Fighting Gravity

by Julie Adams

  “Do not joke,” The pale man says. “This place has a history, both pleasant and unpleasant. Pleasure, debauchery, murder, and entertainment, it’s all happened within these walls.” He looks around at the balconies and I can see his throat bob with a swallow.

  “Don’t listen to him, he’s fanciful and imaginative. Thinks he sees ghosts all over the place.”

  “Non. Only here.”

  “Well, I have yet to see anything, and I’m here more than anyone.” Brent replies.

  “And you won’t. Paris has plenty of ghosts, but all are flesh and bone.” The calm one affirms.

  Brent nods before changing the conversation.

  I shake off the eerie exchange on my way to the main office to find Beth. I need her humor and manpower to get through the hundreds of messages we’ve received.

  After we’ve waded through the messages and replied to those relevant, we’re sitting in the office drinking coffee and thinking about wine and dinner. Brent is ecstatic about the buzz around the theater. He’s asked me to text Nathan a huge thank you and to extend his offer to return the favor.

  Truthfully, I’m relieved that the theater is finally getting some good recognition as the venue it’s going to be, and not just its past or more recent tragedy. But I kind of feel like Nathan’s extending me special favors because of our relationship, and if I accept them what kind of woman does that make me? Is it just a person accepting a favor or a woman being saved by her boyfriend? I don’t want that. I want some independence in this relationship.

  I need that glass of wine, something cold and sweet and with a big plate of bread.

  My phone vibrates.

  Nathan: Dinner?

  Me: Sure. Where?

  He gives me the address.

  “Is that your beau?” Beth asks grinning dramatically and batting her lashes.

  “Yes, asking me to dinner,”

  Brent looks at me. “See if he wants to have drinks with us at our place later. I wanna get to know him.” I know what he's not saying. I want to to know him. I don't want a repeat of last time.

  “I'll see, but he probably has to work early.”

  “That's fine. Then we'll make plans for next weekend.”

  “Ooh, double date! So American.” Beth chirps.

  “You have double dates in Paris.” Brent argues.

  “Yes, but it's understood that it may end early for sex. In America, double dates are to keep people from having sex.”

  “Or they're for getting to know one another. Is everything about sex with you?” Brent’s brows furrow in mock concern.

  “Oui, and you like it.”

  “Ew. I'm leaving, bon vivant,” I wave and by the way Beth is looking at my brother, barely able to spare me a glance, I don't want to know what's going to happen in that office. I just hope they disinfect it after.

  Outside I wrap my coat tighter around myself. I've been spoiled by the warmer temperatures.

  There’s no one waiting near the taxi stand when I approach. As always there’s people walking the street, some point at theater and gossip. I sigh and think of what the worker had said tonight, “Paris has lots of ghosts, but all are flesh and bone.” That was both beautiful and creepy. It resonates within me, and I’m already working the words for a poem.

  Glass shatters behind me and I jump, spinning to look. One hand balled into a fist the other on my makeshift mace.

  A group of teenage boys still in their school uniforms comes out from the alley. They’re smoking cigarettes and being rowdy with one another. I stand straighter, assuming my don’t-fuck-with-me stance and watch as they near. I’ve learned that usually just staring someone in the eye is enough to make them think twice.

  They make a few grunts, that I’m guessing is supposed to convey that they like the way I look. Both trying to flatter and scare me. I raise my brows in warning.

  “Come with us, we’ll show you a good time.” One of them taunts in French when they’ve nearly passed me.

  Another throws a bottle into the street making it shatter.

  “Partir!” I snap, baring my teeth. Back up plan. Go full on crazy lady. “Partir, le galopin!”

  They burst into laughter and pick up their pace. Running away and laughing. Just a bunch of brats.

  A taxi pulls to a stop in front of the stand and I get in, my hands shaking and eyes tearing up. I had been afraid.

  I wipe at my eyes and the driver pretends not to see. I give him the address, hating the tremor in my voice.

  My heart isn’t beating painfully in my chest anymore and I’ve managed to keep my tears at bay by the time we pull up to the restaurant. My hands still shake a little, I think from the aftereffects of the adrenaline.

  Walking up to the window, I can see inside. I’m glad it isn't a super fancy place. Even though Nathan can afford it, I’m starting to see he prefers cozy little spots. This is no exception, the exterior is painted a faded teal, the big window illuminating the street and warm golden light.

  Inside, wooden tables and chairs with marred surfaces showing their age and history. On the back wall, a tiny fireplace burns behind an iron grate.

  Nathan sits near the window and he spots me as soon as I got out of the cab. He meets me at the door, opening it for me and taking my coat.

  He kisses me hello and I grasp at him, needing his comfort. He pulls back to study me, his smile falling.

  “What’s wrong?” He's so observant, he knows with just a glance.

  Part of me feels like I shouldn’t tell him, it was just silly kids. On the other hand, I want to, to have someone else know and put my mind at ease. It would be harder to lie about the way I’m looking, so I tell the truth as we make our way to the table and sit down.

  Nathan’s jaw is clenched tight. “Someone should be teaching them better,” He hisses.

  “I’m sure you were like them once,” I say taking a sip of the wine he’s ordered us.

  “No, the things they say about me in the press are true, I was a womanizer- to put it mildly- but never disrespectful. Never harassing, it starts when they’re that age until someone corrects them or they meet a woman who shows them how to treat a lady.”

  “It would have been nothing if not for… what happened to me before I came here,” I say my heart racing again. If I just get it over with and tell him about my past then maybe I can move on and think about it less.

  “What happened? I don’t want to push you but I want to know you, was it a lover? Did he hurt you?”

  “No. Yes. Sort of. It’s all so damn complicated.” I glance around, thankful that the restaurant is pretty much empty, a couple sits in the back canoodling and the staff is busy making our meals.

  “You can stop if it gets too hard to talk, we can always try again later.” He takes my hand in his, his lips brushing against my knuckles before settling our entwined hands on the table between us.

  “About two years ago, I met someone. He was cute, charming, made me feel like the prettiest girl in the room.” I can’t bring myself to say his name. And I can tell he’s not happy about my description but accepts my honesty and stays quiet. “We were both busy, I was working in the reception office of a music venue and he worked as a copywriter across town. We saw each other when we could, mostly nights or early mornings during his run and while I was getting coffee, that’s how we met- standing in line at a coffee shop. I thought I was being smart, but love makes a fool out of all of us. I fell for him hard and how could I not, he was fucking Don Juan reincarnated. Smooth as silk.”

  I take a big unladylike gulp of my wine, willing it past the giant lump in my throat. “Almost a year into it, I run into him at a farmers market I never go to. Imagine my surprise when he’s there with another woman, a woman wearing a matching wedding set. I looked at him and he looked at me, he stammered looking at me like I was a ghost. And she looked at me and she knew. She knew. He and I must have looked like two idiots the way we gaped at ea
ch other without speaking.

  “I shouted something along the lines of asshole at him and turned before he could see the tears in my eyes. He called and texted telling me he was leaving her, they weren’t happy and that whole spiel. I ignored him, ignored the flowers and the notes he sent. This went on for months, at home and at work, all hours of the day. In his own twisted and messed up way he loved me, and I had loved the lie he sold me. I knew it was over and I knew it wasn’t real, I never responded to him.” I stop, take another sip of the wine he’s poured me, my head is spinning and I know I need to eat soon. But right now, this is good. I want to be buzzed while telling him this.

  “I was leaving work late one night. Going out as one of the girls I worked with locked up. I was almost to the car when his wife jumps out, she’s yelling and screaming at me about him. Calling me every foul name you can think of, calling me a homewrecker and telling me to leave him alone. She just kept saying, ‘I’m his wife. He loves me.’ over and over between her outbursts. She pulled a knife before I had time to get into my car, the door was halfway open and she pinned me there, the knife pushing into the layers of my clothes. She grabbed my face and fucking hissed at me like a cat. ‘He won’t want you once you’re not beautiful anymore,’ and she swiped at me with her nails, I jerked up my head to keep her from getting my eyes and that’s how I got this,” I run my fingers over the raised scars. My hands shake as I do. Reliving this brings out a part of me I don't like. A scared and weak part that I don't want anymore.

  “She trailed the knife up my torso to my throat, laying the flat of the blade across my cheek as she contemplated where she was going to cut first. I could see it in her eyes she was going to carve me up, she had every intention of it. I’m not sure if she would have stopped there or not, her eyes were so crazed, I can’t forget them.” I finish off the glass of wine.

  Nathan is staring at me his eyes full of compassion, his touch comforting as he rubs this thumb over my hands and wrist. When I look into his eyes I feel relief, there’s no pity or judgment. He’s not thinking of how foolish and naive I was. Not thinking of his fragile I could be now.

  “What happened?” His voice is tentative.

  “My coworker showed up, maced the bitch.” I try to say it nonchalantly as he slides the bread my way, encouraging me to eat and soak up the alcohol. “We subdued her until the cops and EMTs showed up. I had to have stitches. She had these nails that were filed into claws. She ended up getting time for assault with a deadly weapon and a handful of the other charges.”

  “And him?” He didn’t ask me his name.

  “Nothing at all. There’s no law against being a philandering asshole.”

  “Did you speak to him again, after?”

  “No. He tried but I had a restraining order against both of them at that point.”

  He nods, taking it all in. It’s a hell of a story and it belongs in a soap opera, or some cable drama movie.

  I have to tell him the rest. “It messed me up, I was dealing with heartbreak over what I thought I had with him. Then I had physical scars to heal. I started having panic attacks. Suddenly I saw danger everywhere. I was afraid she was going to get out and come looking for me. She has the deepest hate for me and she’s not exactly stable.

  “He kept sending notes, and I just couldn’t deal with it. So I moved in with my mom. She loved it, loved having one of us home again after my father passed. She nurtured me and let me take it easy, encouraged it even. Eventually, I knew I had to leave or I’d be stuck there, comfortable but not working to get better. So when Brent and Beth offered me a job and a room, I jumped at the chance. I always wanted to see Paris and this was a great opportunity.” I smile trying to shake off the darkness of my story with the joy I’ve found here.

  “You’re so brave. I’m proud of you for coming to Paris and facing your fears.”

  “It worked out quite well for me, if I say so myself,” I wink and realize how I must look, half-drunk and winking at him, I probably did it with both eyes.

  I eat more of the bread.

  “Thank you for letting me in. The story tells me a lot about you.” It looks like he wants to say more but he stops himself and as his luck would have it our plates arrive. I realize I hadn’t ordered. Another waiter appears and he’s holding two plates. In true Nathan fashion, he’s ordered one of everything.

  “Wasteful,” I admonish playfully, looking at all the plates we can’t possibly eat.

  “Non,” Nathan waves his fork at me. “The leftovers get put out for strays at my request. I know it’s not the best for them, but it’s better than what they might find otherwise.”

  “Of course you do. You know that’s like female kryptonite, right? Having a heart for animals?”

  “Just a business to help our furry companions, Frankie insists I do it. Frankie makes me do a lot for the animals, he’s got quite the foundation, a little furry CEO himself.” He winks at me and I’m pretty sure the gesture looks better on him than on me.

  Damn it. A gorgeous millionaire who loves and helps animals. He might as well have Dreamboat as his middle name.

  He doesn’t let go of my hand for more than a few seconds. His touch caressing, soothing. The kind of touch I need after telling him everything. And when he looks at me, I see in his eyes what I feel in his touch. Warmth, a soft place to land.

  After we’re done, he signs the check and helps me on with my coat. “My place?” He asks hopefully. He has an early morning and can’t make drinks with Brent. But I can tell he also wants me with him after I’ve bared my past to him.

  “Yes,” I nod and realize how breathless I sound. I need him. I need to be close to him. I want to lose myself in him.

  In the car we’re both grinning and flirting without saying a word, his fingers drawing lazy circles inside my knee. The looks passing between us might as well be neon signs with triple-X’s.

  Only our hands and thighs touch and it’s hard to keep my hands off him. As much as I want to have sex, I just want to hold him and be held, lay my head on his chest and feel his arms around me, without a barrier of clothing between us. His soft, cool sheets and thick comforter over us as we watch the lights of Paris twinkle outside. That sounds like the best kind of therapy.

  Nathan swings open the door to the apartment and takes my coat. Frankie greets me and I scratch him until his butt wiggles. Nathan throws a few treats in his bowl and takes my hand, pulling me towards the bedroom. I laugh kicking out of my shoes as we go. The cool marble like heaven on my tired feet.

  He wraps an arm around me and literally spins me into his bedroom, closing the door in the same motion before pressing me up against it. He kisses me hard, pulling back to look me in the face. “You are beautiful.” His fingers stroke over my cheek and linger on my scars. “Every single inch of you, amazing.” He unbuttons his shirt, I watch as each button comes undone revealing his hard chest and the short hairs covering it. “Not just beautiful you’re smart and witty. I’ve wanted you since that morning in the cafe.” He kisses my neck, his hands finding my breasts. I arch into him, moaning as he thumbs my nipples through my shirt. “And tonight I learn that you’re strong. Brave. A survivor. I love that about you, how there’s always this spark of life lighting your eyes, how you want to just take it all in. That morning in the cafe I watched you with your head tipped back and soaking in the sun, and I thought I had never seen anyone bask so fully in the little things of life.”

  I feel myself choke up. He’s telling me all the things I didn’t know I needed or wanted to hear.

  He grabs me by the ass pulling me deeper into the bedroom. He stops at the threshold of his closet and quickly nips my lips with a kiss. “You own me, chérie.” He pulls the shirt off and I realize how deceptively large he is with his taut muscles. He takes up nearly the whole door frame with his broad shoulders and toned arms. “Tonight, I’m yours to command, I’ll do as you please.” He grins mischievously at me.

  “
What?” I breathe, this has to be a first and I’m not altogether sure what he’s asking of me.

  “You’re in control,” He runs a finger down my chest and between my breasts. “I trust you like I’ve never trusted anyone and I think you need this. Need to see just how powerful you are.” He can see my hesitation, I’m wearing it like a shade of red lipstick “When you’re on top riding me, how does it feel? When you sink to your knees and turn me into the one begging?”

  My inner walls clench at just the memory of him inside of me while I grind. “Great,” I whisper.

  “You feel powerful? Like you’re taking your pleasure and giving me mine, tonight you get it all. Just don’t get too used to this, love. I like bending you to my will in the bedroom, too.” He winks. And that arrogant, sexy look does it.

  I bite my lip and run my fingers down his chest, stopping at his belt. “Are you sure you’re up for this, Mr. Erickson?” I look up at him through my lashes, feeling something take over me. Some kind of seductress I never realized I had.

  “I promise to hold-” his breath hitches as I run my hand over his hardening cock. “On.” He finishes as I run my hand back up his body. Running my fingers over the lines of his stomach, over his pecs and up the round muscles of his arms, they flex beneath my touch as I explore him.

  I lean in breathing in his woodsy, herbal scent. I nibble at his shoulder and he groans. The sound soaking my already wet panties. The fact that I caused that sound spurs me on with vigor for this reversal of roles.

  I duck beneath one of his arms and he shifts to let me by. My fingertips trace the muscles of his back. I’ve seen him naked so many times, but now I just want to take in every inch of him. I reach around to the front of him, kissing his shoulders letting my tongue trace his shoulder blade. I hear the wood of the doorway creak under his grip. I undo the buckle of his pants and slide my hand beneath the fabric finding his steel hard length and stroke him, spreading the precum over his head and shaft. His breath turns shallow. “Fuck,” He breathes sagging against the doorframe and pushing further into my fist.