by Amanda Aksel
I develop some more prints for her like she asked and send them off in the post. Then I google her. That’s right, I stalk her on the internet, because I miss her. I even look up her address, checking out the street view. Her Spanish-style house has about a dozen palm trees in her front yard. Would she think it was weird if I took the jet to California to see her?
I pick up my phone to make the call, then a little voice in my head says, “Stop being such a tosser and get over the girl.”
Bang! BANG!
I jump at the sound of a fist against my door. It’s ten p.m. “Who the hell’s that?” I mutter to myself. As I approach the door, I think about the morning after my brother’s stag party, and the evening after Kate’s fashion show, and all the other nights Kate showed up at my doorstep. Maybe she read my mind and came back to surprise me. That naughty little angel.
Bang, BANG!
“Drew, open up!” A voice calls from the other side. It’s definitely not Kate’s. I open the door and find Mick with a rugged beard, open-collared shirt, and a striped tie loose around his neck. A shadow of dark circles under his eyes makes him look about ten years older.
“What happened to you?” I ask.
“I’m drunk, can’t you tell?” he stumbles past me and I follow him to the sofa. “I’ve been at the pub down the road, and I don’t want to go home to that house I lived in with . . . you know.”
“The bitch from hell?” I ask as he plops down on the cushion.
Mick points my way, making a clicking noise. “That’s the one.”
My brother hasn’t wanted to return to work since the wedding. Instead, he’s been moping around the manor and getting pissed at pubs. I’ve never seen him this depressed and hopeless. He’s the optimistic brother who jogs, volunteers, and performs heart transplants. I bet if he could, he’d give himself a new heart if it meant forgetting Davina.
I want to tell him to get over her, but I can’t forget a woman I was with for a few weeks let alone years. “Do I need to worry about you?” I ask, sitting on a chair next to him.
“I don’t know yet. I just feel so stupid that I trusted her all that time. I believed her when she said she loved me. It’s like all of the sudden finding out that the sky is pink after calling it blue my entire life. You were right about her,” he says.
“I wish I hadn’t been. And I get that you got used to your life being a certain way and now it’s not. But after tonight I really want you to pull yourself together. You’re a heart surgeon for fuck’s sake. You have patients that depend on you. Life isn’t over just because she’s gone.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’ve got a constant rotation of women—just in and out.” He swings his finger to and fro. “You never get attached to anybody.”
“I think I got attached to one.” I sigh.
He tilts his head looking at me like I’ve grown three more of my own. “You never told me about that. Who was it?”
“It just happened. Kate. She went home to the States yesterday.”
“Oh, is that the one who threw a cocktail in Kent’s face?” Mick says with a slack jaw and droopy eyes.
I point my finger and mimic his clicking noise. “That’s the one.”
“What’s so special about her?”
I shrug. “That’s what I keep asking myself. She’s not even really my type. She’s a nice girl.”
“Maybe she’s exactly your type and you just didn’t know it because girls like her don’t go for guys like you.”
“I’m sure there’s some truth to that . . .”
Mick lies back on the sofa, kicking off his loafers, and stretches out. “I need a nice girl. Does she have any friends?”
I laugh. “She does, but I don’t think she’s your type. Too L.A. for you.”
“Well, my type lies and cheats, so maybe I should get a new type.”
“Good point,” I say.
He rolls over, tucking a cushion beneath his chin. “So how do we get over these women?”
I take in a deep breath, knowing that the best way to get over someone is to fuck someone else. “Palate cleanser.”
“Palate cleanser? Like sorbet?”
Sorbet? Isn’t he adorably naïve? I roll my eyes. “No, you git. Like another woman.” That’s when I realize that we can snap out of our misery tonight. “C’mon, I’ll get you some coffee, then we’re going out.”
He sits up. “Going where?”
“Out for a palate cleanser.”
***
It’s after eleven when we arrive at my usual hunting ground. We stroll into the club like two men out on the prowl. Mick has had just enough liquid courage to enjoy the night.
“I’ve got to catch up,” I say, heading to the bar.
Elise is pouring the drinks tonight. Her silky black hair looks longer since the last time I saw her.
“Drew! I was wondering where you’ve gone. I haven’t seen you in weeks,” Elise says.
I send her a wink. “Aw, did you miss me or something?”
She smiles, batting her lashes. “Maybe just a little. What are you havin’ tonight?”
“I’ll take a couple shots. Your choice,” I say, leaning on the bar and giving her a sultry stare.
I’ve gone home with my fair share of bartenders and Elise has gone home with her fair share of customers, but we’ve never gone home together. It’s not because I don’t want to. I’ve thought about it a couple of times, but she makes the best drinks and I don’t want to jeopardize that.
“Who’s your friend?” she asks, pointing to my brother.
“This is my brother, Mick.”
Mick smiles a goofy, semi-drunk smile and waves. “Hello.”
Elise’s polite smile fades as she gets a better look at him. “Oh, right. Mick.” She nods slowly. “I heard about what happened at your wedding. Tough break.”
My brother scowls at me. “You see? Everyone knows.”
I shoot Elise a look and she shrugs. “Everyone doesn’t know. Elise just knows everything. You see that girl over there.” I point to a cutie in a yellow spaghetti strap dress with hair to match. The woman notices and watches us watching her. “I bet she doesn’t know.”
“You don’t know that,” Mick says with a clenched jaw.
“True, but there’s only one way to find out. Go talk to her.”
He hunches his shoulders. “What am I supposed to say?”
“Just remember KISS—”
Mick looks as appalled as our grandmother does when my dad says shit. “I can’t just kiss her!”
“No, you didn’t let me finish. KISS is an acronym. It means keep it simple, stupid. But it’s easy to remember when you’re talking to a woman because that’s where you want it to lead anyway. Just introduce yourself, offer to buy her a drink. After that just ask her questions about herself, women love that. And when the opportunity arises to tell her what you do for a living, just say you’re a doctor. She’ll like you better if you’re not braggy, which brings me to my next piece of advice. Don’t tell her your last name. Just use your middle name—at least until you can decipher between the women that want free jewelry and the women who “accidentally” get pregnant. But you’ll be fine.”
Now my poor brother seems even more panicked about talking to the woman in yellow. “That’s a lot of stuff.”
“I’ve been doing this a long time. Just trust me. You’ll do great.”
He stares at me with wide eyes.
“Go on.” I motion him away from the bar.
Mick begins to walk in her direction, looking back at me every few steps as I shoo him further until he makes contact.
“You sure it’s a good idea for your brother to be out at the club so soon after his . . .” Elise asks, setting my two shots of clear liquid on the bar.
I lift one and take a whiff of the pungent scent, trying to place it. “Yes, this is the best thing for him.”
She nods at the crowd. “What about you? Did you pick one yet?”
I look out over the room, a few dozen beautiful women, and a handful of drop dead gorgeous ones. Any of those smoky-eyed ladies would be an easy target for me. But the thought of any one of them stripping down naked and getting on their knees does nothing for me.
Holy shit!
Am I broken?
I shake my head and look back at Elise. “Eh, I’m not really in the mood tonight.”
She wipes the bar down with a damp white cloth. “What are you, ill? That doesn’t sound like you.”
I throw back the first shot. Patron. I should’ve known. “What about you? Did you pick one?”
“Nah, I’m not really in the mood either. And no, I’m not sick.”
I raise my hands in surrender. “I wasn’t asking.”
As the night goes on, Mick seems to be doing very well with the Canary. That’s what Elise and I started calling her after watching them for over an hour. It looks like the two are about to part ways when Mick finds me and says he’s taking her back to her place and asks me if I have any condoms.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “If you’re going to her place, she’ll have them.”
“Yeah but I want to be a gentleman.”
Now that’s the brother I know and love. I pull a few foil-wrapped jimmy hats from my pocket and hand them over discreetly.
“Good luck, mate. I’m proud of you.”
I watch Mick walk out of the club with the Canary, his hand placed delicately on the small of her back. I remember that feeling of going home with a new girl, wondering what she tastes like, what she feels like, hoping she’s careful with her teeth. It’s exciting. Then I think about Kate again for the hundredth time since we walked into this place. She’d come over with a different set of lingerie every time. Undressing her was like sitting next to a Douglas fir on Christmas morning, opening the one gift I really wanted. But also knowing that once her knickers came off, the sex would be mind-boggling—now that is really exciting.
I miss her. I think I’m going to miss her for a while.
I rest my head on my fists against the bar for another hour, chatting with Elise between her taking drink orders. I’m just like Mick; I don’t want to be at home moping around either.
“Hey, my shift’s almost over. I’m heading over to LaLa’s to meet some friends. You want to come?” Elise asks.
“Sure. I’ll go for a bit.”
She smiles and grabs her things. The two of us walk out to the sidewalk, cracking jokes, and head east toward the pub a few blocks up. We stop at a crosswalk waiting for the sign to flash green. I look over at Elise who’s grinning like she’s the one who’s been drinking all night.
“What are you so smiley about?” I ask.
“I’m just glad you’re joining me out tonight,” she says, her cheeks turn a light shade of pink in the breeze.
I shrug. “Yeah, we only ever chat at the club.”
“I know,” she says softly. Her ocean-blue eyes shine in the streetlight. In one swift motion, Elise rises on her toes and puts her lips on mine. It takes me a second to realize that this isn’t a friendly peck.
I jolt away. “Whoa, wait.”
“What?” She smirks, grabbing the ends of my open jacket, pulling me closer.
“I thought we were just hanging out . . . as friends.”
“I’m not asking to be your girlfriend or anything. I’ve just always wondered if you’re as good as they say you are.” Her hands trail down to my belt and I inch away.
“Okay, I think you better go to LaLa’s without me.” I put my hands up, taking a step back.
“You’re not serious,” she says, looking at me like I’ve got a limp dick. And for once, I don’t care to prove that I am as good as they say.
“I’ll see you later, Elise.” I turn on my heel and walk back towards the club where I can get a cab home.
Once I’m in the cab, I lean my head back. My face is hot and my stomach churns with the mix of alcohol and the taste of Elise’s mouth. A month ago I would’ve fucked Elise sideways and upside down if she’d kissed me on the street. But now I feel sick. It’s almost like . . . guilt? That’s it. I’m definitely broken.
Kate, you bloody broke me.
I can’t take it anymore. I’m gonna be a wimp and call her. I dial her contact on my phone. My heart slams against my chest repeatedly as it rings—once, twice, three times. Dammit, it’s gonna go to voicemail.
“Hey,” she says with that beautifully sweet voice of hers.
“What are you doing?” I try to sound cool even though there’s a swarm of butterflies in my gut. Damn, this girl really messed me up.
“Just workin’ my ass off at my desk.”
“Well, don’t work your whole ass off. Save some for me.”
She laughs and my mood elevates ten times higher than it’s been since she walked out my door. “Okay, I’ll save some for you.” I’m relieved when she says it, even if it’s not true. “What are you doing? It’s the middle of the night over there.”
The reminder that we’re eight hours apart makes me feel like we’re worlds apart. I’m in a totally different day than she is. “I went out with my brother and I wanted to call and see if you got home okay.”
“Oh, you guys went out.” Is that a little jealousy I hear? Okay, she hasn’t forgotten me in the last thirty hours.
“Yeah. I’ve been a little lonely since you left,” I say playfully.
She gives a somewhat sarcastic laugh. “I’m sure you have a little black book full of women who can keep you warm in my absence.”
Try to tell a girl you miss her and she stings you. But I don’t know what to say. It’s true. Elise was practically ready to lick my balls twenty minutes ago. “So, I just wanted to see how you are.” Good one, Drew. Ignore her comment completely.
“I’m good. Just jetlagged.” Kate sighs like she’s exhausted and I want her to curl up in my lap so she can sleep.
“If you’re on London time, then maybe you should just come back to London.” My heart dives into the pit of my stomach. What am I saying to this girl? And why do I mean it?
“You know I can’t do that, Drew,” she says in a serious tone.
“I know. I was just kidding.”
She’s quiet. So I’m quiet. And as much as I’m relieved to hear her voice, it was a mistake to call.
“Anyway, I have to get back to work,” she says.
“Of course,” I say, “I’ll let you go.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to you some other time.”
“Yeah, some other time.”
She says goodbye and ends the call. And now I know she’s really gone.
Eleven
KATE
Why did I answer that call? Drew Blake Bonnaire is not an easy guy to forget, and since I’ve been home, he’s all I’ve thought about. Even my freaking toast at breakfast reminds me of him making that Welsh rarebit. He sounds so cute on the phone, joking like everything’s normal and fine. Well, nothing’s normal anymore. And it’s not fine. I practically woke up scratching my skin and quivering from the withdrawal of his . . . everything.
I shut my laptop and push my chair away from the desk. There’s no way I’ll be able to focus on work now, which sucks because my business needs my attention now more than ever. I’ve never had this much trouble keeping my heart in the company. Maybe it would be easier if I could forget about everything that happened with Drew. The truth is, I hope I don’t forget a single second. It’ll get easier as time goes on—that’s what I’ve been telling myself since I left England.
Why does it irritate me that he went out tonight? I bet he had a blast flirting with the girls, getting back to his modelizing lifestyle. A furious wave of jealousy streaks through me and I clench my jaw, desperate to do something to feel in control again. I grab my phone.
KATE: Cocktails downtown at 7 p.m.?
GARRET: Yes, please!
BEAU: I’ll be there
Perfect! Everything’s normal. Everything’s fine. I think.
<
br /> ***
That evening, I change my outfit three times and show up at the Sky Lounge about a quarter after seven. It’s the kind of place that makes you feel like you’re above all of your problems, which is exactly where I need to be tonight. Garret and Beau are already sipping on cocktails at a table with a fantastic view overlooking the city.
“We ordered you a martini,” Garret says, standing and greeting me with air kisses. I grimace. I don’t want anything that even looks like a martini or wine or anything else I drank with Drew.
“Thanks,” I say, taking my seat across from them. “But I think I’m gonna get one of those Moscow mules or something.”
Beau shakes her head like she’s trying to understand my language. “So, you’re a hipster now?”
“No.” I brush off her comment with a wave of my hand. “I just want to try something different.”
“Okay . . .” Beau shoots me an uncertain stare as she sips her drink.
“So,” I clap my hands, then set them on my lap, “what’s new with you two?”
Beau flashes a tight-lipped smile. “Nothing.”
“Same old shit,” Garret says. “But, you didn’t invite us out for drinks to talk about us.”
“Yes, I did. We’re hanging out.” My pitch is a little too high to be believable.
My friends purse their mouths and stare me down with spill-it eyes.
“Fine. It’s Drew.” I feel relieved to say it aloud. “He called me today. It was the first time we talked since I left.”
Garret nudges Beau with his arm. “See, I knew it was about that Brit.”
“What did he say?” Beau asks.
I shrug. “He was just saying hi. Do you think he misses me? I mean he wouldn’t have called me if he wasn’t thinking about me too, right?” I let out a nervous giggle trying to sound like I haven’t been spending the last two hours overthinking the situation.
Beau and Garret’s brows rise in tandem.
“Of course, he misses you, honey,” Garret placates me with his tone, his pout, and pats my hand.
