by Tasha Fawkes
"Karen, we know you're in there. Open the door."
Even while I told myself not to open the door, to ignore them, I reached for the knob and opened it. Both my parents stood on the threshold, warily eyeing me. Without waiting for an invitation, my mother stepped into the apartment, followed by my dad. I wasn't in the mood for them today. Not in the least. Not for any criticism, not more humiliation, not even commiseration, as if that was a possibility. As far as I was concerned, I felt they had some nerve showing up.
"Are you all right?"
I turned to my mother, the always-put-together Melanie Queen, eyebrows lifted up the question. Before I could even respond, she continued.
"You look awful."
"Thanks, Mom, making a public spectacle of myself can do that."
"Watch the attitude, young lady," she said, placing her purse down on the kitchen table, eyeing the drops of coffee. My father stood nearby, his face emotionless. Even so, I saw the way he quickly glanced around, as if looking for something amiss.
"So, what brings you here?" I asked. Might as well get it over with, whatever it was.
"We came to check on you, darling," Mom said. "I mean, after what happened yesterday—"
"I can't believe I allowed you to talk me into doing that," I said, raising my voice in spite of my promise that I would remain calm and put this issue behind me. "I should've known what was behind your desire for me to do so, but to be honest, I'll tell you something. I'm not going to go chasing after a man who wants nothing to do with me."
"Ashley took something that belonged to you, Karen," Mom said, her gaze cool.
I shook my head, ignoring the throbbing headache as I snapped back at her. "Daniel didn't belong to me, Mom. He never did. And it's more than obvious now. And I'll tell you something. Never again am I going to allow myself to be talked into doing—"
"You're working yourself into a tizzy," Mom said with a wave of her hand. "Quit moping and please, stop with the melodramatics. What happened, happened. But we brought some more positive news, something to pull you out of your doldrums. We're working on another match—"
"Hell no!" I snapped.
"Watch your language." Dad frowned.
Despite my pounding head, I found myself once again shaking my head in amazement. "Absolutely not. You never cared for what I want. And frankly, I'm tired of you two trying to ruin my life. These ridiculous schemes. The charades. Finding a husband for me isn't about me, and you know it. It's about you. It's about what's good for you."
Mom straightened, her eyes blazing with emotion. "Young lady, I suggest that you calm down. It's not our fault that you embarrassed the family name yesterday—"
"I embarrassed the family name?" I asked, disbelieving. "You mean the family name that hangs around my neck like a noose?" I ignored my mother's gasp, but I was pissed and growing angrier by the moment. "I don't give a damn that my great-great whatever grandparents hitched a ride on the Mayflower. I'm tired of your machinations and you are behaving like we live in the eighteenth century! I will not be pushed into an arranged marriage! I don't need your help catching a husband, do you hear me?"
"Young lady," Dad said, his face turning red. "You have a certain obligation to marry well, to marry to the minimum of our standards, or better." He paused a moment, his features softening. "I know that you're upset about losing Daniel, but we'll find you another match, someone even better."
They weren't listening. They never listened. I stared at both of them, as if seeing them for the first time. I couldn't remember the last time that we had acted like a real family, without putting on airs, without trying to impress, no ulterior motives.
I knew something else too. I was tired of feeling like I was no better than a neurotic, insecure, and spoiled bitch. I reminded myself that I was not a child and I didn't need their approval. No, I didn't need their approval to do anything, even sleeping with a total stranger! I had done everything they'd asked me to do over the years, and where had it gotten me? A reputation of a spoiled bitch? Faking a suicide attempt? Standing up in the middle of a church ceremony shouting my head off, making a fool of myself? For what? Yesterday had been the final straw.
"No more."
"No more what, darling?" Mom asked.
Hands on my hips, I straightened my shoulders and lifted my chin. "No more of your crazy matchmaking schemes. I can find my own husband. I want—"
"Darling, we're only trying to find you a match who understands the importance of appearances, with a certain business acumen, the ability to give you the things that you've grown up with and expect in your life."
"I know I've been spoiled, Mom. I know that you've ingrained in me the importance of stature and position, but right now, I'm telling you, I'm not interested in any man, any marriage, or even dating. I have some thinking to do."
Dad looked at me, a curious expression on his face. "What do you mean, you have some thinking to do?"
"It's time for me to figure out what I want from my life, not what you think I should have. I want—"
"Darling, don't be rash."
I garbled back a frustrated groan. "Rash? You don't call faking a suicide attempt or standing up and making a fool of myself in the middle of a wedding ceremony being rash?" I waved my hand at the air, carefully grasping my mug of coffee in the other. "I'm done with it, do you hear me? I'm done with it."
I saw the expression that crossed my mom's face as she glanced at my dad. She thought I was just being temperamental, but it was oh so much more than that. "If you don't mind, I have things to do this morning. I'll see you guys later, okay?"
They exchanged a glance and then with a shrug, my dad moved toward the door. Before they left, my mother paused in the open doorway, giving me what I called 'the look'.
"Now don't do anything foolish, honey." She admonished, then stepped outside the door. It closed softly behind her.
It took everything I had not to fling my coffee mug at the door. Foolish? Rash? Oh, I had already gone way beyond that.
Chapter 4
Ben
I woke up the following morning, still nursing a bit of a hangover. Thank God it was Sunday morning and I didn't have to go to work. I had slept most of yesterday and had woken up early last evening only long enough to scarf some food, take a shower, and then go back to bed. This had been one of the most stimulating weekends I had experienced in quite some time. Now, laying in bed, arms crossed behind my head and staring up at the ceiling, I once again had doubts. I realized now that it might not have been such a good idea to sleep with Karen. Then again, armchair quarterbacking was great, wasn't it? Besides, it was too late now to take it back. But back there in the bar, despite the fact that she had gradually drunk herself into a stupor, I'd felt a connection with her. I didn't exactly feel sorry for her, but I could commiserate with her. I knew what it felt like to be dumped.
The sex with Karen had been great, even though we had both been drunk. She was incredibly sexy, and to be honest, it wouldn't take much for me to sleep with her again. But I know it wouldn't look good. I knew that whatever way I tried to look at it, I was the one that walked away looking like a douchebag; a guy who had taken advantage of a woman in an extremely vulnerable state. I doubted that she would believe me, if I ever spoke to her again, that is, that she had inspired me.
Whether she regretted it or not, the very fact that she had spoken up during the wedding ceremony was awe-inspiring. Sure, she had fallen flat on her face, and was likely the topic of rampant gossip over her behavior this weekend, but man, she had balls! I didn't know the history of her relationship with the groom, and I suppose it didn't really matter.
Yes, I'd been sexually attracted to her the moment she stood up in the church, but I had done the right thing, hadn't I? Making sure that she'd gotten home okay? But that was lame. Or was it? Sure, I could've called the taxi for her and told the driver to drop her off at the apartment, but then what? She'd been pretty unsteady. I'd had to carry her into the elevator, wa
lk her down the hallway, and into her apartment as it was. I had to make sure that she got home safe. It was the right thing to do. The gentlemanly thing to do. But, giving in to my baser urges might not have been one of my finest hours. Maybe I had misinterpreted the way she leaned against me, melted into my body. Had I misread her cues? Were they really cues or was she just shit-faced drunk and couldn't stand upright?
Not to mention the fact that she was a socialite. I had Googled her yesterday when I'd been conscious long enough to do so. Out of curiosity. She was rich, spoiled, and obviously used to the better things in life. She was definitely out of my league. I was a mere executive's assistant.
Did it matter? Maybe she was wondering about me at this moment as I was wondering about her? I scoffed. No way. I knew that such thoughts were merely wishful thinking. She would not have felt the same connection as I had. That was the booze talking. Nevertheless, the more I thought about it, the more I convinced myself that I needed to know. What did I have to lose?
Finally, I got up, took a long shower, dressed, drank down a pot of coffee, and then looked into the mirror in my entryway, straightening my shirt collar. I didn't look much the worse for wear, other than slightly bloodshot eyes.
I tried to convince myself that checking up on her was – again - the gentlemanly thing to do. I would effectively place the ball in her court. If she was interested, I would know. If she wasn't, I would know that too. Why did I care? I couldn't even really explain it. I could tell myself that I was just making sure that she was okay. I could tell myself that it had been okay for me to give in to my baser urges when she leaned against me, but that was lame.
I took a cab to her apartment, and the closer I got to her building, the more I realized I was letting myself in for a big letdown. She was a high-profile socialite and me, a struggling executive assistant. Not only was I out of her league socially, but financially. Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.
I arrived at the apartment, saw the panel of buzzers on the outside. She had swiped in with a card, but unescorted visitors needed to buzz in. Nameplates next to the buzzers only provided initials, individualized tabs of metal screwed into the plate that could be replaced when tenants moved in or moved out. I found the one for K.Q. and pressed it. A moment later, I heard her tinny voice.
"Who is it?"
"It's Ben." For several seconds I stood there. I could imagine her wondering. I was just about to walk away when I heard her voice again.
"What the hell are you doing here? Uninvited?"
That last word was emphasized. "To be honest, I'm not quite sure, but I just didn't want you to get the wrong idea about me—"
"What happened the other night happened. I was drunk. Don't make anything more of it than there was."
"Okay." I drawled. "No need to be bitchy about it. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, that's all."
A burst of expletives barraged my ears. Then, dead silence. Too bad. I guess I was dead wrong thinking there was something more to her than the spoiled, entitled, arrogant rich girl I had read about online.
I turned away, trying to shrug the whole thing off. I wasn't going to apologize for being a man, and while I'd hoped things might have turned out differently, I certainly wasn't going to go home crying about it. Sometimes, that's what you got by trying to be a nice guy. Sometimes, I wished I wasn't, but… whatever.
At least I had made the gesture, and if she wasn't smart enough to accept the fact that I had come, if not to apologize, then to at least make sure she was okay, that was on her. Dammit though, I still couldn't help feel attracted to her. I knew that beneath that tough, arrogant, and yes, bitchy exterior, there was someone lost deep inside. Don't ask me where I got that opinion, but maybe in her I saw kindred spirit.
When I had gotten dumped two years ago, I had gone through a pretty rough time. While most guys don't admit things like this, I realized that my heart had indeed been broken. It came out of left field, too, which only made it worse. I'd been naïve, not wanting to see anything wrong with my relationship with Chastity. I'd been blinded by my own love and devotion to her. Don't get me wrong. I'm not a suck up. I don't let women walk all over me, boss me around, or act like they're better than me. But I was brought up in a household where women were respected. Maybe it was the fact that Chastity had been my second serious relationship, one that went so far as to ask her to marry me. Then I found out she was sleeping with another guy. One who had more money and a better job than me. Needless to say, I didn't have that much experience with the opposite sex. Then.
Chastity taught me a lesson. It had taken over a year before I had even gone out on a date after that, and I had made it clear in the beginning that it was just a date, nothing more. I wasn't looking for any long-term relationships. I still wasn't. But there was something about Karen that was so damned attractive. Maybe alluring was a better word. Was I so attracted to her because I knew I couldn't have her? No, it wasn't that. I didn't care a hoot about how much money or influence someone had. No, for me, my attraction to Karen came down to simple and basic chemistry.
I had felt that chemistry zap me the moment she'd begun her tirade in the church. Instead of being off-putting and disgusting, I saw it from the other side. Brazen. A willingness to stand up for oneself, regardless of the repercussions. Oh, it was obvious that now she regretted her outburst, but nevertheless, while her timing could have been better, I admired her for the courage it had taken to speak up.
Oh well, I had struck out. Wasn't the first time, and wouldn't be the last. At street level, with the ambience of the bustling traffic, the sights, smells, and the steam of heat rising from the grates over the subway system, I hailed a taxi. Time to get home. Nothing more for me to do here.
Chapter 5
Karen
I was with Courtney, a friend I counted among my best, for an afternoon of pampering at an exclusive spa, one of my favorites uptown. I wasn't enjoying it as much as I used to. I was distracted, and couldn't help but feeling a bit guilty for the way I had gone off on Ben. Not to mention the fiasco at the church. And getting drunk. And having sex with a total stranger. At the same time, I tried to convince myself that I had done the right thing. He was a mistake, a drunken mistake. Besides, he'd gotten something out of it too, hadn't he? I certainly wasn't complaining. Even remembering bits and pieces of it, I was impressed with his skill, even then we'd both been pretty wasted.
Still, I couldn't help but recall the last words he had spoken to me over the intercom. No need to be bitchy about it. I felt bad about that. I was a bitch, and I could be extremely bitchy. And foolish, and stupid, and headstrong, and yes, I would be the first to admit that I was spoiled and suffered from feelings of entitlement. That wasn't my fault, was it? After all, my parents had given me everything I'd ever asked for. I had learned early on that throwing a tantrum was the best way to get what I wanted.
But I was twenty-six years old. Time for spoiled Karen Queen to grow up. It was obvious that if I was going to make headway in this avenue, I had to take stock. The fact that I had been dumped by Daniel Stone, one of the most eligible, rich, and handsome men in New York City for a plain Jane like Ashley Shiels was a wake-up call. I realized that there was nothing wrong with Ashley, but I did realize for the first time that beauty, a rich pedigree, and my super-focused materialism wasn't doing me any favors.
I glanced at Courtney, sitting perfectly still in her mud bath, slices of cucumbers over her eyes. She had always had my back. She'd never been too thrilled about Daniel, and I wondered what she would have the say about it if I related to her my interlude with Ben. Knowing Courtney, she would roll her eyes, shrug, and tell me that I deserved to have as much fun when and where I wanted.
I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, immersed in the mud bath, contemplating another problem. My parents were apparently forging ahead with their new plans to set me up with another guy.
"I slept with a guy the other night," I said casually.
I
heard a snort come from Courtney and turned to her. She had lifted her head, the slices of cucumber falling off her eyes and landing on the mud, so thick that they floated. "Spill."
"Well, after the fiasco at the church, which I'm sure you've heard about…" Courtney nodded. "I went to a bar and got drunk. A guy came up to me. Apparently, he'd been at the wedding ceremony too."
Courtney said nothing but merely lifted an eyebrow. "He said, ‘that was quite an entrance back there’, and then he bought me a drink. One drink turned into two, and then three, and then I lost count." I glanced at her but she merely watched me, assuming I would continue. I did. "He took me back to my apartment."
I said nothing for several moments, and finally Courtney spoke. "And you think that's a good stopping point?"
"We had sex." I shrugged. "Multiple times, multiple ways, all of them good, from what I can remember."
Courtney said nothing for several moments. As my confidant, she was more than aware of my parent's attempt to marry me off to someone. "I have an idea to stop your parents in their tracks."
"Move to California?" I said, not quite joking.
"Why don't you make an arrangement with Ben? A more permanent one?"
I hadn't expected that. No, not at all. I stared at my friend, stunned. "Aren't you listening? I basically told him to fuck off.”
"Well, do you have his phone number?"
"No."