by Mel Wildes
THE FIRST
MEL WILDES
Copyright © 2018 by Mel Wildes
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved.
Warning: This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
First Edition 2018
Cover design by Mel Wildes
Cover photo courtesy of unsplash.com user Autumn Goodman @auttgood
To learn more about Mel Wildes and upcoming projects:
www.twitter.com/melwildes
PROLOGUE
ZADIE
2002
Prior to the fall of 2002, Alfie was merely the annoying boy-next-door. He was my first friend and the weird kid who’d chase me around my backyard, wielding worms he’d dug out of my parents’ vegetable garden. The day of the World Series Championship, Alfie’s mom managed to score us front row tickets to what would become the Angels winning game. Alfie wore his oversized ‘Los Angeles Angels’ t-shirt and a dopey smile. It was the perfect day. As it drew to an end, Troy Percival hit the winning ball into right center field, right into the awaiting hands of Darin Estad. The moment was glorious, a crowd of red cheered in excitement and players piled onto each other, taking in the unforgettable moment. As the crowds roared and the losing team grieved, I looked over to Alfie and he was silent. His eyes were wide and his cheeks red from the chilly night.
“Alfie?” I called out his name and he turned to me, his astonishment still clear as day. “They won Alfie!” I cheered, shaking him in excitement. His expression was unmoving and unreadable. Taking a step closer to Alfie, I noticed the tears in his eyes and the astonishment wearing off.
“They won!” he screamed with ferocity, but his tiny voice was muffled from the screaming fans. “They won, Z!” he screamed once more. Grabbing me, he wrapped his skinny arms around me and I couldn’t help but laugh at him.
“You’re crazy!” I pushed him away and looked out to the field of legendary players jumping around in ecstasy. Without a moments notice, Alfie had his arms around me again and had planted a kiss on my lips. It took me by surprise, it was sloppy and short but somehow, unforgettable. As the adults around us hollered in surprise and amusement, I pushed him away and looked toward the field again, unsure of what the butterflies in my stomach meant.
ENIGMA
2018
"I’m in love with you,” he whispered as his arms cradled around me, tightening around my soft curves. As I leaned my head back into the nook between his shoulder and neck, I began to feel his lips push past my thick curls, in search of my forehead. I took in the moment and let the sweet smell of his cologne fill my senses. As I pushed my voluptuous bottom closer to his crotch, he spoke the words that would break me out of my lust-filled dizziness. “I struck out in the best friend department.” At this, all the alcohol I had devoured in the last two hours started to lose its power, my sensibility returning.
"Yeah, me too.” I sighed as I swiveled my head away from the comfortable nook and looked my handsome best friend of twenty-one years, in the eyes.
Alfie was the dictionary definition of ‘the-boy-next-door’. At the age of six, Alfie and his parents moved in next door. I remember the first time he spoke to me. It was lunchtime at Orchard Elementary and Lindy Bellman had just smeared her day old peanut butter and jelly sandwich all over my favorite yellow dress. She teased me relentlessly, calling me ‘fat’ and ‘smelly’. I smelt like the bottom of a trashcan, my face was damp with tears and my dark skin was unable to mask the redness in my cheeks. The first part of him I saw was his tattered black chucks pointed directly at me, then his baggy red t-shirt that read: ‘Los Angeles Angels’ and lastly, his magical face. He had freckles from his nose to his hands and wild green eyes that were masked by a messy muck of brown waves on top of his head. Alfie’s cheeks were red from the blistering sun and his eyes held maturity far beyond his years. The next thing I knew, he was pulling off his baggy t-shirt and handing it to me.
“Don’t cry. Take this. I have my soccer jersey in my backpack.” His small voice comforted me as he handed me the t-shirt straight off his back. As I took it from him, it was the first time I felt some sort of semblance of love for someone other than my parents.
“Thanks,” I said as I wiped away the tears and snot. After we introduced ourselves, he promised to protect me and never take his eyes off me. It was the beginning of a remarkable friendship, one where he was constantly by my side, always making sure I’d never fight a battle alone.
“I have to tell you something.” His words tore me away from my thoughts. Reluctantly I began to remove myself from his grasp of me, sliding away so we could face each other. He wasn’t happy about this and grabbed me again, shifting me back against his chest and wrapping his arms tighter around my chest and waist, entrapping my legs with his own. I couldn’t help but laugh. If strangers could see us, they would think we were lovers, but they would be wrong. I was the only one in love, whilst he unknowingly tormented me with his platonic love. I had given up a long time ago in distancing myself from him and being a normal friend with normal boundaries. It was somewhat sadistic that I was in love with him and allowed him to touch me the way he did, knowing it would never amount to anything.
“What?” I asked, as his pocket began to vibrate.
“Shoot!” He released me from his grip as he went in search for his phone. Fishing it out, I took the opportunity to distance myself from him. The further away I was from him, the faster I’d be able to sober up from him and the alcohol. “Give me a sec,” he murmured as he read a text message, probably from one of his many conquests. Sneakily, I peaked over his shoulder to see.
Tiffany
“Can’t sleep…wanna play?”
Tiffany. She was probably the worse of all of Alfie’s conquests. He met her in Paris last winter. They bonded over baseball and soul music, two things that didn’t scream ‘Tiffany’. Somehow she managed to stick her manicured claws into him and she was starting to look relentless in her pursuit of him, something he didn’t mind. What I wouldn’t do to be on the receiving end of those lust-filled eyes of his. As he started typing out a response, I fully released myself from him. I untangled our legs and stood up in defeat. Looking away from his phone, he looked up at me, alarmed at how far I had moved away.
“Whoa, whoa! Where are you going?” He stretched out his arms for me to return. I watched him for a moment, observing his flawless freckled skin and disappointing buzz cut, which was encouraged by Tiffany. His green eyes warned me to not take another step but my boozed up brain needed to get away from him before I did something I’d regret, something he didn’t want.
“I have a writing seminar in the morning. I should go home and sleep this whiskey off.” I half-heartedly offered him a smile before grabbing my satchel and swinging it over my shoulder. “We can’t forget how much of an asshole Jack is in the morning,” I joked and his musical laugh filled my world. As he stood up, I noticed the crotch of his pants saluting me.
“I haven’t told you…oh shit.” He looked down and I watched with curiosity for a moment. It wasn’t the first time I had seen his erection, but it didn’t take away from the magnificence of it. It was amazing what one text message from a girl I found extraordinarily average, could do to his body.
“That must
’ve been some text exchange,” I joked as I tore my eyes away from his still stiff erection.
“Fuck, no, it’s…” he said as he sat down on one of the patio chairs he used to decorate his rooftop.
“No need to explain, Alfie.” I held my hands up, not wanting to hear the details. “Twenty-one years, remember?” I laughed as my hands searched my satchel for my phone.
“Please don’t go,” he pleaded whilst wincing, slightly uncomfortable. “I need to talk to you.” I confirmed my ride as I looked up at him.
“My ride will be here in four minutes,” I announced, wanting to escape as soon as possible. Lately, his presence had become harder and harder to be around, especially since there was no way to escape talk of Tiffany or Tiffany herself. “Walk me down?” Grabbing my coat from one of his chairs, I held my hand out for him to join me. He paused for a moment, looking at me with a defeated expression, before looking down to his crotch.
“Okay,” he sighed as he grabbed his phone with one hand and my hand with his other. “Let’s go.” He held onto my hand tightly as he guided us off the roof and through his loft. Alfie was a game designer with his own successful business. His work always had this supernatural power over me. Everything he created was like witnessing something impossible come to life. I was his biggest fan and had dozens of his illustrated pieces scattered across my apartment. As we reached the elevator, we stood side-by-side, hands still clasped tightly. We always looked odd next to each other. He towered over everyone he met at well over six-feet, our contrast in skin and varying body shapes were also vastly opposing. We were an enigma. We were scientifically and socially impossible. Every time he grabbed my hand in public, I could feel the eyes of every person that passed us and wondered how we worked, how a magnificent being of lean muscle and indisputable beauty was with me. Over time I learned to ignore it, but the insecurity was impossible to ignore when his focus drifted to beautiful girls with long legs and flat stomachs. When the elevator dinged, we made it to the lobby and silently walked toward the street exit. My ride was waiting and Alfie’s hold on my hand was relentless. As we stepped out of the building, I turned to him and watched his mind run around in circles. He was thinking hard and acting weird, or weirder than usual.
“I have to go,” I whispered as I kissed him on the cheek. As I attempted to slip my hand out of his, he looked down at me and tightened his grasp until it began to hurt. He did this every time he was feeling nervous. “Alfie,” I cooed softly, placing my other hand on top of his and rubbing the back of it with my thumb. “What’s wrong?” He inhaled deeply as he slouched his broad shoulders and released his grasp on my hands.
“I’m getting married.” I was almost sure my heart fell right out of my chest and onto the pavement in that moment.
BONEY M
2018
“SAY WHAT?” The sound of Penny’s voice was about fifteen octaves too loud this early in the morning. With more Jack Daniels in my system than coffee, it was like shoving thousands of tiny little needles into my brain at the same.
“You heard me,” I attempted to whisper, hoping my friend would follow suite. Penny was a marvelous creature, she was tall and rounded in all the right places, and she owned it. She wore her majestic fro like a queen wearing her crown and she never wore a touch of makeup because her beauty was more powerful than anything you could find at a makeup counter. We met on the first day of college when she strolled up to me in a fierce and brightly colored Boubou and told me she wasn’t going to waste time bonding with anyone else. My ‘Boney M’ t-shirt was all she needed to identify me as her soul mate and that one simple thing fated us together for the next ten years.
“I know I heard you, but damn, Zadie. Damn.” She emphasized her words as she followed me down a flight of stairs and into the subway.
“I know,” I sighed as I pushed my sunglasses up so I could find my metro card.
“What did you say? What did you do? Hell, what did he say?” she sputtered her many questions, the shock still ever-present. Making our way to the platform, I felt her questions weigh down on me.
“I need coffee,” I murmured to myself as I slid my glasses back down to fight against the fluorescent lights.
“Zadie…” she attempted to pull me back to the conversation as we piled onto the train with the other early morning commuters. Finding two empty seats adjacent to each other, she leaned forward and used her eyes to probe a little more into what happened.
“He didn’t say anything and I didn’t say anything because I ran into the car and left him in the middle of the street, probably reeling from my abrupt exit.” Clutching onto my satchel, I thought back to the last words he said to me.
“Jesus, Zadie. Has he called?” she asked as she crossed her long legs, already catching the eye of a few early morning commuters, both men and women.
“A few times,” I lied and she looked at me, knowing full well I was lying. I sighed. “Okay, fine, like ten times. There are a few text messages and voicemails as well but I can’t deal with it right now, okay? I have this seminar and work is hounding me to reach these deadlines.” I attempted to justify me ghosting him but she wasn’t buying any of it.
“I don’t think the two of you have ever missed a call from the other in the time I’ve known you, you can’t function without at least a good morning text,” she pointed out and the train glided to a stop.
“I know. But if I deal with this right now, I’ll go into a hole and I won’t be able to find my way out. So it’s radio silence for now, okay?” I reasoned with her, standing up and kissing her on the cheek. “You too, okay? Don’t talk to him, don’t respond to his calls,” I pleaded but she grimaced at me, not happy with me bossing her around. “Please,” I pleaded once more.
“Fine, but I can only promise for today. You need to talk to him, Zadie. The sooner, the better.” She crossed her arms as I made my way to the doors. Half smiling, I waved her goodbye and exited the train, unable to wrap my head around what I would say to him when I did speak to him next.
***
The halls of the conference center were packed. As I stood beside the coffee cart, I basked in the aroma of freshly ground coffee. I closed my eyes for a moment, to allow the scent to ease my throbbing mind. It worked only temporarily as the vibration of my phone, for the fourth time since getting off the train, pulled me away from the short lived euphoria.
Alfie
“Z, call me back.”
“I know you’re online right now.”
“Seriously? Penn’s not picking up?”
“Z, please.”
It was an outer body experience not talking to Alfie. I didn’t have the right to be mad at him or ignore him but I couldn’t help it. Whether he knew it or not, those three words tore my world apart. He was getting married and I was losing the only man I ever loved. As I reread the last message and made my way toward the seminar room, I collided into something hard. It was sudden. Coffee was everywhere and my phone was somewhere on the floor, alongside of me.
“Ow, ow, ow,” I panted as the hot coffee began to burn through my thin white blouse and onto my skin. “Shit!” I cursed before looking up at a startled man, also patting his chest from where my coffee had landed on him.
“Whoa,” he started to pull the front part of his shirt away from his chest and I jumped to my feet in shock.
“I am so sorry!” I exclaimed, reaching for the coffee cart’s supply of napkins and using them to dry his chest. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.” I began to pat him down. When I began to hear snickers around us, I drew my eyes away from his shirt and looked up to the man. He was incredibly attractive. Tall, taller than Alfie, with broad shoulders, a defined jaw and incredible brown eyes lined with the longest lashes I had ever seen. He wore a sharp dark blue suit and open collared white dress shirt, which was now stained with my coffee. I had stained this beautiful man. Looking at him, I began to feel self-conscious at the way his eyes tilted with a satisfied expression.
“U-uh, I-I’m sorry,” I expressed again, unable to tear my eyes away from him. Leaning down beside me, he picked something up off the floor and brought it up to my eye-line.
“Yours?” he asked, and I found myself silently nodding as I watched him unlock my phone, tap something into it and then bring it to his ears. I could hear a dial tone and proceeded to watch him pull out his own phone for a moment before continuing to tap something into my device. Before I knew it, he had placed my phone back into my hands and winked a sinful wink before walking past me, toward the coffee cart. “It’s ‘Coffee Guy’,” he called out from behind me and I turned to him in confusion. “My name in your phone. I’ll call you and you can fix the bill.” He smirked ever so slightly before making an order at the coffee cart and pulling his phone out to indicate the end of the weirdest encounter I had ever had. I felt my face flush with embarrassment and I clung to my satchel, before disappearing off down the hall, in search for the seminar room. At least I’d never have to see him again.
COFFEE GUY
2018
As I found a seat in the seminar room, I decided to clear my mind of the past twenty-four hours. Prior to it, my excitement was bubbling over and I couldn’t wait to be in the presence of an actual bestselling author. Marcus Park was everything I aspired to be. The Korean-American writer was infamous for his work on feminist literature. As the last few stranglers made their way into the hall, I pulled out my laptop and ignored the red notification reminding me I had four new unread messages. As the door squeaked open, I tore my eyes away from the laptop and felt all my blood rush to my cheeks. In a lazy stroll, he walked up to the podium, connected his laptop and looked out across the room, locking eyes with me.