The Crossroads Duet

by Rachel Blaufeld

  Was this normal when two people liked each other? And for that matter, did she actually like me? She was home bonding with the dog I bought for her, which meant something. Right?

  Pulling myself out of my thoughts, I shoved my phone back in my pocket. “Okay, Jax, let’s move on.”

  We wound our way through the rest of the floor, inspecting the locker rooms that were almost finished. As we were checking out the aerobics studio, an idea came to me.

  “Hey, Jax, one last thing. I bought this duplex over on the east side of the city. I want to clean it up, touch it up a little, and rent the units. You think you have a guy or two to spare on the weekend, someone who wants to make time-and-a-half? I want to get it done.”

  Jax leaned against the wall that would eventually be the back of the weight room, his feet kicked out in front of him. “I got a few guys who like to earn a little extra beer money. You got the keys? I can go take a look tonight and make a list of what I think needs to be done quick and dirty.”

  I fished through my pocket and tossed him the key ring before reaching to shake his hand. “Thanks, man. I’ll text you the address.”

  Then I was back out the door and headed to the Oakland location, my first baby. I’d worked out early this morning in the burbs, putting a new trainer through his paces, but I felt like a quick workout. My gut had hardened with an unknown pang, some type of longing I’d never known, and I wanted to sweat that shit out.

  I barreled my way through several sets of pull-ups alternated with bench presses before I worked my legs hard. Wall squats with dumbbells and weighted leg extensions left my thighs trembling. I opted for my private shower in the back of my office since the lunch rush was hitting the gym and crowding the locker rooms.

  Leaning up against the tiles in my private shower, I rested my forehead on them and let my hand stroke myself. Yes, it was fucking disgusting that I was doing this in the middle of the work day, but I was locked away in the back of my office so I shrugged off any guilt. My workout had barely scratched the surface of my tension, and I needed to let some of it bleed out of my system. I was strung out, both sexually and emotionally, and didn’t know how the fuck else to ease it. I just knew I was a wreck and had to go see my therapist this afternoon.

  Visions of red hair flowing around my cock took over my imagination. In my mind, Aly dipped her mouth and took me deep, running her tongue along my tip, lapping up the drops of pre-come from the seam. She hummed and moaned while I was seated inside her mouth, the sound reverberating on my shaft, ratcheting me higher.

  My hand worked overtime, pulling on my dick, tugging roughly up and down while my brain pictured Aly on her knees in front of me. I imagined pulling her hair back at the nape of her neck and fucking her rosy red lips, and I pumped faster. The calluses on my hand were a weak replacement for what should be Aly’s tender mouth.

  I went rougher, thought for a moment about tying her to my bed when she was done sucking me off, and dreamed of her looking up at me. Her eyes sought mine, telling a magic story, begging me to do exactly what I wanted—to tie her up and bury myself in her ginger pussy.

  I came on a long exhale, shooting jizz all over the tile as I silently mouthed, Fuck, Aly-cat, that was incredible.

  And just like that, I was hard again. My shower fantasy and jerk-off session had done little to squelch my desire. I turned the water all the way cold and stood under the spray, allowing it to cool me down. I couldn’t miss my appointment with my shrink. Not today.

  I slumped onto the god-awful sofa at the shrink’s joint and stuck my feet up on the coffee table.

  “How have you been?” Dr. Wells asked.

  “I’m so messed up, even I can’t believe it.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  I looked down at my running shoes propped up on the mahogany table, their bright blue a stark contrast to the rich brown. “See these shoes?”

  “Yes,” she said, frowning a little in confusion.

  “See how bright and amazing the blue is, vibrant and full of life?”

  Doc nodded.

  “Now take a look at the table. It’s dark and morose. There’s no life in that ugly brown. It looks like shit, feels like crap, and deserves nothing more. That’s me. And I’m falling for a girl who’s like my shoes. Which is so messed up, Doc.”

  I rubbed my thumb along the callous on my palm, closing my eyes and willing myself not to fall apart.

  “We’re back to the same place, Jake. You feeling as if you don’t deserve anything good in your life.”

  “I don’t, but I’m going to take it this time because I can’t resist this woman. That’s why I’m even more of a mess.” I sighed.

  Dr. Wells took a deep breath. “Jake, I think it’s time we invite your brother to a session. I’m afraid you’re not going to ever see yourself as the innocent little boy you were, and I feel as if a little discussion between the three of us would help.”

  “Yeah, if that ass agreed to go after Shirley and force her to move far away . . . like Alaska where she would freeze to death.”

  My shrink leaned forward in her favorite chair, the straight-backed pink upholstered one that fit her so well. “I don’t believe for a second that you wish ill on anyone, so don’t say that again. Let’s deal with what we can control, like how you think and your growing interest in this woman.”

  “Alyson. Aly.” I felt a smile break out on my face, a genuine full-on wide grin.

  As though I was looking in the mirror, Dr. Wells broke out in a matching one.

  “She’s perfect,” I told the doc. “So beautiful, I want to devour her. Physically, emotionally, all of her, every last inch. She needs to be handled gently, but I’m all rough and dominant with her. I tried to get her to move, and that didn’t go so well, so I bought her a guard dog. I’m fucking everything up, and she just kind of rolls with it. I want to stay away, not be excited when I think about her, but I can’t.”

  “Uh-huh,” she murmured as she scribbled notes.

  “Here’s the thing. She knows about jail and the other time, but she doesn’t know this.” I waved my hand in front of me, illustrating the enormity of the reason why I was sitting in this room.

  “Tell her, Jake. If she’s as wonderful as you say, she’ll care for you no matter what.”

  I shook my head; Dr. Wells was wrong. Aly would run if she knew what I did.

  And that was when the craziest plan yet entered my head. I decided to tell Aly the truth so she would run far way from me. Before it was too late.

  But first, I just wanted one little taste of her.

  Aly

  On Wednesday, I’d just come in from letting Maverick pee and was changing into lounge pants and a tank when there was a heavy knock on the door.

  “Who’s there?” I called through the shabby wood. No one ever popped over to see me, and I feared the worst. I wasn’t even sure what that was or meant, but all these creepy movie scenes where a stranger shows up at the door and slits some lonely woman’s throat came to mind.

  “Jake.”

  Now in a panic of a completely different kind, I looked down at my tank, at my braless nipples poking through the sheer fabric, and yelled, “One sec!”

  I ran back into my room and pulled off the tank, shoved my boobs in a black lace bra, and threw on a navy long-sleeved T-shirt. Stepping out of the gauzy fat-girl pants, I wiggled them off my ankles and stuffed my legs into a pair of skinny jeans.

  By the time I opened `the door, I was breathless and certain my mascara was running from all the sweating.

  “Hey, what’s up?” I asked casually, as if Jake stopped by all the time. After all, we owned a pet together.

  Jake stood in the doorway, his arm propped on the doorjamb. “I was in the neighborhood. I work right by here, and I missed Mav-man.” He stepped inside and bent down to scoop up the chocolate-brown ball of fur yipping at his feet, then kicked the door closed with his boot.

  I was finally able to take in the sight in fr
ont of me. There was Jake, obviously freshly showered with his hair still wet and smelling of eucalyptus, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt that read TEAM FIZZLE over his right pec with a muscle man curling two bowling balls.

  “You like it?” he asked with a wink, noticing me eyeing his shirt.

  “It’s interesting. Cute, I guess.”

  “Good! Because I got one for you.” He whipped a T-shirt from his back pocket, a women’s version in lime green.

  “Oh, thanks. It’s like Christmas come early with you. First a puppy, now a T-shirt.”

  “I’m full of surprises, isn’t that right, Mav-man?” He rubbed his knuckles over the dog’s forehead, and the puppy’s tail went ballistic.

  Hey, if I were a dog, my tail would be wagging too.

  “The gym plays in this cosmic bowling league. It was all part of Camper’s plan . . . oh shit, I didn’t mean to bring her up. Anyway, she was in charge of marketing up until recently, and she had this big idea to boost company morale. In reality, it was probably another way to get her claws in me another two nights a month.”

  “And this has to do with you being in the neighborhood how?”

  “Because you’re on the team now. Camper’s gone and we need an extra player, so you’re it!”

  I shook my head, worrying my bottom lip with my teeth. “I don’t bowl. I’ve never even done it, Jake.” We didn’t have time for entertainment like that when I was growing up, and I was never invited to the bowling parties of the kids whose houses my mom cleaned.

  “It’s easy,” he said, dismissing my concerns. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

  He set Maverick down on the floor and tucked the shirt back into his pocket. Then he came behind me, wrapped his left arm around my waist and brought his right under mine, pulling it back. He simulated me swinging back a ball and then swung our right arms in the air, making a whooshing sound as we pretended to let the ball go.

  “You’re in good hands,” he said softly. His breath lingered at the back of my neck, and I felt his lips lightly brush below my ear.

  “I was literally in comfy clothes when you came to the door,” I said over my shoulder, “ready for a night in with my dog and the TV. I haven’t watched anything in weeks, and now you want me to go bowling?”

  More murmuring tickled my neck. He was still standing behind me with his arms around me, his erection touching my lower back ever so gently. I bit my lip, trying not to push back into his hard-on.

  “I’m taking you bowling,” he said firmly. “You can watch TV tomorrow.”

  I swiveled in his arms and faced him, wanting to taste his lips all of a sudden. I’d never felt more alive. My senses were running on V8 engines like his Hummer, churning out hormones and desires I didn’t even know I had.

  “Bowling?”

  “Bowling.”

  “Okay,” I said, giving in all too soon.

  “Let’s go!” He ran his lips over Maverick’s fur, sending a surge of jealousy through me, and placed him in the crate. “Put this on,” he said as he tossed the T-shirt my way.

  Without a second thought, I walked into my bedroom and swapped shirts, then threw my hair up into a ponytail.

  When we stepped outside, I was surprised to see Jake’s hulk of a truck double-parked in the middle of the street with the blinkers on, waiting on us. “You could’ve been towed!” I told him as I climbed into the passenger seat.

  “Nah, I knew I was only going to be a few minutes.” He slammed the door shut on my side and ran around the front, hopping into the driver’s seat.

  I cut a sideways glance his way. “A little sure of yourself, wouldn’t you say, Jake?”

  “Everyone loves to bowl. I knew you’d come.” As we rattled down my street, pockmarked with potholes, he teased, “Should I play our song?”

  “Don’t.”

  “Don’t you roll your eyes. That song is growing on me. After all, it was written about you.”

  He pressed his finger against the radio screen and the Gin Blossoms filled the truck. Bravely, I reached out to push his hand aside and started pushing buttons, looking for something else. This vehicle was worth more than everything I owned, and I had no right to touch anything. What if I broke it?

  “Oh, leave it!” Jake shouted, covering the display with his hand, blocking my way. He pushed the screen again, then snagged the volume knob and turned it up, sending some seventies funk vibrating through the truck.

  “Oh yeah, now we can get ready to bowl. It’s seventies cosmic bowling, did I tell you? Strobe lights and a disco ball, and a few John Travolta lookalikes.”

  “Oh God.” I groaned. I was so in over my head.

  “I mean John Travolta from his Saturday Night Fever days, not recent.”

  “Well, that makes me feel better.”

  “What’s wrong?” He turned down the volume and glanced my way.

  “I’m fine, just a bit out of my element.”

  “You’re wringing your hands like you’re going to your death.” He said it with a pained look on his face, the small crinkles next to his eyes not happy this time, but sad.

  “No . . . no . . . nothing like that. I just don’t get out much, and I feel like you’re showing me the world just with sushi and bowling.”

  “Good! Well there’s more to show you, babe. Sushi and bowling are just the beginning.”

  My heart melted, turning to liquid butter with those few words. Just the beginning.

  Once we’d parked in the lot for the bowling lanes, Jake opened my door and took my hand, spinning me under his arm before dipping me. “Ready to bowl seventies-style?”

  Nodding, I put on my game face. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  I wasn’t at all prepared for what I’d find inside the bowling alley. A disco ball did, in fact, hang from the ceiling, shooting prisms of color everywhere. A DJ was set up in the corner with oversized headphones covering his ears, spinning vintage Donna Summer into the air.

  I closed my eyes and let the familiar music wash over me. Suddenly, I was a young girl at home, my mom playing this album on our old record player, dancing as she dusted her way around our small dining room. “Someone left my cake out in the rain . . . ”

  A big, warm hand ran down my back and wandered up again, then tugged on my ponytail, knocking me out of my trance. “Still good?” Jake asked.

  “Yep. This music reminds me so much of my mom. She loved everything from back then. The men in their polyester leisure suits, Diana Ross and Donna Summer, and the Bee Gees. Oh God, the Bee Gees. How could I forget we used to dance to this music while cleaning?” I felt a bittersweet smile tugging at my face.

  “You okay?” Jake caressed my arm, grabbing my attention.

  “Yeah.” I swallowed, then met his eyes. “My mom has dementia. She doesn’t remember much, and I only hope I don’t forget any of it.”

  “Well, listening to music is a good way to do that. Sounds to me like you’re gonna love tonight.”

  He grabbed my hand and led me to the shoe rental. After procuring the correct sizes and swapping them for our street shoes, we made our way to the Team Fizzle lanes, where Jake introduced me to everyone.

  His team was split into two groups of four, eight people in total. There were five guys and three women, including me. Two of the men were trainers and even bigger than Jake. The other women were front-desk greeters, and the last two men were sales staff. Fizzle was clearly a bigger operation than I imagined, and the people here obviously adored Jake.

  But there was something slightly off. Jake seemed to give so affectionately to his staff, but whenever they complimented him, he silently shrugged it off, seeming uncomfortable. We were having too much fun for me to slip into analyze mode, so I tucked the impression away to pull out later. Not willing to be pulled completely outside my comfort zone, I drank beer while the others drank something called Moscow Mules in iced copper mugs, and we all danced between rounds of bowling.

  When the Bee Gees came on, Jake grabb
ed me in his arms, literally tossing me up in the air and then catching me. “How’d you like that, Legs?” he teased, swinging me from side to side, then dipping me like earlier. But this time, he placed a quick kiss on my earlobe afterward.

  Sadly, my balls were drawn to the gutters, but Jake kept knocking all his pins down, making up for his sorry excuse of a partner. My cheeks hurt from grinning so much when we finally said good night to everyone.

  I leaned my head back into the plush leather as Jake drove me home. “It was a good night, thanks,” I murmured.

  Half of me was asleep, but the other half buzzed with some unidentifiable lust. Thanks to two beers, I was looser than usual, less stressed and not as OCD. When I met Jake in jail, I’d never imagined him to have this fun side. Of course, he was all flirty and seductive despite being behind bars, but there was something pensive, almost sullen, about his mood, and it seemed to follow him everywhere.

  Even when I ran into him at the bar at Roman’s with Camper, there was a touch of melancholy I couldn’t put my finger on. But tonight was different. He was looser, happier, more easygoing, and I loved it.

  Yet as we neared my place, some of the tension seeped back in. His face was pulled a slight bit taut, and I watched his hand white-knuckle the steering wheel. We made our way toward my neighborhood, the streets littered with college kids swaying and laughing, but when we reached my building, Jake drove right past it.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I’m looking for a parking spot.”

  “Oh.”

  “I thought I’d help you take Maverick out. It’s late, after midnight, and I don’t want you wandering the streets.”

  “Oh.” What the heck was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I form a simple sentence? “Um, I go out at night here all the time. Really, I’m fine.”

  “Not when I’m here, you don’t,” he murmured as he navigated the truck into a spot a block away from my place.