Authors: Bebe Wilde
I literally lit up at his words. I was so angry. It was okay that he did it but if I even joked about doing it, he had to tell me my place, to put me in it. How dare he? I felt the rage and violence boil up inside of me again and before I could stop myself, I slapped him and I slapped him hard. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to him roughly.
“Don’t you ever hit me again,” he growled.
I felt scared. He was enraged. I knew I’d overstepped our boundaries, that I had done something I shouldn’t have and for that I felt bad. At the same time, something had shifted in me. I went from feeling emboldened to feeling weak and vulnerable with this strong man holding me, keeping me still, keeping me in his power.
Looking back, I believe if he had followed through I would have stayed with him. There was something about the way he acted that brought something out in me. I felt like a woman. I knew he was a man. I hated to admit it, but it really excited me to see him like that. It was like he was suddenly
the man
and he was in control.
I waited in breathless anticipation to see what he would do next. I waited because something inside of me had been triggered. Now, it would happen now. What would happen? The anticipation of those ten seconds between what he’d done and what he
would
do was killing me. What
would
he do?
He didn’t do anything. He disappointed me. He pulled back and shook his head, giving me such a sad look my heart literally broke. It was over. He knew it. I knew it. I burst into tears. He came to me, grabbed me up in his arms and consoled me, smoothing the hair back from my face, telling me loved me, that he never loved anyone else,
that
he couldn’t love anyone else. He told me I was the only one who mattered to him and he’d do better if I’d just stay. This made me cry even harder, making me want a resolution to our situation even more. The two of us were never meant to be. We just weren’t.
“I’m so sorry,
Teagan
,” he whispered in my ear. “I would never hurt you.”
He would never hurt me.
But what had my reaction been about? Wasn’t that what I wanted? It’s like I wanted him to take it a step further or something, to just put me in my place, to show me who the man was, to show me a different side of him. I was ashamed of myself for those feelings and I immediately shut them down. We were just too caught up in the heat of the moment. That’s all it was. It was just a moment of a very heated argument. It would not lead to some sort of wayward passion. What was I even thinking?
I tried to get away from him, just wanting to leave and be left alone but he held me tight and kissed me. He kissed me deeply, softly. I allowed it, wanted it and gave back.
Within seconds, we were making love. We made love to each other the way only a couple on the verge of a bad breakup could. It was hot and it was intense and it was tinged with sadness. He undressed me, bent to kiss my breasts, to kiss my face, to kiss away the tears. He laid me down on the floor and kissed me, took off my clothes, loved me, then entered me, filling me up. I grabbed onto him and kissed him as we made love, knowing that we’d never be the same after this.
Once it was done, we fell away from each other and stared up at the ceiling, not speaking. We lay there for a while and held each other; both of us hesitant to make the next move that would indicate where our relationship would go. He wasn’t about to. He left it to me. And I made my decision; I made the best one for myself.
I sat up and said, “You can leave now.”
“Yeah, I will,” he replied. “I want you to know that I love you more than anything and I always will,
Teagan
. And I want you to know something else. I will never let you go. We may not be together but you will always stay with me. We’re soul mates, whether you would ever admit that or not. We are. We were meant to be together.”
Wouldn’t it have been easier just to forget it? To overlook what he’d done just so he’d stay with me? I could probably forgive him, maybe I’d never forget, but I could probably forgive.
Maybe.
Something in me wouldn’t let me. Maybe it was my younger self knowing that men aren’t to be trusted and that they never follow through with their promises. Maybe it was just a grudge I had against men. I didn’t know. But I did know it was going to be hard to let him go.
And then he was gone, closing the front door softly on his way out. I ran to it and pressed my face against the frame, tears of remorse, of hurt and pain sliding down my cheeks. I heard his car start, then back down the drive and out onto the street. And that was that. It really was over.
True to his word, Kier did not make the divorce easy. I was the one who filed for divorce. He contested it, dragging it out forever. He wanted to stay married. But I kept at it and within a year, we were no longer Mr. and Mrs. People talked, as they always do and always would, but I ignored the stares, the whispers of “She
used
to be married to Kier
O’Mark
.” And “Why would
she
leave
him
?” It sucked and it killed me, but I had to be strong. It was over between us because I couldn’t take the cheating or the lying or the unfaithfulness. Mostly, I loved him so much I didn’t want to share him with anyone and, since he wanted to share himself, I didn’t have much say in that.
It took a while, but I did get over him.
Somewhat.
Maybe I never did. But I was about over love. That was for other people, not for me. Love and I didn’t go well together. We made a bad pair.
After our divorce, he had gone the blue-eyed blonde starlet route many times over.
And me?
I had stayed single. I didn’t want to date other men. I just wanted some time to myself to heal.
But we still saw each other because there had been a real, true love there, one I think he wanted to rekindle. Well, he’d want it until something pretty caught his eye and then I wouldn’t hear from him for a few weeks, sometimes months, depending on the level of infatuation. But when the spark was gone, he’d wind up on my doorstep and we’d have a booty call and he’d be gone for a little while. Yes, I do have to admit I let him back into my pants, but never my heart.
So, yeah, I had my reasons for not wanting to fall in love ever again. But the two of us were connected and I still loved him, even if I wouldn’t admit it to myself. I guess that’s one reason I let him come back into my life, if only to renew our sexual relationship. A girl’s got needs, too. And he was a good lover. You could ask anyone and several of them would probably could conform via personal experience. And since I wasn’t married to him, why not? I could do worse than Kier
O’Mark
.
I didn’t ever admit to myself that one reason I allowed him to fuck me was because I wanted to see if that thing would ever come out again, that fierceness in him that had, admittedly, turned me on. It never did. But then again, after our divorce, we didn’t argue that much. The irony was we probably saw each other more than we did when we were married. And we got along a lot better.
Damn Kier anyway.
But even so, he never became a distraction. I was done with him and, I thought, done with love. I threw myself into my job, listing and selling houses at lightning speed, maybe in an effort to get over the hurt and pain I felt on an hourly basis. That’s when Hailey, my cute, blonde assistant, came on board and together we became an unstoppable team. She became my rock, someone I went to when I was feeling low about Kier, whom she grew to despise, “Why did you put up with him?” she’d ask and shake her head. “You are so much better than that.”
I would have to smile at her and thank her for her loyalty.
“We’re women,” she’d say and grab my hand. “We have to stick together.”
And so we did. She wanted to be an actress, too, and I allowed her the time she needed to audition. I introduced her to some producers I knew and she landed some small roles here and there but, like a lot of other actors in town, she was still waiting for her big break. But unlike most other actors I had known, she never tried to ingratiate herself towards Kier, whom she disliked with a vengeance. I suppose she was loyal to a fault, maybe even to her own detriment. I told her that he could help her, but she refused, telling me he was bad news and that I should stay away from him. She, too, had been cheated on, and still held grudges towards men like Kier.
“But that’s how it works, Hailey,” I said. “Kier could really help you.”
“Yeah, I suppose,” she said. “Are you trying to get rid of me or something?”
I laughed. “No! I hate the thought of losing you and trying to find someone as good, which would be near impossible.”
“And don’t you ever forget that,” she replied and winked at me.
I didn’t. But she did help me in so many ways. I began to make more money than ever, not even believing it myself. But even though I was more successful, there was a downside to it and the downside was I heartbroken and couldn’t properly enjoy it. Because I was still hurting over my divorce, I began to self-medicate via shopping and spent more money than ever before. What was a few thousand dollars for a handbag? Who cared? It was only money!
New car, shiny and clean?
That’s the one I want! Who cared what it cost?
Private island getaway for my one week vacation two times a year?
All inclusive?
Sure, why the hell not? Designer labels, designer fashions?
Of course.
Only the best for me!
Cute bungalow in the Hollywood Hills that was way overpriced and a totally bad investment?
One I would have never considered if I had been in my right mind? Yes! I have to have it! It was perfect for me! I always wanted a lap pool and the marble counters in the kitchen were to die for! Let me sign on the dotted line!
And on and on and on.
I was spending like a Rockefeller, like there was no end to it. I was on a high from my success and nothing could stop me.
Nothing but the market crashing and my career coming to a complete and total standstill.
Funny how that works.
If only I had paused to understand that buying stuff makes a person feel really, really good and takes their minds off all the crap in their lives only temporarily. If only I had taken a moment to realize that maybe, just maybe, saving money could be as fun as spending it. Yes, it was a viable short term way to self-medicate. But it can put you in a pinch. And it did.
O-u-c-h!
In fact, it almost put me in the poorhouse.
But one day, I swore, I would be back on top. I had it in me, if only the market would change. Selling properties wasn’t rocket science. It was a craft and I knew my craft like the back of my hand.
And, so, when I got Roman Juniper’s multi-million dollar house to sell, I was ready for it. Though I knew it would be a lot of hard work, I had to have it. I had no choice, even if the owner was a little off-putting. I had to put all of my personal feelings aside and get the job done.
So, I set up the broker’s open, an open house of sorts where only the best agents were invited to view the property before it hit the market. The invitations had been sent out and the house was staged and ready to be seen by all the elite real estate agents in town. They would all come to eat the Mexican feast I’d had catered in honor of
Cinco
de Mayo. We had empanadas, we had guacamole and chips and fajitas. We had sombreros and margaritas. I overdid
it, that
was for sure, and had overspent so everyone would remember what a good, fun time they’d had. And in turn, they’d think about their clients who were looking to buy. And then, hopefully and with fingers crossed, we’d get some interest and then, eventually, a buyer. It was long, drawn out dance of numbers, amenities and square footage. But, if I pulled it off, it would make my year to sell this house. I’d have enough money to pay all my bills and still sock some away. I’d be back in the black again. And that’s what I wanted. If not, I’d be fucked and have to sell my house, most of my furniture and move into an apartment. Then I’d have to get a few part-time jobs to make ends meet between sales, just like I did years ago when I first got my real estate license, and hope to stay afloat. The other two options I had—moving back home or getting back with Kier—weren’t even up for consideration at that point. At that point, failure was not an option.
And, so, today was the day it would start. Everything was ready and staged. The owner, Roman, was out of the house and the agents could come and walk freely and admire all of his hard work. I looked at my watch. They would start showing up at any minute. Before that happened, I went outside Roman’s house and smoked a cigarette, looking out over his fabulous pool. The house was a magnificent mid-century masterpiece. The rooms were open and broad and spacious. The kitchen was done to perfection. The baths were to die for.
Who wouldn’t love this place?
It was perfect, if only I could find the right buyer. Tonight, maybe, I’d find someone who might know someone and that’s all it took, one spark of interest to get the ball rolling.
Before I went back into the house, I thought back to something that had happened a few days ago when Hailey and I were here, at Roman’s house. We were preparing the house, walking through it to see if there needed to be any cleaning or what-have-you done. She tried to turn on the TV in the living room with the remote. When it didn’t work, she shook it and said, “Hey. We need some batteries for this thing.”
“What?” I asked.
“The remote is dead,” she said. “It needs batteries.”
I nodded and went into the kitchen and started going through a few of the drawers.
“Well?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“Nothing here.
Let me go see if he has some in his office.”
She nodded and I went into Roman’s office and sat at his desk. I didn’t feel odd doing this as I had sold many houses and sometimes you had to find things. I just opened the drawers on his desk, which was a long, black lacquered thing that had obviously been handcrafted, but came up with nothing. I was about to give up when I opened the last drawer and something caught my eye. It was a leather thing. It was long and slender like a feather duster but without feathers. I picked it up by the handle. Several leather straps came out the end of it like pom-poms. I shook it, taking it all in, staring at it in awe. What the fuck was this thing and what was it used for?