by Lex Martin
I love the idea that she let me mark her. Reaching behind me, I touch the scratches on my back and chuckle. I guess we’re even.
46
Katherine
I lean against the formica counter as Bittersweet Symphony by the Verve plays in the background chaos of the diner.
My mom has always loved this song. One day I looked it up online and read that the Verve used a sample, that famous string intro, from a Rolling Stones song, and had to cough up all of their royalties to the Stones after it became a hit. So they had a huge international hit and became a household name, but they could never make any money from the song that got them there.
Yes, bittersweet indeed.
Sort of how I’m feeling this morning. Because beneath the artwork Brady sketched on my skin and the night we spent tangled together whispering dirty things to one another, I’m still lanced by how he shut me down. I was right. He doesn’t want to hear what happened with my ex-boyfriend. Which means my crazy hope that he’d fall in love with me is just that. Crazy.
My mother always says that when you love someone, you want to know everything about the other person, the good, the bad, and the ugly. So if I was looking for an answer for where Brady and I are headed, I have it now.
I guess I’d hoped that after all these weeks, things would be different.
Worse, though? I’m sick over the fact that I basically begged him to fuck me without a condom. Who does that? Especially after what happened with Eric.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Sinvergüenza. My cheeks burn at the thought.
Taking a deep breath, I try to calm down. I’m not the same girl I was last spring.
A small ball of panic coils in my stomach. I think back to how I’ve taken those pills religiously in the months since that fiasco.
No, I’m good. There will be no little Brady Shepherds rolling around nine months from now.
My throat tightens.
In the moment, I just wanted to show Brady that I loved him. Because I had never gone without a condom before, and I wanted that connection with him.
I shake my head and try to focus on the positive, to focus on everything that happened after that ill-advised conversation last night.
Touching my lips that are still slightly swollen, I finally let myself smile as I think about all the ways he touched me in the tub. How he couldn’t seem to get enough of me once we’d gone bare. And finally, the beautiful images still branding my shoulders.
I want to cling to that. Cling to the hope that what happened after that conversation means more. That it means enough.
Besides, how many guys really want to hear about ex-boyfriends? And anyway, I’m the one who hesitated. I’m the one who suggested that it might not be a good idea to talk about it.
A small semblance of calm washes over me. I fill my lungs with another deep breath.
Everything will be okay. Stop reading into this.
Enjoy the now, I remind myself. If I subtract that conversation, last night was perfect. The way he talked to me and loved my body. How he moved over me and in me. How he filled me so completely, I wanted to cry from the pleasure of it all.
Squeezing my thighs together, I relish the soreness that runs through all of my limbs.
Images of him sliding into me flicker in my mind, and I feel my cheeks flush. I smile, I can’t help it, and I let myself relish those moments.
“Someone got laid last night,” my co-worker Darla drawls as she struts by me with a tray full of food.
My smile falters.
Carol nudges me as she reaches for the coffee. “Ignore her. She got her panties in a twist because someone didn’t tip her.” Her knowing eyes pass over me. “It’s okay to be happy, Katherine. And if it involves doing the horizontal mambo with that handsome biker boy you’ve been living with, even better.”
She winks and walks off before I can say anything.
Ugh. I hate people knowing my business, but I don’t have time to worry about it because my phone buzzes in my apron. It’s my sister.
“Tori, what’s wrong?” I say under my breath as I turn down the hall toward the bathrooms.
“Why do you always assume something’s wrong?”
“Because the only time you call me is in an emergency. Or if you need money.” Mentally, I start calculating how much I have in my bank account in case this phone call comes with a big price tag.
Tori attends a small Catholic school that’s expensive as hell, but she’s on an academic scholarship that covers her tuition. Except my family can’t afford what the scholarship doesn’t cover—books, supplies and uniforms—so I try to bridge the gap. As painful as it is to foot the bill sometimes, she’s safer there than at our nearby public school, which is overrun with gangs.
“Relax, Katherine. Mom wants to know if you’re coming home for Christmas. You know, since you blew us off for Thanksgiving.”
Pressing the bridge of my nose, I sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe I can drive down for a day or two.” Brady is working on my car today, so if it’s up and running, I might be able to head to Corpus.
Little butterflies ripple in my stomach when I think about how I woke up this morning with that beautiful art on my back. He drew a hummingbird fluttering out of a starburst. He said it’s because I remind him of the sunrise.
My stomach does a crazy flipflop when I think about how he rasped those words in my ear before I left for work.
“Hello?” Tori squawks on the phone.
“I’m here.”
“Are you sure?” Tori asks. “I’ve had to repeat myself three times. I said that Dad really wants you to come home. And just so you know, you should call Eric back already. He’s been blowing up our phone this last week.”
God, he just does not give it a rest.
“Do not give him my number, Tori. I’m serious.” If nothing else, my time with Brady has shown me how much I don’t want to be with Eric. Why is he still calling?
“Are you positive? He’s rich and really hot. Maybe you should give him another chance. Unless he has a little weenie. Does he have a little weenie?”
I nearly choke. “Victoria, I’m paying a shitload of money to help you attend that private school. Don’t they teach you any manners?”
“Whoa. Look who curses now, Little Miss Stick Up Her Ass.”
Seriously? All I’ve done is help my little sister, and this is the thanks I get?
“Whatever. I gotta go. But next time you need clothes or money for some dumb formal dance, don’t call me.”
“C’mon, Katherine, you know I’m joking. I’m sorry!”
I shake my head. Tori and I haven’t been close in a while. I’m seven years older, and I get a little irritated because she gets away with murder. My parents had me on a tight leash, and she gets to stay out to all hours because she looks angelic. But I know my parents are always comparing us. She’s not the student I was, so she gets the “why can’t you study harder like Katherine” speeches.
That’s what I loved about Mel. She was the big sister I should have had. Not that I don’t love Tori, but I just wish we could be close like Mel and I were.
When I get off the phone, I wish more than anything that I could talk to Mel about Brady. I wish I could pour out my heart to her because she would know what to do.
After spazzing out all day at the diner, I’m relieved to come home and find Brady just as warm and sweet as he was last night. Part of me was afraid that he’d be different after so much intimacy, but no. He’s affectionate, kissing me on the mouth when I walk through the door, hugging me once I tug off my coat.
He tells me he’s going to Skype with his parents. “Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need it.” Well, he might. I lean up and kiss his cheek. “Watch. It’ll be fine. They’ll be relieved.”
“God, I hope so.”
He strides down the hall, and I try to busy myself in cleaning the kitchen. After a quiet ten minutes, I hear laughter coming from the office
, so I know the hard part must be over.
I’m about to check Izzy’s diaper when Brady calls my name. I pick her up, and when we peek into the office, he’s all smiles.
“My parents want to see the baby,” he says, motioning for me to come over. I walk over to hand her to him when he scoots a chair next to his.
Oh, God. I’m not even wearing makeup. Lovely.
I push up my glasses and sit in front of the screen.
“Izzy is getting so big!” his mom squeals when she sees the baby. His mother is a beautiful woman with light brown hair and big blue eyes. She looks so much like Cal, it’s almost painful. “Hi, baby!” she coos.
Izzy claps and says, “Hi, hi, hi,” and grins as I bounce her on my lap.
Then his mom notices me, and her smile widens.
“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd.” I wave at them, hoping I don’t look as stupid as I feel right now. Maybe Brady could have given me a little warning that he wanted me to video conference with his parents.
“Well, aren’t you the prettiest thing! And please call me Rebecca,” his mom says. She nudges her husband. “Jonathan, isn’t Katherine beautiful?”
Her husband’s dark green eyes are intense like Brady’s as he stares through the screen, but then they crinkle in the corners when he offers me a warm smile. “You’re the poor girl who has to put up with my son? I hope he hasn’t been too much of a handful. He can get a little pissy sometimes.”
I laugh and turn to Brady, who’s frowning. “Really, Dad?”
The baby crawls out of my lap into his, and he gives her a sweet kiss and turns her to face the computer.
Nodding, I motion toward him. “He can be a little prickly sometimes, but I find that feeding him helps.”
Brady rolls his eyes, and I nudge him. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he reaches down and grips my thigh, and I laugh and try to get him to stop. It’s not fair for him to tickle me in front of his parents.
They obviously can’t see anything but me writhing around like a crazy person while Brady sits there pretending to be innocent.
I grab his arm and in my firmest voice say, “If you don’t stop, I’m not making you dinner.”
He immediately pulls his hand away and shakes his head, the whole time keeping a straight face. “We can’t have that.”
When I turn back to his parents, they’re watching us with rapt attention. I cough, feeling uncomfortable.
His mom offers me a warm smile. “We’re so grateful you’ve been there to help. Brady says he wouldn’t know what to do without you.”
My face heats, and I laugh nervously. “I’m sure he’d manage.”
“Well, we’re relieved, especially now since he gets the honor of adopting this sweet little darling. Hopefully, she’ll raise hell just like he did as a child, so he can get a taste of his own medicine.”
“Really, Mom?” Brady laughs.
“What? You were a handful!” She turns to me. “When he was five, he loved to moon the neighbors. And sometimes, if he couldn’t get into the house fast enough, he’d tinkle on the bushes outside.”
“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles.
I cover my mouth to muffle my laughter. As Izzy crawls into my lap, I pat him on the shoulder. “I’m happy to report, he’s fully potty trained now. Good job!” His deadpan stare makes me grin. “Haha. Brady tinkled on the bushes,” I taunt.
His parents howl with laughter, and I have to wipe my eyes from laughing so hard.
When I turn back to the laptop, Rebecca tilts her head. “Who does she remind me of? Jonathan, doesn’t Katherine remind you of one of Brady’s old girlfriends?” Brady stills next to me. Then she snaps her fingers. “The one you took that photo with. Oh, my goodness. You should see that picture, Katherine. It was all over Boston on these billboards. They used it to advertise the tattoo parlor where he worked, and the girls lined up to get him to do their tattoos.” She laughs and shades her face. “I blushed every time I drove by it.”
God, I look like one of his ex-girlfriends? And what is this photo all about?
“Mother,” Brady warns. “It was a photo I took for an art class. My friend got lucky and sold it to my shop.”
Ignoring his obvious discomfort, she asks, “What was her name?”
I finally turn to look at him, and his hard expression as he shoots lasers at the laptop does nothing to assuage my anxiety.
He clears his throat. “Dani, and we never dated.”
“Right. Well.” His mother shakes her head and turns to me. “You should have seen him. He moped for months after they broke up.”
“Mother, I just said we never dated.”
“What’s she doing these days?”
He hoists Izzy higher on his lap. “Marrying a professional soccer player.”
Rebecca sighs. “Her loss, I suppose. I shouldn’t be in his business, but Brady was a sad panda for a while.” Her lips twist like she’s studying me. “Actually, you don’t look like her exactly. But there’s something about you that reminds me of her.”
I nod, wishing I could rewind the last five minutes of this conversation and start over.
“It was nice meeting you guys,” I say softly. “I need to go start dinner. I’m so glad to see you’re feeling better, Mr. Shepherd.”
Brady’s dad offers me an apologetic smile, and I beeline it out of there, fighting emotions I wish I didn’t have.
47
Brady
I’m really not in the mood for this shit.
The half-naked chick in front of me giggles at her friend, another blonde, and I frown as a cold sweat breaks out on my neck.
As I stare down at the woman’s bare breasts, warning bells go off in my head. You should tell Kat, I think, feeling confused as fuck about why I feel guilty I’m piercing another girl’s nipples when all I’m just doing my job.
Just like the three tattoos I did tonight on drunk frat boys, this is no different.
Except the way the blonde thrusts her chest out at me is definitely not the way the frat boys sat in my chair.
Running my hand through my hair, I wince. I’ve never thought twice about how my girlfriends felt about this. Which I’m realizing was insensitive, but am I really supposed to feel bad now? Kat and I agreed that we end when I head back to Boston.
Jesus. That makes me ill. I don’t want to leave her. And that’s what it feels like. Abandoning her.
Maybe we’ve been through too much traumatic shit together for this to be anything less than a serious relationship.
I sigh, wondering how the hell I ended up in this position.
The woman giggles again as I pull her nipple taut between the steel forceps. With a breathy little moan, she asks, “Is this going to hurt?”
“Yes.” Usually, I try to talk people off the ledge and focus on the positives, but tonight, I don’t give a fuck. It’s late, I’m tired, and I’d rather be in bed with Katherine than piercing some sorority girl, who looks like she’s one bad decision away from offering me a blow job. Between working here, Kat's gig at the diner and all the shit we have to do on the farm, I've barely seen her this week.
And it’s been a strange week.
After that chat with my parents where my mother dumped that shit about Dani all over Katherine, she’s pulled back. It’s subtle. Sometimes she looks like she wants to say something but doesn’t. Or when she would usually reach for me or crawl into my lap, she doesn’t. Almost like she’s preparing herself for the worst case scenario.
Maybe that’s the smart thing to do.
On top of that, I’ve been working all week, so we haven’t had any one-on-one time since our fuckathon last weekend. And I walk around half-hard all the time from random X-rated thoughts of her.
I go through the motions and pierce the chick in my chair. When we’re done, I thank her and head to the front register where hopefully being around the other guys will dissuade her from making any unwelcome offers.
Except that’s wishful thinking because just
before she’s about to walk out the door, she grabs a pen, takes my hand and starts writing on my palm.
What the…
She gives me a little wink and tells me to call her. I look down and see the name Shana and her phone number.
“Dude, she wrote in a permanent marker!” one of the guys yells, laughing.
I head to the bathroom to wash it off, except it doesn’t.
Mark, one of the owners, passes me on my way out. “If you don’t want that number, feel free to post it on the fuck wall.”
I turn my head to see where he’s pointing in the break room. And sure enough, there’s a wall of phone numbers.
“Think of it as the penny jar at the gas station,” he says with a wide grin.
“The penny jar?”
“Yeah, you have a penny you don’t want right now, but maybe one of the other guys needs a penny. So write her description and phone number on one of those notecards and post it on the fuck wall. Never know when you’re going to need one of those girls yourself.”
Jesus Christ. He’s a fucking pig.
I should be grateful he gave me a job. Because I need it. Badly. But the dick bought a copy of that fucking photo of me and Dani and is planning to use it to advertise the shop. It was really nice of Rudy to mention that goddamn photograph when Mark called my old job for a reference.
I wait until Mark walks off to ignore him and head back to my station. The whole night, this bothers me. It bothers me that I feel the need to talk to Katherine about what I do. It bothers me that despite our limbo status, doing my job felt like cheating because I had to touch another woman. And it bothers me that these assholes treat girls like some kind of communal property.
When I get home, it’s after two in the morning. We usually turn off all of the lights at night, but the light over the stove is on, and beneath it is a sandwich and a note. Hope you had a good day at work. Figured you didn’t eat. xo, Kat.
This girl. I smile.
She’s right. I haven’t eaten.