A Way to Get By

by T. Torrest

  I didn’t have the strength to face him right at the moment. Not after the ambush that occurred back in the house. I kept walking to the car, but in a few strides, Eddie was in front of me, his hands on my shoulders.

  “Bren, c’mon. Talk to me.”

  I couldn’t stop my voice from shaking as I blurted, “What do you want me to say, Eddie? I’m still trying to deal with losing my husband, but now I’m looking at losing my best friends, too? How much did you tell them?”

  He shook his head at his feet. “I only told them the truth.”

  “Which truth is that?”

  “The truth that you think I’m…”

  “You’re what?”

  He ran a hand over his face and met my eyes. “That you think I’m a fucking disappointment!”

  He looked so forlorn that I wanted to reach out and hug him. “Eddie, no. You’re not—I don’t think that.” It was risky, but I raked my fingers through the hair above his ear. It was always my favorite spot, and it was only fair that I took some comfort now while I could still access it. Eddie would be gone from my life in a few more minutes. I knew this. “You’re not a disappointment. You’re… You’re everything. It’s our life together that hasn’t lived up to my dreams.”

  Eddie pulled out of my grasp to look at me in barely restrained disgust. “Your dreams?” he asked, accusingly. “Everybody has a dream, Bren. I had one, too. I dreamed we’d stay together forever. It’s all I ever wanted. It’s the only dream I ever had.”

  “Eddie… We’ve been through this.”

  “Yeah, we’ve been through this. More times than I care to count.”

  “I’m sorry, Eddie.”

  “Not half as sorry as me.”

  I couldn’t stand to see the beaten look on his face, the slump of his shoulders. Just as I was about to put my arms around him, his expression hardened. “So go. Go find your rich fucking prince. Go live the life of your dreams.”

  His words were a razor blade that sliced through my heart. But when he actually turned on his heel and stormed off, it slashed the rest of me into ribbons.

  I ran the few steps to catch up with him, grasping at the sleeve of his shirt. “Eddie! Please don’t go like this!”

  Before I knew what was happening, he turned and grabbed my face between his palms, pulling my lips to his. Our mouths clashed together, and out of pure habit, my hands went around to the back of his head, forcing us closer, our tongues tangling. I groaned into his mouth; I couldn’t help it. Eddie groaned back, sliding a hand down my spine and across to my hip, molding my body to his. We missed each other. One stupid week and it felt like a lifetime already.

  The beginning of our life apart.

  I could have pushed everything out of my mind, simply lost myself in that delirious moment, pretended that everything was fine… but that would have only made our separation harder.

  Eddie must’ve realized it at the same second I did because he pulled free of our kiss with a grunt. He grabbed me behind my head and tucked me under his chin, his thumb caressing my hair. My tears were dripping down the front of his shirt, dampening the blue linen between my cheek and his chest.

  This was it. This was really goodbye.

  Eddie released his hold, and the cool night air filled the space between us, chilling me to the bone. I rubbed my arms to ward off the cold, staring into the eyes of the man I loved; inches yet miles away.

  Eddie jammed his hands into his pockets and had some trouble meeting my eyes. But then—just like that—his expression became one of composed detachment as he smiled slightly, nodded his head, and said, “Get home safe.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Get It Right the First Time

  EDDIE

  Saturday, February 14

  1970

  “Baby, come on, we have to stop. I’m dying here. My balls are going to explode.”

  I hadn’t had sex with anyone since the summer. Then I started dating Bren, and she and I still hadn’t moved past the making-out stage of our relationship. I was starting to get frustrated again. But Bren was scared to go all the way, and because I loved her, I waited. I wasn’t used to waiting, but I already knew that what we had was more important than sex. Took me a little longer to really get it but once I did, believe it or not, I was fine with it. For the most part.

  But on nights like this one… damn. She really pushed me to my limits.

  We were parked behind the strip mall that separated Hackensack from Norman. I’d put the top on my Mustang, and Bren had taken full advantage of our privacy to splay her knees on either side of my lap as I sat upright in the backseat.

  “It’s not that bad, is it?”

  “It’s been five months!” I shot back, not very proudly. “And if you didn’t straddle me like this, I could’ve stayed in control.” I grabbed her butt and pulled her against my throbbing erection to accentuate my point. “But I can’t take it anymore. It’s too much tonight.”

  Bren tilted her head to the side and jutted out her bottom lip. “Aww, but it’s Valentine’s Day.”

  “I’m glad to see you find this so funny.”

  I was angrier at myself than I was at her, but my voice sounded cranky and accusatory even to my own ears. I couldn’t concentrate on my manners when my balls felt like they were in a vice.

  Bren’s parents had moved out of the country a week ago, and already we’d been able to spend a ton of extra time together. Her aunt was normally passed out drunk by the time Brenda got home from school, so we had free reign over the apartment for a few hours every afternoon. Most teenagers would think it was an ideal situation.

  For me, it just added extra torture.

  “I’m sorry, Eddie. I just wasn’t ready.”

  “I know, I know. You don’t need to tell me about it.”

  “You didn’t let me finish. I said I wasn’t ready. But I am now.”

  My eyes must have bugged out of my head, too shocked to believe she actually meant what she said. But sure enough, without another word, Bren slid a hand down my stomach and rubbed her palm across the front of my jeans.

  Holy shit.

  “Does this feel better?” she asked, genuinely concerned.

  “I don’t know. It feels good, but it hurts even more now.”

  She unzipped my pants and slipped her hand under the waistband of my underwear, wrapping her fingers around me. “How about now?” she asked on a sly smile.

  My voice was gone; I couldn’t even answer her. It had been months since anything other than my own hands had touched me; the mere thought that the fingers around my shaft happened to belong to Brenda was enough to take me over the edge. Before I could stop myself, I found my hips thrusting up into her fisted hand, stars swimming behind my eyes. “Yes,” I finally managed to scratch out. “Just like that. Oh yeah. Yeah.”

  Bren bit her lip, an attempt to stop herself from smiling. “Want me to take my shirt off?”

  Oh Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I didn’t know if I’d last that long, but there was no way I was going to tell her not to do it. She pulled her fringed blouse over her head and my hands automatically went to her lacy tits as she undid the clasp on her bra. And then, God must have heard my prayers, because she didn’t stop there.

  Bren climbed off my lap, and before I could protest the loss of her body, she pulled off her jeans and underwear. She lay down along the back seat, every inch of her naked body inviting me in. She placed a tender hand to my jaw and I met her eyes—I couldn’t believe this was happening—and said, “Bren. Don’t tease me. I don’t think I can take it if you’re only screwing around.”

  She swallowed hard. “I’m not teasing. I want to do this. Don’t you?”

  The way her eyes looked at me when she asked that—I swear, I’d never been so turned on in my entire life.

  Without another word, I laid on top of her and fit myself between her legs. I slipped a hand around to her lower back… lifted her toward me… and plunged myself inside. I heard her yelp of pain, and I
felt bad about it, but the best I could do for her at that moment was to stay still. All I wanted was to pound away at her delectable body but my Bren was hurting, and it was enough to stop me from driving into her. “You okay?”

  Her eyes were filled with tears as she shifted underneath me, trying to find a way to make things more comfortable. Her body was trembling and her voice shook as she answered, “No. But just stay like this for a minute. I’ll figure it out.”

  Her determination almost killed me. Stay like this for a minute? I’d have stayed there forever if she asked me.

  “Okay,” she gritted out. “Okay. I think you can try now.”

  I didn’t wait to be asked twice. I pushed in a little further, and when she didn’t wince, I pulled back out a little. When I slid back in, Bren actually let out with a groan, and I was too worked up to translate whether it was from pleasure or pain. I did it again, and then again, and it felt so good. I wanted to tell her, but I was already on the verge of bursting…

  …when the brightest flash of white shone through the back windshield, flooding my car with light.

  It took me an extra second to realize what was happening, but Bren was already scrambling out from underneath me and grabbing for her clothes. “It’s the fuzz!” she shouted as we both tried to cover up. From the glare of the headlights, I could only barely register the silhouette of a police officer exiting his vehicle and walking toward the car, a flashlight leading his way.

  I jammed my legs into my jeans and zipped up just as he reached my window. I don’t know how I did it, but somehow I wound up in the front seat while Brenda sat across the back. Her knees were to her chest and she was covered by my corduroy blazer, the only thing she had time to grab before the Smokey was at my door.

  He shined the flashlight in my face. “Good evening,” he greeted, a bit too happily. “Seems I’ve caught you at a bad time.”

  You picked a real bad time, mister.

  I was scared shitless, but I tried to remain calm as I answered, “Yes, sir.”

  “Any idea why we’re having this conversation right now?”

  Because you’re a sadistic pervert? “No, sir.”

  “Are you aware that this is private property?”

  “No, sir.”

  “How old are you, son?” he asked, pointing that damned flashlight right in my eyes. Probably checking to see if I was drunk or high. Thank God I wasn’t. “Eighteen, sir,” I answered, squinting into the glare.

  “That’s Sergeant, not sir. And you, sweetheart? How old are you?”

  I’d been trying to be as respectful as possible, but when he swung his flashlight into the backseat, I almost ripped his arms off. Bren was bathed in the bright light, obviously embarrassed and averting her eyes, pulling my jacket tighter around her naked body as she answered, “Seventeen.”

  Dammit. I wished she’d just lied and said she was eighteen, too. I didn’t know for sure, but I figured there was a slight chance that I could be arrested for having sex with a minor, even if said minor was only four months younger than me. She’d be eighteen in four days anyway, for godsakes.

  Luckily for Mannix over there, he aimed the light away from Bren and back on me. “You know, it’s illegal to park back here. It’s a commercial lot. There are cameras.” I strained my neck out the window to see where he was redirecting his flashlight, and took note of the surveillance camera attached to the top corner of the building. “Bet they filmed one hell of a movie,” he added with a greasy smile.

  This asshole had a beatdown coming to him. Too bad I couldn’t be the one to give it to him. He may have thought I was just some stupid kid but I was smart enough to avoid prison. Even still, I couldn’t help the clench of my jaw as I answered him through my teeth. “We’ll keep that in mind, sir.”

  His face contorted, surprised and encouraged that I rose to the bait. My eyes shifted to his nametag because I figured I’d better get the name of the guy who was about to arrest my ass. I knew I’d never forget the name O’Leary as long as I lived.

  But as it turned out, he knew as well as I did that he didn’t have anything to nail me on, so he simply offered a last twist of the knife. “Please do. Maybe you’ll remember what happened here tonight and next time, you’ll decide to keep it in your pants.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Easy Money

  EDDIE

  Wednesday, October 8

  1980

  As the gates opened, I navigated my car up the long, winding driveway and pulled up in front of Beau Brummel’s “house.” I use the term sparingly because the Tudor mansion I was looking at was the most ostentatious pile of bricks I’d ever seen.

  Suited its owner perfectly.

  Brummel was a guy we went to school with a million years ago. When you attended a prestigious private school like St. Nicetius, you couldn’t escape meeting people who came from some wealthy families. A lot of the kids were just middle-class like me and Bren, but there were also a bunch of bluebloods who were just dripping money.

  Beau Brummel was one of them.

  Looked like he’d done alright by daddy’s seed money, however. This house was his own.

  I reached the top of the drive and went to get out of the car, but some random gentleman had appeared to assist me with the endeavor. He opened my door with a fruity flourish, holding his free hand out toward me. “Your keys, sir.”

  What the hell? Brummel’s got valet for his own fucking driveway?

  I tried to seem cool as I handed them over, then watched the guy take off in my baby. It may have just been a broken-down ‘Stang but I still held onto the vision of what it once was. Besides, it was one of the only things I owned outright, and I wasn’t feeling too comforted by the fact that some stranger had just disappeared with it. I sure as hell hope he works here.

  Taking a huge inhale, I readied myself for the encounter ahead. The air was crisp that night, that end-of-summer, fall-is-coming, evening chill that marked the inevitable slide into a new season. I used to love that time of year. Bren and I started dating in the fall of ’69, and the simple scent of dead leaves always reminded me of her.

  The smell brought me no nostalgic comfort that night, however.

  It had been over two whole weeks since I’d seen her. Sixteen long days since I kissed her out front of our friends’ house. My mind had been in a daze since then and Tony was being pretty patient about the fact that my work was suffering. I think he was actually relieved when I decided to take the night off.

  “Mr. Edwards,” I heard behind me. When I turned, yet another guy was standing at the opened front door, evidently waiting for me.

  “Yeah—I mean, yes, that’s me. Who are you?”

  “My name is James. Mr. Brummel is expecting you. Please come inside.”

  Mr. Brummel. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

  I hopped up the front steps and held out my hand to James. “How goes it, Jimmy?”

  James stared at my outstretched arm as if he didn’t know what to do with it. But soon enough, he extended his palm and we shook hands. Brummel must’ve treated his employee like a disease instead of a person, because I’d never met a guy so confused over a simple handshake.

  He led me into the house. The foyer was so expansive, even my breathing echoed. I wanted to give a whistle and comment on it, but I was under the impression James had already pegged me as trash. I wasn’t going to do anything to confirm it.

  We passed about ten humongous rooms before reaching a large, oak, double door. James gave a quick knock and Brummel’s nasally voice called out, “Come in!”

  James swept the door open and held out his hand toward the room. “Mr. Edwards has arrived, Mr. Brummel. Can I get either of you gentlemen anything? A beverage?”

  I sure as hell could’ve gone for a nice shot of booze right about then. But Brummel waved him off. “No. Thank you, James.”

  As the doors closed behind me, Brummel moved out from behind his desk. “Edwards! It’s been too long.”

  He held
out his hand, so I shook it, even though I was feeling pretty disgusted about it. “How have you been, Beau?”

  Brummel lowered an eyebrow and swept an arm around the room. “Very well, as you can see. And you?”

  Two sentences in and I was already sick of his pretentious small talk. “Why don’t we skip the bullshit and just get down to the reason I’m here, okay?”

  Brummel was amused. He threw back his head and laughed like I was the funniest person he ever met in his privileged, pompous life. “You’re right, Edwards. You were never one for bullshit, so yes. Let’s just get right down to it.”

  He held out a hand, directing me to sit in one of the green, high-back leather chairs that framed his desk. As I sat, he asked, “Would you care for a drink? I sent James away because I have a full bar right here in the room. Despite what people think, I haven’t completely forgotten how to do things for myself.”

  I still wanted that whiskey, but I wasn’t going to give this asshole the chance to show off his fancy Bat-bar which must’ve been hidden behind a panel or something. I didn’t need anything from him except the one thing I came for. “No, thank you.”

  He moved behind his desk and picked the phone off its cradle. “Some food? I can ring the kitchen and have something sent right up. Whatever you want.”

  “Hey, cut the crap, alright, Brummel?”

  He bypassed the laugh that time and instead settled himself in the green leather chair behind his desk. He placed his palms down on the blotter and met my eyes, a knowing grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. I already wanted to knock this conceited jerk out.

  “So, why are you here? Hmmm. Why are you here in my home tonight?” he asked, tapping his fingertips on his desk.

  “I’m starting to wonder that myself. Maybe you can enlighten me.”

  Brummel sat back in his chair with a creak and folded his hands across his stomach. He’d lost weight since I’d seen him last. The guy used to be a pasty little peach-fuzzed putz back in the day but his body had thinned out considerably over the years. So had his hair.