Bent not Broken

by Lisa De Jong

  Pete stared expectantly at me in the rearview mirror for a few seconds. Giving up, he muttered, “She must be somethin’ special.”

  I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you’re not bragging about getting laid,” he said with a shrug.

  Damn. I never thought about that, but he’s right. Pete was the only one of my guys who ever managed to get me to kiss and tell because he was usually the first one to see me in my morning-after stupor.

  “It’s complicated.” I didn’t know what else to say. Teenage client turned adult. Juvie counselor turned sexy. It was fucking complicated as hell.

  “Ahh, I see.” Pete stayed quiet the rest of the trip, but every now and then he’d peek at me in the rearview mirror with an all-knowing glance.

  As he dropped me off, he called through the window, “Complicated or not, that girl is special.”

  Ignoring him, I threw my hand up and waved. “Thanks for the ride. See you in a few weeks.”

  “See ya, lover boy,” he winked, then tossed back his head and laughed.

  “Lover boy?” Jeremy said, hitting me from behind. He clamped a firm hand on my shoulder and announced to Tommy, “Hey, Preacher. Lover boy here’s been holdin’ out on us.”

  Preacher. I hadn’t heard that nickname in a long time. We called him that years ago when we found out his name was Tommy Bishop. With the hell-raising lifestyle he led, there was just some funny-as-shit irony in calling him Preacher, so the name stuck for a while.

  “Holdin’ out, huh?” Tommy grinned, pumping his hips like the pervert that he was. “Which fine ass chick did you hold out on last night?”

  A low boil of anger built up in the pit of my stomach, and I glowered at Tommy. “It wasn’t like that, okay,” I bit out, shoving past them to get to the bus.

  “Damn, what’s his deal?” I heard Jeremy mumble under his breath to Tommy.

  “Who the hell knows?” Tommy muttered, grabbing his bag off the ground as he boarded the bus.

  Things were tense the first hour on the road. I sat with my pen and notebook on my lap, scrawling lyrics onto the paper as quickly as they came to me. Watching the trees blur past the windows, I’d felt a sudden burst of inspiration to write.

  Knowing we had to get things right between us because we had another show in just a few short hours, I finally broke the silence. “Look. I spent some time with this girl last night.” I glanced out the window hoping the information I’d given them would be enough, but knowing, of course, it wouldn’t be.

  “Fuck yeah. I knew it!” Jeremy punched Tommy on the shoulder. “So, how was she?”

  Snapping my eyes back, I glared at Jeremy. “Shut up, man. It wasn’t like that.” I debated trying to explain Salem to them without fucking it up somehow, but I knew I couldn’t so I just said, “Look, it’s someone I knew a long time ago.”

  They both looked at each other, confused. “Someone like Kaitlyn, you mean?” Jeremy asked.

  “No. Different. She helped me…she helped me get through some tough shit.”

  “Oh, I get it. Like a fuck buddy?”

  “No,” Dammit. How do I explain this? I hesitated, knowing I was risking it big in taking shit for it. “As in…she was my counselor at Fairbanks.”

  Tommy pursed his lips and covered his mouth. Jeremy snorted. Within seconds, they were both cackling like a couple of douchebags.

  “Dude. What. The. Fuck?” Tommy managed to get the words out as he gasped for breath between his asinine guffaws. “You’re telling me…you slept with your…juvie counselor…last night?”

  I pounded my fist on the armrest, which caused both of them to immediately stifle their laughter. “Hell no!” I glowered. “I already told you. It’s not like that, okay?”

  With a grave look on his face, Jeremy conceded, “Oh shit. You’re serious?”

  Glancing down at the pages of lyrics that had easily flowed from my head, through my pen, and onto the paper in the short time I’d been sitting there, I nodded.

  “Damn,” Jeremy ran his hand through his hair. “So, that’s why you wanted to stay in the night after the concert. This chick’s got you all messed up.”

  Glancing out the window, unsure of how to respond, I mumbled, “Something like that.” Only it didn’t feel messed up…it felt right. Very, very right.

  “So, if you didn’t sleep with her, what did you do? Feed her dinner at four and change her Depends at eight?” Tommy snorted trying to keep a straight face. He couldn’t have a serious conversation if his life depended on it.

  I smacked the back of Tommy’s head. “Dude, don’t be such a dick.”

  “I’m just askin’,” he shrugged innocently like he had no idea what an asshole he was.

  “She’s only six years older, and she’s fuckin’ hot.” I glared at both of them to get my point across.

  After several tense moments of stare-down silence, Jeremy finally clamped his hand on my shoulder as he walked past me. “Well, all right then. Can’t wait to meet her.” The look he gave me told me that he knew. He could see it in my eyes that this girl was different.

  I looked up at him with relief. “Thanks, man.”

  Tommy nodded. “Yeah, can’t wait to meet her,” he echoed, totally fucking clueless. Turning around, he grabbed his guitar from its case to practice a few songs from our newest album.

  And that was that. The rest of the ride was smooth sailing.

  Chapter Seventeen

  SALEM

  “What the hell were you thinking, Salem?” Graham demanded as he stormed through my front door with an arm full of magazines. He was dropping Alexis off from her mid-week visit with him.

  Surprised by his anger, I asked, “What do you mean?”

  “This! This is what I mean,” Graham barked and tossed the tabloid magazines on coffee table. “Chris King? Really?”

  I looked blankly at the magazines, trying to hide my real emotions. I was freaking the hell out inside. My picture was on the front of the damn tabloids. I guess I’d never expected that dinner with Chris would turn into a shit storm of public humiliation. “What? It was just dinner,” I lied.

  “Yeah, and you know what that dinner cost you? Your fucking picture all over the tabloids as Chris King’s most recent flavor-of-the-month.” Graham glared at me with disgust.

  Instantly, my frustration over the situation turned toward him. How dare he stomp into my apartment and speak to me like that. I glowered at him. “I don’t see why it’s any of your business, Graham. We’re not married anymore. We don’t live together. I can do whatever the hell I please.”

  Graham fixed his eyes on me. His jaw muscle twitched. Just as quickly as he’d stormed in there, his demeanor changed. “Salem, please. Don’t do this,” he pleaded.

  Suddenly, like the cork on a champagne bottle, my cork popped and the words came spewing out. “Don’t do what, Graham? Don’t stop taking care of you? Don’t stop doing your laundry and cooking for you while you sit around watching television? Don’t stop taking care of the bills, going to the grocery store, and cleaning this house top to bottom while you sit in the recliner with the remote and your laptop, doing whatever the hell you want? I’m done with that life, Graham. I have done everything for you and gotten nothing in return. I have given all I have to give. I was supposed to be your wife, not your servant!”

  Graham looked hurt—remorseful. He whined, “I’m sorry Salem, okay? I’m sorry! I didn’t know how good I had it until I lost you. I’ve been a wreck since you left, and then I see these pictures while I’m standing in line at the store and I lost my mind. I can’t do this anymore, Salem. I need you.” He took two steps toward me, closing the gap between us. Reaching up, he held my face in his hands, cupping my cheeks. Leaning in, he whispered, “Please, Salem. I need you.”

  I didn’t need this. I was trying to savor my amazing night with Chris. I didn’t need Graham waltzing back into my life and sucking me back into this toxic marriage, like he’d tried
to do several times before. “Don’t…” I said, shaking my head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” I stepped back, peeling his hands off my face as if they were leeches.

  “Dammit, Salem.” Graham gripped his fists by his side, looking sadly around at the living room that once belonged to us, before the divorce. “You’ll regret this. One day you’ll look back on us and you’ll wish you hadn’t done this.”

  I stared at him. At one point in my life I did love him. I loved him with everything I had in me. We got married because we’d created our beautiful daughter, Alexis, and wanted to be a strong family for her. But, even from the beginning, our marriage was off balance. I remember those long nights, struggling with Alexis to sleep. Graham never once offered to help out…never once shared the duty. Even after being rushed to the hospital after passing out from severe fatigue and dehydration, I still came home to the same scenario. I had grown to hate him. His selfishness carried over into many other aspects of our lives together, starting with his secretary. The day I found out he was cheating was the day I couldn’t live with him anymore. I wouldn’t choose to stay with a man who never put his wife before himself. I wanted to be cherished, not used.

  I shrugged, “Maybe…but I doubt it.” Then I added, “You know, I still remember the night I came home from the hospital after passing out at work. I sat in that rocking chair at three in the morning contemplating suicide while you slept soundly in our bed. Not once…not one single fucking time did you offer to get up with Alexis so I could get some doctor-ordered rest. You just let me suffer…alone.” I shook my head, still reeling over the fact that I’d stayed with him for far too long. “Nope, trust me. I’ll never regret leaving a man who wasn’t there for me when I needed him the most.”

  Tears welled up in his eyes. Graham shook his head as if he couldn’t believe that I was serious. “Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind...” With that comment, he whirled around and stalked out the door, leaving the pictures of me and Chris sitting on the coffee table.

  I could barely look at them—the fuzzy, out of focus pictures of Chris and me sitting at the tiny table at Acropolis Grill. That was just the beginning of those glorious but uncharted emotions that had me reeling for days. The attraction I’d been fighting was something I never in a million years expected, and I was still trying to figure it all out. But, that night at his apartment was engraved on my heart. I would never forget those moments alone with Chris, where I found myself having feelings for him I never thought imaginable. And the worst part was that I hadn’t stopped thinking about him since that night.

  I take that back. The worst part was that I hadn’t heard from him again since that night. I plopped down on the sofa and pulled the stack of tabloid magazines into my lap, glancing at the headlines.

  Chris King’s Mystery Girl?

  One Night with a King?

  A Rock Star Playboy with a Girl in Every Town?

  ****

  Almost a week had passed since that night with Chris. I’d almost given up hope from hearing from him, assuming he’d changed his mind about keeping in touch. I felt silly for feeling attracted to him. Obviously, the attraction wasn’t mutual, and I felt stupid for misinterpreting his words, his actions…that hug. I guess in his mind, it was just a nice meeting with an old friend and nothing else. I couldn’t help my disappointment.

  I sat in my car outside the dance studio, waiting for Alexis to get finished with her hip hop class. I was fooling around with that addictive candy game app when my phone alerted me with an incoming text. I assumed it was Alexis letting me know she’d be a few minutes late. But the moment Chris’s number popped up on my screen, my heart jumpstarted in my chest.

  It simply read, Thinking of you.

  I died. Not literally, but the feeling I got reminded me of a giddy teenager.

  I texted back. Thinking of you too.

  And that was that. I didn’t hear from him again for another three days. The silly teenager in me continued to check my phone constantly. Every time I’d swipe the screen I’d reprimand myself. Grow up, Salem.

  It was a long three days of ridiculous vigilance. I tried to stay busy with work and Alexis’s after school activities, but I still couldn’t stop thinking about that text or when I would hear from him again.

  I stood at the sink washing dishes when Alexis came barreling down the stairs. “Mom, you left your phone in your bedroom and someone is blowing it up!”

  I turned, looking curiously at her. “Blowing up my phone?”

  “You know,” she said, rolling her eyes as she held out the phone to me, “texting you a lot.”

  I quickly dried my hands on a towel and reached for it, eager to know if this is the text I’d been hoping for. Swiping my finger to unlock it, I saw that I had three text messages…all from the same person—Chris!

  Sorry I didn’t text you back sooner.

  Busy on the road.

  Hope you’re having a great week. Talk soon?

  I sighed. After three days of non-stop daydreaming, his cryptic messages were a bit of a letdown. Ugh. Men!

  Wonderful week. Yes, let’s talk soon, I texted back.

  Great! Tonight? he immediately responded.

  Yes!

  Alexis cocked her head. “Who was it, mom?” she asked curiously, eyeing the grin I was trying to contain.

  I tried to sound casual, but I’m pretty sure it came out more like a squeal. “Chris.”

  Her response actually did come out like a squeal. “Chris King? Oh my god, Mom, that’s awesome! What did he say?”

  “Nothing much. He wants to talk later tonight.”

  She raised her eyebrows at me. “Mom,” she teased, “you’re totally crushing on him!”

  “Oh my god, no,” I said, shaking my head, certain I couldn’t convince her if I couldn’t convince myself.

  Her blue eyes twinkled. “Oh yes you are,” she nodded knowingly.

  “Alexis Caroline, I so totally am not,” I grinned, having thrown her girly teen-speak back at her.

  “Oh, for sure, you are. Trust me.”

  I chuckled. “Famous last words,” I said with a wink. I’d used the ‘famous last words’ line on her so many times in her life I couldn’t keep count. Every time she’d say ‘Trust me, mom,’ I’d break out that mantra. She always had the same response.

  “Ugh,” Alexis groaned dramatically, flipping her brown hair over her shoulder, “I can’t talk to you.” She spun around laughing, and traipsed back upstairs to her bedroom.

  I giggled, knowing we’d just bonded a little more, even if she did roll her eyes and leave. I stared at my phone as the question of ‘Tonight?’ glared back at me.

  I finally texted back.

  Looking forward to it.

  I finished washing my dishes with a slaphappy grin on my face.

  ****

  Later that night, Alexis was holed up in her bedroom, and I was just settling down into my bed with my e-reader when my cell phone rang.

  I answered before the first ringtone played completely through.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Salem,” Chris’s smooth voice poured through the phone.

  “Hi.” I was smiling ear to ear and wondered if he could hear it.

  “It’s good to hear your voice finally,” he sighed, sounding tired. “It’s been a long fucking week.”

  I couldn’t decide, by the way he said it, if the week was long because he’d been busy or because he’d waited so long to hear my voice.

  “It’s good to hear your voice too,” I admitted, feeling a little bashful. “So, how’s life on the road?”

  “Eh, it sucks sometimes, but for the most part we have a pretty good time. How have you been?” he asked.

  “Pretty good. Same old, same old…” I struggled to find something interesting to say about my everyday life, but couldn’t find the words. Life as a rock star seemed much more intriguing. “So,” I said, changing the subject, “what’s it like, always on the go, travel
ing the States?”

  Chris exhaled sharply. “Honestly, I’m exhausted. And I’d love a home cooked meal...specifically breakfast. You just can’t get a good homemade biscuit with gravy…or apple butter…or fried livermush through a drive-thru.” He thought for a minute, as if he were savoring the memory of a home-cooked meal. “Oh, and sweet tea…Damn, I’d kill for some good old fashioned sweet tea right about now. You know, the kind that steeped for hours on my grandma’s back porch.” He paused. “I guess, other than that, I can’t complain.”

  “Glad to hear you’re making the best of it. You know, if you’re ever down this way, I’ve got your home-cooked meal covered,” I offered without thinking. I was pretty decent at cooking, but I was certainly no pro. I hoped Chris’s expectations weren’t too high.

  “Really? I could definitely go for that,” he agreed, sounding thoroughly pleased. “We’ll be heading that way in a few weeks. Passing through Charlotte on our way to Atlanta. You game?”

  “Absolutely! I’d love to see you…I mean, cook for you.” I suddenly felt like an idiot for jumping the gun.

  He sounded excited. “Great! It’s a date.”

  His words put my mind at ease. I loved the way he used the word ‘date.’ He probably didn’t actually mean date, but it sounded good anyway. My heart galloped in my chest at the thought of seeing him again.

  “I look forward to it. So, you want breakfast, huh?” I asked him thoughtlessly. Just then, it hit me.

  Oh god, I hope he doesn’t interpret that as meaning breakfast in the morning…after he spends the night!

  I immediately tried to correct myself. “I mean, for supper…breakfast as the meal…at night…” I stuttered, digging myself deeper into a hole. Just let it go, Salem.

  He laughed, amused by my stammering. “I’m not picky. Trust me.”

  “Famous last words,” I murmured, knowing he wouldn’t understand my inside joke with Alexis.

  Graciously trying to drop it, he suggested, “Just surprise me.”

  “You got it.” I couldn’t help but smile thinking of the fact that I would get to see him again in a few weeks, and he’d be eating at my table with me. And then the smile vanished, remembering my place. Former counselor.