Played

by Colleen Charles

  “Shut up,” Nolan hissed. He rolled his eyes, feigning hurt. “You know I’m not interested in ogling or tormenting interns. My life has just settled down. So now, I need all the gossip from yours. It’s called living vicariously.”

  “Did you consult Webster’s today, Brainiac? What’s with the vocabulary lesson? Besides, you’re not getting it,” I said, taking a drink of my aged scotch. It burned all the way down my throat and left a delicious, smoky, peaty taste in my mouth that I liked to imagine penetrated my tongue all the way down. Ah, the love of good liquor. It was almost as good as sex. But only almost. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

  Nolan burst out laughing. “Fuck me, that’s a new one,” he laughed so hard he squirmed in the worn, leather sofa at the scotch bar we frequented. “What’s gotten into you, Chasey? Was Chastity a bore? Such a dead lay you don’t want to spill the details. That’s a bummer. And surprising.”

  “Don’t talk about her that way, douche. She’s a lady even though she may be from humble beginnings,” I said, inwardly grimacing at how prim I sounded.

  I took another swallow of scotch and felt the muscles all over my body begin to relax into a smooth liquid stew. Alcohol always had this effect on me. I never understood why some said it numbed the senses. To me, it took down my fences, relaxed me, and made me feel more comfortable in my own skin. Skin that had felt like armor ever since her. Maybe Chastity had a jousting lance hidden in her tiny apartment.

  “Then what the fuck happened?” Nolan smacked me lightly on the back of the head as he drained his scotch in one gulp. He’d stumble home reeking of scotch and cigars. I could almost see my feisty new friend Charlie hit him over the head with a dishtowel.

  “We’re not in college anymore, bro. Grow the fuck up. You’re married now.”

  “I kind of like being married. There. I said it. But we were talking about Chastity, not Charlie.”

  I’m a fucking asshole, but I need Nolan off my back. Lord, forgive me for the bullshit I’m about to propagate.

  “I know. Look, we fooled around a little bit. She’s really hot, man. She’s all fuckin’ over me as soon as we’re alone. I can tell she wants it.”

  Hell, here I come. Fire and brimstone. Satan incarnate. Throwing a vestal virgin down the river in a leaky canoe. My mother would be so proud. But Nolan needed to back off, and this was the only way I could make that happen. We talked to each other like college frat boys.

  Back in college, it had been a thinly-veiled competition. Okay, and maybe a little after college too. But now, I felt different. I felt protective of Chastity – I definitely wasn’t going to knock back a shot of tequila and mime her ‘O’ face for Nolan, right at the goddamned bar.

  But you haven’t even seen her ‘O’ face yet, I thought as I sipped my scotch.

  But I will. Soon.

  The thought of Chastity coming for the first time under a man’s hand, my hand, sent a shiver of pleasure up my spine.

  “So? What the fuck are you waiting for?” Nolan punched me in the shoulder – harder this time with that trademark Banks grin that had been dropping panties since the dawn of time. “Fuckin’ nut up and throw her down.”

  “That’s the plan,” I said, spearing my friend with a knowing glare. To tell or not to tell? Ultimately, I needed some advice or maybe just to vent through my roiling emotions. And Nolan…he could be trusted. “She’s a virgin. She was begging me for it, but I feel like she needs a little more courting at this stage. The long foreplay. I wouldn’t wanna freak her out, y’know?”

  Nolan snorted. “She’s ready. Trust me – I saw the way she was looking at you.” He raised his eyebrows and took another long drink of scotch. “But a virgin? In this day and age? I think you might have found the holy grail of college coeds, Bradenton. I bow down.”

  “The holy grail?”

  “Yeah. Chastity’s a unicorn. If I hadn’t seen her with my own eyes, I would have sworn she’d disappeared into the morning mist complete with glitter and rainbows.”

  “She is one of a kind. And she may be ready,” I said, dripping icicles with my tone. The protective vibe enveloped me again, so I shook my head to eradicate it. “But still. I don’t want her first time to be with Diego sitting two feet in front of us. It’s gotta be special. A night to remember.”

  “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, this is just like college.” Nolan shook his head and drained his glass, sliding it across the bar in a clear indication that he wanted another. “Remember what you did for Amanda? It’s still the stuff of legends.”

  “Seriously, dude? Maybe the stuff of legends in your hit it and quit it mind.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m fuckin’ done talking about her. Thinking about that bitch is the last thing I need right now.”

  My mind flittered back in time, filled with shadows. Dark and dangerous. The day my heart had shattered into a million pieces, never to be put back together again. Like Humpty fucking Dumpty on the cement ground. Amanda Kimble. My ex-fiancée and the only woman I’d ever really loved. She’d taken me to new heights and dropped me down just as fast. One hell of a thrilling ride, but once you got off the Amanda coaster the only thing waiting for you was nausea. Being with her had been addicting. It had given me a high no marijuana in Amsterdam could compete with…and I’d had my fair share of the devil’s lettuce during my travels to chase the ghost.

  “Yeah, I’m not talking about her,” Nolan said defensively. “Just think about the lengths we used to go to for pussy.” He shook his head as the bartender slid him two fingers of scotch. “It was all about the thrill of the chase. It didn’t even matter after we got laid, remember? We just wanted that damn chase. And a notch,” he added, smirking. “That was important too. Bragging rights. I had to grow up when I married Charlie. Now, I can still live vicariously through your sorry ass. Don’t let me down.”

  I drank the rest of my scotch – well, not so much drank as poured it right down my throat. I barely tasted the expensive, smoky liquor as it slid richly down my esophagus and into my empty stomach. I’d skipped lunch in favor of a meeting with Nolan, and then we’d left work at three for a drink. I should’ve known better – a drink with Nolan always turned into five. And a hangover.

  Out of nowhere, it all felt trite and useless. My life. I should be focused on my career and building the best sales team that Banks Realty had ever seen. Grantham was depending on me. And I could do it. If I stopped thinking selfishly about drinking, clubbing, and getting laid. It was time to man up.

  Chastity.

  Her name floated across my mind. I’d man up for her first. I didn’t give a shit what Nolan had to say on the subject. I could tell this woman was special. Which meant I needed to start brainstorming.

  “Of course I remember Amanda.” I rolled my eyes. Her visage was burned into my brain for all eternity and not in a good way. “I ordered lotus petals because she told me that the lotus was her favorite flower. That was fucking expensive in the middle of January. I won’t even admit how much I paid. We’d been dating for five months and nothing. My balls were so blue that I could have fooled someone into thinking I had gangrene. And I spread those damn petals over the bed, and she came over. Turns out she didn’t even notice – she was just waiting for the invitation.” I shook my head as if that motion could remove the pain from my soul. “I’m over that shit, man. I’m too old to play games like I used to.”

  Nolan reached across the bar and handed me a new full glass. We clinked and then drank – the burn of the scotch was already starting to feel less noticeable than before. Ah, the pleasurable numbness of the scotch induced therapy session.

  “Yeah, I feel you.” He smiled, and this stupid, dreamy look came over his face like a preteen at a Justin Bieber concert. “The moment I saw Charlie, I didn’t feel like fucking around anymore.” He blew out a breath. “One look at her face and I had to have her. I just felt like a woman of that caliber might be able to help me heal the scars. Y’know, even when she wasn’t talking to me, I still felt like a goo
d man, because I realized that I was at least capable of loving someone. You’ll get there too.”

  “She cured you,” I said with a snort. Nolan had seriously out punted his coverage, and his and everyone else’s knowledge of that would keep the old dog faithful forever. “God knows, if only it were that easy.”

  “So, who’s to say it’s not?” Nolan raised his eyebrows. “Man, she obviously digs you. Her eyes were hanging all over you at that party. Let it ride. Let it flow. She could be your one. Like Charlie is for me.”

  Charlie’s a top-notch attorney. Chastity is a phone-sex worker.

  I pressed my lips into a thin, white line. I didn’t like the turn my thoughts had taken. I didn’t want to revert back to assuaging my massive ego. I really did need to grow the fuck up and take control of my life and my future.

  I shrugged. “Do you remember what it felt like to be a virgin though?”

  Nolan burst out laughing. “Barely. I wasn’t even in high school yet.”

  I punched him in the arm. Hard. I’d at least waited until junior year. “Shut up, Mick Jagger. If it wasn’t for Charlie, you probably would have hit that infamous four thousand number just like ole leather face himself. But seriously, don’t you remember the feeling? Delicious anticipation laced with a spritz of fear. With me, it was like I knew I wanted to fuck as many girls as I possibly could before I settled down. Like I needed to. Then Amanda came along and ruined everything, including my future ability to be a good husband.”

  “Duh. Fuck Amanda. It’s over. She’s over. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but you dodged a bullet there. When you’re old and married, you won’t even give that cheating bitch a second thought.” Nolan gave me a dopey look and took a long drink. “But man, that itch to get around didn’t get scratched for years. But even though I’m not necessarily proud of my antics, I am happy. If I hadn’t played the field, I would never have recognized my twin flame. I would have always had doubts. Now I know for sure.”

  I set my snifter down on the bar, staring at Nolan, believing his sincerity. Hoping against hope his happiness might be in the cards for me. Could I forgive both Amanda and myself? Not for her sake but for my own? Could I trust another woman? That remained to be seen. Riding Nolan’s coattails might end in disaster because my friend had never been truly in love before Charlie. She was his first in that area. And only.

  “And don’t you think she feels the same way?” I questioned as a sliver of uncertainty settled in my gut along with the glasses of scotch. “Chastity, I mean. Don’t you think she’s probably gonna wanna sleep with a few guys, just to see what it’s like? Compare? Most chicks are like that, man. Times have changed.”

  Nolan frowned. “Maybe, maybe not. Who knows? You won’t know the truth until you ask her how she feels about it.”

  “So then I’m in big fucking trouble,” I replied with a sigh. “I’m already thinking…” I trailed off, suddenly not wanting my best friend to know the kinds of things I’d been considering for her. Helicopter rides. Lavish, naked vacations to my private bungalow on Bora Bora. Diamonds. “Never mind,” I mumbled and swallowed a big mouthful of scotch.

  Nolan jabbed me in the ribs. “Tell me, you douche.” He stared at me. “That’s not fuckin’ fair, Bradenton, and you know it. Spill. I want to know what you’re thinking. So I can tell you you’re a moron.”

  “I don’t just want to fuck her,” I admitted. Then clamped my eyes shut so I wouldn’t have to witness his triumphant look. “I like her. She’s cool and smart and sexy, and not like any of those other bitches who just want me to bankroll their accounts at Bergdorf’s.”

  “So?” Nolan raised his eyebrows. “That just means you gotta show her the real Chase Bradenton.” He raised his glass and tipped it toward me. “And that’s never been an issue for you in the past.”

  “I guess I do,” I said, draining my second glass. “Game fuckin’ on.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Chastity

  “I don’t know what happened,” I snapped, spitting the words out for what felt like the hundredth time. “I just got home. I told you that already.”

  “Ma’am, we’re trying to do our job here,” the cop replied. His name badge read ‘Darmody.’ “And if you can’t tell us exactly what you were doing out, we’re not going to be able to help you.”

  “I was going for a walk,” I said, my voice laced with irritation and sarcasm. Who the fuck did he think he was talking to? I was the victim here! “And then I looked behind me, some creepy stalker was hot on my heels and when I got home, I found this.” I shoved the creepy note I’d found under Officer Darmody’s nose. “It wasn’t in an envelope. It was right there.” I pointed toward our woebegone IKEA coffee table. “I thought it was from my roommate, Trina.”

  “And why would Trina leave you a handwritten note? Don’t you kids just communicate via Snap Chat or some such thing?”

  “I don’t know!” I exploded. Losing. My. Shit. “Because we live together, did you think of that? Yeah, how weird. A roommate leaving her roommate a note!”

  Officer Darmody rolled his eyes. I could practically read his mind: Oh god, it’s close to five. Just one more hour and then I can go get a doughnut. Hell, I can get TWO doughnuts. And coffee. I need coffee. This has been one hell of a day. Fucking college kids wasting my time. There’s real crime out there, and I’m stuck here in this crappy apartment.

  “I see,” he said in a clipped tone. “May I?” He reached for the note and held it close to his nose as if to sniff out the perpetrator. Did he think it had been doused in cologne? “Well, this is unusual, but it’s certainly not unheard of. Is there anyone you could think of who would do this?”

  “Her old boyfriend,” Trina cut in. “That guy…what was his name?” She turned to me, her finger tapping her luscious, full mouth. “Ned?”

  “Nathan,” I said in a rush to deny the assumption. “And he was not my boyfriend. We went on one date, that’s all. And he asked me out again, but I said no.”

  Officer Darmody let out an infuriating little chuckle. It was somehow more patronizing than one of those bullshit head-pats. “Well, if the NYPD decided to chase every scorned man in the city, we’d certainly have to hire more beat cops.” He laughed at his own joke, his foul breath spreading through the room. “Now, ma’am, tell me seriously. Is there anyone who would threaten you?”

  I frowned. “Did you…not listen to what I just said?”

  “Oh, no, I heard you. Loud and clear.” Officer Darmody chuckled again, and I resisted the urge to punch him right in the stupid, smelly mouth. “But seriously, we can’t go after anyone unless they’ve threatened you. It would be a waste of resources, and an insult to Ned’s character.”

  “Nathan’s,” I shot back. “And you can’t look into him? Go by his place and ask if he’d do this? Maybe he has a history of…violence.”

  Officer Darmody shook his head. “I’m afraid we can’t do that without probable cause,” he replied. He tucked the note underneath some papers affixed to his plastic clipboard. “And rejecting someone for a date, while it may seem of the utmost importance to you college girls, unfortunately, doesn’t cut it in the real world.” He smiled again, and I had to shove my hands in my pockets so my fist wouldn’t “accidentally” throat punch him.

  “Right, well. Whenever you’re done calling my roommate paranoid, you can leave,” Trina said casually. She walked over to the front door and threw it open. Noise from the hall flowed into the apartment, and I cringed at the sound of our elderly neighbor disciplining one of her cats for the millionth time that day.

  “Right-o,” Officer Darmody said in a faux-cheerful voice. He handed me a card. “If anything – and I mean something serious – happens, go ahead and give me a call. I’ll be right over.”

  I rolled my eyes as his fat, squat frame waddled out of the front door. Trina slammed it behind him.

  “Rude bastard,” she said to the wooden door.

  “Yeah. And don’t let the door
hit your fat ass on the way out,” I mumbled. “God, what a piece of work. Can you believe that? He didn’t even listen to me. I could be in grave danger. And then he tried to make me feel like a damned criminal, just for taking a walk in my own neighborhood.”

  “It was shitty,” Trina agreed. “But cops are apathetic like that. After so many days become years, they lose all empathy.” She ran a hand through her massive head of glossy curls. “Hey, wanna get takeout?”

  “Yeah, sure,” I replied. “Chinese? Indian?”

  “Jerk chicken,” Trina said as she passed me a glossy flyer. “In honor of Darmody. This was on our door the other day. The place is new, right down the block.”

  “Oooooh,” I gasped in delight as I snatched the flyer out of her hands. “I think we shall. I’m tight this month, but I can always shake loose some coin for jerk chicken.”

  Trina giggled, and I hissed in a cleansing breath. Thank God for my friend and her twin sense of humor. She got me. We lived for takeout, especially from the various new restaurants that popped up around our neighborhood of Crown Heights, Brooklyn. It wasn’t the most posh, chic, or glamorous neighborhood in the world, but it was home. And aside from entering my apartment and finding creeptastic notes, I was generally pretty happy about living here.

  “Hey, sorry I startled you, by the way,” Trina said. She flopped onto the couch and grabbed her phone. “I know, I know. I should have announced my presence. But I didn’t think you’d jump a mile like that!” She smirked. “You didn’t used to be so jumpy, Chas.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t remind me,” I mumbled. My cheeks flushed just thinking about what had happened. “I guess I was just really on edge from that creeper following me around.”

  “Oh, I probably would’ve shrieked,” Trina said. “So, two large buckets of chicken with fried plantains on the side and ginger beer?”

  My stomach growled. “Yes, please,” I said. “That sounds incredible.”