“Dude, you’re fucking drunk,” curses Poe.
“Again,” groans Spence.
I’m struggling to fight Poe as he pulls my phone away. “You need to stop calling this chick, who is not even the chick you’re after but a friend of the chick you want.”
“It’s the only number I have plus her dad’s number, but I can’t call him anymore. He threatened to call the police.” I look back at the club entrance.
“Kev! Stop staring at the door. That chick is not coming back here. It’s been over three months.”
I keep my eyes fixed, as fixed as I can keep them at the entrance. My brain is swimming in a pond of EOTH... or EHOT... or whatever the fuck is the acronym for a pond of alcohol pollution.
I recall thinking Lee didn’t belong in this place. I recollect how eager I was to get her out. I remember thinking I had to make sure she’d never come back to this club again.
And why didn’t I want her to come back?
Because I didn’t want her hooking up with anyone else. I knew instantly—the very second I laid eyes on her—I had to take Lee home and make a claim to her.
“Poe!” I snap, reaching my hand out. “Give me my fucking phone.”
Poe shakes his head with a grimace. “No. I’m not giving you your cell back. You can’t call friends and fathers of chicks that never gave you their number. Just because she used your phone to call them, doesn’t give you the right to harass them. And I warned you, Kevin.” Poe is pointing his finger at me now. “I told you one day someone was going to break your heart. It sucks, doesn’t it?”
“Fuck you.” I flip him the finger. “Give me my phone.”
“I’m not giving it to you. Not until you sober up. Spence, tell Kevin I’m not giving him back his phone.”
Spence flexes his bicep. “No phone.”
Goddamnit! I get up...
But I pause. The club walls and the people within are spinning around me. When everything seems to calm down, I start walking. I walk right out the doors and head to my car.
Where the fuck is my Camaro?
Shit, I can’t remember.
Reaching in my pocket, I feel for my keys but I can’t seem to get a good grip on the remote. I figure if I push the lock button, my Camaro will alert me to where she is.
I should’ve put an alarm on Lee...
I should’ve tied her up...
I should’ve put a damn leash on her.
Damn, I’m so drunk. I think I’m about to tip over but hands catch me.
“Hey,” says a pretty voice. “Don’t I know you?”
I squint trying to get a clear image of the woman’s face with her hands semi-supporting my weight. She looks familiar—blonde, high cheekbones, cute nose, but I have no idea. “No.”
“I think I left my pearl earrings at your apartment months ago. I called about them, but you never called me back.”
“Yeah, okay.” I nod. Although I don’t remember jack about what this girl is talking about, I’m sure she’s been over.
She chuckles. “You know, that was a fun night.”
“I’m sure.” I’m fumbling with my keys again.
“Hey, do you want me to take you home?”
“No.” I only want to go home with Lee.
“Listen. You’re drunk, and I don’t normally do this but I’ll tell you what...” She easily removes the keys from my hand. “If you let me take you home tonight, I’ll take care of you and you can take care of me tomorrow.”
“Will you let me use your phone?”
She tilts her head with suspicion, speaking slowly. “Shhure.”
“Then take me home.”
Ugh. My head hurts.
Rubbing the heel of my palm into my forehead, I notice warmth spread over my body. The pain in my head is immediately removed as my heart pounds with excitement.
I look down to see an arm and a leg sprawled about me, but instead of long strands of wavy sun-kissed brown hair, I see long golden blonde locks. I peep over to my nightstand to see the same empty box of condoms that has collected dust because it has not moved in over three months.
Shit!
I peep down at my body. My clothes are gone, except for my boxers.
Blondie twitches, moans, groans, and finally opens her green eyes to look up at me. “Good morning,” she smiles. I must admit. She has a very pretty smile.
I bite my lip before I have to ask, “Hey, did we uh... you know... did we?”
“No,” she laughs.
Thank God! I don’t even want to think about the possibilities of going without a condom... except with Lee, of course. I’ve already considered what my blank walls would look like painted with fingerprints from all my little mini Lees.
Blondie continues, “The only thing you wanted to do last night after I had to take my phone away from you was cuddle.” She adjusts her weight to lay on top of me, blinking flirtatiously, and she kisses my chest. “I liked cuddling.”
I push on her shoulders. “Did I speak to anyone last night while I was on the phone?”
“No,” she says. “You could hardly press a number.”
She drops her chin on my chest and swirls her finger around my nipple. “Soooo, I took care of you last night. You said you’d take care of me today.”
My lips automatically purse to the side. “I did?”
“Nn-hnn,” she nods.
“You want some breakfast?”
“I do,” she smiles and reaches between us, between my legs.
Frantically, I push her off and jump out of the bed. “I meant food.”
She huffs with a knit of her brow. “Why are you so mean?”
My head cocks back automatically. “I’m not mean.”
“Yes, you are. You’re being an ass. It was hard work taking care of your drunk ass last night.”
Mean. Lee called me mean. She gave me an entire spiel about the way she believed I hurt women—always leading them on. Maybe that’s why Lee left me. She was afraid I’d hurt her eventually.
“I’m sorry.” I sigh.
Blondie perks up. “It’s okay.” She’s completely naked and I can’t for the life of me figure out why I don’t simply crawl over to the bed, get on top of her, and do her.
Because you’re in love with someone else, dumb fuck.
“Do you still want some breakfast?”
“Sure,” her shoulders come up. “Are you going to take me out?”
I hadn’t planned on taking her out, but I remember I have no food in my refrigerator. I haven’t been keeping it stocked as I used to. And since this girl brought me home and took care of me, as she says, I figure I should take her out, if that’s what she wants.
I never took Lee out. I should’ve, but I never did and I regret it. I figure that might be another reason Lee left me. Not once did she leave my apartment in the days she stayed here. It’s possible I made her feel trapped. I made her feel like she had no choice but to walk out. Lee was the first girl I did not have to persuade to leave or blatantly kick out and, for the first time, I do feel bad for feeling great about pushing women out the door.
I reach for my pants. “I’ll take you out. Where do you want to go?”
“There’s a new mall that opened up almost an hour away. It’s supposedly huge. You can take me there.”
I’m groaning under my breath. I offered breakfast, which has turned into a day at the mall and I’m remembering why I’ve never kept a girlfriend.
But I figure, why not? I have an insatiable need to better understand women’s clothing and sizing.
“I’ll take you to the mall, but I need to make a pit stop at a friend’s place and pick up my phone first.”
19
Lee
“But that mall is over an hour away!” Dad grumbles.
“Daddy, you said you would take me. You promised. It’s Delaney’s big day.” I pull a blue medical mask over my face.
“You don’t have to wear that mask, Lee. Your doctors said your blood ce
ll counts are within normal range.”
“I know. I just don’t want anyone to recognize me.” I wrap a dark blue headscarf over my bald head, tying it at the nape of my neck in the back.
“That’s a pretty one,” my father says, putting his arm on my shoulder as he looks me over through the mirror, “but I like the red one with the pink and white flowers on it.” There’s that glimmer in his eye again. The little beam of light that shines when his eyes get wet.
“The red one is too obvious. I attract enough attention as it is already, and today is about Delaney. Opening your own salon is a big deal. I want her to feel supported.”
“Ugh,” my father groans. “How long do we plan to be there?”
“A few hours. It’s supposedly huge. I’d like to walk around as well.”
“Should I bring your wheelchair?”
“I think I’ll be fine, Daddy.”
“Fine? Lee, you just said we’re going to be in a huge mall for a few hours. I’m packing the wheelchair, in case you get tired. Not to mention, you hardly ate a thing this week.”
I roll my eyes as my father walks out and I’m left looking at myself in the mirror. I’m so thin. It is not my fault that I don’t want to eat. I’m rarely hungry. I remember how easy it was to stuff my face but now, it’s difficult to simply nibble on any one little thing.
I look at my chest—my flat chest. The only thing I feel like stuffing is a bra, which I’m not even wearing because I’ve got an extremely dry and itchy rash going up both sides of my ribcage—another side effect besides the hair loss from chemotherapy.
I lean forward, bringing my face closer to the mirror. I swear I can see tiny little specks—buds of hair beneath my brow lines. I finished round two of chemo, and hopefully, I’ll get my hair back soon.
“Are you ready?” my father comes back.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Honey, I really wish you wouldn’t wear that mask. You don’t need to.”
“I don’t, but other people do, Daddy. Trust me, they don’t want to see me.”
My father fixes his glasses, pushing them up his nose. “Lee, do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”
My eyes water. It’s an immediate reaction. I hate it when my eyes water. It feels so weird—a reminder that if a bug should fly into my eye it won’t be stopped because I have no hair.
A tear escapes me, so I wipe my eye quickly before my Dad sees as I follow him to the Jeep. The words Dad spoke—asking me if I know how beautiful I am—those are the exact same words Kevin used within minutes of meeting me.
Lee, do you have any idea how beautiful you are?
I don’t know why I still think about Kevin. I hate thinking about Kevin. Just knowing he’s screwing girl after girl in that bed of his makes my blood boil. But knowing I left my eyelashes there makes me feel stupid.
Who leaves fake lashes as a memoir?
Although, I probably shouldn’t worry. That dumb little plastic bag is likely buried beneath dozens of pieces of fake costume jewelry by now. Jewelry worn in threesomes.
The ride to the mall feels excruciatingly long. Dad doesn’t like my pop music and I hate his seventies rock, so our fingers are in a constant swordfight at the dashboard.
I wonder what kind of music Kevin listens to...
Oh jeez! Who cares? You knew him a few days and its already been a few months.
Kevin did rock my world though. Dad says that’s why it’s still so hard to get over mom. She rocked him good.
I’m massaging my temples when Dad pulls into busy traffic leading into the new mall. It’s the grand opening and my heart is fluttering. I can’t wait to see Delaney’s new shop, which she opened with another partner.
Once Dad pulls into a parking stall and we both get out, he insists on bringing the wheelchair. I agree to make him feel better, though I know I’m not going to need it. If he wants to push it around, hopefully, it will keep him occupied and quiet.
The mall is gorgeous. It’s half indoor, half outdoor. The shops at the exterior are fronted by a beautiful stone walkway with adorable landscaping. Giant containers hold newly planted trees and there’s even a blue-tiled waterfall where a few preschoolers are tossing in their pennies making wishes.
Dad and I make our way to the interior of the main building. Of course, as we walk, a few people look at me. I’m hard to miss—a skinny girl with a medical mask and wrapped head scarf. People also look at the empty chair, so they are looking at Dad as well.
We manage to land in front of a directory and I’m nearly jumping out of my shoes when I see Delaney’s salon sits right above the stairwell to my right. I hustle, leaving Dad behind to maneuver with the chair between crowds of people. When I make it up the stairs to see the salon, I’m thrilled. The place is not only packed with employees and customers, but it’s gorgeous. Black and white paisley papered walls host framed glittering silver ornate oval mirrors in front of black countertops and deep-red salon chairs.
Delaney sees me right away, smiles, and waves, indicating that I go to her. She’s got a client in her seat and there is a line of customers waiting, resting comfortably in two deep-red Victorian sofas with glimmering black lacquered trim.
“I love this place!” I say as I make my approach. “Did you design all of this?”
“I did,” Delaney blushes. “So, you like?”
“Like?” I look around again, astonished at what my friend has accomplished. “I love!”
Delaney’s client, a middle-aged woman, throws her hands up. “I love it, too, but it’s too far away.”
“Too far?”
“Ms. Sandra is one of my regulars.” Delaney parts Ms. Sandra’s hair with a small fine comb.
“I had to drive nearly an hour to get here.” Ms. Sandra cocks her head with a grimace and Delaney props Ms. Sandra’s head back straight.
Delaney spies me in the mirror. “What’s up with the mask?” she asks, setting down the comb and then dipping a paintbrush into a bowl of dye. She dabs some black dye into Ms. Sandra’s roots as the woman stares at me through the mirror, waiting for an answer.
Both of my hands find their way into my back pockets. “There’s a lot of people here. I didn’t want to catch anything.” Of course, I know Delaney doesn’t care about the mask. She’s more interested in something else I’m wearing... or not wearing.
Delaney pauses with brush in hand. “And where’s the wig I bought you? Why are you wearing that headscarf?” I shrug, which makes Delaney huff. “That wig is made of real hair and I styled it perfectly for you.”
Delaney did do a good job of styling the wig and I feel bad that she spent her own money and time on it.
“The wig itches,” I lie. It doesn’t make sense for me to wear the wig or do myself up with dresses or makeup when I can’t even wear a bra.
Delaney sighs and paints more dye on Ms. Sandra’s hair. “I think you’re lying.”
I roll my eyes. Delaney knows me too well. “I’m not lying.”
“Yes, you are!”
“No, I’m—”
“Wow! Delaney, I’m so proud of you,” my Dad cuts in. He’s caught up and I see he’s left the wheelchair at the receptionist’s desk.
Delaney bats her eyes with a shameless grin. “Awh, thanks Dad.”
Ms. Sandra is also batting her eyes, which Delaney and I both notice.
“Hey, Pop. Have you met Ms. Sandra? She’s one of my regulars. And she’s single.” Delaney quickly swivels Ms. Sandra in her salon seat to face Dad.
Dad’s tongue pokes out of his mouth, the way the puppies do sometimes when they’re thirsty. I chuckle at the fact my father can’t speak.
“Hi, I’m Sandra.” Ms. Sandra puts her hand out, waiting on a handshake. “You must be very proud of your daughter.”
My father stares blankly at Ms. Sandra’s hand as he mutters. “Delaney is not my daughter.”
“Oh,” Ms. Sandra slowly withdraws but surprisingly, my father reaches out to grip he
r fingers and plants his strong palm into hers.
“But she’s like a daughter, so I’m very proud of her nonetheless.”
Ms. Sandra’s eyes sparkle along with Delaney’s. I suspect I might have a little glimmer in my eyes as well and the moment feels magically surreal. My father appears as if he’s about to say something to Ms. Sandra when we hear a phone ring.
Delaney curses. “Damn it.” She drops the brush in her hand into the bowl of dye and looks at her phone on the counter.
I lean over. “What’s the matter?”
“It’s your boyfriend.”
My Dad is pulled out of Ms. Sandra’s lure. “What boyfriend?”
I quickly correct the situation. “He’s not my boyfriend, Daddy.”
“But he wants to be,” Delaney chocks at me. “Why don’t you just talk to him? I’m tired of dealing with him. It’s been over three months since the two of you spent a few nights together and Kevin is still calling me to speak to you.”
“Kevin?” My father’s cheeks are turning red. “Is this the same boy that was calling me for a week until I threatened to go to the authorities?”
I’m so glad I have the mask on so my father cannot see the “oops” frown I have painted on my face. I shrug my shoulders.
“Lee!” my father snaps. “You said you only borrowed this boy’s phone in a coffee shop and that he was delusional. You did not mention this boy took you out or that you spent the night with him after your date.”
“Technically, he never took her out. They never did the date thing,” Delaney corrects and I’m fuming!
I grit my teeth. “Shut up.”
Why is she confessing all this to my father? Because my father finally says Delaney is like a daughter to him? So, now she feels a need to be more loyal to him than to me? Especially, since she’s never had a father of her own?
Delaney bites her lip. I’m confident she senses the anger brewing behind my mask. “I’m sorry,” she says. “He calls every. Damn. Day. And I’ve been tempted to change my phone number but I can’t do that, Lee, because of my business. I have too many clients with this number. I don’t know what you and Kevin were up to while you were together but I really wish you would talk to him or give him your number instead.”
The Cuddler Page 12