by Tabatha Kiss
“What’s up, Val?”
“Nothing.” She pauses, defeated. “Men are scared to date me.”
I tilt my head. “They are?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because of my dad!” she says. “The second they hear I’m related to him, they either run in the other direction or ask me for his autograph. I cease to exist.”
“To be fair, he strangled a guy on live television.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.”
“Twice.”
“I had to go to freakin’ Europe to meet someone who didn’t know him just so I could lose my virginity!”
“Ah.” I nod. “It all makes sense now.”
“Do you know how humiliating that is?!”
“Well, I lost mine at a Fourth of July hoedown behind a barn to a girl who might have been my distant cousin, so... yeah, kind of.”
She sighs. “Ever since I’ve come home, I’ve had this... itch. And not just for sex, either! I really, really want to get back at my dad for all the years of cuntblocking me.”
“And your solution to that was... this?”
Val nods slowly, her words stalling. “He was supposed to walk in on us... well, during.”
I frown. “And how would he know to do that?”
She cringes. “I might have put in a maintenance request for you…”
“For when?”
“About now.”
I hop off the bed. “Val, get dressed and get out of my apartment. Please.”
“Okay.”
Thankfully, she gets up and I turn around as she slips her blouse and skirt back on.
“So, what about Roger?” I ask the wall.
“Roger?”
“Didn’t you spend the night with him?”
“Yeah, I guess,” she says. “So?”
“You said no man would touch you. Roger didn’t seem to have a problem with it. He had some nice things to say about your time together, actually.”
I peek first to make sure she’s decent before turning away from the wall.
“I don’t know,” she says, shrugging. “He’s a waiter, you know? Hard to piss off Daddy by sleeping with a waiter.”
I smile. “Give Roger another chance. Believe me when I say that he will find a way to piss your dad off.”
“He will?” she asks, hopeful.
“Absolutely.”
“Okay.” She smiles. “Thanks, Rob.”
“I did literally nothing.”
“No, you’re a good neighbor. I really appreciate it.”
“Thanks, Val.” I bob my head toward the door. “Out.”
She giggles, but obeys. “Bye!” she says, quickly blowing me a kiss before skipping toward the door.
I exhale, silently praying that this was the last of this nonsense.
“Oh—” Val pauses after flinging the door open. “Excuse me.”
“Okay...”
My gut flips. I spin around, spotting Melanie lingering in the hallway as Val takes off toward her apartment.
I rush through my living room to meet her. “That’s not what it looks like,” I say. “It’s worse, actually.”
Melanie steps inside, briefly peeking into the hallway behind her as she slowly closes the door. “Oh, yeah?” she asks.
“That’s my landlord’s daughter,” I explain.
“Okay.”
“She was in my bed.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Naked.”
“Ah.”
“She tried to seduce me.”
Melanie squints. “To seduce you?”
“She’s been at it for weeks,” I say. “Turns out, she just wanted to stir up drama with her dad. I think I’ve got it under control now, though. She won’t be trying a stunt like this again, that’s for sure.”
Melanie hangs on every word, but gives me nothing to work with. I grow nervous, unable to read her thoughts for the first time in a while. I can’t tell whether she’s about to scream at me, throw something, or bolt. Most likely all of the above.
Finally, she blinks. “Man, you really live in a John Hughes movie, don’t you?”
“Lately, more and more.” I exhale, relieved. “You seem okay with this.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know. A hot girl throwing herself at me…” I smirk. “Don’t tell me you’re not a little green with envy.”
She rolls her eyes. “Rob, if I went full Hera every time some twit batted her eyes at you, we never would have lasted a week.”
“Good point.”
“Besides,” she says, smiling, “I was never the jealous one in our relationship.”
My jaw drops. “I do not get jealous.”
“You punched a priest.”
“Okay, first of all, priests shouldn’t be that handsy,” I say. “And second, I’ve matured a lot since then.”
She snorts. “Have you now?”
I raise my hands. “Hey, I didn’t say a word when you were going on about your secret admirer.”
“Good point.”
I cross my arms, casually leaning against the edge of the couch. “Speaking of which, how’s that been going?” I ask, wading in cautiously.
“Ah, well…” Melanie exhales softly as she slides her jacket off and drapes it over the back of the couch with her handbag. “I’m suspecting that’s not a thing anymore.”
Fuck yeah.
“Really?” I ask, feigning sincerity.
“Feeling a little ghosted, actually.”
“What a prick.”
She shrugs, a little embarrassed. “Not sure why I got so into it in the first place.”
Because he reminded you of me.
I don’t say it out loud.
“Well, if you want my opinion…”
“Never,” she replies quickly.
“I think it’s for the best,” I say anyway.
“Do you?”
“Yeah. I mean, who knows who that guy really was. I think you dodged yourself a great big bullet, Mel.”
“Maybe I did.” She takes a step closer, amused. “But now what am I supposed to do with all this free time?”
I bite my bottom lip. “I can think of a few options. And, since you’re here, I’m betting you can, too.”
Melanie smiles. “Yeah, well, I have to win back my panties somehow.”
I laugh as I lean in, her face tilting upward.
Someone pounds on the door and we freeze, our lips an inch away.
“Yo, Wheeler!”
“Damn,” I say. “That guy really is a cuntblocker.”
“A what?” Melanie asks.
“Hold that thought,” I say, stepping around her toward the door. I open it and smile for my landlord. “Hey, Mr. White!”
He nods, his thick neck disappearing somewhere within his navy blue jumpsuit. “Got a leak?” he asks.
“You know, it was acting up before, but it seems fine now,” I lie. “You might as well look, though. Bathroom sink.”
I step to the side to let him in. He tilts his body as he walks through the doorway to accommodate his giant, truck-like shoulders.
He spots Melanie in the living room. “Roommates are extra,” he mutters at me.
“Oh, no. She’s just visiting,” I say.
He grunts and takes another long, hard look at her before passing through the kitchen.
How dare he.
Once he’s gone, Melanie grins. “See?” she says.
“See what?” I ask.
“Jeal-ous,” she teases.
My chest clenches again. “No...”
A wicked brow rises.
“I just think it’s inappropriate for him to look at you like that,” I say.
“Like what?”
“Like a roast beef sandwich.”
She chortles, but quickly smothers it as Mr. White stomps back in from the hallway.
“I see nothing wrong with it,” he says, “but let me know if she acts up again.”
“Will do,” I say with a nod.
Mr. White pauses by the door to bow at Melanie. “Ma’am,” he says.
“Sir,” she says, her voice way too warm.
How dare she.
“Thanks again, Mr. White,” I say.
He tilt-walks out and I close the door behind him, quickly locking it with a flick of my wrist.
“That was rude,” I say to Melanie.
She squints at the door. “Do I know that guy from somewhere?” she asks.
“Don’t care,” I say, striding toward her. “Bend over.”
Melanie turns her head, blocking the kiss. “Wait, Robbie,” she says, suddenly cold. “Maybe we shouldn’t...”
I deflate. “Are you kidding me?”
Her lips twitch. “Yes.”
I grab her hips and pull her against me as she laughs. “No, that was rude,” I scold.
“Oh, come on,” she says, wrapping her arms around my neck. “I’m just having fun.” She kisses the edge of my mouth. “That’s what you wanted, right?”
“Is that what you want?” I ask, parroting the same thing she asked me last night.
“Yeah,” she answers. “I think some no strings attached fun might do us some good right about now.”
Fuck yeah.
I smile, my eyes on her lips. “I think you might be right,” I whisper as I lean in again.
We meet in a slow kiss and my stomach rumbles. One step closer. Two steps back. That’s what it’s like being in love with Melanie Rose, but I’m just a few more away from locking her down for good. She’s standing at the crossroads, losing all hope in whatever lame future she thought possible with the secret admirer, leaving me to welcome her back.
Melanie shifts backward, wanting to take me with her into the bedroom.
I stop us. “I need to wash those sheets first,” I say.
“Oh, right,” she says, glancing toward the room. “Not sure where that girl’s been...”
“With Roger, actually.”
“Oh.” She cringes. “Yeah, let’s wash those.”
“Couch is fine, though.”
“Excellent.” She falls back onto it, taking me down with her. She playfully grips my belt as I settle between her thighs. “Wait, what was my surprise?” she asks.
“Ah, well…” I smile. “It’s big and girth-y…”
“It’s your penis,” she says flatly.
“It’s my penis, yeah. I was going to put a bow on it, but then there was a teenager in my bed, so…”
“Maybe next time.”
I nod. “Maybe next time.”
Melanie pulls me back down to her lips.
Twenty-Three
Robbie
For a recovering alcoholic, there’s no such thing as a good day.
There are okay days, but they’re few and far between. Even seven months in, I rarely go half a day without thinking about the warm comfort a bottle of whiskey can bring. Even people like Betty and Roger who have been at this for years say they don’t have good days. There will always be someone we hurt badly enough that no amount of time will ever make up for the things we did or said when we were wasted, and that cloud will haunt us forever.
That said, I’m having a good day.
Maybe even a great one.
“The fuck are you smiling about?”
I look up as Roger sits down in the empty chair next to mine. “Nothing,” I answer, my grin widening as I take a sip from my Yummy Bean Coffee to-go cup. I arrived at the meeting early by accident. I guess the skip in my step this morning was just too quick.
“Ah,” Roger says, shaking his head. “Someone got their dick sucked this morning.”
“No comment.”
“You know, I’ve got to hand it to you, my friend. I thought you’d screw it up somehow by now.”
“Oh, ye of little faith.”
“So, is it official?” he asks, sipping from his own to-go cup. “Are you two back together?”
“Not exactly. We’re just having fun. No strings attached, you know?”
He grimaces. “But you’re in love with her.”
“So?”
“So, where’s the fun in that?”
I laugh. “You’ve never been intimate with a woman you have genuine feelings for?”
“Okay, first, don’t call it being intimate. It makes it sound gross. And second, no. I have not.”
“It’s only a matter of time until you do.”
He glares. “Don’t you dare put that curse on me.”
“I apologize.”
“Thank you.” He waves at the chair three seats away. “Top of the morning, Betty.”
“Hey, Betty,” I say, giving her a head bob.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” she greets as she sits down and goes back to her phone conversation.
I look at Roger. “By the way, as your friend, I feel like I have a moral obligation to tell you that your new plaything broke into my apartment and tried to seduce me.”
Roger grins as he pulls his phone from his pocket. “Yeah, I know. She sent me a selfie,” he says, tilting the screen in my direction.
I glance at it and scoff as I see her naked, perky breasts once again. “Washing the sheets was the right call,” I say, averting my eyes.
“Yes, it was.” He smugly swipes through a few more pictures. “This girl is filthy...”
“You realize she’s only using you to get back at her dad, right?” I ask.
“Oh, I’m well aware. I just don’t care. It’s one of the perks to not letting feelings get in the way of what I’m there to do.”
“And what’s that?”
He swipes again, and I instantly regret it.
“Never mind,” I say with a sigh. “Sorry I asked.”
“Question.” He clears his throat and returns his phone to his pocket. “You wouldn’t know a good lawyer, would you?”
“Maybe,” I say, dreading the direction of our conversation. “Why?”
“I just have a few questions pertaining to, you know, civil rights.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What exactly is legally permitted between two consenting adults in the state of Illinois... and the surrounding areas.”
“Please stop talking.”
He chuckles. “You’re right. I’ve already said too much. Let’s go back to talking about the inevitable train wreck that is the rekindled relationship with your ex-wife.”
“What?” Betty asks, obviously keeping one ear on our conversation. “Rekindled? Robbie, tell me you didn’t.”
Roger nods. “He did.”
I sigh. “Now hold on—”
Betty talks into her phone. “Honey, Imma have to call you back.” She hangs up. “Boy, what are you thinking?” she asks, scolding me.
“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” I argue. “This is a good thing.”
“What’s a good thing?” Greg asks, his voice booming from the other side of the chair circle.
“Rekindling his ex-wife,” Betty answers.
His face screws up. “Dude...”
I raise my hands as the rest of them groan. “Okay, may I defend myself here?” I ask. They go silent, but their stares are very loud. “Now, yes, I have rekindled with my ex-wife, but—” I pause as they groan again, “it’s different this time.”
They groan even louder.
“No, I mean it,” I say. “It’s going so well. It’s like it was before. Before I screwed everything up. It’s everything I’ve been working so hard for, and she...” I sit forward. “Okay, this weekend, she walked in on something that could have easily been interpreted differently, but I told her the truth and she trusted me. She trusted me. This is the first time in so long I can say that and it feels... so damn good, you guys.” I look at all of them, their faces softening. “Mel trusts me and I can’t mess that up again. I won’t. I won’t let myself. It’s too important.”
“So, honesty is your thing now, eh?” Roger asks.
“Yes!” I
answer. “I’m an open book for her. I have to be.”
“Then, does that mean you’re going to come clean with her?”
“About what?”
He tilts his head.
I sit back as I realize what he’s talking about. “You mean the flowers,” I say.
“Uh-huh,” he says.
“Well, I...” I pause. “I don’t really see why I should.”
They all roll their eyes as they turn away from me, looking even more disappointed than before. I let them turn, eager not to be the center of their attention anymore.
“You hear that?” Roger asks, tilting his ear up.
“Hear what?” I ask.
“That distant sound...” He squints. “Tick-tock. Tick-tock.”
I sigh, annoyed. “All right.”
“Is that a time bomb? I think that’s a time bomb.”
“Yeah, I get it, Rog.”
“Do you?” he asks, leaning closer. “Do you really?”
“It’s not the right time to bring it up, all right?”
“When exactly is the right time to tell your ex-wife you swooned her under a fake identity, ghosted her cold, and crushed her spirit just so you could pick up the pieces like a glorious white knight?”
I don’t answer.
Twenty-Four
Robbie
Cady twirled her fingers around a lock of Derrick’s hair. His lips caressed her belly as he sunk deeper onto his knees. She parted her legs, lightly mewling as his firm, cruel touch tempted her inner thigh.
She moaned his name, her teeth etching a line into her bottom lip—
“Yawn!” I say aloud.
Melanie looks up from her laptop on the couch beside me. “Excuse me?” she asks.
“Let me guess.” I skim ahead on the document. “He kisses her thighs, blah blah blah, she wants it, but then he pulls away at the last second. Or the phone rings. Or there’s a sudden knock on the door.”
She scoffs. “So?”
“So, get to it already.”
“It’s a slow burn!” she argues. “It’s supposed to be like that.”
“Well, it’s boring. Derrick should have torn her up ten chapters ago. Rewrite it.”
Melanie takes a second, her eyes looking upward at the ceiling as she lets the critique sink in. “Okay, how about I leave it as is—”
I snore loudly.