by N. R. Walker
I wanted it too. I wanted him to take me to bed, to be inside me. I wanted to feel the power and emotion of his entire body. I wanted to feel connected to him in every possible way.
Then I remembered…
Oh, fuck. I laughed and put my forehead to his cheek. “Oh, you’re not going to believe this.”
He looked at me, confused. “What?”
“I was going to buy condoms today on my way home. But then the whole Yanni thing happened and I forgot.” I sighed, like the universe had conspired against me. “I don’t have any here.”
Andrew surprised me by laughing. “You know what?”
“The world hates me?”
He kissed me with smiling lips. “Well, there’s that. But let’s just go to bed anyway. Not for sex, let’s just go to bed. Today’s been… well, today’s been… tiring.”
I sighed. “It sure has.”
As I flipped the lights off, I saw the vinyl record he’d brought with him when he turned up earlier. I’d forgotten about it. I slowly picked it up and looked at him. It was literally a dozen of my favourite songs played on piano. The most perfect gift from the most perfect guy, who had only a short while ago admitted to his mother that he was in love with me. A confession I still had to process. “Andrew.” I swallowed hard. “I…” Unable to think, unable to speak, I just shook my head.
He took my hand and leaned against me. “I know,” he whispered. “Spencer, I know.” And with that, he took me to bed.
We stripped to our underwear, and we lay in the barely lit darkness. He rested his head on my chest and pulled my arm around his shoulder, where he took my arm and inspected it. “What does this tattoo mean?” he asked.
On my left forearm were six roses, drawn exactly opposite the ravens on my right arm. I explained the roses were for every year Aunt Marvie took me in. Above the roses were the words ‘The Impossible Dream’ for her favourite song. I explained the five stars in the Southern Cross formation was for Australia, and the compass was to remind me of the direction I was going.
He replied with soft kisses to my bare chest every so often, and when I was too tired to speak, he hummed my favourite song, “Hallelujah.” And although I couldn’t be sure, I think he skimmed his fingers across my chest like I was a piano, until I fell asleep.
And without my consent, with my defences in ruins, while my brain was sleeping, my stupid heart went and fell headfirst into love.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I woke up when Andrew knelt on the bed and kissed me goodbye. “I have to go home, grab my gear, and get my arse to the gym before work.”
“Your arse can stay here,” I said, barely able to open my eyes enough to see it was too early for coherent conversation.
He laughed and tweaked my nipple before he climbed off the bed. “Don’t tempt me. I’ll call you later. We still on for dinner tonight?”
The cogs in my mind turned over sleepily. Dinner… dinner… Friday night dinner. I was buying everyone dinner tonight. “Oh, yeah. Dinner. For sure.”
“I’ll just come by after work.”
“Cool.” I rolled over and pulled his pillow under my arm and hugged it instead.
“Don’t get up or anything,” he said sarcastically.
I didn’t open my eyes. “No intention.”
“I can see that.” He climbed back on the bed, fully dressed, pressed his dick to my arse, and whispered in my ear. “Your mission for today, should you choose to accept it, is to buy some freakin’ condoms.”
Well, now I was awake.
I tried to roll over and grab him to keep him in bed, but he jumped back quickly. My arms caught nothing but air, and I fell heavily back onto the bed, exhausted at the effort. “I hate you.”
He laughed as he walked out. “No you don’t.”
I heard the front door close, followed by silence. I was left alone with nothing but his lingering scent and his absence and a smile on my face. And raging morning wood, thanks to his dick against my arse. And a distant thought I couldn’t quite remember, an inkling, not a memory, more of a feeling, tugged at my periphery.
Then it hit me, like a snowball to the face, or an armful of puppies, I couldn’t quite decide. My last thought before falling asleep last night was a realisation that I was falling in love with Andrew.
Well, not me exactly. My stupid, traitorous heart. The very wall I’d built around my emotional wellbeing, made up of a patchwork of broken promises and blistering hurt, amongst other miscellaneous things, had sprung a leak.
I didn’t know what to make of it. I didn’t know what to do. I should have seen this coming when I’d decided to give this whole boyfriends thing a try. I should have known where it was headed.
To make myself vulnerable was something I swore I would never do to myself again. It was a survival thing. After I’d suffered an incomprehensible betrayal by those I loved the most, I promised myself to never let it happen again.
To trust someone with your heart was the most frightening thing a person could do. It wasn’t just frightening, it was debilitating. My heart started to beat faster, almost to a panicked state. “Don’t know why you’re worried,” I said out loud to my heart. “It’s your fault we’re in this mess.”
Then I realised I’d just talked to my own heart like it was sitting beside me, and I wondered if my stupid brain had finally flipped its shit. I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes, two seconds away from calling for the white padded truck, when my phone beeped. I reached over and grabbed it only to see it was a message from Andrew.
The drugstore down the road is open. I just drove past it.
I smiled at the screen, and my freak out lessened a bit. I quickly replied. Don’t text and drive.
I’m stuck at a stop light. Have you got them yet?
I’m still in bed. Getting a little desperate, are we?
No. Not a little. A lot.
I laughed. Shame you left. I guess I’ll have to wank by myself.
His reply took a while. I hate you.
No you don’t, I replied. And what I’d heard him tell his mother last night played through my mind. He loved me; he didn’t hate me at all.
This weekend I’ll show you how much I hate you. You better buy in bulk.
I burst out laughing, my inner meltdown was almost forgotten. Deal.
A lot earlier than I normally got up, I rolled out of bed and took a shower, got dressed, and headed straight to the chemist. God forbid if I got side-tracked again and forgot to buy the condoms. Andrew’d never forgive me. I picked up the biggest pack they had, then thought better of it and grabbed a second pack as well. I was gonna hold him to this deal. We’d done well to make it to this weekend. I had high expectations and little doubt it was going to be worth every second.
I got back home and threw the package on my bed. Two bulk packs of frangers and a bottle of lube and a pack of jelly beans spilled out on the still-rumpled sheets. I snapped a pic on my phone and emailed it to him with the message, My end of the deal is complete. Now you just need to hold up your end of the deal.
He didn’t reply for an hour or so, and when my phone beeped, I was downstairs explaining to Emilio and Daniela what had happened when we took Yanni to Andrew’s parents’ house. I took out my phone, and I guessed, looking at the clock, that Andrew would have just gotten to work after the gym. What’s the candy for?
I replied, Stamina. Yours, not mine.
When I re-pocketed my phone, both Emilio and Daniela were staring at me. I tried to wipe the smile off my face. They both gave me fond smiles, kinda like I’d imagine proud parents would look at their kid when they were all grown up. “What?”
Emilio shook his head slowly. “You have it bad, my friend.”
I groaned. “I’m trying not to think about that, thanks very much. I had a minor freak out this morning, and I might have heard Andrew tell his mother last night that he was in love with me, and my stupid brain packed up and left—”
“Wait, what?” Daniela inte
rrupted. “You heard Andrew say what?”
I buried my face in my hands. “Ugh. I don’t know. I’m trying to figure out what to say to this arsehole Lance.” I looked at the clock again. How was it just nine o’clock? “I’ve been up for hours already. Normally I’m not even out of bed yet. I don’t even know what the fuck I’m doing.”
Daniela put both hands on my shoulders. “Breathe, Spencer.”
I took a deep breath, and it was funny. I didn’t remember not breathing, but I clearly needed to. I felt a bit better.
“Of course he loves you,” she said, her eyes full of kindness. “And it’s okay to let yourself love him too. He’s a good man, a kind heart.”
I tried to answer, to object, but my realisation that I might already love him stayed unsaid. It was one thing to admit it to myself, but to say it out loud made that shit real. As if the universe had some no take-backs, no returns clause, like kids in a playground.
Daniela put her hand to my cheek and said something in Spanish, which I didn’t understand. Then she said it in English, “You deserve him.”
I filled my lungs with the deepest breath I could manage and let it out slowly, trying to stave off the impending panic attack.
“Okay,” Emilio said, clapping his hands together. He must have known I needed a change of direction in conversation. “Let’s discuss our plans for Lance.”
I looked at him, confused. “Our plans?”
He grinned. “Of course, brother. I think some Mexican persuasion might be in order.”
Now I was really lost. “What?”
“Anyone who hits the person they’re supposed to love—man, woman, makes no difference—needs a lesson in how to show some respect. We should teach him the Mexican way.”
I was almost afraid to ask. “Do I even want to know what that means?” I’d never known Emilio to be aggressive in any way. “You’re not seriously talking about roughing this guy up?”
He laughed. “Give me some credit, my friend. Call Lance the Tosser. Make an appointment to see him, and we’ll go pay him a visit at his work, yeah? I’ll get my cousins to come with us. It’ll be fun.”
I stared at him.
Emilio held out his fist. “Trust.”
I had no clue what I was in for, but I trusted Emilio implicitly. I bumped my fist to his. “Trust.”
* * * *
After I’d helped Lola most of the morning, I left a message for Andrew to call me in his lunch break, and three hours later my phone rang. “Hey, what’s up?”
Just hearing his voice made me smile. “Have you heard from your parents? I was just wondering how Yanni was doing.”
“I have. I spoke to my mom earlier. She said he was much better this morning. They think they’ve found him a place, but Mom doesn’t want to rush him. I think she likes him. She was very impressed with his dedication to acting.”
“Did she mention Lance and what Yanni wanted to do?”
“Well, Lance asking you to find him was a breach of his restraining order conditions, directly or indirectly. I can’t remember what she said exactly. He wasn’t too keen on going back to the police, but my mother can be pretty persuasive.” Andrew took a breath. “Can I ask why?”
“I’m going to see him.”
“Oh, Spencer, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he started to say. “The guy is clearly not stable.”
“Emilio’s coming with me,” I told him. “It’s going to be epic.”
“Do I want to know?”
I laughed. “Probably not. I’ll tell you all about it tonight.”
“Please be safe.”
I sighed into the phone. “I will be. And thank you. For worrying, I guess.”
He answered with a smile in his voice. “No problem. I guess.”
After we’d said goodbye, I slid my phone into my pocket and looked at the three guys coming with me. Emilio and his two cousins Ricky and Paul. Emilio was the most placid, friendliest, family-oriented guy I knew. I doubted he could even hurt a fly. But seeing him and his cousins wearing the black suits they wore to their grandfather’s funeral, with their hair slicked back and tattoos visible up their necks and on their knuckles, I had to admit, they looked pretty badass.
Emilio grinned at me. “You ready?”
“Hell yes I am.”
“Wait!” Daniela cried. “I need to get photos. You guys look great!”
Some happy snaps later we left, and on the drive into the city, I told Ricky and Paul what I knew, considering they were now helping us. I’d made an appointment to see Lance in his office. His personal assistant didn’t seem too happy about it, but when she told Lance my name, he said he’d see me. I might have omitted the fact I was bringing company.
Emilio had asked his cousins to join him. Both heavily tattooed, Ricky was a baker by trade and Paul worked as a courier driver, both nice guys who worked early mornings and had afternoons free. As soon as Emilio had asked for their help and told them briefly why, they didn’t even hesitate.
I had to force myself not to smile as we walked into Lance’s city building. I wore my usual chinos but added a jacket, though I doubted anyone noticed or cared about me. It was the three Mexican-mafia-looking dudes who flanked me most people balked at.
Lance’s assistant stared at us as we approached her desk. “Spencer Cohen,” I told her with my usual disarming smile. Emilio, Ricky, and Paul stood back with stoic faces, and the poor startled woman eyed the briefcase Emilio held. It held some papers and a few tattoo magazines in case x-ray machines thought an empty case was suspicious, but she didn’t know that. “I’m here for a three o’clock meeting with Lance.”
“Of course,” she whispered. She pressed a button on her phone. “Spencer Cohen is here to see you.”
“Send him in,” he replied curtly.
She led us to his door, and slimy Lance smiled when he saw me. It quickly slid off his face when Emilio, Ricky, and Paul walked in behind me.
It was a nice office with a pretty decent view of the city, and the glass interior walls gave his colleagues full view of us.
And they were watching.
Lance still stood behind his desk, I planted myself in the chair directly across from him, Emilio sat beside me, and Ricky and Paul stood at the door, their tattooed hands clasped in front, and they stared straight ahead. Emilio put the briefcase on the desk. I crossed one ankle across my knee—looking as relaxed as could be—while Lance struggled to sit in his chair. “Spencer…?” He cleared his throat. “What can I do for you?”
“Nice office,” I said, nodding slowly and taking my time to look around. I made a point of looking at his watching colleagues, just in case he wasn’t aware they were staring. “I found Yanni.”
The piece of shit swallowed hard, and his eyes shifted nervously. “How is he?”
“Oh, he’s fine. Now. He’s in a safe house where you can’t ever find him.”
Lance blanched. He knew. He knew we knew the truth. He shook his head. “It’s not like that.”
“It’s exactly like that,” I said. “What did you think would happen? Did you think I’d willingly drag a lamb back to slaughter? Or did you do it just to fuck with his head? Or just because you could? Is it a power thing? Is that what you think? That it would have been quicker to lure Yanni back in rather than lure in some other unsuspecting kid you could belt the shit out of to make yourself feel better?”
Lance paled. “I’ll call security,” he said weakly.
I laughed and sat back in my chair. “That’s right. You would. Because you’re a coward. Only a coward, a spineless fucking coward, would ever raise his fist in anger to someone smaller, weaker…” I sneered at him. “Yet you’d squeal for help when you felt threatened. You’re a worthless piece of shit.”
He gaped like a fish, pale and clammy.
I sighed. “The police have been notified that you breached the restraining order Yanni placed against you. You can probably expect a visit.”
He instinctively l
ooked out the glass partition wall toward the elevators.
“And I will happily give them every email and text you sent me if I’m subpoenaed to do so. So, I’ll tell you what’s going to happen,” I said, like I was bored with the whole thing. “You’re going to forget Yanni. Don’t even look for him, or we will know. In fact, if you ever abuse anyone, physically harm them or fuck with their mental wellbeing, we will know.”
Lance looked at Ricky and Paul nervously.
He was sweating now and looked about ready to piss himself. I didn’t care.
“It’s been psychologically proven that people who perpetuate domestic violence have very little self-worth, debilitating insecurities, and are sometimes impotent or have very small dicks.” I looked at Emilio and shrugged. “Or so I read.”
Emilio nodded seriously. “I believe I read that also.”
I pretended to pull at a thread on the hem in my pants. “So Lance, here’s where you promise, like the piece of shit, small-dicked man you are, that you will leave Yanni alone. Forever.”
Lance nodded.
“Say it,” I prompted.
“Okay, okay,” he said.
“Good,” I said with a smile. “I’m glad you agree.”
Emilio stared him down. “You know, in Mexico we have a saying. Lo prometido es deuda,” he said, his accent thick and clipped. Then he repeated it in English. “What has been promised, is debt.” He stared at Lance until the piece of shit squirmed in his seat. “Don’t make us come collect. Because we will.”
I stood up and Emilio did too, and Lance followed on what I could only assume was shaky legs. I held out my hand for him to shake, more on my side of his table because there was no way I was meeting this fucker half way on anything. He hesitantly leaned across and shook my hand. His palm was sweaty and limp, his face still pale. “Now, smile for your colleagues who are watching. And get yourself some help. See a shrink that deals with abusive arseholes like yourself. For fuck’s sake.”
We left, I gave the wide-eyed assistant a smile as we walked past, and it wasn’t until we were in the elevator and the doors closed that we all busted up laughing. “Man, you were so good!” I told Emilio. I slapped my hand to his. “Don’t make us come collect,” I mimicked his voice.
