by Hazel Grace
"Wade, huh?" His lips curve into a smile. "So, we're on a first-name basis?" Snatching a peanut out of one of the aluminum buckets sitting on our table, I chuck it at him.
“On second thought, I don’t need an assistant that day. Should be a pretty easy event and—”
“Alright, alright—” He holds his hands up in silent surrender. “—no more teasing, Grinch.”
Chase: I’m never on your mind at all? That’s cold-blooded.
Chase: There goes your Christmas present.
Me: Please don’t buy me anything, stalker.
Chase: It didn’t cost anything.
Chase: It was a swift kick to the ass for verbally abusing me for half the year.
Me: Damn, has it been that long?
Chase: Sadly, so.
Me: Wow...
“Business calls?” Andy asks.
I shake my head. “No, it’s this dude I’ve been talking to.”
“Really?”
And here we go with annoying conversation number two.
"Yeah, I met him on Bumblebee, and we hit it off. We've just never met."
“Why not?”
“Honestly...he’s always busy, I’ve been the same.” I shrug. “I’m not sure. I guess I’m afraid he won’t be what I’ve built up in my head.”
Andy brushes his palms together. “I get that. Some stability in your life and someone to talk to without the pressure.”
I lift my brows. “Exactly. He’s a nice dude, lawyer of all things.”
"So, he has money.”
"Andy!" I throw another peanut at him that he dodges this time. "Dude, you're annoying."
“And hot.”
This time, a handful of peanuts. “And annoying.”
A moment later, our drinks arrive, and I don't wait for us to cheers with our tequila shots, I just down mine. The liquor immediately warms my chest along with the kick of the aftertaste.
"Damn," I force out, eyes watering. "Top shelf."
“Only the best for my girl.” Andy raises his shot glass before kicking it back. I lightly scoff, knowing that he means it and slightly wishing that he was bi-sexual.
Andy and I would be perfect together. He’s mellowed out, gave me space, doesn’t beat around the bush.
Again, perfect.
"Why are you staring at me like you wanna jump me from across the table?" My phone buzzes in my hand, but I don't look down to read it. Instead, I bat my eyelashes.
“I was just thinking I wish you liked pussy.” His whole face screws up.
“Ew.”
I laugh, a real and genuine one. I need more Andy in my life. Even if it’s for the banter or just a way to get me out of my tunnel vision with my business, he’s healthy for me.
“You’ve never fucked a woman?”
“Absolutely not,” he asserts.
I raise my brows. “Wanna try?”
"You're disgusting." He glares at me, clearly appalled, and I miss messing with him. So, duh, I continue.
“You’re cute enough. I’d give it to you for free?”
He lifts a brow. “Do you normally charge?”
My lips crack. “Shit, I should.”
“You can’t be that good in bed.”
“I blow people’s minds.” Using my hands, I gesture a bomb going off.
“Mhm—” He rolls his eyes. “—and you say I’m cocky.”
“That’s why we get along so well.” Our waitress brings us our food, but it doesn't stop my bestie from blurting out his next comment.
"That, and it's because I haven't literally tried to fuck you." The skinny blonde drops our plate of mozzarella sticks with a loud clunk on the table.
“Sorry,” she stammers, pulling her tray to her chest. “Can I get you anything else?”
"Another tequila shot for each of us, please," Andy replies with a shit-eating grin. She quickly leaves before he turns his focus to me. "You didn't offer cheers to the last one, didn't count."
Peering down at my phone, I let Andy start digging into his burger while I respond back to the man who takes my mind off my day-to-day.
Chase: I don’t regret it too much. Talking to you, I mean.
Chase: You’re some sort of safe haven in my chaotic world of shit and liars.
Me: Same. I was just saying that to my friend.
Chase: You were talking about me?
Chase: Now, I’m scared.
Me: I swear, nothing bad. And that did sound weird, didn’t it?
Chase: Yeah…
Chase: But it means you DO think about me.
Me: And here goes the ego…
Chase: What, it makes a man feel good that he has a positive effect on a woman. I don't get complimented much. Give me a break.
Me: I’ll send a Kit Kat bar to your office.
Chase: LOL, you’re stupid.
Me: But I bet you laughed.
Chase: Which is pathetic.
Chase: I need a life.
"How about you invite the dude out sometime with us," Andy says. "That way, there is less pressure."
“Why, so you can mack on him all night?” I give him a dismissive wave of my hand. “No, thank you.”
“I’ll need to make sure he’s not secretly gay.”
“He’s not gay.”
Andy squints his eyes. “But how do you know?”
“Stop.”
“And I need to make sure he is good enough for you.” He wiggles a fry in my direction to make more of his point.
“And you want to check him out.”
He nods while taking another bite of his burger. “Won’t deny that.”
“See.”
“Was just a suggestion.”
“I appreciate it, but I’m not ready to meet him just yet. Not now.”
Andy shrugs. “Fair enough, girl.”
"Reagan?" My eyes follow the voice, glancing up to a dark-haired man with glasses staring back down at me.
Oh fuck.
"Hey…" I greet, inching closer to the edge of the bench, so he doesn’t sit down next to me.
Dexter, if you all need the reminder, is the dude I fucked in the back office a few months back with his buddy. He was great, the other one though…
My one-night bar stand steals a glimpse at Andy before speaking again. “How are you?”
Why did you come over here and make shit awkward?
“Doing good.”
Dexter shoves his hands into the front of his jeans. “That’s good.”
I gesture to my friend. “This is Andy. Andy, Dexter.”
Andy doesn’t bother to shake his hand, too invested in his burger. “Nice to meet you, man.”
"Yeah, you too," he replies back, not pulling his gaze from me. "I was going to ask if you wanted to come sit with Billy and I, but I don't want to pry you away from your meal and company."
Again, then why the fuck did you come over here?
I open my mouth to thank him, but Andy does instead. "Who's your friend?" Dexter points somewhere in the bar behind him, and Andy's eyes follow. "The cute brunette?"
Dexter nods and shifts his weight.
“We’re good, thanks though, Dex,” I offer with a forced grin.
Now, beat it.
"Maybe later, then?"
“Sure.”
“We’ll be over later,” Andy quips. “After I’m done with the burger.” I’m about to tell him “no” when my phone buzzes in my hand again.
Wade: Did Emmy schedule a Christmas dinner with the MacMasters?
And just like that—night ruined.
My body buzzes and not in the way that makes you wet in all the right places. No, I’m talking pure irritation.
Me: No.
I bite the inside of my lower lip. Just one sentence and he's barging into my thoughts, which gets me into my feelings.
I don’t like the liability of it. The way I want to leave this bar and go back to Mama’s house to curl up into a ball on my bed.
“Do you have any we
ed on you?” I ask as Andy snatches a mozzarella stick out of the red plastic basket.
“Yeah, you need to smoke?” I nod. “Alright…” He grabs a napkin and waves our waitress down.
She saunters over immediately, Andy has that weird effect on people and stands in place while waiting for him to speak.
“Darling, I will give you a hundred bucks if you watch my food for me. Just for ten to fifteen minutes.”
Her eyes widen. “What?”
Andy changes positions with her so that she’s closer to the booth. “You. Sit. Watch my food. Hundred dollars in your pocket afterward, got it, honey?”
“Alright...sure.” Andy gives her a wink before linking his arm with mine, guiding me toward the exit of the bar.
The moment the cold air hits me, I throw on my leather coat, letting my uneasiness freeze right along with me.
This isn’t me—not anymore.
Wade couldn't mean more than what he was—my boss. I don’t need anyone around me to make me feel better, act better, be better. I knew walking in, he was going to be a pain in my ass. Was fully aware that it wasn't going to be easy, and when we fucked, it was just that.
But the truth crept up on me, it was the moment Demi announced herself as his wife, and I felt like a fool.
Every time he approaches me now, it hits me over and over again. Reminding me that I let my defense down, and I'm not in the place to do that. Not until everything in my life settles down, and then I won't have to occupy my future with financial issues or my family being without.
But I’m without.
Wade filled a void that brought me back to life, which made me smile through the darkness.
Then he betrayed me.
Lied.
He never promised me anything, though, that's the thing. We never sauntered into a relationship, never spoke about it, or ventured in that direction. He had his dreams that he was following, and I was helping him get there.
If he did, in fact, become president, I sure as fuck didn't want to have that sort of attention on me. If things progressed, I wasn't going to step into that role. I've been in the spotlight before, didn't like it, and never wanted to do it again.
"Why don't you spill," Andy states, handing over a lit blunt.
Glancing around, we're standing off a quiet street where no one is outside due to the chilly weather, but I motion for him to walk down the sidewalk more so the smell of weed doesn't get the cops called on us.
"I'm just stressed out," I reply when we get further down. "Mama's done with chemo, but I'm scared of what comes next. Her bills get delivered to me, so she thinks Marty's insurance pays for it all."
“Doesn’t it pay for it all?”
I shake my head. “No.” I take a hit on the joint, letting the start of its effects seep into my body.
“How did Marty get your mom on his health insurance? I thought it was for immediate family members and spouses.”
"Something about her being a dependent, but the specialty care isn't covered."
"So, you've been covering the chemo?" I nod again, taking one more hit before handing the joint back over. "That's...expensive as hell."
“It’s why I’m in this world.”
“Rea...that world is shit.”
“But it keeps Mama getting what she needs.”
“And Marty still sends money?”
"Yeah, he got an increase about a year back. Mama thinks the house is paid for under government assistance, but it's not. He pays for the mortgage, a small amount of the bills."
“And you pay for the rest.”
“Yep. While he risks his life doing God knows what,” I allude, bowing my head into my chest.
I inhale a deep breath. Here I am living a free life while bitching and complaining about it. My older brother is seeing fuck knows what, and it eats at me. I want him just to come home. He can build whatever he wants with his life as long as he's out of jeopardy. It's all I care about.
“You always said he was a smart dude,” Andy says, passing back the weed. “Don’t sweat it so much. He’ll be home soon.”
“Sometimes—” I take a hit. “—I’m not so sure. It’s been years since I’ve seen him.”
“And what else?”
I glance up at him. “What else what?”
"Marty has always been a worry for you. What happens is when something starts to bother you, you reflect on everything else. So keep your vague ‘nothings’ out of this conversation, and let's have it out."
Narrowing my brows, I exhale my intake. “You keep a secret like shit.”
“Not when it comes to you.”
I scoff. “Sure.” Andy takes the blunt from my hands and brings it to his lips, keeping his immediate scowl on me.
“Try me.”
“I slept with the fucking governor.” Andy immediately begins to choke off his inhale, hitting his chest repeatedly to clear it up. “How’s that, asshole?”
"You're an idiot," he chides, still trying to gain back his regular breathing.
“Didn’t know he was married.” Andy shakes his head and holds up a finger for me to hold on while he gains his composure.
Rolling my eyes, I pull my phone from my jeans’ pocket and close out Wade’s text.
I want to delete and block it.
I want to be out of this fucked-up contract that I signed.
I want to disappear into nothing for a little while.
“How good was he?” Andy asks me as I pull up Chase’s newest text.
“Wouldn’t have kept going if he sucked.”
“There was more than once?” His tone is more like a shrill as I peer back up at him wearing broadened eyes.
“Yeah.” I shrug. I mean...how can a girl say no to good dick? Just didn’t know that said cock had a marital status.
Chase: Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.
Chase: Which means sucking dick.
Me: Already did.
Chase: Seriously…
Me: LOL.
Chase: So you are saving yourself for me?
Me: You need help.
Chase: I do.
“What are you going to do?” Andy asks.
I flick my attention back onto him, trying to feel as confident as my next comment. "I disappear."
♫ Send The Pain Below — Chevelle ♫
The lunch bustle of the restaurant seeps through the secluded corner as I settle in across from my father. I’ve debated over a dozen times today about blowing him off. That I really didn’t need his shit right now when I’m already dealing with enough stress.
Enough remorse for placing the blame where it didn’t belong, but I want this over.
I’m tired of the multiple emails from his staff trying to schedule stupid shit with me. I’m beyond over his voicemails and him bugging Em when I don’t answer the phone. He’s like a bad girlfriend who thinks if she harasses you that you’ll start to love her.
“Thank you for joining me,” my father greets then gestures at the drink waiting for me. “I ordered your normal whiskey. I hope that’s okay?”
"It's fine—" I start unbuttoning my coat. "—thank you." He waits for me to take a sip before speaking again. It looks like I'm going to need it apparently.
“I assume you know why I’ve called you here. And, as much as I know you don’t want to talk about it, I want to help you.”
This shit again.
I sigh. “With?”
“Demi.”
My body reacts at just the two syllables of her name. My muscles tense, and my jaw hardens like it’s about to shatter at the faintest touch. Memories infiltrate my brain, and I can’t get it to shut off. Phoebe’s words keep replaying over and over again in my head. So much so that I believe the only way for me to get them to shut off is to bang my head repeatedly against a brick wall.
Because she killed her.
My gut contorts painfully as I attempt to breathe through my nose. It flares, trying to inhale so I can calm myself, but all I c
an think of is how I wasn’t there. How I didn’t know that my twin sisters weren’t prone to drugs on their own.
They had a nice push that wore designer dresses and got her nails done every week.
My sisters liked to read, and do puzzles. They both used to fight over Barbies, and tried to always paint my room with watercolors when I was out playing football. I stepped on more legos as a kid than I cared to admit, and chased them around the house more times than I can count.
I wouldn’t call them angels by any means, but they weren’t partiers and pill poppers.
And definitely not coke-heads.
“What’s wrong?” My eyes snap to my father across the booth, looking back at me with concern in his eyes.
I can’t remember how long it’s been since I’ve seen that emotion in him. When he appeared like he truly gave two shits about his kids.
“Get fucked,” I deadpan, grabbing my glass and tipping it back.
I drain half the glass, welcoming the burn down my throat and hitting the pit of my stomach. I couldn’t save Camila, she was gone, but I sure as hell was going to protect my other sister.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he snaps, picking at his napkin—dare I say—nervously.
“Everything,” I carp. “But that’s not what we’re going to talk about today. I got it handled.”
“Like everything else, yes, you keep preaching that statement to me, Son. I’m not saying you’re incapable of doing this on your own, I’m just extending—”