by K. L. Myers
“What makes you think something is wrong, Mom? Just thought I’d call you and see how you were doing, since I had some free time.”
“Bullshit, son, you have plenty of free moments when you could reach out to me, and you don’t. I don’t complain because you’re a grown man and have a life of your own. So, show me some respect when you call me and do not bullshit me. Does this out-of-the-blue call have something to do with Kayla?”
My body flies up into a sitting position. I haven’t told her about Kayla, so how the hell does she know about her? “Mom, how do you know about Kayla?”
“Oh, silly boy. There are no coincidences in life. Kayla’s mom is a dear friend of mine and Patricia’s. You would have known this if you had stayed home more as a teen when we moved back to Arizona. You were always so busy with the band, and Kayla, well, she was always studying and so focused on school that she never came over with her mom. But I know I mentioned her many times. You just didn’t listen.”
“What the fuck, Mom? You didn’t think it was necessary to tell me ahead of time or even ask if I would be okay with it?”
“Language, Cayson, stop using that vile word. You know how I hate it. As far as telling you, of course, I wouldn’t tell you,” Mom says while laughing into the phone. “If I’d asked, you would have said no. Then I would have had to make you feel guilty and push you into doing it, and then you wouldn’t have been yourself, and she needed to see the real deal.”
“It should have been my decision, Mom. I should have had the right to say no. Instead, Sean tossed it on the band and me like we had no say so. It’s not fair, and it’s bullshit.”
Again, my mom laughs. “Life isn’t fair, son. You should know that by now. So, tell me, what did you think of Kayla? She’s a great girl, isn’t she?”
I sit thinking about Kayla and what my mom just laid on me. She’s right. If she had asked, I would have said no, and then I would have missed out on getting to know Kayla. The little voice in my head takes the opportunity to speak up again. Yeah, and your heart would be in one piece, and your dick wouldn’t be whipped.
“You should have asked, Mom. Next time, ask, okay? Yes, Kayla is great. A little on the naïve and sheltered side, but she is great.”
“Naïve? Sheltered?” my mom questions.
“Yeah, she lives in a dream world of her romance novels, where everything is roses and candy and the real life doesn’t exist,” I tell her in a bitter tone, if I’m honest.
“Oh, stop it, Cayson. There is nothing naïve and sheltered about writing romance novels. Some of the greatest writers of our time wrote romance novels, and thanks to them, I made a career out of teaching young minds about literature.”
“Until you lost yours,” I utter in a low voice.
“Excuse me, son. Did you just say I lost my mind?”
“How the hell did you hear that, Mom? I whispered it under my breath.”
Chuckling, she responds, “I have ears like a hawk, son, and a mind as sharp as a tack. What would make you think I lost my mind?”
I didn’t call my mom to start an argument. In fact, just the opposite. I wanted to feel the comfort that her voice always gives me, but I’ve opened the box; now it’s time to address the elephant that has been in the room for over ten years.
“Look, Mom, I don’t want to argue with you. But come on, things didn’t start going bad between you and dad until you started reading all those romance books that are floating around these days.”
“What?” Her tone is full of shock. “Is that what you think? That reading those books made your father and me get a divorce?”
“Well, isn’t it?” I snap back. “Everything was fine until you started reading those books. Dad used to yell at you to stop comparing him to the men you read about.”
“Oh, son, it wasn’t my reading that caused your father and me to divorce. It was his cheating with his assistant that did that. My reading was just a way to occupy my time while your father was fucking someone half his age. The men in those books don’t exist, honey; they're just fun to read about, and your dad used that as an excuse to justify his guilty conscience.”
“Hey, I thought you didn’t like that vile word,” I scoff.
“Well, it's applicable when it comes to what your father did.” After a few seconds of silence, Mom continues. “Honey, I’m sorry that all these years you’ve thought that was the reason your father and I divorced. Actually, I’m quite upset that you would think I’m shallow enough to believe that I’d throw away a marriage because of a fantasy man in a book. Life is hard, honey, and relationships are harder. They take years of practice and commitment. It’s a give and take, and neither partner can carry the weight on their own.”
There is silence on the end of the line now, Mom waiting for me to respond to her, but I don’t know what to say. As a kid, I was sure that was the reason my parents divorced. My perception became my reality, and all these years I’ve lived my life thinking the worst about my mom, still loving her, but thinking the worst.
“You still there, Cayson?” her voice comes over the line, bringing me back to my reality.
“Yeah, I’m still here. I guess I owe you an apology, Mom. I just always thought…” My voice trails off while I contemplate what to say next. “All these years, I’ve been such an asshole to women, never letting anyone in. Am I too fucked up to ever have a relationship now?”
“Oh, baby boy, you are not messed up; you’re just protective of your heart. That’s why I was all in when the suggestion to send Kayla your way was made. I knew you had it in your heart to love someone unconditionally, and I had hoped that Kayla would help you realize that before it was too late. I guess I also hoped that maybe she’d be the one.”
My mom is right. If Kayla hadn't entered my life, I probably would have lived the rest of my life alone. I would have spent years just working my way through the easy pussy that came my way without ever understanding what it would be like to have an emotional connection. Kayla changed all that for me.
“Not to change the subject, Mom, but why did you ask me if everything was okay with Kayla?”
“I didn’t ask you if everything was okay with Kayla,” she replies. “I asked you if this call had anything to do with Kayla.”
“Okay, so why would you think this call had anything to do with Kayla?” I question. “Do you know something you’re not telling me, Mom?”
“No, son, I don’t know anything, just that Patricia called yesterday asking if I heard from Kayla or if you called to say anything about her. She and Sean haven't heard from her other than the day after she landed back in Phoenix, and Patricia seemed a bit worried. Is there something you need to tell me, Cayson James?”
It’s never good when my mom calls me by my first and middle name. That usually means she knows I’ve done something wrong. “I’m waiting, Cayson. What happened between the two of you that Kayla would come back to Arizona and not reach out to anyone? Even her mom has been waiting to see her. Kayla called to let her know she was home but never showed up the next day to visit like she said she would. So, spill, my child. What happened?”
“Nothing, Mom. Let it go, alright? I need to get going. I’ll call you soon. Love you.”
“Fine, you can’t hide from whatever happened forever, son. I know there is more to what you are claiming is nothing. Just know that sometimes God has a bigger plan, and everything happens for a purpose. It may not seem like it right now, but you’ll eventually see what it is that is meant to be. Love you, son.”
Before I can ask her what the hell she meant by her last comment, she ends the call. Mom talks in riddles sometimes, and she did that on purpose; I’m sure of it. As a kid, if ever she wanted me to see the error of my ways, she’d throw out some random statement and then walk away, leaving me to toss it around in my mind until I found the answer on my own. Now, as a grown man, she still has me analyzing myself with her words. What the hell did she mean, eventually what was meant to be would be? As I sit th
ere, the words keep turning over and over in my brain while I struggle to make sense of them. Running my hands over my face, I let my fingers settle at my temples and begin to rub little circles with my eyes closed.
Standing, I walk over to the desk, looking for anything to write with or write on. I sit in the chair and start digging through a drawer. When I find a pencil and some scrap paper, I jot down the words that are running through my mind.
She’s so beautiful when she doesn’t even try
She’s on fire tonight, and she doesn’t know why
I’ll keep her feeling good through the rest of the night
Because she’s so beautiful and I ain't gonna lie
I’ll be there for her for the rest of my life
Chapter 5
Kayla
I’m a coward, I think to myself. I’ve been home for several weeks now, locked away in my home, ignoring everyone around me. I constantly refuse to pick up the phone, letting my calls go to voicemail and then returning them at times when I know the caller won’t be available or simply replying via text. I’m a writer by trade, yet I can’t find the words to explain to my family or friends why I’m so messed up. The worst part is that the one person I wish would call or text hasn’t. I didn’t expect him to. After all, it was merely a hookup for him, regardless of what he tried to make me believe. Still, it doesn’t make the hurt I’m feeling any less.
I miss Cayson James Razor. There. I said it. I miss the smile on his face when we would just sit and talk for hours about nothing at all, but most of all, I miss the feel of his hands on my body and the softness of his lips when he kisses me. Just the memory of how he felt has my core heating up and my nipples puckering.
After crying myself to sleep for three days, I snapped myself back into reality and then spent the weeks following writing some of my best chapters ever. Words rolled from my fingers to the keyboard and onto the pages of my Word document. The story of Richie and Lara came to life before my eyes. Pages and pages of raw emotion filled every chapter, but now I’m at a turning point. Do Richie and Lara have a happy ending, or do they go up in flames just like my own life has? I’m stuck, writer's block worse than I’ve ever experienced it before. The characters have stopped talking to me; they’re hanging in limbo waiting for me to give them direction, but I can't do it. I don’t know what to do, so I just sit here with my fingers on the keyboard, forcing myself to find a path for my characters.
My phone rings, startling me back to reality. I stand and walk to the counter to retrieve it. I never keep it beside me when I write because it’s a distraction. With each step I take toward my phone, my heart leaps with anticipation that today is the day that Cayson is going to be the person on the end of the line. When I pick up my phone, my heart sinks because today, like every other day, it is not him.
Deciding not to avoid the world or my best friend any longer, I press down on the little green button and answer my phone. “Hi, Kathy.”
“Well, it’s about damn time you answered your phone, Kayla.” I can hear the bitterness in her tone. “I’ve been calling you for days, and you’ve been ignoring me. Don’t think I don’t know that you’ve been back for three weeks. I’ve talked to your mom several times. It seems like you’ve chosen to ignore all of us. What gives, Kayla? It’s not like you to ignore my calls. Is this how you treat your BFF?”
Kathy always has a way of making me feel guilty. “You are my BFF, Kathy. I’ve just gotten lost in writing. You know I’ve got to get it all down while it’s flowing through my head. Sorry I’ve ignored you. What’s on your mind, my beautiful friend?”
“Ha, now I know something is wrong. You never call me your beautiful friend unless you’re trying to distract me. Don’t get me wrong, I love that you called me beautiful, but there’s something wrong, so spill, Kayla.”
Once Kathy thinks she is onto something, she holds on to it like a puppy with a chew toy. “Nothing is wrong, Kathy, I swear.”
I can hear the rattle of a bag on the other end of the phone and then the crunching sound of Kathy stuffing her face with chips. Her words are distorted by the fact that she’s trying to talk with her mouth full. “If you say so.” The sound of additional crunching echoes through the phone.
“Did you call me to chew in my ear, Kathy, or is there a reason behind this call?” I ask, slightly upset that she doesn’t have the courtesy to not stuff her mouth when she speaks.
“Geez, Kayla, I’m starving. I haven’t eaten all day.” Kathy huffs and blows a breath out. “So, yes, there is a reason behind my call. My brother, Rusty, wants me to go to an old co-worker’s home for a barbecue. I guess he feels sorry for me and wants me to get out more. I don’t want to go alone with him because he’ll just leave me by myself not knowing anyone. Please come with me.”
I want to tell her no, but Kathy continues to beg me over and over again before I get a chance to decline. “I guess, but if this turns out to be a disaster, I’m going to hurt you and leave you for dead.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, BFF. We’ll pick you up in an hour.” Before I can ask where it’s at or what I should wear, Kathy has already hung up the phone.
The whole street is filled with cars as far as the eye can see. “Wow, this must be some barbecue,” I say. “Who is this person again?” I’m completely mesmerized by the homes that line both sides of the streets of this gated community. Every single one of them is a custom home, each bigger than the last. Kathy and I await an answer from Rusty.
Rusty pulls into the only open spot on the street, which blocks the driveway. I look in the rearview mirror to see Rusty’s face and that he is looking back at me. “This house belongs to a friend I once worked with. His name is Gauge Ellington. We worked together at the Sweet Spot before he opened his own security firm. Does pretty well for himself these days.” I see the corners of Rusty’s lips turn up in a smile. “Who would have thought an ex-con and a stripper would fit into this type of neighborhood?” Rusty says, shaking his head and laughing.
Kathy wastes no time getting out of the car. “Well, what are you two waiting for? There are food and drinks calling my name. I’m freaking hungry.”
“When aren’t you hungry?” I say as I climb out of the car. A stripper and an ex-con, I think to myself. Now, that has story potential written all over it, if I might say so.
This home is amazing; two stories that are covered by a stone façade, and wall-to-ceiling windows line the front. Rusty doesn’t ring a doorbell or even knock; he just pushes the door to the home open and walks right in. Kathy and I follow behind him. I’m in awe at the beauty of the inside. The floors on the bottom level are made of gray stone granite. Immediately in front of us, there is a staircase that leads to the second level. The stairs are made of mahogany wood, and decorative iron creates the handrails that line both sides of the stairs. A huge fireplace sits off to the right in front of a huge leather sofa and wing chairs. As we make our way to the back, we pass a kitchen with two huge center islands covered in the most colorful granite I’ve ever seen. The kitchen is as big as half my house. “Wow,” I say, completely awestruck. “How many people live in this house?”
“Just Gauge and his wife, Lexi, and their two kids,” Rusty says as he continues to walk toward the backyard. We pass what appears to be a wine cellar made of glass, tucked off in the corner of the far end of the dining area. The back wall that separates the house from the yard is made of wall-to-ceiling glass that slides open.
Once outside, I see at least a hundred people in the backyard. Some are sitting by a pool as large as half a football field. The view of Mummy Mountain adds to the beauty of this yard, along with the lighted palm trees that line its side.
A very scary-looking six-foot-four man covered In tattoos is walking toward us holding two beers in his hand. An angry scowl rests on his face. “It's about time your ass got here, Rusty,” he grumbles while extending a beer to Rusty. “Who do you have with you?”
Rusty takes the beer fro
m the scary man and tips it to his lips before he answers. “This is my sister, Kathy, and her friend Kayla.”
I extend my hand, but two large arms wrap around me and hug me tight. “Gauge, Gauge Ellington. Welcome to our home.” When he steps away, Gauge points off into the distance to a tiny, beautiful, red-headed woman. “That is my wife, Lexi.” Just then, a black and white Husky appears out of nowhere and jumps up, almost knocking me over. “Houdini, down. Sorry about that,” Gauge apologizes. “Come on, let me introduce you to everyone else. Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No, thank you, I’m good for now,” I say as I follow behind Gauge and Rusty. “Rusty,” the beautiful redhead calls out as she runs toward us and jumps into Rusty's arms, wrapping her legs around him as he hugs her. “So good to see you. It’s been way too long.”
Gauge’s hand meets the back of Rusty’s head with the force of a hammer. “Put my wife down, you pervert. You know better than to touch what isn’t yours.”
“Hey, she jumped into my arms, not the other way around. Maybe you need to satisfy your woman better, and she won’t come running to me.” Rusty laughs as Lexi releases herself from him.
Kathy pulls me by the arm and leads me to some tables filled with food. Children are running all over the place, screaming and laughing. Not exactly what I pictured in my mind when Rusty said ex-con and stripper. Actually, I’m not sure what I expected. I can definitely see the ex-con in Gauge, but never would I have thought Lexi was a stripper. Following behind Kathy, I load up my plate with some food to snack on. I’m almost to the end of the table when a deep voice speaks to me. “Hi, I’m Randy.” Turning to face the voice, I find the face of a Greek god looking back at me. Piercing green eyes and blond hair attached to a slender man around six foot six smile at me. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at one of the gatherings before.”
Trying to juggle my plate and still extend my hand, I answer, “I’m Kayla. This is the first I’ve been to. I’m just here with a friend. I don’t know the Ellingtons.” An electric shock runs up my arm when Randy takes my hand in his.
