Broken Lullabies

by Nicole Simone

  “You do know it’s raining outside, right?” I asked.

  “That’s why I’m wearing socks.”

  “Socks with sandals are a fashion crime.”

  His deep, throaty laugh echoed in the coffee shop. “Says the girl who wears Mickey Mouse pajamas to bed.”

  “Yea, to bed, not out in public.”

  “Drink your coffee.”

  “Bossy.”

  Our flirty banter hadn’t changed, but it no longer led to sex, which was a damn shame. Embarrassedly, one night after one too many tequila shots, I asked if we could be friends with benefits. Benjamin shot me down faster than a cop wolfing down a doughnut. Leave it to me to date the sole man in Seattle who respected women. Oh well. I always had my trusty pink vibrator and steamy romance novels to help me get through my drought. Speaking of, I returned my focus to my book, but my attention quickly got diverted when a bell chimed over the front door and my eyes lifted.

  No.

  Panic roared to life. There were a million coffee shops dotting the city streets of Seattle and he came here. Why did I have such bad luck? Sliding my novel in front of my face, I slunk down into the chair as if that would render me invisible.

  Do not look over here

  Do not look over here

  I begged silently for reprieve. Heavy footsteps thumped against the floor, drawing closer. When they stopped, my heart did as well. The scent of Chanel Number Five confused my senses.

  “Camille?”

  Matthew stood next to my table dressed in a pair of dark washed jeans and a button up shirt, opened at the collar. The glasses he normally wore were gone, and I much preferred he’d worn them. His stormy grey eyes were discomfiting.

  “You smell like a woman,” I blurted in greeting.

  A Cheshire cat-like smile spread across his face. “Is that so?”

  I met his smile with a scowl. The way he talked, in questions, dancing around whatever secrets he held up his sleeve, made want to slap him -- hard.

  “Yes, that’s so.”

  Without asking if he could sit down, Matthew pulled out a chair and folded himself into the seat. Stretching out his long legs, he crossed his ankles and leaned back.

  My eyes rolled. “Please get comfortable. Stay a while,” I said sarcastically.

  Another powerful hit of perfume made my head ache. With nobody behind me, my chair scooted a safe two inches away from him. I wished the windows were open though. Matthew’s odd choice of deodorant was stinking up the place.

  His eyebrows bunched together. “Is it that bad?”

  “It’s as if you rolled in a vat of flowers.”

  “I took a shower after.”

  “After?”

  Matthew smirked. After sex -- that’s what he was hinting. Envy stabbed me in the solar plexus but I quickly batted it away. It’s not like I wanted to tie Matthew to the bedposts and have my wicked way with him.

  “You’re disgusting,” I remarked.

  “Why? Sex is perfectly healthy and natural.” His pupils darkened. “Not to mention fun. Don’t you find it fun, Camille?”

  His tongue caressed my name, sending my inner temperature skyrocketing. Typical rock star, he expected women to spread their legs as soon as he launched into a round of amateur dirty talk. He had no idea who he was dealing with.

  Leaning forward, my good girl image shed like a winter coat. The seductress role was one that had gotten me into trouble far too many times to count and had been stored away for the past four years because of that very reason. Matthew though drew it forth with a simple round of flirtation like she’d never been locked away.

  My lips lifted in a coy smile. “Depends on who I’m fucking. If the man knows his way around a woman’s body and has the right combination of taking charge and letting go, then yes, I find sex fun.”

  Matthew appeared unfazed, but his throaty voice said otherwise. “You sound like a hard woman to please.”

  “I am.”

  “I like a challenge.”

  “I’m not a challenge you want to invest in.”

  He positioned his elbows on his knees and met me in the middle with a daring look in his eyes. A look that showed me I had gone too far, but there was no turning back. Tension crackled in the air.

  “Do you want to bet?” Matthew asked.

  “It’s stupid to bet on something there’s no chance of winning.”

  “You’re worth the risk.”

  “Then you aren’t a very good business man.”

  The heat evaporated from Matthew’s expression and was replaced with unmistakable regret. Confounded at the swing of emotions, I pulled away, as did he.

  Matthew pushed his chair backwards and got to his feet. “I’m afraid I have a previous engagement I forgot about. As always, it was a pleasure running into you.”

  He strode out of the coffee shop before I had a chance to speak. What the hell was that? I’ve heard musicians were temperamental, but Matthew took the cake and the entire jar of frosting.

  My inability to sleep finally had its rewards. Thanks to my all-nighter, I immediately knew I’d aced my exam and was the first one to hand it in to the teacher. She looked surprised I’d finished so quickly, but after glancing over the paper, she winked. That was as good as an A in my book. Dr. Thatcher never winked unless you had gotten above a B. My study partner and friend, Koral, agreed.

  “Oh my God! You were totally the boss of that test,” she squealed. “I, on the other hand, was the assistant. I’m awful under pressure. It’s like my brain decides to go on a hiatus as soon as it’s needed.”

  We were sitting in her apartment later that night to do homework together. She lived in a one-bedroom, fourth floor walkup her dad had bought as an investment property. It seemed counterintuitive though, considering Koral didn’t pay rent.

  I snatched a handful of peanut butter pretzels out of the blue bowl on the coffee table. “I’m sure you did fine. You always do.”

  She nervously nibbled her bottom lip. “I guess, but this exam counted for half our grade. If I don’t maintain a 3.8 grade average, my dad will stop paying for...” Koral paused and looked around her spacious living room. “Everything.”

  This right here was why I liked being broke but independent. My parents had no say in how I lived my life. Yes, my home could be bigger, neater, and have a working oven, certainly, but it was mine to do as I pleased without any strings attached.

  I patted Koral’s knee. “Dr. Thatcher loves you and hasn’t once given you a bad grade.”

  “You’re right. I’m being silly.”

  “Here.” The bowl of pretzels dropped into her lap. “Join me in my carbo load fest.”

  “We should have a real meal.”

  “Like dinner with napkins and silverware and your recommended intake of vegetables?” I said in mock horror.

  Laughing, the stress melted from Koral’s petite features. “Exactly…minus the vegetables, unless you count fries as a vegetable.”

  “They are totally a vegetable. We can go to the new bar that opened up down the street.”

  “It’s a breeding ground for Microsoft employees who hit on anything that moves or breathes.”

  We both racked our brains for other options. While Capitol Hill had a thriving restaurant scene, there wasn’t a lot of diversity in the cuisine. You either had Italian or Northwest Farm-to-Table, which was code for high-priced salmon with mint relish that tasted like grass. Marlene had her finger on the pulse because she lived and breathed food. If anybody knew where to go tonight, it would be her. Typing a quick message, I hit send. A couple of seconds later, my phone buzzed and I read her reply.

  “I have a standing date with my husband and a paintbrush, so I won’t be able to join you two. However, I’ve heard great things about Witness. Check it out and let me know what you think. Oh!! And if you get the poutine, send me a picture.”

  After I promised I would send her a glorious snapshot of fries with extra cheese curds and gravy, I set my pho
ne back on the coffee table. My inner homebody wanted to stay in, but that has been my plan every night for the last week. Study, Netflix marathons, cold leftovers, rinse, and repeat. It would be nice to be around normal twenty-something’s who actually had a social life.

  “Marlene said we should try Witness,” I said.

  “Okay, I’m down. How was the wedding by the way? I bet she was surprised.”

  Marlene’s now husband had pushed their wedding date up by a month and didn’t tell her. I, of course, knew, and somehow managed to keep the secret. Although it almost broke me.

  I smiled. “Very surprised and after calming down, happy. Luke is a good match for her.”

  “And a rock star with butt loads of cash.” Koral’s lips turned down at the corners. “I’m so pissed I couldn’t go because of my father’s stupid work function. It turned into a matchmaking service like it always does. I would much rather sleep with a rock star than an accountant. Did you meet the leader singer, Matthew? He’s so dreamy.”

  Also an arrogant flirt that was harder to figure out than a Rubik’s cube, but I left that thought to myself. Besides, nobody cared about his personality. Stardom was a shallow business and what sold magazine copies were shirtless and nude photographs. To my knowledge, Matthew has never posed without clothes before. I’ll have to double check…purely out of curiosity, not because I wanted to see if his large hands were an indicator of his equally impressive package.

  Rising off the couch, I grabbed my jacket. “Are you ready?”

  “Yup.”

  Koral grabbed her keys and locked the door on the way out. Our walk to Witness was brief but chilly. Winter had stretched into spring this year. Entering the restaurant, I grinned at the intimate vibe.

  A creeping sensation crawled up my back as if someone had their sights pinned on me. Glancing over my shoulder, none other than Matthew Lee sat in a booth by himself, looking at me. His eyes twinkled with laugher when they met mine.

  “Son of a bitch,” I groaned.

  It seemed as if I needed to move to a different state if I wanted to avoid him. He was everywhere.

  God, the definition of beauty should be rewritten as Camille in the dictionary. Plump lips, smoky green eyes, and milky white skin dotted with freckles. But it wasn’t her beauty that stunned me speechless. It was her feisty personality that met each one of my barbs with one of her own. However, when she said she was a bet not worth investing in, it sliced me to the very core. She had no idea how much value she held. Women like her were as rare as diamonds and equally as precious. That night four years ago had not only dimmed her inner light -- it had stolen her self-worth.

  I should have done more.

  I should have stopped it.

  Those two thoughts ran in my head like a twenty-four-hour film reel, which didn’t do anything except sink the hatchet into my chest further. Now here she was, dropped into my life like a goddamn grenade. I wanted to dismantle it and avoid the wreckage Camille’s presence would cause, but it felt like a moot point. Once the grenade landed, you only had seconds before it blew. You had to close your eyes and hope you made it out alive with all your limbs intact.

  “Sir, do you want anything to drink?” A waitress holding a water pitcher gave me a pitying look as if I was another washed up rock star, high on drugs.

  I cleared my throat. “An iced tea, please.”

  “Sweet or unsweetened?”

  “Unsweetened with a twist of lemon.”

  “Sure thing.”

  My booth was situated in the back corner of the restaurant, away from prying eyes but that didn’t mean every waitress or busboy in Witness wouldn’t be picking apart my behavior. I’d bet two hundred bucks some news rag would interpret my zoned out state as a raging heroin problem by tomorrow morning. Thankfully unlike Los Angeles, fans were respectful and rarely approached me here. It’s not as if I weren’t appreciative of their enthusiasm, but I valued my privacy.

  When the waitress returned, I placed my order for fried chicken and a side of mac and cheese. My hour and a half in the gym this morning warranted a hearty meal. As I waited for my food, my hand slipped into my messenger bag and pulled out a hardback novel. Camille and I had that in common, I’d noticed. We both appreciated holding a real life book with pages you actually had to turn yourself, instead of swiping left. A good percentage of the women I slept with were airheads and hadn’t stepped into a library since high school. A trait I hadn’t minded, considering I didn’t use them for a lively debate about Faulkner versus Hemmingway. But after catching Camille reading through the windowpane of the coffee shop, I hadn’t realized how fucking sexy it could be.

  As if she had been conjured from my mind, the heady scent of spicy cinnamon and sweet vanilla heated my blood with desire.

  My eyes drifted over the hardback to the front of the room. Camille’s attempt at blending into the background by dressing in a color palette of muted tones failed. Men’s lascivious looks lingered on her face and soaked in her beauty. However, it didn’t seem as if she noticed. A part of me wanted to play the same card she had earlier and hide behind my novel.

  When we’d met in the basement, I was sure she had figured out my true identity. The identity I had gone to great lengths to conceal from everyone and anyone. Despite the fact she hadn’t pieced it together, it would only be a matter of time before she did. As I said earlier, Camille was a fucking grenade that shouldn’t get toyed with. However, when she turned those green eyes on me, shock and annoyance narrowing them into slits, my hands itched to pull the pin. The damage would be worth it

  Koral tugged on my arm, breaking the staring contest between Matthew and I. Her voice reached levels that would break glass as she squealed in my ear. I resisted the temptation of clamping my palm over her mouth to shut her up.

  “Will you calm down?” I hissed.

  “How can I? That’s Matthew Lee! He’s hotter in person, which totally should be illegal.”

  Sneaking a sideways glance, I was hard pressed to disagree. The vintage t-shirt that melded to his chiseled torso should be a crime. Punishment: giving a strip tease, Channing Tatum-style, hip thrusting included.

  Don’t go there, Camille.

  My inner warning froze my dirty thoughts straight in their tracks. Matthew wouldn’t be worth a quick fuck. I mean he would because he seemed like the kind of man who could give a woman multiple orgasms. Once the afterglow faded, regret would set in…and-or venereal disease.

  “Is it me or is he staring at you like he wants to eat you for breakfast?” Coral looked between Matthew and I. “Yup. He is definitely picturing you naked.”

  “No, he’s not,” I whisper-yelled.

  “Yes, he is. I guess that answers my question whether or not you guys have met before.”

  “Briefly, once or twice.”

  She gave me a look bathed in disbelief. “Bullshit.”

  “It’s the truth. We met at the wedding, and then I hadn’t seen him until this morning when he wandered into the coffee shop.”

  “Café Solage?”

  “Yea.”

  “Wasn’t that awkward?”

  Confusion drew my lips into a scowl. “Why would it be awkward?”

  “Because if Matthew was looking at you anything like he is now, Ben must have noticed.”

  “There is nothing going on between Matthew and I. We aren’t even friends.” But as I shot a glance over at him, the stubble that shadowed his jawline caused my blood to heat and something else flickered in my lower belly. Exactly what, I didn’t want to decipher.

  “Can I have him then?” Koral asked.

  Since it sounded as if she was referring to Matthew as a possession, instead of a human being, it took me a moment to register her question. When I did, my mouth opened to tell her a flat out no, but I stopped myself. I had no stake over Matthew. They could have hot monkey sex in every room of his apartment without thinking twice about it.

  Through a clenched jaw, I spoke. “Sure.”


  The hostess appeared with two menus and smiled. “A table is ready for you now.”

  “Actually I think we’re going to join our friend,” Koral said.

  “No, we aren’t.”

  Disregarding my protest, her fingers dug into my upper arm and hauled me across the room. Matthew looked at us with an amused smile as we arrived at his table.

  Koral spoke in a breathy whisper. “Hi!”

  His grey eyes darted from her face to mine. I studied the bare trees outside the window instead of meeting his intrusive stare.

  “Hey,” Matthew responded.

  “My name is Koral and this is Camille, but you already knew that.”

  I could feel his eyes sweep across my cheekbones, the bridge of my nose, and finally, my lips. They tingled as if he had kissed them senseless.

  After a beat, he spoke. “Yes, we’ve met.”

  My body sagged with relief as he freed me from his captive stare.

  “Awesome. I’m a huge fan of Five Guys, by the way. You have a beautiful voice,” Koral oozed.

  I resisted a snort. She might as well get on her knees and position herself between Matthew’s legs.

  “Thank you. Would you lovely ladies like to join me for dinner?” he asked.

  My chin snapped downward to tell him that wouldn’t happen until the next Ice Age when Koral gave him the exact opposite answer.

  “Yes! We would love to!” She slid into the booth facing him and ignored my seething glare.

  Matthew smirked, undeniably enjoying the predicament he’d put me in. Looking over my shoulder at the front door, I entertained the idea of leaving. Koral obviously had put her plan in motion to wrangle Matthew into her bed. She didn’t need me here to play wingman.

  “Is she always this indecisive?” he asked Koral.

  A sickening giggle broke free as she looked at him from under her mascara painted lashes. “I’ll be back. I have to go freshen up. If the waitress comes around, order me a vodka gimlet,” Koral said to me as she slid out of the booth.