Half of Me

by J. M. Paul

  Jacob winks at me, and for some reason, I think he’s implying more than going out dancing or grabbing drinks with the girls. The thought of his possible meaning warms something low in my stomach.

  He retrieves an oven mitten and pulls the chicken from the stove.

  Little does Jacob know, his suggestion is all I want. I love to have fun and let loose, but I also want something solid to come home to at night. I’ve never been up for dating a slew of men or sleeping around, but maybe it’s time to test the waters in the dating department. The sex will have to come later since I’m on a forced three-month hiatus until I’m completely healed from surgery.

  “I’ll work on it, just like you should.” Turning off the burner, I push the potatoes aside, so they can cool. “That means”—I turn toward him—“you should keep your date tonight.” I wag my brows and then flash a knowing smile at the surprise written on his face.

  “It’s a business—”

  “Business, my ass. I know better. Unless you plan on getting all up in Eloise’s business.” I do a little dance and sing, “Bow chicka wow wow.”

  His lips twitch, telling me he’s trying to fight a smile, but he loses the battle and starts laughing. “You’re right. It is more than business.” He shakes his head.

  I place my hand over his on the counter. “Call her back, and go on your date, Jacob.”

  He flips his hand over and entwines his fingers with mine. My breath catches, and the room suddenly feels too hot. My eyes lock with his, and the look in them has my heart spinning faster and faster.

  Jacob squeezes my hand. “I’ll call her back and keep the date if you promise me that you’ll go out tomorrow night.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Joslyn,” he warns.

  “Okay, fine. I’ll go out tomorrow.” I release a frustrated growl, and my shoulders drop. “Now, get your ass out of here and leave me in peace with my wine, my babies, the chicken, and the potatoes.” My eyes widen, and I smack my hand against my mouth before removing it and gushing, “Shit. I didn’t mean Jagger and Jenna were my babies, just that they’re mine to watch tonight, not that they’re not yours or Juliana’s or that—”

  Jacob presses two fingers against my lips to shut me up. “I know what you meant.”

  We stay locked in each other’s gaze as time ceases around us. After a while, Jacob moves his fingers to trace his thumb around the outside of my lips. They part, my skin flushes, and the tips of my fingers tingle.

  Jacob’s chest rises and falls in rapid pace, and he leans in, closing the distance between us.

  My eyes flutter close, and I wait for whatever’s going to happen, depleting any fight against this draw between us.

  “Daddy, is Joslyn back yet?” Jagger bursts into the kitchen.

  My eyes pop open, and Jacob swears under his breath before he pulls back. I suddenly feel too cold without his heat near me.

  “Joslyn!” Jagger runs toward me and wraps his arms around my legs.

  “Hey, buddy.” I crouch down, so I can give him a hug. “How was school today?”

  “Good! I met a new friend.” Jagger beams at me.

  “You did? That’s great.” I smile.

  “I’m hungry.” Jagger turns toward Jacob. “I thought you were leaving, Daddy.”

  My eyes snap to Jacob’s. I see regret written in his eyes before he blinks, and it fades.

  “I am, little monster.” Jacob snatches Jagger’s nose in his fingers, and Jagger giggles. “Are you sure this is fine?” he asks me.

  “Yeah.” I nod with enthusiasm that I don’t possess. “We’ll eat dinner, watch movies, and then pig out on popcorn later.”

  My eyes widen at Jagger, and he cheers in excitement.

  “I wanna watch Spider-Man! I’ll go get it!” Jagger sprints out of the kitchen and to the case that holds movies.

  “No running in the house, Jagster!” Jacob yells automatically.

  But there’s nothing that’d wane that little boy’s energy when he gets going.

  Before Jacob turns back to me, I avert my attention to plating up the food. “Are you staying for dinner?”

  “Uh, no. I guess I’ll get going,” Jacob says but doesn’t move.

  When I glance at him, he’s watching me with an expression I can’t read.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Nothing.” He shakes his head and moves toward the door leading to the garage. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll have my phone.”

  “Will do.” I spoon a few potatoes onto Jagger’s plate.

  “Have a good night, Joslyn.” There’s regret in his tone.

  I take a deep breath and pivot, so I can see him. “You, too. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” I give him a smile, but I know it doesn’t reach my eyes.

  Jacob gives me a slight wave before he opens the door and quietly closes it behind himself.

  CHAPTER 12

  * * *

  GIRL GANG CODE

  “We’re so getting effed up tonight!” Maya yells when we receive clearance into the booming club. “And, Liz? You can try to rock my world for getting us into this place, but if you got us VIP clearance, I’ll let you double dip.” Maya wraps her arm around Liz and hugs her. “Did you work your magic, girl?”

  Liz gives her a haughty expression. “What do you think?”

  “I think I just fell in love with you. My vagina has eyes for only you tonight, sweet thing.” Maya jiggles Liz back and forth.

  “You’re disgusting, My. I wouldn’t touch that overused box if my life depended on it. Go find yourself a Moby Dick before I start to question your sanity.” Liz pushes away from Maya as the hostess leads us to the roped off section of the club.

  Getting the special treatment Liz offers us with her daddy’s money is awesome, but when we’re swept away into these private portions blocked off from the rest of the partygoers, I feel like we miss out on the overall experience. And I’m out to root myself into the thick of things tonight.

  After Jacob didn’t get home from his date until after one in the morning last night, I told myself it was time to blow off some steam and to dip my toes into the dating pool. I’m not sure this is the right scene to try to meet a guy to make me forget about Jacob, asshole Brett, and my situation, but if nothing else, it’ll hopefully provide entertainment and a way for me not to recall my woes for a few hours.

  “We’re heading up to the bar instead of waiting on a waitress.” Maya points over her shoulder to the rectangular bar in the middle of the room.

  A group of hot guys are loitering around it, and I know that’s the reason she and Liz are already ditching us.

  “Want anything?”

  “Whiskey sour for me.” I toss my coat into the booth and plop my rear on the seat.

  “You and your old-lady drinks, Jos.” Liz shakes her head. “Camila?”

  “Just water for me.” Camila slides in next to me.

  “Who invited the two duds to the show?” Maya jokes loudly as she and Liz sashay away.

  “Ten bucks says they don’t come back.” Camila rests her head on the back of the seat and swivels it in my direction.

  “You okay? You seem tired, and you’ve been quiet tonight. And what’s up with you volunteering to be DD?”

  She diverts her attention to a couple making out in a not-well-hidden dark corner.

  “I’m fine. I’ve just been feeling off today.” Camila slouches.

  “Cam, you know you can talk to me, right? You’re my person, and I’m here for you.”

  There are tears in her eyes when she turns back to me. “You’re my person, too, Jos. And I love you so much.”

  “Wow. Are you dying?” I say half-joking, half-frightened.

  “No.” She chuckles.

  “Are you PMSing? Do I need to call in some chocolate chip cookie dough as backup to your water?” I raise a brow.

  She laughs, glares toward the bar, and knots her hands together on the table. “It is my usual time of the mo
nth.”

  “Ah. You don’t have to say another word. I might not have periods anymore, but I sure as shit haven’t forgotten what they’re like.”

  I grin, and she gives me a sad smile.

  “Seriously, Cam, talk to me.” I take her hand in mine.

  Camila might say she’s fine, but I know better. A person knows her person.

  “Are you and Ben fighting?”

  As of early this past spring, Ben is now Camila’s husband. They’ve been together since they were sixteen, and Ben is terrific. He treats Camila like a princess, which she needs. Like me, she didn’t have the most loving parents or greatest childhood, but for her, there was the added hardship of poverty swirled into the mix.

  “No. Ben and I are great. I’m just…feeling off tonight. I promise, nothing’s wrong.”

  She gives me a genuine smile, so I decide to drop the subject. If Camila wants to discuss what has her feeling moody, she will when she’s ready.

  “Hey, ladies. Can I get you something to drink?” A waitress with long fashionably silver hair finally stops at our table.

  “Whiskey sour for me and a water for her, please,” I answer.

  “You got it.” Silver Hair walks away.

  “So”—Camila swivels in my direction, and there’s a smirk on her face—“how’s Jake?”

  I groan internally. If it isn’t Maya coming after me about him, it’s Camila.

  “If you ask me about his snake, I will cut you,” I deadpan.

  Camila laughs, and I smack her thigh.

  “Did Maya put you up to this?” I scowl.

  “No. But we think alike when it comes to you, and we think you need to get laid.” She makes a circle with her left hand and shoves her right pointer finger in it a few times in a crude gesture.

  “Dear God, what has gotten into you two? Let me guess”—I fold my arms on the table—“the next thing you’re going to say is, The best way to get over a man is to get under another one.” I shake my head.

  “I wasn’t going to say that, but if the shoe fits…” Her eyes sparkle.

  “It doesn’t fit. And, need I remind you, my vagina’s broken.”

  Silver Hair takes that moment to deliver our drinks. She gives me a judgmental glare before leaving without a word.

  Bitch. I flash my middle finger to her back. There. I told her.

  “What do you mean, your vagina’s broken?” Camila pulls her water toward her and takes a long drink.

  My whiskey sour is delicious, but I only sip it. If Camila’s not drinking tonight, there’s no reason for me to go overboard.

  “Whose vajayjay is out of order?” Liz slides into the other side of the booth.

  Maya follows after her and pushes another whiskey sour across the tabletop toward me. I give her an apologetic grin, and she winks. She knows I didn’t think she’d be back for a while.

  “Mine.” I take a long pull of alcohol. Forget my earlier thought of taking it easy on drinking if this is the subject we’re dissecting this evening.

  “What do you mean? Is it inoperative?” Maya’s mouth falls open.

  I slouch and down half of my drink. The burn singes everything from my mouth to my stomach. Pinching my face, I hiss through my teeth. Smacking my lips together, I pucker and then shudder. “From my surgery. Part of my recovery process is no sex for three months.”

  “Three months!” Maya exclaims too loudly as she slaps her hands on the table. “What the hell? You didn’t tell me that.” Her mouth falls open. “If I couldn’t do the no-pants dance for that long, my hoo-ha would shrivel up and die.”

  “I think it’s already halfway there but from overuse.” Liz jerks her head in Maya’s direction.

  “Screw you, Liz. Oh, wait, you can’t find anyone desperate enough,” Maya fires back.

  “You bi—”

  This time, Camila slaps her hand against the tabletop. “Enough, ladies.”

  She glares at Maya and Liz, who stop glowering at each other long enough to look at Camila. They both grumble under their breaths but retreat back into their corners.

  “Are we done?” Camila gives a good bitch face.

  They nod bitterly.

  “Okay then.” Camila turns back to me. “You seriously can’t have sex for three months?”

  “Yes. Well, it’s only for another couple of weeks now, but when all is said and done, it’s three months. If my doctor deems me healed enough…” Why are we having this conversation in a club?

  “That blows.” Camila rubs my arm, like I’ve just suffered an excruciating loss. “I’m so sorry.”

  Our table is silent until we bust out in awkward laughter.

  “You make it sound like my cat just died.” I chuckle.

  “Well, your pussy’s out of order for another couple of weeks, so it’s pretty relevant.” Maya beams at me.

  Although it’s a serious topic, I’m happy we can find the humor in the situation.

  Silver Hair swings by. “How are you girls doing? I know this one has a broken vag”—she nods in my direction—“so maybe your working lady bits should order hers a shot. Because there ain’t no way she’s getting laid tonight.”

  The waitress is trying to joke with us, build a rapport, but for some reason, a quip coming from a stranger stings deep. It’s like she’s shoving it in my face that not only can I not have sex, but I’ll also never have children. It’s an irrational feeling, I know this, but I can’t help the way it makes me feel.

  “What the hell is your problem?” Maya says to Silver Hair after she sees whatever expression I’m wearing. “You’d better back the eff off, or I’ll get all up in your shit. And, believe me, you don’t want me in your shit. I’ll smear it up and down these walls for everyone to judge.” She does the whole black girl head bob and finger-swishing move and then glares at the waitress until she backs down.

  God, I love Maya.

  Silver Hair’s eyes almost pop out of her head, and she mumbles a, “Sorry,” before she hightails it out of there.

  “What the hell was that?” Liz breaks the silence.

  Maya folds herself back into the booth. “Everyone has something to hide. You have to play off their weaknesses.” She takes a drink of her beverage, like nothing happened.

  “Um…” Camila says.

  “It’s easy.” She gazes across the table at me. “Don’t disrespect my bitches. It’s simple girl gang code.”

  We all sit mute, blinking at each other, until once again, our table breaks into a fit of giggles.

  The next morning, I roll over in bed to see Camila staring at me from the pillow beside mine.

  “Gah!” I jerk backward and blink several times.

  “I’m really here,” she jokes.

  “For a minute, I thought the Grim Reaper was here to take me back to the motherland.” I yawn and rub my eyes. “You really should start doing something more with your scary self.”

  “This one’s got jokes in the morning, people,” she says comically to no one.

  “Why are you trespassing in my bed?” Stretching, I try to bring life back into my dead limbs.

  “I need to talk to you.” Her serious tone catches my attention, especially after it was filled with humor a second ago.

  “O-kay,” I say, drawing out the word.

  I have a flashback to last night when Camila was acting strange.

  She must be ready to talk.

  Camila sits up with her back against my headboard, and I follow suit. She rotates her wedding ring around and around her finger, shakes her foot back and forth, and gnaws on her lip.

  Shit. This must be bad.

  Big crocodile tears start trailing down her cheeks. My lungs deflate at the sight, and my pulse thrashes in my ears, making them ring. I clench my jaw and squeeze my lids closed until I can gather enough strength to start asking questions. I blink my eyes open and finally breathe.

  “What’s wrong?” I’m too scared to talk any louder than a whisper.

  Camila st
arts weeping uncontrollably, hiccups and all. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she says repeatedly.

  I wrap her in my arms and rock back and forth with her. “It’s okay. Tell me what’s wrong, and we’ll make it better.” I repeat this until her weeping subsides minutely.

  She sniffles, takes a few deep breaths, and then pulls away from me to rub at her cheeks and nose.

  We’re quiet for a long time while I let horrible ideas run rampant through my head. Camila twists her fingers together on her lap, sniffling and intermittently wiping at her nose.

  “I-I’m pregnant,” she murmurs through broken sobs again. Her watery dark eyes finally meet mine.

  I swallow, scratch my cheek, and rub at my chin as something in my chest starts to tighten.

  “You…what?” I’m not sure I heard her correctly.

  “I’m pregnant, Jos. I’m so sorry.” The last word comes out on a croak, and Camila bows her head, like she’s ashamed.

  My stomach drops, and my head swirls. Camila’s sorry she’s pregnant? My throat starts to constrict, and I swallow several times.

  “You’re pregnant?” It comes out in a squeak.

  She nods with her eyes averted, and I grab her hands in mine.

  “Look at me, Cam.”

  Taking a deep breath, she squares her shoulders and lifts her attention to mine. Her eyes search my features for several seconds, and when she notices I’m smiling, her expression softens.

  “You’re freaking pregnant!” I jump to my feet on the bed and bounce once.

  “I am.” A smile teases at her lips.

  “Holy shit!” My hand slams over my mouth. I fall to my knees, bouncing Camila and myself around a few times, and I hold my hands out toward her belly. “Sorry, baby. Auntie Jos has a fowl mouth.”

  I sit back on my feet and watch Camila, awestruck. “I can’t believe you’re pregnant.”

  I have stars in my eyes for her. My person is creating a littler person, a miracle.