Loving the Playboy

by Scott, S. L.

  “Ashford? Over here.”

  I turn to see Landon and Hamilton with smug grins on their faces. “Why’d you pussy out that night?”

  For guys that are supposedly considered sophisticated, they sure are a bunch of wankers. I flip’em off and keep walking.

  My mother’s eyes’ flash to mine as she continues into whatever story she’s feeding the envious junior league socialites around her. Although her mouth is smiling, her eyes give her away. She knows something’s wrong and I don’t bother hiding the fact that I’m pissed as hell.

  Without stopping, I take her by the elbow and pull her out through some nearby doors that lead to the large balcony.

  “What are you doing, Evan? Let go of me right now!” she protests.

  Releasing her, I say, “No more, Mother! No. More.”

  She sighs as if I’m throwing a childish temper tantrum. “What are you upset about?” She puts her hands on her hips.

  “Nina Devillier. The others. Your persistent interference in my life. The list goes on—”

  “Well,” she says, huffing for added drama. “I’m so sorry that I have an interest in your future—”

  “No, you have an obsession, but I’m not your puppet. You can’t flash pretty women in front of me like a squeaky toy for a dog. I’m not that stupid. You’ve made it more than clear who you’d like me attached to. Well, it’s not gonna happen. I’ll choose Mallory every damn time and the sooner you come to accept that the sooner we might be able to have a relationship again. But you’ve damaged us and that will take time no matter what.”

  “Evan, please don’t do this. Look at how well you’ve done since you’ve been back in New York and that was when you weren’t even trying. You’re a natural. You were born to lead this company and if you put your heart into Ashford Holdings, you could have anything and anyone you want—”

  “That’s just it. My heart’s not in this. Yes, I’ll finish what I started and what I promised Dad, but I won’t stay on. I’m moving to Colorado after Christmas. I’m finishing my degree in Psychology and I’m going to be with Mallory. I’m not asking for your permission or holding out for your blessing. If you want to cut me off, go ahead, but I won’t let you control me any longer.”

  I’ve said all I need to say, all she deserves to hear, so I turn on my heel and leave her standing there in the cold calling my name.

  As I mindlessly work my way back through this crowd I could care less about, I realize everything I knew is true. This city will destroy me if I let it. I’ve got to get the fuck outta here as fast as I can. I push open the double doors and keep walking.

  “Evan? Evan? Stop!” Kate calls from somewhere behind me. I don’t turn back and eventually her voice, like the music from the party, and the chatter of the crowd, fades away.

  8

  Evan

  Thanksgiving came and went, uneventful and somewhat depressing. I didn’t feel thankful. I felt lonely. My resolve for Mallory was set. But the waiting to be with her again was wearing thin. I would’ve joined my family for dinner, but wasn’t in the mood for another lecture on family duty and future potential. Kate brought me a plate and Helga brought me a piece of pie, which was nice, but that was the extent of my celebration.

  Black Friday.

  The weight of the name alone hunkers down on me, so I go into the office and put in a full work day when everyone else is off. It keeps my mind occupied for at least 9 hours, providing a mental reprieve from when I’m at home alone.

  After work, I go for a run. It’s become a normal part of my routine. It’s a chilly fall day, which suits my mood better. But the unwanted and unsolicited attention of the women here in Manhattan is exhausting. In other words, it’s hard to be faithful when opportunity is constantly presented to you on a silver platter. Even Central Park has become one giant pick-up joint.

  Maybe it’s all of the attention or maybe I just want to feel closer to Mallory, but I end up in a jewelry store scanning the cases. The ring is only a deterrent. The words ramble around my head as I try to convince myself it’s not more than a preventative measure. But for some reason, I’m struggling to convince myself. I continue looking down at the rings on display, dragging my hand and leaving smudge marks across the sparkling clean glass.

  “You look like you’re in need of some assistance,” a saleswoman whose nametag reads Becca says, leaning across the case a little too close for comfort or professionalism. “I would love to show you this new Tag Heuer Carrera watch. The leather is divine.” She rests the tips of her fingers on my wrist, stroking last years’ model Omega watch. “It would look incredible on your wrist, so manly and rugged.”

  I quickly pull my arm away and look into her eyes. “I’m here for a ring.”

  “Oh.” She reacts surprised, but happy. “Let me show you our collection of men’s rings in the case over there. We’ve got some lovely gentlemanly pieces—”

  “No. I’m looking for a wedding band.”

  “Oh,” she repeats, but not as chipper this time around as she buttons that pesky top button of her blouse that has apparently popped open of its own accord during our conversation. “Well, congratulations are in order then.” There’s no feeling behind her words.

  “I’m not getting married. I just… well, it’s kind of hard to explain.”

  “Oh,” she says again. “Well, that’s an odd request, but I do aim to please.” She licks her lips not so subtly and slides her card across the top of the glass. Looking down, I see her cell number scribbled on it. “I would love to grab a drink sometime or maybe just get to the main event.” She winks as if she needs to clarify her intentions. I knew what she wanted the second she walked up.

  “Listen—”

  “Becca.”

  “Okay,” I start again, “listen, Becca, I know that this,” I signal to her chest where the top button has miraculously popped open once again. “This must work well for you, but I have a girlfriend.”

  “Oh.” And there she is with that damn ‘Oh’ again. “I can promise my name will be rolling off your tongue in pure ecstasy.”

  “See, ‘Becca’ doesn’t roll off my tongue. It’s actually taking a lot of effort to get it out right now. But you know what does? Mallory. Mallory rolls off my tongue and sometimes gets sandwiched between an ‘Oh, God’ and a ‘Fuck’ because she’s that fucking good. So I need you to back off and find me a different salesperson.”

  She turns abruptly on her high heels and mumbles, “Asshole.”

  Thirty minutes later, I stroll out into the late autumn day with a new matte platinum band on my left ring finger. As I look at it reflecting in the low sun streaming through the gap of the buildings, I smile. Now this feels right.

  A long, intense week of work later, I cross the street from Ashford Holdings and into the bar across the street. It’s run down, so it’s not crowded, which I prefer. Young, Wall Street types and tycoon wannabes wearing two-thousand dollar suits don’t hang out here. That’s why I’m here.

  I order my usual two beers and a shot of whiskey, lining them up, then sip one at a time, pacing myself until I’m relaxed, the tension of the day disappearing.

  It’s Thursday. 6:48 p.m. The door opens and out of habit, I turn my head. I’m not the least bit interested in the woman who enters the dark cavern I’ve escaped to, so I turn back to the bar and finish the shot knowing I’m gonna need it.

  She sits down on the barstool next to me even though there are ten other lined up against the bar that she could’ve chosen. “Two shots of what he’s having,” she orders comfortably.

  The bartender sets them down in front of her. Pointing to me, she adds, “He’s buying.”

  The bartender looks at me and I nod, accepting the charge.

  “I take it one of those is for me?” I ask already knowing the answer.

  She slides the shot of whiskey over and taps her glass against mine, and we both drink, finishing the shot in one gulp.

  “So you want to talk about it?”
she asks me, angling her body toward me as if we’re going to share our inner demons. With a small hand gesture, she signals the bartender for another round.

  “Not really,” I reply, bothered my sanctuary has been disturbed.

  “I’m guessing you’re not coming to the Lancaster party tonight?”

  “That would be a very good guess.” I know her well enough to know she’s going to start in on me if I don’t say more. “Don’t worry. I’ll be at the Ashford Gala next Friday.” I loosen my tie. “So, when did you start slumming it, Mummy?” I ask sarcastically.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see her picking some imaginary fluff from her jacket. “I wanted to talk to you and for some reason this is where you choose to spend your spare time.”

  “Then talk.”

  “How are you doing? I haven’t seen much of you in the last few weeks.”

  “You know the reason for that. Plus, I’ve been busy doing my job. That’s all that matters to you, right?” I turn to see her reaction, our eyes connecting for the first time since she arrived.

  “No, your well being is important to me.”

  “Don’t. Just… don’t,” I snap, trying to keep my voice down.

  “Evan, I miss you. I’d like you to come tonight if you—”

  “I’m not. I don’t like going to those bullshit events. They’re boring and the people even more so.”

  She slides the next shot toward me, tapping her glass against mine. Impressively, she shoots the second shot and slams the glass down. “Damn! I haven’t done shots of cheap whiskey in a long time. That tastes better than I remember.”

  I smile, softly chuckling to myself. I kind of like my mom right now. I take the shot in my left hand, keeping my right firmly on the beer chaser. As soon as the glass touches my lips, I hear a loud gasp. I swallow the warm amber drink and look at my mother who now has her hand covering her mouth in horror.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Please tell me… Evan!” She takes a deep breath and starts again, “Dear Lord, please tell me that is not real.” She swallows hard enough for me to hear.

  Following her pointing finger to my platinum-ringed finger, I then smile. Ah, the wedding band. I wage a mini debate whether I should tell her the truth or not. As much as I want her to accept Mallory as an important part of my life, I won’t lie about us, ever, even to piss off my mother.

  “It’s not what you think,” I say.

  Her stiff expression softens and she exhales. “Thank God,” slips from her mouth before she catches herself. “Why are you wearing a wedding ring?”

  I explain, making it clear that I would wear it for real in a heartbeat. I still feel lost without Mallory, and yet I haven’t seen her in almost three months. Fuck, look at the sap I’ve become because of her. “I love her. I’m in love with her.”

  “Do you think you’ve just magnified your feelings because of the memories? You’ve been apart for months now. Why haven’t you seen her?”

  I’m surprised by the sincerity in her voice. “I haven’t had the time off or she had to study. Or there was always some other bullshit reason.” I take a sip of beer. “Time hasn’t intensified my feelings, Mother. Time’s just made me recognize them.”

  “Does she feel the same about you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You say that very confident.”

  “I am confident in her, in us.”

  She takes a deep breath and stands up. “I need to go. I’ve got to drag your father from the office to the party or we’ll be late.” She wraps an arm around my back and whispers in my ear, “I’ve always loved you, Evan.” She walks off before I have a chance to respond.

  I take my phone out and set it on the bar in front of me. After finishing the beer in one long drink, I call my girl.

  9

  Mallory

  September…

  October…

  November 23th.

  Sixty-two days to the day since Evan showed up to surprise me for my birthday. Sixty days since I kissed him, since I held him. Sixty days since I felt whole.

  I sign for the organic groceries that have shown up exactly on the 23rd for the last two months. Four bags sent full of food, specifically picked with me in mind: fresh produce, usually a full weeks’ worth of prepared meals, and odds and ends to make more. I can’t help but smile as I tip the delivery guy. I love that Evan does this for me. It’s nurturing, romantic and makes me feel his love even though he’s not here.

  At this point, I’ve discounted his mother’s opinion. Her speech about putting him first is bullshit. He’s the most important person in my life. But putting him first doesn’t mean I should give him up or that he’ll be happier with someone else. I almost called to tell her what I really think about her ‘opinions,’ but decided I didn’t want to start a war. I’ll fight that battle when I need to, but I love Evan and he loves me and the best revenge is us being happy and together forever.

  Forever? Did I just think forever?

  Lying back on my bed, I fall asleep to memories of him naked next to me, touching my body, and making me feel loved… forever.

  * * *

  “What are you doing after class?” Ryan asks, leaning forward in his chair.

  “Studying.”

  “You want to study together?”

  I think fast. “Um, I already promised Sarah I would go to the library with her.” I lean back in my chair, hating that I just lied. Ryan has been really nice to me over the last two months, respecting my boundaries.

  Sarah walks up, dropping her backpack on the floor next to me. “Did I miss anything?” she asks, whispering.

  “No. He hasn’t started yet,” I answer, referring to the professor up front.

  Ryan doesn’t waste the opportunity and asks, “Hey Sarah, you mind if I tag along to study with you and Mallory at the library?”

  She looks at me, eyebrows up. I will her to tell him not to come with my eyes, not wanting to get busted for lying.

  “Ummm, sure. I guess. What time did you want to go again, Mallory?”

  After a heavy sigh and a roll of my eyes, I say, “I was thinking after dinner. Let’s meet at nine on the fifth floor.”

  Ryan whispers, “Cool. I have some great quotes I found that we can use for the project.” He sits back.

  Guess I need to work on that group project anyway. It’s better to just get it over with.

  Later that night, I’m flipping through the pages of “A Study of Classics for Undergrads” when from behind I hear, “That book’s a cheat. You’re smarter than a book that’s basically an expanded version of Cliff Notes.”

  “Maybe I’m not. You shouldn’t give me so much credit,” I state, turning around.

  Ryan leans against the bookshelf in front of me, and says, “I think you deserve more credit than you give yourself.”

  My eyes flick up to meet his smiling ones. Tucking the book neatly back onto the shelf, I walk past him and leave. He follows me back to the table where Will is sitting next to Sarah. She shrugs, and I roll my eyes again, something I tend to do a lot around these guys lately.

  After divvying up the remaining research, we head out to find the books we need. Dragging my finger along the spines in a deserted corner section of the library, I appreciate the feel of the old cloth books mixed with the modern slicker spines.

  When my phone buzzes, I pull it from my pocket, and answer. “Evan!” My heart begins to race, my excitement showing through my quickened breath. Even his voice makes me feel more alive.

  “Hi, is this a bad time?”

  I duck into a corner at the end of a row where a light bulb has burned out. “No, it’s perfect timing. I’m at the library doing research. What are you doing?”

  “I’m in bed thinking about you.”

  “That sounds ten times more interesting than what I’m doing.”

  “I miss you and your body,” he says, his voice sounding even sexier than usual, which I didn’t know was possible.

&nb
sp; I lower mine in response, suddenly feeling more intimate, like we’re the only two around. “I miss you and your body too, babe. I’ve become too familiar with myself lately. I’m ready for the real deal again.”

  “I love when you talk about sex.” A low, breathy moan is released long and slow, for my ears alone.

  Knowing what he wants, I close my eyes and encourage him. “Evan, I want you to remind me how you feel,” I say, forgetting that I’m in the school library.

  “I need you.” A sigh of relief fills the air between us as his breath staggers from motion on his side. “But I want you to talk to me too. I need to hear you.”

  Leaning my shoulder against the wall, I rest my forehead against Mémoire’s de Saturnin, which feels very apropos in the moment. Closing my eyes again, I block out the rest of the world and enjoy the sounds of him.

  “I need to hear you, baby, please,” he pleads this time.

  My mind drifts back to a few days ago. “I was lonely on Wednesday and called you. I knew you must’ve been in a meeting, so I had to take care of things on my own. You know I’d much rather have you—”

  “How’d you take care of things?”

  I take a deep breath and lower my voice. “I sat in my chair in front of my mirror and looked at my body. Then I dragged my finger down my chest and pulled my tank top down to my waist. When I looked at my nipples, they hardened like they do under your touch, your hand, your mouth. Fuck, I like watching your mouth on me.”

  “Mmmmm, more.” He moans and the sound of his hand quickening can be heard. My thighs involuntarily squeeze together and I cross my legs at the knees. “Tell me more.”

  “I took my panties off and sat in the chair facing the mirror, then spread my legs apart so I could see everything. I thought about you and how much I missed you and your mouth, your face, and the dirty words you say when you fuck me.”

  “Damn it. Fuck. Baby, I’m so close. Tell me you touched yourself. Tell me. Lie if you have to.”