by P Mulholland
“No,” I bit, more harshly than I intended.
She frowned suspiciously. Those black eyes of hers were reading my expression while I was trying really hard to remain blank. “Happy times with Jake?”
“Ummm not really. If you call his brothers betting on when he and I will sleep together happy. Or the fact he’s messy, leaves his wet towels everywhere. Or the fact he drank the day after leaving rehab-”
“Yeah, yeah,” she interrupted. “I know all about the rehab incident. But his brothers think you and Jake are going to sleep together, eh? Funny. They obviously don’t know how cold and aloof you are. Even before Aaron. I know it’s because you lost your mother at such a young age, but the amount of time you spend in the water is unnatural. It turned you into a lobster. Then Aaron came along,” as she spoke her eyes glazed over, as if she was caught up in the romance of The Notebook, “like a knight with his fiery sword and broke open that thick exoskeleton around you. And now the shell is back again.”
I snorted. “Jeez! You should be a romance writer.” Pure sarcasm.
“Well, it’s true.” Her eyes glazed over again as she caught an old memory. “Jake was such a sweet little boy. I remember him sitting in the corner alone playing with his Lego in their enormous house, so empty of life. He was gentle, unlike his older brothers who were so rough and tumble. Unfortunately, the busier Jacqueline and Red got with growing their empire, the less time they spent with the children. Trent got the best of them, then it got less and less with each child born. Baby Jake was mostly raised by au pairs and nannies. I often wondered if he knew who his real mother was.”
“So he has mommy problems. That explains a lot.”
“You have father problems!” she snapped. “Along with Isaac. You both need to go to therapy. Actually, you should go to therapy together and sort out your sibling rivalry. We might get a two for one discount.”
I leaned in and whispered, “Jake Austin is a bit of a slut-bag. I’m just saying. Reeks of chlamydia. Like he’s compensating for a lack of mommy love.”
“Has he tried it on with you?”
“Every day. It’s like living with a randy miniature poodle which can’t reach his balls to lick.”
She snorted. “You should just let him have his way.”
“You know he’s only twenty one.”
“So? I’d have a younger man if I was unattached.” She cringed. “I mean, have you seen the state of men in my age group?”
I laughed. “I suspect he’s never had a proper girlfriend either. I should ask him one day.”
“He does love you, you know,” Farrah said, as the waiter brought our meals over.
“Who, Jake?”
“No, the bison.”
“Are you serious? He didn’t want me when mom died.”
“I know. But then he warmed to you. He hated it when you left home at seventeen. Wherever you are and whatever you’re doing, he always asks after you. ‘Heard from the Stray lately?’ he’d ask, two days after he’s already asked. I think he just wants the best for you and thought Aaron was the one to give you everything you need.”
We chatted some more about men and then my phone rang again. I recognized the number and left it unanswered. “The journalist, Nancy Applegate. She wants to interview me.”
“Ah!” Farrah gasped. “Our local celeb.” Then she welled up. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Really?”
“Yes of course, my baby girl, Brydie. So proud. But you are an enigma. So physically beautiful and as brave as a lion on some matters, chicken shit on others. Jump into a wild ocean to save fish, but too scared to open your heart to love. There’s no balance in your life.”
I remained silent and kept eating.
“It’s Saturday night, Brydie. Are you going out to catch up with friends?” Farrah asked. “We’ll need to buy you some nice clothes.” She examined my sun-bleached hair. “Split ends, we’ll get them trimmed as well.”
“No. Me and Jake are hanging out, watching movies,”
She just about choked on a leaf of baby spinach. “Is this the same Jake you spoke so scathingly about only moments ago?”
“Sí.”
“The same Jake who reeks of chlamydia and has mommy problems?”
“I’m instructed not to let him drink. And since being dry has virtually killed his social life…”
“…Then you’re it,” she finished. “You’re so kind to do that for the handsome young man.” She cleared her throat deliberately loudly, then paused several moments for effect. “Make sure he wears a condom.”
“For goodness sake!”
She giggled.
When I got home, Croyden and Mac were there with Jake playing one of those combat games Fortnite, or something. I don’t know much about the games. I wouldn’t know the difference between Minecraft and Grand Theft Auto. But I wondered if this meant that Jake and I wouldn’t be watching movies together tonight. I was surprisingly disappointed.
I caught myself. Another feeling. Stop it! Once again it was small, the size of a tiny moth fluttering in my chest.
Croyden leapt off the couch when I walked in. “Been shopping?” he asked, following behind me as I walked up the hall to my bedroom with my shopping bags of clothes. “Nice room.” He sat on my bed and bounced up and down.
“Haven’t you got Pac Man to kill?” I asked, trying to get rid of him.
I heard Jake yell Croyden’s name. When he failed to reply, Jake appeared at my bedroom door scowling. “You’re dying out there, Croy.”
Then there was a loud explosion, followed by evil laughter coming from Mac. “Got you bastards!”
Croy disappeared, yelling profanities at Mac who was still laughing evilly. Jake stayed behind, his eyes examining me and the shopping bags.
“Farrah paid for it,” I said.
He nodded, still scowling. I don’t know if it was the violent games he was playing or the company he was keeping, but he seemed pent up and frustrated. Then I wondered if he had been drinking.
“No alcohol?” I asked.
“No. Although they did offer to sneak some in.” He stepped closer to me. “You can sniff my breath if you don’t believe me.”
“I believe you.” I’m hardly going to be a nark considering it’s me who got punished, but one of his friends might be a mole for Isaac.
He kept coming closer to me until his face was only a couple of inches away from mine. I stepped back and stumbled into the wall. He placed both hands against the wall pinning me. His dark eyes traveled down to my lips, to my breasts, then back up to my eyes again.
“Is something wrong?” I asked. I could feel the weight of his irritation, a bundle of wound up wire ready to snap. He took a deep breath and glanced down at my mouth again, then he leaned in parting his lips…
“Jakey!” Croy yelled, coming back up the hall.
I expected Jake to pull away, but he remained fixed in that position, caging me against the wall, his warm breath tickling my lips.
As soon as Croy saw us, Jake dropped his hands away, releasing me. Croy smirked as Jake turned his back on me and walked out of my bedroom.
Croy asked me something.
My head was spinning so much, I barely heard him speak. What was up with Jake? “What?”
“Do you want to come out with us later?” he asked.
“Um, no thanks.”
Chapter Fifteen
Jake
I hadn’t seen her all day and she looked so damn good when she arrived home. Her hair was down, I think she’d been to the hair salon, and she was wearing a nice skirt and top, not the jeans and tee shirt she left in. The guys had been having me on about the siren and whether or not I’d done the deed with her yet. I wanted to. Man, I wanted to throw her on the bed and rip her clothes off, wrap those long, tanned legs around my waist and fuck her into next week. I dreamt about it. I obsessed over it.
I didn’t tell them I slept in her bed most of last night, and the most action I got was
having to make a swift visit to the bathroom to give myself a hand-job. She was fast asleep and still in the same sleeping position when I returned. Not long after that I accidently nudged her ass with my groin and boom! I was hard again. Yet, another visit to the bathroom.
Sleeping in the same bed as her was a bad idea, yet I wanted to do it again tonight and probably tomorrow night. She was messing with my head. I had pressure from my brothers at work and I had pressure from the guys, mostly Croy, to make a move.
I didn’t know if it was the clothes she wore or how she smelt or because her cheeks were flushed, but I took an opportunity to try and kiss her, until Croy ruined it.
What I noticed was that she didn’t pull away and she didn’t protest. She just looked at me with those big green eyes, bewildered, dumbstruck. She didn’t see it coming. Come on, Brydes, you’re smarter than that. I’d been making it obvious from day one that I wanted her, yet she was surprised. Did she think I wasn’t serious?
Jeez! I get offers from girls all the time. Text messages, social media messages, even nude pics most days wanting to hook up, yet the one woman I wanted looked at me like I’m a fucking kid.
Croyden called me a dork. And we all know what a dork was at high school. He’s the loser who tries to hang out with the hot chick, doing everything for her, becoming friends with her, desperately hoping that she might see him as a potential boyfriend. It never happened because the hot chick was always after guys like me with money and great looks.
I’d never been a dork ever in my entire life at school. Yet at 21 years old, I’d turned into the biggest dork in the entire history of dorks. Everything I did was for her. The date that I went on was to make her jealous. Comforting her in bed was to make her feel better. Learning to cook was to impress her. Offering to pay for things was to help her. And here I was still at dork status.
It was early days, only a week in. The fact I got close to kissing her was a good sign. I’m going to try and kiss her again very soon. Tonight.
My phone rang. It was a number I didn’t recognize, so I let it go to answer phone. The guys were still playing Grand Theft Auto as I listened to the message. It was from a journalist by the name of Nancy Applegate who was trying to get hold of Brydie to ask if she wanted to add a comment to the recent media release. It looked like Corey had dropped the leak of how the wealthy Austin family had come to her and the crew’s rescue.
I went to her room. She was sitting on her bed, removing tags from her new clothes. She was still wearing that skirt and top and looked gorgeous.
“I’m not sure how she got my number or knew we were living together but reporter Nancy Applegate contacted me,” I said, my eyes drifting down to her bare legs and feet. She had nice ankles. She had nice everything.
“Yeah, she’s been trying to get hold of me for a couple of days,” she said, avoiding my eye. “I’m just not ready to talk.’
I texted Corey.
Me: Reporter hounding Brydie. She’s not ready to talk.
Corey: She has to. It’s part of the deal.
Me: The deal was for her to make the Austins look like angels?
Corey: Correct. And to take the heat off your hairy ass.
Me: My ass is not hairy.
Corey: Where is she now?
Me: Here at home.
Corey: Keep her there. I’m coming over.
“Corey’s coming over to talk to you,” I told her.
“What for?”
“Apparently part of the deal was for you to say nice things about the Austins.”
“I will, just when I’m ready,” she stressed.
“Well…Chucky, it looks like the Austins have released to the media how they got you and your crew out of the Costa Rican prison.”
“I thought that was released last weekend,” she said, sounding confused.
“No, it was delayed because I fucked up and drank.”
She smiled and glanced at me fondly. “You didn’t know?”
“Not until the Monday.”
“I just thought the media weren’t interested with everything else that was going on in the world.” She bit her lip.
“Anyway,” repeating myself, like the dork that I am, “Corey’s on his way over to talk to you.”
“Can’t wait,” she said sarcastically.
“When was the last time you saw him?”
She tipped her head back and glanced at the ceiling trying to remember. “Mid-teens, I think. If we’ve met since then, I don’t remember.”
“So he hasn’t been in contact with you?”
“No. All communication has been with Isaac, then on to me.” She started hanging her clothes in her closet. While she was partially inside she asked, “Were you trying to kiss me before?”
A definitive, “Yes. Did you have a problem with it? Don’t answer that. ‘Cos I’ll tell you right now, I’m not going to stop until you surrender.”
She pulled her head out of the closet and curled her top lip in a Billy Idol sort of way. “Surrender?”
“Yes. That’s how much I want you. And I’m not going to give up until you yield. In fact I’m enjoying the chase.”
“How many years are you going to keep this up for?”A genuinely good question.
“Until I’m pissing in a bag ’cos my prostate doesn’t work.”
She laughed.
“I’ll chase you around the world if I have to.” Would I? Yes, I think I would.
“Are you normally like this with girls?”
“No,” I answered swiftly. “Never in my life have I wanted someone as much as I want you.”
“Jake, we only met last weekend. Don’t you think you might be...”
“Obsessive?”
“No,” she said. “Idealistic.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve put me on a pedestal, like you think I’m something that I’m not.”
Croy and Mac were still playing GTA and yelling profanities at each other. I needed to get those geezers out of my house.
“What do you think I think you are?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“I see someone beautiful standing before me and I think to myself I want that. I see someone brave who does stuff that would make Stallone cry like a baby. I see someone who lives her life how she wants to and doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks.” Her eyes were wide, deep green pools of wonder. “Is that you? Has anything I’ve just said been wrong or misguided?”
She licked her lips. “Um…”
“I also see someone who makes me want to be a better man,” I added, just for kicks.
She frowned, then dropped her head down shyly. I got her. I got her on that one line that I stole from Jack Nicolson in some old chick flick. Who cares if it worked.
The doorbell rang. I took a deep breath. If Corey and Brydie fall in lust with each other, I’m screwed. That’s it. Never again will I pursue another woman like her. I’ll stick to the usual suspects from the club. The safe girls. The girls who give me a cheap thrill without getting emotionally involved. And I’ll start drinking again, Old Rip Van Winkle. And live on the streets in a cardboard box, hanging my head in shame. If anyone asks, I’ll say it started with a woman 8 years my senior. A Californian. A real beauty with rose bee-sting lips and an ass you could bounce china off. The crockery, not the country.
“Are you going to answer the door?” she asked me.
I was staring at her again. Is my cock hard?
“Elmer,” Steve McQueen said, looking like he was about to play the winning hand so he could cash in his chips, and get the girl. “Where is she? I don’t have much time.”
“In her bedroom.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Good place to start.” He gave the boys on the couch the once over, then went straight up to her bedroom. I followed.
She was in her ensuite brushing her teeth, Corey walked right in to her bedroom and looked around briefly, then glanced at his watch.
&nbs
p; “Got a date?” I asked.
“Two,” he answered. Then he clapped his hands for her attention, like a teacher hushing the class. She won’t like that. Keep pulling crap like that Corey, she’ll hate you for it. “O’Neal, step out for a sec.”
The water stopped running and she walked out from the bathroom, dabbing her mouth with a towel. He was about to give her the hard word when he paused to run his eyes all over her. Her beauty smacked him in the face, making him falter. Damn it!
But I underestimated my brother. Corey was Corey and this was business. “What’s the deal with these?” he asked, pointing at her tattoos. “Are you stripping part time at Leon’s motorcycle club, or something?”
“I’ll talk to the journalist,” she bit.
“When?”
She sighed.
“You’ll do it tonight, won’t you?” He took his phone from his pocket and rang the journalist. “Applegate from the Tribune had first dibs. The other journalists you can talk to whenever you like.”
“Fine,” she said.
“O’Neal will be at Louis’ in fifteen minutes,” Corey said to Nancy on the phone. When he clicked off, he looked Brydie up and down again, giving special attention to her chest. “You’ve fucked up my evening, ’cos I don’t trust you’re going to keep to the story. Which means I’m going to have to escort you to Louis’.”
“I’ll go with her,” I offered.
“Elmer, you don’t even know what the story is,” he bit.
Chapter Sixteen
Brydie
Louis’ was an underground blues club downtown, but it was too early in the evening to be in full swing. There was music playing in the background while a group of musicians were setting up on the small stage. The place was only quarter-full of patrons and the lights hadn’t been dimmed yet. It was an unusual choice of venue for an interview with an activist diver. What was Applegate going to do, take a photograph of me drinking a gin and tonic?
The Austin found a booth and sat opposite me, then lit a cigarette and asked me if I spoke Spanish.