Walking Away

by Xavier Neal

  “And ready to pull?” I tease.

  Jason groans, wets his lips, and nods.

  Knowing he finds me sexy is enough, but being able to see it physically on him again is exciting. Since our middle of the night discovery we have spent numerous hours getting off. Unfortunately, as incredible as it is, the lack of Hudson’s presence is painful. Even in fits of extreme elation there’s something missing. And it’s not just me who feels that way. It’s both of us. Because we both love him. Because we both miss him. Because he belongs with both of us.

  Sadness unconsciously returns to my expression, and Jason does his best to soothe it. “He’ll come home soon, baby. I know it.”

  My smile attempts once more to lift at the proclamation.

  After a not so quick kiss goodbye, I head downtown for the office. The original plan to stop at the little corner shop where Hudson typically gets his coffee is thwarted by an impromptu panicking phone call from Ronnie. Somehow the casual day I was expecting swiftly shifts into a very booming one. Three potential clients arrive at the same time, all commanding to be seen first, all jacking up their offers in order to be acknowledged faster. I do the best that I can to get them all seen, scheduled, and momentarily satisfied before darting back out to meet a buyer a few blocks away.

  Storm abruptly halts our movements less than a block away from our building. “Fuck. I forgot my phone.”

  “Go get it,” I insist with a wave of the hand. “You know where this meeting is.”

  “Just wait, Gwen. Two minutes. That’s all I need.”

  “And that’s something I don’t have.”

  “Gwen-”

  “What do I say about being late to meetings with buyers, Storm?”

  “Early is late and late is unacceptable.”

  “Exactly.” My body begins to move once more. “Go get your phone. I’ll be fine. It’s just a few blocks.”

  He grumbles but dashes around the few people on the sidewalk to get back to the office.

  I return to walking and pull out my own cell in preparations to make another attempt to reach Hudson.

  The restaurant I am meeting the buyer at is only a few buildings over from Aunt Toni’s. Maybe….Maybe I can convince him to get a slice with me there and discuss whatever it is that made him change his mind about being with us. Or cuss him out for being the flake I always feared he truly was.

  Jason: Wanna see that pretty smile again soon baby.

  My fingers prepare to text back when I’m grabbed by the wrist and yanked into the alley. The impact alone from my back hitting the brick knocks all the air out of my lungs, yet that doesn’t stop the pair of hands now wrapped around my neck from squeezing tighter.

  “You little bitch.” Arthur Norton’s thumbs dig deeper. “I want my fucking car.”

  Unwilling to just submit to the assault, I violently thrash my body around.

  “You were right. Criminals will talk for the right price.”

  Not surprised someone sold me out, though this is why I try to make friends rather than enemies. This is also why I prefer purchasing to repossessing.

  I draw my foot back and give him a sharp kick to the shin.

  His hold disappears, and I attempt to put distance between us.

  My movements are unfortunately not fast enough. He captures my wrist once more and twists. “You’re not getting away that fucking easy.” We struggle yet Arthur successfully manages to get me pinned beside the dumpster again, my purse contents becoming scattered during the scuffle. “You have any fucking idea how humiliated I was?” The booze on his breath invades my nostrils. “The laughing fucking stock you made me?” His weight shifts to press me harder against the brick while his free hand caresses the curve of my boob. “Wait ‘til I take from you something you treasure.”

  I swallow the nausea lifting, roll my body into the touch, and tempt him to drop his defense just enough for me to strike.

  “You want that?” He pinches my nipple. “Want me to fuck you over this dumpster like the dirty little slut you are?”

  Slowly, I nod and his body relaxes. There’s no hesitation in the execution of my prepared movements. My knee nails him in the crotch with all the force I can gain. His body bends towards me and my balled fist flies for his jaw. I take advantage of his unsteady balance and shove him away from me.

  This time when he attempts to come after me, Storm’s large body stops him with a clasp to the throat.

  The choking sounds are almost like claps of victory.

  Unlike me, Storm’s demeanor is calm. Collected. Completely composed. “Would you like me to put the trash in the dumpster, Mrs. Gwendolyn?”

  Hearing him speak professionally spreads a sense of power throughout me that being cornered threatened to take away. “That would be lovely. Let me gather my things first.”

  Arthur’s thin body squirms around in desperation. His hands pound at Storm’s relentlessly, but the only thing it seems to do is irk my body guard more.

  As soon as I’ve scooped everything back into my purse, I state, “We need to go. I don’t want to be late.”

  Storm hums, tightens his grip, and backs Arthur towards the trashcan. He thrusts him against the dumpster hard enough to make the sturdy object shake. Despite the fact his voice is even, it is apparent his temperament is not. “It would be in your best interest to never come within fifty feet of my client again.”

  He turns towards me and ushers a hand for me to return to walking. We’re not even five feet around the corner before he’s reprimanding me, “Two. Fucking. Minutes, Gwendolyn. That’s all I fucking asked for.”

  “Yeah. Well. I didn’t have two then. I damn sure don’t have two for you to bitch about it now.”

  And for the record he took longer than two minutes.

  Storm grunts his irritation. “You could’ve been hurt even worse than you were.”

  “I’m fine,” I insist as we round the corner. “Nothing a little make up check can’t fix.”

  “You are not fine.”

  “I am fine.”

  “Gwen-”

  It’s my turn to abruptly stop. “Storm. I appreciate you doing your job. But I had the situation handled. However, had I not, that’s when it would be appropriate to lecture me about safety protocols and preferences. I do not have time for this conversation nor do I have the fucking emotional strength to deal with the fact I was just trapped in a back alley and groped on by an asshole with a grudge as hard as his dick was. I don’t have time to process the amount of fear it raised any more than I have time to tell you I don’t pay you enough for going out of your way to always protect my stubborn ass.” Tears string the corner of my eyes, but I pretend they aren’t there. “Now, do you mind? I need to get to the bathroom at the restaurant and freshen up before I meet Willow. The last thing I need is her spooked by my disheveled appearance and lose out on my only viable opportunity to purchase those damn Melinda Vanzi earrings.”

  Storm doesn’t argue. Instead he gives me a small smile and motions his head for us to continue.

  I know I’m on the verge of a major breakdown, but I can hold it together. I can keep all the pieces glued in place just a little while longer. I had over a year of practice. I’m sure I can make a couple hours more.

  I tilt the beer bottle to my lips and try to enjoy the warmth of the sun beating down on my face.

  Beer at lunch typically means I’m not going back to work. Which I’m not. I’m gonna get drunk, stumble my ass back to my apartment, and charm the chick in charge of filing rental renewals into pretending she lost my copy so I still have a place to sleep. As much fun as it has been sleeping on the couch in my office for practically the last week, I would not like to make it a permanent habit.

  My cell phone buzzes across the table showing me my Aunt Lindsay’s face.

  Given the fact she’s not on the mental ignore list, I put my drink down, and answer. “Hey.”

  “Hey!” She cheerfully greets in return. “You busy?”

&
nbsp; “Nah. Just uh…having lunch.”

  “And dinner? Do you already have plans for that? Whit and I were thinking since you all had us over for a homemade meal that we would love to treat you guys out. Get a few drinks. Have a few more laughs….”

  The suggestion shifts my fingers to pinch the bridge of my nose to prevent the throbbing headache that comes with any thoughts of the people who obviously no longer need me. “Um….I don’t think that’s gonna happen, Aunt Linds.”

  “Busy week?”

  Busy getting back to a normal marriage. A normal relationship.

  When I don’t answer, she prods like her grief counseling senses are tingling. “What’s going on?”

  I let my hand drag down the side of my face. “Nothing.”

  “Hudson….”

  “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

  “With me?”

  “With anyone.”

  My snip isn’t well received. “Uh-huh and so instead of discussing what’s up your ass or what rubbed you wrong with the two people you’re in a relationship with you’re…let me guess. Hiding? Cutting them completely off without explanation?”

  Ignoring the guilt growing in the pit of my stomach, I sigh, “Shit’s just easier this way.”

  “You mean for you.”

  I don’t reply.

  “Shutting people out when you no longer need them is easier for you. That’s what you mean, right?”

  “No,” my voice betrays me. “This time they shut me out.”

  The memory hits me with the strength of a freight train.

  They were kissing…touching...fucking…without me. It was like they were in their own little world. Their own Hudson free existence. Their own marriage that they committed to long before I ever entered the picture. Seeing them come and cry together without even so much as a hand offered my direction cut deeper than I could handle. It was obvious at that moment I was dismissed. Me and my dick’s services are no longer needed. They get along now. They talk. They laugh. They…fuck. All the bullshit about us being in everything together was really just a façade they kept up until they were certain they could move on without me. Until Blondie’s cock was back in session. Until his body proved it was capable of participating in life again. And I know everything we had wasn’t all about sex, but a moment like that, a monumental moment like the one they shared was the type you share with only the one you love. Which didn’t include me.

  “Hudson-”

  “You were right, Aunt Linds. Should’ve avoided getting involved. Turns out being a sexual plaything can come with real consequences.”

  Like having your fucking heart broken for the first time.

  “What are you talking about?!” She shrieks from the other end. “They’re in love with you, Hudson!” There’s not a chance to deny it. “I was there! I saw it! I saw them. I saw…you. You’re all in love with each other. Look, I had my doubts at first, but being in the same room with all of you, there was no way to deny you all share something remarkable.”

  My body slumps further into my patio seat.

  “All relationships hit turbulence. Sometimes together and sometimes separately. What I’ve learned is the downfall is in the communication department. One person either can’t seem to figure out how or is afraid of what will happen when they do. Don’t be a pussy, Hudson. Talk to them.”

  Her words leave me a slightly stunned. “Did you just call me a pussy?”

  “I said don’t be one.”

  The retort successfully steals a small chuckle from me.

  However, the sight coming towards me cuts it short.

  “Hey…uh…I’ll call you tonight, alright?”

  “With good news I hope.”

  “Don’t hold your breath.” Hanging up, I meet a set of green eyes I’ve been unwillingly dreaming about every night. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Jason stops a few feet from me. “Don’t worry. Didn’t come to put my fist in your pretty boy face, even though you’ve fucking earned it.”

  I try to hide my hurt by playfully cooing, “Aw. You still think I’m pretty, Blondie?”

  “I think that you need to pay your check and come with me.”

  My head quickly shakes. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”

  “It’s Gwen.”

  Her name alone cracks my jaw.

  “She’s hurt.”

  The ability to breathe vanishes.

  “She needs us.”

  There’s no thought process. No push to challenge his words. No nagging to iron out the issues that have been keeping me away. The only reaction is an immediate instinct to get us from where we are to where she is without delay. Nothing else matters. I can learn to live without the two of them in my life, knowing they have each other, but I can’t live without the two of them not having life. That’s a pain I won’t even pretend to fathom. I’ll make sure she’s alright, that whatever hurt her, never hurts her again, and then I’ll leave there for good. I’ll say goodbye, and pretend walking away doesn’t hurt nearly as fucking much as it actually does.

  “Why do I feel like you’re a poodle who is about to pee on my favorite rug?” I snap at Ronnie from across the room. Leaning against the edge of my desk, I don’t bother hiding my building exasperation. “Speak now or remain silent for the rest of the day.”

  He stops shaking his hands dramatically near his face. “Do you need to me to make a doctor’s appointment? Get you some like tea or something? Do you need me to run around the corner and get you like six candy bars?”

  The last offer is tempting. “No, Ronnie. I’m fine.”

  “We’ll determine if that’s true,” Jason’s voice invades the room.

  My shoulders drop in relief at the sight of him, but quickly stiffen back up at Hudson’s presence. I dart my glare to my assistant. “What are they doing here?”

  His lips momentarily press together in fear.

  “Ronnie….”

  “Storm told me to call them after the incident.”

  “What incident?” Hudson growls, and I do everything I can to not be turned on by it.

  “I’m gonna fire him for this,” I mumble under my breath.

  “You’re not firing him for doing the right thing,” Jason bites. “You should’ve called us, Gwendolyn. The minute after you were safe.”

  “I had a job to do!”

  “And your husbands deserve the right to know when their wife was in danger!” Jason shouts loud enough to startle us all.

  My mouth bobs up and down, completely speechless.

  Suddenly, Storm enters the room and announces, “She was tossed around a bit before I got to her. I don’t think she has any major injuries, but she’s definitely got a few minor ones. Including a bruise on her wrist she hid with makeup.”

  I drop my hands defensively to my hips. “Haven’t you ever heard snitches get stitches?”

  “What are you, twelve?” Hudson huffs.

  “Funny coming from the boy who cried commitment.”

  The tension in the room thickens yet Jason parts it smoothly. “Ronnie, please grab the emergency med kit, so that we may tend to her wounds.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Enough, Gwendolyn.” Jason chomps with more force than I can handle.

  My body sulks against the desk as my face drops.

  “Storm, we appreciate the phone call and that you take your job seriously,” Jason commends. “You can go for the day. We’re gonna take her home once we make sure she doesn’t need a trip to the ER.”

  I start to make the objection once more but the deep glares from the two people I love causes my mouth to clamp shut.

  Storm sighs, “Good. After the shit she went through she needs to take a couple days off.”

  “And Ronnie will clear her schedule to make that happen,” Hudson states at the same time my assistance enters the room. “Won’t you, gorgeous?”

  “Of course.”

  A gag sound seeps from me.

  �
��Anything else?” Ronnie’s concerned voice questions.

  “Privacy,” Hudson firmly states.

  I lift my attention up and watch my assistant and personal body guard shut the doors with them on the other side.

  Jason adjusts the kit in his lap. “What exactly happened?”

  Folding my arms tightly across my chest, I maintain my stance on the discussion. “I’m fine-”