Hush, Hush

by Franco, Lucia

  Closing my eyes, I pet the kitty curled up on my stomach, absorbing his warmth. "Nothing, but thank you."

  "Can you at least tell me what happened?"

  I swallow. "I don't want to talk about it."

  James is quiet for a moment. He doesn't like my response. "Are you in bed? You sound like you just woke up."

  A sleepy smile pulls at my lips and I turn onto my side. "Yeah, I have to get up, though. I have class soon. I usually never stay in bed this late, but I was just too tired to get up."

  He hums in the back of his throat. "Waking up next to you is the best way to start my day. Can I see you later?"

  The smile slips from my lips. "I have plans later." Those plans are sitting with my grammy, then getting oblivious, emotion-murdering drunk when I get home.

  "What about this weekend? I need to see you again, Aubrey."

  "Aubrey! This little cute fucker is scratching the couch!" Natalie yells from the other room. "Come get it before I pull his claws out with my teeth!"

  I chuckle into the phone. "I gotta go. Natalie is yelling for me."

  "Give me an answer, sweetheart. I want to see you. Just have dinner with me. I think you want to see me too. Wherever, whenever. You set it and I'll be there. An hour is all I'm asking for."

  I stare at the wall in front of me and wish that what he said wasn't the truth.

  "I'll talk to you later," I say softly and hang up before he has a chance to respond.

  "He just pissed in my thousand-dollar shoes and stared at me while he did it. I swear the little cute fucker did it on purpose. You have until the count of three and then I'm skinning him!"

  Chuckling, I jump out of bed.

  * * *

  "Nat, where are you?" I say. I'm walking out of the hospital and feeling too emotional right now. The day dragged on, which allowed me to get deep in my head and I need to shut my thoughts out now.

  "Where do you want me to be, baby," she says, her voice seductive. "I'm willing and ready for that pipe."

  I bark out a laugh. I needed that.

  "There's something mentally wrong with you. Do you say that to your clients?"

  "When the mood calls for it, I do. You know how men are. I only say it when he has a turtle head between his legs, though. I let him feel himself for a minute." She laughs. "Only the big boys get called Daddy."

  I shake my head as I walk to the bus stop. Never a dull moment with her. "I need to get drunk. Like hammered—the kind where I forget what I'm talking about mid-conversation."

  "Bad visit with Grammy?" she asks, sympathetic. Her tone softens.

  I swallow back the emotion climbing the back of my throat. I sat with her for hours after class, even though she didn't want me to see her like she is right now. I told her too bad and that I was staying, then I showed her the pictures I took of her cats at my place and she seemed to relax a little. I left out the comments Natalie made, though. Before I left, the doctor on call pulled me aside to tell me they're running additional tests because some results of prior tests raised concern, something about raised inflammatory levels, so they just want to double-check before they gave any diagnoses.

  "It wasn't the best. She looks even paler, if that's possible. I'm kind of worried. They’re concerned about her lungs, and that she could possibly catch pneumonia."

  "Oh, yeah. Pneumonia loves old people, especially in hospitals. I'm sorry, Ram Jam. Your gram is a tough cookie, though. She'll pull through. Just get your boney ass home and I'll have everything ready."

  I stand at the bus stop with a group of people thinking about Natalie's last words. I don't want to what-if anything, but I can't help it.

  My jaw trembles. What if Grammy doesn't get better? What if she gets sicker and doesn't pull through? A gust of wind blows by and my hair coasts around my face. Glancing up, I see the lights blinking at the top of the bus as it slows down for my stop. People rise to stand and step close to the curb.

  Sniffling back my emotions, I refuse to let myself go there anymore. I need to think positive. Positive thoughts bring positive energy. She's all I have, and if anything happened to her I don't know what I'd do with myself.

  After the bus ride to the station, I catch the train back into the city, then take the subway to the street closest to my place. I had enough time to stew on my thoughts and decide that once my feet hit the streets of the concrete jungle, I'm not going to allow myself to worry about it anymore because everything will be just fine.

  It has to be.

  A girls’ night is exactly what I need, and I'm getting a little excited to just chill on a Friday night like Natalie and I used to do before everything got complicated—Christine and James complicated. I need to balance my shit out and for someone to bring me back to my center. A night with my best friend is the perfect medicine, and then I’ll top it off with hanging out with my real boyfriend tomorrow. If he's available. Taking out my phone, I look for Daniel's number.

  "Hey, baby," he says. I don't think it even rang.

  I smile. "Hey, handsome. I feel like I haven't spoken to you in forever."

  He laughs. "I figured you were busy with work and school. I didn't want to bug you, but I will say I had a plan that if I didn't hear from you soon, I was coming for you."

  Now I feel a little bad that he noticed. It's been almost a whole week—if not more—since I spoke to him last. My priorities have been messed up and it’s time to take responsibility for them. I also need to get my heart straight, and that starts with being closer to Daniel more than James.

  "I'm sorry. It's all my fault," I say with disappointment. I honestly feel bad. "Yeah, this week was a pretty rough one. It's like you sensed it. Grammy was admitted to the hospital the other day and school is just weighing me down." Among other things, but I don't say it, obviously. "I can't wait to graduate."

  "Aw, babe. I'm sorry to hear that. What hospital is she at? Maybe I can help somehow?"

  I soften and give him a quick rundown of her illness as I navigate the street. "She's at Jamaica Hospital. I’m going to visit her again tomorrow."

  "Want me to go with you?"

  I smile to myself. He's a good guy and I can tell he just wants to help. "No, but thank you. However, I was going to see if you wanted to come over tomorrow and hang with me?"

  "Netflix and chill?" he says, his voice piqued with interest.

  "You’re such a typical guy." I laugh. "Whatever you want. How about I text you once I leave the hospital? Around mid-afternoon?"

  "Sounds good. I'm glad you finally called. I was missing you."

  "Daniel," I draw out his name. "I'll make it up to you."

  We hang up right as I'm walking into my apartment. I feel a little better about talking to him, almost normal.

  "Nat?" I yell out, but she's already walking toward me holding two double shot glasses. Shaking my head, I drop my purse onto the table and take the glass. My eyes light up.

  "What is—Ohhhh, you got pizza!"

  She lifts the glass to toast me and we throw back the shot at the same time.

  "I'll take white-girl wasted for two, Alex," Natalie says, her face pinched up.

  "Give me another," I say.

  "One step ahead of you, sis," Natalie says, then steps aside and there's two glasses waiting for us.

  I shake my head and start laughing as we take the other shot. "You're a terrible influence."

  "And yet you love me anyway."

  I nod. The tequila burns the back of my throat. "I feel like I can blow fire from the burn."

  "That sounds like a personal problem you need to address, Ram Jam."

  "Come with me. I gotta change real quick."

  Natalie follows me into my room and sits on my bed, lighting up a blunt. I frown. She usually just uses her weed pen.

  "Did you roll that?"

  "Nope. Got it from my homie," she says, watching the flame burn up the tip. She's focused and I can't help but giggle at that her concentration.

  I change into com
fy yoga pants and a baggy sweater, then take a seat next to her. Natalie takes a few puffs to get it started then hands it to me. I take a deep inhale, too deep, and feel my throat starting to tickle.

  "Fuck," I mutter, blowing the smoke out, knowing the coughing is about to start. I hand it back to Natalie and she takes a rip. "I forgot what it's like to hit a blunt." The pens are so smooth.

  And…I start coughing, which only makes the high hit quicker. After what feels like the longest coughing fit of my life, I look at Natalie. She bursts out laughing.

  "What?" I ask, my eyes feeling heavy.

  "Your eyes are bloodshot. Let's eat, then I'm going to get you drunk and you're going to confess your love for me."

  After a couple of hours, the pizza is almost gone and we're both on another level of stupid, giggling nonstop about nothing. It reminds me of when we met and when the friendship first started. I miss this with her. Not necessarily the high and drunkenness, but just hanging out with my bestie without anything hanging between us. I'm feeling extremely vulnerable right now and I'm tempted to feel her out about the dirty secret I'm hiding, but I'm not sure I can.

  "You wanna talk about Grammy?"

  I shake my head, a little sad. "Not really. I think I'll just get emotional about it and I don't wanna cry."

  "Daniel?"

  "He's coming over tomorrow. Netflix and chill."

  "Good to know, I'll be gone. I have a job, so it's perfect timing. Just make sure you put a sheet down on the couch and don't get cum on it."

  "I'll never understand how someone as pretty and sincere as you can have the most vulgar mouth."

  "It's always the ones you never suspect who have the filthiest minds."

  I giggle. "It's true. You're ratchet."

  Her face lights up like I just gave her the biggest compliment of her life and we both fall over cackling.

  "There is something seriously wrong with you," I say.

  She lights up the blunt again. Lifting her eyes to me, she takes a hard pull, the embers a crimson red.

  "You're just realizing that now? I sell my body for a living and I don't give two fucks about it. You'd think I have daddy issues, but I don't," she says through the smoke.

  James.

  And there goes my reserve. I feel a little crack in my chest thinking about him. Drinking alcohol on a torn heart is a recipe for a hot mess. It makes seeing things for what they are and what they'll never be. It’s such a fucking lonely feeling.

  "Question. Have you ever had a client you felt yourself growing attached to? Like you liked what you guys did together and how he made you feel?"

  She nods, and a shadow casts across her eyes.

  "Yeah, once."

  My brows shoot up. "Really?" I wish she had told me this before. "When?"

  "When I first started out. He became a regular client of mine, which was the worst thing we could've done. He was younger than most men at Sanctuary and in great shape. His body was to die for."

  "What happened?"

  "Eventually I told Christine he couldn’t be my client anymore."

  "No way."

  She nods. "I had to. He was married, but we fell for each other. We started meeting more often, and not through Christine either. It was hard to fight what he made me feel, the way he touched me, like I was a real lover to him. We let that feeling consume us." She pauses. "I wish we never had," she says softly.

  Slack-jawed, I sit here stunned as I listen to her speak.

  "Do you ever think about him?"

  "All the fucking time, Aub. Some days my chest hurts and I have to tell myself to stop being a little bitch. I can't even walk down the street without looking for him."

  I feel sad that she's longing for this guy. "Really? How did I not know this?"

  "I don't talk about it because what good is that going to do? I can't have him. End of story. I have to keep telling myself that any relationship formed inside the walls of Sanctuary Cove is doomed from the start."

  I swallow. She has a point, and I don't like it.

  "But if there was a chance you could have him, would you?"

  Taking a deep breath, she says, "That man is what I compare all other men to. If there was some wicked way it could work, I'd ride his ass all the way to the courthouse and sell my soul just so he could love me for the rest of my life."

  My brows raise. I have no words. None. This is a side of her I've never seen before and it makes me feel bad because I know the feeling. It forces me to compare the two men in my life, and how I would give up just about anything to be with only James.

  "There's a client like that for you, isn't there?"

  My stomach tightens with anxiety. "Kind of." I look out the window, nervous to talk about this. "I get this feeling in my chest when he’s around that I can’t explain. The way he talks to me, touches me…" My face falls a little, and I lower my voice. "He makes me forget it’s only a job."

  Natalie sits up and looks directly into my eyes. Her blue gaze is resilient, and I know she's going to really drive home what she's about to tell me.

  "Break it off now, Aubrey. I'm serious. It's easy to get lost in the façade. Trust me, speaking from experience, you don't want to fall down that hole."

  I study her. She wants me to listen, and really listen good. The problem is, it's too late for that, and I already know it.

  Natalie takes a sip of her mixed drink and then a drag of what's left of the blunt. Blowing it out, she looks at me again and says, "Well, that escaladed quickly."

  Fifty-Two

  "Your phone’s ringing," Daniel says from my living room.

  I walk over with a bowl of popcorn. "What does it say?" I ask as I sit down.

  "Blocked caller."

  I look back and forth between his eyes in a panic. I swear I’m going to have heart failure by the time I'm twenty-five.

  "Probably a telemarketer," he says. "I wouldn't answer it. I've been getting a lot of those lately."

  Exhaling a stiff breath, I agree with him and reject the call, then I place the phone face down and on silent. I've ignored quite a few calls from James since last night. I feel bad about it, but I need to put a little distance between us. For my sanity…and heart. After he told me he finally had a reason to leave his wife, I haven't been the same. It makes me want things with him that will never happen. A sick fantasy and nothing more.

  "Wanna watch The Notebook?"

  I look at Daniel with skepticism and sit back. "Are you for real right now? Why the hell do you want to watch that? Do you have a secret crush on Ryan Gosling? Because newsflash, he's taken, and with a baby, and that baby mama is hot," I say, and he grins.

  Daniel chuckles and wraps an arm around my shoulders. "I don't, but I just thought you might. It's a chick flick. Doesn't every girl want to watch that?"

  My head tilts to the side. "That's sweet of you, but I need something funny after being with my grammy."

  He cups my jaw and gives me a little kiss. His eyes soften. "Still feeling down after seeing her?"

  I nod, my lips a thin, flat line. Grammy's coloring was much better, and while that makes me feel a little better, I can't help but think the worst since she's still in the hospital. She's antsy to get out, and I feel the same way for her. I want her back in her home with her cats where I know she's safe.

  "They're still running tests. How many can they possibly be running?"

  "A hospital isn't going to release a patient without covering every inch of the floor. If they don't, that's a malpractice suit waiting to happen."

  Makes sense. "They found something in her lungs," I say quietly. "They're going to do some pulmonary tests."

  Daniel tips my chin up and looks into my eyes. "Hey now. That test can be used for something as simple as allergies. Don't get all worked up, and do not look shit up on the internet."

  A small smile tugs at my lips. "Too late. I saw that sometimes it's needed for bronchitis, which is what she has, so that's what I'm going with and trying not to th
ink the worst."

  "See? They're just checking off all the boxes. Given her age, they have to, Aubrey."

  "Yeah, okay. You're probably right," I say and lean into hug him.

  Daniel strokes my back, his fingers dragging lazily up and down. It feels so good.

  "Thanks for trying to soothe me," I say softly. "I'm just worried. Grammy is my everything."

  He leans in to kiss the top of my head. After a few minutes of silence, he says, "There's something I want to talk to you about."

  His voice is low, serious, and that immediately raises flags inside me. That tone, and statement, means something more. Like a breakup is about to come, or the talk about taking the relationship to the next level. Heart racing, I pick my head up to look at him just as a knock sounds at the door.

  "Hold that thought," I say, holding a finger up as I get up to answer it.

  My jaw drops, and my heart plummets. Everything inside me lights up at the sight of James standing in front of me. Our eyes lock and for a minute it's just us and no one else. His gaze softens and a grin spreads across his face.

  "Everything okay, Aubrey?" Daniel asks from behind me.

  James’s gaze lifts, and hardens.

  I didn't hear Daniel get up off the couch or walk over to me, but now he's standing behind me with a possessive hand on my hip.

  I stare up at James. My body gravitates toward him, igniting my blood, knowing what he's capable of. I've missed him but I didn't realize how much until now. He studies me, and I plead with him to not open his mouth through my nervous gaze. Not that I think he would, but the thought does cross my mind.

  "Can I help you?" Daniel asks, because I'm still stupidly speechless.

  "Ah, this is James, Natalie's dad," I say, recovering.

  "Nice to meet you, sir," Daniel says and extends his hand.

  James takes it, but his eyes are on me. I know thoughts are swirling in his head, ones that prickle my skin and make me hyperaware of him. I swallow thickly.

  "Would you like to come in? Natalie isn't here right now. I don't know when she'll be back. Aub?" Daniel asks, looking at me.

  I open the door wider in an inviting move, only he doesn't come in.