by Alisa Mullen
I shook my head and twisted my lips into a thin line. “Nope. Very few people know me. And even they don’t know it all.”
“So I wanted to see if you were like that in real life. Call it a science experiment. I had to get this idea of you out of my head. When we met, it was so much more for me. I need to be next to you. If I sleep over, I might lose all hopes of being a gentleman,” he admitted, with a blush. I kissed him on the cheek and smiled brightly at him.
“I want to be near you, too, Brennan. Maybe we could just go with the flow and see what happens? It isn’t like we live in the same city,” I said, feeling like my gut was twisting into a ball of cement and surging up into my throat. Shit, I was going to cry again. What the hell is going on with me? I wanted to hug him again and I did. Through coffee, shopping, and walking around my side of Boston, we hugged. It was awesome.
That night, we played cards. He read to me from a newspaper article about how all art was going digital and what would we leave for archaeologists after our extinction. Brennan made me think. He made me want to tell him everything I thought. I held on to every word he said to me because each word was a gift. He was careful and thoughtful when he spoke. Sometimes it took minutes for him just to think about a question before he answered. I was normally like that with everyone, but with Brennan, I spit out everything I thought before I even thought it. He laughed at me while sneaking kisses and touching different parts of my body.
He would take his thumb and brush it over my ankle bone for long minutes. He took the back of his hand and felt my shoulder and biceps with it. He used two fingers and rubbed along the middle of each of my fingers over and over again. Each touch was endearing and a turn on. Heaven help my vagina. He was amazing.
Despite the small foreplay, we fell asleep fully clothed on top of my covers. He snuggled up into my neck and whispered about his childhood in Brooklyn as I felt myself fall asleep. I felt like a virgin that night. I had never spooned with a man before. I never wanted to. I laughed at people who thought it was the best part of sex. Brennan’s tight grip around my waist made me self-conscious, but as he continued to talk, I felt myself mold into him. I understood in that moment what it felt like to feel the intimacy. It was comfort and security. It was safe.
The next morning, I had to go into the studio for some initial solo voice layouts. Brennan and I hit the coffee shop on the short walk to the studio. Hand in hand, we walked through the doors, laughing at how we both wanted to open the door for each other. I didn’t notice Sean and Johnny standing in the reception area until Brennan dropped his hand from mine. I frowned down at the break in contact and looked up to see Sean and Johnny both scowling at our arrival.
“Boys,” I addressed them instead of a hello, walking by to the inner studio’s hallway. Brennan didn’t follow me and I turned around to question why. He looked uncomfortable. Was he still thinking about the night in the hotel with Johnny?
“I think I am just going to hang back here with Sean for a while,” he said. I looked at Sean who was only staring at Brennan with a coldness that made me shiver. Johnny was the first to lighten the mood in the lobby.
“Jules, Nick wants me here to do some of the duet harmonizing. Let’s go,” he said as he pushed by me and opened the door to the studio for me. Brennan’s searing gaze on Johnny was impenetrable. He was upset about that night.
Nick and Lizzie greeted us in the sound room and pointed me to the voice mic that hung from the middle of the sound proof room inside the window. Johnny followed me but sat on a chair as far away as possible while I placed the earphones on and warmed up my vocals.
The buzzed intercom rang through the room. “Jules, let’s start with I Don’t Give a Damn,” Nick said.
I nodded and I heard the techno beats of the song come through. This wasn’t my band playing but Nick’s attempt to replicate it for me to see how well my vocals were in sync with the song. He had some scientific method that he was working on and every time he tried to explain, Lizzie’s eye rolls would make me laugh.
You don’t want to know
You don’t want to care
And for the record, I don’t
I don’t give a damn.
Nick’s voice cut through the intercom.
“Uh, Jules. This is supposed to be an angst song. You are singing it like a love song,” Nick stated as his eyes looked sincere. Lizzie was biting her nails in the background.
I nodded and we motioned it from the top. I tried to reign in my Alanis Morrisette and Tori Amos and I started again.
No more than two lines in, he cut in again. “What the hell, Jules? Normally, we can’t get you to tone down the anger. Where are you? Do we want a boy band pop song on this album?” He sounded a little more peeved now. Shit.
“Nick!” Lizzie gasped. Nick shook his head at her and muted the intercom to say something. She left the room, looking thoroughly pissed off.
Johnny jumped up off his seat and motioned to Nick to give him a minute. Nick crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. He only wanted the best for our band. He was mad at me and it wasn’t the first or last time he would call me on my shit.
“You want to find your anger, Jules?” Johnny taunted.
“What? Should I think about the other night?” I asked, noticing that Brennan had just walked into the sound room and shook Nick’s hand.
“No. Don’t think about that,” Johnny laughed. He cut his chin over to Brennan.
“Your guy there? Married, Jules. Fucking married,” he said in a low growl. His holy shit and you are fucked expression drove the words home.
His eyes stayed on mine as he backtracked to his seat and crossed one leg over the other. My mouth was dry from the long exposure to air without saliva. I guess that is what happens when you can’t close your mouth. Married? To another woman? I slowly lifted my eyes to Brennan who smiled and winked at me. He might as well have kicked me Kill Bill style in the chest.
“Nick?” I asked shakily. “I got this.” Four, three, two, one...
I nailed it on the first take. Johnny slowly and deliberately clapped his hands at the end.
“There she is,” he said with a wicked smile. I wanted to projectile vomit in his face. My tyrannical mood was a full blown animal and I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it on a leash. I needed the mic again. I needed another angry song.
ELEVEN
For the rest of the session, I was a zombie. Life was stupid. If people tried to talk to me, I wouldn’t answer or I scowled. I felt betrayed, duped. Why did I keep getting fucked? Why would beautiful Brennan come into my life, bring out feelings I didn’t know I had, and then remind me that I was stupid slut? I heard the high school girls in my head, circling me down the halls, calling me an easy lay, a slut, and their laughing expressions making it all worse. Endless loop of bitch slaps. Fuck them and fuck Brennan, too. I was a gutted fool to mock.
Johnny peered at me with suspicion, as I pulled on my grey pea coat.
“Are you crying?” he asked, in bewilderment. I touched my face and felt wetness on my cheek. “You never cry. I have never seen you cry,” he balked at me. “Is it… because of that douchebag? Jules, for real?”
“I am not crying,” I snapped sternly, teeth clenched. “It’s allergies. My eyes have been watering since I got here.” I turned to walk out the door, but Johnny stopped me with his hands on my shoulders.
“Despite what I said that night, and every night before that, I will always be here for you. You know, to talk, or whatever. I am here.” He released me as I nodded once. I suddenly felt bad for being a bitch to him that morning on the way to Boston. Johnny wasn’t a saint, by any means, but he spoke the truth. I could rely on that, at least.
“Thanks Johns,” I whispered. He quickly inhaled at my use of his nickname. Johns and Jules. That’s who we were once. He knew that I knew we weren’t those people anymore, but maybe for that brief interaction, that brief moment, I allowed it to be just us again. The moment was officially over whe
n I pulled away to face Brennan, the married man that I had started to fall in love with.
I walked out to the hall and paused when a familiar face flashed into my brain.
Professor Maxwell Hynes.
He was my gorgeous, charismatic, talented, music appreciation instructor at the University of Maryland. As a brand new freshman, out in the world for the first time, I admired Professor Hynes’ lips as he spoke about music being the soul of life. His sincere proclamation that each of us in the class was meant to use music as a way to purge our souls. His eyes were soft blue, but full of lust when he looked directly at me as he spoke those words to the class.
Unfortunately, his wedding band blazed far brighter than the sun, almost blinding the image I had of him naked. He became my whole world freshman year and I never missed his class. I hadn’t met Dex or Johnny at that point, so my band couldn’t even get him out of my mind. I was on my own, far enough away from my home town, to run from my reputation.
A couple of weeks into our first semester, Professor Hynes asked me to stay after class for one on one study sessions. I remember thinking that it was about time he had asked. I wanted those lips on me. I wanted those eyes to examine my naked body for hours. Professor Hynes, my first college sexual experience. In the back room of the choir auditorium, I gave Maxwell pleasure in a slow, methodical way, which made him beg me for release by the end. When he turned me around and slammed into me, I felt like I owned the college.
Our regular “sessions”, as he called them, were experimental and amazing. It wasn’t until I saw him and his beautiful brunette, and very pregnant, wife at a local coffee shop that I realized I was nothing more than his student slut of the semester. He didn’t see my face when I watched in horror as they hugged lovingly. After that day, I ignored all of his attempts to continue his “sessions”. I actually skipped classes and when I was there, I sat in the back and said nothing. The last day of class, he dropped a note on my desk along with my final paper. I will never forget what it said. See me after class for an A. Leave and I hope you enjoy the C.
I never worked so fast to pleasure a man. I imagined his wife. I saw her laughing and hugging him when he called out my name as he came. I wiped my mouth off, stood up, and waited for him to speak. His small smile told me I had gotten the A I deserved even without this act of bribery. As I walked out of the door, he called after me.
“Jules, I look forward to second part of Music Appreciation in the spring,” he smirked. He was so beautiful, but so fucking ugly in that moment. I changed my course selections that same afternoon to avoid him at all costs.
Brennan tore me out of my memory with a light touch on my shoulder. I watched him in a daze, trying to find the similarities between him and Professor Hynes. What would Brennan hold over my head now? Why do married men cheat?
“Everything alright?” Brennan asked with concern etched on his face.
I nodded and put my hands in my pockets. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sean and Johnny speaking quietly in the corner.
“I’m tired. I want to go home,” I said, a bit harsher than I should have. I didn’t know what to do. Call him out here in front of everyone? Call him out when he tries to hold my hand, or even more, when he tries to kiss me? There were no grades involved here. I didn’t need to save a mark in school or even my reputation. I didn’t owe him anything, and that made me sad because I did want to owe him my heart.
Brennan, on the other hand, owed me everything.
He owed me an explanation and an excuse. Maybe he even owed me a little groveling for forgiveness. Despite how this was about to play out, Brennan would be on his way back to Brooklyn by day’s end. I couldn’t be with a married man. I had promised myself back when I was only eighteen. Eleven years later, I still felt so vulnerable.
I looked at Brennan’s left ring finger on the hand that was still pressed against my shoulder. There it was. An indentation the size of a large man’s ring. How did I not notice it before? Hadn’t I examined our hands at length when he first held my hands in front of the Prudential? I pushed passed him and out into the fall day.
I could smell every colored leaf in the brisk fall air. The contrast of the brown, the yellow, and the vibrant red each had different smells, but together it reminded me of pumpkin patches and hay rides in New Hampshire. Hot apple cider at the end of the brisk ride was nowhere in sight, as I stood on the bustling street outside of the studio. I couldn’t enjoy my favorite season because I knew that going forward I would associate the smells of fall with heartbreak. And fuck, Dinosaur, Jr. He took that away from me, too. I tried to reign in my anger.
Johnny walked out with Sean, Brennan trailing behind. Sean cut me a look. He shook his head slightly, like I shouldn’t say anything right then, but I needed to know more.
I cleared my throat. “Hey Sean, while I was in there, I realized there is one tattoo I might want. Can I talk to you for a moment in private?”
Johnny knew what I was doing. Brennan looked confused, or maybe he looked offended that I hadn’t asked him for a design consultation. I briefly smiled at him as I took Sean’s arm and walked down the street for a little while.
“What the mother fucking shit, Sean?” I asked, practically raging in righteousness red. “Why did you introduce us? Why in the hell did you send him to my hotel room when you knew he was married?”
“You have to know, I wanted to say something but he asked me not to. It isn’t as simple as it looks, Jules. Amelia and Brennan are different. They are... open. She knows he is here with you,” he explained, almost defending Brennan.
“She knows?” I repeated with wide eyes and the ultimate look of disbelief.
He nodded his head.
“She is a really open-minded woman. Very open. Brennan explained he didn’t like that part of their marriage and... well, until he met you.”
“Oh, that is a fucking compliment if I’ve ever heard one,” I guffawed. “So, what? They do threesomes? Is he here to scope me out for her?” I crossed my arms over my heart, which was slowly icing over, with tiny little icicles dangling from the edges.
“No way! They don’t do it together. They are open with other people. Shit, the day of the convention, she left with one of the guys that had a booth right next to them. It was fucking bizarre to watch. I mean, I understand the whole open marriage thing in my head, I guess, but when you actually see it happening, ugh, it’s just fucking weird,” Sean said in disgust. “Brennan tried to show a brave face, but I could tell he was hella uncomfortable. So, when I told him about going to see you that next night, it was awesome to see him smile about meeting you. I didn’t really think anything would come of it.”
“Why was she even there? At the convention, I mean?” I asked. My hands were shaking, my heart pounding, but I was going to wrench out every detail about this disastrous set up that I could.
“Wait... he hasn’t talked about his partner at all? Amelia is his business partner. ABC Designs,” he said, rattling off the information in a professional tone. ABC. His tattoo. She designs his tattoos. Amelia Brennan Curtis.
I couldn’t help it. I went to the brick covered trash receptacle and threw up the coffee that I had drunk that morning. It came out like acid. Acidic poison was my life. It didn’t matter what I did, I would always find myself in these fucked up situations.
Brennan’s voice boomed over me, as his hand moved up and down my back. “Julia, are you sick? You said you were tired? Maybe you are coming down with something?” he assumed. His voice made me want to burst out in tears. I loved his voice next to my ear, telling me we had something special. I hated his voice for tricking me into falling for it.
I turned my head slightly to see Sean walk off and catch up with Johnny. Johnny nodded at me once and he quickly turned to leave. I wiped the vomit off of my mouth and stood up, feeling woozy. Brennan wrapped his arm under mine to keep me up.
“I need you to get your fucking married arms off my person!” I spat out in his face. I hea
rd the gasp from behind me.
Female. Fuck. Lizzie.
“What the fuck?” Lizzie yelled out. “You’re fucking married? You son of a... ” she was cut off by Nick picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder. I heard him say that it was none of their business, as she yelled out something about shitty creeps, and an apology to me. I didn’t stop glaring at Brennan’s pale and sickly face. Of course, he was still ridiculously gorgeous, but he wasn’t mine. He belonged to another faceless and most likely, equally beautiful woman. Brennan withdrew his arms from me and backed away, slowly and steadily. He held up his hands in a defensive stance.
“Before you go off on me, please listen to me,” he begged.
I shook my head, feeling like I was going to hurl again. Instead, I started walking towards my apartment. He just needed to leave. Leave me the hell alone. I wanted to cry but the son of a bitch didn’t deserve one fucking tear.
He caught up to me, turned me around so fast, and my confused, aching head started to throb once again.
“What?” I screamed. “You came up here to what? You wanted me to fall in love with your touches, your laugh? You want me to love the way you look at me while I talk? Or was it that I offered you a blow job that first night and hadn’t asked your wife for permission?”
Brennan was talking over me the entire time I was screaming at him. People stopped and watched. Cars slowed and looked out their windows at us. I heard Brennan say “no” and “stop” and “what?”
I shook my hands out, in a nervous, jumpy way. I needed to shake this off. I could no longer look him in the eyes. I darted my eyes everywhere, but into those dark, muddy eyes of ecstasy.
“Can I speak now?” he shouted. “Can we talk about this like adults, maybe somewhere a little more private? I am pretty sure all of your friends hate me now and I would like to be able to walk into this city again after today,” he said, as he pushed his dark curls out of his face with force.
“Where’s your wedding ring?” I asked in a lower voice, resigned to know that I had just fallen for a married man... again. A-fucking-gain.