Heart of Dixon

by Danielle Jamie

  We’ve been going over last minute menu changes for the wedding, and mapping out our plan to hit some antique shops this afternoon to try and find some unique items to decorate the reception. She’s going for a classic southern feel. I swear my best friend wishes she’d been born back during Scarlett O’Hara’s time.

  “So, how are you feeling about you-know-who coming to town today?” Delilah asks nervously as she rings her napkin in her hands.

  I feel awful. This is supposed to be a happy time for her, and instead of being excited about her upcoming nuptials, she’s stressing over how Lawson and I will get along these next two weeks.

  I decide to lie. I want her to stop stressing and enjoy this time. I love my best friend too much to allow myself to have anything to do with her not being excited about marrying the man of her dreams. “I’m fine. It’s been four years. I moved on a long time ago.”

  She gives me a weary look. “Are you sure? If you are really freaking out on the inside, it’s okay and completely understandable, Emelyn. I know he’s my brother, and I love him to pieces, but what he did to you was wrong. All of us were a mess after the accident, but you didn’t see you and me treating everyone we loved as if they didn’t matter. If it helps, he’s freaking out…like big time.”

  This gets my attention. “What do you mean?”

  “He told me the other night on the phone he’s nervous about coming home. You guys have somehow managed to avoid each other for the last few years. Now that is impossible to do, since you’re in my wedding together. He said he’s afraid it’s going to be too hard being back here, and not just seeing you, but having to walk with you in my wedding.”

  I take a long sip of my latte as I absorb her words. A part of me wants to confess to her I’m freaking the hell out inside, while the other part is saying I need to put my big girl panties on and suck it up. Then, to hear Lawson is feeling everything I am only makes my nervousness intensify. Being around him is going to be extremely hard, and I’m not sure I’ll survive these two weeks without doing something stupid.

  Lawson McCoy is my ultimate weakness. Even with every fiber of my body loathing that man for breaking my heart, for some messed up reason I still miss him. I never told Delilah, but that’s the reason I’ve avoided him every time he’s come to town for the holidays. I’ve always been too afraid that once I see him, the pain I’ve worked so hard to move past will come flooding back, and I’ll cave and beg for him to give us another chance.

  My goal is to survive these next two weeks and steer clear of Lawson unless absolutely necessary.

  I give Delilah a huge grin as I place my hand over hers. “I’m fine. Really. I will do whatever I can to stay out of Lawson’s way while he’s here. I won’t allow anything to happen that’ll ruin your special day. We’re both grown adults. There’s no reason why we can’t walk up an aisle together and get along for the sake of our favorite person. We both love you and want this wedding to be everything you’ve envisioned since we were eight years old and made our dream wedding scrapbook.” I laugh as I give her hand a gentle squeeze.

  I’m convincing her as much as I’m convincing myself.

  “As long as you say so.” Her eyes light up and a small smile spreads across her petite face. “Now, no more dreary, sad stuff. We’re leaving the doom and gloom behind and we’re going to have a fun-filled day of wedding shopping.”

  I nod in agreement. “Sounds like the perfect plan to me.”

  The door to the café chimes as someone enters. We’re sitting by the front window in our usual seat, where we get coffee together every morning. We were so engrossed in our conversation, I didn’t notice anyone walk by and enter the café until the bell above the door rang.

  Glancing up, I spot Tucker Reid. He’s the fire chief here in town and on more than one occasion has tried to convince me to go out on a date with him. I’ve tried to avoid dating anyone in this town. My relationships never last, so it’s easier to just avoid the local guys all together. I don’t want the headache of worrying about running into them around town, so I’ve always dated guys from the ones surrounding Lincoln.

  “Good mornin’, ladies. What are you two up to on this lovely day?” Tucker greets us as soon as he spots Delilah and me sitting by the window. He’s best friends with her fiancé Grayson; they work in the same firehouse together. Delilah’s been on my case to give him a chance, and even went as far as suggesting he be my plus one for the wedding.

  I have to admit his dimpled chin smile and sparkling hazel eyes are enough to make my heart rate pick up. I’m not blind; I know he’s extremely good looking. I just don’t want to give him the wrong idea by asking him to be my date to the wedding, but I also don’t want to look pathetic in front of Lawson by showing up alone. What if he brings a date? Delilah’s never mentioned if he’s going with someone, but then again, she rarely talks about him around me to begin with.

  “Hey, Tucker. It is a lovely day out, isn’t it?” she says, grinning from Tucker to me before glancing out the large glass window.

  “Mornin’, Tucker. We’re getting ready to do some last minute wedding shopping for the reception.” I smile weakly at him before sipping on my coffee, trying anything to distract myself.

  I’m a bundle of nerves, and it’s all because of the mischievous glimmer sparkling in my best friend’s eyes right now.

  “Are you working at the fire house today?” Delilah asks as Tucker leans against the wall beside our table—directly next to me, of course.

  He lets out a low, “Mm-hm, that I am. I’m just grabbin’ a coffee then heading over for my shift. Grayson is working today too; we have a school field trip coming in this afternoon. You know how much the kids love that big goofball. So it should be an interesting day.”

  “Aww, I love seeing the pictures of the kids with their fire hats on. Hopefully sooner rather than later, we’ll have a Jr. Fire Fighter running around the firehouse.”

  Tucker and I both give her a serious look, silently asking if she’s hinting at anything. If she gets knocked up before the wedding, I’m going to kill her, because I booked us a weekend getaway next weekend for her bachelorette party. Strippers and shots won’t be any fun if she’s all bloated and puking.

  “Chill, you guys!” She laughs, holding her hands up. “No baby-on-board car decals yet. Believe me!”

  I relax in my seat. Thank God!

  “Speaking of weddings, I need to send you my RSVP. I’ve been swamped at work and it keeps slippin’ my mind,” he says, and I feel Tucker move away from the wall and take a few steps, stopping in front of us. Leaning forward, he rests his hands on the table and flashes me his sweet boy-next-door smile.

  “Oh, don’t worry. You can just give it to Grayson at work if you’d like. Are you bringing a special lady with you by chance?”

  What is she doing?!

  He lets out a deep chuckle. “Well, actually no, I’m not. Slim pickin's around here. Everyone seems to be getting hitched lately.”

  I divert my eyes out the window, but can feel Delilah’s on me.

  “Well, my maid of honor here is flying solo too. Why don’t you two just go together? It’d be fun!”

  I snap my head around so fast I cause the table to shake and some of my coffee to spill out of my cup.

  I’m going to kill her before she even gets a chance to walk down that damn aisle.

  “A beautiful girl like you attending a wedding alone? I find that hard to believe,” Tucker says with a hint of flirtation in his voice.

  I drop my eyes to my mug. I wonder if it’s possible to drown yourself in a cup of coffee if you try hard enough, because right about now, I’d do anything to escape this conversation. My matchmaking best friend is so going to get it once we leave this damn café.

  Shifting nervously in my chair, I look from Delilah to Tucker. What the hell do I say?

  Do I lie and say I have a date? But then what would I say when I show up to the wedding alone?

  “Sadly, yes, my be
st friend here is going alone. I swear she’s going to be one of those old, lonely cat ladies. All she does it work all the time.”

  Just as I lift my gaze to Tucker’s to politely turn him down, I hear a rumble of a motorcycle pulling up outside the window. My stomach flip-flops as I see it pull up out front of the café. The instant the helmet is pulled from the head attached to the massive body of solid muscle wearing the sexiest pair of tight jeans I’ve ever seen on a man, black biker boots, and a tight fitting grey v-neck tee, my mouth drops. Not because of the body, even though it looks like his biceps were chiseled from marble, but because of the face I see as the sleek black helmet is removed and set onto the seat of the Harley.

  Holy fucking shit!

  I think I let a small gasp escape as I take in Lawson standing beside his bike, running his fingers through his long auburn hair that falls to the top of his ears. He was always handsome, but now he has a rough and rugged manly look to him, with a light stubble shading his strong jaw.

  “You okay?” Tucker asks, snapping me out of my Lawson haze.

  I force my eyes away from the window. “Sorry. I’m fine. To answer your question, I’m very single, and yes, I planned on attending the wedding alone. But I guess it wouldn’t hurt if two friends went together, all in the name of celebrating our best friends getting married.”

  I can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth right now. Seeing Lawson has my brain scrambled, but there is no way in hell I’m going to that wedding alone. I need someone to keep me distracted and to help keep Lawson away. If he thinks I’m with someone, it’ll make it easier to avoid him at all costs.

  One thing is for sure: I now officially know I’m definitely not over Lawson McCoy. If it’s possible, I think seeing him just now made me fall just a little bit harder for him.

  I’m totally and utterly screwed.

  Please, God, let these two weeks fly by. The faster we get this wedding over with, the faster we can all go back to our normal lives. Lawson can go back to Tuscaloosa, and I can return to my content life of denial I’ve been living.

  By Cassy Roop

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  I SWEAR TO GOD if I had to fake one more orgasm today, my fucking head was going to explode. The heavy-set older man’s sweat dripped onto my back as he tried ferociously to pound into me from behind. He was breathing so hard I feared that he would have a heart attack if he didn’t lose his fucking load soon.

  “Oh baby. Yeah, like that,” I said in my well-practiced, seductive voice as I stared down at my nails while thinking about how I needed to schedule an appointment for a manicure. I needed to call my agent as well and tell her that if she scheduled me with anymore older men who had issues keeping it up long enough to even penetrate me, then I would throttle her.

  This wasn’t the way I envisioned my life playing out when I was younger. I never had the thoughts of “Hey, I’m going to be an escort when I grow up”. I know what you are thinking. Escort, call girl, prostitute, whore. What’s the difference? The difference is I don’t care. I don’t care about the men I fuck on a daily basis. I don’t care that they might have families at home. I don’t care if they are some of the most powerful men in the news or the movies. The difference is I just don’t care.

  I don’t experience many of the emotions or feelings that normal people do. I don’t feel remorse. I don’t feel emotional pain. I occasionally experience happiness, anger, and agitation, but I sure as hell don’t feel love. It is something that I have always dealt with. I don’t have the ability to identify or describe most of the everyday feelings that people experience. It is a condition I was born with. Gifted by the grace of God to live almost emotionless in this world of fucked up shit.

  What is the one thing I do experience? Pleasure. Having sex is the only time that my mind and my body get to truly...feel. I guess you could say that is the reason behind my chosen profession. Having sex with men gives me a sense of tipping the hat at normalcy. Having someone buried deep within the walls of me is the only occurrence in which I don’t feel like a stagnant, vacant person.

  “Oh Jericho, your pussy is tighter than I remember,” the man behind me said as he pounded into me with as much force as he could before he choked out his release. I tried to clench my inner muscles as tight as I could, willing for even a hint of an orgasm to follow.

  Nope.

  Nothing.

  Fuck.

  I hung my head in frustration as the man pulled out of me. Pressing my palms into the mattress, I lifted my chest and scooted to the side of the bed to put my clothes back on as the man walked to the bathroom to discard the used condom. I watched as his wrinkled, sagging ass jiggled with each step he took. I would have laughed if I felt some amusement. I would have shuddered in disgust if I knew what that felt like. Instead, I reached for the brown envelope on the side table and slipped it into my bag. Mr. Patterson was probably the easiest grand I made. It took him all of about five minutes when he could have had a whole hour. My policy though is once you cum, we’re finished and the session was over. My clients know this. It kept shit from being personal and gave me a reason to high tail it the fuck out of there without having to actually engage in conversations I couldn’t care less about.

  “Always a pleasure, Jericho. I put a little something in your envelope this month. I will call and schedule another session with Alexandra soon.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Patterson,” I said as I put my coat back on and slung my purse over my shoulder and exited the hotel room.

  The frigid air of New York hit me in the face as I finally made my way outside. Walking to the curb, I threw my hand up in the air and allowed my leg to stick out a little from my coat. Sure it was cold enough to freeze my pussy lips shut, but I’d do anything to be able to get into a cab faster.

  One of the familiar yellow cabs with the stereotypical Middle Eastern man pulled up to the curb, and I hurried my freezing ass into the car. After barking orders to the cabbie to take me to my downtown Manhattan apartment, my phone rang from inside my bag.

  “Lexie,” I said, addressing my agent.

  “Are you done with Mr. Patterson already? Wow, that is a record, even for him,” her throaty, cigarette smoke produced voice said through the speaker.

  “Why the fuck do you keep scheduling him with me, Alexandra? It is a waste of a good orgasm that some other man could have given me. If I’m going to fuck someone, I should at least get the benefits of it.”

  “So I’m Alexandra now. Are you pissed? Wait. Never mind, forget I asked. Stupid question.”

  “Why are you calling if you knew I was with Mr. Patterson?”

  “Because I know Mr. Patterson,” she chuckled again while I stayed silent. “Ugh, you are such a hard ass, Jericho.”

  “I don’t feel like playing games, Lex. I have nasty old man sweat on me, and all I want to do is curl up in my tub and give myself the much needed and deserved orgasm that your Mr. Patterson deprived me of tonight. Shit, it’s been like four times in a row now. I think you should give him to one of the other girls.”

  “I tried, he wants you.”

  “Everyone wants me.”

  “Conceited much?”

  “Get to the point.”

  “I need a favor. Kiki sprained her ankle or some shit and her client is refusing to cancel. He said to provide someone else, or he wouldn’t require our services anymore.”

  “Not my problem, Lexie. I’m done. As I said, old man sweaty, wrinkled balls is reeking off of my body.”

  “Jericho, when do I ever ask you for a favor?”

  “All the time.”

  “Point well made. But, please. He is one of our biggest clients. He pays well. Cash. Four grand.”

  I paused from our conversation to try and process what Lexie was saying. Four grand? That would cover my living expenses for the month plus have plenty left over to go shopping. But who the hell would pay that much money to be with a woman one time? The thought had me a little turned off. W
hat if he was old like Mr. Patterson? What if he wanted some kinky animal shit going on?

  “He isn’t some sick motherfucker who is into bestiality and shit like that either, is he?”

  “Oh my God, no. I would never send any of my girls to a client like that. You know very well that we screen all of our clients thoroughly. It is my job to protect you girls while you make money for yourselves as well as for me.”

  “Fine, but I want next weekend off, Lexie. I’m due for it.”

  “Deal. But there are a few stipulations.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  “The client requires complete anonymity. You have to wear a blindfold the entire time you are in session and will not be allowed to remove it until after he leaves.”

  “That I can do, Lex. At least that way I don’t have to look at his wrinkles or his hairy ass and can imagine it’s someone like Brad Pitt fucking the hell out of me.”

  “Good. I’ll send his driver to your apartment in the next hour. Jer, this one is important. He is one of our highest paying clients. Do your best.”

  After hanging up, I wondered what kind of man I would have to deal with tonight. I was tired, even after my lack of orgasm with Mr. Patterson, but maybe I could get my much-needed release after all.

  The cabbie pulled up in front of my apartment building, and I handed him a twenty through the slot in the glass that separated us. After telling him to keep the change, I made my way through the frigid New York air and into my building. The Camarades was a small set of ‘for sale’ condos housed just minutes from downtown Manhattan. They leaned more towards the luxury side of life and I found solace in knowing that I worked my ass off, literally, for the amenities of them. After a short elevator ride to the top floor, I produced the key from my purse and opened the door to my apartment. Sitting in the corner of the building, my apartment produced a beautiful view of the Manhattan skyline. Lights twinkled in through my windows, casting illuminating shadows across the dark, stained wood floors.