Picking Up the Pieces (5 page)

Chapter 5:
Max

As I pressed the two hundred and sixty pounds
above my chest for the thirtieth time, I was thankful for a little relief. Carefully, I eased the bar in place on its rack and sat up to take a breather. One more set of ten and I’d move on to incline dumbbell presses. In the last few months, I’d really focused on my workout routine. It’s not like I’d ever been lazy. I’d always been athletic and kept in shape. I guess I’d just found myself with extra time to kill lately. No job. No girl. Well, maybe too many girls was my
real
problem. I needed something to focus my energy on.

The last time I’d been this serious about a workout regimen had been a few years ago when I’d still played for the Avalanche.
Somehow, despite my recent weakness for wings and whiskey, getting back to my old routine helped me pack on an extra fifteen pounds of solid muscle. And my chest and arms showed it.

I kept to a strict schedule: a serving of Muscle Milk with skim milk for breakfast and a performance drink before my workouts to supply me with strength and energy.
This last part was vital since my late nights often left me tired and run-down.

While the rest of my life spiraled into chaos, the one aspect I seemed to be able to control was keeping in shape.
Five to six days a week, I went to the gym, rotating my workouts between my upper and lower body
.
And I could still knock out three miles in a little less than twenty-five minutes. Not bad for a guy about to turn thirty.

I wiped the sweat from my face and neck with my towel and made my way over to the chest fly machine.
“That’s a ton of weight, isn’t it?” an airy voice asked from behind me as I leaned over to move the pin lower on the weights. “Two hundred pounds? Are you gonna lift all that?”

I turned around to see a cute blonde standing behind me.
“That’s the plan,” I said. As she reached back to adjust her long hair she had tied up in a ponytail, her tits rose higher on her chest. Images of how my hands would fit perfectly around them flitted through my brain. Of course, I couldn’t be sure without checking. I felt my lips spread into a slight smirk at the thought. As I sat on the bench, I made no effort to conceal my wandering eyes as they traveled up the length of her legs to her tight black shorts.
Fuck, she’s hot.
The thought of taking her back to my place for a post-workout shower crossed my mind. And judging by the way she was biting her lower lip as she watched me exercise, my proposition wouldn’t even be a hard sell.
I can’t wait to have my teeth on that lip later.

“I’m finishing up here,” she said.
“Just gotta stretch.” And as she leaned forward to loosen up her hamstrings, I imagined licking the sweat that glistened between her breasts.

This is too goddamn easy
. “Yeah, me too. Two more sets here, and I’m done.” I rushed through the rest of my reps and extended a hand as I finished my second set. “I’m Max, by the way.”

“Max,” she said with a playful smile as she took my hand in hers, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
But I wasn’t prepared for the next words out of her mouth, and as she said them, her warm hand felt like ice against my skin. “I’m Lily.”

Oh, you’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.

***

Needless to say, I got the hell out of there
as quickly as possible. I wasted no time wiping off my machine, grabbing my water bottle, and bolting to my car without so much as a goodbye. As I sped home, I wondered what the fuck had happened to me
.
A name shouldn’t matter. Half the time I didn’t remember their names anyway.

But she shared a name I c
ouldn’t forget. And there was no way I was taking Lily back to my house and into my bed. Well, let me rephrase that. There was no way I was taking
that
Lily back to my house and into my bed.

But the other Lily
—the
real
Lily—she was another story. She could come in my bed anytime she wanted to. Literally. And I’d pictured that plenty of times: her under me, on top of me, in front of me screaming my fucking name as I made her shake with pleasure. But that was all I had of her: old memories and stale visions that I feared would begin to disintegrate with time.

I had gone months without speaking to her, and then when I
’d finally heard from her last week I'd been a complete asshole.
Fuck, why had I been so rude?
I’d blown her off, and I was sure she’d heard Stephanie or Sophie or whatever the fuck her name was in the background. To make matters worse, Lily had texted me over the weekend to say she’d only been trying to help and she was sorry if she’d upset me. There was no denying I’d been a complete dick. But I didn’t need her help or her fucking sympathy, and I’d gotten defensive.

Finally home, I turned on the shower and stepped out of my boxers, allowing the cool air from the vent to brush against my body for a moment.
When I slid open the shower door and stepped under the steaming water, I knew I needed to wash more than just the sweat from myself. I needed to wash away the guilt I felt for how I’d treated her.

***

I was surprised when Lily picked up on the second ring because I half expected her to let it go to voicemail. “Hello,” she said quietly.
Maybe she didn’t look to see who it was before picking up.

             
“Uh . . . hey, Lily. It’s Max.”

             
“I know. Your name came up on my phone.”

             
Fucking idiot.
“Oh, right. Listen, about the other day . . .” I let my voice trail off in the hopes that she’d pick up where I left off and relieve me of my embarrassment. She didn’t. When silence lingered between us, I forced myself to speak again. “I shouldn’t have hung up. I mean, I should’ve let you talk. You can talk now.” I knew as soon as I said that last sentence, it had come out wrong.

             
“Really, can I? Thanks.”

             
Damn.
I knew I deserved every bit of sarcasm that she delivered, but that didn’t stop the sting. Not knowing what the hell to say to change the direction of the conversation, I stayed quiet and hoped
she’d
fill the silence this time.

             
“Look, we don’t need to make this conversation any longer than it has to be. I just wanted to tell you there’s an opportunity for you to be a guest analyst on TV. Did your agent tell you that? It could turn into something big. Something permanent. Don’t be stupid, Max.”

             
“Too late,” was all I managed to force out.
God, I really had a way with words today.
“Listen, I’ll think about it. Things have been . . . uh, crazy lately.”

             
“Crazy? How crazy can things be? You’re not working. What have you been doing?” Her voice was accusatory.

             
I had to rein in my defensiveness. Her tone pissed me off, but I knew that if I snapped at her again, I'd regret it forever. “Um, listen, Lily. I know that I was rude last week, and I'd like to get together. Maybe explain some things. Clear the air. Can I buy you a drink?" The way I saw it, this was the best of both worlds. We could say what we each needed to say, and I could avoid doing it sober
.
“How ‘bout Dino’s? They have a beer garden there. We’ll grab some pizza, a few beers, and talk.”

             
“Okay, when?”

The quickness of her response surprised me. I needed a little time to collect my thoughts.
Plus, I didn’t wanna seem to eager to see her. A week and a half seemed like a good amount of time to let things cool down a bit. “Uh, how ‘bout Saturday, the twenty-first? Late afternoon?”

“Um, let me see.”
She got quiet for a few moments, probably to look at the calendar on her phone—which made me think about how I had absolutely nothing going on. Ever. “That should be fine. I’ll see you then, I guess.”

“Yeah, okay.
See you then. Oh, I’ll text you about the time when it gets closer.”
Does it seem like I have a life now? Probably not.

“Okay.
Oh, and Max,” she added just before hanging up. “Try not to be such an asshole next time.”

I dropped my hands and stared down at my cell phone screen as I heard the line go dead. I couldn't help the soft, rumbling chuckle that escaped my throat as I replayed the conversation in my head.
Well, that went well.

Chapter 6: Adam

“Eva! Where's my hair gel?” I lifted my head up toward the ceiling of my bathroom.
You just had to give me a girl, didn’t you?
As I continued to ponder all of the reasons God could have for punishing me, I heard Eva’s voice yell from downstairs.

“What?”

“You heard me. Where is my hair gel?” Getting ready for a date was already nerve-racking enough without my thirteen-year-old running inadvertent interference.

The next time Eva spoke, she was behind me.
I watched her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she leaned against the doorjamb munching on a brownie. “What makes you think I have your hair gel?” She examined her brownie closely, her refusal to meet my eyes giving her away.

“Eva,” I warned.

“Okay, okay, it’s in my room. I’ll get it.”

Watching her walk away, I came to a disturbing realization.
Eva had just entered her teenage years. I still had at least five years of this kleptomaniacal liar. I wasn’t sure both of us were going to survive.

She returned to the bathroom and thrust the bottle of hair gel at me with a gruff,
“Here.”

Deciding my sanity had a better chance of staying intact if I ignored her rudeness, I took it from her.
“Why did you take this anyway? It’s
men’s
hair gel.”

“I was experimenting,” she shrugged
, before turning on her heels and heading back downstairs.

I thought for a second.
“Experimenting with what?” I finally called after her, unable to quell my curiosity.

She stopped abruptly on the landing, and looked at me with annoyance before spitting out, “With sex, Dad.”
Registering the look of horror that swept across my face as I nearly vomited
Exorcist
style all over the bathroom, Eva rolled her eyes before adding, “Seriously. What do you
think
I was doing with it?”

I stared at the bottle in my hand, no longer wanting
it anywhere near me. From this day forward, I would always associate it with a father’s worst nightmare. My head spun as I looked from Eva to the bottle, from the bottle to Eva. “I . . . I . . . Jesus Christ, Eva, please tell me you were using it on your hair.”

“Obviously, Dad.
God.” She stomped down the rest of the steps and left me alone to wonder if there were any convents that accepted children.

I stared at the offending bottle of hair gel, knowing that I needed to use it, but not sure I could handle squirting liquid from it.
“Fuck it,” I muttered before throwing it in the trashcan. Messy hair, I could deal with. The thoughts that were now plaguing my frontal lobe, I couldn’t.

I ran my hands through my hair before walking back to my room to grab my wallet and spray myself with cologne.
Quickly checking my watch, I realized that I was running late but stopped to take one last look in my bedroom mirror. Having decided to put in a little extra effort, I'd ironed my light blue polo and khakis neatly. I flexed my bicep and was pleased with how the sleeve of my shirt fit snugly around my muscles. Satisfied with my appearance, I jogged
down the steps and started toward the front door just as my mom entered.

“Hey, mom.”
I placed a quick kiss on her cheek. “Thanks again for staying with Eva tonight.”

“No problem, Adam.
I love having girl time with my granddaughter. You look nice tonight. Who’s the lucky lady?” My mom slid past me to hug Eva.

“I’m not sure actually.
I mean, I know her name, but not much beyond that. My friend Frank's
wife hooked us up.” The entire situation was pretty awkward. Claire had been telling me about her friend Marnie for weeks. But it wasn’t until Frank
showed me a picture of her that I relented. It was a little grainy because he had taken a picture
of
a picture with his phone, but I could still make out her light blonde hair, slim figure, and pretty features. I just hoped not much had changed since the picture had been taken. But in the end, what did I really have to lose?

“Well, have a good time,” my mom called to me as she guided Eva into the living room.

“Thanks. You too.” I watched my two favorite women in the world snuggle next to each other on the couch and start talking a mile a minute about who-knows-what. A smile tugged at my lips as I walked out of the door and closed it behind me.

Marnie lived in Gladwyne, an affluent town about twenty minutes from my house.
From what I gathered from Frank, Marnie had married well and divorced even better. But she had seemed sweet and genuine on the phone, so I suppressed my nagging suspicions about her and asked her out to dinner.

My GPS guided me to a high-rise that screamed over-priced condominiums.
I pulled up to the front of the building where I saw a familiar woman speaking to the doorman. I quickly put on my hazard lights, put my car in park, and jumped out. “Marnie?”

“Adam?”

“Yes.” I walked confidently up to her and shook her outstretched hand.
Score one for me.
She was even hotter than her picture. Her low-cut green dress clung tightly to her body in all the right places, allowing me a glimpse at her cleavage without even having to try.
Nice.
And as my gaze lowered down to her flat stomach, I tried to resist stealing a look at her toned legs. Thankfully, her deep blue eyes caught mine right before I could take my visual molestation any further. “Nice to meet you,” I said quickly.

“You, too.
Really nice.” She bit her lower lip as her eyes traveled the length of me.

I shifted my shoulders uncomfortably and cleared my throat.
“You ready to go?” Her predatory gaze discomfited me. While it was always nice to be appraised appreciatively by the opposite sex, Marnie looked like she wanted to chain me up in her basement and make me her love slave.

“Definitely.”
Marnie slipped her arm through mine and I guided her to the car. Once she was shut safely inside, I released the breath I’d been holding and looked back at the doorman. Maybe it was just a figment of my frazzled imagination, but I was pretty sure he winked at me. I took a few deep gulps of air before climbing into the driver’s seat next to Marnie and starting toward the restaurant.

***

Dinner was initially uneventful. Conversation flowed easily, Marnie stowed her roving eyes, and I started to loosen up. She told me about her ten-year-old son Tyler who was diagnosed with autism when he was three. Her husband had withdrawn from the family after the diagnosis, feeling shortchanged that he didn’t get the “perfect” son who would be a junior version of him. After four more years of enduring a cold and distant man, Marnie finally filed for divorce and her now
ex-husband completely disappeared from their lives, other than the child support check she received from him every month.

I shared my past about Eva’s mother: how she’d been unable to cope with the prospect of being a mother and left me to raise Eva alone.
Then, with the heavy stuff out of the way, the conversation shifted to lighter topics like hobbies, favorite vacation spots, and where we’d gone to college. I was feeling really good about this date.

Until Marnie ordered a third martini.
And then a fourth. And then a dessert wine. I watched her guzzle alcohol like she had been deprived of liquid for two days. Shock raged through me as she began to sway in her chair, giggle like a lunatic, and slur her words. By the time the waiter brought the bill, Marnie was obliterated. She had inched closer to me, nearly tipping off her chair in the process, and began running her fingernails up my thigh. My brain and body fought to get on the same page, but both were starting to short circuit.

My cock stiffened slightly at her touch and arousal coursed through my body.
I’d have to be blind not to be attracted to her. She had the best tits money could buy, and they accentuated her narrow waist. She was strikingly beautiful. The entire package would make any man horny as hell.

But my brain was firing off warning shots left and right.
Something about Marnie screamed shark, and I didn’t want to be caught in the water when she decided to strike. I had heard stories about women who seduced men, lured them home, treated them to a good time, only to threaten them with police action if they didn’t pay up the next morning. And Marnie fit the stereotype I had built in my head. I wasn’t about to risk my future for one night of pleasure.

As I drove back toward Marnie’s house, the internal battle waged on.
Her hand continued to pet me as I drove, never reaching my dick, but getting damn close. My brain suddenly flooded with memories of another time when I had been in this situation. Only that time I had been in a movie theater and had actually respected the woman touching me. The overt sexual behavior Marnie delivered was cheap and fleeting. So unlike what I had felt in the theater that night. But, of course, I had also been a different person back then. It still amazed me how much I had changed in five months. The core of me was still the same, but I was more guarded, less trusting, and a little . . . colder toward women. I had been on numerous dates since Lily, and while I still hoped to meet my perfect match, I was also enjoying the search. Sex no longer had to mean something to me. It clearly hadn’t meant much to
her
, and from what I saw at Eva’s school the other morning, she was doing just fine. I could be just fine too.

But did this feel fine?
Fuck.

My mood took a downturn as Marnie instructed me to pull into a parking space off to the right side of her building.
I now had absolutely no intention of having sex with her. But, since she was drunk as shit, I needed to at least make sure she got inside okay.

Marnie surprised me when she led me around the back of the building, nearly falling on the uneven ground three separate times.
I held her arm as she stumbled onto a back patio and began fumbling with her keys. I released her so that she could unlock the sliding glass door.

“Once I get this open, I’ll
get rid of the babysitter. Then we can enjoy the rest of our evening,” she slurred.

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her not to bother.
There was no way I was getting it up for this chick now. She was a fucking mess.

As
Marnie continued to struggle with the door, I thought it was odd that the babysitter hadn’t come to investigate the noise, or called the cops to report the pair of psychopaths trying to break in. It was then that I noticed how dark it seemed to be inside. Was her son afraid of light or something? Shit was getting weird. Fast.

I was just about to ask Marnie if she needed help with the door when I heard glass break
ing followed by a slew of hissed obscenities.
Great, now we are definitely getting arrested.
“Shit, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Marnie uttered.
She finally slid the door open and stepped inside. “Come on in. I’ll be right back.”

I stepped into her home and
quickly began to wonder if I had entered
The Twilight Zone
.
Since it was pitch black inside, I brushed my hand over the wall until I hit a light switch. Flipping it on, her dining room lit up. From what I could see of her house, it looked tidy and well-decorated. Well, except for the blood splattered all over the floor.
Wait . . . what? Jesus Christ!
The hardwood floor that stretched from her dining room and down an adjacent hallway looked like a scene from
CSI.
Fine my ass; Marnie would have needed to have cut off her entire goddamn hand to produce that much blood.

I turned the corner and glanced down the hallway, half expecting to see Marnie’s corpse slumped against a wall. I noticed that all of the doors were shut, and light peeked out from beneath only one of them.
Since the blood trail led to that door, my suspicion skyrocketed. Were the babysitter and Tyler in one of those other rooms? Were they vampires? No, they couldn’t be. Otherwise they’d have flocked to the plasma all over the floor.
What the hell is wrong with me? When had this night taken such a bizarre turn that I actually started believing in vampires?

I was just about to wash my hands of this entire situation and get the hell out of there when one of the doors opened.
Marnie stepped out into the hall
with a towel wrapped around her hand. And absolutely nothing else. She was stark naked as she leaned against the wall in an attempt to look sexy. It didn’t work. She looked like a victim of sex trafficking: strung out, pale, and bleeding.

“Uh, Marnie, are you . . . okay?”
I had no idea what to say in this situation. I briefly looked around to make sure there weren’t hidden cameras somewhere. Being on a show like
Punk’d
or
What Would You Do?
seemed highly plausible.

She used her shoulder to push off the wall, but only made it two shuffled steps toward me before slinking back against it for support.
“I’m fine. Though I’m about to be better.”