by Lila Fox
For most people, I could only imagine hearing their parents were eager to have them home filled them with sense of fondness. Instead of making me happy, my father’s insistence that I return to my family filled me with dread. I knew exactly what he wanted me for and I wanted no part of it.
“That’s not going to happen, Dad.”
“Rosaline, I will not repeat myself.” The volume of his voice was rising steadily, sounding angrier by the second. I could imagine his face in my head, clear as day: his cheeks flushed that ugly, splotchy red color and the thick forehead vein popping out of his angular face as he struggled to take control of his anger.
Even then, thousands of miles away from home and safe from his righteous ire, the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention and my back straightened into a tense, straight line. My body was silently preparing itself to deal with the onslaught of emotional damage.
I said nothing, but he continued anyway, just as he always did.
“I am up for reelection, this year, Rosaline.” I heard his breathing slow down, his voice getting slightly calmer. “I need the entire family to be together. We have to present a united front and that means you getting your ungrateful little ass back home to us.”
“I’m sorry, Senator, but I just can’t do that.”
I hung up the phone before I could be subjected to any more of his yelling. I knew he wouldn’t call me back, not that night at least. My father was many things, many awful, horrible things, but patience was his only virtue.
Suddenly feeling drained, I sluggishly made my way to my bedroom. Slipping under the warm covers of my perfectly made bed, my previous hunger completely diminished. My feelings of comfortable contentment were gone just as easily as they came, leaving behind an aching ball of stress and fear in the pit of my empty stomach.
6
Dex
The man sitting across from me was, inarguably, my best friend in the world but my patience with his bullshit had been gradually wearing thin over the course of the evening.
“Look man, all I’m saying is that I think you should do it.”
“I already know what you think, Cam.” I calmly took a sip of my beer, annoyed at how shitty it was. “You haven’t shut the fuck up about it all night.”
“Dude, fuck you!” He leaned closer to me across the table, his face getting serious. “You have a major opportunity here and I don’t understand why you won’t take it.”
“I don’t expect you to understand, man.”
He ran a swift hand through his dark hair. “Just because I’m not some artsy pretty boy like you doesn’t mean I can’t understand artistic integrity and shit.”
Cam tried to play it off as sarcasm but I knew this was a touchy subject for him. 25 long years of friendship had made us extremely close, but my more recent success and big bump in socioeconomic status had rocked the foundation of our camaraderie a bit.
“You know it’s not about that, Cam.”
“So what the fuck is it about, then?” He raised his hand, signaling our waitress to bring us another round of drinks. “You’re turning down a quarter of a million dollars because of your pride.”
I sighed, staring down at my foamy beer. “It’s not about pride, man. It’s about dignity. What the fuck would I look like making some commissioned piece of shit for some rich asshole who couldn’t give a real fuck about my art?” My voice raised a little, making some of the hipsters at the table next to us to sneak a few glances our way.
“I get it man, I do. It’s just that the Dex I knew five years ago would have sold his left nut for twenty-five G’s.” He laughed, shaking his head at me.
“The Dex you knew five years ago was a couch-surfing dickhead who lived off cigarettes and instant noodles.” I thought back to those days somewhat fondly. “I would have sold my left nut for a turkey sandwich.”
Cameron lit up a cigarette, offering it to me after a couple puffs. I declined with a shake of my head. “I can’t become a sellout this early in my career, Cam.” I chuckled. “You’ve got to wait a couple more decades for that.”
Seemingly, he got the hint, saying nothing else on the subject. Instead he leaned back in his chair looking behind me, presumably checking out some woman seated at the bar. I didn’t even bother to turn around. There was no use. It didn’t matter who the hell she was, if her name wasn’t Rosaline Reed I couldn’t force myself to give a shit about what she looked like.
“Stop being a fucking creep, dude.”
“What? A man can’t look?” Cam’s eyes lazily wandered back to me, not even bothering to look ashamed.
I didn’t reply. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I said, standing up and pulling two twenties out of my pocket. Just enough to cover our shitty beers and a healthy tip for the waitress. “This place blows. Why the hell did you want us to come here?”
“Some guy at work told me this place was running rampant with hot yuppie girls.” His eyes wandered back toward the bar one more time before we headed towards the door. “And he was not wrong.”
Saturdays and Sundays were Rosie’s days off. I never forced her to dry clean my clothes, go pick up my groceries, or do any of the other ridiculous shit people forced their assistants to do. I also couldn’t seem to find it in me to force her into the studio on the weekends either, even though those were still workdays for me. While I couldn’t help but crave her calming presence, I hoped she was out exploring Miami, taking full advantage of the amazing culture and history present in the city.
A part of me knew she wasn’t, though. I had the feeling she was cooped up in her little apartment “reading and watching Netflix,” just as she said were her plans before she went home on Friday.
I couldn’t quite figure out if I loved or hated that. On one hand, I loved the thought of Rosie, sweet and comfortable, enjoying her innocent entertainment. It made me think about being with her, curled around her sweet, warm body, watching her bright eyes light up as she scanned the pages of her favorite novel.
The other part of me, though, a much larger part, wanted to see her flourish under the fluorescent lights of the Miami city streets. I longed to see her dancing and laughing and loving, simply reveling in the pleasure of being alive. I wanted to see her brash and infinitely open to the world, and to me.
In the few weeks since our first meeting, Rosie had yet to offer me more than mere glimpses into the inside of her mind. We had conversations, sure, many of them discussing art and life while imparting little nuggets of unexpected wisdom unto each other. And while I could easily distinguish her true nature, good and pure and beautifully inquisitive, I still knew next to nothing about her, a fact that I was doing my damnedest to change.
I couldn’t help but be shocked about my recent revelations. I’d never felt so strongly about anyone so quickly before. I’d definitely had my fair share of women— some in short bursts of lust, lasting only long enough for a quick fuck, and a few longer, slightly more passionate affairs— and I appreciated and respected all of them for what they were. Many even proved to be great muses, sources of inspiration that got me through ruts of inactive imagination, but the majority of them were simply a means to an end and the desire to know them as anything other than temporary flings was almost completely nonexistent.
My interest in Rosie was completely different. While I still desired nothing more than to have her naked and wanting, spread out under me, the desire to know her and have her know me in return, was just as strong as the unflinching lust.
Thoughts of Rosie with all of her carefully placed walls and hidden desires I desperately wanted to bring to fruition filled me with something that had been severely lacking from my life for some time.
Inspiration.
7
Dex
One sleepless night after my sudden burst of inspiration and I was left with a mostly finished painting and a deep, abiding urge to see Rosie. It had been two days since I saw her last and my need to set eyes on her, to take in those bright, expr
essive eyes and her supple body was beginning to overwhelm me.
I couldn’t show up to her place uninvited like a fucking creep, that would set our admittedly fragile relationship up in flames and I couldn’t risk losing her. Not yet. Not before I really got the chance to have her as my own.
If I couldn’t go to her and I didn’t have the strength to stay away completely, I would have to come up with some kind of compromise. Since sending her a goddamn letter was out of the question and I wasn’t about to send her some overly impersonal email or text message, my next best option was to call her. At least that way even if I couldn’t see her beautiful face, I would be able to hear her voice.
After thinking up some half-cocked excuse about missing files, I calmly dialed her number. After the phone rang a few times, my chest tightened at the thought of her not picking up. It was mid-morning Sunday, certainly not prime time. Rosie didn’t seem like the type to sleep in long hours, but maybe she was recovering from a night out. Maybe she was catching breakfast with friends.
Maybe she was laid up in bed with some asshole. I grit my teeth at the thought, my fingers tightening their grip around my phone, there was no fucking way I was going to follow that train of thought. My possessive feelings for her were too strong to even entertain the thought of her with someone else. So I wouldn’t do it, not unless I wanted to drive myself to certain insanity.
“Hello.” Rosie’s voice sounded tired.
“Hey, Rosie. Sorry for calling you on a Sunday.” I stammered out my lie, “I was just wondering if you knew where the contact files for Grayson Contemporary were? I wanted to personally get in touch with Carrie in the morning.”
All of a sudden she sounded exasperated. “Really, Dex?” she growled out my name, a light, angry sound that I couldn’t help but smile at. “You called me during the weekend. On my day off. Just to ask me about some damn file?”
I should have felt guilty, I should have stammered out an apology and hung up but I couldn’t. Not when I was in the midst of getting her so fired up.
“Isn’t that exactly what I hired you for?”
“You’re kidding me right?”
I prodded her more. “You’re my assistant, Rosie. You’re supposed to be at my goddamn beck and call.” I was obviously fucking around, but she didn’t need to know that, not yet.
“Dex…” she trailed off with a sigh, suddenly sounding even more tired than she had at the beginning of our short conversation.
That concerned me. I’d wanted to rile her up a bit, get her fiery enough to tell me off a little. I didn’t want to genuinely frustrate her and I definitely didn’t want her exhaustion to be caused by my bullshit.
“Hey, you alright, kid?”
She sighed again. “I’m fine, Dex, I’m just…” She paused. “I’m just really not in the mood to do this with you today.”
Of course she’d said things like this to me before during our little bouts of banter but her tone and the dismal cadence of her voice gave me pause.
Then I heard her sniffle.
“Fuck, Sweetheart.” I was instantly angry at myself. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
I was cursing myself, fearing I’d gone too far this time. I knew nothing I said was too offensive or enough to make the conversation this emotionally charged. I still couldn’t help but feel guilty that it was my prodding and smartass remarks that pushed her over the edge.
“No.” She sniffled again, her sweet voice thick with exhaustion. “It’s not you, Dex. I’m just having a really crappy couple of days.” Rosie barely got the words out before I heard her softly sobbing on the other end.
Hearing her cries and imagining her beautiful face contorted in pain and running with tears had me feeling about eight different levels of anger. I was angry at whoever or whatever caused my sweet girl such sadness, pissed off at myself for exacerbating it, and fucking furious at the thought that I wasn’t there to comfort her.
I didn’t have the time, nor the patience to deconstruct those feelings or feel sorry for myself. I needed to be with her. I needed to hold her, help her, and show her I was there.
I was grabbing my keys and making my way to my car before I could utter another word.
“I’m on my way, Rosie. Just hold tight.”
“Dex, you really don’t need to-”
“Give me ten minutes,” I cut her off before she had a chance to protest again. There was nothing that could keep me from her now. Not even her denial.
With the exception of some slightly overgrown grass, Rosie’s apartment building looked exactly as it had the last time I was there. Trying not to think about the events that took place that night, I hurriedly made my way up to the building, quickly realizing I couldn’t get in through the locked front door. Neither did I know which apartment she lived in, which meant I would have to call her again but I didn’t want to give Rosie the chance to turn me away so I needed to think of some other way to get inside.
“Who the hell are you?” A woman’s voice startled me out of my thoughts.
I turned around towards her, taking in the pretty woman with a curled lip looking at me with suspicion. “Uh…”
“If you’re trying break in, you should know that the most valuable thing in this entire shitty building is the building manager’s Persian cat.” She crossed her arms across her chest. “And that thing is already hanging on by a thread.”
“No. I uh…” I wasn’t exactly sure how to reply but I didn’t want to seem like a creep. “I need to get inside to check on my friend. Maybe you know her? Rosaline Reed.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed a bit and she pursed her red-painted lips. “What’s your name?”
“Dex Quinn, I’m her boss.”
Her eyes went wide. “The artist? Holy shit!”
The egotistical prick in me couldn’t help but soak up her admiration for a bit, I loved being recognized, but I needed to focus on the task at hand.
So I lied.
“She called me earlier and she sounded sick so I figured I would come check on her but I can’t get in the building.”
The woman smirked at me as if she saw right through my bullshit but instead of blowing me off, she moved ahead of me with her keys out, motioning for me to join her.
As we made our way up the narrow flight of stairs, I took in my surroundings. The remnants of what must have once been a beautiful home, turned into a total shithole over the years. From the leaking roof to the smell of rotting wood, it was obvious there had been no care or upkeep to the place and I hated to think of Rosie living here. Maybe I needed to rethink her salary negotiation.
“That’s her apartment right there.” The woman pointed to a black door on the far right side of the hallway. “But I live right across the hall and if I hear so much as a scuffle I’m busting that door down and beating your tight little ass.” She jabbed a finger into the middle of my chest jokingly, but I could tell she was serious.
Before the woman made her way into her apartment she turned to me, “Oh, and tell Rosaline that Nora said she has a lot of goddamned explaining to do.”
I waited until Nora was safely tucked inside of her apartment before pounding on Rosie’s front door. “Sweetheart, it’s Dex, open up.”
“I thought I told you not to come.” Even through the thick door her sweet voice sounded awful.
I rested my forehead against the gold plated markings in front of me, “I know you didn’t think I was just going to let you cry those pretty little eyes out all alone did you?” I rapped on the door with my knuckles another three times. “Open the door, baby.”
Rosie slowly pulled the door open, revealing her sad, tear-stained face to me, her soft body immediately falling into my arms.
8
Rosie
As soon as I saw his handsome face I couldn’t help but throw myself at him. I tucked my body against his strong chest and reveled at the feeling of his arms wrapped around me. It had been so long since I’d been held like this. Years maybe,
and I felt completely starved of touch and affection.
The short phone call I shared with my father the night before left me overly emotional and terrified. I was doing so well, refusing to think of him or the rest of my family while restarting my life, but all of my progress had been obliterated in minutes from just hearing his voice. I was afraid he would find me and drag me back to California, to my life of loneliness and ridicule, far away from the freedom and contentment I found since I’d been here.
I didn’t care that I was supposed to be keeping things professional with Dex, I didn’t care that I didn’t want him, or anyone else, to see me in such a vulnerable state.
I needed him.
I needed him to wrap his arms around me and tell me everything would be alright, and I needed to believe it. Even if only for a few seconds.
Before I knew it, I had dissolved into another round of sobs, my hands bunching up in the back of his soft t-shirt. Holding onto him for dear life.
Dex brought one of his strong hands up to the back of my head, stroking through my hair. He let me get out my sadness and frustration without any comment or judgment, and soon enough, his presence was enough to calm me down.
I looked up at him bashfully, feeling extremely embarrassed. “Sorry for crying all over you.”
He sighed. “You don’t need to apologize for crying, Rosie.”
“Still…” I couldn’t help but try to justify my actions. “You didn’t need to come all the way over here just to have me ruin your shirt. I’m sure you were busy.”
“I’m never too busy to let you into my arms, sweetheart.” His smirk was back in full effect, but I knew his words were serious.
I wasn’t sure what to say or do next, but I knew Dex changed things by coming to my house to comfort me. Just as I changed things by letting him see me in such an emotionally charged state. There was no reason to kick him out now.
“Do you want to stay for a drink or something?”
He didn’t say anything, but he gently pushed me aside, making his way further into my little apartment and settling on the couch.
