Authors: Sawyer Belle
Chapter 22
Brent wasn’t sure if anything would come of his first date
with Leann, but when one turned into two, which turned into three, he knew that
it had potential. When the fourth date was decided upon, he felt the budding
relationship was solid enough to tell Mackenna. He had omitted information
about Leann in their previous conversations in case things hadn’t worked out.
He didn’t want to subject himself to her relentless teasing.
As he waited on the phone for her response, he heard the
line go dead. A second later it was filled with the erratic screeching that
told him they had been disconnected. He hung up and dialed her number again.
After four rings, she picked it up.
“What happened?” Brent asked.
"Uh…we just lost connection somehow. Not sure.” She
sounded upset.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m just coming down with something so my
throat’s a little raw.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “Did you hear what I said
before we lost connection?”
“You met someone.”
“Yeah.”
She could hear the smile in
his voice.
“And?”
“And she’s so great. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”
“Meet her?”
“Yeah, at the wedding.”
“You’re getting married!?!” Mackenna felt her heart stop
beating completely until he answered.
“No! Ty and Leslie are! Did you not get your invitation?”
She had, in fact, just that day.
“Oh, yes I did. Sorry, I forgot.”
“Man, you must really be sick. You’re out of it.”
“Yeah, I am,” she answered. “So, I’m going to let you go and
go to sleep. Okay?”
Disappointment washed over him. They had barely started
talking and he had so much to tell her. Still, he could hear that she was
unwell and it would be selfish of him to keep her talking when it burdened her
throat. So, he wished her a swift recovery and bid her good night.
Mackenna held the phone up to her ear long after his voice
had gone. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t even cry. When they’d spoken, every
word from her mouth threatened to unleash a torrent of tears. Now that he was
gone, her tears stayed lodged in her throat and behind her eyes, waiting for
the tiniest crack to let them out.
Instead of the heartache she had expected, she filled with
rage. How dare he? How dare he reel her in with such an intimate friendship,
stoking her love for him, only to throw ice water on the flames with a
declaration like that? How dare he ignite her body beneath his hands and mouth
then leave her wanting? How dare he send her beautiful jewelry and ramen in a
perfect jest? How dare he extract so much from her mind and heart and not know
that she was desperately in love with him?
What did he expect? Did he think she would be happy that
he’d found himself a tart to tangle with? Did he think she would jump with joy
to know that he was offering himself to someone else after she had waited so
patiently? After she had given so unconditionally and completely? The more
sensible side of her interjected that the woman he’d met could be lovely but
she quickly pushed the thought aside. As far as Mackenna was concerned she was
an immoral, idiotic, grasping bimbo who probably had a tight ass and more boobs
than brains.
Soon, rage gave way to reason. Of course Brent would want to
share such news with her. They were best friends.
Friends,
and nothing more to him. Any feelings of love had been imagined, and Mackenna finally
dropped her phone as the all-too-familiar and ugly sting of rejection crept
into her again. Her friendship was about to be tested by his new relationship.
She told herself that she was being selfish to deny him
happiness if he could find it elsewhere. She told herself that it was wrong to
ignore him simply because she hadn’t gotten what she’d wanted. But Lord help
her, she didn’t think she could share in the details of his happiness with
another woman without coming out on the other end in shreds. That very thought
was all it took to break the dam, and the tears finally came.
He tapped his fingers restlessly on the wooden bar. Leann
was twenty-five minutes late and she hadn’t called. He was beginning to wonder
whether he was being stood up or whether something had happened to her. The
place was filling rapidly with people, crowding in to escape the cold. If she
didn’t arrive in five minutes, they would lose their table. He looked
expectantly at the door for the tenth time. The man sitting next to him
followed his gaze and let out a loose, drunken laugh.
“I think you’ve been stood up, my friend.”
Brent scowled and turned away. Another frustrated minute
past and he looked toward the door again. Finally, she came through. Her long
dark hair swirled around her face as the wind blew in behind her. His first
emotion was relief, but it was followed swiftly by irritation when she stood
chatting to the hostess, taking a long time to remove her dress coat and scarf.
A few more moments of banter passed between them before she headed in Brent’s
direction.
She wore a skin-tight black dress that stopped just above
her knees, had long sleeves and a revealingly low-cut V-neck. Her legs looked
even longer and trim by the height of the heels she wore. Her hair fell thickly
down her back and swished around the middle of her waist. She had made up her
face and lined her hazel eyes so that they pierced the dimness of the
restaurant. Despite his irritation, Brent looked her up and down
appreciatively, and she smiled confidently as he did so.
The drunk beside him watched in awe as she walked toward
Brent, then shook his head apologetically.
“She was worth waiting for!” he exclaimed and Brent smiled,
proud that she was his date.
“Hey, babe,” she purred as Brent stood to put an arm around
her and give her a slight peck on the lips.
“You’re late,” he said in a friendly tone.
“Am I?” she pouted. “I guess it took a little longer to get
ready than I thought. I hope you aren’t mad?”
“Not mad,” a mild lie. “Just would have appreciated a call,
that’s all.”
“Sorry, Babe,” she cooed. “Is our table ready yet?”
“Been ready for a half hour now.”
Her features hardened into a determined fit as she crossed
her arms beneath her breasts and huffed indignantly.
“Well, you obviously are mad,” she spat as if she were
unjustly convicted. “I guess I should just leave and not upset you with my bad
manners anymore then!”
She turned to do just that and Brent reached out a hand and
clasped it around her elbow. When she turned her injured frown upon him he
fought the urge to bend her over his knee and spank her for her tantrum.
Instead, he leveled an apologetic look at her.
“I didn’t say I wanted you to leave,” he said. “You just had
me worried. That’s all.”
Her frown eased into a demure smile, happy that he had been
worrying about her.
“Aren’t you just a sweet thing?” she asked rhetorically,
running the tip of her finger promisingly down his cheek.
Despite the physical cravings her touch awoke, he almost
rolled his eyes at the thought of being deemed “sweet.” He led them to the
hostess, who showed them to their table. Every eye was on Leann as she strode
through the place with her chin high, her breasts prominent and her hips
swaying. They had exchanged nothing more than a few goodnight kisses, but he
had a feeling that she intended tonight to be “the night.”
She had never dressed so scantily. She had never gazed so
lustfully. Even the tip of her tongue darted out sensually to wet her bottom
lip just when she knew he was looking. Her fingers brushed his often and
lingered longer than usual. Her nipples strained against the fabric, just as he
knew she had intended. Braless on a cold night had a purpose, and Brent was
sucked in like every other male in sight.
He hadn’t heard a single word of their conversation, but he
would tell anyone that the dinner had been pleasurable indeed. The idea of
seeing her naked, feasting upon that knockout body of hers, had kept him
occupied in a way preferred to conversation. When they had finally finished
eating, she offered what he’d been expecting: an invitation back to her place.
He accepted gladly.
As he followed behind her Subaru in his rusty old pickup,
his groin hardened in hot anticipation. He hadn’t had sex in almost two years.
The closest he had come had been with Mackenna almost a year ago. The thought
wiped the drunken grin from his face as he thought back on that morning for the
first time in nine months.
The memory almost made the erection beating against his
pants soften with guilt as he made his way to Leann’s place. He didn’t know
why. Leann was his girlfriend, a position about to be even more solidified by
the act he’d been dying to partake in with her. His eyes strayed to the time on
the dashboard. It was time for his usual chat with Mackenna.
He picked up the phone to dial her number but held off. They
usually chatted for a good hour at the least and he would be at Leann’s within
minutes. He couldn’t very well tell Mackenna to hold on while he had sex with
his hot girlfriend. No, he would wait until later, when he was on his way home
to call her. He put the phone back down.
If time were measured in heartbeats, hours would have passed
with the thrumming of his pulse as he entered Leann’s apartment. He didn’t
quite know what to expect, but it wasn’t what happened. Almost before the door
had been shut and locked, Leann pounced on him, tearing at his thick blonde
hair with her claws. Her tongue dove into his mouth hungrily.
At first, he was shocked immoveable. His mind was reeling
from such an attack, but his body…his body was responding. He couldn’t remember
ever feeling so hard. She shoved him against the wall and tore at his shirt,
popping several of the buttons off before his chest was bare. His hands
answered her roughness and reached around to clutch at her bottom. She groaned
and pressed herself harder against him, removing more bits of his clothing as
they made their way from the wall to the couch.
Mackenna laid on the bed, her head resting in the crook of
one arm while she stared down the minutes on the clock. Brent usually called at
the same time every night. This night, he was thirty minutes late. She wondered
if she should call the apartment, but decided against it. She did not want to
wake Alora if she were asleep. She’d give him another five minutes,
then
give his cell phone a ring.
Leann shoved him onto the floor, lapping at his nipples with
her moist tongue while her fingers stroked wildly at his erection. Brent ran
his hands up beneath her dress and pushed the fabric up over her hips. His eyes
widened at what he discovered. Commando! Before he could indulge in his next
sinful thought, the soft buzzing of his phone vibrated from his jacket pocket
nearby.
He jerked his gaze toward the sound, a distraction which
irritated Leann. She grabbed his face and turned it back to the chaos of her
kisses. He gently pulled his face away from hers, but she fought him to make
contact again. He held her up and she huffed with impatience and anger.
“I need to see if it’s my mom,” he explained and she
relented and moved off of him.
He rolled over and dug through the pocket until he found the
phone. He held it up to the light and saw Mackenna’s name blinking back at him.
Again, that shock of guilt swept through him and he couldn’t force himself to
reject the call. He stared at her name long enough that Leann peered at the
phone over his shoulder.
“Who’s Mackenna?” she asked. “Is that your mom?”
“No,” he answered, stamping out the irritation that she
didn’t even know his mom’s name when he was sure he'd mentioned it before.
“She’s a friend.”
“Well, okay then,” she said and grabbed the phone from him,
hit the reject button and tossed the gadget aside. Brent frowned only slightly
before she set her hands and mouth to easing his troubles.
Mackenna listened as the rings went to voicemail. She left a
simple message for him to call her and let her know that he was okay, and then
hung up the phone. Five minutes later, she called again with the same result.
She gave it one more shot just before the turn of the hour and then she shut
her phone off and climbed beneath the covers, sending up silent prayers that he
was all right.
Chapter 23
“Well, she is certainly a persistent little thing, isn’t
she?” Leann said an hour later, once their lust had been well and truly sated.
They were lying on the floor with bits of clothing scattered about the room
like the remnants of a windstorm.
“Who?”
Brent asked, barely
conscious after his exertions.
“Makayla,” she said. “She wouldn’t stop calling you.”
“You mean Mackenna,” he corrected.
“Whatever,” she answered. “She was calling you pretty late,
don’t you think?”
“Hmm…” he mused with his eyes closed heavily. “Not really.
This is usually the time we talk to each other.”
Leann looked at him lying beside her, wilted and satisfied,
glowing in the aftereffects of good, hard sex. She shoved her elbow into his
ribs and his eyes flew open in response.
“What was that for?” he said, stunned.
“I’m lying here, seething with jealousy and you’re drifting
off to la-la land like it’s no big deal.”
He smiled. “Why are you jealous? I told you Mackenna was
just a friend.”
“A friend you talk
to
late at
night?”
“Yep.”
“Every night?”
“Pretty much.”
“Hmph,” she said with a pout before she stood up and walked
away from her. Brent admired her shapely behind as she did so. Then, he
laughed.
“What’s the big deal?” he asked.
She threw on a robe and tied it around her waist as her
features hardened.
“I’m not stupid enough to buy that you talk to a girl who is
just a friend every night. No one has friends like that.” She held her fingers
up in makeshift quotation marks when she spat the word “friends.”
“I don’t have
friends
like that,” he mimicked the gesture. “I have one friend like that, and she’s my
best friend. So, stop worrying.”
“I just don’t think it’s appropriate,” she said with a
sneer. “How would you feel if I had some guy calling me while we were having
sex? Would you feel like my mind was truly and wholly on you?”
Brent thought for a moment, and the idea did not bother him,
but he knew that was not the answer she was looking for, so he hedged.
“Trust me, my mind was definitely on you.”
He stood and went to her. She had turned her back on him and
he wrapped his arms around her from behind. His shaft was already beginning to
stir with the memories of the past hour. She felt it and began to soften like
warm butter against him. As they picked up where they left off, all talk of
Mackenna went out the window.
Mackenna scrubbed her last table at the coffee shop and
threw the dirty rag into a pile of more dirty rags. Her apron soon followed and
she set about gathering her textbooks and notebooks.
One of
her co-workers, the only one who had worked there longer than she had,
approached the table.
She had bobbed black hair and painted her face
with so much makeup that she looked like a pin-up girl. She wore glasses with
thick, black frames and sported full-sleeve tattoos on each arm.
“You should change your mind, Mackenna,” she said. “Come out
with us. It’ll be fun.”
“Thanks, Stacey,” Mackenna replied with a cheerful smile. “I
really appreciate the offer, but I’ve already made plans. Let me know the next
time, though, and I’m definitely there.”
“That’s too bad,” Stacey said with a shake of her head. “I
wasn't supposed to say anything, but Krista had a cake made for you. She was
going to bring it to surprise you.”
Guilt stabbed her and she looked down at her watch, trying
to conjure more time. In the end, she shook her head again.
“I feel horrible not going, but there’s not enough time for
me to go and then be back at my place by ten. Tell everyone thank you for me,
though. I really appreciate it.”
“All righty, then,” Stacey quipped.
“Happy
birthday!”
Mackenna thanked her again and then made her exit. Her
nineteenth birthday was far warmer than her eighteenth. There was no snow this
year and the spring had sprouted up quickly after a very mild winter. She’d had
lunch with her parents in a restaurant on the Truckee River earlier that day,
and was now anxious for the last bit that would make the day complete. She had
a half hour before Brent was going to call and she didn’t want to risk missing
it by being in a noisy club.
Their phone calls had become more and more sporadic in the
past two months, to the point where she never knew which days he would call, or
if he did, what time. She knew their dwindling contact had to do with Leann.
Ugh.
Leann
. She repeated the name
aloud in a mocking, high-pitched voice. She was tired of hearing about her.
The one good thing about talking to Brent less was that she
had to hear less about Leann. By this point, Mackenna knew all about the
long-haired brunette who worked as a full-time yoga instructor. She knew how
they met at a bar on New Year’s Eve that Ty and Leslie had dragged Brent to.
She could kill them for it. She knew how Leann loved Bruce Springstein and
romantic
comedies,
how she couldn’t stand pets that
shed so she had a goldfish named Archie. She knew that Leann was a vegetarian,
a
pisces
and that she hated Montana. For God’s sake,
Mackenna even knew how the woman’s occupation benefited their bedroom play.
Every time she replayed hers and Brent’s conversations about that particular
topic she nearly vomited.
Each time Brent spoke of Leann, Mackenna had been on the
verge of hanging up the phone. The tip of her tongue had been downright crowded
with all of the venomous words she had for that woman and the man she’d stolen.
But Mackenna never said a word. She was the very model of support and listened
patiently as Brent rambled away, each word chipping away at her heart.
It wouldn’t last. She kept telling herself that this sorry
excuse for a relationship between Brent and Leann would die a natural death.
They just didn’t seem suited. Clearly, the sex was good, a thought that made
her cringe, but what other substance was there? Mackenna could not glean any
from their conversations.
The last time she spoke with Brent had been exactly a week
ago. He had told her that he didn’t know if he would be available to call her
before her birthday, but that he would definitely call her at ten o’clock on
the actual day. She had teased him, saying he’d be too busy with Leann to think
of her, but he repeated himself adamantly. He would call.
She surfed through her three channels on the TV, knowing
she’d find nothing of interest, but it passed the time quickly. She held her
phone in one hand, the remote control in the other. The minutes ticked by like
tedious drips from a faucet. When the designated hour finally came, the phone
sat silently in her palm. She switched off the TV and stared at the cell.
Nothing.
Fifteen minutes passed, then another fifteen without a call.
Her spirits sank lower until the ring finally cried out to her. She nearly
dropped the phone from the start it gave her. She didn’t even look at the receiver,
she just answered.
“Hey!” It was Stacey. Mackenna sighed.
“Hey, Stacey.
What’s up?”
“The whole gang is here and we wanted to try and convince
you to come out with us.”
She could hear loud music and muffled voices in the
background. Suddenly the chorus of six friendly voices shouted through the
phone.
“Happy birthday to you!
Happy
birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Mackenna!
Happy
birthday to you!”
“Come out with us!” someone yelled.
“We gotta cake and everything!” another said.
Mackenna smiled in genuine appreciation and glanced once
again at the clock. It had only been a half hour. Brent was probably just held
up. It was calving season, after all. She was sure he was going to call.
“Thanks, guys,” she answered the voices. “I really love you
guys! We’ll go out some other time. I promise. You guys are the best.”
She called out the last sentence over rising protests and
then said her goodbyes and hung up. She watched the clock for another two
minutes before she decided that it would not do to sit still and wait. She got
up and cleaned up the small mess that had accumulated around the space. She
made herself a cup of tea and browsed headlines on the Internet. She read a
magazine, all the while ignoring the voice in the back of her head whispering that
she’d been forgotten.
Finally, at midnight, she shook her head woefully at the
phone, as if it could convey the message of her hurt to Brent. She normally
powered it down when she slept, but she decided to leave it on in case he
called later. She switched off the light and curled up under the covers. She
was able to fall asleep eventually, but only into that twilight stage where
half of her conscious was resting while the other tuned into the world without.
It was a restless night. He never called.
The next day her phone rang in the middle of the afternoon.
Despite her sorrow, despite her disappointment, her heart leapt to see his name
on the caller ID. She answered it without hesitation.
“Hey!” he said.
“Well, hello there,” she answered back.
“Are you busy right now, or can you talk?”
“I’ve got ten minutes ‘til I leave for my next class.”
“Well, that’ll have to do then,” he said. “So, how was your
night last night?”
She wrinkled her brow, confused. Was this a trick question? “Well,
to be honest, it was pretty freakin’ disappointing and miserable.”
“Really?” he sounded surprised. “That’s not good. What
happened?”
“Nothing,” she said, irritation hardening her voice. “That’s
the point.”
“Well, you really shouldn’t work and study so hard,” was his
reply. “You need to take some time to do stuff. Enjoy life.”
“Excuse me?” she said, making a face at the phone. “Where is
my friend Brent Thompson? What have you done to him?”
“What are you talking about?” Irritation crept into his own
voice.
“I shouldn’t work so hard?” she repeated sarcastically.
“Since when do you stare down your nose at hard work? Oh wait, I know.
Ever since you started filling your days and nights with yoga!”
“Whoa!” he shot back. “What’s going on with you?”
“What were
you
doing last night, Brent?!” she shot back, reining in as much of her rage as she
could.
“Where do you think I was? I was with Leann.”
“Doing what?”
“Why are you asking me this?” he asked, feeling at once
bristled and annoyed at her attitude.
“We’re friends, aren’t we? You’ve never had a problem
telling me all the details about your nights with Leann before. What’s the
problem now?”
She was baiting him, he knew. He just didn’t know why. He
decided to just be honest…with a little bit of an edge.
“Fine.
We had dinner at her place,
enjoyed that nice bottle of Sauvignon Blanc that you got me and then we spent
the night having wild sex.”
Mackenna gasped, the inhalation filled at once with jealous
rage and heartache. He drank
their
wine with that whore?!
“Well, you know what I was doing Brent?! I was sitting in my
apartment alone, listening to my
real
friends begging me to come out with them and celebrate, listening to them sing
Happy Birthday to me, refusing to join them so that I could sit at home,
pathetically listening to the dead air around me while I spent the whole night
waiting for your INCONSIDERATE ASS to call!”
She hung up the phone and threw it onto the bed. Fury welled
up inside of her until she picked up a coffee mug and hurled it across the room
into the wall, where it shattered. She hated this. She hated this person she
had become, the way her one-sided love for Brent had twisted her personality. She
was not a spiteful, judgmental, negative person. But that’s who she had become
and she felt it eating away at her like rot in her belly.
Her phone rang. She glanced down and saw Brent’s name on the
screen. Without a thought, she grabbed it and sent it flying the way of the
coffee mug. It was silenced forever. Tears of rage flowed over her flushed
cheeks. What was she holding onto him for? What was she getting out of his
friendship?
Misery and heartache.
She could not even
comfort herself with hope of their future. She felt that slipping away from
them with each phone call.
“Just let it go,” Leann soothed. “I mean, she can’t expect
you to be available to her whenever she wants. You’re with someone now. She’s
going to have to learn to take a backseat.”
Brent sighed, his own thoughts at war.
“She
has
taken a
backseat,” he defended. “We used to talk every night. Now, we barely talk once
a week. I broke my word to her. I mean, seriously, I forgot her birthday. What
kind of friend does that?”
“The kind who is completely obsessed with his girlfriend,”
she answered as she sucked gently on one of his fingers. He scowled and pulled
his hand from her, not at all liking her use of the word “obsessed.”
“Stop,” he said. “This is not a joke. Mackenna has been a
true friend. She deserves better than the way I’ve treated her.”
Leann huffed and stood with a roll of her eyes. She moved
around the room, blowing out candles she had lit strategically.
“What are you doing?” Brent asked.
“Forgive me if talking about your teenage girlfriend doesn’t
exactly turn me on.” She spat the words impatiently. “It’s obvious we’re not
going to be having sex tonight with the mood you’re in, so you might as well
leave.”
Brent flinched. “Are you kidding?” he asked, somewhat in
disbelief.
“Look,” Leann began, “I’ve heard enough about Mackenna to
last a lifetime. Are you with me or not? If you’re with me, I don’t want to
spend our time together talking about her. You really don’t even need her now
that you’re with me. I mean, what can you possibly get out of befriending a
teenager except for maybe the fulfillment of some perverted fantasy?”