by Karen Renee
Her voice sounded hurt and concerned. “Honey, you will find someone, and that ‘normal and decent’ won’t be a promise. It’ll be a guaran-damn-tee.”
I nearly groaned. “Thanks, MeMaw Jr.”
Her chuckle filled my ear. “Speaking of, you should talk to MeMaw. She worries about you, possibly even more than Mom.”
I pressed my lips together. Sharing with her about Brock would hurt more. There was no reason to tell MeMaw about him. It was silly to inform her about something that was over so quickly. Before Tennille could misinterpret my silence, I spoke.
“Don’t tell her about this, okay? And, I’ll call her this Sunday to set her mind at ease.”
Her voice was gentle when she said, “Good. And you, what are you doing to put your mind at ease?”
I exhaled sharp and fast. “One day at a time, Neil. Not much more than that I can do, but my iPod is full of songs to soothe my mind, and to a small extent, my soul.”
The pause was so long I wondered if we’d been disconnected.
Finally she said, “I’m sending you an iTunes card.”
“Don’t do that, Neil.”
She turned pushy. “It’s done. Can’t undo it, I’m in front of my computer. It’s coming your way, don’t waste it, sis.”
“You’re such a damn pain,” I muttered.
“That didn’t sound like any version of ‘thank-you’ I’ve heard before, but from you, I’ll take it.”
“Thank you, Neily.”
“You’re welcome, CeeCee. And I love you.”
“Love you too, but you’re still a damn pain.”
“Bye,” she said, and ended our call.
I turned over in my bed, and dug out my ear buds. Swiping the wheel on the iPod, I wondered for the umpteenth time why I sorted my music the way I did. It was always the most recently purchased songs first, and invariably it led to me playing those songs so much I tired of them in no time flat.
Even with those thoughts floating through my mind, I brought up Joe Cocker’s “Feelin’ Alright.” That man spoke to me no matter what he sang. From a young age, I admired that he played Woodstock high as a kite and way more than twice as light —as MeMaw said when she caught me watching Woodstock when I was in high school. It probably should’ve been a sign of things to come for me, but there you go.
Perhaps Joe primed the pump for me, but when the next song came up, I heard it in an entirely new light. P!nk’s “90 Days” robbed me of my breath in that moment. In no way was my story similar to the song lyrics, but at the same time it was. She’s in his car and doesn’t know how to tell him what she’s feeling. Images of Brock’s Civic came to me, and the anxiety of how I could tell him my secret assailed me. The chorus referenced a habit to break in ninety days. I would be lucky if I was over what little Brock and I had had in the span of three months. We were together for five weeks, but those weeks felt like five months.
In the end, I didn’t think it mattered how long it took me to get over Brock. I knew one thing about myself for certain. I wasn’t good enough for his love. What was I thinking? We weren’t anywhere near the stage of love, but he screamed ‘serious’ and I knew he was probably looking to settle down soon. He would move on and find someone worthy of him, his honey-sweet loyalty, and his need to uphold the law. Since I wasn’t that woman, he was better off without me.
Chapter Eleven
That Can't Be For Real
Brock
Six weeks later...
Fisting the strap of my noise-canceling headphones, I resisted the urge to throw them across the club. Throwing the damn things would probably get me arrested, not to mention kill the music and the party vibe pulsing through the nightclub. I should’ve put my foot down with Gabe when he begged me to take the two-night gig at GILT because he was fighting off a sinus infection.
Robin Thicke’s “Take It Easy on Me” was thrumming through the speakers, and it was usually one of my favorite songs. Now it did nothing but remind me of Cecilia and the night we met. Of course, nearly everything made me think of that blonde bombshell. That meant I was still not fun to be around.
At my console, I cued up Post Malone’s “Circles.” The tempo was slower than Thicke’s song, but it was good to keep a crowd guessing as to what was coming next.
And it happened again.
I would’ve thought I’d be done with this shit. Wasn’t the first time music rubbed salt in the wound of a broken heart, but damn if this time the sting wasn’t excruciating.
Gabe had left me with his intended playlist, so rather than subject myself to more musical torture, I made sure four of his songs would play.
My phone lit up with a text from Gabe.
Goin’ to bed, B. Make sure you drop decent beats. You can always use my list for tonight. Just don’t lose me this gig with your foul mood.
I sent him an immediate reply.
Get better, Jackass. You owe me HUGE after this!
He texted back an emoji of a dude shrugging. I didn’t have time for this, or I might end up getting us both fired.
Scanning the crowd, I did a double take at a lithe blonde because the two women with her were Cecilia’s roommates. The woman turned around and it was clear she wasn’t Cecilia. My stomach sank and I realized a sense of excitement sank with it. Dammit! I needed to get this woman and everything about her out of my mind, and I needed to do it yesterday.
My internship had started three weeks ago, but my first week the officer in charge pulled me aside and told me to get my head out of my ass. I knew it wasn’t some sort of intimidation tactic. My dumb ass was wearing my heart on my sleeve, and I had to stop that shit.
Pop had told me not to make any decisions, and I kept telling myself I hadn’t. I just wanted space, but as more time passed, the harder it became to reach out to her. My problem wasn’t that she used to be a prostitute. I didn’t like that she sold her body, but I knew people did whacked shit to feed a habit. It was the fact she hid it from me that bugged me.
A song from Gabe’s playlist pulled me from my thoughts. It was an up-tempo remix of Imagine Dragon’s “Start Over.” He was a devious fucker, but hell if I could blame him since I was cut from the very same cloth. The song wasn’t entirely appropriate for my situation, but the message from Gabe was clear. Could Cecilia and I start over before it was really over? If I pulled my thumb out of my ass, the answer was likely yes.
As easy as songs made it seem, it wasn’t as simple as just starting over. I could decide to start over with her, but in clear conscience I couldn’t do that if I hadn’t made peace with all that was her. Her past, her struggles, and whatever her future might hold.
Right or wrong, the week after I dropped her off, I went into my doctor’s office demanding a full work-up. While I didn’t say it outright, I said enough to tell my doc that I was concerned about my health because of prior sexual contact. As Cecilia had said, she was as clean as she possibly could be, and my results came back clean as a whistle. A small voice told me I shouldn’t have doubted her, but the larger voice in me knew I could never be too careful.
Knowing we were both clean, I wondered what my hold-up was. Part of me figured it was the taboo nature of being with a former hooker, but I knew that wasn’t right. Before everything hit the fan, I loved spending time with her. I felt something for her I hadn’t felt for anyone else. Ever. I liked her dry wit and ability to deadpan at the most inappropriate times. On occasion her humor would be derisive and I yearned to admonish her for it, but it was strangely endearing because it revealed her insecurities.
Standing in the booth at GILT, looking down at the throng of people, the memory of our first kiss on that dance floor assailed my mind. There was no denying that was one of the best kisses I’d ever had. As the crowd moved, I again caught sight of her roommates, but she wasn’t with them. Of course she wouldn’t be. It was on the club’s website that Gabe would be the DJ tonight, though they may have changed it in time to indicate I’d be filling in. A man was st
anding near Madison and something about him rubbed me the wrong way. Maybe he was the reason Cecilia stayed home.
I groaned at myself as I picked up my phone and sent a text to her.
Hey. Just wanted to make sure you were doing well.
I sent it and immediately felt like a dumb ass. She’d probably written me off and blocked my number.
The last song from Gabe’s playlist started up, and I realized I had to get back to work, until I got off at two.
Cecilia
FIREWORKS EXPLODED in rapid succession and I knew the finale was happening outside the gift shop. There were few customers in the gift shop, mainly because of the fireworks, but also because it was eleven-thirty and the park was set to close at midnight. Even when the park officially closed, I would be tidying up and waiting for my drawer to be counted until close to one in the morning.
Working the afternoon and evening shift was different from being on days, but it had definite upsides. I wasn’t around Kendall or Madison in the evenings, which was great since they were determined to find a new man for me. The biggest upside, in my opinion, had to be how exhausted I was every night. My feet throbbed at the end of every shift and it was all I could do to take a shower before collapsing in bed.
I climbed into my car, and locked the doors. I pulled out my phone to see if Kendall or Madison had texted me and a thrill went through my entire body when I saw Brock’s text.
“That can’t be for real,” I whispered to myself.
I pressed my lips together as I debated how I would respond to his text. It was close to one-fifteen in the morning, but he had sent the message at half past midnight.
I’m doing well. Working afternoons/nights at Magic Kingdom, so I’m exhausted.
I sent the message, started my car, and tucked my phone in my purse before putting my car in gear.
WHEN I CLOSED AND LOCKED the door to the apartment, I saw a lamp in the living room was still on, and I padded toward Kendall and Madison’s rooms to find they were both empty. This left me in a slight quandary. They would likely be home soon, and if I wanted to get a shower, I should do it now. However, my stomach demanded food and I didn’t want to be rattling around in the kitchen when my roomies were sleeping.
The girls and I had an agreement of keeping our food separate from one another. I opened the fridge and added a trip to the grocery store to my mental to-do list. An “Ultimate” Cesar salad kit was in the crisper and I noticed there was half of a grilled chicken breast I hadn’t finished.
I chopped up the chicken, and was assembling the salad when Madison, Kendall, and her new boyfriend Thad stumbled into the apartment. Well, Thad didn’t stumble, which was good because he was their driver. Madison was giggling and visibly drunk. Kendall looked like she was buzzed, but wasn’t as out of it as Madison.
I dumped the lettuce in a huge bamboo bowl, and asked Kendall, “You guys have a good time?”
She looked over the breakfast bar at my bowl and scrunched her nose. “Yeah, we did. How can you eat that rabbit food?”
I shrugged. “It’s really good. Besides, I haven’t eaten in close to six hours, so I’m starved.”
She wandered off to the couch in our living room, and Thad sauntered up to the counter in front of me while I was scattering shaved Parmesan cheese onto the lettuce. It wasn’t that I wanted to be rude, but I found it best to ignore my roommates’ boyfriends whenever they were in the apartment, so I smiled at Thad and said hello, but otherwise I kept to myself.
When I plucked a large sliver of cheese from the bowl and popped it in my mouth, Thad spoke.
“That’s not sanitary, Cecilia.”
I looked up at him to see his eyes on my salad. “Uh, it’s my salad, so it’s–”
“You shouldn’t do that,” he muttered, as if I hadn’t spoken.
My head cocked to the side. “Just to say, this isn’t a restaurant and I’m not prepping this for other people. Just me.”
He looked at me and blinked, but I opened a container of grape tomatoes, rinsed them, and dumped them into the salad.
“What are you doing?” he asked incredulously.
“Making my salad,” I said, and being as hungry as I was, it came out testy.
“That’s a Cesar salad. You can’t put tomatoes on my Cesar salad.”
“Uh, no, Thad. This salad is for me. It feeds two to three people, but I’m having a serving and a half, with the other serving and a half being my lunch for tomorrow. So it doesn’t matter what I do while preparing my food.”
He gave me a hard look and I just barely heard him mutter, “Stingy.”
What Kendall saw in this guy, I did not know. I squeezed the dressing packet into the bowl and sprinkled the special herb mix on top, then used the bamboo spoons to toss the salad.
I grabbed a fork and a plate, piled the plate high with salad and then added my chicken to it. Sitting at the dinette table, I finished my first bite and the sounds of Thad in the kitchen hit me. He stood at the counter with a plate, eating the remainder of my salad.
My eyes widened, and I opened my mouth to say something, but Kendall beat me to it.
“You jackass! That’s Cecilia’s food.”
“There’s enough for me, too,” he said, looking at her from the kitchen.
“We don’t share food, I told you that. And even if I hadn’t, she told you more than once it was for her. And even if you some how missed that, you didn’t even ask her if you could eat it!” she cried, getting off the couch.
Thad had been around the apartment maybe four or five times, and I never got a good vibe from him. While this certainly would seal the deal for me not liking him, it tripped a trigger for Kendall too. She stalked to the door, and opened it wide.
“You can go, Thad. It’s been nice, but after the other shit you pulled tonight, we’re done.”
He had just forked up a mouthful, so I expected it to take him some time to respond, but instead he spoke around the food. “It’s just fuckin’ salad. Hell, I thought you were over your snit.”
With those ‘s’ words and his full mouth, it was a minor miracle only two bits of food flew from his mouth. Gross.
“It was more than a snit. You chattin’ up a blonde at the club was not cool. Lucky for you, she was cool and Madison and I hit it off with her. I shouldn’t have heard your ass out, but it must’ve been the Fireball that made me forgive you. Bottom line, we’re done. So get out.”
Thad dropped his plate into the sink with a clatter, and stormed to the door. As he passed by Kendall he said, “Whatever. You’re a lousy lay any damn way.”
Kendall shut the door muttering, “Motherfucker.” She turned to me. “I’m sorry, Ceil. If I woulda known he would do something like that, I’d have told his ass to drop us off and go.”
I nodded. “I’m sorry to cause your break-up.”
She shook her head. “Don’t be. I wasn’t kidding about the Fireball. If I’d been sober, no way I’d have heard a word that ass had to say.”
While she meandered into the kitchen, I ate more of my salad. She closed the freezer door, and said, “I know it isn’t full repayment or anything, but I got some Thin Mints stashed if you want a few.”
I gave her my side-eye. “‘A few?’ Surely, you meant a sleeve, because that’s the only way to consume the Thin Mint!”
She laughed, but sat down with me, putting three cookies on a napkin for me. When she popped one in her mouth, I noticed her eyes were shiny.
I wasn’t sure what to do, so I smiled at her. “You’re a cool chick, Kendall. And for whatever it’s worth, not that I would know, but I feel certain that asshole’s wrong. You’re probably great in bed because that parting shot of his was lame in the extreme.”
Her eyes shot to mine. “You’re right. That was a lame line, though the fact I gave you Thin Mints in July is the only reason you think I’m cool.”
“Shut up,” I muttered.
“You shut up,” she muttered back as my phone rang.
When Brock’s name popped up, I nearly choked.
I answered, sounding a little horse from nearly choking. “Hello?”
“Cecilia? It’s Brock, well, you should know that if you saw your phone’s display. Is it too late to talk to you?”
“No,” I answered, and regretted how short is sounded.
“What’s wrong? You sound pissed.”
“No, really, I’m not. I guess I’m just a little bit hangry, and tired. Today was grueling. And the salad I ate wasn’t enough,” I said stressing ‘enough’ even though I hadn’t meant to.
I stood up, rinsed my plate and put it in the dishwasher. Then I went to my bedroom. “I’ve never had roommates, just a–” I stopped myself before I said “a pimp” because I didn’t want to go there with him. “I’ve just never had roommates like Kendall and Madison, so they don’t want to share food, that’s how it is. Otherwise, I’d have bought two salads–”
“Why would you need two salads?”
“Well, Kendall’s now ex-boyfriend–”
“Did some asshole eat your fuckin’ salad, Sunflower?”
My breath caught at his tone and the fact he called me Sunflower. “Well, yeah.”
“Do us both a favor, yeah?” he asked, but didn’t wait for me to respond in the affirmative. “Either you don’t cook when that bastard is around or you tell your roommate to make it clear he doesn’t fuck with you.”
“Brock,” I whispered.
“Cecilia,” he growled, and as far as retorts went, his was far superior.
I sighed. “Yeah, I’ll let Kendall know, but truly it’s a moot point. She was even more unhappy about it than I was, and she kicked his ass out right then and there.”
“Good,” he murmured. “Now, can I come up?”
My eyes widened.
“Uh, what?” I asked, sounding as floored as I felt.
He chuckled. “I know you heard me. Can I come up? I’m in my car downstairs. I’d invite you to my place, but Gabe’s been sick as a dog the last three days. Might not be contagious, but I wouldn’t expose you to that shit. Truth be told, I don’t want to be exposed to that shit. Now, can I come up?”
