Over. (This. Is. Not. Over. #2)

by Dianne, Shannon

  “No, not like hers. She’s off, Red.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s on medication for her moods, or at least that’s what we all call them. Her therapist has diagnosed her as Emotionally Profound but it’s more than that. She’s barely functional at times, even on medication, because her reality is warped. But that information can go no further than the family.” I can feel her arm relaxing inside of my hand as her eyes stay drilled into mine.

  “What?”

  “Listen, it’s pretty bad with her, okay? But her parents won’t take the time to get her the real help she needs, so they have a doctor prescribing her medication for her profoundness. The medication makes her relaxed, drowsy. Basically it keeps her out of everyone’s hair. Unfortunately for Laura, since she has status, she’s profound. If she was a nobody, her ass would have problems. And if she happens to miss a dose of her medication, she can become …”

  “A handful. That’s what Winnie told me.”

  “That’s putting it mildly.” I ease an arm around her lower back and pull her closer to me. We’re body to body. She’s looking up at me through her lashes and I run a hand over the earth pendant. No, our story is not over. “I swear that I’ll get you out of this fire and I promise that you’ll never have to worry about me and another woman. I’ve had women, plenty of women. That shit is boring.”

  And I think I see her resolve weaken. I think I may see a spark of understanding in her eyes.

  “Danielle, is he bothering you?” I hear Jasmine say. I turn my head and see Jasmine, Rena and Red’s mother standing there. I take a respectful step away from Dr. Rouge’s daughter. Jasmine looks like she wants to see me dead, Dr. Rouge has her arms crossed and Rena’s got a smirk on her face. That damn Rena. Just seeing that smirk makes me smile.

  “Dr. Rouge, thank you for coming.” I say to her as I reach out my hand for her to shake.

  “Mmm hmm.” She says as she shakes it. What else you got white boy?

  “And don’t worry, I’ll have this all cleared up by seven a.m. central standard time on December seventeenth.” I smile and point to the TV screen. She looks at me like I’m dumb as hell. “Inside joke between Attorney Rouge and me.” I look between all of the ladies for a bit of encouragement. Everyone but Rena looks like they’re ready to smack the shit out of me. “I’m sorry about this.” I say to them all as I drop my smile, opting for a more serious approach since they don’t seem to be in the giggling mood. “And I will fix it.”

  “This was a ladies night, Malcolm.” Jasmine says as she crosses her arms. “So, if you don’t mind …”

  “I’ll see myself out.” I put my hands up in surrender. I get it, you ladies want to rag on me in peace. Point taken.

  “Thanks.” Jasmine says as she looks at Danielle’s mother and gives her a ‘can you believe this clown?’ face. Damn, Jasmine is not a Malcolm Blair fan. But this is the funny part, are you listening? Good, because this is sure to get you going. Twelve years ago at St. Bernadette, after Jasmine looked at my ID and found out that I was Red’s secret crush, she came up to me. I was in the hallway with Jacob and we all were between classes:

  “So you like my best friend?” She said to me with a little smile on her face.

  “He does,” Jacob said before I had a chance to answer, “and I like you, so where do we go from here?” He winked. She grinned. I walked away.

  Yeah, you would have never known that Jasmine and I go way back, back to when she was a sixteen year old at St. Bernadette and I was eighteen. Back to when she used to sneak into Jacob and my dorm room, towards the end of his and my senior year at St. Bernadette. Back when I used to excuse myself so that they could ‘make out’. Back to when she and I both stood on the steps of Red’s dormitory, the day of her and Red’s high school graduation, and she said: I’ll slip this box of flowers into our dorm room for you. Back to when she used to sneak up to Princeton and spend entire weekends at Jacob and my apartment. Back to when Jacob married Winnie and the next day, when I ran into Jasmine at the Starbucks on Tremont St., I sat with her for hours while she cried into her coffee cup. That was back around the time she began hating all things Blair. Damn Jasmine, you and I go way back, and no one would ever know. I grin at Jasmine and nod my head. But I’ll keep that between us.

  “Can we meet for coffee tomorrow Danielle?” I ask.

  “I’m not sure, I’ll have to call you about that and let you know.” Her voice is so damn snooty, she almost sounds British.

  Hell yeah ... I like when Red acts tough.

  “Dr. Rouge, Rena, Jasmine, again I’m sorry.” I say to them and they of course say nothing. (But Rena sneaks me a wink. I’ll tell you, I like that damn Rena.) “Danielle …” I give her a quick nod and then turn to leave. Let us try this again in the morning. I weed through the crowded bar and head towards the front door.

  And guess who holds it open for me.

  Monday

  Malcolm

  12:00 a.m.

  I won’t lie; I’m a little stressed right now. So Jacob hired a cab to drive him, Nat and me to a guy’s night in Savannah, Georgia, without so much as a second thought … just to help me through this.

  “Damn, they kicked your ass out the bar?” Jacob says. He and Nat laugh. Funny. “Damn dude, Danielle said that place wasn’t big enough for the both of you.” They laugh again. “Mac got kicked out the damn bar.” They laugh harder. “I mean look at your luck! Your house gets burned down, you head to the bar and then they kick your ass out of it.” They laugh again. Oh, by the way, we’re drunk.

  “You’re cut off gentlemen.” Arthur, the bartender and owner says. Arthur’s as old as his name sounds. He scoops all three of our empty glasses up and pushes three glasses of water in front of us.

  “Come on, Art!” Jacob yells. He and Nat break out into a tizzy of laughter again. Jacob gets like this when he’s drunk: loud as hell. Nat gets like this when he’s drunk: giggly as hell.

  What am I doing this entire time? Well I’m sitting at a bar in Savannah called The Bar. Simple enough. Nothing too complicated for Arthur to try to remember. It’s loud, trashy, and has the nerve to have a drink limit. Fuck The Bar. Six drinks and Arthur’s cut me off. Fuck Art. But in all fairness, it may be because I look dazed: I’m staring at the TV screen behind him, the brim of my hat low enough so that my face won’t be seen. I’m plotting on how to smooth this over with Red. I’m not at the point where I’m trying to figure out how to get her back; I have enough hope that says I haven’t lost her yet. I’m at the point where I can see that she’s playing the I-don’t-give-a-shit card. And I have a feeling, that’s not the card I want. I dealt with that card for twelve years, I know what it means. Red has the gift of the fuck-off: she can wonder about you for over a decade and never even turn over your ID card. I don’t want the I-don’t-give-a-shit card. Anything but that card.

  “… I agree, Lola’s ass is crazy.” Jacob says as I come in on the tail end of a conversation between him and Nat.

  “Yeah, Cadence won’t be alive too much longer. I already had Dena pick up a sympathy card for Angie.” Nat says.

  “Not a bad idea. You know, while we’re on the subject I bet Lola’s good in bed. The crazy ones are always awe-inspiring. No offense Mac, but I don’t see why Cadence would want to fuck Laura over Lola. Laura’s too damn intense; she can never just chill and go with the flow. No offense Nat.” Jacob’s implying that Debutante Dena is intense and uptight as well. Nat says nothing. “But Danielle’s like Winnie, they both look like they can fuck your brains out.” Jacob smiles at his and my luck while Nat sinks back into his chair. “I remember I walked into Mac’s office one day and he was sitting on his couch with Danielle, kissing her arm, looking like Pepé Le Pew.” Jacob and Nat laugh at the memory. I can’t help but crack a smile. Fuck Jake. “Now he’s sitting here crying into a glass of ice water.”

  “Well if he’s having woman trouble, I can help him out.” I hear a woman scream out over the racket play
ing in the background. I don’t do hard rock so this shit playing in here is just noise to me. Fuck hard rock.

  “What you got for us, baby?” Jacob says as he runs his eyes over our new friend. He’s trying to get into some pussy tonight. Nothing new.

  “Us?” She’s trying to sound offended. Trying.

  “Don’t be stingy.” Jacob says. Nat laughs. This is how our bar nights usually go: Jacob flirts and sometimes heads to a hotel room with a piece of ass, I get a few numbers and trick all of my damn money on Amaretto Sours, Nat sits back and laughs at it all because Dena would murder him in his sleep if he cheated.

  You’re probably flabbergasted right now. Wait, back up. Did he just say Jacob cheats on Winnie? She’s cool as hell. Winnie is cool as hell but she wasn’t Jacob’s first choice. Jasmine was. When Winnie was introduced to Jacob, it was just a hookup. Jacob considers Winnie the greatest fuck of his life. They were just having fun in the beginning, nothing more, and Winnie was perfectly fine with that arrangement. It wasn’t until their parents forced the two of them to marry that Jacob started to rebel. He’s one of those people who are fine doing something just as long as you don’t tell them to do it. When his and Winnie’s parents arranged their marriage, Jacob was pissed but he had no choice. In our lives, those are the sorts of things that happen. Look at Cadence and Lola; they were arranged. Look at Laura and me; we were introduced by Lola but it was all orchestrated for the best interests of all parties involved. Even Dena and Nat had an obligation to marry after a few years of dating. That’s what’s done in our world. Jacob tries his best to fight against it; he may have had to marry Winnie but he’s not going to be faithful to her.

  Winnie is the only daughter of a four-star Army General, so she’s an Army Brat. Though her family, the Yates, are a respected military dynasty from Boston, Winnie was born in Vicenza, Italy at the Caserma Ederle Army base, which is right between Venice and Milan. She was raised all over the world and then came back to Boston for college. Jacob’s father (my father’s brother) is the longtime mayor of Cambridge. Our grandfather was the Ambassador to the United Kingdom. The point is that both Winnie and Jacob come from good stock which is why their parents made them marry. In my opinion, Jacob would have always chosen to marry Winnie eventually, not Jasmine. I say it would have happened in his thirties and I doubt he would’ve even cheated on her. There’s no woman alive who can bridle Jacob like Winnie. But it’s that damn rebellious side of him that gets him every time. No one tells him to marry a woman and gets away with it. I know he loves Winnie because every time he leaves from a hotel room with another woman, he hops in one of our trucks and calls her: What are you doing? Want me to bring Häagen-Dazs home? Want me to bring a cheesesteak back? You and Ralphie want to watch that Shrek shit tomorrow night? Then he ends the call, leans his head back against the seat, closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath. There can be no deep disappointment where there is not deep love. He loves her. But he’s rebelling.

  “Hey, shoulders.” Our new friend says to me. And then I feel hands traveling over my shoulders and landing on my chest. Not in the mood, sweetheart.

  “What’s going on …” I say. Rule Three: Be Nice. This woman has no idea that the only woman I’ve ever wanted, just kicked me out of a bar.

  “Need some help?”

  “Not tonight, baby.” Get the fuck away from me.

  “You sure?” She whispers in my ear. Why …

  “You thirsty?”

  “I am.” I look for Art. He’s rolling his eyes behind the bar looking like he’s ready to take his ass home. I don’t blame you Art, me too. Right now, I should have just watched Red put Nicky to bed, grab his rosary beads, say a prayer over him, sneak out of his room and climb right into bed with me. I should be watching her crawl up the bed with nothing on, those round ass hips of hers trailing behind her. I should have already pinned her down on the bed, spread her legs and should currently be devouring what’s in between them. Fuck! Red!

  “What you drinking, doll?” Art asks her.

  “Apple martini, two olives. My new Italian friend here looks like he might want to help me suck the pit out of an olive.” Damn, she read my mind. But I’m not Italian sweetheart. I’m Dane to the bone. And a martini? Red would have never ordered a martini. She’s a dark liquor type of woman. Straight, no chaser, light on the rocks. I like to take things to the head, she says. Damn …

  “You know,” Jacob says, “He and I are cousins which means we’re both Italian.” He flashes her a smile. Nat laughs. Actually, he’s spilling all over the bar, face red. Red.

  “You’re relentless.” She says to him as she slides her hands across my chest.

  “Yeah, I go hard baby.”

  Martini Woman eases her head over my shoulder so that she can see my face. I pull the brim of my cap lower as I notice red hair on me. Not exactly the color that I like, it’s not Red’s red. Red’s hair is a deeper color, a leaf red color, the kind of red that signals the changing of seasons. The kind of red that lets you know that it’s time to light the fireplace, open the windows, climb into bed and drag your woman on top of you. It’s cold white boy, keep me warm. That’s what Red says when the leaves begin to fall. Damn …

  “He must be heartbroken.” She says as she slides off of me, with her martini in her hand.

  Usually, I’d be more fun. I have a confession, now don’t get mad but, I still buy women drinks. Come on now … I said don’t get mad. I don’t ask for numbers but I will buy a woman a drink. If she slips me her number, I’ll toss it later. No big deal. I’m taken, I’m not dead. Drinks are fun, anything more is off limits. I’ll laugh with her, flirt, shoot her a wink and then tell her goodnight. I can still enjoy a night out with the guys when I know that Red is at home, in bed, with her computer open, and she’s reading a manuscript or writing a speech. It’s easy to enjoy a night out with Jacob, Nat and some of the other fellas we go out drinking with when I know that I’m going home to the real deal. The issue right now is that it’s hard for me to be cordial when I know Red’s not in my bed.

  And then that makes me think about Laura. Did my years of cheating cause her condition? Oh yeah, I was never faithful to Laura. Never. Even though I had dreams of being a family man like Nat, I fucked around on a regular basis like Jacob. I have a little of both Jacob and Nat in me. Jacob and I would tag team sisters, friends, and cousins. We’d rent a suite at the Ritz, I’d fuck one in Room A and he’d be fucking the other in Room B. We’d all meet in the living room afterwards for cocktails. I mean, we went hard.

  Nat has always been the faithful one; it’s never been an issue with him. He met Dena, stayed loyal to her, married her, had a baby with her and became a family man. Case closed. And then we have Jacob. Jacob has always slept around on any woman he’s ever dated and he continues to sleep around on Winnie. It’s a curse, he once told me, I can’t find happiness in just one woman. But I’m not sure I believe that because Jacob was happy with Jasmine. He really was. But he knew he’d never marry her:

  “Don’t tell anyone I said this, not even Nat,” Jacob said to me during his bachelor party, “but if things were different, I would have married Jasmine one of these days. And I probably wouldn’t have fucked anyone else afterwards. Well maybe I would have, but not forever. Just in the beginning.”

  “Then why not just be with Jasmine?” I asked him.

  “She’s black.” He said before downing his fourth shot of tequila. “And I know it’s wrong to think that but …” He shook his head. “Another shot.” He said to the bartender.

  “He’s heartbroken, but I’m not.” Jacob says as he flashes his eyebrows at Martini Lady who’s hanging onto my shoulders. Nat laughs while Art slides me the tab. Eleven hundred. Sounds about right. I take my wallet out of my pocket, pick a card and slide it over the bar.

  “Be right back,” Art says as he looks at the card, “oh shit.” And for the first time all night he smiles and then reaches over to shake my hand. “Be right back Malcolm.” He
skips off to the register.

  Jacob and Martini Woman are now talking. Actually, she’s currently sitting on his lap and Nat is looking at his watch. He has a curfew. Just a few years ago, I used to live for these nights. A packed bar, flirty ass women, Jacob, Nat, our bar hopping friends, a thousand dollar tab … it’s still nice but I’m not living for them anymore. I’m only thirty, but if anyone knows me, they know that a family, a unit, a group of people to go home to, has always been in my plans. It’s always been my dream; it’s always been my hope. I love women, especially flirty women. I love buying them drinks, watching them suck pits out of olives, listening to Jacob ask what else they have up their sleeves, hearing Nat laugh. But when this is all over, Jacob will be crawling into bed with Winnie and waking up to the smell of her cooking breakfast. Nat will be sliding into bed with Dena and waking up to make her breakfast. And I’ll be falling into bed alone and waking up alone and hungry. No. Not again. When I fall into bed from now on, I’ll be falling inside of Red and waking up before Nicky gets up to watch Dinosaur Train. I’ll then leave the house and come back with Starbucks twenty minutes later, pretending like I didn’t just leave. That’s what I’ll be doing. You hear that Red? I’ll be walking in with Starbucks, sitting on the couch with Nicky, sneaking him sips of coffee, and watching Dinosaur Train. So I know you’re mad but snap out of it. I let Laura live in my house, you burned that muthafucka down. Let’s move on.

  “Malcolm,” Nat says as he leans over towards me, “I know you’re worn-out but you need to man-up because remember,” he slaps me on the back, “Jon’s here.”

  Jon

  2:00 a.m.

  I was on my way back from getting a pizza at Papa John’s when I noticed Malcolm, Nat and Jacob passing by me in a cab. I followed them to the house they’re staying in. I sat with my lights off at the corner and watched Jacob step out of the cab, rapping Biggy Small’s Big Poppa at the top of his lungs, probably waking everybody on the damn street up. Nat stepped out next, yawning. But Malcolm stayed in the cab. After Nat closed the door, I watched the cab pull off again. And then I followed it. Where the hell is he going?, I thought. For some reason I figured he’d be coming to our rental home to find Danny. He came by earlier but she and the women were already at a bar. The guys ignored him as he knocked on the door. I felt like a million bucks after he left. I was in, he was out. Fuck you Blair.