These Days Series: After Tuesday | Forgotten Yesterday | Deciding Tomorrow

by Renee Ericson

  “You’re up, Mara,” Kenzie says from the other side of the pool table.

  “Okay,” she half-shouts over her shoulder.

  “I’m going to get a drink,” Brent announces. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Sure,” I say. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

  “How about you?” Brent asks Mara and Kenzie as they join us. “Either of you need a refill?”

  “I can get it,” Mara says, acknowledging her almost empty glass.

  “On me,” Brent insists. “I got it.”

  “All right, I’ll let you buy me a drink.”

  Mara conveys to Brent what she and Kenzie are drinking, and then he heads to the bar to place our order, leaving just us girls.

  “So, Rubes,” Mara says from the end of the table, lining up her shot, “what’s new with you?”

  Kenzie coyly lifts her brows. She knows Mara well, and so do I.

  “What are you really asking me, Mar?” I say. “About the weather, school, work, or whether or not I’ve gotten a good pounding lately from the guy who’s buying our drinks?”

  She takes the shot and then rests her stick on the floor, leaning with sassy posturing. We have a silent standoff, her formulating her reply and me waiting for it. Mara shakes her head and lets out a cackle, taking a few steps to line up her next shot.

  “Nothing to say, huh?” I taunt.

  “Shit,” Kenzie quietly says to me. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her speechless before.”

  “I can hear you,” Mara states, sliding the pool stick back and forth between her fingers. She taps the white cue ball and knocks the last of the solids into a side pocket. “And if you must know, I was just curious about how you’re doing, but it’s good to know you’ve been getting laid—even though that’s a visual I was hoping to avoid.”

  “Oh, Mar.” I laugh. “You’re so full of shit.”

  She bends at the waist, lining up what will likely be her final shot. “This is true. There has never been a truer statement than that. I’m full of shit, all the way up to my eyebrows.” She takes the shot, sinking the black eight ball and winning the game. Then, she straightens to face Kenzie and me.

  Brent approaches her with two beers in his hand. “Here you go,” he says, handing a beer into Mara’s hand. Then, he gives the other one to Kenzie. “I’ll be right back,” he directs his words to me. “Our drinks are still at the bar.”

  Kenzie takes a sip of her beer. “Doubles next?”

  “Sounds good to me,” I say, pushing my sleeves upward.

  “Here you go,” Brent says, appearing almost out of nowhere and handing me my drink.

  We clink our drinks together, Kenzie joining in. Brent raises his glass to Mara, welcoming her in on the toast. She smiles, easily won over by Brent’s humble decorum, and taps her glass with his, mine, and Kenzie’s.

  “It’s good to see you again,” Brent states, charismatic.

  “You, too, Cromwell,” Mara concedes and then sips her beer. “Let’s play. Get a stick, so we can tap some balls.”

  “Yes,” he says, smiling like a fool, “let’s tap some balls.”

  We pair up, Kenzie and Mara versus Brent and me. It’s a silent game for the most part, each person talking only to his or her partner and concentrating on the game. Mara is really good and sinks almost every shot she attempts. Kenzie, on the other hand, isn’t nearly as good, but she’s not bad either. I match Mara the best, hitting almost every shot. It’s a side effect from hanging out with servers and other restaurant staff for the last four years of my life. We tend to play pool a lot after work because many of those establishments are open late, even on weekdays. Brent isn’t too bad either, but it’s apparent that he hasn’t played as much as Mara and me. The teams are evenly matched, making for a tight game.

  Between each of our shots, Brent takes a moment to touch my hand, run a palm down my arm, kiss my cheek, or place his hands on my waist. His affection is obvious and catches Mara’s attention.

  The game is going smoothly, and we’re two shots away from the win. Kenzie misses her shot, and it’s Brent’s turn. All he has to do is sink the green striped ball and then the final eight ball. He lines up the shot for the side pocket and taps the target easily into the intended spot.

  “Good one,” I encourage and then take a sip of my beer.

  “Thanks,” he says, focused on the table, scheming the next shot.

  “I don’t know, Rubes,” Mara says, inching up next to me. “You think he’ll choke under the pressure? This one’s for the win.”

  “I doubt it,” I say, watching Brent bend and line up his shot. “Plus, with an ass like that, I really don’t care.”

  “Did you just make a hot-ass comment?”

  “Did I say that out loud?”

  “Uh…yeah,” she enunciates. “You did.”

  “Well—”

  “But,” she interrupts. “And I don’t mean his butt when I say but, but it is interesting. There’s a certain mystery to it. Looks really firm, like a freaking rock.” She inclines her head toward me. “Is it? I’m curious. Like, can you bounce quarters on it? Or is it hard enough to break glass? Concrete? Brick? It’s certainly not Jell-O. That thing has absolutely no wiggle to it at all.”

  “Mara,” Kenzie chides, “how much have you had to drink?”

  “Apparently enough if I’m philosophizing over a guy’s ass.”

  “Pipe down, ladies,” Brent calmly interjects. “Look if you like but quietly. I’m a piece of art to be observed, not harassed.”

  “Can we touch it?” Mara calls over.

  Brent comes out of his stance, rising to face us. “I’ll tell you what—if I miss the shot you can touch my ass.”

  “Brent,” I gasp.

  “Hey,” he says with sarcasm, “I’m up for a bet.”

  “Go on,” Mara encourages. “And what if you make the shot?”

  “Then, you have to buy us all a round of shots.”

  “Done.”

  “And,” he continues, “you’re on my team for the next round.”

  She hems and haws, making an exaggerated show. We all know she’s kidding around.

  “Fine,” Mara huffs. “Take the shot.”

  Brent approaches us with his arm outstretched. “It’s not official unless we shake on it.”

  “Always one for protocol,” Mara remarks, shaking his hand. “But I hope you choke.”

  Brent releases her hand and backs away.

  “Don’t hold your breath. I’m much better under pressure than I used to be.” He bends over the table. “Oh, and Mara? I forgot to tell you. Your boobs look really good in that shirt.” He winks at me. “Yours, too, Ruby.”

  Mara crosses her arms over her chest, miffed.

  Brent focuses back on the table and takes the shot with a steady hand, seeming to get back into a zone within a split second, as he turns off the playful humor. The white cue banks off the side bumper near the pocket, ricocheting toward the solid black eight ball, and the cue ball hits the eight ball’s side. The black ball spins in the direction of the corner pocket and touches the bumper before dropping in for the win.

  Playfully, I skitter over to his side, and we exchange a high five. Brent holds my hand, lowering it to his chest, and brazenly kisses me on the mouth in front of everyone. His other hand curls behind my lower back, and he dips me across the pool table with our mouths still locked.

  “Nice shot,” I compliment against his lips.

  “Were you worried?” He stands us upright.

  “No, not in the least.” I step away and back toward our claimed table with Brent on my heels.

  “Looks like we’re a team,” Kenzie says to me, racking up the balls on the green felt. “You ready to kick some butt?”

  “I sure am.” I pat Brent’s ass.

  “Sure,” Mara drawls and then sticks out her tongue. “Rub it in. You can touch his ass, and I can’t.”

  “Aw, poor Mara. I guess you’re stuck with me
now,” Brent says, waggling his brows. “And you owe us all a round of shots.”

  “It would appear that I do.” She crosses her arms. “Well played, Cromwell. I hope you keep that up while you’re on my team.”

  “I don’t think you need to worry.”

  “Who’s breaking?” Kenzie asks.

  “You guys can,” Mara states. “I need to put in an order.”

  “Excuse me,” Brent calls to a passing server. “We need a few drinks.”

  “Sure.” The blonde woman in a team jersey uniform tucks the small drink tray under her arm. “What can I get for you guys?”

  “Mara?” Brent says in a presumptuously teasing tone.

  “We need a few shots.” Mara gestures toward Brent. “He wants a blow job.”

  “Don’t they all?” the server says without missing a beat.

  “Tell me about it. Men!” Mara huffs. “So predictable.”

  The blonde smirks. “What else can I get for you?”

  “I need a screaming orgasm.” Mara inclines her head toward me. “You still like those, right, Rubes?”

  “Oh, she does,” Brent interrupts.

  I elbow him in the ribs.

  “Well, she doesn’t seem to complain about them,” Brent adds.

  “I thought so,” Mara says, satisfied. “And I also need two—”

  “Slippery nipples,” Brent interjects, staring right at Mara. “They both like slippery nipples.”

  “Anything else?” the server asks.

  “And another round of beers,” Kenzie adds, handing a stick to me.

  “You got it.” The waitress gets the specific names of our beers and then walks toward the bar.

  “Touché, Cromwell,” Mara says approvingly, giving Brent a friendly shove to his arm. “Slippery nipples. Nice.”

  “It was a hunch.” He shrugs.

  “It was a good one.” She grabs a pool stick. “Looks like you’re on my team. Let’s go kick these girls’ butts.”

  Brent and Mara go to one side of the table, where they begin chatting away like old friends. She’s laughing like a child at whatever he’s saying to her. Kenzie starts the game by breaking the balls and landing us as stripes for the round. She takes a few shots, pocketing two more, but she misses her third. She joins me by the table, waiting for our next turn.

  “Brent seems nice,” Kenzie says, grabbing a pretzel from the bowl on the round wood table. “I was expecting some total asshole from the way Mara was talking about him.”

  “She was just pissed at him.”

  “Yeah, I kind of gathered that. She said whatever happened was a total mess.”

  “It was, but we all make mistakes.” My eyes find Brent’s on the other side of the room. “Things sometimes just happen out of your control, and it’s always worse when it happens to someone you care about.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “You’re up, Rubes,” Mara announces when the balls stop rolling.

  “Thanks.”

  I circle the table, find my target, and take the shot, sinking a ball into a corner pocket. As I move to the end of the table, Brent taps my ass in passing while still in conversation with Mara. I don’t eavesdrop too long, and I barely miss my next shot.

  “Brent,” I call, backing up toward Kenzie, “you’re up.”

  Brent grabs the pool stick and approaches the table, assessing the layout.

  “They seem friendly,” Kenzie states, lifting her chin toward Mara and Brent. “I thought Mara might ride him all night. You know how she is.”

  “I do. Trust me, I do.”

  “Wonder why she isn’t.”

  “Who knows?” I shrug. “They used to be really good friends, too. Did she tell you that?”

  “No, she didn’t mention that at all.”

  “You would think they were brother and sister as much shit as they gave each other.” I pause, thinking back at the memories of them. “She was always my friend first, but she really liked Brent. They used to harass one another all the time.”

  “I can see that.” Kenzie grabs a few more pretzels and crunches one in her mouth. “He really does hand her ass to her, doesn’t he?”

  “Yeah, they were always like that.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “But they were good friends, too. Mara would study with Brent a lot. They had a few classes together.”

  “She said they were in English together.”

  “I think they had four or five classes together, and she and I were roommates, so we all hung out a lot.”

  “Huh. She didn’t say anything about all that.”

  “Eh, you know Mara.”

  “That I do.”

  “You’re up, Kenzie,” Mara states before turning on her heel and joining Brent once again.

  They share a high five, and she makes a funny face in response to whatever Brent said to her. He then turns around, and Mara pokes his ass cheek with her finger.

  “Looks like they are back to being friends,” Kenzie points out, motioning her stick in their direction.

  “It does, doesn’t it? I guess she missed him, too.”

  Twenty-Seven

  It’s near one in the morning when we all decide to call it an evening. We wrap up our final game, and Mara rubs it in that she won the last round. Then, we all exit into the cold evening with a light flurry trickling down from above.

  “Thanks for inviting us,” Brent says to Mara and Kenzie at the edge of the sidewalk. “It was fun.”

  “It was,” Kenzie remarks, slipping on her gloves. “We should do it again sometime.”

  “Sounds good to me,” I reply. Approaching Mara, I open my arms and give her a customary farewell hug. “It was really good to see you. I’ve missed you. We shouldn’t go so long without getting together.”

  “I agree, but I can tell you’ve been a little busy with other things.” She lowers her voice. “I hate to say this, but I’m kind of glad Brent’s back in the picture.”

  “Me, too.”

  “It’s a good thing.”

  “Thanks, Mar.”

  She squeezes me, and then we disengage our embrace. Brent swoops in and picks up Mara in a giant bear hug, lifting her completely off the ground.

  “Cromwell!” Mara shrieks. “Put my ass down.”

  “Good to see you,” he enunciates and then sets her on the pavement. “Don’t be a stranger.” Turning, Brent waves in Kenzie’s direction. “It was nice to meet you, Kenzie.”

  “You, too, Brent,” Kenzie replies, stepping onto the street and raising her arm. “Do you guys want to share a cab?”

  “Nah,” I say, looping my arm around Brent’s. “It’s not too far to my place, so we’re gonna walk.”

  “Okay,” Kenzie says. “You two have a good night.”

  “Night,” Mara adds in unison with Brent and me.

  Brent and I turn left down the road just as a cab pulls up to the girls. Side by side, Brent and I travel along the busy street filled with meandering pedestrians who are still enjoying the late-night fun. Three blocks down, we turn into a residential part of the neighborhood where the streets are quieter and darker. The air is chilly, so we concentrate on our pace to hurry home, walking quickly for the final two blocks to my building.

  Opening the door, the warmth of the alcove immediately takes away some of the chill. We scurry up the steps and into my apartment.

  “It’s cold out there,” I comment, dead-bolting the door and removing my shoes. “Brrr.”

  Brent rubs his hands up and down my arms. “It sure is. Maybe we should have taken a cab.”

  “I’ll remember that for next time.” I unfasten the front closures of my jacket. “Did you have fun tonight?”

  “Yeah, it was good to see Mara again, and Kenzie seems really nice.”

  “She is.” I enter the dressing area to hang my coat, and Brent does the same. “You and Mara seemed to fall back into place pretty quickly.”

  Brent shrugs out of his sweater and unbuckles his belt. “We always did g
et along.”

  “Well, I’m glad you two still do.”

  “Me, too.”

  He slides his belt out of the pant loops and wraps it around my waist, pulling my body flush with his. My palms press against his T-shirt–clad pectoral muscles.

  “You know what I was thinking tonight?” he asks.

  “I hope it wasn’t about Mara’s boobs.”

  He chuckles a little. “They are bigger, aren’t they?”

  “You noticed?”

  “I couldn’t miss them.” The belt around my back tightens, securing me closer to him. “But that’s not what I was thinking about.”

  “Then, what was on your mind?” My fingers massage his chest.

  “You. Me. Everything.” The belt drops to the floor, and Brent’s hands cradle the back of my neck at the hairline. “That nights like tonight are what my life should have been like, what our life should have been like.”

  “It probably would have been.” I blink a few times and slide my hands up his chest before circling them behind his neck. “Maybe it still can be?”

  “I think it can.” His fingers walk up my spine. “I hope it can.”

  Brent searches my face for a second and then softly presses his lips to my own, caressing and sprinkling my mouth with hope for more. It’s a physical statement to reassure what we are right now and what we’ll become beyond our past, making something more than we ever were before.

  The countdown to his departure weighs heavily on my mind. We still have over a week together, but the end is getting close and fast. I’m not ready for him to go.

  “Let’s go to bed,” I suggest, wanting to hold him and to cherish the rest of our time together.

  “Good idea.”

  We finish undressing and crawl into bed. I tuck myself into Brent’s shoulder just as I’ve done every night for the past several weeks. It’s second nature. A small sliver of light dances along Brent’s chest where my hand rests at his heart.

  “You never told me,” I softly say into the silence, my forefinger tracing the inked words on his chest, “about this.” I touch his shoulder where the two gears appear in motion. “Or these.”

  Brent rolls to his side and faces me, creating some space between us, and the new position more clearly reveals the tattoos in question.