Pretty Little Thing

by Tabatha Kiss

  I crumble even more, dropping my head into my hands as their arms wrap around me. “And I…”

  “Shh,” Melanie says. “You don’t have to talk.”

  “Just cry,” Trix adds. “Crying is good.”

  “Well, I don’t wanna cry! I want…” I sniff loudly. “I want him, but…”

  Melanie pushes my hair back. “But what, honey?”

  I bite my lip. “I left him in New York.”

  They silently stare at each other for a moment. Melanie breaks first with a soft snort that quickly grows into a hard laugh. Trix cracks as well, slapping a hand over her mouth until her face turns red.

  I look at them and their hyena smiles, slowly letting the contagious laugh take me, too.

  Thirty-Six

  Clive

  If I ever find myself in a situation where I’m allowed to choose the fate of my worst enemy, spending twenty hours on a bus might be somewhere near the top of my list of punishments.

  Nora abandoned me in New York and I had to get back home to Chicago somehow. I don’t blame her, obviously. The punishment matches the crime.

  It gave me a chance to think. To plan what the hell I’ll do next. My life-saving, salaried position at Black Book isn’t an option anymore. I’m lucky if I still have my job at the gym after no-showing my shift yesterday. If word of this gets back to Judy, I might lose my job at Red Brick, too. There’s certainly an argument to be made for me mistreating my sub. Instant blacklist.

  So, it’s back to square one. Whatever that is.

  At least I still have my car.

  And a few extra dollars in my pocket so I can get a cup of coffee.

  The barista eyes me with suspicion. Either that or the scent of coffee beans doesn’t quite mask the stench of bus on my suit. I don’t really care, in the end.

  I sit down in a booth and watch the city rush by through the window for who knows how long.

  “Wow. You look like shit.”

  I look up to find a man standing over me in thick, black sunglasses and a leather jacket. He slides the glasses off with his non-bandaged hand and I recognize him as Nora’s friend’s ex-husband.

  “Thanks,” I mutter.

  “Robbie,” he reminds me.

  I nod, not really caring.

  He raises his drink — a large frappe with a hot pink straw sticking out the top — and takes a long sip. He swallows it down and stares at me for another awkward moment before nodding.

  “Sure, thanks. I’d love to sit down,” he says.

  He lowers onto the bench across from me.

  “No,” I say. “I’d like to be alone right now, if you don’t mind.”

  “I do mind, actually. I mind very much.”

  I exhale. “Why?”

  Robbie pockets his sunglasses and sits back, easing into a more comfortable position. “You’ve stumbled into a very interesting family here, Clyde.”

  “Clive,” I correct.

  “Yeah, whatever,” he says, shrugging. “I really don’t care. I care about Nora and when it comes Nora, Trix, and Melanie, Clive, you are vastly unprepared for what you’ve signed up for.”

  I glance around. “Well, I don’t mean to interrupt this speech you’re clearly proud of, but Nora and I are over.”

  “No, you’re not. And here’s why.” He sits up and takes a quick sip from his pink straw. “What you’re experiencing right now is a phenomenon I like to call The Gray Zone.”

  I raise a brow. “The what?”

  “You woke up this morning, looked around, and the bright, colorful world you went to sleep in was gone,” he says. “The grass isn’t green. The sky isn’t blue. Everything is just drab and shitty. You have a job but — screw it — you called in sick. They’ll manage without you for one damn day. You’re in need of a shower but — fuck that. Why bother? You’re hungry but — whatever — you’re gonna die eventually anyway. Why not speed it along? Are you with me so far?”

  “… Yeah, sure.” I nod.

  He smiles. “The Gray Zone. Guys like you and me spend a lot of time here, so we learn really quickly the various ways to inject a little color into our lives; Drugs, sex, alcohol.” He raises his coffee. “Caffeine, or as I like to call it: All of the above.” He takes another long sip from his pink straw and admires the cup. “Damn, that’s good caramel.”

  “Look, Robbie, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I’m no stranger to drab and shitty. All right? My life has had its fair share of ups and downs.”

  “You misunderstand,” he says, staring at me. “The Gray Zone isn’t for people who have fucked-up shit happen to them. That’s just The Real World. No, The Gray Zone is for people like us who bring it on themselves. You’re here because you fucked up and lost the girl. There is no one to blame but yourself. Now, luckily for you, you’ve got Big Brother Robbie here to tell you exactly what to do to win her back.”

  I laugh. “And what’s the catch?”

  “The catch?” His face screws up. “The catch is a lifetime of bliss. Take it or leave it, buddy.”

  “A lifetime of bliss?” I point at him. “I’m sorry, but aren’t you still hung up on your ex-wife who left your sorry ass?”

  “Hey…” He gestures at his face and grins. “Do I look sad to you?”

  I don’t answer. It’s rhetorical anyway.

  He relaxes his cheeks. “But yeah. To answer the question, plainly. I am. Melanie’s a work-in-progress. Do you have a slow-cooker, Clive?” he asks.

  I blink, caught off-guard. “No.”

  “She’s like that,” he says. “Mel’s standing in the middle of the pot. Heat’s turned on, slowly rising, just a little at a time so she won’t notice. Every once in a while, I drop in a new ingredient, mix it up, and walk away. Eventually, she’ll be ready. In the meantime, I’ll set the table.”

  “Is that what I have to do?” I ask. “Set the table?”

  “For Nora?” He laughs. “Oh, hell no. She’s not a slow-cooker. Nora Payne is the head table at a five-star restaurant with no prices on the menu and a celebrity chef. She’s got a reservation for two and you better show up on-time, dressed to the nines, with an empty stomach and a can-do attitude — or not at all.”

  “Sounds like more trouble than it’s worth,” I say.

  Robbie tilts his head in disbelief. “If that’s how you really feel, then that’s cool. I’ll just take my wisdom elsewhere…”

  He moves to stand up.

  “Wait.” I sigh at his smug expression. “Sit down.”

  His lips curl to one side and he lowers into the chair again. “Melanie needs to be coddled. And swooned. And surprised. But Nora…” He shakes his head. “Nora needs a challenge. She’s easily bored and more than a little paranoid. If things go too well for too long, she gets suspicious and starts to doubt. So, what you have to do is eliminate her need to doubt.”

  “How do I do that?” I ask.

  Robbie squints. “You show up to the damn restaurant, Clive.”

  I exhale in frustration. “Can we drop the cute food metaphors, please?”

  “Okay, then.” He leans forward. “Nora Payne needs someone she can depend on. Not for money, mind you. She already has more than enough means to survive but there’s a big difference between being alive and having a life.”

  “I get that, but…” I pause. “She trusted me. I betrayed her.”

  He smiles. “Sounds exactly like the kind of challenge she needs. If you do nothing, you’ll only prove every horrible thing she’s thought about you and you’ll become nothing but a footnote in her black book she’ll joke about with her friends at brunch. But if you do something and prove her just a little bit wrong, well…” He raises his brow. “You just have to be the guy who actually showed up.”

  “If I just showed up, she wouldn’t talk to me anyway,” I argue.

  “Only one way to know for sure.” He pulls his sunglasses from his jacket with his good hand. “What the hell else are you gonna do today? Other than sitting around and
moping beneath a gray cloud of drabby shit?”

  I stare straight ahead as he stands up, feeling the slow mix of adrenaline brewing in my gut. “Yeah, I’ll think about it,” I say.

  “No.” Robbie shakes his head. “You have not been paying attention at all. Don’t think. Just go do.”

  “I don’t even know where Nora is right now,” I say.

  “It’s Sunday. There’s only one place she’d be.” He slides the sunglasses on and grabs his coffee. “Go do.”

  This fucking guy. Slow-cookers and can-do attitudes? Clearly, he has no idea what he’s talking about. None of this will work on Nora Payne.

  The Perfect Nora Payne.

  I look up at the table across the coffee shop. The one we sat in during our “first date.” She told me all about Robbie and his drinking problem and how he…

  Never gave up. He’s never given up on the love of his life.

  “Hey, Rob.”

  He pauses and turns back to me.

  “Thanks,” I say. “You’re kind of a cool guy.”

  He smiles. “Yeah, that’s me.”

  Robbie exits the shop and zips up his jacket as he starts walking down the street, happily sucking on his hot pink straw.

  If I was that much in love, I don’t think I’d give up so easily.

  I told her that. Nora thinks I’m a liar now.

  I’m going to prove her wrong.

  Thirty-Seven

  Nora

  Tradition is tradition.

  Would I rather be curled up in my chair with yoga pants and pints of ice cream? Yes. Yes, I would.

  But it’s Sunday. And Sunday is brunch day.

  It was designed exactly for times like this. Leave your troubles at the door and enjoy a round of drinks with friends. Forget about that problem in your life for an hour.

  Forget about Clive Snow for an hour. I can do that. I can forget about his hands on my body and his voice in my ear and every little touch and caress of his lips. I can forget about the way my heart skipped when I saw him and how just one look into his blue eyes gave me butterflies for days and—

  Yeah, it’s not working. I can’t do this.

  Melanie snaps her fingers at me. “Stop that.”

  I blink out of it. “Stop what?”

  “You know damn well what.”

  “I’m sorry.” I tear another corner off my toast but I don’t eat it. “I’m still feeling pretty raw, okay? My head hurts, my nose is sore, and I’m afraid if I drink anything my body will just send it right to my tear ducts.”

  Trix nods. “You’re really rocking that sweater, though…”

  I smile. “Thanks.”

  “You’re gonna make it through this, Nora,” Melanie says. “I mean, if you really think about it, things could be a lot worse right now.”

  “I know. You’re right. I could be fending off reporters over a huge data dump scandal. I could lose my company, my reputation.” I sigh. “You’re right. I just can’t get past something Clive said.”

  “What’d he say?” Trix asks.

  I stab the crust of my toast with my nail. “He said that night in New York was real.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  “I do,” I say, exhaling hard. “Was I too harsh?”

  “No,” Melanie says. “He lied to you and tried to steal your stuff. That’s instant not-okay.”

  Trix tilts her head. “Well…”

  I raise a brow. “You disagree? Whatever happened to poor equals thief?”

  “Okay, you know I’m not one to play the I told you so card, but I did tell you so about that one.”

  “Acknowledged and accepted,” I say.

  “But… I think I do disagree a little. I mean… Yeah, sure, he started out with some pretty cruddy intentions, but in the end, he did the right thing.” She shrugs. “That earns him some points in my book.”

  Melanie shakes her head at her. “Your moral compass is all over the place lately.”

  “It’s more like a pendulum, truth be told.”

  “Okay…” Melanie sighs. “I’ll concur — reluctantly — that he’s not all bad. He did make you very happy for a while… or his penis did, anyway.”

  “Yeah.” I chuckle. “He did.”

  “Do you think you’ll go back to the club?” Trix asks. “Find a new Dom?”

  “Hadn’t really thought about it.”

  I try and picture it. Me strapped to a St. Andrew’s cross with some other man standing behind me. Bent over and submitting to him instead. His hands on my body and his voice in my ear. His lips…

  It’s not the same.

  How in the world could anyone ever compare to Mr. Snow?

  A lump forms in my throat.

  I pull my napkin off my lap. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

  I stand up and walk away, slowly zigzagging around the tables toward the ladies’ room. It’s empty, thankfully, and I retreat into the first stall I see before my eyes spill over.

  No. No, Nora. You can’t do this to yourself.

  I swallow them back down and dab my eyelids with my sleeve.

  Clive lied to you. It’s complicated, but simple. It’s hard to fathom now, but someday, you’ll find love again. You see it all the time. You built a living based on that very fact. There’s always another open space in your little, black book for the next guy. No harm done. World not over.

  And you’re not alone. You have Trix and Melanie. And Robbie. Maybe even Lenny the massage therapist if you promise not to make insane house calls.

  You are Nora Payne.

  Fucking act like it.

  I stand up tall and check myself in the mirror before heading back. Our usual server stands near a table just outside the restrooms, gathering a round of empty glasses and setting them on his tray.

  “Excuse me,” I say, prompting him to turn toward me. “Could we have a few waters delivered to our table, please?”

  “Yeah. I’ll bring them right out, Ms. Payne,” he says with a nod.

  “Thank you...” I pause. “I’m sorry, I’ve been winking at you for like a year and I don’t even know your name.”

  His lips curl. “It’s Roger.”

  My jaw drops as I place his voice. He hits me with a sinister wink and spins away, epically balancing his tray of empties as he rushes off toward the back.

  I close my mouth. “Well, that’s a twist,” I mutter to myself.

  “Nora!”

  I stop in my tracks a foot away from our table. “Clive?”

  I spin around as he rushes toward me through the restaurant. People turn in the chairs, muttering among themselves and recoiling as he runs by.

  “Clive, what are you doing here?” I ask as he stops in front of me. “And what is that smell?”

  “I had to see you,” he says. “And… bus.”

  “Bus?”

  “The horrible, awful bus I took to get back here from New York.”

  My lips twitch. “You just now got back here?”

  He nods. “I spent all day and all night thinking about what I could possibly say to you to make you forgive me.”

  I cross my arms, cursing my curiosity. “And what did you come up with?”

  He shakes his head. “A bunch of sentimental crap, mostly. And excuses for my judgment. But it’s all meaningless bullshit because even if it worked and everything went back to the way it was, we’d still be living with the fact that I took advantage of your trust and I don’t know how to fix that. No amount of trust falls could ever make up for what I did.”

  I look down, biting my cheek to force the tears away. “You might be right,” I say.

  “So, I don’t blame you,” he says. “If you tell me to turn around right now and get out of your life, I’ll do it.” He takes a deep breath. “But until you do, I’m gonna beg.”

  He drops to his knees, bringing a few swoons from the crowd.

  “Ms. Nora Payne, I’m begging you to take me back.”

  My cheeks bur
n red. “You’re begging?”

  “Yes.” He holds his hands in prayer. “I’m begging you. Forgive me, please.”

  “Clive—”

  I take a step back but he follows me on his knees.

  “Clive, get up—”

  “I’ll do anything to be with you again,” he says. “Just say the word and I’ll do it.”

  My brow piques. “Anything?”

  “Anything.”

  I hold my breath and look around. All eyes are on me. Trix and Melanie. Clive and the staff. Complete strangers have abandoned their meals to see how this plays out. My skin tingles with embarrassment. My heart bleeds for him all over again.

  Clive doesn’t even blink. He adores me with those sinfully sweet blue eyes, patiently waiting. And he’ll keep waiting. He’ll beg and plead to me like…

  Like a sub.

  “Stand up,” I tell him.

  He pushes off the floor and stands up tall in front of me.

  “Take off your belt.”

  His brow furrows in confusion. “My belt?”

  “Take off your belt.”

  I extend my hand for it.

  Clive studies the hard lines on my face before exhaling and doing as I say. He reaches down and tugs it free, quickly sliding it out of his belt loops and laying it in my open palm.

  I fold it in half, gripping it tightly. “Lay your palms on the table,” I tell him.

  He blinks. “What?”

  “Lay your palms on the table, Mr. Snow.”

  His expression shifts, losing every bit of confusion and replacing it with subtle shock. He glances around as if to silently remind me of where we are but I know exactly where the fuck we are.

  He clears his throat and turns to place his palms on our table. “Ladies,” he says, nodding at Trix and Melanie.

  “Don’t talk to them,” I snap. “You’re talking to me right now.”

  He turns his head around. “Nora—”

  I touch the belt to his back and he shuts up. “Did I say you could turn around?” I ask.

  Melanie and Trix take out their phones.

  Clive looks forward again. “Nora—”

  “You will call me Ms. Payne.”