Anything for Her

by Lola StVil

  “Can you stop bullying me?”

  “I’m not—” I force myself to take a deep breath. I know Shay and if she feels like she’s being pushed, she’ll only fight back harder. “Shay, I just want you to be safe. You can’t go back to the center. Please tell me you know that,” I push.

  “Okay, fine. I won’t go back but the center stays open. I’ll organize the ceremony for the women from the hotel. Kat will watch over everything for me.”

  “If you’re doing that, then why not leave town and come back?” I reply.

  “Because it makes it look like I am running away and there’s no fucking way I’m going to let that asshole run me out of New York,” she barks.

  “You are so fucking hardheaded,” I spit as I rake my hands through my hair.

  “If it was the other way around, you would have stayed in town. So how come you get to stay and make a stand but I have to run away? Just because you’re a guy?” she says.

  “Really? You think this is about you being a woman? I don’t care what sex you are. If you were a guy I’d tell you that same shit. We need to get out of town,” I insist.

  “Okay, both of you shut up! I’ve been in this room with murderers and psychopaths and they behaved better than you two. Now, sit down, shut the hell up and listen,” Wyatt orders. Shay and I glare at each other and sit back down.

  “He’s right, Shay, you need to leave town. But it will need to be tomorrow because the DA wants to prep you for trial. That means he’ll need you back here in the morning to go over your testimony. After that, Logan can take you away.”

  “Do I have a choice in the matter?” she asks Wyatt.

  Wyatt and I reply at the same time in a firm and resolute tone.

  “Hell no.”

  ***

  Kat meets us at the police station and I let the two of them talk alone. I don’t know what they say but they go through a roller coaster of emotions judging from their body language. I see the two of them worry together, arguing over something, and then console each other. And moments before Kat leaves, she hands Shay a glossy black-and-gold box. The two of them laugh and embrace.

  Women.

  After we say good-bye to Kat, I drive us back to the hotel. The drive is mostly silent. I think she’s too busy hating me to make conversation. I don’t care, she can hate me if she wants, I need her safe. I should have gotten her away from here the moment I came back. Someone shot at her. That was my fault but after the trial prep, we are leaving, no matter what. I would like to ask what’s in the box but something tells me now is not the time.

  When we get back to the hotel, I can tell something is off with her. She looks on edge but then again, I guess it’s what happens when someone shoots at you. I guess I’m used to it. Hell, I find it odd when no one is taking a shot at me. It usually means I’m on the wrong track.

  On her way to the bedroom, Shay stops off and eyes the minibar. She opens it and ogles a bar of chocolate as if it stood between life and death. She bites her lower lips, sighs, and goes into the bedroom. I think I know what’s up. I call room service and soon they bring up a tray of the items I asked for.

  It’s half an hour later when I enter her room and place the tray on her bed. She enters wearing a plush white robe, fresh from her hot shower. Her hair is swept up in a messy ponytail and her face is makeup free and glowing. She’s sexy as fuck! And what’s even better, she’s not even trying to look good. She’s just naturally radiant. I suppress the feral growl that comes when I think about what’s under the robe.

  “What’s all this?” she asks as she looks over at the small tray of various items I placed on her bed.

  “I ordered a few things to help with the cramps.”

  “What? I don’t have cramps,” she lies. I smile to myself. “What’s so funny?” she asks.

  “I forgot how stubborn you can be when it comes to admitting things like having cramps, or a headache, or even a hangnail. You thought all those things made you sound weak and you hated to let anyone know you were in pain.”

  “I don’t do that,” she says, avoiding eye contact.

  “When you got your period you always tried to pull away like it was something you had to deal with on your own. And I was good with that so long as it was what you wanted. So, I’d buy the things you like to eat and make sure the pain relievers were there for you but keep my distance. Then came that weekend we went camping…”

  “I remember that, it was the worst cramps I’ve ever had in my life. We were nowhere near a store, the car wouldn’t start, and I thought I’d pass out from the pain,” she admits.

  “You were moaning, doubled over, and snapped at me because I handed you a water bottle and you didn’t like the angle I was holding it.”

  “Oh my god, yes! I was such a bitch! And you stayed so calm and you let me act crazy. I was a terror that whole night. When we got back home, you went out and came back with cupcakes, pills, and a hot water bottle. I know I said I loved you before then but that was the moment I really fell in love.”

  “I felt bad that I didn’t think to pack the things that you needed on the camping trip.”

  “It wasn’t your fault my period came early, and you were great. The truth is, after that night, I pictured you running away as fast as you could,” she says.

  “Not a chance. I loved that you were so self-confident and tough as hell when it came to protecting the women of the center. But honestly, it was nice to know that you needed me. I thought well, that will probably never happen again. You’ll never let me see that side of you. A month later, I called you and told you that I would bring home the cupcakes and pain pills. I asked if you needed anything else, and you said, ‘Yes, I need you. Come home.’”

  “I remember that. You got really quiet on the phone,” she says as she studies my eyes.

  “Because I couldn’t believe you actually said it. And while I was sorry that you were in pain every month, it was a fucking honor to be the one that got to hold you and take care of you. Anyway, maybe I misread it. Maybe you were just craving a candy bar,” I reply as I start to leave the room.

  “Okay, okay. I have cramps. My lower abdomen hurts and so does my back. I have a headache and I feel like a defective faucet that’s been returned to Home Depot,” she says miserably as she slumps down onto the edge of the bed. I sit beside her and move the tray so she can pick out what she wants. She looks everything over and beams: chocolate cupcakes, pain relievers, and a hot water bottle. She bursts out crying.

  “Anika, what’s wrong?”

  I’m completely taken aback. I tell her it’s going to be okay and pull her into my chest. I can’t make out what she’s saying; she’s too busy being swallowed up by loud sobs to make sense. I can’t stand to watch a woman cry; I always feel so fucking powerless. But when it’s my woman crying, that shit is hard as fuck to take in.

  My woman?

  “Talk to me, what is it?” I ask.

  “Kat got me some silk lingerie that I wanted to wear tonight. I was supposed to walk in here, put it on, and then strut around the hotel room and it was supposed to get your attention. But I have my period, I feel as sexy as a sack of potatoes, and I can’t strut. Then you do this really sweet thing for me and…” She starts crying again. I can’t help but smile; so that’s what was in the box. Man, this woman will be the fucking death of me.

  “First, you have to stop crying, okay? There’s no reason to cry,” I reply, concerned.

  “Sorry. I swear the universe is playing a joke on women by giving them periods. It’s not even a good joke. It’s a lame ‘knock-knock” kind of thing,” she says, trying to get herself together.

  “Here take these,” I reply as I hand her a bottle of water to down the low-dose pain relievers. She takes them and drinks the water. She thanks me and bites into her cupcake. She rolls her eyes with pleasure. I smile back at her; relieved she’s no longer crying and soon will no longer be in pain. I place the tray on the side table a few feet away and then tuck
her in. I hand her the hot water bottle and ask if she needs anything else.

  “Can you stay?”

  I should say no. I should keep my distance until I work out where we stand, but the chance to hold her, especially when she’s so vulnerable, is rare. There’s no fucking way I will pass up this chance to be here for her. I take my boots off but keep everything else on. That way, I won’t give in to my urges. I get behind her, under the covers, and prop my head on one hand. I pull her close against me.

  God, I love this woman…

  She’s about to drift off, I can hear it in her voice as she speaks. “Sorry I didn’t get to wear the silky lingerie thing.”

  I lower my head and confess in her ear, “You don’t need lingerie, Anika. You already have my attention.”

  (Present)

  Last night, despite the cramps and the backache, I slept better than I had in two years. I dreamt of being in his arms a million times over the past few years and it was even better than I thought. The heat from his body soothed me and the firmness of his embrace made me feel safe. I felt his hardness behind me; it made me dizzy with pleasure and brought back a flood of memories.

  It was always hard to spoon each other and not make love. It was a challenge we always gave ourselves. I bet him that he would be the first to break and turn the simple act of spooning into all-night sex-a-thon. He’d vow that he’d never break, no matter what. We’d wager on it.

  I’d feel his hardness against my ass and purposely push out my butt so that I could feel more of him. He’d groan and slide his hand up my thigh and say that I wasn’t playing fair. I’d laugh and say that I had no idea what he was talking about. He’d chuckle and say, “Yeah, I’m sure you don’t.”

  He’d then reach over and slide his hand between my legs. He’d find my pussy already soaking wet in anticipation. That would send him into overdrive, and he’d swear under his breath and take me right there. We’d end up making love all night. In the morning we’d be exhausted but happy; so damn happy…

  When I wake up it’s 7 AM and he’s no longer beside me. I find that disappointing but given how nice last night was, I won’t complain. I get into the shower and thank God that my cramps are gone and I can be normal again. I quickly get dressed and we head to the café near the hotel for breakfast.

  We order pancakes, eggs, bacon, orange juice, and coffee. It feels like old times sitting across from him. Something else that makes this feel like old times is the fact that the waitress can’t stop staring at him. I’m not kidding, at one point she actually licked her lips.

  That happened a lot when we were dating. I used to get upset about it, but then I noticed that no matter what woman was throwing herself at him, he barely noticed because he was so focused on me.

  Once, I had dragged him to see a play and during intermission, some hot chick with super big boobs kept brushing up against him in the lobby. She pretended to drop something just so she could bend down and pick it up, giving Logan a view of her cleavage. And as if that wasn’t enough, she introduced herself while shamelessly eye fucking him, right there in front of me. She laughed—way too hard—at anything he said and touched his bicep. I was tempted to slap her so hard her plastic surgeon would feel it.

  I was worried the whole night that he was turned on by her and that it was only a matter of time before some sexy, impossibly beautiful woman took him away. I hated being that insecure, and normally I wasn’t. But there I was, feeling as attractive as a paper bag. When the play was over, he turned to me and said, “Let’s go out the back way. I don’t want to run into that clumsy woman again.” That night, we didn’t even make it home—we had sex in the parking lot.

  The same thing is happening now in the café we’re in. The waitress isn’t brushing up against him but she’s giving him far more attention than she’s giving anyone else in the café.

  “Is there anything else you need? Anything at all?” she says in a tone dripping with sex and honey.

  “Ah, no. I think that should be all,” he says.

  “Oh, okay. Well, if you need anything, anything at all…I’m here,” she says.

  “Actually, can I get some extra napkins?” I ask.

  She looks over at me with hate in her eyes. She gives me a plastic smile and says, “Yeah, okay,” as she disappears into the back.

  “I bet you ten bucks she gets my order wrong,” I reply.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because she’s into you and didn’t hear a word I said when I placed my order,” I reply. He looks back at me with doubt. He’s forever underestimating how fucking hot he is and that makes him even hotter. Damn him.

  “Are you feeling better? Are your cramps gone?” he asks.

  “Yeah, for the most part. By the end of today, it should be completely gone. Thank you for last night.”

  “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he says as he brings the glass of water to his lips.

  “I do, it was nice to have you so close to me.”

  Shit. Why did I say that out loud? What if he’s not ready to hear that? Fuck.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  He stops me and says, “It was nice for me too.”

  Okay, Shay, be cool. Just act like your world didn’t just get a billion times brighter. Be cool…

  Shit, I can’t look him in the eye now. Fuck! I’m blushing. Crap. I can feel the color rushing into my cheeks. What am I, a teenager? What the hell?

  “Are you okay? You look a little flustered,” he says.

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” I lie, then swallow hard and pretend to be a grown-up.

  “Tell me about your dog,” he asks.

  “He was a Great Dane.”

  “Nice, what was his name?”

  “Rabbit.”

  He laughs. “You named your dog ‘Rabbit’?”

  “Yeah, it suited him. Whenever he’d hear a noise he’d run and hide under the bed like a scared rabbit. He had these pretty big eyes, and he loved watching documentaries about space. He also loved the flowers on the east side of the block but hated the west side. No idea why. Oh, and he had a crush on Anderson Cooper. Anytime CNN came on, he’d wag his tail and get all excited.” I laugh.

  “He sounds fun. I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet him.”

  “Me too,” I reply, trying to keep my sadness at bay. He senses my mood shift and changes the subject.

  “If you weren’t in the middle of this whole mess, what would you be doing today?” he asks.

  “I’d be at the center but for lunch, I’d be with my mom. We get together every two weeks and hang out.”

  He looks over at me, shocked. “You and your mom are talking?” he asks.

  “Yeah, we have been for some time now.”

  “Shay, that’s amazing. What changed?”

  “When I got sick, it really affected her. She started to get her life on track so she could be there for me. It took some time but eventually she went to rehab and got a job. She’s been sober for over a year now.”

  “That’s fucking awesome. I can’t imagine how happy you must be to know that she’s okay.”

  “I am. I kept her in the dark about most of what’s going on—I told her a few details but I didn’t want her to worry, so I held some of it back.”

  He’s about to say something but then the waitress comes over with our food. And guess whose order she messed up?

  “I didn’t order this,” I say as nicely as I can. She’s too busy looking at Logan to hear me.

  “I’m sorry but I didn’t order this,” I call out.

  She looks over at me as if it’s the first time she’s actually aware of my existence. “Oh, sorry. I’ll go fix it,” she says. When she’s gone, I stick my hand out.

  “Maybe she’s just bad at her job,” he suggests.

  “She got your order right,” I point out as I laugh at him. He hands me the ten bucks. His cell phone rings, and he looks at the screen and ignores the call.

  “Who was th
at?” I ask.

  “My mom.”

  “You don’t want to take it?” I ask.

  “Nope.”

  The phone rings again and he sends it to voicemail.

  “It could be about Cash,” I remind him.

  “Cash info will come from Wyatt. He’s the one with the contacts on this one,” he replies. The waitress comes back and has the right order this time. The service may have been iffy but the food is great. We eat and do some much needed catching up. As we near the end of the meal, I excuse myself and head to the ladies’ room.

  ***

  Logan (Moments later)

  “Why are you ignoring your mother’s calls?” she asks as she returns from the ladies’ room and sits down.

  “She’s calling to ask a favor that no one in their right mind would grant,” I reply.

  “She’s your mom. What could she ask that you would say no to?”

  “A few years back she started this annual charity auction. It benefits the Juvenile Diabetes Foundation.”

  “I know the woman that runs that program; it’s a really good cause. What’s your issue with them?”

  “I don’t have an issue with the charity; I have an issue with my mom and her ruthless desire to top herself. A few years back, she decided that it wasn’t enough to have a fancy charity dinner; she upped the ante by having a bachelor auction. It was a huge success. Now every year, around this time, she tries to get at least one of her sons to be a part of it. I happen to be in town and now she’s calling me to try and get me to agree to go but that’s not gonna happen.”

  “Oh, c’mon, that’s sounds like so much fun,” she pushes with a spark of mischief in her eyes.

  “No, Shay, it’s not fun. My mom and Shelby get together and they wrangle a dozen cops, firefighters, and EMTs. They make them stand there and get bid on like livestock.”