Selling Satisfaction

by Ashley Beale

  He shrugs it off. "Don't worry about it. Emily leaves in two days, I want to spend time with her." He starts to walk past me. I should let him go, I wanted to break ties with him, but for some damn reason I reach out and grab his shirt before he can get away from me.

  Stopping, Everett looks down at my hand, then slowly makes his way to look me in the eyes. I try to plead with him from my stare alone. "That came out wrong. I do want to hang out with you, I'm just..." I drop my hand, exasperated.

  "Brenna." I look up when he says my name with meaning. "I'm not forcing you to hang out with me. And if you do hang out with me, I'm not forcing you to do anything you don't want to do. Friends, remember?"

  His words cause me to smile. I can tell he is being sincere in what he says- and I'm thankful he understands my anxiety over everything. Nodding, I say, "Friends."

  "So if you want to hang out with me Sunday, great, if you don't... well, maybe one day I'll be good enough for you." He tries to play it off with a smile of his own, but he fails. I can tell it's not sincere, he wants more than friends, but I'll ignore it for now.

  "You're too good for me," I correct him. "Sunday works great." Before any more can be said, I add in. "I really do have to get going. It was good seeing you." Then I walk away, because I'm pretty certain I've screwed up far too much already. For both him and I.

  *~*~*

  I pop a Styrofoam cup of chicken flavored noodles into the microwave before answering my text. Hillarie wanted all the details of my interaction with Everett- including how I thought Emily was his pregnant girlfriend. I don't miss out on any details, embarrassing or not.

  She calls it romantic, I call the altercation pathetic. She believes it all to be fate, preparing us for a beautiful future to tell our non-existent grandchildren about, I make sure to remind her there is nothing beautiful about my future, one of which will have no kids. The most recent message from Hillarie reads, So what are y'all doing Sunday?

  As I start typing out that I have no freaking clue about plans, someone knocks on the door. Looking down, I sort of laugh to myself. If it's Everett again, he's going to realize that my pajamas are never much of anything. Light pink silk shorts and a matching camisole. At least this time I have a bra on.

  Except when I look through the peephole it's not Everett- although now that I glance at his sister from this perspective, I do notice how much they look alike. Opening the door, I smile at Emily. "Hey?"

  "Hey! So um, I cooked far more than necessary. Sure you don't want to join us for dinner?"

  "Ah, I see Everett's smooth entrapments are a thing of the families. Thanks for the invite, but I am in the middle of cooking my dinner right now."

  "No trap, just thought I'd ask." The microwave beeps to signal my soup is done. Emily's brows both lift, along with the side of her mouth. "What'cha cooking?"

  "Soup."

  "Oh, delicious. Well, if you'd like some double battered deep fried chicken tenders or seasoned home fries, come on down. It'd be great getting to know you. And if you're not hungry, we're going to play some five card draw."

  I look at her questionably. "Five card draw? I've never heard of it."

  "Poker. You've never played?"

  "Can't say I have."

  "Awesome. Grab your soup, and a robe..." she looks my clothes- or lack of- over. "And come join us." I'm starting to think Everett didn't send her up like I had originally assumed, I truly think this is all a ploy of hers.

  I bark out a laugh. "Smooth. I'm really not up for the company though. I appreciate it all the same, but I think I want to sit back and relax."

  Everything cute and fun about Emily seems to evaporate before my eyes. "Listen, what is going on with my brother?" She crosses her arm. I can see her defenses pick up, and I swallow back a bit of fear. She thinks I'm playing games- but that couldn't be further from the truth.

  "We're strictly friends."

  "Friends play poker," she quips.

  "I get it, why you're so defensive. You're being protective, and I don't blame you for that. If I had a sibling, I'd be the same way. You don't have to worry about me. I don't want a relationship with your brother, or anyone for that matter, which is why I'm keeping a distance. I haven't given him any pretenses or hope for something that isn't there. I'm not leading him on. I'm not being a flirt or a whore or any of that. I'm trying to hold back, and limit my time with him, no lines get crossed or feelings get hurt."

  She sighs loudly, uncrossing her arms, only to rub her belly unconsciously. "He likes you, Brenna. Probably more than friends, but he won't say as much. I see the way he glances out the kitchen window at you, or in the way he says your name, and when you two were talking earlier, it wasn't hard to decipher his feelings. So whether you mean to or not, he's falling for you. If you honestly don't want anything with him, then maybe you should back off altogether. None of this lets be friend’s bullshit. Guys and girls y’alls age can't be friends without some lines being crossed."

  "I've been nothing but honest," I start to plead, but she doesn't miss a beat when she continues.

  "And he takes it as playing hard to get. Maybe that has a lot to do with it, why he's so smitten with you. Can I ask you why? Why don't you want a relationship with my brother?"

  I hate that this conversation is taking a turn for a territory I don't want to touch, even more so over the fact it's in the doorway to my condo. "If we're going to talk about this, then can you come in and sit?"

  She walks in without a word, and heads straight for the kitchen. She cozies herself up at the bar, while I get my soup from the microwave, grabbing a fork before I sit down beside her. I mix the noodles as I think of what to say, and to remind myself what to keep buried.

  "I have a horrible past, the greater part of the last twelve years have been... awful. I don't like myself most days. I have addictions and secrets and a lot of self-misery. I don't have many friends. I do have a job I love, and I make a lot of money, and I don't want him to interrupt that, or anything for that matter. He wouldn't be able to accept me as I am. He looks at me and he sees a nice body, a cute face, a game as you said. He doesn't see me, and my scars, and the fact that I'd bring him down hill so fast he would resent me for years to come. It isn't worth it, not for either of us."

  The way a mom would, she reaches over and holds my hand under hers. Her eyes try to read mine. I see the pity in them, which isn't what I wanted at all. I only wanted her to see the picture more clearly, and maybe she can find a better way to explain it all to Everett. I said far more than I wanted to, but everything that I needed to. Giving another reason as to why I need to stay away, I continuously give too many hints about who I am.

  "What happened to your parents?" She asks.

  Closing my eyes, I shake my head- not necessarily in answer, but to try and erase my thoughts. Any time I'm asked something like that- which with being in foster care for so long, it got asked a lot- I immediately picture their bodies lying there, lifeless and covered in the crimson red. "It doesn't matter." I open my eyes and can feel the moisture set in place, brimming to the point of almost falling down my cheek, so I try to blink the tears away. "It's all in the past."

  "Our parents died in a car crash a few years ago. It was my graduation day. They got to see me get my diploma, but before the ceremony was done, it started to drizzle outside. I gave them hugs and kisses, and told them I was riding with my friend Sasha to the graduation party a few of the parents were putting together for a group of us. Apparently the brakes in their car were messed up, but no one knew, and with the slick of the freshly wet roads, they didn't get to stop at a red light. A big Mack truck went through the intersection. They both died on scene."

  I hate that her story causes my tears to fall- but she instantly joins in. We both sit there and silently cry for a moment, staring at one another.

  For the first time in years, I tell the story of what happened, feeling confident that Emily will keep this with her, rather than gossiping to everyone she runs int
o- meaning Everett. "The night before I turned eight, I heard my parents arguing over something. I came in the kitchen to see if everything was alright, and all I can remember really was my dad slamming the fridge door, a beer in hand as he rushes past me to the living room. My mom sat at the kitchen table holding a thick envelope, crying about something. I had asked her if everything was alright, and she looked at me with the same green eyes I have, trying desperately to smile back. She nodded her head, told me it was a silly fight that parents are bound to have, then sent me off to brush my teeth and get into bed. The next morning it was supposed to be my birthday party. I was excited it was on my birthday, and that my best friend from two towns over was going to be there. I had asked for a slip and slide, and a new bike. I knew I was getting the bike because I had peeked into the garage earlier that day and seen it partly covered with a blanket." I smile at the thought. It was purple and black with a small basket on the front of it. The same one I had circled in the ads the previous month. I couldn't believe that no matter how much my parents talked about how broke they were, they had managed to get me that bike.

  "I couldn't sleep that night from all the excitement. I remember glancing over at the clock, and it was after midnight, meaning I was officially eight. The thought only kept me awake, so I climbed out of bed. There was just enough moonlight illuminating in the bedroom that I could see the corner pretty well. I grabbed a few Barbie’s and sat there, playing silently. Then I heard screaming from my mom. It was blood curdling. I froze in place, and listened more closely. She sounded she was pleading for my dad to stop, but I didn't understand. Then I heard the loudest popping sound. Seconds later I heard a second. Then... silence."

  This is the part that is always the hardest for me, and it takes me a second to speak. I have to look down at my soup, as I mindlessly stir it with my fork. Something to keep my focus on anything besides the pain. "After a few minutes I had to go see what the sound was. It took a few minutes for me to register what had happened. My mom was laying on the bed, in her hand she held a framed picture of the two us from two years prior. My dad was at the foot of the bed, sprawled across the floor. Both of them with gunshot wounds, covered in their own blood, completely stilled and breathless."

  I hear Emily's gasp, which reminds me that I'm not reliving this story, I'm retelling it- to someone that isn't a counselor. I stop right there, unable to say anything more. I've said too much. Way too much. I look up at her, tears streaming down both our faces. "Please keep this between us. Please. I don't want Everett to know."

  "Why?" she whispers, barely audible.

  "He'll judge me. Then he'll judge my dad. I don't know the answers, what I do know is that he wasn't that kind of man. He loved my mom, and he loved me. And... It hurts still."

  She climbs off her stool to reach around me, holding me to her as I sob. I've never even told Hillarie that story before, and I almost hate myself for spilling it out to Emily. However, even with the regret of telling her, I feel more comfort than I've felt in over a decade from her hug alone. So I let her stay this way for a little while. Until she lets go, and I start to feel empty once more.

  "The cops never figured out what happened?" She asks, as she takes a seat again.

  A bitter, dishearten laugh comes out. "Right, because they care. No, they took me to my aunt, who after a week decided she couldn't handle a weeping, mournful child, then they took me to a foster home. I tried to tell the detective on the case that they were abusive, but he shrugged his shoulders and told me if I behaved they'd leave me be. So I tried desperately, but it never ended. Some homes were great, others not so much, but from that moment on I knew that I couldn't trust the cops. They never wanted to help me, they never wanted to figure out my parent's case. I hate the police. I think of them as... egotistical, selfish assholes."

  "Oh," she pauses. She almost looks offended- then I think back when Everett got offensive when I mentioned I didn't trust the cops, and I put two and two together.

  With a gasp, I hold my hand to my mouth. "Your dad was a cop, wasn't he? Oh my God, I'm sorry." I drop my hand, shaking my head back and forth with despair. "That makes total sense. No wonder Everett got upset when I told him I didn't trust the police. No offense to him at all, I'm sure they're not all bad. I just haven't had the best experience with them, that's all."

  Emily starts to smile but I can see it's fake. "You're fine. No offense at all, honestly. I find it sad that you've had such horrible experiences with the ones you've dealt with. You're right though, they're not all bad."

  She bites down on her lip as she hops off the stool. "Well, I should probably head back down to Everett, I'm sure he's already dug into the food and is wondering where I am. He gets a little protective of me."

  "You're lucky you know, to have someone care about you like that."

  She grins, placing her hand on my leg as she looks me directly in the eye. "If you'd let him in, he'd show you the same affection. I know you think you've lead a crestfallen life, but all that has made you who you are, and honestly, I think you're incredible. You have strength and confidence, and you obviously bust your ass to be able to afford a place like this on your own. If you're only shutting Everett out because you believe you're protecting one other, then you're doing everything wrong. Give it a try, the worse that could happen is that it doesn't work out. It's a tragedy to not even attempt anything."

  With that, all my reasoning flies out the window. I sit here for a moment to ponder what she said, and all my inner arguments. Nothing comes to mind why I can't try- aside from my job. Maybe my history isn't so bad, after all the past is the past. It's what I'm doing now that I don't want him to find out about.

  A majority of my clients have affairs but still love their significant other. Maybe I can do this. Maybe.

  "Wait," I call out. Emily pauses while shutting the door behind her. She peeks back in at me curiously. "I'll go grab a tee-shirt. I'll come play cards with you."

  Her smile spreads ear to ear. She knows she’s gotten to me.

  Chapter Twelve

  Everett

  Pacing back and forth, I glance at the clock. She's been gone fifteen minutes. What is taking so long? She went up to ask Brenna to join us for dinner, not to interrogate her. I should have known this was a bad idea. I should have known she'd sit and ask thirty questions, probably scaring Brenna off for good.

  I'm giving her exactly five more minutes to get here, or I'm heading up there to fetch Emily. Then I'm going to demand her to stop meddling into my life. It's obvious Brenna wants nothing to do with me. If she did, she'd find far better excuses to not come around. Not bullshit like changing her damn cats litter box.

  I thought we had something.

  The way I see it is I'm twenty six years old. I know she is younger but it can't be by much. I'm ready to settle down, I'm sick of being a bachelor. I'm ready to come home from a hectic day on the job, relax with the woman of my dreams while we watch a show on TV and eat take out. Once we're full, we can head into the bedroom to rub each other down, getting all the kinks out of one another’s bodies until we can't handle touching each other any longer, then the two of us will roll around between the sheets until we're too exhausted to go at it any longer.

  Fuck. The mere thought of doing anything with Brenna in the bedroom gets me going. I have to adjust my pants so it doesn't look like my dick is getting larger by the second. Especially knowing my sister will be walking through that door at any second- or at least, she better be.

  Three minutes remain.

  Maybe I am wasting my time. She's given me enough hints that she doesn't want anything. They're not even hints, she's blunt about it all. She doesn't want a relationship, she doesn't want more than a friendship, she doesn't want to cross any lines. Deep down I honestly thought she was playing hard to get, but I'm starting to think it was no ploy at all. She's impossible to get.

  Which means, she's probably more deserving of love than anyone else, but I can't risk my entire world bein
g shattered over a woman that clearly wants nothing to do with me. So maybe I should give up.

  Two minutes remain.

  The thing is, is I don't want to give up... yet.

  I shouldn’t even be contemplating this right now though. I should be eating the chicken and home fries Emily cooked, drinking some beers while we play poker, and I should enjoy my time spent with Emily before she leaves. Brenna should be the last thing on my mind.

  Except, she's consumed my every thought lately. At work, on the drive home, before I fall asleep at night, in the shower, and every moment in between.

  One minute.

  Some of my thoughts are dirtier than they should be, some are playful, some are plain curiosity. Either way, she's taken over. Which is ridiculously poignant.

  Thirty seconds. I'm heading up.

  Reaching for my keys, I head straight for the door, but the moment before I open it I hear an echo of a laugh on the other side. I know that laugh, I've come to love that laugh.

  The door opens and in walks Emily with Brenna by her side, both of them smiling- although, for some strange reason I notice that Brenna is a little blotchy, like she's been crying. I eye Emily curiously, but I don't think she notices. I'm sure I'll get all the details later- probably because I'm going to make her tell me them.

  "I see Emily conned you into joining," I say to Brenna.

  She rolls her eyes playfully. "I was promised food and booze."

  "Well I think the food is cold, but we definitely have both those things."

  "She was going to eat Ramen noodles," Emily says- her face pinches at the mere thought.

  Since that is the main thing I have in my cupboards, I shrug. "Happens."

  We all fill our plates, and I grab a couple beers to bring out to the table. "I hope you like beer," I tell Brenna. "If not, I believe I have some whiskey somewhere around here."

  "Beer is great, thanks."

  I hand her one after popping the top off, and I'm not going to lie when I admit that watching her press the glass bottle to her lips before tilting her head back as she takes a big swig, is probably one of the most seductive things I've seen her do. I like the idea she is okay with drinking beer- a lot of girls turn their noses up at it- and even more so the way she smiles at me when she sets the bottle down.