Licentious

by Jen Cousineau

“Jo,” he sighs. “I’m just… worried about you. Besides, you said they hired you as a trainer. That means they are clients,” he reminds me.

  “Yes, boss,” I bite. “However, I think you forget that Frank De Luca hired me for his daughter. Alé has nothing to do with the contract. And even if I did spend the night with him, it’s none of your damn business.”

  “Jo,” he starts but I cut him off.

  “Joey,” I correct him harshly after the second time calling me that. No one but Addison calls me that. That name is reserved for people that I consider family. I love Cam—he’s a friend of mine. But he’s not my family. “It’s always been Joey. It will always be Joey,” I add.

  “Wow. Okay then. Joey,” he says sarcastically, “I’m just worried about you. You’re my friend. At least, I thought we were friends, and friends talk to each other, and they tell each other when the other is about to fuck up or get hurt. Well, this is me telling you.”

  “Well, thank you for the concern, Cameryn,” I mock his tone. “But last I checked I was an adult. And if I want to sleep with someone, I will. And I don’t need—”

  “I know!” he yells. “I know you don’t need me to tell you, but guess what, Joey, you’re turning into a damn whore!”

  “Whoa! What?” I shriek. “Did you just call me a whore? You know what, Cameryn? Fuck off!” I yell into the phone as loud as I can before I end the call and throw it on the seat next to me. If phones weren’t so damned expensive nowadays, I’d chuck the bitch out the window.

  *****

  I just finish pulling my hair back into a low, messy side braid when my phone started serenading me. I don’t even bother answering it. Looking at the screen, I see its Addison, so I head out to my living room and grab my purse from the couch before going outside to meet her. Walking up to her canary yellow Mustang convertible, I see clear disdain written on her face as she tips her head down and pulls her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose.

  Stopping right outside, I ask, “What?”

  “Really, Joey?” she says disgustedly.

  “Really, what?” I’m clearly confused. I hold my arms out to my sides before shrugging. “I don’t see the problem. It’s not sweats of any kind.”

  “Close enough. It’s jeans and a tee. With chucks!” She grimaces. “Jo, if you’re gonna pull off the casual jeans and tee look, you at least have to pair it with some killer heels!”

  She’s clearly serious. I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah! Because a shopping adventure with you is clearly painless. And short! There’s no way in hell you’d ever catch me wearing heels for the hell of it. Especially to go walk around and shop for hours!”

  “You’re too dramatic.” She sighs before putting the car in gear and pulling into traffic.

  “Whatever,” I shrug. “I am who I am,” I remind her with a smirk.

  “While we’re on the subject of you,” she says slyly, “why don’t you fill me in on what happened with Mr. Fine Ass Alé.”

  “Really? That’s the best you could come up with?” I tease. “Nothing happened.”

  “Nothing?” she asks surprised.

  “Nothing.” I shrug. “That I can remember,” I add quietly.

  “Ah ha!” she smiles, pointing her finger at me.

  “Ya’ mind watchin’ the road, please?” I nearly shriek as the car starts to drift.

  “She softly corrects it before telling me, “Spill it.”

  I sigh loudly so she gets the hint that I don’t really want to. “Not much to spill since pretty much the last thing I remember is you all hot and heavy with Tommy in the booth.”

  “OMG, Jo! So much happened!” she shrieks. “God, how do you do that?”

  “What?” I ask confused.

  “Drink so much that you blackout, or nearly blackout, and yet you never puke?” she asks in all seriousness. “Or die?” she adds.

  “I don’t know. I don’t puke.” I shrug. “Eve was the puker. I was the hangover bitch.” I turn to look out of the side of the car. The top and windows are all down, and the feeling of a warm breeze against my face is refreshing. Free.

  “Must be nice for those mornings you wake up and are horrified by the sight lying next to you,” she says with a grin. I just shake my head. Only Addison.

  “So, what did happen last night?” I ask. My curiosity piqued.

  “Well, we ended up spending the rest of the night hanging out and dancing with Alé and Tommy. His Dad and uncle left shortly after Cam left. Speaking of Cam,” she rambles on, “he was super pissed.”

  “Huh? When? About what?” I ask. Did he seriously call her to tell my best friend of our fight?

  “Last night. We bailed on him. And when you do decide to clean the cobwebs from your vajayjay, it’s never with him,” she pushes are bottom lip out in a mocking pout.

  “That’s,” I freeze. “True. But he’s my friend. My business partner. I would never risk that! Besides, he’s not my type. I just…” I trail off shaking my head, moving my bangs out of my face, “I don’t see him like that. But I got into it with him on the phone on my way home from Alé’s,” I tell her.

  “Alé’s?” she says confused.

  “Yeah, I’m training his sister, Maria. She’s getting married in a few months and decided it’s time to change a few things,” I tell her. I’m actually super proud of Maria for making that step.

  “Yeah, so shouldn’t you be saying, Maria’s? Not, Alé’s?” She smirks.

  “Ugh. Whatever. It’s the same place.”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “Okay, so he’s super-hot! But he’s arrogant. And there’s just something about him… I couldn’t even tell you what, but it’s not what I’m looking for,” I tell her before she gets any crazy ideas in her head.

  She pulls into a free parking spot before unbuckling her belt and turning to me. Grabbing my hand she looks at me with almost what I would call pity. “Honey, you always do this.”

  “Do what?” I pull back, unsure of where she’s going with this.

  “Push men away. You don’t have sex unless you’re completely wasted. I mean, last night should have been a time to remember if the sounds from the room you and Alé were in are any indication,” she teases.

  “Shut up!” I slap her hand lightly. “Was I loud? Oh, my God, people heard me?” I freak, my hands cover the embarrassment on my cheeks.

  “Yeah, kinda,” she laughs. “But you weren’t the only one,” she winks.

  “Alé’s loud?” I ask a little weirded out. He said he talked dirty to me. And that I liked it. Did they hear that?

  “No! I didn’t hear Alé… vocally.” She laughs. “I was loud!”

  “Oh! Yeah, I knew that. I think the whole world knows that!”

  “Do you remember Alé and Tommy standing up for you last night?” she questions.

  I jerk my head back a little shocked. “Tommy? Tommy hates me. He was rude the entire time,” I remind her.

  With a puzzled look she says, “Honey, you guys got a long great last night. In fact, Alé was a little jealous over it until I told him he had nothing to worry about. You’re just friendly with everyone.”

  “Really?” I’m shocked. I really didn’t think Tommy and I hit it off on any level.

  “So… what did they have to stick up for me for?” I go back to the original conversation.

  “Oh, some guy you fucked and ran from a few months ago saw you. Got in your face, called you a whore, and a cunt because you didn’t remember him and you ran before he could even talk to you the next morning.” She says it so casually it’s a little unnerving.

  “Oh, my God. Cam’s right,” I whisper, my fingers resting on the outside corners of my eyes. “I’m a whore,” I shake my head.

  “No. No, Joey, you’re not a whore. And I don’t want to ever hear you say that again, or I’ll kick your ass!” she warns me. “Jo, listen to me,” she orders. I lift my chin until our eyes are level. She grabs my hands with hers and rests them on the arm console between us.
“You have a very valid reason for why you do it. I get it. But, eventually, you need to find a way to get through it. You’re too good to let it control you. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to have a man love you. Like really love you. You know? Like a soul mate. Like those book boyfriends we read about. And I know that book boyfriends don’t really exist. Everyone’s flawed,” she rolls her eyes, “but perfect for you does exist. You just have to stop running.”

  I pull my hands from hers and turn forward in my seat. I wipe a few tears that escaped. I’m a little dumbfounded. I mean, I told Addison about my past one night in college after we got drunk drinking a few cheap bottles of wine in our dorm room. But we never really talked about it after that. She never brought it up or said shit about it to me. I’m taken aback that she did after all this time.

  “Let’s go,” I tell her as I start to get out of the car.

  “Jo?” she says quietly.

  “Yeah?” I ask as I turn and shut the door. Watching her get out, she turns to shut her door, smiles at me, and says, “I’d never let you turn into a whore. You get laid like every two months or so. If anything, you’re kinda a prude.” She winks and laughs as she walks around the car toward me. She slides an arm through mine, and says, “I love the shit outta you, Joey.” She squeezes my arm before collecting herself.

  “Love the shit outta you, too,” I tell her with a hip bump. “So. What are we shopping for today?” I ask as we head into the mall.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Aléssandro

  Benefits to working for the family business are the connections. I have connections to pretty much anything I want. Parties, rare possessions such as sold out tickets, guns, women, hookups, money, drugs, idiots to run errands, or whatever. Not saying I use all or any of them, but the option is always there. Tonight I called in a favor from one of my connections and they pulled through. It pays to have a connection with the police and to the DMV database.

  I researched into Briana Marblen today. She’s married—now known as Briana Nastan—with two kids, and a husband who’s serving a thirty-year sentence without parole. Working two jobs, and still on state aid. I have a feeling getting the information I’m looking for will be easier than I originally thought.

  Pulling up to the address that I got from my guy, I pull to the curb to check the place out. A run-down, ratty grey building that has missing siding and shingles. Bars on windows on the lower units to give the tenants a false sense of security. I actually feel bad for people in places like this. No one should have to fight this hard to survive. Especially when kids are involved.

  I get out and activate the car alarm before heading to the entrance. The door is propped open with a cigarette butt can. Well, that’s safe. Walking in, I head to the second level and locate apartment F. I hold my ear to the door and hear the voices from a TV, but no other sound. I look down at my watch and wonder if I’m stopping over too late for someone with kids. Nine-twenty-three on a Saturday night. Hm. Fuck it. I knock lightly on the door just in case she would consider it to be too late. I’d rather not piss off the person I need a favor from, especially when she doesn’t even know me. She owes me nothing.

  I hear the deadbolt of the door click before the door slightly opens, stopped by a chain hooked from the door to the frame. A small blonde with short wispy hair pops around the side.

  “Can I help you?” she asks a bit timidly.

  “Are you Briana Nastan?” I ask confidently.

  “Yes, can I help you?” she asks nervously as she looks me up and down. I probably should have thought about how I looked. I’m still wearing my black tee, worn jeans, and black boots, and my tattoos are fully on display. Well, the ones on my arms anyway. If I were thinking, I would have at least put on a nice full-sleeved shirt.

  “My name’s, Aléssandro Dé Luca.” I smile at her, as her brows raised and eyes narrowed. “We actually don’t know each other, but you knew my brother,” I add quickly before she could shut the door on me.

  “Who would that be?” she asks cautiously.

  “Frank Dé Luca,” I admit. Fuck, now I’m nervous. This may be the only lead that the cops missed. What if she isn’t willing to listen? What if she isn’t willing to talk? Nah, she can be bought. Everyone has a price.

  “And why are you here to see me about a guy I barely knew?” she asks confused.

  “Because you might be the only one who can help me,” I admit softly. “May I please come in? I’ll only take a few minutes of your time. If you don’t like what I’m saying, you can kick me out, and I’ll go willingly,” I promise.

  “Right. And I’m just supposed to take your word for it?” she fires back.

  “Here,” I reach behind my back, and grab the gun from my waistband by taking hold around the barrel rather than the handle. I pull it around to my front and she gasps and jumps back. “Calm down, I’m giving this to you. If I get out of line, you can shoot me,” I tell her. “With my own gun,” I add. I actually can’t believe I’m doing this. I never allow someone to shoot my gun. Desperate measures, though. I wonder if Joey knows how to shoot a gun? Man, she would be smokin’ hot firing one off.

  “You’re giving me your gun,” she confirms.

  “Well, not exactly. I’m loaning you my gun. I want it back when I leave.” I chuckle.

  She steps forward and shuts the door. I hear the chain rattle before she opens the door wide. Wearing grey sweats and a tight pink tank top, she gestures me in with her hand. I step forward and hand her my gun causing her to smile.

  “How do you know that I won’t shoot you?” she asks with a sly smile.

  “The same way you didn’t know if I would as soon as you unlocked the door. But you opened it anyway.” I smile back. She nods once as she takes the gun and walks over to the couch. She places the gun on the rugged coffee table cluttered in toys and Sippy cups before falling back on an old ugly pea-green colored couch. Looking around, all I see are toys littering every free space, crayon colored pictures hanging on the walls, and old outdated furniture.

  “Sorry about the mess.” She gestures to the room. “I just got home from work not too long ago. Figured I’d rather shower than clean.” She laughs lightly.

  “Not a problem,” I reassure her. “May, I?” I gesture to the other end of the sofa.

  “Yeah.” She nods to the space before moving the gun closer to her and turns her body toward me. Smart girl.

  I take a seat facing her, making sure to leave a cushion of space between us. I lean forward resting my elbows on my knees before rubbing my palms together. “I came across a file today. It was the case file surrounding my brother Franks’ death,” I say as I look up at her face and see her eyes grow wide. “I’m curious about what happened that night. You were one of the only witness statements I found in there. There was one by a few other party-goers who were too intoxicated to be considered a valuable source. And then, of course, there was Cameryn.” I spit his name out as if it left a bitter taste in my mouth. “He only collaborated what you stated.”

  “Look, I’m really sorry about Frank. He seemed,” she ducks her head as a faint blush crept up her cheeks and neck, “sweet. But I’m not sure that there’s anything I can tell you that I didn’t tell the cops who questioned me.”

  “How long were you dating Cameryn at the time?” I ask.

  “Why?” she answers me with a question. Go figure.

  “Just trying to get as much information as I can. Can you tell me what you remember from that night?”

  She sighs, rolling her eyes. “Fine, but we need to hurry this up. I have to be at work early in the morning. I need to get to bed,” she tells me, as I nod my head in agreement. “Frank and I were getting… friendly. Not like, hooking up friendly, but I would say… heavily flirting type of friendly. Cam saw and flipped a lid. We were only together like a month at the time. I just wanted to have a fun high school thing, he… wanted more,” she pauses to purse her lips as if she’s deep in thought. “We were all drinkin
g, Frank, especially. He was hammered, but we were all pretty drunk.”

  “Sloppy drunk or…?” I trail off.

  “Hammered, but I wouldn’t say sloppy. Just drunk.” She shrugs.

  “Okay, so Cameryn saw the flirting. Then what?”

  “He came up and told Frank to leave me alone and that I was his. I was only sixteen. I didn’t know what to do. So I stayed quiet, let them work it out themselves.” She slightly shakes her head as if the memory disturbs her. “Frank left shortly after, and Cam and I left together a while after that,” she adds quickly. Too quickly.

  “Bullshit.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Don’t lie to me, Briana. My brother is dead. And we both know damn well that you and Cameryn didn’t leave together that night,” I growl, my patience wearing thin. “I despise liars.”

  “If you don’t want to believe what I’m telling you, then what was the point of coming here other than you just wasting both of our time?” she shoots back, pissed.

  “Look,” I sigh as I rub a hand down over my face, “I just want the truth. I’m not going to do anything to get you in trouble. Shit, I most likely won’t even go to the cops. I just need to know what happened to my brother,” I plead with her. “I’ll give you five-thousand dollars to tell me the truth about that night. If what you’re saying is true, then fine.” I shrug. “If not, then I need you to tell me. Either way, the money is yours,” I promise.

  She narrows her eyes at me, lips pursed as she considers my proposal. “Fifteen thousand,” she says firmly.

  “Ten,” I counter.

  “Fifteen or no deal.”

  “Fine. Fifteen. Now, what happened that night?”

  “Look, whatever I tell you, I need your word that nothing happens to me. Nothing. I’m all my babies have, and I need to be here for them,” she says as worry clouds her eyes.

  I reach over and grab her hand. She slightly flinches but doesn’t pull back. “I promise nothing will happen to you or your babies,” I tell her softly.

  “After Frank left, just a few minutes later, Cam left, too. I was having fun, so I decided to stay. A while later—”