Confessions From the Dark

by T. B. Markinson

  Amazingly, she mulled it over for a brief moment. “No, but I have an idea.” She ensnared my arm and tilt-a-whirled me around. Holding my hand over her shoulder, she led us back into the smoldering, singing jungle. I wasn’t afraid. Not completely.

  Kat conferred with the host while my pulse skittered. I had a feeling this karaoke experience would top all of my other performances; however, I wasn’t entirely certain that was a good thing. Or whether I was up to the task.

  Luckily, my family slipped out into the courtyard, unaware Kat and I were about to grace the stage. That provided some solace.

  We were ushered onto the stage and even before the music started, men and women cheered for my knockout of a wife. Kat fed on their energy and practically dripped with sexual appeal.

  She whispered in my ear, “Follow my lead.”

  I mouthed, “Yes, ma’am,” while tapping the mike to my forehead.

  We started singing “Hot Blooded” and I was relieved. Kat stood in one spot, clutching the mike, singing quietly, shell-shocked, but still words were coming out of her mouth. I kicked my singing into a higher gear to give the crowd something to cheer, which they acknowledged with an encouraging shout.

  But then something flipped inside Kat’s head. Oh boy, did she put me to shame. She started strutting around the stage in a porn-star style that would have made Miley Cyrus blush. I nearly forgot the lyrics to the song, which I could sing in my sleep. Kat noticed and glanced over her shoulder. One flick of her head beckoned me to dance with her.

  If my wife wanted me to grind with her while singing one of my favorite songs, I was happy to accommodate her wish. We put a show on for the crowd that I think exceeded most people’s expectations. Our singing wasn’t stellar, but our moves spurred several others to jump on stage and perform with us. Kat welcomed them like a seasoned performer in front of a sold-out crowd at Madison Square Garden.

  The experience ended much too soon, but the crowd went bananas. Kat curtsied like a coquettish virgin, which the men gobbled up. I flashed my rein it in a tad look so Roger and I wouldn’t have to fight off the sex-crazed tourists. Kat laughed, slinked across the stage, and planted a kiss on my lips that stated she was with me and me only.

  Much to my surprise, the crowd cheered. One guy shouted, “Take it off.” I assumed he meant our clothes. The host politely escorted us off the stage. Four twenty-something girls were prepping for their act off to the side. Kat said, “We warmed them up for you girls.” She swayed her hips, making a beeline for the courtyard.

  Once outside, her confidence waned. With the color draining from her face, she said, “I can’t believe I did that.”

  Roger sidled up. “Kat! Cori! You two sounded incredible!”

  My parents, aunt, and uncle swarmed around us. “You saw that?” I squeaked.

  “No. We could only hear it. The crowd wouldn’t let us inside. Seriously, you two rocked the house.” Roger patted both of us on the back as if we had just singlehandedly won the World Series.

  Kat slipped her hand into mine and winked.

  “Anyone hungry?” Barbara asked.

  That was the cue it was time to leave. We’d had our karaoke fun, but it was time to be grown-ups again. Drunk grown-ups.

  ***

  Later that night, Kat and I were ensconced in complimentary terry-cloth robes after we’d luxuriated in a bubble bath together. Snuggled on a plush hotel couch, we stared out of the eleventh-floor window at the majestic Mississippi River on the horizon.

  I nuzzled my nose against Kat’s cheek. “Penny for your thoughts.”

  “Just a penny?” she crooned into my ear.

  “How about my undying love?” I was putty in her hands.

  “I already have that.” She poked my side. “I was imagining what it was like during Mark Twain’s days—riding a steamboat up and down the Mississippi.”

  “Ah, I should have known. After the game we can take the ferry to the other side, have a mini-experience. And we’re having dinner on a steamboat our last night.”

  “A ferry? Steamboat?” She turned and peered into my eyes with such a look of child-like innocence it was hard to imagine she’d just brazenly strutted across the stage, performing an X-rated version of “Hot Blooded” that would put all other performances of the song to shame. I loved that I was the only person who witnessed Kat like this: simple, pure, and with the biggest heart.

  I tightened my arms around her. “Of course. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

  “I know you will. You’re the first person I’ve known that I completely trust. Most times, when people spout stuff like that, it doesn’t mean anything. With you—it means everything.” She melted into my embrace. “I manage to fall in love with you more each day.”

  “I’m the luckiest bastard alive to have your love and trust.”

  “You got that right.”

  We shared a tender kiss. Since returning to the room, we hadn’t fooled around, yet I felt closer to Kat now than if we were in the midst of making love.

  We enjoyed the view in comfortable silence.

  “Singing tonight was a good step for me,” she said.

  “Yeah. How so?”

  She shrugged. “It just was. Conquering one of my fears, and boy did it feel good.”

  “I’m glad I was there to witness it.”

  “I couldn’t have done it without you.” She laced her fingers through mine, keeping her eyes trained on the river, childlike.

  When she yawned, I asked. “Shall we go to bed, sweetheart?”

  “A few more moments,” she murmured into her hand, smothering another yawn. “I don’t want this to end.”

  Kat fell asleep in my arms, and I let her rest for a while as I continued to soak in the dark river snaking along the edge of the city. As a child, she’d never had an opportunity to travel—even school field trips were out of bounds. We’d gone on a few trips together, but I made a silent vow, as the murky water oozed below, to travel the world with my sweet Kat.

  Chapter Eleven

  My phone vibrated on the podium in front of the classroom while I sat perched on the edge of a table in mid-lecture, and I had to quash the urge to answer. Ever since the night of the accident I never turned my phone off. Now I always carried a backup phone, just in case I was needed. In most areas of my life, I was responsible, but cell phones caused me more trouble than they were worth. Either I was losing, dropping, or crushing the infernal devices. This surprised me a little, since I’d been known for my sure hands when I played basketball. Kat loved to joke that I needed a mobile the size of a basketball to keep track of it.

  I glanced casually at the screen. Sam’s face appeared on the display. Surely she wouldn’t be the first to call if something had happened, unless Kat was with Sam or Lucy. Damn. Luckily I had only seven minutes left of class before I could dismiss the students.

  Would the ringing of my phone ever cease to instill instant panic and painful memories in me?

  Once outside, I texted Sam to say I’d finished lecturing.

  The phone rang immediately. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you had class tonight. I didn’t mean to…” She left the rest unsaid.

  She didn’t mean to propel me into full-fledged panic mode. I steadied myself and said in an everything’s normal tone, “Yeah, the university switched my schedule this semester. No biggie. What’s up?” I waited at the red light to cross Commonwealth Avenue.

  “What are you doing Friday night?” Sam sounded like she had something up her sleeve. Something I wouldn’t approve of.

  “Not sure. Have to check with Kat.” I stomped my feet on the ice-cold ground to stay warm.

  Sam ignored my attempt to casually brush her off. “Do you remember that arm-wrestling bet?”

  “You don’t really expect me to finagle a meeting with Simone this Friday, do you?” The walk signal flickered, and I joined a throng of half-frozen students in the middle of the road o
n the subway platform. If it hadn’t been two degrees with a wind chill making it seem like fifty below, I would have schlepped to the D-line. The B-line along Comm Ave was murderously slow during rush hour, with stops every few feet, plus too many red lights and car traffic.

  “Don’t worry about that. I did the heavy lifting for you.” Her arrogance drifted down the line.

  The brakes of the T caught my attention, and I positioned myself near the door. I didn’t want to miss the train and freeze for another five minutes until the next. “Can I call you back? The train’s arriving.”

  “Don’t bother. I’ll text where we’re meeting Friday.” There was blissful silence in my ear.

  Right after the T doors jacked open, I pushed my way onto the crowded train, wishing I had stripped off my black pea coat and beanie before stepping aboard. Everyone was crammed in like sardines, not leaving enough wiggle room to ease the jacket off without getting overly fresh with surrounding passengers. Heat blasted through the train’s vents, and with all the bodies, it didn’t take long for a bead of sweat to form on my brow and snake down the side of my face. I longed for nice weather, when I could walk back and forth to campus and avoid the stale stench of too many bodies in one place. One word, people: deodorant. Many of them could have used mouthwash too.

  By the time we cruised past Allston, I was able to procure a seat and checked my phone for Sam’s text. Apparently, she’d figured out a way to get Harold and his chicks to go dancing, which made me smile. Harold and dancing were as incongruous as pickle juice and milk. Kat and I had tried teaching him some moves, but he couldn’t manage to move his upper body and lower body at the same time. Either he wiggled his ass or he flapped his arms like a baby bird, but he never could handle both moves simultaneously.

  I hopped off the train at the Boston College stop. From here, I only had a fifteen-minute walk home. By the time I reached the front door of our house, the warmth of the train had worn off and I was shivering in my gray slush-caked L.L. Bean snow boots.

  Kat greeted me with a kiss on the cheek. “Let’s get those wet boots off.” She pushed me down onto the bench and kneeled to help me yank off the snow-splattered boots. Her cardigan slipped off her right shoulder, exposing her milky skin. If I wasn’t completely numb from the cold, I would have taken advantage of the situation.

  “You poor thing. You’re half frozen. Good thing I prepared.” She wandered into the kitchen and returned with a hot chocolate sans marshmallows, shoving it into my hands before guiding me by the hand to the couch in front of the fireplace.

  “I miss New Orleans,” I sputtered through chattering teeth. I eased my icicle feet into fleece-lined slippers Kat had warming on the tile in front of the fire.

  She nodded dreamily. The brief break from the harsh New England winter had been far too short.

  We curled up on the couch under a plaid quilt her mother made. Kat rubbed my arms and hands to get the circulation going again. “Why didn’t you wear your gloves?”

  “Lost them.” I hitched up one shoulder in my I’m hopeless when it comes to gloves way.

  She rolled her eyes. “You’ve never paid a bill late, always remember to set aside money in our savings, never take a sick day, and you’re the first one up to shovel our sidewalk and old man Henderson’s. But cell phones, gloves, and wallets—you can’t handle that kind of responsibility.”

  “It’s part of my charm. Besides, you can’t blame me completely. I swear someone keeps stealing my stuff. How can I lose seven cell phones in a little over two years?”

  She huffed, completely dismissing my rampant pickpocket theory for the umpteenth time.

  I smiled to ease her frown. It didn’t work, so I changed the conversation. “Do we have plans on Friday?” I asked through chattering teeth.

  “This Friday? Yes. Why?” She cocked her head.

  “Oh, good.” I rested my head against the back of the couch. “Sam’s up to something and wanted us to go dancing.”

  “I know. That’s what our plans are. She called half an hour ago. You love dancing, so why the scowl?”

  “I think Harold’s in for a rough night.”

  Kat stopped rubbing my hand. “Because of Sam or dancing?”

  “Both, I suspect. Sam is desperate to see this Simone chick, and Harold will feel extra pressure to be Kool, with a capital K. I don’t know… I don’t see it ending well.”

  “Ah, Sam didn’t mention Harold and his harem would be joining us.” Kat shook her head, looking like my third-grade teacher after catching the boys sneaking into the girls’ bathroom. “You’ve really grown up.” She squeezed my leg. “I remember when you used to join in and mock Harold along with Sam.”

  “I regret that now. Harold’s a great guy—he’s just, well… the only word that describes Harold is Harold.”

  Kat kissed my cheek, and we both sat back and put our feet up on the coffee table. I hoisted my mug. “Thank you. This is helping.”

  “I had a feeling you’d be a Popsicle tonight.”

  “What flavor?” I joked.

  “Cherry.”

  “Maybe later when sensation returns to my fingers and toes, you can pop me.”

  “I knew you’d go there.” Kat jammed an elbow into my side, nearly causing me to spill.

  I steadied my cup. “Careful. Let’s not add couches to my list of casualties.”

  “What’s Sam’s fascination with Simone and Harold’s throuple?” she asked.

  “I think she’s focusing on Harold’s relationship because she doesn’t want to admit hers is in trouble.”

  “How serious?” Kat held my free hand with both of her warm ones.

  “TBD.” I hadn’t been all that tight-lipped about the whole Inez aspect, but I hadn’t supplied the crucial details either. Not yet.

  “She hasn’t admitted to stepping out of the relationship?” Kat strove not to look judgmental, hopelessly failing.

  “Nope.”

  “Is she planning on it, though?”

  “I think she feels guilty about a harmless crush. The last I heard, Sam wants to ask Lucy to marry her.” I neglected to tell Kat the reasoning behind Sam’s plan. It was difficult for me to see Sam actually succumbing if she was married, but then again… Roger would walk through a spray of bullets to save Barbara, and that didn’t stop him from cheating.

  “Poor Lucy.” She rested her head against my shoulder. “Why do people cheat?”

  I shook my head. “Who knows? It seems our good friends are intent on destroying their relationships. Harold and his Simone problem and Sam’s roving eye. It’s funny. Most people probably would have bet money that we’d be in worse shape, considering.” I wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and Kat slipped a hand under my shirt and squeezed my side. “Let’s hope for the best. Every relationship has to steer through troubled waters.”

  Kat laughed. “When did you become the relationship Buddha?”

  “Over the top?” I grinned.

  “No, I like it. Just not used to it.” She moved her hand to my chest. “But I know the jock is still there, hibernating.”

  “Not sure I can help that. Given the right conditions, it kicks into high gear. Maybe this Friday.”

  “Let’s hope not. We need to do our best to protect Harold without wounding his fragile male ego. It’ll be a fine line.”

  “I’ll try, but if Super Jock needs to come to Harold’s rescue, she will. There’s no keeping her locked up.”

  “Does Super Jock wear a cape made of jock straps and smelly gym socks?”

  “You know it! The sight and smell make mere mortals crumble at my feet,” I said in a superhero cartoon voice.

  “Gross!” She pinched her eyes shut. “Are you warmed up?”

  “I have an idea that’ll get me there and beyond.”

  “I’m sure you do. But I have something else in mind.”

  I gulped down the rest of my hot chocolate. “Hit me with it.”

/>   “A modeling session. I have the heat cranked in the studio.”

  “And then my version of warming up?”

  “Only if you’re good.” She flattened my nose with a finger.

  “So no whining about holding still. Gotcha. Anything else?”

  “Of course, but it’s a secret.”

  “Sounds promising.” I jiggled my eyebrows at her.

  “Come on, Super Jock. Let’s get you naked.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The club was fuller than I expected, considering the arctic temperature outside. Inside, though, it felt like a summer day, minus the sticky-hot humidity, a major plus. Kat and I shed our winter layers and handed the pile over to the skinny lesbian in a wife beater and jeans in charge of the coat check. Skinny gave Kat an approving once-over and whistled when Kat wheeled about in her four-inch heels and short, skintight red dress, which strained against her curves.

  Kat managed to hear the whistle over the din, either that or she had a sixth sense when people ogled her. She blew a kiss over her shoulder at Skinny, who mimed catching it and placing it on her heart. Skinny patted my shoulder as we both watched my wife sashay into the club, the shiny, red fabric accentuating the curves of her ass. Kat added more twist than usual.

  “Jesus,” Skinny whispered.

  I put a hand on the coat check’s shoulder. “That twist was all for you.”

  She grinned. “Made my night.”

  I tailed after my wife at a distance to take in more of the show. Kat stopped at the edge of the dance floor, covered her eyes, and scoped the joint for our posse.

  Several women sat on black lacquered barstools at the bar, and a handful of other tables were scattered around the perimeter of the octagonal dance floor. Rainbow beads, flags, stuffed animals, and other oddities dangled from the ceiling.

  I sidled up to her. “They here yet?”

  Kat shook her silky dark locks and gripped my hand. “Let’s get drinks while we wait.”

  Two tables off to the side were free. “Nab a table, sweetheart. Drinks are on me.” I jabbed a thumb at my chest, caveman style. We both used this line, even though all of our finances had been intermingled for years. Kat didn’t understand anything with numbers—except bra sizes—and left the finances to me and Dad, our accountant.