Clutch

by S. M. West

  Since I’m here, I walk Boy on the beach, and we go for a swim. It’s while I’m in the water that I spot him sauntering my way. I ogle him with his golden hair, bare chest, and board shorts, and my body thrums the closer he gets, the heavy ache building low within me.

  “Good morning.” He wades into the water.

  Before I can respond, his lips are on mine, kissing me like it’s been years. He pushes me backward, deeper into the water until I’m chest-deep and he’s holding me by the waist.

  “Hi.” I’m dazed and breathless.

  He smiles, kisses my cheek and slips his hand under my swimsuit to squeeze my ass cheek. I copy him, wriggling my hand into his shorts and digging my fingers into the firm flesh of his ass. We laugh, and it’s then I notice the dark circles under his eyes.

  “When was the last time you slept?”

  “I’ve had naps here and there over the past few days. I’m exhausted. Eli called a break because he needed to see Crystal. I have the rest of the day. Can you play hooky with me?”

  “I can’t.”

  Sinking his fingers into my dry hair, piled high on the top of my head, he cocks his head to the side and purses his lips.

  “I didn’t think so but thought I’d ask. I miss you so much, my beautiful girl.”’

  He pulls me into his chest and kisses the top of my head. I sink into his warm embrace and try to keep the tears back.

  This man never ceases to surprise me. I never knew how much I needed someone like him, until now. His lips peck at the corner of my mouth before he breaks away to study me. My eyes glitter with the threat of tears. Shit.

  “What’s wrong? Fuck, did I do something?”

  “No, not at all. These are silly tears of joy. I’m glad to see you. I miss you, too.”

  He pulls me in for one more hug. “Come sleep with me for a bit.” He burrows his face into my neck, his moist lips sucking on my skin.

  My heart sinks. “I can’t. I’ve got work.”

  He groans, the rumble vibrating from his mouth to my neck and down into my chest. I shiver, holding him tighter.

  “Since when do you work Thursdays?”

  I usually don’t, but I need the extra shifts. “Sometimes I do. I tell you what -- I’ll lie down with you for a bit. Let’s go to your room.”

  “Those are words I’ll never tire of.” He nips at the sensitive spot where my neck meets my collarbone, sending a jolt to my groin.

  Once in the house, he takes a shower while I grab a bottle of water in the kitchen. When I get to the room, he’s already in bed. I slip under the cool, crisp sheets and he folds his arms around me. His head nestles between my breasts, and before long, his soft, sleepy breaths skate across the thin fabric of my shirt.

  I wish I could stay with him. Forget about work and my obligations, but as tempting as it is, I have to leave.

  “Silas.” My mother’s voice slices through my dream of Pansy.

  Blinking, I open my eyes, only to see my mother hovering above. A groan escapes my lips at my nightmare. Why the hell do I have my mother in a fantasy about Pansy? Turning over, I bury my head into the mass of Pansy’s hair and sigh on the exhale. She’s real and in my bed. It wasn’t all a dream.

  “Silas, get up, now,” my mother says. Shit, she’s real and actually standing in my bedroom.

  Pansy stirs, rolling over to face me with a gasp, eyes wide and confused at the strange woman hovering over us. Clutching the sheet to her, she buries her head into my chest. “Who is that?”

  “Silas, tell your friend to leave.”

  Does she think I’m fifteen and this is her house? Irritation prickles at my skin.

  “Mom.”

  “Oh my God, that’s your mom?” Pansy squeaks into my flesh.

  “Pansy, you stay.” With a reassuring rub on her back, I carefully extricate myself from the bed.

  Pansy pulls the sheet over her head, curling into a fetal position. My mother scowls with her hands on her hips and lips pursed.

  “Oh my God.” Pansy jolts from the bed forgetting her embarrassment. “I’m late! I fell asleep.”

  Grabbing her phone, she groans at the time and rests her head in the palm of her hand.

  “Who on earth is this girl?” my mother asks.

  “Let’s go.” I pull my mother to the door and turn to Pansy. “Jorge will drive you. Call Betty and come down when you’re ready.”

  “Who is that?” Mom asks. “You’re just leaving her in your room? Silas, we’ve talked to you about strangers in your home.”

  I growl -- Pansy’s in earshot -- and pick up the pace, tugging my mother along and closing the bedroom door behind me. Like they know anything about me. If they did, she’d know that I never have strangers in my home.

  “Why are you here?” My teeth clench so tight my jaw aches.

  “Silas, don’t speak to your mother like that.” My father stands at the landing.

  “This may be hard for you to understand, but this is my house, and you can’t come barging into my room like that.”

  I usher them downstairs and into the kitchen, refusing to say a word until we’re far enough away that Pansy won’t be further insulted by what I’m sure is to come. We pass Jorge on the stairs, and tell him to be ready for Pansy.

  “What are you doing here?” I head for the freshly-brewed coffee. Lucia is an angel.

  “You’re making a mistake about quitting the band, and since you won’t talk to us, we decided to come to you.” My father pulls a chair from the kitchen table, positioning it so he’s facing me.

  “And why is it a mistake?” I don’t know why I’m bothering to ask; I already know what they’ll say. But I’m obviously a masochist, giving them another opportunity to hurt or disappoint me.

  “Have you thought about this long-term? Trojan is on a high. Why would you walk away from the goldmine in front of you?”

  My father is animated, his hands moving as fast as he’s talking. All the while, my mother is nodding furiously, her ponytail swishing back and forth like a fly swatter. They are worse than the record label, if that’s even possible, wanting every penny they can get from me.

  “None of this is about the money. I’ve got more than enough even if I never work another day in my life.” I don’t plan on it, but I’m trying to make a point. “I could live comfortably for the rest of my life.”

  “Silas, you’re short-sighted. This is yours for the taking. You don’t leave money on the table.”

  “I don’t want the money.”

  He abruptly stands, taking two strides toward me, fists clenched. “Why are you so damn selfish?”

  It shouldn’t hurt. His words should bounce off me like a ball hitting the rim of the basketball net. Quick, painless, and rebounding, but they don’t. Each word pelts my bruised chest, heavy with all this shit I’ve carried with me for too long.

  It never used to be like this. I don’t know why things changed, but it happened one day five years ago, when out of the blue, my parents asked to be power of attorney on my accounts. They claimed it would be easier on me if they had access. Loud, jarring alarms bells went off that day and haven’t stopped ringing since. I’m still waiting for an explanation, a reason to stop the incessant warning and anxiety within, but I fear it’ll never come.

  My father’s lecturing pulls me back to the nightmare unfolding in my kitchen.

  “We’ve supported you, and all we’re asking is for you to do the same for us. You’re such a disappointment,” my father says.

  Ready to volley my response, both their eyes narrow on something behind me and I turn to see Pansy, dressed in shorts and a black Pearl Jam tee, with her hair piled high on her head in a messy knot, standing in the doorway. She’s flushed and her usually open expression is pinched. She must have heard.

  I hold my hand out to her, and she tentatively comes my way, her gaze on my parents. Wanting to move past this and hoping her bright and happy disposition will shift the mood, I welcome her presence.


  “Mom, Dad, this is Pansy.” I want to say lover because girlfriend sounds so immature, yet lover doesn’t begin to capture what we are.

  “Hello.” Her delivery is flat, but not rude.

  She definitely heard and part of me is embarrassed. We haven’t talked that much about my parents although my guess is she’s aware of the tension. It’s hard to miss.

  My parents stare at her, discriminating, but neither says a word. Like a fist to the gut, I suck in a breath and want to punch back. How dare they be so fucking rude to her?

  “If you’re not going to acknowledge her, get the hell out of my house.”

  Pansy squeezes my hand and sucks in a breath. Looking to her, she’s shaking her head. “It’s okay. I called Betty, I need to go. Talk to your parents.” Before I can protest, despite their snub, she turns to them and says graciously, “It was nice to meet both of you.”

  Not waiting for a response, she twirls on her heel and leaves. I don’t want her to go, and quickly follow her out of the room.

  “Pansy, wait.” I tug at the back of her shirt and pull her into me. “Don’t go.”

  She twists to face me, hands flat on my chest and leans in. “Silas, I have to, and they obviously want to talk to you.”

  “When does Betty need you?”

  From the way she averts my gaze, it’s obvious she has time. “Since I missed the lunch hour, I’ve got about two hours before she needs me. But Silas, my being here is not helping.”

  “Stay for me.” My gut churns at the plea in my tone.

  I hate that they’re here and are likely going to hound me for more money. And most of all, I hate that she’s leaving.

  “Silas, call me, but I have to go.”

  “Fine, just leave.”

  She flinches, eyes widening at my cold, firm tone. “Silas, go talk to them. They’re your parents, don’t let this misunderstanding ruin your visit.”

  “You don’t understand…” I start to explain, roughly running my hands through my hair when my anger gets the better of me. “Fuck it, just go.”

  “Silas, don’t be like that. It’ll be okay.”

  My eyes darken, narrowing at her. I’m fed up with my parents always fucking shit up and now, Pansy’s inadvertently defending them, on top of the fact that she’s leaving. I point at her; she’s become my target.

  “Don’t even start with your unicorns and rainbow bullshit. You’ve got no fucking clue if everything’s going to be okay.”

  Turning around, I walk away. She stuns me by grabbing my arm and moving in front of me, a mixture of concern and sadness clouding her features. She stands on the balls of her feet, her delicate fingers trace my lips, her eyes never leaving my mouth. A small smile ghosts her lips, and there’s a stirring low in my belly as she presses into me; her lips barely brush mine like an already forgotten goodbye.

  It is another busy day at work, even with the reduced hours. I work extra hard, feeling terrible for having fallen asleep with Silas and missing my shift. I can no longer harangue Janis, I’m no better than her.

  Once work is done, I go home and jump in the shower. The banging on my front door easily breaks through the water raining down on me. Whoever it is will just have to come back. I’m not getting out. I’ve got about four minutes left to leave in my conditioner.

  But they don’t get the memo to go away, continuing to bang on my door to the point that I fear my neighbors will call the cops or complain to the landlord. What the hell?

  Not wanting trouble, I turn off the water and wrap a towel around me while scurrying to the door. My hair is slathered with product, and I’m ticked. It could be Jason Momoa for all I care, they are going to get an earful.

  I yank the door open, and my fury meets a sudden death when I lay eyes on Silas with a bouquet of Twizzlers, Sour Patch Kids, and peanut M&Ms in hand. Despite his sheepish grin, he doesn’t look good. Not even a hint of his smile meets his eyes and his wild mess of hair, while sexy, only adds to his lost and lonely expression.

  “I’m sorry. I’m a colossal asshole, and I’m here to grovel.” He draws his lower lip into his mouth, and his gaze is earnest and warm. With a faint smile, he hands me the candy.

  Earlier, at his house, his rebuff hurt. I was tempted to match his anger with my own, but I also knew his parents had a lot to do with his short fuse and desire to lash out. While he’s been vague with me about his parents, it’s clear they’re a sore spot for him. And now, after having met them, I see why.

  “What if I don’t care for your apologies or groveling?” My sassy response garners a half-smile from him.

  I can’t stay upset with him when pain and remorse etch his usually playful, twinkling eyes. It isn’t his fault that his parents are dicks. But he’s going to have to work on his knee-jerk, anger-filled reactions.

  “I deserve that.”

  He cautiously steps toward me. I open the door wider, motioning for him to enter while holding the towel to my chest.

  “Come in. Let me just rinse off and get some clothes on.”

  “I could help,” he says, the glimmer returning to his eyes.

  “Ah, as much as that could be fun, we’re not there yet. We need to talk first.” I waggle my finger at him, and he groans, but nods.

  Once I’ve rinsed the conditioner, I dress quickly and join him on my small love seat. My hand rests on his hard thigh, and I give him a squeeze.

  “Have you slept at all today?”

  “Nah, my parents are still at my place.”

  “Silas, you need some sleep. Talk to me first and then let’s get you to bed. So, your parents are here.” I trail off, waiting for him to fill the void and tell me more.

  “Yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck and releases a small puff of air.

  There’s silence as he seems to deliberate over his words, or perhaps where to begin?

  “You haven’t said much, but from what you’ve said, I figured your relationship with your parents was strained. And while I don’t know why, now that I’ve met them, it makes more sense. Can you tell me more? I want to understand. Be there for you.”

  He studies me, his eyes roving my face, searching for something. Taking my hand in his, he interlaces our fingers.

  “I don’t deserve you.”

  “Stop right there. We all deserve people to care about us even when we’re difficult or not nice.”

  We share a smirk before his expression shifts and his brows knit as his jaw clenches. Resting his head on the top of the couch, he closes his eyes.

  “I had a ridiculously easy and happy childhood. My parents were firm but great. Even in high school when I got into a band and was pushing their boundaries, they were fair. So I never saw it coming, and I guess that’s where I’m stuck.”

  “Saw what coming?”

  He lifts his head and pivots slightly to face me. “After high school, I wanted to start a band. I didn’t want to go to college, and they were shocked and disappointed. They thought my music was a hobby, not my calling. Because I wouldn’t do what my father wanted, go to college and pick a reliable nine-to-five profession, things got bumpy. I think they figured that I’d change my mind and when they realized that I was serious, they gave me an ultimatum. College or I was out of the house. I left.”

  “What? They kicked you out?”

  “Yeah. It was rough, at first. Until then, I was pampered, and I had no clue about life and hardship until I found myself on my own. I had to bust my ass, had nights where I had nothing to eat and finally, I’d saved enough to go from the boarding house into a cheap place to live.” He squirms in his seat, now looking at our joined hands.

  “That’s how I met Jared. We were both staying at this boarding house. He was worse off than me. Once I got my own place, I let him crash, and we bonded over our love of music. We both wanted to have a band, and we put a call out for auditions. That’s how we met Eli and Rich, our first drummer, and formed Trojan. We started off small, performing in dive bars. One night, Jimmy Ellis came int
o the joint and lucky for us, he wasn’t so wasted that he couldn’t recognize talent and sought us out. That led to our big break.”

  “Jimmy Ellis?” I repeat, sure that I heard wrong.

  The man is a rock legend, albeit portrayed as a heavy partier and drug user. He’s been in and out of rehab throughout his career.

  “Yeah. He introduced us to a few key people in the industry, and as they say, the rest is history. Anyway, once we made it big and our name was being dropped all over the place, my parents reached out through Bianca.”

  “Bianca?”

  “Yeah. She grew up with Jared. They’d parted ways but ran into each other at some party. She was also in the business, and became our manager.”

  “She’s almost a member of the band.”

  “She is. Sometimes she can be hard to take, but her heart’s in the right place. She’s got our backs no matter what. Anyway, my parents apologized and were all over me. At the time, I never questioned it. They’re my parents, and I’d missed them. A lot.

  “But not long after, the money I sent monthly wasn’t enough. They started asking for more. Again, at first, I gave it without hesitation. They’d taken care of me all my life, and it was my turn to take care of them. But in the past five years, it’s been bad. They’re all about the money and what I can do for them. I feel like a bank account.”

  The pain in his voice is a shot to my heart. It’s hard to believe parents could do that to their child. I brush away his hair; sadness invades his beautiful face, and I lean into him.

  “Did you ever talk to them? Ask them why?”

  “All the time, and they tell me it’s all in my head. They have no clue what I’m talking about. But it’s always about the money. Even now, they don’t want me to quit because they fear my money will dry up. I couldn’t stay there with them. I’ve given them money for a hotel and told them to be gone before I get back.”

  I gently kiss the underside of his jaw and wrap my arm around him. He willingly sinks into me, his shoulder resting on my head.