by KJ Bell
After I pick up my grandfather’s prescription, I walk to my car and feel him behind me. I refuse to turn around, but I know it’s him by his cologne.
“Hey, wait up!” he calls after me, but I keep walking.
When he catches up to me, I spin around and snap, “What?”
He runs a hand through his messily-styled, thick brown hair and smiles. He’s cute, but too cute, and he knows it. He holds my gaze for an uncomfortable amount of time, but in a way that clearly announces his intentions are to get me naked, and ‘feel my kitty’ as soon as feasibly possible.
“I wanted to apologize for earlier.”
His eyes smolder, but all I see is trouble and a cocky superiority in his smug grin, like I should strip off my panties and lie down right here on the sidewalk.
“Great, do you feel better now?”
I push past him and continue walking. He’s in front of me in seconds. I keep going, but he walks backward to stay in my path.
“That wasn’t quite the response I was hoping for,” he says casually, his smile lifting upward in the most overly friendly manner possible.
“No, I’m sure it wasn’t.” I stop walking and put my hand up in front of me. “Look, it’s all good. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. Now, carry on.”
“Wait. You don’t know who I am?”
I shake my head. “No, but I know your type. You think with your chubby, and all you want from me is to get belly to belly. I’m not interested.”
“Actually I prefer pelvis to ass,” he says with a straight face. He tilts his head as his eyebrows knit together, waiting for me to reply, but I’m speechless, which I’m positive was his goal. His eyes are impossibly gorgeous, and I glance away. “But you don’t know my name?”
What is with the third degree? He’s treading on obnoxious territory here. He didn’t deny his intentions, which means—I’m right.
“Are you a celebrity or something? I hate to bruise your precious ego, but I don’t watch all that much television.”
He looks offended, but his mouth lifts again in a bright smile. It’s genuine, and he suddenly looks boyish and sweet, like an enormous mountain of trouble.
“It’s a cliché, but we got off on the wrong foot. Let’s start again.” He extends his hand. “I’m Ryan.”
“Maria,” I say, and shake his hand, noticing the set in his sharp jaw, which gives away his attempt to play things cool. The only question now is how long it will be before he realizes I’m not his typical desperate admirer and gives up.
“Would you allow me to buy you a drink to properly apologize for acting like an idiot?”
I laugh. I could think of a handful of other adjectives to describe his behavior, but he’s making an effort, and I’m trying to be nice. It would be so easy to say yes, but drinks with him are headed in one direction. He devours women and makes no apologies for it. Foolishly, I’m drawn to him, as I always am to men I know will eventually shred my heart into a million pieces. This time, I refuse to cave. “Además, este playboy loco piensa que soy fácil,” I say under my breath.
He grins. “This playboy does not think you’re easy. He simply wants to apologize.”
My skin flames red. Of all the American businessmen I see in TJ, I manage to find the one who speaks the language. I send him a wide-eyed look and quickly lower my head.
“Come on, one drink?” he asks, his voice pleading.
“I really can’t. I need to get home to my grandfather,” I tell him, still too embarrassed to look at him. I do have time for a drink, but his invitation is a trap that will ultimately lead to us bumping fuzzies.
“Another time then,” he offers. “Can I call you?”
He’s persistent, I’ll give him that. What’s wrong with me that I want to give him my number? A phone call turns into a drink, and a drink turns into flirting. The next thing I know—bam, I’m flat on my back. He gets what he wants, and I’ll never hear from him again.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. My life is complicated,” I say and lift my head.
The expression creeping over his face is curious, as though he’s experienced a moment of clarity.
“Well then, Maria, we have something in common,” he says, and produces a piece of paper from his pocket. It’s the receipt from the cigar shop. “Do you have a pen?”
Obviously he’s not accustomed to being denied, but I’m not playfully challenging him. There’s no room in my life for what he’s offering.
“I believe I said I wasn’t giving you my number.”
“You’re not. I’m giving you mine,” he replies instantly.
The sly smirk he gives me is adorable. His knowing that should irritate me, but his confidence is sexy.
I smile and hang my head again. “Ryan …”
He interrupts. “It’s only a phone number. I can’t leave without giving it to you.”
As I lift my head and see his serious expression, I almost change my mind. Almost. “And what’s the point exactly, if I don’t intend to call you?”
“Oh, you’ll call.” He grins. Ryan’s conviction in his ability to get lucky is evidently boundless, but so is my ability to resist him. I think.
“You’re pretty sure of yourself.”
“I can’t deny that.”
With my shoulders squared, I lift my chin. “Well Ryan, I don’t have a pen, so I guess you’re out of options.”
“Cell phone, then?” he asks immediately, as if he’d been expecting my response.
“Nope.” I smile and shake my head.
He makes a dramatic sad face. “Oh, come on. Lipstick?”
I laugh hard, and then look directly at him. He’s actually pretty hard to resist when he’s not airing his superiority. Accepting his phone number is harmless enough. I decide to put him out of his misery and pull a pen out of my purse. When I hand it to him, his confident grin returns.
“This doesn’t mean I’m going to call you,” I say adamantly.
“We’ll see,” he says playfully. After scribbling down a phone number, he holds the paper between two fingers and hands it me.
“And my pen.” I snatch it from his hand and giggle.
“Wow, so violent. Must be a special pen.”
I shake my head because I can think of nothing to say. His sarcasm makes him more likable than I want him to be.
“I really do have to go. It was nice meeting you, Ryan.”
“Likewise, Maria. I look forward to hearing from you.”
“Maybe,” I say, and move past him.
Once I’m in my car, I look at the piece of paper with his phone number on it. He drew a heart. Is he trying too hard or is there legitimately a sweet guy under that arrogant outer persona? I turn over the receipt, and my jaw drops.
Quickly, I convert the amount to U. S. dollars. My math is correct. I can hardly believe Ryan spent over fifteen hundred dollars on cigars. I consider Googling him. He’s obviously someone famous, but then I remember I only got his first name, which is for the best. The only thing I stand to gain from a night with him is regret.
I drop the receipt in my purse, knowing I won’t call him. A guy like Ryan would never take a girl like me home to his mother. He wants one thing from me, and my days of casual sex are long behind me. Javier is proof of that.
“Jesus, Tug, the wedding is a week away, and you’re late. I have to leave soon,” Harrison bitches at me the second I walk in the side door that leads to the kitchen in Brady’s house. Liv and Harrison live here too, and my sister’s boyfriend gets more obnoxious by the day.
“Relax. Quit acting like a chick and pull those lace panties out of your ass. How hard can planning a bachelor party be? Here, I brought favors.” I drop the paper bag containing the cigars I purchased on the table. “And we’ll take Brady to a strip club in town. There, planning done.”
He shoots me that look of his I hate. It’s the one he uses when he’s about to say something to provoke me.
“It’s really time
for you to grow up,” he says in the scolding tone of a father.
“Don’t lecture me, dude.”
“Someone needs to. Quit acting like a dick, and help me plan something. Tori will never go for a strip club.”
“Of course she will. Don’t be such a whiner. Tori is cool like that, but you ask her.”
“Ask me what?” Tori says, entering the room. Her voice grates against my skin like razor blades.
The searing pain reaches my heart, and it hurts to breathe. I put on a fake smile and reply, “We want to have the bachelor party at a strip club.”
Harrison interjects instantly, “We don’t have to. It was Tug’s idea.”
“Dude, your man-card is officially revoked,” I say, and he shrugs. God, he’s such a pussy. As long as they’ve been together, I still don’t understand what Liv sees in him. He’s the all-pleasing, happy parent making example of responsibility and he knows it. If his gloating, annoying self weren’t so good to Liv, I’d have to kick his ass.
“It’s fine.” Tori shrugs.
“Really?” Harrison asks, surprised.
“Yeah, it’s totally fine. If I were you, I’d be more worried about what Liv will think.”
Tori and I laugh at the same time. Our gazes lock, and we both frown. I hate how sad she makes me. This girl, who at one time in my life brought me so much happiness, now makes me loathe life, and love. Why did she pick Brady and not me?
I shake away my thoughts and look at Harrison. “I told you Tori would be cool with it. This is all you now, bro! My sister is your problem.”
“Liv’s cool, too,” he says with a nervous laugh.
“You’re so whipped.”
“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with that, Tug. He’s not whipped, he’s considerate, and I think it’s sweet.”
It’s Harrison, so of course it’s sweet. Add that to this list of perfect Harrison qualities. I exaggerate a gagging face and laugh. “If you say so,” I shoot back. Maybe it’s best that Tori and I didn’t work out. I’d never want to be so pathetic.
“Ignore him, Harrison,” she says, clearly annoyed with me. It’s her typical reaction to most of what comes out of my mouth these days.
Fuck off! I shout in my head.
Liv walks into the room. All eyes are on her as she heads to the refrigerator. She stops with her hand on the handle, and then turns around.
“What’s going on?” she asks.
None of us answer. After a few seconds of silence, I finally say, “Harrison has something he wants to ask you.”
“Real mature!” Tori admonishes me.
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a little kid. Give me a break!”
Tori huffs and rolls her eyes. Liv turns toward Harrison, who looks as though he is about to piss himself.
“So, what’s up?”
Harrison silently begs Tori and me for rescue, but we both turn our heads.
“Tug and I were thinking of having the bachelor party at a strip club in town, and …”
“No way!” She smacks the counter, glaring at him. “Not happening. Those places are disgusting.”
I laugh. “When did you become all high and moral, sis?”
Liv sends me a murderous look. It’s the one I always get when she thinks I’ve said something stupid. “Fuck off, Tug!”
“Tori’s cool with it,” I say, knowing it will influence her.
“Yeah, it’s fine, Liv,” Tori adds.
It’s the first time in months Tori and I have agreed on anything.
“What?” Liv shrieks. “How can you agree to this? You do know what goes on in those places, right?”
“Yes. Not all that attractive and totally naked girls prancing around on stage for money. I trust Brady. It’s not a big deal.”
Liv casts an accusatory look at me and Harrison. “Neither of you told her, did you?”
It isn’t my place to share. Tori is a grown-up, as she’s reiterated about a hundred times over the last year.
“What?” Tori asks Liv.
“We’re in Mexico, Tor. You can pay for sex in those places.”
“Oh,” Tori says, and then her face squishes up into that expression she makes when she is grossed out, the one I find adorable.
“We aren’t going to pay for sex,” I say, although it might be a tiny lie. Some of the guys attending might. “We’re going to drink, check out a few tatas, and be home before midnight.”
Tori and Liv exchange glances before Liv asks her, “Are you still okay with it?”
“Yes, actually, I am. I trust Brady.”
Liv squints her eyes as she contemplates what Tori just said. The look she gives Harrison tells me she doesn’t trust him nearly as much.
“Fine!” she groans. “Go, but we aren’t bailing your dumb asses out of jail.”
“Ah, come on, sis. You know you will.” I hug her, and she shoves me.
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Tori says, and we all laugh.
Harrison tries not to laugh, and says, “We’ll be on our best behavior.”
I rub the bottom of my nose. “Dude, you have some brown shit, right there.”
“Whatever — you’re just pissed you lost the girl you love and the rest of us aren’t joining you in your misery.”
The girls gasp. Liv steps between us. I take a breath and turn my back on Harrison. He’s right — I am pissed that I lost Tori, but he’s still a brown-nosing kiss-ass.
“If the planning is done, we should get going. Rodrigo has to go to Mexico City, and I told him we’d cover at the Center for him,” Liv says, pushing Harrison toward the door. I know she’s rushing him out of here before I beat his ass, which I’m seriously considering doing.
“I’m ready,” he tells her and heads outside.
Tori says goodbye to Harrison and Liv, but I don’t turn around. Once they’re gone, the room is quiet, other than the shallow sounds of breathing. Tori and I haven’t been alone in a room together in quite some time. The tension is stifling. I wish she would leave, but she doesn’t. I can’t, because I have some work-related things to discuss with Brady.
Finally she says, “Brady should be back soon. He took Andrew to the Center this morning.”
I turn to face her. “Good, then you should be rid of me in no time.”
“I’m not trying to get rid of you.”
Her pale baby-blues gloss over with tears. It wasn’t my intention to hurt her, but it’s so fucking hard to be near her and not kiss her and beg her to be with me.
“You don’t have to pretend. I get it. I don’t like being around you, either.”
My unfeeling words hit her, causing her tears to spill over. My eyes stay on one of those tears as it drips to the tiled floor.
She wipes her cheeks and says, “Are we ever going to move on and be friends again?”
“I’ve already made my feelings clear.” I try to sound unaffected by her crying, but my effort is unsuccessful, and my voice softens. “I can’t be friends with you.”
“I hate this.”
I hate this, too. I hate that she left me, and now I’m supposed to feel sympathy because she’s sad. “Don’t, okay? It’s bad enough that I have to be a witness to your happiness when I’m miserable.”
I’m relieved when my nephew’s giggles and footsteps enter the kitchen. Seconds later, he runs across the floor and jumps into my arms. I hug him, and I don’t want to let go. He’s one of the reasons I pretend. He deserves happiness after his selfish bitch of a mother bailed on him. Before Tori, Brady sure knew how to pick them.
“What’s up, buddy?” I ask, and set him down. “How was your week? How’s school?”
“School’s good.”
From the corner of my eye, I watch Brady kiss Tori, and she leaves. I look down at Drew. “Just good, huh? You got any girlfriends?”
His disgusted face is priceless. “Eww, Uncle Tug. Girls are gross.”
I laugh and rub the top of his sun-streaked brown hair. “You won’t always feel
that way.”
“I keep telling him that,” Brady adds. “All right, kiddo, Uncle Tug and I have some work to do. Can you go hang out in your room for a bit?”
“Sure, Daddy,” he whines, squeaking his sneakers across the floor as he leaves.
Once Brady and I have finished discussing business, he stares at me. By the look on his face, he wants to talk about Tori.
“Don’t,” I say firmly.
He ignores me. “Are you ever going to forgive …?”
I cut him off. “I’m not sure I can forgive her.”
“I was going to ask if you’re ever going to forgive yourself.”
My eyes bulge. “Why? I don’t blame myself for how things are between me and Tori.”
“Don’t you?” he asks, like the smug prick he is.
“Fuck you!” I turn away and go to the door.
As I turn the knob and open the door, he says, “I’ve been there, little brother. Hating myself so much that I shut everyone out, and fucking a different girl every night. It won’t solve anything.”
I slam the door shut and spin around. “Would you be giving me this lecture if Tori had picked me, if it was my ring on her finger? What if it was my baby? Would you give a shit then?”
He doesn’t react to my yelling, or the questions that were intended to hurt. Calmly he says, “I want what’s best for you, and I know from experience that bars and women aren’t the answer.”
“I’m not you!”
“No?” he asks, and slides a newspaper across the counter. “Sure as hell looks like it to me.”
A picture of me with the redhead on my lap graces the front page. “Oh, yeah, and this is a reliable news story.”
“The source isn’t relevant. Your behavior and how it affects the company is. People are beginning to doubt you. They look for security in a company they allow to invest their fortune. A man with a different woman every night, stumbling out of bars, isn’t reassuring to our clients.”
I bite my lip so I won’t laugh. Brady never wanted the company, he keeps it to honor his dead father. “Like you give a shit about the company.”
“Just because I chose not to be involved in the company, doesn’t mean I don’t care what happens to it.”
