Snarky Bastard

by Adeera Lake

  I can’t help smiling as I watch him walking away yelling at the cleaning ladies.

  ***

  It’s half past midnight. I get into the subway on Chamber St.

  I was tempted to take a walk and maybe have a drink somewhere, but I’m too tired. I get out a couple of stops earlier and I sit with my legs crossed, on Columbus Circle’s lovely bench area. The muffled sound of a police siren wails a few blocks down.

  There are a few Japanese tourists taking pictures of the Time Warner Center. It’s a beautiful night. A young couple sits a few feet away from me and their sweet exchange of effusions makes me suddenly feel lonesome. I sigh letting out a resigned, ironic grin. I look at my nails and I realize I need a manicure. My polish is almost gone. When I bite them, I tend to scrap it off with my front teeth. It’s a stupid vice of mine I have since I was in grade school.

  I shake my head and I smirk; then I check the time on my phone and I see it’s almost two in the morning, so I stand and start strolling in the direction of my building. Central Park is on my right, just on the other side of the street. I’m checking my email to make sure I didn’t miss any notifications, hoping someone has answered my applications. But nothing.

  Feeling very disappointed, I’m about to shut the screen off, but a Facebook messenger icon pops up making my phone buzz twice.

  My heart races but I click on it with my thumb and I gasp, stopping my walk abruptly.

  ‘Jesus, what the fuck?’

  He has written to me again:

  ‘I miss you, my dear. Do you? I can’t resist anymore. I’ll be with you soon.’

  “Holy crap!” I mumble. “I don’t like this shit,” I mutter to myself. I’m really annoyed and on the spur of the moment, I start typing a reply.

  ‘Show me the guts and tell me who the fuck you are. I’m gonna block ya and report you right about now. Fucking loser!’

  As I finish writing, I block the motherfucker and I report him to the popular application.

  “That’s It. Idiot!” I grumble, furious about my privacy invasion.

  ‘Fucking pervs, I hate them!’

  When I enter my building I’m still pissed about that fucker, and as I walk by the concierge cubicle I skip saying hi.

  “Good evening Miss Lords.” The night concierge says smiling.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, good evening Lawrence!” I blurt marching toward the elevator, mimicking a phony smile that struggles to come out.

  When I’m finally home I sigh, closing the door behind me. I take off my converse and my socks, leaving them in the hallway, and I step directly toward the refrigerator to get the ‘cookies and cream’ Haagen-Dazs I bought last week. I walk to the couch and as I drop on the tender cushions, I turn the TV.

  ‘Game of Thrones’ seems to be everywhere these days, but I don’t mind it, so I toss the remote on my side and I start enjoying generous spoons of ‘gelato’, absentmindedly watching the popular series. But two things are bugging me:

  Why did Zac try to kiss me and then vanished?

  And who the hell was that maniac on Facebook?

  12

  Grace

  The ice cream is gone and its container lays on the coffee table. I’m on the couch. My left thigh bent outward and my right leg dragged toward my chest. I’m playing with the spoon, slowly sliding it in and out my lips as I wonder if moving to New York was the right thing.

  Suddenly my phone rings making me jump.

  ‘My God!’

  It’s Lisa calling me from Paris. I’m tempted to let it ring but I would feel guilty, so I pick the phone and swipe the screen with my thumb.

  “Hey there!”

  “Hey!” I reply.

  “Is your laptop on?”

  “Um, no…”

  “Oh, ok never mind,” she says, sounding a little disappointed – I’ll never understand why she likes that webcam so much.

  “So, what’s up baby?”

  “Not much, same old. How ‘bout ya Lis? How’s Paris?”

  She giggles. “The Tour Eiffel’s still here?”

  I chuckle, shaking my head. “Yeah alright. Nice to hear that. And what about French boys?”

  She loves talking about men, so I give her what she wants and hopefully, she’ll be distracted enough to forget about my personal shit. I’m not in the mood to talk about my private life now, but I know she’ll ask sooner or later.

  “Oh my God, there’s plenty of them! But the myth they are great lovers? Totally made up!”

  I let out a small laugh. “Serious? Why?”

  “Well, I’ve been out with two guys so far. Meaning I fucked them both obviously.” She chortles.

  I grin biting my thumbnail.

  “And they sucked!” She continues. “They lasted for like five fucking minutes! Can you believe this? Five minutes! That’s it?”

  I giggle. “Why didn’t you give them a second chance later on?”

  She chuckles and sighs. “Well, the first left. And the other one wasn’t able to get it up again.” She chuckles sarcastically. “He blushed and said he suffered performance anxiety. Jeez! What the fuck?” She squeals on the other end of the phone. “That’s my luck. I just want a great orgasm for God’s sake! But no right? Of course, it’s so hard to find a man that knows how to make a girl come!” She says sarcastically.

  “Poor Lisa.” I tease her and then I laugh. “I can’t believe it. Two out of two!” I mumble.

  “Damn right!” She mutters.

  “Well, don’t get depressed now!”

  “Who me?” She wails. “Not a chance babe! Ya know me!”

  “Yeah, yeah, I do.” I sing.

  “So, anyways…What about the hottie you met?”

  I knew she was going to ask me.

  “What about him?” I say.

  “Oh, c’mon don’t be elusive with me.”

  I grumble and then I sigh. I better get this done sooner rather than later, I think.

  “He tried to kiss me,” I murmur.

  “Yaaaayy,” she squeals. “Wait a sec! Did you say tried? You mean you didn’t kiss him back?”

  “I mean he tried. Period.”

  “So, what you mean he tried? Did you kiss him or what?” She rumbles.

  I tell her in detail everything and I wait for what she has to say.

  “Jeez! That’s like a movie! I can’t believe it.” She chuckles.

  I turn and lay on my belly – my legs bent up behind my back. “Shut - Up!” I squeak, not able to restrain from smiling.

  “Hey, listen to me! You need to kiss that guy babe! You can tell a lot of things by the way a guy kisses you know that, don’t ya?”

  I chuckle. “So, I assume you didn’t kiss the French guys you had sex with.” I promptly reply.

  She chortles. “Ok, touché.”

  I giggle, biting the tip of my thumb with my front teeth.

  “But seriously. Don’t fret sweetie! You got nothing to lose. You don’t need to be in love to have some good sex,” she says.

  “Well, that’s what I’m worried about the most Lis. I don’t know if I can do that. I don’t want to take that risk.”

  “Oh my God, Grace. Just live your damn life! You’ll handle problems when they arise. You can’t give up living just because things may happen. This is life. Hello? Shit happens!” She says all in one breath. Then she lowers her tone and patiently says, “But we can get over anything and start from scratch again. Tell me, you like this guy or not?”

  I slide my lower teeth on my upper lip and I pause for a second before replying.

  “I…Yeah, I think I do.”

  “Then go for it!” She says with emphasis. “I already told you this. They can’t all be idiots, motherfuckers.”

  I bite the tip of my thumb letting out a half grin. “I know… Maybe you are right Lisa. Thanks.”

  We change the subject and talk a little more about random stuff; then we hung up and I linger face down on the sofa. My thoughts end up inevitably on what happened a
few hours earlier and a tingle of lust runs through my body. My back tenses and I feel my breathing quickening. I instinctively arch my butt and I tug my leggings and panties down my knees. I can smell the scent of my own arousal and that turns me on even more. I chew my bottom lip sneaking my right into my hot panties, and when the tips of my fingers brush my folds, I’m stunned in realizing how wet I am. All my senses activate, recalling Zac’s scent, hard muscles, deep voice, handsome face, and body. I can’t help thinking about him, and vibrating tingles of pleasure rush from inside my core up to my chest.

  My heartbeats go crazy and I start letting out short little gasps alternated with moans as I increase the pace of my circling, and when I understand I’m close, I withdraw my hand from my slippery core and I grip the end side of the sofa in front of me with both hands. Then I perch my crotch on the edge of the seat, and I ardently start sliding my womb back and forth. I disclose my lips feeling my own saliva slowly drooling down the side of my mouth, and I fancy it’s Zac’s. That thought makes me throw my head back, causing my hair to bounce, and as I feel the waves coming in I feel all my muscles tensing and tightening.

  To avoid screaming, I bite the fabric of the sofa, groaning madly as the spasms run through my body, causing me to shudder out of control.

  13

  Zac

  It’s early morning and a pleasant breeze brushes my hair.

  On the way to my studio, I stop at the seven eleven around the corner to buy a large cup of coffee. There’s nothing better than a steamy hot, roasted coffee to start the day.

  “Hey.” I groan as I walk into the tattoo shop.

  “Hey, Zac what’s up?” My sister replies. She’s the one in charge of opening every morning.

  “Not much, how’s it goin’?” I tell her between my teeth - I’m definitely not a morning person.

  “Um, Chris just called,” she squeals. “He said he needs to talk to ya.”

  I grunt. “Ok, thanks,” I reply as I walk into my studio.

  Chris is an art dealer I met a few years ago. He always tries to talk me into organizing an exhibition of my paintings - he says I have great potentials - but I don’t think I’m ready for that. If it bombs, it may jeopardize my rep as a tattoo artist too.

  I close the door behind me and I hang my leather jacket on the back of a chair. Calmly, almost ritually, I start getting my stuff ready. The tattoo gun, a few transparent packs of sterilized needles, and all the colors I might need this morning.

  Today I’ve got two clients. One in the morning and one in the afternoon. I usually don’t do little pieces – that’s amateurish – so my works require a few hours, and I often need more than one session to complete them.

  I sip my hot coffee from the paper cup, savoring its bitter flavor. On the radio, Amy Lee is singing ‘Bring me to life’. It’s a little old song but I’ve always liked it. Then I stop what I’m doing, and I shake my head slowly, chuckling afterward.

  Bring me to life is the title of this song and that suddenly makes me think about Grace. Tingly chills whisk down my back as Amy Lee’s crescendo reaches its peak, then I notice I’ve got goosebumps on my skin.

  I grab my phone and use the Tattoo Shop’s Facebook profile, to look at Grace’s.

  I look at her pictures and the way she replies to comments, the emoticons she uses. I want to claim her in every sense. I’ve never felt such a physical attraction for a girl. Not even my first, and only love.

  I need to stop thinking about her before my client arrives. I grunt standing; then I open the door of my studio and I step out, keen to put my thoughts aside.

  My sister is sitting behind her desk in front of the front door of the shop. She’s my secretary.

  “You ready Zac? He was supposed to be here like ten minutes ago.” She grumbles.

  “Yeah, I don’t give a shit. If he doesn’t come in next fifteen minutes, I’ll cancel.”

  She grins, nodding slowly.

  I snort, sidestepping the desk where she’s sitting. “What the fuck are you doing Chels?” I groan, bowing my torso to look at the computer screen.

  “Shut up!” She smiles, nudging my waist with the palm of her hand.

  “No seriously, what’s that? I’m just curious.” I say.

  She blushes, and without looking at me she mutters, “I’m reading a novel.”

  “Oh, is that it? Cool. What about it?”

  “It’s just a romance, like a, um, a bad boy romance ya know?”

  I grunt, not quite understanding what she’s talking about and not really interested.

  “Oh ok, nice. You like it?”

  “Yeah, it’s ok. I’ve read better ones in the genre, though.”

  I raise an eyebrow walking toward the shop’s transparent windows. “Hmmm, I see,” I tell her absentmindedly.

  She chuckles. “Zac, you are not listening right?”

  “What? No, I am.”

  “Yeah right. You don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you?” She giggles.

  I chuckle. “Well, I guess you are right. I’m not quite into Romance.”

  “You silly!” She smirks jokingly, biting her bottom lip.

  I wave her silent, letting out half a grin as I keep staring through the ground-to-ceiling window of my shop.

  “But hey, tell me something. When are you gonna grow up and get serious?” She squeals.

  I keep looking outside. “What do ya mean Chelsea?” I lazily ask.

  I’m used to my sister questions since she was able to speak, but now she’s in her late twenties and she still blurts whatever crosses her mind all the time.

  “I mean, you are not getting any younger. You are almost thirty and you could have had kids by now. Don’t you want a family? Children? Don’t you think you had enough fun in your life so far, and it’s time to start acting seriously?” She says all in one breath.

  I slowly turn, feeling slightly annoyed by that kind of preaching. If she hadn’t been my sister I’d have told her to get the fuck out of my face.

  “Jeez Chels, are you fucking serious or what?”

  “Yeah, I am. But just ‘cuz I love ya Zac!”

  I sneer shaking my head. “Do you want me to end up like daddy?”

  “Oh, my Gosh Zac! Knock it off, please! You are not him! Women are not like that. Well, not most of them, I guess?”

  “Listen, sweetie. The only one time I allowed myself to fall in love I was dumped without apparent reasons. What about that? So, I’ll fuck as many women as I can until I’m able to.”

  “Oh, Jesus. When was that? In damn high school?”

  “Yeah, you are the only one who knows about it, so why do you ask?”

  “Because it was fucking too early to consider it real love! Teenagers do that all the time! They constantly switch boyfriends, girlfriends and so on! And they don’t make such a big deal out of it. Yeah, they may suffer if they are dumped but after a few days, they already like another one. Your problem is what happened to daddy. Isn’t it?”

  “Listen. I don’t want to go there alright? The only thing I know is that what happened when I was sixteen is exactly what daddy used to tell me.”

  “Yeah right,” she says with a sarcastic tone.

  She’s about to continue when my heart suddenly thunders. On the other side of the street, I see Grace walking on the sidewalk.

  I instinctively open the door and I rush out.

  “Zac what are you-” I hear my sister wailing behind me.

  As I rapidly jaywalk the street, a couple of cars honks loudly.

  I walk a few feet behind her, then I hurry forward until I manage to sidestep her, standing in front of her.

  She gasps widening her eyes. I give her a second to realize it’s me. She’s about to let out a timid smile, but I don’t give her the time to speak. I grab her waist and pull her to me, tilting my head to kiss her.

  14

  Grace

  It’s been a week since that inglorious night, and I’ haven’t run into Zac ever
since. I even feel ashamed for what I did on the couch afterward but I completely lost control of myself.

  It’s middle morning and after leaving my resume at NYU, I have a couple of spare hours before having to go to work, so I decide to take a walk down to ‘SOHO’. It’s not far from the university and I enjoy getting lost in the streets of lower Manhattan.

  I’m relaxed, strolling calmly on the sidewalk when I suddenly perceive somebody really close to me, and my heart starts racing.

  I gasp, thinking somebody’s about to rob me, but as I see Zac standing before me with a smartass kind of grin my blood pressure raises.

  I feel butterflies in my stomach and I feel my cheeks burning as I blush uncontrollably, but he unexpectedly leans on me and lays his lips on mine. My heart jumps but it doesn’t take too long before I slowly disclose my mouth. The tip of his warm tongue start slowly swirls around mine, and intense tingles of lust run up my spine. He grabs my waist tightly and pulls me to him with his strong hands causing me to point my toes – the wind gently brushes my hair, and when he presses his crotch against my womb, I breathe in with my nostrils.

  ‘Oh my!’

  My excitement becomes almost uncontrollable. My pulse increases and my panties get warm and clammy. I worry that if I didn’t stop this, I may lose it right here. I draw my head back and push the damp palms of my hands on his chest, but he doesn’t budge an inch. His pectoral muscles seem to be as hard as steel. He looks at me with a quizzical look. Our faces still a few inches from each other. His warm breath washing my lips. Neither of us speaks for a few seconds.

  I lower my gaze and I bit my bottom lip, but he puts two fingers under my chin and raises my head.

  “What?”

  “I can’t do this,” I murmur, turning my head away.

  “Why not?”

  “Because…” I mumble.

  “Why not Grace? Why are you so fugacious?”