Maybe Baby Lite

by ANDREA SMITH

  “I don’t want to bore you with my problems, Mark.”

  “I wouldn’t be bored, I promise. You wanna grab a beer somewhere?”

  I thought about it for less than five seconds, “Great idea.”

  “Good, then I’ll meet you at the main drive about six?”

  “Sounds good. See you then.”

  I untacked Derringer and returned him to his stall for the night. “Derringer, I hope I’m doing the right thing here, boy. I wish you could help. You know him better than I do. Wish me luck,” I said, giving him a kiss on his nose.

  Mark was waiting when I met him up at the main drive at 6 p.m. He opened the passenger door to his red dually pick-up truck and lifted me up into the cab. I was glad I hadn’t worn one of my short jean skirts. Mark looked nice in his blue jeans and white polo shirt. His tanned skin from a career outdoors gave him sort of a rugged look. He fired up the diesel engine and we pulled out of the drive onto the highway.

  “Ever been to Bunkers?” he asked.

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “It’s kind of an after-five dive,” he admitted, “but the beer is cold, they have great barbecue sandwiches, good selection on the juke box, and pool tables if you play.”

  “Haven’t played for a while,” I said, “but it might be nice to shoot some pool.”

  The truth was I'd welcome any distraction from my current funk and thoughts of Trey. I'd heard no more from him since I had opted out of our arrangement. I drove myself crazy wondering what he was doing and who he was with. I was every bit as possessive as he was and I felt like a hypocrite.

  Bunker’s was packed. Mark and I found a table in a corner that was a bit quieter than the bar. He ordered a draft beer; I ordered a vodka sonic.

  “So, how’d you find this place?” I asked, conversationally.

  “I came here once with Jenna, she introduced it to me.”

  Oh great, that’s all I needed, to piss Jenna off. Being out with Mark would give her some real ammo. Mark noticed my discomfort.

  “Jenna and I aren’t a couple or anything, just friends.”

  “Are you sure Jenna sees it that way?”

  Mark laughed, “I can’t pretend to know how Jenna sees it. I can tell you this. I’ve made it clear to her that I want no romantic ties, at least to her.”

  I caught the last part of his sentence, glancing up at him but he was gazing around the room. Perhaps he hadn’t meant it to sound the way it did.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked, looking over at me now.

  “I could eat.”

  When the waitress brought our drinks, Mark ordered two barbecue sandwiches with fries.

  “C’mon, let’s dance,” he said, pulling me up from the chair. There was a wooden dance floor near the jukebox where several couples were dancing to an old Anne Murray song. Mark pulled me close as we slow danced, the lyrics flooding my mind with thoughts of Trey.

  Mark rubbed my back with his hands as we moved to the slow tempo. I wanted to dance to this song. But I wanted to be dancing to it with someone else. It seemed like the song went on forever. Finally, it was over. I thanked Mark and headed back to our table.

  We drank our drinks; Mark ordered another round when our food came. The barbecue pulled pork was delicious. I ate every last bite of my sandwich. We were on our third round of drinks, and definitely things were loosening up when Mark broached the subject.

  “So, you want to tell me why such a pretty girl has been so blue all week?”

  “It’s complicated, Mark.”

  “You know, Tylar, I’m not blind. I see the way that Trey is with you. He’s always watching you, treating you like his prized possession.”

  There was that word again, possession as in possessiveness, possessively, or how about just possessed. That was exactly how I was starting to feel, possessed by a demon.

  “That's not what love is supposed to be,” he continued.

  “Wait a minute, Mark,” I interrupted, “Trey has never committed his love to me, nor I to him. We haven’t known each other all that long.”

  “You know as well as I do that love is not a product of time, and it doesn’t have to be professed in order to exist between two people. All I’m saying is that loving someone is not a license to own them.”

  “With all due respect, Mark, you’ve only been here for a very short time. I doubt that your observations could be so conclusive relative to Trey.”

  “It’s not just Trey, it’s you as well. You ask to be treated that way; everything about you begs to be dominated by him.”

  “What?” I exclaimed, thankful that the din of the bar masked my voice as it rose.

  “I’m not judging you, Tylar. I just know that what I see is someone trying their best to please a man who might just prefer his woman not change into something she's not. Doesn’t mean it won’t be a rocky road, but it'll be one traveled together.”

  I knew he had a point, yet I was having trouble seeing exactly how it related to me in this situation. What should I've done differently? I didn’t tolerate Trey’s assertion that I could only have female friends and being out tonight with Mark proved that. I had the “opt out” clause inserted into the agreement, hadn’t I?

  Then I realized the bigger picture in all of this. Why would I have tolerated our agreement to begin with? In reality it was a declaration of sexual exclusivity with no attachments, and the rest of the rules seemed to develop along the way with Trey calling the shots.

  “Mark, how about we shoot some pool,” I suggested.

  Two rounds of beer later, Mark and I'd shot three games of pool. Mark had destroyed me each and every time. I begged for mercy so we sat back down at our table.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun getting my ass kicked at something,” I said, laughing.

  “You’ll get the hang of it,” Mark assured me. “You just need a little coaching, that’s all.”

  “Yeah, but when I scratched the 8-ball and it landed two tables over, I thought that guy was going to kick your ass.”

  I was remembering the look on Mark’s face and it started me in another fit of laughter. He joined in.

  “That was a bit scary, I admit.”

  “But you handled it very well, Mark. Pointing to me and saying, ‘she did it.’ Glad you had my back.”

  By this time, we were both laughing hysterically. The waitress came over to see if we wanted another round. We’d both had enough and knew it. Mark paid the tab. I told him next time it would be my treat. I kind of liked this place. We headed back to the manor. I was thankful it was fairly close, as Mark was feeling no pain. He parked his truck next to the stables.

  “I'm walking you up to your cottage, Tylar.”

  “That’s not necessary, really.”

  “No I won’t hear of it. I'll see that you're safely inside.”

  We walked up the path toward the cottages. Ray’s place was dark since he'd moved in with Denise. Charlie’s had lights on inside; I could see his television on. As we passed Jenna’s, I noted that her Friday night lingerie had been taken in. Her lights were on and I thought I saw her peeping out of the side window as we passed.

  “Here we are,” I said, getting my keys out of my purse.

  I unlocked the door and turned to say good night to Mark but he was right there in front of me, just inches away. Before I knew what to think, he pulled me toward him, gently lifting my chin so that our lips met. His kiss was soft and warm, his lips moved against my mouth earnestly, trying to draw me into a deeper and more passionate kiss. I finally put my hands against his chest, gently pushing back from him.

  “Mark, I’m sorry. I can’t, I can’t...”

  “Don’t worry about it, Tylar. I’m the one that's sorry. I shouldn’t have pressed you for a kiss like that. Forgive me?”

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” I answered, “I had a wonderful time with you tonight, Mark. I really would like to do it again, okay? But for now, we need to stay friends. I’m not e
quipped for anything more at the moment.”

  “I understand,” he replied, kindly. “You get inside and I want to hear that door lock behind you, got it?”

  “Good night, Mark.”

  “Good night, Tylar.”

  CHAPTER 27

  I was never so eager for Monday to roll around. The weekend just seemed to drag and as busy as I tried to keep myself, there was only so much cleaning I could do in my small cottage. I'd only taken my car out once, to get some groceries.

  Monday morning began fairly overcast, and the weather report indicated that a line of heavy storms was moving in later in the day. I wanted to get some training in; it was therapeutic for me. I knew that I'd feel a little weird around Mark after our botched kiss on Friday night, but I had no choice but to get past it.

  I went to the stables, tacked up Derringer, and then led him to the arena. I saw Jenna as I was walking Derringer up to the entrance gate. She had a sourer look on her face than usual. I generally tried to ignore Jenna, but this morning, she was on a mission.

  “Well, if it isn’t the Slut of Sinclair Manor,” she hissed. I looked around to be sure that she'd actually been addressing me.

  “What’s your problem now, Jenna?”

  “Is there no one you won’t fuck to get ahead?”

  “I think you're confusing me with you,” I retorted.

  “You bitch,” she sneered. “You knew damn well that I've been seeing Mark. As soon as your main fuck leaves town, you hit on mine!”

  By this time, passers-by were turning their heads to observe the woman dressed in 1845 period clothing, hair tightly pulled up in a bun, prim and proper, cussing at me in language that'd make a drunken sailor blush. Mark had heard the exchange from where he stood inside the arena. He quickly stepped outside, opening the gate so that I could enter with Derringer.

  “Mark,” I said, “I think Jenna wants to talk to you.”

  I continued inside, leaving Mark to deal with the drama. I'd nothing to explain to Jenna. He was back in a few minutes, shaking his head, disgusted.

  “Tylar, I'm really sorry for her outburst out there. I explained to her once again that she and I are not in a relationship. She's hell bent on thinking that you came between us.”

  “Did you lead her on in any way, Mark?” I didn’t want to delve into his personal stuff, but I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Jenna’s wrath without knowing why she felt so strongly about Mark.

  “Well, we slept together...once,” he said.

  “You know Mark, I’m no expert on relationships, but sleeping together is a big deal.”

  Maybe I should ask Mark as to whether he had a pre-coital discussion with Jenna prior to doing the dirty deed to make sure that his bases were covered. How could I possibly lecture Mark on something like this when I'd signed up and agreed to be someone’s fuck-buddy, no strings attached?

  “I’ll talk to her again, one-on-one,” he said.

  “I think that's the right thing to do.”

  We got busy with our practice. The morning flew by. We broke for lunch, and watched our training videos while we ate. I stayed to review the videos one more time. We planned to meet back in the arena at 1:30 but at that time the sky was extremely dark; the sound of thunder wasn't that far off in the distance. We stood in the arena and scanned the sky.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  “I think that by the time you get Derringer back over to the stables, the sky will be ready to cut loose,” Mark answered. We agreed to call it a day and meet back in the morning.

  I was preparing to remount Derringer to ride the trail back to the stable when I spotted Trey standing by the arena gate. So he was back. He looked as gorgeous as ever in a navy suit and white dress shirt. His tie was a blend of dark blue and grey. For a moment my heart fluttered, thinking that he was here to see me, to tell me that he’d missed me, and that everything had just been a big misunderstanding. I realized then that he wasn't here to see me. He called Mark over to talk with him.

  I looked beyond Trey, up past the open gate to the arena. There stood Charlotte, dressed in a peach colored shift, white sandal heels, and a white wide-brimmed summer hat. She was waiting for Trey; apparently they had plans. I stood frozen, not wanting to walk past Trey and certainly not wanting to let Charlotte get the best of me. I wondered if she'd ever known about Trey and me. Past tense now, I thought. Did it even matter?

  Whatever business Trey had with Mark did not take long. Trey turned without giving me so much as a glance, and walked back up to the gate, to Charlotte who was patiently waiting for her man. She smiled as he approached and reached out to brush a speck of lint off his lapel. Trey closed the gate behind him, imprinting the image of the two of them on my mind for eternity. I hadn’t noticed Mark approach me.

  “Hey, it was great working with you, Tylar,” he said.

  “What?” I asked, confused.

  “It appears my services are no longer required here. I’ve been relieved of my duties, effective immediately. I was just informed by the top man himself.”

  “No! What—why?” I stammered, trying to understand.

  “I was given no detailed explanation, but if I had to guess, I'd say he heard about our kiss last week.”

  “How?”

  “How do you think?”

  “Jenna?” I said.

  “Bingo,” Mark replied, sardonically. “I gotta get packed up. Take care, Tylar.”

  This couldn't be happening. I was in shock on a couple of fronts. This wasn't fair to Mark at all. I felt like I needed to do something. I needed to talk to Trey but that was impossible with Charlotte around. I'd try later. He could be reasoned with, unless I'd totally misjudged him.

  I led Derringer over to the stables just as the skies cut loose. I couldn’t stop thinking about Mark. All he'd been was a friend to me. My anger was with Jenna right now. I needed to lash out at someone. She was the most deserving of it. Then I remembered she wouldn’t be off of work yet. That’s fine; I'd wait for her.

  I went back to my cottage to wait for her to get off work, generally by 4:30 every afternoon. When the time came, I peered out of my bedroom window to get a view of Jenna’s cottage. There were no lights on yet. About 30 minutes later, the rain had died down to a drizzle. I put my flip-flops on and grabbed my keys, locking my cottage as I strode to Jenna’s cabin. There was still no light on inside, but I pounded on her door anyway. I waited for a few seconds, and then pounded again. There was no answer.

  I left her porch and I walked up the gravel drive to where the pavement started. I couldn’t tell if Trey was home. I marched up the concrete steps to the massive front porch and rang the bell. Moments later, Thatcher appeared, poorly masking his surprise.

  “Hi Thatcher,” I greeted, warmly, “Is Trey available?”

  Thatcher was extremely uncomfortable, shifting his weight as he stood. I heard footsteps behind him on the tiled floor.

  “That’s okay, Thatcher, I have this,” Trey said, now in plain view. Thatcher looked grateful to take his leave.

  “Thatcher, please see if Charlotte needs a refill.”

  “Yes sir,” he answered disappearing into the dining room.

  “May I help you, Ms. Preston?”

  “Cut the crap, Trey. Why'd you fire Mark?”

  Trey stepped out onto the porch where I was standing, closing the door behind him. “I made a business decision, Ms. Preston. I don’t recall needing your approval or the approval of any of the other staff here to do that.”

  “I see,” I replied, coolly. “So what does that mean for me? Are you going to fire me too?”

  “Of course not. Your duties will be reassigned once again. I believe Jenna requires some help over at the plantation house. I think your services could be put to good use over there. You can report to Jenna tomorrow. She can show you the ropes, and get you the proper period costume.”

  Oh no way, I thought. He had no intention of firing me. He preferred to make me so miserab
le that I'd quit.

  “By the way, Ms. Preston,” he said, eyeing my tight jean shorts, “I wouldn’t recommend your wearing those ‘Daisy Dukes’ to work. It kind of kills the whole culture we try to sell here at Sinclair’s Le Vie Belle Plantation. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have company waiting.”

  He turned and retreated back into the house to Charlotte. I made my own hasty retreat back up the path to the cottages. I went up to my porch, opening the screen door. There was a folded piece of paper between the two doors. I opened the door and quickly entered the cottage, shutting and locking the door behind me. I unfolded the paper.

  It was a printout of a digital photo. The picture was of Mark and I kissing on my porch, the porch light illuminated our faces perfectly. Unfortunately, the picture didn’t depict the part where I stopped the kiss. A message was written underneath the picture:

  "I’m sure your boyfriend enjoyed this picture. Once a whore, always a whore"

  That's it! I’d had enough of Jenna’s cattiness. I’d had enough of Trey’s obnoxiousness. I grabbed my purse, checking my wallet to see how much cash I had. I counted $127 in cash. My bank account had over $1400 in it. That'd be enough to last me for a while. I packed my suitcase with as much as it could hold. I grabbed my cell and called Denise, thankful when she answered.

  “Denise, don’t say my name please if Ray's close by. This is Tylar.”

  “I know who it is darlin’, why the suspense?”

  “Is Ray there right now?”

  “No, he won’t be back for another hour, why?”

  “Denise, I need you to do me a big favor. It has to be just between you and me though. Do you promise?”

  “What is it Tylar? Tell me what you need.”

  I glanced at the clock on the microwave. Fifteen minutes had passed since I'd talked to Denise. She should be pulling into the drive any minute now so I shoved my cell phone and charger into my purse, and locked my cottage door behind me. I'd have to collect the rest of my things later. Maybe Denise would do it for me. Just as I turned to walk down the steps of my porch, I spotted Jenna coming down the path.