Release

by J , Louise

  I really love my life right now.

  “Don’t look just yet,” Kayla says to me, as she tops up our glasses, her gaze following the flow. “Right at the window seat, the girl with the long curly hair.”

  Trust me to be the only one who can’t see without turning my head. I have my back to the bar and all the other tables. Kayla is directly in front of me and Leona is to my left. She’s looking, too. Somehow I have to investigate without making it obvious.

  “What is it?” I ask to get a hint.

  “Remember you asked me a couple weeks back if I knew any of the others?” She said “others” slowly, like it was some kind of code.

  “Others?” I ask, frowning.

  Her raised brows translate “Yes, dumbass!”

  Suddenly, I realize what she means. Sooo, one of the others is in the bar. I didn’t come out to spy on anyone, but there’s no way I can resist a peek. I don’t want to stare too blatantly at some woman I don’t know, but I do want to get a good look.

  We’re close to the toilets, so I get up and go in there. To fill the time, I wash my hands and give myself the once over in the mirror, fiddling with my yellow off the shoulder top.

  On my way out I get a good eyeful of the girl with long, auburn, curly hair.

  I settle back into my seat. “She’s fucking gorgeous,” I whisper. Our table isn’t near hers, but I’m not taking any risks being heard.

  The other lady is undoubtedly pretty, even more so than Clarissa. She doesn’t have the edgy style, though. All I can see is her tight white top, but there are no piercings or tattoos. She has golden brown skin and eyes the color of cocoa. She really is attractive and there’s something sexy about her, a natural sex appeal you either have or you don’t have. I can see that even with her sitting down.

  “Do you know her?” I ask Kayla.

  “We’ve spoken a couple times. We have a mutual friend.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Mia. She splits her time between here and L.A., for work, but she’s from here. She has no interest in a relationship and likes girls and boys. She’s been a frequenter of Dane’s for years, she’s ideal for someone like him.”

  My face drops and I feel sick.

  “Before you, that is,” she quickly clarifies, probably in response to my expression. “Shit, I’m so sorry, I really do mean before you.”

  This time I look back before I can stop myself. She’s a hot bisexual – a factor that probably brings more fun into the equation – who likes the single life, and she’s been with Dane many times. Ideal, all right!

  “Don’t worry about it, babe. I bet he didn’t give her keys to his apartment,” Leona says. Her belief in Dane is unbelievable; she’s his number one fan. I still feel sick.

  “Keeze?” Kayla says with her brows drawing tight.

  I nod, unable to make my mouth move. Hot. Bisexual. Likes the single life. Fuck my ass! I snicker at that last thought, considering hours ago Dane was doing just that. Did he do that to her as well? I frown.

  “What’s so funny?” Leona asks me.

  “Nothing.” Grabbing my glass, I gulp down my margarita. I refill and swallow some more.

  “Don’t you go getting drunk because of her,” Leona tells me.

  “No way, I just needed it. I’m stopping there.” Alcohol and confusion are not the best of companions, I am stopping now.

  “What’s this about keys?” Kayla asks looking dumbfounded.

  Leona fills her in, no doubt because she knows my thoughts are scattered.

  I think it’s safe to say, seeing your boyfriend’s past fuck buddies really isn’t helpful. Especially in the case of someone who looks like Mia. Now I have all kinds of thoughts in my head. If she was a frequenter it’ll mean she’s been in his apartment, in his bed, in his shower. On his sofa? Did she have keys? Was she the third person in his arrangement? No, she’s been on the scene a while, Dane said the other thing he had going on only lasted a few months.

  “Listen,” Kayla says. “Don’t worry about anything; you’re who he’s with, you’re who he wants. Nothing else is important, right?”

  With an incline of my head, I try to smile. Yes, I am who Dane’s with now, but how long until he starts missing his freedom, or tires of me?

  Would he have hooked up with her if he wasn’t with me? They probably got together every time she came back to San Francisco. Ideal, all-bloody-right! Does she know he has a girlfriend now? It’s tempting to ask her, but that’s proper bunny-boiler territory. No way am I losing myself to that degree.

  Mia passes our table, heading for the toilets. She and Kayla smile at each other, and I get a full-on look at the legs that go all the way up to her armpits and her perfect fucking arse.

  Thirty Two: Dane

  I arrive home just after midnight, surprised to find Brooklyn here, asleep. After a quick shower, I slide my naked ass into bed beside her, trying not to wake her. The moment my head hits the pillow, I’m ready for slumber. It’s been a long fucking day.

  “Hello,” Brooklyn’s sleepy voice says.

  “You’re awake?”

  “Yeah, I only got here a little bit before you.”

  “Why didn’t you call me to come get you? I text you to say I was back at the shop.”

  I move up close behind her, my arm going over her waist. She’s in the fetal position and doesn’t alter it to fit me better like she usually does.

  “Sorry, I forgot.” I pick up on some distance in her tone.

  “What’s up?”

  “Nothing.” Definitely something. What though?

  “Did you have a good time with your girls?” I’m guessing not.

  “Yeah. Was work okay?”

  “Yep,” I reply, turning onto my back. There’s no point in holding someone who obviously doesn’t want to be held. What the hell is up with her?

  “Do you always give women keys?”

  “No. Only Saffron.” Running through our words today, I can’t think of a single reason why I’ve come home to this weirdness. And why she didn’t call me, like I asked her to.

  “Do you miss being single?” Son of a bitch.

  Turning onto my side, to face Brooklyn, I prop myself up on my elbow. “What?” I ask, even though I heard her clearly.

  “Nothing, pay me no mind.”

  “No damn way, what’s up? I’d rather not talk to your back, even in the dark.”

  She turns over and gazes up at the ceiling. With the light off and the blinds partially closed, it’s impossible to see each other’s faces with great detail, but her features appear relaxed. “I was just wondering.”

  “Why would you wonder that?”

  “No reason. It’s just quite a change for you, so I was curious.”

  “No, I don’t. Do you?”

  “No,” she answers, her pitch rising with surprise. “Why would I?”

  “The same reason you think I might.” Yeah, this is all a little tit for tat, but fuck it, I don’t like that she felt the need to ask me that.

  “It’s hardly the same, Dane. I’m the one who has relationships.”

  “Brooklyn, you need to tell me what your problem is. I don’t like all this cryptic shit.”

  “I’m not being cryptic, it was a straightforward question. Nothing major.”

  “It’s the reasoning behind it that I have an issue with. You were fine when I left you earlier, what’s changed?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Sure.”

  I turn on to my back, frustrated with her questions and the lack of clarity. She moves in close to me, slinking her arm over my waist and resting her head on my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she says.

  “Why did you ask me that?”

  “I was just curious. You have to admit, it’s quite a transition.”

  “A transition I wouldn’t have made if I didn’t want to. Surely you must realize that?”

  “I suppose. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry, just don’t doubt me. One th
ing I won’t do is lead you to believe I want this with you if I don’t.”

  “I know. Can I ask you something else?”

  “Yes, you can.” I close my eyes. Risky shit, I might fall asleep while she’s talking. She’d be impressed with that, for sure.

  “Am I what you usually go for?”

  Suddenly I’m fully alert. “What I usually go for? What’s up with you, Brooklyn? What happened between this afternoon and now?”

  “Nothing. It just came into my mind.”

  “Just like that, out of nowhere?”

  “Yeah, I’m curious. You don’t usually mind me asking you questions. Why won’t you just answer this one?”

  “I don’t mind. I’ll tell you anything you want to know, but there seems to be something that I don’t understand driving all of this. But in answer, I don’t compare you to other women. No bullshit. I was attracted to you from the start.”

  “Okay, but do you prefer white girls or black girls?”

  I laugh. Hard. I can’t help it, that’s all I can do. I’m pissed at her already, and then she asks me a stupid question like that. How the hell she can make me feel so frustrated and still sound so damn cute I don’t get.

  Reaching over, I turn on the side light. I wanna see her face if she’s going to ask me something like that. She quickly holds her forearm over eyes. If this was anybody else, I’d think that action was down to the sudden light and their eyes being sensitive to it. That’s not the case with Brooklyn.

  “What are you doing?” she asks.

  “I have no problem with you asking me things, but why that? What does it matter?”

  “I’m just trying to figure it out, that’s all.” She moves her arm.

  I observe her face and the redness of her eyes. “Are you drunk?”

  “No! Definitely not.” Maybe she’s over tired then. That makes two of us.

  I lay on my back and fire out the answer. “Fair skin, various shades of brown, or dark is not a factor for me – it’s more about the person, even in the case of someone I’d just fuck. I don’t fuck airheads. Obviously if a woman is hot I notice them in the first place, so, yeah, the physical aspect plays a part, but if they’re an airhead I’m outta there. I liked everything about the way you look when I first saw you, but it came down to more than that, ultimately. Question answered?” I turn my gaze her way, she meets it.

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  She looks so damn sweet and innocent right now, I can’t even stay pissed at her. I turn off the light and pull her close to me. “Go to sleep.”

  “Yes, Master,” she says, sarcastically.

  “And please don’t forget to call me next time.” I don’t buy that shit for a second. Going by her strange mood, I know she just didn’t bother.

  “Okay.”

  “I’m serious, Brooklyn,” I say, using a firmer tone I can’t avoid. “I’m sure if you asked me to do a simple thing like call you and I didn’t, you wouldn’t appreciate it. Call me to come get you when I ask you to.”

  “You come and get me in a cab. It’s a waste of your money and time.”

  “I can’t believe you just said that. You think money and sitting on my ass is more important than you?”

  “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I won’t forget again. Sorry.”

  Closing my eyes, I quickly start to drift.

  “Can I ask you one last thing?” Fuck no, is this chick for real?

  “Go for it.”

  She hesitates. I wait.

  “How many women have you been with? Honest answer.”

  Her low tone sounded cautious, and I suspect she’s nervous about what I might say.

  I hit the light again. She doesn’t try to hide her face this time, and that’s what I need. Brooklyn’s expression tells me a lot, so if we’re being this open, I need to see what she may not say.

  Turning onto my side puts us gaze-to-gaze. “I don’t know where all these questions are coming from, but whatever you ask me you’ll get the honest answer to, so you need to be sure you want a response to your last question.”

  “Is it that many?” Her brow furrows, her focus falling to my chin.

  Brooklyn is strange. She flips so quickly from strong and certain to insecure and doubtful. Neither is consistent, and I don’t even see the change coming. Earlier today we discussed us both fucking more than one person at the same time, and she had no problem with that whatsoever. The mention of Clarissa’s name didn’t even seem to affect her.

  But right now she wants me to tell her something she doesn’t look ready to hear.

  “Maybe we should save this conversation for another time,” I suggest.

  She meets me with a sharp look. “Tell me. Honest answer.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never kept count.”

  “I don’t believe that. You don’t have to try to spare me. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”

  “I’m serious, sweetheart. If I had a little book I recorded it all in, I could tell you. I did try to figure it out years back, a couple years or something after I moved to the city. I was having a stupid-ass conversation with the guys. I realized I missed some and then I wasn’t sure if I forgot others. I gave up.

  “There were two up until I was nineteen, both were girlfriends. Then I had a couple years where I didn’t want a woman at all. Then, don’t ask me why, but I was fucking like there was no tomorrow. I worked my ass off from Monday to Friday and partied hard on Fridays and Saturdays. Sometimes I wanted to go home alone. Sometimes I wanted someone with me. These past few years haven’t been so crazy.”

  She stares at my cheekbone. I know she’s dissecting what I just said.

  “One thing I can tell you is I never took risks. I’ve always used condoms – even during the two relationships I had here – and I’ve always had myself checked out, just in case.”

  “What number did you make it to when you tried to work it out?”

  “Why is this so important to you?”

  “It just is. What number did you make it to, Dane?”

  “One hundred and three.”

  Her eyebrows pop up, but she maintains eye contact with me. “Really? Full sex?”

  “Yeah.”

  Staring at my neck, she’s back to her thoughts. This bothers me a shitload more than I thought it would. If ever there was a time when a lie might’ve been a better option, it was probably just then. Fuck, I wish I had lied.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” I ask.

  “Naturally I can only wonder what number I come in at. It’s not a nice feeling, Dane. I’ve had sex with seven men, including you, so you know where you fit in with me.” She pauses.

  “Mostly, I’m trying to decide if I’m crazy for still wanting to be with you after learning you’ve had so many. That’s your minimum and it’s only in reference to full sex, it doesn’t include spontaneous head in clubs and bars and goodness knows where. I don’t doubt for a second you’ve been on the receiving end of that more than once. I underestimated you.”

  “Just don’t underestimate me wanting to be with you. We all live our lives doing shit and making decisions that we can’t erase. What’s done is done. What should matter to you the most is that you’re all I want now.”

  Brooklyn moves in close to me, burying her face against my chest. I let her hide, because I know that’s what she needs right now.

  I wake up alone. I wasn’t alone when I went to sleep. Sprawling out on my back, I glance over at the bathroom door, which is open, the smell of body wash apparent. Closing my eyes, all I can think is, should I have lied to Brooklyn? Should I have played things down?

  If I’d ever given a shit about all the fucking I’ve done, I’d have known the definite answer. It’s not even something I can guess. If I’d ever given a shit I probably wouldn’t have done so much of it. I didn’t care.

  I’ve spent a lot of years making women nonexistent beyond the point of fucking and coming, and then saying goodbye or I’ll see
ya soon.

  For a long time I didn’t think I was capable of feeling the way I do about Brooklyn.

  Looking at my nightstand, for my cell, I notice a note stuck on the lamp. It reads ‘studio’.

  The last thing I knew that wasn’t part of the plan today.

  I get up and head for the shower.

  I pull open the studio door, and Brooklyn glances over. Leona’s standing in front of her and smiles at me, friendly as always. I’m not too surprised when Brooklyn doesn’t welcome me in the same way.

  She starts walking toward me with her eyes cast down at the ground, until she’s a few feet away. Her chest is still moving rapidly with her accelerated breathing and a glaze of perspiration clings to her skin. Though her lips form a slight curve, I know it isn’t wholehearted.

  I step back and she follows me into the corridor, the door closing behind her. “Are you okay?” I ask, like an idiot. It’s obvious she’s not.

  “Yeah, I just needed to dance. I didn’t want to wake you.” Does dance translate escape? Of course it does.

  “That’s cool. I …” What? There isn’t much I can say.

  She didn’t like the answer she got and now the girl can barely look at me.

  With my helmet free hand, I reach forward and grasp Brooklyn’s hip. I draw her to me and curl my arm around her waist, pressing my hand against her lower back and holding her close.

  Her arms stay at her sides.

  How have I allowed myself to be in a position where I’m praying she still wants me? This is potentially a way out, I should be taking advantage of it – it wouldn’t take much for me to ensure that she walks away. Even more ideal is that she’ll think it was on her terms.

  This is a perfect opportunity.

  I whisper in her ear. “Do I still have you?”

  I should be pulling a Roadrunner in the opposite direction to Brooklyn, not anticipating fighting to keep her.

  After a hesitation that has me on the verge of asking the same thing again, Brooklyn’s arms go around my shoulders. “You do.”