by Bijou Hunter
"I'll double check," I say, leaving the kitchen before Mom begins asking more questions.
I skip the bag check and walk outside to where Troy is working. He glances at me, says nothing, and returns to work.
Thinking about Saskia, I imagine writing songs dedicated to her beauty and strength. I might even write a few about a demon woman ensnaring her victims with her dark hypnotic eyes. My studio is calling to me, but I refuse to hide away for the rest of the day. Instead, I keep watch like a man rather than playing in my hiding place like a child.
Saskia appears outside. Startled to see me, she considers turning around. Saskia jerks to a stop before standing unsure for a long time. Watching her struggle between cold and hot, I nearly laugh at her indecision.
"Want orange juice?" I ask when she stares at me, seemingly unable to speak.
"No."
"You look beautiful this morning."
"Thank you. We need to talk."
"About what?" I ask, reaching out to caress her cheek.
"I enjoyed last night."
"I know you did," I say, giving her a grin.
Saskia narrows her eyes, hoping to intimidate me. When my smile doesn't relent, her glare does.
"I'm on an assignment though. I need to focus on keeping your family safe during the trip, so I'm asking for space."
"Because I distract you."
"Yes."
I step closer and smile wider. "Because last night was fucking brilliant."
Saskia narrows her eyes again. "Yes."
"So you're asking me to keep my hands to myself until we get back from New York City, correct?"
"Yes."
"Once we're back, my hands are free to roam again?"
"We'll see. I might lose interest in you."
Grinning, I shove my hands into my jean pockets. "Won't happen. Not after one night. Maybe after a few really long, productive nights, you might begin to lose interest. Doubtful though."
"I'm done talking to you now."
"Okay, but I'm keeping your panties. I might even frame them."
A frustrated Saskia turns away until I wrap my arms around her from behind.
"You seem tense. I might be able to help with that," I whisper in her ear. "You know, when we return."
"You're being obnoxious."
"Hasn't a man ever spent the night with you and never wanted to let go?"
Saskia doesn't react, giving me her answer. I release her, and she continues walking inside the house. Before I finish my orange juice, she storms back outside.
"You are not special."
"You are."
Saskia blinks quickly, flustered by how her anger doesn't phase me. I know all about womanly freak-outs. Two very hormonal women raised me. Nothing Saskia says or does will likely shock me.
"I can't deal with whatever it is that you want from me," she says, regaining her steely glare.
"How can you know your limitations, if you don't know what I want?"
"Fine. What do you want?"
"To hang out with you. I'd like to talk during the day and roll around in bed at night. Does that really sound so bad?"
"No but I'm on a job, so leave me alone."
Saskia walks away quickly before I can follow. I guess I could run after her, but she's likely expecting that move. Even if I'm not a tough guy like Troy, I'm smart enough to figure out Saskia. She can have her space, and play her games. I know what's in her heart though, and it's not much different than what stirs in mine. Once I catch her, I don't know if I'll ever let her go.
14
~ Brad ~
Don't Tell Me What to Do
Lawrence began treating me after Mom and I left show business behind and returned to Texas. I was a mess back then. Waking up scared of my own shadow, I'd end the day angry at the world. Mom's babying pissed me off. Yet when she gave me space, I felt abandoned.
These days, Lawrence and I work on my agoraphobia. I'd rather stay close to home than branch out. He thinks I need to see more of the world. I think my home offers everything I need. I'm doubtful that another decade of therapy will change either of our minds.
Lawrence arrives for our session while I'm outside shooting hoops. Inside the house, Saskia works on the final plans for our trip to the airport. I think of her under me. Her dark eyes tear away my walls, revealing my every secret. I need to know all of hers too.
"A lot of activity in the house," Lawrence says, taking a shot.
His hair turned a stark gray when he was thirty-five, making him look older and wiser than his age. I'm his last patient of the day¸ so he's wearing jeans and a University of Houston tee.
"Mom's worried about the trip."
"Do you think she's right?"
"Maybe."
"But you're going anyway."
"I made the decision to do the book. Can't back down now."
"Actually you could. The renewed threats give you a strong case for staying here. Why push yourself?"
"Why not?" I say, missing my shot
"Don't play games, Brad. I know you. You were looking for a reason to back out of this trip since Marx first suggested it. Now you're perfectly cool with flying into an unknown."
I bounce the ball and give him a smile. "I'll tell you, but you can't pull the shrink bullshit on me. I'm feeling good. If you ruin that, I won't like you so much anymore."
Smiling at me, Lawrence promises, "No shrink bullshit."
"One of the security people is named Saskia, and we spent last night together."
He looks back at the house and asks, "I saw two women. Does Saskia have dark or red hair?"
"Red," I say, hearing defensiveness in my voice.
"What's she like?"
"Tough, smart, beautiful."
"Like your mom."
Frowning, I grunt, "You said no shrink bullshit."
"I'm talking as one man to another. I married a woman like my mom. Didn't see it at the time, but now I realize that's why my wife got under my skin so fast."
"She's not like Mom. At least, not in any way I can see."
"Your mother is tough. When you went to Hollywood, your mom kept your head on straight. She kept you away from parties, drinking, drugs, and wild girls who only liked you because of your celebrity. Ruth is a tough cookie. I'd assume a woman in Saskia's line of work is a tough cookie too."
"I see what you're saying, but I'm not interested in comparing the woman I slept with last night to my mother."
"Fair enough," Lawrence says, swiping the ball from me and taking a shot. "Do you see this relationship as short term or something that might last?"
"I met her three days ago. How the hell would I know?"
"I don't believe that. All men know if a woman can be more than a sexual relationship."
"I like her. She's complicated as fuck. I don't know what will happen. Stop bugging me."
A smirking Lawrence steps back and allows me to shoot hoops for the next few minutes. I know he wants to help, but my feelings for Saskia are all jumbled up. She's gorgeous, but I only know a little about her. If she gets her way, I'll never learn anything more especially when I see her wanting to end things before they begin.
"I really like this woman," I admit.
"It's a big step for you."
Nodding, I shoot the basketball and miss again. "I haven't dated anyone in years. Maybe if I had, I would know how to handle my feelings now."
"Romance is tricky for everyone. Your inexperience doesn't necessarily help or hurt. No two women are the same."
"I doubt there's anyone like Saskia," I say, thinking of her elusive smile.
"I know you want to impress this woman. Just remember to show her the real you and not act a part."
Scowling, I turn away. "I really hate when you explain things like I'm a child."
"Sorry, but you had a childlike expression on your face. I also know you fall into the habit of faking things when you're uncomfortable. Remember our sessions for the first two years when you
pretended to have certain phobias just to avoid talking about your real phobias?"
Despite him having a point, I really hate when he nails me so completely. He's also right about Saskia. I want her, and wanting her is pushing me to do things I'd normally bail on. In fact, I did plan to weasel out of this trip. Then Saskia shows up, and I fear showing any fear in front of her. I want to be a tough guy like Troy and Rafael even if I have to fake it.
15
~ Saskia ~
Gossip and Other Girl Activities
Brad's clean male scent lingers on my clothes and hair. I feel his lips on my cheek. No amount of walking around the perimeter, searching for trouble helps me settle down. Troy leaves after an hour, and I catch him giving me a grin. Everyone finds my crush on Brad hilarious. I only want to know how to turn it off.
"You're making me tense," Minka says, sitting on the back porch. "Shake off your bitch vibe."
"I don't know how."
"When was the last time you cried?"
I think back to when Sela died. "I was seventeen."
"You're kidding, right?" Minka cries, clearly horrified. "You've gone over a decade without crying? Don't you get your period?"
"I control my emotions."
"Too much, it seems."
"When was the last time you cried?"
"Two days ago while watching that SPCA commercial with the abused animals. Reminded me of my old dog I left behind when I ditched my family. I bet my mom put him in a shelter. Fuck, just thinking about that makes me want to cry right now."
"Please don't."
Minka leans back on the bench and crosses her arms. "There's two ways to control your emotions. Shove them down inside you and never let them out or let them roll all the time until you can bend them to your will."
"So your way is better?" I ask, completely unconvinced by her method.
"Not always. I've never let my emotions get in the way though. You are one big sneeze away from losing control."
"I just need to finish this job."
"No, you need to let loose before you can't turn off your emotions."
"How do I do that?"
"Go out and drink and relax and see what breaks loose." Before I can agree, Minka is on the phone with Rafael. "Hey, boss, are you busy tonight?" she asks, putting him on speaker.
"Depends."
"I need you to come watch the house while I take Saskia out so she can let loose."
"That sounds like a terribly risky idea."
"Don't be lazy. Just put on your pants and get over here. Please?"
"Did you call Troy first?"
"No, he just left. It would be rude to have him turn around and come back. Why would you want to be rude, big man?"
Rafael sighs. "Because he's not the boss."
"Neither are you really. I just call you that as a way to suck up. Now be here in an hour so we can party.
Rafael says nothing for nearly a minute to ensure we squirm.
"Give me two hours," he says before hanging up.
While we wait, Minka and I pack my bags for the New York City trip. Every time I hear Brad's voice echoing from somewhere in the house, my entire body tenses. I desperately want to talk to him, even if I have nothing to say. I just want to just look at him and have him look at me. Life would be simple, if not for all the prickly little details.
Rafael finally arrives. Before I can flee the house, Brad steps in my way.
"Where are you going?"
"Out with Minka."
He crosses his arms and frowns disapprovingly. "Whatcha gonna do?"
"Drink and talk about men."
"When will you be back?"
"When I feel like it."
"Keep your phone on, so I can send you pictures of the dogs."
"Why?"
"If you're thinking of them, you're thinking of me," he says, giving me a little smile.
"Then just send pictures of yourself."
"No, that would be weird."
His expression is too seductive, forcing me to smile grudgingly. Brad steps out of the way and gestures for me to leave.
"Have fun with Minka and only Minka."
"Or what?"
Brad gives me a look that I can't place. Is he threatening me? Teasing me? Will he cry soon? I have no idea what he's thinking, and maybe that's his point. Brad leaves me thinking of him and that look long after driving away with Minka.
16
~ Saskia ~
Scary Broad
Minka talks during the entire drive to the bar called Limerick. I barely listen to her, but I suspect she knows I'm not listening. Minka mainly talks about her favorite drinks over the years. I can't imagine this list is meant to interest me.
Her voice fades in my mind, and I instead hear Brad warning me not to flirt with other men. Is he playing with me? Does he think my lust is funny? No, I doubt he does. I think he really imagines us together. This idea upsets me more than if he was toying with my feelings.
Arriving at Limerick, we find stools at the bar and order drinks. Minka also orders cheesy fries, so she can show me how sexy she looks eating cheesy fries.
"You look stupid," I say after watching her down a few bites.
"Jealous much?"
Fighting the urge to smile at her confidence, I feel someone behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I find a skinny man wearing a hopeful grin.
"Can I buy you a drink?" he asks me.
Still glancing at him over my shoulder, I unleash my dark stare on him. He backs away without saying another word and disappears into the crowd of bodies.
"I love when you do that," Minka says with a mouthful of cheesy fries.
"Thanks, but I'm not sure what we're doing here. I don't drink. If I get drunk enough, I might vomit on you."
"That's cool. I'll clean you up and take lots of pictures to share with the team. We'll have a good laugh and move on with our lives. No biggie."
Nodding, I admire Minka's easy way at seeing life. "Well then bottom's up."
I down a shot of whiskey and shudder at the awful taste.
"Tell me five things you like about Brad," Minka asks, sipping her shot.
"He has beautiful eyes. His smile is sexy. I like his chest and shoulders. His hair is really soft. How many was that?" I ask, downing another shot.
"I wasn't counting. So does Brad possess any qualities unrelated to being a sexy male specimen?"
Downing a third shot, I give the alcohol a chance to kick in. The whiskey burns from my throat down to my gut. I think about Brad and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
"He doesn't fear me," I say and then add, "Because he doesn't know the real me."
"Uh, fairly sure that guy who offered to buy you a drink didn't know the real you, yet he's changing his underwear now. Even at a glance, you're a scary broad."
"Brad doesn't know what I'm capable of."
"No one truly knows another person, but why do they need to? Why can't he want the Saskia you are right now rather than dealing with all the baggage from before?"
When I give her a grumpy frown, Minka orders me another shot. "Do you really think I'll tell my future perfect man all my dirty secrets? Fuck no. I don't need to know all his bullshit either. The only shit I care about is what kind of man is he when we meet. Or what kind of man he'll be in the future. I don't care about the past. We all fucked up in the past, so no reason to think too hard about it."
"Can life really be as simple as deciding to make it simple?"
"Sure, why the fuck not?"
Smiling easier now, I take one of the fries. "Were you sad when Troy chose Darla?"
"No. He's my friend, and I want him to be happy. More importantly, I like her, and I want her to be happy. It worked out for everyone."
"Do you think it's easier for women to forgive evil from their men than the other way around?"
Minka sighs. "Most definitely. Women are ruled by their vaginas, and vaginas have no morals."
"Men are ruled by th
eir dicks, and dicks have no morals either."
"Yeah, men will fuck anyone, but love is different. Dicks don't come with all the feelings and hormonal shit our vaginas do. Human dating rituals are very complicated, and I skipped a lot of those classes in high school. I just know men get freaked out by scary women like women don't get freaked by scary men."
"I suspect our figurative balls are bigger than theirs, and they find that intimidating."
"Probably. My figurative balls can't fit into most rooms."
The whiskey hitting me, I laugh loudly at her comment. Minka orders a round of nachos and moves us to a booth.
"I worry my figurative balls will scare off Brad," I say once we're sitting away from the kitchen and dance floor.
"And you're thinking about keeping him?"
"I shouldn't think that, but he's under my skin," I mumble, scratching at my arm as if to dig out Brad. "I thought a night of hot fucking would help get me past this feeling. I was wrong."
"Blame your vagina. They're horrible decision makers."
My mind swims from the liquor, and her vagina talk makes me laugh too much. By the time the nachos arrive, I'm starving.
"Brad's mother hates me," I tell Minka who's studying the menu. "She wishes he liked you."
"Can you blame her? I'm very likable."
"I wish I could be more likable."
Minka frowns at me. "Do you really, or are you just saying that because you're drunk?"
"I don't know."
"Do you really want to change? I thought you were pretty solid with being cold and scary."
"I am, but I don't think Brad is. I know his mom isn't. Nell barely acknowledges me."
"Nell is shy. She thinks people are judging her, so she hides in plain sight."
Patting her hand, I smile drunkenly. "You're good at reading people."
"Yes, I am. You are too. You're nicer than you let on too. Like when you lied to Darla that day at the aquarium about your lost love. Why do that, if you're not secretly a sweetie pie?"
Recalling that single act of kindness, I explain, "Darla knew what she wanted, but Troy scared her. I simply scared her back in his direction." I pause while studying my chip. "I guess I am a sweetie pie."
Minka watches me for a long time while I lean back and rest my head on the back of the booth. My gaze focuses on the crowd of happy people. Forever watching, rather than participating, I'm always the outsider.
