In Bed With the Beast

by Tara Sivec

  “Hey!” Cindy interrupts. “I do NOT look like shit. And it’s fine. PJ draws me a bubble bath and gives me a massage on the nights I have more than one party, so I’m actually benefiting in more ways than one from the extra work.”

  She gives me a reassuring smile, but it does nothing to make me feel better. She might not look like shit, with her beautiful, long blonde hair that’s been stylishly curled into soft waves and a light dusting of makeup that highlights her gorgeous blue eyes and perfect features, but she definitely looks tired.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, you’ve got your own Prince Charming at home who treats you like a princess and grants your every wish with his magic dick, blah, blah blah,” Ariel mutters. “I’d like to discuss why Belle fell asleep sitting up today, and why she’s been distracted during our last few meetings. And don’t even try to give us the same, boring excuse that you’ve been swamped at the library. When was the last time anyone even checked out a book there? 1952?”

  “You know very well that I’ve been busy trying to come up with ways to keep the library open, and for your information, we had a record high of twenty kids at this morning’s children’s hour,” I tell her haughtily.

  Which is the current cause for my exhaustion, aside from not getting more than a few hours of sleep combined in the last two nights, since I left my dad’s house. I used to look forward to hosting our children’s hour every week, but attempting to keep that many kids entertained and excited about the stories I read to them while trying not to wince from the permanent kink in my neck and moan from the aches in my back from sleeping on the floor took its toll on me today. Not to mention the fact that I tossed and turned all night thinking about Beast and how even though he annoyed me, he made me feel all tingly when he looked at me.

  “Do you need me to give you more money?” Cindy asks softly. “I’ll give you more money. Just tell me how much you need.”

  She starts to reach for her purse and I quickly grab onto her arm and stop her.

  “You already pay me more than I deserve, considering I’m not the one who is taking her clothes off for customers yet. You have a teenage daughter to clothe and feed. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

  Tell them you have no place to live. Tell them you have no place to live. Cindy has a spare bedroom and you know she’ll let you have it without hesitation.

  “Speaking of my teenager, did I tell you guys that Brian has really stepped up to plate with Anastasia?” Cindy asks just as I open my mouth to spit out the truth. “He picks her up and takes her over to his parents’ house for dinner at least three times a week, and he calls her every single day when she gets home from school to ask her how her day was. He even showed up at her choir concert two nights ago. Granted, he flirted with three of her teachers and one of her friend’s older sisters, but at least he’s making an effort and not being a complete waste of space for once.”

  Not only did Cindy’s ex-husband flee the country with all their money and their former babysitter, he also fled his fatherly duties, completely ignoring their daughter the entire nine months he was gone. When he suddenly showed back up in both their lives a few weeks ago, she agreed to keep the peace as long as he made up for the hurt he caused their daughter by disappearing from her life. She knew that as much as she wanted Brian to get everything he deserved after what he did to them, Anastasia didn’t deserve to have a father rotting away in prison.

  “He’s making an effort because he’s afraid PJ will cut off his balls if he fucks over Anastasia again,” Ariel snorts.

  Cindy gets the same dreamy look in her eyes she always gets whenever PJ’s name is mentioned and I open my mouth once again to tell them about my situation.

  “And, speaking of PJ,” Cindy says, shaking herself out of her daydream and practically bouncing in her seat. “He wants to move in with us! I know we haven’t been dating that long and I know everyone will probably think it’s too soon, but Anastasia loves him, and I love him and hate it when he’s not there, and it just doesn’t make sense for us to have two houses, and it just feels right. Anastasia even wants him to move in!”

  She talks so fast that I can barely understand what she’s saying, but it’s enough for me to know that moving in with Cindy is no longer an option. It was bad enough thinking about asking her when she was simply enjoying being in love and having someone who truly cared about her for the first time in her life. There’s no way I’m going to ruin their moment of moving in together and make a mess of that experience for them.

  “Oh, Cindy, I’m so happy for you,” I tell her honestly, even though I just lost one of my options.

  “I’m happy for you as well, but I’m telling you right now, if you two get even more disgusting with all your PDA once you start living together, I will slit both your throats,” Ariel tells her, sliding her finger across her neck.

  I study Ariel for a few seconds, knowing the two of us will probably kill each other if we live together, but I literally have no other option. She doesn’t need to know that Cindy was my first choice. That’s a secret I will take to my grave.

  Tell them you have no place to live. Tell them you have no place to live. Tell Ariel you’ll do all the dishes and all her laundry for as long as it takes you to save up enough money for a place of your own.

  “While we’re on the subject of new house guests,” Ariel continues, making me clamp my mouth closed once again. “I’ve decided I’m going to get a roommate. And you can just shut your mouth right now, Cindy. I’m not taking more money from you right now either. You go out there and shake your ass every night and earn every cent you make. I posted the application on Facebook and told people to spread the word, and I am happy to announce I’ve already gotten a few inquiries. One woman in particular offered to pay twice what I was asking if I agreed to cook dinner every night, so she’s looking like the front-runner right now.”

  And just like that, my prospects for living somewhere other than the library disappear in a flash. Ariel is in need of money as much as I am. I know if I told her my situation, she’d immediately cancel her plans to get a paying roommate and take me in, even if that meant she couldn’t pay her electric bill or afford to put gas in her car. She’s barely making ends meet as it is, even with the money Cindy pays us. After having to close her antique business, she’s been selling off pieces that she spent most of her life collecting to pay bills, and each time she sells something else, I can practically see her heart breaking in half. There’s no way I’d mess up her chance of not having to sell any more of the things she loves so much.

  “You know, you wouldn’t need a roommate if you finally let me schedule a night for you to strip at Charming’s so you can start booking your own parties,” Cindy reminds her.

  “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times: As soon as I get up on that stage, I will put you to shame with my sweet dance moves. I’m letting you enjoy your moment and your newfound sexuality,” Ariel says with a cheeky smile.

  Ariel has been giving us this same excuse for weeks now. Out of the three of us, she is what you would call a bombshell. With her gorgeous long red hair, bright green eyes, and curves that even Marilyn Monroe would have envied, she would clearly be a natural at stripping and most likely make more money than Cindy and I combined. I’m starting to wonder if there’s more to her excuse than she’s letting on, but I don’t want to push her. She’ll tell us the truth when she’s ready.

  “I guess that leaves me, then. Cindy, go ahead and book me for this Friday night.”

  There’s a moment of silence before Ariel and Cindy share a look, then throw their heads back and laugh. They laugh so hard that they both have to wipe tears from their cheeks. I roll my eyes at them when their laughter finally quiets down.

  “I don’t know why you’re both laughing. Obviously if Ariel isn’t ready, it’s my turn,” I tell them.

  “Clearly it’s your turn, but do you honestly think you’re ready to take your clothes off in front of a hundred
strangers in four days?!” Ariel asks.

  “I work best under pressure. It will be fine. Four days is plenty of time to study and take notes.”

  “Fine is not a word you want to use when discussing being half naked in front of a bunch of horny men you hope will empty their wallets and make it rain all around your feet,” Ariel says. “Sexy, bold, erotic, hot . . . those are the words you use. And this isn’t the SATs, for fuck’s sake! Studying and taking notes is not going to help you imitate sex on stage. You’re a virgin librarian who dresses like a disheveled schoolmarm, and you still live in your dad’s basement.”

  “I’m not a virgin librarian,” I mutter in frustration, leaving out the part about how I’m not living in my dad’s basement either.

  The last thing I need is for either one of them to feel sorry for me and make them go through any more upheaval in their lives.

  “The sexy nerd look is totally in right now,” Cindy says. “She’s got such gorgeous, long, chestnut-colored hair. I think it would really work for her to start off like that on stage, pull her hair out of her usual messy bun and let it flutter all down her back, then rip her glasses off and toss them into the audience. We just need to get her past the whole virgin thing.”

  “I need these glasses to see! And I’m NOT a virgin!” I complain again as I push my glasses up my nose and back into place. They both ignore me and continue talking about me like I’m not here.

  “That would be really hot, now that you mention it. The virgin librarian goes wild. Customers at Charming’s would eat that shit up,” Ariel says, smiling and nodding. She pulls the laptop closer to her and clacks away on the keys. “But you’re right. The first thing we need to do is get her more experience dealing with the opposite sex, and fix the virgin thing.”

  “Oh, my God, for the last time, I AM NOT A VIRGIN!” I shout, smacking my hands down on the table.

  “She’s so cute and feisty when she’s in denial,” Ariel chuckles.

  “Just so you know, I’ve already started getting experience with the opposite sex. Beast came into the library last night and I walked right up to him and talked to him,” I inform them.

  “Did you fidget and ramble useless facts?” Ariel asks.

  “Shut up. It was only one useless fact,” I mutter in exasperation.

  “Beast doesn’t count. He has the manners of a caveman and you should stay away from him. He’s definitely not your type, nor the type of guy you would get any kind of experience with. You need to learn the ways of a normal man and the way a normal man thinks so you can anticipate what will turn them on while you’re dancing. Not a man who will do nothing but grunt and glare at you every time you talk,” Ariel says with a roll of her eyes as she continues clicking away on the computer.

  Even though Beast is a tad overbearing, I’m insulted on his behalf. She doesn’t know him. I don’t even know him. And her words just make me want to defy her and get to know him to prove there’s a normal man under that tough exterior. I’m probably influenced by the fact that for the first time in my life, an extremely good-looking man doesn’t look bored when I ramble his ear off, which is filling my heart with silly notions and fantasies, but I don’t care.

  Cindy gets up from her seat and moves around the table to stand behind Ariel and look over her shoulder at whatever she’s doing on the computer.

  “Oh, oh yeah. That’s genius! I can’t believe we didn’t think of that sooner!” Cindy says excitedly.

  “What are you two doing?”

  I lean closer to Ariel and try to see the screen of the laptop, but she quickly turns it away from me, hitting a few more keys as she and Cindy talk quietly, saying something about a profile picture and hobbies.

  “Aaaaaand, done! Check your email. And you’re welcome,” Ariel suddenly announces.

  My cell phone chimes with an incoming email when she slams the laptop closed. With a sigh, I click on the email pop-up notification.

  “What the heck is Match Made in Heaven?”

  Chapter 4: Creepy Stalker

  My phone vibrates with a new email notification, and I silently curse Ariel and Cindy as I grab the damn thing from the top of the reference desk. In the twenty-four hours since they signed me up for that stupid dating website, I’ve received at least a hundred emails, each one more horrifying than the last.

  “I be liking you smiles. We should be having the sexes,” I whisper to myself, reading the newest email from a dating prospect. I’m half-tempted to shoot this man an email scolding him for his audacity and poor use of the English language.

  Match Made in Heaven states on their home page that they guarantee you’ll find the love of your life or they’ll refund your money. Is this seriously how people find their one true love? That’s not how it works in books. Those women find their soulmates in adorable ways, like being friends with them half their lives and suddenly realizing they’ve always been in love, or literally running into them in the grocery store, dropping their armfuls of purchases, laughing and flirting as they pick everything up.

  And do men honestly think messages like this actually work? I get it. I’ve done my research since these emails started flying in. Studies show that 50 percent of people on these sites are only using it for cheap, meaningless sex. But that means the other 50 percent who are looking for love are out there somewhere and are most certainly not messaging me, which is just downright depressing. Yes, I need more experience with men. But no, I wasn’t lying when I told Ariel and Cindy that I’m not a virgin. They just don’t need to know the specifics: It was one, messy, painful, embarrassing time on prom night that I never had the desire to repeat until recently. I don’t want cheap, meaningless sex. I’m a romantic. I want to be wooed like the heroines I’ve been reading about for years. I want a man who will sweep me off my feet with an over-the-top romantic gesture. I want sweet, flowery words, filled with emotion and meaning.

  “You look like shit.”

  My head whips up from staring at my phone to find those stupid, gorgeous, chocolate-brown eyes that have been haunting my dreams staring right at me. Beast stands on the other side of the counter holding a large cardboard box in his hand, wearing a white T-shirt that stretches across his muscular chest, and an annoyed expression in his face as he stares at me.

  So much for sweet, flowery words filled with emotion and meaning.

  I quickly shake my head, wondering if I fell asleep sitting up again and am dreaming. When I went to work yesterday after my meeting with Cindy and Ariel, I expected to have a nice, quiet evening at the library. Then, just like he did the night before, Beast waltzed in an hour before closing time, sat at the same table and held the same book in front of his face, glancing at me every once in a while, but never making a move to come over and talk to me. So, once again, I walked over to his table and tried making small talk without rambling or being nervous, but he didn’t do much more than grunt or sigh in response. But the thing that pulled at my heartstrings was the fact that even though he didn’t say much, he listened. He never took his eyes off me when I spoke about books, and he actually seemed interested in what I was saying. That’s not something a mean person would do, is it? If he were truly an awful person, he’d just get up and walk away if he didn’t want to listen to me blather on and on.

  He just needs to work on his manners.

  “I’m sorry my appearance offends you. I’m tired. I’ve been working a lot,” I tell him with a sigh, wishing I had taken a little more time to get ready in the employee bathroom this morning.

  “Christ, I’m not offended. I’m just stating a fact. You’re always beautiful, but you look like hell. And I brought you pizza. You need to eat,” he mutters, tossing the cardboard box on the counter.

  His voice is low and gruff and he sounds displeased, but I’m too busy letting the words you’re always beautiful play on a loop in my head to care. Before this moment, my dad is the only man who has ever told me I was beautiful. Even though I don’t know Beast very well, I’m pretty sur
e I know enough to realize he wouldn’t say something he didn’t mean. And he thinks I’m beautiful. And he brought me food. The smell of sauce and cheese hits my nose and my stomach growls loudly, reminding me I haven’t eaten anything since the granola bar I had for breakfast.

  I try to tamp down the butterflies in my stomach but it’s no use. They are out of control, and they’re going to stay that way.

  I wondered if it was just a coincidence that he’d been here two nights in a row, or maybe he had some important bouncer research to do. This is now the third night he’s come in, and I think I’m finished wondering.

  Scanning the room for Mrs. Potter and hoping that she’s still here somewhere and can make this situation a little less nerve-wracking, I glance at the clock on the wall and realize it’s ten minutes past closing time.

  “She left fifteen minutes ago,” he mutters, obviously knowing exactly what I was doing and who I was searching for.

  “Why are you here?” I ask, crossing my arms in front of me.

  “Uh, it’s a public library,” he responds.

  “I know it’s a public library. But it’s my public library, and you’ve never stepped foot in here before a few nights ago. Why do you keep showing up an hour before closing time?”

  He runs his hand through his hair with a sigh.

  “Your friend Cindy has a big mouth. She said you worked here and always closed after dark. I didn’t like it. I came to make sure you weren’t here alone every night.”

  My mouth drops open in shock that he would do something like that for someone he barely knows. And I realize what Mrs. Potter said to me the other night is true. He really is coming in here for me.

  “That’s so sweet,” I whisper.

  He groans, shaking his head at me.

  “I’m not sweet. I just don’t like the idea of a young woman being alone at night. I also don’t like it that you never leave this place before I have to get to work. Grab your shit. I’m driving you home tonight.”