Hold on You

by M. S. Brannon

  Thinking of Nate is all I have been doing lately. I find myself observing him whenever I can. He is very different from when we grew up as kids, and I want to know why. I want to know what happened to him that caused him to live with such anger and pain. I know most of his loathing is directed toward me, but from talking to Juanita, I understand some of it is not.

  On top of that, I am curious to know about his nightly exploits. I have heard him leave and come home at all hours of the night. Then, the next morning, he has fresh bruises on his face and a stale booze smell wafting off his skin. I assume he is getting wasted then picking fights with random people he shouldn’t, and that is where all his injuries are coming from. That is what the gossip around town seems to be regarding him, as well. Regardless, there is something tugging at the back of my mind, telling me it is much more. The biggest shock came when he brought another woman home a few days ago. Again, he is living up to the gossip because the lady at Valor said he is always trolling for girls. Yet, I was ill prepared when I actually had to witness it.

  I was sitting at the desk in the parlor room, working diligently on the new website design I was creating for the bed and breakfast, when his truck and another car pulled into the drive around three a.m. My eyes were instantly glued to the show starting to happen outside the front window. They didn’t even make it in the house before he was all over her. There was nothing romantic involved in their little encounter. It was simply raw, rough, and need in the moments it lasted. He yanked her shorts and panties off, pulled his shirt over his head, bent her over the railing attached to the front porch of his place, and started screwing her. His jeans were hanging just low enough so you could get the faintest glimpse of his ass, but it was what he was doing with his ass that had me plastered against the window.

  He rode her hard and deep; she was yelping in pleasure; and I wanted nothing more than to be in her place. It was hot. He was hot. And the entire thing had me hot and yearning in seconds. I couldn’t fight off the feeling of jealously that began to rise.

  I have never even kissed Nate, but I have always been attracted to him. I just never really wanted to pursue a romantic relationship with him. Of course, that way of thinking was ten years ago, and I have matured a lot since then.

  As soon as it started, it was over. He snagged his shirt from the ground while she picked up her clothes, too, and then she got into her car and left. There was no goodbye hug or kiss, only a simple wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am, nothing more.

  The rest of the week, I have been thinking about that night and what it would be like to have sex with Nate. He is incredibly gorgeous, rugged, and alluring. When I dream of him, I feel like I am looking at a stranger, yet when I look at his eyes, I am soon reminded of the old Nate. I am thinking more and more of how much I enjoy being around him again. I am connecting to the old feelings we had during our friendship while also unearthing new ones that were once blind to me.

  I stand from my chair and take my plate to the kitchen. After rinsing it off, I make my way upstairs to jump in the shower. I need to get my mind focused on more important things. I can’t do this. I can’t get attached to him emotionally or physically, because according to him, I need to be gone in a few days. In order to give him what he wants, I need to disconnect the feelings and focus on this project then go to California after I show Nate all the potential this place has.

  I am ready to get away from the fast paced life of New York, and I have looked a couple of places over and found San Diego is the perfect spot for me to work as well as soak in the California sun. There are several marketing positions available, and they all pay decently. It’s not as much as I was making before I was fired in New York, but it’s definitely manageable. I sent my resume in, and now I am waiting, hoping one of them takes the bait. Even if they don’t, I will find a marketing job, although hopefully I will find one that is a little less demanding and simpler.

  I hate to admit, the slower lifestyle has me thinking that I don’t need to be the head of some stuffy firm. I don’t want to be sitting in a house, watching daytime TV with nothing to do, either, but maybe I can take up a hobby. What do Californians do for a hobby? Or perhaps I can put back as much money as I can then find a way to start up my own business. Anything is possible, and I do really like the idea of working for myself, but I’ll need something to tide me over until I get settled out there. Then I will be able to research whether it is a feasible option or not.

  I run into Juanita as I pass through my bedroom door. She looks as she always does with her dark hair fastened in a bun on top of her head and her floral dress covered with her blue apron.

  “Oh, Madison honey, are you ready to show Nate what you’ve been working on? I am so excited. I think he is going to love it.” She runs her hand down my arm and gives it a gentle squeeze.

  “Yeah, I guess we will have to see.” Knowing I am not his favorite person, I can feel the doubt seeping in. “He isn’t the easiest person to talk to, though.”

  “Well, you’ll just have to show him you won’t take no for an answer. Make him see what is good about all of this, and he will come around. He usually does. It just takes him a little longer to snap out of it.”

  I can’t help wondering if she is implying something about our currently relationship or the matter of me helping him. Juanita is always dropping little hints here and there about how we used to be or about how cute we were as teenagers. She is trying to work some magic on both of us, but we are immune to it. Our time together is over. I will be satisfied if I can leave here in three days with us being comfortable strangers.

  Before I get dressed for the occasion, I help Juanita finish hanging up a white sheet then get my laptop and project ready for the presentation. Earlier this week, Juanita went to the library and discovered you can rent a digital projector. I worked with projectors all the time, so I wasted no time hooking it up to my laptop then testing to make sure it displayed. Honestly, I was super surprised the library had one. I was worried the proposal wouldn’t be very appealing if we had to hover around my laptop to watch it.

  It is just about game time, so I don the attire I usually wear for a big presentation. I dug through my box of clothes, finding my black button up shirt, gray suit jacket, matching pants, and of course, my four-inch Manolo Blahnik heels. I take an iron to the wrinkles in the fabric.

  Once I am dressed, I sweep my hair into a tight, conservative bun. Then I gather all my stuff and start to head down to the parlor. As I descend the stairs, the only thought going through my mind is acceptance.

  I really want Nate to like my idea. I feel this pressing need to help him, but in almost every interaction with him, he is rigid and cold. In my mind, I translate that to close-mindedness, which is the exact opposite of how I want him to feel.

  My knees are shaky, and the butterflies are swarming rapidly inside my stomach, making me feel nauseous. Normally, I am jumping up and down with adrenaline, similar to a NBA star getting ready to take the court. Yet, now I feel like this is a major turning point in my life, and it’s rattling my nerves.

  I want him to see how important this is to him and to me. I want him to know I can help him get the place back under control and maybe give him the closure he apparently needs to be happy. I know he hates me, and rightfully so, but I hope this will take a little bit of that pain away, at least enough to know how sorry I am. However, as I think of the word closure, it is hard not to recognize the sadness that seeps in.

  I care for Nate. I always have, but recently, those feelings have been entirely different than they were before. I am no longer wondering how I can escape. I am wondering how I can make this my epic return and if I should.

  I make it to the parlor to find Nate sitting on the couch and Juanita yapping his ear off. He must have no idea what is about to happen, and I am sure it will take some coaxing to get him to stay. She will be my ally, my secret weapon to get him to hear me out and actually carry a lengthy conversation with me.

  I pass
through the doorway and open up my laptop, displaying the website I designed on the plain white sheet. Nate stops in mid-sentence and looks at the picture displayed on the wall then back at me. I can’t immediately tell if he is pissed or not. His demeanor is as it always is: indifferent. I take that as a good sign and clear my throat.

  Okay, Madison, just don’t fuck this up, because he needs this and so … so do you, I say to myself then begin showing him what I have been working on for the past four days.

  “…and this would be your new web design.”

  Madison is flipping through the screens, showing me an elaborate yet user-friendly website for the Wakefield Bed and Breakfast. It boasts pictures of the grounds, breathtaking views of the cliffs, attractions in and near town, and prices. She is dressed like she is in a business meeting and looks weird. She is still hot, just different. Then I can’t help wondering if this is how her ex-boyfriend expected her to dress.

  “But this is one of a few cost-effective changes you can make to enhance the appeal of your business and highlight the beauty of your property.”

  All Nita said when she pulled me in here was to sit and listen to what was being said. She didn’t elaborate. Hell, she didn’t tell me it would be Madison doing the talking. I assumed she was going to tell me something horrible.

  The night my parents were killed, I was sitting in this very room with her holding my hands, the look of despair in her brown eyes. It was devastating. I had just started to slowly move past my heartbreak on the cliffs with Madison, and then she went and blew up my world. Back to square one, I was consumed in anger and found myself mad at the person who started it all: Madison.

  Nita doesn’t have that look now, but she does look a little desperate, so when Madison walked through, I knew immediately I was being set up. I rose to my feet, trying like hell to get out of there, but Nita slapped me on the back and ordered me to sit down.

  So here I am, forced to look at something I don’t want to see, coming from a woman whose voice I don’t want to hear. In fact, this entire presentation is pretentious, from every word she speaks to her stuck up clothing, that goddamn bun on her head that I just want to rip out, and that stupid sheet I want to rip off the wall after I break her damn computer.

  Pissed, I stand to my feet and blurt out, “What makes you think you can dictate how I run my business? Have you ever been in charge of anything in your entire life?”

  I turn to Nita who is scolding me with her eyes. I ignore her and turn my cold glare back to Madison who has her hands on her hips, stewing in her own anger. She is trying to rein in her fury, but I can see it is bubbling under the surface of her skin. I know I can push her to unleash it and hopefully give up and leave this place for good. I am ready to get back to the way things were before she got here.

  “In fact, I’ve been in charge of several large projects at the firm I used to work for, Nate.” With every word she speaks, Madison moves one step closer to me, showing me she isn’t going to back down.

  Bubble away, baby, because I want to see you explode with anger.

  “And look how well that turned out for you, darling,” I snap back, motioning around the room.

  “Nice, Nate. Why don’t you punch me in the face? I don’t think you’ve been cruel enough since I’ve been here, you dick.”

  I can’t help smirking when Madison insults me. The obscenity coming from her mouth is sexy as hell, as is the mere fact that I am pushing Madison to her brink. God, I am a sick fuck, aren’t I?

  “Oh, baby, you have no idea how cruel I can be,” I reply. She doesn’t. She has no idea how dark and twisted my mind can be when I am left to my own devices.

  After Madison left me and the initial shock wore off, I completely snapped into the person I am today. I thought of only revenge for the longest time. I wanted her to suffer the way I had been suffering. I wanted her to hurt and only know what it felt like to truly be in pain. After a few years went by, I slowly started erasing those thoughts. Then my parents died, and the rest of my life started to wildly spin downward, and all the hate I had for Madison boiled back to the surface.

  I know I probably shouldn’t, but I blame her for my life after she left. After all, if she had never left, I would never have felt all this rage. I know I would have been able to cope with the loss of my parents, and I would have never killed someone I was supposed to love.

  The picture burning a hole in my pocket flashes through my mind, and my heart bleeds for the excruciating loss I have suffered. Lisa is gone. It is all simply gone, and now I want her to be gone.

  “Look, all I wanted to do was help you, Nate. That’s it. So, if you’re going to be a stubborn asshole about it, then I will call it all off and get the hell out of here.”

  “Help?” I question sarcastically and roll my eyes at her. “How the hell will all of this help me?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to explain if you’d just shut up and listen for a second!” Her voice projects her disdain, and every word she speaks is harsher than the one before. It makes me want to lose it on her.

  Consumed in a raging ocean of emotions over this pretentious woman, I step to her and meet her toe for toe. She is pissing me off, so much so that it is making me want to drink or smack her across her smart mouth. I know I am doing the same to her.

  Madison rolls her shoulders back when I approach her, making our chests touch. Her breasts are firm as they press against my chest. Her breath grazes my face, and the dizzying smell of her perfume has me starting to spin.

  I can feel old desires starting to stir from the depths of my body. She is unearthing emotions and passions I locked away. My body is starting to come alive with anticipation of what it would feel like to press her soft lips to mine or feel her delicate flesh grazing against mine. It worries me. This should be my warning. I should recognize the Madison Stone I am confronting will never change. If I were to allow myself to feel those deep feelings for Madison again, she will only burn me in the process. I simply can’t allow that to happen.

  I lean down and get my lips very close to hers. If I was to move a half inch closer, we would be kissing, and God help me if that happens. Still, I want her to feel chaotic like me.

  I lean close and whisper in her ear, living up to my asshole persona. “Maddie … Madison, it’s not me who needs to shut up.” I lean in more then move my mouth closer to her earlobe, grazing it with my lips. I feel her breath hitch with anticipation, and it makes me excited in return “If you’d like, I can find something to do with that mouth of yours.”

  Madison expels her breath, and I can feel the daggers she is penetrating me with. She steps back slightly, and the next thing I know, a stinging pain explodes across my face. She retracts her hand, holding it against her chest, while I am slightly thrown off from being slapped. My cheek throbs, but it is nothing compared to the fury she has lit. I want nothing more than to slap her back, but that would be considered wrong, no matter how much some woman deserve it. And right now, that woman is Madison.

  I attempt to open my mouth to speak when Nita shouts from behind us, “Stop that right now, both of you!” She comes to our side and pulls us apart by our arms. “Nate, she is only trying to help, so you need to shut your mouth and listen to what she’s saying. If her plan works out, she can help save this place, and you of all people know how much we need that to happen.” She turns to Madison and scolds her, as well. “As for you, missy. You need to be a little more patient with him. It hasn’t been easy for him or anyone, for that matter, since you shattered his heart, the Wakefields’ passed, and … everything else. You need to recognize that!”

  “Nita!” I shout, not wanting to look vulnerable any more than I feel. Madison doesn’t need to know how I have struggled so much since she left.

  “Well, she needs to know what is going on with you,” Nita simply says then goes back to the couch and sits down.

  The frustrated look on Madison’s face evaporates and is soon replaced with pity, something I do
not need now. The last thing I want is her feeling sorry for me.

  I run my hand over my head and assume this conversation is a bust. However, Nita is right. I do need help getting this place back on the map. Maybe I should consider what she has to say and that it could really be successful.

  I turn to Madison, clarifying what Nita was talking about. “Don’t assume all of this”—I motion to my angry face—“only has to do with you. You’re not the only thing that’s left over the years, so spare me the fucking pity. Okay?”

  Madison backs down and nods her head. Then she clears her throat and returns to her presentation. “Building marketing plans and helping businesses is what I did for a living, and I was good at it. When I started, I worked with a lot of small business owners, like you, and ended up putting together multimillion dollar deals for huge corporations. I know what I’m doing, Nate, and I meant what I said when I told you all I want to do is help.”

  “So, what are you proposing, Madison?” I ask, hoping to God it is something I can do.

  “The first thing I noticed is the amenities need to be upgraded.”

  “Like what? I hardly have the money to hire a butler or install gold-plated toilet seats. Although, some of the assholes who come here think they deserve them.” I hate the stuffed shirt types. They insist they are entitled to extravagant shit all the time. I would like them to lend a hand when it comes to picking up after themselves. I can’t believe how disgusting the rich folks can be.

  “Well, since I know how you feel about those assholes”—she raises her hands and puts air quotes around the word asshole, making me smile—“you need to market more toward families and have the amenities to match. For example, add a playground outside, have bikes for rent so families can cruise around and explore the town, and get Wi-Fi.” Madison gives me an are you kidding me look and continues, “Seriously, Nate, you need to have internet.”