by Cassia Leo
“Jesus fucking Christ!” she cries, as I angle the vibrator upwards and suck lightly.
“That’s not my name,” I say, then I swirl my tongue and gently press my forearm down on her abdomen to hold her steady as her hips begin to buck.
“Tristan,” she breathes as her body quivers beneath me. “Oh, God, Tristan.”
She grabs my hair and lets out a blood-curdling scream as I finish her off. She begins to pull me up by my hair, but I push her hands away. I turn off the vibrator and set it aside as I continue to stimulate her with my mouth. But this time I slide a finger between her cheeks and her entire body contracts around me as I give her another earth-shattering orgasm.
“Oh my God,” she whispers repeatedly as I kiss my way up her belly.
She’s limp as a wet rag as I slide my arm beneath her lower back and lift her slightly so I can slide into her. She winces as I hit her cervix and the cock ring hits her sensitive clit. She wraps her arms around my shoulders and I tilt my head back to look at her. We lock eyes and I suddenly feel as if I’m right where I’m supposed to be.
Thrusting into her slowly, I lean my forehead against hers and she tightens her arms around my shoulders. We play like this, a sort of back and forth game of giving and receiving; completely lost in each other for hours. I don’t notice the four missed calls or the three voicemail messages flashing on my phone until the next morning – until it’s too late.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Poetry is defined as a literary work in which special intensity is given to the expression of feelings and ideas by the use of distinctive style and rhythm. This is also what music does. I’ve never considered myself a poet. And the fact that I haven’t written a song in more than three years makes me even less worthy of this title. But waking up next to Senia in the guest bedroom sparks a flash of inspiration and I think of two lines:
The day our wires crossed,
You were broken, I was lost.
I’m sure the logical conclusion would be that now, somehow, Senia is whole and I am found. The truth is love isn’t like that. I think I’m finally starting to realize that love isn’t about fixing things or people. It’s about sticking around when things can’t be fixed.
I slide out of Senia’s bed, smiling as I think of how tonight this bed will be put out of commission as she joins me in the master bedroom. I quietly pull on some boxers then head downstairs to make the usual fried egg and toast I see her making for herself in the morning. When I get downstairs, I find my phone on the kitchen island. I try to check the notifications, but it’s dead. It always happens when I forget to leave it charging at night. Who fucking cares? I fucked like a champ last night.
I fix Senia’s breakfast – tripling the quantities so I can have some and in case she wants extra – then I carry it all upstairs on a tray my interior decorator left on the coffee table a few months ago. When I enter the guest room, the sight of her hugging her pillow and smiling takes my breath away.
“I made you the usual,” I say, taking a cue from Chris and Claire and how well they know each other’s breakfast choices. She scoots back so I can set the tray on the bed next to her. “I’ll be right back. I have to put my phone charging.”
I hook the phone up to the charger in the study then I head back to the guest room. Senia is sitting up, cross-legged, on the bed with a piece of toast in her hand, grinning. This domestic stuff isn’t so hard.
I sit down next to her and plop a fried egg onto a piece of toast then chow down. “What are your plans today?” I ask through a mouthful of food.
She reaches up and wipes something from the corner of my mouth before she answers. “I have to read this physics paper so I can have my response ready when classes start in a few weeks. I hate physics.”
I pour us both a glass of orange juice from the pitcher and take a sip before I respond. “I don’t know shit about physics, but I can help you if you need something else done.”
She chuckles. “Are you gonna wash my laundry?”
I roll my eyes as I place the glass of juice down. “That’s what I’m supposed to do, I guess. I’m done recording but you’re still studying. I have to be the one to step up, right? Give me your stinky laundry and I’ll throw it in the laundry room. I’m sure Lily will do a great job washing it tomorrow.”
“You’re such an asshole.”
“That’s why you love me.”
Her smile disappears as she brings the glass of orange juice to her lips. “That really happened, didn’t it?”
She’s referring to the fact that we both said those three words last night, so I nod. “Yeah, pretty crazy, I’d say, considering both of our track records.”
“Well, I think I’ve confessed my love for every guy I’ve dated since freshmen year, but don’t let that make you self-conscious. Last night was … different.”
“Different?” I say, because I’m not quite sure how to respond to the fact that she’s used those three words so casually in the past.
“Well, first of all, I don’t think I’ve ever had three orgasms in the span of ten minutes.”
“I was just easing you in. Next time will be better.”
She shakes her head as she dips her toast in the runny egg yolk. “That. That’s what’s different. You always call me out on my shit.” She takes a bite of toast and I reach across to wipe some of the yolk from the corner of her mouth. “I thought I was going to show you some tricks last night, but I guess it’s hard to teach an old dog new tricks.”
The word “Tricks” triggers a deep nausea in the pit of my stomach and I have to swallow my vomit. I set down the piece of toast I just picked up and stand from the bed. “Be back as soon as I can.”
I set off to the study to clear my head and check my phone. When I see I have a missed call and a message from Lily and four missed calls from Grandma Flo, I panic a little. I call her right back without bothering to check the voicemail messages.
“Oh my goodness, I’ve been trying to call you all morning,” she declares when she answers the phone. “And I tried calling you last night about the presents you left. Did you get my messages?”
“I didn’t listen to them yet. What’s so urgent? I can pick the presents up another time.”
“Oh, my,” she whispers. “Oh, no, no, no. I’m so sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to, but Lily came over this morning and when she called you to tell you she won’t be coming in tomorrow, I saw your address on her phone. I asked if I could copy it down. I just thought maybe I could send you and Senia’s gifts to your house since you both left in a hurry. I didn’t want you to have to make another trip back here.”
I don’t have to listen to any more to know why she’s apologizing for taking down my address. “Where’s Elaine?”
“She’s on her way.”
The dead silence that follows this sentence is filled with all the things I’ve never told anyone. All the tiny lies I’ve told myself over the years about how none of it matters. It was a moment in time that can be forgotten – maybe even erased. I’m nobody special and the things that happened to me a million years ago affect no one, just me.
But it keeps getting more and more difficult to believe that when I see the fallout. The broken trust I’d begun to repair with Grandma and Molly when I invited them over last weekend is nothing but dust now, settling over the wreckage of my past. And it’s not their fault. It’s my fault for believing I could just walk around the wreckage. Pretend it wasn’t there. Pretend it didn’t matter.
It so obviously matters. Nothing has ever mattered more.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Nine Years Ago
This is the last time. I know she said that about the last two times, but this time I’m not backing down. If I have to do this again after today, I’ll know that she’s full of shit – as I suspected.
I enter the dingy bedroom at the back of the house, where the sweet smell of crack-pipe always lingers. My gaze immediately darts to the corner of the room, where
the john usually sits in the cruddy armchair next to a small table stocked with all the essentials: tissues, lube, condoms, and other shit I’d never seen or heard of until three weeks ago. When I see the person sitting in the chair, I’m dumbstruck. It’s a woman.
It’s usually some fat, mangy, perverted asshole who wants to get off to two kids getting it on. This woman is not fat or mangy. She looks like a fucking school teacher with her coral-pink sweater and gray slacks. She’s careful not to touch the arms of the chair as she sits with one leg draped over the other and her hands clasped over her knee.
Elaine’s voice startles me out of my stupor and I turn toward the bed. The girl lying on the bed looks young, maybe even younger than me. Her brown hair has been styled in pigtails, her round brown eyes are wide with fear, and she’s wearing nothing but a bra and a schoolgirl skirt.
Vomit stings the back of my throat and, before I can stop it, a small stream of partially digested toast oozes out of my mouth. I catch it with my hand and Elaine sighs. “That’s disgusting. Go wash your hands.”
I glance at the girl as I leave the bedroom and her eyes are closed as tears stream down her face. I race to the bathroom and lock the door behind me. I dump the vomit out of my hand and into the sink, then I reach for the faucet to wash my hands. The faucet handle is splattered with blood, as is the countertop and the wall behind the sink. The blood is fresh, too. Someone must have just shot up in here.
Grabbing a wad of toilet paper, I use the paper as a shield between my hand and the faucet handle as I turn the water on. I wash my hands in super-hot water and lots of soap then I take a seat on the toilet.
I should just leave. Even if this is the last time I have to do this, it’s not worth it. The girl’s face, her tears, flash in my mind and I try not to think the obvious. If I don’t do it to her, they’ll get somebody else – someone who may hurt her.
I hate it here.
I hate it here.
I hate it here.
I drag myself out of the bathroom and trudge back down the hallway toward the sweet, acrid stench of hopelessness. When I enter the bedroom, the girl is sitting cross-legged on the bed, holding her skirt down between her legs to cover herself up.
“Tristan, this is Ashley,” Elaine declares. Then she whispers in my ear, “This is the last one. I promise.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
I try to temper my anger as I make my way back to the guest room. When I enter, I nearly bump into Senia as she walks out of the room with the breakfast tray.
“I’ll take that,” I say, taking the tray from her hands. “You go take a shower. I have to run to the store real quick to grab a Christmas card for Lily. Do you need anything?”
She looks confused by my plans. “Christmas was yesterday. And I already gave Lily a card with her bonus on Christmas Eve. I told you.”
“Oh, yeah. I guess I forgot.” I try to quickly come up with another reason to leave, but I’m so anxious I can’t think straight. “I have to go pick up our presents from Grandma’s house. She just called to ask if she could send them, but I told her I’d go pick them up.”
When lying, it’s always best to go with an explanation that closely resembles the truth.
She still looks perplexed; probably wondering why I need to get the presents now rather than later. But she relents and proceeds to gather some fresh clothes so she can take a shower. When she reaches into her suitcase for some panties, I snatch them out of her hand and toss them into the corner.
“You won’t be needing those.” She grins as I kiss her cheekbone. “I’ll be right back.”
I race downstairs and jump in my car, then I drive down to the entrance of Giovanni Court and park. I forgot to ask Grandma if Elaine was coming alone, so I have my Glock 23 on the seat next to me. The last thing I need is to get into it with one of her strung-out boyfriends. I wait exactly twelve minutes before I see the front of her maroon minivan coming down Venetian. I pull my car around the corner and flip a hard left in front of her so she has to slam on her brakes. I stuff the gun into the back of my waistband then I hop out of the car and head straight for the driver’s side of the minivan. I wrench the door open and her eyes are wide, but there’s a shocked smile on her face.
“Get out!” I order her and she fumbles a little with the seatbelt before she slides out of the van.
I immediately begin searching her car and quickly find her cell phone and the small Post-it note where my address is scrawled in Grandma’s shaky handwriting. I drop the paper on the asphalt and smash it with my sneaker until it’s disintegrated. Then I search for my contact information in her phone and, sure enough, she already entered it in there. She laughs as I delete my address and phone number from her phone and search all her notes apps and social apps to make sure she didn’t save it somewhere else.
“Don’t you ever fucking come here again,” I growl as I throw her phone into the interior of her car. “This is your first and only warning: forget my address.”
She’s still smiling as she reaches into the van toward the front seat. I slide my hand behind my back and prepare for the worst. But she doesn’t pull out a gun.
“Petition for full-custody of Molly,” she says, handing me a large white envelope. “I already gave your grandma a copy. I came all the way out here, out of the kindness of my heart, to give you one.”
I snatch the envelope out of her hand and glance at the return address: Debra Holstein, Esq.
“You’re fucking deluded if you think I’d ever let that happen. But that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You think you’ve got me where you want me because you know where I live. You think I’m scared you’re going to send your crackhead boyfriends or some fucking reporters over here. Well, you’re wrong. Because I don’t live here any more. Now get the fuck out of here before I call Debra Holstein and tell her everything.”
Her smile finally fades and she slowly gets back into the car. “This isn’t over. Someone gets Grandma’s house when she dies and you sure as hell don’t need it,” she says, glancing around at the sprawling properties on Venetian Court. “You’ve always been so selfish.”
She slams the door shut and it takes everything in me not to pull the gun out of my waistband and shoot. I don’t know what I’d shoot. Maybe just shooting her tires would make me feel better. But I’m too fucking chicken-shit to find out.
I watch as she drives away, waiting a few minutes after her car is out of sight before I drive back to the house. This time I put my car in the garage and I head back inside. I lock up the gun and stuff the envelope behind some books in the study, then I go upstairs. Senia is lying on my bed on her stomach with her laptop in front of her.
I panicked a little when I saw her lying on the floor in the study the other day. I was worried that maybe lying on her stomach would squish the baby. It sent her into a crying fit, so I decided I wouldn’t make any more comments about what’s best for the baby. She’s going to her first doctor’s appointment after we get back from Jake and Rachel’s wedding in Vegas next week. She’ll only be about seven weeks along by then. Everything will be fine.
She’s wearing a tank top and panties and just the sight of her calms me. She doesn’t know anything about Elaine or the shit I’ve done, but I think Senia’s the kind of person who might understand … in a few years when I’ve trapped her.
“You’re back early. Where are the gifts?” she asks as she watches me approach the bed.
“I decided not to go. I forgot to plug in the car last night.”
“You and your damn electric car.”
“I did take a few minutes to look around the garage for those old pictures of Molly you wanted for the photo book. Couldn’t find them, but I’ll keep looking. And, hey, that car you gave Claire a couple of months ago was a hybrid. But I don’t do hybrid. I go all the way.”
She shakes her head as I take a seat on the bed and slide my hand under her shirt to feel the smooth skin on her back. “What are you grinning at?” she
asks breathlessly.
“Just thinking that I have a lot of plans for you.”
She closes her eyes as I lightly brush my fingertips over her skin. “Plans? When exactly are we moving into this apartment you got?”
“It will be ready after the fifteenth of January. I’m having them make a few changes.”
“What kind of changes?”
I slip my hand out of her shirt and brush her hair aside so I can kiss the back of her neck. “They’re turning the shower into a steam shower.”
She laughs and the vibration of her laughter against my lips gets me hot. “I am not having sex with you in a steam room!”
“It’s not a steam room. It’s a steam shower.”
“Same difference.”
I grab her hips and flip her over onto her back. She grins at me as I close her laptop and set it on the floor. “You have three weeks to write that paper. But you have about three seconds before I throw that fucking computer in the fireplace.”
I slide my hand into her panties and she squirms as I lightly caress her clit. I lean in to kiss her and she grabs my shoulders to stop me.
“Wait. It’s your turn today.”
She instructs me to sit on the edge of the bed as she kneels before me and gives me what can only be described as the best fucking blowjob I’ve ever received.
What follows is an act, but I’ve become a great actor. I can pretend to be somewhere I’m not. I can pretend to be someone I’m not. And right now, I’m pretending to be someone whose life isn’t crumbling on all sides of them.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“You have to meet my parents today,” Senia blurts out as we walk through the parking lot toward the bridal shop to pick up her dress for the double-wedding in Vegas. I’m careful to hold her arm in case we hit a patch of ice. The snow that came three days ago on Christmas Day is mostly melted, but it’s still cold as hell out here. And I’ve slipped on enough invisible ice in my lifetime to know better. The last thing I need right now is for something to happen to Senia or the baby.
“Today? Isn’t that kind of soon?”
The words come out before I can even stop myself. I open the door to the shop and she enters ahead of me, but she doesn’t answer my question as she proceeds to examine the dress the woman behind the counter hands to her. I try not to look bored or really fucking uncomfortable as they stand there talking about flowers and wedding cakes. They’re both gushing over the surprise wedding that Chris planned for Claire and how romantic it is. I’m trying really hard not to roll my eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Is it too soon for you to be hearing this conversation?” Senia asks, her head tilted to one side, probably because it’s weighed down by all that sarcasm.
I grin as I look her in the eye without flinching. “Maybe, but I doubt that’ll stop you.”
She glares at me then says goodbye to the shop owner. I lock my arm in hers again as we make it out to the parking lot and she tries to wrench her arm free, but I just tighten my hold on her.
“How do you go from being practically perfect to complete asshole in less than two seconds?”
“It’s a talent I’ve perfected and you should probably get used to it.”
She tries to free her arm again, this time pushing me away with one hand while she pulls the other arm free. “Don’t touch me.”
I allow her to walk by herself and everything is fine until she steps over a parking bumper and slips on some melted snow. She curses spectacularly as her ass hits the concrete bumper. Rushing to her side to help her, I have to step back to dodge her open hand as she attempts to slap me.
“Get away from me!”
