by Genna Rulon
“Wiseass. I just want your input on a problem I’m dealing with. No heavy lifting required,” I promised.
“That big, devious brain of yours needs help from this dumb tattoo artist?”
“Sell that BS to someone who doesn’t know your IQ is north of 170,” I replied impatiently. Ry loved to play into every stereotype people expected from a heavily tatted, muscle-bound badass. He was happy to be underestimated—in fact, he courted it. He was an artist and skin was his favorite medium, but the guy’s genius wasn’t limited to just one aptitude. I didn’t get the appeal of hiding his intellectual capabilities, but I didn’t judge him for it either.
“I’ll be there in thirty. Need anything?” he asked foolishly.
“Yeah, pick up some beer on your way, will you?”
“Asshole,” he muttered as he hung up.
An hour later, Ry and I sat on the couch with Sam Adams in hand.
“So, what’s the big issue?” Ry asked, cutting to the chase as usual.
“Remember the girl I went out with a while back? The one who blew me off?”
“How the hell could I forget? It was the first time you’ve struck out since eighth grade,” he said, snickering at the memory. “I told you there was no way Julie DiCorzo would say yes, but you wouldn’t listen,” Ry goaded.
“She would have said yes if you and your brothers weren’t standing behind my back making faces like a bunch jackasses.”
“Man, she was a junior in high school. You always had game, but those three years might as well have been thirty. You were dead on arrival,” he laughed in my face.
“Can we get back to the problem at hand? This fantastic house you were kind enough to give me a heads-up about just happens to be located next door to Meg.”
“You’re kidding me! Damn, you owe me. If I need a kidney one day, it’s your ass that is going under the knife, not one of my siblings, capiche?”
“Yeah, yeah, you have dibs on all my vital organs. Now can we focus? I knocked on my neighbor’s door to get the maintenance number and there she was.”
“And?” he prompted.
“Let’s just say I left my powers of persuasion back here at the house,” I admitted.
“What did you do? It can’t be insurmountable, not for you.”
“I completely fucked it up and insulted her.” At his raised eyebrows, I sighed, reluctant to go on but knowing there was no choice at this point. “I called her a bitch and told her to get off her high horse,” I confessed, continuing quickly before he could interject, “I know, I know. Not one of my finer moments. It couldn’t be further from the truth, but she was pushing all my buttons and I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Wes, we’ve been friends for-fucking-ever, but that doesn’t mean I won’t knock you on your ass for talking to a lady like a whore—at least outside the bedroom anyway—especially if it’s not warranted,” Ry threatened with every intent of following through. His parents did right, raising their sons to respect women and their daughters to respect themselves. No one in his family would have tolerated my behavior toward Meg. “What the hell is the matter with you?”
“I don’t know. She says things that make me feel like shit, and I react—poorly. Her accusations are completely unfounded, but she doesn’t know that. Instead of proving her wrong, I keep reinforcing her negative opinions,” I said, frustrated by my own stupidity. “I ran into her again tonight and I can tell she wants me, but she’s standing strong. I need to breach her defenses, but I’ve no idea how to accomplish that particular feat. How the hell do you persuade a woman to let you in her bed?”
“Just an idea, but you might start by not cursing at her and acting like a prick.”
“You think?” I said, my patience running low. “I’m being serious. I need to get her beneath me, or over me, or beside me…it doesn’t matter where. I need a plan, Ry, and I’ve got nothing,” I admitted, pride be damned.
“Why should I help you get this girl, who by your own account is hotter than anything you’ve ever seen, sweet, funny, smart, mysterious—shall I go on? You want her for a night. I, on the other hand, would be willing to give a woman like her anything she wants, for as long as she wants. It seems that we should be planning a strategy for me, not you. Plus, I haven’t dropped the ball, so I can just head over there now, no plan required,” Ry finished as he rose from the couch. I quickly grabbed his arm and hauled his ass back to the cushion.
“You may be my oldest friend, but if you take one step toward the door with the intention of going to Meg’s, I’ll break your fucking leg,” I said, serious as a heart attack. I was mostly certain he was messing with me, but either way it wasn’t funny.
“I am the last person who would ever step over that line, man, you know that,” he said in an anguished tone he usually managed to hide. If I had a heart, it would have broken for him. Gathering himself, he continued, “But that doesn’t mean I’m convinced you deserve a shot at this girl. To you, women are disposable…you use them like toilet paper.”
“You are forgetting a significant point of our previous conversation. Meg doesn’t want a relationship. She shares my allergy to permanence and told me so. It wasn’t just the female party line—she meant it. Why the hell do you think I said she was perfect for me?”
“Alright, I’m sold,” Ry conceded, “but you have your work cut out for you. I think you should start by not being an asshole.”
“That’s really helpful,” I said, heavy with sarcasm. “How about something a little more constructive, Captain Obvious?”
“Okay…show her you’re not the asshole you pretend to be,” he countered.
“I don’t pretend to be anything. I am an asshole.”
“You can be one, for sure,” he chuckled before turning serious. “You insulate yourself to prevent personal attachments, but you’re not nearly the prick you pretend to be. You forget, I know you better than anyone. You gave up more than most would ever consider to take care of your dad when he was sick, and you had my back when I needed you most. Hell, you sacrificed a piece of your soul to take care of that joke of a mother—”
“Of course I took care of Pop,” I interrupted, “he needed me and there was no one else to step in. I was his son.” I hated stating the obvious, but what type of degenerate could abandon their family in a time of need? Oh, that’s right…my mother. On that note, “And we’re not talking about my mother,” I shook my head, “so just drop it.”
Why creative types like Ry insisted on examining and expressing their feelings was beyond me, but to each his own. What pissed me off was the assumption that the rest of us should be forced to endure the same introspection.
“Fine, but to weasel your way into Meg’s pants, you’ll have to show her a bit of the man behind the curtain. From your description, she’ll see right through you if you fake it. Just be you. You’re an arrogant bastard, but that is only one side of you. Let her see the other side too.”
“That’s your genius plan?” I asked, disgruntled by the logical simplicity. He made it sound so easy.
“It’s a start. Work your mojo, make sure to run into her frequently—wear her down.”
“Wear her down…that I can do.”
Four days after plotting with Ry, I was seriously questioning the wisdom of enlisting his help. I’d spent far more time than I cared to admit sitting at my front window, trying to catch Meg coming or going without success. It was like she knew I was lying in wait. If this was a war, she was clearly winning with her preemptive maneuvers. I was turning into a pathetic lapdog, waiting for his master to return and throw morsels of attention his way.
After painfully long days at Cauldwell, Rueger & Stein—a viper’s nest regarded as New York’s premier law firm—I spent my nights reevaluating the plan to win Meg. With most women lavish gifts would smooth the way, but my instinct screamed that attempting to buy her attentions would be a third strike—and this time I’d be out.
Inspiration never struck, which left
me with Ry’s harebrained ‘be yourself’ strategy—an approach that seemed destined to fail. In regards to purely sexual encounters, women wanted seduction, mystery, and conquest. They were looking to live out the fantasies they indulged in at night alone in bed. What they didn’t want was substance which worked for me. I offered an evening of shared pleasure, and that was where it began and ended to the satisfaction of all involved.
Including ‘real’ in my plan to seduce Meg changed the parameters and established a connection I consciously avoided. I didn’t want to confuse our intentions by replacing the fantasy with real. It could get messy, and that was the last thing I wanted to invite into my life.
But to have Meg, I was willing to rewrite the script—just a little.
"I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together." -Marilyn Monroe
Meg
I sat on my bed with the door closed and locked, every light in the house blazing, while I stared at my computer screen. It was the precise position in which I’d spent the better part of the last forty-eight hours, going so far as to email a professor, claiming to be sick. The only time I’d ventured out was for work, only because I didn’t dare call-out while Ev was on her honeymoon. However, I spent most of the shift ducking behind the display cases unless it was absolutely necessary to come out of hiding.
The unread message in my student email account continued to taunt me, daring me to open Pandora’s box with one click. My hope that—against all odds—the electronic tormenter would suddenly disappear like a figment of my overactive imagination proved fruitless.
I startled as the heat switched on to warm against the cool fall night. After a quick scan of the room for the umpteenth time to ensure I was alone and secure, I paused to study the blinds, debating if I should adjust them—yet again—in case an outsider could glimpse through the sliver of exposed window.
A deep breath and ten count served to galvanize me to finally muster the courage to open the email.
My heart pounded in an unnatural rhythm that was disconcerting, to say the least. Could fear cause permanent arrhythmia? If so, it was time to visit a cardiologist.
Desperation triumphed as I contorted my hand to reach into the very back of the nightstand drawer, pulling out the disposable cell phone I’d kept for the last seven years in case this day ever came.
With a shaking hand, I dialed the only number stored in the contact list.
“No,” Jay’s voice declared in greeting, “please tell me you missed me so much you had to hear my voice after seven years of emails. Tell me, babe.”
I shook my head in answer before remembering he couldn’t see me.
“They found me. Oh god, Jay. How did they find me after all this time? What am I going to do? I’ve been so careful, and it’s been so damn long. I actually started to believe they’d forgotten me. Stupid…so freaking stupid—”
“Shh…relax, sweets. It’s going to be okay. I’ll help you, you know that. Tell me what happened and we can figure this out together,” Jay soothed.
“I logged into my email—”
“Which email? The personal one we use?” he interrupted to clarify.
“No, my student account. It completely blindsided me. I was expecting a message from my advisor, but instead…well, you know.”
“What does it say?”
“Not much,” I hesitated to finish, not wanting to concern him any more than necessary.
“What does it say, babe?” he repeated, unwilling to let it go.
“Obedience,” I shared.
His sharp inhale echoed over the phone line. Yep, that said it all.
“I need to leave, as soon as I meet with my advisor and defer my enrollment. Then I have to figure out what to tell Sam and Griffin. I wish Ev and Hunter were back from their honeymoon—I hate to leave without saying goodbye to them. But maybe it’s for the best…”
“Hold up. Let’s take a minute to think this through before you go running off into the night—again. The email was sent to your student account, which means they know you are associated with a specific university, not where you are precisely.”
“True, but how long before they send someone here? One tail from school and they’ll know where I live and work,” I argued.
“Yes, but that buys you some time, provided you’re careful. You don’t need to make any rash decisions. The email was an order to return, which means they’ll hold off to see if you obey. If you don’t, then they will come. In fact, I’ll bet Malachi already has it planned out…if you don’t come willingly, he will announce your impending return on January 3rd, and they will be on your doorstep within a few days. I’d stake my life on it.”
“Jay, you are so damn smart. That’s exactly the type of thing he would do! ” I felt my heart slow as the truth settled in, calming me. “That gives me more than two months to get my life in order. I can even finish this semester and apply for a leave of absence from the Ph.D. program.”
“What can I do to help? Do you need me to come to you?” A dry laugh immediately followed the question. “I guess you’d have to tell me where you are for that to happen. Given they’ve found you, I think it’s safe for me to know.”
“Yeah, you’re right. They have no reason to track you down now that they’ve found me. It’s possible they don’t even know you helped me when I first left. I’m in New York at Hensley University, but you can’t come see me. I’m not going to put you in danger, regardless of how low the risk might be. As long as they don’t know we’ve been in contact, they have no reason to go after you.”
“Hmm,” he grumbled, not appreciating my protectiveness. Men! “Fine, but if you need me, I’m there. Don’t be a martyr.”
“I promise. Now enough of this depressing crap, tell me how things are going with your new girl!”
Twenty minutes later and sufficiently distracted by Jay’s love life, we said our goodbyes. Jay had been a true friend to me, risking everything to save me when I had nowhere else to turn. He gave me a chance at a new life without conditions or thought of himself. At the time, he harbored hope that something would develop between us, but even after I pointed out the many reasons it was impossible, he continued to support me. I liked to think of him as my guardian angel.
I was glad he’d found someone and was happy. We had shared one night together before I left him in North Carolina, and it was clear to me that we would never be more than friends. He was selfless and caring—good-looking, too—but there was no electricity between us…at least none I felt. Thankfully, circumstances and concern for his safety had provided a legitimate excuse to watch him sadly wave goodbye in the review mirror of the old beater car he gave me—the one I still drive today.
Without question, Jay was one of the best men I’d ever met—perhaps the only good man until Hunter and Griffin strong-armed their way into my life. One day I’d find a way to repay them all for their kindness, even if I wasn’t here to do so in person.
The thought of leaving everyone, the closest I’d ever come to having a true family, hit me like a sledgehammer and all at once, I was on the verge of uncharacteristic tears. Gahhh! How could I ditch my friends, knowing I wouldn’t be able to keep in touch? After all they’d done for me…all they’d meant to me. My heart was breaking and there was no way to console myself.
“Hey, Megalicious!” Sam’s voice rang out as she attempted to enter my room, only to find the door locked.
I hastily wiped the moisture from my eyes as I scurried to open the door.
“What’s up with the door?” she asked as she studied me. “Have you been crying?”
“Oh, nothing. I caught one of those ghost hunter shows on TV and it spooked me so I locked the door. Then I tried to distract myself with a book, but it ended up being one of thos
e gut-wrenching reads that takes your heart and shoves it in a meat grinder—a crank-handle one like they have in old-school butcher shops—hence, the ophthalmic precipitation.”
Sam looked at me as if I’d grown a second head and third eye. I didn’t blame her. Lying was most definitely not my forte, ironic given it had been my way of life for the past seven years.
“Okaaaay,” she said suspiciously. “Maybe you should lay off the tear-jerkers and borrow some of my literary lady porn. I just finished this book about a group of investigators and the main guy was rockin’ meat metal. One word, my friend—trifecta! I’ve spent the last three days promising Griffin all sorts of debauchery if he gets one…well, three.”
“Enough! I don’t even know what a trifecta is, and now I won’t be able to look Griffin in the eye for the next week,” I pleaded.
“Fine, but let me just say, I think I’m wearing him down. His mouth says ‘no,’ but after the promises I made last night, his eyes were singing a different tune,” she finished, rubbing her hands together like a vaudeville villain.
“TMI, Sam. There are some things I can’t unhear, so quit painting traumatic visuals that will forever haunt me.”
“Whatever. If you followed my advice and saved a horse, you would be excited, not traumatized.”
“Save a horse?” I questioned, utterly confused.
“Save a horse…ride a cowboy. Geeze, have I taught you nothing?”
“I love you, lady, but you may be a few straws short of a full bale,” I teased.
“Huh? What the heck are you talking about?” Sam asked, perplexed.
“It’s not funny if I have to explain it. I was following your cowboy-farm theme,” I explained. A blank stare greeted me. “Forget it,” I said, the moment lost.
“You’re being weird—lucky for you, I have the cure for what ails you…girls’ night!” Sam said enthusiastically. “Griffin’s at The Stop tonight, so shall we drink for free or stay in for facials?”