by Hawk, Maya
“I’ll be in the on call room.” I’m tired. I hardly slept at all at Lauryn’s. I spent the better part of the afternoon watching her sleep. God, she’s so fucking beautiful. Her mouth would dance open as she slept, probably dreaming, and every so often she’d let out a soft sigh and turn her head from side to side but never waking. I could watch her for hours.
I miss her.
I miss Lauryn.
I’ve missed her for ten goddamned years, and in ten years, it never got any easier.
I crawl into an on call bed and turn out the lights, making sure my pager is one before I press my head into the cool side of a flat pillow. A smile tugs on the corners of my mouth as I shut my eyes, Lauryn’s face in the forefront of my mind.
It’s been a long time since anyone’s made me smile like that.
ELEVEN – LAURYN
“Soak it up, Dr. Pierce. Your looks aren’t going to last forever.” I’m in a mood today. “Enjoy it while you can.”
“Excuse me?” Sutton adjusts his nametag as he slides behind the table I’ve set up that Monday morning. I haven’t seen him since our last event, when he iced my ankle and treated me like a fragile China doll before jetting off to work a twenty-four hour shift at the hospital. A group of nurses amble past our table, all eyes on me. One waves and another winks. The third one whips her hair over her shoulder. “You think I like this kind of attention?”
“Isn’t that why you went into this field?” I ask. “You get to be surrounded by women all day, every day. All kinds of attention.”
I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I’ve been an anxious, confused wreck since he left, unable to reconcile my sudden warmth toward him with the decade-old resentment I’ve kept safely in the forefront of my mind my entire adult life.
I missed him.
I missed Sutton Pierce the second he left my apartment.
It’s all kinds of wrong.
And now I’m taking it out on him because he’s right here, and he looks amazing, and I’m all sorts of angry at the butterflies swirling around in my belly like they own the place.
“You don’t know me at all.” Sutton blows a puff of breath through parted lips. “I’m actually insulted that you think I’m that shallow and starved for attention. It’s disgusting actually.”
He walks up to me, our bodies mere inches apart. He towers over me, making me feel two feet tall.
“What I do is beautiful, Lauryn,” he says. “It’s my passion, and I won’t have you belittling it because you’re insecure with your own life path.”
“I am not insecure with my life path. I like what I do.” My chin tilts up, as if to add a silent exclamation point to my statement.
“Yeah, but you don’t love it. That’s the difference between you and me.”
“You and I are different in every possible way.” I state my opinion with a huff and cross my arms.
“Not really, but if it makes you feel better you can believe that.”
The clearing of a throat makes us jump, and I take two steps back. My face is hot, and I realize I’ve been holding my breath. Sutton looks calm and unshaken, stepping up toward the waiting patron. He’s an older gentleman with a nametag that reads, “Dr. Robert Hocking, OB-GYN, Biscayne Women’s Group.”
Sutton speaks with him for a second as I arrange and rearrange brochures and swag for lack of something better to do. When the doctor walks away, Sutton and I don’t speak another word to one another. When the event is over, he packs everything up with me in silence. Another doctor, someone who apparently knows him, stops to chat, and I use the opportunity to sneak away, wheeling my bag out to my car before he has a chance to stop me.
Not that I even know if he would. I really pissed him off today.
I’m driving back to my apartment, when a call comes in.
“Hey, Connie,” I say over the Bluetooth.
“Hey, Lauryn.” Her voice booms through the speakers of my car. “How’d it go today? We just got the preliminary numbers in from the first week on the market, and things are looking good, girlfriend.”
“Yeah, today was fine,” I say, switching on my right turn signal. “Glad to hear the numbers are looking good.”
“How do you like working with that doctor? Isn’t he a dream?” I can picture Connie sitting in her office, clutching a brochure in her manicured hands and fanning herself with it. I almost ask her if she’s taken another Arovag lately.
“He’s very smart.” I wince.
Can’t think of anything else to say about him?
“Ah.” Connie sounds disappointed, and I’m quite certain she wanted my answer to excite her Arovag-laced hormones.
“He’s okay to work with,” I add.
“You’re lying through your teeth,” Connie says with a laugh. “But that’s okay. I get it. You have a boyfriend. You’re a good girl. Anyway, how’s James liking Miami so far? Forgot to ask you that.”
“He’s in New York,” I remind her.
“No, he transferred to Miami a few weeks ago. Said he wanted to be closer to you?” Connie sounds confused.
I’m doubly confused. “Connie, what are you talking about?”
“Yeah, he’s got eastern Miami and a few of the ‘burbs.” Connie’s voice dwindles, as if she’s starting to realize she let the cat out of the bag. I didn’t know there was a cat or a bag until just now.
“I’ll call you later.” I end the call without waiting for her response. I can’t think with Connie’s raspy voice blaring through my speakers.
Why the fuck would James have moved to Miami and not told me?
TWELVE – SUTTON
My steak sizzles on the grill as I pour beer over it. The late afternoon sun burns down, heating the cement floor of my rooftop deck, but I don’t mind. A second steak sizzles and browns. I’m not sure why I threw another one on. It’s not like Lauryn’s going to come busting through my door at any moment, making herself at home, and asking what’s for dinner.
Wishful thinking.
My left hand slides into my pocket, my fingertips grazing the warm glass of my phone.
Fuck it. I’m calling her.
Against all odds, she answers.
“Yes?” Her voice is rushed and breathy; as if my call interrupted some very important business she was conducting.
“Hello to you too.”
She groans into the phone. “Sorry. Hello.”
“That’s more like it.” I turn the steaks, listening to her breathe and silently appreciating the fact that she’s on the other line. Something about that feels comforting, like that warm and fuzzy feeling you get when you think about a fond memory. Most people get it when they think of home, but Lauryn was the only thing that ever felt like home to me.
“Can I help you?” If she’s trying to sound polite it’s not working.
“Look, I’m sorry about earlier.” I can be the bigger person, especially if it means it’ll keep her from walking out of my life again.
She’s quiet, which, knowing Lauryn, could be either really good or really bad.
“Come over for dinner.” I’m not asking. “I’ve got two steaks on the grill. How do you want yours?”
“Sut…”
“You can’t stay mad at me forever.” I put the phone up to the grill and bring it back to my ear. “Hear that sizzle? That’s a New York strip with your name on it, personally grilled to perfection by yours truly.”
“I appreciate that, but I’m sort of in the middle of something right now.”
“A girl’s got to eat. You’re going to eat right?” I toss a few pieces of garlic bread onto the top rack of the grill and stir some marinated zucchini in a grill basket. “Lauryn, I can see your place from here. You’re a five-minute walk away. Get over here and have dinner with me. I’m your brother. We’re family.”
I say the last part with a smile in my voice. I want her to remember that things don’t always have to be so serious. We can get back to that fun place again. I’ve loved her all my life, but if frien
dship is all she can offer me, I’ll take it.
“Sut, please. I told you I’m busy tonight.”
“With what?”
“I’m checking into something.” She has a distant inflection in her voice, the one that women get when their minds are saturated with worrisome thoughts.
Fucking James.
“Want help?” I offer.
“I’ll let you know.” She ends the call as I curse that fucking rodent.
I met James my freshman year of college, and he made it quite clear from the beginning was that his life goal was to be filthy rich. I’d never seen such determination in another man’s eyes before. He’s spend chem lectures scoping out the girls and Googling them until he narrowed down which ones came from money, and then he’d turn his charm on and work his magic.
He failed out of the program within a year, and though we kept in touch for a while, I started distancing myself from him. I watched from a far as he dated rich girl after rich girl, each relationship ending catastrophically when they realized James’ wasn’t the nice guy he pretended to be.
And now he’s fucking with Lauryn. My Lauryn. Lauryn who’s the sole heir to her mother’s multi-million dollar fortune. Sweet Lauryn with her movie star good looks and naïve heart and loyal demeanor.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, sending a shock straight to my heart. I’m like a teenage girl, praying my crush is calling me. I slip my phone out with baited breath, only it’s my mother.
“Hey, Mom.” I plate the food and carry it back inside, the chilled air wrapping me up like a frozen blanket.
“I think your father’s cheating on me.” My mom’s voice is a hushed, rushed whisper laced with teary undercurrents. She’s insisted on calling DeVonn my father since they got married, never mind the fact that I was already an adult by then. And true, DeVonn had hand in raising me. He was the only father figure I’d ever known really, but it was always in a harmless, he’s-my-best-friend’s-dad kind of way.
Until the affair.
“You think so?” I play the part of the sympathetic friend because I know my mother has long since run out of those. Choosing DeVonn over her best friend, Diane, alienated her from the rest of her social circle and earned her the reputation of certified home-wrecker.
“I don’t think he’s been faithful to me since day one,” she slurs. She’s been drinking. Her imbibed state coupled with the fact that she generally lives in a constant state of delusion makes her forget reality sometimes.
“You were the original other woman, Mom.” I say it as gently as I can, as if she could break and shatter at any moment. “Did you think he’d change?”
“I’m leaving him,” she says. “I think.”
“Good,” I say, though more for selfish reasons than anything else. I don’t want to be Lauryn’s stepbrother. I never wanted to be in the first place.
“I mean, I guess we can go to counseling. Maybe we can save this marriage.” She’s talking in circles, and there’s a clink in the background that could only be the slamming of an empty bourbon tumbler against her kitchen table.
“DeVonn’s not the monogamous type, Mom.” I sit down with my plate of food, alone, at the head of a long dining table. The spot next to me is where Lauryn should be sitting. “It’s probably time to move on.”
“God, I love your father so much.” Her voice cracks, and I cringe with the mention of the word father once again. It’s as if she thinks if she says it enough, it’ll come true. I want to remind her he’s not my father, and he ceased to be my father figure the day I found him fucking her on the pool table. “I never thought it’d come to this, you know? He said he loved me more than Diane.”
She says her name as if Diane was the other woman, and I begin to wonder exactly how long the affair had been going on before I caught them.
“Is he back with Diane?”
“Oh, God, no. He wouldn’t go back to that dried up old hag,” she slurs her words again, drawing out the word like haaaaaaaaag. “I think he’s fucking his personal trainer. Some Columbian bitch with tits up to her eyeballs and butt implants.”
I try not to laugh. I shouldn’t laugh. My mother is hurting, and I love my mother. She’s not perfect but no one is.
“I need to come out to Miami sometime,” she says. She’s been saying that for years, but it never happens. She can never peel herself away from DeVonn for longer than a few hours, and now it’s all starting to make sense. She can’t be away from him because she’s never trusted him.
“Yes, Mom. You should come out.”
“Ugh, it’s so humid there,” she whines, as if that’s the only reason leaving California has never appealed to her.
“You get used to it.”
“I’ll check my schedule and let you know.” I know what it means. I won’t be holding my breath.
“Everything’s going to be okay, Mom.” I slice into a piece of steak, and my mind wanders to Lauryn. “Don’t settle, okay? You deserve someone who will love you no matter how hard it might be.”
“You’re a good man, Sutton,” she says. “I raised you right.”
If we want to get technical, she didn’t raise me at all. My nanny, Lupita, raised me until I was fourteen, and then I was practically turned loose like a wild animal. No curfew. No monitoring. No expectations. It was Lauryn who made me want to be a better person. Perfect Lauryn with her perfect grades and perfect smile and perfect personality. I did it all for Lauryn.
It was always for Lauryn.
THIRTEEN – LAURYN
My palms sweat as I pull up Gmail and type in James’ email address. I try his first password, the one he uses for work, and he fails. I try a second password, and a third and a fourth. I try the name of his childhood dog, our anniversary, his name spelled backwards. Nothing.
And then his security question pops up.
“What is your mother’s maiden name?”
Too easy.
I type in “Robbins” and the page turns white. It’s loading, and my heart is thumping like a herd of wild horses against a desert prairie. The page appears with a multitude of green, blue, red and yellow. There are at least a hundred and fifty emails sitting in his inbox.
I scroll down. Most of them are junk. I see a “reset your password” email from a dating website which serves as a quick punch to the gut, but I’m already so numb I hardly feel it.
A group of emails from someone named “Colette” appears halfway down the page. The most recent email is from yesterday. The icon next to her name shows a conversation going back to hundreds of exchanges.
I pull in a deep breath and expand the emails.
Hey, babe!
I put the utilities in my name like you said. Can’t wait to move into our new place! My dad was more than happy to help with the down payment. Hope you get things worked out with your apartment back in New York. Sucks about the sub-lease clause. I have you covered, and I know you’ll pay me back. You’re good for it!
Since you worked so hard all week, I have a special surprise planned for this weekend. Come home hungry, Friday night, and I mean it in more ways than one…
xoxo,
Colette
I want to throw up, but there’s nothing in my stomach, so I retch. The room spins. I can’t catch my breath. I know I shouldn’t keep reading but I have to. It’s a train wreck, and I can’t look away.
My eyes dart to a message dated from the weekend James surprised me.
Going to miss you this weekend, baby. I hate that you have to go back and work in New York this weekend. I thought transferring to Miami meant I’d get to have you all to myself all the time. Can’t wait until I do! Soon.
xoxo,
Colette
A metallic taste fills my mouth, as if I’m sucking on pennies. I fight back against the urge to retch once more, realizing that my eyes are dry. I’m not crying. My face is hot, probably cherry red. If this is what real anger feels like, I haven’t been this angry since everything went down with my parents an
d Sut’s mom.
I slam my laptop screen and shove it across my bed as if it’s dirty, as if the laptop itself has betrayed me. My heart is racing but not as fast as my mind. I want to know more. I yank the computer back into my lap and pull up a search engine.
I Google this girl who’s last name is DuBois according to her email. A hundred thousand hits come up, and a picture of her pops up on the right hand side of the results page. She has her own damn Wikipedia page.
Who is this broad?
I click on the picture of a smiling girl with jet-black hair and deep brown eyes just like mine. Her smile is wide and white, like mine, and her makeup is tasteful and pretty. James certainly has a type: dark and exotic. She’s the daughter of Texas oil magnate Pierre DuBois and Puerto Rican beauty queen Eva Mercado.
Colette DuBois is stunning – genetic lottery stunning.
And richer than God.
At least her parents are. The web page says her dad is worth 3.6 billion. I scroll down, reading her bio and her family history. She has three sisters: Celeste, Cecelia, and Camille. She’s trained in dressage and devotes most of her free time to her charity efforts, rescuing wild horses. She currently resides in Miami, where she co-owns a popular nightclub and a clothing boutique with her sisters.
What the hell is someone like that doing with someone like James? What does she see in him? Probably the same things I see. He is nice. Safe. Benign. Charming. Sweet.
I slam the laptop screen down harder than before. I’m seeing red. I’m seeing black. My thoughts are jumbled, not making any sense. Before I realize what I’ve just done, I’m standing in front of Sut’s door. I don’t remember putting my shoes on. I don’t remember grabbing my purse or locking my door. I don’t remember the walk over.
But now I’m here.
At Sut’s.
Pounding on his metal door until my fist turns numb.
He answers it in blue scrubs, and I remember he works Saturday nights. His eyes light up as he drinks me in, and then he sees my face. His brows scrunch, and he pulls his door wide. “Hey, Laur. Come in.”
