“No, I can’t say I’ve done much dating of any kind.” Very true.
“I want to try it. Will you try it with me? It could be fun.”
“Noah can’t go speed dating because she has a crush on her new boss. Don’t you, Noah?” Madison collapses onto the loveseat, kicking her feet up over the arm and giving me an ear-to-ear grin.
“Shut it, Madison.” I playfully throw a decorative pillow at her head.
“That man needs a good woman in his life, Noah. He’d be the perfect boyfriend for the right girl. Hell, he treated the completely wrong girls of his past like queens. Imagine how he’d spoil a nice girl like you.”
“Wrong girls?” What was it I said about gossip earlier? I seem to have forgotten.
“Yeah, he has a history with girls who sucked him dry. His picker is certainly off.”
“So . . .” I pause, wanting but not wanting to ask the question. “He’s not with Sunday?” My curiosity wins out.
“Girl, is that what you thought? Why the hell would I be telling you to go after my friend’s man? No, they aren’t together. No way! In fact, Sunday’s been calling me nonstop since she found out you were my roommate to try to see if I knew whether you were into him or not.”
Relief. I’m not caught in a strange love triangle between my bosses.
“I wrote to Anderson Cooper about the chemtrails I’ve been seeing in our neighborhood, but he didn’t bring it up on his show. It’s really important. They have to be stopped.”
Madison and I both turn to look at Benson, but his eyes are fixed on the television. I look to Madison, who just shrugs.
“Maybe it’s the Russians,” Madison pokes.
“Please, don’t bring them up. I know you’re only teasing, but that’s a whole different kettle of fish,” Benson explains.
“Kettle of fish?” I ask. Of course I do.
“It’s something my dad always says. He likes to fish.”
“How can you watch so much Bravo, Benson?” Madison, who’s completely unaffected by Benson’s tiny rant, is staring at the television with a clear look of confusion on her face.
“How could you not? Those housewives are out of control. Don’t even get me started on Vanderpump Rules. Those guys are my favorite. Jax is so stupid. I love it.” Benson gets all excited as he speaks.
Housewives? Is this a television show?
“Your reality-television obsession is out of control,” Madison tells him. “Please, let’s not talk about this for another minute. It’s bad enough that I can’t take my eyes off those big statement necklaces they all wear.”
“But you asked.” Now, it’s Benson’s turn to look confused.
“You both are nuts,” I tell them.
“You could have done a lot worse in the roommate department.” Madison crosses her legs and turns from the show. “Admit it!” She tosses the pillow I threw at her earlier back my way.
“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.” I roll my eyes, pretending to be annoyed. “Benson, are you happy yet about me being here?”
“Yeah, as long as you believe me when I say the Illuminati is real. The New World Order is out there and extremely scary. We can’t let them attain their goals.”
Benson has the wrong girl. I have no idea what in the world anything he’s brought up in the last fifteen minutes even is. Anderson Cooper, Bravo, Housewives, whatever phrase that was Benson said about fish, Vanderpumps, and Illuminati never made it within the walls of Golden Heights. Still …
“I’m on your side, Benson,” I pledge my very blind loyalty.
“Good, as you should be.” He nods admittedly.
“Guys”—I hesitate—“do I stick out like a sore thumb? Give me the honest truth.”
“What do you mean?” Madison asks.
“I’m a little younger than you two. I don’t know a lot about pop culture. I’ve never had a drink. I could keep going. I don’t know. Sometimes, it just feels like I don’t fit in anywhere.” I mindlessly rub my forearm, feeling uneasy.
“You fit in right here. Who cares that you have no idea who Benson is following on Instagram? In fact, I like that about you.”
I add Instagram to my list of things I don’t know about and turn to Benson. “You’re a man. How do you see me?” I think I’m totally barking up the wrong tree, but I need some feedback.
“Noah, I’m gay. I’m not the one to ask about men’s perception of you.”
I laugh. Well, I was right about which team he played for.
“I’m not asking if you think I’m hide-the-sausage material. I’m just asking for a man’s point of view. Do I come off as inexperienced as I am?”
“You come off as kind, Noah. That’s all that matters to me.”
“Thanks, Benson.” My tone doesn’t reflect gratitude.
Kind? Meh.
Kind isn’t exactly the same as sexy in a man’s eyes.
“Is this about Brazen? Is it him you’re worried about?” Madison jumps in.
“I don’t even know. I’ve never even seen a real relationship. I don’t know what I feel, but there is something between us. I’m certain he feels it, too, but he’s been so hot and cold. There is a lot I don’t know, and maybe that’s a turn-off for him.”
My eyes follow Benson’s movements as he gets up and peers out the living room window.
“Maybe it’s because he’s your boss, and he wants to keep it professional? Stuff like hitting on your employee is discouraged.”
Madison sounds like she knows more than what she’s telling me. That’s okay.
“Maybe.” I sink back against the cushions on the couch and try to rationalize Brazen and how I feel when he’s close to me.
“Our neighbor is up to something. I know it,” Benson interrupts again with something completely outside of the topic. He closes the blinds and returns to the couch and our conversation. “I have a lot of questions,” he says to me.
“About the neighbor?”
“No, about you.”
“So, ask. I’m an open book.” Some things I might be embarrassed to admit, but I’ve never been one to hide anything about myself.
“Are you a virgin?” he whispers the last word like he’s referencing one of his conspiracy theories.
That word carries a shameful stigma, and it’s crap.
“No, but I’d hardly say I’m experienced.”
“What does hardly experienced mean?” Madison adds in.
“I’ve only been with one person, and he’d only been with me. Basically, two kids rubbing against each other and hoping we’d stumble onto something that worked.”
“High school sweetheart?” he suggests.
“More like orphanage friend with benefit.” I shake my head and let out a small chuckle.
“Um. Explain. Please?” Benson gives me a look, telling me he needs more.
“Which part? The orphanage or the lone sexual partner?”
“Both, but let’s start with your Little Orphan Annie past.”
I lean back, preparing to dive in deep.
“I grew up at a place called Golden Heights. My mother gave up her parental rights of me when I was six, and I spent the rest of my childhood there, right up until the day I left to come here. The backstory is long, and honestly, I’m not entirely sure of it myself. The way I grew up was very sheltered, but in a way, it still exposed me to a lot.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, we ate there, we slept there, and we played there. Except for school, we hardly ever left the grounds, which was isolating. Yet, when you grow up without parents, you see things children probably shouldn’t.”
“Your mom just abandoned you after she raised you for six years?” Madison sounds stunned.
Yeah, it baffles me, too.
“She did. I’m not entirely sure why, so don’t ask.” I don’t mention the letter in my bedroom that I got a few days before I left. I haven’t opened it; part of me is scared it will give me the answer, and part of me is scared that it won’t.
<
br /> “Was she … crazy?” Benson asks hesitantly.
Only he could get away with asking something like that.
“I think we’re all a little crazy, but in the way you mean, no, probably not.”
She wasn’t crazy. She was selfish. I don’t need to know her motives to understand that.
“People say I’m crazy.” Benson’s eyebrows pull together.
“What fun would the world be without a little madness?” The left corner of my mouth lifts.
He likes my answer and nods, a smile plastered on his face.
“Okay, so what about the boy?” Madison moves us along, switching to part two of Benson’s question.
“Not much to tell. He was at Golden Heights with me. Neither of us had any interest in each other. I actually think he might have been gay and was trying to prove to himself that he wasn’t. For me—and probably him, too—our fooling around was a way for us to feel like normal teenagers, which we clearly weren’t. Plus, there were no parents around to tell us not to.”
I never explained that to anyone. Not even Ryan, the boy who took my virginity. I assumed he felt the same way, but who knows? When he touched me, I would imagine he was Ryan Gosling and I was Rachel McAdams. That scene in The Notebook when Allie asks Noah why he didn’t write her would often play in my head. But my sexual experiences were nothing like kissing Ryan Gosling in the rain; that’s for damn sure.
“You’re young. Brazen knows that. He probably assumes there might be a bit of inexperience on your part, but that doesn’t mean he assumes you’re a virgin. But, even if he does, who cares?” Madison makes it sound so simple.
“Is he way out of my league?” I ask the room.
“Girl, I’d better not hear you talking like that again. No one—I repeat, no one—is out of your league. If you want him, then go and get him.” Benson points to the door, as if Brazen is standing right on the other side.
“I want love. Is that naive? I want to be passionate about the next person I sleep with. I want there to at least be a potential for something really special.” I look down at the floor as I admit my romantic notions.
“There are no guarantees in life, sugar. A man could be sweet right up until after he gets into those pretty little panties I assume you wear. But you’ll never know if you’ve found something special if you don’t go after it,” Madison says.
“Well, that’s true.”
Benson and Madison are right.
And Brazen just might be worth any potential heartbreak I suffer after his touch.
Brazen
There is a man who needs to be taught a lesson.
There is a man I need to eliminate from Sunday’s life.
Gone, once and for all.
This is exactly what she doesn’t want me to do, but I need to protect her from her creep of a husband who won’t become an ex, Matt Norman.
“Did you get the stuff?” I sit on the couch and turn to Dan, self-proclaimed computer hacker and unofficial private eye. He’s a good guy, even if we don’t always speak the same language.
Dan moves across the room, opens the drawer of the junk table by the door, and pulls out a manila envelope. It’s too thick to be a whole lot of nothing, like I’ve gotten before, but I’m not getting my hopes up.
He passes over the envelope, and I tear into it.
“It’s not what you need, but it’s a start,” he states.
“What do you mean? What am I looking at?” I don’t need a start. I need conclusive evidence.
“Years of financial documents. You’re right; there is something not right about this guy, and that envelope is full of shady evidence, but I haven’t found the smoking gun yet. I will, but I need a little more time.”
The words and lines of numbers look foreign to me. I really have no idea what Dan has just handed over. “Will these papers make more sense to me once you figure it out?”
“Honestly, probably not. What you’re holding is proof of overseas accounts and a long history of strange withdraws and deposits. There are a ton of names that don’t match up with his business, and I even found some large settlement payoffs to some of his former employees. It’s evidence that he isn’t running a clean ship, but it doesn’t prove he’s breaking the law. You’ll just need the proof. Once you have that, it’s enough.”
He’s probably right.
I don’t need to understand whatever lowlife business is going on. I just need to put a stop to the man in question. That’s my only goal. I reach into my pocket and pull out my wallet, but Dan is already shaking his head.
“Put that away, man. I don’t want your money.” He waves me off. “Take me out for a beer after this is settled, and we’ll call it even.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Very.”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”
“You’re a good dude, Hale, but I’m not really doing this for you.”
I nod. I know exactly whom he’s doing this for.
Sunday. She’s the reason I’m here, too.
“Well then, let’s finish this sooner rather than later, so we can go for that beer. I’ll bring Sunday with me.”
Dan has always had a crush on her. She would have been much better off if she’d ended up with him instead of Matt. She would have been better off with anyone else honestly.
“How is she?” He taps his fingers and scuffs his shoe against the wood floor.
“She’s as amazing as she’s always been, and don’t you forget that.”
He’d better not, especially if he ever goes for that second chance with her.
Our right hands link, and our left hands embrace each other with a pat on the back. I tuck the envelope under my arm and leave him to figure out where the trail ends. As I’m leaving, my phone alerts me to a new text.
Sunday: I know what you’re up to, and I’m waiting in your living room for you.
Fuck. Can’t I do anything without her knowing about it? Plus, didn’t she promise that, if I made an effort to get to know Noah, she would stop telling me to stop trying to help her? If she thinks she can welsh on her side of the deal, she’s wrong.
Behind the wheel of my truck, I’m home after only a couple of turns and a few minutes. Sunday’s car is parked in front of my house, and right about now, I’m wishing she didn’t have a key. The second I open the door, she turns to me. Her foot taps with an annoyance that’s reflected in her expression. She’s sitting on my couch in jeans and one of my old T-shirts. Something her husband hated for her to do when they were together. No wife of his should be wearing another man’s clothes. Matt has more insecurities than I’ve ever seen in an adult man, and he blamed every single one of those insecurities on me.
Oh, he wasn’t like that while they dated. I’m pretty sure that, if he had been, Sunday would have dropped him. That changed the second she said, “I do.” After that, he tried his damnedest to cut off all communication between Sunday and me, which was something neither she nor I were happy about.
“I told you to stop this shit,” Sunday fumes.
“And I told you, I wasn’t going to, babe,” I insist.
“Don’t you babe me! You’re infuriating, Brazen. This shit is going to get you hurt. I can’t let that happen because of me. Just leave well enough alone!”
Sunday’s anger isn’t really anger—at least, not toward me. The emotion that’s pouring out of her is really fear, and that’s exactly why I can’t back down from this.
“Better me than someone else,” I challenge.
“He’s been hurting me for years, Brazen. I can handle it. I’m used to it.” Her voice cracks with sadness.
“Can you hear yourself, Sunday? You’re used to it? The last time he came around, he broke your nose! What happens the next time he decides he misses you?”
“Don’t you think I know this? I left him. I left him, Brazen! I didn’t stick around. I didn’t stay with a husband whose insecurities and weaknesses caused him to
raise his fist, but I still can’t shake him! The cops haven’t helped. He has them completely fooled. The fucking restraining order I have is little more than a piece of paper. This problem isn’t yours. I don’t want you involved in it. I’m handling it.”
“We’ve played it your way long enough. It isn’t working. I’m sick of seeing you hurt. I can’t sleep at night because I’m too worried I’ll miss a call for help from you. I can’t watch you live like this anymore.”
In all the years Sunday and I have been friends, it’s rare that I ever see her cry, but as she stands before me now, she does exactly that. She sniffs and wipes her nose against the back of her hand as tears fall from her eyes.
“I don’t want him to change you, Brazen. He’s done enough to me over the years. You are everything that is good about my life, and I don’t want this situation to dirty you. Please don’t stoop to his level. You’re better than that, and you’re affected enough as it is. Just let me deal with the consequences of the decisions I’ve made.”
“His level? Don’t compare me to him, Sun. He’s a disgusting piece of garbage who hurts you, and I’m only doing what needs to be done to set you free. So, no, I’m not down at his level, and I never will be. I love you. I respect you. None of this is your fault, but you’re no longer in charge when it comes to getting Matt out of our lives. I don’t want to see you bruised and hurt ever again. I let you handle things for way longer than I should have, but now, I’m taking over.”
Sunday stands and targets me with eyes that could kill.
She is stubborn, but I can be even more hardheaded.
I’m tired of not doing enough. I’m frustrated about this guy always slipping through the system when Sunday reports his violence. I’m disgusted over every time he’s ever marked up her body. I love my best friend, and it’s time I make sure she’s protected.
It doesn’t matter how displeased she is about it.
Noah
Everyone hates Mondays. It’s a day of the week that totally gets a bad rap.
As for me, I have no hatred toward them, especially this particular Monday. How could I be mad when I got to spend time with Brazen and then go to an art class after work?
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