by KT Morrison
She always liked the way Jay dressed. He answered the door wearing faded jeans and leather moccasins, a grey t-shirt and a charcoal shawl collared cashmere cardigan. He looked very casual but successful, there was something a little arrogant in how nicely he dressed down. You had to be successful and also slim and fit to dress so finely around the house.
“Hi, Kiley,” he said, “come on in,” and he held the door wide for her and let her walk in. His apartment was beautiful, polished wood floors, walls in exposed brick and plain white dividers, stairs and rails were black iron. She stepped in to the vestibule and turned to him somewhat nervously. She could feel it in her expression and she lowered her brow consciously trying to appear more confident.
“How are you, Jay?”
“I’m good, I’m good,” he said, “come on in, take your shoes off.” She watched him walk down into the sunken living area. She kicked her shoes off and walked down to him.
“Can I get you anything? Let me pour you a drink. Something from the bar?”
Ouch, Jay. “No nothing for me.”
“How about a water? Can I get you a LaCroix?”
“Sure.”
She sat down in the leather couch while he went to the bar. She could see him pour her a drink from a can and then pour himself a whisky. Her hands were sweating.
“So how have you been?” he asked her as he walked back.
She took the drink from him and held it in her lap. “I’ve been really good Jay, really busy.”
“Yeah, I haven’t heard from you in while.”
He had called the office and left a message a few days after she’d returned from his place in Colorado. Someone had left a post-it note on the edge of her desk saying that Jay had called. She’d looked at it, how it hung there precariously, one sticky corner gripping the desk. Not a lot of purchase she thought. It would be plausible that a breeze could take it from there and blow it into a corner where she could miss it. So she left it there and pretended that it had been blown away, that she had never seen it. A day later she absently took it and put it in the garbage. Still acting on the premise that she had never seen it, like it had been blown from her desk and never seen. She was putting off the contact, and got away with it for almost a month now.
“I’ve been traveling a lot,” she lied.
“Ah,” he said. He sipped his whisky and she watched him while she took a sip from her water. They were quiet a moment and she looked around in the silence and admired his place. He had beautiful artwork on the walls, tall oil paintings, real life scenes, slice-of-life sort of things that didn’t seem to have meaning, just people on a street, a woman sunbathing...she was going to ask him about them, make some small talk but he cleared his throat. She turned to him. He was preparing to say something and she felt a chill come over her shoulders, dreading what it could be.
“I haven’t seen you or heard from you since skiing. I wanted to know if everything was okay...since…”
He couldn’t finish and it made her head pound. Something had happened and she didn’t know what it was. She wanted to get out right now. Just leap from this couch and avoid this whole situation all together, explode out that far wall and leave a Kiley-shape cut out of the wall like in the cartoons. “Since?” she repeated, her voice sounding far away even from her.
“Well...the hot tub…” he said.
She shifted in her seat, leaned forward and put her glass down on a coaster on the coffee table that looked like it was made from old railway ties then covered in thick honey. “What happened?” she said, her voice so quiet again.
“What do you mean?”
She felt her cheeks go flush, they felt electric hot under her eyes. She was so embarrassed. Something happened and she didn’t remember, now he was talking about it and she was going to have to reveal that she was also so drunk at the time of this unknown incident that she could not recall it. “I...uh...I don’t remember.” God, what did she do? She felt instantly overwhelmed, felt like she could curl up and die. She asked him, “Oh no, what did I do?” Her hands were shaking.
He looked aghast, “No, no,” he said, “you didn’t do anything. No it’s okay,” he said. He put his hand out and held hers to stop them from shaking. She could feel he felt uncomfortable about it, touching her like that. He pulled his hand away awkwardly.
“I, uh, shit I guess then I could have got away without ever saying anything,” he said laughing, trying to lighten the mood. Then his face went serious again. “No,” he said, but stopped.
“Well, what happened then?” she asked him nervously.
He sat forward with his hands together and talked but didn’t face her, told his story to the room. “Well, you fell asleep… or, well, I guess you passed out,” he corrected himself sheepishly. “And I had to get you out of the tub, but you didn’t have a top on. Or bottoms, it turned out. Nothing happened you know. I mean, I just got you out of the tub. I dried you and I put your clothes on you. I hope that’s okay, when you weren’t there in the morning and I hadn’t heard from you I was worried that you--that it was a violation.”
“Oh no, no, I’m sorry, I’m the one that’s sorry, worried bout violating something… That’s it?”
“So I helped you to your room and left you—”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah. What did you think?”
“When I couldn’t remember I made up all sorts...that’s why I haven’t been around. I thought I’d done something.”
He chuckled. “You’d done something? When you hadn’t been in touch I made up all sorts of reasons too. Like you had a team of lawyers lining up for an attack or something.”
“Jay, c’mon.”
“Your thoughts can get away from you when you’re afraid--tell me what you thought might have happened.”
She smiled, “Um, no.”
“See. You thought some crazy things too.”
She sat back in the couch and felt an enormous weight lifted from her. She didn’t realize how it had been affecting her until she gave it up. All that worry.
“Jay, I’m sorry I got like that. It was a long day and I’m not used to that much activity.”
“It’s nothing really. I’ve helped a lot of friends out of hot tubs and other things. They’ve even, believe it or not, had to help me out of a few tubs too.”
“I know, it’s just that we work together. I didn’t think it was very professional. You know… for you to see me like that.”
“You didn’t have a lampshade on your head or anything. You just passed out. One second you were talking and then,” he snapped his fingers, “then you were out.”
This part wasn’t making her feel any better but in the grand scheme of things--all the possibilities she’d wondered--this was very low on the outrageous scale. It was kind of sweet in a way. Almost sexy. They’d known each other quite a while and got along very well. They were friends. She was there at his place as a friend really. She wondered what she looked like being helped out. What did he think when he saw her naked and vulnerable like that?
He looked more relaxed now too. This was a weight off his shoulders as well. She shouldn’t have avoided him. For the sake of them both. This could have been over a long time ago.
“So what’s the worst? You saw me naked, right.” He looked very embarrassed. They were both slumped in the deep leather couch, relieved that they had each let the other one off the hook.
“And you didn’t, you know...you helped me. I appreciate that. It’s a…I don’t know, its a noble thing.”
“Not really.”
“Why, did you sneak a peak?”
“No.”
“See, noble.”
“I guess,” he smiled.
Jay really was a good guy. Definitely one of the good ones considering the string of assholes that had come through her life. Handsome, successful, driven, noble, fit, caring. What else would you ask for? Her mother would always ask her when she’d visit why she wasn’t with a good man. As pretty as
you are, she would add. God, what would she have thought of Omar?
“I think most men would have taken advantage in some way.”
“I don't know about that.”
“The men I’ve known. Few are like you. Do you think I’m attractive?” She turned her head in the couch to look at him.
“What? Of course,” he said raising his eyebrows.
“But you did the right thing.”
“You’re a good friend. You mean something to me,” he said.
He was one of the good guys. Maybe one of the best she’d known and she wasn’t doing anything about it.
“All this time we’ve been together you’ve always been the most professional, most straightforward easy-going guy, you’ve never made me feel funny or uncomfortable, or…” she lost her train of thought, “and they all do eventually.” And it was true. Jay was the only one who’d kept a clean record with her now that she thought about it.
“You never come on to me, make a pass at me--even when I’m passed out and naked in your hot tub.”
“Well, you’re kind of out of my league,” he said.
What was she waiting for? He was perfect. There was not a thing you could say against him and he’d always been there right in front of her. Kate would go for it. She always did. And look at her now. Look how everything worked out for her. Everything fell into place and she always came out on top. Because she was unafraid to make things happen
“Wait, I’m what?”
He didn’t answer her.
“Jay, I’m not out of your league at all. I might be younger than you but...you…”
She was leaning in to kiss him before she even realized she was doing it. She didn’t stop herself. Jay kissed her back but he was rigid and afraid. He kept his hands to his sides while she got to her knees next to him and kept her mouth on his. His hands came up between them and he put them on her hips. He kept her from climbing onto him but he didn’t push her away.
She kissed him passionately and she ran her hands over him trying to put him at ease. She wanted him to know this was okay. She wanted him to touch her. Her hand went between his legs and she grabbed him there. She could feel he was hard.
“Kiley. Wait,” he said as he pulled back.
She looked at him, both of them trembling but he couldn’t say any more.
She put her mouth back over his and her hand went quickly into his waistband and she put it around his throbbing erection. She stroked it inside his jeans and he was instantly slippery, he was gushing, filling her hand and seeping between her fingers. He made a whimper in his throat and his hands came up to her chest now. She wanted him inside her so badly. Her hand flicked and twisted around the end of his cock.
“Oh, God,” he sputtered and his body clenched underneath her. He was coming in her hand, spurting his seed all over the inside of his jeans. She laughed and stroked him, proud of her effect.
“Oh, God, stop.” he said. He sat forward and pulled away from her. Her hand came out of his pants dripping with his semen. He was embarrassed but he was also really mad.
“Get out,” he said, looking away from her hunched over.
“Jay it’s okay, it—”
“Just get out!” he yelled at her. She recoiled.
“Jay,” she said and reached out for him with her clean hand.
“Kiley get out,” he turned and made eye contact, made sure she knew he was serious.
She stood up. She didn’t know what to do, she didn’t want to leave but she couldn’t stay. She started to cry and Jay turned away from her. He was doubled over on the couch. She suddenly hated him. She made her way quickly into the hall and put her shoes on. Tears were streaming down her face now, she could feel them warm on her cheeks, dripping off the point of her chin. She grabbed her purse and her keys and as she closed the door behind her she started to sob. Her face was contorted and red and she covered it with one hand as she made her way past his gate and back to her car.
Mitch woke up at seven-thirty alone in bed. He got in the shower and got dressed and was only alarmed when he came out to the kitchen and Kate wasn’t there. He was alone in the apartment. She hadn’t left a note anywhere he could find. He went out to the patio but she wasn’t there either. He tried to remember if there was something she had to do today. She hadn’t said a thing last night. It was Saturday and they usually did a few things together even though they hadn’t anything specific planned today. Seven-thirty was a bit early for her to head out for errands.
He made breakfast and sat alone at the counter and ate by himself. He went through his e-mails on his phone. Nothing from Derek. He wasn’t sure what to expect there. And there was nothing from Kate. Not an e-mail, a text, nothing. Where could she have gone so early in the morning?
He left it—pushed it away. He had bigger things to worry about today. He got his things together, prepared himself in his office, got his papers in his bag and went out to the hall to get his keys. The Rover was gone. He picked up the keys to the Bentley. He looked at himself in the mirror and adjusted his tie. His face had never looked older he thought. He wondered if he was getting sick. He ran his hand through his hair and tried to make himself look a little more presentable. He had to meet with his lawyer.
4
La Galaxie
La Galaxie was rundown but at night you couldn’t really tell. It was down in a little industrial enclave on Rue des Trimarans, and if you drove around the block all you’d see were Marinas. Boats with tarps over them, some old and in need of repair and some new, waiting to be put in the water. They were stacked sometimes one on top of another on rails, right up at the edge of the street so you’d miss the view of the water.
If you walked through the parking and past the chain link fence and around the curve where there were residences hiding behind concrete walls and painted metal gates, it was only a minute or two before you’d be at the Étang de Thau. It was a salty lagoon that led out to the Mediterranean, and the first year he moved here Omar worked part time nearby with an oyster operation. He’d tweak cars during the day then four hours at night he’d fix young huître de Bouziques to gnarly ropes with a mixture of cement he’d prepared by hand. The oysters matured on the rope and someone else took care of all that, bringing them up and getting them to market. He’d slop cement from a white pail and let his mind wander with a cigarette hanging off his lips.
That seemed so long ago, but it really was only maybe six summers past. A lot had changed since then but he was the same kid. Hard work had made some improvement for him. But the greatest change? One hundred percent chance. Being in the right place at the right time. Being there and keeping your head together too. You had to know what to do with those chances when they came. He’d turned an invite for a crazy threesome with a millionaire’s wife into an investment in his young business. You had to know what to do when the time was right.
He was always surprised at the group of people brave enough to pass the doors of the club. The outside was peeling stucco, no windows at all, and a half wall of cracked, dated tiles. The sign was old and faded, from another time, and the treble clef painted on the metal was done by a very shaky, untalented hand. But the people you’d find in there were fun, mostly middle-aged Lake people who lived nearby and a had a little bit of money but not much style.
You’d also—at the right time of year—find young people who couldn’t discover much else to do in Frontignan that appealed to them. There were a few hostels in the area and in the summers there were students and twenty-year olds making their way around Europe. They’d stay here in the Lanquedoc because it was cheap and it was right between Spain and the popular parts of France and they were either coming from one or going to the other.
Omar had his eyes on one right now. She was blonde and pretty despite her big nose. She was here with her friend, a dark haired girl who was short but also not too bad looking. The blonde was on to him though, and she was flirting, moving around the dance floor, but always looking at him whe
n he found her; then she’d smile and look away.
Omar danced in the big group, probably way too many people for what the building was made for but it was the middle of summer and everyone was in the mood. His back was sore and his fingers ached from wrenching all day long. Frontec Motorsports was booming these days. The advertising and sponsorships were paying off. It was crazy today. He did bookkeeping all morning, then with his whole crew busy he tuned up some accountant’s Audi TT all by himself.
He was off tomorrow, a half day, then it was some race work on the F3 and then packing their gear for travel. The team had a race in Italy next weekend. But none of that was really work he thought. So tonight was party time. Time to celebrate before he had to start it all over again. They were booked solid for the next four weeks. Advertising was bringing in wealthy customers from Nîmes to Toulouse. If he felt more confident he’d do a few more new hires. But it was best to take these things slow. He was still recovering from the new bay he’d had built.
Mitch had settled up with him for services rendered. Even though those services went un-rendered. He’d fucked his wife for him, with some other guy in an apartment in London, both of them going in at the same time. But there was supposed to be a lot more. Mitch had called him however, said Thanks it was done he’d got what he wanted and no hard feelings, here’s everything you were promised. There was capital already in the business and then a delivery from UPS, a satchel of cash that he signed for. And that was it, no mention of why it was over.
He missed it. He missed Kate, genuinely. There was something about her he was drawn to. Something dark and dirty, but it felt...comfortable. It wasn’t to be, though. She was with a man who could afford her.
Had they gone too far with her he wondered? He did what he was instructed that day in London. The two of them putting their very large organs inside her at the same time. She took it, she hated them for doing it but you could tell she loved the act. He felt a touch too mean with her. Mitch wanted it, and he didn’t mind delivering. Did Mitch hate his wife? That had become a worry after the day in the apartment with that other guy Mitch had arranged. Was this going to get darker? What if she turned up dead? He worried about her after that day before Mitch called it off. Was she hurt by them? They were both big, and they were inside her all the way. Did Mitch have to call it off because she’d been hurt?