by Jayce, Aven
An abbreviated laugh comes out of my mouth, like any of that is enough to ignore someone in need of help, or act like an asshole for weeks. “Dan, it’s absurd to equate a person with the things they create. And none of that is as important as I thought.”
I set the clothing on my bed and he touches my hip while his other hand gently slides my hair to the side, exposing my neck for a kiss before I have a chance to turn and face him. I tilt my head and inhale his scents; cinnamon Altoids, aftershave, and light cologne. He nibbles gingerly toward my ear and whispers that he adores me.
Dan’s too cheesy for me, but perfect for my softer side.
We said that sentence together. We become one!
Yes, I noticed that.
“Thank you,” he says then sits on my bed so I can get ready. “It sucks because I wanted tonight to be special. You know a little affection, flowers, maybe some whipped cream, and some foot action, and then a bunch of moaning and erotic faces.”
“In that order?” I grin. “How about some pie first?”
He nods. “My mom called and told me about the pie.”
“Does she do that a lot, give people pies?”
“Div,” he laughs. “Please don’t ever ask her that question in front of my dad. He’d repeat it for weeks. And no, she only gives pies to special people. You’re the first, besides me.”
“What else did she say?” I ask. Wondering if she mentioned my place.
“Just that she likes you more than me and my father,” he jokes.
“Well, she asked me if I’ve ever been in your basement.”
“My mom said that?” he sounds stunned. “I wonder why. I only use it for storage. I’ll take you down there when we get back if you’d like. We can fuck on the dingy sofa from my college days. It only has a few cum stains on it.”
“Oh, that’s disgusting. Forget it, I’m not going in your basement.”
“Who said the stains were from sleeping with women? I had a lot of lonely nights on that thing.”
I can tell he’s kidding, but still, I have to say it. “Fucking gross, Dan.”
He gets such joy from making me squirm.
“There’s nothing from my novels in the dark recesses of my basement. No bound women, knives, ropes, blood, or guts. Besides the sofa, I have empty boxes, a bike, an old television set, a bunch of kites I made as a kid, and some exercise equipment. The norm. I understand I’m probably boring as fuck. Don’t be disappointed there’s no sex room down here, just memories from my childhood and college days.”
“What did you say?”
“Huh?”
Now I know why Kristen Keller mentioned it. First the Pittsburgh Pirates now... is this some strange coincidence again?
“Hey, what’s up?”
“My father just... I mean fate just slapped me across the face. I need to show you something.” I pull him quickly toward the stairwell.
You’re going to have to tell him about the suicide.
I know. I hate talking about it and it never gets any easier.
“Life sucks and yet it’s so fucking excellent,” I sigh, looking into his eyes while we stand in my living room. “I’ve cleaned up a few things, but I haven’t a clue what to do with the rest.” I motion toward the dining room.
If his parents thought my father’s obsession was wonderful, Dan will too, and hopefully Kristen and Greg weren’t just being polite.
“They were more than a hobby,” I say as he steps closer. “My father’s kites took over his entire life after my mother died.” He walks through the living room and straight up to the collection.
“Wow,” he exhales.
“There’re over two hundred of them. I’ve stacked as many as possible, but they’re still floor to ceiling. I don’t know where to put ‘em. My closets are packed to the brim with other things, and if I store them downstairs they could smell of mildew after a while, and that scent would never come out. So... here they are.”
He doesn’t say a word but his eyes are scanning the room, studying each one.
“Most are paper and weren’t meant to be flown, but a few are vinyl. They’re all handmade which takes great skill. He was an expert at building things with his hands, something I never picked up. I couldn’t even piece together a goddamn birdhouse.”
His silence is making me anxious so I continue with my wordy explanation.
“He started making them a year after my mother died. Then he slowly descended into a dark state of depression. When he got home from work each day he’d sit in our den, engrossed for the rest of the evening in creating these things. I loved my dad so much, but I couldn’t reach him the way I wanted... the way I needed to, and he refused to get help.”
Dan starts touching a few of the smaller ones that are piled on top of my dining room table. He picks up my favorite; the white dove. It’s the only bird my father ever made, all the rest are butterflies, dragonflies, ladybugs, and other flying insects. All things my mother loved. But I always thought he made that dove for me.
“It’s interesting... that one...that’s...” I pause as my voice cracks and my eyes well with tears. “He had that one in his lap when I found him.”
“Found him where?” Dan asks softly with the small kite in his hand.
“You know this whole kite thing,” I take a breath and wipe my eyes, ignoring his question. “They make me think of Charlie Brown. You know, poor Charlie Brown, his kite always ends up stuck in a tree, movement stops, and his dreams are crushed.”
Take another breath.
“It was all just a diversion for my father because he didn’t want to fucking deal with losing his wife. But, you know, I was there...” another tear falls, “but he never saw me. Or he didn’t want to and I know why. I looked just like her. I reminded him too much of her.”
Dan puts the kite down and moves toward me, but I raise my finger to wait. If he takes me in his arms at this moment I’ll burst into tears. I just want to get this over with.
He stops and listens. I can tell he’s in awe of the display, yet he understands the pain that comes with the beauty.
“I’d follow him from our home to the city park on the rare occasion he took one out to fly. He never said much, just things like ‘isn’t she pretty,’ or ‘you think I should release her? You think she might reach the clouds and disappear forever?’”
“He’d stare at the sky for hours, but I don’t believe he ever saw the kite. I think it was an excuse to look up toward my mother.” I can’t hold back any longer. I’m becoming a blubbering mess. “He never got any better, only worse.”
Dan reaches out and this time I nestle my head against his heart, taking deep breaths to regain control.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I know that’s probably not enough, but I’m sorry.”
He rocks me back and forth and I enjoy his warmth and the ability he has to pacify my grief. It’s a feeling of protection that I haven’t experienced since my mother was alive.
“What happened to him?” he asks.
I step away and look at the kites, staring at the dove on the table and remember how tranquil it looked in my father’s lap the day I found him. I lift it in the air, wishing it could fly. “He couldn’t take being away from her any longer. I found him the summer before I started college sitting in his office chair with a plastic oven bag over his head.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Dan whispers. “Div, I...”
“He gassed himself. There was a helium tank, and a hose...” I take a long, deep breath, holding it for a moment. I’m not going to cry. I exhale. Keep it together. “He looked so peaceful, his face was calm, but he didn’t leave me any words. How could he not write something down? At the very least he could’ve written somewhere that he loved me or that he was sorry. Anything. Even the words goodbye, you know?” I set the kite down and turn away for a moment. “He could’ve at least said goodbye. All he had was the kite with him when he left.” Dan’s eyes are watery like mine. “Do you find it odd that a man so s
ad could make such beautiful things? They’re full of color and life, the total opposite of how he felt.”
“Maybe that’s what he was searching for. To find the beauty he had lost.”
I nod. “He wanted to bring her back and that wasn’t going to happen.” I turn to my living room looking at the blank walls and remember I had done same thing, only with photographs.
“I think they’re amazing,” he says. “This is why I couldn’t come into your home?”
“Well, I had a living room full of photos.”
“And I have one full of books. So?”
I look to my kitchen and Dan’s eyes follow. “And now my kitchen’s packed with my mother’s carnival chalkware collection that used to be in my office. See, they’re spread out around the floor, under the table, on the counters and everywhere. Plus, my guest bedroom is full of erotic pop-ups, boxes of signed paperbacks of my trilogy, and other books. I didn’t want you to think I was crazy.”
He grins while moving forward and places a hand on my cheek. “Don’t hide your life away. I’d only think you were crazy if you got rid of these things. Any guy who couldn’t handle the fact that you have a lot of stuff would be a total dick.”
I smile as he wipes the remaining tears from my face.
“You’re a kick-ass woman, Divine, and the more I learn about you the more you capture my heart.” He kisses my closed eyes and that suppresses my sadness. “You still wanna come with me?”
“Absolutely. Let me finish getting ready.”
We head back upstairs, but Dan gets sidetracked before we ever make it to my bedroom.
He’s in the guest room, admiring all of my books.
“Shit, these are cool.”
“The pop-ups, or the boxes full of my trilogy that no one wants to buy?”
He laughs and starts playing with one of the pop-up books, pulling a paper tab that makes a woman’s head bob over a guy’s dick.
“By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
“Go for it,” he says.
“Why did you say you never heard of my pen name? You lied about that.”
“No, I didn’t. I hadn’t heard of you.” He stops and turns. “I know I didn’t come right out and say I was Hayden Night, but if you had ever asked I would’ve told you; same with your pen name. I said I never heard the name and that was the truth.”
“Yeah but you posted that my books were slow and dry on the Dick Sluts site, and when I sent you a private message on Facebook, you said your books were better than mine.”
“The dick what? Dick what site?”
“The Dick Sluts!”
“Div, I pay Bridgette to run my author Facebook site. She gets twenty dollars a week, which she probably spends on beer.”
“So she thinks my books suck?”
“I highly doubt it. Bridgette doesn’t read. She hasn’t even read my trilogy. I asked her to respond to fans politely and to do a little marketing each day, that’s all. Sorry she was such a bitch. I’ll have to take care of it myself from now on.”
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t say such crappy things about my books. It was fucking rude.” He nods then continues pulling the tabs, this time on the page of the woman slapping a guy in the ass.
“You know it’s funny, I always thought Hayden was a woman.”
“Yep, you and everyone else in this world,” he says. “And since we’re discussing this, how are you with criticism? You take it well?”
“On my books?”
He nods.
“What?”
“Your pen name’s awful. Cuddlecock? Really? You have no idea how hard it was not to crack up when you mentioned it that day.”
“Shut up, Mr. Night,” I tease. “There’re ten authors using that same name.”
“Forty-two, actually.”
“Okay, forty-two. That’s a lot. I wanted mine to stand out, you know, be different.” We say those last two words in unison.
“How’s that working out for you?” he smirks.
“Well, at least I don’t buy my own books from the bookstore. That seems a bit egotistical,” I smirk back.
“My books are there only because I know the owner. We went to high school together. Anyway, haven’t you ever heard of supporting locally owned businesses?”
“And supporting yourself, too,” I laugh.
He follows me back to my bedroom, getting his ass smacked along the way.
I drop my robe and notice him looking away so I can have privacy, even though he just saw my tits fifteen minutes ago.
“Shy all of a sudden?” I smile.
“You have no idea how often you’re on my mind, and now when I see you in person... Jesus. I’d give anything to fuck you right now. Who wouldn’t? And do you have any idea how good you are on top when you’re in my dreams? You’re my go-to girl.” he grins. “Unfortunately we need to get a move on as soon as possible. I’m a little behind since my guy cancelled at the last minute, and I shouldn’t be thinking with my dick.”
“Fair enough. I’ll bring ‘em back out on the way to catering.”
“Div, please don’t. I don’t want to be stiff for this couple’s fiftieth wedding anniversary.”
We laugh as I finish getting dressed and dab my wrists with perfume, get my wallet, cell, and keys, tossing them hurriedly into a small purse before heading outside into a light rain; another cold spring rain.
The weather on the East Coast can change rather quickly this time of the year. From sunny, sixty degree-days to heavy rains with temperatures in the forties. It’s taken a dip this evening and I wish I had brought a jacket along.
“There’s a blazer behind the seat,” Dan says as he notices my arms crossed and my hands rubbing my forearms to keep warm. I slide into a Kellers’ company blazer that’s far too big for me, but at least warm, and place my hand on his leg while we pull into the parking lot of the local high school. Dan does his usual gentlemen thing of opening my door and helping me out.
“It’s here?” I ask.
“Yeah. We cater to everyone, not just the rich up in snob city. This is a big family and these people have a lot of friends, so the gym’s a great place for their party. Big dance floor, balls out for the kids to shoot hoops, and decent speakers. You sure you’re okay doing this?”
“If you’re here, yep. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
He blushes. Ha! I thought I was the only one with rosy cheeks this evening.
“Fuck, I can’t take this anymore.” He rushes my lips with a heavy breath and puts his hands on my ass. Uh, I love it. A dirty kiss with lots of tongue and a moan. Mmm. And he doesn’t stop, even when another Kellers’ catering van pulls next to us with two employees. They beep and we keep sucking face. Then they get out and whistle, but we keep making out while they take trays from the van and walk inside. It’s drizzling, my hair’s wet, Dan’s erect, and neither of us give a shit. I want this man, now.
“I can’t wait to fuck you,” he whispers and repositions his dick. “Fuck, I hope that goes down soon.” He looks at his pants and shakes his head. “Damn it. Does it show?”
“Umm, I think so,” I grin. Yeah, it definitely shows. “Can you wear an apron like your dad had on that one night?”
“Yeah, I don’t have a choice.” He gives me one more kiss; a quick one, and then shakes his head. “It was worth it. And I don’t care if the employees think I’m whipped. I’m lucky to be with a woman who’s beautiful both inside and out, and if I want to give a passionate kiss to her in a high school parking lot, I’m gonna do it. So, you ready?”
I nod, still dazed by his fiery performance.
Dan gives me the details of my responsibilities for the evening while we’re carrying trays of food inside. As he puts it, I have the most important role of anyone.
I’m the water woman for the night - making sure the glasses stay full. And I find out quickly that people drink a lot at these celebrations, especially one mean-spirited nine-year-old girl. Yo
u’d think a child would be a peaceful and loving soul. Nope. Not this little beast. She tosses her water in the air then pours it over her plate of food. She cries that her dress is uncomfortable, doesn’t like this thing or that thing, and calls her grandparents a-holes.
And I’m glad I came, because now I know I’m not ready to have a kid. Not yet.
I keep an eye on Dan. He’s hiding his fatigue, staying in total control throughout the evening while overseeing the employees and lending a hand when necessary. At ten o’clock, after four hours of work, he tells the crew to start packing up. It went by so quickly, considering all I could think about was sex. I mean, come on, who wouldn’t be daydreaming for hours about screwing after our dry hump in the parking lot. I can’t wait to be naked and sweaty with him.
Dan gives his employees instructions for clean up, sets a tray down, takes my hand, and pulls me outside into the rain. We end up behind the catering van for another holy fuck kiss. Long, hard, and deep, with the rain dusting our bodies.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says, placing my hand over his erection as our faces drip in the rain. “Ten days is a long time to go without fucking the woman I’m crazy about, especially considering we’ve only had one intimate night together. Let’s get the hell out of here so you can show me your tits.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
My hand glides over his pants and I grip his dick, hard.
“Don’t,” he moans. “I’ll fuck you right here, in the back of this van if you don’t stop.”
I look into his eyes and dare him.
Our kisses become heavier and our breathing turns into the sounds of a stormy wind.
He pulls the back doors open and we both laugh realizing that the van’s full of empty trays, linens, and a bunch of crap - no room for two excited lovers who can’t keep their hands off one another.
“Get in the front of the van,” he demands and races to the driver’s side.
I feel young and alive, ready to fuck this man. And I will be on top this time, like his fantasy from earlier.
“Careful, hurry up, go slow, are we there yet?”
