by Robin Stone
I put my finger inside my tie and loosened it a little.
Brooke tilted her head. “Is everything okay? You seemed upset in there.”
I rubbed the back of my neck, considering if I should tell her what Stephen said.
“I just—shit. I’ll just say it. That guy, Stephen? He asked me if what you and I had was serious.”
She crossed her arms. “And what did you say?”
“I told him yes, it was serious. And I told him to back off. But I’m just kidding myself. I have nothing to offer you. Not like Stephen.”
She put her hand on my cheek. “Hey, that’s not true.”
“It is. Once I go to these next few events, we’ll be done, and you can date Stephen. Or any guy here who probably has a tuxedo in his closet.”
“Evan, I’m with you. Only you. I don’t even like Stephen or any man here. I want to be with you.”
Looking into her blue eyes, I wanted to believe her. She tugged my face down and pressed a firm kiss on my mouth.
“None of these men hold a candle to you. And I don’t need anything from you. In case you haven’t noticed, I have my own money.”
I grinned. That, she did.
“Now, come back in and try this red velvet cake, before Linda eats yours. Please?”
I took her hand, and we went back inside.
The red velvet cake was incredible.
They had cleared out some of the tables, exposing a dance floor. A DJ playws music. Brooke was shimmying to the music by my side.
“Ask your girlfriend to dance before someone else does!” Linda shout-whispered in my ear.
I took Brooke’s hand and led her to the floor where several people were dancing to the latest dance hit. Brooke was a good dancer. I felt like I was kinda flailing, but no one seemed to notice.
I finally loosened my tie and stuffed it into my pocket, giving my neck blessed relief. And when a slow dance song came on, I pulled Brooke into my arms. She rested her head near my shoulder. I loved the way her body felt next to mine. My chest ached, thinking about the end of our arrangement.
Brook sighed and hugged me. I hugged her back and kissed her cheek. She smelled so good tonight, like a different kind of flower.
The slow dance ended, and we went back to our table to drink some water. Stephen was still sitting there, his cake uneaten, glaring at me.
“Do you mind if we call it a night?” Brooke asked. “I have an early showing tomorrow.”
“Not at all.”
“I’ll go out to the lobby and call for the car. It’s too loud in here. Let me say goodbye to a few people first.”
“Sure,” I said.
She said goodbye to Stephen, who barely gave her a nod. And then she said goodbye to Linda and Charles.
“Goodbye, darling,” Linda said. “I know duty calls.”
I shook hands with Charles and let Linda give me an air kiss.
“Good night, Evan. Take care of our girl.”
She winked, and I got an odd feeling from her. But then she walked away, and I followed Brooke out to the lobby.
Brooke snuggled against me in the back seat of the car. I opened the window a few inches to let in the cool night air. I leaned back against the seat and closed my eyes. Damn, I was tired, too.
When we got back to the hotel, the lobby was deserted. We headed toward the elevator.
“Hold on,” Brooke said. “Do you mind if we stop by and see Charlie for a minute before we go up? I want to tell him I won the weekend in Boston. He knows I’ve been trying to win that.”
“Sure,” I said.
We walked past the desk and down the hallways to the bar. There were a few patrons drinking at tables. No one was sitting at the bar, but Charlie was there.
“Does this guy sleep here, too?” I asked, only half-joking.
“Ha, ha. Charlie, I won the weekend in Boston!”
We went up to the bar. Brooke opened her tiny purse and took out the envelope, which she’d rolled up to fit inside.
“Two nights in a suite, dinner included, and a gift certificate for a couples’ massage.”
“Hey, good!” he said. “It’s about time you won that.”
“I’m parched,” she said. “Dinner was good but very salty. How about a quick drink before we go upstairs?”
“Sure,” I said.
I knew she was tired, and I was, too, but I was so goddamned thirsty, I felt like I’d swallowed sand. Brooke ordered a white wine, then excused herself to go to the ladies’ room. I ordered a beer. Charlie poured the wine and set it down on a coaster.
He poured my beer, and then set it down hard on a coaster, splashing some on my hand. He glared at me.
“Hey, Charlie. What the hell is your problem with me?”
He sighed and put his hands on the bar.
“I just see another rich asshole cozying up to Brooke, and I can just tell you’re gonna break her heart.”
I stared at him, stunned.
“What do you mean, I’m a rich asshole?” I asked. “Me? You’ve got the wrong idea, pal.”
“I’m not your pal,” he growled. “Did Brooke tell you about her ex?”
I thought for a second and remembered a conversation where I suspected she’d had a difficult past relationship.
“Not really. Why?”
“The last guy Brooke was with was a drunk, and he hit her. Did she tell you that?”
I felt like all the air was sucked out of my lungs. I blinked, then shook my head.
“No. She didn’t.”
“Well, you kinda remind me of him. It just don’t sit right with me.”
I sputtered. “Wh-What? So because I look like him, I’m doing the same thing, too? How the hell is that fair?”
Brooke came back, fanning her face. “It’s hard to go to the bathroom in this dress.” She walked up to the bar and reached for her drink. She looked at Charlie, who was glaring at me.
“What’s going on, here?” she asked. “Evan?”
“Charlie here just told me about your ex-boyfriend. The one you used to come in here with. Apparently, he thinks I resemble him, so I’m guilty by association.”
Her posture went rigid, and she glared at him.
“Why did you tell him that?”
“I don’t know, honey. I’m sorry. I’m just looking out for you, that’s all.”
“I can’t believe this.” She picked up her wine glass. “I’m going up to our room.”
She turned to walk away.
“Brooke!” Charlie said, anguish on his features. “I’m sorry. I really am. I shouldn’t have butt in. And you can’t carry that through the lobby, I’ll get in trouble.”
She walked back to the bar and set the glass down hard, sloshing some wine over the edge. And then she turned and walked away. The patrons at the tables were watching us with interest. Brooke walked toward the door and went into the hallway, out of sight.
“Shit. Here,” I said, tugging out my wallet. “Let me pay for these—”
But Charlie was shaking his head and put his hand out.
“No, man. Don’t worry about it. Go talk to her.”
“Thanks,” I said, and went after Brooke.
I met her at the elevator, and we rode up to the room in silence. I opened the door with my key, and she went into the bedroom. She kicked off her shoes, then came back out.
“Can you unzip me, please?” she asked.
Her voice was quiet, and it unsettled me.
“Sure,” I said.
She turned around, and I found the zipper, tugging it down to her waist.
“Thank you. I’m going to get changed.”
She went into the bedroom. I heard fabric rustling, and a long sigh as she took off the dress. She hung it in the closet, and then she went into the bathroom and closed the door.
I paced back and forth, wondering what to do. Was she mad at me? At Charlie? At both of us?
Water ran in the bathroom. She was probably washing off her makeup, a
nightly ritual. I went into the bedroom and took off my shoes and my tux, carefully hanging it up in the closet.
I peeled off my socks, then walked to the kitchen for a drink of water. I felt strange just standing around in my underwear, so I went into the bedroom and climbed into bed, waiting for her.
Seventeen
Brooke stayed in the bathroom a long time, and when she came out, she was wearing pajamas and smelled like the face cream she applied before going to bed.
She set the alarm on her phone and climbed into bed.
I’d shut off the light in the kitchen. Only the bedside light was still on.
“Are you ready for me to turn out the light?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said.
She reached over and turned off the switch, settling into the mattress with her back to me. I didn’t get the sense she was mad at me, but still, I wanted to tread carefully.
“Can I touch you?” I asked.
“Sure,” she said.
I moved a little closer and draped my arm around her waist. She put her hand on mine.
“So, what was that about tonight?” I asked. “I’ll listen if you want to talk about it. If not, that’s okay, too.”
She was quiet for so long, I thought she didn’t want to talk and had started to fall asleep.
“I have terrible taste in men,” she said. “Always have. I always think things are going great, and then…”
“And then?”
“And then they cheat. Or they only want me for my money. Or for my business connections. And the last one was a drunk, and he hit me.”
I let all that sink in. “Well, you broke up with him.”
“I made excuses. He only hit me when he was drunk. He just lost control, he won’t do it again, I thought. I kept telling myself the same thing over and over. When he wasn’t drunk, he was a great guy. Everyone loved him at work. No one suspected a thing. I was too embarrassed to tell anyone.”
“None of it is your fault,” I said.
“I know. I know that. Charlie saved me. He saw us at the bar one night. And my boyfriend—his name was Gabe—was drinking too much. Charlie refused to serve him anymore, and he got belligerent. He grabbed my arm really hard and dragged me out of there.”
Silence. I waited until she was ready to talk again.
“Charlie looked up my name from a credit card receipt, and he found my address. He had one of the guys in the kitchen cover the bar for him, and he came to our apartment.”
I pictured Charlie stalking up to the door and pounding on it like I’d pounded on Ray’s door.
“When I looked out the peephole, I couldn’t believe he was standing there. Gabe was in the bathroom, so I opened the door a crack and asked Charlie what he was doing there. Charlie told me to come out into the hallway and talk to him. I told him to leave. I opened the door a little more, and he put his hand on my arm, urging me into the hallway. I winced in pain.”
A breath whooshed out of me.
“He told me to push up my sleeve right now, damnit. I tried to refuse, but he insisted. I pushed it up and showed Charlie the bruising that had already set in when Gabe tugged me out of the bar. I had older bruises of different colors on my arm, too.”
My chest ached for Brooke. I hated guys who hit women.
“Charlie let go of my arm and closed the apartment door behind me. He told me to come with him. I didn’t even have any shoes on! I walked out to his car with him. He told me to get in, and that he was calling the cops. I climbed in, and he locked the doors and closed them.”
Now I was holding my breath, waiting for the rest of the story.
“Charlie picked up his phone and called the police. A few minutes later, Gabe came out to the parking lot looking for me. He was still drunk. Gabe walked over and talked to him. He pointed at his car, then pointed to his phone. Gabe started walking toward the car.”
“Oh, shit,” I said.
“Charlie said something to him, and Gabe turned around, swinging his fist. Charlie dodged the punch, and then he moved so fast, I couldn’t see what he did, but he knocked Gabe to the ground and pinned him there. Gabe struggled and screamed at him, but Charlie didn’t let him up until the cops arrived.”
“Wow,” I said.
“The cops put Gabe in the back of their car. And then they talked to Charlie for a few minutes. Charlie pointed to his car, and one of the cops came over to talk to me. He asked if I wanted to come down to the station and file a report. I said yes. He asked if anyone could give me a ride. Charlie said he would.”
“I’m glad Charlie did that,” I said.
“When he got into the car with me, he said his piece of shit brother-in-law used to hit his sister, and he knew a battered woman when he saw one. And Gabe’s behavior had gotten increasingly worse from what he saw in the bar.”
“What happened after that?”
“Gabe went to jail for a while. Then my sister and my friends brought me over to the apartment and helped me pack up all my stuff and move out. The apartment was in his name, anyway. I moved to a new one and resolved to never let something like that happen again.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you, Brooke.”
I kissed her shoulder and pulled her closer. She turned to face me.
“I brought you to the bar partly so Charlie could check you out. He’s good at reading people. I called him the next day to ask his opinion of you, and he said he wasn’t sure he liked you.”
“Why?” I asked. “I’ve never treated you badly.”
“I know. But Charlie said he sensed you weren’t being completely honest about something.”
“I’m a pretty open book,” I said. “But there is something I haven’t told you yet. I think it’s time.”
“What is it?”
My mouth felt dry again, and I swallowed hard.
“My dad used to hit our mom.”
Brooke gasped. “Oh, Evan.”
“He didn’t drink. But he was so controlling about mom. He questioned what she did, where she was going. He accused her of cheating on him. He’d pick fights with her and lose control and smack her around at night when he thought me and Matty were asleep.”
“But you heard them.”
“Of course. We lived in a small house. We were just a few footsteps away, down the hall, listening to our mother cry.”
Rage bubbled up in my throat again, thinking about how hopeless I felt. I was older than Matty, why didn’t I do something? But our dad was tall and muscular. All he had to do was glare at us, and we’d behave.
“Did he hit you or your brother?”
“No,” I said. “He never did. I always thought he’d come storming down the hallway and smack us around, but he never did. Matty used to sneak into my room when they fought. I’d let him climb into bed with me. He’d shake in fear. I used to get up and sit with my back against the door to make sure dad didn’t come in and hurt us. Our doors didn’t have locks, and I’m sure dad could’ve pushed in the door if he really wanted to.”
I remember nights lying by the door and trying to fall asleep on the dingy carpet. Matty used to bring me a pillow and blanket, and then he’d climb back into my bed and curl up, crying himself to sleep.
“One morning, I woke up by the door with a crick in my neck. I got up and went over to my bed to check on Matty. I pulled down his cover, and he was sleeping, clutching his stuffed monkey and sucking his thumb like a baby. He had dried tears on his cheeks, running back into his hair.”
“Oh my God,” Brooke said.
“I swore right then I was going to do something. I was going to skip school and go to the police.”
“What happened?”
“I chickened out. What if the cops came, and they didn’t arrest him? What if he blamed us and started hitting us? What if he took it out on mom? Matty begged me to do something every day. I didn’t know what to do.”
“You were just a kid,” she said. “And then what?”
“Then, about
a week later—I shit you not—Dad collapsed at work and died.”
Brooke sucked in a breath.
“They called an ambulance, but they couldn’t revive him. I told you about when my mom came to school to tell me he died, remember? And then we went to Matty’s school to tell him. Matty was distraught. Even though we hated dad, he was so upset. Matty said it was all his fault because he’d wished out loud that Dad would die.”
“Oh, Evan, I’m so sorry.”
She put her hand on my cheek and kissed me on the lips. I kissed her back, threading my hands through her hair, trying to put so much into the way I held her and kissed her.
I’d never told anyone the full story, except for the counselor mom made me see after. I totally blamed dad for Matty getting into drugs when he got older. I was still bitter about it.
Brooke yawned. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m exhausted, too. Let’s get some sleep.”
I held Brooke and stroked her hair until her breathing told me she was asleep, and then I quickly fell asleep, too.
Eighteen
The next morning, Brooke’s alarm woke us up. I moaned, and she rolled over, grabbing her phone and turning it off.
“Ugh,” I said. “It can’t be morning already.”
“Mmm,” she said.
She reached down, feeling my morning wood. We kissed, and she slipped beneath the covers and tugged down my underwear. Her soft hand slipped me into her warm mouth. I moaned—what a way to start the day.
Brooke teased me with her lips and tongue until I grew hard again. A few minutes later, she pulled away and tugged off her pajamas. When she came back to me, her pussy was wet. I grabbed a condom from the bedside table and handed it to her. I loved watching her tear it open and roll it down on me.
She straddled me, lifting herself up, and then slowly lowering herself onto my cock. I reached up and cupped her breasts as she moved above me. I loved the way she moved, and the little gasping sounds she was making.
A few minutes later, I reached out and rubbed her clit with my thumb. She moved faster on me, gasping and moaning. Her clit swelled under my touch. She pulled my hand away and ground hard on my cock. I bit my bottom lip, trying to hold off.
