Miles

by H. J. Bellus

  As he waves, I notice a dab of icing delicately hanging from his strong jaw line. My traitorous body that has vowed off all forms of the other gender is suddenly on fire. My tongue has the sudden urge to attend to that frosting to make it disappear.

  “Uh, you have you frosting on your face,” I whisper, pointing to it.

  He reaches up to his face and drags his finger through the thick creamy frosting, leaving behind a smeared trail.

  “Oh, this,” he asks, as he tastes the frosting on his finger.

  Hold the phone, the dirty boy is making love to the frosting on his finger. He’s finger loving, making out with my frosting right in front of me. My jaw drops open, my panties melt, and I think, just maybe, my heart beat again because this stranger just mouth humped my frosting.

  “Did I get it?” he asks.

  I can only nod my head and try like hell to put out the passion that has just been fired up in my body by this man. Greyson, the baby, and my control issues fire right up and take control of the situation.

  “So, are you here to order a wedding cake? Let me guess, you need to wait for your boyfriend to make the final decision on colors?”

  Yep, that did the trick. He thinks I’m a bitch, and I ice all my feelings.

  “Actually, I’m here to inquire about renting the apartment. My boyfriend went to Denver today to pick up our matching butt plugs. Oh yeah, and he definitely had to get his resized to accommodate me,” he replies, not missing a beat and grabbing his crotch for added effect, just in case I had missed his clear message.

  That hand. That crotch. My eyes lock on both. The man is not only grabbing his crotch, but squeezes the bulge for added effect. Leah immediately turns and runs when another customer enters.

  “So, how about that apartment?” he asks, still holding his junk.

  I promptly close my mouth and peel my eyes from that hand. “It’s my sister-in-law’s, but I have the paper work you can fill out. You’ll need to pay first and last month’s rent, and five hundred deposit. Monthly rent is seven hundred fifty.”

  “I’ll take it,” he quickly responds, as he lays heaps of hundred dollar bills on the counter.

  Stunned into silence, I simply nod my head up and down very slowly, stopping to take a brief moment to stare at his crotch.

  “I’ll call Milly down, and she can get you all settled up.”

  “Thanks, crazy girl.”

  My jaw immediately drops. What the hell did he just call me?

  “Excuse me?”

  “See ya around, crazy,” he says, as he winks and struts out of the shop.

  My effin’ traitorous eyes follow his body. The man is built. Not gym built, but backyard built. He definitely lifts and operates heavy machinery. The scruff covering his face is delicious and those big blue eyes are masked with the thickest eyelashes I’ve ever seen. I do believe I want to lick that beard of his.

  Oh hell! The asshat climbs into a sexy as hell black car. The car rivals his good looks. But the combination of him sitting in it with his head thrown back and his large adam’s apple exposed is enough to set me completely on fire. The man really made my heart beat again and I’m not quite sure that I’m okay with that.

  Fifteen minutes pass by the time Milly arrives to settle up with the stranger. He packs one box upstairs and doesn’t come back down.

  “Willow, let’s go eat. The fam damily is all meeting up at the brewery for dinner.”

  I had managed to escape the last three family dining adventures. I know that I have no chance in hell of avoiding this one. In the few seconds of delay, Milly picks up on the fact that I’m trying to weasel my way out of it this time, but I’m not fast enough with my excuse because she grabs me by the wrist and drags me out to her car.

  “But Milly, the cake…” I try.

  “Not gonna work on me, Willow. You might be able to fool your brother with burying your head in your work. You forget that I’m the queen of ‘fake it til you make it.’ I pulled it off for several years while growing up and when I was married to the Bastard. You want to be a drunk bitch? Then you’re going to be a drunk bitch surrounded by the people who love you most.”

  “Fine, momma bitch,” I say, trying my hardest to keep a straight face.

  “What did Lacey teach us the other day when someone calls us a bitch? Oh, that’s right,” Milly says with a huge shit-eating grin on her face.

  She then grabs her crotch with both hands and says, “You think I’m a bitch? Then get your ass on your knees and lick my lady locker.”

  Yes, the other night Lacey was instructing us on how to defend ourselves. It has been a little over three months since her accident and Rose’s birth, and all of her wild fire and crazy personality hasn’t skipped a beat. Milly is still struggling with some of the catty women on the PTA, and well, me—I’m just a hunk of problems. She gave us several lines to use and the hand gestures to go with them. In true Lacey fashion, she did all of this while standing on the island in the kitchen. It was more of comedic stress reliever than teaching, but we let Lacey believe she was bettering us. Milly and I really lost it when Tripp walked in, shook his head, and hollered he surrendered.

  “So, what do you think of that, you bitch?” Milly fires back, pulling me from my memory of Lacey.

  “I think you oughta get acquainted with my lady locker,” I say, as I perfect the hand gestures back to her.

  A sound catches my attention and to my horror I have an audience. An audience of one. And I can only stare at his crotch.

  “Uh. Miles, right? Do you need something?” Milly asks.

  “Was just gonna do a li’l exploring and find some grub. Didn’t mean to interrupt your little show, ladies.”

  Milly, don’t you dare. Don’t you dare invite him. Please, God, don’t let her invite him. Please. Please. Please. I’ll give up Pop-Tarts for the rest of my life. I’ll never look at his crotch again. Please, for the love all things…do not invite McDreamboat to dinner.

  “You can join us. Hop in. We’re heading to dinner now and you can meet the whole family. You’ll be seeing them around The Shop. We’re all a little crazy, so you can get a heads up on all of us.”

  “Well, thank you, ladies. I’d love that,” he replies instantly.

  The man makes his way to my side of the car. I instantly freeze. He opens my door for me, then brushes up against me, urging me to climb in, and bends down to whisper in my ear, “I really, really liked your little performance, and I fucking adore lady lockers.”

  It’s official. I want to rip off his clothes and have my way with him.

  “Hey, ho-bag, are you getting in anytime today?” Milly yells at me.

  Forced from my mind fucking of McDreamboat, I gather my composure and take a stand. Standing on my tip-toes, I whisper right back into his ear, letting his beard tickle my chin, “Fuck off, this lady locker is closed to all bricks.”

  I climb in, mentally beating the shit out of Milly. She picks up on my mental ass kicking and turns up Miranda as we drive in silence to dinner.

  “Where’s Annie?” I ask, as I pick the seat across from Miles.

  “I let her spend the night at a friend’s house,” Cree replies without making eye contact.

  “Glad that I made an effort,” I sarcastically reply.

  “Jesus, Willow. I need a couple beers before you start your shit,” Cree mumbles.

  “Fuck off,” I say loudly, and push away from the table to get some fresh air.

  Tripp grabs my hand and pleads with his eyes for me to stay and try.

  “Just grabbing some fresh air. Order for me,” I ask, and place a quick kiss on the top of his head.

  I just set a new record, telling two people to fuck off in a matter of minutes. Grabbing two whiskey sours, I make my way outside to enjoy a few minutes of silence. Actually, this is all I really wanted tonight. Silence. And the only place I seem to find that is at The Shop. Anywhere else I go, I seem to pick fights and get pissed with everything. Cree is such an easy t
arget for me. I need to learn to cool it around him. Milly’s earlier words ring so true, “Fake it til you make it.”

  I silently toast to myself and drink away my worries and problems. Lighting up a cigarette, I hear someone approaching. Yep, it’s McDreamboat. I’m pretty sure he’s poison to my eyes, but I can’t look away.

  “What? Did they send you out here to fix me?” I ask.

  “No. Just thought some fresh air would be nice. That Lacey chick is sharing stories from a recent anniversary camping trip, and I tapped out when she went into great detail.”

  “Yeah, that’d be Lacey,” I mumble to myself.

  “Milly acted like she was taking very serious mental notes, and your brothers were just talking shop like it was perfectly normal table talk.”

  “Yeah, that’d be my family,” I mumble again.

  “So who’s Annie?”

  “She’s my niece. Cree’s daughter. My best friend and the only reason I show up to family dinners. She may be younger than nine, but probably understands me more than those fools.”

  Silence.

  Taking a long pull from his beer, Miles sits down in the wooden Adirondack chair next me, and we sit in silence and drink. Miles occasionally receives a text, smiles at his phone, and texts back. I’m tempted to ask if that’s his boyfriend, but I don’t.

  Breaking the silence, Miles asks, “Where do you fit in all this, Willow?”

  “I don’t,” I whisper, and become instantly pissed at myself for answering him.

  “I’m…” Miles starts.

  “Just shut up. It’s none of your business,” I snarl.

  We both notice Milly waving us in through the large picture window. I put out my last cigarette and stand to go in. My sandal catches the slight lifted edge of the sidewalk and I lunge forward. Miles instantly grabs for me and pulls me in to him.

  He whispers down into my hair before letting me go, “You know smoking is bad for your health.”

  “You know I don’t give a fuck, right?” I say as I pull away from him.

  “So, you’re not even willing to hold a friendly conversation? Message is loud and clear,” he responds.

  "Fuck off, Miles," I mumble very quietly to myself. He was right, I didn’t want friends, nor did I need friends in my life. We make our way in dead silence back to the table. When we finally arrive back to the family, I notice a couple leaving our table. Greyson. It’s Greyson and his pregnant wife. Can this night get any worse? Apparently it can, because Greyson and his beaming, blossoming wife settle in just a few tables from us.

  Everyone looks like they’ve seen a ghost as I take my seat. Miles follows suit, but he begins to devour his meal. The whole table, besides Miles, who’s now stuffing chicken strips in his mouth, are waiting patiently for my reaction.

  Do they really think I’m that big of a ticking time bomb? Do they think seeing the man who destroyed me can really knock me down any further? Do they think I’m weak? Well, watch this, fuckers.

  “Cree, how’s Greyson? His wife looks absolutely fantastic. You know she’s going to be one of those gorgeous pregnant women. You know, the kind the rest hate. Did you happen to ask a due date? I just can’t wait to find out what they’re having. I hope soon they can join us for a family dinner.”

  “Willow,” Tripp warns.

  “Mmm. Look at this fantastic Cobb salad, my favorite. Greyson used to order this all the time for me. My life is just peachy,” I continue on in my fake it til you make it voice.

  The table falls into silence and begins to eat. My whiskeys are all gone, so I snag Miles’ beer and down it. He looks at me over his food, but doesn’t have the balls to comment back. Good boy. He might be trained already.

  “Can I get you guys anything else?” the waitress asks, resting one hand on Miles’ shoulder and leaning down to see baby Rose.

  What a motherfucking coincidence when she leans down her tits almost pop out of her shirt! I wonder if she notices this small fact. I also wonder if I should point out that her nipple is about to play peekaboo with Miles. As if Tripp could read my mind, he stomps on my foot under the table, causing me to jerk upwards and yelp in pain.

  “Everything okay, hon?” She purrs in her sweet sickening voice.

  “Um, your nip—”

  Tripp elbows me hard in the ribs, and takes over the conversation. “She’s fine. Suffers from Tourette’s from time to time. Everything is great. Could you please get him another Corona, and I’ll take the check.”

  “No prob. I’ll be back in a sec,” she says as she slips a blank paper to Miles.

  Smooth. Real smooth, bimbo. With another elbow to the ribs, I know that I’m done for the night. I try to finish my salad in silence.

  “So, Miles, where are you from and why did you pick this town, of all places?” asks Milly.

  “I’m from California, and you could say I’m a bit of a roamer. I like to visit new places, and experience life. I threw a dart at a map and it landed here. Looked up the mechanic in town, called him, and got a job.”

  “So, you’re a grease monkey?” Cree asks.

  “That and other things. My heart is really in mechanics and restoring old cars.”

  “Milly said you have a fancy hunky car. Her words, not mine,” Cree says.

  “1967 Chevy Impala.”

  “Nice,” Cree and Tripp reply in unison.

  It is at odd moments like these that make it so clear they’re brothers. Tripp shoves the remainder of his cheesy fries in front of me, hinting that I should eat and keep my mouth shut. I take the clue and stuff my face while I listen to this stranger interact with my family. Just like everyone else seems to do, he fits in perfectly with them, picking up on small jokes and jabbing back when appropriate. He even gives Lacey a run for her money with her mouth and banter.

  “All The Single Ladies” begins to play from my purse, indicating a text. I pull it form my hobo bag to see Annie’s little face plastered across the screen. Cree and Milly bought her an iPod for her birthday and the first thing she downloaded was the texting app. It was cute at first, but then came the texts every five minutes.

  Annie: Hi

  Me: Hi

  Annie: How’s din

  Me: just okay…miss u

  Annie: miss u 2

  Me: Are you having fun?

  Annie: a blast. Got 2 run gonna paint our toes

  Me: I love you grande little girl

  Annie: love you grande

  When I finish texting Annie, I notice that everyone has stood up and is talking. Cree is busy explaining away my behavior to Miles.

  “I’m sorry. She’s going through a rough time.”

  “Dude. No worries. She doesn’t owe me anything. I’m just grateful for a place to rent,” Miles responds.

  “This Saturday, my house. Come on out, man, for a barbecue” Tripp suggests.

  “Will do, man.”

  “Miles, I’ll give you a ride back to The Shop. I need to grab some papers,” Milly says.

  Miles walks away with Milly. As I watch, they’re both happy and not burdened down by life. I feel my heart ask for the chance to try. I could try. Try to be happy. Have friends, go out again, shop, laugh, and learn to live.

  Then I hear it. I hear his voice. His booming laughter. And I’m drawn back to reality as I watch Greyson’s new wife sit on his lap with his arm stretched out with a cell phone to take a pic. The slutty ass waitress sees him fumbling with the phone and races to his rescue. With both hands free, he wraps his arms around the woman’s belly, holding her tightly to him with love and adoration plastered across his face. The waitress takes one snapshot and he bends down to place a kiss on her cheek.

  Just like that reality slaps me in the face. I feel my stomach lurch and the contents slosh around with the alcohol I just consumed. The back of my throat burns and my tears of loss well up in my eyes. Tripp and Lacey see me first and then the couple. I sprint from the table to the bathroom.

  Seconds go by, then minutes before I�
��m completely empty of all guilt, hatred, and hurt. I made an ass of myself tonight because of Greyson. I treated a complete stranger like dogshit, told Cree to fuck off in public, and got wasted all because of him, when he’s clearly as happy as can be. This realization only makes it hurt worse.

  “Wils, are you okay?” comes a strong deep voice.

  “Just leave me alone. I’ll walk home.”

  Tripp laughs. “You’re going to walk your drunk ass four miles home in the dark on a now, I presume, empty stomach.”

  “Yeah, so what?” I say back. I know I’ve lost this fight, but I’m never willing to give in.

  I think the never willing to give in or back down is definitely a Fitzpatrick trait that creates quite the shit storm between us three siblings. Thanks, Daddy.

  The door opens to the stall as I’m still bent over the toilet looking down into it. Tripp kneels down and places his hand on my back. His comfort has been the closest thing to having my daddy back. He carries so many of Daddy’s traits without even knowing it. He just knows how to say things to me. I keep my eyes closed this time and picture Daddy comforting me.

  “I can’t pretend to begin to imagine what Greyson put you through. I know he has hurt you deeply.” Tripp pauses as his voice cracks.

  I can’t help but look up at him this time.

  “Willow, I’m so scared that he took away my only sister before I even had the chance to know the real her. I’m afraid he has broken you forever, and that my Rose will never know the loving and carefree Willow. And I’m fucking devastated that I can’t help you heal.”

  Tripp now has streams of tears running down his face. I have no words for him, and can only shake my head, agreeing.

  “I try, but then get knocked back down. I’m trying,” I whisper.

  “That’s the hardest part, Willow. I see you trying and I see you getting knocked back down on your ass. Then I see you turn to alcohol and being a bitch. I see it all. I’ve lived it. I’ve been there, and I want you back so bad.”

  No more words are said. Lacey finally comes into the bathroom and plops down on Tripp’s one knee, wedging herself between us. The girl really has no boundaries.