1989: Once Bitten, Twice Shy: Love in the '80s: A New Adult Mix

by Martin, Kelly

  “We wouldn’t want that.”

  “Nope. And the fact that anyone the photographers see me with automatically makes her my girlfriend, no questions asked. I don’t want to subject you to the craziness of my life unless you think it is worthwhile.”

  The elevator dings on twenty. “Why would you care what I think?” It is a genuine question. He doesn’t know me, not really. I’m a girl he saved from a rainstorm and bought coffee. That’s it. I don’t know why he’s being this nice to me.

  He hesitates when the door opens and looks at me like the answer is obvious. “Because I care about you.”

  He exits the elevator ahead of me while those words filter through my brain. He cares about me… he cares about me?

  Cares or is playing?

  Who knows?

  How in the world can this guy be the same one Dana Knox is paying me to hurt?

  I follow him off the elevator that leads to a brightly lit hallway. The hallway is painted a burned orange and has paintings of happy little tree paintings all along the corridor. There is one door. It is at the end of the hall and has the word “Penthouse” written in swirling letters. Fancy.

  “It’s not much,” he assures me.

  “It is a penthouse.” I blink a few times. “It has to be much.”

  “Depends on your definition of much.” He opens the door and motions me to come on in.

  My heart is beating in my throat and I have to force my feet to move. I’m curious, but this is also very new to me. I’ve never been to a guy’s house before. Ever. I remind myself that I’m twenty-one years old, I’m a mature woman, and I can enter his house if I want. And I want.

  When I walk in, I gasp.

  This apartment isn’t what I had expected, and that’s a good thing. There is a huge starburst mirror to my right and a glass table under it. Chad throws his keys on it and asks what I think about the place.

  I haven’t been in here long enough to form an opinion.

  Glass cubes form a makeshift hallway on left as I continue into the house. I’ve never seen a place so open. The living room, dining room, and kitchen are all in the same massive room.

  The most impressive thing of all is the wall of windows that is from floor to ceiling from the living room all the way to the other side of the kitchen. From there, you can see all of Nashville. I imagine it is beautiful after dark. I hope I’m here long enough to find out.

  Something smells really good in here too.

  “I hope you like spaghetti.” He beams. He looks like a kid in a candy store. “I made it.”

  “You did not.” I’m actually pretty surprised by that.

  “I did! Bet you didn’t know a dude could cook.” He disappears into the kitchen and I throw my bag down on the couch. I rub my arms as I stroll to the windows and admire the view.

  “I did know actually. My father is a pretty good cook.”

  “Your mother doesn’t cook?” he calls from the kitchen.

  “My mother is dead.” Once it comes out, I wish I could put it back in. One of my rule for my business is never let them know personal information about me. They can know my birthday and my age or whatever. Hell, they can even know my bra size, but they can’t know personal things. That makes things very sticky. And here I’ve broken another of my commandments.

  I’m screwed.

  Chad peeks at me from the kitchen. He has on a “Kiss the Cook” apron. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay. It’s been a while. I’ve adjusted.” Because I’m a fine, upstanding citizen.

  “How did she die? If you don’t mind me asking?” He comes toward me with two glasses in his hand. “Coke,” he says before I ask.

  I take the glass from him and drink a sip. It tastes Heavenly. I had no idea I was so thirsty. “Overdose. It is a long story.”

  “Ah, the reason you don’t drink.”

  “One of them.” I sip my Coke, wishing it were a Pepsi. “But I really don’t want to talk about her if it’s all the same to you.”

  “I’m sorry.” He sounds sincere and for a second, I can’t keep my eyes off of him. How can someone so horrible be so nice?

  “No, it’s okay. It’s just not something I really want to talk about on a first date.”

  “Technically it is our second date.” He winks and I smile.

  There is a silence between us. Not awkward or anything like that. Just silence. Sometimes silence is good. It is even better when your mind stops yelling at you. Complete silence. Complete calm.

  “Spaghetti is done.” He motions for me to follow him.

  I do, reluctantly though. The view here is amazing. Here everything is perfect. Here I can pretend that everything is okay and I’m not here to ruin Chad’s life. Everything is okay here in this one spot. If only time could stand still.

  “Nancy?” He’s in the kitchen, looking back at me like he’s afraid he’s done something wrong.

  I shake my head to clear the cobwebs and steady my nerves. I can do this. Don’t get too close.

  Who am I kidding? I’m already way too close.

  “Sorry, I’m coming. The view is amazing. Hard to leave.”

  “It is even better in here.”

  Chad isn’t wrong. The floor to ceiling windows continue into the kitchen and dining area. We sit at a table for two. A red and white tablecloth is neatly hung over the table. A red rose sits in a clear vase in the center of the table. And two plates of spaghetti are sitting at our respective seats, steaming hot.

  “You did all this?”

  He beams. “I’m not just a pretty face.”

  “I’d say not. This is impressive.” I allow him to pull my seat out for me, and I settle in. A girl could get used to this.

  I wait for Chad to get in his seat before I take my napkin and place it in my lap. This food looks delicious.

  “Try it.” His eyes light up like a kid’s at Christmas.

  I roll a little bite on my fork and blow a few times to cool it off. Then I take a bite.

  And I enter heaven.

  “Like it?”

  I can’t speak. I just shut my eyes and nod. My father is a pretty good cook. Much better than me. But this… this is amazing. I can barely believe Chad made this himself. I fight the urge to look around for a takeout box cause, holy cow, this is amazing.

  “I take that to mean you like it.”

  I nod again and dig in for a second bite. Ladylike be damned.

  I forget all about my ankle and my bruised bottom. I forget about everything except this meal with a nice and kind man who can actually cook. I find myself enjoying our conversation. We don’t even really talk about anything, and that is the great part of it.

  I learn that he played baseball in college and wasn’t very good at it. He always wanted to be a country singer when he grew up, and until he was eighteen, he believed there were such things as two headed insects.

  I giggle at his jokes—they are actually funny. I eat another helping of spaghetti. I’m fairly sure I’m going to explode. I don’t care. I’m happy.

  I can’t be happy.

  Before I get too swept away with dessert, I excuse myself, grab my bag from the couch, and head to the bathroom to “freshen up.”

  In reality, I figure it is either now or never to get evidence for Dana.

  I lock the door when I get inside, silently praying he doesn’t suspect anything. Why would he? Girls use the bathrooms all the time. I mean, maybe not on dates, but nature occasionally calls.

  Money is calling me.

  Money and tuition and all the things I need it for.

  Dana said I’d find evidence of drug use here. I might, but I doubt it. Only an idiot would leave things laying around when he’d invited someone over.

  And I might never be in here again.

  I take a deep breath and try to focus on the money and not the delicious dinner that is warming my belly, or the dessert waiting for me. And I definitely try not to think about the really sweet guy
who it outside waiting for me.

  I can do this.

  I pull the polaroid camera from my bag so I can be ready to snap at a moment's notice and be done with it. It seems the best option. Find something. Shoot it. Get the pain over with. Like pulling off a band-aid.

  I hobble toward the medicine cabinet. If anything is in there, it is more than likely in there. I doubt he’d have it out in plain view.

  I feel lower than dirt looking through his things: some shaving gel, toothpaste, Mr. Bubbles bubble bath (that is a surprise), some medicine for high blood pressure—seems weird at his age, but okay, not terribly unusual. Nothing in this cabinet screams “illegal.”

  Maybe Dana is wrong.

  Maybe she is just trying to do anything to get back at him.

  There is no way Chad Harris of all people would have…

  Then I see it. The bottom drawer under the sink. It has a lock on it.

  Why in the world would someone have a lock on a cabinet in a bathroom?

  I don’t want to know.

  I have to know.

  I bent down and pull a bobby pin from my hair. I knew it would come in handy, my hand hovers over the lock. What am I doing? I can’t do this, can I? Do I really want to know what’s inside this?

  I don’t know Chad that well, but I can’t help feeling a connection with him. Something I’ve never felt with anyone else. Am I willing to throw away my shot with him for money? Even if that money is an insane amount?

  He’s in there waiting for me.

  Possibly wondering what is taking me so long.

  He fixed me supper and has been nothing but kind to me. Not like the other jerks in the other jobs. Those guys, I saw why their exes wanted revenge. Chad? I don’t.

  There are times when a person knows the choice she is about to make will change her whole life. There is a before time, and an after time. Sometimes those choices are good. Sometimes… sometimes she regrets them for the rest of her life.

  As the bobby pin hovers over the lock, I realize I can’t do it. No matter how much I need the money, I can’t do this to Chad. He might be the scum of the Earth like Dana says, but I don’t see it. I don’t. And I don’t think I can live with it on my conscience to make him out to be an even worse guy than the tabloids have him painted as.

  It may turn out to be nothing between us. He might be using me like he does all the girls. What Dana told me about him might be absolutely true, but I have got to trust my gut, and my gut says to not open this drawer. It says to trust Chad, which is hugely scary since I don’t trust anybody. Ever.

  I wish I knew what it is about Chad that makes me rethink everything. My mother used to say, in the before time when she wasn’t doped up on cocaine or whatever she could get her hands on at the moment, that people had soulmates. That they just clicked. I asked her once, when I was little and love made me starry-eyed, if she clicked with my father. She said no. He wasn’t her soulmate, just the one she was stuck with.

  I never believed in love after that.

  And here I am, willing to wage a five thousand dollar bet on love right now.

  I’m a moron.

  I stand up, or try to at least. My weak ankle gives way, causing me to slip. I hear the snap and the familiar roll of the film before I can stop it. I try my darndest to make it be quiet. It isn’t like he’s that far away.

  I hug the camera very still to me and am very, very quiet and listen. Surely he couldn’t have heard that. Surely… surely.

  When I don’t hear any footsteps coming my direction, I let out a relieved sigh and take a look at the picture. Instant pictures are an amazing thing.

  Sure enough, a blurry photograph of the locked drawer. Perfect. As if I don’t have enough temptations to get evidence to Dana.

  “Nancy?” Chad calls from the other room.

  I stand up like a kid caught in the cookie jar, bit my lip because of the enormous pain radiating up from my sprained ankle, and grit through my teeth. “Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute.”

  “Okay, didn’t want your ice cream to melt.”

  My ice cream might not, but my heart does.

  I throw the picture and the camera in my bag, try my ever loving best to forget all about the drawer, freshen up in the mirror, and head back to the kitchen.

  On the way, I toss my bag back on the couch and plaster a smile on my face. I’ve made my choice. I’ve chosen Chad. Lord, please let it be the right decision.

  The ice cream plopped on top of my chocolate cobbler hasn’t melted, but it sure didn’t last long. It is to die for. My land. A more awesome dessert, I’ll never find. Chad says he made it himself.

  I think he’s a liar.

  “There’s more to me than you realize.” He is trying to impress me. Unluckily for me, he’s succeeded.

  When we are finished eating, Chad asks me if I would like to go into the living room and watch a movie.

  “I’d like that,” I answer. “If we can look at the view first.”

  “Of course.” He picks up his plate and I mine. He tries to take it from me, but I don’t let him. Sore body or not, I can carry a plate to the sink. Chad walks up behind me as I place my plate into the suds. He’s so close I can smell his cologne: husky, manly. I love it.

  He reaches around me and puts the dish in the water, allowing his fingers to graze my shoulder. Hoo boy. “Care to see the view?” His whispered words tickle my ears and I nod.

  He takes me by the hand and leads me into the living room.

  Night has descended over Nashville. The lights glow in the distance, cars on the interstate, lights from all the high rises around. “I wonder how many people are in those buildings doing the exact same thing?” I ask, hugging myself tightly. I’ve gotten a chill.

  He places his hands on my shoulders and gently rubs them. It’s nice. “None. We are one in a million.”

  “Doubt that.”

  He leans down and places his lips on the nape of my neck. I shut my eyes and let him. “I don’t.”

  Chad turns me until I’m facing him. He’s staring into my eyes, asking if it is okay for him to proceed.

  My body says yes. I want him to kiss me. My mind screams it is a bad idea.

  Once his lips crash into mine, my mind shuts up. He pulls me to him, holding the back of my head firmly against him. His other arm is wrapped around my waist. I kiss him back, hungry for every bit of him that he’ll give me.

  My mind, my thoughts, everything, disappear and there is nothing in this world but Chad and me. He backs toward the couch, and I willingly go with him. My breathing becomes heavy as my body catches on fire. He pulls my hair around my shoulders and runs his fingers over the bare skin of my off the shoulder shirt. I moan in his mouth. He smiles against my lips and does it again, only lower.

  I’ve never wanted someone so much in my life.

  He stops when his leg hits the coffee table and he runs his fingers over my cheeks. His forehead touches mine and he releases my lips. Looking square in my eyes, he hesitates.

  Please don’t let him hesitate.

  Unwilling to wait anymore, I connect my lips to his, hard, needy, hungry. The force pushes him back against the couch, then I hear a loud metal thud.

  He releases me and looks down.

  There on the floor, halfway out of my bag, is the picture I took in the bathroom and the polaroid camera, broken into a million pieces.

  The look Chad gives me makes my blood run cold. “Let me explain.” I feel tears stinging my eyes. This can’t be how it ends.

  “Why would you have a camera in your bag, Nancy? Unless you thought you’d get a picture of me to sell."

  “I didn’t…”

  "Or evidence."

  He picks up the camera, which falls apart in his hands. All that money wasted. “I thought it wasn’t true. I mean, after I got to know you, I thought surely you couldn’t be what he said you were.” Chad picks up the picture I took and shows it to me. “My damn bathroom drawer. Why?"

  "I..."


  "You set me up.”

  “I didn’t.” How can I explain that I’d decided to not go through with it? “I can explain it.”

  “It was all a lie.” His voice is deep, but doesn’t crack.

  “It wasn’t, not all of it. I didn’t fake those kisses. I didn’t fake my feelings toward you.”

  “You misunderstand me, Once Bitten.” His lip curls.

  It’s my turn to be shocked. “What? How?”

  He takes a deep breath. His brows knit together and I feel like these words are hard for him to say. “I know what Dana wanted you to do. I knew it from the start.”

  Now I feel betrayed. “How?”

  “A buddy of mine, Thomas Ford, mentioned you in passing. Said you were a bitch for hire, or rather Once Bitten was.” Thomas Ford was my tenth client’s ex. I really did a number on him. I thought at the time he deserved it. “I didn’t know you were Once Bitten, of course. Didn’t know there was a you, to be honest. After Dana broke up with me, I got worried she’d pull something like this since Thomas’ ex was one of her closest friends.” Jane Brier. I remember her. She said I did a much better job getting revenge on Thomas than she ever thought possible. At the time, I felt proud… “Found your number in a box of things Dana left here. I called it… heard your voice and hung up.”

  My God, that was him the other night! The person that called. That was him! “What did she want from you? Huh? Was she trying to blackmail me?”

  “She wanted to hurt you like you hurt her.”

  Chad’s hand shakes as he holds the picture tighter. “I didn’t hurt her. I told you that.”

  “Your word against hers.”

  “The truth against her lies.”

  ""No, she wouldn't lie to me." Would she? Why...

  "You sure about that?" He walks so close to me we are barely touching. I feel his breath on my hair. "Because you know her so well?"

  "What good would it do?"