Losing Johnny

by Rachel Dunning

“You guys back together?”

  I shook my head.

  Nicole just looked at me.

  “We were declaring our love for each other.” I stared at the rug under the table.

  “Wow, that’s awesome! I knew this would happen since he split up with Sus—” She went silent.

  What the...?

  I looked up at her. She knew what I was asking.

  “Nicole?”

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’ve been texting the guy and talking to him. I was trying to get you two back together because it’s obvious you’re meant to be with each other. I mean, it’s like predefined destiny or something.”

  “God, no one from high school would recognize you today.”

  She rolled her eyes. The joke was getting old.

  “So why the fuck do you look so down? Go to Portugal. Fuck up a storm with the guy. Get laid!”

  “Wait, he split up with Susana?”

  “He didn’t tell you?” Her enthusiasm faded minutely.

  I shook my head slowly.

  A whisper: “Oh. Shit.” She looked out the window. “So...he didn’t tell you.”

  Again, I shook my head. Slowly.

  “Is that why you’re crying? Cat—give me something. I’m totally confused.”

  I told her about Tiago.

  I told her it might be the beginnings of something great.

  “So, you’re worried that if you let Tiago go, you might be missing out on something potentially even better than Johnny. But if you stay with him...you guarantee Johnny and you...” She slid a finger across her throat.

  I nodded.

  “And Johnny and you are guaranteed. You know what you had. You know you can have it again. But Tiago is a gamble.”

  I neither nodded nor shook my head. “Not to mention that Johnny doesn’t even live in this country anymore,” I said.

  “Fuck,” she whispered. “And here I am trying to get even one guy to fall in love with me, and you fall in love with two. Two...hot...guys.”

  It wasn’t that they were hot.

  It was that they’d both stolen a piece of my heart.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ~ Sexual Favors ~

  -1-

  “I didn’t know you were trying to fall in love,” I said.

  Nicole rolled her eyes. “I’m not.”

  “You just said it. Not even two minutes ago.”

  She flung her legs over the one-seater’s armrest, leaned back against the other one; stared out the window at the low sun. “I wouldn’t say I’m looking for it. But I wouldn’t say no to it if it slapped me in the face.”

  “Anyone interesting in college?”

  She rolled her eyes so much I thought they’d get stuck in the back of her head. Made a flapping gesture with her hand. “Nah. Artists, all of them. And the ones who aren’t the artiste type—the actors and models—are too shallow for me to even go down on. Although...” She put her finger to her lips. “...I did see Simone making eyes at Jase. You remember Jase, right? The perfect-everything guy who looks like a blond Ken? Well, I considered getting to him first, just to spite Simone.”

  I just stared blankly at her. I’d heard so much of Nicole’s loose lifestyle that it was like watching soap opera re-runs sometimes.

  I knew Nicole better than anyone. And I’d seen her eyes whenever she’d shown signs of falling for someone on the road. She never did fall, because she always caught herself. But she wanted love as much as anyone else. She was maybe just better at going without it for a while.

  -2-

  Nicole and I rented old movies and watched them for the rest of the night.

  My mind drifted to Tiago, to the popcorn, to kissing midway through a scene. It drifted to the other things. Intense things.

  He was fast.

  I was still catching my breath.

  When mom walked in the door almost at midnight, she looked like she’d been catching her breath as well.

  She was a little surprised to see us, her hair ruffled, no make-up on. Mom always wears make-up, so she must have taken it off. Or someone else got it off...

  She looked...satisfied.

  “Girls,” she said with a lilt, fixing her hair.

  “Mom.”

  “Alice.”

  We all eyed each other suspiciously.

  Fighting down a smile, she went behind the kitchen counter and fixed herself a coffee. At ten PM.

  “Thunder?” Nicole asked.

  Mom’s smile broke out into a full grin.

  Nicole flew to the counter and cried out, “I want details!”

  I paused the movie.

  “I can’t,” Alice said. “She’s my daughter.” She looked at me. “And you’re my daughter’s best friend. So I know you’ll tell her anything I tell you.”

  “Oh, God, please!” Nicole begged.

  Mom’s face flushed red.

  “Hell, it looks like it was hot,” Nicole said.

  Mom whistled, made the motion of fanning her face. Steadied herself on the counter. Tried to put on an air of dignity. Finally, she fixed an eye on Nicole, waited a beat, and then said, “It was.”

  Nicole went ballistic. A girl at Christmas.

  I thought of Tiago.

  And how he’d kissed me between my legs. I wouldn’t tell my mom that either.

  -3-

  “They’ll do the shoot. The bikers. Every one of them,” mom said to me from the couch. We were all sipping hot drinks now. Mom with her coffee, us with caffeine-free tea.

  “Studio shots?” I asked.

  Mom nodded. “They’re ready when you are. Just call.”

  I imagined a biker gang pulling up just outside our apartment in Brooklyn Heights. And the looks our snobby neighbors might give them. Now that would be a good shot!

  “Mom, I hope you didn’t do any sexual favors for this.”

  She considered answering for a bit. The mother-daughter concern would always be there between us. Then she gave in. “The sexual favors were all for free, baby.”

  “Damn!” Nicole gave Alice a high five.

  Alice flushed again.

  I set myself a target to be ready in two months, August. I needed models. And I needed practice. Nicole would ask around at school for models. And I’d ask Tina if she’d be willing to show her photos around as well. Maybe that would generate word of mouth.

  As to technique, I’d ask Tiago for advice. His studio shots were masterpieces. As for sexual favors... Well, I’d offer him those for free.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ~ The Birthday ~

  -1-

  Friday, Jun 19

  Tiago’s schedule was brutal. Sometimes, the only real time we had together was in the company of friends from the academy, meeting up at a bar or club in the city. Often we’d leave early and go to his place, make use of the empty apartment to let my vocal chords hum like crystal glass as he brought me to blessed climax. And when his roommates arrived, I learned to stifle my screams into a pillow.

  Three weeks had gone by since that night Tiago had pulled his John Travolta Saturday Night Fever moves on the dancefloor. And two weeks and six days had passed since he’d first put his warm lips between my thighs.

  He’d done it a lot more since then. He’d sent me into screaming, convulsing oblivion over and over again, my hands clutched madly to his hair, my eyes sinking into the back of my head, me stifling howls that would alert NYPD.

  And me forgetting...

  He and I were officially...intense.

  I had talked to Tiago about where we stood, the very next day after talking to Johnny. I hadn’t mentioned the call to Johnny, of course.

  “We’re together,” Tiago had said. “And that’s all there is to it. I’m not gonna run off with anyone else. OK?”

  I’d told him I came with baggage, but that I didn’t want to explain that baggage. He’d mentioned my father, and I’d stopped him and told him the baggage was something else. Emotional.

  “Ah,” h
e’d said. “An ex.”

  I hadn’t known how to respond. Merely nodded. And then he took me in his arms and kissed the top of my head, my temples. “I like you, Catherine. I like your baggage as well. It’s what makes you you. And I like you.”

  Late nights was the only time we had. And that doesn’t make for much conversation. But during our pillow talk I got to know that he’d never had a steady girlfriend. He still wouldn’t comment on how many girls he’d been with. But I had deduced that it had been...an inordinately high number. If only by the fact that he was so incredibly good at...stuff.

  “Steady” to him meant longer than three months, so he’d been with girls for less than that. Technically, by his definition, I was not yet a “steady” girlfriend. We’d been together a month, counting from when we’d first kissed.

  He’d told me he’d never been interested in relationships, that he’d never “felt” anything for anyone.

  I didn’t ask him if he “felt” something for me.

  Tonight, lying on his bed after having straddled him with my panties on and watched his face contort into the most exquisite expressions, I twirled my fingernails around his bare chest.

  We’d left the gang behind at the bar as on so many other nights and were in Tiago’s room. Kissing slowly on his bed. Soon his hand would slide down my top and find my belt, slide lower, and then make me melt into a puddle of pleasure.

  He was good with his hand. So good. And when his finger entered me...

  “Oh, God,” I say now. As I say it always, every time.

  His finger slides and pulls, while his thumb twirls at my core. And I gush. The heat builds up in me, sizzles, tightens every muscle of mine until...“Ohdeargod”...SNAP.

  I’m a ragdoll in his arms. Fireworks in front of my eyes, popping my ears.

  I push him back, lick down his neck, his chest, his nipple. My own hand finds him below, tugs him down and up. Squeezes him.

  When he bursts, his hand clasps the bedsheet, and then me. He hits the bed, slams it once, twice with his fist. “OHGOD!” he roars, every muscle in his neck striated and tense.

  And then he relaxes.

  I lick his juice off him, slowly.

  I started taking the pill again two weeks ago.

  Just in case.

  -2-

  Monday, Jun 22

  Johnny was turning the big two-oh today and I called him as soon as I got up.

  “Hey. Happy birthday.”

  “Thank you. Whatchoo up to?”

  “Just got up. You celebrating today?”

  “Of course, gonna meet up with some friends later at a bar.”

  “Wish I could be there.”

  “Wish you could be here too.” Pause. “How’s...the guy?”

  “‘The guy?’ You sound like me now.”

  “Yeah, the guy.”

  “The guy is fine. And his name is Tiago.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Hey, J, I need to ask you something.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Why did you lie to me about being involved? Three weeks ago. Y’know, when we spoke.”

  Pause.

  “Johnny?”

  “Yeah.”

  I waited.

  “Cat, look...you need to stop doing this.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Digging.”

  “I’m not digging. I’m just asking.”

  “Like you used to ask me about Nicole when we were kids?”

  “No. This is different. I’m genuinely interested. I have no other agenda, I promise you.”

  “I know you don’t. Not knowingly. Subconsciously, I mean. You do this. You dig. You open your heart up to pain by asking questions you don’t really want the answer to.”

  “I see.”

  “I’ll answer it if you ask one more time. But I’ll give you the choice to ask it again, or to leave it.”

  I wasn’t digging. I wasn’t asking for pain. I wasn’t. “Why, uhm, did you lie...when I asked you about her?”

  Pause. “You want the truth?”

  “Sure.”

  “The truth is heavy, Cat.”

  “Christ, would you just tell me already.”

  “I didn’t lie to you. I was lying to myself. I was convincing myself that I had a girlfriend while talking to you. Because talking to you while I’m single only makes me want to jump through the phone, slide my hands under your dress, your bra, your panties, rip them all off. And take you.” Pause. “I’m not a clingy guy, Cat. I feel how I feel about you, and I move on. I wake up, I live, I work. I won’t chase you, because I’m not that guy. But you asked. So there’s your answer.”

  He was right.

  Telling me hurt.

  It stung like fire.

  -3-

  “I... I have another question, Johnny. And...I heard what you said about me digging, and maybe you’re right. Maybe. Maybe it’s a compulsion. But let me ask this one question at least, OK?”

  “OK.”

  “Why did you break up with her? Just for interest’s sake.”

  “You want the truth again?”

  No. “Yes.”

  “She just wasn’t you.”

  “You...were hoping to get together with me by breaking up with her?”

  “No. I wasn’t. She just wasn’t you. There’s no more to the answer. I’m not saying I have to be with you. But she just wasn’t you.”

  Silence.

  “Look, Cat, don’t make a big deal out of this. If one day I’m single and you’re single and we’re in the same country, maybe we’ll hit it off again. But I’m following the philosophy of letting the bird fly free and seeing if it comes back to me. Susana and I had our time. And now it’s over. I know what I’ve had before with someone. I won’t settle for less.”

  “OK,” I said. “OK.”

  “Let’s change the subject, Cat. This isn’t healthy.”

  We ended off on a good note. I forced myself to keep talking to him, to keep the friendship up. To end off on a smile. We did get onto the subject of girls again, and it was easier this time. Johnny was becoming quite the man about town from what I gathered. He didn’t let on very much, and I had to “dig” to get the data, but he had definitely been playing the field since splitting up with Susana.

  His one-nighters were easier for me to hear about, I noticed. It wasn’t other women using him for sex that worried me. Tiago had also had sex with a lot of girls. But what he and I had now was superior to that. Or so I hoped.

  -4-

  From Nicole’s Diary, transcribed:

  Monday, Jun 22

  Chat with Johnny. Late.

  Johnny: Hey.

  Nicole: Hey, big boy. Happy birthday. Sorry I didn’t call. So busy.

  Johnny: No prob. What u up to?

  Nicole: @ school. U?

  Johnny: At a bar. Drunk. Thought I’d text an old friend.

  Nicole: What, am I your booty call now? LOL. ;)

  Johnny: If you wanna be.

  Nicole: Har har.

  Johnny: I’m not kidding. You know u used to love me going down on u.

  Nicole: J, WTF? How drunk are you?

  Johnny: Slaughtered. Got me a sexy brunette on my arms, gonna fuck her brains out tonight.

  Johnny didn’t talk like this. This wasn’t like him. Nicole called.

  “J? What’s up?”

  “’ey, Nicole! Wazzup, baby!”

  “Hi, Johnny.” Her voice was cool, suspicious.

  “So, you wanna come over and we can do the deed? That’s the only thing you and I never did...”

  “I hope someone’s driving you home tonight.”

  “Oh, no, honeybunch. We not goan drive home tonight. We goan juz fuck up a shtorm in the bar here! HEY!” People shouted enthusiastically. “Sho, I shpoke to your friend today. Our, y’know, mutual friend. Kah—kah—Catty. Funny name, huh? Catty-catty-catty-catty. Yeah, we uhm...shpoke. Sho, she sheems to be doing well wiff diz guy, huh?”

  “J, talk to
me. What’s happening with you?”

  “Oh, I’m juz havin a good time, honeybunch. Drinkin my fuggin shorrows away, y’know. No, thaz not right. What ’ave I got to be shorry about? I’m fuggin rich. I got me shum tasty pushy to look forward to—”

  “J, let me talk to someone there, someone sober. Someone you’re with.”

  “Oh, sure. Sure! I give you Marina.” Then he whispered, “She’s the one I’m gonna give it to later. Nice and hard!”

  Even Nicole, who is about as abashed as a Park Avenue escort, cringed at how he was talking.

  A girl with a strong accent got on the phone. The girl must have taken the phone outside because Nicole noticed a reduction in noise. Nicole asked the girl to make sure he got home safely. She told this Marina that...she’d never seen Johnny drunk in his whole life, that Marina should watch out for him.

  Marina agreed willingly. Enthusiastically, even.

  And then Johnny was back on the phone.

  “J.”

  “NICOLE, MAH BABY!”

  “J, listen to me. Don’t do anything fuckin stoopid! I’ve never seen you this drunk.”

  “You’re not sheeing me, you’re hearing me.”

  She shook her head. “Just...goddamnit... Just stay alive!”

  And then he said something horribly lucid. Something terrifying. He said, “What for?”

  -5-

  Tuesday, Jun 23, the next day.

  More from Nicole’s diary. A call.

  “Nicole.”

  “Johnny, oh, God, I was worried fucking sick about you.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. That’s why I called.” He groaned in pain.

  “Hungover?”

  “Unbelievably.”

  “Was Marina at least a good lay?”

  “I...I honestly can’t remember.”

  “That’s not like you.”

  “It is. I’m not the same guy I was in high school, Nicole. Listen, did you tell Cat—”

  “No.”

  “Good. Good. Please don’t.”

  “You don’t need to ask me that, Johnny.”

  “It’s not for me. It’s for her.”

  “I know.”