by Beth Michele
“Here.” I hand it to him, and he stares down at it before looking back to me.
“This is your number, right?”
“Yeah, why?” My smile falters and I frown.
“Just double-checking, I want to make sure I didn’t destroy my chances to see you again,” he replies, folding the paper into a square. “All right, I’ll walk you out.”
“Rex,” I grin, “we’re standing right in front of the door, and you’ve got a towel on anyway.”
“True.” His eyes lower to his towel. “But who wouldn’t want an eyeful of my junk?”
“Oh my God. I’m going now.” I giggle as I walk out the door, the echo of his chuckle staying with me long after I’ve left the building.
“I’m impressed,” Stevie says, looking beyond me at the butterflies and cherry blossom tattoo I just finished on India’s lower back. I have to admit myself, it looks fucking awesome. “I love the way the butterflies appear to be flying through the tree.” He clasps my shoulder. “Nice work, Rex.”
“Thanks.”
Once I give India aftercare instructions, she hops off the chair, sliding her shirt back down over the bandage. She’s definitely got a nice rack, but for some reason when I stare at it, all I see are Vanessa’s tits.
That’s fucked up.
I still lick my lips at the thought and begin cleaning up my station when a familiar voice sounds from behind me.
“Hey, bro.”
I spin around to find my brother, perfectly dressed as always in a dark grey suit, crisp, white dress shirt, and polished black shoes. Then there’s me in my ripped jeans and t-shirt. Talk about opposite ends of the spectrum.
“What’s up, man?” I give him a nod of my chin. “They allowed you out of the boardroom for an afternoon break to consort with the riff-raff?” I chuckle and he glares at me.
“No one allows me, I own the company, Rex,” he retorts, twiddling with the watch on his wrist.
“Man, I love fucking with you, Hunter. Your feathers ruffle so easily.” I turn back to my station, scrubbing it down with a cloth.
“And since when do you know what the word consort means anyway? You purchased a dictionary?”
I nod my head but don’t look back at him. “Yeah. It arrived yesterday.”
He laughs. “So you want to go grab some lunch?” he asks, and I’m already suspicious. He rarely ever takes a lunch, never mind paying me a visit in the middle of the afternoon. I have to wonder if this has something to do with Vanessa… or tomorrow.
Pausing with the cloth in my hand, I toss him a questionable stare over my shoulder. “What gives?”
“Do you want to get some lunch or not?” he asks again, checking the time on his watch.
“Okay, give me a sec to finish cleaning up. I’ll meet you out front.”
A few minutes later, Hunter and I head out, and I definitely know something’s up. The tension is thick between us and he’s being particularly quiet, which is so unlike him.
“Okay, now are you going to tell me what the hell’s going on?” I wait for an answer as we make our way toward the pizzeria a block down from the shop.
“So what happened last night after you texted me? You totally disappeared.”
I stuff my hands in my pockets, kicking up rocks on the sidewalk. This can’t honestly be what he wants to talk about, but I’ll play along anyway. “Yeah, well we went back to my place, and let me tell you, Vanessa’s got a puss—“
He holds a hand up to his side, blocking my view. “I’m good, thanks. I really don’t want to hear about your sexual escapades, Rex, especially when it concerns Olivia’s best friend,” he says, and I chuckle.
“She asks a lot of questions though, man.” I hold the door open to the restaurant, letting a couple of guys pass before we walk inside.
“Rex.” His tone is somewhat scolding. “That’s what women do. They’re all about the details. Oh wait,” he taunts, “you wouldn’t know that, would you?”
“Fuck off.” I smirk, before we make our way toward the seating in the back.
Hunter snaps his fingers as he slides into the booth, his eyes darting upward. “I almost forgot to tell you. You’ll never believe who I ran into the other day?”
“Who?”
“Old Mrs. Clawson.” He chuckles, removing the silverware from his napkin.
“No shit? She’s gotta be what, like in her eighties or something?” I ask, twirling the salt shaker on the table.
“Yeah, she is. She remembered me though. Which means she probably remembers the time she caught us climbing the oak tree in her backyard and you nearly broke your leg trying to get down so fast.”
I smile at the memory as another more fascinating one takes shape in my mind. “And let’s not forget that not too long after that she caught me smoking pot in that same tree. You saved my ass, if I remember correctly.”
“Well,” he says, “if you can call you having to rake leaves from her yard for an entire week saving you, then I guess I did.”
The waitress drops our menus on the table and we order drinks before she takes off. I lean back against the worn leather seat, crossing my arms over my chest. “So… you’re stalling and I want you to tell me what the hell’s up.”
“Well,” he says, clearing his throat, and I’m waiting for the bomb to drop. “I’m going to ask Olivia to marry me.”
“Oh, man, is that it?” I breathe out a sigh of relief. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me. No wonder you were acting so strange. Well, good for you. She’s a hot chick, you scored big with her.”
“Would you mind not calling her a chick? She’s so much more than that.” He flips me a sharp stare while idly folding his napkin.
“Whoa, getting bitten by the love bug has also made you super sensitive. Lighten up, bro. I think it’s… great. She’s good for you.”
“Yeah, she is.” He grins, and something about his expression is childlike, reminding me of when we were kids. I’ll admit it’s good to see him this happy. But that’s about as sappy as I’m going to get.
“Jesus, this is a whole new you. I feel like fucking fairies are gonna start dancing around your head any minute.”
He busts out a laugh, throwing his napkin at me. “I can’t wait to see fairies flying around your head.”
“Yeeeeaaah. It’ll be a cold day in hell before that happens,” I respond, just as the waitress brings over our drinks.
“Speaking of which,” he adds, taking a swig of his soda, “remember that Vanessa is Olivia’s best friend.”
“Yeah, and is that some secret code for something?” I ask, eyeing the pizza choices.
“It just means, don’t hurt her.”
I glance up from the menu. “Bro, a few fun facts for you. One, I’m not hurting anyone. Two, we just met. Three, we’re not in a relationship. And four, we’re consenting adults who want to fuck.” I drop the menu down on the table and push it to the side.
“Well, I hope sometime in the near future you decide to grow up,” he grumbles, knocking back the rest of his soda.
“News flash. I’m all grown up. What you see is what you get. Courtesy of our mother, Diane Grayson,” I bite back, her name on my tongue leaving a very bad taste in my mouth.
Hunter tilts his head sideways, scrutinizing me. “You can’t blame her forever, Rex. At some point you have to take responsibility for your own life.”
“Oh yeah? Let’s see. The list is endless.” I lift my fingers, flicking them against my palm one at a time. “First, she killed our brother by not being present, when she should have known the babysitter was doing horrible things to him. Second, her family took a back seat to alcohol and her desire to screw, and third, she couldn’t give a rat’s ass about us—so yes, I can blame her forever.”
He rubs a finger over his lower lip, carefully choosing his next words. “Well, I care about you, Rex, and that’s a lot of baggage for one person to carry.”
“All right, what’s say we change topic? What kind of
pizza do you want to get? I vote sausage.”
“I vote pepperoni,” he says with a smirk.
“We’re never gonna agree on fucking anything, are we?” I taunt, lacing my hands on top of my head.
“Looks that way,” he remarks, fighting back a grin.
Trent greets me the moment I walk inside Heavenly Lattes, tipping his baseball cap in my direction. “Hey, Vanessa, I’ll get busy on your latte. Oh, we’ve got double fudge doughnuts today, interested?”
“That’s an affirmative, Trent.” I sashay over to a table in the corner. I’m in a particularly good mood and I also know why. My body is still buzzing from last night with Rex. In fact, I’ve been so distracted, it’s ridiculous. And this is so unlike me. Typically, I live off of my checklists and calendar, but not today. First, I show up in the conference room an hour early for a presentation. Then I forget to ask Tillie to order drinks for the meeting. I smile to myself. Just this once, going thirsty wouldn’t hurt anyone.
My phone chimes and I scoop it out of my purse, sliding the screen open. My lips curve into a grin when I see it’s a text from Rex.
I can still taste you on my tongue.
Holy shit. I press my lips together, and my thighs, looking over my shoulder as if someone can actually see what he just typed. Then my fingers get busy with my own special reply.
Do you want another taste?
Anticipation floods my belly as I wait for his response.
Hell, yes. Right now.
Jesus.
Can’t right now. Meeting Olivia. Tonight?
If I have to wait that long, I will. Although, I’ll be thinking about your pussy all day. And your tits, I’m definitely thinking about your tits.
I peer over my shoulder again, biting my lip, desire churning in my belly.
Me too… I’ll be thinking about you, not me. Actually, I’ll be thinking about wrapping my lips around your—
That should give him a little more to think about. I toss my cell in my bag, a satisfied smile atop my lips. Olivia happens to stroll in at that moment, waving as she makes her way over.
“Hey.” There’s a slight tilt of her head as she surveys me. “Wow. What’s with the flushed cheeks, V?”
“Why, whatever are you talking about?” I drop back against the booth, patting the seat next to me. “Sit.”
She throws her purse down, sliding onto the ripped leather, an excited gleam in her eyes. “Okay, so let’s have it,” she rubs her hands together, “tell me about last night. We were all supposed to hang out, but then I saw you all of about five minutes before you disappeared.”
“Last night, hmph.” I tap a finger against my mouth, attempting to keep a straight face. “I can’t recall. Must not have been that memorable.”
“Not memorable my ass. You were with Rex. I’ve seen Rex, remember? Of course, I’ve seen Hunter too,” she giggles, “so I know it had to be memorable.”
A huge grin finally splits my face in two. “Okay. Yeah, I guess you could say it was memorable. He’s hot. It’s kind of ironic,” I shake my head and laugh, “that he was the guy from the tattoo shop and Hunter’s brother.”
“It’s funny, even though Hunter and I have been together over a year, I feel like I don’t know Rex all that well. He’s kind of closed off,” she remarks as Trent pops over, setting our drinks and doughnuts on the table.
“Thanks, Trent,” we say in unison, and he laughs, his floppy hair blocking his deep-set eyes.
“I love being bombarded by two beautiful women at once,” he flirts, before spinning around and heading back behind the counter.
Olivia watches him walk away, then turns back to me. “I really want to find someone to set him up with. He’s so adorable and sweet. It’s hard to believe he’s not taken.”
“That could be just the problem. He’s too sweet.” I take a bite of the doughnut, the crumbs falling onto my lap.
“Yes, we all know how you like them twisted, so you’re definitely not a candidate. Anyway.” She takes a sip of her latte, smiling when the taste hits her mouth. “Where were we? Oh right, Rex. Yeah, he closes himself off as I said, so it’s hard to get to know him.”
“Well,” I say, recalling how he reacted when I asked him about that picture, “I got a little taste of that last night.”
“What do you mean?”
“I saw this picture next to his bed. He and Hunter were in it, but they were a lot younger, and there was this cute little boy in it, too, but when I asked him about it, he shut down, and got very defensive.” I swirl the straw around my drink before taking a sip.
“Oh.” Realization dawns, sadness etched on her face, and I suspect she must know who it is.
“Who is it Liv?” I ask, and she lets out a sigh before meeting my eyes.
“It’s just that it feels odd talking about it. It’s Hunter’s story to tell, not mine.”
“Liv….”
“Okay.” She heaves out a sigh, louder this time. “It was his brother.”
“Was?”
“Yes, he died when he was fourteen.” More words come, but it’s almost as if she has to push them out. “He committed suicide.”
My hand flies to my mouth and I gasp. Now it all makes sense, and I’m overcome with nausea at my reaction, although I had no way of knowing. “Oh God, I feel horrible.”
Her shoulders rise and fall on a deep breath and it seems like she wants to say something else, but she doesn’t.
I immediately drop my head in my hands, shaking it from side to side, unable to fathom the trail of devastation that left behind for their family. It’s no wonder Rex closes himself off. The pain must be too great to bear.
Letting out a deep breath, I remove my hands to face Liv again, a tear creeping down her cheek.
“Every time I think about it, it makes me so sad for Hunter, for both of them,” she says, and that’s one of the many things I love about Liv. She’s such a compassionate person, always caring so deeply for others.
Reaching to the center of the table, I grab a napkin and hand it to her. “Thanks for telling me, and it’s certainly not something I would ever repeat. But it definitely helps me to understand him better, that’s for sure.”
“Yeah.” She wipes her nose, then tosses the napkin in her purse.
Quiet settles over us for a short while as we finish our lattes and pick at our doughnuts. I’m not the least bit hungry now. The thought of what happened to Rex’s brother weighs heavily on my mind. I’m even more anxious to see him tonight.
“Stella, you can’t wear that costume to school, sweetie.” I hear a woman speaking from behind me and turn to find a little girl with curly blonde hair, rosy cheeks dotted with freckles, and a big smile. She’s wearing a Cinderella dress and twirling around the shop.
“What is it?” Olivia asks, tapping me on the shoulder, my head lost in another place and time.
I shift back in my seat, biting the tip of my nail. “I was just remembering all those times that Stella took me out for Halloween because my parents were working. I was the only one on my street whose babysitter took them out trick or treating.” A bitter sound makes its way from my mouth. “My mother and father would always tell Stella to be sure to take pictures of me, but they never even looked at them. Anyway,” I shoo the memory away with my hand, “whatever.”
Olivia doesn’t try to comfort me with words, but instead, places a gentle hand on my arm, diffusing the anger swirling inside of me.
“So… do you want to hang out tonight? Hunter has a late meeting so I probably won’t see him.”
“I can’t tonight.” A smile finally breaks through the melancholy. “I’m hanging out with Rex.”
“Is that so?” she inquires, and now her lips are tipping up into a smile as well. “You know, I invited you last night because I figured it would get you out and you’d have some fun, but nothing more.”
“Hmph, that’s kind of like dangling a mocha latte in front of my face and daring me not to drink it.” I cl
ick my tongue between my teeth. “So as I said, I’m hanging out with Rex tonight.”
“And what, pray tell, will you be doing with Rex Grayson?”
“Absolutely anything he wants.” Laughter bubbles up from my throat and before long, we’re both howling so loud we’re getting rude stares from other customers. “It’s her.” I glance around, pointing a finger at Liv. “It’s all her.”
While I’m waiting for Vanessa to show, I actually decide to pick up the apartment. It’s starting to look like a shithole—well, starting might be a slight understatement. Gathering up all the dirty clothes, I throw them in the laundry bin, then move on to the mountain of dishes in the sink, all from my take-out extravaganza. I’m not sure what my objection is to doing dishes right after I eat. I’d rather let them stockpile, creating a tower that could smash into a million irreparable pieces—sickly reminiscent of my life in some way.
And now I’ll stop because I sound like Dr. Billings, the therapist I saw for several years after my brother died, when my whole world fell apart. I’ve seen her a few times since I moved back to New York, and I know she would frown upon me thinking about myself this way.
Vanessa asking me questions about the picture brought it all back, though. I don’t know why after all these years I still have such a hard time talking about it. Maybe it’s because I still shoulder that blame. But as much as I condemn myself, deep down, somewhere in the recesses of my distorted mind on a good day, I know it wasn’t my fault. The burden rests solely on one person—my self-centered, drunken mother.
That woman has marked me, gouged my skin so deep. Her and that fucking babysitter. There’s only one moral to my story. Women are cruel and dishonest, and they can’t be trusted. They are, however, good for one thing.
