I charge.
But I don’t need to.
Something happens.
Something fast.
Lightning fast.
So goddamned fast that I only see (and hear) the aftermath.
The dude’s face (“Vince”) is crushed. I mean crushed. There’s blood all over the wall, blood all over Vanessa. She’s screaming, her hands to her face, wailing.
The Dude From Nowhere who hit her says, “It’s OK, Vanessa. It’s OK. I’m a friend of Johnny’s.”
Is he?
I smile. I’ve never seen him before.
But I recognize the patch on his jacket. His leather jacket (in this heat, Christ.)
BlueHorn Angels MC.
She hasn’t seen me, hasn’t seen me at all.
The big man (maybe in his twenties, long hair, a ring through his lip, several around one of his ears) pulls Vanessa toward him, hugs her. “It’s OK,” he says, running his hand through her hair.
“He was trying to rape me,” she says. “I said No. I swear I said No!”
“I know, I know, it’s cool.”
The dude looks at me. I guess you could say he’s good looking, what with that frickin manly jaw and all those muscles. I’m not a good judge of these things.
He winks at me, then lifts his chin like I should leave.
I look down at Vanessa. She still hasn’t seen me.
I smile at the guy, nod my head in respect.
“He was trying to rape me.”
The Hulk is on the ground, blood all over his face, barely breathing.
“C’mon,” says the biker dude, “let’s get some coffee into you.”
He turns her away from me, puts his arm around her shoulders, and they walk away.
-62-
I call Cat before leaving Florida.
She answers instantly, which is probably not a good sign. “J—Johnny.”
“Hey.”
“How’s—how’s Florida?”
“Too hot.”
“I—I see.” She sounds like she’s been crying.
“So, uhm, I’m heading back tomorrow and, uhm, I was wondering... Well, I mean, if you’re not busy and... Could we talk? I mean, face to face, about...stuff?”
“Stuff?”
I want to say Us, but my words catch in my throat. “Yeah, stuff.”
“Uhm, yeah, sure, I guess.”
“Just tell me one thing, Cat. Right now. Not yesterday, not last week, not in Europe, not two years ago, right now, are you single?”
“Johnny, that bullshit magazine—”
“Cat, I don’t care about the past. I don’t care about yesterday. I don’t want to know about yesterday. Today, right now, are you seeing anyone?”
“Right now?”
My heart rises to my throat. “Yeah, right this minute.”
“No.”
I almost collapse with relief. “OK. OK. Cool. Cool. And, uhm, anyone on the horizon?”
“No.”
“Cool. Cool.” My mouth feels dry, so dry. “Could I ask you a favor?”
“Sure.”
“Could you stay single for two more days?”
She laughs. A soft laugh that seems to carry with it some tears. “Uhm, I...think...I could manage that.”
“You think?”
“Maybe.”
“Cat, you’re killing me here.”
“OK, OK, I’ll make a sacrifice.”
“I mean, I know you’re High Value right now, front page of magazines and everything. You’ve probably got guys calling you every five minutes.”
“Every two minutes. I’ve had to hire a PA.”
“That’s what I thought. So, uhm, do you think you could hold them off for two more days?”
“I’ll try but, uhm, yeah, it’ll be tough.”
“For me,” I say. “Would you do it for...me?”
I hear her sniff. And, with emotion in her voice, “Yes. I’ll do it...for you.”
My throat tightens. “Fucking great.” And then, almost a whisper: “Fucking great.”
“And will you do the same for me?”
My answer is quick. No time for kidding on my side. I want her to know where the fuck I stand. No ambiguity. No room for misinterpretation. No more Failed Opportunities. “Absolutely.”
She sniffs again. “Good. Good.” Pause. “Johnny?”
“Yeah.”
“Drive slow, OK? I’ll be single when you arrive here. Today, tomorrow, or next week. Just drive slow.”
A tear cracks through my eye, and I’m totally embarrassed by it. “OK.” It’s all I can manage.
I click the phone off, because I don’t want Cat to hear my words catching in my throat.
I look out over the horizon. The sun is going down, over the Gulf, bright orange, then hot red.
I think of Cat, and how good it would be to have her here, under my arm.
And then I think of Vanessa, what a good friend she’s been.
I’m reminded of Nicole.
Maybe it’s best if Cat doesn’t meet Vanessa.
Ever.
-63-
I stop at a gas station about a hundred miles from New York. I drove twelve hours a day (and made one quick stop at a special store), and I’ll be in New York just after sunset. I text Cat.
Me: Can we meet tonight?
Cat: You didn’t drive slow
Me: No
Cat: Yes. Let’s meet tonight
Me: A park? A coffee house?
Cat: Actually, I was thinking...
She texts me an address.
And my heart stops beating.
But I’d be lying to you if I tell you my blood stops pumping. Because it’s pumping hard, and it’s pumping low.
Cat: Was this presumptuous?
Me: Christ, not a chance
Cat: Good, I wasn’t sure
Me: Be sure. But I’ll need to shower
Cat: Don’t
-64-
I pull up outside the hotel where it all began. The hotel I had to ask a friend to get me into without showing ID when Cat and I were seventeen.
And when we were both virgins, until the end of that night.
I had placed rose petals on the bed. I was such a romantic.
But I don’t regret it. Not for Cat. Not for her.
And I kissed her. I kissed her between her legs and then I took her maidenhood.
I’m about to ask front-desk what room Catherine Ramsey is staying in when I feel my phone buzz.
It’s Cat. She’s texts me the number.
And she’s in the same room.
I race up the stairs, hungry, tired.
When I get upstairs, I don’t even bother to knock.
I try the door, and it’s open.
What I see when I get inside sends me reeling. Sends lust through every bone in my body.
But it sends more. Much more.
Love. Unbearable, aching love.
Cat’s in thigh-high stockings, her feet clad in high heels. She’s wearing a skirt that she’s pulled up to show me the garters, and the top buttons of her blouse are undone.
She’s sitting on the bed, staring at the door like a mouse looking at a cat.
She inhales a deep, tremulous breath, keeps her hands on her knees. Nervous hands, hands pressed tightly against her skin.
Behind her, on the bed, she’s placed rose petals.
-65-
“Was this too much?” she says.
“No, hell no.”
“I wasn’t sure,” she says. “I wasn’t—”
“No, it wasn’t. You read it right, Cat. You read it right.”
I close the door behind me, my eyes locked on the whiteness of the skin on her thighs.
“This isn’t my style,” she says. “So if I look like an idiot—”
“Shhh. Jesus, just let me stare at you. Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
She blushes, and her fingers press harder against her knees.
“I’m not that girl, Jo
hnny. I’m never gonna be that girl for you.”
“You are,” I say. “You are.”
“I’m not a demon in bed—”
“Jesus, you are.”
“—and I don’t know the right things to do—”
“I don’t care.”
“—I’m just myself, Johnny. I’m...” Her lip trembles. “I’m me, and I...” Her entire jaw trembles. “And I...I fucking love you, Johnny. And my heart’s on my sleeve and—”
I don’t let her finish.
I stride toward her and get down on my knees in front of her. “I love you, too, Cat. I fucking love you, too. I fucked up—”
“You didn’t fuck up.” She runs her hands furiously through my hair. “You didn’t fuck up. I did. I—”
“Bullshit. I—”
And now it’s me who doesn’t finish. Her lips collide with mine and fogginess fills my eyes.
Such beautiful, sweet, loving lips.
“I don’t wanna know about the past,” she says. “I don’t care what you did in Florida. I don’t—”
“I didn’t do anything, Cat. Jesus, I couldn’t stop thinking of you.”
Her eyes water some more. She stares at my hair, keeps running her hands madly through it. “You didn’t do...anything?”
“No, I didn’t. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I couldn’t stop thinking of you, Cat.”
She swallows, gets herself under control.
Then she shakes her head, gets serious. “We can’t be friends with Nic anymore, Johnny. Never again. Gone.”
“I know. She’s not a friend, Cat. She never was.”
Cat tilts her head, and the view of her neck is driving me insane. “She was once,” she says. “I think she was. But not anymore.”
OK. I don’t agree, but OK. What difference does it make?
I slide my hands up the sides of Cat’s legs.
Her eyes close, and she tilts her head back.
Moans.
I feel her softness as my hands slide up past the garters, under her dress.
I’m remembering her flavor, how she tasted, and my eyes are locked on the black underwear I can see peeking from under her silky dress.
“Johnny,” she moans. “This is it,” she says. “This is it, OK? No more. No more games. No more.”
“Yes.”
My fingers press up against her butt, and her own fingers do the same against my head.
She shifts, just slightly, widening her legs just an inch, not even that.
I feel my head moving closer.
I drop my nose onto her stockings, then to the inside of her thighs, and I inhale.
She sighs deeply, and already I feel like she is a part of me, one with me.
Her hands slide down over my back, then up to my shoulders.
I nuzzle forward, taking her scent in, kissing the top of her inner thigh as she widens slowly.
But she pushes me away.
And I oblige.
It’s been years, years, and she’s not the only one that’s afraid.
She looks at me pleadingly. “Are we doing the right thing?” she says.
I push her legs together by the knees, get up and sit next to her, put my hand around her neck, and bring her in to kiss me. We kiss for five minutes or more, getting to know each other again, getting to know each other’s lips, each other’s moans, each other’s sounds.
I pull away eventually. Cat’s smiling, red-cheeked. Me? I’m a puddle of goo. Any manliness I might have had has disappeared.
I would do anything for this girl. Anything.
My eyes catch the top of her breasts, her blouse unbuttoned just enough to show me what’s underneath it. And she isn’t wearing a bra.
I run my hand through her dyed hair, look into her blue eyes.
Just staring at her is enough. I could stare at her forever. I could stare at her every morning for the rest of my life. “We don’t have to do this if it’s too soon,” I say. “We don’t have to do this to know that we’re together.”
“Are we?” she says. “Together?”
“Have we ever been apart?”
She fights off more tears. I’m struggling to keep my own down as well.
She leans into me, her kiss more forceful now, more desperate. Her hands are on my shirt, pulling, tugging, lifting it up.
“Wait,” I say. “Wait.”
I wonder if I should do this. Wonder if I should do this now. That special store on the way here...
The scene is wrong. I had planned music, a dinner, candlelight. Maybe I would have hidden it in her dessert, or in a glass of champagne. I was planning on waiting a few months, giving her time, giving us time to get to know each other again.
Failed opportunities.
“Johnny, is everything OK?”
But when I saw it...
“Johnny? What’s wrong?”
I get on my knees. Then I realize it’s wrong. I’m supposed to be on one knee.
Christ, this is so unrehearsed.
“Johnny, what are you doing?”
Taking an opportunity.
I take her hand in both of mine.
“Oh, God,” she squeaks. “Oh, God, Johnny.”
I’m not looking at her. I’m watering up, and it’s embarrassing. She shatters me, this girl. Shatters me completely. Shatters all my power, my strength. Everything.
“Catherine Ramsey,” I say. And then I clear my throat, because I still can’t keep my emotions under control.
“Cath—Catherine Ramsey.”
“Oh, fuck, Johnny.”
Shit, was it too soon? Too...presumptuous?
“Just give me a sec,” I say.
My glands are killing me, killing me.
I’m staring at the red heels she’s wearing. And she’s wearing them for me.
I compose myself, and look up at her beautiful eyes. “Catherine Ramsey. Cat. I... I know this is maybe a little presumptuous.” She shakes her head, her eyes a waterfall right now. “I know this is a little presumptuous and, well, I would have prepared it a little better.” I look around the room, see the rose petals. “But, well, it just seems perfect the way it is now.” She nods furiously, her hand sliding back and forth through my hair. “I smell,” I say. “I’ve been on the road for over twenty hours. Not perfect at all.”
“Perfect,” she says. “It’s perfect.”
“But, well, I think...I think you and I...are, well, a lesson in failed opportunities.” Note to self to thank Thunder. “And, well, I’ve done a lot of thinking and we could linger on the past, all the fuck-ups, everything we did and didn’t do. The mistakes we made. The mistakes I made.”
“And me.”
“Mostly me.”
“Me, too, Johnny. Me too.”
I nod. Not the right time to get into this now. “And, well, I could think of a million should-haves and shouldn’t-haves but, the fact is, shit happens.” Ditto on thank yous for Vanessa. “And...it happened. And it’s over. And here we are. Today. Looking at a future. And, well, the simplicity is...”
Yeah, and here, I lose it. I fucking lose it.
I fight the tears down. Fight them down hard, but it hurts to keep them away.
So I let them flow for a second. Just a second.
Then I look up at her. “The simplicity is, Cat, that a future without you...” Choking up. Choking up. “Is no goddamn future at all.” Annnnnnd I burst.
Better get to the point, because I’m screwing this up royally.
I pull the ring from my pocket. “I hope this fits,” I mumble. “Catherine Ramsey, would you do me the absolute honor and privilege of allowing me to call you my wife, for better or worse or catastrophic or anything, for the rest of my sorry and a miserable life. I know I don’t deserve—”
“Yes.”
“—it. I know I have shit—”
“Yes!”
“—for brains. But—”
“Johnny, yes.”
“—I think—”
“Jo
hnny, shut up.”
“—that—”
“Shut up, Johnny. Shut up and kiss me.”
“—if we— Wait. Did you say yes?”
“Yes, damn it.”
“Fuck me. You said yes.”
She’s nodding like mad. “Yes. Definitely. Yes. Yes. Yes!”
“Fuck. You said yes.”
“Kiss me, Johnny.”
“Motherfucker, you actually said yes.”
“Johnny?”
“Yes?”
“I’m only a few clothes away from being naked.”
That wakes me up.
My jeans are about to burst open.
I pull Cat’s legs open slowly—
“Wait, the ring!” I say.
She laughs, stretches her hand out to me. I slide the ring on her finger.
It’s a little big. “We can fix that,” she says. Then she looks me in the eyes. “We can fix anything.”
She bends forward, and bruises me with a kiss.
When I hear her moan, I realize it’s time to start playing the part of a man.
I get up, push her slowly down onto the bed. Then I get on my knees, both knees this time.
Pull her legs toward me.
I see the black lace underwear again.
I pull her closer, until she’s just within reach.
I slide my fingers up the sides of her legs. I pull her skirt up to her belly, and curl my fingers around the top of her panties, pull them down.
She’s quivering.
I bring my lips to the pink between her legs.
And I bury myself inside her.
-66-
Cat’s hips begin to rock against my mouth. Her hands slide over my hair and she writhes against the bed.
I shift, too afraid I’m gonna burst if I stay in the position I’m in.
The soft skin of her inner thighs presses against my ears, and sounds of “Mmmmmmmm” fill the room. “Mmmmmmm. Oh, Johnny. Oh, that’s good. Oh, God, that’s so incredible.”
Her legs tighten against my head. “Oh, yes. Oh, yes.”
My hands grab her hips, and I bring her closer, harder against my lips.
She lifts her legs in the air. “Oh, yes. Oh, fuck, Johnny. Johnny, I’m gonna—”
She begins to tremble. Begins to shake.
“Johnny, I’m gonna—”
Her hands pull my hair so it hurts. I bring her closer to me, closer, pressing inside her, loving her.
Claiming Johnny: A New-Adult Novel Page 14
