by S. L. Scott
“So do you. You smell like roasted chicken.” He chuckles.
Pushing off of him playfully, I say, “That’s because I’m roasting a chicken.”
“Cool.”
“Drink?”
“What are you having?”
I enter the kitchen, but sneak a peek back at him. He’s wearing a white T-shirt that highlights his tan arms, fitted around the muscles of his biceps. His jeans are a loose, but not baggy and he has on lace-up Vans. To top it off, I can tell he’s freshly showered, not just from inhaling his clean, manliness back in the living room, but his hair is shiny and kind of enviable. But it’s the devilish smile on his face and devious look in his eyes that makes me reply, “Wine. You? I have beer, cocktails, soda, water, milk?”
“Did you just offer me milk?”
“Yeah, it’s a popular beverage around here.”
He just continues smiling. “How about a soda?”
“Sure.”
I make our drinks and tend to dinner one more time before leading Dex outside where the boys are running around on the swings chasing each other. We sit in patio chairs and watch for a few minutes before CJ comes over, and says, “I member you.”
With a big smile that shows off Dex’s dimples, he says, “I member you too, big guy.”
“Why are you here?”
I lean forward, taking CJ by the arm and pull him in front of me. Holding him by the waist, I wiggle him. “Dex is here for dinner and to play with us.”
CJ’s eyes light up. “We like Marco Polo, but Mama doesn’t let us play much since we run into things and get boo-boos.”
“Ahh,” Dex responds. “I can understand. How about tag or hide-and-go-seek?”
“Hide seek,” my little guy says, jumping up in excitement. “Let’s play. Neil, Hide seek.”
Dex stands up, offering me a hand up. I take it, catching his eye on me as I stand. He looks out over the yard and announces, “I’m it. I’ll count to twenty and then I’m gonna come find you.” He turns to go to the door, pinching my side as he does. “Better hide fast. I’m coming for you.”
The words echo the ones he told me back in Boston before I left. And I like hearing them again.
As soon as he hides his face in his hands, the boys and I run for cover. The boys go for the bushes in the corners. They’re tiny and can hide in there easily. There aren’t many spots for me, so I run to the side of the house and squat down on the other side of the garden. I hear him announce, “Twenty. Ready or not, here I come,” and I don’t know what it is about this game, but butterflies fill my stomach as I sit in anticipation of being found and trying to make it back to home base untagged.
Peeking toward the corner of the house, waiting, I hear little joyful screams and Neil yell, “I’m safe!” That makes me smile. I know very well that Dex could catch him if he wanted. To my right, I see a Dandelion growing. Just as I reach for it, I’m grabbed, hand over my mouth as I scream, his other arm holding me to him. When he uncovers my mouth, his finger goes to his and he says, “Shhhhh.”
I slide up, my back against the wood, and he leans forward. With his arms on either side of my head and his chest barely touching mine, his breath warms me over as if the sun wasn’t doing a good enough job of it. “Square one is gonna be hard to do with you looking so edible.”
My breath is rough as I breathe in his words. “Square one?”
His eyes crinkle at the corners and being this close to him makes my knees weak. He’s so close, so close that I could kiss him. His nose runs along the side of my nose and his lips brush against mine. But he pulls back, and says, “Yes, remember? Square one.” Nodding his head, he smiles, knowing damn well I’d kiss him if I had the chance. “We’re starting back at square one.”
I can’t hide my disappointment. “Oh yeah, that’s right.”
He steps back and looks down at the garden. The last time we were here was on that day I don’t like to think about. He says, “I knew it would all be okay.” Following his gaze, I see the sprouts of new lettuce growing there. “By the way,” he adds, tapping my arm. “You’re it.” Dex takes off running toward home base, leaving me standing there, my insides twisted in a new emotion, my body already missing his touch.
Instead of dwelling on the fact that I came up with this stupid square one idea, I run around and try to find my CJ. “Where are you, cutie pie?”
Giggles alert me to the corner bush, but the opposite one he ran for earlier. I hurry over and go to the back side, so he can make a break for home base, which he does. Thanks to my slow-motion running, he makes it safely there, grabbing onto Dex’s leg and laughing. Dex rubs the top of his head, and kneels down. “You’re safe, buddy. Your Mom’s still it.”
Breathless, I reach the patio. I think we have time for one more round before dinner, so I start to count and everyone else scatters. This time I tag Dex first, making him it, and I’m really starting to think he just might be it in more ways than one.
I always wondered why people drank coffee at night, until now. I don’t want this night to end. I don’t want to miss a thing, not even a moment, so I make us coffee to make it last.
Tonight, I don’t get the Dex who filled the tabloids with stories of drug abuse, legal issues, and a myriad of women. And it’s not the Dex I knew five years ago or even three. This Dex is attentive and considerate, quiet at times, and contemplative. Our conversations have been lively and his outlook on his life fascinating. He’s changed over the years. It’s been inevitable with the fame and the money, but he’s matured and has this gentle side to him that he’s showing me that I’m finding very hard to resist.
But even coffee can’t make the night last forever despite my best efforts. Tomorrow has requirements that come along with the new day that I can’t delay. Realizing the time, I say, “Wow, it’s getting late.”
“It is?” He says, looking at me. Dex is lying across the couch, his lids much heavier than they were an hour ago, his smile lazy, but so attractive.
“It’s just gone ten. It’s quite the life I’m living here in the Valley.”
“It’s a good life. I’ve had a good time.” He sits up and stretches and that V, the one that I remember so vividly from before, is exposed. “Hey, eyes up here.”
Busted. “Sorry,” I say, though I’m not really.
“It’s okay. I like the way you look at me.”
Tilting my head, I grin, feeling flirty. “How do I look to you?”
“How I look at you.”
And with that, silence infiltrates, leaving me speechless. I want to get up and go to him, everything about him draws me in, but I don’t because this is the first of many nights I hope to spend with him. I don’t want to risk the perfection of our time together.
Standing up, he says, “Thank you for dinner. I don’t think I knew you were such a good cook.”
“Sheer necessity.”
“You can afford a chef.”
“I like to cook for my family.”
“It’s a good skill to have.” Taking another step, he adds, “I guess I should get going.”
I don’t want him to though I know it’s the right thing to do. I stand up as well, and ask, “So the first half of the tour’s over. Got any plans for your month off?”
“Sleep.”
“Eh, c’mon, you get a ton of sleep.”
“I don’t sleep well on the road. I never have.”
I nod, and agree. “I never did either.”
“At least you had someone,” he says so easily.
I know he doesn’t mean anything more than the words themselves, but the reminders are hard to live with sometimes. “Yeah.”
Dex comes closer and tugs at my shirt. “Did I just make it awkward?”
“No… okay, maybe a little, but it’s real and I can’t deny a real moment. Cory was in my life. He’s not anymore. I didn’t have a say in the decision. But for the record, I still struggle all the time, but it’s good for you to see, to know who I am now. I’
m not the same girl you met ten years ago.”
“No,” he whispers, pushing my hair back over my shoulders. “You’re not. You’re the woman that…” Looking away from me, he backs up suddenly. “I should go.”
“Dex?” I turn and follow after him. “What were you going to say?”
He scrapes his teeth across his bottom lip and it’s entirely distracting and more than a little teasing. “Square one, remember?”
“I’m beginning to hate square one.” I open the door for him, deflated, maybe defeated inside.
With a chuckle, he leans in and kisses me on the forehead. It’s quick and gentle, not illicit in the least, though I could use some illicit right about now. “Go to bed and get some rest. And before I go, how’s Thursday looking for you?”
“What time?”
“Five o’clock.”
“I’ll be here with the boys.”
He smiles and asks, “How about the three of you come to dinner at my house?”
“Really?”
“Really.”
I lift up on my tiptoes and hug him. “We’d love to.”
“See you then and if you get lonely, feel free to sext me anytime.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I give him a little wink because really, what else can you do but camp it up.
After locking the door and setting the security system, I lean against the wall. I’m all smiles and full of feel-goods from the night and from the man who just left. But I’m left wondering on Thursday, do we get to move to square two?
Wednesday drags. I try to appreciate each day we’re given, but it’s hard when all I want is for it to be Thursday already. Since it’s not, I do what I totally shouldn’t do according to dating rules. I text Dex.
Me: Is it Thursday yet?
Five minutes later…
Dex: I wish.
Me: Me too.
Dex: Want to go to lunch?
Too excited, I rush my answer, not caring about old dating rules. Me: Yes.
Dex: I’ll pick you up in an hour.
Me: I’ll be ready.
Now I try to play it cool and settle the giddiness that has built up inside me while hurrying to my closet to figure out what to wear. Dex makes me want to dress cool like he does, but aside from clothes that tend to lend themselves more for evening wear, I don’t own much ‘cool’ anymore. Not sure where we’re going to eat, so I pull a long striped skirt on and a fitted tank top because it’s comfortable. It’s also warm out, so this way I won’t get all sweaty. The last thing I want to be around Dex, is sweaty. Images of the last few times we got sweaty together cross my mind, but I quickly shake them away, well aware that that kind of workout won’t be happening today. No matter how much I kind of wish it could.
I finish getting ready and am going to the kitchen to retrieve my purse when the doorbell rings. After grabbing my bag, I’m greeted by Dex’s smile, and just like that, my breath catches as my heart skips a beat. “Hi,” I say, feeling that familiar heat rise to my cheeks.
His grin grows wider and he says, “Hi. You ready to go?”
“Yep.”
In the driveway sits his 1976 Challenger. He opens the door for me then shuts it after I slide onto the leather seat. “The car’s looking good,” I say when he gets in.
“Sitting in a driveway for almost six months doesn’t do any car good, but this Challenger is reliable.”
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Rodeo Drive.”
“I didn’t take you for the Beverly Hills crowd.”
He pulls off my street and says, “I’m not, but my mother is. I need to pick up a birthday present from her favorite jeweler. Mind going with me before lunch?”
“Not at all.” I look out the window, then turn to him again. “How are you?”
His fingers stretch over the steering wheel and I see the right side of his lips curl up. “I’m good. I’m glad to see you… too.”
“I guess I’m not good at pretending, playing it cool and all that.” I roll my eyes, feeling foolish.
“You don’t have to be. You only have to be yourself around me. At this stage in our lives, it feels like we’ve known each other longer than we have.”
Dragging my hands down the front of my thighs, I say, “I think we’ve just lived more life in the time we’ve known each other than before we met.”
“I thought life was so fucking hard back then.”
“It’s much harder now.”
He nods, leaning his head against the seatback, he sighs. “Let’s not ever grow up.”
I laugh at the irony before the humor is gone. “I think it’s too late.”
“It’s never too late to live in Neverland.”
“I thought Neverland was only for boys.”
“Hmm… I don’t think so.” He contemplates the thought before adding, “Wendy was there.”
“Wendy wasn’t supposed to be there though. Peter took her there.”
“Maybe we can just pretend she was meant to be there all along.”
Looking down at my lap, I twist the hem of my shirt. His words always seem to have a meaning deeper than what’s spoken. “I’ll be Wendy,” I whisper, playing along with what I hope is the right assumption. “You can show me your world, Peter.”
He glances over at me, then back to the road, his brown eyes revealing how he feels. “You look beautiful.” Reaching forward he turns on some music. The Nirvana song is loud, the words sad, but like the man sitting next to me, complex and completely captivating.
When we near the store, he slows down, and asks, “Do you want to wait here or come with me?”
“I’ll come with you.”
He pulls up to the curb and the attendant opens my door. Dex moves to the sidewalk, giving the keys to the valet as he passes. I could be mistaken but it looks as if he’s reaching for my hand, then quickly tucks it into his pocket instead. When I’m by his side, I ask, “Hey, what was that?”
While checking out the surrounding area, he says, “That was the realization that Neverland only exists when we’re alone. The rest of the world owns everything else.”
His strides are long and determined to reach the shop, so I pick up my pace to keep up with him. “It doesn’t have to be like that, Dex. Cory and I—”
He stops and looks at me. His demeanor patient, but his expression tainted when he asks, “What about you and Cory?”
Eeks. Touchy subject. “Um, I was just going to say that we managed to elude them most times when we went out.”
Staring into my eyes, his narrow, but suddenly he checks his watch. “We’re going to be late.”
“Late for what?”
“Lunch,” he says as the door to the jeweler opens and he walks in.
A few minutes later, he’s inspecting a broach in the shape of a cat. “My mother loves cats as companions. I think it’s because they’re aloof like she is. She disagrees.”
“I love fireflies.”
With a smile, he says, “Why fireflies? They’re ugly.”
“But at night they transform. They’re magical. I’ve seen them on the East Coast, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen them here in LA.”
“I don’t think I have either. It’s probably too smoggy.” He hands his credit card to the salesperson after approving the custom piece.
“I bet there are fireflies in Neverland.”
His hand brushes against mine. “I bet there are.”
“You’re taking me home for lunch?”
“No, I’m taking you to my mother’s.”
“In Beverly Hills?”
“Yes,” he responds and turns left.
“You’re a rich kid, aren’t you, Dexter?”
He takes a right, obviously a short cut he knows by heart. “As the band’s business manager, you know how much money I’ve made.”
“You’re right. I do, but I mean, you come from money. How did I never know this before?”
“I guess you had your mind on other things.
”
That hits hard. “I guess I did. I’m sorry for not asking about you before now. I should have. I want to know all about you and your family.”
Pulling up to the white gate of the nearest driveway, he punches in a code on the keypad. As the big gates open before us, he says, “We’re here.” After he parks, he takes the gift from the seat between us and looks at me. “My Mother can be intimidating. Don’t take her shit.”
My wide eyes must show my fear. “How about I just stick close to you?”
“That’s good.” The mood lightens and we get out.
A butler is standing at the open front door when we approach. “Sir, good to see you again,” he says.
“Good to see you, Charles. You know I prefer Dex to Sir. This is my friend, Rochelle Floros.”
“Ms. Floros. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he greets me with a slight bow.
“Rochelle is fine,” I say, sticking my hand out to shake his. He hesitates before accepting it. I know it goes against their formal training to accept the handshake, but I haven’t been around butlers and such since I lived in Boston. Housekeepers, yes. But formally trained butlers, no.
I smile at Dex, so curious as to how he went from this fancy estate to where I met him at that dive down on Sunset. As we follow Charles inside, I whisper, “We’ve known each other for almost eleven years.”
“Eleven next month.”
“You knew that?”
“I—”
“Antonio,” a woman calls as she comes toward us, the sound bouncing off the marble floors, echoing. She’s dressed in a maid’s uniform.
I’m kind of blown away by how different everything is here from his house in the Hills, and how I know Dex to be. But we’re all shaped from our childhood so I’m interested to see if any of the rich kid from Beverly Hills still remains.
“Judith.” His arms open wide. Looking at me over her shoulder, he adds, “Judith was my nanny when I was young. She stayed on as housekeeper afterward.” He pulls back and smiles at her. “You’re looking good. You working out?”
He’s such a flirt.