by Marie Wathen
“Last summer, the boys backpacked across Europe for the entire three months. During the last segment of the trip, Elise surprised him in his hotel room – naked. There was lots of drinking, and as it turns out, she liked using drugs, a bit of information she neglected to share with Marcus when they began dating; a real deal breaker for him. The problem was that she claimed to be so messed up that she picked the wrong room and ended up sleeping with Morgan THE ENTIRE WEEKEND. All the while, Marcus was on a three-day boat excursion.
“Oh mygod, are you serious? And Morgan, what the hell?” I yelp. I think I have problems, but this was Marcus’s twin brother and girlfriend.
“Wait. I know how shitty it makes Morgan sound, but in all honesty Morgan hadn’t met her. Marcus intentionally kept the relationship a secret from Morgan. With good reason as Morgan tends to like all of Marcus’s playthings, and sooner or later he usually takes them or Marcus will give them to him. But not Elise. He wanted her all to himself.”
I’m still reeling from the whole fucked up situation. I find myself numb but nodding while sitting on the edge of my bed; captivated awaiting details. As repulsed as I am at the moment, I almost need to know everything.
“The saddest part is when Marcus returned from his trip and found them dining at the restaurant in the hotel. When he confronted them, she admitted she felt bad about it but that she liked Morgan too. Then get this, she actually told Marcus that she didn’t care who she ended up with because they are exactly the same in bed.”
“Shut up! No she did not say that shit!” I say, laughing at the situation for being so farfetched. Yet, I’m truly disgusted with Elise for being a heartless bitch.
“Needless to say, she was dumped by both boys that night, but the story doesn’t end there.”
“Oh you have got be freaking kidding me. Don’t tell me Marcus took her back?” Shouting, I now stand directly in front of her.
“A week after they arrived back in England, Marcus walked in on them having sex again in the flat that he shared with Morgan. Essentially, Marcus felt the betrayal deeper because of Morgan’s total disregard to the breakup. Marcus was hurt and demanded Morgan kick her out on her petite derriere. It didn’t happen. Morgan’s a man-whore, but he claimed he loved her too. Marcus was pissed off. He considered Morgan’s attitude and actions unforgivable and refused to speak to either of them again. It’s his prerogative, and most certainly none of my business.”
Betrayal
“A few days later, Marcus moved back to Willow and he shared some of what happened with Tristan. I don’t know all the details but I’m positive there’s more to Marcus & Elise than anyone knows, but he refuses to talk about her. Elise had some crazy power over them and managed to mess up both boys. I’m just not sure if she felt something for either one of them because she dumped Morgan soon after Marcus came here.” She stretches back on my bed and looks up to the ceiling.
“Fuck. That is messed up. What is wrong with that Elise bitch? How could they both fall for some skank like her?” I ask furiously. Damn, why the hell do I care so much?
“That’s just the thing! She’s not some skank, she’s ‘perfect’ according to Marcus, but she’s evil in my opinion and love is absolutely blind when it comes to her. Now he punishes himself and doesn’t date. But judging by the way he was with you last night, it seems like there may be hope for him after all. I just think when love is really meant to be, and certainly obstacles will get in the way, that’s just life, but there is nothing that real love can’t overcome. With true love there is hope. You both have the whole “I’m undeserving of love” BS in common. And it could be good between you if either of you will just open your hearts.” She huffs and baits me.
“Sounds like he has learned the hard way about love, just like me,” I retort, refusing to fall for her ruse.
“I know, I know. You will never fall in love. Whatever! Well then, what happened with you and Morgan during the date? At dinner everything seemed fine." She lifts her perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
"Oh no, I need some time to process all of this, jeez.” She pouts, not letting me off the hook. “Well, you and Tristan were on the dance floor for a while. Once y’all came back to our table you started making out like teenagers,” I point out in mock disgust.
“We are teenagers,” she wisecracks.
“Ha, oh and you proved it to everyone within twenty feet of us too.” I get up, walk over to my dresser, and quickly pull my hair into a ponytail.
“I only got off a couple of lame questions before he began acting weird. So I grew bored and somewhat ticked with the evasiveness of his answers. Jeez, I would hate to hear what he would say if asked something more personal.” My frustration is showing and now I am pacing near the end of my bed.
”Anyway, I went to the restroom to touch up my makeup, hoping to calm down. I have to tell you Anna, you know me and that I don’t do asshole. I had to work through it and I did. So going against my better judgment of his first impression, I decide to give him one more chance. When I step back into the lobby, I find who I think is Morgan, but turns out to be Marcus, waiting for me. He led me out to the balcony where we spent the rest of the night…dancing. We barely spoke. Then I hear you calling my name, so he escorts me back to the table where all hell breaks loose.”
“Wait, you danced with Marcus that whole time?” She’s happy, but then quickly a puzzled look shifts on her face causing her eyebrows to scrunch.
“Well yes, he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Even when I tried to explain that I don’t dance he tells he that he will help me fake it so I won’t look like a fool. That’s why we went to the balcony rather than back out to the ballroom.” I pause. “What it is? What is that look about?”
“Nothing just thinking.” She is still distracted from my previous comment, but then she snaps her head up as she draws in a sharp breath and says, “Wait, Marcus actually said that?” She looks stunned and is apparently suffering from a three second delay now.
“Yeah, I know,” I chirp while keeping my face as straight as possible. I know what she’s thinking right now because she is a hopeless romantic all the way through to her soul.
“That is so, so romantic. Oh, I had no idea. And I never even thought to look on the balcony for you two. Oh Breesan, yea! But honestly I was a little preoccupied with Tristan. I’m really sorry that I neglected you.” She’s telling the truth.
“But now I need you to tell me more. What did you think about Marcus?”
And there it is, the question of the day. I don’t think I can play this off with her. Before last night I was not prepared to defend my feelings about a man. I’ve never needed to because I’ve never had feelings for a man before. How am I supposed to lie and make it believable? And do I really need to? What will happen if I just admit how I feel about Marcus, and last night, and the dream, and my confusion? I mentally shake myself and I know the answers. I don’t want him to feel the same because what I am feeling is ridiculous. I need to spend time with Morgan, someone I won’t desire, more than ever so that I will stop having these ridiculous feelings for Marcus.
“Helloooo? You are not getting out of this Breesan. Talk to me! I’m seriously school girl giddy just thinking about how precious you looked on the balcony saying goodnight.” She smiles and scoots down the bed to sit next to me.
“Really, did we?” I ask. She is frantically nodding her head at me. “You know that I can’t be distracted.” Her grin falls slightly with disappointment building in her eyes.
“Good grief Breesan, it’s not like I want you to accept a marriage proposal. What will it hurt to spend some time hanging out with them or us? You could just double date with us if that will get you out of the house this summer. You know Morgan called Tristan last night to ask for your phone number, but I told him not to do it until after I spoke with you. So what do you think? Do you think you can see him again, or Marcus?” I hate disappointing her, but this has gone too far.
Realistically,
if I were to hit it off with either Morgan or Marcus and then decide to date one of them, it will only be for a couple of months. We will be going off in different directions for college and careers, and I don’t want anything here keeping me from my dreams. It’s hopeless either way. I blow out a deep breath and stare at her eager expression. Being anything more than friends will not happen with Morgan. He’s not my type so it makes him the safer option of the two.
“Can we just take it one day at a time? I didn’t feel anything for either of them,” I lie.
She hesitates and then looks sadly at me, “Oh, okay. So, just hanging out as friends then?” She waits for my reaction.
“Oh hell. OK. No planned dates! If we run into each other, fine. No double dates. You can’t assume that I’ll be either one of their dates at parties this summer either. And I’m totally serious Anna. You tell Tristan last night was really it on scamming me, okay?”
She nods her head in agreement, but I feel that her failure to verbalize a yes is indicative of denial.
“Breesan, do you think Tristan really loves me or do you believe what he feels is residual of us being together for so many years?” I’m shocked by her question.
“I believe what you and Tristan have exceeds any love I’ve ever known. It’s romance novel love. Is that a good enough answer? Where is this coming from anyway? Has something happened between you two?”
“No, that’s the problem. I want to, but he doesn’t.” She pouts, chewing on her fingernail.
Anna’s need to discuss her sex life always creeps me out. Sharing something so intimate in detail, even with your supposed best friend, disrespects the value of your love. I’ve never understood girls who talk about their relationship with men as if it’s a goal. If they feel the need to let strangers – and I say that including people who are not joining you in the bed with your significant other – know how well he takes care of you, why not rent out a billboard? I’m no expert, but from sitting quietly on the sidelines of life, I watch women display their man’s abilities like cattle at an auction. And believe me, the bull always goes home with someone. I wouldn’t want my man being sized up as if he is the bull being paraded around in front of all the cowgirls just waiting for one to saddle up and ride.
I nod, averting my eyes to the floor. “Have you talked to him about this Anna?” I ask, already knowing her answer. She’s definitely broached the topic with him countless times.
“Oh you know I have but he’s determined to keep me a virgin until our wedding night. Ugh seriously this could kill me,” she yells. Waiting for her to calm down, I silently pray that she will come up with her own answers. After six exasperated huffs, I resign and offer up words that could in no way be wisdom.
I lock gazes with her while she continues to assault her fingernails. “The only advice that I could possibly give you is for you to stop putting him on the spot. Don’t tease, demand, or threaten. Be a woman who is loved by a man and is making the same sacrifices he asks of you. Tristan respects you and wants to savor the day that he will make you his in all ways. Please bob your head up then down if you get what I’m trying to tell you. I don’t understand your need to rush. Did you get close to doing it before and got denied?” I joke, feeling guilty when she stabs me with a look of fear. Her hands begin to tremble uncontrollably. She turns away from me as she brushes a stray tear from her cheek. Shit. Why is she crying? Ohgod did Tristan try to have sex with her or hurt her? Suddenly my body tenses and I urgently need to find him and beat his ass silly for hurting my best friend, I mean Anna, his girlfriend. Shit.
Her phone zings, indicating she has a new text message. She leaps up and taps a quick response before turning to me.
“No more talking about this today. Didn’t you mention food earlier? My stomach will eat my spine if we don’t leave this instant,” she states, chucking her phone into her purse while fishing for her car keys. Subject changes with Anna are like spending time with a Tasmanian devil. You can’t keep up, so don’t even try.
With this conversation finally behind us, we leave my house in search of nourishment. I plop into the passenger seat; she drops the windows down and cranks the radio up. While I am certain I may have fooled her, I’m not foolish enough to believe that this conversation is closed. I hope now I can move on and stop thinking about Marcus. I will not allow him to be a distraction. Oh but he's such a yummy distraction, my mind adds. Dropping my shoulders in a sign of defeat, I realize that I am a fooling myself by believing I can get that man out of mind so easily.
After our lunch date with Tristan, it’s still early when Anna drops me back home. I notice Julia is not home. Good. I need to go through some of my dad’s things that she has stored in the attic. I don’t want to do it when she is around. The last time I just mentioned his name she grew so angry I actually thought she might hit me. I have never understood her feelings for him. When I was a little girl I thought she loved him. Then as time went along, she became jaded and just talking about him made her angry; not sad like I would get, but rather she would snap at me, telling me to change the subject immediately.
When I enter the house I charge up the stairs immediately and continue up to the attic access in the ceiling. I pull down the stairs and quickly climb up. It’s dark, but a light switch next to the entryway brightens the space. I stand up and look around the large open area at all of the boxes and junk that has been moved up here. It’s an insane amount of stuff. I had no idea Julia was a hoarder. This could take a lot longer than I anticipated. I reach the first tower of boxes and flip open the top.
There are books and notebooks stuffed in it. I pick up the top notebook and flip it open. It looks like Julia’s handwriting, nothing significant jumps out at me so I place it down on the floor next to this stack. I grab the next notebook and flip through it. They appear to be journals. I feel horrible that I have her private thoughts right here in my hands. I would be so angry if I knew someone was going through my stuff like I’m doing hers. This must be all that is in this particular box so I decide just to close it and move to the next one. I’m really only interested in my dad’s stuff. I shift the box off the top of the stack and look through the one under it. Nothing of my dad’s in this box either.
I keep going like this for a while. I’ve gone through ten boxes and not one of them has anything that belongs to my dad in them. A thought occurs to me that since it’s been so long she probably moved them to the back of the room. I stand up and wind my way toward the back of the room, past old toys and crates of clothes.
There’s a trunk with a lock on it that quickly catches my interest, but I don’t see any way to get in it. I look around the immediate area for a key but come up empty handed. I notice there is a small box sitting beside it that has a lock on it as well. Just as luck would have it, this one is small enough for me to carry. If something in it is important enough to lock up then I’ll just take it downstairs and pop the lock.
One last look around the room and I realize that none of this stuff is my dad’s. Now I’m curious to know what she did with his things. I descend the attic stairs and carry the small box into my bedroom. I place the box on my bed and stand there staring at it. It’s a fairly new lock, but I don’t know how to break into it. I certainly don’t have bolt cutters. Damn. How am I going to get into this box?
As long as it’s been up there, she won’t notice it missing. I’ve got to come up with an idea on how to get in it. I sit on the bed, pick the box up, and place it on my lap. I turn it around and flip it over. Not one idea on how to get in it without damaging it comes to mind. Frustration consumes me and I drop it back on my bed, stand up, and walk across the room. I stare at it another second and then groan out loud. I need help. I know if I ask Tristan he would do it for me. He would do anything for me and I totally trust him. But do I really want him or anyone knowing that I’m suspicious of Julia, or that I’m trying to find my dad’s things? What choice do I have? If I want answers then I’m going to have to accept help.
Helpless
Chapter 8
Marcus
My first day on my new job, I arrive at Kole’s Gym in time to see the early afternoon crowd leaving. I’m pleased; I’m damn sure not in the mood to deal with anyone’s shit today. Hopefully I’ll have a few minutes alone to prepare for my newest client. As I walk in, the window vibrates as beats by Cage the Elephant blast through the speaker system and the temperature is hovering just above Arctic. I take a deep breath and realize I have missed this place the last four months while I was away. Looking over to the front desk, I spot a tattoo covered, fitness-model-worthy man bouncing on the balls of his feet to the beat of the music. He jerks his head in my direction when I open the door and it chimes. His brow draws in, his blue eyes darken, and his neck muscles bulge from tension, he’s pissed.
“What the hell brings your ass here?” The big guy growls at me.
He rounds the counter to stand directly in front of me, his face morphing into controlled absurdity as he grabs my upper arms. He is my height with a slightly smaller frame; weighing thirty pounds less. He has dark brown hair shaped into a faux-hawk and he’s very tan from using the tanning beds he has here at his gym. Kole De Luca and I became friends after I noticed he was a regular at the local MMA fights both here and on the panhandle. We exchanged opinions on some of the grappling techniques and afterward hung out at Noxx Oyster bar located across the street from the arena. I never knew about his involvement with the DEA back then. It wasn’t until Sam ended things with Rhys when she finally talked me into joining the cause. That’s when he told me about his role. I’ll admit I love knowing he has my back.
“Kole, what’s up?” He shoves my left shoulder hard with his right hand then spins around back to the front counter.
“Great man, you know just living and loving. Didn’t think I would see you around today.” He winks, leans down below the counter, and pulls out a clipboard, passing it over to me.