“That’s the only reason I showed up.” Victor brightened visibly at the mention of his prospective job, and I softened. Sometimes I needed a reminder that he had no reason to change if I kept holding the past against him. Watching him smile shyly at the mention of a real job was a good reminder, and it calmed the part of me that wanted to reject the reality of him standing in front of me. “Caleb is a nice dude. His man too. They introduced me to the other peeps who work for their company, because apparently he’s been talking to his father about me doing security at their office.”
“I can’t believe this is necessary.” The memory of Meredith’s bruises, of the entire story, chilled me to the bone. It hadn’t just been a random robbery—someone had hunted her down. The two guys were apparently sitting in Rikers, and would be for a while after pleading guilty for various crimes, but like Caleb said—who knew who else was out there? It awed me that Caleb exercising his right to release an employee for spewing hate speech on social media had resulted in the exact audience of that hate speech . . . teaming up against them. “That guy Stavros is Mere’s guard, right?”
“Yuh. And T-Bone and one of the more senior dudes, Chester, keep an eye on Chris, Aiden, and Jace.”
“Caleb and Oli?”
Victor shrugged. “Some dude named Sean.”
“What about Clive?”
“The slick-looking lawyer cat? I dunno. Oli mentioned he’d taken off early and seemed pretty mad about it.”
I was willing to bet he’d dipped after a run-in with Michael and Nunzio. Three years later, and the guy still wasn’t over Michael. It was exactly the kind of life-ruining heartbreak I wanted to avoid. Well, the exact kind of emotional dependency. As put together as Clive looked, the man was broken after losing the man he’d loved. Probably still loved. That would never be me.
“Thanks for the update, Vic. Turns out you’re pretty good for gossip.”
He snorted. “See you later.”
I kissed him on the cheek, and he surprised me by pulling me into a tight bear hug. My throat closed up, and I tensed against him. The last time we’d embraced had been before the gang shit and the fighting and the trouble he’d brought to our door. It’d been during the days when we’d secretly lived alone in our crummy basement apartment, after both our parents had left and never returned. Even the night at the airport, when I’d shipped him off to Chicago, he’d been hard and cold and empty as he turned away with ghosts in his eyes and the world on his shoulders. A shudder went through me at the memory of that awful night, and Victor let me go.
Hugging him back would have been the right thing to do. Or I should have at least explained that it wasn’t him who had repulsed me. I was put off by memories of our awful parents and how they’d torn each other apart until drugs had been more important than their own kids. I was disgusted by their relationship because it had been a fucking crime against us both. But I couldn’t speak, so I watched him quickly head for the staircase instead of taking the elevator.
This night was not going as planned.
A security guard I didn’t recognize allowed me into the penthouse, and I made a beeline for the bar that had been set up in the dining room. It was Caleb and Oli’s engagement party, which meant I needed to find them, but first I really needed alcohol. Thankfully, I found Tonya and Raymond camped out in the corner, trying their best to blend into the shadows in the dim lighting. The sight of them being their normal selves grounded me.
“Nice outfits, friends.” I sat beside Tonya, gesturing at their sneakers and formal jackets over nonformal shirts. “Did you call each other?”
“We’re both just similarly brilliant at fashion,” she deadpanned.
Raymond scoffed. “I did call her to ask what she was wearing, though.”
More of the heaviness left my shoulders. God, I loved them. Of course they’d have the power to act as my personal life vests when I was close to drowning in confusion and stress. Leaning over to Tonya, I rested my head on her shoulder and waved at the bartender.
“Ketel One on the rocks?”
“Sure thing.”
I watched him make the drink, adding a cute little wedge of lime. There was something about his olive complexion, dark eyes, and tall willowy build that reminded me of Charles. I missed our fabulous dancer friend, but he still wasn’t back from his contract on a Carnival cruise ship. Things were off when he wasn’t around, because he was the happy middle ground between my Queens-ness and Mere’s Upper West Side swag. Charles was everywhere and everything. He was also one of the few people I spoke candidly with about my fear of monogamy and putting all my faith in one person. Considering his abusive asshole of a sometimes-boyfriend, Charles always advised me to stick to my guns. He regretted getting in so deep with his boyfriend. Regretted that he had such a hard time walking away.
“So, what’s happening?” Tonya asked knowingly once I had my drink. “Stressed?”
“Somewhat. Work is frustrating me, among other things.”
She nodded, not taking those serious eyes off me. “Where’s your man?”
Oh my fucking God. It never ended.
“He’s not my man.”
“Angel flat left us,” Raymond said. “He’s probably home watching ESPN and memorizing stats for his wack fantasy sports shit.”
“It’s not wack,” I protested. “It’s actually really interesting. He explained it to me one time.”
They both stared at me blandly.
“Shut up.”
Raymond snorted and went back to his beer, but Tonya looked at me closer. Somehow, I knew she could tell something had happened. That there was a ripple in the fabric of my unflappable exterior, and Angel was the cause. Well, part of the cause.
“You two doing okay?” she asked shrewdly. “I heard he was at your house.”
“Hmm.” I took a slow sip, wincing a little, and set the glass down. “Well, he made me come really hard right before I called my Uber, and then I sent him home with an edict that it was the last time we’d fuck around. For real this time.”
They both gave me the same identical unimpressed face.
“Don’t you two say that shit every third Sunday of the month?” Raymond wondered. “That’s how it seems.”
“I think it’s seasonal,” Tonya said. “Every three months they get mad and stop sleeping together, make everything awkward for the crew for a while, and then fall into bed again.”
“Or fall into my bathroom,” Raymond muttered. “I will never forgive you for desecrating my new sink.”
Glaring at them, I took a bigger sip and slammed it down to the make-shift bar. “Well, I’m so sorry. Not everyone can meet adorable teachers and fall into domestic bliss with actual houses and refinished bathrooms, Raymond. Or . . .” I pointed at Tonya. “Fall for a gorgeous heiress who has spent every day of the past two weeks in your bed instead of at her equally gorgeous mansion.”
“What can I say?” Tonya shrugged. “She prefers Queens to the Upper West.”
Raymond made an impressed noise, as if this somehow made Meredith cool in his book all of a sudden. I rolled my eyes.
“Regardless, her being a perma resident in your bed is why Angel has been at my place so much. He thinks it’s awkward that he can hear how wet she is when you’re—”
“Calm yourself, mamita.” Tonya’s expression had morphed from unimpressed to irritated. “It’s not our fault you two are the most complicated people ever. You don’t need to start talking shit.”
“I know.” I drained the glass and set it down again. “I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated and confused.”
“Confused about what, though?” Raymond pointed the mouth of his beer bottle at me. “Steph, he’s been wanting you for years. You seemed like you finally noticed he’s a piece of ass and returned the sentiment. Why’s it such a big deal for you two to just get together?”
“Because I don’t get together. Never have. Never will.”
“You’ll never . . . get with someone you li
ke? Have sex without cursing each other out because you’re both trying to pretend you’re not sprung?”
Tonya punched Raymond in the shoulder. “Stop being an ass.”
“I’m not.” He rubbed his shoulder. “I’m just saying, I don’t get it. I’m genuinely confused.”
I struggled with how to explain it, but I usually avoided full-on discussions about it. Once you tell someone you’d rather die single than ever depend on another person to keep you happy, or to keep promises, they assume you’re pathetic or defeated. Since I wasn’t either, those pitying comments led to me wanting to punch them in the face. Also, I hated explaining since it would inevitably lead to me using my shit-show of a family as an example. I generally tried to avoid talking about my past at all costs.
Meredith and Charles had been the first people I’d discussed my relationship aversion with in depth, because they were more like me about sex and dating. But even then, I’d loathed going into too much detail. I wasn’t ready to go there with anyone other than my oldest friends. Maybe Jace, because his life had been similar to mine in some ways, but he didn’t seem to want to talk about his background either.
Besides that, now Mere was a card-carrying member of Club Monogamy as well.
“It’s not him,” I said finally. “I mean, we drive each other nuts, but it’s because we both want something neither of us will let the other have.”
“Yeah, you want to fuck him and casually date while being besties, and he wants to carve his name into your ass,” Tonya muttered.
Raymond said nothing, but that was likely because he agreed. Angel being into me had become Angel getting irrationally jealous several times. It was another reason why we’d started fighting. I’d reminded him of what we were and what we weren’t, and he’d gotten pissed and bitter before checking himself. It was a cycle I didn’t know how to break.
Sometimes I wondered whether we could work if we just got out of each other’s way. In my weakest moments, when I missed him so much it hurt, I wished it could work. Even if it wasn’t me. Or who I’d designed myself to be.
There were times when I pretended I trusted other people enough to invest my whole self into a long-term relationship. Those fantasies had even led to me telling my coworkers that I had a vague fiancé after one too many irritating questions about my single status. In this work-fantasy, my fiancé was Angel. I imagined he’d moved into my apartment, that I woke up next to him, watched him fold laundry because he was fucking meticulous, and that we cooked together while the UFC fights played in the background. That we had amazing sex every night. Sometimes in the morning too. That I wasn’t afraid of my feelings for him, and that he trusted me not to disregard his. That we were functional.
“Uh-oh!” Chris’s voice boomed across the quiet room, jerking me out of my pity party. “What’s this?”
I turned on the barstool to see Chris sauntering over to us, looking absolutely adorbs in a dark-purple suit and backward Yankees cap, with his phone in one hand. He set it to record as soon as he slid over to us.
“What’s up, QFindr fam? This is ya boy Chris Nasty Mendez doing the rounds at the Stone-Buckley engagement party, and I’ve just found my whole squad chilling in the cut, acting like they don’t know nobody.”
“Chris, what the fuck are you doing?” Raymond asked wearily.
“Vlogging. Obviously. As QFindr’s newest, and breeziest, IT master, I’ve assigned myself the role of chronicling all-important QF events. But anyway, let me introduce the faces of last summer’s QF promo campaign.” Chris aimed the camera at me. “This is my girl Stephanie, looking quite entrancing in some Versace—”
“Chris, this is from Express.”
He snorted. “Well, all right, you guys see me out here trying to elevate my homie, and she wants to stay at the mall, but it’s cool. Good to be true to yourself.”
I covered my face with my hand to muffle a laugh as he turned the camera to Tonya.
“And here we have Sergeant Maldonado, looking sharp in some fresh retros on—”
Tonya snatched his phone.
“Hey!”
“No recording without my permission.” She stopped the video and handed it back, not looking anything close to apologetic. “I’ve deleted all my social media, so why would I want to be recorded live? I’m being discreet for a reason.”
“Oh good point. My bad, T-Bone.” Chris dragged her into a big hug, grinning when she returned it, and then leaned against the bar. “I’ll resume recording later and make sure to do a thorough examination of Raymond’s man bun.”
“Stay away from my hair, man.”
“Nope. Did you know there’s a giant poster of you with your hair like that in a conference room at QFindr?” Chris guffawed at Raymond’s horrified face. “It’s so true. It’s the best part of every morning meeting. You looking all cute and mad and like a Tumblr search result.”
“I’ll break in and vandalize it,” Raymond said grimly.
“Bad joke considering the threats they’ve had,” I said. “Just deal with being pretty.”
He scowled deeper, and I ruffled his hair.
“I wish things were always this chill.” I signaled the bartender for another drink. “Or that Angel would come be chill with us instead of icing himself out.”
“He’s just a homebody, Steph,” Chris said, always the mediator. “It’s not even the people here, it’s parties in general. Can you remember the last time he went to a party for someone on the block?”
“Well . . . no,” I admitted. “Okay, maybe not everything is about him ignoring me. Us.”
“It’s not. You’re just mad self-absorbed.” Chris winked. “For real, though. If we ever did something really cool, like a group road trip or a trip to the beach or some outdoors shit, he’d be right there planning every detail with T-Bone. Getting all survival man on us. But shit like this?” Chris waved around the penthouse with the professional lighting and staff, and the guests of honor not even anywhere in sight because there were so many people. “Not his scene. And not the way to get him to kick it with us, since we’re forcing our new friends and their fancy-ass lifestyles on him.”
. . . And there it was.
I was worried about not changing myself for anyone, including Angel, and yet I was continuously trying to force him into outings and situations that specifically made him uncomfortable or that he wasn’t interested in.
“Now I feel like an ass,” I muttered. “Maybe I’ll call him.”
“Leave him alone with ESPN or Discovery Channel for the night,” Tonya said. “And go say congratulations to Oli and Caleb before you get drunk.”
“Good point.” I hopped off the barstool and smoothed down my white dress. “How do I look?”
Raymond flashed a thumbs-up without looking, Tonya nodded her approval, and Chris said, “Would look better if you’d said it was Versace.”
I laughed, but it faded as soon as I turned and spotted Angel across the penthouse. I’d just seen him an hour ago, had had his face between my legs an hour ago, and yet the sight of him stopped me in my tracks. He was wearing a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of dark-wash jeans—not exactly formal—but I wanted to drag him into the bathroom by a handful of his dirty-blond hair.
Instead, I smiled and tried to come to terms with the fact that I had it bad.
Just as I spotted Stephanie, Meredith appeared in front of me. I was always cordial to her, because how could I not be? She and Tonya banged the hell out of each other down the hall every night when they weren’t mooning over each other in front of Netflix in the living room. She also always greeted me like a long-lost friend. Kisses on the cheek, a big hug, and a huge smile when I hugged her back.
“You came!”
“Well, how could I not after you laid out an outfit for me?” I asked dryly. “Thanks for the shirt.”
“Tonya picked it out.” Meredith’s voice tended to lower when she said Tonya’s name. I couldn’t tell if that meant T-
Bone’s very name was enough to turn her on, or if it was some effect of new relationship giddiness. I wouldn’t know, considering I’d never had a relationship last longer than a couple of months. Women I spent time with tended to catch on quick that my feelings were . . . elsewhere. “She has good taste.”
“Always has,” I agreed. “Where is she?”
“I think she and Ray are holding down the bar, which is awesome.” Meredith rolled her shoulders, glancing around the thickening crowd. “I have a feeling I’ll need a refuge soon. Playing hostess is tiring. I expected way fewer people. When Oli suggested I invite the whole staff of QFindr, I didn’t think they’d all seriously come.”
“Guess that means they really like your brothers,” I suggested mildly, looking around. “Or they’re just here for the food and booze.”
Meredith snorted out a laugh. “Maybe both.”
Stephanie sidled up to us, eyes locked on me. “Hey.”
“Hi there.” I slid my hands into the pockets of my pants, acting cool. We played the weirdest games, if that was even what this was anymore. The sex came easily. Everything else? Us shuffling our feet like two school kids at a dance when we weren’t pissed at each other. “Where’re the grooms-to-be? I brought them a card.”
Meredith gave me another of those enormous smiles and a half hug. For a second, I saw Stephanie’s face change. A microcentimeter eyebrow raise, dark eyes dropping to Meredith’s grasp on me, and she stood up straighter. I ruffled Mere’s hair like she was my kid sister, she made a horrified sound and latched on to Steph instead, and everyone relaxed.
Weird. Fucking. Games.
Steph had to know Meredith’s interest in me went as far as her interest in Chris—a friend, or something closer to a family member, to people now in her life. And yet Stephanie’s first instinct had been territorial. I could see her checking herself now, squeezing Mere and comparing their similar dresses, snickering about Mere’s dress being Versace, but . . . I’d seen it. And man oh man, if it didn’t pump me the fuck up to know she got those irrational moments of possessiveness too.
Citywide Page 23
