Tamed (21 page)

“Ah! That’s sooo gross!” She dances around like there’s ants crawling under her dress and points at me as she shrieks, “You are no longer Clit-Boy or God! You’re Loogie-Man and you disgust me! I’m never kissing you again!”

“Is that a challenge?”

She laughs nervously and backs away. “No . . . no, you and your foul tongue stay away!”

In a flash, I’m off the sofa with my arms around her waist. Dee struggles to get away and we both fall to the floor in a screeching, rolling, laughing heap. I’m able to get on top; I straddle her stomach and pin her wrists above her head. There’s no chance for her to buck me off, but that doesn’t stop her from trying.

And maybe it’s the friction from her writhing body underneath me. Maybe it’s because I’m having so much fun. Or maybe it’s the fantastic sexual escapades we had in this particular position—but whatever the reason, I’m instantly and totally turned on.

Still, I ignore the boner. He’s not going anywhere anytime soon, and I’ve got some torturing to do. Like a tentacle in a sci-fi horror film, my outstretched tongue slowly lowers toward Dee’s face. Her head thrashes and her screams turn ear piercing.

Then she tries to bite me.

So I go in for the kill. I lick her cheek and her forehead—making sure to leave a heavy slime trail, like a slug that’s been mutated from a radiation leak. I get her closed eyes next, and I’m about to move to her neck when there’s a loud knock at the door.

I wonder if a neighbor heard Dee screaming and called the cops. I roll off of her. She gets up, making snorting but revolted sounds as she wipes at her face vigorously. Then she threatens, “You’re ass is grass, Fisher, and I’m the lawn mower. Do not close your eyes tonight.”

I just laugh.

Dee opens the door without looking out the peephole. And standing there, head down, guitar case in hand, is Billy Warren. He looks up at Dee and asks, “Can I stay here tonight?”

Dee opens the door wider to let Billy walk in.

“Yeah—sure. What . . . are you okay?”

He drops his guitar in the corner. His eyes are moist, like he’s fighting to hold back tears, but losing. “Kate and I . . . we . . . I broke up with Kate.”

A
fter giving Delores the barest of details, Billy insists she go check on Kate—sounds like she’s pretty much a train wreck. Dee grabs her coat and makes eye contact with me from the door. Then she tilts her head in her cousin’s direction, silently telling me to hang out with him while she’s gone.

I nod firmly. She gives me a thankful smile then walks out.

Leaving Billy-boy and me on our own.

I feel like I should play host, but this is his cousin’s apartment—he’s obviously comfortable in it—’cause he knows where the hard liquor is. As soon as the door is closed, he walks to the kitchen and comes back with a bottle of vodka, two shot glasses, and two beers.

He sits on the couch, sets the on-my-way-to-shit-faced paraphernalia on the table, and pours two shots. He slides one in my direction and immediately downs his own. By the time I swallow my shot, Billy’s already finished with number two.

He blows out a deep breath and stares at the table. Without
looking up he informs me, “You’re good for my cousin. You make her . . . happy. Dee’s got crap taste in guys—always has. Assholes are her usual type—but you, you seem decent.”

I crack open my beer. “I like to think I am. She makes me happy too.”

He nods. Then he looks up at me. “She’s worth it—the hell she’ll most likely put you through. Delores can be a major pain in the ass, but it’s only because she’s been hurt—trusted the wrong people . . . and now’s she’s scared of being wrong again. But . . . she loves . . . deep. She gives everything she’s got. If she lets you in—she’ll never let you down.”

“I know she’s worth it.” I chuckle. “And I’m working on getting her to let me in.”

Billy takes a drag on his beer. “Good.”

He offers me another shot—I shake my head and he drinks it himself.

Then he says, “I know you don’t know me, man, but I’m hoping you’ll be straight with me. Is something going on between Kate and that Evans guy?”

The words hang for a moment, and I ask cautiously, “Did Kate tell you something was going on between them?”

He drinks his beer and shakes his head. “Nah—just a feeling. She’s always mentioning him—either because he’s pissed her off or he’s helping her out or he’s done something fucking brilliant.”

In situations like these, I don’t like to lie. I was raised on the idea that how you treat others is how the world will turn around and treat you. At the same time, Drew is my best friend. So while Billy seems like a good guy, if I need to have someone’s back here, it’s not going to be his.

“Kate really doesn’t seem like the type to cheat, Billy.”

“She’s not. At least, she never was before.”

I nod. “And Drew . . . well, he doesn’t screw around with girls from the office. It’s kind of a rule he lives by. He’s never broken it before. Not once.”

He leans back on the couch, mollified—relieved—by my statement.

Then, roughly, he says, “This sucks.”

I agree. “Breakups always do.”

He snorts. “This is my first one. Kate and me . . . we’ve been together forever—since we were fifteen. She’s been my first everything. I thought she’d be my last everything too. My only.”

I just nod and let him talk.

“But the last few years . . . it feels like we’ve just been holding each other back, you know? I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving her . . . but it’s not the same. It’s not enough. We don’t . . . fit . . . anymore.”

Sympathetically, I tell him, “That happens—a lot. People change.”

He nods too. “Yeah.” He takes another swig of beer. “Still fucking blows chunks though.”

“It gets better.”

We sit silently for a few minutes—our heart-to-heart time over.

So I pick up the remote and pull up the on-demand movies. “You want to watch
Predator
?”

Billy pours himself another shot. “Sure. Never seen it.”

I grin. “It’ll change your life.”

A few hours before sunrise, Delores comes walking back into her apartment. I’m half asleep on the well-used recliner while Billy’s passed out cold on the couch.

The vodka bottle sits empty on the coffee table—its purpose fulfilled.

Dee kicks off her shoes with a sigh. Then she sees me. And she’s surprised. “You’re still here?”

“Am I not supposed to be?”

“No, no, it’s fine.”

She covers her cousin with the throw blanket, brushing his hair back tenderly, like a mother with a feverish toddler. Then, she walks past me into her bedroom. I get up and follow her.

“How’s Kate?”

Delores takes off the outfit she’s still wearing from the party—letting the clothes fall off her to the floor. Leaving them there. Revealing tiny leopard print panties and a matching strapless bra.

“Kate’s a mess. She’s hurt . . . Billy said some messed-up stuff during their argument. Harsh shit. And she feels guilty. Billy worked his ass off to support Katie while she was in school. She hates herself, now that she won’t be able to return the favor.”

Dee keeps her back to me when she removes her bra, only turning around after she slips a red Phillies T-shirt over her head.

“Thank you for staying with him, Matthew.”

“Of course.”

She sighs, but her shoulders are stiff. “I’m really tired.”

I start to unbutton my shirt, to join Dee in bed. I’m not looking to get laid—although with the amount her cousin drank tonight, I don’t think even a full-fledged fuck fest would wake him up. But I’m not expecting what Dee says next.

“You can go now.”

My fingers freeze on the buttons. “What?”

“I said, thank you, I’m tired—you can go.” And her eyes are flat, her face taught—like a mannequin in a department store.

I step toward her, trying to make it past her attitude.

“Dee, I know you’re upset . . .”

“Or maybe I just don’t want you here, Matthew!” she lashes out. “Maybe I just want to be alone.”

And, yes—in case you’re wondering—this is my pissed-off face. Jaw clenched, lips tight, eyes alive with adrenaline. I’m angry at her words—her outlook—her stubborn fucking inability to look at me and our relationship without the black cloud of her past hanging over it.

“You don’t want to be alone—you’re just fucking scared. You see Kate and your cousin and you don’t want to feel what they’re feeling . . .”

She claps her hands slowly. Sarcastically.

“Brilliant deduction, Watson. Forget Chippendales—if banking doesn’t work out, it sounds like you want to be a therapist.”

I push a hand through my hair, trying to rein in the frustration that makes me want to put my hand through her bedroom wall.

“This pushing me away shit is getting really fucking old, Delores.”

“Well there’s the door.” She points at it. “Why don’t you go find yourself something brand spanking new.”

My voice is low—but fuming. “Good idea. I’ll do that.”

Then I turn around and walk out of the goddamn room.

I make it all the way to the living room—my hand on the apartment door—before I stop. Because this is exactly what she’s expecting. For me to give up. On her.

On us.

Dee would rather hit first and then throw in the towel than risk getting sucker punched later on.

I know this. As well as I know the last thing she really wants is for me to leave.

To leave her alone.

My hand drops from the door and I walk purposefully back into her bedroom. She sits ramrod straight on the edge of her bed, facing away from me.

“I’m not leaving. You want to yell? You can yell at me. Feel like hitting something? I can take a punch. Or, we don’t have to talk at all. But . . . I’m not going anywhere.”

I sit on the bed and take off my shoes—the rest of my clothes quickly follow. Dee slides under the covers, then switches off the lamp, but the room doesn’t plunge into total darkness. There’s just enough light from the window to make out her silhouette—on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Boxers on, I climb under the covers next to her. And as soon as my head is on the pillow, she moves closer, turning on her side and resting her forehead against my bicep.

“I’m glad you didn’t go.”

I wrap my arm around her, pulling our bodies together—her cheek now on my chest, her hand on my stomach, our legs entwined. Delores whispers, “What am I supposed to do tomorrow? It’s Thanksgiving. Kate, Billy, and I were going to spend the day together—go out for steak.”

My brow wrinkles. “Steak?”

I feel her shrug. “Everybody eats turkey. I hate doing what everyone else does.”

And I can’t help but smile.

“I can’t choose between them,” she continues. “This is going to be hard enough—I don’t want either of them to feel
lonely.” Dee lifts her head and looks into my eyes. “If Steven and Alexandra broke up, who would you pick to spend the day with?”

I stroke her back lightly and answer in the most unhelpful way possible.

“I don’t know.”

She lies back down on my chest. And I add, “You don’t have to choose. You could blow them both off equally and come to Drew’s parents’ place with me for dinner.”

She snorts. “No, I can’t do that.”

I didn’t actually think she’d go for it.

I suggest an alternative. “Your cousin is going to be sleeping it off for many hours to come. And when he does wake up, I can guarantee he’s not gonna want to eat steak. Leave Billy a note, meet up with Kate for brunch, spend the afternoon with her, then take him out for a late dinner.”

“But they’ll both still be alone, for part of the day at least.”

“They’re adults, Dee. They’ll deal. And who knows, maybe tomorrow they’ll patch things up.”

“I don’t think so,” she says softly. “It’s probably for the best if they don’t.”

“That’s pretty much what your cousin said too.”

She kisses my chest lightly—one sweet peck. “It’s just . . . sad. The end of an era.”

I squeeze her. Dee tilts her head back to look at me. “Matthew, these last few weeks with you and me . . . I . . .” She pauses and licks her lips. “I . . . I’m really glad you stayed tonight.”

“Me too.”

After a few minutes, her breathing turns steady and deep. I think she’s fallen asleep, until, in a small voice she says, “Just . . . don’t hurt me . . . okay.”

I run my hand through her hair and hold her tight. “Not ever, Delores. Promise.”

They’re the last words we speak before we both fall asleep.