by Raquel Belle
***
Mark banged on the door again. “Steph, babe, please, please! I can explain. Nothing happened, that wasn’t—it wasn’t me!”
Of course he knew where Leena lived, and somehow, he’d made his way into her building and had rooted himself to the other side of her front door. Stephanie continued to ignore him, so she attempted to finish reading her book, but Mark pounded on the door again.
“He’s gonna get the cops called on him,” Leena said. They sat in pajamas at her breakfast nook; Leena sipped coffee, and Stephanie had a mug of tea, as they shared some pastries that Leena had picked up from Stephanie’s favorite French Bakery.
“Good, I hope they take him to jail,” Stephanie said.
“Those pictures …,” Mark shouted. “I know they look bad, but babe, you gotta believe me—I was really fucking drunk! I didn’t know what the hell I was wearing, let alone who I was looking at. Please Steph, let me explain!”
“Would it be wrong if I called the cops to get him out of here?” Stephanie asked. Leena shrugged and lifted her tablet to keep reading from it, seemingly unbothered.
“You can use my phone if you want,” she said casually, but in all seriousness.
“Please, babe, you’re my soul mate. I love you,” he said, not letting up. Stephanie sighed harshly and put down her book. She stood up, secured her robe, and stomped through the kitchen archway into the front hall. She angrily unlocked the door and swung it open. Mark stood on the other side, his fist poised to knock. Shock was etched into his stupidly handsome features. Even with bags under his eyes, they were still impossibly green. Though his hair was a bit oily, it still had a perfect wave in it. The scruff on his jaw and cheeks made him look rugged instead of bedraggled.
“Go away,” she said through her teeth. “This is the last time we’re ever going to see each other.”
Mark shook his head like a protesting child. “No it’s not. It can’t be Steph,” he pleaded. He actually got down on his knees and attempted to take her hands, but she snatched them out of his grasp. “Please, hear me out, Steph. I was bombed. I didn’t know what I was doing. Her … her name was Stephanie, too, and Neil kept saying, ‘look it’s Steph’ …”
“Mark, you will forever sound like a jackass, so stop talking. I don’t want to know what her name was. I don’t want to know anything about that night. I don’t even want to know why those pictures got sent to me. I just want you to leave me alone and never contact me again. It’s over. I wish you tons of success with your millions,” Stephanie said. She slammed the door in his face and quickly locked it before her anger faded and took her resolve with it.
She groaned loudly, and then trudged to the guest room as tears sprang to her eyes. They had planned their whole life together, and he had ruined everything—over a career success and some money. She walked to the reading chair and burrowed into it, bringing her knees up to hug them to her chest. The dam had finally cracked, after two days of pure shock and numbness, seeing him in person brought everything home for her. It was over—if he could cheat on her so easily then who was to say it was a freak, one-time thing? If it happened once, it would happen again, especially as she got more and more pregnant, then gave birth. Her body wouldn’t be the same, and so their relationship wouldn’t be the same. So what would keep him from cheating over and over again?
Stephanie shook her head back and forth. No, nothing would be the same anymore between them. Suddenly she felt as if a veil had been lifted from her eyes. She knew how he truly felt about her. Had he even loved her all this time?
Leena knocked on the door and peeked her head inside. “How you doin’?” She’d changed from her pajamas into a cute, burgundy business suit. Stephanie remembered just then, that it was Monday.
“You have that job interview today?” Steph asked and quickly wiped her eyes. She ignored how much her voice wavered over the sob stuck in her throat.
“Yeah … but I can—”
“Absolutely not,” Stephanie said. She knew how hard it was to get job opportunities in publishing, which had been Leena’s dream since they had met. “I’ll be fine, besides, the chances of me drowning in my own tears are nonexistent,” she said. “Plus, I’ll be here all week, so you’ll see plenty of these.” She pointed to her eyes that were still leaking tears.
“Okay, okay, just hang tight, and I’ll be back in three hours, tops,” she said. Leena hurried into the room and hugged Stephanie tightly before she pulled away and rushed out to go catch the ferry. Stephanie sighed deeply and stood. She walked to her bathroom to take a shower, hoping the combination of eucalyptus body wash and steam would help calm her fraying nerves and ragged-feeling heart.
She stepped into the shower stall and reached to turn on the faucet. That’s when she felt the painful cramping in her lower belly. She doubled over, gripping the slate shower wall to stay upright. The cramps were worse than when she was on her period. She felt warmth trickle down her leg, and she looked down, eyes wide as a gasp left her throat. Blood started to mingle with the shower water, and there was a lot of it.
“No, no, no, no,” she said numbly. “Not you too.” She sobbed, and put her hand on the faucet knob. Her body lost its strength all at once, and she fell hard on the tile. The world faded around her in a blurry cloud of gray.
Chapter Four
Stephanie
Modern day …
I slammed the door of my Volvo and attempted to hurry away from it, but I fell back against the car as if someone had tugged me. I squawked, startled and prematurely panicking. Then I looked down and realized that my skirt had just gotten stuck in the door.
“My god, I’m a dork,” I mumbled, as I unlocked the car to free myself. The grey sky started letting out a cold mist as I hurried back to the school’s white, brick entrance with Mason Audrey’s spelling test in hand. I’d finished grading the bulk of the second graders’, second quarter work last night and had returned their assignments to them. The only reason I had even noticed Mason’s test was missing, was because Emily had been running around the classroom comparing her spelling test grade with everyone, and Mason couldn’t show her that he’d actually scored the highest in the class. So, I had the P.E. teacher watch the class for five minutes while I ran out to grab the test.
I hurried down Norman Port Private School’s main hall to get to the second grade wing. The school was elementary through eighth grade, and I’d been lucky to get a job there. As a private school teacher, the pay was a little better than working for a public or charter school.
I turned left off of the main hall, where the walls were a little more colorful. Beside each classroom’s door were big display boards of students projects and exemplary work. I practically skidded across the polished floor to room 212. When I opened the door, I found my poor kids doing jumping jacks next to their desk groups.
“Okay, I’m back! Mason, I have your test,” I said. My classroom was decorated in a collaborative style—the desks were grouped in fours. Even though they were second graders and their focus was sometimes a problem, I liked for my kids to face each other and have groups when they worked. The entire back wall of the classroom had a row of picturesque windows. The rest of the room was decorated in bright colors and artwork by the kids.
Gale, the PE teacher, held her hands up, and all the kids stopped their jumping. She was a middle aged, nice woman, who dressed in athletic tees and active-wear slacks. She was beloved by the students and staff alike at Norman Port. “Alright, good job, guys. Back in your seats now,” she said.
“Thanks, Gale,” I said, and she squeezed my hands affectionately, as she passed by my desk, headed to the door.
“Anytime,” she said. “You know I don’t have anything better to do this time of day.” Gale was referring to the fact that her last period’s gifted fifth grade class got the choice of PE or robotics after a new policy was enforced by the vice principal. The kids always opted for robotics.
“One day, Gale, they’ll come back to
you, and realize what they’ve been missing,” I said, with a chuckle.
“Don’t tease,” she said over her shoulder and left the room.
I walked to Mason’s group and handed him his test. He looked at the “100” at the top of his paper, and his little brown eyes grew so wide and excited, that I had to fight the urge to hug him. I love all of my second graders—they are the cutest kids on the planet.
“Alright, guys, you know what time it is. Starting with the first group, go ahead and get your books.” I gestured to the reading corner on the right side of the room. Three bookcases were set up like a little library, and the floor was padded. There were even a few bean bags available for lounging. “Whoever needs help with a word, you know where to find me,” I said. When it looked like most of the kids from the first group had chosen their books, I sent the next group until all twenty kids were either in the reading corner, or at their desks reading.
There is nothing quite like the sound of softly pronounced words, or the focused air of silent reading. I could practically feel it when my kids were learning, and it’s always gratifying. As corny as it seems, I honestly felt as if I’d found my calling every morning when I welcomed my kids to class.
The last hour of the day wrapped up quickly, and I saw the kids off to after care or the carpool lanes. When I made sure my last student was safely in aftercare, I walked back to my classroom to grab my purse out of the desk and put the math worksheets into my briefcase to grade them later in the weekend. Thank god for Fridays.
My cell phone rang, and I grabbed it before it could vibrate over the edge of the desk. It was Leena.
“Where are we going tonight?” she asked. “I need these drinks!”
My poor girl had been in an overworked craze ever since she clinched the position as senior agent at the literary agency she worked at. The number of e-mails she got per day was honestly unreal. It was the sort of thing I only thought happened in movies like Bruce Almighty.
“Ahh, I don’t know, anywhere that sells alcohol legally?” I said.
She cracked up. “Yes, please. Actually this new lounge opened up near Pike Place. It looks all hipster and rustic. Can we check that one out?”
I finished putting a clip on the handouts and secured them in my briefcase. “Yeah, sounds good. We can add another entry in our local lay-person venue review,” I said, referring to the thing we occasionally did when trying out new restaurants, farmers’ markets, bars, and whatnot.
Leena laughed. “Definitely, I’ll be by your place in a couple hours?” I confirmed with her, and then we ended the call. I put my purse on my shoulder and the strap of my briefcase on the other. There was a light tap on the classroom door, and then Principle Shane walked in. Nearly every single faculty member at Norman Port had a crush on him. He looked like a Hemsworth brother, only with red hair. His eyes are a gorgeous shade of blue green and his physique is as athletic as a soccer player’s. He also coaches the middle school soccer team and runs the elementary school’s intramural league. He is also openly gay. His favorite pastime is to gossip about some of the single dads over drinks after the PTA meetings. Needless to say, I really appreciate the overall culture at Norman Port.
“Hey, Shane, how are you?” I asked.
“Ridiculously hot. I had to sprint across the entire school to catch you. My phone died and the IT woman is in my office fixing some bullshit on the computer. She’s already asked me about ten times if I was ‘sure’ that I’m gay. So, I opted to try and catch you in person before you left,” he said on one breath.
I laughed. “Shane you’re a mess.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “What else is new …? Anyway, I wanted to ask if you’d do me a really big, actually a huge favor,” he said, then grinned like a ten-year-old trying to get away with something. I squinted at him and put my hand on the back of my desk chair to brace myself.
“What would that be?” I asked.
“I need a teacher to give the opening thank-you speech at our donor’s dinner Sunday night,” he said. He grinned at me, though it looked like more of a grimace, as he waited for my response.
“You don’t have anyone? Doesn’t the board usually start planning that dinner months in advance?” I asked. I really didn’t want to go. Sunday was my sabbath, the last reprieve before Monday came again, and he was asking me to work?
“Well Amanda was going to do it, but she decided to go into early labor, so now I’m stuck,” he pouted. “Please, please say yes? You’re my only hope,” he begged.
I groaned. “I don’t know …”
“I’ll owe you two months’ worth of after-PTA drinks,” he said.
I shrugged. “Okay, fine. I guess, but three months instead of two.”
He offered me his hand, and we shook. He grinned boyishly. “Deal, and thank you!” He walked me out to my car and gave me details on the speech, and how I should frame it. Apparently, Amanda hadn’t even written the speech yet, so I couldn’t just read hers. I hoped she and her baby would be okay, but boy, I was not looking forward to attending that stuffy dinner. As I drove to my apartment, I felt a little like Leena, who often worked on Sundays, just to stay ahead of the week-long craze.
I drove home, blasting jazzy Christmas music the whole way. The holiday was only a month away, which meant I had a couple more weeks of work before winter break. My dad was coming into town for the holidays. Pop was getting old and more curmudgeonly with every passing year. Much of it was pure comedy, but sometimes, especially when in public, his comments were embarrassing. Either way, I was looking forward to having him fly in from Oregon.
As soon as I got to my apartment, I showered, changed, and applied some makeup. My hair had been agreeing with me lately, so I left it in loose waves down my back. Leena buzzed the apartment. I pushed the unlock button on the door to the building, it made a loud buzzing sound in return, and a few minutes later she strode in. She wore a little black sweater dress that clung to her hourglass form. Her hair was loose around her shoulders as well, and she wore sexy, copper heels with a matching clutch and jewelry.
“Damn, girl,” I said.
Leena laughed and gave me a brief hug. I finished putting in my earrings and grabbed the silver clutch off of my living room table.
“I can say the same thing about you. I love that top! It keeps the neck warm and shows off all that cleave,” she said, and made like she was going to play with my boobs.
“Alright, alright, we’re wasting drinking time,” I said, and straightened my skirt.
“Yeah I need to be drunk like, yesterday.” Leena led the way out. We used a Lyft to get to the new lounge she had been talking about.
The place was huge, it occupied an old theater which had been renovated to look like the 1920’s era. We got in for free, since we got there early enough. It was definitely retro. Inside was cavernous. There were tables, booths, and lounge sections spread throughout. Esoteric sounding chill hop played from the DJ booth at the back of the main floor. All the patrons were dressed in swanky attire. We had definitely stepped into a crowd that no doubt existed in higher tax brackets than we did … well, than I did. Leena had a shit-ton of inheritance money from her grandfather’s brokerage company. She was given a percentage of it when she graduated college, not to mention she was wicked smart, when it came to the stock markets, so she managed that money well. The second level of the club was open, loft-like, to the first. That was where we saw the larger-than-life bar. We walked right upstairs.
We climbed the wide, curving staircase and took seats at the bar. I liked the vibe of the place. It was relaxed, truly a lounge. “I could get drunk in here and not worry about my well-being,” Leena said.
“First category is a ten for me too,” I said, referring to our arbitrary score-sheet for whenever we judged new venues. The lighting was dim, but not too dark at all, and the place was big enough that even though it was full, it didn’t feel packed, or too loud. I glanced at one of the six bartenders behind the mahogan
y bar. The bottles of alcohol were on copper and glass display cases behind the wells. One of the male bartenders stopped in front of us and set two napkins down.
“I’ll be with you lovely ladies in just a second,” he said and zipped down the bar to give someone their card back.
“So, what about our second category?” I asked. Both Leena and I glanced around at the guys sitting or standing around the bar. We watched the guys walking by and decided there was a decent, single population.
“It’s not a couples’ magnet, and I like that,” Leena said.
I pursed my lips, unsure. That meant it could stand the risk of becoming a pick-up factory. Which a lot of clubs and bars were, by nature, but still … I hated seeing those guys who were obviously out fishing with no intention of having fun or making a meaningful connection with someone. And, hey, it was possible, even while drunk and having a good time—it just depended on the true nature of a person.
“You like it because we’re single, Leena,” I said.
She shrugged. “Maybe …”
The bartender came back to us and grinned. He was a short and stocky guy with low cut, black hair and a charming smile, I had no doubt that he made great tips. The music started to change—it was picking up from the casual ambient sound. A quirky, thumping bass played through the air.
“I don’t know about this DJ, though,” Leena said. I nodded in agreement as the bartender asked what we’d like. “Anything, just get us tastefully drunk.”
He laughed. “Comin’ right up ladies,” he said. I glanced around again, focusing on the guys I merely glanced at before, trying to figure out who was just there with friends, versus who was actually single. Leena had gotten out of a bad, serious relationship a few months ago and was loving her single life. Me, on the other hand, I had been single since … well since seven years ago. It wasn’t like I had sworn off guys though—I’d just sworn off of relationships. But lately, that was starting to bother me. Coming home to an empty apartment every day and not having a romantic and close connection with someone was really starting to bum me out. I hadn’t told Leena how I’d been feeling lately because she would be on a mission. She’d try to set me up with every pulse and penis that walked by.
