Tempting Bad

by M. Robinson

  “How do you know?” she whispered.

  “I’m a man and I know what it looks like when another man is interested. Did he hurt you?”

  “Yes… no… I don’t know,” she mumbled.

  I sighed and kissed her forehead, “I have known you a very long time, Ysabelle, and I can’t help but feel relieved.” She moved to face me.

  “What?”

  “You let him in. I never thought you’d allow it.” I still didn’t know what she was up to, or what she was doing with her life. But I wasn’t stupid… it had been almost eight years since she walked into my life. Everything had changed about her; especially her demeanor.

  I worried that she was doing something illegal or damaging to her self-esteem. The more I saw her, the less of the girl I once knew, was there.

  “Do you see this right here?” she addressed, pointing to herself. “This…is why I’m not supposed to give a shit. I end up looking and feeling like shit, Devon. I can’t think, I can’t sleep, I can’t fucking get off my couch. All I want to do is eat ice cream and watch sappy movies, and I hate sappy movies,” she whined.

  I laughed. “You’re kind of adorable right now and that could be a plus.”

  “Ahhhh!” she yelled, grabbing the pillow off the couch and hitting me over the head repeatedly.

  “Oh come on… just call him and work it out. Everything can be worked out. If it can’t, then he doesn’t deserve you. You will find someone who will,” I explained.

  “It’s not that easy Devon.”

  “It never is, life is not like that,” I said, knowing that it was true.

  “You sound like a fortune cookie.” We both laughed.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t supportive about the whole marriage thing. I’m happy for you…kind of.”

  “It was a spur of the moment thing.”

  My sisters and mother were extremely disappointed that we didn’t have a wedding, but in the end they understood. I think my mom was just happy that I was finally married and giving her a grandson. Lauren was married and had two kids, Alexis was also married and had three kids, and Liv was pregnant with her third.

  My mom also remarried a few years ago to Scott. It was the first time I had ever seen her truly happy. Her life began and it was one of the best feelings I had ever experienced before; to see my sisters and mom get what they truly deserved. We were all finally settled and moving forward from the past.

  Except my dreams…

  Always my memories.

  “Does that mean you can’t be my friend anymore? Don’t men usually become pussy whipped when they’re married, because their wives become crazier and controlling? Christine was already that, am I screwed?” she asked, taking me away from my thoughts.

  “That will never happen, you’re stuck with me.” We both smiled.

  I ordered us Chinese food and stayed with her all day, watching sappy movies.

  I went home that evening to Christine and woke up to my father’s fists, just like I always had.

  It had been another year, and not much had changed in my life. Madam had become different in a way I never thought was possible. Her cool and calm demeanor changed for some reason and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I didn’t understand what was going on or even how to handle it, but The Cathouse changed in some ways. I started to take over a lot more responsibility and a part of me felt like she was molding me.

  For something to come.

  I had gone shopping with Ysabelle for a dress for The Gala that evening.

  “Are you all right, Bella?” I asked with concern.

  “Yes.”

  “You know you can talk to me, right? I’m here for you.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ve been there, you know?”

  “What?” she questioned with curiosity.

  I knew she had been dating a married man. Sebastian Vanwell. They met at a yacht party and I noticed the look in his eyes immediately. I knew he was going to be trouble and a huge part of me wanted to protect her; to warn her. But I knew it wouldn’t have mattered. We all needed to experience life’s cruelty at our own time.

  That’s life.

  “Where you are now, I’ve been there. It’s a place I never want to be again. It was within the first year of me being a VIP. He was charming, loving, and I was young and naïve. He was the first man that made me feel like I was cherished. When we were intimate, it felt as if we were one person; like we were united and soul mates.” She listened carefully. I had never shared this with anyone before.

  “I was reckless, I knew exactly what I was getting myself into. He was married too, the epitome of the perfect husband and father to the public; he was high profile. Except he promised that he would leave his wife for me. Of course, I believed him. I got pregnant. When I told him, he politely and lovingly made me believe that having an abortion would be the right thing to do.

  “I was so in love with him, that I did. Bella…he didn’t even show up for the appointment. I went through it all by myself. Madam was livid when she found out about our affair; then the abortion. She raised hell and high water. She was a terror in her fury.” A single tear fell down my face. I was reliving it all over.

  “After it was done, he never saw me again. I know it hurts like hell, Bella. Just believe me, it’s for the best. To be completely honest, you’re not the first one; it’s happened to all of us at one point in time. We aren’t made of stone, even though our lifestyle insures us that we should be. You know now what it feels like to love. All good things must come to an end, Bella,” I hesitated, “we are who we are.”

  “Brooke, what if I want more?”

  “Then, my love, as the words of the poem; ‘tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.’” We laughed.

  “I love you, Ysabelle,” I said as I embraced her in a tight hug. “Now, let’s go find you a smoking hot dress.”

  Several weeks later Madam called me and told me that Ysabelle was leaving. That she was leaving VIP. I texted her and wished her well. It didn’t matter where life would take her or me, we would always be in each other’s lives. As much as I would miss her, I knew it was best for her. She wasn’t a lifer like I was. For some indescribable reason, VIP was important to me. I couldn’t put my finger on it and I didn’t try to dwell on it. VIP, The Cathouse… it was home.

  Now it was my chance to prove myself to The Madam…

  Because…

  I wanted VIP.

  “Christine, what can we do to make this work? We have a son,” I expressed, holding my head in my hands. I couldn’t believe how much had changed in the last two years. I didn’t understand where our relationship took a turn for the worse. I knew things weren’t easy for us, with the birth of our son, but I figured that’s what happened to all married couples; when there was a shift in the dynamic.

  Since the day he was born, he was the light in my life. There were times when I would hold him and I didn’t understand; I couldn’t fathom how my own father didn’t love us, how I loved Ethan. How didn’t he feel this sense of love, loyalty, and devotion to a small human being? Someone, he brought into this world. If he didn’t want children, then why did he continue to make them. There were four of us for a reason... we didn’t just appear from thin air.

  It was difficult for me the first few months. Trying not to relive the pain and hurt, I experienced at the hand of the man who created me. Which produced emotions that made me want to prove to myself, and everyone else, that I would never be like him.

  Christine often told me that I was babying Ethan too much. That I was ignoring her and our time together; but I never thought it would lead to this. I never imagined in a million years, that she would cheat on me in our very own home.

  I wanted to hate her.

  I needed to hate her.

  But I couldn’t, because I knew I was at fault too. I had forgotten about my wife when they placed Ethan in my arms; it wasn’t intentional. I felt this guilt that was never there
before he came into this world. I felt this feeling of shame, to make up for my father’s mistakes.

  I knew it didn’t make sense.

  The memories became real. They didn’t just attack me when I was sleeping, they happened when I was awake now too.

  It started when Ethan was three months old and he spilled a glass of water one morning. The impact of the fall had frightened him. His screams and cries brought me right back to a similar experience; it was déjà vu and I couldn’t move. I stood there and watched in fear, as if I was reliving it.

  My father grabbing me by the hair and slamming me up against the wall. When I didn’t give him the reaction he hoped for, he grabbed the metal mixing spoon from the boiling hot water, placing it on my upper thigh; making me scream bloody murder.

  I still had the scar.

  I prayed the entire time that he wouldn’t go after my mother next. It never worked, he always did.

  I recalled the memory as if I was still there. I didn’t run to my petrified child. I stood there and watched him scream, with huge droplets of tears streaming down his face. Christine came running out of the shower with a towel barely wrapped around her, to comfort him.

  Yelling at me the entire time… “Why are you just standing there watching him suffer? Why are you not soothing him? What’s wrong with you?”

  I barely heard her. I was physically there, but my mind was back at that house.

  With him.

  Several more occurrences, similar to that, happened numerous times. I tried to make up for it by having him be my number one priority. Forgetting, that I had a wife who needed my attention too.

  I was a horrible husband and that resonated to where it hurt me the most. I was my father. I was becoming him in ways I couldn’t control. It terrified me that I would hurt them, that I would hurt him. I lived in panic. When I wasn’t home, I was at the bar, drowning myself in paperwork and clients; to forget, to feel a moment of peace.

  “I’m sorry, Devon, I tried. I’ve tried for two years to be with you, for longer than two years. Please don’t hate me. I’m sorry.”

  “Jesus, Christine, you cheated on me. In our home, while our son was sleeping a few feet away. What the fuck? How do I deserve that?”

  “You don’t… I just… I don’t. I don’t know what happened. But you and I got together so fast and then I got pregnant. Everything just moved so quickly and I tried to keep up as best as I could, but I was drowning, Devon. I wanted to stay above water with you. I swear it. But you’ve kept secrets from me. You have those nightmares. Sometimes I can’t even sleep next to you. They’ve gotten worse and you won’t do a damn thing about it. You won’t even tell me what they’re about. I’m supposed to be your wife.”

  I angrily looked up at her. “Are you fucking serious? You’re going to use that?”

  She shook her head. “It’s the truth. You say you love me but fuck, Devon, you won’t even tell me what’s going on with you. I know nothing. I know it’s bad! I’ve slept with you and I know it’s about your father—”

  I stood up. “I’m not talking about this. I won’t let you use that as an excuse, to fuck around on me. With one of my employees! You literally fucked where you eat, Christine,” I roared.

  “I’m sorry! What more do you want me to say? Devon, you’re not here! Sometimes I look at you and you’re looking at me, but you’re not here. I don’t know what to do and Ethan… I just… I got scared. Sometimes you scare me.”

  “We’re done. I can’t go back from this.”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  I sighed not being able to look at her. “You can keep the house, but I want shared custody of our son.”

  “Okay,” she murmured, looking at the ground. “I never meant to hurt you, Devon, you are the nicest guy I have ever met. I’m so sorry. I hope one day we can be friends and you can forgive me.”

  “Well, you have a shitty fucking way of showing it.”

  “You need to take care of yourself. You know it as much as I do; your dreams are getting worse. It used to be a few nights a week and now you’re having them every night. It’s terrifying and—”

  “I’m not talking to you about this.”

  “Goddamn it! See! This is exactly what I’m talking about, Devon! You say that you love me, that you want a life with me, but you don’t care that I want to know what’s wrong. Devon, how many fucking times have you just lost it in front of Ethan? You go back somewhere in your mind and I can’t take you away from it. Neither one of us can.”

  “I do care and I’m handling it,” I justified, lying.

  “By what? Huh? By taking cold showers, after you have the dreams? By working more at the bar? By sleeping less? By making up for it with coddling Ethan, and ignoring me? Jesus, you look like a fucking zombie, because you’re too scared to close your eyes. It’s devouring you. You need help,” she argued.

  “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re NOT! You’re so far from fucking fine. You can’t even see it anymore. Why, Devon? What happened in that house?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I know what I did was wrong, but what you’re doing right now, is wrong too. You can’t go through life like this. What kind of example are you showing Ethan? Huh? Do you know how many times you have woken him up, when he’s fallen asleep in our bed? When he’s fallen asleep in your arms? What’s going to happen now that I’m gone?”

  “You should have thought of that, before you spread your legs to my bar-back,” I viscously spewed.

  She didn’t falter. “You’re right. But that doesn’t mean I stopped caring about you. I made a mistake and I will forever have to live with that. But our marriage, our relationship, was based on being lonely, Devon. You know it as much as I do. We may have loved each other, but we weren’t in love with each other. Sometimes I feel like you love Ysabelle, more than you love me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “We’re not going back to this shit. She has nothing to do with this. I’ve known her for ten years, Christine; she’s like a sister to me. She doesn’t even live here. She lives in Turks and Caicos. I barely see her; she’s been gone for two years.”

  Ysabelle owned a bar called Chances. I had flown up there to help her for a few months, to get it off the ground. She finally opened up to me. She told me about VIP and everything she had been doing. It was hard to hear. I wanted to share with her, so badly, what I went through. My memories, the nightmares, but I couldn’t bring myself to say the goddamn words.

  So I just listened.

  Sebastian had divorced his wife and went after her. He had come by my bar one afternoon, almost a year after she left. They were together and as far as I knew they were happy.

  In love.

  “Whatever… does she know? Huh? Does she know what goes on when you’re asleep? Have you let her in enough to help you?”

  I didn’t have to reply; she already knew the answer.

  She shook her head. “You know what… it doesn’t matter, you want to continue to live your life like this, Devon… then go right ahead. I can’t save you from yourself. A part of me, knows that you’re doing this to punish yourself. Something fucking happened and you’re paying the price for it.”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “Right… you keep telling yourself that.” She backed away from me, turning and slamming the front door behind her.

  I grabbed the picture of our wedding day off the mantel, and threw it against the wall.

  A few months went by and my phone rang one afternoon, as I was leaving a client’s house.

  “Hello, doll,” I answered.

  “Hey,” Ysabelle replied.

  “What’s up?”

  “Well… I’m coming to Miami, we’re coming to Miami.”

  I screamed from excitement. “When?”

  “We leave Saturday afternoon and we’re staying a little over a week. Sebastian wants me to meet his family. He’s selling off his partnership of Yachting Enterprises,” she explained in a mon
otone voice.

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “I’m not quite sure yet. I guess I’m just going with it.”

  I paused. “He loves you, Bella, you know that, right?” I asked, knowing she needed to hear it.

  “I do. And I love him, too.”

  I smiled. “I can’t wait to see you. I’m going to squeeze you and never let you go.”

  She laughed. “Okay. I’ll call you when we’re settled.”

  “Sounds good. I can’t wait.” I hung up.

  One week later, I would meet the man who would change my life forever…

  The last exchange Sebastian and I had, when I went to go visit Ysabelle in Turks and Caicos, was anything less than pleasant. But I wouldn’t let that interfere with my relationship with Ysabelle.

  I had seen her a few times over the last week; she invited me out to dinner and drinks. She said she wanted to do a night out on South Beach and that her friend Brooke would be meeting us.

  I had never met any of her friends, but I had heard Brooke’s name before. It had been six months since I filed for divorce, and three months since it was finalized. I hadn’t been with anyone since Christine. It’s not because I hadn’t had the chance to, women threw themselves at me constantly. I just didn’t want to. I spent most of my time working or with my family. We shared custody of Ethan. We were settling into a comfortable routine, of just the two of us. I really was lucky; he was a great kid. The terrible twos weren’t turning out to be that terrible.

  I got to the restaurant fairly early and followed the hostess to our table. We were sitting in the back corner, overlooking the water. It appeared as if the section was closed off for us. Ysabelle said that Brooke had made the reservations and had taken care of everything.

  I ordered a whiskey neat and watched as the waves were rolling in onto the sand.

  “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” I heard a feminine and sultry voice say from behind me. I raised my eyebrows and turned to see this blonde bombshell, almost take my breath away. She was wearing a tight red dress that left very little to the imagination. Her hair was pulled to the side, with subtle pieces framing her petite, yet perfectly proportioned face.