HARBOR: Beards & Bondage

by Rebekah Weatherspoon

  I lay awake, scrolling endlessly through the explore tab on Instagram. Watching video after video of cake decorating, crafts for kids, stuff the algorithm feeds me for my baby Palila. I go and look at pictures of the kids and that makes me feel better for a moment. I fall back asleep. When I wake up, I regret not drinking a little water with my burger and wine.

  I suck it up and drink the two bottled waters in the mini bar that are going to cost me fifty dollars a pop before I use the restroom. I go back out into the sitting room of the suite, thinking about how Chris and Vaughn looked filling the space. I go to the window and look out over the river. I have no fucking clue what river I’m looking at, but people are walking along it, enjoying this cloudy Saturday morning.

  I’m going to stay, I decide. Give myself at least another twenty-four hours to be alone with my thoughts, away from work and away from the city. This is how my weekends are now. I have to be away. Usually at Liz’s, but I remember that since they have Silas’s cousin Mason and his wife Xeni visiting from L.A. for the weekend, that’s why I’d made other plans. Last place I thought I’d end up is Boston.

  I don’t watch baseball, but a century’s long feud with racial overtones is to be respected. As soon as Liz told me her plans, I knew I needed to escape. I could have dragged my friends away, but I don’t know. I just don’t. Rayna is busy with her boyfriend, who she keeps breaking up with. It’s smack in the middle of Claudia’s two weeks to be in NorCal with her husband and Noa… Noa is too healthy for me right now.

  I see Noa and I envy her. She’s trying so hard. Her last breakup was horrible. But she grieved and then she bounced back in this way that’s just—I mean what the fuck. She’s a picture of mental health. Putting herself first. Actually seeing the therapist Claudia recommended. Eating well. Going to workout classes. Crafting! I know her life isn’t perfect. I know she’s human. She has her bad days too, but sometimes I look at her and I can’t.

  It would kill me to put in that kind of effort. Mostly because no one actually wants to see me better and happy right now. It’s still too soon. I mean it is, but I wonder what the time frame is. How long must the general public see me as the grieving widow-to-be? Six months? A year? Two? Forever? I carry Josh’s ghost and the ghost of our relationship with me everywhere, through my waking hours and when I’m asleep. Fucker won’t leave me alone long enough for me to join Noa for cardio hip hop.

  That’s why I text her. ’Cause she is who she is and I know she won’t judge me. Noa is made of good friend material.

  When can I start dating again?

  Not like LOVE

  But when I can look at a man as a distraction?

  I hit send and flop back on the fluffy white bedding.

  My phone chimes a moment later. I stare at the ceiling, thinking about Vaughn Coleman’s glasses. Then I think about Josh. I breathe through that ache in my throat again, then reach for my phone. The reply isn’t from Noa.

  Hey Brooklyn.

  It’s Shaw. Chris.

  Are you still around?

  A sudden warmth settles in my stomach, an odd sense of relief mixed with something else I can’t really name at the moment. I was putting off texting him and Vaughn. I’m glad he’s reached out first.

  Hey. Yeah.

  I’m going to lay in this bed

  all day probably.

  What’s going on?

  If you’re cool with it, I’d like to see you.

  Just me and you.

  A different kind of lump lodges itself in my throat. It could be nothing, but it feels like something. I say yes.

  I’ll be there in an hour.

  K. I’ll put on pants.

  You don’t have to.

  I know then that I absolutely have to. He might be flirting, but I don’t trust my judgement, so I save the jokes and don’t respond. I shower and get dressed and do my five-minute face. I glue my wig back down and adjust my baby hairs just so. Then I search for a breakfast spot within walking distance. An hour later, down to the minute, there’s a knock on my door. I open it and there is Christopher Shaw, somehow better looking than the night before. Same letterman jacket, different sweater. This one is a black and grey argyle and he’s wearing dark-wash jeans that fit him perfectly over a pair of fresh sneakers. I have no plan to let him inside. I’m rushing him out of this hotel and we’re going to talk over some French toast and burnt coffee.

  “Hey, Chris,” I say as I step toward him. I expect him to back up as I go on. “I found this place called Breakers—”

  Chris doesn’t move. Instead he becomes this wall of man and muscle. I barely avoid walking right into him, but I don’t back away as he looks down at me. His gaze roams over my face as his tongue slips out and wets his lower lip. I don’t even think about stopping him as his strong, rough hand slides gently under my hair and up the side of my neck. I just focus on not passing out or blurting some stupid shit because I know that will stop him from doing what I want him to do next. My eyes drop to his perfect, full lips framed by his perfectly manicured beard and mustache. I think about tugging on his beard and pulling him closer. Before I can lift a finger, he’s kissing me.

  His lips move against mine and I completely give in, kissing him back. He teases my tongue with his and I let him. I perch up on my toes and try to reach the altitude where he resides. I press my tits against his chest and do my best not to moan as my nipples ache for direct contact. His other hand slides around my back, under my coat. He grips my ass and pulls me closer. The position is wrong, but if it weren't for the height difference and the way he’s bending down to meet me halfway, I know I’d be able to feel his cock hardening against my stomach. When he pulls away, we both have a hard time breathing. I look up at him, my lungs craving more of his woodsy soap smell. He moves his thumb to my lower lip and my pussy clenches hard on itself as my tongue darts out and licks the pad of his skin. His nostrils flare when I do it again. He swallows and then he speaks.

  “Call me Shaw.”

  Five

  Shaw

  “What are we doing here, Shaw?” Brooklyn says. She looks up at me, her gaze still hazy as her focus drifts back down to my lips. I want to kiss her again, but I’ve already fucked things up. When I told Vaughn I just wanted to come talk to Brooklyn Lewis, we both knew I was lying. I did want to apologize to her for the way I came at her the night before. We smoothed things out, but I’d stepped into her hotel room sideways and it took way too long for me to get my shit together. I’m still trying to cope with my own grief and not to lash out at Vaughn when things get to be too much.

  But the apology was only part of it. I wanted to see her again. Losing Corrine destroyed me. I didn’t realize until last night that my grief was turning me into a special kind of an asshole.

  “I came here to apologize.” I say as I drop my hand from her neck. I don’t step back. I’m not ready to leave her space. Brooklyn frowns, dropping her gaze as she starts to smooth my sweater over my chest. My muscles jump under her touch.

  “Apology accepted, but what are you apologizing for?”

  “For last night. I thought Vaughn was kidding himself about a whole bunch of shit. I didn’t understand why he wanted to see you. And I didn’t understand what I was feeling about it. I shouldn’t have bugged out on you.”

  “I appreciate you saying that, but I still don’t know what you mean. Can we go get breakfast and you can explain it to me?”

  “Yeah. Let’s go.”

  I follow her down the hall to the elevator, fighting the urge to slip my hand along the small of her back, to take her hand in my grip. It’s the thing Vaughn and I have been dancing around. We’ve been dealing with the fact that Corrine was fucking murdered. Trying to wrap our minds around that. That she had a stalker we knew nothing about. Of course we miss her and there are layers of emotions. All the stages of grief and trauma, but I still can’t get over the weight of her physical absence. I can’t deal with how addicted I was to Corrine and what she and I had with V
aughn. What Vaughn and I had with her.

  When Vaughn told me about Brooklyn Lewis, I thought he was grasping at straws. I thought he was out of his fucking mind even wanting to be around her. What the fuck purpose would it serve? If we need outside support, there are groups for that. Counselors and shit. Bonding in our trauma won’t do any of us any good.

  “Why did you kiss me?” she asks as the elevator doors close.

  “Is it okay if I don’t have a good answer other than I wanted to?”

  “I guess I’ll have to take that. Let me kiss you next time, okay?”

  “Do you want there to be a next time?”

  “I’m not sure yet. But let me make the move. Okay?”

  “Of course.”

  “And don’t apologize for kissing me. I did want you to kiss me, in the fantasy files of my brain. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

  “So, it was a good surprise?”

  “Yeah. At least I know my pussy’s not broken,” she says with a little smirk as the elevator chimes at the lobby floor. I follow her out of the glass door back to Dalton Street. We walk down to Newbury Street. I glance in the comic store window as we pass. It’s still closed.

  “You into comics?” she asks as we continue up the block.

  “More into the movies, but Vaughn buys them when he can.”

  “What’s his drug of choice?”

  “Batman.”

  “I can see that,” she says as we arrive at Breakers. “He has a way with that tailored trench coat.”

  I smile to myself as we join the short line at the door. He was wearing a similar coat the first time I saw him. “Fighting intellectual crime suits him,” I say.

  “I’m sure it does.”

  There’s a wait for larger parties, but the hostess can seat parties of two immediately. We sit by the window. I watch Brooklyn as she peels off her jacket and starts to look over the menu.

  “Hmm. I love eating my feelings,” she says. I should be looking at the menu too. I’ve had coffee, but nothing to eat and it’s past time to fill the tank. I can’t take my eyes off her though, even to see how much two sides of eggs is going to cost me. I know it’s a little on the foul side, but I can’t help but look. I couldn’t help but look last night either. Brooklyn Lewis has some of the biggest natural tits I’ve seen in real life.

  I pride myself as a lover of the human body. I’m also a genuine tits and ass man. Vaughn told me she was beautiful with a figure to match, but damn. I’d love to get under that pink sweater. I know that won’t happen. Still, my mind deserves a break. Even just for a few hours.

  “Okay. I know what I’m getting.” She sets down her menu and crosses her arms on the table, resting her tits on top of them. She’s not doing it to show them off. She just seems comfortable that way.

  “So tell me, Shaw. What’s your deal?”

  “Where do you want me to start?” I say.

  “Wherever you like? I think I see how you and Vaughn fit together. I thought you were fire and he was ice, but it’s the other way around. He’s sweet and warm, and you’re—”

  “A confusing asshole?”

  “A little, but I think I can let first impressions go for now. You’re a pretty good cuddler too, so that doesn’t hurt your case. But no, tell me about you and tell me why Vaughn isn’t with you.”

  “Vaughn isn’t here because I wanted to talk to you alone.”

  “Was there something you couldn’t tell me in front of him?”

  “No, it’s not like that. Vaughn knows everything. I don’t have an issue sharing things with him, but you’re a D.A. You know phrasing matters.”

  Her eyes narrow and she leans forward a little more. “An A.D.A. You want to talk to me without hurting his feelings.”

  “I don’t think what I would say to you would hurt his feelings. I just—”

  “No, I get it. One-on-one conversations are important.”

  “Vaughn and I have different versions of closure. I think yours and his align more than mine.”

  “How so?” she asks.

  “Vaughn wants answers he won’t get. I think you do too. I want to move on. I feel a lot of things and none of them will bring her back or change where we are now.”

  “And what does moving on look like for you?”

  “Figuring out where Vaughn and I go from here.”

  “Well, I think if you want Vaughn to be in your future, you need to let him search fruitlessly for those answers he’s not gonna get and when he and I are ready,” she says with a little shrug, “you two can rethink that future and reshape your happiness.”

  “That’s the smart thing to do.”

  “I know it is. I’m a genius. So tell me literally everything else about you.”

  “I’ll skip a few things. Grew up here in Boston. Came close to joining the Navy. Dad caught me with my neighbor’s dick down my throat and kicked me out before I could make it to boot camp. My mom didn’t try to stop him. Spent the summer on the Vineyard with my grandpa, who’s a carpenter. He taught me a few things. Introduced me to a few people. Including my agent.”

  “Your agent?”

  “I used to model.”

  “Oh. That I believe. You’re, like, stupid hot. So, no more modeling, then.”

  I shake my head. “The scene wasn’t for me. But I saved up enough money and met enough people to buy my own place out in Barnstable. Close enough to my brother and sisters, far enough away that I can justify never running into my parents.” I pause as the waitress comes over to the table. Brooklyn orders some special and asks if they have a brand of hot sauce in the back. They don’t. She does her best to take that news well, but she doesn’t stop herself from scrunching up her nose in disappointment.

  I confirm the size of the pancakes, then order six blueberry with a half dozen scrambled eggs, some salsa on the side and the biggest glass of orange juice they offer. Once we’re alone again I finish what I was saying.

  “Anyway, I met Vaughn at a party. He was cool with me being sexually fluid and I was cool with him not being sure what he was yet. We started hanging out. Some time later, we met Corrine. Vaughn expressed his interest in her. I expressed an interest in her. She expressed her interest in us. Fast forward and I’m having breakfast with you.”

  “Hmm.” She doesn’t say anything else. She’s thinking.

  “Not what you wanted to know?”

  “Just trying to decide how invasive I want to be.”

  “My tongue was just in your mouth. Ask me anything.”

  She chuckles, casting her gaze to the floor before she lets out a deep breath. She looks back at me, considering me for a few long moments. “I mean, I have questions, but they are invasive and pretty juvenile. And I think I probably know the answers.”

  “Who knows? I might surprise you.”

  “Okay fine. It’s kinky right? You guys aren’t just poly? You weren’t. It was more than that.”

  “Correct. Brooklyn—”

  “You can call me Brook. Everyone at work calls me Brooklyn. We don’t need to be that formal.”

  “Brook. It is kinky. Do you want details?”

  “Sure,” she replies, her tone light.

  “Vaughn is a switch and so was Corrine. I’m a Dominant. So, we do play with Dominance and submission.”

  She cocks her head to the side, gazes to the ceiling like she’s trying to do the math on that, and nods. “Yeah, I can see how that works.”

  “We also participate in rope bondage. I can take it or leave it, but Vaughn and Corrine really enjoyed it and Vaughn’s pretty good with knots. I’m even better.”

  “Of course you are. You almost joined the Navy. I’m pretty vanilla, I guess?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “I’m trying to picture… Corrine,” Brook says, like it’s a struggle to mention her name. “It’s hard to imagine participating in all of those fun activities with the two of you and then having the energy to take on a whole other relationship o
n the side.”

  “To her credit, Corrine was one of the more insatiable people I’ve ever been with. She wore Vaughn and I both out routinely. I shouldn’t have been shocked that she had energy for more partners.”

  “I like to get down, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t know that my sex drive is that high.”

  “It wasn’t a judgement.”

  “I didn’t think it was. I was just thinking out loud. Maybe—” She cuts herself off as our food arrives. The pancakes are bigger than I expected, but I’ll make short work of them. I get the butter situated just the way I like it, then drown my plate in syrup.

  “Maybe what?” I ask before I take a big bite. Breakers may have a weak hot sauce selection, but their pancakes are pretty good.

  “Nothing.” She sighs, sitting back from the table like she’s just lost her appetite. “I keep thinking the same shit over and over, and at some point I have to understand that it’s getting me nowhere. Josh cheated and Josh is gone. Both of those things are true and I have to accept them and let the feelings that come with these true facts roll over me like a dump truck. Truck. Truck.” I almost choke on my food and that wins me a slight smile from her. I swallow and successfully clear my throat with a sip of juice.

  “You mentioned last night. About not feeling like enough,” I say.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m still turning that around in my mind. Me and Vaughn not being enough. And the two of us being too much for her.”

  “I mean, it’s like I said last night. It’s the wanting it all. Josh and I were happy. Or I thought we were, so the idea of wanting it all, or even a little more than what we had, seems excessive. It’s crazy to me that I was so happy and thought I was so lucky to have finally found someone I actually wanted to marry and the whole time Josh was just doing all this other shit. We were never on the same page. Did you have even the slightest hint that she was unhappy?”