Moore to Lose (5 page)

Wham to the solar plexus. Why did it still hurt so badly? Feel so fresh. Breathe. Take in air. “Ok.” Her voice was little more than a croak.

“Can I take a message?”

“No. No message. Thanks.” And she hung up the phone.

Mia just stared at the phone in her lap. The pain searing though her heart was as profound as it had been on her last morning in California. Her emotions were at a pitch so severe as the walls inched toward her, their speed increasing, ready to cave in on her, as bile rose from the hurt in her gut, blistering her esophagus. She made it as far as the trash can under her desk before she was sick, and there she stayed, under her desk, knees drawn to her chest.

So, it was true. He was with CJ. He’d always been with CJ. The tears flowed as she relived the memories, combing through all of their moments together, trying to figure out how she’d missed out on his deception. He had warned her he was good at acting. Why hadn’t she seen that as a red flag? He seemed so sincere. And the way he took care of her and protected her – it wasn’t real? Why the elaborate ruse?

Lying on the floor, Mia thought of the last time she’d slept on the floor and the memory elicited another round of body wracking sobs. The last time she’d slept on the floor it was with her head on his chest, wrapped up in his arms. The first time they’d kissed.

“Oh Baby Girl, you have no idea what you do to me.”

“It’s smoochal.”

How could that have
not
been real, Mia wondered. How could she ever trust herself again if she couldn’t have figured that one out? How could it have not been real, she asked herself over and over again and it was that thought that plagued her as she fell asleep. What did I miss and how could I have missed it?

As Beau hung up the phone, the door to the dorm room opened, causing him to jump. A sweat-drenched Schooner entered, fresh from his nightly run on the track. With his uncasted left hand, he pulled off his black knit cap and Walkman earphones.

“Who was that?” he asked, since Beau never received phone calls.

“No one. Just a guy from my chem class.” His lie was smooth.

Schooner nodded and grabbed a towel as he headed to the shower.

“You look like shit.” Rob’s smirk was annoying.

“How many pitchers did we drink?” Mia dramatically threw herself onto a couch in the Student Center.

“Too many for your lightweight ass.” Rob was most amused. “So did you call Romeo last night?”

Mia’s eyes immediately filled with tears and she nodded. “He was off with the girlfriend.”

“Are you just assuming that?” Rob’s brows knit together skeptically as he dug through his blue nylon and suede JanSport backpack for his Marlboros.

“That’s what his roommate told me.”

“You need to hear it from him, Mia.” He sat back on the couch and dragged deeply on his cigarette, watching the smoke curl in the air, before looking back at Mia. “I was thinking about you last night. You’re a tough, pretty together chick, so why would this have you so shredded. There’s something missing here.”

Is this fucker psychic? Or attuned to me? Or does my story just not add up – because it doesn’t add up to me either.

Mia took a deep breath, “Last year I was attacked and raped,” she watched the shock and concern flash across Rob’s denim eyes, “by two men who grabbed me when I left the darkroom on campus. It was a shitty night to start with – it was the night of the big spring formal and I was in the darkroom alone. And then that happened. I was trying to get back to my dorm and Schooner found me. He and I hadn’t talked for months and he was back with her – or I assumed he was anyway, and when he saw what had happened to me, he made me go to the hospital. We walked there in the middle of the night and he stayed with me and then, after that, he just moved in with me – he just never left my side for the rest of the semester. He was very protective of me. He told me that he never stopped loving me,” she had to stop to pull her shit together so that she wouldn’t cry.

“And he went back to his old girlfriend?” Mia looked up and nodded at Rob. “Something’s not adding up here. He’s either the biggest motherfucker who has ever walked the face of the Earth or there’s been a colossal miscommunication or you’ve been lied to. You need to talk to him, Mia.”

She wiped at her traitorous tears. There was no way in hell she was calling again. She was not going to chase a guy who left her for another girl. Fuck that shit.

“Did you ever go for counseling or anything after the attack?” Mia shook her head, no. “You need to talk to somebody,” his tenor was adamant.

“I’m handling it,” eyes and tone defiant.

“Not! Seriously, Mia. Sounds like after you were raped, you just kind of let this guy take care of you, protect you. But did you ever really deal with what happened that night?”

Damn you, Rob Ryan for being so fucking smart. Mia had not even realized that she’d pushed the rape far down into the dark recesses of her psyche, behind a padlocked door, instead of acknowledging and confronting the pain and devastation of that evening. Falling asleep in the safety of Schooner’s strong arms to the words, “I never stopped loving you, Baby Girl. Not for a minute” was what she had focused on to move forward. And from that day on, she had never looked back. But at what price, she just now realized. Those demons were going to escape at some point and wander through the labyrinth of her brain, wreaking havoc at every intersection.

Rob stubbed out his cigarette in an aluminum foil ashtray. “You’re as fucked up as I am. Awesome. We’re going to write great shit together.” He pulled a copy of Woody Allen’s
Without Feathers
ⁱⁱⁱ
out of his backpack and tossed it at Mia.

Mia’s devil smile spread rapidly, “Let’s do “Match Wits With Inspector Ford.”
^iv
She didn’t miss a beat and hadn’t even cracked the cover of the book to look at content.

“Impressed, Silver. Very impressed.”

“As you should be, Ryan.”

Mia and Rob spent the next three hours crafting the first of many pieces they would write as a team. Their odd senses of humor meshed seamlessly as they churned out page after page of humorous material. Their earlier heart wrenching conversation was now a million miles away on a distant horizon replaced with wry quips and side splitting laughter.

They were in the midst of a laughing jag, unaware of those around them, when Tom Sheehan approached.

“My two star students goofing off?” he reproached.

“Never,” a ballsy Mia countered, “We’re actually working on your assignment.”

Tom picked up the copy of Woody Allen’s book. “You guys are doing Woody Allen?” He leafed through the book, “Now that is something I never would’ve expected.”

“Expect the unexpected from us.” Mia looked from Rob to Tom. The look in Tom’s eyes caught her by surprise. What was she seeing? She couldn’t quite identify it, but it made her squirm and suddenly she felt very uncomfortable.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to creating.” He tossed the book back onto the couch. “Ryan,” he nodded at Rob (addressing him for the first time), “Mia.” Another head nod and he was gone.

“What the fuck was that?” Mia made a face at Rob. “Was that as weird as I think it was?”

Rob grabbed for his pack of Marlboros. “I don’t think he liked seeing us having fun together.”

Mia looked at Rob quizzically. “What the fuck is that about?”

“I think our prof has got a crush on you, Silver.” Rob looked very serious, as he dragged deeply on his cigarette.

“Oh please, he’s fucking half the class.” Mia sneered at Rob.

“But he ain’t got you, Babe.” She could see the wheels in Rob’s head turning.

She placed her hand on his forearm and turned to face him full on. “He’s not going to come between us, Rob. And I’m not going to let him fuck with you or your grade over some bullshit testosterone thing. I’ll blow him if I have to so that he leaves you alone.” A slow devil smile emerging, as she was clearly amused by her own joke.

“How magnanimous of you,” he choked on the smoke he had inhaled, not expecting Mia’s gracious offering.

“That’s just the kind of chick I am,” she laughed.

He reached over and ruffled her hair.

No one was going to get in the way of her new friendship with Rob and certainly not Tom Sheehan. As much as he excited her with his dangerous good looks and lofty intellect, that was a man who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. That would not be a good follow-up to the debacle with Schooner Moore. Other women would not be a good thing for Mia Silver’s head and she knew it.

“You sound like shit. Have you eaten anything today?” Mia asked Rob, as she hastily threw her books into her backpack. “Do you want me to bring you something after I meet with Tom?”

Rob coughed into the phone and Mia held it away from her ear. “No. I’m good.”

“Damn, that sounds like a bark. I’ll pick up soup and bring it to you.”

“You don’t have to.”

Mia was rolling her eyes on the other end of the phone. “Keep up the martyr shit and I won’t. I’ll see you in a few hours. Keep your fingers crossed that he likes this piece better than last week’s.”

As Mia made her way across campus to the Student Center, she could feel the first hints of spring in the air. The air smelled different, it was heavier as the balmy evening approached. Winter would soon be a memory, she was smiling to herself as she watched the last vestiges of a pink sunset begin its ruby decline.

“I like seeing you smile.” He surprised her as he fell into step next to her. “I have a habit of surprising and startling you, don’t I?”

“I guess I just get lost in my head sometimes. It feels like spring tonight, doesn’t it.”

Tom smiled at Mia, pleased with her simple observation, “Yes it does. So, where’s your sidekick?”

Sidekick? What was his issue with Rob? He’d been snarky about him since the fall. “He’s got a really nasty spring cold. I’m going to bring him some soup later.”

“You are the dutiful little girlfriend.” Tom’s tone had a snide edge to it.

Mia stopped in her tracks. Tom followed suit and turned to her, surprised. I could be fucking up my grade, the thought flashed at the forefront of her consciousness, but oh well, it is what it is.

“I’m not a ‘dutiful girlfriend’,” her tone dripped with sarcasm, “I’m a good friend. And you know why, because that is just who I am and because he has been there for me this entire school year, and you putting us together was the best thing in the world that could’ve happened to me. So, thank you, Tom, because without Rob’s friendship this year would’ve sucked.”

Tom held his place, as Mia leaned toward him with an aggressive stance, hands on hips, eyes telegraphing nails. His smile was slow and his eyes narrowed. “Well it appears the correct response would be, you’re welcome.” And with that he put his hand on her lower back and ushered Mia into the Student Center.

“Let’s work in the pub tonight,” Tom suggested and started to descend the staircase, “I think we could both use a drink.” He navigated through the crowded pub to a small table against the wall, put his leather Danish schoolbag down and headed to the bar, leaving Mia behind at the table.

Tom returned with two plastic cups of red wine. Mia had already laid out the current assignment for review. “I’m sorry, Tom, that was really rude and disrespectful of me before.”

He leveled Mia a glance, a smoldering glance, she thought and the slow, bad boy smile, “Well, if I’m honest, it wasn’t totally undeserved.”

Mia looked down, feeling uncomfortable and suddenly shy, and picked at the napkin below her wine. She looked up to face him and plastered a smile on her face. “I hope you like this week’s assignment better than last week’s. I don’t think I could handle another tongue lashing like last week.”

Tom laughed and sat back in his chair. Taking a hearty sip of the bad college wine, he leveled another glance at Mia. “I think you’d do just fine handling another tongue lashing.”

Is that a double entendre, she wondered. She held his gaze. “Oh, I think maybe you give me too much credit.”

“I don’t think so. I think there are a lot of ways you would surprise me and yourself.”

“How so?” Am I getting myself into dangerous territory? Do I care?

Smiling at her again, he finally suggested that they take a look at the assignment. What was amazing was how quickly he could flip that switch, while Mia’s insides were still quaking from whatever the hell that just was. And with the switch flipped, Tom Sheehan gave pointed, spot-on criticism of Mia and Rob’s piece. His questions to her on character motive made her dig deep for her responses, having to delve deeply into the characters psyches and what motivated them.

Two hours later, the marked up document was ready to be crafted into its final draft. “That all make sense?”

Mia nodded, “Yeah. Totally. It’s so much tighter and stronger. It wasn’t nearly as powerful before.”

Tom got up and returned with more wine. “Well, I’m not getting out of here anytime soon. Sorry about the soup, Rob.” Mia thought to herself.

“You and Ryan really do write very well together.” His tone was introspective. “I’m glad that’s worked out well.”

“I think we work because we bared some big demons to one another early on. We both realized we were seriously fucked up people and that could bode well for our writing.”

Tom reached forward and pulled a white thread off of the arm of Mia’s crimson sweater and played with it. “I don’t think you’re nearly as fucked up as you think you are, Mia. You may have gotten into some fucked up situations or had some fucked up things happen to you — but my gut tells me you’re actually pretty damn stable and healthy.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be trusting your gut, Teach.” Devil smile.

Tom laughed. “Teach, huh? Well, only for a few more weeks anyway.”

“This year has gone by so fast,” Mia marveled as she gazed around the dark campus pub. It was almost a year since she’d seen him. How could that be? A year. Almost a year since she touched his fingertips. And yet she was still alive. She had some new friends. No boyfriends, but that was ok. That would have been incredibly hard to handle. He was probably totally immersed in tennis season by now. A vision appeared in her mind’s eye of his tall body standing before her in white tennis shorts and his team shirt and cap, placing his racquets on her desk. Would the ache ever totally go away? It certainly wasn’t as jagged as it had been. But it just never fully dissipated. Her chest still tightened and hurt.