Corsets and Quartets

by DeSimone, Mercy

  I guess I should ask myself that question, since I still haven't finished my new book, but at least I acknowledge what holds me back. It's hard to put your heart and soul into something and watch it fail. It's one thing to know when you've made an error of judgement, it's another to sit back and realize that you've been beaten by intangibles that you can't possibly change.

  Flipping on the closet light, I inventory the boring assortment of sweaters, dresses, and leggings, and realize that I've allowed myself to become too comfortable. Maybe I've lost my edge. Tonight's dinner calls for something special. If I'm going into battle, I should have the best armor available to intimidate the troops. Besides, I need something cool to wear to Quill next month, I rationalize, pulling a long sweater and black leggings from the shelf. Strategy in place, I resolve that lunchtime will be spent shopping for something new. Problem solved.

  As I begin to gather my hair into a severe ponytail and examine the small lines that have begun to take up residence around my eyes, I ignore the implications. They're laugh lines, I repeat like a mantra. Too bad I suck at meditation.

  You're not getting any younger, Josie, I remind myself. How do you want this to play out? Are you going to linger in the shadows until you fade away, or are you going to take some control and step into the spotlight?

  Never tackle the hard questions before caffeine.

  * * *

  Striding nervously into the restaurant, I take confidence in the fact that I know I look powerful. Sometimes, you have to look it to feel it. The faded sweater has been replaced by a long, white shirt with sharp cuffs and a collar that shows just the right amount of cleavage, and a tight turquoise sweater vest that accents all my curves. The shirt flares beneath the vest, over my hips, to stop just above mid-thigh, where the old black leggings have been replaced with new black leggings trimmed in leather. I've softened the dominatrix effect with over the knee black suede boots that make my legs look longer than they are, while two inch square heels give me lift with comfort. The entire outfit killed a chunk of my paycheck, but I can live without cable and takeout for a month.

  Nate high-fived me when I came out of the stockroom 'dressed to drill,' as he called it. Although, laughing at my scandalized expression, he did tell me that I should have gone with 'fuck me' spike-heeled boots to finish the illusion.

  All my protests about not looking to be 'drilled' were met with skepticism as Nate bugged me incessantly to reveal who I was meeting tonight. Perhaps it was more than just my guilty conscience that avoided answering any of his questions. After all, a girl has to have a few secrets, especially when your work husband is as discreet as a stripper on a shiny pole.

  Following the host through the crowd, I'm surprised to find Heath already seated. It figures that the dependable one would be early. I had hoped to be the first to arrive to calm myself and take command of the situation. The cold sweat that suddenly trickles down the back of my neck and fans goosebumps throughout my whole body instead cautions me to my slow steps. It's not often that such a welcoming smile is trained my direction.

  Have I lost my mind? Am I really going to rock this sweet guy's world because I've decided to shake up mine? His expression is pure admiration as he stands to greet me, stepping back to enjoy the full view before pulling me in for an all-encompassing hug. I love the reassuring feel of his arms locked around me and the quick kisses dropped atop my head before he pulls back again, pushing me into my chair.

  "Is Emma joining us?" he asks, twining his fingers around mine across the table. Grasping his fingers convulsively, I actively force myself to relax my grip. I'm acting like a nervous idiot, and I need to calm down.

  "No, why?"

  "The hostess said there was going to be three of us." He gestures to the extra place setting. "I naturally assumed it was Emma, since this is where I met the two of you last time." His curiosity is evident as I stumble for an answer, stopping abruptly when Mark appears.

  "Hey." Leaning down, he kisses me quickly before reaching to shake Heath's hand. "Sorry, I'm late. Did you order drinks yet?"

  Surprise flashes across Heath's face in answer.

  "Hey, I didn't realize you were joining us." Frowning slightly, his now suspicious eyes linger on my lips where Mark kissed me so casually.

  Mark's surprise mirrors Heath's as he half turns toward me.

  "Oh, I thought Josie…" His words trail off as he realizes Heath has no idea why we're here. More cautious now, he raises his eyebrows my way, while I freeze like a deer in the headlights.

  An uncomfortable silence settles among us as I shrink back into my chair, shaking my head slightly in warning. Trying to recover, Mark gestures to a waiter who hurries over. "Then we should definitely start with drinks!"

  My fingers grasp at Heath's as he begins to pull away, and I desperately try to keep him anchored to me, the disappointment in his eyes tugging at my heart as I rush to fill the void. I am so unprepared for this entire discussion.

  "Heath…" I turn mutely to Mark, who just shrugs, waiting for me to lead. "Mark and I need to tell you about the other night. It wasn't something we planned, and believe me, I would have had this conversation first if I had ever imagined it was even remotely necessary."

  Way to go, Josie! Nothing like just laying everything so baldly on the table, my inner voice mocks as Heath just stares at me. The hurt creeping into his eyes has me cursing my lack of filter, knowing my need to unburden my own guilt has just made the whole thing worse.

  Distraction arrives in the form of a waiter dropping water glasses on the table, which allows Heath to pull his hand from mine. Ignoring both me and Mark, he thanks the waiter and takes a large swallow of water before easing back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. The posture clearly signals his retreat, and I struggle to find a way to bring him back into the conversation as he turns to glare at Mark.

  My hands are now ice cold, where just moments ago, they were so warm being held in Heath's. Unlocking them from their tight clasp, I tuck them protectively under my crossed arms, trying to hold myself together.

  Looking a bit sheepish, Mark steps into the breach. "I'm really sorry, brother. I know we kind of joked about it, but I couldn't let the opportunity pass." At Heath's now hostile expression, Mark rushes on. "Admit it! You wouldn't have passed it up either. It's obvious Josie is special, and given the circumstances, I don't think you would have been as hands off as you're trying to pretend."

  Rushing in before the hostility reaches a boiling point, I hush Mark with a glare and put a tentative hand on Heath's rigid arm, trying to turn the focus where it belongs.

  "Please don't blame Mark. It's my fault, and I take full responsibility. I never wanted to come between the two of you this way. I feel awful, but I couldn't compound it by lying."

  Heath's eyes soften slightly at my words. He's never disappointed me yet in his capacity for compassion and understanding. I guess that comes naturally with being a nurturer and healer, but I'm still a bit surprised at the steel in his tone when he stares at Mark.

  "Not cool, man. I never would have expected you to take what wasn't yours, even knowing your reputation."

  Frowning, I turn to Mark. "What reputation?"

  "Oh, Mark is known as a bit of a player—the short-term lover. To say he gets bored with relationships easily is an understatement. Your record is what these days, a month?" Heath says caustically, raising his glass in a toast. "But I never thought you'd fall for the charm over substance, Josie."

  "I don't deliberately 'short-term' anything, and I resent you insinuating that I'm trying to do that here, Cliff. Just because I don't hang on for years like a stubborn ass and pretend a relationship is worth saving when the party's over, doesn't make me a shitty human. Or did Lori teach you nothing about cutting your losses?"

  "Stop it, both of you! You're friends, damnit. Act like it!" Looking at Mark, I shake my head, appalled at the chasm I've inadvertently created.

  This is not what I wanted. I'd rather be alon
e than have to referee two guys each determined to be in control, no matter how sexy or sweet. My small burst of self-confidence begins to scatter on the wind as heat blooms across my cheeks.

  "I told you, this will never work. I can't do this."

  Grabbing my purse, I try to get up as Mark quickly grabs my hand, pulling me back to my chair.

  "You can't leave yet. We haven't even talked it through."

  "And we're not going to. I'm not going to have the two of you at each other's throats before we even begin. It was a bad idea. Just accept it." My voice rises, only to fall again when people glance at us curiously from neighboring tables. If I ever decide to have another such humiliating conversation, I'm determined it will be in a private setting where I don't look like a fool in front of the masses.

  Twisting my hand away, I rise to leave again, only to have Heath's arm circle my waist, holding me to him as I still and take a deep breath. Gazing down in surprise, I fall into the deep pool of his eyes where regret and hope war, reaching for me like a lifeline.

  His ingrained gentleness smothers the anger as he grabs my hand this time, kissing the top briefly before acknowledging both of us.

  "Let's all take a moment and settle down. Josie, please sit. Obviously, tempers are running high. I'm sorry, I never meant to make you feel bad."

  Sinking back into my chair, tears gather in my eyes as I turn toward him.

  "Can we please just talk this out? Please. It's important to me."

  "Fine. But I'll need a second round of drinks if you really expect me to listen to a play by play of the two of you hooking up. I try to be open-minded, but even I have limits."

  "That's not what this is about, and if you'd stop being a jealous ass, you'd realize that you're part of this still," Mark growls in exasperation, slapping his glass on the table for emphasis.

  Looking surprised, Heath finally concedes, "Ok. Then by all means, tell me my purpose here."

  My brain is scrambled by Heath's anger and resignation, and I don't know where to start without making a mess. I can't find clever words to say what I need to without fucking it up, so my fingers fidget nervously at my cuffs, folding and unfolding the crisp fabric. Finally, I plunge in with as few words as possible.

  "I like you both."

  The guys stare at me with opposite expressions—Mark just looks satisfied, while Heath still looks resigned.

  "So this is the 'I really like you and I still want to be friends’ speech, yet I'm supposed to sit by and watch my best friend fuck you?"

  Wincing at his bitterness, I turn mutely to Mark, pleading for support.

  "No, asshole, she wants to be with both of us. Although, I question now why she would want a surly bastard like you." Mark's pointed words seem to finally penetrate Heath's defensive shield.

  "Help me out here, guys. You've lost me." Heath reaches for my hand again, and I grip it tightly in relief, wondering if we've finally gotten over the hump.

  "I really like being with you. You're easy to talk to, and we have a lot in common," I start, building the list in my head as I feel my cheeks flush. "You make me feel sexy and desirable, and I want more of the brief night we shared together."

  Heath's smile is finally genuine as he squeezes my hand. "You are very sexy and desirable, and I want nothing more than to repeat our night together. Many times. Especially if you're sober next time. I have new things to show you." Mark's chuckle breaks the spell as Heath frowns at him. "So, I'll ask it again, what are we doing here? You needed to ease your conscience and help take the blame before you step back, Casanova?"

  "I'm not stepping back," Mark assures him with a cocky smile, dropping it quickly as I glare at him. "The lady wants to test the waters with both of us. We're asking you to jump into the deep end."

  It's amazing how loud silence can be in the midst of chaos. Conversations continue to ebb and flow around us, waiters carry trays and drinks, plates hit the tables with a thump, ice tinkles in glasses, and music streams from speakers around the room. In our little bubble, we simply stare at one another, each of us trying to read the small signals or gestures, afraid to speak first and upset the balance. My only consolation is that Heath's hand still grips my own, warming the cold that threatens to overwhelm me.

  Relief washes through me as a different waiter steps up to the table, asking to take our order, finally breaking the silence. I look to my companions and exhale the breath I didn't realize I was holding when Heath picks up his menu and asks about the specials. Mark follows suit, placing his order, while I hesitate, too nervous to eat. I wave the waiter away, and Heath stops him, ordering the pasta special for me before letting him leave.

  "You need to eat if we're going to pretend to sit here like civilized people and discuss this rationally. So someone lay it out for me. I need to understand what we're talking about." Heath's voice is mild as he twists his glass on the coaster, waiting patiently.

  Taking a deep breath, I plunge in. "I want more time with you. I want to see what can happen between us given that time." Heath's smile dims as I continue, "But I'm also attracted to Mark. There's a different dynamic there that I also want to explore. Tell me, if we were still just chatting online and I told you that I was chatting with others, what would you have done?"

  As he watches me carefully, Heath confirms what I suspected. "I would have asked you to be honest with me, and to let me know when something got serious with anyone else." At my nod, he finishes, "Or when you started sleeping with someone."

  "Exactly. You see, I already know that about you, Heath. I've already recognized where you draw the line at loyalty. Or partnership. Because I would have said the same thing."

  "But?"

  "But it became complicated when Mark entered the picture, almost from the beginning. My guard was down because you brought him to me."

  "So, you're saying it's my fault? That I pushed you to, what, sleep with him?"

  "Of course not!"

  "Although we did." Mark interjects with satisfaction, until I quell him with a look.

  "Jesus, Mark. That's not helpful information at this moment. Are you deliberately trying to make this more complicated? Because you're about to blow this for everyone."

  "Sorry." Only the fact that he truly seems apologetic keeps me from smacking him upside the head.

  Tense silence reigns again. This is harder than I anticipated. Again, I question why I thought this was a good idea. Let's just chalk it all up to temporary insanity and call it a day. It's just another one of those lies that we tell ourselves.

  Like the time I decided that big girls can wear those trendy over the thigh woolly socks. They look so cute and comfortable, and you convince yourself that in the right size, you too can look as cute as the slim-legged, no cellulite model in the picture. So you put down your money with hope in your heart, only to have your illusions shattered.

  Not only do they barely reach over your knees, they immediately begin to roll down your legs because they're not wide enough to stay put around your fleshy thighs. And every bit of self-confidence you've struggled to create in believing that there's nothing wrong with thick thighs is replaced with self-loathing and anger, because you allowed yourself to fall into a dream not worth dreaming.

  "You know what? Let's forget we ever had this discussion."

  "No. That's not an option," Mark says determinedly.

  "As far as I'm concerned, we have yet to have a conversation," Heath offers wryly.

  "Well, let's leave it that way. It was stupid to begin with." I lean back in my chair and close my eyes, wishing I was a million miles away. It's so much easier in stories when there are no repercussions. Or we don't have to focus on them. In real life, you have to get past the egos and the posturing to keep things civilized.

  Mark's fingers suddenly twine with mine, and I'm surprised to find him gazing at me encouragingly. Not only am I unexpectedly comforted by the gesture, I feel my heart give a little kick in response as I grab on like a lifeline.

 
; "Cliff, I really like Josie, and I know I don't need to list all the reasons why, because they're probably the same things you feel. I would like to keep her all to myself, but we made a deal. She thinks you two have unfinished business. I've agreed to give her the space to see it through, as long as I get to stay in the game."

  Heath's snort says it all. "So now we're playing games?" Turning to me, he asks, "I never pegged you for someone who plays games, but you keep surprising me. What does this mean, I'm first to bat?"

  "This isn't a game to me, and the first person who treats it that way will be ejected." I remove my hand from Mark's to prove my point.

  "I'm looking for a partner, not a player. Someone who will spend time with me and share their life with me and love me the way I want to love them. If the two of you can't handle that, then it's best that we kill this entire notion."

  "And yet, we're all still here talking." I slap at Mark's hands as they make chatter motions with his words, before gesturing to me to move on. "You might as well stop saying it, Josie. You keep trying to pretend that we can't make this work, but I think it's you that you're really afraid of. Now get to the point, and tell Heath what you really want."

  "I want a relationship with both of you," I blurt out, finally putting it into words. Judging by Heath's expression, he's not shocked, but he's also not pleased.

  "I don't know that I can do that." My heart sinks at his words, and I realize that secretly, I had some measure of hope that this would fly.

  "Are you willing to think about it?" There, I sound reasonable, even though my heart is now stuck in my throat.

  "Relationships are hard enough when there's two people involved. How do you build intimacy when you're constantly being compared to someone else? This isn't a duel at dawn for God's sake, it's fighting to create and keep a connection to the person you're with every day. You think you're not going to feel pulled in opposite directions?"