Sweet Rome (Sweet Home)

by Tillie Cole

  Pulling back and meeting my eyes, Mol said, “No, you shouldn’t have. What would’ve been the point? We both knew that you being in an ‘official’ relationship was going to cause some talk.”

  “Yeah, but he’s had it coming for a long time, babe. He fuckin’ deserves a good beat down.”

  I could see her thinking, always fucking thinking. Staring me straight in the eye, she asked, “Why was he so hostile towards you in the first place?”

  Shit! I never wanted my past to affect her. I was so ashamed of the way I’d been living before she came into my life.

  “What?” she asked, swallowing in apprehension at my refusal to speak.

  “I… I—” Dammit! I couldn’t tell her… She’d hate me, be ashamed.

  Golden eyes clouded and she pressed, “You what?”

  I panicked. I didn’t want what we’d just found with each other to be put in jeopardy. I needed her to still want me the same as this morning, as last night.

  “Just spit it out, Rome,” she said, but this time with much more force.

  Focusing on the ground, I admitted, “I fucked his girl a few months back.”

  Looking back up, I could see the disappointment in her expression and she stepped back, hands out in dismissal, rejecting me.

  Fucking Michaels!

  “Now you’re pissed at me. I’m totally kicking his ass now!”

  I couldn’t take that look of censure in her eyes, but when I turned to go, a soft hand gripped mine. “Leave him,” she whispered quietly.

  “You’re pissed, aren’t you?”

  “Well, I’m not exactly doing backflips on hearing that you shagged his girlfriend, am I?”

  A whole load of hurt was evident in her voice, but her speaking to me so shittily, on top of everything so far today, really pissed me off.

  “I’ll let that go since you’re clearly annoyed, and I suppose justifiably,” I said moodily. And then she surprised me again by fucking smirking at me.

  She was now finding it all funny? Christ almighty, I had no idea what the hell to think! One minute she was pissed, the next laughing… complete mindfuck.

  “Did you hear what he said about you?” I pushed.

  Shrugging, she answered, “Yes, but I don’t care, never have cared what others thought of me.” She was telling the truth; the bland expression on her face told me so.

  “Come on, sit down with me a while longer.” My girl held out her hand, but I couldn’t take it. This kind of treatment was only going to continue. I’d done a lot of shit in the last few years, stuff that I’d give anything to take back at this moment. I needed to put a stop to it.

  “Mol, let me just sort the fucker once and for all. It’ll send a message to everyone else to leave us be. There are a lot of assholes who I’ve pissed off that’ll enjoy ragging on us being together.”

  But she wouldn’t have it and held out her hand again, nodding sternly for me to take it. She looked so damn cute, being all insistent. I friggin’ loved this girl. “Fuck, Mol, I’ll be getting a new rep—Rome Prince, newest member of Pussy Whipped-R-Us!”

  We sat down under a tree and I held on to Molly tightly. She played with my fingers, softly kissing each one, and I caught our friends watching us, a mix of disbelief and happiness on their faces.

  Being with Molly just made me better. She made everything in my life better.

  “What the hell is this?” My eyes closed in exasperation as I recognized the voice.

  “Ahh, fuck off, Shel. I’ve had enough of dealing with assholes for one day!” Looking up into her eyes, I could see she knew I was referring to our earlier showdown outside the gym.

  “Are you seriously with her?” The surprise on her face was comical. She knew I liked Molly; she’d made that clear, maybe even expected me to fuck her, but she obviously never thought that anything had come of it, that she’d become my girl.

  Smiling at her shell-shocked face, I leaned down and took Molly’s mouth with my own—friggin’ went for it, roughly, possessively—showing Shelly and anyone else who was still rubbernecking that she was mine.

  Breaking away, I answered, “Yep, I seriously am.”

  “You know he won’t stay with you, don’t you, darlin’?” Shelly directed at Mol.

  “And why’s that?”

  “Because Momma and Daddy Prince won’t accept a money-grabbin’ whore with their son, and they can be real persuasive. They want me and they’ll get me, you can count on that.” My heart fell at the mention of my folks, it was the one gray area I had with Mol. The one part of my life I’d kept private from her.

  “Funny, a money-grabbing whore—that’s exactly what Rome said about you.” I almost pissed myself in laughter, but when Shelly lunged forward, fury on her face, screaming, “You’re nothing! A pure piece of—”

  I had to interrupt.

  “Shut your evil mouth, and get the fuck on before I do something I regret.”

  Shelly wisely stepped back from Mol, but when she looked at me, the blood in my veins turned to ice. “I’ll give it a month and then we’ll see what your folks do. You’ll be back in my arms in no time. Your momma’s gonna flip!”

  In that moment, I knew my time was up. Shelly would tell my folks about me officially being with Mol, and I, quite honestly, didn’t know what the hell they would do. Shelly seemed convinced of her plan, though, and that smartass gleam in her eyes caused me to bite out, “I’d never touch you again and wouldn’t be with you if you were the last person on Earth. You’re a bitter, vindictive bitch. As for my folks, I’m quickly learning to not give a shit what they say anymore. I want Mol and she wants me. End of discussion. Nothing you or my folks do will make a damn bit of difference to change that. Now leave us the fuck alone.”

  I registered the gossiping around us, so I shouted, “That applies to everyone—leave us the fuck alone or deal with me! The next person who interferes or even breathes wrong in our direction, I won’t be so fuckin’ lenient with!”

  Shelly quickly bailed, and the onlookers turned away. But Mol, Mol was freaking out. She’d gone all quiet, closed in on herself. “Don’t listen to her, okay? What she said, they’re just words. Don’t mistake them for truth.”

  Without answering me, Mol got up and walked away to sit on her own. She’d gone from complete anonymity to being the subject of the campus rumor mill in a matter of minutes and was obviously not handling it well. The reality of being with me was smacking her right in the face, full force.

  I left her on her own for as long as I could manage, then crouched before her, stating, “You’ve gone all quiet on me, Shakespeare. I don’t like it.”

  “I’m good, baby. Don’t worry.” She tried to assure me, but I could see through her bullshit. I decided to keep going with the exposure—like a Band-Aid, ripping it off quick, showing as many people as possible that we were together. Then hopefully things would settle down.

  We made plans to go out with our friends after this weekend’s game, and Molly seemed slightly less tense as I led her to class, her hand in mine. I just prayed that from this point on, our lives would be less… dramatic.

  17

  “Molly…” Kiss. “Baby…” Kiss. “Shakespeare…” Kiss.

  I moved down the bed, pressing soft kisses along Molly’s neck, her collarbone, and back up to her pouting mouth.

  Groaning, she lifted her hand and pushed me away, bringing the covers back over her body—she wasn’t good with early mornings. Cracking open an eye, Mol spotted me, still hovering above her, and buried her head in the pillow.

  I couldn’t help but laugh, and I ripped down the quilt. “Baby, I’m going. I got practice until this afternoon.”

  Rolling her head and sighing in defeat, she looked at me, asking, “You’ll be gone all day?” as she wiped the sleep from her eyes.

  “Yeah, I’ll call you later, okay?”

  Grinning, she hooked her arm around my neck, bringing me to her mouth. A hand landed on a loop on the waistband of my jeans,
and she pulled me on top of her, wrapping her legs around my waist. Using my arms to brace myself above her, I met her mouth hungrily before laughing again against her lips.

  “Mmm… I want you,” she murmured, gripping onto me like a damn spider monkey.

  “I need to go, baby. I gotta get to practice.”

  “No, you need to stay with me.” I reached up to my neck, breaking her grip. She finally opened both eyes and pouted. “Pretty please?” she said in her damn cute accent.

  Pinning her arms above her head, I leaned in and nipped at her bottom lip. “If you keep begging me, I will fuck you, Mol, okay? I’ll tie you to the damn bed and fuck you… hard. I’m trying to be a gentleman and wait until you’re ready, but you’re making it damn difficult.” Her breath caught, and she arched up to lick the bottom of my throat, causing me to growl in response.

  “I’m thinking that sounds pretty good, Rome. I’m starting to wonder what the hell we’re waiting for anyway? I’m ready.”

  That stilled me, and when a teasing friggin’ smile spread on her lips, telling me she was joking, I backed off the bed, saying, “Careful, little girl…”

  Tucking herself back under the covers, she closed her eyes. “Have fun at practice. I’m going back to sleep to dream naughty dreams about you… and me… and what would’ve happened if you’d stayed right here instead of going to football to grunt and play with other men.” And damn but she did; within seconds she was out, the little temptress, leaving me with a hard-on from hell.

  By midday, I was pretty much done. Coach had pushed us all to breaking point, getting us prepped for the game this weekend. Going back to my locker, I grabbed my cell and headphones, needing music for my weights, when a caller flashed on the screen: Momma. I tried to think what the hell she could want. She never talked to me; hell, months could go by and we wouldn’t even have said two words to one another.

  The call went off, but when she started to call again, I groaned and answered, “Momma?”

  “Rome, I need a favor.” Straight to the point. But at least there was no pretense when it came to her and me. She had no problem with how she treated me, didn’t hide her complete disregard for me as her son.

  “Yeah?”

  “I need a signed jersey for a charity luncheon I’m hosting tomorrow. I assume you can arrange that?”

  “Yeah, I can get it for you. When do you need it by?”

  There was a pause, and then she said, “I’m actually going to be at lunch this afternoon. Could you arrange it within the next couple of hours and drop it by?”

  “I’m doing weights in the gym now, so that should be okay. Where will you be?”

  “Lorenzo’s downtown. Let’s say one thirty?”

  “Fine.”

  And with that, she cut the line, no good-bye or thanks.

  I poured out all the tension in my body through my weights. It was always this way when I spoke to my momma. It was like I had some fucked-up Stockholm syndrome or something. I had a drive within me that always did what she asked without argument, always striving for her praise. I literally had no memories of her being attentive, of being loving, no memory I could recall where I’d made her proud. All I had were memories of pain, not physical—no, my daddy was the one who used his fists—but the pain of her hostility toward me, her utter disdain that she had me as her son.

  Moving to the free weights to do my set of squats, I couldn’t help but remember all the times I’d tried and failed to gain her approval. The earliest memory was Mother’s Day when I was about six. My teacher’d had the class creating cards to give to our mommas after school.

  I remember going home, excited, hopeful that what I’d done would make her happy. I searched the house from top to bottom and eventually found her in the parlor at the back of our huge house, drinking again. At the time I didn’t realize my momma was a drunk.

  I ran in, proudly showing the red card, a picture of a heart on the front, the message inside reading “I love you so much, Momma.”

  I remember her rolling her eyes as I entered the room, asking, “What the hell do you want? I’m busy.”

  Walking over, smiling wide, convinced that this would be the day she told me she loved me, I presented her the card—I wanted her to know that I loved her too.

  Putting her scotch on the tabletop, she took the card and read the message in silence. I held my breath, my heart beating fast with nerves. But then she lifted her head and began laughing and laughing, and I began to cry as she tore the red card in two, throwing the destroyed message to the floor at my feet. At my tears, she just laughed even harder.

  Picking up her drink, she stared out of the window, refusing to meet my eyes, and said, “Don’t ever make me something like that ever again. It’s insulting.”

  And I never have. I never cried in front of her again after that day either.

  Christ. I was six.

  Coach suddenly stood before me and pulled my Beats headphones from my ears. “Enough, Rome. You’re pushing too hard. You don’t want to pick up an injury.”

  Throwing the heavy weighted barbell on the floor, I picked up my towel and hit the showers. The team signed the crimson home jersey and I made my way across town.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes. As I approached Lorenzo’s restaurant, planning to make this short and sweet, I immediately spotted my momma outside on the terrace. Sitting next to her was Mrs. Blair and friggin’ Shelly on the opposite side, all three of them smiling and laughing—the perfect high society image.

  It quickly became apparent that I’d been set up. So, turning slowly, I moved to walk away when I heard, “Rome, where are you going? We’re right here!” Taking a deep breath, I turned around to see my momma on her feet, Shelly and Mrs. Blair smiling brightly my way.

  Keep calm. Play it cool. Get through it, I told myself as I took a second deep, relaxing breath. I didn’t want to make a scene, didn’t want to make my momma suspicious.

  Waving my hand in acknowledgement, I entered the restaurant, freezing when my momma kissed my cheek for show, Shelly and Mrs. Blair following suit. My momma lived the perfect double life: the quintessential society lady on the outside, fucking nightmare on the inside.

  “Here’s the jersey you asked for,” I said, handing it over.

  “Perfect! Have a seat,” she instructed, gesturing toward the spare chair next to Shel.

  Biting my tongue, I reluctantly sat down, playing along, saying, “Didn’t realize everyone would be here. Thought I was just dropping that off.” I pointed to the jersey, my voice perfectly monotone, not betraying my anger.

  My momma leaned forward, eyes tight. “Well, we had an interesting call from Shelly here yesterday. She told us that you made quite the announcement at school. Something about some British transfer you’ve become… a little enamored with?”

  I detected the anger, the threat in her voice, and her blue eyes never moved from mine. My heart thumped in my chest, so hard I felt like it was slamming against my ribcage. She knew about Molly, but I’d be damned if I showed that I was bothered. I had to protect her. I needed to throw my momma off the scent.

  “Well?” Mrs. Blair pushed, Shelly leaning on the table to hear my response.

  Shrugging, I said dismissively, “Yeah, I’ve been seeing her, casually, but it’s not anything serious. You know me. I’m not the monogamous type. She just proved a good distraction for a while. We’re done now.”

  Shelly put her hand on my thigh in excitement. “You mean all this time you’ve been messing with her? Oh my God, Rome, that’s hilarious. The way that girl looks at you, she’s obviously in love! She’ll be devastated when you end it.”

  Shelly couldn’t help but laugh, and I wanted to kick her off her chair. Her words, however, circled in my mind—the way that girl looks at you, she’s obviously in love. Was she? Was Mol in love with me?

  “That had better be the case, Rome. And all these girls, it needs to stop. Shelly should be your only focus now. You’ve fooled around long en
ough, but it’s time to grow up, time to act responsibly.”

  I stayed silent. I wasn’t going to get into a conversation with these three vultures about this friggin’ ridiculous marriage. My momma would know where I stood on the whole damn farce. I’m sure my daddy would have said something, and I wasn’t going to air all that shit out here on this friggin’ terrace, in public.

  Shelly moved in closer, and I could tell by the look on her face that she’d believed everything I’d just said. It was the only time I was thankful that I’d whored around in my past; my dismissal of Molly was believable ‘Bullet’ behaviour.

  As Shelly placed her hand around my waist, that suffocating feeling crept up my throat, but I had to pretend not to be bothered, even though I felt like overturning the table before me.

  Mrs. Blair went on to ask me about football and I gave her some routine answer about wins, practice, and championships. Shelly giggled beside me at fuck knows what and then laid her hand across my chest, planting a damn kiss on my cheek. My jaw clenched at the action, my hands curled into fists. When I looked up, my momma was watching me like a hawk, scowling.

  She was on to me. Nothing much got past her and I could practically see the cogs whirring in her head.

  “Well, hey, guys! Fancy seeing you here!”

  My attention snapped to the side of the restaurant. Ally was standing on the sidewalk, beyond the white fence, arms crossed and glaring at Shelly practically dry-humping my leg.

  “Aliyana, always a pleasure,” my momma greeted coldly.

  “Aunt Kathryn, lovely to see you too,” she repeated with equal disdain.

  “What you doing here, Al?” I asked, hoping she’d get the message to go away, to not involve herself in this shit.

  “Well, I was just out shopping with some friends.” My heart dropped when I saw the admonishment on her face. “Yeah, Rome, they’re all just over the street.” She turned, pointing to a row of stores, and I saw Cass and Lexi standing in front of Molly. They’d clearly been trying to stop her from seeing. Molly, was staring at me with the most haunted fucking look on her face, her eyes completely focused on Shelly’s hand spread on my chest, before moving them to lock onto mine, devastation in her expression.