by Tai Barnett
After about two hours of consistent drinking, it was time to take a quick bathroom break and to make sure I was looking just as glitzy and desirable as how the night had begun.
“I am going to the lady’s room. Please don’t order another bottle…”
He smiled and continued to empty his glass.
I was having fun and thoroughly enjoying the look in Brody’s eyes—believe me, I could tell that he desired me. He wanted me tonight. My experiment worked and now all I had to do was get back home and go to bed.
But I made one fatal error, I left my cell phone on the table for Brody to have complete access to all of my messages which were from Andrew.
Well, it seemed Brody was not all too pleased about what he saw. He felt a rage for more than one reason. Andrew was having hot and steamy sex with me and sexting me—who he knew was very modest, for the most part. And two, this little boy was playing father to his son.
But Brody was confused. What did it matter because we were both seeing other people and Charles was a part of his life now.
He tried hard to ignore it when I returned.
“Sorry, I took so long!” I said, feeling better that I powdered my nose, re-touched my lip gloss and feeling more relaxed because I still had it in me to attract Brody.
As he gulped down another shot of whiskey from the new bottle that was now on the table, I brushed back a strain of hair behind my ear and sat down staring at him with my eyes wide open.
“I thought we would be leaving anytime now. Why did you order an entire bottle of whiskey? And such a huge bottle?”
He was acting erratic and irritated. He looked away and rubbed his hands through his hair. “I wanted one for the road. You know us Scots, right?” he said while folding his hands and leaning back into his chair looking back at me with a sour expression.
He rubbed the nape of his neck as his face became black with vengeance.
“Is something wrong? You seem upset or agitated?”
He lifted his shoulder with a half shrug and slumped them down with brows knitted—his eyes enlarged and almost bursting out of his head.
“Why should I be upset? Do I have any reasons…at all, to be upset right now? Tonight…is perfect!” Brody exclaimed.
I think that question was also directed to himself in some ways. I sighed, I was confused and to some extent, drunk.
“Ahm well, I was thinking the same thing—” he interrupted.
“We arranged everything, right? Charles will stay with you and visit us during the holidays or whenever I can come see him. You know, I must say, you’re completely drop-dead gorgeous tonight, by the way,” Brody said. He pressed his lips together and started shaking his legs.
I sighed and looked at him as though he had lost his mind.
“Ahh, well, thank you…you did mention that twice already.”
“You know your weight was never a problem to me. Personally, you were just not my type.”
My heart instantly started drumming strongly against my ribs. I couldn’t believe he just said that.
“But tell me this, Natasha, don’t you think you deserve better, being with that…boy—that child?”
Sighing and shaking my head from side to side I was furious now.
“You are just…a rude and arrogant man. Don’t sit there and pretend like you care about my feelings! This is definitely not about Andrew! But I am still confused. Why does this bother you, Brody? I am not your type so it’s none of your damn business who I let screw me, is it?”
By now we were creating a scene, I saw Brody chuckling while taking another swallow of his drink and glanced at my phone. Impulsively, I quickly grabbed it and looked at the messages.
To my surprise, it was the most inopportune time for Andrew to decide to send me an almost naked picture and several other much to be desired photos of our last night together—which was last week, how strangely convenient.
I would not say that it was Brody’s intention to see what he did. He thought it was probably his mother or Rose. But as it turned out, it was my younger boyfriend sending me semi-nude pictures and a text which read,
“Longing to be with you, to be inside you…over and over again. Remembering the last time we made love—in the Jacuzzi—on the stairs and on top of the bathroom marble pedestal. I can’t wait to see you my darling. Still filming in Aspen…think I will get home before you do. Kiss Rose and Charles for me and tell them I love them. Get some sleep by the way! Talk soon!”
I grabbed the bottle of whiskey and filled my goblet right to the brim. I took a big swallow.
“You went through my messages?” My voice was lower and shaky now.
Brody groaned and looked at me strongly.
“I heard it vibrate—thought it might be Mom or Rose.”
“And you read my messages!”
“Read your messages…please do not flatter yourself Natasha! A message popped up along with those disgusting pictures…I looked. You might want to put a lock on your phone that’s what any mature person would do by the way.” He exclaimed.
I sat staring at him livid.
“Being a cougher in Hollywood is one thing, hiding Charles from me is another. But now he wants to play father to my child! Sorry to crush your nativity Miss Bishop, that will never happen!” Brody exclaimed.
I took a gigantic swallow, finishing the entire glass and decided to leave.
“I will be outside, I am ready to leave…I am calling Martin to come pick me up! I am not sitting in a vehicle with you for one second!”
Martin came thirty minutes later. Still, for some reason, I stared at that restaurant door from the parking lot every five seconds to see if he was going to come out, but he didn’t. I explained everything to Martin on our way home. He tried to convince me that Brody was just being an asshole, indirectly defending his behavior by saying he had a tough time growing up.
After returning to the Banisters’ home I checked on the kids who were fast asleep. Rose who was in her own room, hugged her rag doll tightly beneath her arms and Charles laid snugly between his grandparents. I wanted to cuddle with my babies. They brought me comfort whenever I was down or hurting. Finally starting to calm down, I went and took a shower.
I put on some classical music using my laptop; it always relaxed me. As I brushed my hair and oiled my skin, looking at my flushed face in the mirror…I suddenly burst out into tears.
Why did I have no luck with men? Why was my life so turbulent? I was asking God. Why was I still attracted to a man that I know would never be mine to have? I knew that from the very first day Brody and I met that we would only, if anything, be just friends. Yet, I allowed my inane fantasies of an ideal older manly type for a future husband get into the way.
Where was this synchronicity that Vernon was talking about? Synchronicity should make your life all better, shouldn’t it?
A few minutes later, I managed to calm down and started putting on my teal satin nightgown. Suddenly, a strong knock on the door startled me. My eyes were slightly swollen because I had been crying so hard. It couldn’t possibly be him.
As I gradually opened the door with my robe on, I saw Brody standing with his shirt outside of his Khaki pants and another full bottle of whiskey in one hand.
He leaned the back of his head and one leg against the wall. He looked intoxicated and disheveled, standing and watching me by the door.
And as he stood there looking innocent like a puppy dog, all the cruel words he said flew right out of my mind. I felt sorry for him. I always end up focusing on their feelings, that’s my problem! I always think that I can change these men about how they view women, always thinking I can change their minds about just wanting me and me alone, somehow.
He was about to take a sip of his drink and I walked towards him and gently lowered the bottle away from his mouth.
“Can I come in? I just wanna talk for a few minutes,” he said. His voice was calmer and lower.
“Talk about what Brody? We discuss
ed what we needed to…”
“Just…please hear me out…” he said breathing in deeply and trying to keep his blurry eyes opened.
But the truth was that I feared to let him inside my room because he was still so attractive to me, I was still involved with Andrew—and Brody was still an intermittent asshole.
After a minute of deliberation, I finally allowed him inside. I sat on the couch as he stood by the closed door and started talking. He talked about what a good mother I was and how he was just angry not having been in Charles’ life before.
And then, he finally said it.
He was feeling something he could not understand. He was feeling a bit jealous of how committed I spoke about my boyfriend and that he was having some problems with his feelings towards Mariska.
I patronized him but I also felt a bit sorry for him—which was my queue to quickly get him immediately out of my room. And I was remembering all too well about what my father had always said to me, that I should never fall for any man because I pitied him.
I gently stood and looked at him.
“Why don’t we just forget about everything and start over? Let’s just focus on the children and have some fun. I mean with our busy schedule it’s going to be a while before you see him again. So, I think you should just…go to bed.”
While I tried to encourage him to get out of my room, the tensed, dilatory stare and gloomy look in his woeful eyes was an obvious indication on his face that he had something else in mind. Yet, his subtle innocent behavior might have been because he was sad too. That’s how we made this mistake in the first place, pure drunkenness which led to thoughtless and reckless shagging.
Besides, although ripping his clothes off did flash into my thoughts, I had my dignity. No way would Brody ever break me again and I would never allow another man to use me as his ‘entertainment puppet’ or sexually convenient second with the very ‘unparalleled pudenda’ like Nathan, Rose’s father did.
I held his hands and literally, and casually escorted him outside the door.
As I was about to lock my door, he pushed the door in and grabbed my waist, pressing his whiskey stained lips unto mine.
I looked at him in shock at first. I was about to push him off but, this was Brody Banister, this was my fantasy man. After about 10 seconds, I finally pushed him away and latched my door close; clustering to one corner of my bed, not feeling guilty but with a big smile on my face.
***
The following weekend, Brody stood outside my door eavesdropping on my conversation with Lauren.
“I know Lauren and I absolutely do care for Andrew, but I must admit Brody is quite tempting—although, he blatantly told me I am not his type! Yes, I know Andrew loves me and I am being stupid I know…I know! But it’s like Brody deliberately walks around the house without a shirt. Of course, he has no idea I am staring at him, I hide it well and no, I couldn’t possibly do that to Andrew, Lauren…I do want to settle down but Andrew is so…young. I mean I am still not sure if he is ‘the one’, you know. Maybe I am waiting for a sign or something. Well anyway, thank God we are leaving early on Tuesday. Charles and Rose are wonderful. He bonded with his dad already. They treat Rose like a princess and Charles well, he has decided to sleep with his grandparents like he does with Mom and Dad.”
Brody still listened attentively.
“Don’t worry, hun. I am not stupid! See you soon.”
Later that evening, I was getting ready for bed. What I didn’t realize was that Rose had left my room door slightly opened; leaving just enough view to the inside of my bathroom.
Brody realized this and used it to his advantage to take a full view of me putting on my clothes. I was in my underwear—luckily, it was not one of my usual granny undies. My cousin somehow ‘inexplicably’ decided to pack a lot of sexy clothing into my family vacation. It was skimpy pink-laced rider.
As I turned and looked around the room, because I could have sworn, I saw a shadow, I noticed that the doors were opened. I went and checked to be certain but there was no one there.
Later on, that evening, Mr. and Mrs. Bannister took the children to a church anniversary function. I decided to spend the evening alone watching television because Martin was at his house, which was literally ten houses up the road. He was entertaining ‘a guest’ and Brody went to spend time with his old college friends.
It was strange because Brody Banister wasn’t a very successful Hollywood actor when he was home. The entire community treated him like everyone else. To them, he was still just Brody back in Scotland.
It was around 8:42 pm when I heard a car pull up. I was in the living room munching on popcorn and watching re-runs of some of my favorite sitcoms. I was sure it was not the Banisters who were back with the kids because they left only an hour ago and I heard these functions can take several hours sometimes.
I didn’t bother to check who had driven up. Anyway, I hated unannounced visitors. If it were a family member, I am sure they had keys.
I heard the front door opening, then it slammed shut and a car driving off. I then saw Brody walking from the hall with a six-pack in one hand and a bag of corn chips in the other.
Quickly and clandestinely, I positioned myself more presentably on the couch, hiding my uncovered bosoms from being exposed with my plaid shawl.
“I remember these reunions usually ending with Last Call at around midnight or later…back already?”
He was wearing a brown leather jacket and jagged dark brown jeans.
He slowly took off his jacket and placed it onto the handle of the couch, then put the beers and chips on the coffee table, which was directly in front of me.
My head was fixated on the television—yet, I watched him through the corner of my eyes.
Do not tell me that Brody is about to come sit right next to me! I thought to myself
“Yeah, they usually do but the guys wanted to go down to the pool by our old school for our usual skinny-dipping fooling around…I wasn’t up for it tonight, so they just took me home,” he sighed while breathing in deeply.
By now, my hands were folded in my usual defensive position and occasionally glanced at him as he sat beside me and took a few kernels from my bowl and threw into his mouth.
So…now we’re sharing popcorn? Was my second thought, I was screaming and ripping my hair out inside my head.
“And—I thought you might need the company, you know,” Brody uttered, articulating just a thin layer of concern towards me.
I nodded my head sarcastically, still while looking over at him and then back at the television.
He leaned back into the coach and sighed.
“You know, my mom must really like you, not giving you a lecture about turning down her offer to go to the church tonight,” Brody said while deliberately turning his head and looking directly into my eyes.
As I turned to listen to what he was saying, I quickly looked away and smiled, making sure not to persist with any further eye contact and being firm that my voice was at the precise pitch to suggest that we were just good friends hanging out.
“Well, you know me, I love having time for myself, being alone…”
“Ohh, am I imposing then? I know you writers…loners and even eccentric sometimes and that I know you are! Or is it that you’re not really into religion or anything that just has to do with my family or with me?”
“Hmmm…all interesting questions—to answer the former, remember I am spiritual not religious—” I explained.
“Oh, I am remembering now…reincarnation and all that metaphysical stuff…” he said.
“You make it sound like psychobabble but it’s very real Brody and I very much do believe in a supreme being or God, if you prefer to call it that.”
“Well, your opinions are worth considering but…Extra-terrestrials, now, that has its merit. It is completely ludicrous to think we are the only intelligent life in the universe. But a deity that has us as his puppets, observing our every selfish, murder
ous actions and doing nothing about it…I beg to differ. People are the creators of their own destinies, Natasha, not some God sitting on a golden throne.”
I turned to have a better look at him and listened attentively as he spoke so passionately.
“We are the ones who create the evil and play the games. Heck! I have been a part of this game for a while and you’d better learn how to play it fast if you don’t want to completely lose control. And that I promised myself a long time ago, is something that can never allow to happen.”
I was staring even more at him now because he had caught my attention as I loved a noble intellectual conversation. And even better, I wanted to know why he was so picky with women and subtly condescending.
“Please explain. You have me very curious now…”
“Well. People say I am an arrogant ass…a playboy, right?”
I looked at him with my lips folded and eyes opened sarcastically, “They do?”
“I wasn’t always like this, you know?”
“Soo…you’re admitting then that you’re a wild, fastidious and uncontrollable narcissist?”
He looked at me and sulked and turned slightly to have better look at my face. His expression became more serious now.
“Nope, never said that. What I am saying is this, I have…a system, a structure in the way I approach my life and basically everything. Now, not many people, especially women, never…ever get to hear this…so consider yourself very exceptional…” he explained.
“So, I guess I am lucky then—hearing the secrets of Brody Banister.”
“You’re the mother of my child, that’s the one of two game changers. It has nothing to do with luck!” He pronounced impulsively.
My eyes opened widely and then closed slowly as I shook my head signaling that I understood, and he should continue talking. I found myself wondering again why he was pretending as if I was special to him.
“When I was younger, I realized I had an awful, potentially lethal temper. Believe me, it was awful. Always punching holes into walls and puncturing the door with some knife or my fist. I had to do something about it. I felt as though I was losing control, especially when my first love in high school—her name was Daniel—slept with my best friend behind my back. She was my first and I was so in love with her…”
