My Body-Mine

by Blakely Bennett

  Why would Marcello lie to me? Why hadn’t Luke sold the place? No “For Sale” sign stood out front.

  I went back to the stairs that led down to the beach and flumped down on the top step. I didn’t know how to process the new information. Clearly Luke hadn’t been there in a long time but he hadn’t sold the place either. I couldn’t comprehend why he had held on to it. Tears threatened but I fought them back. I leaped down the steps and ran onto the beach. After increasing the volume on my iPod, I headed back the way I had come.

  Marcello and I had a lot to discuss.

  * * * *

  When I arrived at the house both Marcello’s and Janice’s cars were gone. I contemplated calling Marcello but decided against it. I needed to see his face when we talked; I needed to know the truth.

  After stretching, showering, and raiding the refrigerator, I situated myself in front of my laptop. Instead of braving what the hibernating email might say, I opened up Word and began trying to capture the deluge of emotions that flooded my psyche.

  I questioned if Luke’s holding on to the house meant he still loved me or if he had so much money he didn’t need to bother. I thought about the party house and wondered if the swinging parties might still be taking place. Was he in Japan? Had Marcello lied to me? Maybe Janice had it right and Marcello had fallen in love with me, but obsessed?

  We all loved one another in our own way but what about being “in love”? Feeling so raw and deceived, I tried to make sense of what I felt. The timing of it all rocked my foundation. My recent experiences with Marcello had led me to open my heart in a new, more confident way. He seemed more consistent and stable than Luke, but now I wondered if he was just more proficient at lying and manipulation.

  I needed a nap after my long run. Saving my journal, I promised myself I’d open the email from the publisher tomorrow morning. I wanted to get past the dreaded dinner with Parker and maybe even have the chance to tackle my issues with Marcello before dealing with the probable rejection from the publisher.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I awoke a bit groggy after my nap so I jumped into the shower for a quick rinse. We planned to meet at Parker’s favorite Japanese restaurant in Fort Lauderdale, so I wanted to look casual but chic. I chose a pair of tight jeans and a purple scoop necked blouse that hugged my breasts but flared at the waist. Standing in front of my closet, I slipped on my brown sandals and took a light jacket off the hanger.

  To say I felt apprehension about seeing Parker again was an understatement. I hoped that meeting her boyfriend would be less awkward than I imagined. I wanted our relationship to return to normal but could we get back there? I had real doubts. Steeling myself for what would come, I grabbed my bag and headed to the Camry Marcello had made available to me.

  So much noise rattled in my head as I drove into the city. Marcello, Luke, Janice, Parker, even the email waiting for me all bounced around until I felt like screaming. Confused by Marcello’s lie about the beach house, I also worried about what might happen to Janice if he was truly obsessed. What would become of her if Marcello let her go? But then, what would become of me? I needed her as my buffer.

  Did Seduction Press want to publish my memoir or had Claudia sent a form rejection letter? I had already received several so I wasn’t sure I could continue to press forward with another, “Sorry, but it’s not the right project for us.”

  Would Parker question me in front of her new beau? Could I answer her honestly?

  I stopped at a light and hit the steering wheel with my fist. Not one to consume alcohol often, I planned to make an exception that night. I needed a drink, maybe two.

  At the Kanji Garden restaurant, I saw Parker waving to me from the bar. She sat alone. Ancient Japanese screens hung as art on the walls adjacent to the bar. The eating area’s large open space held square sunken tables with tatami mats. The dim lighting and floating music encouraged patrons to speak softly.

  Statuesque as always, Parker wore a beige wraparound dress that emphasized the litheness of her body. Her short cropped hair accentuated her high cheekbones. “You’re a hard woman to get a hold of,” Parker said as we embraced.

  “Yeah … well, it works that way when I’m trying to avoid you,” I said, deciding on honesty. I laid my purse and jacket on the bar.

  “Well, cut it out, will you? I need you in my life and the only way for us to get past what happened is to move forward.”

  “I realize that now. I was being selfish and scared.” I perched on the tall stool next to her.

  “Scared? Why would you be scared?” Parker said, sitting back down on her stool.

  “Frankly, scared of the third degree and scared of what you’ll think of my choices.”

  “Yes, given your track record I can understand that.”

  “Where’s Andre?” I said, scanning the room. The bartender came over and I ordered a Pinot Grigio and a glass of water.

  Parker fingered the sweat on the side of her drink and said, “I told him to come later so we’d have a chance to talk alone. So, out with it … what choices?”

  I grunted a laugh although I felt no humor in the situation. “I’m involved with Marcello.”

  “ ‘Involved’ as in a relationship with him? Has Janice moved out?”

  “Yes and no.” I clasped my hands in my lap, preparing myself for the onslaught.

  “I see,” she said, staring straight at me.

  Silence filled the space between us and I could feel my heart thudding in my chest.

  Finally Parker broke the lull and said, “I’m not sure what to say to you, Jane. You’re obviously still making choices I don’t think are in your best interests. Have you considered dating a normal man?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “How old is Marcello anyway?” She ran her finger up and down her glass, eyes fixed on the small umbrella. “Doesn’t it bother you that he is living with and dating Janice as well as you?”

  It felt good to get to the bottom of her concerns. Now I knew what could be addressed. At least in my mind.

  “Marcello is in his fifties but I don’t see how that’s an issue. He’s twice as fit as men twenty years younger. He is smart, attentive, successful and—”

  “And controlling, right?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “I’d think you would want to avoid repeating the same mistakes you made with Luke.”

  “It’s different with Marcello. He’s interested in the real me, not some idealized version he hopes to create. With Luke I felt like I had to keep giving parts of myself away to be with him.”

  “Have you heard from Luke?”

  “No, and I don’t imagine that I will. He never sold the house, I just found that out. All of our furniture is still in it.”

  Parker narrowed her eyes. “You went by there?”

  “Yes, just today on a whim after I had a dream about it.”

  She sighed. “Jane, please tell me you’re through with him. Come live with me until you get back on your feet. Find a job so you don’t have to rely on anyone for money. Better yet, divorce Luke and get all your money back.”

  “You sound just like Marcello, and you and I have been over this already. I don’t give a shit about my money and I don’t want to see him. I’m still scared what it might do to me and I don’t want to go back to that dark place. Not ever.”

  “Okay … okay. Jane, I just want you to know I’m always here if you need me.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  The bartender returned with my wine. “Do you want to run a tab?” he asked.

  “You can put it on mine,” Parker said.

  I swiveled my stool to face Parker directly. “I’ve been doing a lot of writing. A publisher has asked to see my entire manuscript.”

  “That’s fantastic,” she said, leaning forward and squeezing my arm. “What’s the story about?”

  I took a sip of wine.

  “Why the odd expression?” she asked.

  “It’s about my time with Luke.” />
  “The story? Oh, so it’s not fiction? Aren’t you concerned with what people will think? I mean, do you really want the whole world to know what happened to you? I’m not sure I want all the details myself. What about your mom?”

  “Yes, I’m worried what people will think but at the same time it’s part of getting past it all.”

  “And someone might actually want to publish it?” Parker shrugged and shook her head.

  “I received an email from her today but I haven’t opened it yet.”

  “What the hell are you waiting for?” She raised her shoulders in question.

  “I’ll open it tomorrow. I just didn’t feel up to dealing with another rejection today.”

  Parker glanced at her watch and her expression changed to one of worry. “I have to tell you something.”

  “Okaaaay,” I said, drawing out the word. I had a feeling I wouldn’t like it much.

  “Andre will be here shortly and he’s bringing a friend.”

  “Parker, really? What were you thinking?”

  “You haven’t been in touch much and the first time I met him I thought of you. I didn’t know your situation with Marcello, although I did suspect.”

  “What does he know about me?”

  I wish I could accurately describe the expression on Parker’s face, but suffice it to say, “the friend” clearly knew way more than he should.

  “Jesus, Parker. Really?” I stood up abruptly and threw up my hands. “Why would you do that? Why would you put me in that posi—” I stopped mid-word when two attractive men approached us.

  Mortification swept over me and to make matters worse—oh, so much worse—when one of the men gave me the long once-over, from head to toe, my nipples hardened. Snatching my bag and my jacket off the bar, I hurried off to the bathroom before they could introduce themselves.

  Shutting myself in the stall farthest from the entrance, I leaned my back against the door. I could have strangled Parker. What the hell was she thinking? Telling a complete stranger about my personal business … And he actually wanted to meet me? Didn’t that indicate straight away that he was officially off his rocker? Good lord, please let it be that my nipples got hard over the other guy and not Andre, not Parker’s boyfriend.

  I needed to get back out there when all I really wanted to do was to run out of the restaurant. Taking my time to pee and slowly wash my hands, I contemplated putting on some makeup. Instead I fluffed out my hair and took a deep breath. I felt certain I’d never forgive Parker for putting me in that position and decided that after suffering through dinner, I never had to see any of them again.

  Just before stepping out of the bathroom door, I received a text from Marcello:

  Marcello: How’s it going?

  Me: Worse than imaginable. Still at the restaurant?

  Marcello: Yes, it’s a busy night. What happened?

  Me: Parker had Andre bring a date for me.

  Marcello: That never occurred to me.

  Me: Nor I. It’s worse than that.

  Marcello: Worse how?

  Me: He knows things about me.

  Marcello: What things?

  Me: It’s unclear how much but about what happened with Luke I believe.

  Marcello: Are you sure? That doesn’t sound like Parker.

  Me: I’m sure.

  Marcello: Where are you now?

  Me: In the bathroom. Just about to go out and meet them. I kind of took off before they had a chance to say hello.

  Marcello: Okay, I should be home by the time you get back.

  Me: Good, because we need to talk.

  Marcello: I know. I’ll see you then and keep your chin up.

  Me: Thanks. Bye.

  Marcello: Ciao.

  Taking one last look in the mirror, I squared my shoulders to bear up and eat a full plate of embarrassment. I decided to act as if my earlier bizarre behavior had never happened.

  I extended my hand to the tall, attractive, blond, blue-eyed man standing next to Parker.

  “Andre,” he said in an unexpectedly husky voice. He had a slight hint of an accent as though he might have been born in the UK but had been living the States for a long time. Impeccably dressed in well-cut jeans and a button-down, pale yellow shirt, he wore his hair in a short, cropped style of controlled disarray that suited him perfectly.

  “A pleasure,” I said, beyond grateful that he was not the man my nipples had jumped for joy over.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said and laughed as Parker punched his shoulder. “Parker tells me you guys have been friends for a long time.”

  “Forever, it seems,” I said with an edge of sarcasm.

  I heard a chuckle behind me and turned to confront Man Number Two. He gave me a wink.

  I smiled back as my heart began to flutter. I quickly circled around, folding my arms across my chest.

  “This is my oldest friend, Chase. Chase, this is Jane,” Andre said, presenting the man with a sweeping gesture.

  “Hi Jane,” he said, simply. His smile looked like he hid a secret there. I didn’t want to like him but I immediately did. At about six feet tall, he stood a few inches shorter than Andre and I guessed him to be around my age. Although both men had long, chiseled faces, Chase had a more pronounced brow and broader nose. Dark brown curls framed his angular face and his hazel eyes twinkled. I shook my head to break the spell.

  “Hi Chase,” I said.

  “It’s not a pleasure to meet me?” He chuckled and I couldn’t be sure if he laughed at me or responded in the same way my unruly body had reacted to him.

  “That remains to be seen,” I said, trying to suppress my smile.

  “Dinner, shall we?” Andre said, rescuing one of us but I couldn’t be sure whom.

  “Gentlemen’s choice,” I said.

  We all removed our shoes and lowered ourselves around a sunken table with cushions to sit upon. After we ordered our food and another round of drinks, the conversation refocused on me.

  “Parker was just telling us that you are trying to get published,” Andre said.

  I shot daggers at Parker and said, “Yes, a publisher has my manuscript and I’m waiting to hear back.”

  “I thought you said—” Parker said.

  “I did get an email but I haven’t opened it yet.”

  “What are you waiting for?” Andre asked.

  Chase raised his eyebrow and said, “For the right moment, evidently.” I wanted to hug him for understanding until he asked his next question. “What’s it about?”

  “Well, uh, um, I’d rather not talk about it. What about you?” I said, concentrating on my wine glass.

  “I’ve done nothing as exciting as writing a book. That’s quite an accomplishment. I do imagine if it gets published you’ll have to talk about the subject matter? No?” Chase asked.

  “That’s probably true but that’s not the same as talking to my best friend’s boyfriend and friend who seem to know more about me than I’m comfortable with. Far more than I know about them.”

  “Knowledge doesn’t always imply judgment,” Chase said, reaching out to touch my arm, then thinking better of it.

  “I guess you don’t know Parker all that well,” I said with a little laugh.

  “Excuse me?” Parker said, pursing her lips. “I just want the best for you. If that’s judgment, then fine.”

  Andre reached for her hand and a glance passed between them.

  “Judgment or not, she was smart enough to know that you and I could be friends,” Chase said.

  “I prefer to pick my own friends,” I said, fiddling with the stem of the wine glass.

  “Well then, I hope you pick me,” he said. He smiled warmly, exposing white, even teeth. My eyes settled on the messy curls that touched the edge of his collared shirt, contrasting with Andre’s short, perfectly moussed, spiky hair.

  I had a sudden urge to reach out and tug one of Chase’s locks, and the thought injected heat into my veins. Fondling the napkin in
my lap, I tried to rationalize away my reaction to him. I had become a whore for overt admiration. Chase merely pressed the buttons that Marcello had already activated by our recent activities.

  After the food had been served, Andre stepped in and talked about Parker’s recent promotion at work. His obvious pride in her accomplishments made me happy for Parker. She seemed to have finally found her match in attractiveness, intelligence, and loyalty.

  My eyes drifted to the dark hairs on Chase’s forearm. His long fingers left me imagining how it might feel to be caressed by them. Flustered by my own train of thought, I glanced up to see all three of them staring at me. “What?” I said.

  “Chase asked you a question,” Parker said, scrutinizing me.

  “Oh, sorry,” I said, making eye contact with Chase. “I didn’t hear the question.” His expression told me he had an idea where my thoughts had strayed.

  “Working on a scene for your book?” Chase asked, raising his eyebrows.

  “That was the question?” I asked, but glanced over at Parker for confirmation. She shook her head.

  “No, actually I asked if you’d join us next week at Jazzed for Blues Café. It’s not far from here and friends of ours are playing next Saturday night,” Chase said.

  My emotions all in a knot, I felt it best to nip his aspirations in the bud. “I’ll have to check with Marcello. I don’t know if he has any plans for us next weekend.”

  Deflated but not defeated, Chase said, “Well, I do hope I get to see you again.”

  The evening had turned out better than I imagined but it also left me churning over what to do about Chase. Did I want to see him again? Not even an option within my current circumstances, the prospect seemed stupid even to contemplate.

  As I drove back to Marcello’s, I anxiously wondered if he’d be home and whether or not we could resolve the issues between us.