago when I was homeless and looking for a trainer. His dad, Kaden Scott, took me on, and Tristan’s mom, Ashley, welcomed me into their home. Actually, ‘welcomed’ isn’t the right term. When I refused to move in with them, not wanting to be a burden, she forced me to move in by threatening to not allow Kaden to train me for free unless I did. A few years later, Tristan moved to California to go to college, and shortly after I made the move out here as well. He was living in San Diego but needed a fresh start. We moved to Los Angeles together, and six years and one Lexi girl later, we’re still living together.
Only, in a couple months everything will be changing. Tristan met Charlie and they fell in love. I’m happy for him. He deserves happiness after what he’s been through. In March, they’ll be getting married and moving into a new home. They both asked me to move with them, but they need their space. So, in a few months, I’ll be in need of a new place to live.
I plop down on the couch next to Tristan. “The woman wasn’t my type, so I let her go.” Tristan chuckles, shaking his head.
“You upset Mila.” In other words, ‘Charlie is making me talk to you. You need to apologize.’
“She’s always upset with me.” I shrug. “Nothing new.” In other words, ‘I’ll apologize when I see her so you’re not in the doghouse.’
“True.” ‘Thanks.’ And the conversation is over. Because we’re men. We say what we need to say and move forward.
After watching crappy television for a little while, Tristan’s phone rings and he excuses himself. Not being able to help myself—call it morbid curiosity—I open the dating app and click on my profile. I type in some bullshit description about wanting to take long walks on the beach and that I’m looking for someone to talk to, in order to complete my sign up. Then I click on Mila’s name and read through her entire profile.
Twenty-seven-year-old single mom looking for forever. I am not interested in one-night stands or sex before marriage, so please don’t message me if you are. I am looking for a man who would like to one day settle down. I am a full-time nurse and I love my job. I want someone to go to the beach with. Someone who will enjoy relaxing in the sand next to me while I read. Someone who will enjoy hanging out with me and my son, and not just because he thinks it will make me happy. My favorite food is fondue. I want someone to watch cheesy movies with and who will take me on picnics in the park. I am looking for a man who is employed but not married to his job. No smokers, please. I was married once and we grew apart. I won’t settle ever again. I am looking for romance (romance is not dead and I refuse to believe it is). I’m looking for a man to share my life with. If you are interested, please message me.
Edited to add: No d*ck pics please. I am NOT looking for sex.
Her bio is so open and out there. She lays herself out on the line, completely bare for the world to see. It’s obvious she thinks she knows what she wants, but does she even realize, with criteria like that, she’s never going to find anyone? Who the hell could ever live up to all of those expectations?
And what the fuck is fondue?
I lift my shirt up and snap a picture of my abs then upload it to my profile. Then I click on Mila’s name and shoot her a message.
GetHooked: Hey there, I saw your picture and want to tell you that you’re gorgeous.
I look up fondue and find out it’s some type of food, like melted cheese or some shit.
GetHooked: I would love to take you out for fondue.
I refresh the screen a few times and the third time it shows she’s on. A few minutes later I get a reply.
Looking4Love: Thank you. Your pic is very nice as well. Is that really your body? I didn’t see one of your face.
I notice she ignored my offer to take her out.
GetHooked: It is my body. Maybe once you’ve earned it, I’ll send you a picture of my face ;) So, it says you enjoy going to the beach. Do you live near one?
Looking4Love: I do enjoy the beach! I live in LA, so not too far of a drive. I try to go with my son whenever I’m off work. Sometimes I go when he’s with his dad and I lay out and read. What do you do for a living?
I chuckle over the fact that she has now ignored my comment about her earning the right to see my face. She seems to pick and choose what she wants to respond to. I go to type back, almost forgetting she doesn’t know me. I can’t say I’m a UFC fighter. She’ll know right away who I am. Instead, I take a page from her book and ignore her question.
GetHooked: Nice! I enjoy the beach as well. I love anything athletic or outdoors: surfing, running, biking, hiking, boating…I must admit I haven’t read anything since high school. Do you enjoy those romance novels?
Charlie loves them, and I’ve seen them laying around the condo on several occasions. The covers are usually some shirtless guy or a couple about to fuck. Tristan is constantly making jabs at her, telling her to put the books down so he can give her the real thing.
Mila responds.
Looking4Love: Ugh! Just reading that list was exhausting. I think we’re going to have to end this conversation right now so I can go take a nap. LOL j/k kind of…Yes, I love a good romance book. What do you do for fun when you’re not hiking and biking or doing something athletic?
Ha! Who would’ve known… Mila Sterling actually has a sense of humor.
GetHooked: I hang out with friends, go to clubs…just the usual single guy stuff. Have you ever met anybody on here?
Looking4Love: Not yet, but I did from another site. Mostly, guys just want sex. They ignore my profile description and then they’re disappointed when I don’t put out.
Damn! She doesn’t beat around the bush.
GetHooked: Saving yourself for someone special?
Looking4Love: Yes.
GetHooked: What if he sucks in bed and you don’t know it until it’s too late? Wouldn’t it be best to try out the goods before you purchase the product?
When the circle that indicates she’s typing doesn’t appear I mentally kick myself in the ass for my response. I shouldn’t have been that forward. She doesn’t know it’s me, so it looks like I’m just a creepy fucker trying to get laid. Then I see the circle appear.
Looking4Love: I’m not going to give my goods away for free. I’m okay not knowing how the guy is in bed. If he’s the one for me, it won’t matter.
I chuckle at her response. There are so many ways I can respond to that but for some reason I don’t want to piss her off. I’m enjoying our conversation.
GetHooked: Understandable. So how will you know the guy is the one?
She responds, saying she will just know, and for the next few hours we converse back and forth. We keep it light, sticking to topics such as our favorite shows, music, and foods.
When my phone beeps with an email, I click out of the app to check it. Shit, it’s already after eight in the morning. We’ve been messaging back and forth all night. I click on my inbox and see it’s an email from my attorney, asking me to call him when I get a chance.
“Mr. Street,” he says by way of greeting.
“Mr. Lopez.”
“I just thought you should know your mom has been released this morning.” The first time she was released from jail, I was seventeen and she didn’t w
ant me—said she couldn’t take care of me. After I won my first big fight, I searched for her only to find out she was back in jail once again for prostitution.
I hired a criminal defense attorney, and he was able to get the illegal solicitation charges dropped. She was released with a few hundred hours of community service. I begged her to let me take care of her but she wasn’t having it. She wouldn’t even let me speak. She asked me not to help her anymore, some bullshit about not wanting me to take care of her. I tried to argue with her, insisted she let me help her, but she hung up on me and disappeared.
After that, I told the attorney I would pay any time she called him for help. She might not have wanted me to be in her life, but she’s my mom, and there was no way I wouldn’t help her in any way I could. A few years ago, she was put back in jail, but her offence was more serious than the previous ones: drug and weapon trafficking charges. Mr. Lopez couldn’t get her to agree to a plea deal, so she was charged and given a four-year sentence.
“I appreciate you letting me know. Hopefully she stays out of jail this time.”
He agrees, then says, “There’s something you should know.”
“Okay.”
“She asked for your number.” Well, this is news. I told him he could give it to her if she ever asks for it, but until today she never has.
“Thank you for letting me know. I appreciate you keeping me updated.” He tells me if anything changes or occurs he’ll let me know. We hang up, and my phone lights up with a message notification from Mila. When I didn’t respond, she wished me a good night/morning. I close out of the app without replying. It was nice to talk with someone for a few hours, but nothing has changed. I refuse to be in a relationship. I have absolutely no desire to get married and be responsible for taking care of someone else. It’s a huge commitment, one that most people take too lightly, and oftentimes ends with them failing the person they love.
My mom struggled every day to take care of me, and she failed miserably. When she was married to my dad, he had a gambling addiction that cost him his job and eventually his life. One night when he was drunk and walking home from the dog tracks, he stumbled off the sidewalk and was hit by a car. It was an accident, and he died instantly. My mom didn’t ask for my dad to die, but he did, and even from his grave, he failed at taking care of us. He was selfish, probably choosing to spend his money on booze or the slots, and allowed his life insurance policy to lapse.
As a result, my mom not only lost my dad, but she didn’t get a dime from the policy, and too quickly I became nothing more than a burden to her. I’m not saying people shouldn’t get married or have kids. I’m just saying it’s not for everyone. I don’t want that responsibility. I remember being a kid and wishing for food and clothes that fit me while my mom sold herself to take care of us. She would cry every damn night wishing for a way out, wishing for someone to help her up. Instead, it was as if she was kicked while she was down, over and over again. My dad gave the initial kick and her piece of shit pimp gave the final one.
When you refuse to let someone take care of you, you can never be kicked, and when you refuse to take care of someone else, you never have to do any of the kicking. And in my opinion, that’s the only way to live. If my own mother, during her lowest point, doesn’t trust me to take care of her, then that should tell you something.
Chapter Three
Mila
“Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday, dear Tristan! Happy Birthday to you!” Charlie pushes the Key Lime pie toward Tristan so he can blow out the candle sitting in the middle of the pie. According to Charlie, Tristan loves Key Lime pie more than birthday cake, so that’s what she bought him.
“Blow out the candle and make a wish, Daddy!” Lexi yells. He does as she says and blows out the candle, and everyone claps.
“What did you wish for?” Lexi asks.
“I wished for an extra big piece of pie,” Tristan jokes, and Lexi’s eyes bug out.
“I bet it will come true! But you should’ve wished for something better, like more crayons for me! My birthday is so far away, and I need more crayons.”
Everyone laughs as Tristan says, “Okay, let’s do it again.” He relights the candle and Lexi gasps.
“You can do it again and make more wishes? Can we do it a million times?”
Tristan’s eyes widen, realizing what he’s just done. “Um…no, you only get one do over.”
“Darn it!” Lexi pouts. “Okay, this time wish for crayons, okay?”
“Okay,” he agrees then turns to Georgia. “I can make more than one wish at the same time. What do you want me to wish for?”
Georgia gives him a small, shy smile. She’s been through a lot in her short life, but luckily kids bounce back, and with the help and love of Charlie and Tristan, she’ll bounce back completely.
“Coloring book,” she whispers, and Tristan smiles warmly at her.
“And what about you?” he asks Alec. Not expecting to get a wish, he shrugs at first. “C’mon, there’s got to be something you want me to wish for.”
Alec glances at Mason who is standing against the wall of the dining room in their condo. “I want to be a UFC fighter,” he says softly.
Mason hears Alec and grins at him. “That’s a good wish, kid,” he says, and Alec beams.
Tristan blows out the candle and everyone claps again.
After the pie is cut and eaten, Mason walks over and sits beside me on the couch. His leg bumps against mine and my traitorous body buzzes at his touch.
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry for the other day.” When I look at him confused, he adds, “For making fun of you for being on that dating site.”
“Oh, no worries.” My eyes dart anywhere but at him, afraid if I look into those crystal blue eyes, my body will betray me some more.
“So, we’re good?” he asks.
“Yep.”
“All right, cool.” As he stands, he pats my leg and my eyes fall to his large, warm, masculine hand. I let out a shiver before I can stop it, and of course Mason notices. He lets out a soft chuckle, but thankfully doesn’t comment.
“Happy Birthday, bro.” Mason pulls Tristan into a side hug. “I’m off to the gym.”
Once he’s gone, Charlie joins me on the couch. “Are those…hearts I see in your eyes…or maybe lust?”
“What?” I screech. “Stop!” Changing the subject I say, “So, I did something…”
“What did you do?”
“I applied for a nursing position at a private OB/GYN practice. It would mean no more working weekends, having set hours, and could possibly mean more money.” I should’ve applied sooner, but just like I did with my marriage, I settled. I enjoyed working at the hospital, so I didn’t strive for anything more. Lately, for some reason, I’ve been thinking about my mom and her last words to me. My promise to myself after her death, not to settle. I might not be able to find a guy, but I can take control of my life in other ways, starting with my job.
“That’s awesome!” Charlie gushes. “I’m sure you’ll get it. And when you do, we’ll be celebrating.”
“I did it!” I squeal, walking into You Paint Art Studio. Charlie turns around, her smile bright and knowing.
“You did?” She runs toward me, and we meet halfway, hugging each other.
“I did! I got the job. The doctor hired me right there on the spot. I’ll be working Monday through Friday, eight to four. No more nights or weekends, and I’ll be making more money!”
“Oh, Mila! I’m so happy for you.” Charlie hugs me tighter. “This weekend, we’re all going to dinner to celebrate your new job. ”
“And your grand opening,” I add as I pull away from her and glance around the studio. The place looks amazing. For the last three months, Charlie and the contractors have been working around the clock to get this place ready for the grand opening, which will be taking place tomorrow. It’s an art studio where kids can have birthday parties and adults can bring their own
wine to drink, while they paint and have a good time.
“This place is incredible!” And it really is. Hardwood floors run throughout the entire studio. The most adorable picnic tables run parallel from front to back with individual easels sitting on top of each table. Matching bench seats with comfy cushions are in front of each easel. The walls are filled with art that Charlie, Lexi, and Georgia drew and painted themselves. On the back wall, the shelves are filled with charming wine glasses for the adult guests. The studio is stylish, yet gives off the feeling of comfort, making even a terrible artist such as myself want to spend a few hours here, drinking and painting.
“Thank you! I can’t believe the opening is tomorrow. I feel like everything I’ve ever wanted and dreamt of is coming true.” Tears fill her eyes and I pull her into another hug. Charlie has been through so much, more than anyone should ever have to go through, and it’s about damn time her dreams are turned into a reality.
“Because they are, and you deserve every bit of happiness life has to offer.”
“That she does.” Tristan comes out from the back of the studio where the children’s birthday party room is, and Charlie and I separate. “And so do you, Mila.” He gives me a soft smile.
“Yeah, yeah.” I wave him off. “So, do you need any help before tomorrow?”
Charlie twirls around the studio. “Nope. Tristan’s sisters have been a godsend. Everything is ready to go for the grand opening and I’m completely booked.” When Charlie was looking to hire help, Emma and Morgan, Tristan’s younger twin sisters, both volunteered. They’re both in college and Morgan is pregnant, due in June, so they’ll be working part-time.
