Muscle

by Lexi Whitlow

  “Get the fuck out of here,” Marta says. “My family is far better than yours. You’re a broke piece of shit.”

  I hold Brie close, wishing I could take away every one of her grandmother’s words. “That’s where you’re wrong, on every count, Marta. I’m not broke. I’ve worked my ass off every day for two years, planning for this hearing. Waiting for it. Making sure everything was in order so I could get my little girl back. I pay you your child support. But I’ve got an account locked up for Brie, and you’re not getting your hands on that.”

  “I’ll get it if you have your name on it. I’ll find a way,” Marta sneers at me. Lorne tries to shush her again, but he doesn’t succeed. “And where were you before you found this cute little ‘girlfriend’ and this magical apartment in Queens?”

  “You know where I was. I went to prison for a crime your family had me commit. To pay for the funeral expenses for your daughter. I did the time. I’m out of that life for good.” I bite my tongue. I want to tell her that I know she had me do it so she could get rid of me—so Marta could have the prize of her granddaughter to show off to her friends for the rest of her miserable years on earth. But Donnelly has coached me not to say this shit. He sits back and nods, watching the back and forth between me and Marta. If she does this at the hearing—and we both know how to push her buttons—the ball goes back into my court.

  “And here you brought this whore along when you knew your girl would be here,” Marta says.

  That thing clenches tight in my chest again. I look over at Skye, and I see how pale she is. Shit. This is way more than she bargained for.

  “That’s not what she is,” I say. “And if I were ever able to see Brie, I might have gotten to make the introduction a lot earlier. We’ve been together for—” I search my brain for a reasonable amount of time. “Three months. Isn’t that right?”

  I glance at Skye again. She’s keeping her cool. “Yeah,” she breathes. It’s the first word she’s said since we got in here, and I can hear the uncertainty in her voice even if no one else in here can.

  Marta looks over at her lawyer with an angry expression on her face. “I doubt that,” Marta snips. “You’ve never been with anyone for longer than a few nights. My people keep tabs on you, and you know it. This girl is nothing more than some tramp you’ve found to make you look slightly more reasonable.”

  I take a deep breath. Rage has clouded my judgment before with this woman, and it’s threatening to now. When I close my eyes, I see red. When I open them, I blurt out the only thing I can think of. “This is Skye Williams, and she’s my fiancée. We’re getting married. Next weekend.”

  Skye makes a small, strangled sound. But, to her credit, she keeps her cool. She shouldn’t. I’m an asshole, and I have so little to offer her in return for her help.

  I wait for her to say something else, but she doesn’t. Instead, she grabs my hand.

  “Well,” Donnelly says. “Congratulations.”

  This probably isn’t the proposal Skye had imagined.

  But if I get her out of this mess quick and get custody again, she’ll get the one she wants. The one she deserves.

  I put Brie down, still holding her close, and pull out my phone. When I open it, there’s a copy of the lease. All we have to do is sign it through the app, and we’re done.

  “Brie should be able to come stay overnight after the wedding. Get to know her new room. And go to the park with us before that. For the entire day. Unsupervised.”

  “Please—can I?” Brie looks at all the adults in the room, who are arguing loudly. Marta’s voice is rising. “Will it have to be locked, Skye?”

  Brie turns her big brown eyes to Skye. Skye shakes her head and gives me a worried look. The comment is small, said in Brie’s quiet voice.

  It might have gone unnoticed, but something dawns on Skye. She kneels on the floor next to my girl, and she takes her hands. This woman I barely know—she does this for me. She finds the key—literally—that sways everything in our favor. At least for today.

  “Do you mean your bedroom, sweetheart?” Skye asks.

  Brie nods. “It’s a little scary. At night. With the door locked.” Her voice is barely more than a whisper. “If I can stay with you, you won’t lock it, right?”

  “No, honey, we won’t. Never.” Skye pulls Brie to her and hugs her tight.

  The room goes quiet. Even Marta’s skeevy lawyer bites his lip and shakes his head. “I think we can arrange an overnight visit. It seems you’re making a good faith effort, and the judge will sign off on it, Dougherty. I don’t think you’ll be getting custody any time soon—”

  “What the hell are you saying, Lorne?” Marta snarls at him.

  “He did what the judge said, Marta,” her lawyer says. “I don’t like it any more than you do. But if you want to maintain full custody, you have to allow visitation to the biological father when he meets the judge’s orders.”

  When Skye stands up, she brushes Brie’s hair away from her face, and she smiles. “The apartment is a few blocks from Brie’s school. And Liam and I will be moving in shortly. So we’ll need to see Brie there soon, too. After the wedding.” Skye cuts her eyes at me and gives me an unreadable look.

  Slowly, Marta’s lawyer nods.

  We stand there, waiting, watching.

  Things start happening around us. Legal things. Pens to paper. The tapping of keys on laptops.

  The sound of things, finally, moving forward.

  Shit. I guess we have a fucking wedding to plan.

  Skye

  The days until the move pass by in a blur. I ordered a dress online that might or not fit properly. And both Liam and I focused on Brie more than anything else. Buying a bed. A lamp. A nightstand. Pictures for the walls. A twirly dress for the wedding.

  I pick up the brown box the dress came in and put it on my bed next to my suitcase. I move slow and cautious, like a spider might jump out of it at any moment. I wring my hands nervously and stare at it for a few moments. Rhiannon is here, and I can hear her sorting jewelry on my nightstand, muttering to herself.

  Dress. Okay, I’ve got the dress. It’s got cap sleeves, and a silk sash, and the skirt goes just below my knees.

  Now how do I tell Rhiannon that I’m getting married?

  My parents, they were surprised. More than a little bewildered. But that’s not the hard part. The hard thing is explaining this to someone who really knows me, who was in the trenches with me when I was grieving the loss of Charlie. When I was resigning myself to be a spinster forever.

  “I can’t believe you’re moving in with him,” she says. “Today. You just found the place a week ago?”

  I gulp. “Yeah. I did. It’s nice. And he needs a stable place for the kid. I’m doing him a favor.” I must have said ‘I’m doing him a favor’ like sixty-five times so far to Rhiannon. All the while, she’s been helping me put clothes in suitcases, nodding silently and giving me looks like she thinks I might be certifiably insane.

  Married. Married, married. I’m getting married.

  Here comes the bride.

  Holy shit.

  I swallow hard. I have that peculiar taste at the back of my throat—the taste of fear. In my job as a writer’s assistant, I got used to that taste when I was making phone calls and scheduling advertising. It’s the taste of anxiety, the taste of fear. The words are on the tip of my tongue. I need to tell her. I have to tell her.

  I open my mouth to say it, and then I just start packing again. In the days since we signed the lease and made the decision to get married—my stomach drops at the thought of it—Liam has informed his entire Irish family. He had his mom book the church in Queens. He’s gotten adjustments on his brother’s tux. All I had to do was get a dress.

  I did at night, online, alone. Without my best friend.

  I sigh deeply.

  I think of that little girl, and the urgency piles on. We need to get into that apartment so she has a place to go, a place that doesn’t terrify her.
Doesn’t grind her down, doesn’t ruin her childhood. It’s all worth saving—Liam, Brie. The two of them together.

  How did I get into this again?

  I think of Liam. The way he makes me moan, legs shaking, brain and body seized with white hot light and energy.

  “You’re in for it,” Rhiannon says, pulling me out of my reverie. She crosses her arm and watches me pack up my old pictures. “It’s been what? A couple weeks? And you’re setting down roots.”

  “No—it’s not like that. It’ll all be done and over with when the court grants final custody.”

  Hands against bare skin. His tongue, inside of me. I shiver when I think of it, the feeling reaching the very base of my spine. And by the way, there’s something else. We’re getting married.

  “You say that like you know what you’re talking about,” Rhiannon says. “That shit could take months. I told you that you might be able to help him get custody if you can prove the grandmother is abusing the kid. Even if the girl is saying she doesn’t feel safe, it can take a while to overturn a decision like that. Depends on the judge you get. You could get one who sides with you right away. You could get the one who told Liam he needed a steady relationship, and then you’re golden. Unless he realizes it’s all a sham.”

  What if it does take months? Does Liam want me with him that whole time? He said he did.

  “Yeah.” I look at her. “I guess I didn’t really think that far ahead.”

  “No, you didn’t. But I support you. Especially since I’ve heard about the size of his cock. You are boning him, aren’t you?”

  “Uh—” I look down at the picture in my hand. It’s Charlie and me at the beach. His arm is awkwardly over my shoulders. It’s clear to me now that we didn’t even really like each other. “Not yet. We’re not boning yet. There’s plenty of other things going on.”

  She pauses and starts picking out a few bras from my drawer. “Okay. That’s weird. I mean, no judgment.”

  My heart pounds hard, blood rushing in my ears. “There’s something I didn’t really tell you—a few things actually.”

  Rhiannon folds up a couple of my nightshirts and tosses them my way, looking at me expectantly. “Go on.” She says the words carefully.

  “Charlie and I—we never—I mean—I never, with anyone.”

  “What are you saying?” She raises a perfectly arched eyebrow.

  “I’m still a virgin. So, Liam and I are holding off. For now. I mean—I would—with him, right now.” I’m stuttering over my words, and they’re all rushing together in an idiotic jumble. “But I think he’s waiting for dramatic effect.”

  “Wait a second—” Rhiannon’s face dropped. It’s the look of someone who’s trust has been broken. But for so many years, I was ashamed. Waiting, wanting. Thinking it would all happen on my wedding night with Charlie, like he’d always promised. “You’re a what now—and you’re waiting to do it with Liam Dougherty?”

  “I’m sorry, Rhi. I didn’t tell you. I just—”

  “Hey, it’s fine. But girl, maybe you should warm up with someone else. Liam is supposed to be fucking massive. I don’t want to take you to the hospital. And besides, he’s never really stuck around with any chick. That’s what his brother told me. Come to think of it, Finn told me that a few days ago—”

  “I know. I don’t expect him to. I’m just helping him because…” There’s not much of a because. “Hey, you’re hanging out with Finn?”

  She waves her hand at me. “No. You are not allowed to change the subject. Finn is an old friend from high school. It was never like that at all.”

  “If you say so. He’s just as hot as Liam. And Liam is like—” I struggle to find the words.

  “He’s like walking sex. Like if God had created sex and made it into a person. I know what you’re getting out of the deal. I’m just worried it’s not enough. It’s not what you deserve, you know? He’s getting his daughter back, and you’re getting sex? A pretend relationship?” She walks over to me and pulls me into her arms, hugging me tight. “I just hope you don’t end up with a broken heart.”

  We go back to packing, both silent for a while. After a few minutes, a thought comes to me, and I turn to Rhiannon. “It’s better than nothing at all.”

  “What’s better?”

  “A broken heart. I mean, I hope that’s not where I’m headed. But it’s better than sitting around this place, waiting for nothing to happen.”

  Rhiannon sighs. “Yeah, I know. I get it. I mean, the guy’s a fucking legend.” She shrugs. “Might be fun for your first time. I guess looking at it as an adventure is fine.” Her voice is flat. It’s clear she doesn’t quite believe what she’s saying.

  My heart flutters in my chest. When I pause to think about any of it, it doesn’t make sense. So, I’m not pausing, I’m just packing. “He’s a legend now? I thought you only knew of him like, third-hand. And only because you know Finn. It’s not like he’s giving you stories about Liam’s giant cock.”

  “So, it’s giant?” She laughs and sorts through some of the perfumes on the top of the dresser. They’ve gone unused the past week. Somehow, I like the scent of my own body better. Like it’s waking up, finally, after years of being silent.

  “It’s impressive. Pretty fucking impressive.” I look at her and smile. The blush rises over my cheeks, but I’m getting more used to the idea of being with him. But then I have to remind myself—I might not be. Not for long. Or does he want to keep using me, keep me there so Marta’s people think we’re really married?

  “So I’ve heard. From like six women who’ve slept with him. That’s why we got you to the bar to meet him. I didn’t know you were looking for a casual fling for your first time. I thought that was more of a relationship thing. But—like I said, I get it. He’s hot. He just might disappear and start fucking a bunch of other people.”

  I nod, sadly. But it’s good to remember that’s who Liam is. He’s not just the single dad who’s putting together a plan to get his daughter back. There’s more to him—he’s also the guy who took me upstairs and introduced me to his mother as his girlfriend. The guy who told three people that we’re engaged, without even proposing. Without discussing any of it beforehand.

  And I’m the one keeping it from my best friend. For days, I have. Shit.

  “I know. He made that plenty clear. I’m not special. I just happened to walk into the bar on the right night. And I have that conservative look.” I pull a cardigan off my bed and hold it up over my chest. “The one that judges like.”

  “Whoa wait. Did he say any of that to your face?” she asks. “Because that’s not cool—” I can tell she’s about to go off on one of her rants.

  “No, no he didn’t. He told me it was a temporary arrangement. That it would all get sorted out in the next month. After we’re—”

  Married. Say ‘married.’

  “So, he told you you’re living together for a month? At least a month? Is he going to be sleeping with other people during that time?” Rhiannon throws a couple of plain white bras in my direction.

  “No.” I look down. “I don’t think so. He’ll get bored of me after he gets custody of his daughter. It’s a short-lived thing.” I pick up the bras, exasperated. The bras seem boring and old-fashioned, even though I thought they were cute when I bought them. I shove them in my bag. They’re embarrassing. They’re not the bras of a sexually active twenty-three-year-old woman. They look more like something you’d find in my seventy-year old aunt’s closet. The one who grew old with only cats and cat figurines to keep her company.

  I was only a few steps away from a life of cat figurines, I think.

  A bra strap flops out of my bag like a limp noodle. I shove it back in. It’s disconcerting to feel yourself changing and then find evidence of it right in your hands.

  Rhiannon keeps watching me, like she’s observing a species of a strange and rare bird.

  “I hate to say it, but he’s playing you.” Rhiannon sits down in the ove
rstuffed chair by my bedroom door, clicking her nails together as if in thought. “But you know that, right? You’re still my smart, witty best friend. The one who talks me out of bad decisions. She’s still in there, right? She hasn’t been replaced with a sex-crazed maniac.”

  I shrug and bite my lip. I am a little bit sex-crazed, if I had to put a word on it. Maybe I won’t be after he actually fucks me. It could all fade away, just as quickly as it came. “Yeah, I’m still here.”

  She puts her hands to her hips. “You paused.” Rhiannon sighs. “How do you know he won’t leave you with a mountain of debt with that apartment in Queens?”