Neon Burn

by Kasia Fox

  In his arms, the weight of Tessa felt like nothing. He carried her up the stairs to a guest room at the back of the house where he laid her gently across the bed. What was true, what was real, was the way this girl made him feel. Uncertain territory for Cal. With women Cal dated his attraction was often physical but not mental, or vice versa. Or the feelings were there initially but rapidly faded and he grew bored. Girls were always trying to coax more out of him. Often he felt guilty for not giving them what he knew they wanted. But what was the point of dragging things out if he knew the relationship wasn’t going to last? His brothers, his mom said he was too picky. Sasha said being ringside with a different hot girl at every fight was on brand.

  Carefully he picked up the tiny strap of her dress and set it right on Tessa’s shoulder. The tiny nude dress with its delicate sparkles didn’t seem like something she’d wear. He had one guess as to who had helped Tessa picked it out. Even with her smudged make up and her cheeks flushed pink from the alcohol, she was more beautiful in person than in his memory. It had taken all of the restraint he could muster to pull away from their kiss in the parking lot. No doubt her dad’s shady girlfriend and hired goon with teen body were coming after them. She was too drunk anyway. Probably they shouldn’t have kissed at all. Ideally when you meet a girl you’re crazy for, you want her to remember your first kiss.

  There was a soft throw blanket at the end of the bed, and he drew it up over her bare shoulders. Reluctant to leave her, Cal sat on the edge of the bed. Tessa stirred and opened her eyes. Seeing him, she smiled.

  “Is this your house?” she asked.

  “You’re in my guest room.”

  She smiled sleepily. “That’s nice. You’re actually nice, Cal.”

  It was surprising to hear her call him Cal, which was what his family called him. But she’d only heard Jay say his name. It felt right.

  “Hey, don’t tell anyone,” he whispered. He rose from the bed. “I’m two doors down the hall if you need anything.”

  “Stay here,” she said, reaching out. “Please.”

  Cal peeled off his t-shirt and laid on top of the covers facing her. Tessa pulled his arm over her.

  “Why do you have to have a girlfriend?” she murmured. Her eyes were closed and she ran her hands over his chest, down his arms. He smoothed the hair back from her eyes, placed it carefully around her ear.

  “I don’t,” he said. “Not anymore.” But she didn’t seem to hear him.

  “Call her. You should call her right now so you can tell her…”

  “What if I don’t want to talk to anybody but you?”

  “…so you can call her and tell her, I met a girl who makes my…” Heavy, even breathing.

  “Makes my what?”

  “…Heart beat.”

  “My heart?”

  “All of you.” She burrowed her head into his chest. He stroked the back of head, her dark hair silky and smoky from the casino. She sighed. “And you make me…” Her breathing evened out. He felt her chest rising and falling. She was asleep. “And I make you what, Tessa?” he asked.

  “Mm,” she murmured. “Mad.”

  Cal chuckled. He stayed in his same position there for several minutes before rising from the bed and tucking the blanket around her.

  Too restless to sleep, he stood and paced. Why did he spark such anger in her? It had to be more than the offhand comment he’d made yesterday. Was she pushing him away because she had a boyfriend back home? For some girls, it would be hard to resist a fling with someone like him. What happens in Vegas, as the cliché went. Feelings were overriding logic and reasoning. It set him on edge. Making decisions based on a girl he didn’t know anything about was risky.

  A phone set to vibrate buzzed. The sound came from her tiny purse on the bedside table. He let it ring through. Immediately it started buzzing again. Tessa stirred. Cal opened the purse. The caller ID said Berkley. Ron’s girlfriend. Cal pressed the button on the side of the phone until it powered off. He returned it to the purse, next to a loose bundle of cash, a debit card and her driver’s license. He pulled out the driver’s license. Then he took a picture of it with his phone.

  ✽✽✽

  Nothing about married life in Las Vegas contained the steadiness of my childhood. Money came in bursts. Our finances were drought or flood. One night my husband came home and pulled a diamond crucifix on a chain from his pocket – no jewelry store box – and fastened it around my neck. Most of my time was spent alone while my husband worked all hours for men I was never allowed to meet. Sometimes my husband would ask me to join him for supper at a fancy steakhouse at nine o’clock on a Wednesday. Other nights I’d eat a can of soup alone in our tiny kitchen because I’d been given hardly any money for groceries that week.

  I knew no one in this strange city. I didn’t have my own car. For fun, I went to the library and checked out romance novels – books that had been forbidden in my house because of their dirty content. I wept over stories of men who would do anything for the women they loved. I washed the floor on my hands and knees. I walked two miles to the grocery store every day. It became a joke between me and a cashier, how he would bag my single can of tomato soup or tin of salmon and ask, “Would you like help out to your car miss?” and I’d reply, “First I’ll need to buy a car.” Moments like that matter too much, when you’re lonely.

  I walked to mass and tried not to think about all the people back home who’d warned me not to marry my dark parishioner. I prayed to God to lead him away from darkness. I prayed that I would keep loving him. That I would love not just his body but also his heart and his mind.

  22.

  Two nights she’d been away from North Dakota. Two mornings waking in two different beds. Tessa sat up, clutching her aching head. As her brain recapped events of the previous night she felt like she was watching the rerun of a porny B-movie. The room was in Cal’s house. Callum Quinn’s house. Where he was, she had no idea. Last she saw him, she vaguely remembered him trying to go to bed in another room and her telling him not to leave her. That memory alone made her never want to drink again. Tessa’s embarrassment only intensified when she noticed the pristine white pillowcase on which she’d slept was smudged with the makeup Berkley had applied.

  Head throbbing, she got out of bed. Her surroundings were as elegant and impersonal as any luxury hotel room. The curtains were open. Bright desert sunlight streamed in French doors. Tessa stepped out onto a balcony and found herself looking down at the brilliant green golf course on which she’d trespassed the day before. Twenty-four hours later and here she was, looking down instead of up. Back inside, she went into an adjoining bathroom. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, Tessa licked her finger and rubbed over the dark makeup dusted under her eyes. Her hair was tamped down on one side. She smelled faintly of cigarettes she hadn’t smoked and strong, floral air freshener from the casino. She needed to wash off last night.

  On the gray quartz countertop, someone had laid out a toothbrush, toothpaste and mouthwash for her. Or maybe this was the sort of thing rich people did – keeping such staples on hand for guests. There hadn’t been space for a guest room in her family house in North Dakota. Her grandpa slept in one room, Tessa and her mother shared the other. She thought of her special place under the stairs back home, how it had felt like such a luxury when her mom had cleaned out the stored junk and told Tessa it was all hers. The little three-foot cubed space felt like her personal Neverland. Imagine owning a home like this. No matter how beautiful the house, her mom would be horrified that she spent the night with a stranger in Las Vegas. Her granddad would say, “With all that space we’d never get to see each other!” The thought made her smile.

  Tessa turned on the faucet in the glass shower. She stepped into the warm flow of water, shampooed the smoke from her hair and scrubbed off the makeup. Toweling off on the bathmat, she felt mostly normal again. The little nude dress with its sparkling straps puddled on the cool tile floor. She didn’t want t
o put it back on.

  There was a knock on the bedroom door. Tessa wrapped the thick towel around her body. Poking her head out into the room, she called, “Come in.”

  The door opened. Cal took a hesitant step inside the bedroom. He was dressed in running shorts and a Mets t-shirt. His sandy brown hair was mussed like he hadn’t showered yet. He carried a coffee and a pastry bag. “Oh, sorry. I’ll leave you –”

  “No, stay. I hope you don’t mind but I just had a shower.”

  “Good.” He nodded. “I got some breakfast.”

  “Hang on.” She closed the door and folded the towel she was wearing and hung it on the rack. She wiped up the water spots from around the sink. All of this was prolonging the inevitable – having to put the dress back on. Then she saw a thick white robe, hung on the back of the door on a wooden hanger. People with money had extras of everything apparently. She came out of the bathroom belting the robe.

  “I hope you don’t mind.” She gestured to what she was wearing. “I couldn’t stomach putting that dress back on yet.”

  “It didn’t suit you anyway.”

  “Oh.” She blinked.

  “Here.” He thrust the bag and coffee out to her. “I brought breakfast.”

  Tessa suggested they eat on the balcony. He followed her outside like she was the hostess. Earlier she’d seen the small round café table and two chairs out there. They sat.

  “So.” Tessa took a breath. She unrolled the top of the pastry bag and examined its contents without seeing them. “I never drink like that. But you could probably tell I’m a lush. Thanks for put—”

  “That wasn’t what I meant,” he interrupted. “About the dress. I meant it doesn’t look like…something you’d pick? Not that I know you. You looked pretty. Any way you want to look is… pretty.” He stammered and then, probably because he wasn’t a man who was used to stammering, looked irritated with himself. It was cute. Tessa reached out and patted his hand.

  “Berkley picked it out. So. Good call.”

  “She was forcing you to drink too much.”

  “Drinking appears to be her hobby.” Despite whatever had happened at the strip club or the wedding chapel yesterday, Tessa felt a filial loyalty to defend Ron’s girlfriend. “She wanted me to have fun. I just finished writing my final exams.”

  There was only one Danish inside the pastry bag.

  “Oh,” she said. “Should we split it? Or did you eat one in the car on the way home? If you did, no judgment. I rarely have the self-control to wait until I get home when I go to the bakery.”

  “I don’t eat pastries,” he replied.

  “Like, at all?”

  “That’s right.”

  She considered the single takeout cup. “I suppose you don’t drink coffee either.”

  He shook his head.

  “We’re really going deep this morning. I know personal questions are your kryptonite.” She smiled.

  “Ask away.”

  “Seriously? Hm.” She bit into the Danish. It was tart cherry and drizzled with thin lines of icing. She chewed. “So what do you eat for breakfast?”

  “A shake.”

  “That’s it?” Tessa licked a finger.

  “The protein in it is equivalent to drinking six chicken breasts.”

  “What a horrifying thought.”

  He laughed. She tucked her feet under her and tore off another piece of Danish. She closed her eyes and turned her face to the sun. “This light,” she said. “This is what sun feels like in heaven, right?”

  “I should come out here more. It’s my first time on this balcony.”

  “If I lived here, I would come out every morning and read.”

  “You like to read?”

  Tessa nodded. “It feels like years since I read anything other than a textbook though. I just wrote my last final a few days ago.” She brushed pastry flakes from the front of the robe. “It’s not time for questions about me though.” One atop the next, she asked him about boxing, asked about his business, his family, growing up in New York. Finally, Cal held up a hand and said said that was enough.

  “What’d you take in school?” he asked.

  “I did an undergraduate in education,” Tessa explained. “But that was mostly because I loved English and becoming an English teacher seemed like the only practical way to study it. During my internship I realized pretty quickly that I wasn’t cut out to be teacher. I could not comprehend why most of my students didn’t like English as much as I did.”

  “Don’t get up and leave or anything, but I was those kids,” Cal said.

  “No. I refuse to believe it.” Tessa feigned shock. “Anyway, I ended up getting a master’s degree in speech and communication disorders.”

  “Not English?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “I just like to read.” Tessa laughed. “For a career, I really wanted to help people. Doing something in speech had always been at the back of my mind.” She swallowed a sip of coffee. “That, and there was a program in Minot, where I’m from. My mom didn’t want me far from home.”

  “My mom still thinks I should move back to New York. Everyone her age wants to retire in a warm climate except for her. Guess it’s the grandkids.”

  “If I lived in New York, I’m not sure I’d want to move here either.”

  This perked him up. “I got the impression you haven’t been there.”

  “No,” she said, embarrassed to admit it. “But do you know how many books are set there? Plus I’ve seen it on TV so many times I know I’d love it.” She laughed and held up the last little piece of Danish. “And I hear the food is great.” She took a bite. After swallowing she said, “There’s basically no food over at my dad’s house. All they do is drink and smoke.” A drop of guilt unfurled in her for being so disloyal, especially given how worried they probably were right now. Tessa told Cal that she had to check her phone. For a second after getting it from her purse she assumed it died. Carrying it back to the balcony, she held down the on button to double check. The screen lit up and the phone started buzzing. Text after text came in, from Berkley, from Ron, from Dev. She cringed. “Oh, shoot. I better go. Everybody is freaking out.”

  “Not yet.”

  The forcefulness of his words caused her to look up from the screen.

  “Why not?”

  Cal stared at her with the intense eye contact she’d come to expect from him. “I turned your phone off last night. Your dad’s girlfriend was calling, saying she was coming to pick you up. There’s something off with her and I’ve struggled over saying something –”

  “You turned my phone off?”

  He nodded.

  “What gave you any right to decide when people can reach me?”

  “It’s not…” He screwed his face up. “Those people don’t have your best interests at heart.”

  “Says who?”

  “Ask around. See what you turn up. It’s not my place to say.”

  “You can’t tell me they don’t have my best interests at heart and then not tell me why. It’s not fair.”

  “Only children believe in fairness.”

  She stepped back from him, as if she’d been hit by a physical blow.

  “Excuse me? I’m going to go get dressed. Thank you for breakfast.” She gathered the coffee cup and the pastry bag.

  “Stop.”

  “Why do you think you can tell me what to do? I can’t believe that you told me to leave with you last night and I followed like a puppy and then you turned my phone off.”

  “Listen.” Cal’s voice softened as he moved toward her, trying to close the distance she’d created. “I don’t know why, it’s too soon, but… I like you, Tessa.”

  “I’m flattered. But whether you like me or not doesn’t matter.”

  He clenched his jaw. “I don’t feel this way about every girl who comes along.”

  “So I should feel special is what you’re saying?”

  “Is being mean your defense mechanism?”
>
  “Stop. Don’t psychoanalyze me.”

  “I’m the last person –”

  “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you and me, Cal” – she pointed from her body to his, pressing her fingertip against his hard chest because he was standing so close to her – “we’re never going to be anything real. I’m not some girl in Vegas who obsesses over you because she’s seen you on TV. I’m just a regular person, who’s going to go back to her apartment in North Dakota and all of a sudden my regular life, my perfectly happy life, will seem a little grayer because I met you. Trust me, I’ll go, and in a couple of days you’ll forget about me. And even if I stayed, you’ll forget about me. End of story.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “I’m not.”

  Pricks of heat struck around her eyes. Before she cried in front of him, she went to the bathroom. She hung the soft robe back on the hook and donned her dress from the night before. When she reentered the guest room, a desert breeze blew the curtains in from the empty balcony. Tessa let herself out the front door and walked home with her shoes in her hand, the asphalt warm beneath her bare feet.

  23.

  Never in her life had the expression “walk of shame” resonated as deeply as it did when Tessa stood on her father’s doorstep in a nighttime-sexy, daytime-skanky party dress that she’d gone out wearing the night before. And she hadn’t even had sex! The door opened. Ron stood on the other side, a grim expression on his face. Instead of saying good morning, Tessa opened with a string of apologies. Ron looked tired rather than angry. He’d only just woken up. She followed him to the kitchen where he poured her a cup of coffee. Tessa didn’t have the heart to tell him that she’d already had a cup.

  “Next time call, okay? Berk said you had way too much to drink.”