by Sky Corgan
Months passed with our new routine, and finally one night, I got tired of going out and decided to stay in. Dominick wouldn't have anything to do with me though. I tried to coax him out of his office by making him a special dinner, but he told me he'd rather eat in his office. That was the first big sign that something was wrong. Dominick never ate in his office except during the time when Melinda had stayed with us. Even when he was in a piss-poor mood, he'd at least come out and share his mealtime with me.
“Are you alright?” I asked when he came to get his plate.
“I'm fine,” he grumbled.
“How's work going?”
“Fine.”
And that was all he said before disappearing into his office. Confused, I took my plate to the living room to eat in front of the television. It felt weird sitting there, but then again, just eating at home felt strange. During the past few months, I ate most of my meals at Tammy's house. Dominick had been living off of the frozen dinners I had made for him when I thought I was moving.
When I realized he wasn't going to come out of his office for the rest of the night, boredom got the best of me, and I ended up calling Victor to see if he wanted to do something. It was a Saturday night, and I didn't want to waste it by staying at home if Dominick didn't want to hang out.
Victor was more than happy to have me over. He told me that his cousin had bought him a bottle of tequila for his birthday, and he had been looking for a good opportunity to bust it open.
“No time like the present,” I joked with him over the phone.
“Well then get over here, and we'll celebrate the present with my present.”
When I told Dominick that I was leaving, he simply grunted in reply.
This wasn't the first time I had gone to Victor's apartment. The first time, I had been really nervous about going there, scared that he would hit on me, that I was putting myself in an awkward position. But Victor had been the perfect gentleman, and in time, I was at ease with the thought of being alone with him in his apartment. For as much as he hit on me when we were at school, he seemed a lot more timid when in his own space, a space that was every bit as barren and immaculate as Dominick's condo.
For men, they were both weird, but I thought Victor was even stranger. You'd think that a college guy, a bachelor at that, would live in the typical bachelor pad with posters all over the walls and a heaping pile of dishes in the sink. Victor was a neat freak to the tenth degree though. Everything had its place in his apartment, and everything was in its place. The first time I saw it, I thought I had just gotten lucky. Maybe he had cleaned before I showed up. But I noticed that every time I came over, it was exactly the same, spotless and perfect. It kind of freaked me out.
“What's the vintage?” I asked teasingly as he led me into the kitchen. He looked absolutely delicious in a pair of loose fitting jeans and an argyle sweater. The attraction was definitely still there, but neither one of us would act on it. He knew where I stood with Dominick, and I wasn't about to risk screwing things up for a night of hot passionate sex with someone my own age, though it did sound incredibly appealing, especially since Dominick had been neglecting his sexual duties as my boyfriend.
“Don Julio 1942.”
“Never heard of it.” I looked at the long thin bottle. It was like no other bottle of tequila I had ever seen.
“It's expensive.”
“What's expensive?”
“Over $100.”
“I'll never understand you rich people.”
“Us rich people?” he laughed.
“I swear, if Dominick didn't hate you so much, you'd probably get along swimmingly.”
“He hates me, huh? I'm hurt.” Victor leaned back against the kitchen counter, giving me the sexiest pout I had ever seen. There was something about his blonde hair as it fell in front of his hazel eyes, the sophisticated look his glasses gave him, the fitted sweater he was wearing. I just hoped the alcohol didn't amplify my attraction to him.
“Well, he doesn't really hate you. He just thinks you're . . .”
“I'm what?”
“That you like me.” I blushed when I said it.
“Well, I do like you. You're a good friend.”
My heart skipped a beat until he said the good friend part. Then it skidded to a halt of disappointment. Of course, he would err away from saying what he really thought. He didn't want to make me feel uncomfortable.
“Anyway, are we going to bust into this bad boy or are we just going to stare at it?” I quickly changed the subject.
“Well.” He eyed me playfully. “I'm only popping the top if you promise to drink the whole thing with me.”
“We can't drink all of that. It would kill us.”
“Alright. You have to match me shot for shot then.”
“I'm not even sure I'll be able to do that.”
“You at least have to promise to try.”
I thought about it for a moment. “Well, I didn't come all the way over here for nothing, now did I.”
His smirk brightened up the room. “I suppose not. To the dining room.” Victor rummaged through one of the cabinets for two shot glasses, then he grabbed the bottle, and we went into the dining room to sit at his oval dining room table. There was a vase with fresh-cut lilies set up in the middle of it, which he quickly moved aside so that we wouldn't have to look around it to see each other.
“You should have gone to school to be an interior designer,” I told him as I looked at the gorgeous white blooms that sprung up from the vase.
“My mother's handiwork,” he commented.
“You keep this place so clean though. It's ridiculous.”
“Cleanliness is next to Godliness. I suppose things might get a bit messy tonight though,” there was a darkness to his words that I couldn't place, but I decided to ignore it as I watched him twist the top off the bottle.
“We should play a game while we drink,” I suggested.
“That would defeat the purpose of matching each other shot for shot,” Victor said as he poured two equal shots and set them between us.
“It would be more fun though. I like drinking games.”
“They're kind of childish.”
I cowered internally, feeling like an idiot for even suggesting it. He must have seen my sudden shift in mood, because he paused and said, “What do you want to play?”
“We don't have to.”
“You're right. It would make things more interesting.”
“We could play Truth or Dare.”
“No. I hate Truth or Dare. I'd suggest Quarters, but I don't want to mess up the table.”
“Well you're just no fun,” I huffed playfully.
“What's so wrong with just talking?”
“Because we talk all the time.”
“But we don't drink all the time.”
“No, we don't.”
“So, are we going to take these, or are they just going to sit here all night?” He gestured to the two shots.
“Well, we can't just let them sit there. That's not why I'm here, right.” I took one in hand, holding it up and smelling the pungent scent of strong alcohol. Victor did the same, wrinkling his nose.
“This is supposed to taste really good,” he commented.
“It sure doesn't smell like it.”
“On three. One. Two. Three.”
The tequila seared the back of my throat, and it took everything in me not to gag.
“Chaser,” I said quickly, and Victor was instantly on his feet, rushing to the kitchen to get us something to wash the alcohol down with. He came back with two tall glasses of cranberry juice, which I found almost as unappealing as the alcohol. Still, I drank it, sighing internally as it cooled the burning at the back of my throat and helped balance out the harshness with tart sweetness.
“That was smooth,” he said when he slid back into his seat.
“Really? I couldn't tell.”
“Compared to most tequila.”
“Not smooth enough if y
ou needed a chaser too.”
“I don't usually take shots. This is a special occasion.”
“What occasion is that?” I smirked.
“My post-birthday party.”
“Ah. Happy post-birthday then,” I told him as I grabbed the bottle and poured us two more shots.
“You ready to go again?”
“Might as well. A toast to your birthday, which I'm sorry that I missed.”
We toasted to Victor's belated birthday and took down two more shots. The alcohol was every bit as unpleasant as it had been the first time, filling my stomach with a familiar warmth that was rapidly spreading to the rest of my body. Already, my mind was feeling a bit fuzzy and happy.
“So, how are things with Dominick?” Victor asked as he refilled our shot glasses.
“They've been better,” I sighed, gripping the glass when he slid it in front of me.
“More trouble in paradise? When is there not?”
“I'm starting to wonder that myself. It's really beginning to feel like the powers that be don't want us together.”
“Maybe they don't. It's a strange relationship, to be honest.”
“It is kind of strange, but I'm not unhappy.”
“You certainly sound unhappy.”
“That's not really what I meant. Things with Dominick are fine, sorta. It's just everyone else that doesn't want us to be together. Melinda told me I was messing up Dominick's work, and I suppose she's right, because as soon as she stepped in and took control of our relationship, everything was fixed again. Then his publicist came up to me at that party and told me I was messing him up again, and it seems like he was right too. As soon as I started staying away from the house, Dominick got back on track. You think we're horrible together. I'm sure my sister wouldn't approve of our relationship either. It feels like the world is out to get us.”
“Then perhaps you should let the world have its way. When so many things are against two people being together, it usually means something.”
“That doesn't make sense though,” I brooded, taking another shot without invitation and hissing as it burned my throat. Victor followed suit, making a face at me as if he was impressed at my taking the initiative. Then he filled our glasses again.
“What about it doesn't make sense?” he asked.
“All the romance novels and movies are about beating the odds. Isn't that what romance is about?”
“That's what fictional romance is about. In real life, it doesn't work that way.”
“I suppose. I just don't understand why everyone is so hellbent on breaking us up.”
“Well, look at the two of you from a distance. I mean, completely take your personal feelings out of the equation. Forget all you know about why the two of you are actually together. Can you do that?” He didn't wait for me to respond. “He's how old, thirty-one now?”
“Yeah.” I nodded.
“And you're nineteen. He's rich and famous, and you're a nobody. No offense.”
“None taken.”
“From an outside perspective, it looks like you're swooping in as a gold digger. Girls your age who date men his age usually are. His friends are naturally going to feel cautious for him. Besides, your maturity levels are so far off from each other, it's hard to imagine what he would see in you besides the sexual attraction of dating a younger woman.”
“Thanks.” I furrowed my brows at him.
“That's not what I mean. Just listen to me, will you. Again, we're looking at this from an outside perspective.
“He's used to living alone and putting out a new novel every month. You come into the picture, and suddenly that's not working out so well. So, his career is being threatened. He has people that work for him, in a sense. So, when his career is threatened, their work is also threatened. They see you as the cause of that, since you're the only thing that has changed in his life. It's natural that those who rely on him aren't going to want you messing up their livelihoods. Like it or not, you're just a girl to them. You're totally replaceable. And they see you as dependent on him, which is where the real threat lies. If you were older and more self-sufficient, it probably wouldn't be an issue.
“And as far as your sister is concerned, you have to understand why it would be bizarre if she found out that the two of you were dating. He's her best friend, the guy who has been in love with her since forever. The thought that he moved on with her younger sister would just be disturbing. She'd probably think that he was using you in some way to get to her. I know that's what I would think if I was in your sister's position. The three of you grew up together. He knew you when you were an infant. A relationship between the two of you just doesn't seem right. I couldn't blame her for not approving of it. If he was a stranger, and the two of you had just met and gotten together, it might be different, but all of Tammy's memories with Dominick and you are from when they were younger, and you were just a baby.”
I frowned. “I suppose I see your point. All of that makes us sound horrible together.”
“You're a victim of circumstance. That's all it is. His career plus your history together makes you a shitty couple to the outside world. There's nothing you can do to change that.”
“We can fight through it.”
“For how long?”
“For however long it takes. They don't matter, just us.”
“If that was true then you would have told Tammy already. What are you going to do when she finds out and flips out? Isn't that why you're stalling?”
I sighed, feeling the weight of his words. “I'm stalling because I don't want to deal with it right now, and I don't want to stress Tammy out. With the move and settling into a new job, she just doesn't need that right now.”
“You could have told her before though, a long time ago, before you knew she was coming here, but you didn't. That means it does mean something to you.”
“I'm afraid to tell her. Is that what you want me to say?” I grumbled. “I'm afraid she's going to make me chose between them. I'm afraid she's going to get angry at Dominick.”
“And what if she does make you choose? Who will you go with?” He leaned back in his chair.
“I'll just kill myself.”
“Oh, don't be so dramatic.”
“I'm serious. I can't choose.” Tears came to my eyes unbidden, and I quickly wiped them away.
“Don't cry. I didn't bring you here to break down. I just wanted to make you think,” Victor told me, though there was no sympathy in his voice. “Have another drink, and we'll talk about something else.”
I sniffled as I raised the shot glass to my lips, but for all my trying, the tears wouldn't stop. Soon, I was in a hysterical heap, sobbing wildly into my arms. Victor sat across the table, staring at me blankly while I apologized profusely to him. The world was spinning, and my words were a jumbled mess. Then there was nothing.
CHAPTER EIGHT
DOMINICK
It was a quiet evening, as so many had been. They seemed to run into each other, the days and weeks, mornings and afternoons of solitude. I was alone again, but perhaps that was for the best. Perhaps it was only a matter of time before it happened. The push and pull of my relationship with Kim was grueling.
Maybe the car had been a bad idea. Since getting it for her, I had become the flavor of last week. Who knew what she was doing right now . . . with him. Replacing me, I supposed. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Our lives were so far removed from each other. I couldn't blame her for not wanting to sit around the condo and entertain herself while I worked. What fun was there in that.
Oh well. I was used to being abandoned. My heart would break, was breaking. It should be something I was used to by now, but you never really get used to being kicked to the curb.
Perhaps a lasting love was never in the cards for me. Just work. Work and work and more work. Living vicariously through the fantasies I created. I had spent so many years locked inside my own mind, it's amazing I hadn't gone crazy yet.
&n
bsp; The phone rang, drawing me away from my depressing thoughts. It was Kim. I glanced at it nonchalantly, expecting that she was calling to tell me she would be home late, or maybe not at all. Perhaps this was the end, the night that she found herself in bed with him and forever barred from mine. It doesn't matter anymore, I told myself, though I knew it was a lie.
“Hello,” I answered, trying my best to sound annoyed. If she was going to replace me, the least I could do was act like I didn't care.
“Mister Parker.”
The voice on the other end of the line threw me off. It was the boy, the one she was fond of.
“Where's Kim?” I asked, my tone taking an unintentionally angry turn.
“She's here with me. She drank a little too much and passed out. You might want to come pick her up.”
“I'll be there in a little while. What's your address?”
For as upset as I was at Kim, I was grateful that Victor had been responsible enough to call me instead of allowing her to drive home. He wasn't a bad guy, to be honest. He wasn't the worst guy she could have gotten caught up with, that was for sure. I still couldn't force myself to like him though, not when he was obviously trying to steal my girlfriend.
After jotting down the address, I grabbed the keys to my car and headed for the door. Hopefully, she wouldn't throw up in the Maserati. That thought made me go back inside for a plastic bag before finally taking off to pick her up.
Dealing with drunk people was never fun. There was no point in being mad at her though. She likely wouldn't be sober enough to understand what I was saying if I lectured her. My breath was better saved for the morning. Nothing is more annoying and agitating than getting a lecture when you're hung over.
Victor's apartment was only a few miles down the road. It was one of the better apartment complexes in the area, with fresh paint on the outside of the building, gated access, and a security patrol. More than a college kid could afford.
I parked the car out front and knocked on the apartment door. Victor opened on the second knock, smiling at me pleasantly. All I could do was glare at him. This kid . . . I didn't know him very well, but I hated him. What a burdensome inconvenience he was.