Recklessly

by A. J. Sand

  “I brought you up when I saw your shirt—”

  “He sniffed it,” the other guy who wasn’t Rick said.

  “…I might’ve sniffed it,” Grayson said, laughing. “So, he doesn’t have a problem with you—”

  “Okay. What do you have then?” he asked Rick as he pulled his shirt on. Rick wasn’t getting a pass that easily.

  “Pity.”

  Wes’ annoyance was intense and swift the way it bubbled up. Who the hell did this guy think he was? “Pity?” He repeated it with spite.

  “That’s not what he means,” Grayson said. He dropped a firm hand on Wes’ back and steered him toward the front door. “We were just…when you live with people it’s sort of interesting to see who’s leaving their room in the morning, you know? Maybe you poke a little fun at them…”

  He did know; he lived with Abel Elliott, after all. And Wes could be a good sport. “So what’s the verdict on me?” He crossed his arms over his chest and waited with an exaggeratedly nervous look, but Grayson actually grew apprehensive. “C’mon, Grayson, we’ve shared so much already.”

  “Okay. Okay. And maybe I appreciate you for understanding that every man should wear something from Tom Ford, even if it’s just cologne. I really did sniff your shirt.” He held his hands up in surrender. “We were just trying to figure out if you’d be another guy who falls for the easy breezy, and then she somehow ends up being the worst thing to ever happen to you.” Grayson laughed, but Wes couldn’t tell if it was because he had said the statement in jest or because he was still so amused from seeing it happen in the past.

  Wes gaped and got suspicious. Was this just some ploy to mess with him, set in place by Lana or something? Or was he being loyal to Rick, who was obviously more than a little prickly about Wes’ presence? He had seen a lot of creative techniques used by guys to keep other guys away from women they were interested in, but nothing like this. “That’s pretty dramatic, don’t you think? Aren’t you her friend?”

  “Yeah. Her best.” Grayson beamed. “I’m just saying what I see…I won’t be the one who says it when I fall for her.”

  Wes smirked. “Who said anything about love?”

  “Okay, we’ll see.” He spoke like a veteran of observation. Wes wondered how many times Rick, Grayson and Other Guy had seen a self-assured guy walk out of Lana’s bedroom only to return at some point as a sobbing, sappy mess of a person, mourning the remains of his former self. But none of those guys were him.

  “Is that what happened to Rick?”

  “He wishes. He still lives in What Coulda Been Land, but still pining away like the rest of them. He kinda avoided a tornado—”

  “Yeah, well, maybe I’m a tsunami,” Wes said in a challenging tone as he walked out of the apartment.

  “I hope so, Wes Elliott, I hope so.”

  He crashed to his bed in a daze once he was home, and slept for most of the day. He awoke to the sound of his ringing cell phone a few hours later when Charlotte called to ask if he wanted to share the Chinese takeout she and Abel were picking up. He slept again until they got home, and Wes finally stripped out of his clothes for a shower before dinner. He winced as the hard water fell to his tender back. It was only then that he remembered how deep Lana’s nails had gone. Once he got out, he glanced over his shoulder in the bathroom mirror.

  “Shit.” Abrasions. Eight identical thin red lines. But other little scratches here and there, nearly spanning the entire length of his back. Wes looked at them with a bit of amazement at first but then laughed to himself.

  They felt way better than they hurt.

  Chapter 4 Kings and Things

  “Lana, that’s not a word,” Wes said as he glanced over at the Scrabble board when he left the bathroom naked. He pinched her bare butt as he walked by.

  “How is it not?” Lana looked over at him with a frown. “Totally a word, Deuce.”

  He leaned down and kissed her shoulder, then ran his lips up her neck. “Use it in a sentence, girl.”

  “Can you define every word you put down?”

  “Yup,” he said with confidence. When he lay next to her on the bed, her frown deepened and she pulled the letters off the board.

  “Fine…I quit!”

  “This means I win. By a lot. See? I told you putting your tits on the board wouldn’t distract me.”

  “It was worth a try.” Lana growled playfully. “This is easier on our phones, you know.”

  He shrugged. “I’m old school.”

  “Look, I like naked Scrabble, but my hands could be doing something far more useful…” Lana said as she shifted the board to the floor.

  He gripped her thigh and pulled on it a little. “Come here.” She moved until she was supine on top of him, sliding one of her legs between his and gripping his ears when she kissed him. “Today was great...” he said. He ran one hand down the arc of her back and weaved his fingers through her hair with the other. “I haven’t just chilled out like this in a long time…just hanging out at the house without something actually happening here. And I haven’t wanted to do anything all day. Even Char looked happier after talking to you on her way out.”

  “We had a little girl talk. The way she was pulling on her dress like that, and how she kept checking her makeup in every reflective surface she could find, I just knew there was a guy involved. Told her to quit worrying because she was beautiful and she seems really sweet. And he’d be stupid not to notice already. I promised to give her my passes to The Remedy if she took the initiative and asked him out. I’m going to give them to her anyway, but I want her to have the confidence to try.”

  “You told her to hit on guys?”

  “What are you worried about? Her ending up with a guy like you?”

  “She’d be so lucky…” Wes said, laughing. “Her mom is my mom’s little sister, and Mom always had Aunt Vicky’s back, so Abe and I try to do the same thing. I know she’s an adult, but it’s hard to see someone you used to babysit going out on dates.”

  “I bet she’s doing more than—”

  “So, as much as it gets under my skin that Char is…dating, that was a nice thing you did. You’re pretty amazing, Lana Langston…”

  “I know…”

  He laughed and kissed her forehead. “A page out of the Wesley Elliott Guide to Conceit. I like. You know what else I like about you…” Wes reached down and grabbed a handful of her butt. “You’re so…bendy…”

  Lana brushed her lips across his chin. “Can I put that on my resumé and list you as a reference?”

  “Yes...also that you don’t fret over everything during sex. Very awesome. You don’t even know how many women I’ve been with who—”

  “And how many is that, actually? Like more than your age?” An expression of amused curiosity formed on her face.

  Sitting up for a minute, Wes cleared his throat and drank down the entire full glass of water from his nightstand without breaking as she looked on still expecting an answer. “…Like I was saying, so many women I’ve been with are worried about what their ass looks like or if it’s jiggling. Uh, it’s your ass and you’re a woman. I want to see it, and it’s supposed to jiggle if I slamming you from the back—”

  “Wes…where are you going with this?” Lana said, laughing.

  “You just seem like you’re having fun when we do it. You make it known when you like something...I love when I feel you yanking my hair…it’s very hot.” He closed his eyes as she weaved her fingers through then tugged on it.

  “Like that?”

  “Exactly like that. And that makes me have fun and want to do more to you…”

  “Well, maybe, we’re both the ugly guy at the prom, Wes. We’re just so fucking happy to be here. And what can I say, I’m a glutton for an orgasm,” Lana said with a chuckle before her eyes widened. “Although, I wish you’d pull my hair…”

  Holy shit. “Done.”

  “So you’re not going to answer the question?” she said, a sly smile cocking a sid
e of her mouth up. “What’s your number?”

  “Nope. If I can’t ask a woman her age, you can’t ask a dude where his dick’s been in general. Dem is the rules.”

  “So, over twenty-four then?”

  They had been like this—naked, entangled—for hours since she got to his place earlier in the day after she sent him a text to say she wanted to come over. But they had seen each other pretty steadily the past two weeks, and even texting back and forth in between. Debates about the best surf breaks in California and talk of Dostoyevsky and Flaubert interspersed with sexy pictures of each other. What more could he ask for?

  And with Abel out surfing somewhere, and Charlotte spending the day with friends, it was the perfect opportunity for them to talk surfing, watch movies, play-fight, and have sex all over the house, but he’d pushed the pizza delivery back twice now because they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

  Lana giggled against his lips. “Jesus, Wes. Does it ever not get hard?”

  “Uh…not when you’re lying directly on top of it…and not when you tell me you like getting your hair pulled, dude.” But the answer to her question was an emphatic no.

  “Well, as much as I like kissing you…and other things, this wasn’t quite what I meant to do with my hands.” She scrambled off the bed and went to her bag she’d brought. “Do you mind if I sit out on your balcony and draw a little bit?”

  “Not at all. Now that we’re both on our feet, I’m ordering the pizza, okay?” Wes warned as he grabbed the clothes that were strewn all over the room. “I’m going to get dressed soon and order the pizza.”

  Lana laughed. “Yeah. Let’s eat. I wanna shower first. Get in with me?”

  “Nope. We know where that’s gonna lead…”

  Giggling, she retrieved a medium-sized sketchpad and set it on his desk before heading into his private bathroom, and soon the shower was running.

  His phone had been chiming with notifications all day, so he grabbed it to read the missed texts, spotting a few from his mom. He’d been trying to figure out how to talk to her about what Charlotte had told him and what had happened the night he found her on the patio. Was it even his place? He’d had a few sleepless nights worrying about her, especially if she was really putting up with his father’s supposed infidelity. He pressed the phone to his ear after he dialed and wrapped a towel around his waist. There was something darkly humorous about talking to his mom post-coitus, but psychologically, he couldn’t deal with being on the phone with her while naked.

  “Hi, Wessie,” she said cheerily when she answered. “Get rid of the tattoos yet?”

  She’d always be the only one allowed to call him that, and he really loved hearing her sound happy. “Every one. How’s my girl?”

  “Good. Grocery shopping. Having friends over tonight for dinner. Neighbors. Some people from Beau’s job, too.”

  “People you like?” Wes walked over to where Lana had laid the sketchpad and peered at a random page he turned to. It was a sketch of Vices Hollywood from across the street, incomplete and lightly shaded, with nondescript people standing outside of it. It was raining heavily in the picture and there was a young woman sitting across the street staring up at a shaded couple visible through one of the windows.

  “Most of them. And there’s this new girl from his work coming. I don’t really know her.”

  “Girl?” Wes gulped down.

  “Yeah…I really think you guys could’ve gone to high school together. She’s young. Very young. She’s his boss’ secretary but somehow she always manages to be in his office when I call there…”

  Fuck. His chest quaked. He wondered if this was the woman. Could he say something now? Press hard enough to spark the idea of her leaving? No, kids weren’t supposed to talk to their parents about stuff like this. Even adult kids.

  “…Vegetarian. I’m making two sets of meals at her husband’s request.”

  “She’s married?”

  “Yeah, according to Beau’s guest list.” He perked his ear to the sounds in the bathroom. The water was still running. He didn’t want Lana to hear.

  “So…how are you, Mom, really?”

  “I’m good, Wessie, but I’m embarrassed. I feel like there’s this pink elephant on the phone with us whenever we speak. I’ve been trying to figure out how to apologize for what happened at your house; no one wants their son to see them that way. I’m so very sorry.”

  “It’s okay…” He smiled sadly, heart growing heavy. “I just wish you didn’t have reasons to…you know…” Drink.

  “And what reason is that?” she asked, with either annoyance or embarrassment staining her tone.

  Your goddamn father. Your fucking father. The memory of her words burned his chest. “Dad—”

  He had barely articulated the word to completion before she cut in. “Okay, now that I’ve apologized, we’re back in regular mother-son mode—”

  “I meant everything I said, Mom. Abel and I—”

  “We can’t talk about this, Wesley. I don’t want you involved in our problems.” Her voice kicked up into a stern tone.

  “I know, but—” Lana’s phone rang in her bag. It had been doing that all day, and even more interesting was her calculated refusal to answer it when she picked it up and stared at the screen.

  “Your dad and I…we had breakfast the other morning—he read his paper and I sat with my iPad—and it was fine.” He remembered those mornings. He hated those mornings. They were so silent. As disturbing as it was to say, those were worse than the shouting. They were anything but comfortable, and they usually dragged out for hours. Days. “Enjoy your Saturday, okay? And see someone about all that stuff on your skin.” She laughed. “I love you, Wesley.” And she was gone.

  Well, so much for that. He tossed his cell, sighing, before he turned to another page in Lana’s sketchpad, and gasped. A second incomplete sketch, but recognizable: a guy with a heavily tattooed arm, gesturing and sitting on a curb with a smile, subtle but self-assured, and eyes focused in the direction of the sketch artist—if there had been one. She’d done this purely from memory and imagination.

  “Oh! You weren’t supposed to see that.” Lana emerged from the bathroom drying her hair with a towel as she rushed over and snatched the sketchpad away.

  “It’s awesome.”

  “Thanks…” she said in a whispered tone. “It’s not done.”

  “It’s beautiful, either way.” Her face brightened for a moment at the words. “But I’m sorry I looked…are you going to paint it?”

  “I don’t know…” She shrugged. She nervously dragged her teeth across her bottom lip and turned her back to him with the sketchpad tight against her chest.

  “What if I asked you to?”

  “I don’t know…maybe…this isn’t really the stuff I paint.”

  “Then why’d you draw me?”

  She shrugged. “I draw everything, Wes.” She said it so tersely, he knew he would only get more resistance if he continued, so Wes opted to change the subject. The drawings in this sketchbook were clearly much more sentimental than the stuff on her bedroom walls.

  “What’d you bring me?” he asked gleefully.

  “On the Road,” Lana said as she reached into her bag for it. Somehow her book club joke had turned into a real trade; this was their first.

  “And what do you have for me?”

  “Into Thin Air. Nice shirt.” He gestured at the Lava logo on the black t-shirt she was wearing.

  Lana grinned. “It was hanging on the door…and I didn’t want my dress to get wet from my hair. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah. Girls in my shirts are always a win.” He squeezed her sides. “Oh, I have something to show you.”

  “You’ve been showing me things all day, Wes. Your kitchen looks great upside-down from the coffee table, bee-tee-double-you.”

  Wes burst out laughing as he walked over to the wall-mounted bookshelf. “Thanks. It came fully furnished, but Abel did some of the decorati
ng; I’ll let him know. But it’s actually this…” He returned to her side with Into Thin Air, but also another book, The Catcher in the Rye, one of his most prized possessions. He rarely shared this side of himself with others, but he just knew Lana would get it.

  “Holy shit. Is this…?”

  “A first edition? Yup. Lava got it for me. Six years ago, I told them I’d only sign with them if they found me a hardcover, first print, first edition of this book. They could take it out of my endorsement check, if they wanted. I was sort of joking but not…and they did. Have you read it?” He held it up for her to observe since her hands were too damp to touch it. And the fact that she knew, that she didn’t even attempt to touch it, made him like her more.

  “I have…but not like this. Wow…this is cool. Really cool. The dust jacket looks like it’s in perfect condition and everything.” Wes opened it. “Oh, wow. It’s a true first edition. It even has the original price on it. Are you collecting them?”

  “I’d like to…this is my first…first.”

  “Man, when sexy, tattooed, blondie surfer reads, he reads.” She smiled up at him. “Thank you for showing me this.”

  Before he could respond, her cell rang again, but she made no attempt to get it. “Lan, you can answer it if you want. I’m not that guy. No-frills means you can see other guys and live your life. We’re friends. You can even talk about them. Remember, no weirdness just because you know what I look like when I come.”

  “Great…but I don’t want to answer it.” She shook her head. “Even if you’re cool with it, I don’t want outside stuff coming in here. No drama, right?” Lana locked her fingers behind his neck and kissed the side of his mouth, looking much more relieved than she had a few minutes before. But now he was curious.

  “Uh oh…you got some guy all sprung over you?”

  “Not even. But speaking of sprung though, Kiera’s been to Vices Hollywood, like, three times since the infamous night.”

  “Shit…was she rude?”

  “Understatement of the day. She repeatedly reported me to my manager for poor service. She and her friends are lousy tippers, too.”