“I haven’t seen you here before.” She paused to get the attention of one of the males behind the counter, who simply nodded as if he knew what she wanted without asking. Then she turned her bright eyes back to me. “First time?”
“Yeah. You a regular?” I didn’t think I’d ever get used to the difference in women in New York versus those in the South. I welcomed the more forward approach—it took off some of the pressure.
She laughed. “You could say that.”
Bridgette returned with a smile that could light up the room, although it wasn’t directed at me. “Hey, Letty. What the hell are you doing here?”
“Turns out I have no life outside these walls.”
“You need anything?”
“No, Eric got it. Thanks.”
“You work here?” I asked when she turned her attention back to me. It was the only plausible explanation based on the conversation.
“Yep, been here since we opened.”
Letty—as she preferred to be called—turned out to be the owner of Sideways Shots. She was smart and driven, and her employees seemed to adore her. I was impressed—and she was available.
The great thing about Letty wasn’t her tight ass or her outgoing personality—it was the fact that she wasn’t interested in anything other than playing the field. And that night, she let me play her in the loft above the bar that must have cost a fortune.
The place was silent even though I’d expected to hear the thump of the band beneath us. The industrial feel and the openness of the room left me exposed—more in a voyeur way than one that was uncomfortable. There was nowhere to go for privacy other than the bathroom, and the windows that lined the wall spanned from floor to ceiling. I didn’t have a clue if there were other occupied units that could peer in through the glass, and honestly, I didn’t care. This girl had been all kinds of upfront about what she liked and how she liked to have it.
And she wasn’t playing. She waltzed over to her nightstand and opened the drawer. From inside, she pulled out a string of condoms, promptly tore one off, and then tossed the others to the side. As soon as she threw the foil wrapper at me, she lifted her shirt over her head and then shed the rest of her clothing…all while I stood there and enjoyed the show.
“You going to join me, or are you just going to watch?” Letty cocked one eyebrow and gave me a come-hither smirk that brought my dick to life.
She didn’t have to ask twice. In seconds, my clothes were on the floor, my jimmy in its Johnson, and we were fucking like rabbits on every available surface. It was great, meaningless sex—and exactly what I needed to find some mental clarity.
I finally put my clothes back on around three in the morning. When I told her I needed to get home, we exchanged numbers, and she let me out. There was no kiss goodbye—in fact, there’d been no kiss at all. There were no promised expectations—just two consenting adults having a good time.
I’d gone back the next night, and the night after that, until I’d become a regular amongst all the other regulars. Letty and I fucked around when the urge struck, and she’d introduced me to other people who frequented her establishment and encouraged me to have fun with them as well. Our only agreed upon stipulations were: no falling for the other and always use protection. There wasn’t a hint of jealousy between either of us, and no expectations—even though I never took her up on the offer. One fuck buddy sufficed.
However, my high came crashing to an abysmal low when I missed a phone call and subsequently several texts late at night because I’d been fucking Letty six ways from Sunday. I hadn’t seen them until I’d gotten dressed, and by the time I’d read each one, it had been hours since they’d stopped coming in.
Cora: How’s life treating you?
Cora: I realize it’s late on a Friday night. You’re probably asleep since you didn’t answer my call. Or maybe you’re mad at me.
Cora: I wish I’d listened to you. You were right.
Cora: I hate this place. I just want to be home.
Cora: Please don’t hate me, James.
Cora: I miss you.
The last message was like a dagger to the heart. I missed her too, but she lived on another continent. She’d made that choice with no regard for what it would do to us. Although, as much as I’d like to freeze her out, I loved her—I’d always love her.
I glanced at the clock and did the math. I thought Paris was six hours ahead which would mean it was mid-morning. She’d been up late, yet knowing Cora, she still wouldn’t have slept in.
Me: Hey. Sorry I missed your call. I was out with a friend. You okay?
While I waited for her response, I reread the messages she’d sent and wondered what she meant by “you were right.” I could only pray she wasn’t referring to Drake. If he’d hurt her or tried to touch her…I wouldn’t be able to keep from pummeling him. She wasn’t mine by definition, though she’d always be mine in heart.
By the time I got home, she still hadn’t replied. I didn’t want to call and wake her up or keep sending her messages if she wasn’t able to talk, yet the sudden flurry of communication had me worried and desperate to hear her voice. I’d managed to push my loneliness aside when I met Letty, even if it was superficial. Cora had just torn the Band-Aid off a wound I’d been neglecting.
***
I didn’t get another message from Cora for several days, and I had refused to let myself reach out to her. In the meantime, I buried myself in work, and then Letty. I’d never met a woman like this—perfectly comfortable in who she was and no expectations other than a good time. I gladly provided her with what she asked for, and I loved being with a woman who just wanted to hang out, dance, drink, and fuck—without jealousy or the promise of another day.
Hannah, on the other hand, didn’t like much of anything I did these days—sadly for her, she didn’t get a vote. I knew she still talked to Cora, mainly because she didn’t try to hide it—not that I expected her to. Hannah failed to recognize that Cora left me; I didn’t leave Cora—so I wasn’t sure why Hannah expected me to sit at home and pine away for a girl who’d moved to the City of Love without her soulmate. Yet Hannah’s growing disapproval of my life created a chasm between my best friend and me. I would never ask him to choose between the two of us. I knew what his choice would be, and I wasn’t ready to lose twice in a matter of months. My ego just couldn’t take it.
Our lease was ending, and they’d chosen to stay and keep the place. Business had taken a drastic upward swing, Neil had repaid the money he’d borrowed, and I’d found another apartment down the road. Soon enough, our lives would be separated—Hannah’s and mine. She would only have the information Neil gave her and not be able to witness it with her own eyes. I’d still see my best friend every day at work, and I could continue living as a single man in New York City. Because that’s what I was…even if Hannah refused to accept it.
I kept missing Cora’s texts. It was like she intentionally sent them in the middle of the night when I wouldn’t be awake—or hell, maybe Hannah had told her the hours I kept, and she tried to interrupt my escapades. All I knew was anytime I tried to respond to her messages, I got nothing in return…even if it’d only been five minutes since she’d sent it. Somehow, she was allowed to contact me, yet I couldn’t reach her.
Although tonight, she’d crossed a line I refused to ignore.
I’d been balls deep in Letty when I heard my phone ding. I wasn’t such an ass that I’d pulled out and gone to see who it was—I already knew. It was the same person who routinely texted this time of night—and then failed to respond. I made sure to get Letty to scream before trashing the condom and getting dressed.
The second Letty’s door closed behind me, I pulled my phone from my pocket.
Cora: I love you.
That was it. There was no way in hell she could send those three little words and not answer the damn phone. I didn’t care what time it was or what she was doing. If she had time to text that sentiment, then she could talk. H
owever, she didn’t pick up on the first try, or even the second.
Me: If you think I’m letting that go, you’ve apparently forgotten who I am. Answer the fucking phone, Cora.
I was pissed. These games were sucking the life out of me and keeping me from moving on. True, I was happy sticking my dick in a gorgeous woman, but I’d never feel the comfort of another pussy if it meant there was any possibility of getting Cora back.
She sent my third call to voicemail.
Me: Are you kidding me with this shit? Call me. Now.
Cora: I can’t talk right now. I just needed you to know I was thinking about you.
Me: If you can’t talk, why are you texting?
Cora: I’m in a meeting.
Me: That’s hardly fair. Why is it you can reach out to me then don’t answer when I reciprocate?
Cora: I’m responding now.
Me: You know what I mean.
Cora: Can I call you tonight?
Me: Tonight for me or tonight for you?
Like it mattered. If she cared to talk at noon or three or midnight, I’d stop what I was doing to answer.
Cora: A few hours. When I’m out of work.
Me: Sure.
Cora: I do miss you, James.
I didn’t respond. I wasn’t willing to go down that road until I heard her voice and knew what was really going on.
Several hours later, my phone rang and the woman I’d loved my entire adult life lit up the screen. God, I wanted to stare at her image, except I had to answer to actually speak to her. I hadn’t allowed myself to wallow in pictures of her or of us since she’d left. I tucked them all away in a box, and after I’d moved, I hadn’t brought any of them back out. They were safely stored in my closet—nothing was in plain view.
“Hello?” That one word came off harsher than intended.
“Hey, James.” Her voice softened my resolve. I hadn’t wanted to let her back into that place she’d occupied for so long…the one I’d shut off, though the sound of my name on her lips had me ready to surrender.
I waited for her to speak, leaving us in silence, I finally asked, “So what happened?”
The sigh that echoed through the speaker broke my heart. “This has just all been too much.”
“So come home.”
“I don’t have a home there anymore. Plus, I signed a two-year contract. I’m here until it’s over.”
“You always have a home here.” I hadn’t meant to say the words. I’d thought them, and they’d escaped at the same time. “And why did you sign a two-year agreement?”
“Those were the terms of the job.”
“Is it iron-clad?”
“I don’t think they can force me to stay, but if I break it, I’ll never work for another large firm as an engineer. So, yeah, I’d say it’s pretty iron-clad.”
“You going to tell me what happened?”
“I don’t know. There’s not really much to tell. I just think I should have taken more time before I jumped to make so many life-changing decisions so quickly.”
“Have you met anyone there? You’re not lonely, are you?” I wasn’t asking about guys when the first part had come out, but then I wondered if she had and whether or not I cared to know. “Do you at least like your co-workers?” Maybe if I kept speaking, the questions would morph into something that was more obscure than finite and prying.
For the first time in ages, Cora started talking—like we had in high school and college. Once the gate had been opened, the information came flooding through. Yet none of it pertained to Drake Halifax or any situation he’d been a part of. I learned all about her job, the people she worked with, how frustrated she was by her limited French—she believed the ability to communicate in the native tongue was the difference between being treated like a tourist and a citizen. Cora loved the food and the clothes and the culture—but missed the States.
I couldn’t tell her much about my life other than the business had finally turned around, I’d moved out—which she was already aware of—and I’d made friends with Eric and Cason. I mentioned the other girls at the bar, although I did so in a much less familiar context. She didn’t need to know I’d been intimate with anyone else any more than she’d willingly admitted she’d been with Drake Halifax and now regretted it. We both had secrets that would only serve to hurt the other, and we skirted the issue.
I’d been so thrilled to hear from her, I’d forgotten about being at work and ignored my line ringing and cell phone dinging and emails arriving…until Neil showed up in my doorway with an irritated glower on his face.
“You going to work today or shoot the shit with one of your latest harlots?” He’d said it loud enough that Cora heard every word before I could cover the receiver.
I could have ripped his tongue out. “I’m on the phone with Cora.”
His eyes went wide just before a sheepish grin engulfed his features.
“Hey, Cora. I’m going to need to go, but it was great talking to you. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”
“Yeah, sure, James.”
I heard the hurt in her voice, even though she didn’t verbalize it. Just before she hung up, I stopped her. “Hey, Cora?”
“Yeah?” I hated the sadness that lingered in that one word.
“I miss you, too.”
“Goodbye, James.”
***
After another long day, I packed up my office and headed to Sideways Shots. I needed the distraction, and home was a lonely place these days. My phone buzzed in my pocket, pulling me away before I sat at the bar. I rolled my eyes and groaned at the sight of my mom’s face appearing on the screen, her name flashing like a warning sign. As I answered the call, I turned around and walked out to the sidewalk to hear her better.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Son, that’s hardly any greeting for your mother. You could pretend to be a little enthusiastic.”
No one was around to see the finger gun I’d put to my temple and motioned pulling the trigger. It was melodramatic and probably insensitive to some group out there, but she grated on my nerves. And this pacified my desire to be disrespectful to her.
“What’s up?” I ignored her need for me to stroke her already inflated ego.
“Your father’s fiftieth birthday party is just a few weeks away, son. You’re planning to come home, right?”
“I hadn’t thought about it.”
“This is a big one, so you should be here. We’re having a whole weekend of activities. I expect you to attend.”
“Mom, you act like I don’t have a business to run and a life of my own that is nowhere near Geneva Key.”
“That may be true, but you have plenty of time to make arrangements. Neil can watch your little shop while you’re gone for a couple days.”
And she wondered why she never heard from me.
“Plus, your father has some business he’d like to discuss with you. So you really should plan a couple days before or after to spend some time with him.”
Amazing. The woman hadn’t so much as even sent me a text on my birthday, yet she expected me to drop what I was doing to come racing home to celebrate with her and my dad. As usual, she didn’t give me time to object or even say no.
“I’ll email you all the details. Have your secretary contact Sheila to make arrangements on your father’s calendar for the other. I don’t get involved in that sort of thing.”
No, she just used my dad’s assistant as her own personal slave. I hoped to God my dad paid Sheila well; she was a saint for having stayed with him so long.
“Kiss, kiss, son. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
“Bye.” She’d already disconnected, so my word fell on a dead screen.
That woman had the ability to send me to the depths of hell just by the sound of her voice. She never cared about anything I was doing the way she did my dad—they were two little selfish peas in a narcissistic pod.
She’d managed to thoroughly ruin my evening. I hated playing her gam
es almost as much as I hated being her puppet. Neither she nor my dad gave a shit about seeing me, considering they hadn’t once come to New York since I’d moved here three years ago—at least, not to visit me. The invitation was for appearances only, and my attendance was expected. Their friends and business associates would have a lot to say about the heir to the Carpenter throne not showing up, even though not one of them gave a damn about me.
This was who I was, what I’d been born into. I could say no, I could refuse to go, but in the long run, it wouldn’t prove anything, and it wouldn’t solve any problems. It would only serve to create more that my parents refused to see. They believed they were top notch. I’d been successful, gone to a good college, played basketball for an elite team, now owned my own financial business in New York—and they took credit for all of it because they’d funded my childhood. It was the same gift every parent gave their offspring, yet somehow, it equated to their success where I was concerned. It didn’t matter that I could count on one hand the number of weeks per year they’d been home while I was in high school, and on the other, the number of days I’d seen them since I’d graduated.
I hoped to God that never was my measure of success in anyone’s life—much less my son’s.
***
“So you’re really going back to Geneva?” Neil was dumbfounded I hadn’t found a way to get out of my dad’s birthday week.
“I don’t have a choice. It’s just a few days. Plus, he wants to talk business. I have no idea what that means, but if there’s even a remote chance that benefits us, then it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”
He scoffed. “Right. Like your dad is going to serve you help on a silver platter.”
“Yeah, that was about how it grabbed me. If I have to go, I can hope something positive will come out of it, right?”
“Sure. Just don’t get disappointed, and keep your guard up. He’s cutthroat and won’t hesitate to slit your wrists.”
“Jesus, Neil. Glad to hear you think so highly of my old man.” I chuckled at the visual.
“He and my dad are cut from the same cloth. I don’t have a use for either one.”
Neil had never recovered from the shit his parents had pulled our senior year in high school. Their relationship was never the same—in fact, it basically didn’t exist. And Natalie had deserted him when she hadn’t been able to dictate his path. He even now had a niece he’d never met because she refused to see him. He only found out about the little girl from Facebook. However, his situation had been slightly different than mine. My parents hadn’t screwed me over or cut me off—they’d just been absent the way most parents in Geneva Key were. Au pairs, nannies, and house staff raised children, not mothers and fathers.
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