by ANDREA SMITH
“So what? Are you fucking her too?” I blurted. “I mean, I couldn’t help hearing part of your conversation,” I said, feeling my face flush.
He looked at me directly, not masking his expression. “Hey, Paige, I mean, come on here. You and me? We’re not exclusive or anything,” he said, his tone clipped. “I don’t nose into your business, and by the same token, I don’t expect you to be nosing into mine.”
I walked over to where he was standing, and made sure that my eyes met up with his.
“Huh,” I raised my shoulders and let them fall. “So you’re just my trainer who likes to keep it…physical. I get it. I mean, I kind of thought we had a little something going, but I’m so glad you took the time to clear that up.”
“Hey,” he replied, his hands outstretched, as if pleading his case to me. “We’ve never discussed exclusivity, and…I’m not at a place right now where I even want to consider it. Well, I mean, not with you at any rate, Paige. I mean, you’re a knock-out and all, babe, but I don’t see me getting serious with someone at the bureau…ever. It’s just not a good idea.”
Oh, I was pissed now. Royally.
“Well,” I said, nodding my head slowly. “I can see why not getting into anything serious with someone at the bureau is a good idea. However, fucking everyone at the bureau seems like a great one. God, why didn’t I think of that?” I gave him my best clueless look, “I guess I must’ve been absent the day you went over that one.”
He shrugged and nodded. “I thought you knew the score, doll. I mean, it’s not like I ever took you out on a date or anything. I figured you understood what this was about.”
Fuck you.
“Why don’t you call Lisa back, Darin? Let her know your schedule for tonight has just been freed up.”
I grabbed my purse from the sofa, and he made no move whatsoever to stop me.
“Cocksucker,” I breathed out on a harsh breath, as I pushed the door of his apartment open, taking the tattered remnants of my pride with me.
chapter 6
I was perched on the sofa in the family room, spooning the last mouthful of Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia ice cream into my mouth, tossing the empty container onto the coffee table, where it joined its empty brother, ‘Chunky Monkey’ who’d gone first, when I heard Cain and Eli come in.
Shit! I just knew I was going to hear about eating up two containers of their precious ice cream. You see, I almost never indulged in that sort of thing anymore, which is why I never bought any for myself. Which is why, in crisis, I’d gotten into theirs.
You see, my boys were extremely territorial about their stuff and about my getting into it.
They had both mini-lectured me on using up their laundry detergent, borrowing their razors to shave my legs when I had run out of my disposable Lady Schicks (Cain had really been pissed about that one, knocking on my bedroom door with little bits of Kleenex tissue dotted with blood attached to his face, and chewing my ass out about it). So getting into their groceries was a major infraction for sure.
I braced myself for my next ass-chewing, as they came into the family room, having heard the television blaring some Lifetime flick I’d turned on. Lifetime’s movie theme just happened to be “Eating Disorder Weekend.”
And I’m not going to lie. Watching Meredith Baxter as some soccer mom with bulimia, shoveling ice cream into her mouth, as she placed her order for two large fries, a cheeseburger, a fish sandwich and two milk shakes at a drive-thru window was enough to get me into the mood for some comfort food.
They stopped short when they saw me, quickly assessing the situation.
“What happened?” Eli asked, standing in the entryway wearing nylon shorts and some kickass Nike’s. “Why are you home so early?”
I didn’t have time to even respond to his questions when Cain spoke up. “And why are you binge-eating Ben & Jerry’s?”
“Yeah, about that, guys. Look, I’ll replace those when I go to the grocery, I promise.”
“We’re not fucking worried about that,” Eli said, coming over and plopping down next to me on the sofa. “Is everything okay?”
Cain was standing there silently with his arms crossed, waiting for an answer.
“Everything’s good,” I lied. “I just don’t think that Darin and I will be seeing each other socially anymore. No biggie.”
“What did that fuck do?” Cain asked, a humming anger in his voice as he sat down on the other side of me.
His dark eyes seemed to get even darker as he gazed at me, waiting for some explanation that I really didn’t feel like putting out there to them. It was actually kind of embarrassing.
“It’s nothing like that,” I replied with a shrug. “It seems that he’s not ready for anything exclusive, which is fine. I just wasn’t aware of the rules, I guess. And now I am, so hey, it’s all good. No harm, no foul.”
“Asshat,” Eli muttered under his breath. “Are you okay, babe?” I felt his arm wrap around me, pulling me closer to him.
“I’m fine, Eli. I’m really fine. It wasn’t as if I was in love with him or anything like that.”
My words sounded empty, like maybe there was no conviction behind them. “Look, I’m gonna call it a night,” I told them, as I swept the empty ice-cream containers into one arm. “I’m still helping you with that reception tomorrow, right Cain?”
He pulled me away from Eli, forcing me to face him as he studied me. “If you don’t feel like helping with that, it’s okay, sweetie. I can get Debbie to come in.”
“Don’t be silly,” I said, leaning over and giving his handsome face a Cherry Garcia-flavored kiss. “I need the extra jack, you know? I’ve got some ice cream to replace.”
I turned from him and gave Eli a kiss on his cheek. “Night guys,” I said, heading towards the kitchen. “See y’all in the morning.”
Later in the privacy of my room, I quickly changed into my nightgown and brushed my teeth, not wanting to look at my reflection in the mirror.
The truth was that I was ashamed of myself for daring to let my guard down with a man. I very seldom had done that, maybe just once or twice before, and it had never worked out.
Why in the hell had I thought that Darin was going to be any different?
As I snuggled down under my sheets, I remembered what my last semi-boyfriend had told me when we parted. “You’re just too hard to keep up with Paige. You want it all and I’m not willing to give it all just yet. You’re not my idea of soul mate material. I’m sorry.”
That had been Ryan; a guy that I’d known all through school, but hadn’t dated until I got out of college. We had been seeing each other steadily for three months when he broke it off. He said I was getting too intense, whatever that meant. He had been the deciding factor in my coming to D.C. to find a career and, hopefully, a new beginning somewhere else.
It seemed as if my luck with men was destined to follow me wherever I went.
I didn’t really understand it, though, because I sure wasn’t big on the whole ‘Let’s get married’ or ‘Let’s live together’ thing. I was simply looking for some intimacy—a connection that was more than just good sex, something that complimented the sex, that made it more than just a physical thing, but not an ownership thing, either. Somewhere in the middle, I guess.
The best relationship I had going was the one I had with these men. How screwed up was that?
Eli and Cain were the closest thing to soul mates that I’d ever had, even though we hadn’t really been a threesome for all that long.
And the fucked-up thing about that was that they were gay and in love and devoted to one another. How could I possibly fit into that equation?
But somehow, they did make me feel as if I belonged with them; like they cared about me as a woman, not as baby sister like it was with Trace and Easton.
And that part of it was what helped me get through stuff like this. Darin the asshat…Eli was so on the mark with that one. I sighed, somehow feeling com
forted by these men that I lived with.
chapter 7
Cain and I were unpacking all of the linens, china, crystal and silverware for the wedding reception that he was catering. This one happened to be in the basement underneath the church where the wedding was taking place.
“Paige, if you set up the tables, I’m going to get the coffee service going, okay?”
“Sure,” I replied, straightening out the white tablecloth at the wedding party table. “Who’s setting the bar up?”
“Dry reception,” he remarked, as he backed through the swinging door to the kitchen, waggling his eyebrows. “Sorry babe, I know you love the tips.”
That sucks.
I enjoyed working with Cain and the others at these receptions, but the most enjoyable ones were those that had a bar set up. Cain usually allowed me to work the bar and the tips were pretty substantial.
A couple of the other girls had pissed and moaned a bit because they were full-time employees, not a fill-in like I was when one of the other workers wanted a Saturday off. Cain had explained his rationale to them: He was the boss, and if they didn’t like it, then fucking go somewhere else.
Bahahaha!!
Jake and Connie came in; rolling a cart that had the wedding cake and punch bowl on it.
No expense had been spared on the cake. It was exquisitely decorated with white butter-cream frosting that had perfect fleur-de-lis trim on every layer. The decorator had done a flawless sugar-spun veil that draped from the top layer where the perfect bride and groom couple stood with arms linked and dazzling smiles painted on their faces, to where it pooled delicately around the bottom layer.
I wondered if perfect weddings made for perfect marriages. Highly doubtful considering the divorce rate being what it was.
I looked around and saw that the tables were set up for about forty people max, not counting the wedding party which was set for six.
Cain returned with the silver coffee service, Styrofoam cups along with the cream and sugar packets. “This is going to be a hot and cold appetizer buffet, Paige. So when you’re finished up with the tables, can you give Julie some help getting the food table set up?”
“Sure thing, sweetie,” I replied, tossing him a smile.
We had barely gotten everything into place and the punch bowl filled, when the door to the church basement opened, and guests started piling in. The wedding party was close behind and I sort’ve did a double-take when I saw them.
Oh dear Lord.
The bride and groom bore no resemblance whatsoever to that lovely couple that sat atop of the perfect wedding cake that Jake and Connie had rolled in just minutes earlier.
The groom was pushing seventy. He was short, fat, bald, and wore coke-bottle thick glasses. The bride was probably in her late-forties, and a good six inches taller than he was. She was painfully thin with no contour whatsoever. Her long, skinny neck reminded me of Popeye’s girlfriend Olive Oyl, and her dark hair was worn in the same style as that cartoon character. I quickly turned away, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all, and busied myself with arranging the buffet table.
Several minutes later, music started streaming through the speakers of the sound system that had been set up. The chords and lyrics of traditional love songs floated around the room. I looked up for some reason, and caught myself watching the bride and groom as they interacted with one another, and then moved as a couple now, greeting their guests. I hadn’t realized that Cain had come up behind me as I released a wistful sigh.
“Something wrong?” he asked, placing his hands on my shoulders, startling me a bit, and then massaging them back into relaxation.
I shrugged, and then nodded slightly. “Look at them, Cain,” I said softly, nodding towards the newlyweds. “I mean when they first came in, I guess I was being kind of . . . well . . ,” I groped for the right words.
“Shallow?” he supplied, quirking a brow at me. “Judgemental?” he continued with a slight smile.
“Whatever,” I replied, giving him an eye roll. “I’ll cop to being a bit superficial, alright? But they just looked so mismatched, I mean, seriously. But now,” I continued, gazing back over at them, “It’s like you can feel their love for one another and it’s kind of beautiful. And I don’t know, it kind of makes them look beautiful, you know?”
“Well who would’ve thought that our Paige was such a closet romantic?” he teased. “Wait until I share this with Eli.”
“Oh stop,” I said, smacking him playfully. “I’ve got no axe to grind with romance; romance just seems to have an axe to grind with me, I guess.”
“Why would you say that?” he questioned, pulling me around to face him. “Is this about that fucking idiot, Darin?”
His eyes were once again piercing through me. Cain was so freaking intense sometimes that it gave me chills. I shivered, and his hands were quick to rub my back and shoulders gently, but he was still waiting for an answer.
“No—it’s not about him,” I replied. “It’s more about me. I mean, is there something about me—some sort of repulse pheromone I’m giving off? Never mind—you aren’t exactly the demographic I’m looking for anyway.”
Shit.
I saw the fire flash in his eyes at the comment. I hadn’t meant it like that…exactly. I mean, what the hell? Posing a question like that to a gay dude wasn’t exactly fair, was it?
“Outside, now,” he ordered, taking me by the arm and pulling me alongside of him. “You and I need to take a break.”
Once outside, Cain found a concrete bench off to the side of the church, in a grassy area that had a statue of the Blessed Mother behind it.
“Sit,” he ordered.
I sat down, waiting for him to take a seat, but he remained standing.
“First of all, sweetheart, you need to shed some of your pre-conceived notions about alternative lifestyles. Contrary to what you seem to think, homosexuals and bisexuals all don’t fall into one neat little category that is black and white, okay?”
I nodded, and started to speak, but he raised his hand, his index finger pointing at me to remain quiet.
“Secondly, you’ve been with Eli and me long enough that we’ve both seen what you’re doing. We’ve discussed it amongst ourselves, to be honest.”
I quirked an eyebrow, hoping like hell that he intended to clue me in on their assessment.
“Paige,” he sighed, “You are bright and beautiful and sexy as fuck, don’t you get that? But—what we see in you is the need you have to treat men as either total sex objects, with which to pleasure yourself at leisure—and granted, this information is second-hand from Darcy through Lindsey, but when you do try to focus on something more substantive, you select the type of guy that isn’t game for anything but leisure sex. And that is first-hand knowledge from our own observation. Baby, you seem to set yourself up for failure all around.”
I was thoughtful for a moment, reflecting upon his words, knowing that he was onto me. Eli too. They hadn’t been fooled one little bit. I was a hot mess.
“So, babe, to answer your question in there? No. You’re not putting out some ‘repulse’ pheromone. And whether I’m bisexual or not, I would know, just as Eli knows, you simply need to put yourself out there to the right guy and there won’t be a doubt in that pretty little head of yours when it’s right.”
“You’re bisexual?” I asked, swallowing hard. “I mean…does Eli know?”
He threw his head back and I heard his deep, rich laugh, something that was rare with Cain. “Oh yeah, he knows. He’s fine with it. Well, he’s maybe more than fine with it, to be honest.”
My eyebrows once again traveled up my forehead.
Cain continued, “Eli’s bisexual as well—or maybe I should say he’s a closet bi,” he said, giving me a wink.
“It kind of came out in ‘couples therapy,’ and I swear to God if you tell him that I mentioned couples therapy, I’ll fucking hunt you down,” he warned,
giving me a faux stern look.
“Really? Couples therapy?”
He rolled his eyes in a very delightful way, almost shy-like. “Yeah, we went through some…shit a while back. It’s all good now, but we needed to bring things out into the open to build up our trust in one another. Eli had never told me that he had been married—very briefly—the summer before he went to college. Shocked the hell out of me,” he said, shaking his head.
“So, why do you say he’s a closet bi?”
I mean, what the hell? I’d heard of closet gays, but I pretty much thought bisexuals were out with it, if they went both ways like that.
“Well, although he finds members of both genders sexually appealing, he’s made a choice to have only one sexual preference at the moment. He said chicks are too high-maintenance,” he finished, giving me a cocky smile.
Oh. What. Ever.
“As if anyone would ever categorize Eli as being low maintenance,” I scoffed absently.
This brought a smile from Cain as he stepped forward, drawing me into his arms. His hand gently brushed through my hair, and I felt his full lips graze my forehead, as I relaxed into his warm embrace. It was comforting and it felt right for some reason.
“All I want to tell you, Paige, is to stop hiding behind your dual facades,” he murmured. “If you stop doing things for attention, and you start being who you’re meant to be, I think your need for romance and commitment will be satisfied. Sometimes, it’s right there in front of you.”
He gave me a peck on the cheek, and released me from his grasp. “Now, come on, babe. We have a wedding cake to start slicing.”
I watched him as I trailed behind him, feeling a warm, fluttery feeling in the pit of my belly as I contemplated his words.
‘Sometimes it’s right there in front of you…’
Was there some hidden meaning in his words, or was I simply reading too much into his kindness and concern?
I would never do anything to hurt Eli, no matter how close Cain and I had become over the past couple of months. And then again, what had Cain meant when he said that Eli was ‘more than fine with it’? Did that mean that Eli…?