by Ora Wilde
“Yes, of course,” he confirmed. “Thrice or four times before, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Five times, actually,” Chantelle corrected him as she flirtatiously played with the table cloth, her eyes still fixated on her date.
“And this is Conner,” I said, pointing to my stepbrother who was sitting across the table from where I was.
“Ah... Conner...” Lucas acknowledged. “A real pleasure, my man! I’m a big fan... big, big fan! How ‘ya doin’ bro?” he greeted him as he offered to shake Conner’s hand.
Conner looked at him mockingly, his eyes bolted from Lucas’ face to his extended hand and back.
It was an awkward moment... a very, very awkward moment... as Lucas was left there, with his hand proffered but was met with silence and ridicule. A few more seconds and it would’ve been an embarrassing moment for my fiancee.
So I gave Conner a dagger look, one which he immediately saw. I slightly tilted my head towards Lucas to command him to shake my man’s hand.
Conner sighed, but thankfully, he yielded. He stood up, begrudgingly, and shook Lucas’ hand.
“Whoa! Oh my... what a strong grip you have there, bro,” Lucas commented with a smile.
Conner just gave him a smirk.
Lucas sat down beside me, but before he could even say anything, two people rushed through the tables in the restaurant and dashed towards us. A man and a woman. The male was carrying a camera, while the girl had a pen and paper ready. I recognized them as two of the members of the six-man docu team that was tasked to record footages of Conner’s stay in Susanville.
“Oh motherfu...” Conner began to say. He didn’t finish it. He remembered our agreement. “Can’t you leave me alone? We’re just having dinner.”
“Sorry, Conner,” the girl - Maria, an assistant to the director if I remembered correctly - replied. “Boss’ order. We need to get some recordings of your activities today.”
The cameraman, Naitch, wasn’t the lead. Robert was, but he wasn’t there.
“Where’s Rob?” I asked him.
“He was left at the motel,” Naitch answered. “He didn’t want to leave the room.”
“How come?” I continued to question.
Naitch didn’t reply, at least not verbally. Instead, he pointed his lips towards Conner, reminding me of the incident at Felicity’s Diner two days ago. I just nodded to assure him that I understood.
“Good evening guys,” Maria belatedly greeted the table. “Please don’t mind us. We’ll be getting that spot adjacent to yours. You won’t even notice that we’re here.”
As soon as Maria and Naitch went to the other table, we placed our orders and settled on our seats.
“So, Connie, I heard you’ll be training here in Susanville for your next match,” Chantelle said in the most coquettish voice I’ve ever heard from her. She leaned towards Conner and rested her arm over his shoulder. I’m sure she teased him with the softness of her breast as well.
Conner’s reaction was priceless. Clearly, he didn’t like being called Connie. If I wasn’t there and if we didn’t have that agreement, he would’ve belittled my poor BFF with hurtful words and bladed insults.
But to his credit, he tried to remain calm. His face twisted into weird contortions, like he was suffering from dire constipation, as he exerted a lot of effort to be tolerant and patient.
I, too, tried my best... to stifle my chuckle.
“Leave them lovebirds be,” Lucas whispered in my ear. “I’ve been here for, what? Five minutes now and all you ever stared at are the two people in front of us?”
“Sorry, hon,” I murmured. “It’s just that... well...”
Well what, Meg?
“Well... this double date thing... I help set it up, and I feel responsible for them, in a way...”
Is that really it? Is that really the reason why?
“I understand,” Lucas assured me with a smile. “But they do seem to be getting along really well.”
One look at Conner would prove that such wasn’t the case.
I slapped Lucas’ thigh and smiled at him.
“Okay, let’s talk about us now,” I excitedly suggested. “Tell me about your day.”
“Well, it was alright,” he answered. “I attended this seminar about ForEx. I want to diversify my investments. Foreign currency exchange is a lot more predictable than stocks.”
“I’m happy for you,” I told him. “That’s really clever thinking, hon.”
“Have you told them?” he suddenly asked.
“Told them what?” I tried to clarify.
“About... you know...”
“I know?”
“Yes! Should I spell it out for you? Two nights ago? The singing waiters? My oh so romantic proposal? The hotel reservation?”
Oh. He was referring to that.
“I... I haven’t told them,” I answered. I had to start feigning my smile.
“Well... you can tell them now! Come on, honey! I’m happy about this. I’m sure they’ll be happy too.”
Ever the gossiper, Chantelle’s sharp ears managed to catch some bits of what we were talking about.
“Be happy about what?” she asked.
“Go tell them, honey!” Lucas egged me to share.
Somehow...
Somehow... I couldn’t. A lump formed in my throat, pushing the words further down, deep into my being, crushed by the weight of my heart.
“Okay, maybe Meg is just overwhelmed with emotions right now,” Lucas spoke on my behalf as he addressed Chantelle and Conner. “So allow me, please, to be the one to tell you the good news.”
“Oh wow!” Chantelle remarked with thrill. “I love good news! What is it? What is it?”
I don’t know why... but at that moment... I instinctively closed my eyes and wished that I wasn’t there, in that place, in that situation.
“The good news is,” Lucas enthusiastically began to proclaim. “Meg and I... we’re getting married...”
I heard Chantelle practically screaming in delight. I heard Lucas’ joyful laughter immediately after he announced our engagement.
But I didn’t hear anything from him...
From Conner...
I opened my eyes and looked towards his direction. And I saw him...
His face was painted with dejection. His eyes reflected a certain kind of sorrow. And his lips parted... mouthing something in silence... a term I forbade him to speak that night...
He was shocked. He was forlorn.
And somehow... somehow I shared his despondence.
And as Chantelle congratulated my husband-to-be, I gazed at Conner’s eyes and he stared at mine... and I was left wondering...
Wondering...
Wondering why I felt that miserable...
Chapter Seventeen
CONNER
“Shit... Connie... oh shit... that feels so fucking good.... unnghhhh...”
My body pressed against hers, pushing her back against the wall. Her tits, soft and tempting, rubbing against my chest, inviting me to remove her top and reveal the glorious mounds she was hiding underneath her clothes. Her leg hooked around mine, pulling me closer to her, pleading for my cock to caress the area between her thighs regardless of the fact that we were still fully clothed. Her face, tipped upwards in ecstasy; her mouth open as she moaned; her eyes closed as she savored every second; her neck exposed for my devouring. I fondled her breasts roughly. I wasn’t in the mood for gentleness. I licked the skin between her ear and her shoulder, before giving it a violent bite. She didn’t complain. She just moaned even louder.
I fucking hated it when she called me Connie an hour ago. That didn’t change.
But it didn’t matter.
At her house, by the hallway just before we reached her room, I grabbed her and started to kiss her. She offered no resistance. She wanted it. Why else would she have allowed me to bring her home.
My folks aren’t here, she said, expecting that we would be spending the night toge
ther.
Damn fuck if they were or were not there. I didn’t care. It didn’t matter.
I just wanted to... forget. And she was the most convenient diversion.
As I pulled up her skirt and caressed the creamy skin of her thigh, my thoughts began to clear up and I decided to identify the cause of the heaviness in my heart.
The good news is... Meg and I... we’re getting married, that bastard said.
But was that it?
Was that why I started to feel so fucking terrible?
If so... why?
What’s wrong about them getting married?
Sure, Margaret’s gonna tie the knot with some dickwad with a Bon Jovi haircut... but that’s her problem. Her choice, her funeral.
But why should I get affected over that?
I mean... who is she anyway? She’s just some broad who I met a couple of days ago... a sibling I never even knew I had. She’s getting married, have kids, be a gramma, grow old with that ball scrubber. So what?
“Is everything okay?” Chanda, Sandra, Selfina - whatever her name is - asked while panting.
“Huh? Yeah. Why?”
“You... You suddenly stopped just when I was getting all hot and horny, Connie,” she purringly replied.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake... please stop calling me Connie!”
“Why? I think it’s a cute name,” she said as she attempted to bury her lips in my ear.
I turned my head away from her.
“Connie is a girl’s name,” I sternly told her. “My mother didn’t name me Connie. She named me Conner. Conner! Two syllables. Same as Connie. Why can’t you use my real name instead of that god awful tag which is made even more horrific by your god awful voice!”
She fell silent as soon as I delivered those words. She unhooked her leg from mine and gently pushed me away. She pulled down her skirt and proceeded to her room. She left the door open and when I peeked, I saw her sitting sullenly on the side of the mattress, her eyes looking away towards the window.
I might have hurt her feelings.
Shit!
Normally, I wouldn’t give a monkey’s ass about what women think and what women feel. Even if it’s my fault. They’re just objects to please some fleeting fancies, momentary distractions, playthings to scratch a carnal itch.
She’s just one of those girls, and I’ve had many. Heck... I didn’t even like her.
But fuck! Why does she have to be Margaret’s friend?
I entered the room - which I presumed was hers - and sat by her side.
I didn’t know what to do...
I pondered on caressing her back... stroking her hair... squeezing her hand... similar things that those stupid people in those stupid TV shows do... but I just couldn’t compel myself to do any of them. The mere thought of resorting to such acts made me sick.
So I just tried to talk to her instead.
“Chastity...” I mumbled her name.
“Jesus Christ!” she yelled angrily. “You don’t even know my name?!”
“Well... errrr... since we’re in the subject of names... yes, I admit, I’m really, really bad with names. And it’s ridiculous, I know, that I’m sensitive about how other people call me when, most of the time, I don’t even remember theirs.”
She raised an eyebrow... surprised, perhaps, about how patient and seemingly understanding I sounded - a complete turnaround from how I was just a minute ago.
If she only knew the monumental effort I was exerting...
“It’s Chantelle,” she reminded me her name.
“Ah, yes... how can I forget such a pretty name,” I fibbed.
“You can be so mean,” she continued to say. “At the restaurant, you were so rude...”
“What can I do?” I asked. “I didn’t like the guy. At first I thought that it was because of his fucking hair. But then, when he started to open his damn mouth, I knew that he was a shady, shady fella.”
“Are you talking about Lucas?” she tried to clarify. She looked confused.
“Yes... yes... if that’s his name... yes,” I confirmed.
“I’m not even referring to him.”
“You weren’t? I thought that you said I was being rude... it was because I didn’t like that son of a bitch...”
“No! You weren’t only rude to him. You were rude to everyone! To Lucas, to me, to the waiter who served the steak that was slightly overcooked for your liking, to that guy who was filming us, to the receptionist on our way out... practically to everyone you met!”
“I was?”
“Yes! Oh my God! Don’t tell me you didn’t notice how you were...”
“I guess I didn’t. This... this is just me... this is just how I am...”
“Something’s terribly wrong with you, mister.”
I just shrugged at her comment.
“The only person you weren’t mean to,” she continued, “was Meg.”
I didn’t know what to say so I kept quiet.
“See that?” she quickly uttered, pointing at my face. “Aha! I knew it!”
“Knew what?” It was my turn to be confused.
“Your face... it lit up when I mentioned Meg! Oh my Lord... this... this... this is so weird...”
“My face? Lit up? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You know very well what I’m talking about,” she said with a knowing smile. “The spark in your eyes, the moment when your heart skipped a bit at the mere mention of her name... you’re in love with her aren’t you?”
This bitch is fucking crazy!
“That’s the most inane idea I’ve ever heard,” I told her firmly. “I’m not here in this ugly town to fall in love. Hell, love is for losers who have nothing else to do with their time. I have a fight to prepare for and a championship to win.”
“But that’s just it, isn’t it?” she continued to say, still with a wry grin. “You don’t plan on falling in love... you just do...”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“Well, I can’t blame you. It’s quite easy to fall in love with... how do you call her? Ah... Margaret.” She recited her name teasingly, as if she wanted to derive a particular reaction from me.
I met her attempt with a scowl.
“It’s funny, though, right?” she asked.
“What’s funny?”
“That just a moment ago, we were making out... and now... well... now I’m your confidante...”
She flashed a very wide grin, showing her shiny pearls that must’ve required hours of dental cosmetic work.
My glower just got more spiteful.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered as she drew her face close to my ear. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
I didn’t find that hard to believe.
It must be one hell of a secret that I, myself, was not aware of it.
“But she’s getting married,” Chantelle unwarrantably stated. “You can’t have her.”
“Listen,” I said resolutely. It was time to put an end to the tales she has been concocting in her head. “I’m not in love with her! So please stop insisting that I am. I’m not here to play the stupid games you people indulge in... like you haven’t moved on from High School or something. I’m here because my promoter exiled me here. I’m here to train. I’m not here to fuel any romantic fantasy you may have.”
“They’re getting married in two months,” she chimed.
“What?!”
“Aha! See? See that! You’re so affected!”
“No... I’m not affected... not at all. I just... I just don’t recall her, or him, saying anything about a particular date...”
“Because you weren’t there when she informed me. You were busy arguing with the waiter at the counter.”
I bowed my head. I felt like my body became so heavy that I had no recourse but to slouch.
“Two months...” I thought out loud.
“Yep. Is that hard too hard to believe?”
“No... not at all. It’s just that...�
��
“Just that?”
“My fight’s happening in two months, too.”
Chapter Eighteen