by KT Morrison
Evergreen had got him the spot on Breakfast Television to promote the book he was drawing on divorce. A four minute segment with the author, Dana Fields, a Toronto divorce attorney of some reputation. The host called him eye-candy. Joking, but kind of being cute and he felt his cheeks go red. The segment went well and Jenny called him in the afternoon and said they’d have him back, solo, for the release of Big Choo. The author was in Minnesota and they were only interested in the Toronto angle.
His mom thought they had money trouble because Nia went back to work. He told her that it was time, that she was better out working than home puttering around helping him out. He’d hired an assistant. He was twenty-two, still at OCA, looking to make a little money and get a chance to learn something from a working illustrator. He was going to work some evenings, three times a week. That was really all the help he needed. Nia was still going to do the books and this kid, Winslow, just did a lot of cleanup on Photoshop files, some scanning, organizing. He’d hoped to be doing some art with him but he wasn’t really ready. He had a nice portfolio and you couldn’t beat OCA but there was still something missing.
Nia had called when he was in the bakery with Odie and Mom. In the truck with her monstrous boss headed north for fun, wanting him to come along. He said that was crazy, he wasn’t going to drive an hour and a half north for a couple of drinks. She said they hadn’t had a night out in so long, why wouldn’t he ask his mom to watch Odie, it would all work out...
He declined. He was mad at her for not being at home. Mad to hear her wanting to go out and spend time with other people doing things they didn’t normally do on a friday. She should be at home with him, on the couch watching TV. This kind of night though, Geoff, was what led to the Epiphany. He hung up on her, friendly enough, telling her to have a good time, but they could both feel the chill he had. He felt it stronger when he hung up. Regret.
So he walked back with his mom and Odie and the whole way he couldn’t get Nia out of his mind. He could picture her there at some bar with all her raucous friends, drinking wine, inevitably shots would arrive. Then an awful image. His sweet Nia with her hands on the wall of some seedy bar, standing in an alley with her legs apart and Rocco behind her driving his huge cock up inside her. It would be his fault. All his ideas of sharing her. He wasn’t ready for this.
He couldn’t remember one thing his mom had said on that walk back to the house. By the time they were going up the stairs to the front door he was asking her if she’d mind watching Odie while he went out.
She grimaced, but said that was fine. Gaining weapons for some future argument with him. Then he was anxious and riled, had a quick shower, changed clothes—twice—ran around looking for keys and wallet, saying bye to Odie and Mom, catching that judgmental look in her eye. Then he was quick-stepping out to an Uber, meeting him out on Garden Street. He went out to Etobicoke, used the spare keys for the Volvo, and headed north late on a Friday, his hands squeaking with damp dread on the leather steering wheel.
GEOFF
He could have texted her and let her know he was coming after all but something in him didn’t want that. Part of him thought he wanted to see her in her natural element. Like a pervert Jane Goodall, exploring the natural unhindered behaviour of his Nia in the wild. He felt guilty about it, like he knew it was the wrong thing but at the same time not guilty enough that he picked up his phone and gave her a shout and let her know. Well, shit, he just wanted this to be a surprise right? Yeah, thats right. A surprise. Light her face up and make her happy that her loving husband took an Uber to get their car and drove an hour and a half into the fucking sticks because he loves her so much. Fuck, it was kind of true but the real truth was all he thought about on the way up here was how exciting it would be to catch her up to no good. He didn’t want to find her with a cock in her mouth or getting railed by some stranger but he wanted to find her the way he used to know her. Fun-loving wild Nia. Smoking, drinking, being lewd and boy-crazy, or who knows what else he might find. He toyed with that idea, poked at the thought of her going too far and how he would feel. He told himself he wouldn’t hate it, that he wanted it and would deal with it afterwards and they as a couple could go from there. But now, knowing she had license, had been given permission and admitted she liked the idea, he was tortured. That was the point though, fucking wasn’t it? He was alive and sizzling the whole drive. Thinking about the woman he loved and the passions she had and how he could share her because her excitement was his excitement. He’d been half hard most of the drive.
His GPS showed him down a country road, lit up only with his headlights, no streetlights whatsoever. The area was rural, a lake community, mostly probably seasonal homes and some year-rounders but not many. Dwellings were sparse and most of the way was densely tree-lined, a black looming maw that he was tentatively hurtling through, his lights showing him twenty yards at a time.
He came to a T intersection and now his GPS had let him down. This was where the bar was supposed to be. But there was nothing here, just trees. A sign in front of him in green and reflective white just said, Twilling and an arrow to the left, and then Hempshaw and an arrow to the right. No signs for the Lake View, some bar Nia had said they were going to. He did the window down and heard nothing but frogs, sitting there at the intersection in the dark, his amber right turn signal throbbing in the night even though he didn’t know what way he was going. Then eventually under the croaking omnipresent thrum of singing spring time frogs he heard it. A steady heartbeat of bass. The bar was here, he just had to find it.
He went to the right so he could keep his ear to the proper direction and he crawled along the gravel road. He could make out lights now through the dense trees, a winking porch light and a high sodium halide on a pole. Then, hidden in the bushes, a rundown hand-painted sign, said, Lake View Tavern. Licensed. Apparently a long time ago because the sign looked like it had seen two decades of Canadian weather. He pulled into the wide shrub-lined gravel parking area, packed with pickups and motorcycles. There were men in the parking lot arguing, drinking, touching each other’s chest with a middle finger, bottle still clutched in hand. Exactly the kind of thing he hated. He instantly regretted coming. How would Nia feel safe coming here? The sweet mother of Odele, and his little housewife. The reality of wild Nia was like a kick in the belly, a toe catching him right under his bladder and making his insides want to burst. Shit, Nia, he mumbled as he pulled off to the side, parking part on the gravel and two wheels on the grass, his passenger door stuck against the shrubs. Some beer-hazed rocker eyed him, coming out of the bushes next to the building about six feet in front of the Volvo, doing up his fly. He didn’t like the look of Geoff, that was obvious, or his stupid Volvo station wagon. Geoff fiddled with keys and wallet and imaginary things on the console that needed his attention until the man passed, stumbling along in his saggy jeans and construction boots.
The tavern looked like it had been a big lakeside home at one time. Probably built during the Sportsman craze as some retreat for a Toronto lawyer to come up here and fish and shoot. It was two storeys, with various additions added through the years, all clad in a white-painted but chipping clapboard. There was a low single storey add-on at the back, hidden in bushes that must have been the kitchen—smoking aluminum kitchen chimney billowing out fried grease smell.
He crossed the lot, walking nervously but trying not to show it, regretting the outfit he’d settled on, not thinking it would be this kind of place. He and Nia were used now to places for families, stylish bars that served expensive drinks and were filled with people, well, more like Geoff. Not like these guys. There was a distinct biker element here. Big giveaway—a lot of motorcycles. Not some Gold Wings, or Hondas, or Yamahas. These were weird bikes, low fat-tanked and wide-tired. Things you saw on the cover of American Iron in the back row of gas station magazine stands because there were pictures of bikes and, inevitably, topless young ladies.
The two who were arguing and pointing to each other we
re old. Like in their fifties but with long grey goatees and bandanas and vests with patches on them. His sphincter literally tightened. This couldn’t be the right place. But dead ahead, as he approached the front door, porch light buzzing with some country bugs, was a lifted giant pickup that stood tall above all the others. Sort of what Nia described as Rocco’s. And the motorcycles—Dino drove one, he heard. She was here and maybe the two aggressive male fantasy men she thought about were here too...and her husband safely at home an hour and a half away. His stomach tightened and his bowels growled at the possibilities. What would he find? His sexy fantasy Nia on her knees in some biker bar, a cock in her pussy and one in her mouth. Fuuu-uck. He didn’t want it but he wanted it. He hated the idea but he felt an undeniable plumpness in his underoos.
A mean fucker in a backwards ball cap and a dirty flannel bumped him coming out of the doorway as he went in, even though he gave him berth. Geoff didn’t look back, knew that was a primitive symbol that it was on and Geoff did not know how to fight. So he kept walking and prayed that he didn’t get punched from behind. His heart was in his throat.
The bar wasn’t as busy as the parking lot looked, lots of open space between patrons and the place was oddly lit—brighter than expected, enough to see all the detail in the room and the foot-beaten wooden plank floor. There was a bar in the centre towards the lake side of the house he guessed, and it was dotted with guys who looked like they rode motorcycles. There was a step down from the front door to the main floor and then to the right another raised section where they had tables, mostly full. The clientele was a bit older than he’d thought, a little rough—AC DC blared from a stereo system that was way over-amplified. There was a stage towards the back but there was no band tonight. He scanned the crowd very briefly, very nervously, for any familiar faces...one of Nia’s friends, Nia, shit, even Dino if he was here at this point. Faces turned to look at this fucking narc that walked in with his nice zippered sweater with the sleeves artfully pushed up. Maybe they just watched Breakfast Television this morning. Could be big fans of books for children. Actually the room looked like it had a lot of experience with divorce—not amicable like his book but more the kind that ended up with restraining orders.
He walked through the crowd, trying to shake the eyes he felt like were following him and he weaved through, hoping now that maybe he’d gone to the wrong bar or that maybe when Nia and Rocco got here they changed their mind, Nia telling him this wasn’t her kind of place. She was used to places now that had five-star reviews and washed their tables at least once a day. Then, ahead, he saw them, Angie and another face he recognized, a girl from York whose name he couldn’t remember right now. This was probably the place then. His heart sank.
Their reaction struck him. It was strange and distinct. They were worried when they saw him. They looked around nervously, each clutched their drink now in both hands. They put on smiles as he got closer but they looked as fake as could be. They greeted him with soothing and cooing hiii-iiis, their eyes worried. They were covering for Nia.
“Hii-ii, Geoff,” Angie said and she put her hand on his upper arm, smoothing it against his sweater like she had bad news. The other one looked back behind her and Ang, and Geoff saw a hallway there that led to the bathrooms.
“Hey, Ang,” he said, “where’s Nia?”
“Oh, she’s here somewhere,” she said.
“Is she down there?” he said, pointing towards the hall.
“No, no, I don’t—hey, my boy loves your new book, you know? He—”
“Thanks, Ang, thanks, hey—”
“You don’t have a drink, Geoff, come on to the bar, let’s get you a drink,” the other one said, and she put her hand on his arm and tried to turn him to lead him back towards the bar. He looked over his shoulder and he saw two figures in the darkened hall. One was very Nia the other very six-foot-two Dino.
Geoff hadn’t seen him in ten years really. He saw him on and off as Nia’s relationship with him was rocky back when she was twenty. But he’d pretty much disappeared once they were out of York and he and Nia were a couple. He became a distant but notable memory. He alway knew he had a big one. Nia never said it, but somehow he heard it in everything she ever said about him. He was standing now next to his beautiful Nia and they looked like a couple. Their black hair and black eyes both of them with a natural but indescribable charm. They stopped at the end of the hall and they talked a moment. Dino aged well. He looked older naturally but he was still built. Maybe a little softer, old age catching up with him. But he was an active duty firefighter in Toronto and it looked like it kept the muscle on him. He was much taller than her.
“See, Geoff, they’re just talking...”
“I see that,” he said, getting mad. Feeling suddenly male. Feeling that thing in him that maybe men felt. Not something he was used to. But he felt it. His muscles pumped with blood. His brain told him to march up to this man next to his mate and fucking knock him out. Punch him right on that rock-solid wide chin of his and put his lights out.
His brain—the real Geoff—said you wouldn’t stand a chance, buddy. Even if he was fast enough to get him right in that knockout button he’d just break his hand and Dino would then beat the ever-loving shit out of him right in front of Nia. So he let the hurt wash over him. He enjoyed it, let its hurtful edges caress his soul with their bitter coppery pain. He enjoyed it. This guy who was talking to her right now, putting that smile on her face as she listened, had fucked her. He’d fucked her a lot. That big Italian salami he had in his jeans had put all sorts of smiles on her face. Those big hands had touched every bit of his wife. His scalp tingled at the thought and his brow furrowed like he was about to cry but instead he smiled for some reason. It was so fucking sexy. Maybe Dino was the one who fucked her feet. Maybe he had that big cock laid across her pretty scrunched up soles and she jerked him off like that til he came on her back and Geoff could picture her tossing that beautiful hair around, laughing at how hot his seed felt on her skin. He hardened some more.
Angie said it again, “Geoff, they’re just talking,” she grabbed his arm like she was stopping him from going to break them up. The more he felt her pull him back the more his hormones wanted to drive him forward and see, just see whether or not he stood a chance.
The other one had his sweater too, her fingers digging into his thin arms and wanting him to stay. He leaned forward and felt them pull at him stronger. He kept the tension of their hands on him tight, enjoyed the male feeling of being on the edge of out of control, and sensible warm females stopping him, not wanting to see bloodshed. Truth was it would be his blood. Deep down he knew it, knew it and knew he just liked that pretend-feel, that notion that these girls could think he would be that manly.
Then Nia walked off, Dino went the other way, they never touched. That was it. But his heart pounded, and he pulled out of the girls’ grasp and made an angry line right towards his wife, felt like those two girls behind him deserve a show. He could be male, he could be as irrational as any knuckle-dragger out there. He crossed the bar, his neck swelled with blood and anger.
Nia, what the fuck? The words hissed through his mind before they crossed his lips. And in that moment Nia turned and he saw her face light up with love and happiness and the idea that he would be angry with her was gone, bright light turning on in a dark room.
“Geoff, oh my God, baby!” She was excited to see him, she came right to him and she hugged him and the show he was going to put on for Ang and her friend was a memory. His arms went around her and he felt her body move against him and she felt amazing and warm. He pressed his cock into her and he let her feel his hardness.
“Oh, baby, I’m so glad you came,” she said. She’d had a few drinks, he could tell. She smelled like the bar, she smelled like cigarette smoke and beer and wine.
“Surpri-ise,” he whispered and he clenched her tight. “Were you being bad?”
She pulled back to look at him, not smiling now, “What do you mea
n?” she said.
“What were you doing with Dino?”
“With Dino?” she said.
“Yeah, Nia, with Dino.” He could feel his blood pulse, felt that anger lurking in his shadows again, telling him to think bad things.
Her face got closed and she went blank. Looked over his shoulder to where Ang probably was standing and watching to make sure she was okay and that her mean bearded husband wasn’t going to hit her.
“Come here,” she said, quietly. She took his hand up and she led him to that darkened hallway. The music blared and she leaned against the wall and she looked up at him, her eyes seemed to quiver with trouble. She pulled him closer and she said in his ear, “Baby, I thought you wanted this.”
He said into her opposite ear, “I do. I just...”
“Don’t be mad, Geoff.”
“I can’t help it, Nia,” he said in her ear, “baby, I want this, I’m...I ...”
Her hand closed between his legs, her grip going right on his shaft without having to search for it. She said, “Did you get hard thinking about it? I felt you press this into me. I can see it through your jeans.”
He closed his eyes and felt his wife squeezing his half-hard cock, so excited that she would touch him in public like this, all these people so close. So excited that she would look between his legs, so excited that she could see the evidence of how aroused she made him.