by Kacey Shea
“In the jungle! The mighty jungle! The lion sleeps tonight!” Bang bang bang. “Kate! Katie! My Love! My jungle love! You sexy bitch! Wake up! Your lion awaits!”
“What the fuck?” Kate hops off my lap and we both move to the front door to peek out the window.
“It’s Trent.” She reaches to unlock the door. Hell no. I slam my hand against the door to keep it from opening and pin her with a hard glare.
“No. He’s not coming in here.” She sighs and rolls her eyes.
“Jon. Move your hand from the door right now.”
“Kate! I know you’re in there! Open the door.” More banging. I can feel the tremors from where my hand stays firmly planted on the wooden panel. “You are the wind beneath my wings! I can fly higher than an—Shit! Open the door Kate!”
“He’s going to wake the entire complex. Move.” She shoves me out of the way and I let her. I’m in shock that after everything tonight she’s going to pick him. I never stood a chance. The door swings open and a very intoxicated Trent sways before us, gripping the doorway for support.
“Trent. What are you doing here?” Kate offers a polite smile.
“Babe! I’m so sorry, chick. I shouldn’t have left tonight. I took a cab. I couldn’t sleep without knowing you were okay, that I didn’t blow my chance.” His words slur together.
“Trent. It’s okay. We can talk tomorrow. Just get some sleep.” Her voice is calm, direct.
“Oh, thank God.” He staggers inside wrapping Kate in an embrace, almost knocking her over. I cross my arms across my chest. She doesn’t want me, fine. But I’m not going to walk away from this without a fight. He releases her, a loopy grin as he staggers backward.
“Trent. Do you have anyone I can call to come get you?” She’s assertive and I hold on to the hope she’s starting to realize this guy’s a complete asshat.
“No! Babe! I wanted to see you. Marquee! We played the fucking Marquee tonight and we killed it, Kate. Fucking killed it.” He sways and staggers.
“Maybe you should sit down?” she offers, and he nods. “Yeah, good idea. This room keeps moving.” He practically stumbles onto the couch and sprawls out, head resting back against the cushion as he studies the spinning fan.
“Whoa. Trippy.” I take Trent’s sudden fascination with our cooling device to grab Kate’s arm and drag her into the kitchen.
“Kate, he needs to leave. Now,” I bark.
“Jon, I can’t just throw him out. Look at him.” We turn our heads to see Trent attempting to follow the spinning blades with his eyes. He chuckles every few spins with the amusement it’s providing.
“Now. I don’t want him here.”
“Jon, don’t do this. He just needs somewhere to sleep this off. I can’t throw him in a cab like this. I don’t even know where he lives.” Her admission catches me off guard. She hasn’t slept with Trent?
“You don’t? Wait! I thought—You haven’t slept with him?” Her eyes narrow and her lips pinch together.
“What the fuck, Jon? Do you really think I’m so easy? A slut? After everything I’ve given you. Shared with you. I can’t believe you still see me that way.” Anger burns from her eyes.
“Kate. I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to do here.”
“Babe. I don’t think immabe getting Mr. Trent up tonight,” Dumbass interjects from the couch.
“That’s okay, Trent. Let me get you a drink,” Kate answers evenly before turning to retrieve a glass. Really, the man’s had enough.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Trent’s hammered, I doubt he needs another drink.
“Water. Water, Jon! You must think I’m stupid, too. I think you should go to bed. I need to take care of Trent.” Her voice is low and harsh.
“Kate. I don’t want to leave things like this between us.” I run my hands through my hair and blow out a breath. This is all wrong. Why can’t I get things right? Stupid rock-boy-pain-in-my-ass. “I always fuck up what I’m trying to say when I’m with you!”
“So now that’s my fault too? Look, I’m really tired, Jon. This night hasn’t been anything like I expected.” She ignores me to fill the glass.
“Fine. Okay. But we are not through here. I mean it, Kate. Tonight didn’t go how I wanted, either. We need to talk. And if you need any help with that—” I point to where Trent’s head bobs weakly, trying to hold onto consciousness. “—just yell for me.”
I stomp back to my room. I try to ignore the jealous anger that flares when I hear her talking softly with Trent. She’s taking care of him. Fuck! I slam the door, turn and hit the damn thing with all my might. Crunch. I pull my hand back and the broken wood scrapes my skin. A palm size hole remains in the door.
Blood trickles from the gash but I don’t feel pain. I squeeze my eyes shut as my heart hammers in my chest, filling my ears and stealing my breath. Will’s face flashes into my vision and my eyes snap open. I can’t breathe. I almost don’t see the room, everything’s blurry.
Dropping to the floor, I do the first thing I think of. Pushups. Counting as I go, my ears ring. Somewhere after fifty reps my muscles burn, a fire pulsing pain, but I can breathe again. My heartbeat settles back to a rhythmic pace. I keep going. I don’t know how much time passes as I continue up and off the floor, but after one-fifty I feel half human again. Not so angry. And tired. So fucking tired. I climb onto my bed, sweat and all, and close my eyes. I finally succumb to sleep.
“NICE REDECORATING.” JON GRUNTS AND makes his way to the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee. “Maybe you can add handyman to your resume?” Peering over Jon’s shoulder, I raise my brows at the hole in the door and take a sip from my mug.
“I didn’t mean to do that,” he grinds with his jaw clenched.
“No? I thought fist punching doors was all the rage these days.” I bat my lashes and meet his hard gaze.
Walls are up, carefully reconstructed so he can’t see the thoughts racing through my mind. It was a mistake to sleep with him last night. I gave him so much. He took so willingly. Now I don’t know if I can move past this. Every time we’re together I give him a little more of myself. He takes it, unknowingly smashing what’s there and then hands it back with his assumptions and cutting words.
“Kate, can we talk?” I shrug.
“I don’t really have anything to say to you.” I keep my voice light and casual, as though we’re discussing the weather. His shoulders tense and he blows out an exaggerated breath.
“Yeah, well I have things to say to you. To ask you. I don’t like how we left things last night.” He looks around, examining the living space. “Where’s Trent?”
Flush. Trent emerges from the bathroom and trudges his way down the hall, the most subdued I’ve ever seen him. He was easy last night, passing out on the couch and still snoring loudly when I emerged from my room twenty minutes ago for post-yoga coffee. He rubs his eyes and pushes his hair back, tucking it behind his ears.
“Hey, bro.” He nods at a scowling Jon. If looks could kill. “Kate, can we talk?” He’s apologetic, and I soften. Trent’s easy. Doesn’t twist me so tight I can’t breathe. I’ll deal with him first.
“Sure.” I smile and nod to the pot. “Want coffee?”
“Thanks, babe.”
“I’m going for a run,” Jon barks, and Trent cringes at the volume. I ignore them both, and search the cupboards for a to-go cup.
I feel Jon’s presence closing in and busy myself with filling another mug.
“We’ll talk.” He hisses in my ear. “When I get back, he’s gone.” He doesn’t wait for my answer, but retreats. The door slams seconds later. I slide a mug across the counter to where Trent slumps on a barstool.
“Tell me I didn’t fuck us up before we even started.” He meets my eyes over his cup. “I’m sorry, Kate. I shouldn’t have shown up here wasted last night.”
“It’s okay, Trent.”
“No, it’s not okay.” He winces and rubs his temples. “You are fucking brilliant and beau
tiful and way too good for me, I know that, okay. I’d like a chance to take you on a proper date.”
Reading my indecision, he adds, “You don’t have to give me an answer. Just think it over?”
I don’t know what to do. I don’t really know how I feel about Trent. There’s definite chemistry between us, but outside of that we haven’t had an opportunity to explore. His intoxicated serenade of last night doesn’t weigh in his favor. Maybe I should give him a shot. Just a chance to see if there could be something more between us.
“Okay. I’ll think about it.” His eyes light up and his mouth pulls to a heart stopping smile. He’s really beautiful.
“Great. That’s awesome.” A beep sounds from the counter and he glances down at his phone.
“That’s my ride.” He rises to his full height and comes around the counter to wrap me in a hug. “Thanks for taking care of me last night. I’ll talk to you soon.”
A peck on the top of my head and he backs away, grinning until he’s at the door. “You’ll say yes. You have to say yes. Who turns down this?” He laughs as he motions down his body with his long arms. And he’s back. That’s the man I’ve been working with these past two weeks. Confident, funny, and cocky as hell.
“Good-bye, Trent!” I shout. I can’t resist the smile that tugs my lips.
“Later, Kate” He’s out the door. Fortified with a deep breath, I savor my last few minutes of peace before I have to deal with man trouble number two. Really, when did my life become so complex? A month ago my biggest worry was finding my next conquest—to photograph, maybe fool around with—and now I have two extremely different men consuming my thoughts. I don’t like it.
Jon wants to talk. The thought stresses me and pulls at my nerves. Waiting for him to return is going to drive me crazy. I pad down the hall, grab my mat and band, and head back to the living room. I drop the foam to the floor. The spongy feel rolls over the pads of my fingertips. This is where I find peace. Deep breath in, I begin my practice, and banish all thoughts of sexy men from my mind.
“I prefer the no pants version.”
My eyes snap open at the deep, rough voice. I didn’t even hear him open the door. He saunters to the kitchen and I turn to watch his shirtless form reach inside the fridge. His muscles tighten and release with each movement. He shuts the door, twists a cap off a bottle and tips it, gulping the cool water. My own mouth feels dry.
“I’m sure you do.” I crawl off my mat and methodically roll it back in place.
“You ready to have that talk now?” He stands over me. I scramble to stand to my full height and strut to the kitchen to pour my own glass from the sink. I close my eyes and inhale. Whether I want to or not, we’re having this conversation. I might as well rip off the Band-Aid.
I lean against the counter. “Fine. Talk.”
“I obviously put my foot in my mouth last night.” Understatement of the year. I keep my features in place, feign boredom. He looks around the room. Good. Squirm a little. Feel uncomfortable. Not so fun, is it, big guy?
“Whatever are you referring to?” I sass.
“Fuck!” I jump at his harsh reply. “Don’t do this Kate. Don’t play this off and pretend everything’s fine when we both know it’s not.”
“What do you want me to say, Jon? Oh, it’s cool we keep ending up in bed together and you’ve assumed I’m a slut the entire time. No, please, let me apologize and make you feel better.” I roll my eyes.
“Damn it, you know that’s not what I want.” His laborious breaths spur my anger. So now he wants to share feelings and have a rational conversation. I don’t feel forgiving at the moment. I practically shout my reply.
“What is it you want, Jon? Because I’m going to tell you right now, I’m not sure I can get past this. You really thought I was fucking Trent and I’d still hook up with you? Does that make you feel like a strong, powerful man? Was the chase good for you?”
“No. That’s not it. Stop putting words in my mouth. I want to know why. Why do you let everyone assume you hook up with tons of guys? Why would that be okay?” He’s shouting in my face.
“Because it’s easier than the truth!” I scream, and instantly wish I could reel the words back in my mouth. Jon closes the space between us and roughly grabs my arms.
“And what’s that, Kate? What’s the truth? Why the front?” I push at his chest. I need him outside my personal space, but the touch of skin on skin burns. I drop my hands and look away, my focus on the salt and pepper shakers across the counter.
“Look at me.” He grips my chin in his fingers and forces our eyes to meet. “Tell me,” he whispers. But I can’t.
“I don’t want to tell you. You haven’t earned it.” In defeat, I whisper the only truth I’m able to share. “Please let me go.” He steps back, drops his hands. A frown twists his features.
Pushing off the counter, I grab my mat. I don’t want to prolong the awkward silence.
“Kate.” He calls from the kitchen. My steps falter and I pause, but I don’t turn to face him. “Where’s your car?” Not what I’m expecting, but it’s a question I can answer with ease.
“Still in the shop. I had to give back the rental.”
“When do you get your car back?”
“Friday.”
“I’ll drive you to work this week.” I turn to meet his intense, sharp glare.
“Jon. You don’t need to do that. I’ve been taking the bus—”
“No. I’ll drive you. At least give me that.” He stalks towards me and I cower, not from fear of him, but of myself and how easily he steals my resolve. I breathe a sigh of relief when he brushes by and heads toward the shower.
I need to get out of here, at least for the afternoon. I wish I could talk to Evie, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring her into this. A small part of me wonders if she’ll have my back or side with Jon. She’s friends with us both. It’s not fair to force the choice, so I don’t call her.
I pad back to my room. The mat drops by the bed and I flop onto the cushiony down comforter and reach for the phone. I scroll through my endless contacts. I could call any of them and they’d meet me for happy hour. But in this long list of friends there’s no one I can call to talk this out with. No one I trust. And that’s the kicker. It’s me. I’m broken. I can’t find it in myself to open up fully and let someone in.
There’s one contact I do trust. One I haven’t used for years, and as my finger hovers over the name I almost don’t tap the screen. No. I need this. I tap and hold the speaker to my ear. This is best. I take a deep breath before a familiar voice sounds across the line. “Yeah, this is Kate Bryant. Do you have time to meet?” I pop off the bed and slide into a pair of sandals. I grab my bag on the way out, and pause at the bathroom door. The water’s still running. Good. I’ll make my escape before I have to concoct some lame excuse.
“WHAT’S GOT YOUR PANTIES IN a twist, Beltran? Or should I ask who?”
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Alex.” I cradle my phone between my shoulder and ear and check off my list of supplies as I pack them into the large duffle. I try giving this call more attention. Her voice mocks though the line.
“So enlighten me, Sergeant.” I roll my eyes and huff a frustrated breath. I hate that she can read me hundreds of miles away within minutes of our call.
“I don’t have time for feelings and shit right now. I’ve got a full night of surveillance, so unless you called for a reason other than busting my balls, maybe you spit it out before I hang up.”
“Well, if you’re going to be an asshole I’ll just catch you another—”
“I’m sorry. I’m being a dick. It’s not your fault.”
“What’s going on?”
“Nada. Just one shitty week followed by another shitty weekend.” Liar. There were moments this past weekend that made me feel more pleasure, more affection, and more pride than I’ve felt since I can remember. But all that’s gone to shit. Kate’s been a fucking
ice queen, treating me like the chauffer I volunteered to be. I glance at my watch. I’ll need to leave in a few minutes to pick her up from work.
“What’s going on with you? Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” Alex sighs, and silence fills the line. Something’s up. She doesn’t call to shoot the shit.
“What is it?”
“I just—I don’t know. It’s dumb and girly and needy. And you know I don’t do those well.” I chuckle as I zip the duffle and head out the door.
“Yeah, it’s okay that you’re a woman, Alex. I won’t hold it against you.”
“I just needed to hear your voice. To make sure you’re okay. Ever since Will—” I reach my truck, toss in the bag. I close my eyes and Will’s smiling face flashes before me. Silence stretches. I know. I know what she means because he hasn’t left my mind, either. I start my truck and crank the AC.
“See, told you. Girly. Needy.”
“Nah, stop. I miss him too. So fucking much.” I choke out the words, barely able as a wave of sadness crashes down. The feeling is almost suffocating.
“I started seeing someone.”
“Like dating? Good for you.” Her laughter fills my ears.
“No, dumbass. Like a psychiatrist. To work through my grief.” We don’t usually talk feelings. Her bluntness makes me uncomfortable.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. It’s really helping, Jon.”
“I’m happy for you. That’s good.”
“So…” she draws out. I don’t have time for guessing games.
“Just spit it out, Private.”
“I think you should start seeing a counselor too.”
“Hmph.”
“Yeah. And I know you really hate being told what to do, but sometimes when you love someone you have to call them out. So here’s me, calling you out, saying you need to talk to someone. I swear to God if you don’t and something happens to you like it did to Will I’m going to resuscitate you just so I can kill you myself.” I laugh at the absurdity of her statement.
