The Beard

by Stella James

  We make small talk as we eat. I tell Will about Dust Bunnies and a bit about my family. I take a chance and ask him about his photography, not sure if it’s a sore spot or not based on what Rose told me yesterday. I’m surprised when he goes into detail, his face lighting up in a boyish way when he tells me about his first camera.

  “It was my tenth birthday and my parents had this party for me at the country club,” he says. “It was boring as hell, mostly grown-ups. Mimi pulled me aside after we had cake and gave me a small box wrapped in Spider-Man paper,” he laughs. “She said, now you take this and go have some fun. This party is deader than a funeral.”

  “I can picture that,” I laugh. “So what did you do?”

  “I snuck away and opened it behind the gardener’s shed,” he says. “It was a small digital camera, nothing fancy. I had no idea what I was doing, but I just walked around and messed around with the buttons, snapping pictures of whatever I wanted.”

  “And a passion was born?”

  “Yeah, something like that,” he says. “Mimi even took it upon herself to enroll me in a local photography class. I was the youngest person there,” he laughs. “But I stuck with them, and even joined a photography club in high school.”

  “What happened?”

  “Real life, I suppose,” he shrugs. “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “I believe you mentioned a life rut?”

  “Oh, that. Well, for the sake of simplicity I’ll just say: cheating fiancé, emotional eating, hiding and avoidance, with a nice hefty dose of self-loathing.”

  Just then, the server comes back with our boxed up leftovers. Once the bill is paid, we find a cab and head back to the hotel. We find ourselves in comfortable silence yet again as evening approaches. Will accompanies me back to my suite, waiting patiently as I dig out my key card.

  “I had fun today,” I say. “It’s been awhile since I had that.”

  “Me too,” he says, tucking a stray hair behind my ear.

  My heart feels like it’s going to thump right out of my chest as his thumb grazes down the side of my cheek. I’m frozen in place as he leans forward and brushes his lips against my cheek. He pauses before pulling away, his warm breath tickling my ear.

  “I wanted you, Poppy,” he says. “And I wouldn’t say the moment’s gone. Not yet, anyways.”

  Holy hot fucking lava in my zebra printed panties.

  I manage a jerky nod and what I can only imagine is the smile of a crazy person as he slowly turns and heads for the stairwell.

  I command my shaky hands to open the door to the suite. I relieve Rose of her duties, thanking her profusely for organizing such an amazing day.

  “It was my pleasure, dear. I’m glad you had fun,” she says, gathering up her magazines.

  “You could have told me that Will was coming, you know. I wouldn’t have minded,” I say.

  “Of course you wouldn’t have,” she says. “But where would the fun have been in that?”

  After she leaves, I pop my head into Kyle’s room to see a few empty dishes beside his bed and that he’s asleep with the T.V. on quietly in the background. At least he’s eaten.

  I’m assuming there’s no familial obligation tonight. Truth be told, if there was, I don’t think I’d have it in me. I can hardly keep my eyes open as I trudge to my room and peel off my clothes. I pull on a thin cotton T-shirt and a pair of shorts and, as I stand in front of the mirror and brush my teeth, I notice a healthy glow in my cheeks.

  You’re still in there, Poppy.

  I crawl into bed, feeling a lightness that I haven’t felt in a very long time.

  Chapter Eleven

  Masturbating is Like Riding a Bike

  Subtitle: The Next Great American Fisherman

  The loud chime of my phone rips me from sleep. Muttering a curse, I slap my hand around clumsily on the nightstand until I find it.

  “This better be Ryan Reynolds or I’m hanging up,” I grumble.

  “Nope, just us,” Tully chirps.

  “Did we wake you up?” Bell asks. “It’s lunchtime.”

  “Not here it isn’t,” I whine. “It’s just after seven.”

  “Oh right, I forgot about the time difference,” Tully says. “Well now that you’re up, how’s it going?”

  I groggily fill my sisters in on the events leading up to Kyle’s current condition and the day I spent with Will. I also tell them that Will is, in fact, my would-have-been one-night stand.

  “No way!” Bell exclaims. “Of course that would happen to you,” she laughs.

  “It’s not funny,” I say. “Do you know how hard it’s been to be around him these last few days? My hormones are in overdrive. It’s like they recognize him or something. They know he was going to potentially end the dry spell and now they crave him like little sex pigs.”

  “So, what’s the problem?” Tully asks. “Based on what you’ve said, it seems like the feeling is mutual and he knows you and Kyle are just playing house. I say, feed those sex piggies.”

  “The problem, Tulip, is that he’s my boyfriend’s brother, and as far as the rest of Kyle’s family knows, he and I are in a committed, fantastic fucking relationship. I can’t compromise the mission just to get my lady rocks off. That’s totally selfish.”

  “Does Kyle know that you almost bumped uglies with his brother?” Bell snickers.

  “No,” I sigh. “He’s under enough stress right now, I didn’t want to add to it. Besides, it’s fine. I hardly know Will anyways. I’m sure I can control myself. He’s just so mmm. I don’t even have words,” I say. “God, I don’t think I’ve been even mildly attracted to a man since Todd.”

  “I don’t know, Pop. You better release some of that tension before you end up jumping on the poor guy’s face,” Tully says.

  “I agree,” Bell chimes in. “You better give yourself some love. It’ll clear your mind.”

  “You’re probably right,” I reply. “Ugh, enough about me. What’s new at home?”

  We chat for a few more minutes, I nag Bell about making sure she checks in with Angela for her schedule for the rest of the week, and listen to Tully vent about some other mom at school giving her shit for sending a family size box of Twinkies to yesterday’s class party.

  I’m wide awake by the time we hang up and decide I might as well get ready for the day. I stumble to the bathroom and as I brush my teeth, my eyes land on the reflection of the shower head in the mirror. Hmmm.

  I was far too embarrassed to tell my sisters that due to the apathetic nature of my recent slump, I seem to have forgotten how to masturbate. I’m packing over a year’s worth of orgasms in my invisible chastity belt.

  I swish and rinse, still eyeing up the showerhead as I begin to think of possible ways in which it can assist in getting me off. It looks like it detaches.

  I brush out my tangled hair and toss my clothes on the floor. I can already feel the anticipation of a much needed orgasm coursing through my veins as I step into the shower and turn on the water. I wet my hair and decide to get the practicalities of cleansing out of the way first. Once I’m soaped up and rinsed, I place a tentative hand on my stomach and trail my fingertips down, hoping not to encounter any cobwebs along the way. I start slow and begin by simply coercing the little lady to life. Yeah, I can do this. It’s like riding a bike.

  I trace a slick finger down a little further and shock myself when a desperate groan tumbles from my lips. The ones on my face, not the ones between my legs. Sweet Jesus. Screw waiting, I need assistance and I need it now. You’re up, Drake. Yes, I named the shower head. It feels less desperate this way.

  With one hand still resting between my legs, I reach for Drake and give him a tug but he doesn’t budge. Hm, playing hard to get I see. My fingers glide against my now aching centre and I try again to unlatch Drake from the tile wall. Goddammit son of a bitch, what is this thing forged to the wall with, steel plates?!

  I impatiently reach both hands aroun
d Drake’s handle and pull as hard as I can, feeling a shiver of victory as I begin to feel him loosen up. But before I can claim my triumph and reward myself with a naughty water massage, all hell breaks loose.

  I rip Drake completely off the wall and stumble backwards, suddenly assaulted by a non-stop, pressure-filled pummeling of freezing cold water to the face. I try in vain to get closer to the wall, to put Drake back where he belongs but the water is too strong and I can’t reach it. Suddenly I’m falling, landing on my wet ass with a resounding thud. I scramble like a naked, horny crab and try to dodge the angry spray. I feel like Aladdin in the cave of wonders, only I guess I’m technically not Aladdin in this scenario; I’m the stupid monkey who snatches things they shouldn’t. And now I’m being punished.

  “Help! Ahhhh, help me!” I manage to gurgle.

  The bathroom door opens abruptly and I can see Kyle hobbling towards me, still half asleep. “Poppy, what the hell?!”

  “Turn-turn off the wa-water, it’s so cold,” I gasp.

  He flips the faucet off and reaches for the nearest towel, helping me to stand as he pries Drake from my kung-fu grip. He sets me down on the toilet and wraps another towel around my shivering body.

  “I’m going to call down to the front desk and get maintenance up here,” he says.

  I nod a response, unable to form words through my chattering teeth and humiliation.

  Ten minutes later, I’m dressed and sitting beside Kyle on the edge of my bed. A cup of hot coffee is nestled between my hands while Martin and Kaleo assess the damage from my unsuccessful masturbatory escapade. They emerge from the bathroom and I swear to God they know what’s up.

  “We managed to stop the leak,” Martin says, not quite able to meet my eyes. “We’ll have to order a new shower head.”

  “That’s fine, thank you,” I reply casually. “I can just use the tub.”

  “The shower heads are bolted on pretty tightly,” Kaleo says. “You must have pulled really hard.”

  Seriously…bouncy house, wet pants…that was the worst thing ever, Poppy?

  “Thanks guys, we appreciate it,” Kyle says, escorting the two men to the door. “You can charge the expense to the room.”

  Once the door closes, he turns to me and raises one of his perfectly groomed eyebrows, “Sooo, do- “

  “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

  *

  “Are you sure you’re up for this?” I ask Kyle as we step into the elevator.

  “I can’t just sit around and do nothing, all I keep thinking about is George and it’s driving me crazy,” he says. “I’ll be fine, and besides, I can’t abandon you two days in a row and force you to endure my family alone. I feel bad enough that you had to spend a boring day with my brother yesterday. I hope it wasn’t too painful and that he at least managed to talk about something besides work.”

  “About that, you know, they really aren’t th- “

  I’m interrupted as the elevator opens and people begin to file in. After my humiliating attempt at self-gratification this morning, Kyle told me that we’d be spending the day on his family’s boat. We’ll be having breakfast aboard the Azalea, which is also the state flower of Georgia. Thank you, Google. But I’m not taking any chances on my overactive digestive system today. I had a light snack in our room and grabbed some Dramamine from the gift shop. Nothing is going to spoil today. No sir, no fucking way.

  I follow behind Kyle as he uses a set of crutches to make his way across the lobby. His knee seems to be feeling better and I’m hoping that today might lift his spirits a bit. We head down to the hotel marina where the Azalea is docked and waiting.

  “So, is there anything I need to know about deep sea fishing?” I ask with a grin. “Or proper boat etiquette?”

  “I think you’ll be fine, Pop,” he smirks.

  As we approach the dock I begin to feel it. Today is going to be a good day. Kyle’s mood is somewhat improving, I’m going to try something new, and although my hormones remain feral and cranky, I can’t deny that I’m looking forward to seeing Will. And not just because he’s ridiculously satisfying to look at. I had a good time with him yesterday. Enjoying the company of a man again is something that seemed so far away just a week ago.

  I should probably remember that even the tiniest attraction to Kyle’s brother comes with a massive list of complications. I should, but maybe for just a little while longer, I won’t.

  Kyle points out the boat floating at the end of a long white dock and we make our way down the narrow concrete path leading to the marina. As we approach, I can see Maureen and Rose sitting under the beige canopy at a patio style booth along the one side of the main deck and I spot Byron speaking to a man in a white uniform, who I assume to be the captain. My eyes continue to peruse but I don’t see the current occupant of my thoughts anywhere.

  “Poppy?”

  “Yeah, sorry, what’s up?”

  “What are you looking at?”

  “Me? Nothing,” I say.

  “Hi, kids!” Maureen calls out. “Come aboard!”

  “Your mom is seriously adorable,” I say.

  “I wish she didn’t try so hard to make everything seem perfect,” he says.

  “Maybe she’s just trying to make sure everyone is happy,” I suggest.

  My statement hangs in the air as we take the steps up to the main deck. I know Kyle is stressed about George and the fact that there even is a George, but he needs to cut his mom some slack.

  “I’m gonna head below for a minute,” Kyle says. “Are you okay up here?”

  “She’s fine, dear,” Rose says. “Poppy, come sit down and have something to eat before we head out.”

  Kyle leans down and presses his lips to my cheek before he heads down a small flight of stairs. Even though it’s all for show, I still feel my cheeks turn pink.

  “Aw, aren’t you two sweet,” Maureen says.

  I take a seat beside Rose and fill a small paper plate with some fresh fruit and a scoop of granola. Sitting on the water provides a fresh breeze and I easily think how I could be very happy spending all my free time right where I am now.

  “Maureen, did you have a good time at the spa yesterday?” I ask between bites.

  “Oh lord, yes,” she says. “I got massaged and scrubbed and it was just wonderful.”

  “Good,” I say. “My mom goes for a massage once a month. She says she’d be miserable if she didn’t,” I chuckle.

  “Tell us about your family,” Maureen says. “You never know, we might find ourselves with a common reason to celebrate in the future,” she winks.

  I try to speak above the guilt that washes over me when she smiles at me with obvious wedding bells in her eyes. I tell her and Rose about my dad’s retirement from teaching and that my parents still live in the house I grew up in. I’m surprised that Maureen recognizes my mom’s pen name when I tell them she’s a writer.

  “I can’t believe your mother is the Jules Jackson,” she says. “My book club has read three of her books.”

  “Small world,” I say. “I’ll have to tell her, she’ll be delighted. Actually she’s working on something ne- “

  My words get lodged in my throat as I look up and see Will making his was down the dock. He’s casual and handsome, of course, but that’s not what has me stuttering. Nope. It’s the unnaturally tall blonde walking beside him, leaning in towards him. She’s laughing. And he’s smiling.

  What the fu-Easy Poppy, control your irrational jealousy over a man you aren’t even dating. Before I can do a thorough assessment of Will’s body language and analyze it, Maureen notices the happy couple and hops up to her feet.

  “Amanda King, is that you honey?”

  “Yes ma’am,” Charlize Theron 2.0 says with a perfect white smile. She’s dressed casually yet professionally in pair of khaki shorts and a snug black T-shirt. She’s not wearing any jewelry and her hair is tied back in a messy braid. I can tell from here she’s one of those natural beauty types. Shit,
I really need to rein in my irritation.

  Will hangs back and lets Amanda step aboard the boat, her long legs making the effort look far more graceful than I care to admit. She and Maureen embrace in a tight hug, keeping their hands joined as they part.

  “I can’t believe it, honey. How long has it been?” Maureen asks.

  “Oh gosh, it must be about four years now,” Amanda says. “I think that was the last time I was home.”

  “What in the world are you doing here?”

  “I’m here for work, actually, writing a piece on Mount Haleakala,” she says. “I was walking through the hotel lobby and I spotted Will. I thought I was imagining things,” she laughs. “I just had to tag along with him and say hello.”

  “Oh, how nice,” Maureen says. “Will and Poppy took a helicopter tour through the volcano yesterday.”

  “Oh?” As if noticing my existence for the first time, she turns to face me and gives me a bright smile, walking towards the patio table. “Mimi, it’s so good to see you,” she says, leaning down and draping her arm around Rose’s shoulders.

  “Mmmhm, dear. It would seem that I am not yet dead,” Rose replies simply.

  She then extends her hand to me. “Hi there,” she says brightly.

  “Amanda, this is Poppy, Kyle’s lady friend,” Maureen says with a grin. “Poppy, this is Amanda. We go way back with her folks. She and Will went to school together, lord, from kindergarten until college graduation, is that right?”

  “That’s right,” Amanda confirms.

  “Nice to meet you,” I say.

  “Likewise,” she says with a genuine smile.

  “Can you join us for the day?” Maureen asks. “We’d love to have you.”

  “Aw, unfortunately I have a meeting with the Preservation Board that I need to get to,” she says. “But I might have some free time tomorrow, if the offer stands?”

  “Of course it does. You’re practically family, honey,” Maureen says.