by Amiee Smith
“Brit, I agreed to get Pep if you promised to finish your dissertation. There is no way for you to make tenure if you’ve not completed your doctorate.”
“Alex, I’m hella busy. I teach three courses and lead two ensembles. And I’m still trying to finish my album.”
“When are you going to stop telling that lie? You haven’t been working on your album,” he snaps.
I want to push back, but he’s been on edge lately. If I didn’t know him personally, I’d say he’s an asshole. But I know it’s just stress.
I always feel safe and secure with him. He’s so good to me and our dog.
Alex crouches down, his voice gentle and soothing. “Pep, please go to the bathroom.”
Tamed by a dragon, our little dog does her business. Alex picks her up, rubbing the top of her head. He saunters into the luxurious lobby of the building, leaving the shit for me to pick up.
I could totally be annoyed right now, but the sight of such a big, shirtless man with a dragon tattooed across his chest, holding our little dog is so freakin’ adorable it should be filmed and streamed on YouTube like a double rainbow.
After green-bagging the waste, I find my husband chatting with a model-beautiful brunette by the elevators.
“She’s so cute. You’re the new owner of unit 39B?” she says, petting my dog.
Miz Pepper, an affection whore, rolls over in Alex’s arms so the woman can rub her belly.
“I moved in earlier this year.”
“You’re so young to own in this building. My father bought my place as an investment property. He’s letting me live in it while I get my yoga certification. You must be really successful.”
“I do okay,” Alex says, his blue-green eyes aglow.
“I’m Hannah. If you ever need anything, or if you want to go for a drink, my number is in the resident directory.”
“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
The elevator opens, and he steps inside, his eyes following the perky brunette as she bounces past me without a glance.
“Brit, you coming?”
I step inside, waiting for the doors to close.
“What was that?” I ask, quietly.
“I was being neighborly. Her father could be a potential client.”
“Like you really need another client.”
He grunts.
Arriving at his floor, we move down the modern hallway to his unit. Once inside, he puts Miz Pepper down.
I know the routine. We head to the bedroom. Alex unties my kimono and removes his pants. We get in bed. He puts his glasses on his nightstand. I retrieve my 14-karat gold LELO vibrator from the nightstand drawer. This is us.
He bought the extravagant toy for our seven-year wedding anniversary with instructions that I can only use it with him. At first it was hella fun exploring the wonders of my yoni with the luxurious toy and soaking the bed, orgasm after orgasm.
I used to love Alex’s wanton gaze. I felt powerful. Adored.
But over the last few weeks, our intimate time has become a choreographed event. Pinch my nipples. Rub my clit. Our mutual masturbation used to be exciting. Thrilling. Now it’s rudimentary and expected.
Alex holds his beautiful cock in his hand and appears almost bored.
“Dragon, I want to change things up.”
“What do you have in mind, pretty girl?”
“I want to go down on you.”
I expect him to perk up the way Miz Pepper does when I give her treats. But Alex’s facial expression doesn’t change.
“Would you like that?” I ask, coyly.
I know we’re just friends, and he’s not attracted to me in that way, but it could still be a fun experience.
“I’m good with it. And when you’ve had your fill, we’re going to fuck. After we’re done, you’re going to text your friends and tell them we’re together. Then at some point over the next week, I’ll pick out wedding rings for us to wear. I’ll lease out this place and move into the mansion.”
“Ew, no. I don’t want to pretend we’re a real couple with my friends. I was just trying to...”
“Trying to what? Give me a pity blow job, Brit? Reaffirm that you hold all the cards in this marriage?”
“Don’t make me out to be the asshole. We’re just friends. I’m not even your type.”
“Ah, there it is. I’ve listened to you say that shit for the last seven years. For such a smart woman, you certainly don’t pay attention to the facts.”
“I don’t understand.”
Alex’s brow furrows, and his mouth breathes fire. I haven’t seen him like this since before I went to rehab.
“I take care of you and Pep in every way possible. And all I ask of you is that you finish your doctorate degree and tell your friends that I’m in your life? Do you know how frustrating it is to listen to Jon complain about you girls? That he must be the man in all your lives because he’s the only fucking husband? Or do you know how heartbreaking it is that I just want you to have a career in the event something was to happen to me? No, because I’m the only one who thinks about that shit.”
“Dragon, your blood pressure is a bit high, but you’re not going to die on me. We’re in our early 30s. And you’re in great shape.”
“That’s it, Brittney? That’s all you have to say?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. We’re just friends. I’m doing my best.”
“This is your best? Fine. Suck my cock so I can get ready for work, friend.”
“Now, I don’t want to do it. I’m going home. I’ll drop Miz Pepper off at daycare. It’s your day to pick her up,” I say, hopping out of bed and retrieving my kimono from the floor.
“I’m aware! I created the schedule!” he shouts.
Alex goes into the bathroom, shutting the door on me.
It would be the last time for a year that we would spend any more than a few hours together. Sometimes I would call him, and he’d bring food over and we’d watch a Warriors game or go to a late-night jazz show after a J + J party. But other than passing Miz Pepper back and forth, we were done.
Done in the sense that we are still married, and he continues to cover all the expenses for almost every area of my life.
I know. Hot, rich dude with an impressive penis, I should be thanking my lucky stars, right?
But Alex and I are just friends.
Any day now, he’ll meet a petite, well-behaved woman and ditch his ragamuffin wife.
Any day now, I’ll get my shit together and not need the safety and security of my Dragon.
A year later, the stars align and a hot guy falls for a smart girl...
Lynn + Nick become a thing.
CHAPTER 11
ALEX WILLINGHAM
“What’s up with you, man?” my brother, Nick asks.
Post-brunch, we are putting the leftover food in plastic containers in Lynn’s all-white kitchen. Carlos, who just “happened” to be in town this weekend loads the dishwasher. Jon clears plates from the stone island. Lilly + Michael skipped the brunch to do the newlywed thing. The girls are gathered on the sofa on the other side of the open-concept room.
To my dismay, Brit stuck with the “we’re just friends” story, explaining to her Mafia that I generously loaned her the money to buy the Jeep Cherokee.
To Brit’s dismay, the lie only caused a different type of uproar: each of the girls was upset that she didn’t ask them to borrow the money. Well, except Lynn, who now eyes me suspiciously.
To quell their unrest, Brit announced she adopted a dog while in Oakland. Pep never fails to enchant, and her eight pounds of adorableness quieted this group of smart, successful, strong-willed women.
God, I want them all to be my clients. And if they were my clients, I would advise each one of them against loaning money to their out-of-work friend dressed in designer jeans, a white tee, black and silver sparkly Jimmy Choo pumps and a black Alexander McQueen blazer.
The cost of her shoes and coat alone would be a siz
able down payment on a mid-range car. But as I’ve learned in my support group, addicts have a way of weaving a web of unknowing enablers around them. (Yes, I’m the pot calling the kettle out.)
“I’m not sure what you mean,” I say to my brother.
“Two weeks ago, you storm into my house in the middle of my date with Lynn, trying to pay her three grand to read Brit’s dissertation. Today, you bought her a car. Neither Lynn nor I believe the loan story. And I got an email from Will this morning that you’re taking a leave of absence. I’d be a bad brother if I didn’t notice something is going on with you.”
(News flash, bro: I’ve been married for eight years and you haven’t noticed.)
“Nothing is up. Brit and I are just friends. Like Lynn and the girls, I’m just looking out for her. She didn’t grow up like us. My company is doing well, so I thought it was time for an extended vacation.”
My brother eyes me like an opponent, a glance that almost mimics the narrowed brown-eyed stare his girlfriend is serving. Lynn and Nick are more alike than I realized.
“Jen, if we don’t head out now, we’ll miss our flight to L.A.,” Jon says to his wife.
“Ahh. Is it time to leave already? Lynn just opened another bottle of sparkling,” Jen says.
“Yeah, we probably should go. I’m on your same flight,” Dana says, peering at her phone.
“My flight leaves thirty minutes after yours, so I’ll head out too,” Claire states.
“Claire, we might be on the same flight,” Carlos shares. (Imagine that.)
Everyone stands, gathering their things. Pep saunters over to me, lingering at my feet.
“Um, your dog has taken to Alex,” Lynn says to Brit.
“They spent the morning together while we were buying the car. His scent is familiar to her,” Brit replies, in a flat tone before picking our dog up.
We follow the herd down the stairs to the front door of the flat. Outside, in front of the duplex, hugs and goodbyes are exchanged before everyone loads into an SUV Jon rented for the weekend.
They leave Brit, Pep, me, and Lynn + Nick on the curb, waving goodbye.
“Alex and I should get going too. The drive to L.A. will be at least eight hours in traffic.”
Lynn steps side to side, her arms folded over her chest. “Before you go, I’d love to know why you and your husband have been lying to everyone for eight years!”
“What husband?” Nick questions.
“Your brother, Superstar!”
If I’m a dragon, then my brother is a beast.
“Both of you. Upstairs. Now.” Nick growls.
***
Brit and I sit next to each other on Lynn’s gray modern sofa. Pep sits in between. Nick and Lynn are posted like king and queen across from us in chairs from the dining room table. Of course, they’re getting stoned. Both medicinal marijuana users, they trade a rose gold Pax vaporizer back and forth.
“Did Lilly + Michael tell you?” Brit asks, solemnly.
“They know too?! Before us?!” Lynn yells.
“Michael did a background check on me, it came up,” I say.
Luckily, Michael’s spies did not catch wind of the SEC and FBI investigation.
“What the fuck? How did you know, Lynn? Why didn’t you tell me?” Nick asks.
Lynn rambles away. “My mom called me before everyone arrived for brunch. She was seated next to Betty Akwell at a charity event last night. My mom shared that I finally have a boyfriend named Nick Willingham, an Olympian water polo player. She’s sooo proud of me. Never mind the fact that I’m a New York Times Bestselling Author. Or that I own real estate in San Francisco. No! Dating a Willingham is way more impressive. Anyway, I guess Betty got excited because she’s known Alex Willingham and his wife, Brit, for eight years! Then she proceeded to show my mom a pic on her phone of the two of you holding a dog. It was the Willingham Wealth Management holiday e-card last year. My mom is flipping out that you didn’t tell her, Brit. She thinks of you like a second daughter. WTF, you guys!!”
My very early clients, people I met by way of Brit’s rehab stay, receive a personalized holiday e-card from WWM that usually includes a professional photo of Brit and I together. It was originally Brit’s idea and I’ve done it every year. Even the two years we didn’t talk, I had my graphic designer doctor-up photos we had previously taken.
“I thought you just got this dog?” Nick asks Brit.
“They were totally lying! Look at the way Miz Pepper is cozied up next to your brother.”
“Yeah. We co-parent Pep,” I say.
“I thought you two were just friends?” Nick asks, exhaling vapors from the tiny pinkish device in his hand.
Weed fragrantly fills the air.
“They’ve been lying, Superstar! You haven’t noticed your brother looks at Brit like she’s a snack?”
Brit sighs. “No, Lynn. That’s just the way Dragon looks. We’re platonic. We tried to go on a date last night, but it was a bust. We’re just friends. We haven’t even kissed.”
“You haven’t kissed?!” Lynn and Nick say in unison.
“No. Not even on our wedding day.”
“You two haven’t hooked up in the last eight years?” Lynn asks.
Brit’s shoulders slump. “No. Well, you know we had that moment during the Mafia sleepover last week, but it was the first time anything happened. Not even during all the times we’ve mutually masturbated together, we never crossed the line of friendship.”
Lynn’s face lights up. “Oh, Goddess! Mutual masturbation! So fun. Did you take the online course offered by that sex coach? It was all over social media a few years ago.”
“Wow, love. You really are a sex nerd,” Nick says quietly.
“Totally,” Lynn replies.
“No, we didn’t buy the course. Alex said we didn’t need someone to teach us how to get off together.”
There’s so much going on, I can’t help but yell. “We didn’t need a course! We were together hundreds of times and there was never an issue!”
My brother’s eyes narrow and his jaw tightens. “Hundreds of times? And you never did anything else?”
“No,” Brit says, stroking our dog’s belly and not glancing up.
I’ve never seen her so withdrawn. Checked out.
“Well, there was the time you asked to go down on me, Brittney.”
“Yeah, but you got mad at me. So, it didn’t happen, Dragon.”
My brother and Lynn scrunch their faces in disgust.
“Why would you ever get mad at a beautiful woman offering you a blow job?” Lynn asks.
“It’s complicated,” Brit and I say, in unison.
“Like, what is wrong with you two?!” Lynn asks, shrill.
Lynn is smart girl meets sorority girl meets hippie dippy vegan girl. She’s got this valley girl intonation on top of her secretly bitchy, sweet girl vibe. I now understand why my brother is into her... she’s not mean enough to be unlikable, but she’s definitely not a nice girl doormat. And she has big tits. That’s his type.
I don’t have a type anymore. Yeah, I used to be into petite women, but that was a long, long time ago. I can’t recall a time when jacking off didn’t include imagining my smart girl with pierced nipples. She’s my wife. We have something. And I’m not going to let my brother’s big-tit smart girl dis my relationship.
“Nothing is wrong with us, Lynn. Brit and I are married. Since most of your relationships prior to my brother have been casual, you may not understand.”
“What is that supposed to mean?!” My brother roars.
I never say the wrong thing. I strive to be deliberate with every word I speak. I know I just tossed a grenade at Lynn. But it feels like I’m dissing my soon-to-be sister-in-law, not a random woman my brother is dating. She’s not going to be rotated out in four months.
My smart girl joins the battle.
“Alex is not being disrespectful. FWB relationships are very different than being married,” Brit states, plainly
.
Lynn yells at top volume. “Are you kidding me?! You’re calling this shitshow between you and Alex a marriage?!”
“Well, yeah. We have a piece of paper that says so and we’ve filed taxes together for like, forever. We’re married.”
I’d rather Brit cite her love for me as defense for our marriage instead of taxes, but I’m proud that she remembered I’ve insisted we file together for the last eight years.
I mean, I usually had to dig through her glove box or the pile of unopened mail in the mansion to locate her W-2 to take to the accountant every year, but yeah, the state and the federal government sees us as a married couple.
“What happened to ‘we’re just friends’?” Lynn asks.
“Alex and I are friends. Married friends.”
“So, he knows you’re still a virgin?” Lynn asks in a tone meant to shock and awe.
“So much for girl code,” Brit says under her breath.
“You’re a virgin, Brittney?” I ask quietly, shocked and awed.
“Before you judge me, I’m obsessed with music and fashion. When I was younger, I wasn’t thinking about how to get a man. I was thinking about how to get a pair of Manolos. Then I got married, and...”
“And what?” I ask.
She sighs. “I couldn’t get a guy. You’re a dragon and that’s a scent I can’t hide with natural deodorant. I literally repel men.”
“Brit! You’re still using natural deodorant? Those don’t work!” I yell.
“Good man, Alex. We tell her the same thing!” Lynn says, raising her glass of sparkling wine in my direction.
Why does that small gesture of approval cause my chest to lift? Why does this tiny woman have so much power in my life? And so soon?
“Wait. Are you saying you and my brother have been married for eight years and you’re still a virgin?” Nick asks.
“Yeah,” Brit sighs.
Her black nails stroke Pep’s light gray belly.
She’s talked about guys she knew in school, so I just assumed she had sex with at least one of them. A hook-up. A crush. A boyfriend. Something.
Now more than ever, I want my wife.
My brother’s greenish eyes lock on me.
“You’re not into her. I don’t know what game you two have been playing, but you need to let her go so she can have a life, Alex.”
