Just a Number (Downtown #1)

by Fifi Flowers

  I brushed off her observation as nothing more than the typical glow achieve with a good suntan. Vacation color. “Sunny. I got some sun.” I touched my face feeling the heat of my little white lies.

  She shook her head in an appeasing motion. She wasn’t buying my nonchalant comments. “Yes. Sun. Of course.”

  I moved away from her, an attempt to hinder her observation of me. “What are all these bags?”

  Removing the shopping bags from her cart, I placed them on the center island in my kitchen. “Oh, love, there is a new shopping place that opened, while you were away on holiday, down on the corner of 8th. I went to the grand opening. They gave me these bags. So nice. They get you sloshed there. Probably hoping you buy up the entire store.”

  “Sloshed?” I had sensed a giddiness in her speech.

  “Yes. Indeed. They have a bar restaurant. I had an Urban Garden. Citrus, basil, hibiscus, and a garden vodka.”

  “Sounds tart.” My lips tingled and puckered at the thought.

  “Oh. No. Simple syrup, too. It was fantastic, love. But, I would suggest you shop first. You know, delivery would be even better. I don’t remember if they do that. I think the people that gave me the shopping bags do their deliveries. Something to research with a clearer head. But, it was a splendid visit: the mouth-watering food display, the delectable smells, the bright, bold flowers, and the delightful music singing to me. My senses were overloaded. Lovely. Absolutely lovely.”

  Listening to her rave on, I unloaded and put items away. “Uh… Hazel, What is this?” I held up a tube of minty erection cream, according to the writing on the label.

  “Exactly what it looks like. My friend on the ninth…” Instantly my mind wandered to who lived on that floor. Let’s see, there were four men: two that were gay and living together, one grouchy old one that was in his late eighties, and then there was a one rather attractive sixty-five-ish one. I figured Hazel was close to eighty, she told me she worked well over retirement age. I would not say she looked that old at all. Think Helen Mirren in the first action-packed Reds movie.

  Jarred out of my sleuthing mind, by Hazel’s sharp breath, “There’s another cream in the bag for you and one of your friends. I’ll slip it in your side drawer with BOB. You know, they aren’t like the real thing, even young ones don’t get as hard as those things.” Oh my God! Hazel knew about my fun drawer. “You pick. Cinamint or regular mint, love?”

  What could you say? The jig was up. She knew I had sex. “Whichever.” Sadly, I had no one lined up to use it on. Or, the one I did wish to perhaps use it on, I had no idea where to find him to ask him over.

  Hazel’s comments often made me laugh. I couldn’t imagine my mother ever knowing about sex cream and I definitely could not even fathom her talking to me about it. Until her very recent introduction to emailing, holiday and birthday cards were the extent of our communications. I hadn’t checked my emails since yesterday.

  Once Hazel finished sorting through the bags, put stuff away, and took her own buys home with her, I opened a bottle of wine. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, I gave myself a full, obscene pour of Pinard’s Malbec and found my tablet. Then, I plopped down on a seat at a small bistro set I had by a window; one of my favorite reading spots. After a few sips and little arm stretches, I opened up my emails. My mother was finally her own person, at least, with her own email.

  From: Marian Dane

  To: Willow Dane

  New email address for your mother

  Yesterday at 10:00 PM

  Hello Dear,

  Mrs. Hoolihan helped me set up my own email. Still on your father’s computer, though. I also learned how to search the internet. She told me to set up a social media account like the characters in our book club novel. I don’t think I’m ready for that. LOL—laugh out loud. She taught me that, too. I feel like I’ve been living in the dark ages. You must find me to be silly. I don’t mean to write you too often. I just wanted to let you know my new address. So many new things in my life these days. Seeing so many articles about you: newspapers and magazines clippings, as well as many photos and accolades from school. It made me so happy. He was so proud of you, Willow. I think you scared him; he didn’t know what to make of you. You were stronger than your brothers. They were out having a good time with girls and sports. Your nose was always in a book. I’m proud of you, too.

  Love,

  Your Mother

  Articles about me? Certificates? Photos? Were these the things that my father compiled for the files? I was surprised that he would have these items on me! My brother’s with their sports, yes. They were always in the newspaper. But, me? I wasn’t ever in the newspaper until later in life. I understood him having items before I left home, but, beyond that?

  Over the years, I had been interviewed and I had even written some articles for online and print magazines and newspapers all on the behalf of my clients. Only once had anything ever been written directly about me, but it was outside of my corporate public relations job.

  When I was just starting out in my profession, in my spare time, I had tried my luck at being a fashionista blogger. I set up a free website where I wrote and posted photos about anything and everything fashion. It was just for fun, but it started getting hits and followers. Then, businesses began to contact me for paid sponsorships. A fluke turned into a money maker. The bigger it got, the more notice I received, and that was when the big article was written about me.

  The published interview brought even more people to my, once little, fashion blog and suddenly, I was in need of extra help. Posting for help, some of my devoted blog subscribers volunteered. If they hadn’t, it wouldn’t still be alive today. I’m no longer involved. I sold it to a group of fashionistas, along with a couple of my fangirls that had jumped in to help. They have been very supportive of my fashion clients. The internet is a powerful tool. Perhaps my father searched the internet for my name.

  I guess the most shocking part was that he would even take the time to know anything about me. And, scared of me? I can only think of one time I scared him. The day I left home for good after he made one of his male chauvinistic remarks, cutting me down, again. I was so mad, I couldn’t see straight; I picked up one of his crystal “Business of the Year” awards and threw it across the dining room into a wall. He never moved a muscle as the glass shattered, leaving shards all over the floor. He just sat there with his mouth gaping wide at my action, along with my words, “Fuck you!” But scared? Maybe shocked. I was the one that was scared. I ran out of the house as fast my legs could take me and never looked back.

  I didn’t stand my ground and speak to him. I refused my mother’s calls and pleas to come home. She said he was sorry. She tried to justify his comments. But, it wasn’t just that one time; it had been all my life—anytime I wanted to do something that girls didn’t do or girls weren’t supposed to do. I never went back. I never heard from him. So, to hear that he was proud of me. No. It couldn’t be. I learned from him that I would never be good enough for a man because I didn’t act like a true woman.

  Maybe he was the reason I never wanted to be in a relationship. I know at some point, you can’t keep blaming your parents. But, it could be a subconscious thing.

  Did I think I was no good for a man?

  Was I afraid of finding a man like my father?

  A man that would put me down?

  I couldn’t see Dash treating me that way. Not that I would ever find out. But he was interested in my opinions. When I said I had rules and restrictions, he was okay with that. He respected me. He never called me names when I said and did things that I had always been warned against doing. He didn’t think less of me for knowing more than he did about something. He treated me as an equal, never dictating what we should do. Granted our time together was filled with vacation fun. Though, I couldn’t see him changing his treatment of women once he left paradise.

  He seemed genuine. Honest. The kind of man I could be friends with… would want more with,
if I did the whole relationship thing. The time I spent with him had seemed so real. We were like a typical couple on a beach getaway. If I knew every day would be like the last few spent with Dash, I may have changed my rules. Actually, I would’ve hunted him down. I didn’t believe there was a substitute for him. He was not only gorgeous on the outside, but beautiful on the inside, as well. Maybe it was the yoga training. Maybe it was just genetics. He was going to be very difficult to push out of my mind. I could’ve meditated from then until forever and I was certain my brain would never let the memory of him go.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dash

  Back in New York City. Alone. No tropical paradise. No ocean breeze. No waves crashing on the shore. No yoga on the beach. No sweet smell of blooming island florals. No exotic passion fruit. No passion. No Willow. That was the bottom line; my life felt empty without her.

  I hadn’t seen Willow in a couple weeks, and yet, her memory had failed to dim. I saw her in my dreams during the night and my thoughts during the day. Her dark hair and icy-blue eyes were haunting me as before. I smelt her on my skin, thanks to a couple of my t-shirts I had refused to wash when emptying my luggage. I could still see her face on our last day, saying goodbye standing in front of the hotel. It looked a lot like sadness. I wanted to keep her with me for at least one more day. I wanted to erase those negative vibes between us. We had started so fast. We had ended too soon.

  Should I have asked her to stay? I wondered what she was feeling about me. I had gone over and over our last couple’s yoga class together in my mind a million times. I remembered every move, including how she felt pressed into my back. Her heart was beating wildly. Her breathing was erratic. My inquiring mind wanted to know her every thought. In no way was she clearing her mind, as instructed. I could not match her breathing. It was probably the only time our bodies were not in sync. But, there were feelings between us, I was certain.

  About to head out west to restart my life again, I wondered if we would run into each other downtown. If she, in fact, lived there.

  Surrounded by many boxes; ten years of my life, spent in the City, was all packed up, ready to start a new adventure. A new location or, I should say—a reintroduction to an old location. Where had the time gone? This was only supposed to be a stepping stone: graduate school, an internship, a corporate job, establish myself, then move back to LA. That was the plan. Unfortunately, life and tragedy had a way of changing my path.

  At the time I was just getting into yoga and meditation, my mother was struggling with her illness. Not only was it helpful to me, but it was beneficial to her. I was able to teach her techniques that I was learning to help combat some of her mental anguish. Knowing that she was getting closer to taking her last breaths on this earth, it helped her cope. It helped her work past her anger, her frustrations, and her regrets. It was great for managing her pain, enabling her to finish the creations she deemed most important. She knew she wouldn’t conquer all of her unfinished work, so she prioritized. My father and I helped her until she was completely bedridden. We were her hands at the end. She directed our every move.

  When my mother died a few months after I graduated from my master’s program, a year later than I should have due to spending time with her, I had no real home to go back to anymore. I couldn’t see myself living in the house I grew up in—filled with so many memories—most good, but some really bad. My father had no desire to keep the house, either. My parents had divorced when I was in high school. My father had traveled over the years for his company job. Their marriage fell apart when my mother caught him cheating; a hazard of being married to a traveling salesman. He moved to the East coast permanently.

  Finished with my undergrad degree, I had applied to get my M.B.A. in New York, and moved in with my dad. Once I completed my master’s program, with my mother gone, I stayed with him until I found full-time employment there.

  Success anchored me in Manhattan, aside from the guest appearances I made. For those, I could easily travel anywhere. New York was my base, where I started gathering clients. I leased an apartment through a temporary housing building in LA as I signed up more West coast clients. I had no reason to relocate until I was approached with an offer I could not pass up. My chance to reach heights I had only ever dreamt about. With the outrageous deal, I could still manage a majority of my existing accounts. I did have to hand over some clients, but most I retained. The biggest plus with LA shifted as my home base, besides being excited to be back home, was that I would get to see my buddies more often.

  I saw myself sitting on Leo’s back deck with everybody. His girls would be swimming with the arm floaties on, swinging on their big jungle gym or just running around, screaming with delight. Leo would be standing proudly at his grill. Trey would be concocting a variety of drinks, ever the chemist—mixologist. Rex would possibly have one of his chicks there or he’d be telling stories with covert wording in case little ears neared. Cinnamon would have her younger sister or Rex’s “woman of the moment” helping her in the kitchen, and they would pop out with samples. Damn! I couldn’t get home fast enough.

  My cellphone rang as if they were reading my mind. Accept video chat from Leo was displayed on the screen.

  I hit the button and Trey’s face was the first one that appeared. “Hey, dude. We’re all at Leo’s for a barbecue. When do you move?”

  “Week after the convention.” I grabbed a beer; my attempt to be part of the friendly gathering. “Can’t wait to get settled back home. See you knuckleheads. It’s been too long.” Even if I saw them when I was in LA on my business trips, it wasn’t the same. Our time spent together was always too short. I wanted to belong again. I didn’t want to be just a visitor.

  “You’re not going to miss your dad and your mommy and little brother?” Rex always liked to rib me about my dad’s latest toy.

  “You’re a dick! She’s not my mother. For God’s sake, I’m a year older than her. That kid, it turns out, isn’t my father’s. Blood samples and DNA testing didn’t match. But, what the hell? He says he’s okay with it. He’s having fun with plaything number five.”

  Since my mother passed away, even though they hadn’t been together in years, he went a little crazy with moving women in and out of his apartment. I thought he was a bit crazier with this new one, but he said he was happy reliving his youth with a baby.

  “Don’t listen to them,” a woman said moving into view.

  “Hey, Cinnamon, how are you doing? Looking good!” I winked at her.

  “Stop hitting on my wife!” Leo yelled.

  “This is how I’m doing…” A small round belly pushed on the screen while two little munchkins chimed in. “We’re going to be big sisters, Uncle Dash.”

  My mind shot off to someplace it had never been before. Visions of Willow with a baby bump. Pregnant… carrying my baby.

  “Come back, Dash!” Leo’s voice caught my attention.

  I shook my head. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

  “Damn! Who is she?”

  “Nobody.” Not a nobody by a long shot, Willow.

  “Right! I’ve seen that look before. I saw it when I practiced my proposal to Cindy, standing in front of the bathroom mirror of the restaurant, where I popped the question.”

  “You’re full of shit! Go join the group. I hear your page.” Daddy! Daddy! Echoed in the background.

  “Yeah, better go. See you in a few weeks. Let me know if you need any help. Any romance advice.” Leo laughed.

  “Will do. Tell everyone I said goodbye. Tell Rex I’ll call him tomorrow and don’t tell him you were trying to give me relationship advice. You know how he wants to be the expert.” We both laughed at that. If only he knew about Rex’s other life.

  Clicking off, I went to the fridge and pulled out another cold one. Settling back on the couch, I kicked my feet up on my coffee table, opened the bottle, and took a good swig. Looking around from my seat, I realized there was nothing left to do. Just wrap up some office
stuff and ship it to my new space.

  With nothing to do and no place to be at that moment, Leo’s words replayed in my head. He was right. There was someone. She was amazing. Unlike anyone I had ever met. She had me thinking about things I’d never wanted. Things I still believed I didn’t want. But if someone was going to change my whole way of life, she could do it. Willow could definitely have her way with me. Ha!

  It was time to shake things up. I had lost my mind for sure. I needed to get some yoga dates lined up. Maybe I would take another trip before the convention. My schedule was pretty free. I had been anticipating possible problems that might arise with the relocation. However, everything was in full swing, moving smoothly. I had too much time on my hands, obviously, if I was thinking about Willow and our babies.

  Right or wrong. I really never wanted to have children. Even with thoughts of a baby, stupidly, in my head. It was just a fleeting blimp in my brain. Seeing what my parents went through with my brother always cured me. It also deterred me from a permanent relationship. A girlfriend had the possibility of turning into a fiancée, turning into a wife, and into a mother. All of which, I wanted to avoid at all cost.

  I guess it was a blessing, after all, that I met Willow the way I did. We had a good time. We stuck to rules that worked great for both of us. No details. We were able to walk away. No one clinging. No feelings. No emotions. No painful goodbyes. Just fun. Just a number added. Just a good ol’ vacation fuck.

  That’s what I would keep telling myself. But, I knew the truth. I missed her. Her smiling red painted lips. Her laugh. Her sparkling icy blue eyes. Her curvy body against mine. Our matched movement. Our breathing in unison. Our silent communication. I had it bad. And I had no way of getting to her. I only had her first name. No last name. Typing Willow into the computer search engine gave me a multitude of tree sites.

  Not my Willow.