The Tempest

by Brit Constantine

  I smile towards a young blonde girl approaching our table. "How much is it to have Lenic Reevus wash my car?" Despite charging nearly double for the well-loved celebrity, The Tempest is the most popular request. His line of cars is pouring out from the car park.

  “Basic package starts from twenty pounds. But there is another extra you can get now.” I nod my head in the direction of the Jaguar. “Let’s call it the Double Team wash.” I pick up my marker pen and scribble ‘Double Team’ onto the board listing all the services we are offering.

  The blonde girl beams at us, fumbles in her purse, then hands over her money across the table. "I’d like the Lenic Reevus Special, please. Oh my god, I can’t believe this. I’ve come all the way from Gateshead just for this. This is so freaking exciting. Lenic Reevus is like totally my idol.”

  I look at her and smile. “He’s my idol too. He is also my boyfriend.”

  My boyfriend…

  I will never tire of saying or hearing this. And neither will I ever tire of hearing Lenic tell everyone I am his girlfriend. Whenever someone needs something, or a customer needs to pay, he will always say, “Go see my girlfriend. She’s the one hosting the event. That beautiful girl over there in white.”

  He wants the world to know as much as I do. There is just something truly wonderful in all of this.

  As soon as Lenic’s fan-girl finds out I am uploading this event onto my JUICED channel, in two seconds flat, she pulls out her phone and hits the subscribe button. Nodding my head in approval, I get to my feet, camera in hand, and wander over to the Jaguar — which suddenly has a very large, very enthusiastic crowd circling it — and start filming. I’ve got a good feeling this is going to earn the charity a killing online.

  Unlike Lenic, who is washing the car properly, Cross gives it gumption, playing to the audience. Best friends, Lenic and Cross are complete opposites. Lenic knows he is a knockout, but he isn’t usually vain or cocky or arrogant with it.

  Cross is.

  And he is playing it to the best of his advantage.

  I film as Cross reaches for the sponge in the bucket, slaps it onto the car, and leans seductively over the bonnet to scrub the vehicle. His pecs on display, he keeps eye contact with the audience.

  “Jealous?” I ask Delphine, feeling her bristle beside me.

  “No,” is her clipped answer.

  Cross crouches down by the front wheel, grinds his backside along the car as he stands back up, deliberately letting his jeans imprint on the window.

  “For goodness sakes,” Delphine mutters, “he is outrageous.”

  “Sex sells,” I remind her. “And don’t forget, he is doing it for a good cause.”

  “Yes, OK, but Lenic is doing all the work here, Flick. Jack is just taking his sponge and dabbing it over his body, getting soaked with soapy suds everywhere.” Her observation is right, and when I turn the camera on Lenic, I grin wide. His expression is priceless.

  “Cross, come on,” Lenic hisses. “This isn’t a goddamn strip joint.”

  “You wanna rethink that, mate?” Cross says. “Dude, you’re topless and wet — with women, and yeah, a few guys as well, throwing money at us.” Cross flashes him a cocky grin. “You’d better be wearing a thong under those sexy cargo trousers of yours, Mr Hotty In The Shower. I hear they’re a real crowd pleaser.”

  I hear a rumble emanate from Lenic’s throat. “Wash the damn car.”

  “I am washing.” Cross smirks, holding up his sponge, giving Lenic a big appreciative grin.

  “Yeah, you’re washing your body — not the damn car,” Lenic spits back. “Quit having sex with the Jag and clean it.”

  “Hey, Big Man, it’s all in aid of charity, right? I’m bringing a bucket-load of tips here. And if you gayed up with me, we’d been rolling in the dosh.” Cross points a finger at Lenic. “Too much thinking about your reputation and not enough on the cause, mate.”

  Lenic scowls and stabs an angry finger to the far side of the car park. “Listen, mate. I’ve got three times as many cars waiting for me to wash.” By the look of the new massive queue that has appeared in Lenic’s designated area, he will be washing cars for a long time, even after the car wash event is scheduled to finish.

  “Okaaaaay, Mr Popular,” Cross says, and a cacophony of laughter ripples throughout the crowd.

  When Cross bends slowly down to reach for his hosepipe, a woman with red hair calls out, “Can we see a water fight with you two? We are paying you triple.” The crowd start cheering him on.

  “Don’t you bloody dare,” Lenic growls. “And don’t you dare upload it,” he adds, levelling a finger at me.

  I try to steady the camera in my hands as my shoulders tremble from laughter. Cross’ grin gets bigger as he aims his hose, and before Lenic can hide behind the boot of the Jaguar, he presses his finger on the trigger, blasting my boyfriend. I rake my gaze appreciatively over Lenic’s dripping-wet muscular chest. But I am not the only one.

  Let them ogle my boyfriend, I think. Let them try and flirt. Let them take pictures and videos to their heart’s content, because Lenic isn’t interested, in the least. And I am the one who gets to be screwed by my idol tonight.

  My boyfriend.

  Lenic growls, fetches his bucket of soap and water, and drops the entire contents over Cross’ head. Another laughter rips through the crowd.

  “Now that’s more like it, Big Man,” Cross cheers, suddenly slinging his arm around Lenic’s shoulders and gives him a big kiss on the cheek.

  “Get off of me, man,” Lenic protests, pushing Cross away from him. “I swear — if this hits the tabloids again, I’ll end you.”

  “Mate, you’re worth it.”

  “Killing you isn't even an option.” Lenic clicks his tongue in contempt, but I see a hint of a smile on his features. “What’s wrong with you, man?” he starts to chuckle softly. “You need a girlfriend. ASAP.”

  “I’m trying, mate. I really am. My little soldiers are fighting hard to penetrate those walls. But France is built like a fortress.”

  “Penetrate? If you’re using words like ‘penetrate’ to seduce a girl, well — there’s your problem right there,” Lenic laughs.

  I smile wide, watching the customers chucking in pound coins and five-pound notes into the tip boxes, urged on by the entertainment. I turn my gaze back onto my boyfriend and a rush of butterflies swarm in my stomach.

  The Tempest has abandoned ship and, instead, Lenic is on deck laughing.

  In public.

  He is incredibly, heartbreakingly handsome when he laughs like this. It is a sound that makes my insides feel like they've been tossed into a hot air balloon.

  When he turns to me, a slow sweet smile spreads across his perfect mouth. Approaching him, he takes one look at my face before his face lights up. I wrap him up in my arms, because I feel like he deserves it just for being him in this moment.

  I lean into his body that presses up against me and close my eyes, just for a moment, as his cologne fills my head. I have always liked the smell of Lenic, but ever since I fell in love with him, it just sort of … does things to me.

  He kisses the top of my head, and holds my hand in his good-old-fashioned Lenic way. Several of the girls in the crowd look like I’ve just crushed their hopes and dreams.

  When it hits closing time, the rest of the boys help out Lenic. He is still swamped with a long line of cars. An hour later, I load the last bucket into the van Lenic hired and perch myself on the edge of the van’s boot. I toe off the flip-flops I got changed into before, and replace them back with my stilettoes.

  Watching Lenic scrub down the last car, in nothing but cargo trousers and a bare chest, my body starts to respond to him. It always does when he is around. It doesn’t matter what he is doing. I’ve spent the whole day in a constant state of arousal. Lenic is going to have to help fix this by tonight.

  I approach him, my heels clicking on the stone ground, admiring the view that never gets old or tiresome. He sprays down t
he Jeep and before he reaches for the sponge, I grab it and do the little drop-the-sponge routine to get his attention. I drop the sponge, bend down low, sure to flash him a good view of my cleavage, before giving him a sexy smile and getting back up again, slowly. I hand it to him with a lascivious look on my face. He shakes his head, wiping the sponge over the hood of the car.

  “Thought you were gonna help me then.”

  I tilt my head and squint at him. “I am not what the customer paid for. Sorry. You know I would have.” He gives me his yeah-and-pigs-fly look. “Look, maybe we can do a girl-only car wash next time.”

  I hear him growl. “I’d say you can’t get involved, but that’ll just make you wear that tiny red bikini when you do it, huh?”

  “You’re getting to know the real me.” I hear him mutter an expletive under his breath, but he says it with a grin. He stops wiping with the sponge and suddenly hurls it, smacking me in the chest, leaving a large wet soapy stain on my white top. My jaw drops as I glance down and notice my nipples showing through.

  Finishing the customer’s car, Lenic thanks them and signs his autograph on a Tempest T-shirt before walking over to me. “Hmmm, I think I need to rethink my view on you doing a car wash.” His eyes travel down the length of my body, stilling on my nipples.

  I pick up the sponge and give him a fierce look. “Do you really think I’m going to let you get away with that, scot-free?” I throw the sponge back at him, nailing him on the head, then sashay my way over to fetch the hose in my hands. I point it towards his chest like a gun.

  “Don’t,” he warns. “Put the hose down, Hazelnut. Or you’ll be sorry.”

  “I am going to say … no.” I press my finger on the hose trigger, blasting Lenic, aiming between his legs, which I know will make him mad. Laughing, I take my finger off the trigger.

  “Do you think that’s funny?”

  “I do.” He struts over to me. “No. Lenic, no. Do not hug me. You’re all wet and dirty.”

  “Come here. I want to hug my girlfriend.”

  “No, don’t,” I squeal. He lunges towards me. I drop the hose and rush towards the nearby tree. He grabs me from behind and picks me up, spinning me around, laughing the entire time. He sets me down and I turn around and smack him on his chest. “Look at what you’ve done, Lenic,” I reproach. “I’m wet.”

  “You’re not wet enough.” He leans down and kisses me. It’s not a soft, gentle kiss. It is a punishing you’ve-been-a-naughty-girl kiss. He pulls back slowly, brushing my hair away from the side of my face.

  Checking first that no one can see us behind the thick bark of the tree, he slowly reaches his hand inside my shorts and I feel two fingers slide against my clit. I let out a soft gasp. A few firm strokes, he leans in and whispers huskily in my ear, “Now you’re wet enough.” I whimper in protest when he withdraws his hand. He sucks his finger, and the dark sexy look that flashes across his face leaves me panting and breathless. “I could live off just from the taste of your pussy.”

  As if his own desire is too much to bear, he pushes me against the bark of the tree with just his hips and growls hoarsely, “I’m gonna clean that last car so damn fast, and then I’m taking you upstairs to my office in the gym so I can take you in those white heels. Otherwise, I will take you right now up against this tree.” He shuts his eyes tight and groans throatily, “Christ … you really do kill me in white…” When we turn to round the bark of the tree, he suddenly restrains me against his solid hard body. “We’re not leaving here until your top dries. No way in Hell am I letting other men see my girlfriend’s sweet perfect tits.”

  HALF AN HOUR later, the charity car wash finally comes to an end, a little later than planned. Sitting on the wooden bench just outside the back entrance of the gym, I let my hair down and rub my sore feet. The pain is worth it considering the magnetic power my Louboutin stilettos have over my boyfriend.

  I glance over to the far side and smile, watching Cross and Delphine stand close together, alone, talking and flirting. On the other side, Lenic is thanking his friends for volunteering and inviting them over to the White Lily bar for free drinks.

  I stare down at the blank screen on my iPhone, and feel a painful tightening in the pit of my stomach. My smile soon fades and another feeling takes over. An empty kind of feeling, the sort of feeling you get when you’ve lost something or something’s been stolen from you. This has been one of the best birthdays I have celebrated, but I am left with a deep hole inside my heart.

  I've spent this special day with Grandpa and West every single year, and now I will never get to celebrate with my grandfather ever again. It is days like these that make reality come crashing down on me. It is hard enough to deal with Grandpa’s absence, but this isn’t the cause of my sorrow. Death is a part of life, unfortunately, but I have come to accept it. West could have attended my birthday charity event.

  He chose not to.

  I am not mad at West. I understand it’s painful for him, but it feels like I am missing a limb. All day I’ve been wishing for my brother to call again and come down to share my birthday with me, just like he has done for the last ten years. Apart from one phone call this morning to wish me happy birthday, I haven’t heard from him. I haven’t seen him since his confession on the bridge, either. It took every last ounce of faith I had to leave him that day, West assuring me he would be fine. But he isn’t fine. Lenic isn’t fine. I’m not fine.

  Heaviness settles over my shoulders and I hang my head, rubbing at the temples of my forehead. I feel an arm wrap around my shoulders and the weight of the bench below me sinks and creaks.

  “Hey, birthday girl. You alright? Got a headache?”

  I raise my head and offer a half smile to my boyfriend. “I just miss Grandpa … Every year he would bake me a big chocolate cake.” I smile faintly at the memory. “I miss him so much.”

  Lenic leans over and kisses me on the lips. It is gentle, no lust or need or desperation in it, just simple affection. He pulls me closer and I go to him, laying my head against his chest, like we belong like this. It is like we’ve had a magnet implanted that pulls us together all the time.

  I close my eyes and feel him kissing the top of my head, draining some of the tension out of me. I finger the new charm on my parents’ bracelet. A birthday present from Lenic, it’s a little delicate diamond swan with his initials engraved into it. He knows this bracelet carries most of my love, and his gift is his way of letting me know that he wants to be a piece of it. It is truly beautiful, and simply perfect. He is perfect.

  “You’re beautiful,” he tells me again, though I will never tire of this compliment. I pull back and look up at him. “For this.” His eyes sweep the car park. “To do this for your birthday.” He shakes his head faintly, smiling. “I love how selfless you are. How kind you are.”

  His hand goes to my hair, wrapping my loose waves around his finger as he looks down at me with that completely gone look on his face, the one he always seems to have these days.

  I let out a tired breath. “My aunt never let me celebrate my birthday. So every year, on this day, I spend it doing charity to help other children.”

  He lightly brushes the side of my cheek in a gentle caress. “You’re the kindest person I know.”

  I shake my head. “Today wouldn’t have been such a big success if it wasn’t for you and your friends. You’ve all worked so hard today. Thank you. It … I can’t express enough in words what it means to me.”

  He kisses me gently on the lips, and I smile back at him. “Listen, I know I can’t bake good like your grandpa — but I got Marge’s Café to bake you a chocolate cake.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah. I did. After you told me what happened, I just thought it’d be a neat idea to get you one for today. It’s waiting for you at home.”

  I raise my brow. “Home?”

  “I meant my place.”

  A shiver runs through my spine, and I feel a wave of happiness spread through my core th
at wasn't there a few minutes ago.

  Home.

  He said home.

  He pulls me in for a short meaningful kiss, and I know that home is wherever those lips are, wherever Lenic is there to hold me. I only hope I can offer the same home to him for as long as we both draw breath.

  “My place is your home,” he adds. And then he smiles. It is the kind of smile that rips a hole in your heart — lips, teeth, and sparkling eyes … Wow, he really could put you in a trance with just that smile. He reaches out to me and I naturally go to him, fitting comfortably against his body, in the circle of his arm.

  After a long moment, he quietly says, “You’re really not OK, are you?” I glance up to see his warm eyes watching me patiently, but there is also a certain amount of concern in his gaze.

  A satirical smile tugs at the corners of my lips. "Isn't that what you've always thought? That I’m a little cuckoo."

  When life gets tense, I tend to bury my head under the sand, under a layer of jokes and self-mocking to cover up the hurt. It always works. I start to laugh softly, but when I look in his eyes, I don't see even a hint that he is laughing along with me.

  “Don’t.”

  “Don't what?”

  “Don’t think I haven’t picked up on it. You turn the conversation into a joke whenever things get tough.” I chew my bottom lip. No one has ever called me out on my bullshit. Ever. “You’re not OK.”

  Doubts whisper in my ear, but I quickly gather my thoughts. “I am. I’m always happy when I’m with you. You make me feel like I’m the luckiest girl alive, and I love being your girlfriend. I love telling the world that you are my boyfriend. How can I not be OK when I have you in my life?”

  “I’m not talking about us.” The conviction in his voice does nothing to quell the fear that sets my stomach churning. I glance at my phone and think for a long moment.

  No one can love on a sinking boat. And I love him so. But there are some things that just won’t float, no matter how much you want it in your bones.

  I feel it.

  I feel a loss is coming my way.

  I exhale, and glance up at him. Forcing out a smile, I tell him my biggest lie, keeping my fears to myself. “I’m OK.” It is the answer I keep giving myself to prevent from going insane.