Messalina: Devourer of Men

by Zetta Brown

“Thanks, pal.”

  “I’m sorry, honey, but really.” She takes me by the arm and we go to the den. “I haven’t seen you this upset since you had Minette put to sleep.” Ana steers me to the sofa and sits me down. “I’ll pour you a double.” She looks me over. “Even though you don’t really need it.”

  “Oh, yes, I do.”

  Ana’s methods are circumspect. She’s not going to press the issue. We make ourselves comfortable and I turn on the stereo that I’ve already loaded with CDs to reflect my mood. When I’m ready to talk, she’ll listen and by the fifth whiskey sour, the grizzly details flow as easy as the alcohol. She gasps.

  “Sarah answered?”

  “I don’t need this, Ana.” I shake my head. “I should’ve known when he started acting funny in Dallas.”

  “But what about this Talley Monroe woman? You and she got along. She said you were perfect for him.”

  “Yeah, but that’s just her opinion, isn’t it? Dating briefly in high school over twenty years ago doesn’t mean she knows everything about him. Plus, she’s his ex.” I sit up. “Anyway, I’m sure she’s a lesbian . . . or bi. Hell, I maybe I should be, too, so I wouldn’t get so worked up about some man.” I rub my hands vigorously over my face. “God, I’ve been so fucking stupid.” I look at my best friend. “We’ve known each other most of our lives. You’re like my sister. Would you ever guess I’d let a man take me out of state on our first date?”

  Ana purses her lips together. “No. I must say you shocked the shit out of me when you told me. But Eva, control yourself. You could go out tonight and get any man.”

  I shudder at the thought. Ooh, little does she know.

  “I don’t want any man,” I whine.

  “You just want Jared,” she finishes, mocking me. “Well go get him.”

  “Ha! Easy for you to say.”

  “Eva, please.” She moves beside me from the opposite sofa. “What have you to lose? Your virginity?”

  “You think maybe I should ice this Sarah bitch?” I take a swig of vodka.

  “No, you’re not listening.” She puts her hands on my cheeks and makes me look at her. “Go . . . get . . . him.”

  I try to focus on her mouth and what she’s saying. It finally clicks. “Oh, hell, no!”

  The music stops as the last track on the CD has played out. Ana does the honors, Jack Daniel’s bottle in hand, and rummages through my collection for more discs to load. She takes a swig.

  I don’t like simpering, Lilith Fair, vagina rock and won’t give it space in my home let alone my stereo. I need something with an edge. I need to hear something by someone who is angrier than me at the moment. “Put in Rollin’s Band,” I tell her. “I’m still in a don’t-fuck-with-me mood.”

  Ana starts putting away the CDs when she spots something on top of the player. Standing, on shaky legs, she opens the sheets of paper. “Holy shit!”

  When I realize what she holds, I sober up quick.

  “Gimme those!” Unfortunately, my legs refuse to support me and I slide off the couch.

  Ana is now studying the drawings Jared did of me in various stages of sleep and recovery. She whistles. “This man has talent. When’d he do these?” She returns to sit by me.

  I rub my face and groan. Then looking through my fingers, I reply. “That first one was the morning we got to Dallas. The other three were done the day I left.”

  “And you posed for him?”

  “You could say that.” I grimace. “I’m not gonna lie. He wore me out. It was all I could do to sit up.” My laugh dissolves into a sob and Ana puts her arm around me. I wave her off.

  “Throw those things away.”

  “Fuck no. You look beautiful in these, Evie. I’m jealous.”

  “But I can’t stand it, Ana! They’re just gonna remind me of the jackass I’ve made of myself.”

  “Will you cool it,” she says, looking at me. “Has it ever occurred to you that Sarah’s being at his place is more fire than flame?” She blinks. “Or is that more chains than clank? Whatever. You know what I mean. Damn, come on now. The man takes you away, spends hundreds of dollars on your crazy ass, and fucks you ’til you’re disabled. That must add up to something in the ‘I’m interested’ ledger.”

  “Oh sure, and Sarah was just there for convenience because Jared didn’t want to tell me to piss off. Talley told me he was like that. Shit! Why didn’t I think of that before? She could’ve been setting me up too.”

  Ana frowns and strokes my hand. “This isn’t like you, girl, but I know what is.”

  “What?”

  “Revenge.”

  “ . . . I’m listening. Such as?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” She leans back into the sofa and takes another drink. I copy her and put my personal bottle of Absolut to my lips. “What say we go wake those lovebirds up and tell ’em about it?”

  “Yeah.” I giggle. “Grab ’em by the short and curlies.”

  “Show ’em we mean business,” she says, then finishes the last of the whiskey.

  “I’ll change their definition of the word ‘pussywhipped.’” I take another drink. “No one screws me over without getting some part of his anatomy put in a sling.”

  “From what you describe, that’d be a mighty big sling.”

  Vodka fountains from my mouth as I do a spit take and we howl with laughter. After a few minutes, we settle down. We look at each other, both of us knowing that to carry out our plans would require movement and eye-hand coordination.

  “In the morning,” Ana says. “We’ll get ’im in the morning.”

  Chapter Nine

  “aftermath”

  It’s almost noon when I roll onto my side and slide face first off the couch. My injured groan makes Ana stir from where she sleeps on the opposite sofa under a chenille throw.

  “Oh, Jesus.” I breathe slowly to prevent my belly from making any sudden moves. This is my first deadly hangover in years. Not even my night of debauchery at Trish Stevens’s New Year’s party compares to what I feel now. Something has to give—but not before I get to the bathroom.

  I make it just in time. Fortunately, I don’t end up worshiping the Porcelain God, but I do sit and think for a while.

  It will take some doing, but I will do it. I will banish Jared from my thoughts and leave this part of my life to pass without remark. I have to. I’ll even save up for tattoo removal. I’m not cut out for relationships and high drama. I just need to focus on my career and get tenure.

  When I emerge from the bathroom, I’m totally prepared never to let the name “Jared” pass my lips again. Ana’s in the kitchen making coffee.

  “You have messages on your phone.”

  Sure enough, the red light is blinking on the handset. I press the button for the loudspeaker.

  “Evie, it’s your mother. Don’t forget to be at the store at seven. I’m making Mexican cornbread for dinner.”

  Normally, the thought of Mama’s Mexican cornbread has me licking my lips. Not today. The next message is from Tony.

  “Hey, girl. I just got your message. I’m sorry, hon,” he coos sympathetically. “I’ll talk to you later. Ivor says hello.”

  “Nice to know one of us got laid last night,” I say with a smirk. Ana smiles and places a mug of strong brew before me.

  “Hello, Eva? It’s Jared.”

  I choke on my coffee an
d the burning sensation brings tears to my sore eyes. Ana, on the other hand, leans closer to hear.

  “Um, it’s a quarter to twelve and I thought you’d be at home.”

  I click my tongue in disgust. He has the nerve to sound disappointed, the motherfucker.

  “I’d like to see you, if possible, at about one o’clock. Call me if you can, otherwise, I’ll just stop by and hope to run into you . . . ’bye.”

  “Shit, fuck, and damn.” I put my coffee down.

  “Mmm, nice voice.” Ana grins. “Definitely a son of the South. What ’cha gonna do?”

  “I ain’t doing squat,” I say and sit on a barstool for emphasis. “I have a deadly hangover, I’m supposed to help set up for the gallery exhibit at Daddy’s store—and now this.”

  “Welcome to the wonderful world of relationships, Eva! Speaking of which, I have a husband waiting for me at home.”

  “Oh, no. You’re not leaving me now, Ana-Marie Benedetto.”

  But she has her purse and one hand on the doorknob. She looks so fresh and moves so fast, no one would guess she helped kill two bottles of Chablis and a bottle of Jack. She gives me a warm, big-sisterly smile.

  “And you, Evadne Louise Cavell, are a big girl.”

  She’s out the door before I can protest.

  “Coward!” But I’m the only one to hear my reply as it reverberates in my head.

  I need a bath. Taking my coffee and grabbing a bag of saltines, I go to the bathroom and prepare for a long soak. I must’ve dozed off, because the security buzzer going off beside my front door wakes me. I glance at the bathroom clock. He’s punctual, once again. Wrapping a towel around me, I go to answer the buzzer.

  “What!” I bark.

  “Eva?” There’s a pause before he says, “It’s Jared. Did you get my message?”

  “Yes. Did you get my message?”

  “What message?”

  “The one I left with Sarah.”

  Silence. Then, softly, he asks, “Can I come in?”

  “Listen, I have a headache and I’m in no mood to—shit!” Instead of pressing the “talk” button, I pressed “open” and can hear Jared opening the security door through the speaker.

  “God damn it!” I rush to the bathroom to let the water out of the tub. The doorbell rings as I tie a knot in my purple silk robe. Taking a deep breath, I answer the door.

  He stands in faded blue jeans and a black polo shirt emphasizing his athletic frame, looking very handsome and together. I want to slap the white off him, but cross my arms over my chest.

  “Hello, Eva.”

  “What? No flowers?”

  “May I?” He smiles and takes a step forward.

  “If you must.”

  His eyes turn cold for a moment, but I don’t care. He enters the living room where the remains of last night greet him.

  “Wild party last night?”

  “Yes. Too bad you and Sarah couldn’t make it.”

  “You have a way with sarcasm.”

  “What do you want, Jared?”

  “To see you.” He takes a seat on the barstool I had occupied not too long before. “Thanks for the card,” he says with a smile. “It was the first thing I read.”

  I glare at him. “You’re welcome.”

  He takes me in with those damn violet eyes. I fear my determination may give, but I brace myself. He’s nonchalant and looks around as if killing time, not offering any information about Sarah.

  “Who’s Sarah?”

  “My girlfriend.”

  Case closed. In that instant, my blood pressure spikes and a rosy pink haze clouds my vision. It really is possible to see red when you’re enraged..

  “Why the hell are you here, Jared? I have no intention of being your spare.”

  “You’re not my spare,” he says, the sharpness in his voice matching mine.

  “So Sarah’s your spare, whatever. I hate to tell you this, but I am the jealous type.” And I bet I made a fierce-looking sight, too, with my mussed, slightly damp hair, smudged eye makeup, and deathbed pallor. I walk the few steps from the door and into the kitchen. I’m aware that the front of my robe flashes a bit of flesh and fans the light, lavender scent of my bath soap. It gains his attention and I see him inhale deeply.

  I refill my coffee mug, then the hostess in me gestures, offering him a cup. He accepts. When I push the mug his way and look at him, his face is soft with amusement.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You. You’re cute when you sulk.”

  “Why, you son of a—get the fuck out of my house! If you think you can come here after balling your girlfriend and expect me to fall all over you, you’re fishing up the wrong tree.”

  He laughs. “There’d be something wrong with me if I’m looking for fish up a tree. Some English prof you are, butchering metaphors like that.”

  “Well you can take your conceited smart ass and get the hell out of my face.”

  Instead, he sips his coffee as if I hadn’t spoke. “Listen, Eva. I know I’m about as welcome as an outhouse breeze at the moment, but I’m not as bad as you think.”

  I raise an eyebrow. Outhouse breeze? I shake my head, not wanting his creative Tex-speak to distract me. “Oh, really? I’ll reserve judgement on that.” Taking my cup, I exit the kitchen. “I must make my own assessment of Mr. Libido.”

  He turns in his seat. “What did you call me?”

  “Mr. Libido. Don’t you know your nom de guerre ? Seems your reputation precedes you.”

  “Who calls me that?”

  I shrug and carefully step over empty bottles to go sit on the couch. Thankfully, the blinds are down over the balcony doors, because I can’t deal with sunlight now. “My friend Tony Lobos told me that the other day. Apparently he knows of your prowess through a few of your conquests.”

  “I’ll be damned.”

  He’s beside me now. Close. I can smell his coffee and his aftershave—Perry Ellis, this time.

  “Be flattered,” I say with a scowl. “Obviously, the crowd you hang with gave you your title.”

  “Our crowds must mingle.” He looks at me. “Tony Lobos. Didn’t he host that theatre benefit and cast party for A Doll’s House not long ago?”

  I nod. “I was there.” Now it’s my turn to look at him. “Met Sarah too.”

  He grins. “We could’ve met that night, Eva.”

  “No, I would’ve remembered.” I turn away to drink my coffee, cursing myself for letting him think he’s so special. His gaze burns into my profile. I know I shouldn’t, but I try to make polite conversation. “How was the rest of your trip?”

  “Very boring. Eva, why are we talking like this? Will you look at me, please?”

  He takes my coffee away and makes me face him.

  “I have a hangover, Jared.”

  “Let me cure it.”

  “Don’t touch me.”

  Maybe it’s the tone of my voice, my choice of words, or a combination, but for the first time since his arrival, he loses his composure—briefly. For a split second, his self-assured attitude disappears and his shoulders slump as if my words hurt him. For a moment, I’m sorry, too, but he recovers and so does my defense. Does he really expect pity?

  “Evadne, what can I do? W
hat can I say to make you understand how I feel about you?”

  “Talk is cheap. I am not a harem member here for your convenience.”

  “Should’ve thought of that before coming with me to Dallas.”

  I turn on him like a viper about to strike and his face registers his surprise. “Hold it, asshole. I wouldn’t have if I knew you were taken.”

  “I was joking.”

  “Don’t.”

  He lowers his head and sighs. When he raises it again, his expression is serious. “I don’t find your disappointment out of place or unreasonable. Would I be here if I thought they might? Eva,” he says, taking my hand in both of his. “Eva?”

  I let my head fall back into the cushions and close my eyes. I can’t deal with this right now. Correction: I don’t want to deal with this now. I want to wait until I’m collected and strong with no chance of his breaking my will.

  “Evadne?” his voice is soft and smooth and he raises my hand until my fingertips encounter the softness of his lips. He moves his head from side to side, making my fingers stroke the outline of his mouth. I turn my head away and the shape of his lips burn inside my mind’s eye.

  “Eva, after you left I could not believe the void it created.” His arm goes around my shoulders and he pulls me close. “I know it’s selfish, but when you’re near me . . .” He sighs and his breath warm against my ear. “It’s like I feed on your spirit. You open me. You inspire me.”

  Still, I won’t look at him. He presses his lips to the side of my neck. “Jared, don’t,” I say, but he knows my plea is a weak bluff. His mouth is beside my ear.

  “I want to learn everything about you.” He squeezes me tighter. “I need to know every inch and curve of you. Please. I am sorry, Evadne. Will you look at me?”

  I keep my eyes closed tight, not wanting to face the dilemma he has put me in: whether or not to forgive a man who cheated on me.

  But did he cheat? Whirlwind trip aside, not once did Jared “claim” me to be his. Then again, I never bothered to ask if he were free for me to take.