by Celia Aaron
“Oh, no. Did this cunt trap just call me a bitch? Boy, I will fuck your goddamn teeth sideways.” She eyed him up and down. “You have a plaid dick, don’t you? That shit is two inches and plaid. A toddler noodle. You were just born with it.”
Carter stood shell shocked, as both Nik and I tried not to laugh.
Kasey took a step closer. “Your dick is pleated, ain’t it? Ol’ pleat dick, born ready for a Dockers commercial. How about I shove a polo mallet up your twat gap and use you like a ventriloquist?” Kasey held up her hand like a puppet and spoke out of the side of her mouth. “Help me. Somebody save me from my plaid dick. It’s got pleats and everything. Oh wait, maybe those are cunt lips flappin’ in the breeze down there. Yep, that’s it. I gots pussy pleats. Eff my life.”
I was about to burst with laughter when the queen of the Graves household walked out of the restaurant with a stack of dresses draped over one arm.
“Nikki, what is this?” She used that rich-people voice that suggested her daughter was mingling with the commoners again.
I dropped my face into my palm, because I knew what was coming.
“Who the fuck is Lady Godiva Godzilla over here, storming into shit out of nowhere?” Kasey turned to Nik’s mom.
Mrs. Graves glared in my direction. “Are you following us? I have high-priced lawyers and we will file protective orders. You can’t stalk our daughter.”
“I wasn’t stalking anyone. It’s a public place.” I looked down at Nik. “I swear. I wouldn’t do that.”
“Mmhmm.” Carter injected himself back into the conversation.
I ground my teeth together and then turned to Carter. “This doesn’t concern you, shit-paper prince. I’ll give you a call next time I take a fat Carter in a port-o-potty and run out of ass wipes. Maybe you can do some calculus to solve my problem.”
“Nikki’s safety concerns me.” He walked over and put his arm around her. She stepped away, forcing him to drop his arm to the side. Good girl. But she hadn’t stepped toward me like I wanted.
It was like the night in the driveway all over again, me as the bad guy and these assholes filling her ears full of poison about me.
I ignored Carter and Nikki’s mom. There was only one person I wanted to talk to. “I’m just going to go. I don’t want any problems, Nikki. I want you, but not like this. Just take whatever time you want, and then let me know.” I hobbled away, not giving a fuck who saw my limp at that moment.
“You’re getting off easy this time, plaid dick.” Kasey followed behind me. “Next time I see you, I’m going to lay your ass out and then fuck your girlfriend, if you can get one, anyway.”
I ignored the pain in my knee and kept walking, though everything inside me screamed at me to run back to Nikki. But with Carter and her mother around, no good could come of further confrontation.
Kasey’s taunting voice rose. “Oh, and Mrs. Snooty-pants, here’s a newsflash, that pink dress you’re carrying is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. I wouldn’t even fuck you if you wore that, Nikki. Just kidding. I’d always fuck you. You know this.”
Kasey clapped me on the shoulder as we made it to my car. “My last little bit got her for you. Just wait and see, boyfriend.”
NIKKI
“FRINGE. IT’S THE bane of my existence. When it exploded last season, I got so many women requesting it that I almost quit. I can’t stand it. Unless you’re going to a cowboy festival, don’t wear fringe.”
I smiled as I typed Cyrus’s response. He’d been in my office for the past hour answering questions for my next Style and Substance article: “What Your Style Assistant Really Thinks About Your Taste.” Cyrano would headline the piece. I hoped Cyrus would gain a bigger clientele from giving down and dirty advice in the mag.
Makeup-less and wearing a simple pair of jeans and a black T-shirt, he was a handsome man with excellent taste in clothes. The other assistants had been tittering about him as I’d led him down the hall to my cramped office.
I finished typing his answer and leaned back. “Now, shoot straight with me.” I narrowed my eyes. “Off the record. Don’t you think that pretending to be gay is, you know, wrong?”
He crossed one leg over the other, resting his ankle on his knee. “Look, my roommate is gay. He’s the one who suggested it to me, and then I just ran with it. I know it’s not a good thing to do, okay? But if it helps me pay my bills and isn’t hurting anyone, why does it matter?”
I scratched my nose. “It just seems so …”
“Dishonest. I know.” He craned his head back and sighed. “I’m trying to think of some way to stop, but I kind of can’t now. Not at Saks. And now with this article—”
“You could be Cyrus in this article, you know? The real you?”
He shook his head and brought his eyes back to mine. “Nope. Not a chance. Cyrano or nothing. I can’t risk my job. I need the money.”
My phone buzzed, my mom’s face popping up on the screen. I hit “ignore” for the third time that morning.
I continued, “Maybe you could go to another store, or maybe even—”
“I can’t.” He shifted in his chair. “I made my bed. Now I have to lie in it.”
“I understand.” I bit my lip before offering any more unwanted advice.
Besides, my personal life was in a shambles. I had no room to give anyone pointers on how to act. After the scene outside the restaurant, Mom and Carter tried to talk me into breaking it off with Braden. They didn’t understand that he wasn’t some one-and-done guy. I’d been through more than my fair share of those.
Braden—even though he was clumsy and ham-handed when it came to emotions—was my man. I’d known it since we first met. Some people didn’t believe in love at first sight, but I did. And the moment Braden smiled at me and asked me to drinks after a game, my heart belonged to him. Neither Carter nor my mom could change that.
Just because things were rocky didn’t mean we were over. The thought of Braden and I being done made me take a deep breath. I tried to push the trade and our other troubles out of my mind. If I could focus on work, maybe I wouldn’t hurt so much.
“Nikki, you all right?” Cyrus cocked his head to the side.
“I’m good. Sorry. Sometimes I just zone the fuck out.” Leaning forward, I poised my fingers over my keyboard. “Okay, final question. When a client asks you to—”
A ruckus in the hallway interrupted my question. A rumbling sound caught my ear, and someone was talking far too loudly in our quiet office. I cringed when I recognized the voice.
“This place is littered with hot bitches. Have I died and gone to poon-hound heaven? Hey, you in the green. I’m Kasey. What’s your name, sugar?”
“Oh, my God.” I stood and bolted into the hallway, but almost fell over something blocking the narrow area outside my door.
Cyrus grabbed my arm and pulled me upright before I toppled into the stack of brand new Luis Vuitton luggage.
I flailed for a moment then got my balance. “What the—”
“Nik, babe.” Kasey leaned against the tallest suitcase, one that was likely worth more than my car. “You are looking mighty fine. Who’s the guy?”
I stared at the luggage, unable to form words as a few other assistants crowded behind Kasey to coo over the amazing set.
Kasey glanced over her shoulder. “Come closer girls. Plenty of room for everyone.” She reached behind her and drew a piece of paper from her back pocket. “From Braden.”
I took the note from her.
She turned to the assistants at her back. “My work here is done. Now, I’m going to get some lunch. Who wants to blow this taco stand and go to a specialty taco stand, eh? Satisfaction guaranteed.”
The assistants giggled as Kyrie came around the corner. “What is going on? Kasey?”
“Yeah, I was just playing delivery boy for Braden.” Kasey looped her arm around one of the assistant’s waist. “You look hungry, doll.”
“Whitney, go on back to your desk.” Kyr
ie frowned and pulled the assistant from Kasey’s grasp.
“Cock block,” Kasey muttered and kept walking toward the elevator. “I’ll be down the street at Vittles and Vino for the next hour,” she announced. “Whichever one of you ladies—or more than one—are welcome to join. You won’t regret it. And, remember, it’s not cheating if it’s with a chick.” Her voice faded down the hallway.
“Nik, you okay?” Kyrie scooted past the luggage, barely, and came to my side. “You’ve never been silent for this long in your life.”
I came from a rich family, but not even my mother owned a full set of Louis Vuitton luggage. “This is too much. This is…”
“Amazing.” Kyrie ran her hand along the smooth canvas with the signature monogram.
Cyrus whistled. “This is the holy grail of luggage.”
“What’s the note?” Kyrie pointed to the piece of paper clutched in my hand.
“From Braden. I’m just so… I can’t even …” Luggage. It could only mean one thing. He wanted me to go with him if he were traded. I wanted to squeal with delight. But now that I’d had more time to think about it, I also wondered what would happen to my career if I left. What about my editor dreams? Braden was the one, but would I sacrifice my career, my identity to stay with him?
“And you are?” Kyrie held out her hand to Cyrus.
“Cyrus—I mean, Cyrano.” He shook.
“Oh yeah. Nikki told me about you. Nice to meet you.” She edged closer to me. “Not to be rude, but can I get a minute with my friend?”
“Oh, of course.” Cyrus backed away. “I’ll wait out here.”
“Thanks.” Kyrie pulled me into my office and shut the door behind us. “Open it.”
My fingers didn’t seem to work as I gripped the note.
“Here.” She snagged it from my hands and unfolded it. “Jesus, his handwriting is atrocious. Here goes.
Nikki,
I love you. I’ve fucked up a lot lately. I know you know that. But I want you to know that you are the most important thing to me. I’m sorry about what happened at your parents’ house. I want another chance with you and with them, even your mom. I want them to know how much I love you and that I would never, ever hurt you. Carter, though, I don’t want another chance with him. I may go Easton on him if I see him touch you again. Just FYI. Okay, where was I? Right, I love you. I want you with me always. If I get traded, I want you with me. I just assumed that all schlong.” Kyrie shook her head and peered closer at the paper. “It really looks like it says ‘all schlong.’ I’m not kidding.”
I laughed and wiped away a tear. “Keep going. Is there more?”
“Yeah sorry. I think he meant ‘all along’ there. Anyway, it goes on: I’m going to come clean and spill it all. I don’t want to lose you—”
“Ladies, do not touch the goods!” Cyrus’ strong voice cut through Kyrie’s recitation. “You can look and wish you had a man who loved you this much—I’m free tonight, by the way—but do not touch or so help me!”
Kyrie raised an eyebrow. “He’s a keeper.”
I sniffled. “I know. I think I have a plan for him, maybe. We’ll talk later. Go on.”
“I’m afraid I’m not playing ball as well as I should. My numbers are shit. I’m afraid about the trade. I don’t want to leave and take you away from your work and our friends. And, this is the worst part and I really hope you won’t be mad, but it’s okay if you are. I hurt my knee last week. That night when I was in bed and you—” Kyrie pulled the paper away from her face as her cheeks turned red “-—sat on my face, my knee was hurt. It’s still hurt. It’s why I didn’t move from the couch the other day, and why I didn’t chase you when you walked out. I tried, but I fell and floundered around like a twat. I’m afraid to go to the doctor about it. Everything I’ve fucked up, I’ve done out of fear. But I’m not afraid as long as you’re with me. You’re my life. Not baseball. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I love you.”
I sank down in my office chair. “He’s hurt.”
Kyrie flipped the page over. “That’s it.”
“He’s been hurt this whole time.” I rubbed my eyes, not giving a shit that I was smearing my mascara.
“You couldn’t have known that.” Kyrie walked behind me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders.
I leaned my head back into her soft tits and tried to figure out what the hell I was feeling. Livid, that he didn’t tell me about the injury, but sad that he was so afraid of everything.
“He should have told me all of it.” My tears were a given, coursing down my face as Kyrie held me.
“They do this. Bottle everything up. Easton is the same way, but worse, because of his temper. Braden wants to repair your relationship. That’s the most important thing. Everything else is small stuff.” She kissed the top of my head.
“And we don’t sweat the small stuff.”
“Right.”
“I need to talk to him. We need to get his knee seen to and figure out what’s going on with the trade.”
“We will. I’ll ask Easton—”
“Ladies, I’m not kidding. Paws off!” Cyrus sounded like a lion tamer who was about to lose control of his pussies.
“What can I do?” Kyrie straightened and walked around my desk to face me.
“I don’t know.” I tried to prioritize everything. “First, the doctor, then I need to solve this thing with my mom and Carter. Right?”
“Sounds like a plan.” She nodded and snagged some tissues from the corner of my desk and handed them to me. “Clean yourself up. You look like you’ve starred in a non-consensual porn.”
That drew a laugh from me as I scrubbed under my eyes. “I think my nasty sense of humor has rubbed off on you.”
She smiled and pulled the collar of her sensible cardigan closed. “Certainly not. I’m a fucking lady, and don’t you forget it.”
I laughed and cleared away the last of my tears. “Right. Thanks.”
“Anytime. You’ve dealt with enough of my Easton drama that I need to support you through at least five more meltdowns before we’re even.” She opened my door.
Cyrus was pointing a finger at someone down the hall. “You’re hot, but I’m not above hitting you to keep you off Nikki’s stuff.”
Kyrie laughed and shooed the assistants away as my cell rang. Mom was calling again. Shit. I wasn’t ready for this conversation, but I wanted to clear the air sooner rather than later.
“Cyrus, can you do me one more favor and wait a little longer? I need to talk to my mom.” I held up my phone.
“You got it.” He swung my door closed again.
I took a deep breath and swiped across the screen. “Mom.”
“Hi darling. How are you? I just wanted to make sure Braden hadn’t done anything else. We could call the family lawyer if you’re worried—”
“Mom—”
“—about him showing up at your work—”
“Mom!”
“What?”
“Braden and I are together. We will always be together. Nothing you say or do can change that. He’s a good guy—”
“Nikki—”
“No, Mom. Let me finish. He’s a good guy. He’s, honestly, the best thing that’s ever happened to me. When I’m with him, I’m happy. If you can’t accept him, then you can’t accept me. I love you and Dad, but Braden is my future. Give him another chance. Do it for me. Let him show you what sort of man he really is. No preconceptions. No Carter. Just us. Can you do that?”
She cleared her throat and stayed silent for several heavy seconds. “Nik, I think maybe you should spend some time away from him. Maybe come with us to Florida.”
“Mom, I’m never going to be away from him. Do you understand? He’s it for me. Either you are on board with that or you aren’t. So what’s it going to be?”
More silence.
I pulled the phone away from my ear, making sure we were still connected.
When I put it back, her voice came through. “I’ll ha
ve to think about it. I don’t trust him.”
Her words were like an ice bath, but I withstood it.
“Think about it. When you’re ready to talk, call me again. But be prepared to talk to the both of us.”
She sighed with her usual dramatic flair. “I know you’re stuck on him, but Carter is so—”
“Bye, Mom. Love you.” I tapped the screen and ended the call.
I felt lighter, telling Mom that Braden was forever somehow lifted a weight from my shoulders. There was only one thing left to do—sit on Braden’s face until we made up.
BRADEN
IT WAS LATE, sometime around 11p.m., when I finally drove up to my apartment building. Pulling into the parking garage, I sat there for a moment and collected my thoughts. We’d won all three games during an away series in Kansas City, and while I should’ve been happy, all I could focus on was the pain in my knee. It was getting worse. Nikki being gone was the icing on the cake. I looked around at my fancy apartment building, and my nice car, but only one thought ran through my mind.
I’ve got nothing.
I opened the door of my car and hopped down on my good leg. “Fuck it.” My bags could wait. I just wanted to crawl into my bed, figure out how I’d get through practice tomorrow, and how I’d make it through the upcoming home series.
I took the elevator to my floor and limped to the front door. I unlocked it and eased it open.
“Alarm activated.” The computer voice rang out.
“Fucking tits. Goddamn alarm!” I hopped toward the illuminated blue screen on the wall across the entry way. My tennis shoes squeaked on the tile.
“Please enter your code.”
“I heard you, cunt trap. I’m trying, fuck.” I sped up on my good leg, hopping through the dark like a human pogo stick.
“Oh sh—” My leg caught on something in the way and I face planted right in the middle of what felt like hard boxes. “Son of a motherfucker. What in the—”
The lights in the house turned on and momentarily blinded me.