by M. Leighton
Until Tia and I are headed for the door.
“Violet,” I hear a deep and oddly familiar voice say just as we are on our way out the door.
I look back to see Jet making his way toward me, two coffee cups in hand. He gives me a lopsided grin when he reaches me, handing me one of them. “I thought I’d buy you a drink,” he says casually. “Because I know you drink coffee.”
I return his smile, taking the cup yet knowing I won’t drink a drop of the steaming contents. It would keep me up all night. “Yes, I do. Thank you.”
“Vi,” I hear from the other side of the partially open door. “You coming?” It’s Tia. I glance behind me in time to see her poke her head back inside. Her eyes meet mine for a fraction of a second before they rise and widen. I know exactly who they’re trained on behind me. I feel a surge of possessive jealousy well up inside me, which is very unusual. I chalk it up to wanting to keep Jet to myself so that neither he nor Tia does something stupid.
At least that’s what I tell myself.
Tia walks slowly back into the room, her hips already adopting that swivel they get when she’s interested in someone. I turn toward her when she stops in front of me. I see her flash her most dazzling smile over my shoulder.
“Tia, right?” Jet says from behind me. I see his muscular forearm shoot out past me at my side as he leans forward to offer his hand, his chest pressing into my back.
“Yes. You remembered,” Tia says, happily sliding her palm over his.
“I’m Jet. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” she drawls, all but salivating. It isn’t hard to picture her with the toothy grin of a great white shark, sharp teeth flashing in the light as it opens its mouth to gulp down its prey.
Jet’s next words surprise me. “Tia, would you mind if I borrowed Violet? I promise to bring her right back.”
His words surprise Tia, too, as evidenced by the way they round in confusion. She’s not accustomed to anyone else getting the least bit of attention when she’s around. She’s beautiful, vivacious, and extremely flirtatious. When she sets her sights on something, she unerringly gets it.
And I can’t help but wonder if now they’ll be set on Jet.
Still, Tia recovers quickly and graciously agrees. “Of course not. I don’t mind sharing.”
There’s no mistaking what she really means by that comment. I glance back at Jet. It’s obvious by the wink he gives Tia that he didn’t miss it either. Rather than respond, however, he just looks down at me as though she never spoke. He tips his head toward the wall behind us. “Do you mind?”
I’m so caught off guard, I don’t think to do anything but agree. “Of course not.”
All I can think of are Tia’s eyes on me as Jet lays his hand on the small of my back and guides me away from her. He leads me to a corner that’s fairly private—well, as private as two people can be when surrounded by a roomful of ears and eyes.
When he stops, leaning casually against the concrete block and smiling down at me, I forget all about Tia. And everyone else in the room, for that matter. The only person I’m aware of is Jet—Jet with his piercing eyes, Jet with his heart-stopping smile. Jet with his bag full of problems that somehow make him real and more attractive than any other man I’ve known.
“Look, I, uh . . . I was wondering . . .”
He trails off. I wait for him to continue.
I don’t mind waiting. If he never said another word, I’m not sure I’d care. I could stare at him, stare into those amazing, fathomless eyes for days on end and never utter a single complaint. When he finally speaks, I struggle to focus on his words.
Jet takes a deep breath and blurts, “Would you be my sponsor? I know it’s not the normal practice since we are the opposite sex, but you’re pretty much the only one in our group who could do it.”
My mind is filled with the sound of screeching brakes. His words are like a concrete barrier in front of the speeding car of my silent fawning.
“Jet, I—”
“I know it’s probably a headache for you to even consider it, but let me tell you first how much I would appreciate it. I promise not to bother you every day like some people might. I’m very familiar with my . . . triggers, and it’s during those times that I could really use a little help. Sometimes just an ear, sometimes maybe a visit to keep me focused on what I need to be focused on. I swear I won’t be a full-time job.”
When he finishes, Jet gives me a wry yet charming smile. It reminds me that, while he’s amazingly handsome and charismatic as all hell, he’s just a guy. Human. Like the rest of us. He’s just a little weaker in some areas than the majority of the population, but at least he’s smart enough to realize it and try to get some help. And whether he knows it or not, he’s speaking my language. I’m nothing if not helpful.
I sigh, worrying my lip as I nervously contemplate all the hundred and one ways this could go awry. I want to help him. I do. And a big part of me is already saying yes. I mean, how hard could it be to make sure the guy goes home alone?
But the more reserved part of me is reminding me that I’d be doing this under false pretenses. It’s all a lie on my end. This could blow up in my face in the worst possible way. And end up hurting him.
With Jet watching me as I deliberate, I try to formulate an appropriately easy letdown. Unfortunately, that gives Tia just enough time to jump in and make my life a little harder than it was fifteen seconds ago.
“Of course she will,” Tia says, stepping up to us from where she was standing closer to the door.
Jet and I start to respond at the same time.
“Tia, I—” I begin.
“I don’t want to impose if you think—” Jet says.
But Tia interrupts us both.
“I don’t want to hear excuses. This isn’t the place for excuses, right? This is a place where we can be real with each other, where we come for help. Jet, Vi is an amazing person and such a great fixer. And you need fixing. This is right up her alley,” she says, turning to smile meaningfully into my eyes. “She’s helped me so much, and I know she can help you, too. She’s just shy. Once you get past that, I think you two will really be able to . . . connect.”
Ohmigod! Tia!
Jet turns his penetrating gaze back to me. The hopeful yet hesitant look in them is the very reason that I want to agree. “I really could use the help.”
I look back and forth between Jet and Tia. I tell myself that I really can’t say no now. If I protest too much, it might seem suspicious. Plus, this might be a great way to keep Tia coming to the meetings.
Yeah, that’s what I tell myself. The problem is that I’m a little too pleased to agree. And that is not a good sign.
“I’ll do it,” I say, turning to Tia. “And since Tia will be coming back each week, she can help encourage you. These meetings are very important after all.”
Tia’s laugh is the nonverbal equivalent of a Touché! I give her my sweetest, most innocuous smile. “See, Violet, you’re always thinking.”
A short, uncomfortable silence falls between the three of us. Jet is the first to break it. “There’s more,” he says, clearing his throat. “One of the reasons I wanted to ask you tonight is that tomorrow night is one of those times that’s particularly hard for me. I wondered if maybe you would . . . if you could . . .”
“Of course she will,” Tia chimes in again, overenthusiastic. Now she’s doing it just to needle me. I see the challenge light her eyes. She’s enjoying this.
“We both will,” I add, sending a subtle glare at Tia. “Weekends are hard for Tia, too. This will be good for her.”
Tia punches me playfully on the shoulder. “Youuu,” she starts through gritted teeth, her smile notably forced, “you’re such a little . . . helper.”
I almost laugh. I have no doubt that sentence ended much differently in her head. But this is what she gets for putting her manipulative nose in my business. “That’s me.”
“Great, then let me g
ive you the address,” Jet says. “Do you have your phone with you?”
“My phone?” I ask, not really understanding why he’d need that to give me an address.
“Yes, your phone,” he repeats with a grin. “I thought we could exchange numbers and then I’d text you the address so you’d have it tomorrow. Isn’t that pretty standard with this kind of thing? That we exchange phone numbers so that I can call you if I get into trouble?”
I shake my head and wave him off casually, like I’m just being absentminded. “Right, right. Of course. I’m just a little . . . it’s been a long day.”
In my head, I smack my forehead. That’s almost exactly what I said at the store last week. If I’m to continue this charade, I’ll have to come up with something better than “a long day” to excuse my lack of knowledge.
I dig out my phone and hand it to Jet. I try not to focus too much on how big and perfectly formed his hands are, or how nimbly his fingers move over the screen of my smartphone. It’s not like me to feel this kind of instant attraction—or really, very much attraction at all—to a guy. To say I’m flustered would be a grave understatement.
When Jet finishes, he hands me back my phone and then punches something into his own. A few seconds later, my phone bleeps with an incoming text. I glance down to see his name and number pop up.
“Around ten?” he asks.
I open the text, not recognizing the address. But at least I won’t be going by myself.
I glance up at Jet. “I’ll be there.”
The smile he gives me could stop a car. Or my heart. Or maybe both. “Great. I look forward to it.”
I’m a little concerned by the fact that, now, I do, too.
TEN: Jet
I’ve never really felt like a piece of shit before. Not until tonight.
I mean, I’m always up front with women about who I am and what I want. They know what to expect. They know me. Or at least the me that they see onstage.
But not Violet. Not only is she nothing like the women I’m used to, but she has no idea who I am or what I’m like. And what kinds of despicable things I’m capable of. Not really.
Tonight was an all-time low for me, though. I really didn’t think I’d feel this bad about it, so I’m a little surprised. I think the worst part, the part that makes me feel the shittiest, is that I’m not going to call it off. I could tell her not to come, but I won’t. Why? Because there’s something I want more than I want to feel good about myself.
This isn’t about success or proving a point or winning. This is about me wanting a woman. One woman in particular.
Violet. I want Violet, and I’ll do whatever it takes to have her. Period. End of story. And that is who I am. That is the real me.
ELEVEN: Violet
“What is this place?” I ask Tia when we pull up outside a huge, elaborately decorated red barn.
“It’s the old Pfizer barn. Have you never been out here before?”
“No, should I have?”
Tia rolls her eyes. “Good God, you really do need to get out more. They’ve been renting this place out for parties for, what, five or six years now?”
“Some of us have better things to do than party in old barns,” I snap, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice.
Tia starts backpedaling immediately, sympathy dripping from her tone. “I’m sorry, Vi. I know you’ve never really had time for fun.”
I send a frown over to Tia as I cut the engine. “I don’t want your pity, Tia. That’s not what I was getting at. I chose to do what I did. I was simply reminding you of that, reminding you of why I’m so clueless about Greenfield pop culture.”
“I know. And I know it was your choice. Well, sorta.” Tia turns in her seat to face me. “Don’t forget, Vi, I’ve known you since we were kids, since that first summer your dad had to bring you over to my house while he was mowing the grass. You were sick and he was afraid to leave you, afraid your mom wouldn’t come back. You’ve spent most of your life taking care of everybody else. As you got older, maybe it was a choice, but when you were younger it wasn’t. I remember all the things we invited you to do that you couldn’t do because either you were afraid to leave your dad or you were worried that your cousin might do something stupid. That’s no way to grow up, Violet.”
“I like helping people, Tia. You know that. It’s who I am.”
“I know that, but at times, it’s been to the exclusion of everything else, everyone else. It’s not healthy for you not to have a life of your own. You need time to do the things that make you happy.”
“I do have time for things that make me happy.”
“Name one.”
“I baked a caramel apple spice cake last weekend using a recipe I found online, one I’d been dying to try. You know how much I love to bake.”
“Yes, I know that. But why were you doing it? Why were you baking rather than us going shopping like you had planned for three weeks? Who was the cake for?”
I pause. I know that telling her the truth will only make her point for her. “It was for me. And Dad.”
“Viii,” Tia warns, looking at me from narrowed eyes.
“Fine. It was for a new landscaping client Dad is trying to sign.”
“See? Everyone and their crisis comes before you. Everyone.”
I don’t bother to mention that I do a lot for Tia, too. She definitely benefits from my desire to help people and fix their problems.
“There’s nothing wrong with that, Tia. It doesn’t make me a monster.”
“No, it just keeps you from finding your own happiness in life.”
“Helping people does make me happy.”
“But I know you want more. You have to want more.”
“What if I don’t? What if this is all I’d like to do for the rest of my life? Is that so terrible?”
Sadness fills Tia’s eyes. “No, it’s not so terrible, Vi. I just hate to see you end up alone. That’s all.”
“There are worse things than ending up alone, Tia.”
“Don’t you ever want to fall in love?”
I look closely at my best friend and, for once, I’m brutally honest. “I don’t think I do.” She gasps in outrage. I knew she would never understand. “Maybe I don’t want to pin all my hopes and dreams and happiness on one person. Maybe I don’t want to give them the power to destroy me. Maybe I don’t want to need someone like that. Maybe I want to be strong enough to stand on my own.”
Tia’s brow wrinkles. “You think love makes you weak?”
“Doesn’t it?”
“Of course not. Look at me and Dennis. Look how happy we are.”
“Are you, Tia? Are you really? Is Dennis? Do you know what it does to him every time you cheat on him? Do you know how much it hurts him? Can’t you see how crushed he is when it happens?”
Tia tilts her head and looks at me like I’m being a difficult child. “That’s not the way it is, Violet, and you know it. Dennis knows that I’m not really interested in another man the way I am in him. Those were just . . . they were just . . . flings.”
“To you maybe, but Tia, they’re killing Dennis. Why do you think the SAA meetings were even suggested? Did you think he was just trying to be mean? To get back at you?”
“No, I . . .”
I can see by the look on her face that she’s never really considered Dennis’s true feelings. Not really. And it’s not that Tia is an awful person, or that she’s heartless. She’s just weak. She’s addicted to attention and approval, both things she never got from her dad. And getting them from Dennis just isn’t enough, not when she’s feeling low. Like most addicts, there’s a physical component to the addiction, but most of it is psychological. Emotional.
The mood in the car is somber and serious, even more so than what is usual for me. I feel the need to lift it. And lift Tia. This is not why I brought her along. Yes, I want her to open her eyes and really see herself and her . . . proclivities, but I would never hurt her to do it.
<
br /> So I change the subject.
“Well, Miss Social Butterfly, now’s your chance to show me how the fun half live. Let’s go get me into some more trouble.”
I say the last with as much playfulness as I can muster, but it’s too soon. Tia is still stinging.
“That’s my fault, too, isn’t it, Vi?”
Her chin trembles like she’s on the verge of tears. As is my nature, I want to make her feel better. I reach over and grab her hand, wiggling it back and forth. “Nah. I was getting bored with my deception-free, sex-addict-free evenings. I needed a little som’n som’n.”
Tia’s smile is tremulous, but I know by her teasing that she’ll soon be over this little setback. “Well, you’re in luck. I just so happen to know a guy who can give you a little som’n som’n.”
“Geez, Tia, the guy’s a sex addict. Isn’t that kind of like shooting fish in a barrel? Singling out the weak one in the herd and all that?”
“Hey, I’m only looking out for you. I’m not worried about the weak one or the herd. I’m your friend. The least I can do is get you an orgasm before that thing freezes up on you.”
“Tia!”
“Don’t ‘Tia’ me! I remember how things were with you and Connelly. He fired you up about as much as an Eskimo in midwinter. But not all men are like that. And if I was a betting girl, which I’m not because I don’t need to add gambling to my list of problems, I’d bet you anything that Jet could make your panties spontaneously combust with a snap of his fingers. From across the room.” She’s nodding her head to emphasize her point.
I just shake my head. “You’re one twisted girl. And I like my panties just the way they are, thank you very much.”
She sighs and rolls her eyes like I’m a lost cause. “That tells me all I need to know.”
“And what, exactly, is that?”
“That this is an emergency. Tonight is more than just an outing with my bestie. Tonight begins the ‘Save the Vagina’ campaign.”
With a nod, Tia unfolds her long legs from my passenger seat, gets out, and closes the door behind her. I see her dig her underwear out of her crack before she turns and bends down to smile at me through the window.