Love Sick

by HJ Bellus

  So he fingered me, made my toes curl, and heart hammer? Big deal, it could happen with any alluring, ravishing man who is practically a stranger. The bully on the playground stole him from me and is now showing off her shiny toy. That’s no excuse for me to cross my arms and pout. Move on, face reality, and lick your wounds and all that other jazz.

  Her piercing voice is powered by Energizer batteries. It never stops. “I’ve told him over and over again these shoes are for the bedroom. My baby has trained my legs to quake when I wear them if you know what I mean.”

  The poor woman cranes her neck; I’m sure looking for Ashton Kutcher and his crew on Punk’d. The amount of counseling she’ll need to recover from nightmares of a grandma banging her grandson. Facts are facts, and that’s what they come across as with all of the plastic holding Iris together.

  The grand finale of the entire shit show plays out in slow motion. I see it coming like a semi truck barreling down the highway in my lane. It’s a head-on collision. Iris spins around and faces me. Her shitty acting skills on fleek.

  She tilts her head, eyes widen a bit in shock, and an evil smile matching her soul lights up her face. “Sweetie, it’s your little friend, Rosemary.”

  My body jerks back. Roberto keeps his hand on my waist, pulling me closer to him. He’d been nudging me the duration of it, but I was cemented to the spot and now regret it.

  “No Rosemary here. I do believe you’re referring to the gorgeous woman in my arms, Raylan.” Double sexy, hot as hell, Latino roll of the ‘r’ for the win. Take that.

  “Iris,” Memphis warns, tugging on her hand.

  I can’t help it. My vision locks in on their connection. Memphis clears his throat. I look back up to see him pissed. The ass has no right to be. The putrid combination of sandalwood, oranges, and lilacs brings me back to Iris who has her lips pursed and tits out as if she’s the victor.

  “It was lovely to run into you again, Rosemary.” Iris offers up a finger wave then begins to turn. I’m not that lucky. She juts her chin out over her shoulder with Memphis and me both in her line of sight. “Sweetie, when we get home how about we go out to Old Navy and fetch me some plastic shoes like Rosemary’s then we can save these for the bedroom.”

  One step forward then a full marathon sprint backward. The Golden Girls get back into formation with their play toy ready to strut on. The scent Memphis packs around wraps around my body in a gentle hug, erasing the smell of the flaming She-devil. Iris’s cruel intentions did nothing to me. Life has already done one hell of a bang up job showing me the ways of her kind.

  I did and do believe Memphis when he told me it was complicated and begged me to hear him out. No way in hell a man with his looks and personality would tie themselves to her. The brutal honesty or moral of the story, if you will, is one person’s excuse may be an opportunity to the next one in line and that’s what scares me the most.

  The fact Memphis hasn’t once looked back at me or offered one of his kind smiles that scream he’s sorry, stings far worse than anything Iris could ever think of doing. That alone tells me how well and truly hard I’ve fallen for Dr. Love in a matter of days.

  I am not going to cry. I am not going to cry. I bite down on the inside of my cheek willing the angry tears away. I’m a pissed-off crier, which in turn pisses me off more, releasing a storm of tears. I refuse to let the water show start tonight.

  Roberto tugs me closer until there’s nothing left between us. As if I need to feel like a bigger asshat, his kind gesture does just that to me. Roberto has no idea. He’s millimeters from starring as the clueless bloke on a Jerry Springer episode.

  “Iris,” I blurt out before analyzing the pros and cons of my actions.

  I live in a safe, quiet box at home where I’m practical in decision making. I’m part of the nice people tribe. And I’m sick of them being trampled on.

  I step forward like a warrior with knocking knees and all. Roberto no longer has his hands on me. She turns to me and jerks her chin, matching my stance. Of course, she’d take the bait because she’s the type to always have the last word and come out the victor. I could've played her game and called her CiCi being the insider on my joke. I’m better.

  Iris glares at me with looks that could kill, letting me know it’s my turn to take the stage.

  “Wal-Mart. They’re from Wal-Mart. You can't beat their roll back prices.” I shrug, refusing to make eye contact with Memphis even though I feel his stare igniting me up from the inside out. “I hear osteoporosis is a real bitch at your age or at least that’s what my grandma experienced. Now that I’m thinking about it, I have an extra pair of flip-flops in my cabin. Stop by anytime it’s…”

  I trail off, allowing the Oscar-worthy pause to take full effect. “Oh, wait, you know what cabin I’m in.”

  I don’t wait for her tongue lashing or on the man who kicked off the turn of events. I’m rocking it cock out with my chin held high. Brenna would be damn proud of me. She’s been trying, like for years, to get me at this point in my life. I guess all it took was one hot as sin Ginger to push me overboard.

  “She must work out,” Roberto says as we step on the dance floor.

  “Excuse me?” I ask in confusion, craning my neck around to determine who he’s referring to.

  “Your friend, Iris.” Roberto pulls me into his chest, his hips in motion to Enrique’s seductive song. What the hell is it with Enrique and this damn ship? And more importantly, did they hand out pills to all the men upon boarding to get chubs over grandmas? He must pick up on my puzzled expression and covers his ass. “For her age, she’s in good shape. That’s all.”

  Oh, the hole this man is digging and doesn’t even know.

  “So, go join their party.” I throw my hands up in the air so done with today.

  “Whoa, whoa, amiga hermosa. I'm admiring the efforts of an older woman.”

  “You think she’s old?” I ask and Roberto takes advantage of my relaxed stance, pulling back into his chest, moving us into a dance.

  His fingers dig into the flesh of my hips through my sundress. “You don’t get a frozen face like hers without being a senior citizen and lots and lots of Botox.”

  I’m not sure if it’s the change in song to Maroon 5’s “Moves Like Jagger”, my inner mean girl coming out to play, or the fact I know Memphis is watching me every chance without getting busted, but whatever it is, it turns me into a grinding, dancing machine. Roberto approved.

  Thirteen

  Memphis

  Unfuckingbelievable. Never in my life have I been pushed this far. I take a seat at the table, not minding to pull a chair for any of the women. What went down is inexcusable no matter how you slice it. There’s been hints and clues smacking me upside the head regarding Iris’s mental stability. I ignored each one blinded by dollar signs. Her falling stunt cemented all of them into place.

  I’ve lost myself in this process. It took one woman to make me realize it. Fuck, a handful of hours with Raylan opened my eyes. I’m so over my head there isn’t any hope left. I know nothing about Raylan besides her pussy is the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. Do I throw away ten thousand dollars to chase the idea of what could be for a week and a half?

  For all I know, she could be a level five clinger obsessed with cats. Shit, we could live on opposite sides of the country. Then what?

  My jaw aches from clenching it, knuckles white, and the back of my neck cramped to a breaking point. I want nothing more than to get up, leave, and spend the rest of the night in my cabin with a bottle of my good friend, Jack.

  Iris rattles on about her plans for tomorrow. All I hear is the most annoying sound in the world, I am not absorbing one thing she’s saying. Since she burst out of my room earlier, throwing down the ultimatum, Raylan has been on repeat in my mind.

  I’ve been creating every elaborate excuse in the damn book about how we wouldn’t work or how big of a psycho she may or may not be. It’s a coping tactic I’ve developed over the years to convi
nce myself I don’t deserve certain things in life. All the shit I try to convince myself of are lies. Plain and straightforward. Raylan is different. She may not be my forever, but beyond a shadow of a doubt, I know it will be one hell of a ride.

  “Memphis.”

  I hear my name, but I’m unable to pull my vision from the dance floor. If I was on edge before, I’m fucking bar none ready to go wild right now.

  “Memphis!” A hand slaps down on the table.

  My neck stiff with anger and tension turns to see a red faced Iris.

  “Have you been listening to me?”

  “Nope.” The ‘p’ makes a popping sound off my lips. All fucks given are currently sitting at zero.

  “Are you listening to me?” She slams her hand back down on the table, causing the glasses full of ice water to rattle.

  Placing my elbows on the table, I lean forward giving her all of my attention like she wants. I stare her down until she fidgets in her seat. That’s right, Iris, this is my game and will be played the way I say it will be. No other questions.

  “No, I’m not, and in fact, I don’t plan to start anytime soon.”

  She has the nerve to pale and let tears well up in her eyes. Pathetic. She brought this entire shit storm on herself. She knows all too well how it works, but chose to ignore it. Iris has been scrambling ever since I told her she was growing too close. I canceled some nights with her and debated coming on this cruise with her.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” She wipes a stray tear with a white linen napkin.

  “Do you need to ask that after the sick act you performed then decided to be a cruel bitch to an innocent victim? Your fucking heels make you a sick and twisted bitch, nothing else.”

  This woman is off her fucking rocker. I have to take a minute to look away before throwing the table across the room then demolishing the rest of this joint. Bad decision. Very, very bad decision. Raylan’s head is thrown back, her face up to the ceiling with her long, wavy hair bouncing around. She’s laughing about something Wank Stain said, and the bastard takes ample opportunity to admire her tits. My tits.

  “Come back to me, Memphis,” Iris pleads.

  I whip my head back to her. “I can't because I was never there. Listen, your little game plan back fired on you. You got jealous and possessive so you thought you’d threaten me, eh?”

  Iris remains stoic on the surface, but I can sense it. She’s crumbling on the inside, her black hair and makeup still perfect. I hate being a dick. It’s not in my nature. But this woman has pushed too far. This is all on her shoulders. I should’ve listened to Rhett and Zane’s warning about tapping her one too many times for cash.

  “You thought you’re so big and bad that you could waltz into my cabin and threaten me? Hang ten grand over my head because you’re a bitch and decided not to play by the rules? Is that what I am to you? A puppet you can pull strings on whenever you want? You’re bigger than the rules or contract?”

  I bite the inside of my cheek to keep the rest in because it’s not so damn nice.

  Her chin trembles and her eyes water over again. I’m not sure if they’re genuine or part of her well-oiled act. “I’m in love with you, Memphis.”

  And there’s the bomb that has been ticking waiting to ignite in my face. Stunned is an understatement. Controlling and the bitch claiming me to have arm candy is one thing, but declaring love is a whole new game.

  “I thought this cruise was it for us. We’ve been together for so long now.”

  I blink once, twice, and then slower and slower continue to blink, processing her words.

  “I’m always there for you back home where everyone judges you. I never have because my heart has always been yours.”

  I lick my lips and slowly nod my head until I realize there are no words for this situation. There’s nothing. The walls I’ve built up around me to protect myself along with the stepping stones to escape the confines of those walls obliterate into fine dust filling my lungs and thought process. All the white noise coupled with the vision of everything I’ve worked for blowing up in my face is too much. That’s without analyzing my morals and ethics that got me here in the first place. The straw that broke the camel’s back.

  “Say something,” Iris pleads.

  It’s the flash of determination in her eyes, the tight set to her jaw, and unmistakable demand to have power back that tells me this is a farce. There’s no genuine emotion behind her declaration of love. It’s a power game for this woman, and I’m her pawn. It’s crystal clear now for any idiot to see. This has always been a game of users with money paid for services. She used me for sex, I used her for money, but in the end, she wins the tournament because it was Iris who was controlling the entire situation for her greedy desires.

  I rise from my seat, controlling each movement. The song from the dance floor above a muted state in my ringing ears. I toss the napkin down on the table, plant my hands on my hips, and send a message she’ll never forget.

  “I quit.”

  “Memphis.” She’s on her feet pleading.

  I raise a hand to stop her. “I’m done. The first island we dock at that has Wi-Fi service I’ll send the cost of the cruise to you via PayPal, fees covered because I’m a nice guy like that. I don’t want one more cent of your money. You come close to me, try to talk to me, or think about looking at Raylan, you’ll wish you never met me.”

  This gains her attention. Her spine is going ramrod straight along with the veins pulsing in her neck. I’m guessing in about thirty seconds her face will be redder than her dress.

  “You can’t threaten me, Memphis. I’m all you have if you don’t count your shitty truck, low paying construction job, and pathetic friends.”

  I round the table, stepping right up to her, squaring up and staring the bitch down. I curse myself for having respect for women because there’s nothing more I’d love than to knock Iris on her ass. Instead of my fists, words will have to do.

  “I don't think you’d want the dozen or so videos on my phone floating around town. I’m not sure how the community would handle seeing a highly-respected county commissioner like yourself devouring on a pussy as I fuck you from behind with my cock in your pussy and purple dildo in your ass.”

  “You wouldn’t,” she counters, shoving my chest. “Nice try, Memphis, you’d be just as exposed.”

  I step back from her and raise my hands up, smirking like a motherfucker because the chains holding me down are shattered, and it feels damn good. In fact, I feel like a king.

  “I have nothing to lose, Iris. Fucking try me.”

  I don’t wait to hear the rest of the garbage she spews. I’m no longer in the mood to sulk and get piss drunk by myself. I settle in at the bar and order a whiskey neat. It burns going down, making me feel alive. The ideals I set for myself when I returned as a failure from college are long gone.

  I’d focused on them for so long it was all I could see in my future. It consumed me. I slam down the second whiskey neat and realize how close I was to jumping into a ring of fire that I’d never be able to escape from. It was a slippery slope I was flying down, head first.

  Facts are facts, and it’s time I accept them instead of run from them. My mom is a whore. I’m trash to most of the people in my hometown. I have mommy and daddy issues. I have a big cock and like to use it. I’ll always be one bad ginger joke away from writing a book.

  It’s not so bad. Shit, things could always be worse. Time to make plan b. Traveling the world, curbing my wanderlust appetite will still happen, but down the road. One thing is for certain. I’m getting the hell out of Preston and the state of California for that matter. I don't care if I end up working construction and live in a shit hole. It’s a whole new clean slate for me.

  With that thought, Raylan pops into my head. Her innocent emerald eyes are always filled with more concern and nerves than happiness. The way she moves and talks is genuine in nature to the point of driving me crazy.

  The one
simple thought of her has me up and on my feet to find her. I peer over my shoulder. The bar has grown more crowded, making it damn near impossible to see the dance floor. Spinning around in my barstool, my knee collides with a body. A knock-out, get your cock hard in seconds brunette. Her dress is hugging her body, showcasing her assets like no one’s business. The dress is so short parts of her pussy are probably exposed. I have no intentions of finding out. The sight of this hot as sin woman my age does nothing to my dick.

  This lady has no idea who she’s playing with. I don’t miss all the tries for my attention. First, a slow, long drink from her glass. She licks up a few droplets from the rim. Next, a minute spill near the edge of her tits, causing her nipples to grow hard, and the napkin drop. The only reason I know she bends over is because the silhouette of her face disappears out of the corner of my vision.

  When it’s obvious I have no interest in her, she grows bored and moves on to her next victim. As she struts away in her fuck me heels and scrap of dress, I check out her ass. And what a mighty fine ass it is. The kind perfect for gripping while pounding into. I’m a man. It’s what we do. No harm in admiring the goods from a distance. I’m a reformed paid manwhore not dead.

  I’m about ready to give up on the search and call it a night. Because is seeing my little ray of sunshine dancing with Wank Stain going to help? No. The answer is one hundred percent no. It would do the complete opposite, tossing my ass right back into the jungle of rage. The idea of his hands on her hips is enough to cause my hand to curl into a fist ready to strike Wank Stain in the nose.

  After today, I’ve had my fill of drama for the next ten years. I’ve starred in the leading role of a drama-packed daytime soap opera from the moment my morning wood saluted the sunrise, kissing the horizon. As the saying goes in Hollywood, the show must go on, runs through my mind when the sight of her flirty sundress twirls high around her thighs. Her skin is already kissed by the sun with a perfect olive hue.