First Love

by Amy Brent

  “Who is it?” Jesse asked.

  “Ramona Cassidy died of a heart attack on Saturday,” I said with a deep frown. “I just saw her Friday night at the benefit and she looked fine. Son of a bitch.”

  “Did you know her well?” Jenna asked, sipping her coffee with her eyebrows up.

  Jesse answered the question. “Ramona Cassidy and her husband own Cassidy Event Management.”

  “Ramona booked our first event in the city ten years ago,” I said, scanning through the first couple of paragraphs of the story. “She was instrumental in helping Jesse and I get Patron Sports off the ground. And now she’s gone.”

  “I thought Kyle Cassidy ran that company,” Jenna said.

  “He acts like he owns it,” Jesse said, making a sour face. “But it belongs to his father, Edward. Who also has one foot in the grave.”

  “Stop,” I said, scolding him. I handed the iPad back to Jenna. “Send flowers to the funeral home. Find out what arrangements have been made.” I nodded to Jesse. “We should attend the funeral.”

  “Yes, we should,” Jesse said with a sigh. “Sad. She was a nice lady. And the only one in that family that didn’t crawl around on the ground on their belly like a motherfucking snake.”

  “That’s the truth,” I said, leaning back to rub my eyes. “I hate to think what will happen when Edward turns the reins fully over to Kyle. God knows what it will cost us to book events in the city.”

  “Oh, one other thing,” Jenna said, back on the iPad. “You asked for a background check on a Fiona Kassidy with a K who works for the Northeast Animal Rescue Fund.”

  “Is that the new girl?” Jesse asked.

  I arched my eyebrows at Jenna. “And?”

  “And there is no such person living in the city that I can find,” Jenna said, sliding through the screens to find the email I’d sent her. “I couldn’t find a Fiona Kassidy with a K, and I talked to the director at the Northeast Animal Rescue Fund and they said their PR rep is a guy named Wallace. However…” She handed the iPad back to me with the news story still displayed.

  “I saw this already,” I said.

  “You didn’t read it all. Scroll to the end.”

  I frowned at the screen and scrolled to the end of the story. I read out loud. “Mrs. Cassidy is survived by her husband, Edward, and one son, Kyle, who is married to…” I looked up at Jenna. “Fiona Cassidy.”

  “There are pictures on the next screen,” she said, directing me with a stiff finger in the air. “Scroll to the left.”

  “I know how to use a fucking iPad…” When the next screen came up, there were images of the Cassidy clan at various social functions: Ramona and Edward, along with their only son Kyle and his lovely wife, Fiona. Fiona Cassidy.

  Fiona Kassidy with a K was really Fiona Cassidy with a C.

  Fiona Cassidy was Kyle Cassidy’s wife.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Fiona

  The next few days passed quickly, but the nights seemed to drag on forever. Kyle was back home, his suitcases stacked neatly in a corner, sleeping alone in the master bedroom. I slept in the guest room and refused to let him near me after our initial hugging and crying jag. We were cordial, but we both knew it was over. Kyle was resistant at first, wanting to plead his case and offer his deepest, sincerest apologies, but his words fell on deaf ears. I promised to stay with him until his mother was buried. That would happen today at two. The moment Ramona was in the ground, our marriage, and all pretense of happiness, would be over.

  As you would expect, Edward was a wreck. He hadn’t eaten or slept much since his wife’s death. I worried about him, but his doctor, the one who was still sunning himself in Antigua when Ramona died, assured me that Edward was strong and would survive his mourning.

  Kyle drifted around the penthouse like a ghost seeking the afterlife, quietly, deliberately, without much to say after I told him his words had no effect on me. I focused my attention on making the funeral arrangements and fielding calls from other family and close friends. It felt like I had talked to everyone Ramona had ever known. She had impacted a lot of lives. Lots of people, including myself, would miss her and were sad that she was gone.

  I refused to let Danny O stay in my home. He had his own apartment uptown. I told him to go home and stay there until his master whistled for him.

  The one person I didn’t talk to was Nick. I didn’t call him because I had no idea what to say to him. When I left his apartment on Saturday, I told him I was leaving to take care of a work emergency. I had not called him since or tried to see him. I imagined by this point he had written me off as some flaky broad and wouldn’t speak to me. Our brief affair had ended before it even had the chance to get started, as did any chance of a future relationship.

  A few minutes before two in the afternoon, Edward, Kyle, and I climbed into the back of the black limousine to head to the church downtown. Kyle insisted on letting Danny O ride with us. I was too tired to argue. Danny climbed in with a greasy smirk on his face and sat across from me. Danny’s neck pushed against the collar of his starched shirt. His rounded shoulders and thick arms made the jacket appear a size too small. He twitched now and then, jerking his right shoulder toward his ear. He’d shake his head as if to ward off the spasm and glance at me to see if I was watching him. I avoided his eyes by staring at the tissue I was wadding into a ball between my gloved hands in my lap.

  We arrived at the church to find it already packed with mourners. I sat on the front row between Edward and Kyle with my head down and the tissue to my nose. The service was brief, just the usual religious BS about the circle of life, a reading from Ramona’s “favorite” Bible passage (which I was sure the priest had selected since Ramona had never read the Bible a day in her life), then a song I didn’t recognize from the choir, and a few closing words from the priest. The organist played Amazing Grace as everyone ushered out of the church through the wide front doors, making way for the family to go first.

  Only the family and close friends were invited to attend the graveside service, which hopefully would be over as quick as the funeral. I loved Ramona dearly, but I was ready to get on with my life and I couldn’t do that until she was buried. I was literally counting the minutes. Being near Kyle, was like standing next to a wall of poison ivy: just the thought of his touch or the sound of his voice made me break out in hives.

  I was grateful when the church service was over. I needed fresh air. Sitting between Edward and Kyle was like sitting in the jaws of a vise. I could feel their presence crushing me, compressing my lungs, forcing my heart to beat heavier to keep the blood flowing through my limbs. When everyone stood to exit the church, I practically ran to get out the door. I inhaled deeply as I emerged through the doors and into the warm, fresh air. I left Kyle and Edward on the steps to thank people for coming and walked down the sidewalk toward the limousine. When I looked up, Nick was there, leaning against the limo with his hands in his pockets.

  “Oh, hi,” I said, unable to mask the shock on my face. I sniffed back tears and tried to smile at him. “How are you?”

  He was impeccably dressed in a black suit. His eyes were covered by dark sunglasses. I could see the muscles pulsing in his jaws. He took off the glasses and put his hands behind his back, as if he were afraid to leave them dangling free at his sides. His face was emotionless. “I’m fine. You?”

  “As well as can be expected,” I said quietly, looking back over my shoulder. Kyle and Edward were still shaking hands and accepting hugs.

  He nodded and looked toward the church. “My condolences for your loss. Ramona was a nice person. The only Cassidy that didn’t make me want to punch holes in brick walls. I always found it odd that she gave birth to a fucking cunt like Kyle.”

  I thought the bluntness of his words were overly harsh given the circumstances, but I gave a slight nod of agreement because I felt the same way. I knew he hated Kyle, but despite his words, I also knew the anger he was seething with was directed at me.

  He took
a deep breath and sighed it out, then turned to face me. “So. Fiona Cassidy with a C. How about that.”

  “Nick, please, I can explain.”

  “There’s no need,” he said stiffly, holding up a hand between us. “You are Kyle Cassidy’s wife.”

  “Yes.”

  He put on the sunglasses and looked away, as if he couldn’t stand to look me in the eye. “Well, it truly is a small world. Ironic that the woman I have been fucking for the last few days is the wife of a man I can’t stand.” He stuck out his lips and bobbed his head. “Funny, you would think that fucking you behind Kyle’s back would give me all kinds of sick pleasure. But somehow, it just doesn’t give me the satisfaction you might think it would. Weird, huh.”

  “Nick, please, let me explain.”

  He shook his head. “There’s no need. It was what it was. We had a good time and now it’s over.”

  I couldn’t help reaching for him. My fingers tugged at his lapel. “Nick, please, I don’t want it to be over.”

  “What’s going on here?” I turned to find Kyle and Edward walking toward us. I brushed the tissue to my eyes and turned toward them.

  “Mr. Patron was just offering his condolences,” I said, forcing a smile that lasted but a few seconds.

  “Very kind of you, Patron,” Edward said, extending his hand. Nick shook his hand and made the usual “if I can do anything please let me know” offer that everyone made. Kyle and Nick stared at each other. Neither extended his hand.

  “We should be going,” Kyle said, stepping forward to put his hand on my arm. His fingers dug into my elbow and pulled me toward him. He tapped on the window of the limousine and the window went down. Danny O was sitting in the back seat, smiling at me. He glanced at Nick and hitched his chin. He had heard every word.

  “Again, my deepest condolences,” Nick said, nodding at Edward. He ignored Kyle, then looked down his nose at me. “Mrs. Cassidy, nice to see you again.”

  Nick turned and walked away. Danny got out of the limo and held the door so Edward and I could climb inside. Kyle paused long enough for Danny to whisper in his ear.

  When Kyle slid into the seat beside me, I could tell he knew the truth. I could feel the heat coming off him, like a volcano about to erupt. He was fuming that I had been playing his game.

  And more than anything, I was sure that he wasn’t happy that I’d slept with his worst enemy.

  There would be hell to pay in some shape, form or fashion.

  And I knew that hell would rain down on me.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Nick

  Jesse held up the shot glass holding the two fingers of tequila and waited for me to tap my glass to his. “You laid pipe to Kyle Cassidy’s wife. Right there in that restroom? Whew, son, now ain’t that something.”

  “I didn’t know she was Kyle’s wife at the time,” I said, tapping my glass to his before tossing back the tequila. I sighed through the burn and wiped my lips with my fingers. “And yes, she was something.” I held up the empty shot glass to signal the waitress to bring us another round.

  “This place sure is fancy,” Jesse said, glancing over his shoulder at the other patrons lined up at The Haven Club’s bar, mostly older men in suits chatting up women in short dresses. The proper couples, the men who actually brought their wives, were seated in the restaurant across the hall. Jesse grinned at me. “You remember that dive bar where we met all those years ago, down on Third? What was the name of that place? Ed’s or Ted’s?”

  “Fred’s,” I said, sipping a cold beer to chase down the tequila. “It burned down about five years ago, I think.”

  “Yeah, a real shithole, that place was,” Jesse said, smiling at the memory. “My kind of place, though. This place makes me want to hold out my pinky finger when I take a drink.” He nodded at the door behind me that had a plaque with the word RESTROOMS mounted to it. “Do they have a guy in there that holds your cock when you take a piss? Or hands you a towel to clean yourself off after you fuck a woman?”

  “No, but I’m sure that could be arranged.” He laughed, which made me laugh, even though I didn’t really feel like laughing. That was why I had forced Jesse to come out for a drink on Friday night. The old man had a way of always making me smile.

  We were sitting in the same booth I’d sat in with Fiona a week before. It had been two days since I’d seen her at the funeral. I hadn’t heard from her and didn’t expect to. It was fun while it lasted. Though I had to admit, it ate at my soul that she shared a bed with Kyle Cassidy for years, and that my mouth and my cock had been in a pussy that motherfucker had been in before. The thought made me want to sandblast my tongue.

  “Maybe she was telling you the truth,” Jesse said as the waitress set two more shots and two more bottles of beer on the table. Jesse thanked her like a gentleman and turned to watch her walk away. Even though he was in his sixties, Jesse was as much of a pussy hound as I was, and probably got more pussy because he wasn’t as picky. To hear him tell it he’d worked his ways through all the old widows at the downtown PB church he attended and was now working his way through their daughters. See why he makes me smile?

  I picked up the beer and took a sip. “Telling me the truth about what?”

  “Maybe she is divorcing him, maybe they were split up,” Jesse said with a shrug. He eyed at me through the candlelit darkness. “Would that make a difference?”

  “She lied to me, Jesse,” I said, sounding like a petulant child. I couldn’t help it. I was pissed. And since I couldn’t fight anymore whining seemed to be my only method of venting.

  “Hell son, all women lie,” Jesse said with a dismissive wave. “All men lie, too. It’s what we do. God gave us free will so we could lie ourselves into a corner, then figure a way out. It builds character.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “So, I’ll ask you again, if she was divorced and not still married to that cocksucker, would it have made a difference?”

  “Guess we’ll never know,” I said with a sigh. I took the shot glass between my hands and rolled it around for a moment, then picked it up and shot the tequila down my throat. Wiping my mouth on the back of my hand, I shook my head. “Besides, I don’t want Kyle Cassidy’s tainted leftover pussy.”

  Jesse’s white eyebrows knitted at the center. “Oh, come on now. Don’t you think that’s pretty harsh?”

  “No, I think it’s pretty accurate.”

  “Now you’re just being a dumb ass,” Jesse said, shaking his head. He wagged a meaty finger at me. “You can’t sit there and tell me you didn’t enjoy being with her. Monday morning, before you found out who she was, you were as excited as I’d ever seen you over a woman. I could tell she wasn’t just another piece of pussy. This woman was different. You might deny it now, but you would be lying to yourself and to me.”

  I brought the bottle to my lips and took a long drink. Then I saw Kyle and Danny O’Shit walk in the door. My temperature immediately went up twenty degrees. I felt my face flush in anger. My nostrils flared to breathe. My fingers tightened around the shot glass.

  Jesse frowned at me, then followed my gaze. “Well, speak of the cocksucking devil and up he pops.” He looked back at me with a knowing look in his dark eyes. He reached across the table and put a hand on my arm. “Easy boy. We don’t need trouble. Let’s don’t start something we can’t finish.”

  Jesse wasn’t a coward. To the contrary, I’d seen him take on men half his age and twice his size and still walk away with just bruised knuckles. He was thinking of me and my tinderbox of a brain. Every day I woke up with that doctor’s words echoing in my head.

  “One good punch to the head could end your life, Mr. Patron. Or at least render you braindead.” Living within such limits was usually easy to do, except when I was around Kyle and Danny O.

  My hands were rolled into tight fists on the table as I watched them walk down the bar shaking hands and patting backs. Kyle acted like he owned the fucking place. Danny O followed a step behind with his arms over his chest like he was g
uarding the fucking president. He spotted me watching them and bumped Kyle with an elbow.

  “That motherfucker still looks like a gorilla in a suit,” Jesse said. He tapped his knuckles on the table to get my attention. “I’m telling you, don’t go starting any shit. Your skull ain’t as thick as it used to be.”

  “I’m not starting shit,” I said. I shot back the tequila and chased it with the beer. My eyes fixed on Danny O’s leering face. “If he hadn’t hit me with that cheap shot, do you think I would have beat Danny O?”

  Jesse huffed. “Fuck yes. You could have beat everybody. But that was a long time ago.”

  “I’m still in shape,” I said. “I hit the gym hard every day.”

  “That’s all you need to be hitting.” Jesse reached across the table and put his hand on my arm again and gave it a firm shake. “Boy, what are you thinking?”