Pieces of Rhys

by L. D. Davis

  "Sure," I sighed and got out of the car without even a small kiss. Even though it was my choice, it broke my heart a little bit.

  So, I showed up to the game, even though I really didn't feel like being there. Every now and then Rhys would look my way and give me a brief smile or small wave.

  "He's something, isn't he?" Nicole said, suddenly at my side.

  I looked at her curiously for a moment before answering. I had gotten over my envy and jealousy of her, for the most part.

  "Yes, he is."

  "He sure does carry a flame for you," she said with a hint of sadness in her voice.

  "Not really," I sighed.

  "Sure he does. It's obvious."

  "Don't be ridiculous, Nicole," I snapped.

  We were quiet for a few minutes. I felt bad for snapping at her. It really wasn't her fault I was feeling heart broken.

  "Sorry," I said softly.

  "Hey, I know how you feel," she said soothingly.

  "How could you know?" I asked, trying to keep my tone even. "You're the one that got him to sit still for half a beat."

  "Well," she shrugged. "I just think I was in the right place at the right time."

  "What does that mean?" I stared at her.

  "I caught him at a good time. For whatever reason, he was just ready for something steady, and he settled for me." She wore a sad smile on her face as she gazed across the field at Rhys.

  "You're selling yourself short," I said.

  "No," she shook her head and smiled a little wider, though it was still sad. "I'm not. I know my value, Lindsey. I love who I am and I have a lot to offer the right man, but he's not it - or I'm not for him. It's all the same."

  We stood in silence for a few minutes, watching Rhys run around with the kids. It was warming and sad to watch. He seemed like he would make a great father figure, it just didn't look like he was going to father any of my children.

  "Look, he loves you right?" Nicole asked, a little more chipper.

  "That's questionable." I scowled slightly.

  "He wouldn't say it if he didn't mean it," she sighed and I really began to feel bad for her. "Lindsey, he's probably just afraid."

  "Rhys? Afraid?" I asked doubtfully.

  "Yeah, Rhys afraid."

  I looked back at Rhys, who was now standing with a group of people, drinking a bottle of water, flushed from playing with the kids. His eyes met mine and he flashed me a quick smile.

  "Is it just me, or is his smile an instant turn on?" Nicole asked.

  "Totally," I said. "Oh, here he comes."

  "He's really good in bed," she sighed.

  "Fantastic actually."

  "I'm going to need a cold shower."

  "Bad idea," I warned. "You'll just be cold and horny with harder nipples."

  She gaped at me and then suppressed her laughter as Rhys strolled up.

  "What are you two smiling about?" He asked, stopping very close to me.

  "About our girls night out we're planning," Nicole said, slinking an arm around my waist.

  "Oh. Yes." I reciprocated, sourly noting how tiny her waist was.

  "Is that all?" His eyes questioned me.

  "Of course that's all," I rolled my eyes at him. "So, how about that bar on Lincoln? They have really good food, too."

  "Good for me," Nicole said. "I'm going to go ask Muriel and a few others." She released me and slipped away.

  "When did you and Nicole become so friendly?" He asked.

  "Does it bother you that we're friendly? Upset that you won't be witnessing any cat fights?"

  He grinned. "No, it doesn't bother me, although I would love to see a cat fight."

  I rolled my eyes at him.

  "I can be your designated driver tonight," he said stroking my arm. "I will pick you up, bring you back to my place."

  "I'll think about it." I pulled my arm away from him. He was driving me crazy, sexually and heartbreakingly crazy.

  "I want to spend some time with you tomorrow," he said more seriously. "I missed you."

  Aww man! How could I say no when his breath was on me, his brown eyes were imploring, and oh wow he's stroking my hand. The power of his touch never diminished.

  "Okay," I said in a small voice. Besides, I was leaving the next afternoon to go visit my parents in Cali. I wouldn't see him for a week and a half.

  He smiled widely and planted a sloppy kiss on my cheek.

  Another shot down the hatch. I don't know how many I've had. I lost count somewhere between my fourth drink and sixth shot. I'm surrounded by other women: Kit, who was home for the holiday, Nicole, my friend Chari, Freddy the Death Punch Finger, Alice and Kelly, also from work, and two of Kit's college pals visiting for the weekend, Gina and Becky. Everyone but Chari is getting blasted.

  "Someone has to be sober enough to drive you drunk bitches home," Char had said at the beginning of the night.

  Drunk bitches indeed!

  Men couldn't stay away. How could they with Kit and Nicole in our midst? They both could be super models, and the rest of us weren't too shabby. One guy, Hal, insisted on buying my drinks, and I easily accepted, even though I knew that he thought he was going to get lucky.

  "You're very pretty," he said in my ear. We were alone in a corner. I was seated on a barstool and he stood very close next to me. I mean VERY close. I could feel his erection on my leg.

  "Do you have a boyfriend?" Hal asked.

  Technically, no. Roll with it, sister.

  "Nope," I smiled.

  He grinned. "Let me buy you another drink."

  Hal bought me a few more drinks. I was feeling fiesty and let him caress my thigh. That little creepy voice in my head told me that I was out of line, but the logical part of me reminded the creepy voice that I was not in a committed relationship. The drunk part of me told the other voices to shut the hell up.

  "Will your friends let you leave with me?" Hal asked.

  I glanced over at my friends. They were keeping a tight eye on me, but not interfering. They knew the deal.

  "I don't know," I swayed in my seat.

  "I just want some alone time with you, Lindsey." He leaned in closer so that his lips touched my ear. "I can make you feel really, really good." His lips grazed my cheek as he pulled back.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but I looked over Hal's shoulder and saw Rhys glaring at us from across the bar.

  Shit. I've never seen him look so angry.

  "My ride's here," I said, and weakly tried to push him away.

  "I've got something you can ride, baby," he said.

  I laughed, a drunk loud guffaw. "That's a terrible line!" I pushed at Hal again. "My ride's here. You should move before he comes over here. Oh. Oh no. Oh, here he comes."

  "He?" He asked, confused. He turned right into Rhys's fist.

  "Here he is," I sang softly as Hal stumbled backward.

  "You said you didn't have a boyfriend!" Hal said, holding his jaw.

  "I don't," I shrugged and scooted off of the barstool. I followed after Rhys, who was being "escorted" out of the building by security. I blew kisses to my astonished and amused friends and ran out into the night.

  I followed Rhys to the car a little ways down the street.

  "Hey, Fist of Fury!" I cracked up at my joke.

  "Get in the fucking car," he growled, and shoved me inside.

  "Hey, be gentle!"

  When he got in and started the car, I pumped up the volume on the radio. Rhys reached to turn it down, but I slapped his hand away.

  "I love this song! I love this song!" I yelled, pushing his hand away. I sang and danced to Telephone by Gaga and Beyonce. "Stop calling, stop calling!"

  Rhys got tired of my performance and turned it off.

  "Party pooper," I grumbled.

  "What the fuck were you doing in there?" He asked.

  "Flirting."

  "Lindsey, you're not taking this seriously. I am so angry!" He opened and closed his hands around the steering wheel.
<
br />   "Simmer down, David Banner."

  "It's not funny!" Rhys roared.

  I covered my ears. Even in my drunken state, I was surprised by the level of his anger. It was borderline scary. If I had any sober sense, I would have been afraid.

  I kept my ears covered even though he kept calling my name and talking. I didn't uncover them until we got to his house. I jumped out of the car and tripped over my own two high heeled feet and fell to my hands and knees.

  "Lindsey," Rhys sighed, and helped me to my feet.

  Once we were inside, I kicked off my heals and threw off my jacket.

  "Is this going to be a habit of yours?"

  "What?" I asked, walking to his bedroom.

  He followed me very closely. "Picking up strange men in bars."

  "I didn't pick him up. Clearly. You're here, not Hal," I laughed.

  Rhys closed his eyes, maybe mentally counted to three and then opened them. His voice was tightly controlled when he spoke.

  "He had his hands all over you and you were fine with it."

  "I don't technically have a boyfriend, so it's all good in the hood." I threw him what may have passed for an idiot gang sign before I kicked out of my jeans.

  Rhys took a very deep breath.

  "What's wrong?" I asked. "Are you jealous? Is that it?"

  "Don't go there," he warned.

  "You are, aren't you? Well, I can make you forget about it." I ran my hand across his chest. He watched me with barely contained anger.

  "I wasn't going to have sex with Hal," I said, running my finger along the waistline of his jeans. I knew my next words were going to be uncalled for and downright immature and mean, but I said them anyway. "I might find someone more interesting to fuck in Cali."

  Rhys shoved me away, hard. I stumbled and fell back on my ass. I laughed, and I don't know why. Some drunken misguided sense of humor. This only made things worse.

  He stormed over to me and grabbed a handful of my shirt, twisting the fabric in his strong hand. I heard his angry breathing, my terrified breathing, and my shirt tearing. The damn tearing sound wouldn't stop, and it took me a moment to realize that I was trying to get away, scrambling backward, and my shirt was literally ripping off of me.

  "Gary, stop!" I heard myself cry out.

  Rhys's eyes got big and terrified and he released me.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Fat Joe looked at me with disappointed eyes. My behavior the night before was very rude. I stroked his fat, furry head and for a little while, he decided to be forgiving, and purred softly.

  I held him in my arms for my own comfort as I watched Rhys cook breakfast from a kitchen chair. He had not said much when we woke up almost simutaneously, but then again neither did I.

  I had fallen asleep on the bed, in tears, after he had coaxed me off of the floor. He stroked my hair until I was unconcious. When I woke up, he woke up, too, almost by instinct. He immediately got up, and out of my reach, and asked if I wanted breakfast. That was pretty much it, besides "Do you want pancakes or frenchtoast?"

  I took some Tyenol and drank a couple of glasses of water before picking Joe up and using him as an emotional shield.

  When breakfast was done, Rhys put a plate of food before me and a tall glass of orange juice.

  "Thanks," I whispered, staring at the pancakes, bacon and eggs. I continued stroking Fat Joe.

  "You might want to put the cat down," he said very softly, his tone of the day.

  All morning I had a heaviness in my chest, squeezing at my heart and throat. I opened my mouth to speak, but choked on a quiet sob.

  "Stupid cat," I said. Tears fell into my eggs.

  "Why are you calling my cat stupid?" Rhys whispered.

  "He was supposed to have super powers that kept me from crying like a baby," I whispered back. "He sucks at it. Maybe I should have used a hamster." I sniffled. "Or a duck."

  Joe jumped out of my arms and padded out of the kitchen, insulted by my words.

  Rhys stood up and then gently pulled me to my feet. He led me back into the bedroom. He climbed into the bed, pulling me with him, and into his arms.

  I cried for an hour, sometimes softly, sometimes hard and uncontrallably. Rhys didn't try to hush me, but held me tight and let me cry on his chest.

  When I was able to control myself and stop crying, I released him, and he released me. I had four hours before my flight left. I had to go home and finish packing. I made sure to get all of my belongings left in his apartment over the months, because it went without saying that I most likely would not be returning.

  At my place, I finished packing and let Rhys carry my stuff out to his car while I got cleaned up. I turned the shower on and stripped out of my clothes. I picked up my toothbrush, but froze when I saw the pink toothbrush from all of those months ago. He never did use his again after using mine.

  I smiled a little at the memory. I looked in the mirror, which was already beginning to fog up, and gasped. There were scratches on my chest. They weren't deep or serious in nature. I could have easily done it myself scratching an itch, but I knew that wasn't it.

  My fingers gingerly touched them. The glass fogged over, but I quickly wiped it away and almost screamed when I saw Rhys's reflection with my own. He stood behind me, looking in the mirror at my barely visible scratches. I looked away, and spread my palm across my chest to cover them.

  "No, don't," he whispered, his voice pained.

  He wiped at the mirror again and carefully moved my hand away.

  "It's nothing," I said. "I probably did it in my sleep."

  "You know that's not true," he whispered harshly. "You know that I did this to you."

  "It's no big deal," I reasoned. "It was an accident."

  "Is that what you used to say in the beginning when Gary used to hurt you?"

  His words took my breath away. I gasped for air as I shook my head.

  "No," I gasped. "No, this isn't the same."

  "And it's not different either," he said, his tone low and scary. "This is why I keep my distance from women. This is why I didn't fall in love and want for a 'normal relationship.' I didn't know what I was capable of."

  He wiped away the fog again so he could see me.

  "But I fell for you anyway...and look what I did to you."

  I shook my head and closed my eyes.

  "Open your eyes and look, Lindsey," he softly insisted. "Open and look."

  "It's nothing!" I yelled at him. "You're not Gary and you're not your father!"

  He smoothed my hair out of my face.

  "So, you guessed the big family secret."

  "Yes," I said, closing my eyes again. Tears found a way to slip through. "But that's not you."

  "I wasn't sure if it could ever be me," he said softly, and kissed my shoulder. "But now I know that is me."

  I spun around and wrapped my arms around his neck. Reluctantly, he wrapped his arms around my naked body. I tilted my head up to kiss him. He kissed me softly at first, but the kiss turned carnal. He pressed me against the sink, kissing me like he was trying to slink down my throat and into my body.

  Desperately, together we stripped him out of his clothes. I sat on the edge of the vanity and Rhys sunk into me. I cried out and clutched him to me.

  "Hold it, hold it," I begged, relishing how deep he was. He kissed me passionately and then started to move inside of me.

  He put his hands in my hair and tilted my face so he could watch me as I cried out and groaned.

  "I love you," he panted.

  Key words that always sent me spinning into an orgasm. I tightened my legs around him as I screamed his name. He groaned and then put his mouth on mine as he emptied himself into me.

  "Don't let me go," I whispered, holding him.

  "You have a plane to catch," he said after a few minutes. He slowly released me.

  "Okay," I said. "Okay."

  "I'll shower with you."

  "That cheers me up. A little."

  "Do
n't put any of your girly soap on me, though," he said, getting into the shower after me. "Men shouldn't smell like flowers and romance."

  "Certainly not."

  "But I will use your toothbrush."

  "Of course you will."

  Chapter Twenty-three

  "You're too fat," my grandmother said. I had not even been in the house for two full minutes.

  "You're too old!" I countered to the little Italian lady.

  "Yeah, but you're fat," she said, taking my hand and leading me into the kitchen. "You had a long trip, have some lasagna and some bread. Here ya go, how about that gabagool? Your mother found a real Italian delicatessan out here in this forsaken place. Eat! Eat!"

  Yes, she just called me fat while trying to stuff food down my throat. I've been hearing it since I was an infant. I wasn't at all insulted.

  "Give her some air, Francesca!" My mom yelled. "Good grief."

  "I haven't seen my granddaughter in a year, and she was all beat up then. She's beautiful now. Fat though. I wanna good look at her. Get your Spainyard panties out of a twist, Crystal."

  "If both of ya don't shut up, she's going to get back on a plane tomorrow!" My dad yelled.

  This was a typical day in the DeBitta household. I stuffed my face with lasagna while they argued. I skipped the cappicola, and instead poured a glass of wine. Fat Joe would find my family beyond rude.

  My grandmother finally wandered off to watch the news. My dad made himself an enormous sandwich with too much salty meats on it. I raised an eyebrow, but decided not to get on him about it this time. He sat down with a travel magazine and started eating.

  I sat on the counter near the sink while my mom washed dishes, even though she had a dishwasher. I felt like a kid again, except now I was totally broken and barely holding myself together.

  "So, are you still seeing that guy? Rhys?" My mom asked.

  "No," I said, forcing myself to chew my lasagna.

  "Oh, no! What happened?"

  He's scarred by his father's abuse to his mother and is afraid he's really a monster. Oh, and I all but cheated on him.

  "He loves me, but it's over," I said simply.

  "What? How do you know?"

  "He said 'I love you, but it's over.' Like I said."

  "What happened?" She turned off the sink and looked at me head on. "Did he hurt you?"