Perfection

by Gianni Holmes

  I merely grunted, not raising my head as the door opened and Phil’s footsteps echoed on the floor. I didn’t bother to show him that I was all right. From his response earlier, I wasn’t fooling anybody.

  Ashton’s departure had stung more than I’d thought it would.

  “Cal, I hate seeing you like this,” Phil said.

  I lifted my head then and leaned back in the chair. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Phil.”

  “That you’re okay. How long till I get my best bud back? It’s like he took everything from you when he left.”

  “Actually, he left everything.” I chuckled bitterly. His clothes were still mingled with mine in my wardrobe. His underwear was mixed with my own. His laptop on the coffee table. He had shoes under my dresser, toothbrush in my bathroom. His damn stuffed unicorn in my bed.

  “But he took the most important thing with him.” My heart.

  Phil groaned. “Callum.”

  “Don’t. Just don’t say anything, Phil. I know you warned me this was going to happen, and I never listened to you.”

  “I wasn’t going to say I told you so.”

  “Maybe you should. Why do I always pick them this way, Phil?”

  “I think there’s a part of you that needs to help broken people.” He came over to me and patted my shoulder. “But at some point, you need to acknowledge that you can’t fix anyone. It’s not your job to fix them.”

  “Maybe somewhat,” I agreed. “But it’s more than that. I wanted a life with him. If he’d made it through AA and showed he was capable of living a sober life, I would’ve asked him to marry me.”

  “Shit, Callum.”

  “I know. Stupid. We’ve not known each other that long.”

  His sigh sounded heavy and compassionate. “Look, it’s time to acknowledge that Ashton isn’t worth it anymore. The heartache isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. So many decent guys would love a chance to be with you, Cal.”

  “I don’t think I could be anyone’s Daddy after Ashton.”

  “Then maybe it’s time to give up that lifestyle. That position has always put you at a disadvantage because you put your boys’ needs above your own. Always. And that’s not healthy.”

  He wasn’t saying anything I didn’t already know. I’d first heard it from my parents when they argued about why I insisted on staying with Mario. Then I’d heard it from my therapist. Even Ashton had said something similar the night he walked out of my life.

  It was time to hang up the Daddy and just be a regular man. Something just felt wrong about doing that. Like I wasn’t being my true self.

  “Look, Brayden just showed me this,” he said. “I told him not to say anything to you, but maybe you should see it, and you’ll realize once and for all that Ashton Keyes is bad news. I’m not saying he can’t be sweet. He can be a wonderful guy, but with the alcoholic problem, Cal, it’s just a matter of time before he ends up like Mario. Or worse. I don’t want that for you, buddy.”

  “What did Brayden show you?”

  He unlocked his phone, tapped on the screen, and opened a social media app.

  “When did you get Instagram?”

  He shrugged. “Noelle said we should be hip and get familiar with all these apps as our kids get older.”

  The name he searched for was #brattykeyes. Before I could tell him I had no interest in stalking Ashton’s social media pages, a photograph filled the screen of the phone with Ashton laughing, a red cup in his hand. He was surrounded by a lot of people his age. The picture had been posted by someone else and tagged to Ashton’s account with the hashtags #housewarmingparty and #bestpartyeva.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised. This was Ashton as I’d known him when we met. Party boy. Frat brat. Spoiled heir. Alcoholic.

  Still, after his passionate promise to change when he left, I’d sort of believed him. He’d sounded so sincere. I expected that for the past week, he’d taken his mother’s advice and was in Texas working on himself. Yet here he was still drinking, still partying like everything was okay.

  Maybe he was okay with moving on, and I’d been the stupid one to believe in us. He never needed me. He got his fulfillment at the bottom of a bottle—or a cup—and I’d never be a priority for him.

  Seeing the picture was sobering.

  “I’m sorry, man.”

  My lips twisted in a smile, but it ended up in a grimace. I pushed the chair back and stood. “I needed to see that.”

  “Now take the evening off and go get something to eat. I wasn’t kidding about you losing weight, Cal.”

  I almost argued that I had to help out at the coffee shop, but after some consideration, I nodded. I could do with some time by myself to sort my head out.

  “I think I’ll do just that.”

  I ended up in the apartment, but I didn’t feel like putting anything together to eat. I took a quick shower, sorted through my clothes, pushing aside the ones Ashton had bought in favor of my worn jeans and generic shirt.

  My first thought was to walk to the restaurant where I’d taken Ashton, but I changed my mind. I needed somewhere new. Somewhere that no memory of him lingered. It was bad enough I couldn’t exorcise him from my apartment.

  I walked the short distance to an unfamiliar restaurant where I’d never eaten before. It was perfect. Simple, homely, and judging by the people inside, the food had to be good enough to have attracted this sort of crowd.

  By the time I got the menu and scanned it, I was starting to feel a little better already. Maybe Phil was right and this wallowing had to stop. No more pining after Ashton.

  I was realistic enough to not expect the feelings to go away overnight, but I didn’t have to give memories of him its own shrine. Over time the love would dull like what I’d felt for Mario.

  God, I hope so.

  “Hey, Callum, right?”

  I glanced up. A guy—Dane, Noelle’s hairdresser—stood by my table, smiling.

  “Hey, Dane. What are you doing here?”

  My eyes narrowed suspiciously at him. Coincidence? Phil was just begging me to move on, and suddenly Dane appeared like some sign? But I hadn’t told anyone where I was going. For all Phil knew, I was still brooding in my apartment.

  “I stopped by to pick up something to go,” he replied, then made a face. “Busy day today at the parlor. Is your boyfriend joining you?”

  I winced at his question. “We’re on a break.”

  “No shit. I’m so sorry, man. I know you were really into him.”

  “Stuff happens.”

  “Do you mind me joining you for a meal, then?” He was already sitting in the chair across from me before I could answer. “I hate eating alone at home. My ex-boyfriend and I used to eat out a lot, and it just feels weird doing it alone now.”

  “Yeah, Ash used to try and cook for me. Of course, most times he ended up burning the food, but it was good enough for me.”

  I smiled at the memory of Ashton. Not all our memories were horrible. We’d made lots of good ones together, and that made our relationship that much more sour. To know all we could’ve had and could have been to each other if only he could remain sober.

  Dane was a talker, which was fine by me. I didn’t have much to contribute anyway. Everything I said seemed to be about Ashton, and I was already trying to get out of my own head where he was concerned.

  For a dinner that wasn’t planned, it went surprisingly well. The food was good—not as good as Papa’s Garage, where I’d taken Ashton, but good enough.

  Shit, I need to stop doing that. Comparing everything to what I had with Ashton.

  “Talking about the parlor,” Dane said and gulped a sip from his drink. Out of habit, I’d ordered something fruity and nonalcoholic.

  “Yes?” I prompted Dane.

  “You should stop by for a trim.”

  I ran my fingers through my hair. He was right. I could do with a trim. I just had little interest, though for the coffee shop’s sake, I should take more interest i
n my appearance.

  “Hmm, maybe I’ll take you up on that offer.”

  “First one’s on me.” He dug into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and tugged out a business card, which he handed to me. “I own the salon and rent out the other booths, so I’m not just merely a hair stylist. I’m a businessman. Just like you.”

  “How did you get started in this industry?” I took in the professionally designed card. I bet his salon was as expensive as the look of this card.

  “When I was younger, my mother worked at a salon.” He laughed at the memory. “I used to do my assignments at the back of the salon. Sometimes I’d be their shampoo boy. I had a knack for it, so I took a course in personal grooming.”

  “I must confess, I cut my own hair.”

  He grimaced. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it shows. I’d love to get my hands on you.”

  His cheeks went red, and my stomach pitched to the floor. Shit, did he think this was a date? To anyone looking, it might’ve seemed like a date, but he should know better. This was just a coincidence.

  “I meant your hair,” he said laughing nervously. “I’d love to get my hands into your hair for you to see just how much difference a professional cut and treatment can make. You don’t have to look so freaked-out that I’m hitting on you.”

  Now it was my time to glance away from him. “I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

  “You’re not over your ex. I get it. Hell, I’m not even over my ex. The offer still stands from the other night when we met. Friends. If you need a listening ear, I have two that work perfectly well.”

  I relaxed at the reassurance of his words, though hearing him refer to Ashton as my ex didn’t sit quite well with me. He wasn’t my ex, was he? We had unfinished business.

  If he ever regained sobriety.

  We decided to order dessert and discovered we had similar food tastes. We both detested cheesecake and vanilla as a flavor. It wasn’t surprising when we ended up with baklava on our plates.

  The ringing of my phone brought our conversation to a halt. I apologized and dug into the pocket of my pants until I came up with the device. My heart leaped when Rue’s name popped up on the screen. The driver and I had exchanged numbers when Ashton and I started dating.

  It was the way we kept tabs on his whereabouts. He’d picked up Ashton from my apartment the night he left. He had to know we no longer had a relationship.

  “Sorry about that.” I rejected the call. “What were you saying about that lady you shaved bald?”

  “I totally misunderstood her,” he said with an embarrassed laugh. “Luckily she ended up liking the style and didn’t sue.”

  My phone rang again. This time I ended it without looking at the screen.

  “Shouldn’t you get that?” he asked.

  “I shouldn’t be on call anymore,” I replied, though it pained me not to pick up and find out what was wrong this time.

  Something had to be wrong for Rue to call me.

  “You still care about him, Callum. If something’s really wrong and you didn’t answer his call or help when you could have, you will only feel bad about it later on.”

  He was right. And when Rue called again, it showed that this was an emergency.

  “Sorry. I’ll try to make it quick.” My hand shook a little when I answered the call. “Rue, what’s up?”

  “Master Ashton needs help.”

  I always thought it ridiculous how Rue called him Master. There was nothing masterful about Ashton.

  “Rue, I’m not exactly the person you should be calling to help him. We broke up.”

  I think.

  “But you care about him, and I can’t be there for him. My husband and I are out of town.”

  Shit. Then he really had no one there with him. Rue was really the only person Ashton could call on besides me, and if he was indisposed, I’d have no choice but to go to him.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “He’s in trouble.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ashton

  “Hey, Ashton, cool party, man.”

  I raised my cup at the guy who’d called to me, his face seeming familiar, but I couldn’t pin a name to it right now. My brain was only functioning at half its capacity when I was sober. I was still trying to figure out how so many people had ended up at my brother’s house, trashing the place, drinking, dancing, and downright fucking on my couch.

  “See, told you we’d cheer you up.” Justin slung his arm around my shoulder and gave me a sloppy kiss on my cheek. “Look how sad you were when I popped by, and now you’re fucking feeling good, man.”

  He didn’t wait for me to tell him how I felt about this party idea. He gave me a slap on my back that sent me sprawling toward the couch and right into the tangle of arms and legs that were wrapped around each other.

  My stomach roiled in disgust when my hand landed on a boob. I rolled off, and my lack of coordination dumped me on my brother’s prized rug. He’d never let anyone walk on it wearing shoes, and here were all these fucking idiots, leaving the mud from their shoes all over the place.

  Jake would’ve strangled me if he was alive. But he wasn’t. Because of me. He was dead and buried, rotted and never again to be seen. I’d never again hear his boisterous laughter, never feel him holding me in a headlock and giving me a noogie until I was near the point of tears.

  I flopped over onto my back on the floor and stared up at the blinding light of the chandelier while pandemonium ensued around me. I swore if I looked hard enough I could see Jake’s disapproving face.

  “You’re getting older, Ash,” he’d screamed at me that night my father and he picked me up instead of going to the airport, as planned. “You gotta stop making these stupid-ass decisions. For fuck’s sake!”

  I’d never seen him so angry before. I deserved it. Because of my stupidity, they’d be late for their flight to get to England for a business meeting. It was always business for him and my father, and I’d shouted it at them just before the car plunged into a pothole, blew out the tire, and spun out of control.

  “You the man, Kev!” someone yelled, bringing me back to the present.

  Kev was apparently the guy on the couch who had just blown his load all over his date’s face. Several of his companions high-fived him. I struggled to my feet in disgust and stumbled around, trying to find Justin.

  He had to get all these people out of my house.

  I wound up in the kitchen, where they had the kegs of beer. Someone pressed a red cup into my hand, and the familiar smell had too much of a pull for me to resist. I downed the beer in one gulp and held out my cup for more.

  “Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about. You always threw the most bitchin’ parties, Ash!”

  His words reminded me this party hadn’t been planned at all. For the past week since Callum and I had broken up, I’d been wallowing in pity. Drinking, yes, but on my own and often passed out on the couch between pizzas or other equally bad food I’d delivered at the house.

  I’d only gone out once. To get myself a couple of goldfish and a tank. Something I needed to distract me from how alone I felt. Lulu and Lola were low-maintenance, though, and didn’t require much of my time.

  I didn’t trust myself to go back out, feeling as miserable as I did. The urge to show up at Café Crave and beg Callum to take me back was powerful. I couldn’t do that to him again. I already did it twice, and the third time was no goddamn charm.

  I was bad luck for Callum, and he was better off without me.

  I was thoroughly disgusted with myself. All those words or promises I’d fed him before I left were nothing but bullshit. Nothing had changed about me. In fact, I drank more now than before I’d left him.

  My decision seemed to have boiled down to stay with Callum and slowly kill him or stay alone and die the slow death I deserved.

  The right thing to do was to pack my bags and be on the first plane out to Texas. I’d even signed up for the p
rogram and gotten my receipt of payment to the facility, but I’d chickened out at the thought of being so far away from Callum.

  Battersea meant Callum was close, and as lonely as I was, there was some comfort in knowing Callum was just a few miles away. In Texas, no one cared beyond treating me as a paycheck.

  I no longer went to the AA meetings, even though I had nothing but time on my hands to go every single day. Who was I kidding? AA might’ve helped others, but it wasn’t going to work for me.

  I spun to leave the kitchen and moved too fast. I crashed into a body in front of me, clutching onto the person to avoid faceplanting on the floor.

  “Thanks, man,” I said. Then I noticed who I’d landed against. I tried to pull away, but my limbs were sluggish from the large amount of alcohol I’d consumed.

  His lips moved, but I didn’t hear a word Louis said. It was one slurrish gibberish. He was even drunker than me. Perhaps more. His pupils were shot.

  “Lemme go, Louis.” I pushed against him, and he stumbled backward, taking me along with him. “You were not invited.”

  “Justin says I could come if I behave.”

  “Lemme go.”

  “You look so fucking sexy tonight, Ash. Be mine.”

  The creep. I shoved him hard, and this time he released me. I struggled by him through the crowd and to the living room, surveying the partygoers.

  “Get the fuck out!” I tried to scream, but the music was too loud, and no one paid me any mind. “All of you get out now!”

  “What the fuck, Ash?” Justin gripped me by the arm. “This is an awesome party.”

  “I don’t want them here.” I pressed my hand against Justin’s chest. “Get them out now, Justin.”

  “You’re drunk.” He laughed. “You shut this party down, and you’ll feel the backlash for it tomorrow when you wake up. Why don’t you go upstairs and get some rest? I’ll ensure everyone leaves soon.”

  “I mean it, Justin. This isn’t what I wanted.”

  “Well, you didn’t tell me no.”

  He was right. I didn’t. Not when he showed up at my door with three friends from college behind him. It was all my fault for posting that damn status of being home alone, having moved and not even a housewarming party. He’d taken that as an invitation to pop by.