Private

by Xavier Neal

  She quietly agrees, “I know. Why do you think I fight so hard for you to come out into the light?”

  Swept away by her uncompromising and unrelenting tactics to reveal the true man I am to everyone else, I connect our mouths with a passionate pull by the nape of her neck. Devotion and dedication dash between every roll of our tongues. Determination to declare once more what our words just did mindlessly engulfs us until we're on the brink of dropping our clothes again.

  “Um...I hate to interrupt,” a soft female voice says.

  The kiss abruptly stops for us to turn to the employee nervously watching. “Just thought you should know more staff is on their way in. You know...in case you didn't want them to see you naked or engaged in anything physical.”

  “They watch the ocean creatures mate. We can't possibly be that different,” Brynley sasses.

  Her cheeks become stained with red and I quickly state, “Ignore her. She gets cranky when she hasn't had breakfast. We're about to head out. Thank you.”

  The woman nods slowly, however, she doesn't immediately move on. Her eyes roam across my seared skin, questions tumbling throughout her expression yet she doesn't say a word. Feeling exposed and vulnerable in the worst ways my chest constricts, eager to hide the imperfections with my shirt or sweatshirt. Brynley's grip on my jean covered hips tightens dismantling the bricks of apprehension building.

  Finally, the employee walks away and the tension in my body fades.

  With a naughty smirk, Brynley whispers, “That was so hot.”

  A look of bafflement appears. “What?”

  “That,” she repeats. “Watching you stand your ground. Challenge the world not to accept you. Totally sexy and very Bruce Wayne.”

  The Batman reference grabs a chuckle from me as I shake my head. “How about you hand me my shirt and we get the hell out of here, Miss Kyle.”

  She gives me a quick kiss on the lips, tosses me my shirt and shoves the blankets back into the bag while I get dressed.

  After a brief drive to the outskirts of downtown, we're on the back patio of the restaurant, munching away on breakfast while watching the ducks splash around in what appears to be a disagreement.

  “Why do they seem so pissed off?” I question, sucking ketchup off my thumb. “I thought ducks were peaceful.”

  “Almost every animal has a peaceful and a non-peaceful side. It's nature.”

  My head tosses forward. “Well, nature looks like it's about to reenact a scene from Fight Club.”

  Brynley simply smiles and turns her face to me. “So what do you think of Mo Mo's?”

  “I think we should definitely come back.” The sight of her face illuminating fills me with more vitality to face the erratic eyes I know have been helplessly wandering our direction. “Curious to see if their grilled cheese can indeed beat Lucky's.”

  “We should bring Lucky here!” She exclaims. “He'd probably flip shit over some of the things on the menu. You know their head cook was born somewhere in France. I bet the two of them would get along.” The addition of a wink feels unnecessary.

  “You do know Lucky's gay.”

  “As is the head cook here.”

  I chuckle and shake my head.

  “We should take a picture,” she suggests casually.

  Poorly battling down the nervousness of her idea, I shift in my seat.

  Her eyes pin mine down. “We don't have any together.”

  “I don't take photos.”

  “You don't do a lot of things.”

  “Bryn-”

  “It's not like I'm going to post it on Facebook or some shit, Wes. I just want one in my phone. Something cute to pop up when you call me while I'm at my new internship.”

  Immediately my shoulders drop in defeat. “Now who's tricking who to get what they want?”

  “I'm better at that game than you are.” She winks and smirks mischievously. “Now lean over like you love me, so I can take the picture.” Reluctantly, I do like she requests, the ability to smile non-existent as she fumbles around to get a good angle. “I can see you frowning.”

  “Yeah, well, I haven't taken a picture in a very long time.”

  “It's just a picture, Wes. Not a portrait in the 1800s.”

  Her snide remark causes me to glare.

  “You want me to take it?” Heather, our waitress covered from head to toe in tattoos, places the water pitcher down on the table. When we arrived I was worried she would spend time gawking at the marks on my body yet it only took a few moments to realize I would probably spend more time staring at hers. She doesn't seem to mind the attention or admiration nor has she taken the time to return it. Her politeness and kindness have added to the reason why Brynley is right about doing more things in public. “Probably be a little more comfortable than trying to squeeze yourself into the photo.”

  “Yes please,” Brynley says without hesitation.

  The device transfers to Heather's hands and she states, “Just let me know when you're ready.”

  All of a sudden my girlfriend does the thing she does best. Brynley's lips knock against mine as she locks us together by the back of my neck. Battling between wanting to pull back in front of an audience and wanting to consume every piece of her, I'm hopelessly defeated the moment her tongue touches mine. Everything else seems to disappear, leaving only the sensations of fervor and love behind.

  I'm not sure how long the kiss lasts, but by the time it's over, Heather has vanished and the screen on the phone has gone black once more.

  Brynley snickers to herself while reaching for it.

  With a crooked smile. I grump, “You always play dirty.”

  “Dirty. Rough. Kinky. All your favorite adjectives about me.” Before I can retort, she leans over and presents the photo. “Look.”

  The man in the picture is one I almost don't recognize. I'm so lost in the moment with Brynley there isn't a shred of uneasiness in my body. My face looks relaxed. My body language at peace. Staring at this photo feels like staring into a future no longer impossible.

  “Send that to me,” I command seconds before my phone actually begins to ring in my pocket. She begins the process as I answer without bothering to check who it is. “This is Wes.”

  “You sound cheerful,” Matt points out immediately. “Can I assume your night out went well?”

  Giving Brynley, who's busy changing it to my contact photo a brief glance, I reply, “You could say that.”

  “Good,” he quickly retorts.

  “Is my morning about to take a change of pace?”

  Matt's hesitation gives me the answer before he does. “Lauren's test results are in and I would prefer to discuss them with both you and Brynley in person. How soon until you are headed back?”

  “We're finishing breakfast now.”

  “Out?” His voice squeaks. “You....Weston Wilcox, ate breakfast in public?”

  I give Bryn another look at the same time she grabs one of my fries. “Yeah. I was surprised too.”

  There's a small chuckle proceeded with, “I'll see you two shortly.”

  The line goes dead, which is when she immediately questions, “Work?”

  “Matt.”

  Her chomping slows down as the rest of her movements cease altogether. “Bad news?”

  “I don't know yet. He wants to speak to us in person about the results.” Instantly her eyes fill with fear and I promise, “Whatever they are, we will get through them together. As much as I don't believe or enjoy entertaining the idea that this wasn't an accident, I'm willing to deal with that if it is indeed the reality. I'll do whatever it takes to whoever it takes to ensure her safety and the safety of everyone else. My estate has always been a secure environment and I'll take the necessary actions to make it that way once more.”

  She doesn't bother arguing. She simply nods her head slowly and slips our fingers together. It doesn't matter who is right or wrong at this point. The only thing that truly matters is her mother gets well and the protection
of all those close to me is restored.

  **

  Matt closes the door to his room once we're both inside. “I have good news and bad news.”

  “I hate when doctors say that,” Brynley mumbles. “The good news is rarely that good in comparison to the bad news. It's like 'Oh hey, good news is you get to keep both your arms, but we're gonna have to take both your legs instead.' It's typically misdirection bullshit.”

  I wrap my arm around her side and tug her to me. “No one is going to try to misdirect you, Bryn. Just take a breath and let's hear him out.”

  She follows my instructions while Matt states, “The good news is, I've managed to identify the different components making Lauren ill.”

  “Wait. There are multiple things?” I quickly questions.

  “Yes. Recently, Lauren ingested a complex combination of various plants. From my understanding and conversations I've had, none of them are deadly when taken in the dose she was given. However, my theory is that this has been an ongoing process, which would explain the appearing and disappearing symptoms over the past couples of months. It seems as if someone is giving her just the right amount to keep her bedridden. The plants metabolize quickly, making them hard to identify as being in her system. We caught this one before the evidence could essentially vanish. Given the newly discovered information has allowed and will continue to allow me to flush her system. She's going to be fine,” Matt explains with relief in his voice.

  Brynley's body is now completely stiff. “So....you're telling me someone is purposely trying to hurt her.”

  “Unfortunately yes.” His eyes travel to mine. “The numbness she was feeling to her face was conclusively from sort of small trace poison. It was inconclusive if it was plant or something else organically made. Until we can positively identify who the person is, I suggest we keep Lauren shut off from everyone but the three of us.”

  Dread drags itself up my spine and settles around my throat. How can this be possible? How could this shit have gone on and no one knew? And why? Why the hell would anyone want to do this to Lauren of all people? What's there to gain? Is there any way someone can benefit or is it just a sick, twisted game they enjoy playing?

  “I'll have J.T. pull the security footage. I'll start personally digging through it and see if there's anything suspicious I can find.”

  “Isn't that what you pay security to do?” she softly asks.

  “Yeah,” I sigh deeply. “But, at this point, I would rather not tip anyone off. I'll make up some bullshit excuse to wanna see the video feed and do all the checking myself.”

  When we finally meet eyes, she questions, “You don't even trust J.T.? I mean he would never harm my mom or me.”

  “Apparently, I can't trust anyone...” The harshness of the statement swells into a knot at the pit of my stomach. “With that said, do not eat or drink anything you or I didn't make. Got it?”

  “But-”

  “Brynley,” my voice hardens. “Just agree.”

  She swallows and slowly nods.

  I don't know how this happened. I don't know why. But I do know I'm going to figure it out and make this the guarded sanctuary that it once was.

  Mom tries to straighten the items on the bedside table.

  “Will you quit that?” I fuss. “You do know it's okay to just lie in bed and be sick, right? There's no law against it.”

  “I'm feeling much better,” she insists.

  “Good. But you randomly passed out on the ground less than a week ago. How about we give it a little more time before you go back into Alice mode?”

  “Alice?”

  “From the Brady Bunch.”

  My mother smiles and hits her head back against the pillow. “Fine. Tell me more about this internship. When does it start again?”

  “Monday,” I reply. “And do we have to talk about it? I haven't even had breakfast yet.”

  “And why not?”

  Telling her it's because I have to make it myself in order to have it almost slips off the tongue. Matt advised us to wait to tell her until we could put a face to the situation insisting the information that she was under attack could potentially drag out the healing process. So we've all kept our mouths shut blaming her lack of other visitors on doctor's orders with no further information. For the past three days, I've kept my promise to Wes to only consume the things we physically make, which is also the only things she's allowed to be served as well. While I can cook, I don't particularly like to. Before having a master chef make me everything from scratch I was pretty content with pre-made grilled chicken salads, pizza, and of course mac and cheese. Thankfully, he's carried the weight of the situation claiming to Lucky, he just wants to learn more about life in the kitchen to be better well rounded.

  “It's like six in the morning.”

  “It's seven.”

  “Whatever,” I snip. “It's too early to have people banging pots and pans.”

  “Then tell me about the internship.”

  My face frowns.

  “Fine. Then tell me how things are going between you and Wes.” She instantly catches my inability to resist smiling. “Well, I'm going to assume good by the way you're glowing.”

  “I'm not glowing,” my weak argument is followed by my squirming. “Just...a little smile.”

  “A big smile,” she hums proudly. “Big, beautiful, bright smile I don't think I've ever seen before.”

  “Things are....good.” I tuck my feet into the chair with me. “Really good. He actually asked me to move in with him.”

  Her eyebrows shoot up in joy.

  “He also went out to breakfast with me the other morning.”

  “Out...like....”

  “We went to Mo Mo's Diner.”

  “You've loved that place since you were a kid.”

  I smile at the memory of the three of us eating lunch before heading off to the aquarium on Sunday afternoons.

  “How'd he handle it?”

  “The food? Because I know he swears by Lucky's meals, but he's not the only good cook in the world.”

  She snickers and swats a hand at me. “Quit it. You know what I meant.”

  “He did really well. He even let me take a picture of us. Well, I didn't actually take it because he wouldn't stop frowning to save his life, but the waitress did.”

  “Will you show it to me?”

  “When I come back by later. I left my phone somewhere. Probably in Wes' room. Or under my bed again. Or next to the toothbrush holder. Possibly in the kitchen...”

  “You are the worst about leaving that thing around, Brynley.”

  “Well if I wanna talk to someone, I'll find it, otherwise, meh.” I shrug. “Then again since living here it magically seems to find its way back to my bedroom. Not real sure if it's Clark or Penny or both who return it, but nonetheless it always finds its way back. It's really not too critical in my book. Unlike Wes on the other hand. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get him to put that thing on at least vibrate at night? His cell phone is by the far the biggest cock blocker I've ever experienced in my entire life.”

  Her fit of giggles warms my heart. If Wes doesn't strangle the son of a bitch who has been trying to harm her, I damn sure will. A woman this giving and selfless shouldn't have enemies. She shouldn't ever be in the danger she has been for the past few months.

  Guilt grows over how many times I've blown off her previous lunch and dinner requests in the past. What if she wouldn't have made it through all this? What if the last memory of her would've been some bullshit voice mail she left insisting I make time for her in a cheerful, uplifting voice?

  I stretch my hand and clutch hers. “We should start doing that again.”

  “What's that honey?”

  “Going to lunch at Mo Mo's on Sundays. Maybe not every Sunday but at least once a month. Just the two of us.”

  A small yawn escapes. “I think that's a great idea.”

  “Get some rest, Mom,” I instruct, noticing a wave of
exhaustion washing over her. “I'll hang around for a bit longer in case you randomly wake back up and wanna girl talk about Wes again. They've been playing the Star Trek movie with Chris Pine as Captain Kirk on T.V. like all month. I'm sure I can find it and entertain myself while you snore away.”

  She barely mutters, “I don't snore,” before beginning to.

  Reaching for the remote, I shake my head and flip channels, a sense of calmness finally settling inside. I know everything about this situation with my mother isn't ideal nor is my unconventional relationship with Wes, but both are getting better. Both are on the brink of something miraculous. There's beauty to be seen in the struggle. My mother's illness gives Wes the chance to reevaluate the life he leads behind closed doors as much as the one he's starting to lead on the other side of them. Even if I hate the fact it came at a high price, I know seeing the silver lining is what my mom would do if she were aware of the truth. So....until she is, I'll try to see it for her. After all, she brought Wes and me together. It's the least I can do in return no matter how difficult it might be.