Bittersweet Deceit

by Blakely Bennett

  “Great,” I mumbled.

  He touched my thigh and said, “Are you feeling okay enough to shut the car door?”

  “Oh, yeah, yes.” I took a deep breath and sunk into the seat.

  “I’ve never been to your place so you’ll have to direct me,” he said as he drove down the road away from Red’s house.

  “It’s two exits up from here.”

  “Is it easier to take US1 or hop on the highway?”

  “Either works.” I lay back and closed my eyes. “This car is so quiet and smooth.”

  “Yes it is. It took some getting used to when I first got her.”

  “Her?” I said, opening my eyes and slanting my head in his direction.

  “Of course,” he said, shooting me a quick glance. “All cars are female.”

  “Even a Mustang GT with a V8 engine?”

  His deep laugh filled the car. “Most definitely a Mustang, but she’s more like a dominatrix wearing red leather and holding a bullwhip.”

  I laughed with him that time. “Such imagery. Well, your girl could use a good vacuuming.”

  While we were stopped at a light, he looked around the car. He shrugged and said, “I guess. I usually wait until there’s an inch of sand.”

  My mouth dropped open and then I realized he was kidding me.

  “Are you a clean freak?” he asked as he drove up the north ramp to I-95.

  “I do like things clean and organized. Are you a messy pers—” I closed my eyes and leaned back against the headrest.

  “Are you okay? Should I pull off the next exit?”

  “Why don’t you. That way if I have to, you know, you can pull over.”

  “Toss your cookies?”

  I put the cold water bottle to my head and said, “That’s one way of saying it.”

  “Should I come up with some others?”

  “Uh, I think I’ll take a pass.”

  He reached over and touched my hand. “Should I head toward US1?”

  Somehow he had made it through my bubble of self-protection; because I didn’t flinch or feel inclined to swat his hand away. It actually felt kind of nice, as if he projected calming energy. “Yes and make a left on Seventh Street.” I sighed and said, “Thank you for taking me home. Between the alcohol and throwing up I don’t think I could have made it there myself.”

  “Yeah and staying at someone else’s house when you’re feeling sick is the worst. I always want my own bed.”

  “And my own clean bathroom.”

  “Do you like everything to be line up neatly too?”

  “Yes, I don’t feel comfortable with a lot of chaos around me. I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

  He flashed his crooked smile. “Nothing wrong at all.”

  I pointed to the right and said, “You can park in my spot.”

  He turned off the engine and came around to my side to help me up. I felt unsteady on my feet. Having consumed two and a half hard apple ciders and no dinner wasn’t helping matters. After I got my keys from my bag, Stay held his hand out for my purse and swung it over his shoulder.

  “I can carry you up,” he said, reaching out to pick me up.

  “Absolutely not! I can walk. I doubt you could lift me anyway.”

  “Then you would be surprised.” He placed my arm over his shoulder and wrapped his arm around my waist. “Come on, OCDC, let’s get you upstairs.”

  “OCDC?” I peered up just as he inclined his head to the side. His mouth hovered too close to mine and I quickly looked away.

  “OCD is self-explanatory, the extra C is for cute.”

  “I should smack you, but I don’t have the strength.”

  “You can owe me one,” he said and winked.

  “Oh, is it like that for you?” I asked as he helped me hobble to the stairs.

  “My grandmother had to resort to it a time to two.”

  “Your grandmother?” I grabbed the railing with my free hand as a wave of nausea swept through.

  He scanned my face and I knew he could tell. “Let’s get you inside and we can talk about it later.”

  “Okay.”

  We climbed the first set of steps and paused on the landing.

  “Do you need to sit down for a minute? You look pale.”

  “I’d like to make it to my bathroom as soon as possible.”

  He pleaded with his eyes. “Then let me carry you.”

  “Absolutely not. I don’t let men lift me.”

  “Okay, we’ll do it your way.”

  “Fast this time, I’m feeling—”

  “I get it,” he said, shouldering most of my weight.

  We moved up the next set of steps at a hurried pace and once we rounded the corner I saw Mason hovering near my apartment. My intense nausea suddenly had a partner in crime: panic.

  I started shaking and hoped Stay just thought it was from feeling ill, which I did in abundance. Mason’s sad expression pulled at my heart, but at that moment, I couldn’t worry about him. I needed to get to my bathroom quickly. He moved away before we got to my door. Stay took the keys and then held the door open for me.

  I scurried into the kitchen and vomited into the sink. I didn’t have the time to make it all the way to the bathroom.

  Sound became acute. I heard Stay shut the front door, remove his shoes, his soft footsteps on my white, tile floor, my phone going off in my purse, which he set on the counter causing the contents to ding against each other. His steps trailed away and then came back. He brought me a warm washcloth to wipe my mouth.

  I started rinsing the sink until he said, “Leave it. Let’s get you into something comfortable and in bed.”

  I stopped by the bathroom and said, “I have to wash my face and brush my teeth first.”

  “Okay, tell me where to get your bed clothes.”

  I held myself up against the door jam and said, “Go to the farthest panel of the closet and in there you will see a chest of drawers. Second one has shorts and the third T-shirts.”

  I made quick work of washing my face, brushing my teeth, and urinating.

  He tapped on the bathroom door and passed the clothes to me. “Where in the kitchen would I find a large bowl?”

  “Lower left cabinet if you’re facing the stove.” I sat on the toilet and undressed. Food poising had drained every bit of my energy and lifting my arms over my head was a struggle. I managed to get my dirty clothes into the wicker laundry basket.

  “You okay in there?”

  “One more sec.” I scanned the bathroom and opened the door. “I think you’re right.”

  “What about?” he asked as he helped me to my bed.

  “I sleep on the far side.” He had placed a glass of water and the bowl next to the bed with a wet washcloth hanging over the side.

  “Let’s get you settled and I’ll bring the stuff around.”

  “Thank you, Stay. This is beyond the call of duty,” I said as I lowered down onto the bed with my back against the headboard.

  “Not at all. So tell me...”

  “Oh, I must have OCD because as sick as I feel I still made sure the bathroom looked clean and neat.”

  He laughed and I could see the amusement shining in his eyes. “Accepting who we are is the first step.”

  “First step to?”

  “Living in peace. Hey, Lainie, maybe you want to answer your phone? It keeps going off.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Who’s the guy?”

  “What guy?”

  “Lainie, don’t. I’m not blind. The man waiting for you outside. I imagine he is also the one who keeps calling. You should know—”

  “I should know?” I didn’t like the change to the tenor of his voice.

  “I’m as easy going as they come, except for one thing: lying. Partly because of my belief in karma, but also because I always know when it’s happening and then if I don’t confront it, I’m put in the position of lying myself.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mea
n to offend you. You’ve been incredible to me. It’s hard for me to let strangers in.”

  “I’m not a stranger.”

  “Well, I mean, oh damn.” The faucet of my tears resumed and I again felt mortified.

  “I’ll get the phone,” he said when it rang again, seemingly to let me get my emotions under control. “Here,” he said when he came back into the room. “I’ll give you some privacy.” He shut the door on his way out.

  I held the phone, not doing anything right away. Should I check the messages or just call? I opted to call him.

  Before I had a chance to say anything, a torrent of words spewed out of Mason. “Damn, Lainie, I didn’t think you were ever going to call me back. Are you okay? Who’s that guy? Why is he in your apartment? Why hasn’t he left yet?”

  “That’s a lot all at once. Give me a second.”

  It’s humiliating to admit but at that moment, nauseous and all, I reveled in the fact that for once, the shoe was on the other foot and Mason got to experience some of the angst I lived with on a daily basis.

  I took a deep breath and said, “I apparently ate some bad food at lunch. No, I’m not okay. I’m sick and I’m sick and tired of being an afterthought for you. The guy is Stay who is a friend and had the unfortunate luck to be with me when my lunch decided to relinquish its residency from my stomach. Where the hell were you?”

  “Baby, I’m sorry. Victoria had one of her meltdowns and I couldn’t get away.”

  “How convenient. And when exactly did you know you would be late? You couldn’t steal to the bathroom and text me, email me, something? Do you think I’m just willing to suspend my life for you?”

  “Of course not. Let me in and I can make it up to you. Send your friend away and let me come up and take care of you.”

  “I don’t have my car. Stay is my way to work tom— Oh god,” I groaned and dropped the phone. I grabbed for the bowl, pulled it into my lap and began rocking.

  I could hear Mason say, “I’m coming now.”

  A tap sounded on the door and Stay poked his head in. “Are you—you’re not. Do you want to try to get to the bathroom?”

  “Yes, please.” His kindness made me break again. “Oh, geeze,” I muttered.

  The front door flung opened as Stay helped me to the bathroom. The men assessed each other as I stepped through the jamb and away from drama playing out in my living room.

  Stay glanced back at me as I started to close the door and I didn’t care for the forlorn expression on his face. I wobbled my head and shrugged my shoulders in apology.

  After being sick yet again, I flushed the toilet and rinsed my mouth. The cold tile floor called to me so I lay down and rested my cheek against it. I couldn’t decide which side of the door I wanted to be on. Did Mason tell Stay to leave? Would he listen? Stay didn’t strike me as the kind of man who took direction well. I had come to understand that his laid back demeanor didn’t mean passivity.

  “Lane, are you okay in there?”

  I heard Stay’s voice. For some unknown reason I felt relief. As much as I loved Mason, I didn’t want him to see me in my current state. We never had that kind of relationship, just two independent ships that crossed in the night.

  “Come on, OCDC, say something or I’m kicking the door down.” He sounded like he meant it.

  “Sorry, I’m okay.” I struggled to sit up, reaching for the knob.

  “You’re horribly pale again. Are you ready to get back in bed?”

  “Where’s Mason?”

  “He’s in the living room. He has to leave shortly.”

  “You talked to him?”

  “I usually introduce myself to new people. Let’s get you up,” he said, reaching out to help me. He easily lifted me to stand.

  “Thank you,” I said, still shaky on my feet.

  Once we stepped out into the hall, I saw Mason sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. “Mason? Give me a minute to get settled and then come see me.” He didn’t look well himself. When he glanced up I noticed the pronounced lines on his forehead and his five o’clock shadow. He just nodded.

  Stayman continued to baffle me with his kindness. He helped me get into bed and placed the cool washcloth on my forehead. I had never let a man take care of me before. Stay seemed so natural at it.

  “Try to drink a few sips of water,” he said, holding out the glass to me. “You don’t want to get dehydrated.”

  I did as directed and then asked Stay to go get Mason. Feeling ill, exposed, and vulnerable I willed myself to keep it together. No more tears, girl.

  Mason came into the room, shoulders down, looking dejected. “Baby, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. I’d be the one caring for you instead of...” He paused momentarily. “the boy.”

  “I don’t know what to say. You hurt me, Mason. It’s bad enough I have to deal with canceled plans, rescheduling, waiting, but not even calling to let me know? What the hell?”

  “I won’t let it happen again,” he said, taking my hand in his and kissing it like he did that first night.

  “Make sure it doesn’t.” I didn’t have the energy to fight so I let it go. Brushing my hand across his cheek, I said, “I like you needing a shave.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.” He gave me a slight smile and it boosted my energy. “I have to go soon. I wish I could stay and spoon you to sleep with my hand across your belly.”

  We stared at each other in silence and I could see the pain underneath. He had placed himself between two women he could never fully satisfy. My heart thawed a bit.

  “Let me make it up to you on Friday.” Mason took a strand of my hair and looped it behind my ear.

  “I thought you had a long day with a new CEO.”

  “I’ll leave earlier than I originally planned.” He came onto the bed and cuddled me against him.

  “I can’t—” I shifted uncomfortably, trying to sit up.

  “What do you mean you can’t?” He increased the space between us.

  “I have plans and they can’t be changed. How about Saturday?”

  “With who? The boy?”

  “His name is Stayman and the answer is yes. He had an extra ticket to see Ed Sheeran and I said I’d go. Of course that assumes I stop throwing up and feel well enough to go into work tomorrow and Friday.”

  “Baby going with him isn’t a good idea. He already likes you. Do you really want to lead him on?”

  I sat for a moment with my brow scrunched together, feeling the tension in my forehead. I tried to wrap my head around what he said. Not the part that Stay was interested, I’d have to be dead not to realize that, but because Mason had an expectation of monogamy from me.

  What came out of my mouth was, “What makes you think he likes me?”

  “Aside from the fact that he blatantly told me that he does? What man takes care of woman he’s not into?”

  “Uh, how about a friend? What did he say?”

  “Really, Lainie? I have to run and that’s what you want to talk about?”

  “No, you’re right.” I lay back and he hugged me to him. I tilted my head up and said, “Let me know about Saturday.”

  “What time do you think you’ll be home Friday?”

  “Late, I have to assume. The show doesn’t start until eight and it’s in West Palm Beach.”

  “What about before that?” He sat up and moved toward the edge of the bed.

  “We’re going to dinner.”

  He stood up and said, “I’m not happy about this.”

  “Don’t expect me to stay at home being a hermit between our visits.”

  “Clearly. I’ve got to go.” His stare seared my skin, as did his displeasure.

  “Mason,” I said, holding out my hand to him.

  He took my hand and said, “Don’t have sex with him.”

  I peered up at him and said, “I don’t plan to.”

  “I love you, Lainie. Don’t forget that,” he said and then he left.

  Holy mother of god,
what the hell? I took a few sips of water and then rested my head down on the pillow. That lasted a few seconds until my stomach protested. I pulled myself back up into a sitting position.

  “He didn’t look happy,” Stay said as he entered my bedroom carrying two plates. “Do you think you could handle eating a cracker? By the way this is a very ingenious way, albeit unconventional, to woo a man to your place. The smoked Gouda is excellent on the rosemary crackers.”

  “Very funny. I’m scared to eat anything at the moment.”

  “I’ll put this on your side table in case you changed your mind. Here, put this on your forehead,” he said, handing me the washcloth. “Do you want to be alone?”

  “No. I can’t sleep yet. My stomach is still too upset, but if you need to get up early for work—”

  “I work freelance and set my own schedule,” he said as he settled himself on the bed facing me.

  “Must be nice. I think I recall you saying something about working with computers?”

  “Game animation.” He placed a slice of cheese on top of a cracker and tossed it into his mouth.

  “Get the fuck out of town, really?”

  “Really, really.”

  “Well that’s cool. Not that I’m into gaming but I’m awed by the creativity. Probably because I don’t have a lick of it myself.”

  “Oh, I’m sure that’s not true.” The way he said it made me blush.

  “Well, all creativity should have its admirers.”

  “Most definitely,” he said and winked.

  “Stop that.”

  “Stop what?” he asked, affecting an innocent expression.

  “Flirting.”

  “That’s an impossible request when I’m around you so you’ll just have to learn to tolerate it.”

  “You come across as this mild mannered man, but I can tell you’re a handful.”

  “You think so?”

  “A very caring handful, but yes.”

  “Hopefully you’ll find out.” And he winked again.

  I laughed. I practically wanted to hug him for taking my mind off my nausea.

  “So Mason’s an interesting man. Clearly married.”

  “How would you know that?” I asked my volume louder than normal.

  “I don’t think it makes me a genius to pick up the signs. I didn’t even have to use my stellar intuition to deduce that. For one, you never bring him to Red’s; two, he hovered at your door but didn’t want me to see him; and three, he didn’t stay to take care of you. So he’s either an asshole or married. I went with married.”