Daring the Wild Sparks

by Alexander, Ren

  He puts his hands on his hips. “Where were you? I’ve been standing here for an hour trying to get your attention. I was forced to have to stare at your chest.”

  I frown and begin agitatedly stacking papers scattered on my desk. “I thought I felt violated.”

  He playfully smirks. “You know you loved it. How was your weekend? I was going to text you, but, well, your phone is older than the damn pyramids. Don’t you have one of those phones that prints out the texts in dot matrix on that paper with the holes?”

  I concentrate at getting the edges of my pile nice and neat. “Shut up.”

  “Grouchy? You didn’t have a good weekend or are you just ragging it?”

  Shooting my eyes up at him, I snap, “No, I’m not ragging it. When I am, you will be the first to know.” Right after I tell my terrified boyfriend, so he can throw a party to celebrate my bleeding. I wonder what kind of party favors he’d get for a party like that. Maxi pads and Midol?

  Rod snorts. “Great. I’ll be waiting eagerly for that memo, as will your boyfriend. I’m sure he breathes a sigh of relief every time that crimson tide rolls around. Speaking of Wilder, did you have a smashing time at his parents’ house?”

  I set the stack of papers down and focus on straightening up the rest of my clean desk. “It was fine.”

  Rod curiously watches me as I reorganize my paper clips. “Hadders, what’s wrong? You’re not your usual effervescent and witty self. What? Did Wilder’s mom catch you two screwing in his old room?” No, but everyone knew what we were doing in there.

  I sigh. “No, Rod.”

  “The sofa?”

  “Rod.”

  “The shower?”

  “Rod, no! Nothing is wrong!” I drop the paper clips and move on to sorting my mail. “How was your weekend? Did you go see Eden?”

  He sits on the edge of my desk, crossing his arms over his chest and his ankles out in front of him. “I did. She was surprised. We mostly sat and watched lame movies on cable and gossiped about people I don’t know.” He smiles and although I’m distracted, I do instantly perceive his marginal twang has returned. “It was great. Oh, then my aunt Amy showed up out of the flipping blue. I haven’t seen her in like 10 years. She just moved back to North Carolina and bought some dive bar that she wants to fix up so there can be dancing and shit like that. She even looks the same after all this time. I remember growing up, her hair was white.” He unconsciously plays with his Smurf tie and says, “She was always trying to teach me weird dances. I think she made up most of them, but shit, she was fun. The bizarre thing is, she’s the one who got me to love dancing, but she definitely marched to her own drummer. Back then, she was always wearing a black trench coat that was two sizes too big and had colorful patches all over it. She also wore these large, black, scuffed patent leather shoes without socks and her shirts were always the button-up kind.” He chuckles and turns to me. “One time, I asked my dad if she was a hobo. What’s more, I asked him in front of Aunt Amy. I got smacked upside the head for that one by my dad and Aunt Amy.”

  I offer a small smile, but a blank stare when I discern he’s done talking. “That’s sounds great.” I straighten out my beige skirt and glance away from Rod since he’s giving me a strange look.

  “I saw Wilder’s dare. Eden and I watched it online at my mom’s. That was…wow. I did not see that coming.”

  I sit back in my chair and cross my legs, anxiously bouncing the one on top. “Me neither. I was so shocked. I still can’t believe he got a tattoo with my name on it.”

  He quickly shakes his head. “No, that’s not what I’m talking about. I can’t believe he took his shirt off in front of the camera.”

  My eyebrows shoot straight up and my leg stops. “He has before for some of his dares.” Too much.

  Rod throws an arm out in exasperation. “Yeah, but this was close up! Shit! Your man is ripped! After having that fucker’s 12-pack take over my computer screen, I had to work out for two hours! And that was no easy thing to do since our gym doesn’t have a branch down there.”

  I argue, “Finn does not have a 12-pack. I don’t even think that’s possible.”

  He waves me off. “Whatever. It’s not my keg.” Rod pats his nonexistent beer gut and I roll my eyes.

  Twisting my ring, I say, “You’re pretty toned, Rod. I’m sure you have a six-pack.”

  He scoffs, “I wish. I can’t do crunches. They make me want to hurl.”

  “Well, maybe that’s because you do them while eating huge, embarrassing sandwiches.”

  “Hey now. I only did that once.”

  “Right. The other time was a pizza.”

  He pointedly glowers at me. “Anyhoo, I ended up running around the block by myself for a fucking hour. At first, I only passed a couple old ladies sitting on their porches. No big thing. Then, the more laps I did, the more old hags there were. They seemed to be popping up everywhere like ticks on a shitzu.” What? He shakes his head, throwing a hand up. “By my sixth lap, they had multiplied and were hooting and hollering at me. Some were whistling, not sure if it was actual whistling or if their oxygen hoses were kinked. I felt like I was in a fucking one-man parade! And some of the things they were shouting would make my truck-driving grandma blush! One of them even threw a pair of underwear at me! What’s worse? They still had a Depends in them!” He picks up a paper clip from my desk and starts flipping it into the air and catching it. “Shockingly after that debacle, I didn’t want to run anymore, so I played one-on-zero basketball. That was depressing.”

  I courteously nod while trying to listen to his story, but I only truly heard bits of it.

  He stops tossing the paper clip and throws it at my chest, snagging my attention. “The tat is real, isn’t it?”

  Picking the stray clip up from my desk, I return it to my clip cup. “You saw the dare.”

  “I know, but I didn’t know if there was some kind of camera trick, movie magic or some shit like that.”

  I fold my hands on my desk and stare at my blue nails. “No. It’s real.”

  While still sitting on the edge of my desk, he leans closer to me and whispers, “Did he let you touch it?”

  I glance up at him. “Yes. Why?”

  “Just wondered.” A wicked smile spreads across his face. “What other places did he let you touch?”

  Dropping my gaze back down to my hands, I mutter, “Shut up, Rod.”

  “Oh! Better yet, how did you thank him?” He laughs and I keep staring at my hands. I’d normally laugh at his usual cheekiness, but I’m not feeling particularly jovial this morning.

  He stops laughing and sits up. “Okay. So what else happened? You seem out of it.”

  “Nothing.”

  “Shut up, Hadders! You can’t be pissed because he got a tattoo with your name on it. Come on! Chicks love that shit! I bet you couldn’t pull his dick out of his pants fast enough after he showed you what he did.” I cock my head at him and purse my lips, hating how he’s right. He sneers, “What? Was your name not big enough for your liking? Was it spelled wrong?”

  I shake my head and heavily sigh. “No, it was perfect.”

  Rod’s eyes harden as he stares me down. “How long are you going to lie about your weekend? Something went down, Hadley.” His joking demeanor has disappeared. Now he’s in Greg mode.

  “It was fine,” I lie as he watches me doubtfully, his cinnamon eyes flaring. His smooth jaw is beginning to twitch like Finn’s does when he’s pissed off. It’s almost like Rod has two sides of him, too. The fun-loving, tactless jackass that we all hate to love is his usual status quo; however, as of lately, he also seems to have a sternly protective aspect to his personality. Why am I only noticing that now in the two and a half years that I’ve known him? And protective of what? I don’t really know. His friends, maybe? His pride? His heterosexuality? Damn it. If Rod can see right through me, then I’m sure everyone else can, too.

  “Finn and I had a couple arguments. No big deal.”

/>   Lifting his chin, he tersely asks, “Who says? Wilder?”

  I meet his biting gaze. “No. Beckett.”

  “What did you fight about?”

  I shrug and wish I had kept lying. “A few things.”

  His voice is suddenly frosty. “Such as?” He quickly gets up from my desk and shuts the door. When he comes back over, he says, “Val isn’t here. She had a last-minute, early breakfast meeting with the partners, plus Amos and Morgan.” That explains his sparkling language at work. He takes a seat in one of the chairs on the other side of my desk, near the window. I swivel my chair to face him and he leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “Talk to me.”

  “Don’t you have work to do?” I grumble as I look away and open a folder to avoid his concerned expression.

  “Yeah. So? That’s never stopped me before from hanging out in here with you.” So true. I would worry if he wasn’t in here several times a day. How does he ever get anything done?

  I flip through papers mindlessly to avoid lying right to his face again, since he’s on to me. “There’s nothing going on.”

  He blows out air between his lips in dissent. “You’re a horrible liar and we all know it.”

  I tentatively glance up to Rod’s eyes digging into me like a backhoe. Backhoe. That’s a funny word.

  How much do I tell him? Moving in with Finn? The baby request? The Pill fight? Our birth control free weekend? His mom’s bombshell? Surprising me at Beth’s? Church? My meltdown? Finn giving me his jacket and ring? My first attempt at a blow job? Our fight last night?

  “Hadley?”

  I instantly snap my attention back to Rod. “What?”

  His hard expression is all-business. “Talk.”

  I sigh. “After I saw his dare, I told Finn I’ll move in with him.”

  Rod’s hard expression immediately melts into an astonished gape. “You did? Why? What changed your mind?”

  “I miss him so much, Rod. Then he got a tattoo for me. I caved.”

  He bows his head, shaking it. “Shit. He definitely plays hardball.”

  “Yeah. I had to give him something in return.”

  Unsmiling, he responds, “Sex, Hadders. That’s all you had to give him. You didn’t have to go and agree to move in with him if that’s not what you want.”

  “I do want it. I just…”

  “Wanted to be married to him.” He nods. “I know. I can’t believe you gave in to him. You went against your principles.” I’m fully aware of that.

  “So did Finn.”

  “What do you mean? How?” he asks suspiciously as he scratches his hair-free jaw.

  Clearing my throat, I anxiously twist my hair in my left hand. “Well, I took your advice. I didn’t hound him about getting married.”

  He drops his hand. “No. I told you to talk to him about getting married, just to take one issue at a time.”

  “I did talk to him, but not about that. I asked him to…” I stop and toy with the hem of my skirt. Do I tell Rod this? Will he laugh at me or call me stupid? He didn’t before. Can I trust him to listen to me like a friend should? He did after the race. In fact, he was a great friend. I had told him personal things that I’ve never even told Morgan.

  Impatiently, he asks, “You asked him to what? Buy you tampons? Remove his tat? Have a threesome? Jump off a bridge without a parachute? What?”

  The words swiftly tumble out of my mouth. “I asked him to get me pregnant.”

  His eyes nearly pop out of his head like one of those stress relief toys. “Shit! You actually asked him that? Did you have to take him to the hospital?”

  My eyebrows tug tightly together in my confusion. “For what?”

  “For the stroke he had!”

  Pulling my lips contritely to the side, I reply, “Almost. We had a big argument.”

  “I take it he said no to a Wilder Jr.?”

  I nod emphatically. “Oh, yeah. He was not into that at all. He even told me that he wants me to go on the Pill.”

  He leans hard against the back of his seat. “He’s against it!”

  “I know. We fought about it again last night. I told him that I won’t go on it.” I cringe and look down at my lap. “He left the apartment while I was in the shower.”

  Rod gasps. “Did he come back?”

  Without looking up, I answer, “I imagine so, but I wasn’t there. I went to my apartment.”

  The coldness returns to his tone. “Have you heard from him?”

  I sigh and lift my gaze up to him. Rod looks pissed again. “No. He’s leaving for Charleston, West Virginia this morning for an assignment. I doubt I’ll hear from him. Maybe he stayed at Ricky’s all night and drank. I have no idea.”

  He slowly crosses his ankle over a knee and shakes his head. “Damn, Hadley. What the hell is his problem? He wants everything on his terms.”

  “I’ve been holding out for marriage, though.”

  Rod angrily scowls. “So? The weird hatred he has for marriage is killing your relationship.”

  “It’s definitely an impediment, but I’m not going to break up with him over it.”

  “What about you wanting to have a baby and he doesn’t? That has to weigh heavily on you.”

  “It does.” I rest my chin on my palm. It’s more the fact that he doesn’t want my baby as much as I want his.

  He sets his foot back on the floor and leans forward again. “Anything else?”

  “His mom and stepdad are getting divorced.”

  Hanging his head, he mutters, “Oh, no. Fucking hell. More ammo for him.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good morning, kids.” We look up as Val walks into my office. “Come on into my office. Both of you guys. Amos had to go see Judge Chancellor, Rod. I’ll fill you in on what he was going to tell you.” Rod and I glance at each other and I follow him around my desk to go into Val’s office.

  He stands outside Val’s door, waiting for me with his hands in his pockets. Before we go in, he tends toward me and whispers, “Amos is really hooking up with Juan.”

  I whisper back, “Will you shut up about him having a boyfriend? He’s not gay!”

  “He is, Hadders!”

  I shove Rod forward and Val takes her seat as she looks up at us. “How was your weekend?”

  Rod replies first, “It was great. I learned a few things.”

  Widening her eyes, Val mutters, “I’m afraid to ask.”

  Taking a seat and adjusting his tie, he shrugs. “You probably should be.”

  She raises an incredulous eyebrow at him before turning to me. “Babe, how was yours?”

  I force a smile just like my boyfriend does. See. I learned something too. “Great.”

  She grins. “Did you give Finn a gift?”

  “I gave him a necklace. He loved it.”

  Rod tilts his head, wiggling his eyebrows at me suggestively. “You did? Was it a heart-shaped locket? Did he give you a pearl necklace in return?” I elbow his arm and he covers his mouth with his hands and laughs. Thank God, Val doesn’t seem to catch on.

  Ignoring Rod’s increasing laughter, I ask, “How was your weekend, Val?”

  She claps her hands together. “It was spectacular! Ali has a boyfriend! His name is Wade and he’s choreographer!”

  Rod’s incessant, growing laughter is punctuated by a sharp snort. “So her boyfriend is gay?” He resumes laughing, only now louder and with even more snorts.

  Val rolls her eyes at him. “Rod, anyone can be a choreographer!”

  Gasping for air, he wheezes, “Not that! His name is Wade.” He regains his composure only long enough to manage, “That screams, ‘I kiss boys!’”

  I ask, “And Rod doesn’t?”

  His laughter immediately ceases, his face stone serious, as if we shut off a valve. He flings his hands into the air. “That’s not even my real first name, people!”

  Mischievously, I stroke his arm and purr, “Yes. Gregory is so manly.” He testily yanks his arm from me, fo
rcing me to giggle.

  Val continues, “Ali brought Wade with her. He’s very handsome, nice and—”

  Rod blurts, “Homosexual.”

  Exasperated, Val protests, “No! He’s dating my daughter, Gregory.”

  Rod squawks, “He’s closeted! I guarantee you he’ll be dumping Ali for one of your sons!”

  I turn to him. “Aren’t you the one who wrote a fan letter to Betty White asking her to be your grandma?”

  He whips his head to me and frowns. “Damn it, Hadders! How does that make me gay? I was eight years-old! Can’t you keep a secret anyway?”

  Val and I laugh, staring at Rod in disbelief, while he scowls back and forth at us, moping like that eight-year-old.

  “Good morning, guys!” Morgan greets us, walking into Val’s office. Holding onto a coffee mug, she drags a chair over and takes a seat next to me.

  “Oh! My dream!” Val exclaims, dropping a folder down onto her desk. She raises an eyebrow, while regarding Morgan and me more closely, pointing an accusing finger at us. “I dreamed about fish last night!”

  Rod hangs his head over the back of his chair and pleads, “Please say that isn’t code for something sexual.”

  Val regards Rod staring up at the ceiling. “No, Rod. It’s folklore. Whenever a woman dreams about fish, either she’s pregnant or someone she knows is.”

  He speedily rocks his head back down. “Holy crap, Val! You’re having a baby?”

  Val’s mouth slackens, as do Morgan’s and mine. Val then shakes her head incredulously. “Rod, sweet pea, I’m practically 60 years-old! Do you think it’s me having a baby?”

  Straightening his tie, he retorts, “Well, it’s definitely not Ali if she’s dating Wade.”

  I furtively glance at Morgan. She hasn’t told anyone in the office yet.

  Grinning devilishly, Val shifts and crosses her arms. “I’m always right about this. I haven’t had a fish dream yet and someone I know not be pregnant.” She suspiciously assesses Morgan and then me. “So, which one of you is it?”

  “Frick, don’t look at me,” Rod insists. I want to laugh at his insanity, but I also have to concentrate on not giving Morgan away. Everyone is right. I am a horrible, horrible liar.