Something More

by Leigh Beckford

  “I am still going to call. I must speak with him. I need to know that he doesn’t hate me and if he does I will need to somehow undo the wrong that I did him. As impossible as that may be, I believe that I can make things right.”

  “Ok I understand.”

  They continue talking; Joanna fills him in on Calista, her life in Sydney and her work and what she does there. Over an hour elapses before her saying that she has to go.

  Alex finishes his glass of water, looks around his lonely apartment and then retires for the night.

  Chapter 18

  Across town Valde is at Brea’s apartment and as always despite his initial eagerness to meet her, now he is having second thoughts. The prospect of having sex with her is imminent, and he does find her more than adequate in bed, however he is having reservations about having to put out tonight. So her first attempt at seducing him is quickly quelled without the bat of an eye. Confused by his reaction, Brea asks, “What’s wrong, don’t I turn you on?”

  Looking her up and down, from her freshly cut and blown-out hair to her undeniable physique and her well manicured toes, he answers “Of course you do, I mean look at me; do I look like a man who is not turned on at this moment? For crying out loud little Mr. Excitement here is ready to unleash in a big way if you know what I mean.”

  Stroking his chest, at least the portion available after his attempt to prevent her from fully unbuttoning his shirt, she suggests, “Why don’t you relax? Better yet, let me help you relax”

  He then says something he never believed he would ever hear come out of his mouth, “Look Brea why don’t we slow down a bit. What’s the rush?”

  “Seriously Valde, are you ok?” she asks as she feels his forehead in an attempt to check his temperature, “Tonight you are really acting weird. Was it dinner, the place I ordered from is quite good, I have never had any problem with their food before.”

  “No it’s not the food, I am quite well. I just don’t feel like having sex right now.”

  “Ok, what is going on here, you didn’t come here at this time of night for the food, you know damn well that I don’t cook. I certainly didn’t invite you over here just to eat and from looking at the bulge in your pants I know you’re lying. So let me ask, why are you here?”

  “I am here because I wanted to see you.”

  “Ok you have seen me,” re-donning her robe she asks, “Now what?”

  “I can see that you are getting upset, I can assure you that there is really no need to be. Look, I don’t know what’s wrong with me; I have been asking myself that for a few days now.”

  “I am not here to be your shrink. I just want to have sex right now. So will you just get over yourself? Oh I forgot, you are incapable of thinking beyond yourself. Why is it that as always the only thing important to you is what you want? What about what I want?”

  “Pretty loaded statements you are shooting at me. I can only respond by saying that right now you are making me feel like I am nothing more than a piece of ass to you.”

  “Is this coming from Valde, the players’ player, the ladies man, the connoisseur of cunning and craftiness in the pursuit of his carnal desires? Is not that how you would refer to yourself?”

  “Say whatever you want, I am a person first. I still have feelings and right now I don’t want to be just some piece of ass.”

  “Such double standards, I wouldn’t have pegged you for being the unfair type. Oh what am I saying, you are indeed capable of anything.”

  Sensing that their evening is pretty much going nowhere fast he decides to leave.

  “I was hoping that we could resolve our past differences and move on from here,” he says, “This time around I really wanted to give us a shot. I guess I was wrong for holding such fanciful notions.”

  Arms folded and slightly leaning on the wall, she stands there not responding.

  “Good night Brea, I’ll be seeing you around.”

  As he firmly grasps the doorknob and starts to turn, he can hear her from behind say, “Go ahead, you can go away, that’s what you do, withdraw as soon as things get intense. I thought all you were here for was to screw. It appears I was wrong.”

  “It appears so.”

  “Don’t go,” she says, “I promise to behave.”

  For a moment there it appears as if he would stay for he pauses, and then against what he knew to be his better judgment, he decides to go.

  Valde returns home where he soothes himself with a bottle of PortuguesePort and the sound of Coltrane. Mellowed out on his couch he is convinced that he made the right choice of leaving Brea’s apartment. This time around should he become involved with her, he intends to make their being together more meaningful. The never ending casual sex had become draining, and to some extent it is as if he has loss a bit of himself to this lifestyle. Man-whore that’s what he has become, and his perpetual appetite for sex has pimped him out so much that he now sits here wondering would he be able to function comfortably in a committed relationship. Well there is only one way to find out, and should Brea make herself the subject, then his little experiment will be given wings. Forty-five minutes later there is a ring at his door. The next morning both he and Brea awake spooned together in a naked embrace.

  After having breakfast at a quaint little café downtown, they both part ways promising to see each other before the end of the week. Just before their parting he swoops her in his arms, pulls her closer and whispers, “This time it will be different, you’ll see.”

  As Monday scurries along, it’s far from mundane and as evening approaches, Valde wonders if Brittany would like to join him in Bryant Park to freely sip on wine and watch a dubiously obscure classic. As he fingers along his desk for his phone it rings. This time unlike the previous dozen or so unanswered calls from Alex, Valde decides to cave and answers.

  “Hi Alex, you have 30 seconds” says Valde sternly, “Also please spare me the apologies for I am in no mood for them.”

  “Ok if 30 seconds is all our four years of friendship boils down to, then I am grateful. I also will respect your wishes and not apologize, I will however say that Joanna is truly torn up about this. I ask that you will please show her a little mercy when she does call you to express how sorry she is that things turned out the way they did.”

  Val remains silent as he watches the second hand on his A. Lange & Sohnes sweep. For a moment there, he was so caught up with the movement, Alex' voice became inaudible. Valde was brought back to their conversation at the mention of Joanna's name.

  “Hey Alex, one more thing,” the tone in Valde’s voice becomes more fiery than before, “don’t let me hear her name spoken by your lips again. It’s one thing to betray me the way you did, but there is no reason to continue to turn the knife in my back. From now on you are Brutus to me. You hear me? Every day that I am reminded of what you two did to me becomes my Ides of March.”

  Both men simultaneously conjure up images of them somewhere in the distant future laughing over beer at Valde’s penchant for the dramatic; however with this dark cloud hanging so closely over their weakened friendship, the unintentional levity in Valde’s statement fails to penetrate. Might as well, because any attempt by the usually well-humored Alex to joke about what his best friend just said would have had dire consequences.

  “I understand how you feel, I just want you to take it easy on her”, pleads Alex, “Go ahead and think what you want of me and believe me when I say that I understand if you never want to talk to me again, but I know that Joanna is truly sorry.”

  Valde hangs up the phone. He paces up and down his office occasionally tossing files hoping to release some of his anger. That fails to pacify him. He dials up Alex, “Look, I don’t need your apology.”

  “Ok” answers Alex, shocked that Valde has actually called him back.

  “What I want is five minutes in the ring with you.”

  “Where, did I hear you correctly? What do you mean in the ring?”

  “Yes in the rin
g. Are you man enough to face me, mano y mano.”

  “Well, you know me I am a lover not a fighter.” Wishing he could pull those words back, Alex swears under his breath. “Seriously Valde, besides it making you feel a little better, what will you truly accomplish by smashing my face in?”

  Enraged Valde says, “Ok chicken shit, you know that gym on 14th Street. Be there or you certainly won’t want to run into me otherwise.”

  “Val, let’s be reasonable here, you will undoubtedly kick my ass. Dude, violence is so not necessary not to mention overrated.”

  “Look you good for nothing bastard, if you value our friendship, I advise you to be there, tomorrow evening at six.” Valde hangs up.

  Chapter 19

  Brittany and Valde meet later in that evening, sometime between six and seven, in the middle of Bryant Park. As is customary Valde pulls a B.Y.O.B. and shows up with his own bottle of wine. Today’s selection is a relatively rare one with a delicate balance from a case that he had picked on his last trip to France at the very vineyard in the Bordeaux region where it was bottled and aged. Being familiar with this prized bottle Brittany asks, “What are we celebrating?”

  “It’s Monday,” answers Valde brandishing his childish smile, “Don’t look at me like that, I think it’s important that we celebrate each day. Ever since I opened the doors of that convertible that I had just literally taken a few rolls in and walked away with everyone around looking at me as if I they saw a ghost alight from the wreck, I have been a staunch believer in celebrating each day.”

  “I remember getting that call. It was all so very horrible. I prayed so hard that you would be OK. I was hysterical. Alex did everything he could to calm me down as we rushed to the hospital to see you. Listen to me you bastard don’t ever scare me like that again.”

  Valde watches Brittany grow emotional, the way she always does whenever the subject of his near fatal accident comes up. “Brittany, we are gathered here today with this fine booze and tasty pastry to celebrate Monday and mooch a free movie off the city, so calm down and let’s not forget why we are here baby.”

  “OK, sorry I just get so upset at the thought of never having you around.”

  “Yes, I know but you need not worry for I am not going anywhere and I promise to not scare you again. I just can’t guarantee it.”

  “Yes you can!”

  “How so?”

  “By not turning every roadway into the Autobahn each time you get behind the wheels. This is not Europe for crying out loud, we have speed limits for a reason.”

  “This time I guess I will just go ahead and agree with you, besides I am here to get boozed up not argue with you.”

  “Good, this time I am having the last word on the matter.”

  The mood quickly changes as he increases the playfulness between them and their dalliance grows at the rate of the movie's progression. At this point they are far more interested in their tainted version of a wine tasting than they are in the flick. One could certainly bet them a dollar that they don’t remember the title of the movie and win. Honestly at this level of sobriety, or rather lack of, they really couldn’t care less, instead like teenagers flirting with their first crush as they dance around their mutual attraction, even managing to garner attention from others nearby. One can’t help but wonder if secretly they bask in moments such as these. This is their moment and having both been through respectively rough weeks they utterly enjoy the unscripted escape.

  “So how have you been, are you having a good week my dear?” Brittany asks him.

  “I don’t know,” Val ponders, “Instead I would refer to it as mixed.”

  “Really, why is that?”

  “Let’s see. I have been quite introspective lately. I have been meditating on the meaning of my life and what factor is there that debilitates my happiness.”

  “Hold on, wait a minute, you meditate, what have you discovered?” she asks as her interest soars.

  “I have been the reason for my unhappiness. I’ll sum it up in a phrase I coined last week, ‘where satisfaction is sans, the soul remains unsatisfied’.”

  “OK and what are you unsatisfied about,” she asks seriously concerned, “I mean I don’t know anyone else in our group who has it more together than you. You are brilliant, an accomplished career man and entrepreneur. You are one helluva catch, once the woman gets pass your miniscule flaws of course. How old are you? Can someone say overachiever? What I think is even more impressive of you is that you don’t act like you are that bag of chips when you know damn well that you are that and so much more.”

  “Thank you,” he blushes, “but I can’t help but believe that your opinion of me is biased in my favor.”

  “Biased or not, my reasoning is based on empirical and not just subjective factors”, she slightly slurs, “the facts are there to back up everything I just said about you. When the mayor of this wonderful city wanted an insight into how to handle the delicate nightclub mess a few months ago, who did he turn to and place on his advisory committee to look into the matter?”

  “Me.”

  “Who is the young unconventional investing genius who sees profit where others often don’t?”

  “Me.”

  “Who does everyone refer to as the great facilitator, you make so much money just bringing people together it is ridiculous. Plus I wouldn’t be surprised if I woke up and see your photo splashed across the front page of the Post for having a clandestine empire which spans four major continents and has a few shady politicians in its pocket however you still choose to walk the streets as a mere mortal.”

  “I don’t know, that’s a bit of a stretch. Besides I would hit the Post with the most outlandish lawsuit for spreading such vile inaccuracies about me?”

  “Come on moron I am just being hypothetical.”

  “I know you are my dear. Still the likelihood of such a story being printed about me is damn near impossible. In reality I am just not so important. I mean no one here seated around us knows who I am. Honestly I like it that way I would never want to be famous, the price you pay for everyone knowing your name is just too much.”

  “Yeah I know how much you prize your privacy.”

  “Yes I do.”

  “That’s one of the things I just adore about you, you are truly an incredible person.”

  “Who me?” He jokes, “Are you sure you are talking about the right person?”

  “Yeah of course I am so you can kill the faux humility.’

  “Really you are too kind, your pep talk is as usual quite effective but I am truly not feeling sorry for myself.”

  “OK, so tell me why is satisfaction sans.”

  “I have done it all and I am still under thirty well I am thirty next month. What I have not done is successfully pull off a proper relationship.”

  “I see now, the Great Dane wants to settle down.”

  “Say what you want but I do long for a companion with whom I can have a meaningful relationship.”

  “What was I, chopped liver?”

  “Come on, you know as well as I do that it’s great to reminisce but we had a good deal of problems ourselves. In fact we got better with time, long after we broke up.”

  “I know dear, I am just ribbing you.”

  “Don’t you always?”

  “Yes I always do,” she says as she playfully attempts to tickle his side, “Tell me, you say your week was mixed, what made it good, and what made it bad.”

  He is instantly pensive, wondering should he tell her everything, should he leave himself exposed to her teasing or keep this week’s occurrences to himself?

  Then like flood waters breaking through a barrier he uncontrollably spills it all.

  Seemingly sobered by Valde’s recount of his week, Brittany’s countenance reveals nothing. Her expression is neither one of joy or disbelief. Instead she looks down at her feet, and runs her hand through the grass, managing to get soil beneath her nails.

  “What do you think?”
he asks as he watches her become a toddler fascinated with the composition of dirt.

  “Val,” she stutters, “You and I have been the closest any two people can be over the past five years. Am I correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you do know that I would never do anything to hurt you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Promise me you won’t be angry when I tell you what I am about to say.”

  Val gives her a promissory nod, but almost runs out of patience with having to continuously prompt her along.

  “I knew about Joanna and Alex.”

  What seems like a minute passes with nothing being said by either of them. They just sit there, Val staring blankly at the movie screen and she looking at him. To her this dead air between them was much more disturbing than if he had reacted by screaming at her. “Val,” she says while nudging him, “Did you hear me?”

  “Yeah, I heard.” he callously responds.

  “Let me explain.”

  He interrupts her, “No need to. She was your longtime friend and he is your brother, of course you knew. Why should I expect any loyalty from you in this situation? Don't get me wrong, I know that it must have been a truly uncomfortable burden for you. I don’t blame you. I fault them for placing us in this position. The way I see it, the chips were stacked against me.”

  “I didn’t know how to tell you Val.”

  He refills both their glasses and reassures her, “It's OK. I am not upset with you.”

  ”But you are with Alex and Joanna?”

  He takes a sip of wine, appearing to savor its taste, and then returns his attention to the movie screen. He says nothing.