“Whatever. Things all good here? You and Brooke okay for tonight?” I ask.
“Go be with your girl, we got this,” Brooke says, as she breezes by. “I came early so you wouldn’t worry. Dude, go on, it’s your day off, right? Jeez, go be
normal
.” I can hear her laughing as the door to the staffroom clicks behind her.
Once I see that Luke’s got it all under control, I head over to Ryker’s for a quick bite before I meet with Braunwyn in a few hours. Ryker had invited us all over after bowling but Braun said she already had a dinner date with Grams and London, something about “Saucy Saturday Spaghetti Surprise”.
They’re a crazy bunch. At first I thought they were insane, but I guess that’s the shit you do when you have a kid. As I get to know them and all their little quirks and routines, I have to admit that I love hearing about all their theme days and activities. Even to the point of hoping on some level that one day I’ll get to be bigger part of their antics; an idea, that terrifies and excites me at the same time. I’m also hoping that sooner or later Braun and I can make our own versions of these themed nights, more adult ones. Ones named Blow-Job-and-Sit-on-My-Face Night or Sundaes, Suds and Sex Night. Yeah, now those are
my
kind of nights.
Pulling into Ryk’s driveway, I cringe at the idea of talking to Ryker about all this stuff, but I need to get shit off my chest. Plus, I’m nervous about what Braun has to tell me tonight. Funny, only a few months ago it was Ryker seeking me out for advice. Oh, how the tables have turned, and I know the fucker loves every minute of it.
“Hey, pussy,” he greets me when he opens the door, “come on in. Kat’s gone out with Claire for some chick date-night thing at La Luna, so it’s just us. I figure we can brave the cold and have some of our own girlie-talk while I grill us some steaks.” He leads us to the kitchen and grabs us two beers before heading out the patio door.
Considering it’s January in Canada, it’s not too bad outside. I pull up a seat then crack the cap off my beer. Taking a few good gulps, I enjoy its citrus aromas and flavours. I’m not normally a fan of Ryker’s “hoppy” IPA beers, but this one’s not too bad.
“So, what size should I get your t-shirt in?” Ryker asks.
“What the hell you smokin’, man?” I’m at a total fucking loss at first then his question clicks.
Ryker gives me a smug look as he ignites the grill, a whiff of propane lacing the frosty air, flames hissing up from the burners. He stands and shakes his head, enjoying this way too much.
“Did you see yourself out there today with your girl—or better yet, your
girls
?” he beams. “I, uh, just need to know what size you want your Club Goner shirt? ’Cause you my friend are in desperate need of one.” I just sit, drink my beer and let him go on and on with his bullshit.
Asshole.
“And what’s yours say? ‘President Pussy’?”
“Naw, man, mine says ‘
The
President’, obviously” he raves “…’cause we all know I’m a complete pussy for Kat. Feel free to make jokes, sucka, I actually like it. I am pussy, hear me roar!” he shouts, and I laugh out loud.
“You’re such a tool. Does Kat know what a loser you really are, man?”
“Hell, yeah, she does. She says it’s part of my charm.” He pauses and we both take sips of beer. “But I gotta tell ya, after seeing you with your girls today, I think I’ll make room for a Vice President, ’cause bro, you were all kinds of fuckin’
adorable
with both of them. Like, Polaroid moments, man,” he says, as he opens the pink butcher paper and adds some salt to the steaks.
“Fuck, I know. I can’t take myself sometimes,” I admit out loud but for once don’t feel like a complete wuss. I think it’s because Ryker gets it. He was gaga over Kat the minute she walked into my Pub for her first shift.
“It’s kinda messed up, though, Ryker. Braun and I still haven’t fucked yet, but I’m okay with waiting. It’s not about that. I mean, fuck, it’s all I want—don’t get me wrong—but I just like being around her. And her kid too. What the hell’s with
that
? It’s fucked up, man. I, like, went from a workaholic manwhore to Mr. Fuckin’ Brady in a matter of months. That’s the part that scares me most.” I take a swig of my beer and wait for Ryker to jab me, but he doesn’t, and it shocks me. My little brother has matured. “
Fuckin’
love
, eh?”
Turning toward me, shit-eating grin heavily in place, Ryker just nods his head slowly up and down, tossing the T-bones on the grill with the barbeque tongs. “I’m happy for you, big brother. Like, super happy. It’s about fucking time too. You worked too much; I like seeing you taking time off, doing regular shit. It’s nice to get to see you, even if it’s just for dinner. And I like Braun too. She’s good for you. You’re happier, and you look good; I mean, for an ugly fucker. Kat agrees. She’s hoping we can all hang out more.”
I nod, feeling my chest expand at my brother’s approval. Not that I ever cared too much about what the little fucker thought before, but now that he’s giving me the thumbs-up, I guess it mattered more than I realized.
“Yeah, I’m a lucky guy, eh? She most definitely makes me happy.”
“And how could you not just melt at your little Scooby,” he says using a teasing tone, “Naw, but for real that little girl is almost enough to make any guy want a kid. Almost.” Ryker turns back to the grill to flip the steaks with a sizzle.
“Yeah, I know. And to think there’s some asshole out there who’s her father, and he’s got nothing to do with her. What kind of fucker does that, anyway?”
“One who’s clearly an idiot. But look at the bright side, at least you don’t have to share them with some other guy, right? His fuckin’ loss is your gain, bro.”
“True. I don’t know if I could handle having to share. I already hate thinking about some other dude having ever touched Braun, the thought kind of kills me on some primal level. I can’t imagine how I’d react with some asshole around every second weekend or whatever for visits. To be honest, I like to think it was Immaculate Conception that got Braun pregnant. It helps me cope,” I chuckle, and Ryker agrees.
“Oh, fuck no. There’s no way in hell that I’d be all right with that shit. I’d be the one doing all the pick-ups and drop-offs, that’s for fuckin’ sure. Kat could just wait at home.” I full-out laugh at his reaction, not doubting for a minute that he’d do exactly that.
“And so, you really haven’t got a piece yet, huh? You guys have been together long enough, yeah?”
“No, not yet. She’s been holding out, wanting to go slow. Something’s going on with her and she needs more time. I’ve been trying really hard to be good. But Jesus, I need to get laid. I need Braun like I need air at this point. My cock can’t handle only being touched my own calloused hands for too much longer,” I say, and rub my hands over my face.
“Well, don’t look at me. I think you should just jump your girl. You know, go in all Ryker style,” he winks, and I roll my eyes.
“You’re an idiot, man. You almost didn’t get the girl, remember? Why would I listen to you?”
“I’m awesome, that’s why. Look at my life. I got the girl, she’s wearing my ring and I get laid all the time. How about you, bud?” he eyes me. Ryker turns off the grill, puts our steaks on plates, and closes the lid.
“Shit. I know, man. Let’s drop it. My poor dick can’t stand me talking out loud about how long he’s been neglected.” We head back inside to eat.
“Braunwyn’s coming over tonight to finally talk about everything—and tell me what’s really been going on with her, all this time—so I’m hoping that whatever it is moves our relationship along. I need her to fully be mine, but she’s holding back, and she’s reserved, sometimes. Her mask slips now and then, but it’s still there most days.
“Whatever you do, dude, just let her lead the conversation,” Ryker says around a bite of his steak. “You know she’s got baggage, right? So don’t go all crazy badmouthing this dude if she brings him up. She obviously cared about him at one time. I mean they have a kid, so play it cool until you get the full story. He’s no doubt a real dick, anyway, but the last thing she’ll need is you giving her shit about her choices. Right?”
“Yeah, you’re right. I just hope I can shut the hell up long enough to let her say all she needs to say. Keeping quiet isn’t always my strong suit.”
“Ha! No shit, asshole. No fucking shit,” Ryker chuckles thinking his ass is funny.
Jesus, I really am in the Goner Club. Shit.
Braunwyn
S
tepping onto the
brightly lit porch of Levi’s elevated ranch-style brick home, I feel a pit in the bottom of my stomach while I stand here staring at the heavy metal door.
Suck it up. You need to let him all the way in. He’s waited long enough
. I take in the designs etched in the glass on Levi’s front door, all the while willing myself to ring the doorbell.
You can do this Braun. It’s Levi. He deserves to know.
Normally, I feel pretty much at home here, but tonight I feel awkward. I feel unsure. My nerves are running rampant, my palms are sweaty, and I can’t stop wringing my mittened hands together. I need to relax if I’m going to do this.
Deciding against using the key Levi’s given me, I contemplate what his reaction will be when he hears that I’ve rung the doorbell instead. He’s given me a key; since we’ve been spending so much time together, he wanted me to feel that I could come and go as I pleased. Over the last few weeks there have been nights where I put Emmerson to bed here so Levi and I can have a late night date when he gets home from the bar. It’s all been platonic sleepovers thus far, but believe me it’s coming.
We’re both waiting on me to make the first move.
Taking a deep breath, I remind myself what Grams and London told me over dinner earlier when we were discussing what I should say to Levi. They both think that I’m making this a bigger deal than it is, but they have no idea what it feels like to be torn between two men—
even though one isn’t really actually here to be part of the equation.
Being a widow, Grams could relate, but it was easier for her on some level, maybe, because she got to spend the better part of her life with my Gramps, whereas a part of me feels ripped off, confused, guilty and hurt about the future Shawn and I never got to have together.
And despite knowing logically now that it’s untrue—that being with Levi is not cheating on Shawn—that thought still somehow manages to sneak in at the worst times, and the guilt wreaks havoc with my feelings before my brain can clue back in and sort it all out again. My mind has been so programmed to only think of Shawn that it hasn’t had the chance to reconnect all these new feelings about Levi with my heart. On my craziest days, I’ve even been starting to feel doubly guilty: that I’m being untrue to Shawn with my love for Levi, and that I’m “cheating” on Levi by secretly clinging to my memories of Shawn behind Levi’s back. So I need to come clean with Levi tonight, about everything, about my past, in order to move on.
My feelings for Levi are strong. I’ve never felt this way before. I chalk it up to being older, more mature. Levi feels like my future, whereas Shawn was my past and it’s time to let my mind off the hook, time to allow my heart to fully reprogram the rest of me, so the only feelings I get in my stomach are the butterflies that flutter every time Levi’s around me, and not that terrible sick pull of guilt.
Grams and London said that they think that Levi is going to be understanding, compassionate and empathetic about everything I’m about to share with him. Grams went so far as to tell me to spend the night and not to worry about Emmerson, that she’d get her up and ready for school if I’m not back tonight. London told me to purge my past then to binge on Levi for the rest of the night, because my body deserves to be consoled as much as my heart. Sometimes I can’t take that girl, but heck if she isn’t right for once. The
what ifs
are finally being replaced with simple
ifs
and
whens
when I think about things with Levi. In the end I guess the battle is just me versus myself and I need to wave the white flag and allow myself to have what I want more than anything—happiness.
After another few moments of silent solitary crazy talk, I actually do ring the bell.
Levi opens the door, his smile wavering at bit as he invites me in. I think he’s just as nervous as I am. God, he looks so good, I want to pull him close and nuzzle into his solid chest, breathing in his scent, the one I’ve come to trust as comfort.
“Scrappy. Hi. Forget your key?” he says.
“It’s in the bottom of my purse somewhere, figured I’d just ring,” I say, avoiding his eyes.
“Okay, well, come inside, baby. It’s getting colder out. I’m driving you home later, no arguing,” he states with a knowing smirk, and I laugh at his insistent yammering about me not walking at night, some of the tension rolling off me.
“So bossy!” I say, stretching up to kiss his whiskered cheek, loving the scent of his sandalwood cologne. I take off my wool coat as Levi closes the big grey door, shutting out the frigid night air, before hanging my coat and bag on the coat rack. “Oh wait!” I say, and quickly snatch a worn envelope from my bag. I clasp it tightly in one hand as Levi pulls me into the living room by the other.
I enter the cozy room, and am embraced by its familiar warmth. Levi’s done a great job at making it inviting and comforting. The oversized brown leather couch with its tan throw blanket, along with the gas fire place, compliment the caramel-coloured walls, making it a perfect spot to watch TV, cuddle, or just talk. I notice he’s lit candles and turned the fireplace on. He’s thoughtful; he knows I’m always cold. I spot a bottle of Crown Royal sitting next to an ice bucket, which is resting on a tray with crystal whisky glasses on the centre of the leather ottoman.
Perfect. I could use about twenty.
He catches me looking at the bottle. “Nerve killer, baby. Figured you and I might need a drink or two tonight,” Levi says as he pulls me down beside him on the couch. We both exhale deeply, breaths I don’t think we’d realized we’d been holding in so tightly. I reach for the bottle of Crown and the two glasses.
It’s going to be worth it. Closure, Braun. Do it.