She got pissed when I reminded her that she forgot to add Australia to the list. I’ve banged a good number of women there, too. Lila slapped me upside the head for that one. I admit I deserved it, but it’s entertaining getting my sister all riled up.
Isn’t she just a peach?
“How about we talk about anything other than my love life, please? I don’t really think we should be talking about my sex life in front of Mom and Dad. It's wrong on so many levels, Lila.”
Upon hearing her name, my mom assumes it’s an invite to join this fucked up conversation. “I agree with your sister, Dixon. You’re twenty-four years old and part-CEO to one of the largest companies in Texas. You need to start thinking about your future. I would love to see this house filled with lots of grandbabies for the holidays.”
Fuck me with a rusty crowbar sideways.
I remember now why I dread the holidays.
“Mom, this isn’t the medieval days. I don’t need to worry about producing a goddamn heir at twenty-four. Between running Beaumont with Kayden and my business, I don’t have time for a girlfriend. Maybe in twenty years, I’ll change my mind.”
My mother lets out a loud gasp this time. What is it with my family and everyone being so damn dramatic?
“Twenty years? You better be kidding, Dixon. I’d be in my seventies by the time you decided to start a family! How many women want to start a family in their forties?”
“Who says I’ll marry a woman in her forties, Mom?”
Mike starts laughing his ass off down at the end of the couch. My father is watching the movie and trying to ignore this ridiculous conversation I’m stuck in the middle of.
“Dixon Remington Beaumont! You will not be one of those creepy old men with a girl half your age as your wife and mother of your children. That is just absurd!” When my mother uses my full name, you know she means business.
It takes everything in me not to laugh at my mother’s outburst right alongside Mike. I know if I did, she’d have a conniption fit. She takes the matter of my personal life so damn seriously.
I hold my hands up in defeat for the second time in ten freaking minutes. “I’m sorry, Mom. I promise to not be a cradle robber. There, ya happy? Can I now relax and eat some goddamn Christmas cookies and change the subject to anything but my love life?”
She shakes her head and stands to hold my gaze; then her eyes soften. “Let me grab you some cookies, sweetie.”
My mother is a pain in my ass most of the time, but she’s still my mom. I know deep down she is just doing what mothers do. She would feel as if she weren’t doing her motherly duty if she didn’t nag me about marriage and grandchildren.
I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket just as my mom sets the platter of her homemade sugar cookies down on the coffee table. I’m grateful everyone seems to have gotten the picture that I want to drop the topic of babies and marriage, as they all turn their attention back to the movie.
I pull my phone out and open my text messages.
Brooklyn:
Hey stranger! How’s ur holiday so far? I’m sitting here at my parents’ house going out of my mind. My aunts and uncles are here with all of their kids & they sound like a heard of banshees. They overtake the damn house. I could really use one of your famous Jack n Cokes. ;)
We’ve been texting back and forth since she left. I keep telling myself we're just two friends chatting to pass the time since the entire world seems to be busy with Christmas.
“Who’s that you’re talking to, Dixon?” Lila asks, with a mischievous glimmer in her eyes.
“What?” I ask while typing a response back to Brooklyn.
She laughs and tosses a throw pillow at me. “You’re grinning like the cat that got the mouse over there. So I gotta know, who is she?”
Well, that lasted all of two minutes. And to think I actually thought I’d be able to go the rest of the evening without being grilled by my mother or sister about my love life.
Me:
I’m at my parents’ with my sister and brother in law. After dealing with my family for 5 minutes, I think I need to trade my beer in for a Jack & Coke too. IDK why they feel the need to grill me on my love life every time we’re together. Since my sister got knocked up it’s only gotten worse. LOL
I hit send and glare at my sister. “None of your business. And why the hell are you assuming I’m talking to a chick? I could easily be texting Kayden, Brantley, or Tank.”
She rolls her eyes and looks at me like I just sprouted three heads. “Dixon, I wasn’t born yesterday. That big ass grin you just had on your face was definitely a smile brought on by a girl, not one of your ‘bros’,” she says, with actual fuckin’ hand quotes.
“Lila, leave your brother alone. You know how bitchy he gets when people try to butt into his private life,” Mike says, giving me a wink. Thank fuck he is usually her voice of reason–but does he really have to say I get bitchy? What the fuck, did I suddenly grow tits and a fuckin’ vagina?
“Whatever. I know you think I’m nagging you, Dixon. But I just want to see you happy. A life without love is not a life at all. What good is it to have all the things you do and not have someone to share it all with? Marrying Mike was the best decision I ever made. Whoever she is, I just hope she knows how amazing you are.”
Ah hell. She better not start crying again.
I quickly scoop up three cookies and hand them to her. She’s wiping at her eyes with a Kleenex Mike just handed her. “Damn hormones,” she says, laughing. I stand up and wrap her in a hug.
“It’s okay, sis. I would be worried if you didn’t nag me.”
She gives me a small smile and nibbles on her cookie.
I excuse myself and head up to the game room my parents have had since I was a teenager. It has a pool table, arcade games, and a large flat screen TV with every game system you can think of. After grabbing another beer, I get comfy on the sofa and decide to pass some time by playing Madden.
It’s only a little after nine, and here I sit, in my room playing fuckin’ video games to pass the time. Even if any of my friends were doing anything tonight, I couldn’t go out. My mother needs everyone up at the ass crack of dawn for Christmas breakfast. Last thing I need is to be hung over and up at dawn with my way-too-chipper-in-the-morning mother.
So here I sit, sippin’ a beer and probably playing some fourteen-year-old in Timbuktu on Christmas Eve. I’m dreading going to bed because every night for the last several weeks, I’ve been haunted in my dreams by Brooklyn. Since I finally gave in and fucked her–not once, but four times in a twenty-four hour span–I’ve not been able to get her out of my head. I have even caught myself zoning out and getting lost in my thoughts as I picture me and her fuckin’ in the back of my truck.
I can’t even drive my frickin’ truck without getting a damn hard-on now…she’s everywhere, and I feel as if I’m losing my fucking mind.
She’s just another girl.
I’ve been with a lot of smokin’ hot women, so I can’t wrap my head around what the hell it is about Brooklyn that has me so messed up.
I told myself I would only fuck her that one night; that’s it, then break ties. If I ran into her at Knox’s place, I’d act the same way I have for the last few weeks.
No flirting.
No touching.
Not. A. Damn. Thing.
Now here I sit, fucking texting back and forth with her since the day she flew back home.
I hate that I actually look forward to her random text messages. I even found myself looking her up on Facebook.
I hate Facebook.
I only have it to keep up with my old college friends and my sister. I agree, with her living in Dallas, having Facebook will be nice so I can see all the photos, videos, and milestones of my niece or nephew.
Brooklyn sent me a friend request after the day we went muddin’ at Knox’s ranch. I now find myself sitting on my phone and scrolling through Facebook on my lunch break. Whenever a photo of her pop
s up on my feed, my heart does a fuckin’ boot stompin’ dance in my chest. I hate that a flash of jealousy shoots through me when I see photos of her and that fuckin’ rocker Xander.
She isn’t my girl; she’s just Savannah’s friend that I happened to have had a one-night stand with–so why the hell do I want to pummel that Xander guy's face for being with her?
My phone buzzes as I’m in the middle of a play. Normally I’d leave it and answer it later, but it could be Brooklyn again, so I hit pause and toss my controller on the floor. How fucked up am I? I am jumping to read a damn text message from a chick?
I reach and cup my balls through my jeans…still got ‘em. For a moment there, I thought I lost my balls when the idea crossed my mind to put my controller down and see if Brooklyn had texted me back.
I dig my can of dip out of my pocket and put a pinch worth in my lip. I’m desperate for a nicotine fix; all this feeling is stressing me the fuck out. Every second that passes of these insane thoughts in my head is one more piece of my manhood that’s stripped away.
I’m five seconds away from going outside to shoot something, then chopping down a few trees, just so I can feel like a goddamn man again.
Brooklyn:
Sorry, the kids wanted me to get in the pool with them. Thank God my parents pool is heated bc it’s freezing in LA 2night. Ur mom & sister still busting ur balls?
Now all I can picture is Brooklyn dripping wet in a bikini. I’ll definitely be rubbing one out tonight. It’s totally fucked up that I’ve been jacking off to her every day. I really need to get laid…by anyone but Brooklyn. My dick needs to be acquainted with another fine piece of ass as soon as fucking possible.
Me:
Sorry. I lost all train of thought as soon as u mentioned the pool. All I can think about now is u in a bikini and wet.
Why did I just write what I was thinking? God. It’s as if my fingers have a mind of their own as I just typed that text to her.
What the hell am I doing?
I should be ignoring her text like I do other chicks and not replying within seconds of a new text coming in.
Brooklyn:
Haaa. U R such a perv ;)
Her text comes instantly, with a photo attached.
Fuck. Me. I think I just about blew my load in my fucking jeans.
It’s Brooklyn lying in the hot tub at her parents’ house in a barely there red bikini, with tiny gold beads dangling between her perfect tits.
Me:
Fuck that bikini…those tits. I’m so fucking hard right now.
Taking a page from her book, I snap a pic of my dick bulging against my jeans and send it to her. I have a big dick. One thing I know for sure is Brooklyn loves it. She rode me like a fuckin’ champ Thursday night, and again Friday morning. My dick is throbbing right now as I picture those tits bouncing while she rode me.
I can just picture her biting that bottom lip of hers as she looks at the text I just sent. I’m suddenly jealous of her teeth right now…how messed up is that?
Brooklyn:
I can’t believe u sent that! Ha! Glad 2 c that I can still get that Dixie stick hard even thousands of miles away ;)
Did she just call my dick a Dixie stick? What the fuck!? “Haaaa.” I tip my head back, laughing out loud, then looking around to make sure my nosy ass sister didn’t hear me. I hope Brooklyn doesn’t think my dick is as narrow as a fricking pixie stick. I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended right now.
Me:
Did you really just call my dick a Dixie stick?
WTF is that?! Haaa
Now that I’m talking with Brooklyn, I suddenly feel like having a Jack and Coke. I’ll never again see a bottle of Jack Daniel’s without thinking of Brooklyn dancing around to Bare Foot Blue Jean Nights, looking absolutely fuckin’ gorgeous.
Brooklyn:
That I did ;) I think it’s quite clever if I must say so myself. I have a few other nicknames for that enormous dick of urs…but u will have 2 wait & learn them another night.
We spent the next hour texting back and forth, just talking about anything that popped in our heads. It helped the time go by, but as soon as I put my phone on silent and headed to my room to take a shower, I knew I was screwed. No matter how many times I tell myself we’re just friends and I’ll never touch her again, I know I’m lying to myself–especially since I’m on my way to shower and rub one out to the image of her riding my dick. It’s the only way I’ve been able to get off on my own these past few days.
If Knox could hear me now, he’d have the biggest shit-eating grin plastered across his face.
I need to get out. Do something. Meet a chick and try to fuck Brooklyn out of my system. That’s exactly what I intend to do. The day after Christmas, I’ll call up my boys and see if they want to get together at Vertigo. We can spend the remainder of our vacation partying every night until we ring in 2013. I think it’s safe to say that after many nights out and random hook-ups, I’ll be saying, Brooklyn who?
Chapter Twenty-One
Brooklyn
I sit out on my parents’ patio and snack on a bowl of fruit while getting lost in the new hot smutty romance novel I just downloaded to my Kindle. It’s been nice just to relax and enjoy doing absolutely nothing.
I’ve loved spending the holiday with my mom and dad, along with our crazy clan of aunts, uncles, and cousins. But all those kids officially wore me out. I played monster trucks with my Aunt Jana’s two little boys and mermaids with my Uncle Billy and Uncle Kelvin’s daughters. Now I am ready just to lounge all day and do nothing but relax, sip wine, and snack on leftover chocolate pie.
Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve, and my father booked him and my mother a few nights at her favorite hotel in Palm Springs. For the first time, I’ll finally have the house to myself. We’ve spent the last few days shopping and using all the gift cards we received for Christmas.
“Hey, sweetie. Your father and I are almost set to go. Do you need anything before we hit the road?” my mom asks as she walks out to the patio and wraps her arm around me from behind to give me a small hug.
I love my mom. She is like my best friend. I tell her everything, and no matter what, I know if I ever need anything, she will be there to help me. We look a lot alike. Every time we’re out together for a spa day, shopping, or just to grab lunch, people think we’re sisters instead of mother and daughter. I find it hilarious now, but I hated it in high school and college. All the guys wanted me to throw pool parties at my house because they all had a major crush on Karyn Bennett. Word spread fast after my thirteenth birthday. From then on, I couldn’t escape it.
My mom always tells me I’ll be thanking my ancestors for the good genes when I’m fifty and look thirty. If that happens, hallelujah! That will help me land some amazing movie deals and not look overstretched or overbotoxed, like the rest of aging Hollywood!
“I’m all good. The wine fridge is stocked, and the house is loaded with leftovers. I’ll be fine. You and Dad go have fun. Text or call me when you get to Palm Springs, so I know you made it safely.”
My mom gives me one more squeeze before kissing my cheek. “If you need anything, Lolita’s number is written down on the message board in my office.” Lolita is my mom and dad’s housekeeper. She cleans and also does all their grocery shopping.
“Will do, Mom. Now stop worrying. I’ve survived this long on my own; I think I can manage a few days here alone.” I glance at the time on my phone and see it’s already quarter to twelve. “Anyways, Dad is probably ready to go. You know how he gets,” I say, laughing.
My dad is OCD about punctuality. If he wants to be on the road at noon, he expects the car to be loaded up, and everyone buckled up by five ‘til. He hates feeling rushed, especially in California traffic.
“My ears are ringing. Are you girls out here talking about me?” my dad asks, with a knowing smile, as he makes his way out to the patio to join me and my mom.
“Yes, we were, Daddy. I was just telling
Mom I’m going to be fine. You two kids go to Palm Springs and have a blast. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” I tell him playfully while winking up at my mom.
My dad laughs into my hair as he pulls me in for a hug. “See you later, kiddo. I don’t even want to think about that last statement. In my eyes, you’re still my little Disney princess, demanding to move into the castle at Disney Land.”
A small smile spreads across my lips as I think back to our family trip one year for my birthday. I think I was turning six. I was convinced I was a real princess, and I threw the biggest hissy fit because I never wanted to leave the hotel room in the princess castle. My father said it broke his heart to see me crying my crocodile tears as we packed up our suitcases and checked out.
Here I am, eighteen years later and still have my daddy wrapped around my finger. I’ve been blessed with the most loving and supportive parents on Earth, who have said they always knew I’d be an actress. I guess I had a flair for the dramatic from a young age. Who would’ve thought?
“Okay, okay. You’re going to get out of the house late if you don’t haul your butts to the car right now. I love you both. Now go! And don’t forget to text me when you check-in, Mom!” I shout as they scurry towards the house. The sight of my mom attempting to run behind my father in her stilettos makes me smile.
I hope one day when I finally get the desire to settle down, I can find a love as strong as what my parents have. Even thirty years later, they’re just as in love with each other as they were the day they met. It helps me keep hope alive that true love does exist.
Savannah and I are in the minority within our group of friends. Most of them come from broken homes, with not just one stepmom or dad, but enough stepparents to count on both hands. Around here, people change husbands and wives faster than they change their hair…which is a lot.
An hour later, I realize I’ve drunk an entire bottle of wine. Oops. And I’m starving. My rumbling stomach is demanding I feed it. The bowl of fruit I ate earlier was delicious, but not very filling.
Wasted Love Page 21