Any Way You Want Me

by Jamie Sobrato

  “I’m sorry you feel that way.” He leaned over and placed a kiss on her cheek, then took her hand in his and kissed it too.

  A doctor stuck his head in the doorway. “The nurse will be in to release you in just a few.”

  “Can I give you a ride home?” Alex asked when the doctor disappeared.

  She shook her head. “I’ll take a cab.”

  “So. I guess this is goodbye.”

  Yasmine nodded, and he couldn’t look again to see the tears in her eyes.

  YASMINE STARED DOWN at the big stack of romantic comedies Cass had just plopped on the coffee table and felt her stomach twist into a knot. She understood her friend’s intentions—after yesterday, it was a safe bet Yasmine wouldn’t want to watch any shoot-’em-up action flicks. But she’d left out the little detail of her telling Alex to get lost last night.

  It was New Year’s Eve, she was recovering from a kidnapping, a gunshot wound and the most horrible breakup of her life, and she was so not in the mood for merrily ringing in the New Year.

  “I don’t think I can watch any of those,” she said.

  Cass sighed. “Oh, come on, I know you’re not crazy about Renee Zellweger, but the guys in these movies are hot.”

  “It’s just the whole notion of romance that I’m not crazy about tonight.”

  “What happened? I thought Alex was suspiciously missing from the scene.”

  He was the last person she wanted to talk about. “What about Drew?”

  Cass shot her a look. “How about we agree not to talk men until we’ve had at least three margaritas?”

  “I can’t drink because of the painkillers the hospital gave me.”

  “Okay, so let’s not talk men until I’ve had at least three cocktails.”

  “Can’t we just skip the whole subject of men?” Yasmine asked as she eyed the grocery bag Cass had brought over.

  She followed her friend as Cass carried the bag to the kitchen.

  “Don’t tell me Alex is the one who shot you.”

  “God, no! Of course not. If you must know, I broke it off permanently with him, and it wasn’t pretty. End of subject.”

  “No fair. You can’t drop a little bomb like that without telling more.”

  Yasmine ignored her, putting the margarita mix in the fridge and opening the bags of jalapeño chips and chocolate chip cookies to dump in bowls.

  “Okay fine. You want to know what happened with Drew? He told me he wants us to date exclusively. After less than a week!”

  “That’s great.”

  “No, it’s crazy. I froze, and then he felt stupid, and then I said I thought we were just having fun, and he said he didn’t think we should see each other anymore.”

  “Cass!”

  “I know. I feel really bad for hurting him.”

  “You could still call and apologize, maybe explain that you don’t have the emotional wiring of a normal human being.”

  “I already used that explanation. He wasn’t buying it.”

  “He must have been really into you.”

  “After a week? That’s crazy.”

  “Don’t you believe in whirlwind romance and love at first sight?”

  “Hell, no. I mean, I loved David Lee Roth at first sight, and look how that turned out.”

  “Falling for rock stars on MTV doesn’t count.”

  “All that whirlwind romance stuff, it’s just kind of a convenient notion, you know?”

  “No, I don’t know.” But she did. She wasn’t even sure why she was arguing this point when she’d never experienced the mythical concept herself.

  “It’s the kind of thing romance novelists probably made up to suit their plots. Dashing hero falls in love at first sight with spitfire heroine, but spitfire heroine is too busy saving her daddy’s ranch to be bothered with love—that is, until the evil cattle-rustling villain comes along and shows her that having a dashing hero around the ranch wouldn’t be such a bad idea. And it all happens within the space of two weeks.”

  “You’re sounding more jaded than usual, you know.”

  And yet Yasmine was feeling just as jaded as Cass sounded, just as beaten down by her love life and confused and not sure what the hell she wanted anymore.

  “You’re the one who can’t bear to watch a romantic comedy.”

  Yasmine eased down onto the couch, doing her best not to strain the bullet wound, and stared at the decorating show that was nearing its big room-makeover climax. It was a rerun, one she’d seen and therefore knew ended with the homeowners ecstatic with their mod-style living room. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten so excited over something as this couple was about to be over their new lime-green lamps.

  “How did our lives get so dismal?” she said.

  Cass finished chewing the cookie she’d shoved into her mouth whole before she answered. “It’s called self-pity. We don’t have anyone to blame but ourselves if we’re not happy.”

  “But we should be happy. I mean, we’re young. We have good jobs, we’re healthy, blah blah blah…”

  “Aside from the fact that you were just shot and kidnapped, you’re life’s pretty much perfect.”

  “Thanks for the reminder.”

  “And do you really love that dull-as-hell job of yours?”

  Yasmine ignored the question and turned her attention to the jalapeño chips, which were a far easier subject than her career aspirations or lack thereof.

  “Do you? I mean, look at you. You’ve got enough brains for two people, but instead of using what you’ve got, you settle for a job that has absolutely no chance of ever taking advantage of all your talent.”

  “I’ve got a great job.”

  “You work for a company that makes games with titles like Bodice Ripper. You’ve got a decent job for a new college grad, but given your talent, you should have been thinking of moving up and out by now.”

  Yasmine shoved chips into her mouth and pretended to watch the closing credits of the decorating show. She couldn’t deal with her wrecked love life, her kidnapping trauma and her apparent lack of ambition all in one conversation.

  “Bodice Ripper is actually a pretty funny game, you know. Did you try out that copy I gave you?”

  “No.”

  “It’s just like the old-school romance novels we were talking about. Hot hero, busty heroine, kinky bad guy…And you get points every time your hero needs to rip his own shirt off, and double points if he rips the heroine’s dress off and ravishes her.”

  “You’re avoiding the subject.”

  “I thought you came over here to cheer me up after my ordeal.”

  Cass sighed. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. I’m being a total bitch.”

  “You’re really bothered by this whole Drew thing, aren’t you?”

  “I guess I’m just trying to distract myself from it.”

  “By focusing on my failures. Thanks a bunch.”

  “Why don’t I put in one of these movies so I can stop talking.”

  “I’d rather watch Dream Kitchen. It’s coming on next.”

  “What is it with you and these home-improvement shows? I don’t get the appeal.”

  “I’m fascinated, that’s all. Everything on these shows is so normal and domestic. And there’s always a happy ending.”

  “Of course there’s a happy ending. The biggest conflict is whether to mix stripes and prints.”

  Yasmine realized for the first time that she loved the banal domesticity of these shows, loved the glimpses into a glossy version of everyday America’s home life, loved the makeovers of kids’ bedrooms, the family rooms remade to accommodate adults, children and pets—the sort of thing that had not happened in her home growing up.

  Her toys had been relegated to her room, which had been decorated in a tasteful botanical theme more suited for a grown-up’s room than a kid’s. That’s how her mother had wanted it. Her brilliant, ambitious mother, who had been so determined not to let having a child sidetrack her from her c
areer or her vision of a perfect home.

  God, all this time, she’d just been trying not to become her mother….

  And if she engaged in another minute of this angst-ridden navel gazing, she was going to have to find a gun and shoot herself in another major body part.

  Cass had put a movie in the DVD player, and now she was flipping through the bonus material with the remote.

  “Are you really going to subject me to this? Maybe we should just play a board game or something.”

  “Don’t even suggest it. I know you only own Trivial Pursuit.”

  “But I just got the newest edition from my parents and haven’t tried it out yet!”

  “Forget it. We’re watching the movie,” she said, staring straight ahead at the TV with grim determination.

  “Am I really that obnoxious when I play?”

  “I’m not going to answer that.”

  Yasmine sighed and curled up on the couch, resigned to her romantic-comedy fate. She had to admit, Renee Zellwegger did have a certain squinty-eyed charm, and a half hour into the movie, she was starting to buy the message that love could solve all of life’s bigger problems.

  “Do you think I screwed up dumping Alex?” she dared to ask.

  “The more important question is, do you think you screwed up?”

  “What if he was my one and only shot at true love or something?”

  “I think you of all people have at least a couple of shots at true love.”

  “But what if he was the one shot I was supposed to make?”

  Cass glanced over at her. “If you believe that, then why did you break up with him?”

  “I broke up because I was scared. I thought he’d always remind me of being a convict.”

  “Hmm. I guess that’s true,” she said, sounding more interested in the movie than Yasmine’s plight.

  “That was not the voice of sincerity.”

  Cass grabbed the remote and hit the pause button. “You’re the one who’s always talking about the importance of accepting yourself for what you are. So what if he reminds you of your past? At least you know he doesn’t have any issues with it.”

  “Is that part of the reason you didn’t want to get serious with Drew? You didn’t want to tell him about your stripper years.”

  “We’re talking about your screwed-up love life here, not mine.”

  On the paused TV screen, the heroine was frozen in the middle of a lonely New Year’s Eve crying jag. Bizarrely appropriate.

  “So what are your New Year’s resolutions?”

  “No more sex with nerdy guys who don’t know the deal about me and my romance-free lifestyle.”

  “Would you stop calling Drew a nerd. He’s just a little offbeat. He doesn’t try to be cool, which in my book is a definite plus.”

  “What’s your resolution? No more gorgeous, available, perfect men?”

  “Alex is not perfect. Remember, I didn’t even know his name was Alex until a few days ago!”

  “So he testified against you and sent you to a juvie center. Is that really so awful?”

  “No, but it’s pretty damn bad that he slept with me just to find out if I was still doing anything illegal.”

  “Come on, Yasmine. You know that’s not the whole truth—the man’s got an overly guilty conscience. He slept with you because he was hot for you, plain and simple.”

  “And because it was a convenient way to gain my trust.”

  “Seriously, have you ever met a guy who wanted sex for any other reason than simply because it’s his favorite thing to do?”

  “That’s beside the point.”

  “No, it is the point. You’ve got to stop letting this whole investigation thing bother you. If he got it up, it’s because he wanted to sleep with you. No other reason.”

  Was Cass right? Yasmine wondered. Had she been too hard on Alex, and had he been too hard on himself? She thought of his otherwise strict sense of honor and realized just how right Cass was.

  “Oh, hell.”

  “You know I’m right.”

  Yes, she did. And she felt like a fool.

  “Do you think I’ve screwed up for good with him?”

  “There’s only one way to find out.”

  “What about you? Are you really going to mope your way through the New Year?”

  “Do you have another suggestion?”

  “You’re clearly unhappy with the Drew situation. Why don’t you at least open yourself up to possibilities? Maybe you’d be blissfully happy with him if you gave him a chance.”

  “Or not.”

  “Why don’t you offer him some sort of alternative arrangement—like sex with the possibility of something more.”

  Cass was silent. Finally she said, “What if he’s horrified that I used to be a stripper?”

  “Then he sucks, but there’s only one way to find out.”

  She sighed. “I guess I’ve gone this far. I’ve already entered the complication zone. I’ll always wonder what might have been if I don’t give it a shot.”

  “Should we go find our men?” Yasmine asked.

  “I think we have to. It’s either that or sit here feeling sorry for ourselves on the most important night of the year.”

  They were off the couch and scrambling for shoes and coats, and in less than a minute they were both ready to go.

  They opened the door, and Yasmine was stepping out into the hallway when she spotted Alex. He was standing holding a bottle of champagne, looking contrite and gorgeous.

  Cass looked at her and smiled. “I’ll be going now,” she said. “Happy New Year!”

  And with that she was running down the stairs and out the door, leaving Yasmine and Alex standing there, silent, staring at each other.

  “Call me optimistic,” he finally said, “but I was sitting home alone, trying to figure out what to do with myself, and I realized the only thing I wanted to do was come here and beg you to give me another chance.”

  She wanted to play it cool, remain a little stoic, but she got all teary-eyed again instead.

  “You’d better come inside,” she said.

  17

  CASS GLANCED AT THE CLOCK glowing green on her dash. She still had time. She’d gone home, changed clothes and grabbed her old portable stereo loaded with her favorite dance CD. Now she was parked in Drew’s driveway, trying to muster her nerve to get out of the car. If he was home, they could maybe ring in the New Year together.

  If she was lucky.

  Mere groveling might not be good enough. She’d have to take extreme measures, possibly, and she was prepared. She hadn’t realized how badly she wanted to see him again until she’d set her mind to the task.

  With her insides trembling, she got out of the car, carried her stereo and some clothes in a duffle bag up the sidewalk, rang the doorbell and waited. Seconds passed, and she rang again just to be sure he’d heard. Then she breathed a sigh of relief to hear footsteps from inside the house.

  When the door opened, Drew was standing on the other side, his glasses missing, his hair disheveled and his chest bare.

  “I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?” she asked, feeling foolish for not considering the possibility that he’d already have a woman with him.

  “Actually, yes,” he said without betraying any emotion. “You woke me up.”

  “Could you please let me in for a minute so we can talk?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, we can talk like this. I just want to say I’m sorry, and that I want to give us a chance. I may not be all that open to romance, but I’d like to at least be open to possibilities with you. So maybe we could, you know, keep having sex…and see what happens.”

  “I don’t really see the point now,” he said.

  “Would it make a difference if I were naked?” she said, setting her bag on the sidewalk.

  His gaze dropped to her leopard-print trench coat. “It would be slightly more entertaining, but no, I can’t see how it would make a difference.”


  “Let’s try it,” she said as she opened her coat and revealed the skimpy ensemble she wore beneath.

  Her body-skimming leopard-print baby doll barely covered a black lace bra and panties. And her bare legs led down to a pair of black stiletto heels.

  The damp night air was cold. Damn cold. Her nipples turned to pebbles when she let the coat fall open.

  Drew glanced around the neighborhood, then back at her. “Cover yourself up!” he stage-whispered.

  “Why? Worried that your neighbors will see me?”

  Cass had hidden for too long behind lies that never hinted at the dancing she’d earned her living on for so many years. She didn’t miss stripping—okay, well, she did occasionally miss the empowerment it gave her.

  She missed the raw, female power she had over every man in a room when she stepped out onto a stage and wrapped her leg around the pole.

  But she’d finished that chapter of her life and didn’t intend to go back. She didn’t want to dwell on the mistakes she’d made or the people she’d hurt when she’d been young and reckless. She had other ways of commanding power now.

  Yet she did want Drew to know all of her and accept her for who she was and who she had been. If he couldn’t accept her, he wasn’t worth any more of her time.

  “Please let me in. I have to show you something, and I don’t want you to say anything until I’m finished, okay?”

  “Um, okay,” he said, sounding perplexed as he stepped aside.

  She entered the apartment and looked around to make sure she had enough room to dance. Definitely enough space for a one-woman show.

  “You’ll want to sit down for this,” she said, and he did, easing down onto the edge of the couch as if he might need to hop up again and flee the room at any moment.

  She placed the portable stereo on his dining room table and hit the play button for the CD that was already cued up. The music started, and she let her coat slide off her shoulders and onto the floor, where she kicked it aside.

  Cass had always understood the power of focusing her dance on a specific guy, making him believe he was the only one in the room she was taking her clothes off for. So she did. As she started to dance, her body moving as if making love, her gaze locked on Drew, she could read the emotions playing across his face.