by Joey Bush
Drew reached his hand in the top and pulled out a wrapped burger. “That, my dear, is the greasiest most delicious restaurant in all of Chicago—or perhaps all the world. That man, Ty, was my next-door neighbor when I grew up a poor Chicago boy. We did everything together. And now—well. He owns a burger joint. And god, they’re delicious. Just try.” He unfolded the side of the burger and gave me a hint of it. I bit, feeling the wonderful texture of perfectly-spiced, perfectly-cooked burger emanate in my mouth. A small bit of Dijon mustard coursed through my taste buds.
“Oh, god,” I murmured. I hadn’t tasted anything so brilliant in my life.
“Right? I know. Anyway, I try to give him good business. He’s in a bad part of town. I want to bring him in with us, in Wicker Park. But I don’t know if my stomach will hold up, eating this stuff every day. You tried a fry yet?”
And so we feasted together, there in his beautiful, sparkly-clean Porsche. I remembered how my mother had never wanted me to eat in her minivan. And here we were, enjoying some of the greasiest food the world over. I shook my head at Drew as he changed lanes, spinning us back to our illustrious Wicker Park.
We arrived outside the apartment building, stuffing our trash back in the damp, greased bag. I shook my head, licking my fingers. “You know. Nothing makes you hungrier than thinking you’re about to die,” I said to him.
Drew tossed his head back, padding his napkin across his mouth. “I’d say that’s infinitely true. We were in the wake of death up there on that platform, and now we’re in the wake of death eating too much cholesterol.” He shrugged. “You win some; you lose some.”
I laughed in the darkness outside of the apartment building. I looked up at my balcony, thinking only of the drabness of my apartment, of all the Netflix waiting for me in my bedroom. And yet; the light, the passion behind Drew’s eyes kept me outside, lurking. What was I waiting for?
Our eyes met. Drew brought his face forward and clasped his lips against mine, there in front of the building. I closed my eyes, even as swarms of people passed us, even as the cars of the great Chicago city honked and jabbed at each other. He slipped his tongue into my mouth, sliding it past my own, sending shivers down my spine. He was, remarkably, the most wonderful kisser I had ever known. I felt so horny; my pussy was damp in my tight, slim-fitting black pants. I longed to pull him on top of me, to have him fuck me.
But I couldn’t.
He pulled away, sensing a change in me. He paused. “Do you want to head up to my apartment? Marty’s not there this evening. And I have really good whiskey. The best whiskey.” He looked at me hopefully. His eyes screamed at me, forcing me to remember the expert skill of his sexuality, the way he had fucked me there against that window all those days before.
But my mind raced. “I—I can’t,” I murmured. I backed away, running my fingers through my hair. I was certain this was it, in that moment. If I didn’t go up with him, if I didn’t allow him to take me home, then it was over. I would no longer be a notch in his belt. I could be free of this strange, sexual, “love game” that he so often played. Instead, I could focus on bettering my own life.
I continued; “I have to wake up early tomorrow. I have a huge job interview on Monday morning, and I need to prepare all day.” I raised my eyebrows at him, as if to say I didn’t care at all; as if to say it was his loss.
I expected him to stomp away, to accept his loss. But his eyes looked large, hopeful. “I understand,” he murmured. He put his hand on my waist. “But I have to see you again.”
I wanted to rush away. What was this guy’s plan? Wasn’t he going to move onto the next notch, the next woman? Wouldn’t I hear him talking about some other bimbo on the balcony in just a few days, when memory of this truly spectacular day together had faded in his ever-seeking mind?
But he looked at me hopefully. “You can choose the place this time,” he said. He moved his fingers along my trim figure. “We don’t have to do any extreme sports or even eat any—burgers. If you don’t want.”
I laughed for a moment in spite of myself. I bit my lip. My heart was racing. “You know. I have to ask you something, Drew. Why are you so interested in me, in dating me?” I swallowed, allowing the understanding of who I truly was to come rushing back to me. I was a poor, lifeless sap. I had nothing to give, nothing to offer. “If you really knew who I was, you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. Trust me.” I allowed my neck to drape down. My chin met my chest.
But Drew didn’t respond to this. “I want to know who you are,” he murmured. “I want to know everything about you. Why don’t we just go on another date, and you can tell me everything?” He took a step closer to me and peered deeply into my eyes. “That way, I can decide on my own. Don’t you think that’s fair?”
I felt his breath, hot on my neck as he kissed me there, moving up toward my ear. I felt my breasts pulse into his chest. I wanted him. I wanted him inside me. I closed my eyes. “One more date. Okay,” I murmured. Our eyes met once more in the darkness. I heard a catcall across the street; someone was watching this moment between us.
I started toward the door, confused why Drew wasn’t following me. “Don’t you live here, too?” I called back.
He smiled, nodding. He gestured with his head. “I have to take the Porsche back to the garage. She’s no good out here on the street by herself. I’ll see you tomorrow? Your choice?”
I nodded, feeling a bit let down. I longed to feel his arms around me again. “Yes, of course,” I murmured. I turned back toward the apartment building and placed my key in the lock, feeling his eyes on me as I entered. I sauntered up the steps, down the familiar hallway, and into the tiny, grey apartment I shared with Boomer.
There, I collapsed on the couch and brought my hands to my face, to my breasts. I didn’t realize that I was breathing so heavily, that the passion from the previous day’s events had nearly brought me to my knees. I lay there, daydreaming for many hours before finally falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
The next morning, I woke with a renewed sense of hope—and a cat strewn over my belly. I had slept on the couch, and the late September morning sunlight was coursing in through the window. I grinned, picking my cat up and holding him in my arms.
The evening before had been everything. It had pushed the limits beyond what I thought a date could be. I had felt his arms around me; I had felt his fear as we leapt into the air. And, I had felt his care for me as he had asked me for another date.
The previous week, I had earnestly thought everything was lost. But on this day, it seemed that everything was different. I peered into the sunlit streets of my Windy City, and made a decision not to give up—not yet. I wanted to be a dance instructor. I wanted to continue helping all girls, from young to old, learn the brilliance, the passion of dance. And I could do that anywhere. Preferably in a cheaper studio, somewhere in Wicker Park.
So on this Sunday morning, I made the decision to go out into the world and search. I grabbed my fall boots, my cute autumn hat, and bundled up for serious walking. I fed little Boomer enough kernels for the day and fled into the street, thoughts of coffee and bagels on my mind.
I grinned at everyone I passed, fresh with the knowledge that I could succeed, I could do whatever I wanted to do. I peered in windows of FOR RENT buildings; I rushed across streets, in front of cars, just to check out prospective places. I felt my heart beating fast in my chest. The possibilities were limitless.
Sometime in the middle of the day, I stopped at a coffee and bagel shop. Exhausted, I pulled off my gloves, my hat, and ate my bagel ravenously. I had chosen a pumpkin cream cheese that oozed delightfully in my mouth over the warm, pumpernickel bagel. I closed my eyes, thinking that nothing could be better than working your way up from sadness, from the desolate week before.
Nothing.
As I scouted through Wicker Park and the surrounding neighborhoods, I made a large list of addresses and phone numbers. At around two in the afternoon, I finally coll
apsed back at my grey apartment, a cup of tea in my hand, and the list before me. I was going to call everyone and discover if the places were in my price range. The sooner the better, I thought. This way, I wouldn’t give my students time to find a place somewhere else, with another teacher. They loved me, I knew. And I loved them.
The first few places I called didn’t fill me with an ounce of hope. Some places had much higher rent than the place I had just lost, and I knew I couldn’t wrangle even the safety deposit. Many required credit reports—which I didn’t have. After about six phone calls, I heard Boomer meowing at the window, and I put my head down at the table, feeling dejected. I knew I couldn’t give up after just a few hours. But already, this task was feeling like a bigger feat than I could presently deal with.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out to find a message from Drew. “Have you decided what you’d like to do for our date tonight?”
My heart started beating hard in my chest. I hadn’t had time to think about our date destination for even a moment. I looked at the clock. Already, it was four in the afternoon—and I hadn’t taken a shower, brushed my hair, anything. We were meant to have our date at seven, I knew. But already there was so much to be done.
I allowed the phone to linger without texting him back immediately. I rushed to the bedroom, stripping off my clothes. Boomer, at the window, continued to meow. I turned on the shower as hot as I could and started scrubbing at my scalp and my underarms. I shaved my legs swiftly, noting it had been a little while—given my lack of sexual prowess in the previous weeks. I shivered, knowing that if I missed a single spot, Drew would notice. He knew the female body better than anyone.
I jumped into my bedroom, my wet blonde hair streaming all around me. I peered into my closet, my eyes wide. What the hell was I going to wear? I heard my phone begin to buzz—loudly, a phone call—in the next room. I walked naked, feeling my breasts bounce lightly. The phone’s white letters screamed; “MEL.”
“Hey, Mel,” I said, sounding a bit distracted. I missed my studio partner a great deal, but I knew how busy she was with baby Jack.
“Molly!” Mel called. She sounded loud, pulsing with energy. “I’ve missed you so much. I’ve been worried about you.”
I nodded my head, watching my naked body in the mirror by the refrigerator. I looked good. I spun this way, then that, inspecting my body. “I’ve missed you, as well,” I murmured. “We have to get together soon. I decided to try to find another dance studio.”
“Oh, yeah?” Mel asked. She sounded excited. “Please. Do tell.”
“I can’t really talk right now, Mel.” I made myself sound apologetic. “I have a date tonight. I’m trying to get ready. You know, it’s been so long since I had a nice dinner date. And I’m supposed to find the place we’re going! I don’t know what to do!”
“Oh. He put you in charge, huh? Is this the same guy? The guy who thinks I’m your assistant?”
I murmured a brief “Yes” into the phone.
“Ah, well. How exciting. He was sexy, no? Anyway. I was going to ask you if you wanted to come over for dinner with me and the boys.”
“The boys? Your husband and your baby?” I asked, laughing.
“Who else? And have you ever seen anyone more handsome?” At this point, I could tell that she was talking directly to her baby, cooing at him. I smiled, in spite of myself. “Seriously. Maybe this would be a good time for me to meet this guy. Drew, yeah?”
I thought for a moment. I certainly didn’t have any real plans for us for the rest of the evening. I pictured us whiling away at some dumb restaurant, unable to find anything to talk about—especially in the wake of such excitement the previous day. “You know. That isn’t such a bad idea,” I murmured. I still stood naked in the kitchen considering this.
“I’ll make your favorite. Spinach lasagna sound good? You know my husband’s Italian.” Already, I could hear Mel in the background, bumbling around her kitchen, pulling out pots and pans.
“Don’t work too hard,” I said, laughing languidly. I supposed it was time that I brought Drew into a small piece of my life. He had said, after all, that he wanted to know me; he wanted to understand who I was. He could make his own opinion of me. Then, he could decide on what terms he wanted to leave me.
I shivered. Mel and I decided on a time; seven-thirty, after Drew and I were able to meet up and head over, via the train (“or his Porsche!” as Mel had called out), and arrive at her apartment, positioned closer to the water. I hardly went to Mel’s apartment. I felt strange, surrounded by her perfect family and her rather quiet, rather secretive husband. Sure, her husband was attractive, sturdy. He did something that made them all quite a bit of money. But Mel—my darling good friend, only twenty-eight years old—had given up her dance career for him. Although she had always said she wouldn’t have been able to make it anyway, that there wasn’t really hope for her, I always wondered if she regretted it. And the undercurrent of regret I generally felt at their apartment was almost too much. It was like the smell of baby formula; rancid but a little sweet as well. It lingered on clothes.
I dressed myself in one of my favorite green dresses. The green always matched my eyes so well. It wrapped around my slim waistline and pulled around my breasts in such a splendid way. I brushed through my hair, then curled it a bit to give it a feminine flair. It was already six-thirty, and Drew would be here in just thirty minutes. I had to look perfect.
Finally, I sat back on my couch, glaring at the shine of the wooden door. I imagined Drew down the hallway—at his own apartment—preparing himself for our date. I imagined him splashing cologne on his neck, on his chest. I imagined him humming as he proceeded through his many steps. He lived such a glamorous, well-formed existence, so unlike my own—in which I rushed around, unable to afford anything, wearing the same dress I bought three years ago at a vintage shop in college.
But it didn’t matter anymore. It couldn’t.
I heard his sturdy footfalls outside the door, and I clung to my knees. Boomer bounced down from my lap and sauntered toward the door, ready to greet whoever arrived. He was so unused to guests, and he was wrapped up in the excitement that seemed to emanate through the room. His knuckles collapsed into the door.
CHAPTER FIVE
I touched my hair briefly before opening the door and tipping my hips to the left. I greeted Drew with bright eyes. “Hey,” I whispered.
He looked quite dapper. He was wearing a black shirt and a stunning purple tie. His smile nearly smirked at me before giving way to something deeper, something sincere. “Hey,” he said. He looked at me earnestly before clearing his throat. “You look lovely.”
“Thanks,” I murmured, looking down at my tight dress.
“Have you decided what you want to do this evening?” Drew asked after a long pause. “It is your turn, after all.”
“And we’re a democracy, something like that?” I said it playfully.
He nodded. His chin was pointed, sturdy.
“All right, then. You’re going to meet my closest friend. My assistant. And her baby, Jackson. And her husband.” I smiled at him with assurance as his eyed grew dark for a moment. “Don’t worry about them. They’re fine. They just—they don’t get out much. And I promised I’d head over there tonight. Afterwards, we can grab a drink somewhere in Old Town?”
Drew nodded, placing one of his wide hands on his chest. “That sounds nice, actually. It’s been a long time since I had some semblance of a family dinner.”
I laughed, walking out the door and locking my room behind me. “You know. It’s been quite a while for me, as well. I never considered myself a ‘family girl,’ I suppose.”
“There’s not a lot I know about you, is there?” Drew asked me, placing his arm out beside me. I accepted his elbow as we walked toward the steps. “I don’t know what you do, how you do anything. I don’t know what you did today. I can’t even imagine it.”
I didn’t say anything as we walked down
the steps. My heart nearly burst as we exited the front door and found the Porsche out front once more; ready to pounce into the Chicago night. I looked up at him with bright eyes.
“You know. You just looked so good in it last night. I had to bring it tonight,” he murmured, leaning down and kissing me directly on the cheek. I felt his large, supple lips as they bounced off me lightly.
We rushed across the city toward the lake. I watched out the window without speaking, noting the way each car rushed by us, on the way to other dinners, other drinks, other dates. I turned toward Drew as he focused, concentrating on the road with his lips firmly together. Every move he made was directed with such ease, such ready comprehension. In a way, he drove like he made love.
“Is there anything I should know about your best friend before we arrive?” Drew asked me, turning his head primly toward me.
I thought for a moment. “You know. One thing you might want to know is that she was one of the premier ballerinas throughout the country. She was the head ballerina at her university before this guy—her husband—swooped her up and promptly married her.”
“That’s tragic,” Drew said, saying exactly what I wanted him to say.
I nodded. “I think she’s happy, though.” We were stopped at a red light and the engine hummed beneath us. “She has her baby. And her lake, and her life. I don’t think she would have changed anything.” I thought for a moment. “Would you change anything about your life?”
Drew sighed through his nose. “You know. That’s a heavy question. Because—if I were to change anything, I wouldn’t be here, with you, right now.”
I smiled, flashing him my white smile. I brought my blonde locks around to my front and played with the ends, a bit nervous with the energy, the vibrant way Drew and I spoke to each other—as if we had something here. As if we were more than just hooking up.
Finally, we arrived to the other side of the city. We parked in the parking garage beneath Mel’s apartment building. We walked outside of the garage to look at the angry lake in the evening air. We could hear the waves crashing into the sand. I watched as a single, lonely runner rushed down the boardwalk, south, toward the bright lights of downtown. A single red hat wrapped around his ears, shielding himself from the angry autumn air.
