M Is for Mister

by Tara Hart

  I scoff. “That’s absurd. I never would have fucked the random chick if she wasn’t playing constant games with me.”

  Seriously, who can keep up? The woman changes her mind more than she changes her outfits.

  Shaun cocks his head to the side. “Jared, have you ever wondered if that would be such a bad thing. If you and Savannah weren’t a thing?”

  I try not to react, but I can’t help it, my face falls and my fists turn into balls.

  Of course, I’ve considered it. My life would be a fucking dream without a woman in it. I could travel the world, eat at the finest restaurants, pick up some exotic girlfriends, invite them all back to my hotel room for a massive orgy, snorting lines of coke off their ass cracks while one of them gives me a blow job. Sounds great, except I’d be bored of that life after two hot minutes. I’m not that guy. Maybe once, but not anymore.

  “Look, Jared.” Shaun leans forward, resting his elbows on the balls of his knees, he’s about to lecture me and I don’t like it one bit. “Selina is willing to settle.” He pauses dramatically. “But there are conditions.”

  I place the container of food on the floor and rub the palms of my hands against the towel that’s still wrapped around my waist. Suddenly my skin is covered in a film of sweat as I wait for Shaun to speak again.

  “She wants you to agree to never see Savannah again.”

  I shake my head before his words have even had a chance to sink in. “Absolutely not.”

  Who does Selina think she is? How dare she command who I can and cannot see.

  Selina is so worried that Savannah will cancel her out. Savannah will make everything we had obsolete. Little does she know how untrue that is, I will never forget the effect Selina had on my life, positive or negative.

  “Jared, just take a moment to think about this,” Shaun keeps his voice steady, but I can see the concern etched all over his face. Shaun’s known me long enough to know that I never back down from a fight. “Selina will agree to everything we put forward. She’ll get the holiday home in Colorado, the apartment in New York and the alimony, but you’ll keep everything else.” He pauses for effect. “This is an amazing deal and I feel the need to tell you, you’re an absolute moron if you don’t sign off on this.”

  “Then I’m a moron. I’m not settling.”

  Shaun sighs heavily. He knows this is a battle he cannot win. When my minds made up about something, it takes more than an empty threat to make me budge from my stance. I’ve always been that way, both in business and in my personal affairs.

  Shaun clears his throat. “Think about it from her point of view,” he says, his voice a little unsteady. “She’ll be humiliated if you continue things with Savannah…if you try to build a life with one another.”

  “That’s Selina’s problem, not mine.” My voice is ice cold and I make no apologies for that.

  Drawing in a breath, I push onto my feet. I turn my back on Shaun and walk over to the large bay window that looks into the backyard—my backyard. This house is mine, she’s not fighting for it. Now looking back, what seemed to be important a few weeks ago is a mere footnote now. She can have the houses, the cars, the money, but she’s trying to take the one thing she knows that I want.

  The question is, how much do I want Savannah in my life?

  Chapter 17

  I’m taking stalking to the next level. I sit in my car on the opposite side of the street. I’ve been watching the window of her gallery for the better part of an hour, patiently waiting for a sign of life.

  She won’t answer my calls and it’s driving me insane. I need to speak to her—I need to see her. After everything we’ve been through, I can’t believe I’m pursuing her, but it tears me up inside when we’re apart. Especially with the way we left things.

  The radio blares out eighties tunes and I find myself taping my foot to the repetitive base as I toy with the hair tie I found on the passenger seat. It’s hers. She was wearing it one night when I picked her up from a night out. She was at some random guy’s house that she met at a bar. She almost fucked him, but couldn’t go through with it. I was angry and perhaps a little heartbroken when she told me, but at the same time, she asked me to pick her up. It was a sign that she felt something for me and I’ve held onto that glimmer of hope ever since.

  It’s just turned six and I know she’ll be leaving the gallery soon. She doesn’t often stay back late, not unless there’s she’s hosting an exhibition and she’s busy schmoozing with the sophisticated art lovers of Seattle. She gets so nervous before one of her exhibitions. I smile at the memory. Savannah is always prepared, maybe a little too prepared, but she still stresses over every tiny detail. She got that trait from her mother.

  The light turns off in the gallery and I shoot upright in my seat. The hair tie flicks from my thumb and hits the roof of the car as I wait for her to walk outside. I hear the blood rushing through my veins as someone steps outside, but it’s not her, not Savannah.

  It’s a tall guy with dark hair, someone I’ve never seen before. He smiles as he holds the door open and waits for her to follow him onto the sidewalk. She laughs as she steps outside, tying the belt on her black winter coat before tucking her hands deep in the pockets.

  They walk together in the opposite direction, their feet stepping in unison as they reach the pedestrian crossing and the tall guy presses the button to cross the street.

  I wait for them to reach the other side of the road before I step out of my car and rush after them. I can’t hear the sound of the cars as they pass me by or the chatter of people as I walk amongst them, all I can hear is the sound of my heart pounding deep in my chest as my mind struggles to comprehend what’s happening.

  I’m pissed for so many different reasons. Who is this chump? How did she move on so fast? Why does she look so damn happy when I’m miserable as hell?

  I’m half a block behind them as I rush across the road, cutting in front of a taxi who holds down the horn as he slams on his brakes. I flash him the finger, before landing on the curb. He doesn’t realize my life is falling apart and I’m in a hurry to crush every last hope I had of winning her back.

  I’m twenty steps behind them, maybe thirty, but I’m close enough to see them stop at a small tapas bar on the opposite side of the street. He holds the door open for her and watches as she steps inside. His hand coming to rest on the small of her back as he follows close behind. My fists clench and my jaw becomes tense. He’s touching her intimately as if he already knows her body so well.

  Running my fingers through my hair, I try to work out my next move. I don’t know whether to rush inside and punch the guy in the face or if I should stay back and wait for their dinner date to finish, whenever that may be. At least then I’ll know the extent of their relationship.

  Before any rationale can enter my thick-headed skull, I’m running across the road and pushing inside the restaurant. The smell of fruit and rum hits me like a slap in the face, the shrill of ukulele the only other thing to register in my brain. This hole in the wall eatery is certainly an intimate establishment, each table seating only two, the candles flickering next to one single red rose in the center of each couple.

  My eyes frantically travel over every table, searching for her face in a room full of strangers. The waitress approaches me too soon, an eager smile on her face.

  “Hola, do you have a booking?” Her heavy accent fills my ears.

  I shake my head. “No booking.”

  As I attempt to peer around her, she looks confused. I don’t immediately realize that I’m acting like a crazy person, but when I look back at her face, her screwed up nose tells me I need to chill the fuck out.

  “Can I get a table?”

  “Will someone be joining you?”

  I shake my head no.

  She reaches for a menu and takes a step back. “A table for one it is.”

  I follow her down the narrow walkway as I subtly scope out each table, searching for Savannah and her mystery d
ate. We reach a table at the back of the restaurant next to the kitchen. The waitress pulls the chair out for me, the wooden legs scraping against the concrete floor as she pulls it clear of the table.

  “Your menu.” I take it from her with a nod of my head. Food is the last thing on my mind.

  Sitting with the menu open in front of me, I survey my surroundings. It takes me a moment to spot the tall guy two tables down from me. For the first time, I set eyes on him. I’ve never seen him before, and yet, I already despise him.

  He laughs and then takes a mouthful of sangria into his mouth. He scratches the overgrown stubble on his chin and then laughs again. It’s loud and booming and over-enthusiastic for such a small establishment. He doesn’t suit the restaurant, he doesn’t suit the crowd, he doesn’t suit her…

  The waitress approaches my table, a friendly smile on her face.

  “Can I get you a drink?”

  I hadn’t planned on sticking around, although I’ve picked the perfect vantage point to watch Savannah’s date go down.

  “A scotch, please,” I request softly. “Neat.”

  She scribbles my order on her notepad and then walks past Savannah’s table. The chump flags her down, requesting something before smiling at the waitress, his eyes lingering on her breasts a little too long. My fists clench instinctively. If he thinks he can perv on another chick while on a date with Savannah, he’s fucking crazy.

  They continue talking intimately, their voices hushed, both leaning forward, their elbows resting on the table. It angers me, but I can’t look away. I need to see this, to understand what he has that I don’t.

  The waitress brings my scotch, placing it on top of a folded yellow napkin.

  “Thanks.” I offer her a tight smile as she looks at me expectantly.

  It takes me a moment to realize she’s waiting to take my food order. I fumble with the menu, blindly pointing at the third item on the first page.

  “That’s one plate,” she says. “Will that be all?”

  I nod. “That will do me for now.”

  She takes the menu and sets off to the kitchen. It takes me two seconds to get the rim of the glass to my lip, tilting the glass horizontally, I down the drink in one mouthful. The burn makes me cough, my eyes watering just the slightest from the bitter taste of cheap scotch. I wipe the back of my hand over my mouth, my gaze returning to Savannah’s table, watching every single moment of her night unfold.

  Ten minutes roll by. The waitress brings my meal, potatas bravas or some shit like that. It sits on my table, untouched, the scent tantalizing my taste buds, but I’m too distracted to eat.

  My eyes have not left Savannah’s table. I watch them eat, drink and talk, and the whole ordeal is painful to watch as an outsider. I feel as though she’s cheating on me and I realize I have no right to feel that way, but it doesn’t stop the feeling of betrayal to rip through my body with such intensity that it makes me shake.

  They’re getting to know one another. It’s that exciting moment when you find out the little things you have in common. Your love of dogs and the beach and walking said dogs along the beach or some shit like that.

  I watch with interest as Savannah pushes her chair back, moving to stand as the chump remains seated. She walks in the opposite direction, presumably in search of the bathroom. I wait until she’s out of sight before I stand.

  In four long strides, I’m at their table, bending to sit in Savannah’s seat, my eyes swoop in on his face, narrowing as we finally meet eye to eye.

  He looks confused, and perhaps a little bit annoyed by my presence.

  “That seat’s taken, bud.” He gestures for me to move.

  I take a fork from the table, toying with the handle as my gaze locks with his.

  “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll walk out of this restaurant and never look back.”

  His forehead scrunches as he laughs obnoxiously. “Who the fuck is you?”

  I shrug my shoulders, not justifying the question with a response.

  “I’m not fucking leaving you psychotic dick,” he says.

  Taking the fork, I raise it above my head and slam it down on the table. The prongs dig into the wooden surface with little effort, the handle standing vertically in the air.

  The chump looks from the fork and up to my face. He stands up, his arms out in front of him defensively.

  “You’re fucking crazy.”

  Yep. I’m crazy alright.

  “You bet I am.” I meet his gaze again, wanting him to know just how crazy I am. I can see by the expression on his face that he gets it.

  I watch as his eyes travel behind me, his expression softening. He doesn’t look scared or angry, instead, he looks relieved. It’s then that I realize who he’s looking at. She Savannah is standing next to me, her hands on her hips and her face glowing red.

  “Jared,” she mutters between clenched teeth. “What the fuck.”

  I stand from the table and the chump moves to Savannah’s side, his hand coming to rest against her back. I want to punch him in the face, but my focus remains on Savannah.

  “What are you doing here?” she asks as if she’s just stepped into a dream.

  I feel the need to apologize, but it won’t come. Instead, my words come out bitter and angry. “What am I doing?” I ask. “What are you doing? You felt betrayed by what I did, but it certainly didn’t take you long to move on.” I throw my arms toward the chump. “With this guy of all people?”

  “Jared,” Savannah bites out. “You’re making a scene.”

  I glance around the restaurant, for the first time noticing the space is dead silent. Even the wait staff are watching in anticipation as they wait for the tense exchange to be over.

  The chump walks around the table and tries to grab me by the elbow. “You need to leave,” he says.

  I shrug out of his reach.

  “Don’t fucking touch me.” I point my finger in his face as I etch closer to taking a swing and knocking his teeth from his skull.

  He moves forward, his face just inches from mine, daring me to punch the smug look from his face when Savannah tugs on my arm.

  “Jared, you need to leave.” This time her tone has changed. She’s pleading with me.

  Her fingernails dig into the curve of my arm, her gaze holding mine.

  “This is a business dinner,” she says finally. “Ben is a photographer that I’ve been working with for the past week. We’re collaborating for a show to be held at the gallery.”

  Everything stops. My heart, my breathing. The anger has subsided, replaced by a deep sense of dread and remorse.

  I chance a glance in the chump’s direction. His arms hang loosely by his side. He’s not being aggressive. He’s not fighting for her because they’re not together. This is a dinner to talk about business, nothing else. How did I get this so completely and utterly wrong?

  “You don’t get to hurt me anymore, Jared,” she says quietly. “I’m already broken.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but the words won’t come.

  “Leave,” she says. “Please.”

  My eyes lock on her face. The pink glow on her cheeks is caused by nothing more than sheer embarrassment. She’s done with me—done with us. If her mind wasn’t already made up, it is now.

  “I’m sorry,” I mutter as I step around the table and into the walkway.

  I’ve fucked up and it will take me forever to recover from this. I hand the waitress a fifty as I head for the door.

  As I make my exit, I notice the line of cellphones filming my every move, their videos bound for the gossip sites before the night is out. Yet another nail in my coffin.

  Pushing through the door, the air feels cool against my skin, I loosen the buttons on my shirt, so I can finally breathe.

  It takes me a few minutes to reach my car. I run across the road like a mad man, not giving a shit about oncoming traffic. Right now, I could bounce off the bonnet of a car and I wouldn’t feel a thing.

&
nbsp; I fumble with my keys, pressing the button three times before the doors finally unlock. I reach for the handle and hop in the cab as if my life depends on it. I need the safety of my car, I need to release.

  “Fuck,” I scream into the darkness. “Fuck." I punch the steering wheel with a closed fist. The whole car rocks as the blood thrashes through my veins with such intensity that I might explode.

  I hold my head in my hands and fight the tears that so desperately need to fall.

  My life’s falling apart in front of my eyes, and it’s not because of her—it’s because I can’t have her.

  Chapter 18

  She looks like an angel. The ethereal glow that surrounds her is amplified by the warm white fairy lights that are draped over the trees in her yard. She’s wearing a loose white top that hangs off her shoulders. The air around her fills with rings of smoke as she exhales. A cream-colored blanket covers her legs to try and retain some warmth. The blue mug she cradles in her hands, meets her lips every now and then, making the air around her foggy.

  The rain falls upon my shoulders, my hair, my face, but I don’t seek shelter. I welcome the crisp air and cool drops as they meet my skin. I can feel it—I can feel everything. That’s how I know I’m truly alive.

  It takes her minutes to acknowledge me or maybe seconds, I have no concept of time. All I know is that my sweater is heavy and the light blue has now turned dark before her sweet voice meets my ears.

  “What do you want?” She takes another sip from her mug. Her gaze doesn’t meet my face. It’s like she’s scared to look at me. She fears she’ll come undone if she looks at me for too long. I know the feeling.

  “Can I join you?”

  I think she nods her head, but maybe I imagine it. Hesitating, my feet edge forward, gauging her response.

  “Just sit,” she says, tucking her legs beneath her body, leaving enough room for me on the love seat that sits on her front porch. Despite its name, tonight I don’t feel the love.

  I sit, the seat swinging beneath my weight. I hold my breath until the motion settles. We watch the rain crashing angrily against the ground, neither of us speaking. The silence is unbearable as it hangs over my head. I need to say something, but the words don’t come easily. Savannah is the only person who can silence the ramblings of my heart with her mere presence.