I dressed up for crying out loud. The room would have been nice to stay in tonight, especially with the free movies I ordered on discount. But here I am, not wearing any waterproof make–up. See this, please!
“You don’t want us to talk about Eric,’ he nods. I smile and tug at his arm.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but we are out on a beautiful night, with beautiful people around us with beautiful smells from our bodies. And we’re both hungry. Why not fulfill that desire and laugh while we’re at it? And since we’re talking about the past and getting it done with, maybe it would be wise to forget the incident at the shop?”
His face lights up, same way he lit up when he saw me open the doors to Sinful Scars. I like this smile. It makes my ears pop.
“I got you. Let’s go get some food.”
“The cheeseburgers here are amazing! How have I never heard of this joint?” My mouth is halfway full, and I have asked the same question three times now, with each time getting harder to hear me. The butter and cheese simply rhymes with the onions and beef…oh man…this is good food.
He nibbles his sandwich like a little bitch. I tell him so.
“Oh… it is on Blair.” Needless to say, he stuffs his face full of cheese. It takes us a while to rub away the messy bits from his beard.
“This is great Tatum. Now that we’re full…I’d like to know you a little better if you don’t mind.”
“Will you share the same once I’m done?” he asks, sipping his water and eyeing around the booth we settled in an hour ago. He really likes his privacy.
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
“Promise. I cross my heart and hope to laugh. Unless you’re a religious nut. If that’s the case tell me early and I’ll simply walk away.” And by this I am quite serious. There is no way I can handle the talk of God or miracles the way my story has panned out.
He smiles, and hunches his back a bit lower. “You already know a part of my life at least. And to answer your question, no, I’m not religious. I believe in the spirit and all that comes with it. There is never a point to living and wondering if there’s an afterlife, yet maybe this is it, you know?”
“Nice analogy there. So you’re definitely a member of a cult.”
“Hahaha…no…I simply think that we should make the most of this before fantasizing of other places that hold no meaning to us.”
I like him already.
“Okay…so, when did you start your active life, you know, adulting?”
“Oh a very long time ago. I started wrestling a long time ago before I got a
beard. My dad was the support system I needed, but he kinda took that all away when he heard I dropped out of college.”
“You dropped out?” I ask, curious to know more.
“Yeah I did. See, my mom was the stay – at – home kinda wife, and my dad did all the heavy lifting around the house. He would try and teach me a few of his gigs, but the ring was where I felt my spirit run ablaze. I loved the guy, and especially on those nights he would take me to see the fights back at our old stadium. He gave me the first sip of a Bud, and I really hated it. The old man was looking, so I smiled and gave him a thumb up.”
We laugh it off. I sip more water. He goes on.
“So I started fighting the moment I went to college. I was to major in psychology by the way,” he pauses to let that settle in, “and loved art. It made my mind relax, and my body heal. Fortune had it that someday back then a spotter from the pro-wrestling circuit, the Wrestling Federation of America, saw me and liked my style.
But it wasn’t all flowers and roses. I came to realize it was all scripted, and that to be safe we had to practice and be better at the stunts. It was not easy trying it all out, especially after my parents and I got estranged. It took me years of fighting and training, but I got good, really good. Then I met Eric, and I think you know what happened from there.”
The noise in Mackenzie’s Chief, the best steakhouse on this side of the country, is slow and drawled. I could almost swear it feels like someone is tuning out the sound just for kicks. Or maybe it’s how close my legs are to his, and how warm his arm is next to mine. Or perhaps it’s the sad way my feet are rested comfortably by his, and my eyes fixed on his hazel oglers.
“What happened after?” I ask. Maybe there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and hopefully it wasn’t a train for him.
“Well, simply put, I walked away. It was easier than I had thought it out, you know? Every fighter thinks of the day they would retire, but not quit. I left the circuit and gave it all up. For a while I was really bummed and homeless. I hadn’t been very good with making friends. So I fixed cars part-time, thanks to my dad, and made due. Then on a night like this, minus the enjoyment of your company of course,” he smirks, “I bumped into Damon.”
“Wait…you mean that guy in your shop? The one who looks like his shadow can kill?”
“Ha–ha, I won’t tell him you said that, but yeah…him. We were friends in high school way back, but he was a few years ahead of me.”
“Dude, how old are you? Damon looks like he’s been in Nam and back. So if you guys are almost age mates…” I carefully ask with my straw in between my lips.
“Come on…I am not that old.”
“Then how old?”
“Thirty–one. Happy?”
“Very.”
“Can we go on?”
“Oh yes please!”
“Ha…good…so I bumped into him when he had a problem with his engine and brought it to the garage I was working in, and I fixed it for free. Afterwards he kinda got to know the truth about what I had done. We share a similar bond when it comes to fighting for what we believe in, and he has a history of giving people second chances. He also has this thing he does with his eyes that spooks the living crap out of me sometimes. I hope you never get to see it. He got it a while back from his past demons or something. It’s what he likes to say to creep people out.”
“Oookaaay…”
“So I crashed on his couch for a few weeks. And in a nutshell, through him I met Nix and Holland, and together on a poker night, we drunkenly came up with Sinful Scars. And that’s me.”
“And that’s you. Your life has really fucked bits and pieces Tatum.”
Gory is more like it.
“Okay, let’s hear your damage. Let’s see if you could do worse.” He smacks his lips and sips the last few dredges of his smoothie. I’ll need to be fast in one way to get us out of here. My night needs a touch of salsa and my feet are itching to get on the dance floor. I can smell it.
“My book is as easy to read as most. I grew up with two parents who tried to be there but weren’t. They made a few jokes about my weight back then, and so did Eric.” At this, his eyes are wide with anticipation.
“You were, um, weighty?” he asks with a tight smirk on his face.
“Pizzas were cheap Tatum. Moving on swiftly, I grew up loving poetry and songs, and spent most of my time making up songs and stories in my head. Seclusion was not the hardest part of it all.”
“What was?”
“Dealing with assholes.”
“Ah…the favorite kind. Go on.”
“So Eric tried to be there, but he kinda hated me for being big. Then I went to college and discovered the gym. If there was a medal for working out, then I should have a truckload of gold man. My best friend since back then is called Sarah, and she stays with me back home, and she’s been with me through all the shit and the pudding. Maybe I shouldn’t have said those two in the same sentence, huh? ”
“I like that…” he starts, clearly having a counter at the end of this…
“But?”
“But…” here we go, “I sense there’s more to this than you’re letting on.”
Damn you cheeks.
And he’s right.
“Fine…there was a time I tried weed after a workout. There was some weird boy in the girl’s toilets and he decided that that was
my night. It was awkward and I hated it all. The sex, the booze, the party life…it gave me the hurls in my throat.” The only other living being who knew about my staggeringly thin and non–existent love life was Sarah, and I have no idea why I just blurted it to the guy that made a part of my life fade. “So a life of books was mine, and shortly through my third year, I became a junior editor at the school paper. Now I do it full–time back home.”
“Wow…and that’s you, except for that part for the cat getting your tongue earlier today.”
“Yup…that’s me. I thought we promised that wouldn’t come up again.” I know I sound whiny, but he really did promise.
“Okay, just something small and then we can move on…I have to know what happened in there.”
“Oh you mean how you turned caveman all over me?”
Sure, cocky is the right way to go…
“Hey, I wasn’t raised rich or poignant, but one thing I know to defend is honor. And yours was in between the tight ropes.”
“Okay…so that was you trying to be a gentleman?”
“Exactly.”
“So.”
“So.”
“You stuttered back then…why?”
Oh come on…let this go Tatum.
“Dude…UGH! Alright…I kinda get nervous around hot guys. He was a complete douche but he could simply pass for a chew toy in my world, okay? Happy?”
I know you can see me blush you fumbling sweaty tower of licorice.
“Thanks for sharing. I’m feeling a whole lot better now that we know the awkward spots in this soiree.” I scoff. He smirks. I sip. He stares. “Which reminds me; I have no idea where you’re staying right now. You don’t live in Philly right?”
“Oh, my dear Tatum. Whatever intentions do you aspire for such a fine lady at this hour?” I might have forgotten to add that I love making jokes to deal with everything that’s both right and upside. “Of course I don’t live in Philly…but maybe if you buy me a proper drink and give me a dance I’ll tell.”
“Ha–ha…so that’s how you want to play?”
“Playing is all I’ve got in this world Mr. Driggs. So be a sport and make this night alive!”
*
The night is young, and we are not. Well, it’s close to midnight anyway, so the age thing is almost the same. His arms are by my hips, and his teeth smiling at me with fluorescence and passion. Me voy enamorando hits the speakers beautifully, and my salsa hasn’t been affected by time in any way.
Tatum’s on the other hand, is terrible at it. But his spirit warms the dance floor. It feels so right, yet so wrong to be warm and wet for him at the same time.
But he is here. He showed up…he showed up…and he’s making the effort.
And I am totally drunk.
“Tatum, man you have the worst double left feet I have ever seen ha-ha…come on…swing like thiiiissss…”
“Waryn, the longer you go like this the harder it will be to tell you the funniest story of my life.”
“Oh! Oh! I love epic flashbacks. Tell me! Tell me!”
“I don’t think I ever said how I met my buddies, or even why we opened up our shop.”
“Uuuu…no you didn’t. Tell me…how did you guys meet?”
He squints at the DJ and laughs a bit. The colors of people spinning and gyrating around us are immense. But it feels muted. I love this feeling, when it’s just him and me, throwing ourselves at each other and no one in between. To think that two people could fall in this nonsensical effervescence of, whatever this is, and not want to leave…
“Not in this state Miss Blair. We’re dancing right?” He’s right though. My hair is all over my face, and some drool is cooling down my lips. I doubt he can see it. Maybe I should wipe it fast before he sees me.
There. That should do it.
“Okay, just, dance with me some more. Maybe you can tell me more of your stories after a quick hoorah.” I feel so good…a belly full of food and good wine, and now this. What more could a girl possibly ask for?
“Maybe one more, and then I take you home okay? The stories can wait till morning. You’ll have to trust me on this one Waryn. I’ll need to take you to your bed.”
I think I’m pouting. “But…why? It’s more fun out here under the funny lights in the sky. Look! There they are again!”
“Waryn…” he starts. Being the designated driver bums him out. It bums me out. If we were both inebriated right now, this conversation would be behind some sheets in a motel far from here. Maybe that’s where we should go. It’s a little close to dawn anyway.
An idea sparks. I flutter in joy and laugh. “Unless…you sleep over! It’ll be so much fun I promise. I have a nice bathtub and enough soap to put on the telly and dance around it…”
“You’re not in a position to really think like that Waryn.”
I sense a hint of regret in his tone. Regret for taking me put to a drink in a place I know no one. Regret for taking out the sister to a deceased comrade. Regret for not telling me what was in that letter.
Well, fuck this shit. If he wants to regret, I’m going to give him something to regret. My fists, and definitely not me, grab him by the scruff of his goody two shoes collar and I shove my lips onto his.
Fucking. Heaven. In. A. Can.
I don’t think this kiss needs to be thought of in any other way, other than a piece of chocolate fed through tubes to the happy place in my mind. His hands are tightly by my waist and his thumb fondling my ass cheeks. I don’t know who taught this boy how to tango, but this is a game I never want to end.
His lips taste of cherry and the meek softness of cider. The mesh under his tongue lightly brushes at the bottom of my teeth, and his nose smashes gently into mine. It is a soft kiss, softer and headed to a deeper direction. We both know what we want. I want his universe inside me, kissing and holding me, tearing the limbs of my sorrows from the inside out as he fucks me to the center of mine.
The cold presses harder into my vacant mouth. He’s pulled away. His eyes, those brown shadows of a speeding fox stare at me in a mix of passion, lust, and raw power. A small biting of regret is somewhere in there.
Good.
“I should take you home.”
“Maybe you should. But I must warn you. A kiss like that will not go unseen by me in the morning Mister. You had better have a good explanation for why you stopped.”
His hand is in mine. I like the warmth and abrupt domination. It makes some extra parts of me tingle in anticipation. He walks me through the buzzing crowd, and all I can here in the distant and fading music, blaring over the speakers, is ‘Remember me…’
The slamming door of a car brings me to awaken slightly. He is by my side, giving me some drink that’s colorless and covering me up with a blanket.
Oh, it’s water.
“Thanks Tatum. You’re a real champ.” I sip and warp my mind ahead.
“Why do you sound disappointed?”
In hind sense, I actually am. I had shaved, and he just wants to take me home to my bed? Nah…that’s not how this gal rolls, boy.
“Because you make me nervous Tatum. You make me tingle and quiver just by looking at you. All day today I just wanted that one kiss…that simple touch of electricity through me and over my head and back. And then here you are, acting all dapper and posh. Why can’t you be a bear just this once when I’m alive?”
It feels like eons have passed and stars have been born and collapsed by the time he responds. His arm relaxes on the wheel and he turns on the ignition. We drive off slowly into the early and chipper morning.
“I loved that kiss Waryn.”
Did he just?
I look through my glassy eyes and see him for who he is. He is here, he showed up. I love that in a man. Even if and when he finds himself busy, he can still tell when to make priorities in order. It might be me talking, or the alcohol. Either way, it’s still me.
“Maybe…maybe I was right.”
“About what Waryn?”
>
“Your intentions are questionable this time of night Mr. Driggs.”
Slutty and desperate is a combination I have only ever been once before. This time, the man I’m with doesn’t want to take advantage of that. I kinda dig it.
“If you’re looking for West Avenue Drive, it’s by the corner up ahead.” Eric taught me well too. Drunk driving is a specialty not many can add to their resumes. I think I should when I wake up tomorrow. Or not. I want to sleep with Tatum Driggs for crying out loud. My judgment should be the most of my worry when I wake up. s
“Where do you want to go?” His smile doesn’t wane. It is the warmest I have been gifted in a really long time.
Exasperated, I sigh.
“Where is your wisdom Tatum? I’m inviting you over to mine.”
Chapter 4 - Tatum
“Do you love me Tatum?”
Her eyes glowed like the marshes of old back in my home town in Virginia. They gave me a call, a flight of memory, every time she asked that question. I had one response to it, and there was always a spasm of desperation in her eyes whenever I gave it to her.
By her, I mean all the women that I have been with in my past adult life. It was always one or the other, a blonde or a redhead, older than I am or younger, but in the same retrospect, they all loved me more than they should have. The only true love I ever knew lied between four corners and a mat. It could never change.
Waryn is way drunk than I am and close to passing out in my car, but her words, her banter, and her laugh…they make me feel like I was back in the ring. Her honest kiss, the sweetness in its aftertaste is divine…
But I can’t. Not like this.
“Why are you talking to yourself?” she asks, blinking slower than she should. Her hair is all over her face, and the light from the street beyond her motel shines on her teeth. The contrast between them and her eyes is supernatural.
“I’m not…just murmuring a lullaby till you sleep.”
“Why would you want me to sleep…here? Don’t you want to come up? I have coffeeee…” She sounds just like the commercials.
Two Bad Groomsmen_An MFM Menage Romance Page 28
