by Willsin Rowe
Patrick. Standing at the front of my store and fidgeting. He might as well have been tapping his wristwatch as I approached.
“Lucy. I was so worried. I heard about the accident and I thought it must have been you. I’ve been waiting for over thirty minutes.”
“Don’t you have other deliveries, Patrick? A timetable to keep to?”
“Yeah, and now I’m really late.” He did that magic trick again, where he folded his arms and became twice as large.
“Um… I’m sorry, I guess? I stayed late in bed, because Mark…” I caught myself before continuing. He wouldn’t have the context, and really, there was no reason to go into any detail. Patrick’s expression turned cold and it dawned on me exactly what I’d implied by letting my sentence trail off.
His bulk was between me and the front door, and it took a deft side-step to veer around him and unlock the store.
“Anyway, Lucy. I had to give you these.” He held up a fistful of envelopes, crushing them slightly in the middle. “They look like bills. Electricity, credit card, phone.”
“Patrick, have you been going through my mail?”
“Nah, I just know what’s what with letters, right?” He jabbed at the top one with his meaty finger. “This one might be just a regular letter. Maybe from lover-boy.”
“Don’t be absurd. Why would Mark write me a letter when we live together?”
“Aha. Got ya.”
His expression radiation both smugness and anger, and I reached into my bag to find my phone. Just in case. “You got me? How?”
“I never said his name. I knew you guys were doin’ it.”
“Patrick, it’s not like that at all.”
“You said it was the other day.”
Shit. I had, too. Inspiration hit me in a flash. “Then why are you trying to trick me?”
He worked his mouth for a moment, but nothing came out. Instead he held out his hand, offering up the mail for me to take.
“Thank you, Patrick.” I took hold of the proffered envelopes. My wanna-be boyfriend kept an iron grip on them and stared me down with steely eyes. That was the moment of realization for me. That what I’d thought was simply an awkward set of social skills was actually a cold expectation. A sense of entitlement that radiated as he let his eyes wander lower, taking in the plentiful valley of my cleavage. I let a timid smile crawl across my mouth and spoke gently. “Please, don’t let me keep you any longer.”
He released the envelopes and stepped back. “I hope he’s treating you right, Lucy. You deserve to be treated special.”
“Thanks for the mail, Patrick. You know you can always just slip them through the slot in my front door, right?”
“Hurhurhur. That’s what they all say.”
“Goodbye, Patrick.” I closed the door quietly but firmly, hoping my actions were enough to send him the clear message that I was definitely not interested. Otherwise, so help me, I’d have to take the awful step of actually saying so in words.
8
Saturday arrived and I sprang out of bed so I could get to work cleaning the house. For most people it was a boring but necessary chore. I pitied those poor souls. For me it was the second best stress reliever, and worked almost as a form of meditation. Mark, naturally, spent most of the morning sleeping off whatever distasteful activities he’d been doing with Gabrielle the night before.
When he finally awoke, he strolled soundlessly from his room. As always, he looked unjustifiably gorgeous, with his stubbly, chiseled face and crazy bed hair.
I crossed my arms and tapped my foot as he slid his perfect ass onto a kitchen chair. It was impossible not to return his sheepish smile, though.
“Hey, Mark? Farmer Giles called. Said he needs you back in his corn field, pronto.”
“Yeah? Well, farmer boy is gonna have to wait. I’ll need an enormous coffee before I let him stick that pole back up my ass.”
“Twerp.”
“You are.” He rammed home his razor-sharp argument by poking out his tongue.
“So, what was it last night, Mark? Fashion show? Movie? Extended discourse about the greater ramifications and influences of the surrealist movement?”
“There’s no need to be like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like… ah, forget it.”
I probably should have done exactly that, but good old redheaded stubbornness latched on, “No, tell me. What am I being like?”
He sighed and stood, turning to fill the kettle and switch it on. “You know, just all up in my business.”
“We live together. Surely that gives me the right to ask.”
“No. It doesn’t. It only gives you a reason. And an opportunity.” He turned back and leaned against the counter, folding his lovely arms across his even lovelier chest. “Look, Luce… I don’t want to be rude, but I thought we kind of agreed we’d keep ourselves to ourselves for the most part.”
His cool tone stung much harder than the actual words. “We said nothing of the sort.”
“It was heavily implied.”
The fact he was completely right only made me more frustrated. I’d put up my fences before Toni even told me his name. And he’d been totally respectful of the distance I’d wanted at the start. I’d put minefields around myself and if I wanted to get closer to him I’d have to dig them all up.
But it was all his fault. Walking around shirtless, in tight track pants. Being all damn personable and understanding, and smelling so… edible. Being better looking than everyone in the world, without it making him a douche.
What a bastard.
“Well, fine then. I just thought we might share a little more. I’ll tell you what I did last night, if you like.”
“I already saw the DVD cases.” He yawned and scratched that haystack on top of his head. “And the wine bottle.”
The face I made at him only seemed to amuse him more. “Yeah, rub it in, why don’t you? So, I spent the night with all my friends. Some of us need to make sure the movie studios make residual monies. We can’t all go gallivanting around from party to party.”
He finished off his coffee and put it on the table. On a coaster.
“It was a burger and fries at the beach, watching the sun set, actually. Happy?”
“The sun usually sets around 6pm, Mark. Did you fly to the west coast to watch it?” Even I could hear the acid in my voice.
He leaned heavily on the table, those wide shoulders looking more threatening than delicious. I had a flash back to Patrick’s threatening behavior and instinctively slid down in my chair.
“Of course not, Lucy. We watched the sun set, Gabrielle ate half my beef patty and drooled like crazy as she watched me eat the fries. Then we went to her place and rolled around in her bed for hours.”
His honesty was so sudden and brutal I thought it might have been nicer if he’d simply slapped me. “Why would you say it like that?”
“Why do you care how I say it? Why are you checking up on me?” He stood straight and strode back to the counter, every move rigid with anger yet still graceful and sexy as hell. “What I do with Gabs is not your concern, is it? No, really, is it? It doesn’t make a mess of your place. And if it’s my health you’re worried about, don’t. I used a condom as I always do.”
A sensible woman—say, one with blonde or brunette hair—might have broken down into tears at that point. The only thing his anger was doing was to get me all keyed up. “Oh, TMI! I’m not checking up on you.” Of course I was, but truth be damned. “God, get over yourself! You forgot your key once already. I just don’t want to have to run my life around your random hook-ups.”
“Random hook-ups? She’s my fucking girlfriend.”
“And don’t you think you could maybe moderate your language a little?”
“I’m a guy. You asked, I told. I’m used to the st
raightforward way Gabs deals with shit.” He strode back over and picked up his coffee, staring down into my eyes. “It’s a very refreshing quality in a woman.”
“Meaning that women in general are convoluted?” I could hear the serpent slithering through my own words.
If Mark could hear it, he showed no sign, simply shrugging lightly and nodding. “Oh, there are sooo many games involved with most girls. Don’t get me wrong. When it’s the right girl, the games are a whole lot of fun. Frustrating, but fun.”
“The right girl? You said Gabrielle doesn’t—”
“Ugh.” He pointed his free hand at me, karate chop style. “There you go, Lucy. Playing games.”
“I don’t think I like the sound of that.”
“Yeah. Truth hurts, right?”
“What games? What are you talking about?” He had me spinning inside my head and dancing to keep up with him. Neither one of which was helping my rising redheaded temper.
“You’re messing with my words. Taking what I say and moulding it into the worst possible shape. Finding one nugget within them and removing all context, just so you can hear it as an insult.”
I could feel my anger growing, so I dialed it down in the hopes it would frustrate him. I gave him a little flick of a wave, as if dismissing him. “Garbage. Men don’t use enough words that we would have the luxury to pick pieces out. We only ever hear what you say. It’s not our fault you guys are just naturally rude.”
He surprised me by, if anything, calming further than I did. “No, the problem is that girls are naturally defensive. They’re martyrs, in fact. I’ll give you an example. I walk up behind you and say my god, Lucy, you have such a beautiful big ass. How do you react?”
“I can’t believe you’d just straight out say how big my ass is.”
He pointed his hand at me like a pistol and grinned. “Exactly.”
“Trust me, I know how big my ass is. All girls know how big their asses are.”
“But see, that’s the thing. You just proved my point. You’re taking that one little nugget and making it everything. You completely skipped over the part where I said it’s beautiful.” As if he’d scored a point, he slugged a mouthful of hot coffee.
“But can’t you just like my beautiful ass? Why do you need to call it fat?”
He almost choked on the hot liquid in his mouth before he managed to swallow it. “Hey, I never used that word. I said big.”
“Oh, that’s just so much better.”
“Luce, I’m not stupid. I know I’m playing with fire here, but it’s to make a point. And what if I had used the F-word? In the end, isn’t someone liking your ass a good thing?”
“Oh, I know you’re not stupid. You’re just being extremely…male.”
“Yeah, that’s actually the point I’m trying to—”
“Sticking with your example, what good is it for a man to love something about m–about a woman, if it’s something I… that she hates?”
“Well, because he likes it. And assuming she likes him, then that would make you… her feel better about it.”
I couldn’t help it. I actually laughed out loud with that one. “As if! Okay, let’s flip it around.” I dropped my voice to a sensual moan. “Oh, Mark. I adore your cute little cock. How would that feel?”
His cheeks colored and his eyes flashed, but I couldn’t tell if it was anger or not. Maybe he was annoyed I’d proven him wrong. But maybe I’d hit a nerve. Oh, god… what if he actually had a teeny weeny?
He covered his emotion by crossing his arms. “All right, so let me get this straight. You’d rather a man flatter you with a pleasing—and disabling—lie, than praise you with a potent truth?”
I put my hands up in front of me and shook my head. “Look, sure, it’d be great if your partner, or your crush, loves something about you. But they’re only one part of your life. A girl with a big ass has to carry it around all day, no matter whether her guy is there to worship it or not. But a guy with a small penis only needs to worry about it when he’s using it. The rest of the time, who cares?”
He coughed and shook his head, a little look of sadness creeping across his face. “Just when I think you understand men, you go and say that. Anyway, we seem to have gone a long way from the point. I’m just saying I don’t understand why a girl can’t go hey, you offended me and I’d like an apology or anything like that. No, she has to turn it into a guessing game.”
“But if we feed you the answers, you won’t actually learn anything.”
“Yes! We will! This is not a mathematics exam. Getting the right answer is all that matters here. We don’t get partial credit for showing how we worked it out.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m saying, you tell us bad dog and smack us with a rolled up newspaper? That we understand. But if you nudge and needle and coax and hint then it takes so long to get to the heart of the matter that we forget what we’re even looking for.” He chugged the rest of his coffee and marched out of the room, apparently satisfied that he’d made a point, or maybe even scored one.
I simply crossed my arms and huffed. Stupid boy logic. No wonder I was single.
At that point, Mark leaned his head back into the room, a slight scowl on his face. “And just for the record, it is magnificent.”
“H-huh?”
“It is not cute. Nor is it little.”
“Sorry?” Then the penny dropped. “Oh! Definitely TMI!”
“And so that there’s no misunderstanding or anything...” That wonderful cheeky grin crept back up onto his mouth, “your ass is perfect.”
9
It turned into one of those annoying Saturdays with no real prospects. Her majesty had summoned Mark, and as always he’d dropped everything to go and… whatever. Screw her brains out. Or back in, maybe.
Damn. I hated turning into a bitch like that. I couldn’t even blame it on hormones. Well, I could, but it was the wrong hormones which were to blame. It was just so frustrating to have the whole day yawning in front of me with nothing much to fill it. Even the cleaning was done.
The bleating of my cell phone woke me from my self-pitying stupor.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Lucy.”
I sat up as if it was a video call, squirming in my seat and winding a tress of hair around my finger. “Oh, hi, Mark. What’s up?”
“You know you’ve been saying you’d like to meet Gabs?”
That didn’t sound like me at all. I had zero interest in the woman. “Um… no?”
“I was thinking… maybe I could bring her over for lunch today. Just something simple. What do you think?”
Anything would be preferable to having that woman in my house, making me and everything else look shabby. “Let me check my calendar. Oh, darn, today’s the day I had scheduled to take a scorpion bath.”
“What?”
“You know, fill the tub with venomous arachnids and just dive in.”
“Well, how long could that take? Surely lunch is still an option.”
I heaved out a long sigh. “It’s your house too, I suppose.” It was far from a yes, but it was as close as I could get.
“Cool. Thanks.”
“Should I make something?”
“No! I mean, I don’t want you to put yourself to any trouble. I’ll make something when we get there.”
“Is this about my cooking again?”
“Look! Something shiny!” He made a big show of coughing. “But seriously, I spend a lot of time with Gabs, and I live with you. I’d really like you to be friends. And before you accuse me of this, not because it’s all about me. I mean, even though it is, of course.”
“Jerk.”
“I just think… look, in all honesty, you’d be a great influence on her.”
“What, am I her mother now?�
�
“No, that’s not what I mean. Gabs is always running around from this store to the next, from one party to another. Out of state and international modeling assignments. It blows my head apart, sometimes. Whereas you? You’re so… organized. And grounded.”
Wow. Organized and grounded. Just what every girl wants to hear from a hot guy. Hey, pretty mama… I bet you keep all your tax receipts. Hell, all I needed was ‘punctual’ and I could be my own grandfather.
If nothing else, at least Mark’s brutish male sense of tact made one thing clear to me. He saw me as a housemate and nothing else. A woman of convenience. Someone to be friendly with, rather than friends with. Maybe now my stupid daydreams and ridiculous fantasies would stop.
“Okay. When will you be here? I need to clean up.”
“About one o’clock. And no, you don’t need to clean up. The place is spotless.”
“Was, Mark. It’s been over an hour since you left.”
His laughter seemed to curl straight into my chest and nestle there. “You’re a classic, Lucy. See you at one.”
Disconnecting the call, I held onto my phone for a moment. It felt warm in my hand, and even though I knew it was from the battery, it still seemed like it was something to do with Mark. And I suppose it was. It was the heat he generated inside me.
This new development from hell—meeting my crush’s girlfriend—was the mood-killer of the year. Sure, I hadn’t been planning anything for the day, but now I truly did need to clean the house again. I also had nothing good to wear, and only an hour and a half to lose twenty pounds.
The idea of focusing on even the simplest task was out of the question. In desperation, I dialed Toni again.
“Good morning, Luce. What are you up to this fine, sunny Saturday?”
