Temptation

by Smeltzer, Micalea

  “Just dropping this off,” I say, handing her the article.

  Her critical eye scans it and she smiles, pleased, which makes my heart leap with happiness.

  “Good job, Sloane. You always impress me. I know this isn’t the kind of journalism you want to do but you do it well. I don’t have anything else for you to do today if you want to head on home. We’ll all be out of here in an hour anyway.”

  “Oh, okay,” I say failing to mask my disappointment. Home, or should I say Siva’s flat, was not a place I wanted to go. Not right now at least.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She smiles, shooing me away with her eyes. Clearly, I’m dismissed.

  I give her a small, forced smile in return and close her office door behind me.

  “Bye, Mac,” I say packing up my laptop.

  “You heading out already?” he asks.

  “Yep,” I said. “April didn’t have anything else for me to do.”

  “You can finish my article,” he jokes, spinning a pen around his fingers.

  I laugh. “I think it kind of defeats the purpose of doing your job.”

  “You’re right, of course. I’ll see you in the morning. Maybe we can get those drinks tomorrow?” he suggests eagerly.

  I clamp my lips shut tight so the groan I’m suppressing won’t emerge.

  “Maybe.” I shrug, my half answer clearly not what he wants to hear, and I skedaddle out of there before he adds anything else to his endless list of, “things Mac wants to do with Sloane.”

  I sling my messenger bag across my body and put my purse on my shoulder. I stride out the double doors but pause when I see the black Porsche parked by the curb.

  A man hops out of the driver’s seat that’s not Siva. I pause and the man smiles at me. He’s tall, not as tall as Siva though, and very muscular with blond hair. He wears a pair of nice dress pants and a dress shirt. He’s good looking with a nice smile and looks about Siva’s age.

  “I’m Jacob,” he says, extending his hand. “I’m a friend and business partner of Siva’s.”

  “Where is Siva?” I ask, taking his hand and looking around like maybe the hulking, brooding, man is hiding behind the trashcan or light post.

  Jacob doesn’t answer me and instead helps me into the car and then climbs in himself.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten in the car with a man I don’t know, but there’s something about Jacob that puts me at ease. I’m surprised he’s friend’s with Siva. Already his personality seems the complete opposite of his.

  “Where’s Siva?” I ask again. “I could’ve gotten a taxi,” I add defensively. I don’t want Siva or this guy thinking I can’t fend for myself because I can. I did it with Dev and before him. I’m not a damsel in distress.

  “He has to work late. He’s a busy man,” he states, but gives me a smile. “And I’m sure he knows you can take care of yourself, but it gave him peace of mind to know you’d be taken care of.”

  “Oh,” I say quietly.

  Jacob eases out in the London traffic and navigates his way to Siva’s flat. I sit back into the plush leather seat and close my eyes. I pinch the bridge of my nose. I can feel a headache coming on. Great.

  “We’re here, Sloane,” says Jacob what feels like a few minutes later. His deep voice startles me awake. I must have dozed off. Some company I am.

  “Oh, sorry,” I mumble, climbing out of the car.

  He chuckles. “It’s no problem.”

  He follows me onto the elevator.

  “I’m fine,” I say, waving him on, “you can go.”

  He laughs. “You don’t have a key.”

  “Oh, right.” I blush an unhealthy shade of red at my stupidity.

  He laughs once more. “Plus, Siva asked me to stay until he gets home.”

  I narrow my eyes at Jacob. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

  He looks me up and down. “No, you certainly don’t.”

  Thankfully, the doors slide open and Jacob opens the door to the apartment. Immediately, I notice my boxes no longer cover the floor. For a moment I worry someone has taken my stuff but then I figure Siva probably has a maid and she moved my stuff. Jacob walks down the hall to the family room and a moment later I hear the TV come on.

  “Don’t mind me,” he hollers, “pretend I’m not even here.”

  I release an undignified sound and go upstairs to my room.

  Siva will definitely be getting a mouthful about this later. I don’t need his friend watching me. That’s insane. I pause on the stairs. Maybe he’s worried I might steal something? I know he doesn’t know me, but surely he doesn’t think I’m that kind of person, especially after he’s been kind enough to let me live here.

  I open the door to find all my stuff has been moved up here but I don’t see the point in unpacking anything. I’ll live out of my boxes for now. Since I don’t plan on being here long it’ll be easier when I leave to already have things I don’t use daily packed away.

  I dump my purse and messenger bag on the bed heading into the bathroom for a shower. This time I don’t collapse on the floor in a useless heap of nothingness.

  When I get out of the shower I brush my teeth, longer and more vigorously than normal, because dammit I’m still pissed at Siva. His behavior is wearing on me. I’ve barely been around him twenty-four hours and already I have dark circles under my eyes and my skin looks sallow and unhealthy.

  He’s the most frustrating man I’ve ever met. He’s going to kill me, I know it.

  I’m already starting to resemble a walking corpse.

  I leave the bathroom behind, flicking off the light, and change into a pair of blue and white striped sleep shorts and a plain white t-shirt. My stomach rumbles and I pad down the stairs quietly—if Siva is home, I want to avoid him at all costs.

  The downstairs is quiet, but I listen for a minute anyway. I then tiptoe into the kitchen and rummage through the cabinets for something to eat for dinner. I’m tired and cranky, so I don’t feel like making anything, so I opt to eat a bowl of cereal.

  I’m so fancy, I know.

  I eat my cereal at the bar top and clean everything up when I’m done. I even go so far as to wipe down the countertops so there’s no trace I was even here.

  I don’t feel like going back upstairs and hiding in my room, even if it’s exactly what I should do. Instead, I venture down the hall to the family room. At this point I don’t care if Jacob is still hanging out in there. I can’t stay shut up in my room another minute. If the only walls I see are of that room and my work place I will need to be admitted to a psych ward by the end of the week. I can guarantee it.

  Hopefully if I watch some TV it’ll calm me down. Watching TV seems like a normal, innocent enough activity.

  When I open the door Jacob is no longer there. It doesn’t mean he’s not somewhere else in the flat though.

  The family room has light brown walls, a comfy looking dark brown couch, shag carpets, a fireplace and a large TV. Overall, it’s pretty cozy looking. The kind of place I can see myself curling up with a good book in.

  I’m immediately intimidated by all the remotes and blinking lights. I might have been irritated with Siva but it doesn’t mean I want to break his very expensive TV. I study all the remotes and finally figure out which one goes to the TV. I change the channel until I find something I can halfway enjoy. I settle on some kind of pop idol show.

  I curl my legs under me and wrap myself in a purple blanket I found slung across the back of the couch. I snuggle under the blanket. It smells like Siva. I find myself inhaling the scent like I need it to live and instantly get mad at myself. I throw the blanket off of me and resolve to be cold. Better to be cold than to be sniffing the blanket like I want to get high.

  The show finishes and I change the channel to some home decorating show. I grab one of the decorative pillows and lie down. It’s getting late but I’m not ready to go to bed. My eyes become heavy and I finally fall asleep.

  “Fuck!” someone yells
followed by the telltale thump of something heavy crashing to the floor. “Ow! That hurt!”

  I sit up startled. I try to stand up but fall to the floor. Somehow in my sleep, I wrapped the Siva-scented blanket around my body. I quickly turn the TV off and toss the blanket back onto the couch.

  “Oh, shit, I think I’m bleeding.”

  I run out into the hall looking for the source of all the commotion.

  A slumped form leans against the door.

  “Siva!” I exclaim.

  Jacob comes running from the downstairs bedroom. He’s only wearing a pair of sweatpants and his hair is mussed from sleep.

  “Siva?” asks Jacob in surprise. From the expression on his face I assume he has never seen Siva like this before.

  Siva begins to laugh and the laugh soon turns into a tune as he sings a Beatles song. After singing a little of the chorus he frowns and mumbles. “I don’t have any friends. I’m all alone. All I do is push people away. Push, push, push. Just like I did with you,” he says, getting to his knees. He puts his arms around my waist and buries his head in my stomach. I gently stroke his soft black hair. Moisture begins to soak my shirt. “Nobody’s ever cared about me. I try so hard to be good, to work hard, I want someone to be proud of me,” he cries like a small child. “I’m never good enough.”

  “Siva, you’re drunk,” I state unnecessarily.

  He rubs his head against my white cotton shirt.

  “I know,” he says softly, “and I need a cigarette. But I promised myself I would stop for you.”

  I look pleadingly at Jacob. I can’t help a drunk Siva on my own.

  “Can you help me get him to his room?”

  “Certainly,” says the clearly shocked man. “Come on, Siva,” he adds, pulling Siva’s arms from around my torso. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  Jacob and I manage to get Siva up the stairs and into his room. Even with Jacob’s muscle it’s a struggle because drunk Siva does very little help to us.

  His bedroom screams luxury but with the very drunk man passed out on the bed I don’t have the time to take in the details. I pull off his shoes and turn accusingly to Jacob.

  “Did you know about this?” I snap at him.

  He looks at Siva and then at me. “No,” he says softly. Jacob sighs and rubs his head. “Siva asked me to stay with you. He said he had a meeting and wouldn’t be back until late. He’s never done anything like this before so I believed him.”

  “Well clearly,” I say, putting my hands on my hips, “he didn’t go to a meeting.”

  “Clearly,” echoes Jacob, eyeing my shirt.

  “What?” I ask.

  “There’s blood on your shirt,” he states.

  “Blood?” I repeat, stunned, and look down at my white shirt. There’s indeed blood on my shirt where Siva had rubbed his face.

  “Siva,” I say coaxingly.

  He moans drunkenly and mumbles something that isn’t English and I’m pretty sure it’s not a language at all.

  I turn on the light beside his bed so I can see his face.

  Several cuts lacerate his face.

  “Siva,” I say gently. I turn to Jacob. “Help me get him to the shower?”

  Jacob drapes Siva’s arm across his shoulder and drags him into the bathroom. His bathroom is much like mine, only bigger and beige. Jacob deposits Siva on the bench seat in the shower.

  “Thanks,” I say, turning to the man. “I’ve got it from here.”

  “You sure?”

  “If I need you I’ll yell.” I smile kindly at them.

  He leaves then, and I stare down at Siva with my hands on my hips.

  “I guess this is payback,” I mutter to myself.

  Siva leans his head back against the beige tile and groans.

  “What have you done?” I ask, taking in his ragged appearance.

  He moans in answer. His eyes are closed and he looks miserable.

  “Did you get into a fight with a biker?” I joke, but he still doesn’t answer.

  I grab a washcloth and step inside the massive shower, bending down to unbutton his shirt. Somehow, since he won’t help, I manage to get the garment off his wide shoulders and toss it behind me.

  “What happened to you?” I whisper, still not expecting an answer.

  Tiny white scars pepper his chest and arms and something tells me they might go even lower. Each one is a different, unique shape, almost jagged. They’re nothing like I’ve ever seen before and they’re all similar colors which tells me they must’ve happened at the same time to heal at the same rate.

  “Oh, Siva,” I whisper into my hand, tears pricking my eyes.

  He still doesn’t stir.

  I’m a big believer in circumstances making people how they are. I’ve never doubted something bad happened to Siva to make him like he is and this is further proof he’s been through hell and back.

  I unbuckle his belt and slide his black slacks off and toss them onto the floor with his shirt. I leave him in his underwear and turn the water on. Cold.

  “What the fuck?” he exclaims, coming awake.

  “Language, Siva,” I scold.

  “That’s fucking cold!” he cries.

  “I’m aware,” I say, “I am in here with you.” I was also aware my white shirt was now drenched. I crossed my arms over my chest. “You know, we’ve really got to stop meeting like this,” I joke to lessen the severity of the situation. “What happened to your face?”

  He groans in response—not like he’s in pain, but like he doesn’t want to answer.

  “Tell me,” I coax. The cold water of the shower is beginning to make me shiver but I’m scared to leave him in here by himself.

  “Can you turn the hot water on at least?” he pleads, shielding his eyes from the ice pellets.

  I gladly comply.

  “So what happened?” I prompt.

  Siva rubs his face. “I was pissed. At myself, at you, at the world,” he laughs cynically. “So, I did what I always do. I drink. I was even more on edge because I desperately needed a cigarette. So, I was sitting there in the bar drinking when that man from your work came in.”

  “Mac?” I ask, puzzled.

  “I don’t bloody know,” he hisses, waving his hand dismissively. “His name hardly matters. The fucker started talking about you. He said some things … I’ll spare you the details. I didn’t like it so I confronted him and there you have it,” he says, motioning to his face. He suddenly grins. “On the bright side, he looks a whole lot worse.”

  I shake my head.

  Men.

  “So, you were what? Defending my honor?” I ask, disgusted.

  “Exactly,” he says, snapping his fingers.

  “Siva, you don’t need to do that,” I scold. “I’m a big girl.”

  “You didn’t hear what he said,” growls Siva. “It was disgusting and disrespectful.”

  “He’s still my co-worker,” I whisper. “I have to see him every day.”

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

  “Are you?” I ask.

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so,” I whisper, shaking my head. I fight a smile though, because despite wanting to be mad at him he’s kind of cute right now.

  Siva rubs at his face and the dried blood.

  “Here, let me help you.” I grab the washcloth and wet it before dabbing gently at his face.

  “Are you mad at me?” he asks softly, placing his hand over mine.

  “Furious,” I say, but I can’t help my smile.

  He laughs gruffly. “I really shouldn’t drink. Or smoke. Or breathe for that matter.”

  “Siva,” I scold. “How could you say something like that?”

  “You know those stories little kids read? The ones where the princess always falls in love with the handsome prince despite the bad guy’s effort to thwart it?”

  “Yeah,” I say, wondering where he’s going with this.

  “I’m not the handsome prince. I’m the bad gu
y.”

  “I don’t think that. I think you are the handsome prince. After all, you did rescue me from the bad guy,” I laugh lightly.

  “I’ve never been the good guy. Why would I start now?” He suddenly bends over at the hips and put his head in his hands. “Ugh, my head hurts,” he moans.

  “Let me finish cleaning you up and then we’ll get some medicine in your system and lots of water. Deal?”

  “You don’t have to do this, Sloane,” he says quietly.

  “I know.”

  “Then why are you?” he asks.

  “Because, Siva,” I say, staring into his violet eyes, “sometimes people do things because they want to.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, oh,” I say, wiping the dried blood from his face.

  He closes his eyes and his tense muscles relax.

  “What is it with us and showers?”

  I laugh. “This has been a very eventful two days. But, Siva,” I say, and he opens his violet eyes to meet my gold ones, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “Good.” He smiles once more and then close his eyes.

  I squirt some sort of fancy body wash onto the cloth and begin to scrub his body. Seeing all those scars crisscrossing his body breaks my heart. I want to ask him about them but I figure it can wait. I don’t want to push him too far.

  I scrub his chest when I notice a tattoo over his breast bone.

  Saia.

  Jealousy bubbles like a hideous monster in my chest. I’m thankful he has his eyes closed so he can’t see my face. I’m sure it’s contorted in some form of jealousy. What could this girl have meant to him if he has her name tattooed on his chest? She has to mean something important to him.

  I realize then I want to mean something to him. I want to hold a special place in his heart. Even after only two days he already holds a special place in mine.

  “Do you want me to wash your hair?” I ask.

  “Please.”

  I grab the bottle of shampoo and lather it into my hands. I dig my fingernails into his scalp and massage gently.

  He moans in response. “That feels great.”