Strip Me Bare

by M. Never

  When we part, Ryan hijacks me into a hug, cementing his cheek against my abdomen. I hold him against me firmly—lovingly, supportively, compassionately. Because I know Ryan has been to hell and back. While running my hand through his soft, wavy hair, he looks up at me and I smile. Ryan returns the expression, confident in that whatever he’s about to tell me it won’t affect the way I see him. And that’s exactly the way I want him to feel.

  We need to re-establish a new bond. An unbreakable bond. The foundation to be forged right here, right now.

  I sit back down at the table, mentally preparing myself for a conversation of epic proportions.

  “So . . . ?”

  Ryan exhales completely on edge. But we have to do this. We have to talk.

  “So . . . prison sucked.” He’s petulant. Clearly disinclined to talk.

  “Go on,” I encourage him anyway. He shifts in his chair like he has ants in his pants. I probably shouldn’t, but I find his unease endearing.

  “It was confining and degrading, and you fought for your life every damn day,” he verbally vomits.

  I frown. “How did you survive it?”

  “I made a reputation for myself.”

  “How?” I blink.

  Ryan’s eyes glaze over with something dark. “I tried to keep to myself at first. But that wasn’t really working so well. Pretty boy in prison.” He shakes his head ominously. “I basically had bitch stamped on my forehead. One day one of the other inmates started messing with me in the chow hall. I tried to ignore him, but he just kept on pushing.” Ryan grinds his teeth and wrings his hands together. “Things escalated pretty quickly, it got physical, and then I don’t know. Something happened, I just snapped.” He twitches. “Sean’s always been the fighter. But, in there, I was a different person. I beat the guy within an inch of his life. It took three guards to pull me off him and when they did, his face was unrecognizable. I remember looking at him like it was through someone else’s eyes, seeing the damage I didn’t know I was capable of.” Ryan’s body tenses all over, the bulging muscles in his arms stretching the fabric of his tight t-shirt. “They dragged me away and threw me in solitary confinement. I spent an entire day covered in the guy’s blood before they let me out for a shower. Then I went back in for a week.”

  “An entire week in solitary confinement?”

  Ryan nods absently.

  “That must have been unbearable.” My heart hurts.

  “It was.” His blue eyes are sharper than nails. “But I thought about you. A lot. Every day, actually. For three and a half years. And then every day after I got out.”

  “I thought about you, too.” I fly out of my seat and sit on Ryan’s lap. I just need to hold him. My emotions are deteriorating as I think about him locked away. Being punished for a crime he didn’t commit. It makes the lawyer in me go crazy. And the girlfriend in me want to weep.

  But that’s not going to happen. If it came down to it, I’d end up smashing something to pieces before I let a tear roll down my cheek.

  “So, what happened after that? After the fight?”

  “I staked my reputation. I didn’t start it, but I always finished it.”

  “Did you fight a lot?”

  “Not as much as others, but there was always some jackass who wanted to start. Who thought he was tough.” Ryan shrugs. “I just made damn sure I was tougher.”

  “How do you feel now that you’re out?” I touch his cheek.

  “I’ve gotten better over the last few months. I’m still resentful, though.”

  “Of Sean?”

  “Of Sean. My mom. I barely speak to them.” There’s so much sadness in his voice. “But like I said, I can’t change my decision, only regret it.”

  “Ryan . . .” I trap his face and kiss him, wishing I could take it all away. Change the past, guarantee the future.

  And I really wish I would have known.

  I abruptly pull away fearfully. “What happens if Sean does it again?”

  Ryan shakes his head strictly. “Never again. I’ll never take the fall for Sean again. And he knows it. I made that very clear when I got out.” His tone is menacing.

  “How’d you do that?”

  “Prison made me very persuasive,” he insinuates.

  “Did you beat up your brother, Ryan?”

  “I needed to send him a message.” And he doesn’t sound apologetic about it either.

  “And did he receive the message?”

  “The tooth I knocked out of his head tells me he did.”

  My jaw drops to the ground. “You knocked his tooth out? Really?”

  “Yes.” He shifts beneath me restlessly. “Can we talk about something else now?”

  “Absolutely. What?” He’s been interrogated enough for one day.

  “What evil demons are you hiding from me?”

  “Me?” I glance down at him, the restless one now.

  “You said you have intimacy issues. And I’m to blame. So tell me how deep it goes.”

  I instinctually fall silent, but I know Ryan’s not going to let me barricade my emotions for long.

  “Alana, no wall.” He’s strict.

  “I know, I know, battering ram.” Damn him. An eye for an eye it seems.

  As I hash out my feelings while building up the nerve to talk about all my insecurities, Ryan’s phone rings on the table. Talk about saved by the bell. He reaches over, looks at the screen, then he curses. A blatant “fuck,” that grabs the attention of the couple sitting a table away from us.

  Ryan deliberates for a split second before answering the call, curtly.

  “Hey, man.”

  “Divan?” I mouth.

  He shakes his head. “Sean,” Ryan mouths back, and I involuntarily scowl.

  “Yeah, in SoHo, where are you? The city? Meet me?” Ryan glances up at me, and I know I’m staring at him intently. “At a corner café on Prince . . . Okay, see you in a few.” He hangs up.

  “He’s coming here?” I blurt out.

  “Yes.” Ryan works his jaw.

  I’m speechless. Despite the time Ryan and I spent together in the past, I never actually met Sean, and at the moment, I don’t want to.

  “Look, you can leave if you want.” Ryan offers me an out.

  “Why would I do that?” Like leaving was even an option.

  “I saw the look on your face. It’s okay. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

  “I won’t be uncomfortable.” I lie. Sean is only the one who stole years of Ryan’s youth, ruined his future, and ripped us apart. What could possibly make me uncomfortable?

  I realize if I’m going to be with Ryan, which not thirty minutes ago I said I was, I’m going to have to deal with all the baggage that comes along with him.

  Which is some serious baggage. Some seriously oversized, exceeds the weight limit, excess fees kind of baggage.

  When Ryan and I were together five years ago, family problems didn’t come much into play. Both our families had issues and instead of focusing on those, we focused on each other. It was our great escape, but it wasn’t realistic. I’m sure if we had stayed together, our home troubles would have eventually caught up to us. Which, I guess in a way, they ultimately did.

  Ryan shoots me a skeptical look.

  “What?” I challenge. “I’m not bailing on you. Not now, not ever. Get used to it.” I smirk.

  “Tough chick,” he quips.

  “When I have to be.” I drop a quick kiss on his lips then get up and go back to my seat.

  If I’m doing this, I’m going to need more coffee.

  And possibly an entire bottle of tequila.

  Ryan and I make small talk while we wait for Sean. The tension in the air is so thick that even the couple at the next table can sense it. They keep glancing at us like we’re suspected terrorists. I know Ryan is worried about me meeting Sean. He’s not adrift alone, though, because the feeling is mutual.

  The waitress pours my third cup of coffee, and thanks to
Sean, Ryan has let the evil demons conversation go. For now. Man, this has turned into one hell of a breakfast.

  I only drop my gaze for a second as I sip my coffee. When I lift it, I’m stunned as another version of Ryan walks straight toward me. A bad boy, Slim Shady version. My whole body stiffens during his approach.

  Sean is tall and lean like Ryan, but his shoulders are a bit broader than his torso. He walks the same, though, with just a hint of swagger. He’s dressed in an oversized white t-shirt and baggy jeans. His right arm, from what I can see of it, is covered with a sleeve of brightly colored tattoos, his sneakers are sparkling white and his black baseball cap has a stiff brim. It’s abundantly clear that Sean has trouble written all over him. I can’t make out how long his hair is under the hat, but I can see his eyes. They’re exactly the same as Ryan’s. Big, bright, and a cobalt blue, the color of opulent sapphires. Except Sean’s have a shiftiness about them, like he’s on the prowl.

  “Hey, bro,” Sean clasps Ryan’s hand once he reaches us. Pulling up an empty chair from another table, he takes it upon himself to sit right between us.

  He looks me over impassively then turns to Ryan, cocking his head. “One of your groupies?”

  Before Ryan can answer, Sean goes on, “She doesn’t look like one of your usuals.”

  Usuals?

  I stare quizzically at Ryan as he turns fifty shades of red.

  “What’s Ryan’s usual?” I ask evenly, the question directed at both of them.

  Sean shrugs. “You know, dark hair, light eyes. Neither of which you have.” He sounds almost accusatory.

  “Do you know all of Ryan’s girlfriends?”

  Sean’s lip twitches. “Ryan doesn’t have girlfriends. He has fuck friends.”

  Lovely. As if it isn’t enough that Ryan takes off his clothes for half the women in New York City, I now have a visual of the ones he likes to take home at the end of a shift. My stomach turns.

  “Sean,” Ryan warns, but Sean ignores him.

  “What’s your name?” Sean continues his niggling.

  “Alana,” Ryan interjects sharply, his curt response taking both Sean and me by surprise.

  “Alana?” Sean pauses. “Is that some kind of coincidence or something, bro?”

  Ryan shakes his head sternly, and Sean’s eyes slowly grow wide as he gauges his brother’s response.

  My reputation must precede me.

  “Nice to meet you, Sean. I’m Ryan’s girlfriend.” I smile obnoxiously.

  Sean dips his head before looking up at me with a cocky grin. “Nice to finally meet you, Alana. I’ve heard so much about you.”

  “And I, you.” I never break eye contact with him, concealing the fact my heart is beating a mile a minute.

  I measure up the person mostly responsible for our separation. I say mostly because I realize Ryan played a part, too, but it was Sean who lit the fuse.

  “So, what are you doing in N-Y-C, Sean?” Ryan asks. “I thought you couldn’t leave the state of New Jersey.”

  Sean scoffs, “It’s the city, it doesn’t count.”

  “I think your PO might disagree with that,” Ryan contends.

  “She’ll never know.” Sean brushes him off.

  “Let’s hope not.” Ryan does not appear amused. He’s stiff in his chair, his arms crossed across his chest. I try to steal glances of his flexing biceps, but I know the power of those arms and how much I love it when they’re wrapped possessively around me.

  The waitress appears, interrupting their taut chitchat. Sean orders a coffee. Black with a double shot of espresso. Damn, and I thought I liked it strong.

  I gauge Sean as he speaks. His voice is smooth and relaxed, but his body language is contradictory to the tone of his voice. His fingers never stop twitching and neither does his leg, like there’s a rhythm only he can hear.

  “So . . .” Ryan presses after Sean gets his caffeine.

  “So, what?” Sean is seemingly defensive. “I went to the clinic this morning and decided it was a nice day. So, I hopped on the train to come hit up my little brother.” He taps the tabletop with his thumb and forefinger incessantly.

  Clinic?

  “Hit him up for what exactly?” Ryan tightens his arms. My gaze jumps between them. The stress Ryan is radiating can no doubt be felt for miles.

  “That hurts, bro.” Sean pounds his chest, faking injured feelings. He has another tattoo on the side of his neck—the number 1254—and I find myself engrossed, wondering what it means. “I thought we could hang out, but I see you already have plans.” Was that statement genuine? Did he really just want to see his brother? Or does he have ulterior motives? It’s hard to tell. I try to analyze him, but Sean is challenging to read.

  “You’re right, I do have plans, and I’m going to be busy for a while.” Ryan smirks at me, then shoots Sean an irritated look. He doesn’t seem the least bit concerned about what Sean wants.

  Sean narrows his eyes. “I gotcha, brother.”

  “I hope you do.”

  The table suddenly gets eerily quiet. I look between Ryan and Sean. My eyes haven’t stopped jumping since the moment Sean sat down. They have the exact same everything—beautiful, blue eyes, handsome face, sexy mouth—yet entirely opposite personalities. Sean is like the darkness of the sky and Ryan the light of sun.

  Sean downs his coffee in record time. Ryan’s off-putting attitude sent a message and Sean received it loud and clear. But just as Sean stands to leave, Ryan comes out with . . .”How’s mom?”

  Sean freezes mid-movement, his legs still bent. He makes deliberate eye contact with Ryan. It’s so poignant I can actually feel it. “She misses you.”

  Ryan just nods, looking away.

  “Tell her I miss her, too,” he mumbles.

  If it wasn’t obvious, Ryan’s mom is a delicate subject. As delicate as navigating a land mine. He never talked much about her. But I knew they had a strained relationship from the get-go.

  And the fact that Sean fucked up, and she begged Ryan to pay the price would leave me with some major hostility, too. So, I understand where his resentment is coming from. It’s painful to watch him suffer.

  Once Sean stands to his full height, he casts a dark shadow on the table. I want to reach out and touch Ryan, for no other reason than to just let him know that I’m here. That I’m on his side. That, deep down, I love him. That’s so hard to own up to, even if it’s just to myself. Love is a crippling emotion for me, but Ryan has always been my strength behind it. I want to be his strength, too.

  Before he departs, Sean leans down and rests his cheek right next to mine. My heart seizes as he whispers in my ear, “Take care of my brother, he needs someone to love him right.”

  The statement pummels me, but I don’t lose my cool.

  “That’s exactly what I intend to do,” I respond evenly, my eyes sliding over to meet his.

  “As far as I know, you’re the only one who ever has.” He holds my stare for a split second. I can almost hear the time pounding like a gong. I don’t know this person at all, yet he has no problem being fearlessly direct with me. My attention follows Sean as he moves away. He clasps Ryan’s hand for a second time before pausing. “I miss you, too,” he unwaveringly publicizes, then walks off without another word.

  Whoa. It feels like a mushroom cloud just lifted. Sean . . . his presence . . . the severity of the past . . . the way it hovers . . . I need a minute to process.

  “Clinic?” I finally ask Ryan.

  “Yeah, methadone. He goes every day. It helps keep him off the H.”

  H? “Heroin?”

  Ryan nods with a vacant expression.

  “When was the last time you saw your mother?” I cycle through all the subjects that were just presented to me.

  “Not for a few months.”

  “What’s a few?”

  “Like, eight?”

  “Oh, that’s quite a few.”

  “I know,” he sulks.

  I regard Ryan sympathetical
ly.

  I’m pretty sure he has way more healing to do than he’s letting on.

  I STARE AT the screen of my phone. The words read:

  Culture. Midnite.

  Midnight. It’s when Ryan gets off work.

  He and I have settled into a routine. I spend Sunday through Thursday afternoon in the city with him, and then hang out at home on the weekends while he works. It’s been a little over a month and things are getting pretty intense. Intense physically, intense emotionally, and intense psychologically. The past and the present are colliding and I don’t want to distrust the impact, even though I know it could be a disastrous outcome. Head-on collisions never end well, but I am a glutton for punishment and a fool for Ryan. He’s my Achilles’ heel. He always has been.

  I sip my mimosa, waiting for Emily on the terrace of the Ocean Club’s restaurant. It’s a warm, June morning, and there’s not a cloud in the clear blue, sunny sky. The ocean is perfectly calm, and the air smells sweet and salty.

  It’s a flawless summer day. The kind you savor. Soak in. Get swept away in.

  My serenity is disrupted as Emily drops her bag on the table, plops down in the chair next to me, and huffs.

  “Challenging morning?” I question.

  “I can’t wait until this effing wedding is over. I wish we’d just eloped.” She digs through her bag until she finds her Chapstick.

  “Alex being a PITA again?”

  “PITA is an understatement.” She smears the pink, shimmery balm all over her lips before tossing the tube back into her purse. She then grabs my glass and helps herself to my drink, downing the whole damn thing.

  “By all means, finish it.” I quip as I watch the orange liquid disappear out of the flute.

  “You’d think he’s the goddamn bride.” She slams the glass down. “He’s driving me nuts. I don’t like that color, the centerpieces are too big, my shoes hurt,” she whines, mocking him. “Do you know how many pairs of shoes I’ve suffered in? Countless. But I never complained. I swear to God, he cries like a little girl sometimes.” Emily is exasperated.

  I motion to the waitress for two more drinks. I may even order a pitcher if she continues this way.