A Mess of a Man

by A. M. Hargrove

  “You’ve met my girlfriend, Samantha. She and I are having lunch downstairs. Since we were close I thought I would personally bring you this letter from our lawyers. And I won’t be able to attend dinner tonight or any night for that matter.”

  I hand her the letter in plain sight of the receptionist who has now become my impartial witness.

  Karen’s jaw clenches. “I’ll be moving my money from your firm.”

  “I think that might be for the best.”

  I press the elevator button and am rewarded when the doors open instantly. I walk in with Sam in tow. Both women look shell-shocked. As the doors close forever on a relationship I never intended to have with Karen, I pull a stunned Sam close and kiss her.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I say when I pull away.

  “You should have.”

  Her answer given through gritted teeth warns me I’m in trouble. I back her in the corner of the elevator. “I should have. Let me make it up to you.”

  “Make it up to me? What the heck were you thinking, Ben, not giving me some kind of a heads up here? I felt much like a fool.” My hands fly up in the air.

  “No, that wasn’t my intent. I wanted her to get the message loud and clear that the two of us are together and that she and I are finished. Plus, I really did need to deliver that letter to her.”

  “Fine. I get that. But you could have clued me in and not blindsided me. What if I had done that to you? Taken you to a former lover’s office? I feel like you used me.”

  His mouth works, as he searches for something to say. “No! I would never use you. I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.” His hands automatically plow through his hair. “Can you forgive me?”

  It’s always the eyes. They tell the truth before anything else. And when I look into his, all I see is clear focus and honesty. He didn’t mean any harm. He only wanted to do just what he said. The little V between his eyes and the way his mouth turns down shows me how he erred.

  “I can, but please don’t do anything like that again. I probably would’ve jumped at the chance to go with you if you’d only asked me first.” I walk into his space and put my arms around his waist. “You have to know I’m your biggest supporter.”

  He leans his forehead against mine and says, “Now I feel even worse.”

  “And here I thought you were going to make it up to me.”

  The elevator dings and the doors open. People start to walk in, so we move apart and exit.

  “I’d like to do more than what I can right now. But time isn’t being very kind to me today. I did say lunch, so let’s go eat. Does that sound okay to you?”

  As an answer, my stomach emits a huge embarrassing protest at having been denied food so long.

  “I guess I have my response,” he chuckles. “Come on, there’s a great place right over here.”

  We get seated right away and order. He brings me up to speed on the situation at work, and I do the same.

  “I’m glad things are getting somewhat better for you,” I say.

  “Yeah. It’s still crazy, mind you. But at least I feel like we’re in control, or maybe have a better fix on things. With Dad gone, I was worried things would go too far south and by the time he gets home he would feel like I was this major failure.”

  “When I spoke to him, I had the sense he had the utmost faith in you.”

  “Yeah maybe.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “But we’re not there yet. This is my chance. And I want to show him I’m capable, that I won’t fail. And now this.” He rubs his face momentarily, then adds, “Dad always acts like I’m not good enough, not cut out for this, and I bust my ass for him, but … and now this Karen thing. At least the major crisis was averted.”

  It’s nice to see him opening up to me about work and his relationship with his dad. “I can’t believe Karen threatened a lawsuit. But you’ve handled that too. No way your dad won’t see that.”

  His hands start to move towards his hair, but I intercept them and lace my fingers with his. He looks at our joined hands and the corner of his mouth turns up. When his eyes meet mine, they sparkle. “I have a terrible habit of doing that.”

  “I know. You’ll go bald if you don’t stop.”

  “You, Cate, and Drew.” A rapid fire burst of laughter escapes from him.

  “What?”

  “The three of you have all said that. About the bald thing.”

  “Oh. But it’s true. It’s a good thing you have thick hair or you’d probably be bald by now.”

  “Yeah, truth. But to answer your question, she did. Threaten a lawsuit that is. I’m pretty sure it was mostly about her wanting me to continue a relationship with her, sexual or otherwise.”

  I’m not sure I heard him correctly. “Did you say that she wanted a sexual …”

  “Yeah. I did. You don’t have to repeat it. So I had the attorneys draw up a letter pointing out the flaws in any potential lawsuit. They addressed our letter and how we hadn’t overstepped our bounds in our language legally. I had to deliver it in front of an impartial witness. Turns out I had two, but I didn’t plan on bringing you there. And yeah, I should’ve told you in advance. I was overly focused on getting her off my back, I guess. So let’s talk about your newest client. That’s pretty exciting.”

  It’s so amazing to see his eyes and face light up when I tell him about my latest contract that I almost preen. His full attention is focused on me, unlike when I dated Trevor. He didn’t give a damn about my business. Not only did Ben feed me lunch, but he also nourished my ego. But then his expression crashes when he checks the time.

  “I hate this. I need to get back. Filling Dad’s shoes is a lot more than I bargained for.”

  “At least it gives you a good idea of what it will be like if you ever decide to take over for him one day.”

  “I hope that’s not for a long time,” he says.

  He kisses me good-bye and I long for so much more than what he gives.

  When I get back to my office, I’m checking my calendar and notice my doctor’s appointment for the day after tomorrow. I hadn’t realized it was this week. My mood sours, as apprehension and fear take hold and their roots grow deep within me.

  I hate to do it, but I hit my mom’s number on my phone and wait for her to answer.

  “Mom, I’m calling to reschedule our dinner. Ben’s schedule will be freed up in the next couple of weeks after his dad returns from Italy. I’m sorry I didn’t make it the other night. It was a bit crazy here for me.

  “Oh, sweetie, that’s fine. Why don’t you come and eat with Dad and me tonight?”

  “I can’t, I have plans. I’m sorry.”

  “Well, let me talk to your sister and we’ll figure out another night? Oh, and I know I’m pestering you, but do you know when your doctor’s appointment is?”

  Every muscle in my body tenses in a very bad way. “Yes. It’s the day after tomorrow.”

  I can almost hear her relax. “Good. I’m glad with your busy schedule you didn’t let that slip behind.”

  “No, Mom, I didn’t.”

  After we end the call, I think about the shit hand of cards my family has been dealt in this issue. I wish it would magically vanish. It’s no use pushing it under the rug, with Mom and Laney here to remind me. I wonder how hard it was on Mom when she became ill herself. Dad must’ve gone crazy with worry. I was a self-centered teenager at the time, and though Laney and I were scared, my parents did one hell of a great job at shielding us from the horrors of her surgery and treatment. I don’t know how they did it.

  The constant ringing of my phone pulls me out of those distant and unpleasant memories. Nancy is a godsend when it comes to screening calls. She handles most everything, sending Nick what he can take care of. He’s still not happy with how I left him at the rehearsal party, but that was his fault for scheduling it in the first place. He has one more chance to prove himself. If he doesn’t, then I’m going to replace him.

  After my teleconference
, I go to meet Jenna. We made plans the night of the anniversary party and we’re finally getting some time to hangout. Jenna is waiting on me when I arrive. I give my name to the hostess and she seats us in a posh private booth, a perk of knowing the manager.

  “It totally pays to be in your line of work,” Jenna says after we sit.

  “Yeah, sometimes it can come in handy.”

  “I want to say thanks again with all your help for my parents’ anniversary. They were thrilled and I couldn’t have pulled it off without you.”

  She smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

  “No problem, I loved helping.”

  “You should know, you make my brother happy. And my parents love you. So maybe you’ll be planning your wedding one day soon.”

  I hold a hand up. “I think it’s way too soon for that.”

  Thankfully, a waiter comes over and puts the brakes on an awkward conversation. It’s after we order drinks and appetizers that I really get the sense things aren’t good. She’s staring off in the distance, frowning. Add that to the purple bruises under her eyes telling me sleep has been a stretch for her.

  “Hey, what’s up? You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

  She grabs her glass of wine, takes a huge gulp, and folds her arms, hugging herself. “If I tell you this, can it stay between us? I mean, I don’t want you to say anything to Ben about it.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m having man issues.”

  “Ahh,” I nod. “Kenneth.”

  “Not exactly.”

  My brows lift because Kenneth is the only guy I’ve ever seen her with.

  “Okay, yes, Kenneth is part of the problem. He’s great and everything I could want in a man.”

  Our waiter busts up the conversation by delivering our appetizers, but Jenna doesn’t seem to be very interested in food. As she picks at her plate, we resume our discussion.

  “If Kenneth is the man for you, then what’s the problem?” I ask.

  Her face lights up like I flipped a switch. “There’s this guy, Brandon, who I’m positive my parents wouldn’t approve of. Not that it’s a problem because he’s just a friend. It’s just …” Her eyes go dreamy. “When I’m around him, he’s interested in me. Not in what my family does.”

  “Life’s short, Jenna. You have to be happy, and if Kenneth doesn’t make you happy, sometimes you have to cut bait, you know?”

  “You don’t know my dad very well. I can hear him already.”

  “So, what? Are you going to marry someone to please your dad, and then get divorced a few years down the road?”

  She shrugs, as if she’s considered that route.

  “Holy crap! You can’t possibly think that! Does Cate know?”

  She grabs my hand and says, “No, and you can’t say a word about this to anyone.”

  “I won’t, but promise me you won’t do anything foolish. You need to hang out with my friends. I swear they would set you straight.”

  That night, as I lie in bed, I can’t help but think about Jenna and her dilemma. I wonder if Ben knows how this is rolling out with his dad. For that matter, if Ben and I go down that road, what would Martin think of me? Would I be good enough for the Rhoades family? I’m thankful for my parents. They would never expect that of me. And now that I think of it, Martin didn’t seem the type that would do that to Jenna either. Maybe she’s overanalyzing things. I hope so. I also pray she finds the answers to her problems and chooses the guy who makes her the happiest.

  The following day at work drags, and so does the evening. Ben is tied up, as he is the next night, too. His phone calls are a poor substitution for the real thing. I miss him, but I don’t want to intrude on him either. He’s exhausted when he gets in at night and he needs sleep so he can function at one hundred percent during the day.

  The day of my appointment arrives too soon for me, but I face it with all the courage I can muster. I’ve buried my head like an ostrich over this visit for as long as I can, so this is my day of reckoning. The sad thing is, my doctor’s not going to like what I say. My stress threshold is at maximum capacity without me rupturing my own head gasket. As I sit across the desk from my doctor, he looks at the computer screen, tapping the keyboard and hmming repeatedly.

  “So, Samantha, you had the genetic testing as we discussed at your last appointment and we talked about all your options. We said that for six months you could think about what to do. I know you’ve probably given it a lot of thought in that time.”

  “To be honest, I don’t know what to do.” Right now, I swear my stomach is actually quivering.

  The lines around his eyes deepen and he frowns. He obviously isn’t happy with my answer. “Okay, Samantha, this is very important. I know you’re young and a twenty-four year old usually doesn’t have to make these types of decisions. But given your family history, particularly your mother, aunt, and grandmother, I would strongly suggest you give this a little more urgency. You’ve tested positive for the breast cancer gene, and not just any gene, but the most aggressive one. Your last breast ultrasound was normal, which is great, but now I urge you to decide on the other issue. Prophylactic mastectomy and reconstruction is a very viable option, and even though it’s extremely traumatic, with the removal of the breast tissue it would cut your chances of getting breast cancer down immensely.” He starts scribbling something down on a piece of paper and hands it to me. “I would love for you to talk to these people. One is a plastic surgeon who could discuss your reconstruction and what your breasts would look like afterward, and the other is a not an individual but rather a group of young women who have gone through what you are experiencing right now. They could answer a whole host of questions you may have. The big thing we want to do here, Samantha, is to prevent cancer from happening.”

  “I understand. Thank you for giving me these.” I hold up the paper. Maybe they’ll help. I don’t know. “My mom and sister have been on my back. I know it’s time.” I’m smart enough to know that this can affect me. My mom fought it. My aunt did too. My grandmother tried and lost her battle. Laney opted for the surgery. What’s the matter with me? Why can’t I just say “Let’s do this thing”? My heart, gut, and instincts all tell me to go for it, yet they’re my breasts, my boobs, and I still grieve for the part of me that will be missing after the surgery. Is that so wrong of me?

  I leave with all kinds of thoughts of the three B’s swirling in my head. My business, my boobs, and Ben. As I walk back into work, my phone rings and it’s Laney.

  “Hey, sis. Mom wanted me to call to let you know she has a date for family dinner. Can your boyfriend make it two weeks from now?”

  “I’ll ask. Give me the date so I can put it in my calendar.” It’s a Wednesday night.

  “You okay?”

  “Mmm. I’m not sure. I went to the doctor today. Tell me something, do you like your boobs?”

  She laughs. “You mean my new boobs?”

  “Yeah. New and improved boobs.”

  “I really do. I can’t tell the difference at all, except for the scars under the nipples and the lack of sensation, but that’s insignificant. The only thing that bothers me is that I won’t be able to breastfeed when I have kids. But it beats dying, you know?”

  “Yeah. It does.”

  “You still trying to decide?”

  “I just …” I hesitate for a second.

  “Tell me you’re not serious. You carry that fucking gene, Sam. You don’t have a choice.”

  “I know.” In a small voice, I add, “What will Ben say?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, he loves my boobs.”

  “If he cares anything at all about you, he’ll support you in this. And he’ll love your new boobs. Just talk to him,” she urges.

  I bite my lip, thinking about her words long after the conversation has ended. Work consumes me again and after I get home, I’m changing my clothes when my phone buzzes with a text.

 
Ben: Can you come over?

  Me: You ok?

  Ben: Yeah. Just miss you. Got home early for a change.

  Me: Sure. On my way.

  Traffic isn’t too bad, and he’s waiting at the door when I get there. He pulls me inside and kisses me like it’s the last day for the earth to exist.

  “Miss me, huh?”

  Steel gray eyes meet mine and I’m unsure what I see. “You have no idea. I left with a series of requests for meetings and more meetings. But I needed a fucking break. I need you.”

  Bunching up my tank top he pushes it out of the way while his mouth takes over mine, making me senseless for him. He cups my breasts with his hands, using his thumbs to flick my nipples through the fabric of my bra. Soon, he pushes it up and over my breasts so I’m exposed for him.

  His reverent hands make it impossible to think. Only his next words spike straight to my gut.

  “You have the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen or sucked. God, I love these.” And my stomach spirals straight to the floor, crashing at my feet.

  How can I be so fucking lucky? “Most women have to buy what you have. And I hate fake tits. Why ruin what is naturally created? You can’t recreate how they feel. Don’t get me wrong, they look great, but they don’t feel the same at all.”

  Something about her silence tells me to stop. “What’s wrong?”

  She pales and glances away. I tuck a finger under her chin to get her to look at me.

  “What’s going on?” I try again.

  “Nothing.”

  She scrambles to her feet and puts distance between us. I mentally run down what I’ve said and I don’t get it. Finally, she faces me and I’m pretty sure what I see is fear in her eyes.

  “So if I didn’t have these,” she glances down at her amazing breasts, framing them with her hands, “you wouldn’t want me?”

  It’s obvious I’m clueless when it comes to women, but I can swear I’ve done nothing wrong. So I make my move and stand before her again.

  I cup her and squeeze gently. “You have spectacular breasts that money can’t buy, more than a handful. You must be a C, probably a D.”

  She shrugs. “Large C, small D. But you didn’t answer my question.”