by Lym Cruz
I got up from the bed and staggered towards the bathroom, feeling less than shit. I braced myself on the side of the sink as I lifted the faucet and cold water gushed out. Crunching, I splashed the water on my face and gazed up at the mirror. I was disgusted with myself.
The woman on my bed stirred, mumbling my name. Disregarding her, I took my toothbrush, put toothpaste on it, and brushed my teeth. The taste of peppermint filling my mouth.
From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of her taking something from the nightstand and holding it behind her back as she edged towards the bathroom. She stopped in the doorway wearing a pink bra and matching underwear. Humiliation hindered me from fully facing her.
Last night was a night I expected never to come. I couldn’t rise to the occasion. After that, I couldn’t remember anything. I must have passed out and wondered why the hell she stuck around. I guessed, maybe, it was because it was late and she didn’t have transport but I wasn’t going to ask. I just wanted her to get the hell out of my apartment. I spat out the foam and rinsed my mouth. She was still watching me, yet neither of us said a word.
Last night was horrid. Whenever I touched or tried to kiss her somehow her face shifted between Melissa’s and hers, it was the weirdest thing. Her smell felt wrong along with everything else. And she was so…not Melissa.
Since I last saw Melissa, I’d been scrambled. Questioning the way I’d treated women. I’d woken up next to several nameless faces before, and the one gazing at me was no different. I am an asshole.
“Is this Melissa?” she asked, from behind her back she produced a framed picture of Ashlyn and me. “You called for her the entire night.”
I frowned with aversion. Ashlyn could never be compared to Melissa. I yanked the frame from her and dumped it in the bathroom bin, making a mental note to inform my housekeeper to pack all of Ashlyn’s things for when she comes to get it. She always came.
“No, and I think you should leave now.”
“Whatever.” She huffed a dry laugh. “Not much happens here anyway,” she muttered over her shoulder and disappeared into the bedroom.
I stayed motionless, facing the mirror as a repulsive human being stared back. Who am I? Most nights, I didn’t recognize myself anymore. I threw water at the mirror and turned away from my reflection. I went to the closet and put on the first t-shirt I found, a pair of shorts, and searched for my running shoes. I needed to do something to release my frustration.
Moments later, the door slammed, vibrating the apartment’s walls. She was evidently unhappy but at least she was gone. I sat on the bed putting on my socks and shoes. The image of Melissa in only a tiny black thong popped into my mind, automatically my dick twitched.
“Are you kidding me?” I murmured through gnashed teeth.
Melissa was wrong about what she said. I wanted more than just to fuck her, I wasn’t sure what exactly I wanted, but she misinterpreted the whole thing. How couldn’t she? I came on too hard and mortified her. I felt dirty and the word sorry seemed insufficient to undo my mistake.
She was right to think I saw something in her. There was something about Melissa that piqued my curiosity, and it went beyond her incredible face and astounding body. She seemed out of place at that strip club and she was shadowed with suffering. I saw it the day we met, and there was still a hint of pain in her eyes. Instead of starting from a normal conversation, I went straight to kissing her. I listened to my dick and ended up causing more harm than good.
Throughout the years, I’d thought of reasons that led Melissa to that life. She must’ve had a strong reason for being there. I was certain that it wasn’t her free will to be entertaining men with her body. She begged me to get her out of that place the night we first met. She’d wanted to escape. And I might never know the reason because I never cared to ask. I was self-absorbed in my own selfish desires and never considered her feelings.
Sprinting out of the apartment, I headed outside instead of going to the gym as per habit. I jogged down the nearly deserted streets of San Diego. The crisp daybreak air hit my face as I went. The La Jolla residents began to take up their morning routines. Children were going to school, suited businessmen and women hurried to start the day as light traffic on the road constructed. I took it all in as I ran, hearing the sounds of birds tweeting and one-sided phone conversations. I continued running until my legs gave in and my lungs burnt from exhaustion. I bent with my hands probed on my knees, stabilizing my palpitating heart. After my pulse steadied, I jogged back to the apartment covered in sweat. The elevator door opened, and I climbed in. On the first floor, Rob came in equally damp in sweat.
“I knocked on your door but got no answer,” Rob said. “Thought you left early for the office.”
I shook my head. “Just needed fresh air.”
“Still hung-up about Melissa?”
Hung-up was not the word I would use. I couldn’t get her out of my system. Her kiss was spellbinding. A kiss never felt as good as it did on her lips. Melissa was beautiful, simply breathtaking. Her body was a sculpture of continuous immaculate curves. I shut my eyes resting my head on the wall. All I saw was a black thong between her ass and the arc of Melissa’s waist bordering her belly. Everything about her was attractive. Frustrated, I growled recalling what came afterward.
“That bad, hm?” Rob sniggered. “Call her, maybe you can fix it.”
“I don’t know, Rob. I was a jerk.”
“Yeah, well … nothing new about that. Try, you never know.”
At the ping of the lift, I opened my eyes, and we both climbed off on the same floor. Yup, Rob and I were neighbors. He went into his apartment and I into mine. The first thing I did was head for the shower. I turned on freezing, cold water expecting it to cool off my boiling blood.
When I closed my eyes under the current, I pictured Melissa’s eyes glistening with tears before she left. I could have gone after her but I hadn’t. It broke me to see that look on her face—I hated myself for causing her so much pain. I wanted to hold her and take away her tears, but I was a coward. I’d imagined running into her for years, and when she did step back into my life, I blew it. But the problem was that her touch ignited the deepest of yearning inside of me. I’d never craved a woman the way I longed to feel Melissa. I understood her reservations, but I still wanted her and badly.
I turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around my waist. My phone. I found it in the bedroom plugged into the socket. I removed my phone from the charger and dialed her number. It rang… And rang… And went to voicemail. I tried again, the same thing. Cursing, I tossed the phone on the bed.
∞∞∞
Focusing on work was impossible, the image of a black thong stalked me. I fought the urge to forego the dull pulse in my dick, and it was becoming unbearable.
Usually, I wasn’t bothered by what women thought of me—not even Ashlyn. The majority of them never went past one night and the few ones who did know exactly what I wanted from them—sex. But for some reason, Melissa’s perception mattered, and it was bugging me knowing she assumed I was a heartless bastard. I was a nice guy. Most of the time.
The brisk sound of my office door being opened drifted me back to the present. My father barged in and dropped a file on my desk.
“The Gilbert case, how’s it going?” he prompted.
I raised my eyes up to see my father’s gaze. “It’s a done deal. We’ll sign the papers this afternoon.”
Aging lines around my father’s eyes and lips conveyed his fifty-three years. The silver streaks throughout his brown hair flattered him, but he was a little overweight, and the buttons of his shirt were overly stretched. My father was a man I never wanted to become, and yet it seemed I was following in his footsteps. He’d worked hard on building his reputation as the best corporate lawyer in this city. He was ruthless and won cases. No matter what it took, Ronald Malcolm delivered.
We were never close, the only thing he cared about was making sure I obtained good results at s
chool and work. Anything beyond that didn’t interest him. But deep down he knew I detested this job; I’d said so enough times.
He chuckled. “So, Mrs. Gilbert was right. He is a cheating asshole.”
Aren’t we all in some way?
“See that.” My father pointed to the file he dropped on my desk. “It’s your new case. This is a big one. It’s all over the news. Some retired actor’s custody battle. So far, the father has sole custody, and your job is to reunite a mother with her child. She wants joint custody, both legal and physical.”
Annoyed, I cupped my nape. These were the worst cases of all. Custody battles could become ugly. The parents at times forgot the child’s interest and focused on their ego to win the case and the child was often pulled from pillar to post.
I sat back in my chair and waited for the lecture that was about to come. “You need to pull up your socks. You’re a Malcolm for fuck’s sake. We don’t sit around drafting prenups, we battle, and we take gold. Look at Dave, you started here at the same time, and he’s fighting to prove himself while you sit around watching time pass. Now is the time to make your mark, let people know who you are and you have the advantage of holding the Malcolm name.”
I’d heard this speech so many times I knew it by heart. Next, he was going to say there’s no room for failure. He did not tolerate failure and Malcolm’s didn’t fail. Then he would talk about what a disappointment my elder sister, Chloe, was. Nine years ago, when she was only twenty, Chloe got pregnant and ran off to Spain. She married the father of her child who was not worthy of her, meaning that he was not wealthy.
Lastly, he’d say that I was his last hope and that I couldn’t disappoint him the way Chloe did.
At first, I was upset and hurt when Chloe left. She understood what life as a Malcolm was and dreaded it as I did. We grew up with exceeding expectations, and I’d worked hard to keep my parents happy, however as time went by it was getting tougher to cope.
Today, I understood Chloe’s decision to escape, but I still resented her a little for leaving without saying anything to me. I looked up to my older sister for support, and she left without a goodbye. All she left me was a letter.
Chloe was being pressured to marry Lionel Bale—Dave’s older brother—and move to New York to take care of the firm they were planning on opening there at the time. She didn’t want that life and therefore she fled and I haven’t heard from her since.
Lastly, he would end by saying how he had great faith in me and I couldn’t disappoint him or let down the Malcolm legacy.
“Do you understand, Andrew?” I nodded. “Answer me,” he barked.
“Yes, sir. Loud and clear.”
“Good, because I want fucking results. Find a loophole in their previous arrangement, flip yourself inside-out, do whatever it takes to get our client the win.” A win was all that mattered to my father.
My father turned on his heel but came to a halt holding onto the knob with the door half open. “Why’s your mother nagging me about you and the Oxley girl? Aren’t you engaged or something?”
I sighed sharply. “No, we broke up.”
He let go of the door and lifted his hands as if pleading for divine intervention and then dropped them. “How many more times will you break up before settling down?”
“I’m not marrying her.”
My father narrowed his eyes with his mouth open, searching for words. “Why not? She’s pretty enough and we like her.” What about what I like? Before I could answer, he continued, “You know what? Right now, I don’t give a shit about who’s wetting your dick. Just win the fucking case. We’ll discuss this later.” And then he left.
My dick cared. Hence it was not getting wet.
Rather than letting my mind drift into obscene places, I scanned through the file. Nothing significant about the actor, only a negative description of my soon to be client. Violent, involved with drugs, unstable behaviors. Not a lot to go on but I’d only know the whole story once I met the actual person. Dalia sent me an email informing me that I’d meet my client today, after working hours.
Around mid-afternoon, Melissa’s name flashed on the screen of my phone. A glimmer of hope shone in me and I couldn’t push back the smile that sneaked on my mouth.
“Hi,” she said when I answered. “Sorry I missed your call earlier. Who’s this?”
Hearing the sound of her voice did things to me. My insides flipped with a fluttery feeling bubbling in my stomach. “I need to talk to you.” The other end went dead for a moment. Keenly, I waited for a response. The fluttery feeling in my stomach amplified with her silence.
Then she spoke, putting me out of misery. “How do you have my number?”
“Agree to see me, and I’ll tell you.”
She blew out a long breath and I sensed her frustration. “As I said, I’m no longer in business, but I’ll gladly give you a refund. Just tell me how much you paid.”
Melissa’s spiteful words undulated painfully through my chest. It hurt hearing her say those things. “I’m so—” Before I could finish, she’d hung up. I held the phone in my ear listening to nothing. I would not give up. If Melissa believed she could get rid of me easily, she had another thing coming.
I removed the phone from my ear and typed out a text to her.
Andrew: We need to talk.
Three dots appeared on the screen for a good twenty minutes before she actually replied.
Melissa: Fuck off. Not interested.
Andrew: But I’m interested in making you hear me. Please. After that, you can decide whether or not you want to see me again.
No response.
Andrew: I made a mistake. We all make them.
Three dots … But no response.
Chapter 6
Melissa
Three weeks later
Andrew was persistent. I was clueless about how he got my number and address. He showed up last night and pounded on the door for hours. I pretended not to be home. A week before that, he showed up on campus, I hid in the ladies’ room until he’d vanished.
My phone rang for the hundredth time today. It was an unknown number; therefore, I didn’t answer. Andrew called from a bunch of different numbers because I blocked his and every other he used to call me from. I always hung up when I realized it was him, and now, I simply wasn’t receiving calls from unknown numbers. I considered calling the cops but then talked myself out of it hoping he’d get tired soon enough.
“Can you at least tell us what he did to you?” Erica said, “And nothing is, like, not a valid answer.”
I kicked off my flip-flops and swung my feet onto Erica’s lap. I haven’t told them about my past and explaining Andrew was complicated, so I evaded. “I told you, I didn’t give him what he wanted.”
“But you were crying, Melissa, you never cry. He must have said or done something to upset you.” Erica inspected my toenails. “I love this color.” She smiled going off-topic and I ignored her previous question.
Christina came in through the glass sliding door that separated the kitchen of her house from the backyard patio. Erica and I were sitting on black garden chairs with rainbow-colored cushions, facing a miscellaneous garden of bushes and bright flowers, enclosed by a weathered wooden fence. The white umbrella pinned to the center of the round dark-glassed table with brass support sheltered us from the sizzling sun.
“What are we talking about?” Christina sat and tucked her black locks behind her ear.
“The attorney.”
“Can we drop this?” I pleaded, “He’ll be over me anytime.” My phone rang. Again. And without checking, I silenced it.
Christina crinkled her nose. “You know what I think?”
“No, I don’t and I don’t care to know,” I said hoping Christina wouldn’t continue, but she did.
“I think you like him and everything he’s doing. If you weren’t into him, his stalker-like behavior would creep the hell out of you and you would have called the cops on him already. In
stead, you’re silently luring him in.”
“Whether a gesture is charming or creepy depends on how it’s received,” Erica added. “If you like someone they could spit on your face and you’d think it’s hot. But if you don’t, then they could literally make it rain gold and it would freak you out.”
Christina chuckled. “That means that you, my friend, are receiving it well.”
“That’s not it,” I said, downplaying the situation because they were right. I was secretly enjoying his efforts because it meant that I might have misjudged Andrew. If I had, then there was still hope. I didn’t know what exactly I was hoping for but I wasn’t ready to let go of Andrew or the version of Andrew I’d created in my mind. It was easier and less painful to believe that there was more to Andrew than the jerk I met. “He probably has a guilty conscience and is trying to ease it by forcing me to accept his apologies.”
“Well, I wish Ian was this good at apologizing. He —” Erica trailed off and sniffed around. “Oh shit.” She slapped my feet off from her lap and flew to the grill. When she opened the lid, smoke, and the smell of burned meat, mantled the air. “This is not good.”
Christina’s mother came out mumbling something in Spanish and smacked Erica’s butt. Erica pouted with her sweet baby face, but it was ineffective. Christina’s mom pulled her ear until she winced and then went back into the kitchen. Mrs. Brown looked a lot like Christina, except Christina was at least four sizes smaller. But the woman had the kindest motherly heart.
To add to the mess, Christina’s younger siblings came running and screaming towards the garden. They were half-siblings from her mother’s second marriage. Christina’s father passed away when she was only two. The youngest one’s voice was high pitched; it hurt my ears. Their dog, Tutu, came right behind barking.
