Red Hot Bikers, Rock Stars and Bad Boys

by Cassia Leo

  Adrienne and the children already left for Oz’s parents’ house, where they would be staying while Oz was gone. Oz was still, after all these years, afraid to leave Adrienne alone. It was just as well they were already gone, because he was consumed with his thoughts.

  What if something did happen to Ana? It’s possible Nicolas isn’t overreacting. He is right that Ana would not be this inconsiderate... so what if she is hurt? Missing? Dead? It would be my fault...

  Of course it was his fault. He could have stopped her. Should have stopped her. She left not only because of Oz but for him, and he hadn’t even thanked her for this act of selflessness. Because all I could think about was what Adrienne would do if she found out... what it would do to her, and to me, and our family.

  As a teenager, Oz had loved Anasofiya Deschanel, but it was a love never meant to be. His love grew for her over the course of their childhood, culminating in two completely chaotic, passionate, crazy months, starting the night of their junior prom. But where Oz was bursting to show that love, Ana’s aloofness—nothing new to him, but somehow harder to accept as her boyfriend—eventually drove him to leave her. And then, when that snap decision led to regret, she had moved on with his cousin Clancy, a perceived betrayal too close to him for his ego to move past.

  Oz never considered there might be unresolved feelings or things left unsaid over the years. After the breakup, things had been awkward at first, but then she had, frustratingly, pretended like nothing ever happened so he did the same. The close friendship they cherished before their relationship never fully recovered, but they could hang out comfortably again. Things didn’t exactly go back to normal, but they went back to something close enough.

  Until that night two months ago at Full Moon Bay, in Treme. There had been a hazy thickness in the air between them that had nothing to do with the shock of seeing each other in a seedier area of town, so far from their normal hangouts. The fear and intensity—and shame? Guilt?—in her eyes that night, when their gazes locked as he walked through the door, was the most intense emotion Oz could ever recall seeing from her. The look on his face was not much different.

  “I always knew you were a stalker,” she said coolly as he slid back the old wooden chair and sat down across from her. The music was the usual muffled, static-filled jazz on cheap speakers. The bar was full and no one took any notice of Oz when he came in. This was how he liked it. One look at Ana confirmed she came here for the same anonymous experience.

  “Waiting for someone?”

  Her eyes were still wide as she followed his movement, but she managed to hide most of the emotion that had initially betrayed her. “In a manner of speaking.”

  “Which means?”

  Ana didn’t answer him. “It’s a bit past your bedtime, no?” She raised an eyebrow, and he knew she was referring to Adrienne and the kids.

  He decided not to answer her question, either. “How about I buy the first round?”

  She shrugged, acting indifferent. “If you want.”

  He bought more than the first round. They traded off for the next couple of hours, until he lost count of how many they’d consumed, and whether or not they were even on paying the tabs. He didn’t care, either, because he was so caught up in their conversation he didn’t notice the time slowly slipping away. Ana was relaxed and carefree, and he started to see the side of her that, years ago, he had accused her of not having. Her small laugh involved throwing her head back and her whole body shaking. When he would say something she found particularly amusing, she actually took to pounding her palms on the table. He enjoyed this so much that he searched his brain for any jokes or funny stories he could remember, just to see her do it. And in perfect harmony, he had laughed with her so hard that his sides hurt.

  Oz saw her once again through the eyes of his sixteen year-old self, and all the love he once had for her was suddenly very real again. It was as if the last fourteen years never happened.

  At some point, Ana watched a man walk through the door, and despite Oz’s attempts to keep her engaged in a charming story he was telling, the conversation took a more serious turn. She was not laughing anymore, her eyes fixed on the man as he walked to the bar and ordered a drink.

  “I’ve slept with him,” she said, her voice hollow, all the laughter gone. She looked around the room and nodded at another man saying, “Him too.”

  Oz did not know how he was supposed to react to that. He didn’t know whether she was bragging, stating plain facts, both, or neither. He could never tell with Anasofiya what her intentions were. He only recognized that the relaxed, playful Ana from earlier in the night was gone. Moments before, Oz had been almost dizzy with drink, but now he felt painfully sober.

  “I don’t know their names,” she continued. She scrunched her mouth up and said, “Well, I do know his.” She nodded at one of the three men. “Josh... something or other.”

  “I don’t understand,” Oz said. “Why are you telling me this?”

  Her face was impassive, but her eyes heavy and dark. “You asked me if I was meeting someone here. I was. I was waiting for another one of them,” she nodded again toward the different men she had slept with, “to show up. A new one. A different one.”

  He still didn’t grasp her meaning, but he knew she was crossing that invisible boundary in her mind, which kept her from opening up to others. He didn’t want to do anything to upset this stream of consciousness. He wanted to understand.

  “That’s why I come here,” she said. “Or Carl’s, or Voodoo Lounge, or wherever else I end up. To find someone I can take home and never speak to again.” She looked around, her gaze even and steady. “There’s too many familiar faces here now. I think I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

  Oz reached across the table and grabbed her hand without realizing it. She didn’t seem to notice, occupied with signaling the waitress her intention to close out the tab. Oz wasn’t ready to leave. He wasn’t ready to go home. He was feeling something he hadn’t felt in so long. Exhilaration? Hope? He knew the night would have to end eventually, but he wanted to delay it as long as possible.

  Oz didn’t know why they had happened upon each other in that dive bar, and he didn’t care. He didn’t care about the silly hurts of their past—it was so many years ago, really—or whatever her demons were. He wanted to be in the presence of someone who took his mind off Adrienne. Someone he’d known his whole life, and once loved. He loved his wife so very much, but it was a love that was slowly killing him. Sometimes he thought he might claw his own eyes out in frustration at how hopeless his situation was. While he could not stand living with the constant anxiety of waiting for her to run, or leave, he could not live without her, either.

  But this night, Oz wasn’t thinking of any of that.

  He watched Ana as she paid her tab, signing her name in one messy line that looked nothing like a signature. She closed the small black book and stood up in one move, gliding toward the door without looking at anyone. He followed her out, and when she turned to say her goodbyes, he put his hands on either side of her soft, pale face and kissed her.

  “Adri—” she began, breathlessly, but he pressed his lips against hers to stop the words. He backed her into the wooden building, feeling her at first reluctant, then willingly slipping her arms around his shoulders.

  Oz didn’t remember her flagging the cab, nor did he recall any of the details of the drive to her apartment back in the Quarter. He did catch a few suggestive comments from the cab driver, but Ana tipped him well anyway. Oz only faintly recalled the sound of the car driving off as he stumbled with Ana onto the sidewalk, twisted in a sweaty embrace.

  “I want you,” he panted, slipping these words into any momentary pauses in kissing as they fumbled up the stairs and into her apartment. “I want you...”

  She might have asked him a few times in the cab if he was sure? If this was what he wanted? But by the time they were in her home, and her bed, there were no further objections from Ana. Her exper
iences with strange men had left her far more commanding and skilled than he recalled from the night of their prom, the night he took her virginity. Back then, she had looked at him with wide, frightened eyes, but this time her eyes were forceful, hungry. Not even with Adrienne had he experienced such a heat and intensity. He realized, as night turned to morning, that his longing for her was so great that it would never be satisfied. Where was this Ana, years ago? Whoever she was now, he could not get enough.

  But when, late the following morning, he awoke next to her, the humid breeze sweeping through her open windows across his face, the only thing he felt was horror and regret. His heart leapt into his chest, racing. His palms were covered in sweat. She was already awake and while the look she gave him was blank, her posture was heavy. He sensed her regret mirrored his.

  Oz was too consumed by his own feelings to think of hers. His mind was reeling with the events of the previous night—That amazing night, that horrible night—and he was rambling to Ana now. “Oh god, what did we do? Oh god, oh god…” Ana was trying to help him find his clothes but she was too slow for him, so he was snatching them out of her hands. “This... I can’t... no, no, we did not, what is…” She tried to reach for him but he pushed her away, accidentally pushing her to the floor. “I... I’m sorry,” he mumbled but was looking for his wallet, his keys, his phone.

  He had twelve missed calls, all from Adrienne. Of course she had called. Oz had never stayed out all night; never not come home.

  “Colin!” Ana screamed, using Oz’s given name, bringing him temporarily to his senses. “No one has to know,” she asserted, when she knew she had his attention. “It never has to happen again.”

  “No one has to... are you mad? Look at me?” He lifted up his shirt to display the marks from her lips, hands, fingernails. “It’s all over me! It’s all over my face! It’s all over your—well no, nothing is on your face because, as usual, you’re a frigid bitch!”

  She slapped him and the sharp sound reverberated through the quiet room. “I didn’t hear you complain last night,” Ana said with an eerie calm, as if he hadn’t yelled at her, as if she hadn’t slapped him so hard his face was stinging hotly. “I’m sorry it happened, Oz, but your life doesn’t have to end because of a mistake.”

  Oz was trembling with fear, rage, and confusion as she slowly dressed in front of him, her face only slightly betraying her own inner turmoil. “Tell her you got beat up,” she suggested as if it made perfect sense. “Robbed, left for dead in an alley. She will believe you. She would never suspect you, of all people, of doing something like this.”

  He could not believe how calm Ana was, and it only made him angrier. “She’s your cousin, Ana! How are you going to face her? How are you going to face Nicolas? How can we possibly keep this a secret? ARE YOU INSANE?”

  She laughed, and he felt his hands ball into frustrated fists. “You’ve called me worse than that, Oz. Hell, you called me worse than that a few seconds ago. You know how I will keep it from Adrienne? And Nicolas? Same way you will... because I love them, and I would rather see them happy than unburden my guilty conscience, causing them pain and possibly destroying their lives.”

  “You don’t sound very guilty,” he accused.

  When Ana looked at him then, he saw the tears in her eyes. He saw the dark circles; the lines. He saw her toes curling around each other, something he had seen her do years before when she was sad, or frustrated. “We can’t take it back, Oz,” she said softly. “I wish we could, but we can’t. So what option do we have, other than to do our best to keep it a secret?”

  Oz softened. He knew Ana was not a bad person. Cold and difficult to connect with, but not bad. She had been his friend for many years, his first love, and in thinking back on her actions after their breakup years ago, she had actually done him a favor pretending nothing had happened. It saved his friendship with Nicolas, and meant his life could go back to normal. With what happened last night, it could have been so much worse. She could have been sick with remorse and, insisting they tell Adrienne. She could have been crying in a corner, asking why he did this to her. She could have responded a lot of damaging ways, but instead she was removing her emotions and seeing it logically, as he should. They made a terrible error in judgment, but she asserted they didn’t have to ruin everyone’s happiness over it. Could she be right?

  The tears were flowing down her face now, and she looked away in shame. She never liked anyone seeing her cry. He walked over, feeling remorseful at his earlier behavior, and laid his hand on her shoulder. She still carried the perfumed scents from the night before, but there was also that light, fresh smell he knew as hers. Of clean laundry and a windy day at the beach.

  She slipped into his arms, and as he held her he was overcome with the extent of his feelings for her. She had been in his life as long as Nicolas, and was his friend. His good friend. The first girl he had ever loved. She was the woman he might have ended up with had she been able to let him in, past her defenses.

  Right then, though, the only woman who mattered was Adrienne, and getting home to her as quickly as possible. He couldn’t tell his wife what had happened. Ana was right, that would be selfish. He could make it up to her by trying to understand her better, and being more empathetic of her situation; less resentful.

  Oz walked away from Ana’s apartment that day feeling an unexpected hopefulness he knew was strange given the circumstances. On the way home, his mind filled with memories of Adrienne. Remembering moments when he had loved her deeply, and his worries were nonexistent. Oz would do anything to recapture that magic, and he knew it was in his power now. His complete betrayal of Adrienne had opened his eyes, bringing him out of his numb existence to the realization of how much he still loved her. Of what he would do to see her beautiful smile again.

  Adrienne bought his story, as Ana said she would, but that only brought Oz’s guilt back to the forefront, dwarfing his newfound happiness and energy. The more time went on, the more the guilt crept forward, pushing his hopefulness further back. He didn’t know how to recover that feeling of empowered euphoria he had after leaving Ana’s apartment.

  He hadn’t wanted to, but he found himself, on several occasions, calling Ana and talking to her. Each time they spoke, he could sense she was growing progressively worried for him. “I can’t do this,” he would tell her. “It’s eating away at me, like a cancer.” He kept remembering that night with Ana, but lately the memories filled him with longing, not shame. He wanted to see her again. Wanted to remember her again, as the love of his youth. When he suggested it once—”Just to talk, you’re the only one I can talk to about this,”—she gently refused.

  Oz should have known Ana would leave. He was ashamed of all the cruel things he’d said to her. For all her aloofness, her heart was a mile wide. She had given him an out. With her gone, he might be able to move on and get past that night. Ana had given him a way to save his marriage.

  Now there was only guilt, guilt, and more guilt. Oz would not let her suffer any longer for a mistake they had shared together.

  ***

  34- ANA

  Ana was speechless. She may as well have been physically frozen for all her body’s unwillingness to move. Her head throbbed with such intensity that her vision pulsed, making the room flow in and out of focus. She stared at Jon in very real terror, a prisoner in her own body. She wanted to scream, talk, anything, and in the end the only word that croaked out was, “You.”

  At the same time, both of them realized his hand was over hers. Why on earth… what the hell was going on? She tried to sit up, but her vision throbbed into blackness and her head quickly found the pillow again. Jon rushed to tend to her and, her mouth still uncooperative, she spoke with her eyes. Back off.

  “You… you’re awake.” He seemed nearly as flustered as she was. She needed to know what was going on, whose bed she was in, how she had gotten there. Questions... she had so many questions, so many that her head could not wrap around all of
them so they spun there, unasked, making her head pulse and ache all the more.

  Ana looked at the IV in her arm, and her hand grasped at the tube in her throat. She pawed at it like a wounded animal and Jon rushed to her side again. He asked her to calm down so he could remove it. She nearly threw up as the tube brushed the back of her throat.

  “I’m sorry if that hurt...”

  Ana opened her mouth to respond but no sound came out, only dry, heaving gasps. Her throat felt full of cotton. Jon seemed to realize that at least, and he made a clumsy move to grab what looked to be his water, bringing it to her. She wanted to snatch it from him and help herself, but her body was stiff, the tingling telling her it was still trying to wake up. Warily, she let him put his hand behind her head, and tilt the glass toward her dry lips.

  “Thank you,” she said, surprising herself at the sound of her voice. Sound, feeling, sensation. How long had she been here? So many questions…

  Nicolas. She needed to talk to Nicolas.

  When he put the water down, she closed her eyes to get control of herself. She did this when the world would spin out of control around her, but it wasn’t helping this time. Her toes tried to curl, but her muscles rebelled. What was the last thing she remembered… dinner with Finn? No, it was after that, but her head hurt so bad…

  “Easy,” Jon encouraged tentatively, as if he was a visible witness to her internal struggle. “You’ve been asleep for over a week, you need to take it slowly.”

  Ana watched him, unable to do anything else. He looked terrified. What does he have to be so worked up about? she wondered. It couldn’t be that he was frightened of her, could it? She was a helpless girl who couldn’t even prop herself up in a civilized manner.

  The familiar ache in her chest started, spreading throughout her body. Her dead limbs came to life at this new sensation, but the ache was overwhelming. Nicolas, where is Nicolas, she wanted to say. He had always been there when she needed him. Where was he?