"You think? 'Are you ready for Big Ben?' Who the fuck names their cock that?"
Brad laughed. "Right? I can't believe he actually said that. Like, he was totally serious."
"No, he really was." Jamie laughed, but only to cover the shudder of disgust.
Brad was silent for a while. "I kind of feel like I should apologize. If you don't remember anything, you must have been pretty hammered when you sat down with us."
Jamie sighed. "Yeah. It's probably my own fault, though. I'm the kind of person who you can't tell how drunk they are. I could be obliterated and you won't know it. If you can see me looking impaired, like I'm stumbling or slurring or whatever, then I'm probably beyond schwasted and about to pass out."
Brad toyed with the tab of his soda can, not looking at Jamie. "So...you really don't remember anything?"
"No, honestly. I sort of came to in the middle of having sex with you. Everything before that is a blank."
Brad kept his eyes averted. "Oh. I guess I thought we sort of hit it off at Duggan's. I thought you and I...maybe we could--"
Jamie winced. "Brad, listen, I'm sorry. This whole thing is weird and uncomfortable for me. I don't know you. I don't remember meeting you, and that's just the hard, honest truth." She set her empty can by the sink. "I'd really like to just go home. Is there a bus stop nearby? Or..."
Brad shook his head. "A bus stop? Have you ever actually ridden a SMART bus? It's terrifying, and that's not even mentioning the crazy people." He set his can down next to Jamie's, staring at the two cans together as if they represented something that could have been, but would never be. "I'll take you to your car. Come on."
The ride from Brad's apartment, which was in Hazel Park, back to Duggan's in Royal Oak was one long awkward silence. Woodward Avenue was empty at three thirty in the morning, a single SMART bus rumbling along the right hand lane, spewing clouds of diesel exhaust. Duggan's was dark, Jamie's battered blue Buick LeSabre one of a few cars left in the lot.
As Jamie was sliding out of Brad's old red F-150, he touched her elbow to stop her. "Could I call you, sometime?"
Jamie sighed, not turning around to look at him. "Brad, I'm sorry. I'm gonna be brutally honest here. I just want to go home and try to forget this ever happened. It's not really you, per se. You're a nice guy. Sex with you was nice. But I'm just...I'm fucked up, okay? This was a mistake, an awful drunken mistake. There's so much I'm trying to forget, and this is just one more thing." She shook her head, almost angrily. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I said all that."
Brad didn't answer for a long moment. "It was 'nice', huh? That's the kiss of death for a guy. I get it, though."
"I'm sorry, Brad. Really. I wish I knew what else to say--"
"No, it's fine. It really is. I had a good time, except for--"
"Except for Big Ben," Jamie filled in. She turned and grinned at Brad as she stood up, leaning down to look into the open door. "A word of advice, from a woman to a man? Next time you try to score with a chick, leave the creepy douchebag out of it. Things may have gone differently if he hadn't have been there harshing my mellow, or whatever it is you stoners say."
Brad just laughed. "Yeah, I'm starting to see that." He put the truck in drive. "Anyway, you're here. So...thanks. And Jamie? Good luck forgetting. But remember, sometimes you can't forget, and shouldn't. Sometimes you need to remember the bad shit, so when the good times come along, they'll mean that much more to you."
Jamie closed the door and Brad drove away, back south down Woodward. She stood watching his taillights recede, hearing his last words echoing in her head.
Maybe forgetting Chase was impossible. Maybe she should just go on with her life and try to let go, rather than wishing for the impossible and hating life when it didn't happen.
Jamie drove home to her apartment in Clawson, barely seeing the road. With every mile, something hot and acidic rose in her gut, as much emotional as physical. By the time she was unlocking her front door, she was holding it back by force of will.
She slammed her door behind her and ran into the bathroom, dropping her purse on the floor as she fell to her knees and vomited into the toilet. She brought up everything she'd had to drink, everything she'd eaten, and then vomited more. When she felt done, she sank back sit on her thighs, her feet tucked beneath her, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Then her vindictive subconscious brought up an image of Ben, kneeling behind her, waving his chode-like penis at her, and then she had a sensory memory of Ben spooging onto her hand, and she vomited again, bringing up bile this time.
She slumped with her cheek against the toilet rim, holding back what felt suspiciously like tears.
She couldn't cry. She didn't cry. Not about guys. Not about doing the walk of shame. Not about waking up in strange apartments, or having sex with guys she didn't know. She did not cry.
She needed to talk to someone. Jamie dug her phone out of her purse and dialed Anna, knowing she'd answer even though it was four in the morning.
Anna answered on the third ring. "Jay? What's up? It's four a.m., hooker."
"I know, I'm sorry to call you at this hour, but...I fucked up, Anna. Really fucked up. Can you come over?"
"Shit. Are you hurt? Pregnant?"
"What? No. Not like that. Just...I need my best friend."
Anna paused before answering. "You broke your vow of celibacy, didn't you?" Jamie didn't answer, just sniffled as she struggled to hold back the tears, and that was enough for Anna. "Oh, shit. You're crying? I'll be there in a few minutes."
As she disconnected, Jamie heard Anna talking to Jeff in the background, telling him she didn't know when she'd be back. Jamie tossed the phone in her purse, stood up unsteadily, and brushed her teeth. She stripped, turned on the shower and let it run hot, staring at herself in the steam-fogged mirror.
She stepped under the stream of scalding hot water and scrubbed herself until her skin was red and raw, and then let the water soak her until the hot water ran out. Jamie was sniffling nonstop now, but refused to let the tears fall. She put on her favorite sleep T-shirt, an ancient thing with Eeyore on the front that used to be black but was now faded closer to gray.
Jamie climbed into bed, curled into a ball, and focused on not crying.
She'd been holding it back for so long. Not just tonight. The thing with Ben and Brad was the last straw, the tipping point. She'd been denying herself the emotions, pushing them down, bottling them up and ignoring them.
Now, whether she liked it or not, they were all coming up, coming out.
She heard the apartment door open and close, and then Anna appeared in her bedroom door, a box of donuts in one hand, the other holding a cup-tray with two Tim Horton's cups. Anna was sleep-mussed, long blonde hair tied up in a messy bun, wearing yoga pants, Uggs, and a several-sizes-too-big Dopey T-shirt every bit as old as Jamie's Eeyore one. She had makeup smeared under her eyes, and as she sat down on the bed, Jamie caught a whiff of sex from her.
"I brought you a hazelnut mocha, extra whipped cream. Plus, a dozen assorted donuts, with a few extra honey crullers." Anna set the donuts and coffee on the dresser, kicked off her boots and sat cross-legged next to Jamie. "Talk, Jay. What happened?"
Jamie tried to sit up, but couldn't. She rolled to her back and met Anna's worried blue eyes. "I got drunk."
Anna frowned. "Well, that's not too unusual, though, right?"
"No, Anna. I mean, really, really drunk. Blacked out drunk."
"Oh."
"And I woke up in a strange apartment."
Anna winced. "Shit."
"Yeah. Except it wasn't really waking up, exactly. It was more...coming to...in the middle of having sex. With a guy I don't remember meeting, whose name I didn't know until afterward."
Anna's eyes slid closed. "Jamie."
"I know. Shut up, though. It gets worse."
"Worse? How the hell can it get worse?"
Jamie squeezed her eyes closed, near panic as the tears welled up. "There was another g
uy in the bed." Anna made a strangled noise, but Jamie spoke over it. "He...I was on top, and the guy I was having sex with had his hands on my hips, you know how they do, holding on right where your legs meet your hips? Well, then I felt this other hand start touching my boobs. And then I saw this guy behind me. God, Anna. You don't understand how drunk I was. It was hard to see anything. Like, past seeing double. I saw this guy, right? And you know what he was about to do? Yeah, you can guess, can't you?"
"You didn't, Jamie. Tell me you didn't let him."
"Hell no. He had his short little chode-dick in his hand and he was...god I'm gonna puke again...he was tickling my asscrack with it."
Anna put two fingers to her mouth and puffed out her cheeks, making a heaving noise.
Jamie laughed, a choked, humorless sound. "This is the best part though. Or worst, depending on how you look at it. You know what this guy said to me? As he was about to anally penetrate me, he said, and I quote, 'Are you ready for Big Ben?'"
Anna blinked several times, processing. "Are you serious? He actually said that?"
"Yes, he did. And no, he wasn't joking. His name was Ben, and he named his dick Big Ben."
"That's...I don't even know what that is. Terrible. Funny, but terrible."
Jamie nodded. "Yeah. So I put a stop to the anal real fast. But I guess I lied when I said that was the worst part."
Anna covered her face with her hand. "There's more?"
Jamie closed her eyes and drew a deep, shuddering breath. "Let me just preface this with a reminder that I was still drunk and I had no idea what was happening. I think I thought it was all a bad dream, or something. I still want to think it was. But...anyway. This Ben guy. He was sitting there, all pouty, with this pathetic hard-on. And he begged me to help him out."
"You didn't. Please Baby Jesus, tell me you didn't go down on him."
"Well no, I didn't do that. I gave him a hand job. I have this image in my head, now. I mean, I didn't want to touch his dick. But part of me seemed to be...I don't know...acting by itself or something. I watched my hand reach out of its own volition and grab him. I closed my eyes at that point, but I can't get this memory out of my head of him coming on my hand. With the right guy, I don't mind that, you know? I mean, I'm not a money shot kind of girl--that's nasty--but if I'm into the guy, I don't mind having his come on me. But this guy...I can't describe him 'cause I swear to god I'll puke again if I do. He was such a creeper. It wasn't how he looked, exactly, it was just...him. I was getting dressed and this guy was just staring at me. Watching me get dressed. With what he'd said and was about to do to me...no lube, no prep, nothing? It was creepy." Jamie shivered dramatically, choking back bile and tears.
Anna slumped back against the headboard. "Jamie. Ohmigod, Jamie. How--and why--do you get yourself into these situations?"
"I don't know, Anna. I don't know. I wish I knew," Jamie heard herself say.
She knew it was a lie, though. She knew precisely why she'd gotten herself into that situation. She'd gone out drinking to drown out thoughts of him, of Chase. Then, at some point, she'd decided to try and erase her need for Chase with other guys.
She couldn't tell Anna any of this, though.
What she said was, "Anna, I'm tired of being a slut."
"You're not--"
"I am. We've been over this. I...am...a...slut. I know it, and I own it. I like sex. I love sex. I'm a twelve-step program away from being a nymphomaniac."
"So choose not to be."
"It's not that easy, Anna. I wish it was. I tried. I kept my vow from Vegas until now, no sex, not even my own fingers. Not even Mr. Pinky McVibrator. And you know how much I love my Mr. Pinky."
"Yes, Jay. I know you love him. I loved my Mr. Pinky too."
"Then you found Jeff and now you don't need Mr. Pinky, 'cause you have Mr. Long Hard and Attached to a Real Man Who Loves You."
"So what happened?"
"I don't know." Jamie hated the lie, hated that she could see the knowledge of Jamie's lie in Anna's eyes.
"Jay. I'm your best friend. Tell me."
"No."
"Jamie."
"Anna."
"Okay, fine." Anna stood up and paced away, grabbed her coffee and sipped it. "There's something you're not telling me. If you need your secrets, then fine, whatever."
"It's not that I don't want to tell you. I just...can't. Not yet." Jamie managed to sit up as she said this.
The hurt in Anna's eyes was more than Jamie could take. One tear slid down her cheek, and then another, and then a third, and then she was bawling helplessly, curled up around a pillow, wracked with bone-shuddering sobs.
Anna knew there was nothing to say, so she sat grabbed the box of Kleenex from the back of the toilet and sat down next to Jamie with it, stroking her curly red hair out of her face as she wept.
When the storm of tears quieted, Anna drew Jamie's head into her lap and looked down at her best friend. "You know I love you, Jamie. You know I'll never judge you. You know there's nothing you could do to make me not be your best friend. I won't ask you again. Just know...I'm here, okay? If and when you're ready to spill, I'll be ready to listen."
"I know. And thanks."
Anna drew a deep breath, and Jamie knew the ass-kicking was about to ensue. "You know too that I can't let you get away with this bullshit without kicking your ass."
"I know."
"It's not about the vow of celibacy, Jay. That was just my attempt to help you see that you can enjoy life and enjoy being yourself without sex. Especially without cheap sex." Anna twirled the end of one of Jamie's curls between her index finger and thumb. "But in the end, you have to want to be different inside yourself."
"I know, Anna."
"No, I don't think you do." Anna met Jamie's eyes, her blue gaze hard, now. "Have some goddamn self-respect, Jamie. Quit putting out for chumps and douchebags. Wait for a real man, a good man. If that guy--the guy--comes along, and you have no standards, no self-respect, then he won't respect you. And a guy that doesn't respect you will walk all over you. You'll be little more than his sex-slave. You have want better for yourself."
Jamie couldn't help the renewal of tears Anna's brutally honest words engendered. "Easy for you to say."
Anna drew back, stung. "Really? You think so? You were there when I was with Bruce. You think I just magically figured all this out? Everything that happened with Chase...running off to New York to fuck him, and then running back to Jeff? God, Jamie. I hate myself for leaving Jeff like I did. I was too chicken to see what I had with a damn good man who loved me, so I ran off to be with someone else. Someone like Chase."
"What's wrong with Chase?" Jamie couldn't help defending him.
"Nothing. It's not about Chase. He's a good guy. He'll make someone very happy someday, if he ever learns to settle down. But he's a rockstar, and you can't expect a rockstar to be faithful. I can't live like that. He wouldn't have been able to give me the attention and love I needed. He's too focused on his career."
"You don't know that. Maybe he could have."
Anna looked at Jamie with suspicion in her eyes. "No, maybe you're right. But I've made my choice, and I don't regret it for a moment. Chase wasn't right for me. I didn't love him. I never did. Maybe I could have, but I'll never know that, will I? Why are you pushing this?"
Jamie wiped her eyes. "Sorry. I don't know. I just...I don't know. You have Jeff and you're deliriously happy. I'm happy for you." She couldn't keep the jealousy out of her voice."
Anna sighed. "It'll happen for you, Jay. It will. Just...learn to be okay within yourself. For yourself. It'll happen. Probably when you least expect it."
Jamie felt exhaustion creeping over her. "I know. I will." She peered up at Anna through sleep-heavy eyes. "Just make me one promise."
"What?"
"Love me forever and be my BFF, no matter what?"
"You know it, hooker. No matter what."
Jamie pretended to fall asleep, listening to Anna let herself ou
t. Real sleep soon washed over her, but not before the inevitable thoughts of Chase made their way through her mind and heart.
She couldn't tell Anna what she was feeling for Chase. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Anna had promised to be her BFF no matter what, but if Jamie and Chase were to be together, Anna would be reminded of everything that had happened between her and Chase every time she saw him. And considering how close Anna and Jamie were, that would be often.
Jamie sank into sleep, knowing Chase was an impossibility.
That didn't stop her heart from crying out for him, or her body from needing him.
CHAPTER 4
Jamie sighed as she placed the last stack of folded Cacique panties on the display table. She'd been folding and putting away the stock order for hours, after an insanely busy Saturday afternoon rush. She was exhausted, emotionally, mentally, and physically.
It had been a little over two months since her drunken debauchery with Ben and Brad, and in the intervening weeks she'd kept almost strictly to herself. She worked a huge amount of hours at Lane Bryant as it was, then she'd been promoted to Assistant Manager and her hours had only increased.
The busyness had been good for her. She worked, went to the gym, and went home. She'd been studiously avoiding her drinking buddies, knowing if she went out with them, she'd fall right back into her old ways. Meaning, she'd end up doing the walk of shame again.
She'd gotten back on the celibacy wagon, which was good, but sucked. She was busy, she was in shape, and she was learning to be content by herself.
But then, that was the problem: Jamie was lonely.
Anna was busier than ever with Jeff and their ever-expanding DJ business, so Jamie didn't even have her BFF to hang out with as much as she used to. That was fine, she told herself. Anna was happier than she'd ever been. Good for her.
Jamie was keeping her legs closed and staying off her back. That was a good thing.
Maybe when she met Mr. Right sex with him would be, like, the best ever. The problem was, if she was keeping to herself all the time, how was she supposed to meet him?
The other problem, the real problem, was that Chase wouldn't leave her thoughts. She hadn't seen him in nearly three months, and all those weeks, all those days hadn't dulled her desire for him. He was still on her mind when she fell asleep, still in her heart when she sat in the bathtub with a bottle of wine and Mumford and Sons on repeat.
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