After Care

by L. B. Dunbar

  “Get the fuck out here,” Tommy growled, addressing West, who quickly crossed the bedroom, not even glancing in Masie’s direction. He slipped past me as if I’d reach out and punch him, which I wanted to do.

  “Masie, how could you?” I groaned, thinking she did this because I wasn’t present.

  “How is it any different than what you did?” If she struck me, the blow would have felt the same.

  “Easy, girl,” Tommy said behind me, but I turned on him.

  “Get out,” I bit, swiping a hand over my barely-there hair. “What was I thinking? Get out. Please.” I stared at him, then shifted to West, whose head hung while he brushed back his longer bangs.

  “Mrs. Williams….” It was the first time he’d called me by my full name.

  “West, I’m politely asking you. Leave.” My teeth grit with the request.

  “Darlin’, I’m sure it looks—”

  “Out,” I cut him off. My heart was in my throat. I was the pot calling the kettle black, and I hated myself even more for it. I’d given my daughter the impression this behavior was acceptable, appropriate.

  Tommy glared back at me and then gripped West by the nape of his neck. He tugged his charge and shoved him toward the door. I flinched as it slammed behind them.

  Turning to Masie, I saw her horrified face before it hardened. Tears welled in her eyes.

  “How could you embarrass me like that? Nothing happened.” She slammed the bedroom door in my face. My shoulders fell, and I pinched my own eyes, trying to process that my daughter slept with a rock star in my condo. She was only eighteen!

  Crossing to my room, I found Caleb smiling up at me.

  “What’s wrong, beautiful?” he teased, spreading his arms like a child wanting a hug. I ignored him. “What happened?”

  “I just found West in Masie’s bed.”

  Caleb sat up and in mock-surprise shrieked, “What?” A hand came to his chest in an effeminate manner. “How could she?”

  “Caleb,” I warned. “What did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything. Sounds like Masie did.” He wiggled his eyebrows and then noticed the seriousness of my stance.

  “Oh, fine. He called her after you left. I didn’t see the harm. He’s a decent guy. Masie said they were only listening to music, and I believe them. Geez, Mom, chill. Masie isn’t like me.” I found little reassurance in that statement, but knew what my son meant. He shared too much of his manslut escapades, more than a mother should know. Fortunately, my son and daughter were close, and Caleb was protective. He’d never let someone close to Masie if he thought he’d hurt her.

  “How could you let him in here when I wasn’t home?”

  “Uh, Mom. Eighteen,” he said, pointing to Masie’s door. “Twenty-two.” He pointed to himself. “Think we can handle being alone.”

  Frustrated, I exhaled.

  “I’m going to shower,” I snapped, heading for the master suite bathroom. When I finished, Masie still had the door to her room closed, and Caleb was in the other bathroom showering.

  The day looked like it would remain overcast, matching my mood, and I decided retail therapy was in order. I needed to step away from all my thoughts and deeds.

  I knocked on the bathroom door. “Caleb, I’m going shopping.”

  “Kay,” he shouted back.

  Grabbing my bag, and slipping into flip-flops, I headed for the parking lot. I wore shorts and a T-shirt for easy access to try on clothes. My credit card was suddenly burning a hole in my wallet. When I stepped out of the stairwell, I found West pacing near our rental car—a Jeep Wrangler my kids demanded I rent.

  “West,” I said, surprised to find him walking to and fro, typing on his phone. His longer bangs were a mess, parting his hair in the middle with strands blowing in the low breeze.

  “Mrs. Williams,” he addressed me formally again. “Nothing happened. I swear on my life. On my mother’s life. I’m so sorry. I know what it looked like…” His voice trailed off. Something stabbed me in the chest, reminding me he was only twenty-two. His plea seemed sincere.

  “How did you get into my condo?” I asked.

  “Masie…” he paused, rethinking the direction he wanted to explain. “Masie and I were talking on the phone, and I asked her if I could play her something. I went there…” He stumbled, and I instantly learned West wasn’t a good liar. He was definitely covering for my daughter, the little vixen, who I assumed invited him over as soon as I left. Whose fault was that? Tommy’s? I sighed. Mine, I recognized.

  “West, you seem like a decent guy, and I might have overreacted in the moment. I trust Masie. I think I was just a little startled.”

  “That’s what Tommy said. But I’m still sorry.”

  “She’s only eighteen,” I added. “She’s still in high school.”

  “I know,” he sighed, combing back his hair. “I know.” Frustration filled his face, and I realized this young man had a crush on my daughter. He was trying to do the right thing, I hoped, because he was just that much older. It was a real struggle.

  “Do I need to say you shouldn’t see her again?”

  West stopped moving. His hand no longer swept his hair.

  “I really wouldn’t like that request.” His honesty was refreshing. “But I’ll respect it, if that’s what you wish.”

  I shifted my bag, jutting out my hip.

  “I think Masie would kill me if I did that.”

  West looked at me, a slow smile gracing his lips, and two dimples formed around it. He was really cute, and I could see Masie’s attraction to him.

  “You need to keep things in check,” I warned, repeating the words I’d said to Masie, and feeling guilty once again that I wasn’t following my own rule.

  “Definitely.” West stepped forward and unexpectedly hugged me. The move was so sudden, I staggered after he released me. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Mrs. Williams. See you later,” he shouted as he walked away, his voice sounding lighter.

  I turned for the Jeep when I heard Caleb call my name from three stories up.

  “Mom, hang on. I’m coming with you.”

  + + +

  My son loved to shop. It was a strange thing, but I assumed he’d grown into it because he was always with Masie and me, until he started playing baseball and guitar. He especially loved athletic shoes, which could get pretty pricey, the larger his feet grew. As we walked the shopping strip, we wandered in and out of touristy boutiques, overcrowded with people who had the same idea as us on a cloudy day in Hawaii.

  Caleb also loved graphic tees, and we spent more time trying to get him to make a decision on one or two than anything else. Eventually, he gave me time to visit a few dress shops, and I picked up three new dresses, perfect for summer back home. Most places we entered were over my price point despite the hole-burning credit card, but I was happy with the items I purchased, feeling slightly relieved from this morning’s misunderstandings.

  “Masie called Dad,” Caleb told me as we ate lunch. I hated when she did things like that. Not because it was hurtful to me, but because it would only lead to a broken heart for her. I could only imagine how the conversation went:

  What did your mother do?

  Do you miss me?

  Talk soon.

  He didn’t care what I did, only that I did something to make our children reach out for him. He had no backbone when it came to discipline, so I always looked like the bad parent. On top of that, asking if our child missed him was only reassurance to his ego. He never told them he missed them. Why would he? He had a carefree life, living on a boat on the lake for a bit and then moving into a condo in downtown Chicago. The last statement—talk soon—was always a lie, setting the kids up for false hope. David rarely followed through with call backs and visits. He attended what he could, when he could, he said. My heart ached that Masie thought her father would give her comfort after this morning.

  “And, what did he say?” I asked, drawing in a deep breath.

 
“The usual,” Caleb shrugged. Caleb didn’t really have it as bad as Masie. He was already off to college when the divorce happened, and as baseball was David’s number one priority for Caleb, his father hardly missed any of his games. Caleb fulfilled David’s dream, but I often worried it wasn’t our son’s.

  Hours passed. We shopped. We strolled. My son was a funny man, and I enjoyed his company. As we neared the Jeep, I saw another man leaning against it, his back to the spare tire, foot pressed to the bumper. He concentrated on his phone as his fingers typed frantically. Approaching slowly, I looked up at Caleb.

  “What did you do?”

  “Nothing,” Caleb said, holding up his hands as if in surrender. “Nothing, I swear.” But I knew my son, and he winked. Tommy straightened as we approached.

  “You have been so damn hard to find, darlin’,” he drawled, inhaling and looking relieved. My brows pinched as I glanced at Caleb.

  “Keys,” my son said, holding out his hands.

  “Wait.” Tommy held up his hand. “Did you buy a pretty dress?” His eyes roved to the bags in my hand.

  “I did.” My brows pinched as I thought of my new things.

  “Slip one on.”

  “What?”

  Tommy looked at Caleb and back at me. “Hop in the Jeep and change. We’ll keep watch.” When Tommy winked at Caleb, I realized my son had conspired against me.

  I stepped into the back seat and struggled to pull on a pretty lavender dress. It had thin straps over the shoulder and a deep vee at the neckline. I only wore my flip-flops so the ensemble had a beach-chic look to it. I combed through my hair and applied some lipstick I found in the bottom of my bag. Stepping back out of the Jeep, Tommy stared at me.

  “What?” I snapped again, fanning out the dress at my sides.

  “Beautiful, darlin’.” He hesitated, like he wanted to step toward me, but didn’t out of respect for Caleb’s presence.

  “Keys,” Caleb said again, and I handed them over.

  After Caleb pulled away, Tommy and I stared at one another. I wasn’t certain why I changed my dress or why we stood here, but I spoke first. “I’m sorry about this morning.”

  Tommy nodded in response. “Did you mean what you said? That you made a mistake.”

  “I didn’t say that.” I blinked, taken aback.

  “No, your exact words were what was I thinking, implying you made a mistake.” His lips twisted after he spoke.

  “I didn’t mean that,” I said, looking up at him sheepishly. “I might have…overreacted.”

  “Understandable,” he replied, nodding his head again. “I’d like to talk about that…over dinner.”

  “Okay,” I replied, dragging out the word, trepidation filling me while we stood in a parking lot. Dinner sounded nice, but talking worried me. When he held out a hand, I felt a little better as I wrapped my fingers with his. Tommy didn’t just cup my hand. He held it, palm to palm, fingers between fingers. It was as if he would lose me if he didn’t hold tight.

  We walked in silence a few blocks before he stopped in front of a heavily populated seafood restaurant. I pretended I didn’t see some of the glares people gave us as we walked to the front of the line. Tommy offered a name, and we were immediately escorted to a table along the windows with a perfect view of the ocean.

  “How did you do that?” I marveled, noting all the patrons waiting for a seat. Tommy shrugged his shoulder. It was the first time I’d seen him use his position to his advantage. We ordered drinks and then Tommy pulled something from his pocket.

  “I don’t want to assume, but I’m thinking David might be your ex-husband.”

  My phone was set on the table between us and Tommy pressed the home key. The screen lit up with text after text after text from David.

  “If he’s not your ex-husband, I want to know if you’re dating him, because if you are he needs his ass kicked.”

  Tension I didn’t know I was feeling slowly released as Tommy spoke.

  “If he is your ex-husband, he still needs his ass kicked, although I won’t do that, out of respect for him once being married to you.”

  My mouth curled lazily upward.

  “But let me add, he sounds like a fucking asshole either way.”

  A laugh escaped. One sharp bellow. Tingles rippled inside me that the man across from me wanted to defend my honor against a man who promised to honor me all the days of his life.

  Tommy slid the phone closer to me and I briefly noted the short quips regarding Masie, and my incapability of being a mother, and making a mistake taking a vacation, and was I dating anyone, which was none of his damn business.

  “That last one’s my favorite, so let’s start there. We’re both on vacation, and I’d like to propose we live a little. No promises. No commitment, but I like spending time with you, and I want a little more of it. So…” he faded off to brush the waitress away. “I don’t want to share you with anyone else while we’re here.”

  My mouth fell open. Not at the restriction of sharing, but at the implication that I would go out with someone else.

  “You do realize that I have hardly dated in the past three years. It’s been even longer since I’ve had sex, and this…” I pointed between us. “…has never ever happened to me before. So, I think it’s safe to say I won’t be going out with anyone else while I’m here.”

  It was his turn for a curling smile, and a chuckle escaped. He crossed his arms and leaned toward me.

  “Three years.” He whistled low, as an eyebrow tweaked. His smile deepened. “I’ve got some work to do then.”

  The comment sent shivers down my spine, but I liked the sensation.

  “To show you I’m serious, I’d like to give you my room key.” He slipped a black plastic card out of his pocket. “It’s so you can visit me when you can, when you want, whenever…” His voice faltered, and he waved a hand. Was he nervous? I smiled again as I took the offered room card.

  “I promise not to be a stalker, though,” I assured.

  “Phew,” he teased, swiping at his forehead. “Already had one of them. Had she been you, I might have enjoyed it, though.” He wiggled his eyebrows, and I laughed, but the seriousness of what he said wrestled inside me. There was so much I didn’t know about him, and the fact someone tried to take advantage of him frightened me.

  The waitress returned, and this time Tommy didn’t wave her away, so we ordered, and I decided to let my questions rest. Over dinner we discussed the guys in the band, and Tommy told me more about each of them. I think he was trying to reassure me that West was the most decent of the four.

  “Gage is Gage. He’s intense, and he loves Ivy fiercely. He almost lost her, because he can be stupid, but he knows he needs her. She gets him because of her mother.” Whenever Tommy mentioned Ivy’s mom, his sister, there was a certain sadness to him.

  “Petty is a male whore, and I have no doubt he’d impregnate someone if I wasn’t so diligent about who he’s with. Jared’s smart. He went to college, but dropped out for the band. He followed Gage’s dream. West is the newest addition. He replaced Cash.”

  Tommy looked out the window as he spoke the last man’s name.

  “Who was Cash?” I asked. Tommy snorted softly.

  “You really don’t know music, do you? Cash Bennett. He was the lead bassist, and he killed himself.” Tommy sat back and drummed the table. “Damn overdose.” He swiped a hand through his hair. I focused on his face. There was more to the story, but I didn’t wish to pry. “Anyway, West is probably the best of them all. Talented, but good at heart. Eager and mostly still innocent. He didn’t mean anything to be misrepresented with your girl.”

  “I know,” I replied softly. “It was just sort of a shock, and I felt guilty.”

  “Guilty?”

  “If I’d been there, West wouldn’t have been.”

  “Darlin’, I know about guilt, but what happened with him sleeping next to your daughter has nothing on what I’ve seen. He’s a good kid.” He raise
d an eyebrow, defending someone belonging to him.

  “I know,” I leaned on the table. “I said I overreacted. That isn’t easy for me to admit.”

  “Well, let’s get to admitting more of your sexual history, as your musical one sucks.”

  I laughed, and he watched my lips. I wanted to kiss him, or he wanted to kiss me. It didn’t matter. There would be more kissing, either way.

  When dinner finished, we walked hand-in-hand again, taking our time meandering down the main strip of shops. He asked me about my job, and as I described it, I realized it didn’t sound very exciting, but it paid my bills. I was a personal assistant—which meant taking care of other people, kind of like Tommy. The conversation switched to my home, Chicago. He’d been there several times for concerts.

  “Collision’s dream is to play the big stadiums. Wrigley Field’s a rare gig. The guys would love to headline there.”

  We halted at a corner, and Tommy tugged me to the left. We walked past two storefronts before he stopped in front of what I assumed was a small bar. Neon signs strobed beer advertisements through a narrow window. The place looked like a hole in the wall, shoved between a surf shop and a tattoo parlor. He opened the door, and I was assaulted with music.

  “Is that ABBA?” I laughed as ‘Dancing Queen’ flowed to the sidewalk.

  “That it is,” he said, placing a hand on my lower back and pressing me forward to enter. Once inside, the lights were dim and the bar long. In the back corner were a jukebox and a strip of wood floor that could potentially be for dancing.

  “What is this?” I giggled as Tommy led me to the end of the bar.

  “Local hang out,” he replied, helping me up on a stool. He raised two fingers without speaking an order.

  “You’ve been here before?” I questioned when two short tumblers with dark liquid were set before us. The dinner wine and rich seafood already made me warm and fuzzy inside. A short sniff of alcohol within the glass told me I was about to be set on fire.

  “Something like that.” He raised his glass, tapped mine, and shot back the whiskey.

  Oh, what the hell. I did the same, only I sputtered and coughed and didn’t empty the glass. Tommy walked away from me after patting my back a few times, and I watched him cross to the jukebox. Quarters were slipped in, and he pressed a few buttons. Returning to me, he explained, “The locals play this shit disco music to keep tourists out. If you can stomach the 70s, then you can hang without being bothered here.”