by S. E. Dosher
I sit on the floor surrounded by everything I have of Niko: pictures I took of him, pictures others took of me, even the picture that somehow got left behind by the police of me perched in the trees outside his house.
I’ve been staring at them for hours, trying to remember a time when he wasn’t the center of my world. I don’t want him to be part of my world any longer. My obsession with him has brought enough pain and suffering to everyone around me.
I look around for something large to carry everything in, my eyes landing on my large laundry hamper just inside the bathroom. Dumping all the clothes out, I scoop up the pictures and toss them into the hamper. It takes all my willpower to continue, but I heft the hamper out front door and across the backyard to Brock’s fire pit.
The flames almost reach the top of my head after I pour fire starter on them and watch them burn. I started out looking at each one as I dropped it in the pit, my fingers slowly caressing over the lines of his face, remembering what they felt like against my skin, but those thoughts had me second-guessing my current trajectory, so I stopped and simply dumped them in with one fell swoop.
The heat from the flames singes my skin, but if I lose an eyebrow in this process, it’ll be worth it.
“What the fuck are you doing?” a male voice calls from the other side of the flames. I can’t make out whom it belongs to because of the loud cracking of the fire.
Taking several steps around the side of the fire pit, I bump into Paul, his hands coming to my shoulders to steady me from our impact.
“Have you lost your ever-lovin’ mind? I can see those flames from the street.”
I smile at him; I’ve missed him. We’ve haven’t seen each other in well over a week—my brilliant attempt at shielding him from my wrong doings.
“A burning ritual,” I say, as if that’s excuse enough.
“Brock is gonna have your ass when he sees this,” he states plainly.
“I don’t care. I’m done caring about how what I do effects everyone else,” I tell him, looking him straight in the eyes and hoping he can see the resolve in my stare.
“Well, it’s about fucking time.” He laughs and wraps his arms around me tightly. “I’ve been waiting for my Brook to show back up; I was starting to think she was gone for good.”
I laugh with him and it feels good, like a million pounds has been lifted from my shoulders and now I’m light and airy.
“She’s only been gone for a couple weeks, Paul. You kinda gave up on her quickly, don’t ya think?” I ask, and I’m sure I have a twinkle in my eyes, one he probably hasn’t seen in a long time.
“Shit, sweetie, you’ve been gone for years,” he tells me in a low voice, like his soft tone will cushion his words.
“What?” I blanch.
“The Brook I see in your eyes right now hasn’t been here since…well, since Stephen left.”
My heart jumps at his words.
“Stephen?” I ask on a whisper.
“Years, my darling, she’s been gone for years.” He pushes my hair off my shoulder with his fingertips then pulls me into a tight hug. “You smell like sex,” he shrieks and pulls back from me.
“What? No I don’t.”
“Yes, you fucking do. You got laid last night,” he declares. “I can smell it on your skin. I smell sweaty man, and we both know I can smell man from a mile away.”
“You’re losing your touch, then; all I smell like is burning resolve.”
“Yeah, you also smell like smoke, but there’s still a hint of man under that thick grime.” He raises his eyebrows, “So what man do I smell on you?” He dips his nose to the top of my head and sniffs dramatically.
“Stop it.” I slap at his chest, pushing him away.
***
The flames start to die down just as I finish telling him about coming home to find Niko in my house and all the fun activities that followed.
“Wait, where did you go after the court house? Why did you get home so late?” he asks, immediately finding the flaw in my story.
“I was with Stephen,” I admit and squint my eyes, ready for him to berate me.
“Stephen?” He scoffs, his voice several octaves higher than even a dog can hear. “Stephen Ami?”
“Yes. What other Stephen would I be with?” I say and roll my eyes.
“Don’t give me attitude, little missy. What the fuck were you doing with him? What possible reason do you have to even grace him with your presence? What the actual fuck were you thinking?” He’s talking so fast I can barely understand his words; they’re all just syllables smashed together creating jumbled sounds.
“Well, I actually ran into him when I went out with Niko a couple weeks ago—the night everything went to shit. He owns the club Niko took me to, that’s where I first ran into him.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” he demands.
“I’ve kinda had a lot going on since then, and I didn’t find it all that important to my current problem of possibly spending the next few years of my life in jail,” I remind him.
“So you went back to his club last night?” He motions his hand for me to keep on with the story and stop whining.
“No, he was at the courthouse. He hired me a lawyer; a really great lawyer, actually.”
“Oh snap, no he didn’t. He still loves you, I knew it!”
“Actually, yes, he does.” Paul’s mouth drops open, but he doesn’t speak. “After the courthouse we went back to his house, and he told me leaving me was a mistake, and he wishes he could take it back.”
He covers his gaping mouth with is hands and a small poof sound comes out.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a loss for words.”
He blinks rapidly for several seconds then closes his eyes completely, places his other hand to his chest, and takes a deep breath.
“I think hell just froze over; I’m completely stunned. And I have absolutely no words,” he finally admits.
I laugh while he rolls his eyes at me.
“Wait—what did you say when he told you he still loved you?”
“Umm, well I told him that I loved him then, too…then I kind of ran away,” I admit sheepishly.
“You ran away? Like just bolted from his house?”
I nod and try to stop the laughter threatening to break free.
“How did you get home?” he asks, because obviously that minor detail is the most important event that happened last night.
“I walked for a while then called a cab.”
“So in the span of one night, the ex-love of your life declares his undying love for you, and your ex-obsession sneaks into your house and has mad passionate sex with you? Did I miss anything?” He smirks at me.
“Umm, no, I think that about covers my night,” I confirm.
“Okay, just as long as I’m on the right page,” he says with a hint of humor.
“Yes, I think you are.”
“So…what do you plan to do about all this?”
“Lunch. I plan to go eat lunch.” I uncross my legs and stand. “Would you like to join me?”
He looks at his overpriced watch and glares at me. “It’s almost dinner time,” he states dryly.
“Then…dinner, I plan to go eat dinner,” I correct myself. “You don’t have to come with me, it’s completely understandable if you don’t want to.” My fear that he wants to avoid being seen with me publicly is just under the surface. I know Paul would never abandon me, but I can’t expect him to outwardly support me when it could damage his career.
“Of course I’m coming with you. Who do I look like…Brock?”
“No, no actually you don’t look anything like Brock. You’re much better looking.” I lean forward and kiss him on the cheek.
“Stop trying to flatter me, I have no plans to declare my unfaltering commitment to you tonight. You seem to already have two men fighting for that position.”
“Shut up.” I slap him lightly on the cheek I just kissed.
I turn to leave and he slaps my ass, a loud smack echoing through the courtyard.
“Hey, you better watch it. No spankings unless you intend to follow them up with the appropriate actions.”
“Girlfriend, I wouldn’t even know where to begin with the likes of you,” he says and winks at me. “Now hurry up while I make sure all this evidence has thoroughly burned.”
I rush into the house and turn the shower on hot, hoping the steam will help wash away any lingering thoughts or feelings of Niko. I imagine the soap washing away all remnants of him that might try to cling. I wash every inch of my body and relish the scalding water as it turns my skin a nice, deep pink.
I twist my hair into a wet bun, hoping it will dry by the time we make it to dinner, and slink into the tight, black backless dress I always wear when I need a pick-me-up. Throwing my makeup into my purse, I intend to put it on while Paul drives to dinner. My black “fuck me” pumps are calling my name, so I grab them and rush back outside.
I pad barefoot back to the courtyard where Paul is waiting, but before I round the corner, I hear Brock’s voice and stop dead in my tracks.
“You can’t just expect me to forget all of it. I mean seriously, Paul, I don’t know how you put up with her sometimes,” he practically growls.
“Put up with her?” Paul scoffs, “I don’t ‘put up with her.’ She’s my friend. It’s a mutual resignation to see past any faults and love each other no matter what. You know—the kind of thing you should have with her since you are her twin, after all.”
“I have too much respect for her, and myself, to constantly stand by and watch her make a fool of herself and everyone around her. One fuck up after another; it’s like she’s always trying to one up herself with the shock-and-awe factor, and I’m tired of being embarrassed by her actions.”
“You really are a bastard. I’ve always given you the benefit of the doubt, figuring it was because you were so fucking uptight, but I was wrong. You just don’t care about anyone but yourself, and you’re missing out on the best person I know—your own flesh and blood—because you’re too fucking worried about what some other jackass, who’s opinion doesn’t even matter, might think. It’s your loss; just remember that.”
“Paul,” I say, stepping around the corner letting my presence be known. “Don’t bother, it’s not worth it.”
My head hangs low, but I steal a glance at Brock’s sullen eyes trained on me.
“C’mon, we’re going to be late,” Paul says, hooking his arm with mine and turning me.
“Brook!” Brock calls after us.
I halt our escape and turn back to my brother.
“Brock, it doesn’t matter anymore; you’ve made yourself known, and I can’t blame you for your feelings. They’re genuine, and I could never fault you for that.” I inhale deeply, frightened at the intent of my own words, “Don’t worry, I’ll find another place to live as soon as I can. Who knows, I might be put up in my own six-by-eight cell, and I won’t even have to worry about paying rent money I don’t have.” The sides of my mouth turn up in a forced smirk.
“Brook…” he starts again, but I put my hand up, cutting him off.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll keep my distance, and you won’t have to see me again. My stuff will be gone in the next week.” I turn to leave, but stop one last time to turn and look at him. “I’m really sorry, Brock. I never meant to embarrass you. I know I have, but I truly never meant to, and I’m so very sorry.”
I quickly turn and walk as fast as my legs can carry me until I reach Paul’s car.
Chapter 5
The restaurant Paul picks is perfect. Small intimate tables, but with music and people moving around just enough to keep the atmosphere buzzing. A few people stop to stare at us, and I’m hoping it isn’t because they know my dirty little secret from all the tabloid attention I’ve gotten recently, but Paul convinces me I’m crazy.
“None of these people give a shit,” he whisper-shouts at me. “This is LA; there are way more famous people they could be scoping on right now than you. I mean seriously, Brook, you must think you’re hot shit.” He laughs and it loosens my mood just enough for me to lightly laugh, too.
“Martini, extra dirty, extra olives,” Paul says and points at me. “Times two, and pronto my good man.” He winks at the waiter who smiles in return then quickly disappears to the bar.
“Oh lord, don’t pick up our waiter tonight,” I whine. “I want free Paul time. I need Paul time without you putting on a show for a piece of meat.”
He glides his hand across the table and rests it on top of mine.
“You have my undivided attention, I just thought a little flirting might get our drinks here faster.”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s all your intentions were.” I raise an eyebrow at him.
The waiter appears in record time with a total of four extra dirty martinis and a glass full of olives. My eyes widen at Paul, and he wags his eyebrows at me.
“Thank you,” I tell the waiter, but he doesn’t even bother to look my direction.
“Will there anything else right this minute?” he asks Paul.
“Yes,” he says in his best bedroom voice. “We’ll have two of your specials, but no rush on those. We’d like to enjoy our delicious drinks first.”
“Of course, you just let me know when you need me for anything,” the waiter replies.
I stick my index finger down my throat making mock vomiting sounds as the waiter is swallowed by the crowded room.
“That’s just disgusting.” Paul crinkles his nose at my rude noise.
“I’m disgusting, really?” I mock him.
“Shut up and drink your alcohol.”
Several minutes pass and neither of us speaks. We silently sip on our drinks and people watch. Occasionally, one of us points out a particularly funny person and we laugh together, but no real words are exchanged.
“Brook Beckham, I thought that was you,” a high-pitched voice says behind me. I turn to see Kiki—Niko’s Kiki—approaching. I pinch my eyes shut hoping that when I open them again, she’ll be a figment of my imagination. No such luck.
“Well hello, Kiki,” I say meekly as she leans in to kiss one cheek and then the other.
“I wasn’t sure that was you, you really should wear your hair up more often; you have such a long gorgeous neck,” she slyly compliments me, but I’ve been in the LA scene long enough not to be bought off by such things.
“Thank you,” I reply with a tight smile.
“It was what first caught my eye, and the longer my eyes swept over you the more I knew you looked familiar.” She pauses and swipes her hand along my jaw sending creepy tingles down my spine. “How are you holding up, love?” she asks, mock pity on her face.
“I’m holding up just fine, Kiki.” My eyes pierce her, hoping I magically gain the ability to shoot lasers from them and cut through her.
“I’ve been so worried about you,” she adds, and I squint a little harder, thinking I’m just not properly igniting my laser eyes.
“That’s very sweet of you,” Paul says and widens his eyes at me; he obviously can tell something is off. “Hello, Kiki, I’m Brook’s friend Paul.”
“Yes, yes, Paul. You used to manage Club Blasé,” she offers her hand to him at the same time my heart drops.
“Used to?” I ask hastily.
“Yes, dear, used to. We’ll talk about it later.” Paul gives me a hard smile and turns back to Kiki. “It’s so nice to meet you, but I’m afraid I’m at a disadvantage. You see, I don’t know anything about you,” the ever smooth-under-pressure Paul says.
“I’m the fashion editor for InTune magazine; I’ve been a fan of Brook’s for many years.” Kiki beams with this news.
“So you’ve had the pleasure of working with Brook before?” Paul asks, and the smile on his face is so proud I almost hate to break the news to him.
I wait to
see if Kiki will correct him, but she simply looks at me.
“Actually, no. We just met a few weeks ago through Niko. She was doing a story on Niko and was with him…” I pause, thinking back to when I’d met Kiki. I’d been eating at a restaurant not far from where we are now. “Actually, it was when we last had lunch together. Niko and Kiki showed up just as you were leaving.”
“Oh, yes,” Paul nods, “I think I remember that.”
“So how is it we keep bumping into each other?” I ask Kiki, who laughs nervously at my question.
“Well, to be perfectly honest, that first time was simply a coincidence.”
“Uhh huh.” I groan not really one to believe in coincidences in this town. “And what about this time?”
She gives me a smile too large for her face. “Well, actually, a paparazzi friend of mine called and told me you were here.”
“And why would someone do that?” I ask as the steam builds in my head.
“Because I asked him to let me know if he bumped into you.”
“Seriously?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“Apparently, you’re kind of old news, so he didn’t bother taking your picture, but he gave me a call like he said he would.”
“Old news?” I ask. “Well, there’s one bit of good news.”
“Sure is,” Paul says as he raises his glass to toast me, but I ignore his gesture and squint my eyes at him. He lowers his glass in defeat.
“I’m not happy with you right now, either.” I lean forward and pin Paul to his seat with my words. “But first,” I turn back to Kiki, “exactly why were you hunting me down?”
“I still want to do a story on you,” She meekly says.
“Are you fucking kidding me? I already told you no, and that was before all this shit blew up. Why would I do it now?”
“Word is Niko is going to drop the charges against you, and no criminal charges will stick because there isn’t enough proof that it was, in fact, you.”
“They have pictures,” Paul says quietly.
“They have some grainy pictures, they can’t even figure out where they came from, of someone sitting in a tree. They can’t even prove it’s Niko’s tree. They don’t have shit in the way of hard evidence.” She pauses and a look of confusion comes over her. “Wait, are you saying it’s true? You did those things they’re accusing you of?”