by Nicole Reed
Through the windshield, I see him make the phone call before getting into the car.
“Aunt Leigh is fine. I didn’t tell them anything about what happened other than we decided to have some lunch.” He laughs, “God, I love that woman. She told me to order a bottle of whiskey and demand that you drink it down. I think she is a little intuitive when it comes to you.”
“Yes, she always has been,” I answer, turning to look out the window.
What will I do without her? Again, no tears rise because I think I’ve cried them all away. That doesn’t stop the pain though. I hear Trent next to me talking to the insurance company and then arranging to have my car towed. I see the corner bar and smile. Trent and I found it years ago while walking around downtown one night. We drank ourselves into a spectacular oblivion, and it’s been our spot ever since.
After parking, we both get out and walk towards the entrance. Trent comes up beside me and smoothly joins our hands together. He’s done it plenty in the past, but if feels different now - not so platonic or innocent. The bar is decorated like an old country barn which completely clashes with the business suits having lunch. The juke box in the corner plays new and old country music with Kacey Musgraves’s “Blowin’ Smoke” filtering in the background now.
Trent leads me to a booth in the back. I slide across the seat, expecting him to do the same across from me. Instead, he glides in next to me.
“Scoot,” he says, telling me to slide over. “Can you bring us a bottle of Parker’s Heritage Bourbon and a couple Cokes?” The waitress nods at him and walks away.
“Uh, don’t you think it’s a little too early to be hitting it hard?” Deep down, after the morning and week I’ve had, my body says no, but I have to ask.
“Like the songs says, ‘It’s five o’clock somewhere’,” he says with a wink.
“Works for me.”
Right on time, the waitress brings over an aged bottle of one of the best bourbons with shot glasses and two large sodas. After she leaves, I start to say something when he stops me with a shake of his head.
“Lets you and I make a deal,” he says pouring two shots and turning sideways to talk to me. “No talking until half this bottle is gone. At that point, your worries of the week will be dull and...,” he hesitates looking directly at me, “well, you and I can talk.”
His eyes hold mine captive with so many things unsaid between us. Is that what he means about us talking? I reach out, taking a drink of my Coke for flavor and to coat my throat. Grabbing the shot, I place the rim against my lips as my eyes search his and tip it back. As soon as I swallow, I cough from the burn and taste. The alcohol sears all the way down, so I grab my soda and take a large sip. A nice burn begins in my stomach. My eyes water, and it takes a minute to clear them. When they do, I see Trent laughing at me.
“Whoa there, Shooter.” He shoots his own back then clears his throat and grimaces. “It will not take many of those to knock me on my ass.” He pours us both another one.
“I thought you said no talking,” my scratchy voice remarks as I reach for the next shot, and without thinking about it, pour it down my throat before repeating my after-drink ritual of downing soda. I like this idea of no sober talking. It’s just bullshit anyway. Trent tips his shot towards me and follows my lead. I’m feeling a little more in control of my life than I did an hour ago. This time, I pour the shots up, not slowing down as we drink it up.
Half an hour later, when the bottle reaches below the halfway point, I look at him. My mind and tongue are numb, and my hands are not shaking anymore. Closing my eyes, I let Patsy Cline sing to me about being crazy.
“You...,” Trent starts to say.
“Shut up and listen,” I interrupt without even looking at him. Singing to myself, her every word speaks to my heart. At the end, I open my eyes to see him watching me.
“What are you thinking?”
With a slight giggle, I answer using my hands with my words, “I’m crazy. That’s what I’m thinking. Actually, I’m not thinking about anything but the lyrics, but they apply to my life, so there you have it.” I slur the entire speech, but I think he understands because he nods.
Someone must love Patsy because the next several songs turn out to be hers also. The waitress comes back over at some point and Trent orders us some burgers and fries. After she leaves, we sit, side by side, with our hips touching and our heads resting against the booth.
“You are crazy for ever loving me.”
His whisper tickles my ear, and chill bumps invade my body but not in a sexual way. It actually is a little unsettling. Turning my head to look over at him, we are breaths away from each other, and the look of pain on his face makes my heart fall to pieces like the song says.
“Yes, I am. And I’m starting to hate how I feel about you. You’ve told me for years to find someone else just like you have. Damn, I planned your wedding, Trent. That was an asshole move.”
He nods, saying, “Yes, it was.”
“Yeah, it was,” I agree back. “How could you ask me to do it? Didn’t she have some family or friend that could have done it? Did I do something that made you want to hurt me so bad?” I’m not upset. All my questions are calm. The alcohol isn’t making me emotional, just honest, and I want and deserve answers.
“I never wanted to hurt you. She is an orphan like me and didn’t have anyone back home that could help out. I always talked about you, and she asked if I thought you could help out. At the time, it sounded like a great plan. I’ve always loved you too, Kylie. You know that I kept you in my life longer because I chose never to let myself feel about you, the way you feel about me.”
“So now what? You’ve got these big plans for us to take over the world, and you’ll give us a shot if I come aboard? Is that the gist of this?” I turn my entire body to face him when he doesn’t answer me. Slapping my hand loudly down on the table, I betray my calm facade and demand, “Answer me.”
He looks away at first then swings his head back to me. “No. You haven’t heard everything yet. I want you to come with me and see what I do. Give me six months, and I’ll show you how much you can make a difference in these peoples’ lives. I can’t take care of the business side, and I don’t trust anyone to do it, except you.”
Leaning in, I ask, “What about us? I love you, Trent, but I don’t know if I’m in love with you anymore.” That’s the most honest thing I’ve said to myself regarding Trent in a long time, and I’m glad I said it to him. I’m in love with the idea of Trent, not the living breathing guy in front of me. Have I been using him as an excuse not to commit to someone else? Do I have commitment issues? Before he can answer, our food arrives. Ignoring the burgers and fries, I pour two more shots and slide one to him.
“Seems to me you need some liquid courage,” I tell him. “Mine is already working.”
I toss the drink back, not needing to wash it down. It’s a gloriously slow burn now as the liquid scorches all the lies and false truths. Grabbing his shot he shoots it back, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm.
“I’m scared. I’ve always been scared when it comes to you, Kylie. You don’t know what it’s like to find someone that loves you no matter what. For most people, it’s their parents, but what about me and Dray? We never had that. So, I meet you, and instantly, I know you’re beautiful from the inside out. Growing up in foster care, you can spot that a mile off. I was already dating someone, but you still stuck around. It was the little things that made me love you so damn much.” His words slur slightly.
“What are you talking about, Trent?”
“You made sure I had my assignments done and would harp if I didn’t. You would make sure I had food or drink before you did. Hell, half my girlfriends didn’t do that. You included not only me, but Dray in your family, even though you hated the way he treated you.”
He makes me sound like his mother. No wonder he treated me like a sister. Was I that bad? Speaking of Dray, I chime in, “So you do know how badly
Dray treated me. Why didn’t you stop him?” Reaching for a fry, he takes a bite then looks back at me.
“He wanted to be loved the way you loved me. He wanted someone to care whether he came home or not or if he had been fed that day. He wanted a family. A home.” Throwing the unfinished fry back on the plate, he reaches for my hand, “So I made a decision. I wouldn’t fuck up our relationship by getting involved, and for Dray, I would step aside and let him have what he’s always wanted.”
“What?” I whisper.
“You.”
“And what about you, Trent? What do you want?”
“I want to help people.” He doesn’t hesitate to answer.
I have to know, so I ask, “And me? Are you still waiting on Dray?”
“He’s had years, and it doesn’t look like he’s ever going to make his play for what he wants. I would say he fumbled that pretty bad. I don’t know if I can offer forever to anyone. I’ve learned that I’m not capable of that type of commitment at this point in my life, but if you come with me, Kylie. I’ll try.”
“What about now?”
He sighs and answers, “Tonight. I can offer tonight and see where it goes from there.”
His words shouldn’t be such a revelation. Everyone has tried to tell me about Trent. Dray and I are only about sex. No strings attached and no commitments. He knows how I feel about Trent. If he did love me at some point, it must have died out. I look at Trent and see, now, that he doesn’t hide that look in his eyes anymore. My body goes into overdrive.
“You remember the night we made out?” I ask.
Nodding his head, he answers, “Yes, every single second.”
“You acted like you didn’t.”
“Self-preservation. I almost couldn’t walk away. I wanted you so badly, especially after touching you and seeing how you came apart. When you reached for my zipper, I acted like I passed out.” Sighing, he shakes his head and says, “I’ve wished on a million stars that we would have finished. I blamed Dray and didn’t speak to him for months.”
“So are we?” I’m brave. I can do this.
“Are we what?”
“Going to finish what we started?”
He slides out of the booth and reaches back for my hand. As I stand, the world spins out from underneath me. Trent has to steady me with both of his arms. He slips money out of his wallet and throws it to the table. Latching our hands together once again, we walk out of the dark bar and into the sunlight which blinds me for a second. He hails a cab, guiding me to sit in the back then follows to give the address.
I can’t think about where we are going. He’s out of town anyway. I don’t look at Trent as my mind races with thoughts of what is about to happen. I’ve loved him with my whole heart for the last seven years. I’ve sacrificed my happiness for his. And the reason is because he knew he sucked at relationships and wanted me to stay around. Oh, and let’s not forget that he decided that he would save me for Dray, on the off chance that Dray would get his shit together and want me.
Sitting in the back of a taxicab, I think back over the last seven years and closely examine the last two months. Damn. Madison is right. Trent uses me, and now, I’ve allowed Dray to do the same. One uses me emotionally, and the other physically. Damn it! I imagine most sane women would have the car stop, get out, dump these two assholes, and move on with life; however, I love them. Them? Fuck! Peeking over at Trent, I see he is looking at me and leans in to kiss my lips. The sweetness melts my insides. Why can’t I have this? He offered me one night. Why can’t I have them both? Who cares if it ruins everything? Those two haven’t cared about what I want in the past.
“One time. No strings. No commitments?” I offer him the same deal that Dray and I have.
“Friends no matter what?” he asks me back.
“Yes,” the lie rolls off my tongue easily.
After the cab drops us off, we take the elevator up. Trent doesn’t try to kiss me but gently rubs my arms as he grins at me. When we enter Dray’s loft, Jonsie runs to me, and I love on him a little.
“Hey, Boy.” I pat his belly as he whines. Placing him down, I see that Trent has moved to stand in the doorway of his bedroom.
“Coming?” he asks.
The ride to their place sobered me some, but the alcohol still fuses steel into my bones. “Only if you help me,” I saucily reply. Swaying my hips, I walk by him and into his room. I glance over my shoulder as I remove my shirt and skirt. He comes up behind me to trace kisses across my shoulders then follows a path down my back. I feel him unhook my bra, kissing the spot where it used to be against my skin. The ends slide down my arms, dropping to the floor.
His hands caress down my back, slip under my panties, and pull them down. Trent’s mouth laves the top of my shoulders as he brings his hands back up, reaching and circling my hand. Gently turning me around, he holds me steady as I step out of my panties, kicking them across the room. I stand tall and proud as the sun shines through the windows, lighting the entire room including my body.
“You are so beautiful.” He kisses a spot above my left breast. “Especially in here.”
Sweetness. Trent gives me sweetness where Dray gives me raw sex. He pulls me towards his bed, slowly lying me down. Lifting his shirt up and off, he throws it to the floor and rips his hair out of his hairband, letting it softly fall around his shoulders. His chest isn’t ripped, but it’s perfect. Tan skin, sinewy muscles, then well-defined abs. He crawls over me, inserting his jean covered legs that are rough against my skin, between my thighs. His soft hair curtains around us as his mouth descends to tease me with kisses. Each one ignites small fires within me. The slow burn is so different from what I’m used to.
I rub my hands up and over his back, memorizing each scar and imperfection. Bringing my hands between us to his chest, I graze my fingernails over his nipples. A harsh moan of pleasure sounds in my ear, startling instead of inspiring me. Even with the alcohol, my mind is racing. It’s like we are in slow motion, and I can’t picture us getting from point A to point B. Almost panicking, I rush to unzip his pants, grasping for him.
Pulling back from kissing me, he sputters, “Hey. Slow down. We don’t have to rush.”
Uh, yeah we do, because everything feels awkward and wrong. I can’t say that to him. I hate to admit it to myself.
“Hurry,” I whisper, moving my hand up and down his hard cock. At least he is not having any problems with me. Letting him go, I grasp his pants, and we both get them off. I see him reach for something in his pocket. Praying it’s a condom, I watch as he slides it on.
“Ky, do you want to fool around or do you want me in you?”
“In me. Please.” For the love of all that’s holy, please just come in me. Maybe it will get better. It has to, right?!
With a sexy laugh, he answers, “I can do that.”
He pushes into me, forcing himself in because I’m dry and not ready. It’s not hurtful, but it’s not comfortable either. Once he is finally all the way deep, he begins to move. He kisses my lips, but I’ve lost all interest. For the sake of what is happening, I follow through. Minutes seem like eternity. How much longer is this going to take? I’ve got to get out of here.
“Stop!” I say before thinking it through.
“What?” He stops mid thrust and looks down at me.
“Get off of me.” I push at his chest, and not looking at his face, I turn away. “Now!” I yell angrily.
“Are you mad? Did I do something?” he asks while rolling away from me on the bed.
Yes, I want to answer. I’m mad at my stupid, moronic, idiotic self. What am I thinking? Rolling off the bed, I begin to dress myself, not daring to look at him.
“No, I’m not mad. It’s just been a hellacious week, and now this? I can’t handle it.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you here.” Retrieving my heel off the floor, I slam it back down.
“No dammit, you shouldn’t have,” I reply back to him, but not because of
why he thinks. “It’s Dray’s apartment. His home. And let’s be honest, the only reason you live here is because you refuse to have roots. The same reason you don’t have a woman in your life is because you would have to make some goddamn commitment to them.” I pick my shoe back up and slide it on my foot.
“You know what, Trent? I always called Dray the womanizing whore because he fucked them and then left them, but by God, they knew the score beforehand. You, on the other hand, are the evil bastard. You offer a taste of a commitment that you never plan on following through with, wasting years of their life.”
When I finish dressing, I look over at the expression of shock across his face as he sits on the edge of the bed. The thin white sheet is the only thing that covers him. My feelings and thoughts are not his fault, and he didn’t deserve this tirade.
