by Vi Keeland
Ready to explode in my jeans, I said, “Stop.”
She turned around and whispered over my lips, “You don’t want me?”
My body was in turmoil. She wanted to fuck me. And I wanted to be inside of her more than anything. But I just couldn’t. I could never consider sleeping with her until she knew the truth.
I got up and ran my hand through my hair. “I need to leave.”
She hopped up from the bed. “I’m sorry. I got carried away. It’s been a long time. I thought you wanted it, figured that’s why you came here so late. So, I wanted to let you know that it would be okay…if you wanted to. But it’s fine.”
My voice was louder than I intended. “I do want to…God, I do. But you really need to be careful, Bianca. You don’t even really know me.”
She let out a bitter laugh, “You’re warning me against you?”
“No.”
Fuck yes, I am.
I continued, “I just don’t want to move too fast with you. And I just think we…should get to know each other better first.”
Even though I know almost everything there is to know about you.
Letting out a deep breath, I went on. “But since I really can’t resist you, I think the best thing for me to do is to go home tonight, then take you out again properly. You’re not some booty call to me, Bianca.”
She placed her hands over her face and spoke into them. “You’re right. I was just…feeling like I needed it tonight.”
I know.
Because of me.
My chest hurt. I needed to get out of here before I admitted everything. She wasn’t in the right state of mind for the truth tonight.
Kissing her softly on the forehead, I said, “I’ll call you soon, okay?”
She simply nodded before walking me to the door.
Try to whittle your way out of this one, douchebag.
Feeling like an absolute asshole, I drove home in my Jeep vowing that after tonight, Jay was dead.
The next morning at the office, I was distracted, to say the least. Cancelling all my meetings for the day, I did something I almost never did. I went home and did nothing.
Sitting on my couch, I watched the clock, anxious for my chat with Bianca later. Only nine more hours to go. Dread filled me.
Should I tell her tonight?
I picked up the phone and decided to dial the one person who I knew could relate to what I was going through right now.
He picked up. “Hello, son.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Not bad. Just came in from a walk. About to make a tuna sandwich.”
“How’s the weather down there?”
“It’s Florida. Hot with a chance of rain pretty much all of the time.”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“To what do I owe this phone call?”
“I actually need your advice.”
“That’s not something you often seek.”
“Well, this is one circumstance where I think you can actually be of some help. It involves lying. I’ve gotten myself into some deep shit.”
“Ah. Now, this is making sense.”
“I know you didn’t exactly hide your affairs from Mother very well. But essentially, you always seemed to be able to get back into her good graces…”
He interrupted, “Are you having an affair on someone?”
“No, I’m not a cheater, Dad. But I lied about my identity. The woman I’m dating thinks I’m someone else.”
“Are you ashamed of yourself or something?”
“It’s a long story. I thought she had some preconceived notions about rich and powerful men. I made a bad judgment call. Basically, I’m going to come clean to her soon and need to own up to my mistake. I just wondered if there was a trick to admitting a lie in a way that it would result in the least amount of damage.”
He chuckled. “Your mother was way too good to me, far too forgiving. She shouldn’t have been. There is no trick, Dex. If you’re lucky, this woman will see who you really are and forgive you. If you’re not lucky, I’m afraid there is nothing you can do to convince someone you’ve hurt that they should give you a second chance. That’s the price we pay for dishonesty. If she’s got it in her mind that you’re untrustworthy, there may be no turning back from that. I’ve learned that the hard way.”
My chest constricted. “Alright.”
He added, “I’ve lost good people in my lifetime who were right in their decision not to trust me.”
“Well, I was hoping this conversation would make me feel better, but I actually feel worse now.”
“Sorry, son. I’m just trying to be honest.”
“Oh, the irony.”
We both got a good laugh out of that. It felt weird to be laughing with Dexter Sr., bonding over our mutual indiscretions.
“Yeah.” He sighed.
“I’ll let you get back to your lunch, old man.”
“Keep in touch.”
“I will.”
I was about to hang up when he said, “Dex?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m proud of you for trying to be a better man than me. I hope you get out of this mess, hope you get the girl.”
“Not exactly the tongue I want to taste.” Using the back of my hand, I wiped Bandit’s slobber from my mouth. It was the third day in a row I’d come to take my new buddy for a walk. Jay was officially dead, and Dex was too big of a pansy ass to come clean to Bianca, so the only connection I had to Georgy Girl was a hundred-pound, shit machine whose breath smelled like ass. Sadly, he was the best friend I had at the moment.
“What are we gonna do, buddy?” I was sitting on the park bench again, and Bandit sat down facing me. Perhaps I was losing my sanity, but when he quirked one ear up, I could have sworn he was listening—wanted to help me solve my woman problems. “Have you ever lost your shit over a woman? Done something really stupid that you couldn’t figure out how to make it right? I don’t know…maybe take a bitch’s bone and bury it when she wasn’t looking?”
Bandit lifted his paw and swatted my knee. I took that as a yes. Bandit was a bone thief. “You did, huh? Did you come clean and win her heart in the end?”
Bandit opened his mouth and let out a big yawn, then rested his long face on my lap.
“I’m even boring a dog with my life.” I scratched his head and sighed. “I just don’t know what to do. How do I explain why I kept up the charade for so long? Admit that I was afraid she wouldn’t like me if I was who I really am? Or admit that I really am the asshole she thought I was and that she probably wouldn’t like me much if we’d met under other circumstances?” The truth was, that was what I was really afraid of—that once she got to know the real me, she’d smarten up and find herself an honest bike messenger.
It was almost eight, and I was already an hour later than I should have been getting to the office, so I walked my new best friend back to the shelter. Suzette wasn’t around when I’d arrived an hour ago but was now working the counter. “Mr. Truitt. I’m glad I caught you. I wanted to let you know that Bandit is getting relocated to our farm upstate at the end of this week.”
“A farm?”
She offered an unconvincing smile. “We can only keep dogs in the shelter here in the city for so long—after three months they go upstate for retirement if they aren’t adopted.”
“Upstate? A farm? Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” I’d had a dog that went to the so-called farm once when I was a kid. I remember the day I’d told my friend that Buster had gone to have a better life on a farm. He’d set me straight on what the farm really meant.
Suzette’s smile was real. “God, no. It’s not like that. Our farm is a nice place. A woman named Allison runs it—she’s pretty amazing, actually. The only downside is the animals don’t get as much interaction with people as they do here in the city where we get lots of volunteers. But it’s a nice farm, and the dogs have room to run during the day.”
When I looked down at Ba
ndit, he was staring up at me. Don’t give me those sad eyes. It’s a real farm. Not the proverbial farm parents used to make naïve children feel better. Didn’t you hear the woman? I kneeled down and rubbed the top of his head. “You take care of yourself. Okay, buddy?” For some reason, it felt like I was saying goodbye to the last part of Bianca I was holding on to. After a few minutes, I stood and offered Suzette the leash.
When she took it, Bandit refused to move from my side.
Suzette made kissy sounds. “Come on, Bandit. Time for Mr. Truitt to go.”
The damn dog didn’t budge, even when Suzette gave the collar a light tug.
“I’m sorry. They bond very quickly. Let me go grab his favorite toy.”
She disappeared and came back a few minutes later squeaking a toy bone. That got his attention. “Come on, Bandit.” Squeak. Squeak. “Say goodbye to Mr. Truitt.”
I looked down at my trusty friend—my keeper of secrets—to say goodbye. But instead it wasn’t what I said at all. I wasn’t even sure who put the fucking words in my mouth that I vomited out. All I know is that I wasn’t ready to let go of the last piece of Bianca just yet. And…I’d lost what was left of my mind.
“I’d like to adopt Bandit.”
“What the…?”
My brain was seriously screwing with me. As I walked down 21st Street lost in thought about Dexter Truitt, the guilt I’d been feeling for thinking about him while I was kissing Jay the other night must have really started to get to me. I blinked my eyes into focus watching from a distance while a tall, dark, handsome man who looked an awful lot like Jay Reed was getting into the back of a fancy Town Car. From a block away, the man really looked like Jay, only he was wearing a three-piece suit and helping a greyhound jump into a car, rather than riding a bicycle. I laughed to myself how nutty my imagination could be sometimes and watched the dark car pull away from the curb as I made my way to Forever Grey.
Inside, Suzette greeted me. “Hey Bianca. Did I sleep through a day, or is today Monday?”
I laughed. I only ever went to the shelter on Sunday mornings. “Nope. It’s Monday, alright. I came yesterday, too.” I hesitated to continue what I was going to say at first, because what I was going to say might sound a little batshit crazy, but then I remembered if anyone would understand it was another dog person. “Yesterday, I walked a dog I’ve never walked before...and…well, I’ve been struggling with some things and taking him out made me feel a lot better.” I decided to leave off the part that I spent the better part of an hour telling the poor dog my problems.
Suzie smiled. “The best therapists have four legs and a tail, if you ask me. Which dog is it? I’ll get him for you.”
“His name is Bandit.”
Suzie looked surprised. “Bandit seems to be very popular lately. In fact, you just missed him. He was actually adopted by a volunteer.” She pointed to the door. “Walked out less than five minutes ago.”
Call it intuition, but my stomach dropped—a feeling of uneasiness crept over me, and I wasn’t sure why. “Who…who adopted him?”
Suzie looked around and then leaned in. “I’m not really supposed to give out adoption or volunteer information…but…Bandit hit the jackpot. He was adopted by a guy who lives on Central Park West. Some big-wig who owns his own company.”
“Was his name…Jay Reed, by any chance?”
She shook her head. “No, that’s not his name.”
Feeling relief, I let out a breath. “Okay. I just saw a guy on the street with a greyhound right before I came in. He reminded me of someone, and I thought maybe it was him.”
“Definitely not named Jay. But if Jay looks anything like Bandit’s new owner, he’s welcome to come volunteer.”
I laughed. “Good looking, huh?”
“Oh yeah.” Suzette gathered some papers into a file and closed it on top of the reception counter. “How about if I grab Marla for you? She hasn’t been out today, and you’ve walked her before, right?”
“Marla would be great. She’s really sweet.”
Suzette disappeared to the back where they kept the dogs, and I waited at the desk. After I checked my phone and found I still didn’t have any new texts from Jay, I tucked it back into my pocket and looked around. The folder that Suzette had swept papers into was labeled adoptions. I was curious by nature, but not usually such a snoop. Glancing around the room, I found no one paying attention, so I used my pointer finger to gently lift open the manila folder—just enough to sneak a peek.
I caught the home address on the second line: 1281 Central Park West. Suzette wasn’t kidding—Bandit was moving on up. Then my eyes lifted to the first line of the application. Blinking a few times, I was certain my brain was screwing with me again. There was no way it could be possible. It didn’t make any sense. Not giving a shit if I was caught at that point, I opened the folder and tore the first page from inside. Staring, I couldn’t believe what was written clear as day on line one.
Dexter Truitt.
My stomach was nauseous as I stood across the street in the park, waiting. I’d blown off the interview I was supposed to do this afternoon in favor of stalking like a crazy person.
Nothing made sense.
Over the last few hours, I’d connected the puzzle pieces and figured out what Dex-slash-Jay had done to me. I just didn’t understand why.
Was this a game rich assholes liked to play? Screw with the working-class woman and see if you can get her to fuck you as a poor man? That was the puzzle piece that didn’t fit. Because the other night Jay could have fucked me—I’d rubbed myself up against him, practically begged him for it. God I was so fucking pathetic. But if that was his game—why didn’t he take the prize I was so willing to give? I hated that the only thing I could think of was that he didn’t even want me physically. Basically, I was a mental game for him and not even my ass grinding up against his dick made him want me.
When the dark Town Car finally pulled up in front of his fancy ass building, I watched from across the street as he got out. It killed me that my heart sped up seeing him step from the car. Dexter Truitt-slash-Jay Reed was most certainly an asshole—but a gorgeous asshole at that. I almost jumped out from behind the tree I was watching from, but when Dex leaned in and helped Bandit from the car, I was too confused and mesmerized to approach.
What is he doing with the dog?
The two of them walked to a small grassy area for a minute. Dex petted the dog and said something to him after he relieved himself, then they headed to the front door of the building. Right before he stepped inside, Dex stopped abruptly, turned back, and looked around the street. Ducking back to safety behind the tree, my heart was beating out of my chest as I wondered if he could have felt me watching him.
Then, just like that, he was gone.
I stood there for almost another hour, feeling all kinds of emotions. I was angry that there was no Jay—that I’d thrown myself at a man I clearly didn’t know at all. I was angry that I fell for the shit Dexter Truitt had fed me—the man was no better than his father. And I was angry that, above everything else, I was sad that the man I’d started to fall for didn’t really exist.
Eventually, I decided against approaching Dex-slash-Jay and headed home to wallow in self-pity with a glass of cheap wine. I took a bath, and found myself thinking that the emotional turmoil that I was in was a lot like the stages of grief. In a screwed-up way, I had lost someone today—Jay, who never really existed.
Stage one had been shock. Even staring at the words, I couldn’t believe that Jay and Dex were the same person. I’d actually made poor Suzette confirm that the man who’d just left was indeed Dexter Truitt.
Stage two was denial. I’d seen it in black and white on paper, watched the man get into a damn Town Car right in front of my eyes and verified the accuracy of it all with Suzette, yet I needed to sit out in front of his apartment for more confirmation of what he’d done.
Stage three had hit right after I polished off my second glass of win
e. And it smacked me in the face with a vengeance—anger. I was pissed. Which led me to make up my own stage of healing—step 3B, I decided to call it. It was my favorite, and I couldn’t wait to embrace it.
Revenge.
Bandit had started to scratch at the door five minutes before eleven, so I was late getting to my laptop. I’d been antsy after the crap I’d pulled showing up as Jay on her doorstep following our last session. When I returned from a quick dog walk, I was relieved to find the chat window already open and a message waiting.
Bianca: Hello, Dex.
Dex: Hello, Bianca. How are you today?
Bianca: A little anxious, I suppose.
You and me both.
Dex: Anxious? About what? Is everything alright?
It took a few minutes for her to respond. But I was intrigued as hell when she finally did.
Bianca: There’s something I’ve wanted to ask you. But wasn’t sure how you’d feel about discussing the subject.
I’d already aired so much of my dirty laundry. I was curious what she could possibly feel was off limits at this point.
Dex: I’ve been an open book for you, Bianca. What did you want to talk about?
The answer came quick.
Bianca: Sex. I want to talk about sex.
This time it was me who needed to compose myself to respond.
Dex: Is this discussion for the article, or is what you’re asking more of a personal nature?
Bianca: It’s personal.
God, my cock was swelling just thinking about discussing sex with her. But I was certainly more than game if she was.
Dex: Ask away. I’m assuming our rules still stand, and I’ll get to ask a question for every one you do.