by CY Jones
A beat of silence before her answer makes my heart leap from my chest and crash to the ground in a fiery inferno, but as hard as her words are to hear she still leaves me with a flicker of hope holding onto life in the ashes. “I’ll always love Justin. Once you give away pieces of your heart, you can never get those pieces back. No matter how the other person handles them, those pieces are theirs to keep until someone worthy comes along and makes those pieces you gave away fade into the background with their own.”
“You’re a real poet, Paige. Are you sure the life of house flipping is for you?” I joke.
“I have no plans to switch careers,” she laughs, and we both fold over in much-needed laughter after a heavy subject. This would be the perfect time to tell her about Justin, but before I can punk out, she beats me to the punch. “I know why you asked me that question. I know about you and Justin.”
“Does my brother know?” I ask quietly.
“No, it’s not his business, so I won’t bother to tell him.”
“How did you find out?” I ask, ready to kill Chaz. I mean who else could have told her?
“I went by his house the other day on my way to Chaz’s to return something I borrowed when I heard some questionable noises coming from inside. It didn’t take a genius to guess what you two were doing when you hear, ‘yes, yes, yes’, being screamed over and over again.”
“Oh,” I hum with heated cheeks. “How did you know it was me? It could have been anyone.”
“Harrison’s car was parked in the driveway. I doubt Harrison was there fucking him.”
“If you knew, why didn’t you say anything? Like 'hey skank, I know you’re fucking my ex' or 'lay off, no touching. I licked him first'.”
“What? Why would I do that?” she sputters with tears in her eyes. She’s laughing so hard, they drip down her face like a rushing tide and her whole face is as red as mine, but in my case, my redness is from embarrassment.
“Because you had dibs first. It’s within your rights to be mad at me. You can’t have Harrison’s little sister encroaching on your territory.”
Halting her laugh, she looks me dead in the eyes with a serious look on her face. “Brooklyn, Justin isn’t mine anymore. Who he fucks or spends his time with is no longer my concern. In fact, I couldn’t be happier that he’s found someone else who’s worthy and I hope he doesn’t fuck it up.”
“I don’t know what to say.” For once in my life, I’m completely speechless. I was expecting her to be pissed when she finally found out. Shed nice Paige like old snakeskin and show me the real Paige hidden underneath, but I’m beginning to realize, there are no two sides to Paige. What you see is what you get. The nice bubble gum pink princess is who she is. Don’t get me wrong, she’s no pushover. Wrong her and she’ll smite you, but she does it so sweetly, so when she accomplishes her goal, you’re stunned that someone as sweet as her can put you in your place.
“Are you sure you’re not mad? It’s not too late to tar and feather me.”
“Why would I do that when you two are perfect for each other? I’m actually rooting for you both. Justin has atoned for a lot. He’s been through Hell and you're just the one he needs to reap his soul and make him complete again.”
“Remember you said that when Harrison finds out and is out for blood. What am I saying? Justin and I will never work out.”
“Why?” she asks curiously.
“First off, location. I live in New York, and he lives here in Cali. Long-distance relationships never work out. Then there’s the blatant fact that he’s still in love with you. As much as he tries to fight it, his heart still beats at a rapid pace when you’re nearby. You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed?”
“I have noticed, but I also noticed since you got here I have seen less and less of him. He hasn’t called me to hang out, and when we do talk, I no longer hear the longing in his voice, and you know why?” she questions.
“Why?” I answer, playing dumb.
“Because of you. You’re special, Brooklyn. You are the girl who can do what I couldn't. I’m sure Justin told you why we’re not together anymore, right? The reason why he cheated on me?”
“Yeah, his addiction.”
She nods. “With us, his addiction was stronger than any love he had for me, but with you, it’s different. He’s different and it’s a beautiful thing to see. You feed a deep-rooted need I never could.”
“I don’t know.” I’m hesitant to believe her words. I don’t want this to be a situation where I’m happy because I’m hearing what I want. Paige would never steer me wrong, but Justin has already fooled her once. But then, his words rattle around in my head. Words I’m not sure I can continue to deny. I’m just like him, an addict, addicted to sex. In my case, it takes a lot to satisfy the five personalities inside me. I’d never strayed from Andrew, but it was getting harder to feel satisfied. I’d have to jump him like four times just to get through the day and still hold strong at night. He’s never minded. What red-blooded male turns down sex? But a part of me always wondered what the hell is wrong with me.
“Just think about it,” she says, squeezing my shoulder. “I’m going to go distract my husband from whatever murder plans he’s in his study concocting. Why don’t you go pay Justin a visit?”
“You two are going to fuck, aren’t you?” I groan and she gives me a wide smile.
As quickly as I can, I grab my brother’s keys and leave before the first set of moans start.
6
New York New York
“You know, you don’t have to leave. You can always stay here with me,” Justin says, absentmindedly twirling a long strand of my hair around his finger. We’re lying in bed after a heavy lovemaking session. After what we did, I’m surprised the bed is still in one piece. Whoever made it, did a fantastic job.
“Really? You want me to quit my job, move to Cali, and stay here with you in sexual bliss like some made woman?” I hate the hopeful look on his face, even though I know, he knows, it’s a lie. “That’s not me. As much as you want to believe it is, you know you’re only lying to yourself.”
“I know, but a guy can dream.”
We both lie there, miserable. Tomorrow morning I’m flying back to New York and as much as I'd like to extend my vacation, I know I have to go back. I have a life I need to fix and I can’t do that from Justin’s bed. He knew I had to go back sometime. Maybe he was being delusional or giving wishful thinking a try. I want to think about him and take his feelings into account, but I also want to be selfish and think about myself. I’m a nobody here, but back in New York, I still have a chance to rebuild what The Turd destroyed. I missed out on one exclusive. There’s many more where that came from. I’m the one who found the story, I can find another and this time, when they try to take it away from me, I’ll go solo.
I also need to go back to deal with The Turd. A new bouquet of lilies shows up at my brother and Paige’s place every day, and every day when I get back from Justin’s, I tell my brother the same thing, throw them away or use them in one of his staged houses. Either way, I don’t give a flying fuck about the flowers or the sender. They are nothing more than an everyday reminder of what I need to do, which is to go back to New York so I can move out. I’ve scheduled movers for the day after I get back to help pack up all my shit and move it to the place Chaz was telling Paige about. It’s actually the place his ex was living until they broke up. Chaz said Michael moved because he wanted something of his own and the townhouse was in his name.
At first, I wanted to turn his offer down, especially when I found out Chaz wasn’t expecting me to pay rent. When I tried to decline his kind offer, he wouldn’t hear of it. I can’t deny how perfect the place is. It’s in prestigious Upper Manhattan and a short subway ride away from my job. The best thing is the Turd will have no clue where I moved to nor can he find out since it’s in Chaz’s name. Reluctantly, I agreed to his offer. I will not look a gift horse in the mouth. Besides, once things calm down, I can a
lways move.
“What are you thinking about?” Justin asks, breaking me from my thoughts.
“Moving and all the things I need to do when I get back to New York,” I answer, turning my attention back to him. He’s really something. I’m always dumbstruck by how beautiful he is.
“Oh,” is all he says.
“Don’t be sad,” I tell him, smoothing the wrinkle in his brow with my thumb. It has no place there on his perfect face.
“How can you say that? It figures the first time I truly fall in love after Paige, the girl of my obsession would turn out to be an illusion,” he replies bitterly. My eyes widen as I’m struck dumb, not by his beauty this time, but his words. Fall in love. Love. Justin is in love… with me.
“Justin… I...”
“I’m not expecting you to say it back,” he says, sitting up and not even his yummy abs on display can distract me. I sit up with him, completely naked, jump on his lap and kiss the living daylights out of him as silent tears stream down my face.
His thumbs rub away my tears, but they keep gushing out of me like a break in a dam. Our kiss is heated, an erupting volcano, but sweet like chocolate. Smooth, riding along a private river of our own. My heart, known to beat to its own drum is excited and nervous at the same time. I want him. No, need him. Life is so cruel, so fucking cruel. Why put this broken man in my path when I’m not strong enough to pick up the pieces? When I open my eyes, he's staring right back at me and I can see it there. The love. I see it, shining right back at me like a beacon of hope, but is it hope for him or me? He’s broken, I’m damaged, how can this work? We’re the blind leading the blind right off a rocky cliff. But the feels. Shit, it hurts. It hurts so very bad and I know why. Because somehow, this damaged heart took the pieces of his broken heart and built her armor.
“I love you too, but it doesn’t change anything. I still need to go back.”
“I know,” he whispers, resting his forehead against mine and we sit there like two lovers waiting to get our portrait painted.
Leaving is bittersweet. On the plane, I play mine and Justin’s last moments together over and over in my head like a broken record. Admitting that we both are in love with one another and the cold reality of real life. Normally, I’m attracted to my opposite, but Justin and I are made from the metal from the same coin, it’s just the two sides which are different. He knows I’m crazy, but he doesn’t care and I know he has problems, but with time, they can be fixed. I’m not one of those dummies who thinks they can fix a man. I’m not Fix-it Felix, waving around my magic hammer. I know it’s up to Justin to work on himself, but for me and the love he holds for me, he has finally found the willpower to change. For me, he’s ready to be the man of my dreams. The only problem is I can’t make that same dedication.
I have things in my own life I need to fix, but I can’t lie and say I’m not willing to do so. For him, I’ll do anything to make this right because I never want to see that sad look in his eyes again, like I did when I left him for the last time. Right when the fasten seatbelt sign lights up, my phone beeps with an email notification. Luckily, The Turd has left my email out of his obsession and only torments me over the phone and with the local floral shop, so I automatically know it’s not him.
Dear Temporarily Damaged
I refuse to leave things the way we did. I love you and you love me. That’s the basis of my theory. As a true scientist, it’s my job to experiment to prove my theory. This is what I propose. Paige and Harrison met on From Cupid. They did not know it at the time, but they were conversing back and forth with each other before their first official date. I propose we do the same thing and before you reject the idea, I know what you and your four other personalities are thinking. This is ass backwards. Am I right?
He is, but I’m intrigued and keep reading.
We already know how we feel about one another, and we’re good at fucking. We did the date thing and I hit a home run.
Cocky bastard. Those are not the things we’re having issues with. Our issue is the level of commitment we have with one another. And long distance.
Right now, you are on a plane leaving me behind. Your level of commitment to me is not looking so good, but I’m willing to give you another chance. Me! What about him? He let me leave. Now, firecracker, get that thought right out of your pretty head. We both know even I could not have stopped you from leaving, and if I had tried to, I would have damaged more than I built up these past couple of weeks. Damn it, I hate that he’s right. Yes, I know I’m right and a cocky bastard.
Moving on, be my From Cupid. I propose we write each other back and forth. Learn about each other in words and see if we can build and strengthen our commitment. I’m not calling this a long-distance relationship because they never work out. I’m calling this ‘taking a leap of faith’. I’m not expecting you to be a saint in New York. What does that mean? Is he going to fuck around while penpaling me? Stop thinking that thought right now. I’m telling you this now, with written evidence, leaving a digital copy behind where it’ll never get lost, you are it for me. There’s no other woman in this world I can see myself happy with. I’m willing to see this through to the end, are you? While we’re apart, the only partner my dick will have is my hand as I jerk myself off thinking about your luscious, curvy body and all the things I’m going to do to it when we’re together again. Holy Hell!
Again, I know what you’re thinking. I’m a sex addict. I’ve already ruined one relationship with my addiction, how can I stay faithful to you hundreds of miles away? Is that the jist of it? Well, fuck, it’s creepy how well he knows me and what I’m thinking. It’s like we’re conjoined twins joined at the head. As much as I loved Paige, she was not enough to feed my addiction. One taste of your lips soothes me. Your pussy is the only one I want to dive into, and that mouth... Your mouth drives me crazy, verbally and when it’s wrapped tightly around my cock, which by the way is hard as fuck right now as I type this email. And you know why? The very thought of you leaves me that way. Don’t doubt, my love. I will always be true to you.
Yours truly,
A Broken Man
“Miss, you need to turn off all devices. The plane will be taking off soon.” I turn my phone away, hoping the pretty stewardess didn’t get a good look at my email, especially the naughty bits. I feel like a kid with their hand caught in the cookie jar.
“Sure thing,” I reply, putting my phone on airplane mode and tucking it away in my purse. When it’s safe to do so, I’ll pull it out just to reread his email over and over, a million times, until it’s memorized. No, that’s not right. I want it branded, seared into my brain until it turns into a memory that will never fade because I know as long as I live, I never want to forget it.
I slept for most of the five-hour flight, which I didn’t think was possible with Justin on the brain, but with all the consecutive nights he kept me up doing naughty things to my body, I shouldn’t be surprised. I always admired his commitment to his job. He’d wake up each morning and get dressed in time for work while I would lay in his bed until late in the afternoon like some unemployed, sexually blissed out bum. The ride was smooth and with the spacious first class seating, I didn’t have to worry about any pesky seatmate or an unruly child kicking the back of my seat or accidentally being bumped by the beverage cart me, making falling asleep that much easier.
The last hour of my flight, I decide to get some work done while I still can. When I get back to the office, it will be wheels up while I look for my next story. That little mishap with The Turd is not enough to sink my drive. New York is a city of scandal. I just need to keep my eyes and ears open.
I groan at the number of messages in my inbox. I had like a million unanswered emails. I really need to get a secretary. Can ants even have help? Something to bring up during the next staff meeting. Half of this crap is junk mail. Then there’s all these notifications from the pervs messaging me on my social media, asking for stupid shit like pictures of my feet. How are fe
et a thing? We walk on them everywhere regardless of whether you have shoes or not. Gross. Don’t even get me started on the dick pics. I’ve seen them in many colors, shapes, and sizes. I did get an email from the senator stating how unfortunate it was that I couldn’t do his interview, and he hopes I’m having fun on vacation. What the fuck? Is that what they told him? I couldn’t do his interview because I went on a fucking vacation? The only reason why I left early in the first place was because they stole the interview from me like a couple of underhanded thieves. Un-fucking-believable. Maybe I should start looking for a new job because this is too much.
Having had enough, I shut my laptop and tuck it away in my bag before I do something crazy enough to get arrested by the air marshal. They are out there, watching, especially flights headed for New York. I may be crazy, but I’m no terrorist. Staring out the window, I watch the sky until I start to make out land through the clouds before the city starts to come into view. When the plane lands at JFK, I stretch my legs and gather my things.
This is it. I’m back home. Let the royal rumble begin.
On the way home, traffic is light, which I should have taken as a bad omen. It doesn’t matter what time of the day or day of the week it is, traffic in the city is always cray-cray and not just with cars and public transportation, pedestrian traffic is just as congested. It may be after lunch, but it should still be busy. Hoards of people descend on the city of New York at all times, from the common working man to the bicycling hippie on a mission to save the world, the suits and ties venturing from one office building to the next to some random homeless person trolling trash bins, from the kids to cool for school skipping out on their classes and making all sorts of bad choices to, and my all-time favorite, the tourists who have to stop wherever they are and snap pictures of everything they see, not caring who they hold up.