“And what am I gonna do for you, dude?” She was still smiling, but her question was loaded.
“Find a great guy, get married, and have babies I can spoil in addition to their mom?”
“Gen,” she said in a soft voice. “That’s my wish for you.”
I stood and walked out of the room and into my bathroom for one final check. I knew it was rude to get up and walk away, but we were going to Ska Night at the Fish Fry, and I didn’t want to be a wet blanket. The holidays always sucked. Always. She gave me about thirty seconds of solitude before she followed me in.
“I get it, I do, and you know I love you, but skankin’ at the Fish Fry when we’re fifty might be a little try-hard. Know what I mean?”
“I know what you mean, but I already had one heart-to-heart today,” I said to the mirror. “I can’t do two in one day. Give me ten and we’ll go, ‘k?”
She waited a second before she said, “‘K. I love the shoes, and even though I haven’t opened the others, you know I love them, too. Thank you.”
Rocky found a loophole in my no-holiday edict: anniversaries. A different day each year, we wrapped presents for each other in the most obnoxious paper we could find. Seven years now, Rock and I had been celebrating our non-anniversary, and when it was time to open my gift, I always did it with my family. I walked out the front door with a small rectangle box. It was silver and gold with a fat, curly ribbon, finished with a giant sheep ornament. Wool was one of the seventh anniversary symbols, as was copper, which was why I wrapped Rocky’s in copper-colored paper.
“Hi, guys!” I sat down and jimmied the tightly wound ribbon off the box. “That Rocky, I swear. Let’s see what she got me this year.” I opened the box and lifted the item wrapped in tissue paper. When I discovered the gift, I was overwhelmed with emotion. I was going out, I didn’t want to get all…you know…blubbery. I scooped up the wrapping, the sheep, the three shot glasses from a few days before and went into the house.
“Dude!” I squealed.
“You don’t like it?” she asked, astonished.
“What? I love it, but these are like…expensive!”
“You love it though, right? It’s awesome, isn’t it?” She gave me a satisfied smile, knowing she’d completely outdone my gift of six pairs of pricey shoes.
“You suck and you know it, and you know why, but I do totally love it.”
During a night of gin, rum, and cards—because if you were going to play gin-rummy, well, the name said it all – I had told Rocky about the photography exhibit in San Francisco that Ahren and I had never made it to. She looked into it and said it was still there, a permanent feature. But I didn’t want to take the chance of seeing him there. I had no idea where he was or what he was doing. It was tempting enough to find him on Facebook and make contact. Actually, it was more than tempting.
I held the small memento mori in my hands and looked at the back. Maeve, age thirty-four. “I fucked up,” I managed to say through my tears.
“You didn’t fuck up; you were scared, Gen. You didn’t fuck up.” She squeezed my hand in hers. “Let’s go out and have fun. See if we can find some hot guy to take your mind off things.”
“Okay,” I agreed and put the picture on the living room mantel. I didn’t think it was a coincidence that Rocky found a photo of a thirty-four year old dead woman. I was alive, but I wasn’t living.
****
Three hours later, I was hot, I was tipsy, and on my way to getting drunk when the bartender handed me a note.
Gorgeous,
Meet me upstairs.
XO
I didn’t bother asking the busy bartender who’d given him the note. I scanned the bar crowd to see if anyone was scoping me out and went back to Rocky. Instead of dancing, she was leaning against the far wall next to a guy dressed in a top hat and tails. When I approached, she practically ripped my arm out of its socket and said, “Genevieve Clare, meet…wait for it, dude,” she said to me with a grin, “best name ever…Cosmo Giannopoulos.”
“Well done,” he praised her efforts with his multi-syllable name.
“Thanks. And guess what he does for a living. I mean, just guess, dude. Guess. Guess, guess, guess.” God, get a couple of drinks in her and she’s Chatty McChatterson.
“Undertaker?”
He grinned. She threw her head back in one loud guffaw and came back with, “Good guess. He’s your competition.”
“No shit?”
“It was an acting gig really. I had a wake before this. A friend signed me up for some dating thing and here I am. I was supposed to meet the young lady here. but…she probably took one look at me and bailed.”
“Her loss, obviously,” declared Rocky.
He grinned down at her. She was clearly into him, her eyes all big and dreamy.
“Did you write this?” I asked, showing her the note.
“Dude, I did not. Go, you must sally forth into the balcony where dreams are made and panties are lost.” She leaned into my ear and asked, “You need a condom? I’m only packin’ two, but I’m willing to give you one. Safety first, my friend.”
“I’m good.” I smiled back. “See you outside in an hour?”
She was so wrapped up in…Cosmo…she didn’t bother to acknowledge me. I made my way upstairs and was glad I’d let my scotch-on-the-rocks get watery. I had a feeling I’d be driving us back home that night.
The best thing about the balcony was its fantastic view. You could see the stage, the dance floor, even the bar off to the side. But no one could see you. Not once, in all the years I’d gone there, had lights ever come on upstairs. Even when we had a five-point-three earthquake and all the emergency lights set into the floor came on. One light above the emergency exit sign gave just enough light so it wasn’t dangerous. People were trying to get outside, pulling on half-buttoned shirts and jeans, but I sat in the back row and watched as my make-out friend got spooked and went outside. If my number was up, it was up. Whether I was in the theater or out of it, I didn’t think it mattered.
I made my way toward the back row. I could only see the shadowy figures of couples, but it wasn’t crowded at all. The good thing about the Fish Fry was their ever-present security. Sure, you could make out—or other things—in the balcony, just as long as you knew there was somebody watching. Whenever someone got too aggressive, on the dance floor or anywhere else, they were out of the club forever. So, I never felt unsafe there…except for that one time in the mosh-pit, but even then, I chocked it up to life experience.
A hand came out and tugged me toward the steps. These led to a booth where the sound and light guys sat for shows. I hesitated for a moment, knowing I’d be out of security’s sights even though they could hear me, but this guy gave me a reassuring squeeze and pulled me slowly to his body. He dropped his hand, only to bring both to my face, where he leaned in and kissed me softly. He tasted of scotch and cigarettes, but that kiss…my God. I melted into it, my body instantly responding to his touch. I never thought of myself as a slut, considering I’d had sex an average of twice a year for the last ten years. That may have been a few notches in my lipstick case, but it was the only intimacy I’d allowed myself. He broke the kiss first and pulled me into him so tight, he scared me. I tried to pull away, but he felt my fear and loosened his grip.
He laced his fingers through mine and ushered me into a seat in the back row. I sat down first.
He sat beside me and whispered, “Close your eyes.” Again, he kissed me, but this time was more heated, dangerous, erotic, and…oh my God, familiar. He pulled back just enough to say, “I’m going to find my way back to your heart, Gen. Ten years…ten years too long.”
I started hyperventilating.
I jumped from the seat, ran to the security guard, and quickly said, “He didn’t try anything funny, but I think I’m gonna throw up. Too much booze. He’s not bad or anything though, bye.” I went downstairs and saw that Rocky was still in deep conversation with Cosmo.
�
�Dude,” I pleaded, leaving her no choice but to talk to me.
“Gen!” She snapped to attention, her expression changing immediately. “Bathroom, now. Cos, you stay,” she commanded with a pointed finger.
He held up his palm up. “Me Cos, you woman, me stay.” He hit his chest with a grin. “Protect village.”
She giggled but scurried me away to the bathroom. “What happened?” she demanded.
I closed my eyes and tried to breathe, but that wasn’t happening.
Finally, she clapped her hands in front of my face and yelled, “Information! I need information!”
It was then I saw we were surrounded by men and urinals.
“Rock?” I gave her a questioning look.
“Everybody pees and everybody poops. We’re animals, deal.”
A few chuckles were heard as I explained. “The note.”
“Yeah?”
“The note.”
“We established that. And?”
“Ahren,” I breathed.
She stopped breathing and stared at me. “Say something!”
“I…no words. He kissed me.”
It was then that Rocky burst into tears in the men’s bathrooms at the Fish Fry Dance Hall.
“Ladies, everything cool?” The security guard from upstairs had apparently come to check on me.
I wished I was invisible, or dead, as Rocky explained my life.
“She knew this guy, when they were kids, and he was older so it never really worked, ya know? But then, he came back when her parents died and she was twenty-four so it was perfect. Except for her parents dying. And her grandmother. Anyway, then he got into this bad accident, and they both kinda freaked out, because, you know, his parents were dead and her parents were dead…” Every single male listened to each word out of her stupid face. “Then she asked him to leave, and he did.” Then she paused and scanned the crowd before she stated dramatically, “He did!” She turned to the two guys listening beside her, probably waiting to ask her to dance or fuck or both, and said, “Would you leave if this hot piece-of-ass asked you to?”
“Rock?” I tried to interrupt her detailed account of my life fucking story. But she turned on me.
“Oh no you don’t!”
“Excuse me?”
“Know why I gave you a picture of a dead woman?”
Confusion crossed the face of the ever so patient security guard.
“I know why; you don’t need to tell these fine people.” My anger was just on the edge of slapping and earring pulling.
“You into necrophilia?” she asked the security guard, “‘Cause this right here,” she pointed to me with her thumb, “is the walking dead.”
“I…why are you doing this?” My almost-pissed-off mood was turning to hurt.
“Because I love you, and I want to see you happy, and I think this is your second chance, and I don’t want you to blow it because you’re scared someone you love is gonna die.”
My eyes filled with tears at her words, bittersweet, but mostly sweet. My bottom lip trembled, and all I could think about was getting the hell out of there.
“I want to go home,” I demanded.
“Then go out there and ask Ahren for a ride, because my ass is staying here with hot, weird guy, and hopefully, taking him for a ride of my own. But tomorrow morning, we are meeting at Brewster’s for hangover food, because I know you.” Her voice softened as she moved closer to me. “I know you’re gonna go home and share a bottle of scotch with three dead people, and you’re gonna need hangover food.”
“That’s…that’s not fair, I—”
Then she got close so only I could hear her next words. “He wrote to me, the first couple of years. He sent me emails, asking how you were, and he would have kept doing it if I hadn’t asked him to stop. I didn’t want to lie to you. This is life, Gen. It hurts, it’s messy, but it’s living and—”
I didn’t let her finish. The day had already been too much. I turned and walked right out the door.
****
Ahren
Ahren stood against the wall outside the club, feeling nothing short of invigorated. That kiss, those fucking lips, the smell of her shampoo and sweat… He remembered what it was like to be inside her. But in that moment, he remembered their first kiss by the river.
He’d spotted Rocky first when he arrived, hoping against all hope that fate, God, his parents, hers, whatever the fuck was out there, was helping him. And it had. The note to the bartender had been easy. Knowing she would willingly come to the balcony told him what he already knew. She wasn’t in a relationship, and if he had to guess, she hadn’t been in one since him.
He watched her come outside and check how much cash she had in her pockets. Ahren had taken a cab from his house in Mill Valley because it meant he could drink as much as he wanted. Then he saw Rocky, and instead of getting some random cab back across the bridge, he called Jimmy for a big-ass favor.
“Not a problem,” his cab driving friend was right around the corner. Ahren explained there would be a girl out front, described her, and said to tell her he was free. So when she moved forward a few feet and Jimmy exclaimed, “Gen girl? That you?” Ahren couldn’t believe he knew her.
“Jimmy?” he said into his cell.
“Yep,” the man grinned.
“You know Gen?”
“Yep.”
“Small world,” Ahren smiled.
Jimmy “Hazz” Hazzard laughed then said, “Serendipity,” and hung up.
Two weeks ago, I’d been kissed by the love of my life.
I hadn’t left the house since.
And the knock, I mean, the pounding at my door could be none other than my traitorous best friend, Rocky.
I shouldn’t have been surprised when she walked right into my bedroom.
“I could have been naked,” I scolded.
“I’ve seen you naked. We went to that Japanese day spa, remember? And I’ve made you shower. Several times.” She did, after my family died.
Damn.
“I could have been having sex.” I was starting to run out of excuses.
“Again, remember the weekend we went to the blues festival on the river and shared a room? Then we picked up those two guys and you had sex in your twin bed, and I had sex in mine? You know, in the same room?” She came closer to my bed where I was dressed in yoga pants and a hoodie, a book about the bubonic plague next to me.
“I could have been masturbating. That would’ve been awkward.” This was all just an act of stubbornness on my part, and she knew that. We’d had our tiffs over the years, but we knew each other inside and out, which buttons we could push until we knew we’d pushed too far.
“Gen.” She let out an exasperated huff.
“Rocky,” I returned and yeah, it was bitchy.
“You’re being an asshole about this. You know that, right?”
I put down my tome of pestilence and pulled my knees up to my chest. “He was right there. Right where you are now, and I looked in his eyes, and everything in me shut down, Rock. I felt it happen, that exact moment when I knew I couldn’t be the person he needed.”
“Oh, hon.” She sat down in front of me and crossed her legs, in for the long haul.
“You know that part, but you don’t know what I did after that.”
I watched her prepare, clearing her face, ready for battle.
“Hit me.” She waved her hands to beckon my words to her body. I couldn’t help but giggle, even though my breath hitched with tears.
“It was awful, but I had to make him go. If I didn’t, I knew he’d stay. He knew me, I mean, he knows me. Even now, he knows how I think.” She looked at me patiently while I summoned the courage to tell her about my shameful behavior, though I didn’t tell her everything. “I told him I knew who I was and that those three months together had been fun, but they proved to me that he was nothing more than a childhood infatuation. I told him I felt nothing for him. He argued it was the grief, that I was just pr
otecting myself, and he was absolutely right. But I looked at him and all I could feel was fear. Crippling fear. And I knew, if he stayed, Rock, I couldn’t have handled it. After his accident and his dad died. The funeral, it was like…”
“Reliving your parents’ and Gran’s funeral all over again. It’d only been a few months and you almost lost him, Gen. We should’ve got you counselling. Mom, Pastor Mike, Chad, even the Brewsters wanted to whisk you away somewhere, some wellness retreat or something.”
“Really?” I was actually surprised since this was the first I’d heard about it.
“Really. But I asked them to give you time. I thought I was doing the right thing, but now…” She looked around my room, which hadn’t changed really. Not in years. Ten to be exact. “Gen, it’s been fun, and I’m not saying you’ve held me back from trying to find my own Mister Right, but there have been times when I haven’t gone on a date or left a club with a guy because I thought you needed me.”
Guilt hit me hard and fast at her admission. “I’m sorry, Rocky. I didn’t realize. I mean—”
“No way.” She put her hands up to stop me from talking. “Don’t take that on. I’m just saying I don’t think it’s a coincidence Ahren came back into your life the day I meet this guy. I’ve been on three dates with him. And the sex…” She flopped back onto my bed.
“Yes?”
“He’s intense, dude,” she said, her head propped on an elbow. “And the first time he kissed me, he grabbed my hips, like, sunk his fingers into my skin and pulled me into him so I could feel how hard he was. Damn, I’m getting wet just thinking about it.”
I smiled for my friend. Rocky always had this confidence I never did and probably never would. The only exception was when I became Genevieve Clare, Professional Mourner. Then, I was confidence personified.
“Gen,” she said softly, shaking me from my thoughts. “Don’t be mad at me.”
The Morbid and Sultry Tales of Genevieve Clare Page 7
