by Shyla Colt
“It shows. I actually envy you. Micah and I share a condo.” He grimaces.
“It can’t be that bad.”
“Let’s just say our tastes are very different and our space does not flow seamlessly the way yours does. I didn’t notice it as much when I was constantly traveling. Now, it’s painfully obvious.”
I snicker. “Boys and their bachelor pads. Be right back.” I sweep through the house, turning off lights, grab my purse off the counter, and guide him to the door. I strike up a conversation on the way down in the elevator. “What game are we playing?”
“We get together every few weeks, so we try to mix things up. This week we’re playing a new to us game called Dead of Winter. It’s a psychological Survival Game.”
“Like post-apocalyptic scenario?” I ask excitedly.
“Yeah. Awesome, isn’t it?” He smiles.
“I hope so. I haven’t played a tabletop game in forever.”
“We have a pretty big group. About twelve counting us, so we’ll have two games going at the same time.”
We continue out the door reminiscing about our favorite roleplaying games on the way toward downtown.
The entrance to the Rook is hidden. A white Rook stands out against a small black flag hung on a metal pole above the building. The black color scheme is broken up with strategically painted white squares and vertical lines going down the tall pillars on either side of the building. Glass windows stand out on either side of the recessed entryway. Set back from the sidewalk, the doorway adds to the mystery the shop invokes.
“I never would have noticed this place on my own.”
“I know. I hadn’t even heard about it until a buddy brought me here.” He holds the door open, and I walk inside. The walls are a mixture of gray and exposed brick. A large wooden bar takes up the majority of the right side of the building with gray stools lining it. An oversized version of Kerplunk rests on the corner of the bar top. The left wall is covered from ceiling to floor with bookshelves full of board games.
“Wow.”
“Welcome to the Rook,” Asher says. The pride in his voice is child-like. He’s sharing his secret getaway with me. Round tables with brightly colored chairs fill the available space leading up to the door and a rectangular opening that leads to the kitchen.
“Since we have a large party, we’ll go up to the second floor, but I wanted to get you started with a drink first.”
“Am I going to need it?” I ask.
“Ha. No, but you’ll want it once you see the menu. Everyone coming today is chill. I promise.” We grab two stools, and I look over the yellow sheet of paper with the cocktails and appetizers listed.
“Capri Against Humanity? Pretty Pretty Princess? Pixie Stick Martini?” The themed drinks made with iconic items like Capri sun pouches, candy necklaces, and pop culture themes is genius. This is going to be a fun evening. The Pretty Pretty Princess exceeds all my expectations. Poured over cotton candy and served with a candy necklace around the glass, it actually sparkles because it has flakes of gold. I take a sip of the sweet concoction and nod my approval.
“Okay, this place is legit.”
“I told you,” Ash says as he leads me up the stairs. The layout is similar to downstairs with its gray walls, exposed brick, and round tables with bright chairs. The space is taken up by areas to play, leaving the games downstairs.
“Looks like we aren’t the first ones here.” Asher waves at a plump redhead with a chin-length bob, black-rimmed glasses, and a welcoming smile. The tall, stocky blonde beside her waves back, too.
“Hey, guys, this is Clara. Clara this is Shannon and Carl.”
“It’s so nice to get another girl to play with this testosterone-fueled group.” Shannon reaches out her hand, and we shake.
“Teammates?” I ask.
Shannon beams. “Of course.”
It’s impossible to stay nervous when they’re so kind. Thirty minutes later, the gang is all here, everyone has a drink, and the appetizers are flowing. We’re all getting our first taste of life after the apocalypse. Zombies, lies, and survival skills. The game has me completely engaged. We all try to work together to make our camps succeed, knowing there’s a sabotager in our midst. I eyeball Asher, wondering if he’s the one trying to take over the camp. He catches my gaze and raises an eyebrow. I hold up two fingers to my eyes and point them at him.
“I think the lady is calling you out, bro,” Brian says with a laugh. The sandy-haired, blue-eyed man with cupid’s bow lips and a deep laugh is irresistible. Constantly joking, his jovial spirit is like a magnet attracting everyone.
The group is an eclectic blend of entrepreneurs, computer engineers, and independently wealthy types. They have the effortless connection that comes from being friends for years, but I don’t feel excluded.
“Just because we came together, doesn’t automatically give you my trust, Ash.”
“Casting the attention on me makes you pretty shady, you know?”
“Hmm. The man doth protest too much, I think,” I counter.
“We’ll see.”
The heckling continues as we play. In the end, Shannon is the traitor.
“You little liar.” Ash points to her, and I laugh. She played us all masterfully.
“Less is more my friends. If you blend into the background, you’d be amazed what you can accomplish.”
“My wife, ladies and gentleman,” Carl says proudly. They’re adorable together. We wrap up, cleaning off tables and returning our games to the library.
“You’re welcome back any time, Clara. With or without our wandering friend,” Carl says as we prepare to leave.
“It’s not wandering when it’s for work,” Ash protests.
Brian waves him off. “Yeah, yeah.”
“I’ll take you up on that offer.”
The cheer that ripples the room is flattering.
“We’ll add you to our FB group, so you know the times and dates, and have the ability to cast your vote on the games we play.”
“Sounds awesome to me. Thanks, Shannon.”
After exchanging hugs and good-byes, we slip out into the nippy evening.
“That was a good time,” I say as we walk to his car.
“Yeah? I wasn’t sure if it was above your nerd level.”
“Nerd level?” I snicker.
“You know what I mean. Everyone has their own way to be nerdy. The group is a good bunch to call friends.”
“I got that feeling. It was just my speed. Thank you for inviting me.” I turn at the passenger door to face him.
“You’re welcome.” He moves closer. My mouth goes dry, and my heart rate kicks up a notch. A distressed meow makes us jump. He steps back and clears his throat. I shuffle my feet.
“Someone sounds like they need help,” I whisper.
The weak cry of distress pierces my heart once more.
“It’s fading.” I scan the parking lot. “Where do you think it came from?”
“I don’t know. I have a flashlight in my car. Hang tight.” He opens the car and I will the kitten to hang on. That was not the meow of a fully-grown cat. He returns quickly with a flashlight. The beam slices through the darkness.
“Come on, sweetie. Meow one more time for us.”
Meow.
“Over there.” Ash points to a pile of cardboard against the wall of the parking garage. We rush over, and he holds out his arm.
“Let me.” He carefully nudges aside the cardboard to reveal a tiny black and white kitten.
“Ash,” I gasp and kneel down. Rail thin, the green-eyed kitten couldn’t be more than six weeks if that. Fleas cling to short fur. The black head has a streak of white that starts around the nose and continues down its belly.
“We can’t leave it. It’ll die.” I shrug off my blazer and carefully wrap my new stowaway up in the soft folds.
“I know an emergency vet that should be open.”
His kindness melts my heart.
“Tod
ay is your lucky day, Rook,” I whisper.
“Fitting. You’re one lucky kitty.” Ash rubs his head with the tip of his forefinger, and he purrs in response. I cradle the bundle and follow him to the car.
ASHER
Saving a life bonds two people together. We wait anxiously in the waiting room while the vets go to work, treating the malnourished kitten.
“Do you think he’s going to be okay?” Clara whispers. Perched on the edge of her seat, she is every inch the nervous pet parent.
“I hope so.” I wrap my arm around her shoulders and bring her to my side. “Whatever the outcome, we did everything we could for Rook. All we can do now is wait and let them do their job.”
She nods her head. “Who would leave him like that?”
“He was probably the runt from a litter of strays. Maybe a homeless person tried to give him shelter?”
“Somehow that’s even sadder.”
“Let’s talk about what we’ll do if he survives.”
She sits up. “You want to keep him?”
“Don’t you?” Did I read her wrong?
“Yes, of course.”
“We found him together, that makes for joint custody at least.”
Her lips quirk upward. “Are you asking me to co-parent Rook with you?”
“A child can’t have too much love,” I say quietly. I think of the unborn baby who never got to live. We’d been so full of ourselves and the innocent life had suffered. I never should’ve agreed to try. The stillness of the office is unsettling. I move closer to Clara, fleeing the coldness of my past. We lean our heads together and speak low.
“Well that’s true.” She narrows her gaze. “How will this work?”
“I’ve had a lull in traveling for work, but it could pick up at any moment. I want to know Rook will be taken care of. This trip is on me.”
“No.” She shakes her head. A stern frown curves her full lips downward. “He’s mine, too, right?”
“Going forward we’ll split it all down the line, fifty-fifty.”
She scowls. The money is nothing to me. Yet, I know saying it aloud will set her off.
“Please. Let me do this.” Grabbing her hand, I squeeze gently. I run my hands over the knuckles of her hand, and marvel at the soft skin. Those hands hold babies, and comfort flustered mothers. My admiration grows. She nurtures life. I wonder what they’d feel like moving over me.
I shift in my chair, uncomfortable with the direction my thoughts are taking. I have to get this out of my system before it turns in to something it’s not. One taste, and my curiosity will be sated.
“Clara?” I lean in and pause a hairsbreadth from her lips. Her brown orbs bore into mine.
Footsteps send us back in our seats. My heart knocks against my rib cage. Did I dodge catastrophe or stall the inevitable?
“Rook is one lucky kitten. He’s weak, malnourished, and he has worms. He’ll need be to be dewormed, medicated, and receive all his shots.”
“Whatever it takes, Doc. Money isn’t an option. I want to give the little guy the best chance he has at thriving.”
He nods. “With time, I think he’ll become a happy, healthy kitten. It’ll be a few weeks before we can get him situated, and at a weight I feel comfortable with before you can take him home. But that doesn’t mean you can’t stop by and visit.”
Clara wraps her arms around me in a tight hug. I close my eyes and savor the feel of her warm curves. After so long, it feels good to give back. And be intimate with a sincere woman worth your time. Ignoring the intense attraction isn’t going to be an option for much longer. My mouth goes dry.
“He’s going to be okay, Ash.” I peer down at the woman unknowingly torturing me. Her smile is pure sunshine, and her eyes are brown jewels as they sparkle with joy. Joy. It’s a three letter word I haven’t had much of in recent years. Contentment, fulfillment, and busyness, yes. It’s only as my family begins to settle down that I see the difference. The constant traveling and immersion in work kept me from slowing down and thinking on issues I’d rather forget.
“I told you.” I kiss her temple. “Thank you, Doctor.” She snuggles into my side and a lump forms in my throat. Wrapping my arms around her, I enjoy the sensations she creates inside of me.
“We saved him.” She flashes her pearly whites. I noticed a tiny dimple in her left cheek. Can a woman be adorable at this age?
“If you hadn’t heard him and made me stop, I never would’ve noticed.”
“It was a team effort.”
“I like that.” I smile back, unable to remain unmoved. An invisible noose is tightening around my neck. Getting so caught up in the easy connection we share has me considering the prospect of something new. It startles me. I pull back.
“I should go settle the bill.” I rise and make my way to the front as quickly as I can without raising the alarm. I’m losing sight of things.
I force a polite smile for the petite woman with brown, curly hair in a cat-covered scrubs at the front desk.
“Hi, I’m here to settle up my bill for Rook.”
“Of course.” She smiles. “I love it when I see people like you come in with rescue animals. It restores my faith in people. You and your girlfriend are adorable, by the way.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.” My reply is sharper than I meant it to be.
“No? I’m sorry. I could’ve sworn.” Her face reddens.
I remain silent, unwillingly to ease her discomfort when my own panic level is rising by the second. This is the start of a new friendship. I’m not going to mistake the excitement that comes with meeting someone who gets me turn into anything more. Resolve firmly in place, I take my receipt and return to the waiting area.
“Everything okay?” Clara asks.
“Yeah. We’re all set. They’ll call if anything changes, and keep us updated on Rook’s progress. It’s getting late, so we should get you home.”
“You’re right. I have work in,” she glances down at her watch, “six hours.”
“Me too. Our boy’s worth losing a little sleep over though, isn’t he?”
“Yeah he is,” she agrees with a smile. “Do you think we can see him before we go?”
“I’m not sure.”
Standing, she grabs my hand. “Let’s go find out.”
The woman arches an eyebrow at us when we appear at the counter. I ignore her smirk. “Is it possible to see Rook before we leave?” Clara asks.
“That shouldn’t be a problem, but I’m going to check with Doctor Phelps.”
“Thank you, Emma.” She took the time to look at her nametag. The small act of kindness stands out. Even at one in the morning after waiting to hear what will happen to Rook, she puts a personal touch to this interaction. I’ve been around a lot of fake personalities. Having money enables me to do a lot of things, but it also brings in people looking to scam, extort, and climb the social ladder.
Emma disappears and returns a few moments later. “Rook is still sleeping off the anesthesia, but you can come back.” I trail behind Clara as we’re led into the recovery room where Rook is resting on a thick cushion, which makes him seem even smaller than I remember him being.
“There’s my boy,” Clara coos. I have a feeling this miniature fighter is going to change things.
“You want to tell me what the hell is going on with you and Clara?” Micah plops down beside me.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve spent a lot of time together over the past couple of months.”
“So? We’re friends. She’s in my gaming group now, and we like the same movies, so we’ve been hitting up the Esquire for all those special showings they have.” I hesitate. “We’re going to see The Birds there tonight.”
“You can’t really be this blind to what’s going on.”
“Men and women can be just friends.”
“They can. But not you and Clara.” He shakes his head.
“Why not?” I scowl.
“You co
nnect too deeply. I haven’t seen you this happy, or into a girl, since …” He trails off.
I sigh. “I had my soulmate, Micah. I don’t expect another chance.” Nor do I deserve it after what I allowed to happen.
“Who says we only get one? Maybe she was your soulmate, and Clara is your twin flame.”
“My what?”
“Polar opposite meant to make you whole.”
“How are they not the same thing?” I ask, confounded.
“One is your perfect match, and the other is your mirror. The relationships with your flame tend to be intensely passionate, and not always in a good way. You’ve experienced that with your mistaken identity incident.”
“Don’t ruin this for me.” My voice shakes.
Micah’s brow furrows. “Ruin what?”
“This balance we have. It works for me. For both of us. Don’t tip us into a territory where I can no longer follow.”
“Can’t is not the same as don’t want to.”
“Micah—”
“No. We’ve all avoided talking about this for too long. I know you loved Holly. She was your high school sweetheart and one hell of a woman. You were lucky to have her. We all were. But I know she would not want you to spend the rest of your life alone.”
I stand to leave. “Stop.”
Micah jumps up and places himself in front of me, blocking off my exit. “No. You stop. Why are you torturing yourself like this? I know it hurts, but it’s been years, Ash. Don’t you deserve to find happiness again?”
“I am happy.”
“Not even you believe that.”
I bow my head. “It was my fault.” I choke on the words I’ve been holding in for too long.
“She had a genetic condition.”
“Which is why we should never have tried for a baby. I should’ve put my foot down. She was more than enough. I didn’t need to have a child, but she wanted to try so badly.” My vision blurs.
“The doctor told you there was no proof the baby was the tipping of the scale. Her disease is like a time bomb.”
“How could it not have been? It taxed her body. There are so many ways to be a parent. I should’ve insisted on adoption or surrogacy. We have all this money, and it did nothing to help me keep her.” The floodgates open and sobs spill from my throat before I can manage them.