Broken Girl

by Gretchen de La O

  I sat silent, shocked that he actually took the time to be so thoughtful. Nobody I knew ever did such a thing.

  I still didn’t take it, I was afraid if I held it my whole defense would collapse in his favor.

  “Well, if it’s too cliché, giving Rose a rose, then let’s just get rid of it right now.” He pulled it back and acted as if he was going to toss it over his shoulder.

  “Hey, now!” I snapped, hoping that he wasn’t going to let go. So many times, people have let go. “I just got that from my new friend,” I whispered.

  Lost in the moment of his kindness his eyes consumed me as I plucked the rose cautiously from between his fingers. I closed my eyes and inhaled, filling my lungs with the scent of a single beautiful rose and my head with visions of him loving me for who I was.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “You’re welcome,” he answered.

  Again a thick silence rolled between us. I desperately searched my mind for words to shatter the connection that began to smolder. Dishes crashing in the kitchen, a quick breeze that caught my attention, I needed anything that kept me from falling deep for him. I even twirled the stem between my fingers, hoping the movement of the bud would divert his attention away from my eyes. It didn’t work.

  “You come here often?” I asked before I focused my attention on my rose. The petals were wrapped tight yet delicately around one another. Protection, warmth, and beauty, words that described what I longed for and wanted in my life.

  This was just a lunch, between friends, I kept chanting in my head. A perfect opportunity to remind him, we are only going to be friends . . . that’s all.

  “Is this your attempt to hit on me?” He laughed. “Yeah, I’ve been here a couple of times.”

  “No, I was asking because maybe you’d know what to order and what I should avoid.” I placed my rose on the table, abandoned, and pulled the menu up in front of my face.

  He caught the edge of the menu with his fingers and pushed it down. Stretching his hand across one side of the menu, he pointed to the jambalaya.

  “This place makes a killer jambalaya with duck and sausage, if you like a little different twist to your food. I’m getting the dozen oysters.”

  “A dozen? You won’t get sick?”

  “You can never have too many oysters.”

  I scrunched up my nose and looked back down at the menu. Shane noticed my reaction, just as anyone who had never had a plate full of oysters placed in front of them to eat. They were nothing more than slickery-slimy-gag-reflex-little-bastards that no matter how sexy people claimed they were, would never be something I’d choose to ever let past my lips on purpose.

  “You’ve never had one before, have you?”

  “No, well, okay, so I tried one once when I was a kid. They are very slimy. I don’t do slimy.”

  “You just didn’t eat them right. I think you should try them with me. Let me show you how to eat them. You can’t let them sit in your mouth. You have to let it slip down your throat; you have to just swallow. I’ll let you have one of my oysters.” He smiled.

  “Only one?” I teased.

  “You prove you can handle one, I’ll give you another.”

  “Yeah, ahhh, I think I’ll pass. You don’t want me hurling all over the restaurant.”

  He bent forward across the table and motioned for me to lean in toward him. “I will teach you how to eat them where you won’t hurl. Now, what do you think you want in addition to one of my oysters?”

  “The little gem wedge salad.”

  “You’ve never eaten Cajun before, have you?”

  “No,” I breathed.

  He leaned back from the table, a pleased grin filled his face and his eyes narrowed. “Don’t worry, I’ll order for you. I know exactly what to do for first timers. I’ll convert you to my Cajun Queen in no time, Miss Complicated Rose.”

  I watched his chest rise with his breath; his self-assurance filled the room, and the speeding beat of my heart filled my ears. There was a little twitch owning the one corner of his mouth as he pulled it into a smile. Our eyes locked just long enough to make my stomach flip and my breath get caught down in my chest.

  “Don’t make it too spicy. I usually don’t eat spicy food.” I folded the menu and slipped it to the edge of the table.

  Within a few minutes a waitress walked over to our table to take our order. She was strikingly beautiful. Her uncontrollable shiny black hair stood straight up in tight curls behind a thick black headband and her dark skin, flawless as the women in magazines. Philomena, filled her entire name tag pinned to her long white button-up shirt. Her smile, genuine, carried all the way up to her light emerald eyes, her Jamaican accent mingled with the chatter of tables around us.

  “Ey, Shane, how was de’ peanuts? Bit of kick, ey’?” she said, pointing to the bowl with a couple peanuts left.

  “I liked them. Yeah, they were pretty spicy; spicier than I remember.”

  “Oh Yeh’, BJ is bein’ a bit heavy handed on de’ cayenne pepper today.”

  “Philomena, this is Rose, the lovely lady who kept me waiting and the reason I had to order the peanuts.” He winked at her.

  “Nice ta’ meet yah.” Philomena nodded her head. “Welcome to da Boxin’ Room. I be servin’ yah today. Wha’ might me get Eye’ and Eye’ to fill um’ bellies?”

  Shane and I looked at her mesmerized by her beauty and Jamaican timbre. Shane glanced over at me before he cleared his throat and with his boyish charm wrapped the waitress right around his finger, one-word-at-a-time.

  “Well, Philomena, you have such a beautiful smile.”

  “Tanks,” she answered shyly.

  “You see, it’s Rose’s first time eating Cajun, my goal to get her to like the food here so she’ll agree to come back and have lunch with me again. Can we make that happen, Philomena?”

  If he only knew he was wrapping me around his finger too.

  “Ey, So, I’d suggest for de’ girlfriend Rose, de’ Louisian’ Blue Crab Cakes or de’ Fried Chicken Po’Boy. De’ spice can be adjusted, hot o’ mild. Yah see?”

  “I do. That sounds good, so let’s order my girlfriend the Louisiana Crab Cakes, the Po’ Boy and a Little Gem Wedge Salad . . . and for me, I’d like the dozen oysters. Also, two drafts of Blue Moon please. Oh, and Philomena, Rose here isn’t quite there yet. It’s our first lunch together.” Shane closed the menu and handed it back to her.

  “Whoa, that’s—” I tried to say something.

  “Forward?” Shane quipped

  “No, I was going to say—”

  “You don’t like Blue Moon?” He interrupted again.

  “No, I mean, I like Blue Moon. But I think I’ll have an iced tea instead,” I muttered. The last thing I needed was to be carded in front of Shane.

  “So, what do you think?” Shane asked, contagious in his excitement, causing me to smile.

  “I think you just let Philomena believe you’re taking me on a lunch date, and you ordered way too much food.”

  “I know. That tends to happens when trying to impress a girl, I mean a friend that happens to be a girl.”

  “Oh, so now you’re telling me you’ve done this with other girls before?”

  “Well, not necessarily at this restaurant, or the particular food I ordered. But I’ve been known to order more than I can eat. I suffer from The Big Eye Syndrome.”

  “Big Eye Syndrome?”

  “You know, my eyes are bigger than my stomach. I order a ton of food, then I can’t eat it all. Besides, they don’t really have a sampler, so it only made sense to order all the things I want you to try.”

  “Well, you better not have that eye thingy going on today. You’re gonna help me eat all that food.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I’m all about sharing. Whatever we don’t finish, I’ll have Philomena wrap up and you can take it home,” he said through a persuading grin. I liked how he was so smooth with changing the subject too. I guess the other girls he tried to
impress was a topic better left untapped.

  Just as he was about to say something our waitress, Philomena came over with his Blue Moon beer with a wedge of orange stuffed in the mouth of the bottle, a chilled mug, an iced tea and a tall thin vase half filled with water. She lodged the tray against her hip and the table, pulling everything off and announced its arrival.

  “Aright, one iced tea, and a Blu’ Moon with a chilled mug.” Philomena placed a vase next to the napkin holder. She boldly picked up the yellow rose and dropped it into the vase. “There we go, a pint for de’ pretty lady’s flower.”

  “Thanks,” Shane said before he pushed his orange slice into the bottle of Blue Moon. Ignoring the chilled mug, he tipped the beer against his mouth. Leaning back, his rounded lips were the gatekeepers to letting it roll down his throat as his modest Adam’s apple danced up and down his throat in waves.

  “And by the way, I am paying for my half of the bill,” I snapped before I dropped my straw into the iced tea and pulled it up to my lips.

  Call it one of my unbreakable rules, never indebt yourself to anyone.

  “But, only half the bill, those Blue Moons are on you, buddy,” I teased in a serious tone.

  “Deal, now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to the restroom.”

  “Must be those flaming peanut things you ate.”

  “Or the couple of beers I had earlier.”

  Shane stood up and folded his napkin, placing it on the table before he smiled and tapped his fingers on the back of his chair. He dragged his hand across the table, intentionally making sure his fingertips brushed against my skin.

  “Be right back. Don’t go off with some guy who appears to be better looking than me,” he teased.

  “Well, we both know looks can be deceiving,” I answered back immediately.

  “And I know a woman as beautiful as you, at a table alone, is a wide-open invitation.”

  “Well, thanks for the flattery, but trust me that’s highly unlikely.” I snickered as I looked down at my napkin and twirled it between my fingers.

  Shane pushed his hand under my chin, pulling my face to look at him. “Never underestimate your beauty, Rose. I guarantee you every guy in this restaurant hasn’t.” His eyes twinkled with that look. I knew the look that every guy has carried in his eyes when they thought they were seeing an expectation that just wasn’t supposed to be there between friends.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll tell him that I am on my very first date with my guy friend. And that it just isn’t in the stars for us.”

  “Yeah, guys hate that shit. Make sure he knows I’m coming right back too. Maybe I’m getting somewhere with this friends concept. I’ll be right back.”

  Shane gave a lopsided grin before his blazing hazel eyes hid behind a lengthened blink. I gave him a partial smile before I waved him off to the bathroom. “Yeah, you’d better hurry the whites of your eyes are turning yellow.”

  He laughed as he walked away. Looking at the wall across from me, instantly the room had gotten a lot bigger. I guess my personal space just didn’t seem so big when he was around.

  When I scanned the room I noticed this one guy with piercing blue eyes that kept staring right at me. He was with a short pudgy guy, whispering back and forth. He looked familiar, but when you were in the industry of fucking for money, everyone started to look familiar. It was bugging me that I couldn’t place him. The way he was staring at me, I could tell he was trying to place me too. I was usually pretty spot on at remembering my good paying customers.

  Then, as if ice water was poured down my back, a chill forced itself right against the ripcord of my soul. A lightbulb clicked between the guy’s ears and the look on his face switched from puzzled to familiar. Shit, he must have realized where he saw me. He must’ve been one of my dates; it was written all over his face. He was probably a guy who only came to me once, for a blow job or a quick ball-bustin’ dip.

  I looked away.

  Break the eye contact and please, don’t come over and make this anymore awkward than it already is. Great, this is why I don’t like to hang out in the city. Fuck, he’s coming over.

  His shoulders were back, chest puffed, and he walked as if his cock was too big to fit between his legs. I pulled my single yellow rose over in front of me, trying to give the guy a hint that I wasn’t alone. I glanced over my shoulder toward the bathroom. What the hell was I gonna do? The last thing I wanted was to have Shane come back with this prick standing here as he tried to figure out if I was the whore he paid to fuck a couple three months ago. The guy stopped next to me, obviously not the sharpest tool in the box, then stood there in his stupid fucking manner, and actually waited for me to acknowledge his presence.

  I looked up at the man and smiled. He winked at me just to make sure I was the woman he bought down in the Tenderloin.

  “I’m sorry if I am being too forward but you look really familiar to me. Do you have a sister?”

  “No, I don’t.” The fucking balls on this son-of-a-bitch.

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure if I had a sister I’d know.” This guy must have ironclad ones.

  “A sister named Twyla? I mean you look identical to her, except she has straight blond hair down to her shoulders.” His words were dripping with sarcasm. The muscles in my back tightened. This motherfucker was calling me out, right here in this restaurant. Sure, I had different names for different situations. When I wasn’t too sure about the stability of the John, the ones that seemed creepy, or cheap, or maybe could become violent, I gave them Twyla when they asked my name. This ass clown was trying to work an angle on me.

  “Well, if she has blond hair, then we aren’t really identical are we?” I whispered in a slow, precise tone. “Sorry, I’m not who you think I am. Now, I am here with a friend, so I would appreciate it if you’d go back to your table and sit down.”

  “Yeah, well heck, I figured it was worth a try, seeing you look so much like her,” he said staring right at me.

  “Sorry, I can’t help you,” I said through gritted teeth as I stared him down. I wasn’t going to look away first. Power was determined when you didn’t give in to assholes.

  He leaned down close to my ear, inhaling a deep almost wet breath; he pushed close to my ear. His lips caught my hair, the words he growled filled my head.

  “I know who you are. How could I ever forget going balls deep in a whore as beautiful as you, Twyla? You can take the hooker out of the Tenderloin, wine her, dine her, take her places and buy her expensive things, but at the end of the day, she’s still nothing more than a whore.”

  My blood was boiling, I stood up, facing him, my body vibrating, ready to slap him for saying what he was saying. He thought he could pull all up in my face and disrespect me like that? I was all ready to let him have it, just weaken what little manhood he had left.

  “Obviously, a prick like you can only think with your cock, so let me help you understand this in your language,” I growled.

  I was so determined to chew this prick a new asshole, so fucking wrapped up in the situation with this dickweed that I didn’t notice Shane had come back.

  “Rose, sweetheart, you okay?” Shane slipped his fingers around the curve of my waist and caught my hip.

  My heart walloped in my chest before it clogged my throat.

  “Yeah. Mistaken identity,” I whispered staring into the guy’s eyes before I rolled into Shane’s chest and wrapped my arms up around his neck. Sure I was playing into a whole lie of being with Shane, but if it kept him from finding out exactly who I was when I wasn’t with him, then I’d gladly pay for the repercussions later.

  The douchebag took a step back. Noticing I wasn’t going to give him the opportunity to fuck up what I had or didn’t have with Shane.

  “My bad, from across the restaurant she looked like someone I met before.” He turned and shuffled back to his table where the short pudgy guy waited for details.

  Milliseconds weren’t wasted be
fore Shane used the opportunity to pull me toward him and drop his mouth against my ear.

  “What was that about? Not that I’m complaining,” he whispered. The warmth of his breath across my ear caused shivers to roll down my spine and settle between my legs. His hands slipped down and rested on the rise of my ass. God, he felt so good, our curves met so perfectly, each filled flawlessly by the shape of our bodies. I couldn’t say it didn’t feel good, right, or perfect. But, I had to be realistic. I pushed my nose against the bend of his neck and inhaled.

  “You want me to say you were right? Okay, so I underestimated the room,” I said, intentionally brushing my lips against his skin as I spoke. “Just promise me you’ll never leave me alone next time we have lunch.” I tightened my embrace before I pulled back and took in his expression. Goose bumps rose across his exposed skin as a smile broached his lips.

  “What? Why are you smiling?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” he mumbled.

  “Come on, what’s up?” I playfully banged my fists against his hard thick chest as I stepped back out of our embrace.

  “Just happy that you agreed to go to lunch with me again,” he mumbled as he cocked his head and smiled.

  Vulnerability drenched his boyish charm, soaking restlessly through his speckled hazel eyes. I wrestled every nerve in my body into submission, hoping the vibe my body was putting off wasn’t showing him the real desire that was stirring between my thighs.

  Do whatever it takes to keep cool, Rose; keep it together, for fuck’s sake.

  I went to say something, opened my mouth to clear up the emotions swirling frantically around us, but thanks to the big guy upstairs, I was interrupted by Philomena bringing Shane his plate full of oysters and me my salad. Shane smiled as the waitress set his cluster of aphrodisiacs down on the table. We both sat down across from one another, hoping that the space between would defuse the energy, but when our eyes met and he winked at me . . . The only thought running through my head . . . I better avoid eating any oysters. Whether it was a reality or a myth, at this point, I think adding anymore lead to his pencil would only have me volunteering to be his paper.