One And Done

by Cynthia Sax

  I select another slice. “Like a man tells a bartender his problems.”

  “Yeah.”

  I nibble on the crust. The information doesn’t flow both ways. I told him about my issues with Edward. He hasn’t shared anything about himself. “Whom do you tell your problems to?”

  A knock on the door stops him from answering. “I’m needed again.” Smoke appears apologetic. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to return to you.”

  “Do you need help?” I walk with him to the door.

  Smoke stops, gazes down at me. “I would like…no, I shouldn’t.”

  I take his hands in mine, ignoring the cornmeal sticking to my skin. “I’m an accountant. I can help with the cash.” I’m not useless. I have some skills.

  “Jenella, we can’t get too involved.” He’s rejecting my offer and I should be hurt by this except he’s grasping my fingers tightly, as though they’re a lifeline, as though he never wants to let me go. “We’ll fuck these next few weeks. Boy, will we fuck.” His lips hitch upward. “We’ll go at it like college kids strung out on Special K. But that’s it, baby. When our time is over, so are we.”

  “I understand. I know you’re helping me with my… ummm… issues.” My voice softens. “It’s only fair and right, that I help you too.”

  “I’ll think about it.” He lifts my hands, skims his lips over my knuckles and ripples of awareness flow through my form. “Eat the rest of the pizza. Keep those tits in tip-top shape. When you’re done, Bruiser will take you home.”

  “You don’t have to twist my arm. I love pizza.” I lean forward and smack my lips against his chin. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “And if I say ‘Don’t call me?’”

  “I’ll call you anyway.” I laugh. “And extra early.”

  Smoke chuckles. “You’re one of the most headstrong women I know.”

  “One of the most?” I tilt my chin upward. “I have competition for the title?”

  “I’ve yet to win an argument with Nana Zaire and I’ve known her for eighteen years.” He releases my hands.

  I really want to meet this Nana Zaire. She sounds as wonderful as my Grandma Whyte.

  “I’ll delay my morning jacking off until you call.” Smoke leaves me with this crude comment.

  I don’t expect anything different from him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I eat the entire pizza. This isn’t my proudest moment and I feel extra guilty about my calorie consumption when I waddle past the collection of stick-thin bims waiting in the hallway.

  I sit in the front seat of the limo with Bruiser. His small talk tonight revolves around cookies – when the next batch will be baked, that I should give the filled tin to him, not Tyrice, which varieties he’d like to try. Woofer has shared details about the cookies I’ve baked for him in the past.

  “Whose Nana is Nana Zaire?” I insert the question between Bruiser’s baked-good musings.

  “Everyone’s and no one’s.”

  “What does that mean?” I’m not good at riddles.

  “None of us have grandparents so Nana Zaire adopted us.” Bruiser’s grip on the steering wheel tightens, his knuckles turning white.

  “Who is ‘us’?”

  “Everyone working at the club.” His gaze slides to my face and then back to the road. “We’re all family-less like the boss.”

  Family-less like the boss.

  I don’t have a large immediate family. It’s just my mom and dad back home in Thunder Bay. But I do have a huge extended family, a zillion aunts, uncles, and cousins.

  And, when I needed someone most, I had Grandma Whyte.

  Other than this Nana Zaire, an elderly woman requiring help with her yard, Smoke doesn’t have anyone.

  If anything bad happened, if disaster struck and he lost his club, he wouldn’t have family to turn to, to care for him, to shelter him from the world. This revelation makes his refusal to build lasting romantic relationships even more confusing.

  “Does it change how you see us, now that you know we don’t have anyone?” Bruiser stares straight ahead at the heavily stickered bumper of a green Toyota Camry. “Do you think less of us?”

  “No.” I frown. “Why would I think that?”

  “Some people do.” The big man’s voice is weighted down with sadness, with past hurt.

  “Some people are jackasses.” I quote Smoke. “If anything, it makes me like you more, Bruiser. This is a tough world and it takes strength to survive on your own.”

  I don’t know if I could have done it. Thankfully, I never had to find out.

  Bruiser drives in silence.

  “I’ll likely make oatmeal raisin cookies next.” I volunteer this information. “They’re Woofer’s favorite.”

  “We all know that.” White teeth flash in the man’s dark face. “He’s described them. Many, many times. In excruciating detail. Down to the last raisin.”

  “The oatmeal raisin are good.” Some things I’m modest about. My cookies aren’t one of these things.

  Bruiser turns the limo onto my street. “I’m glad you found us, miss.”

  “Because I make good cookies?”

  “Because you make the boss happy and you accept us.” He smiles. “The cookies are a delicious bonus.” Bruiser pauses. “Remember to give that tin directly to me.”

  The cookies are a bonus, my huge ass. I laugh.

  ***

  The next morning, I search the apartment for items belonging to my ex. I need to erase Edward from my life, fill the space he left with other things, other people.

  I gaze around the kitchen. The coffee machine was a Christmas gift from him, and some days, it’s my only link to sanity. I’m keeping it.

  I wander into my bedroom. Edward’s comfy brown sweater has to go. I burrow my face in the scratchy wool, filling my lungs with his scent.

  This is a mistake. Memories flood my mind. How he’d tugged the sweater over my head during one of our fall enjoy-the-colors walks around the neighborhood. The weekend at Horseshoe Resort when I wore this sweater and little else, neither of us seeing the ski slopes.

  My heart aches. I force myself to fold the garment and place it in a cardboard box. The tie he received from his mother is set on top of it.

  Almost everything in my room reminds me of him. He bought me the panda pendant after we spent the day at the zoo, looking at the animals. I wore the black lace shawl to my first and last ballet. Both of us fell asleep during the performance.

  Those items are mine. He won’t expect them back. The baseball cap from his firm’s picnic is his. The etiquette book was given to me by his mother. He can have that back. I lob it into the box. Chelsea might need it.

  I tuck the photos of the two of us, of him, into the box. Before tossing them into the trash or burning them, Edward might look at the images, remember the good times, the happiness, the love.

  I don’t want him back, our relationship has ended, but I want to be missed, just a little. Although it’s petty, it’s my truth…as Azure would say.

  Next, I pack his cologne, spare toothbrush, other personal-care items. He left a three-piece suit, several shirts, briefs, pairs of socks, two law texts, his iPod.

  Our lives were integrated. He’d become part of me. I sit on the end of my bed, every inch of me feeling his absence.

  I’ll survive this. I’m not alone. I have Smoke, Azure, and more friends here in Toronto, family back in Thunder Bay.

  Brushing my hands over my wet cheeks, I complete a final sweep of the room, ensuring I haven’t forgotten anything. Edward won’t have another reason to see me.

  We’ll be over and I can move on.

  Satisfied that I’ve packed everything, I throw myself into a whirlwind of activity, baking cookies, doing laundry, ordering groceries online…for Azure and myself, not Edward. He can order his own groceries going forward.

  I’m a multi-tasking goddess, a princess of productivity, a to-do list bitch slapper.

  Shortly aft
er eleven, my phone plays I Fought The Law. Edward is calling me.

  “When will you be here?” I cut through the small talk, the ‘Hi. How are you? I’m fine’s’ that neither of us means.

  “I’m ten minutes away.” A month ago, simply hearing his voice would have warmed my heart. Now, I feel nothing. “Do you need anything?”

  I need for this to be over.

  “No, I’m good.” He’s no longer my boyfriend, is no longer responsible for me. I can take care of myself.

  “See you soon.”

  Edward’s definition of soon is different than mine. He arrives in twenty minutes, not ten. I open the door, pissed at him and at the world.

  “Good morning, Jenella.” He smiles at me as though he never left me, as though he never betrayed my love.

  “Edward…I mean Eddy.” I step aside.

  His outfit is awful, the T-shirt hanging from his shoulders, his ragged blue jeans ill-fitting. I focus on that and not on how blue his eyes are.

  “I’ll always be your Edward.” He saunters into the apartment, acting like he still belongs here.

  “You’re not my anything, not anymore.” I watch him warily, not trusting him or myself. It’s difficult to look at him and not remember the good times, the tender moments, the way I once felt when I was with him—needed, loved, valued.

  I have to get him out of the apartment. Now.

  “This is everything you left here.” I wave at the box on the floor.

  Edward ignores the container of his things and circles the space. He pauses near the kitchen counter. “You baked cookies.” He reaches for one.

  “Those aren’t for you.” I swat his hands.

  “They’re for Smoke.” Edward’s lips flatten.

  “That’s none of your business but yes, they’re for his team.”

  “Chelsea says he doesn’t date.” My ex’s gaze slides to my face.

  Is he looking for a reaction? I know all about Smoke and his one-and-done rule. “You told me you’d never cheat. My relationship with Smoke doesn’t concern you.”

  “It does concern me.” Edward turns to face me. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  “Because you consider hurting me your job?” I’m unable to hide my bitterness. “We’re over. Collect your things and go.”

  “It isn’t that simple.” He doesn’t move.

  “It is that simple.” I wait for him to leave.

  He doesn’t move.

  “Edward—”

  “My mother wants to have brunch tomorrow,” he blurts. “The three of us.”

  Why is he telling me this—to hurt me more? “The three of you is now you, your mother and Chelsea.”

  “She knows about Chelsea but she wants to see you. She insists.”

  Mrs. Langston hated me at first. It took years of being nice, of ignoring her insults and her rude comments, before she finally tolerated me.

  Edward’s mother has never wanted to see me. She treasures her solo time with her baby boy.

  “I’m not having brunch with you and your mother.” I never liked those brunches when we were dating. I certainly won’t attend them now.

  “Please, Jenella.” Edward widens his eyes, giving me that pleading look I can never resist. “I’ll owe you and you never know when you…or Azure might need a lawyer.”

  Damn it. He knows it’s merely a matter of time before my constantly protesting friend gets herself arrested again. I’ll do anything to protect her. “If I do this, I get three get-Azure-out-of-jail-free cards.”

  “Done.” Edward smiles. “Brunch will be at eleven o’clock, the usual place.” He assumes I’ve agreed to attend it. “Do you need a ride?”

  “No, I can manage.” I don’t want to arrive with him. That would give his mother the wrong idea.

  “Thank you.” Edward shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

  God. Does he need more from me? I haven’t anything else to give.

  “I’ve missed you.”

  The emotion in his voice moves me. It shouldn’t but it does. “You have Chelsea now.” I remind both of us.

  “I think about you all the time.” He cups my chin and lifts my gaze to his.

  There’s need in his blue eyes.

  We stare at each other. Our breathing synchronizes, our chests rising and falling in tandem. Emotions, echoes of the caring we once experienced, build and build and build.

  He leans closer to me. I lean into him.

  His scent fills my nostrils.

  It’s the wrong scent. He’s the wrong man.

  What am I doing? Edward isn’t my boyfriend anymore. He belongs to someone else. I belong to someone else.

  I pull away from my ex. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Edward steps toward me. “Jenella—”

  “Go. Now.” I turn my back on him and temptation.

  There’s silence. A door opens and then clicks closed.

  He’s gone. My shoulders slump. Thank God.

  I place the cookies carefully into a tin. All of them are transferred, not simply the perfect cookies. Smoke and his team don’t expect perfection. A few crumbs won’t bother them.

  Azure arrives seconds later, with Mikie The Wonder Kid in tow. She’s wearing the same clothes as she did yesterday, the fabric wrinkled and fragrant, smelling of drugs, booze, and sex. Her hair is its usual crazy mess of curls.

  The talk with Zanetti must not have gone well.

  “I saw Steady Eddy’s climate-destroying BMW outside.” She makes a beeline for the cookie tin.

  “He was picking up his things.”

  “Good.” Mikie has gained confidence and miraculously lost his stutter. If the medical community hears of this development, fucking will become the hottest, new method to cure speech impediments. “Humans weren’t designed to be monogamous.”

  My lips twist. “You’ve been training him. I see.”

  “Someone has to.” Azure hands him a cookie. “Or he’ll find himself wasting precious years loving a callous bastard.”

  Yes, the talk with Zanetti went terribly.

  She selects another cookie, examining it closely. “Are these organic?”

  “The raisins are.” I sourced them from her stash.

  She considers the sweet treat for a moment and then shrugs. “That’s close enough.” She nibbles on the cookie. “Whatcha doing today?”

  “I’m calling Smoke after two o’clock.” I don’t know what the plan for today is.

  “Ah, yes, the man you’re supposedly not dating yet talk to every day.” Azure scarfs the rest of the cookie, failing in her attempt to eat it slowly. “Has he hooked you up with someone?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Uh huh.” She gives Mikie another cookie, treating him like a pet. “Do not get into another serious relationship, ‘Nella.” She narrows her eyes, looking as fierce as a newborn bunny. “Not right away.”

  “Monogamy isn’t natural.” Mikie steals a third cookie.

  “Cave to societal pressures later, when you’re old and decrepit.” Azure ignores her protégé. “Enjoy your youth and your freedom now. Share your sexual energy with multiple men.”

  Her words aren’t as impassioned as they have been in the past. My friend no longer believes her own spiel.

  “I volunteer to share your sexual energy.” Mikie holds up his hand.

  I ignore this offer. “Smoke and I aren’t serious.” This feels like a lie. “He’s a player. I accept that about him.”

  “Then come out with us today.” Azure calls me on my bullshit. “Mikie and I are attending a fertility celebration. Show us and the judgmental world that you’ve thrown off the tethers of monogamy, broken the bindings of sexual repression, embraced your power as a woman.”

  The first and last fertility celebration I attended with Azure turned into an orgy. I manned the organic juice bar for half an hour, keeping the participants hydrated. I was fully dressed. Everyone else was naked, writhing on the floor, fingers stroking cocks, hands we
dged between ass cheeks, lips sealed over nipples.

  I tolerated the sexfest until an overzealous lust-drunk man grabbed me, insisting I join in. Azure convinced him to leave me alone. I fled the scene, returning to the safety of our apartment.

  “I’m not up for a fertility celebration today.” Will I ever be that sexually free? “I’m surprised Mikie is.” He was a virgin last week.

  “Society hasn’t yet indoctrinated him into their foolish rules.” Azure grasps his arm. “Call me if you change your mind.”

  Should I change my mind? Azure and Mikie move into her bedroom.

  I haven’t yet learned how to properly satisfy one man. Pleasuring a room filled with horny free-spirited men is beyond my capabilities.

  ***

  A half hour later, Azure is screaming ‘yes, yes, yes’ so loudly, I almost don’t hear the doorbell.

  Our groceries have arrived. A clean-cut, neatly dressed, teenage boy staggers into the apartment, struggling with six plastic bags packed with our weekly order.

  “Yes, lick me there.” My friend’s command makes the delivery boy start, her voice clearly audible through the closed bedroom door. “Suck my pussy clean.”

  The boy turns a fierce shade of crimson. He looks as embarrassed as I feel.

  “Sorry about that.” I push a folded twenty-dollar bill into his palm. This is all tip. I paid the grocery bill online. “Roommates—what can you do?”

  “Find a new place to stay, miss.” He runs along the hallway, eager to put as much distance between him and our apartment as possible.

  I don’t blame him.

  “Flutter that tongue faster, sunflower.”

  I need noise-canceling headphones.

  I put the groceries away and finish my laundry. While I’m hanging my clothes in my closet, Azure and Mikie slink out of the apartment and my tin of cookies disappears. The air smells like marijuana. They likely had the munchies.

  Making a single batch was a strategic error. My roommate deserves baked goods as much as Smoke’s team does. As everyone seems intent on warning me, the club owner won’t stick around. Azure will always have my back.

  I open the windows, wait a few minutes for the place to air out and then make more cookies.