Tragedy and Desire: An Adult Romance

by Locker, Nicole R.

  When we arrived to Miranda’s place, a nice, affluent condo in Uptown, she immediately led me to her bedroom, removing my tie, sucking my lower lip like a goddamned popsicle as she unclasped my buttons one by one.

  I reciprocated, slipping her suit jacket off her shoulders and pulling the camisole beneath it up over her head, exposing her ample, firm breasts. Perla’s face flashed through my thoughts, and I pushed it away once more as I pulled the lacy cups down and grabbed Miranda’s nipple, rolling it between my thumb and index finger before taking the other in my mouth.

  Miranda backed her way to the bed, removing her suit skirt before lying back with her long legs spread open. I climbed on top of her as she wrapped those legs around my waist, kissing her, before rolling her over on top of me.

  I was suddenly imagining it was Perla’s petite little body resting on top of mine in place of Miranda, moving her hands down to unbuckle my belt, unzipping my pants. I saw her pulling them down my legs before settling at my waist, her tongue lapping at my cock that was now raging upright with ferocious need. Her mouth took in my length and her tongue caressed my shaft as she bobbed her head up and down, and I was snapped back into reality, seeing Miranda’s blonde hair instead of Perla’s chocolate brown.

  Despite my dick being sucked on like it held the fucking secret to life, Perla’s face in my mind was like a cold shower. I pulled Miranda up to kiss her, in hopes she wouldn’t notice my dick going soft, but even that began to repulse me.

  I found myself getting up and grabbing my phone, telling Holden to bring the Escalade back around as I pulled my clothes back on. I was ready to leave.

  “Sorry to cut out on you. I’ve got business that needs tending to,” I told her, coldly.

  “Seriously? You’re not even going to get me off first?” Miranda lay on her bed facing me, disbelief and exasperation evident on her face.

  I gave her a look that said I don’t give a shit before walking out, leaving her naked, wanting, and pissed.

  On the drive back to my place, my thoughts began racing. What the fuck was Perla doing to me if I couldn’t even enjoy my sex life anymore? I remembered how responsive her body had been beneath my touch as I had kissed her the night of the charity event. Hell, how responsive her body had been that day in my office with my hands pushing up her thigh. Now I was getting hard again?

  What the fuck was I doing?

  EIGHT

  Shattered

  The clouds rolled in as I got up Thursday morning. It was a slight reprieve from the scorching, July heat, but an ominous overcast further darkened my dreadful mood. It was the second day in a row I had been sulky, and I must have had a fuck off sign on my forehead all day Wednesday, because even Lisette had left me alone. I almost dared to hope today would be the same.

  My chest constricted as I tried to push away the knowledge that tomorrow was the eight-year anniversary of my parents’ death. Even though eight years had passed, sometimes it was still as though my heart was being impaled by a red-hot iron with a dull point.

  I usually wasn’t good company on the days leading up to this anniversary, and through the years I would usually request them off work. This year, being in a brand new job, I didn’t have the luxury, so I went through the day on auto-pilot, hoping no one would cross me or ask too much of me.

  Jada, Uncle Dante, and I had developed a sort of family ritual we did each year. We would visit the cemetery and then have dinner together, sharing our favorite memories. Normally, we would do this the day of, but Uncle Dante had an out-of-town business trip he was leaving out on the following afternoon, so we had agreed to do it tonight instead.

  That evening after work, Uncle Dante picked us up and we drove over to Calvary Cemetery. We laid fresh flowers in a holder between the plots where our parents were buried, and Jada talked to them aloud while Uncle Dante and I hung back and listened silently.

  When it was my turn, I sat on the soft grass facing their headstones, thinking of what I wanted to say, but having a hard time putting it all into words.

  I was falling apart without them, I wanted to say. My life wasn’t at all what I thought it would be. I was lonely. I was in a less-than-ideal job just so I could escape an even lesser-than-ideal job with a dirt-bag who had cheated on me. And bonus, the only prospect of a romantic interest I’ve had recently, I had witnessed two nights ago being felt up by another woman as they barely made it out of the building before dry humping each other.

  No, I didn’t think I would say any of that out loud.

  We drove back into town and stopped at Abacus, where Uncle Dante treated us to a beautiful dinner. The restaurant was classy with a modern ambience of light, muted, and neutral tones. The food itself was a work of art. Jada and I shared a plate to save room for dessert, so we went with the ten ounce beef tenderloin filet while Uncle Dante went with the lamb loin.

  The story-telling commenced when we started on dessert, which was a Pan Seared Hudson Valley Foie Gras “Pecan Pie,” according to the menu. We spent about an hour trading memories back and forth.

  “Remember that time the school closed down for a snow day my sixth-grade year, and we built a giant snowman in the back yard?” Jada reminisced at one point, taking a sip of her Caramel Blend tea.

  “I remember you crying because your gloves were too big and they weren’t keeping your hands warm, so dad rubbed your hands between his and blew hot air on them to warm them up for you,” I added.

  “Then we went inside and mom made us all hot chocolate with extra marshmallows,” Jada said.

  “The real kind, not the little crunchy ones that come in the packet mix.” It was a good memory, and there was something so cathartic about telling these old stories.

  Uncle Dante chimed in. “Did I ever tell you the story about how your parents met?” He held his wine in one hand and circled it around while he waited for our response.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard this one,” I answered. I put my fork down and leaned forward, wanting to hear every last detail.

  “One day, Esther… your mom… had gone out with some friends of hers. She had just broken up with a guy she had really liked. Richard, I think his name was, and she was pretty torn up about him. So that particular night, she had made plans to go on a date with this other guy, Drew. She was going to meet him at the movies, and they were going to see some horror film, so imagine how upset she was when Drew stood her up.”

  Jada and I gasped, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

  “Go on,” Jada urged.

  “So, after she sat through the whole movie by herself, fuming, of course, she met up with her friend, Rachel, at one of those bars that all the college kids hung out in. Rachel had been there with some other friends, and Esther called me to come join them, too. By the time I got there, we had a fairly big group of people gathered, and one of them was Martin.”

  “Daddy!” Jada blurted with a huge smile across her face.

  “Was it love at first sight?” I asked, dreamily.

  “Not even close,” Uncle Dante chuckled. “Martin was obviously smitten with your mom, but she had just about had it with men that night, and she wasn’t giving him the time of day,” he recalled.

  “So what happened next? When did he ask her out?” Jada questioned.

  “Oh, he asked her out that same night, but she turned him down, cold. He kept asking her for weeks before she finally agreed to go out with him. I’ll never forget seeing him follow her around like a lost puppy. But once they started dating, they were inseparable. He proposed to her within about six months. They got married right after they graduated college, and it wasn’t long before Perla came along.” He smiled a teasing smile and pinched my cheek from across the table, causing me to blush.

  It made my heart hurt, but at the same time it felt so comforting to hear and share wonderful stories about my mom and dad.

  Uncle Dante checked his watch and indicated that he needed to get going to pack for his trip, so we all got up to leave. As we m
ade our way to the exit, a woman came in who recognized Uncle Dante and we stopped to talk. She was a beautiful lady, and I guessed she was around the same age our parents would have been.

  “Victoria, I’d like you to meet my nieces, Perla and Jada.” He pointed to each of us as he spoke our names.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, girls. You are both lovely. Are you just getting here, or were you already leaving?” she asked warmly, standing next to me as she addressed the three of us.

  “We actually just finished. Uncle Dante has some packing to do, so we have to leave the party a little early tonight,” Jada answered.

  “Oh, what’s the occasion?” She looked to me as she asked.

  I dropped my eyes to the floor, not sure how to answer, so Uncle Dante spoke up in my place. “Today we’re celebrating the life of Martin and Esther Fae. Tomorrow is the anniversary of our loss,” he said wistfully with a sympathetic expression.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I put my foot in my mouth, didn’t I?” A pained look settled on her features, and she wrapped an arm around me, pulling me in for a side hug as she took Jada’s hand, giving it a compassionate squeeze. She seemed incredibly nice, and it was refreshing to feel such a motherly presence.

  “You’re not dining alone, are you?” asked Uncle Dante, concerned.

  “Oh, no, my son is joining me. He should be here any moment,” she reassured us.

  As if right on cue, the door opened and I couldn’t believe my eyes as Jax walked in. He immediately observed me standing near the doorway, and I could see the reserved surprise in his maddeningly gorgeous face before he looked next to me, spotting Victoria. Seeing them together, I could see their resemblance, and I wondered how I hadn’t realized the connection previously. Mrs. Maddox was just as beautiful as her son.

  I immediately flashed back to Tuesday night when I’d seen him leaving with the busty blonde who had her hands all over him. A jolt of anger shot through me once again, and I tried to avoid looking at him.

  “Mother, good evening,” he said as he walked toward her and kissed her cheek.

  “Girls, this is my son, Jax,” she introduced him, not realizing we were already acquainted.

  Jada spoke up first. “We met the other night at the Prosperity for Kids event. It’s nice to see you again, Jax.” She reached out for a handshake and he reciprocated before extending a hand to Uncle Dante as well.

  His gaze returned to me. His voice, along with his eyes, was softer than when he had spoken to the others. “Perla.” It sent a shiver through me as he reached for my hand.

  I tried to mask my disapproval as I reached my hand out to take his, an obligation of social nicety, and he held it for a little longer than I thought was necessary.

  “I’m just going to wait outside. I’m getting tired, and I have some things I need to prepare before work tomorrow. It was a pleasure meeting you, is it Mrs. Maddox?” Though she had been introduced to us as Victoria, I didn’t feel comfortable calling her by her first name without her permission, nor was it proper etiquette.

  “It was a pleasure meeting you, too, Perla, Jada. I hope you all have a nice evening.” Victoria shook our hands once again and I rushed out before Jax could say anything else.

  I realized it may have been rude, rushing out without telling him goodbye, but I just didn’t have it in me to look him in his blue-green eyes another time. I was already teetering dangerously close to my threshold for what I could tolerate on that particular evening, and I wasn’t about to stick around to see what lies or lines he would try to feed me tonight.

  On the quiet ride home, I was taken back to Monday when I had overheard Jax’s phone conversation in the elevator.

  Yes? … Does she, now? … No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll call her. … No, we’re having dinner this Thursday.

  It was his mother.

  * * *

  The next morning, I awoke to the full sun and shot out of bed. I looked at the time, and realized I must have slept through my alarm. In a rushed frenzy of panic, I began throwing on my work clothes and had to call for an Uber driver to get to work as fast as possible, to only be a half an hour late.

  “Nice of you to finally decide to join us,” Lisette greeted me with a sneer as I entered our office. So much for sneaking in quietly, I thought.

  Once I got settled in to my desk, I tried my best to put on a brave face and power through the day. I attempted to channel Jada’s unrelenting optimism, but it was a struggle to keep having to remember to do so.

  I looked across the hallway to see an empty chair where Amelie should have sat. When my computer booted up, I sent Jerry an instant message.

  Perla: Where is Amelie today?

  Jerry: Called in sick.

  Perla: Again? She’s been sick a lot.

  Jerry: It has to do with her illness.

  Perla: Illness?

  Jerry: Lupus

  Oh, I had no idea, I thought. I felt awful. She had mentioned her mother was sick, but she never said anything about being sick herself. I decided I would try to give her a call later and see if she needed anything.

  I went in to speak with Vandergild to see what he needed me to work on that day, but he wasn’t in his office. When I got back to my desk, I went back and began working on some things he had given me yesterday that still needed finishing.

  I pulled open a filing drawer from my desk where I thought I had placed one of the files I needed. It wasn’t there. When I closed the drawer, I managed to get one of my fingers caught, yelping out in pain, and drawing the attention of everyone nearby.

  “Sorry,” I apologized for the distraction, holding my throbbing finger.

  I went back to searching the papers on my desk for the missing file, but it was nowhere to be found. I got up to check the file room to see if I had placed it back without remembering, but still no luck.

  When I returned to my area, I noticed a delivery guy standing near the empty reception desk. Lisette was nowhere to be found, so I called to the gentleman asking if I could help him.

  He strolled over to me, holding a large envelope addressed to Taylor Morrison. “I’ll need you to sign for this, please.” He held out a clipboard with a signature form on it.

  “Oh, I thought these things were all computerized, now,” I said, realizing that neither of us had a pen for me to sign with.

  “They are, but my machine went down this morning, and I won’t be able to take it in to get it fixed or exchanged for a new one until I finish my route this afternoon,” the man explained.

  “I see. Well, I’ve got a pen right around here on my desk. Let me just grab one,” I told him. I walked around and pulled a pen out of a holder sitting next to the framed photo of Uncle Dante, Jada, and me. As I lifted the pen out, I accidentally hit the frame and it went crashing to the floor. The glass inside it shattered.

  Oh, no, I thought. I picked up the frame, leaving the glass on the floor for the time being, as I sat it on the table between myself and the delivery guy. I saw him eyeing it as I took the clipboard from him and signed my name.

  “That’s a nice photo,” he said as he took the clipboard back.

  “Thanks,” I replied.

  He began turning to leave, then paused as he looked down at my signature. “What did you say your name was, again?”

  “Perla Fae,” I answered. I expected he would need to know for his delivery records if he couldn’t read my handwriting.

  “Thanks, Miss. Have a good day.” At that he was on his way back to the elevator to leave.

  I began to sweep up the broken glass from the floor beneath me, improvising with a manila folder and a piece of paper as my broom and dustpan. I picked up one large shard of broken glass by hand, but as I grabbed it, the sharp edge sliced into the tip of the same finger I had just smashed in my desk drawer earlier.

  It was nearly comical, really, that my morning had been a series of unfortunate events on the one day of the year that I was already as miserable as a person could be. On th
e bright side, I found the file I had been looking for beneath the manila folder serving as a makeshift dustpan.

  After running some soap and water over my finger in the restroom, I returned to my desk in time to see Vandergild coming in.

  “Perla, I need that affidavit on the Shores case.” He hovered over my desk, as though he expected it to be done and ready for him, but this had been the first I had heard of it.

  “The Shores affidavit, sir?” I looked up at him, unsure if I had missed something or if he had forgotten to tell me he needed it, but knowing it would be my mistake either way.

  “Yes, I need it now. I’ve got to have it filed today before I leave for a conference this afternoon, and we’re about to have the Sullivan meeting,” he explained. His hands waved back and forth indicating his impatience.

  “I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t realize you needed it. Would it be possible for me to have a few minutes to see what I can do?” I asked, mortified once again at the appearance of incompetency.

  Lisette materialized out of nowhere as she piped in, “Yes she did. I told her first thing this morning when she finally got here that you needed this before the Sullivan meeting today, just like you asked, Mr. Vandergild.”

  She pushed a folder aside on my desk, somehow producing a piece of paper as further evidence. “See, here’s the note you left that I gave her, right here.”

  I could feel my face getting hot as I began fuming. Lisette had gone out of her way to make my life miserable before, but this was a whole new level of bullshit. I could tell Mr. Vandergild was not happy with me, and arguing would have only made things worse. There was only one thing I could do.

  “I’m so sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.” It took every drop of restraint inside me to hold back my tears.